DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from 'CSI'. They're not my property.
"Kids are getting more and more dangerous these days," Nick said of the finished case.
"Five boys had enough of the school bully so they decided to kill him. It's sad." Sara closed the magazine and stood up. "So, you're not avoiding me anymore?" She turned to a lighter subject.
"I'm not going to come up behind you without you knowing, let's put it that way," he said and smiled.
"Smart," Sara replied and chuckled.
"Gotta go see Robbins about a body. See you, Sara."
"See you, Nick."
The phone rang.
Sara opened her cell phone and read the new message. Her left eyebrow went down, her right eyebrow up. "Um?" She read it again and shook her head. Sara then dialed the number of the sender.
"Grissom," he responded.
"I... got this message on my cell and it says it's from you, but I wanted to double-check to be sure," she said.
"What does it say?"
"Meet me at my place. It's case-related. Grissom."
"I sent it."
Sara was quiet for a moment. "Does it have something to do with the case we just finished?
"Yes."
"What exactly?"
"The psychology on bullying."
"You want me to come over to your place to discuss the psychology of bullying." Her voice was flat.
"Correct."
"A subject that we can discuss here also."
There was brief silence on the other side. A sigh followed. "It was a tough day today for me, Sara," he confessed.
"What happened?" she asked softly.
"If I haven't mentioned how much a despise office politics..."
"I think you have," she interrupted him tamely and smiled. Sara was not quite sure but from his tone she received the impression that this man simply needed some quiet company for tonight. "When should I stop by?"
"In about an hour?"
"You got it."
"Thank you."
He opened the door exactly two minutes after she knocked softly on it. He smiled meekly and stepped aside for her to enter. When she did, a delicious smell overwhelmed her. "Were you... or are you cooking?" she asked.
"I got hungry," he replied and closed the door. "Did you eat before you came?" Grissom asked as he walked over to the kitchen.
"I did, thanks."
"I didn't ask that to offer anything for you to eat in case you haven't. I'm all out."
Sara smiled. Grissom was always a good player with words. "Well, lucky for me my stomach is not empty then."
"Very lucky," he said and put the dishes away.
Sara glanced over at the kitchen and saw a serving for only person. Grissom had cooked only for himself after all. "I had no idea you were also a cook."
"I moonlight," he joked.
Sara smirked to this reply.
"You're early, otherwise all of this mess would've been gone by now," he said. Grissom looked up and noticed Sara standing on the same place since she entered the townhouse. "Something wrong?" he asked.
"No, why?"
"Because you haven't moved from there since you came in."
"Oh..." she started combing the space with her eyes. "I thought I'd have a good look before venturing any further."
"It's not like you haven't been here before."
"I know," she replied and walked over to the couch. "I just never did that the last time I was here." She was about to sit down when the butterfly collection on the wall caught her eye.
With her hands behind her back she approached the frame and began observing the still butterflies. Sara was quiet in her observation; she chose not to say anything for now.
Silently, Grissom walked up to her. He stopped next to her and looked up at the butterflies. He heard nothing from her, prompting him to look at Sara. Her eyes were slightly squeezed by the surrounding muscles. Grissom knew that stare. She was interested in this. "Checking my work?"
Sara smiled softly to this deja vu. "You..." she pointed at the frame, "... did this?"
"Yeah."
"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised at its perfection then."
"Insects are a thing of beauty."
"Mm. Both in life and death..." she said softly. There was a longer pause as both observed the contents of the frames. Sadly for Grissom, he couldn't remember anyone taking their time and interest for this important piece of his private space, as he stood next to her, observing along with her. Sara was silent and curious.
Having seen the specimens countless times before, Grissom's attention drifted away from them and stopped at the reflection on the glass; he saw himself, and next to him with clothes which color was similar to his own, he saw her. He noticed that their chins were on the same level, their eyes curious – hers more than his – and at times, if either of them was to move an inch and change the angle of the light hitting the glass, their reflections would merge into the frame, the wings of the insects, the colors and patterns.
"There's something very connecting with butterflies and symmetry," she suddenly said.
Grissom quickly looked at her. But Sara didn't move.
"I could almost think that they're a perfect example of it." She then stepped aside and walked back to the couch.
He stood there a while longer, looking at her. She was a curious little creature, wasn't she? "And you wouldn't be far from the truth..." he thought.
Grissom sat down next to her with a pair of books in his hand. He noticed Sara's look. "What?"
"You've got books on psychology," she said, almost surprised.
"What's so strange about it?"
"I'm trying to come up with a good response to that," she replied and smiled.
They moved over to their discussion of the case and their general observation of the high school youth. It continued to a long discussion...
His brain was tired now; his eyes heavy. Grissom glanced at clock. It was late. How late though, he was in no condition to really tell. The conversation was long. He hadn't had such long conversations, not after work and certainly not often. His eyelids were persistent. Even if he chose to imitate a Tom and Jerry cartoon and hold them up with matchsticks, it would not help. Slowly the space in front of him was getting narrower and narrower. His tiredness was winning over him...
He closed his eyes.
Something shook him and he opened them again. He felt something heavy on his right shoulder. Grissom turned and saw Sara's chin resting on his shoulder, her eyes looking sweetly back at him. He jerked his head back.
"You fell asleep?" she spoke quietly with a teasing smile.
"Tired..." He replied. Grissom didn't move. He didn't want to move.
She chuckled. "You're never too tired, Griss," she said and raised herself. She quickly crushed the distance between them when she came closer to him, his face... his lips.
His heart slammed against his chest again. He gasped. Grissom panicked. What was she doing? "Sara?" he asked her cautiously. He was losing control, with her every move, over everything but his speech, and even with that he was closer to stuttering.
"What?" her voice was low, husky, sexy. Her breath touched his lips. "When I was checking your... work earlier, you could've just easily pinned me against the wall again..."
"You didn't ask," he blurted out, shocked at his own response.
She smiled. "You wanted to." Her lips touched his upper lip. Her tongue almost ran across that piece of flesh.
When she released it, his pulse rose up. "You're in dangerous territory with this." He warned her, his voice entering the same tone as hers.
"I always take risks," he voice was now a whisper. Her body glued itself to his as she sat on his lap, her face never moving away.
"Well..." he took a deep breath, staring intently at her chocolate eyes. "It could have very..." Her lips touched his lower lip this time. "...very negative consequences."
She smirked. "For who is the question."
His hands touched her thighs. "You are aware of the risk involved here..." he even dared to caress them.
"A simple word can end it, you know," she told him and kissed his chin.
He did not say it. "Miss Sidle..."
She looked at him, her chocolate color morphing into chalk. "Yes, Mr. Grissom?"
His lips curled. He said nothing more but stopped her teasing with his lips. "Everything has its end," he said and took her face, "Even your teasing," and touched her lips again.
She chuckled softly into his mouth.
Grissom smiled. He would put a full stop to her continuous teasing. Grabbing her wrists, he pinned her down on the couch. "You work under me, Sara, remember that," he said.
"Your faithful subordinate," she replied and chuckled. He kissed her again... and deeper.
His eyes opened quickly again. His heart was still racing. Grissom found himself staring at the empty space before him.
A dream; another subconscious fantasy.
He swallowed and then sighed. Leaning back, he closed his eyes briefly, but only briefly, fearing that those images might return.
Grissom then heard a soft moan. He looked down and saw Sara sleeping on his lap. He sighed again. Grissom thought about moving away immediately but then she turned her face towards him. When did she fall asleep? He licked his lips nervously and looked around again. "Okay..." he whispered.
As slowly and smoothly as he could, Grissom managed to move away from the couch without disturbing her.
He entered his bedroom and took out a spare pillow and blanket from the closet. He came back to the living room and approached the couch were Sara was sleeping.
He tilted his head. She made another soft moan. Sara seemed so tame when asleep. Her eyelids covering those soft eyes, her lines easy, her lips closed. She was peaceful. Even more gentle, helpless. His eyebrows furrowed. This was her; this was his Sara Sidle; the tough, spunky lady, one hell of a CSI, one hell of a woman. Now, she was resting, helpless; her fingers on her chest as if protecting it; a fragile being devoured in her own mound of dreams.
But that face did not show the same sign of content as when her head was resting on a softer surface like his lap. Kneeling down, Grissom slid his arm beneath her head to lift it up enough for him to slip the pillow under.
He managed. The pillow was in its place. Now he should lower her head slowly...
She moved. Her head tried to adjust to the surface of his arm, leading her face closer to his. Grissom hoped she would stop. He could try to place her head back but that would only wake her. He chose against it... Unfortunately for him.
Her face moved closer. Her nose almost touched his chin. She breathed out; a soft, quiet breath that touched his lips. He backed his face. She was too close.
Dangerously close.
His eyes roamed each line on her face, even the color of her lipstick. Her closeness increased her scent. That natural, feminine scent, the one designed to attract the potential mate... And it was sweet to him. He breathed in while still looking at her.
His heart was unusually quiet. It did not break through his chest like it did in his dream. It was quiet, not violent like in his fantasy, maybe because this was real; she was close to him physically even if asleep. Her head lifted itself up as if she was searching for something. Grissom pulled his face away even further. Her head leaned back again. He sighed in relief.
But then her fingers touched his cheek. Now his heart started to panic. Grissom did not move away still, fearing like a pray, hoping that his stillness would not cause the predator to chase him. Her hand did not even take his cheek, it was only her fingers that touched it... And kept touching it. Each stroke, each touch irritated his inner nerves, those under the surface, the little things not visible to anyone else but him. The irritations were sweet but not something he had been aquatinted with. They were unfamiliar to him.
He glanced at her face. Sara seemed undisturbed by this. This was only a dream for her.
Grissom licked his lips and slowly, very slowly took her hand. He moved away from his face. Finally her head touched the pillow. He stood up and took a step back. His fingers touched his forehead. This was too much for him. His hand dropped. He shook his head and took the blanket.
Now she was comfortable. She should sleep well this way.
Grissom needed to get some sleep. This was more than he could handle for a day.
Her cell phone rang. It rang once, twice... The third time caused Sara to poke her head from under the blanket and quickly grab the phone. "Sidle..." she said in her sleepy voice.
"You have an hour before shift starts. You better get here."
"Um, Grissom?" Her eyes were slowly opening. Her surroundings were revealed. She jumped on the couch. "What the-..." She wasn't at home; not even in a bed. This was Grissom's place. Not hers; his!
"Yes, and good afternoon."
"I fell asleep here..."
"Yes, you did."
"Wonderful," the mumbled.
"One hour, okay?"
"Yeah, sure," she replied and closed the phone.
Sara sat up and hid her head in her hands. "Oh, man," her muffed voice sounded.
And hour later she found Grissom in the lab, observing something with the microscope.
"Hey," she greeted him.
"Hey," he said absently, still focused on his work.
"New case?" she asked.
"No, just an experiment." Grissom finally looked up at her. "Slept well?"
"Um," she smirked and shoved her hands in the back pockets of her pants. "Yeah."
"Good." He nodded and returned to the microscope.
"So, thanks for waking me up."
"You would've been late otherwise."
"How do you know that?"
At that moment Warrick was passing by the lab when the documents he was carrying slipped through and got scattered on the floor.
"We did go at it the entire night, Sara, I would be surprised if that didn't drain away some of your energy," Grissom said, referring to their exhaustible discussions.
"Well, it's good to have a worthy challenger," she said and chuckled.
Warrick froze in his spot, crouching with the now, gathered documents in his hands.
"Thank you," Grissom replied.
"Why didn't you wake me last night?" she asked him.
"You seemed way too tired to move. Even if calling you a taxi was an option, and driving you back myself." He lied, of course. Grissom wanted her to sleep over. It was like an experiment for him. He wished to know what it would feel like for her to be in his private space like that.
"Very thoughtful."
Grissom smiled and looked up at her.
Warrick finally stood up and sighed heavily. "Great. Out of everyone here, I had to be the one to hear that." He shook his head and walked away, unnoticed by neither Grissom nor Sara.