Title: Combustible
Author: ScullyAsTrinity
Rating: PG-13
Suammry: Hot in here my ass.
A/N: Mmmm, me likie the mind games. :::giggles:::
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"Please... can you, step back?"
Sara arched a brow but slowly moved away from him, the flashlight balanced precariously in her hand.
She did as he asked and waited for further instruction. "Okay..." She drawled, incredibly confused. "Now what?"
His head stayed bent over the microscope. Grissom blew out a steadying breath. "Nothing, just... stay back there. Please." His voice wavered and his hands shook and her brow creased just a fraction more.
"Okay..." She placed the flashlight back in the evidence bag and left it to balance on the edge of the lab bench. "What's going on?" She asked finally, completely confused.
"You're... incredibly... hot." At her startled look, Grissom quickly corrected himself. "Body heat. You're warm, and..." He wiped his brow of the sweat that had accumulated. "It's very hot in here."
Sara's face softened and she pulled off her latex gloves, putting them into a new evidence bag. He watched as her hands scrawled a description on the plastic. She then lifted her hand to his forehead.
"Do you have a fever?" She asked, testing the temperature of his skin. He jumped as soon as she touched him.
"Stop. No, no." Grissom nearly shouted, startling her into pulling her hand away as if it had been burnt. "I don't have a fever."
Sara bit her lip and moved quickly to sit on a lab stool juxtaposing him. "Griss, you're sweating, you're pale, your breathing is out of control... something's wrong." She commented offhand, pulling on a new pair of latex gloves.
Sara could hear him attempting to regain control of his breathing, and she stole a glance at him just briefly. A look long enough to see that his eyes had slipped closed and he was grasping both the lab bench and his left knee in a death grip, his knuckles completely white.
Again, Sara bit off her smile with her teeth, turning her attention to the evidence in her hands.
"Sure you're not sick." Sara reiterated, finding both amusement in his composure and also genuinely concerned for him.
"I'm not, no, I'm perfectly under control."
"Didn't ask if you were under control, asked if you were-"
She cut off her words when his hand gripped her forearm. She noted the absense of latex, and her heart sped off like it was participating in the Indy 500 at the contact of skin on skin.
"You're not gonna pass out, are you?"
"I might." He growled out quickly. Sara moved to place a hand on his shoulder, as if to steady him, but it was really to steady herself.
"Griss, maybe you should lie down." Sara suggested, tearing off her gloves once more, bagigng them even though she had yet to pick up a fresh piece of evidence.
"I don't need to lie down, just give me a second."
He breathed deeply, and she bent down to catch his eyes with hers. He stared back for a brief second and stood on jell-o legs.
"I have to-" He pointed to the door. "I have to go." He said and moved from the room.
Sara grinned and pulled on her third pair of latex gloves.
'Hot in here my ass.' She thought giddily.