Notes: Ashley, Sara's roommate is based on the roommate made up by GeekLoveFan in Facades. There we go, some fan fic consistency.
Also, you people reviewing, I know, I know, I keep saying it makes my day, but to know you keep coming back for more... it amazes me.
I'd also like to forgive the people who's fanfics I've been reading and not reviewing. It's not on purpose, whenever I got to review, the box pops up, freezes, and then promptly freezes my laptop. I'm working on that though!
THANKS!!! To marlou and for pointing out the grammar mistakes. I was slightly rushed to post this chapter. :::glares::: Give me time people! TIME!!!
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Sara's eyes fluttered slowly open, the crust at the sides hindering her waking process. It took her a few moments, but she felt the familiar weight in her head. Her mouth tasted like cotton and warm beer and she attempted to wet it with her tongue, which felt just about as dry as the Gobi desert.
She groaned and rolled over, her head thumping loudly. Again, she moved her tongue against the insides of her mouth attempting to produce saliva but it was no use. Sara was experiencing a sever hangover.
'What the hell did I drink?' She asked herself, but couldn't remember. She groaned again and flung herself over once more, encountering, much to her surprise a pair of blue eyes. She jumped back in her bed, her stomach lurching violently, her breath catching in her throat.
"Hey." he whispered, elbows on his knees, head in his hands as he leaned down in the chair. "How ya feel?"
"Griss, what the hell are you still doing here?!" She exclaimed, the volume of the words shooting straight to her head. "Oh god! Oh, oh god, no, no. I'm sorry." She exclaimed in horror, clamping her eyes shut, running a hand through her hair.
He raised his eyebrows, slightly amused at her reaction to finally noticing the predicament she had gotten herself into.
"I'm so sorry. I didn't want you to drive me home. Ohhh, oh god." Not only was she mortified, her stomach took that moment to take a turn for the worse. She lurched from the bed, running in the direction which he could only assume was the bathroom.
Once the door was firmly closed, Grissom pushed himself out of the chair and moved to the door. He knocked softly, leaning his shoulder against it, crossing his arms. "Sara, Sara are you alright."
Sara mumbled the affirmative and he moved back to the chair. He brushed over his beard with his hand and leaned back, waiting for her to come back.
She did, but didn't look at him, instead, she tossed herself into bed and pulled the covers up over her head. He was surprised, raised his eyebrows again and huffed out a laugh. A second later, she threw her pants out from under the blanket. Grissom watched as the pants flew through the air and smacked against her closet door.
"Ughhhh." She groaned again, sweeping the blankets away from her face to look at him, her face contorted in agony.
Grissom reached to the bedside table and retrieved the water he had left there forgotten. He held it, along with two aspirin out to her. She looked at him with a crinkled brow, did her best to smile lovingly and snatched the pills and water from him.
She nursed the water as if it were a beer and allowed her eyes to slip shut at the pure pleasure the cool water caused slipping down her throat. "Thank you." She said solidly, making sure that he knew she meant it.
"You're welcome." He resumed the position that he had been in when she had awoken. He stared at her, but instead of pulling the blanket over her head, she stared back at him.
Sara was confused. "You can leave you know." She didn't say it to get rid of him, she just wanted him to know that he didn't have to stay on account of her. He smiled and nodded.
"I know." he paused for a moment, and then, taking a deep breath, seemed to be enlivened. "Guess you had fun last night."
"So sore." She said. "But yeah, I had a blast. I'm surprised Greg can actually dance. Might have to have a talk with him about that."
"I'm surprised you can dance like that. Limber." He teased, meeting her eyes head on, admiring the mirth that sprung to her eyes and the flush that rose to her cheeks.
"Well, I had an excellent teacher. Ashley, roommate at Harvard. Crazy." Sara choked out before laying back flat on the pillow.
"Ah. You're apparently a very good student." Grissom's eye glittered as he looked at her. "It would have been fabulous, however, if I had been there to enjoy myself and if you hadn't been three sheets to the wind." He followed, looking down at his clasped hands and then back at her.
"Well, I'll say I'm sorry for having to burden you with taking me home, but I won't apologize for having a good time. If you're going to reprimand me for going out with the guys, then maybe you should wait until work tonight and make it a group thing. I'm not the only one at fault here."
"I'm not saying you are, I'm was just... worried." Grissom said, breaking eye contact with her, looking at her dresser just to get his eyes away from her.
"Worried." Sara scoffed. "There's a first time for everything, now isn't there?"
"First time?" He asked, eyes darting back to her. She was firmly nestled under the blankets, her hair a mess, her face pale... and yet she still enchanted him. "Sara, I worry about you all the time." Grissom spoke, all business, willing her to look at him.
"Really." Sara responded dryly, for obvious reasons. "I guess that's a good thing then." She coughed, held her head, and thought she was going to vomit again. She groaned and looked to Griss with heavy eyes. "I know I'm being a bitch but... can I trouble you for another glass of water?"
He smiled at the pleading nature of her voice and disappeared into her kitchen. Sara allowed her eyes to slip closed and sighed, thanking whomever that Grissom was with her, though she wished it had been under more exciting circumstances. Sure, he was in her bedroom, but not in her bed. Sara frowned, and he returned with the water, handing the cold glass to her.
Her hands clamped around the cold glass and she shivered. Grissom got the uncontrollable urge to crawl into bed with her, hold her, nurse her back to health. He should have been mad that he had to go out of his way to... aw hell, he was so confused.
"This is severely strange, I just want to point that out." Sara said in between gulps of water. "I mean, you don't talk to me for... what, three months and then you bring me home? Sit in my room, talk to me? This is strange, it's not like you." She gulped down some more water. "Not your character."
Grissom pressed his hands together, leaned his lips against them and thought about what she had said. It was true, everything that he had done in the past eight hours was completely unlike him. He should have been reprimanding her, he shouldn't have even bothered to get worried when Nick said she was crying-
"Hey, Nicky mentioned you were crying last night." He reminded her, wanting to know what that whole bit was about.
Sara smiled bitterly. "Yeah. It just happens sometimes when I drink. Happens to a lot of people. I remember one time, back in San Fran that-"
"Sara." He cut her off, she was avoiding his question.
She sighed heavily, flitted her eyes from him to her window. "Yeah, yeah. Cath had my phone, Nick had my phone... and all I wanted to do was talk to you. It's stupid, I just get emotional when I drink I guess."
All she wanted to do was talk to him? "All you wanted to do was talk to me?" He pressed on.
"Ugh, this is so embarrassing. Okay, how do I say this? I figured, though I was pretty gone, that I could say what I needed to say to you and then blame it on the alcohol later. I just knew how great it would feel to get it all off my chest, and not having to say it to your face, though completely cowardly, was a bonus. "
"Huh." Again, Grissom leaned back in the chair, attempting to dissect her words. "You're not still drunk now are you?" The thought struck him suddenly.
Sara nearly laughed, but quelled his fear. "I didn't have that much to drink, Griss."
"Good, well, what were you going to tell me. I'm here now, and I'm not going to judge you." He nearly smacked himself for how cliché he sounded.
"It's not important now." Sara attempted to brush it off, holding off on burying herself under her covers to ward off his questions. They'd probably still be asked anyway.
"Sara, it's important if you think you need to get drunk to talk to me. You can be honest with me wh-... Sara, just be honest with me."
"Okay, let's see. You're a bastard and sometimes I can't stand you. You treat me like I don't exist but you tell people that I'm a close friend. I can't stop thinking about you even when I'm away from the office, and no matter how hard I try I can't help but wonder what your lips feel like, what you're skin feels like it, what it feels like to hold- oh just never mind."
Grissom got up, sat on the bed and placed his hand in her hair, stroking it slowly. Her eyes widened to just about the size of saucers when he did so.
"You're right, I am a bastard, but it's only because I can't really have what I want, and if I got it, I wouldn't know what to do with it."
"What would that be?" Sara asked him indignantly.
He smiled and tucked a long strand behind her ear. She shivered.
"You. All of you."