Dedication: To maggienhawk, who drove through Tennessee once on her way to visit her Great Aunt Emma.
Grissom managed to talk Sara into taking the WaveRunner out instead of the boat. They couldn't take the pontoon into the ocean, and he wanted to wait to visit Crab Island until they had the whole day for it. So he was pleasantly surprised that when he suggested taking the WaveRunner, Sara agreed wholeheartedly.
Grissom grabbed the wristkey from the kitchen drawer, and after locating two appropriate-sized life jackets, they were on their way, Sara's arms wrapped comfortably around Grissom's waist.
He found his way out to open water with no trouble, but it took nearly 20 minutes at idle speed. By the time they got to open water, the hot sun had combined with the lifejackets to create two very sweaty bodies. As Grissom broke into the East Pass and headed toward the Gulf, Sara squeezed him and said, "I gotta get in the water for a second, 'k?"
Grissom obediently killed the engine and turned to Sara as she unsnapped her life jacket and dove off the side of the watercraft into the clear, cool water. As she surfaced, Grissom was again taken by her beauty. Her hair hung straight down, wet and sleek, and her eyelashes were thick with salt water. He loved the new bikini she'd donned for their expedition. It was navy blue with teal piping on the edges. The top half was a halter style, which looked fantastic on her.
Deciding that the cool water looked even more enticing with a scantily-clad Sara Sidle in it, he took off his own lifejacket and dove in after her, causing her to laugh with delight. They swam and wrestled playfully in the water for a few minutes before deciding to try out the waves in the open ocean. Sara watched in adoration as Grissom clumsily attempted to climb back aboard the personal watercraft. After slipping a couple of times, he looked at her and said breathlessly, "This is harder than it looks," causing Sara to break into a fit of giggles. When he finally succeeded in boarding, Sara skillfully clambered up behind him, causing him to grumble something about "looking stupid in front of the girls."
Five minutes later they were in the open ocean. Grissom maneuvered the WaveRunner over a few small swells, trying to get the feel of the craft. The last thing he needed was for Sara to get hurt because of his inexperience. When he was confident that he had a feel for the boat's capabilities, he set off toward a larger wave, gunning the engine as he went. He hit the wave at the perfect moment, sending them flying airborne. Sara squealed in utter delight, causing Grissom to throw his head back and laugh heartily.
A few minutes later, Sara was begging to drive. After they precariously switched places and Grissom placed the keystrap safely around her wrist, Sara gunned the engine and took off, Grissom bouncing wildly behind her. "Whoa! Adjust the trim! There's too much weight back here!" he shouted as he almost flew off the back of the WaveRunner.
"Huh?"
"You have to adjust the trim to compensate for weight distribution and waves—it affects how bouncy the ride is. When I was in front, the weight was more evenly distributed, but now that I've moved back, my weight is tilting the front of the boat up and making us bounce."
They experimented with the knob for a few minutes; After trying in vain to find a setting that kept Grissom from feeling like he was riding a wildly galloping horse, Grissom gave Sara a pop kiss on the side of her head and dove into the Gulf. She tossed him a surprised look and said, "Where are you going?"
He smiled at her and said, "Well, you're obviously not going to have very much fun driving with me on the back, so take off and I'll hang out for a few minutes."
Sara gave him a huge smile of appreciation. "I love you," she said as she gunned the engine and took off, leaving a wildly grinning Gil Grissom treading water. He watched her contentedly as she jumped waves, sending sprays of water every which way. Her beauty threatened to overwhelm him again. She didn't go far because she didn't want to lose sight of him, so he had ample opportunity to watch her. She had pulled her brown hair back into a messy—and incredibly sexy—knot at the nape of her neck, and she was wearing her Oakleys to keep the salt water out of her eyes. Her muscular arms protruded from the lifejacket, and he watched her arms and legs flex as she moved with the watercraft, balancing and counterbalancing with the wild ride. She was smiling—obviously having a great time. As Grissom took her in, he had the sudden realization that she looked happy—happy and healthy. 'When is the last time she looked this happy?' he asked himself. As he pondered the question, he came to the conclusion of a lifetime: She really was in love with him. He was the reason for her happiness. "Hot damn," he muttered in amazement. "I make her happy."
Grissom was still floating with a dazed look on his face when Sara brought the WaveRunner back in. "What's wrong?" she asked curiously.
He looked up at her. "I was watching you out there, and you just looked so…happy."
She cocked her head to the side and gave him a small smile. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. And it just dawned on me that I..." he faltered. What if he was being egocentric? "That I make you happy," he finished. "I find that so hard to believe," he said helplessly.
A small, playful smile. "Well, believe it. I've never been happier. Hell, I've been chasing you for ten years, and I finally got you!" she teased. "Seriously, Gil, I meant what I said—I've never been happier. Now come on—it's getting close to dinner time."
----------
They made it back to the house, docked the WaveRunner, and proceeded to shower and change for dinner. When Sara came out of the bathroom with naught but a towel on her head and started rummaging in her suitcase, Grissom was more than a little distracted. As his hands began roaming her body, she swatted him away playfully and said, "Where are we going? I don't know what to wear."
He refrained from the suggestive comment about how all he wanted to eat was standing in front of him, instead settling on, "I don't know where we're going yet. Just wear a nice sundress. That should cover pretty much all the bases, don't you think?" Slapping her lightly on the ass, he finished shrugging into the button-down shirt he was going to wear for dinner. As he sat on the bed to pull on his shoes, he said, "I checked tomorrow's weather while you were in the shower, and it's supposed to be cloudy tomorrow. Since it won't be a great day for beach stuff, do you want to go shopping?"
Sara stopped dead and slowly turned to him; the look on her face was a strange combination of shock, bemusement, and wariness. "You…as a man…are suggesting to me…as a woman…that we go shopping?" He chuckled at her obvious confusion.
"Yes. You have forgotten, perhaps, about our conversation back in Vegas? I told you that when we got here we'd go shopping."
"I didn't really think you were all that serious."
"Well, I am. Sara, please let me do this. I want to spoil you like you deserve to be spoiled. I'm 48 and I've never had anyone to dote on—no daughter, son, niece, nephew, godchild, no one. Well, ok, there's Lindsey, but Catherine won't let anyone spoil her—says she doesn't want her to turn out to be a brat. Anyway, Sara, please…let me take you shopping tomorrow. It'll be fun, I promise."
Sara looked into those puppy-dog-looking blue eyes and burst out laughing at his expression. He looked like a lost little boy. She held up her hands in defeat. "Ok, ok! I surrender!" she said good-naturedly.
Grissom leaned in and kissed her cheek. "I can't wait."
----------
They went to dinner at Harry T's at the Destin Yacht Club. While they were waiting to be seated, Sara perused the merchandise and made Grissom's night when she asked if he would buy her a world-famous Harry T's t-shirt. He beamed at her and said "I'd love to." She chose a long-sleeved white shirt and as Grissom paid for it, he couldn't stop grinning at how fantastic it felt to be buying something for his…girlfriend.
Sara clutched the bag with her shirt and smiled shyly at him. "Thanks again," she said quietly. "I really like the shirt." He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head.
"Anytime, Honey," he said, sending a shiver down her spine.
Their dinner overlooking the harbor turned out to be wonderful. Sara ordered a "Big Top," which their server assured them was one of Harry T's specialties. "Four kinds of rum and some juice. Very tropical," he promised. "And the best part is, you get to keep the glass. It's a big Harry T's hurricane glass, you know?"
Sara's eyes lit up at the idea of a souvenir, and she eagerly awaited her drink. Grissom couldn't hide his amusement at this.
"What's so funny?" Sara asked.
"It was just cute that you wanted to keep the glass."
"I like souvenirs. I always kept souvenirs of stuff in college," she said, a little defensively. "I've—this, um, well…" She sighed, exasperated at her inability to form a coherent thought. "I've waited for this a long time, Grissom. There's still a tiny part of me that's afraid you're going to cut and run at any moment, so I want to have things to remember this by." She paused, hoping she hadn't hurt him. "I know that's stupid…" she trailed off.
She dared to glance up at him, afraid her words had cut too deeply. To her surprise, he was looking at her with solemn understanding. "Sara, I understand. I really do, and I don't blame you for not trusting me. But I promise you I'm not going to cut and run. Not this time." He stopped for a moment, a small smile playing around his lips. "Hell, if I thought you'd say yes, I'd ask you to move in with me right now," he said wryly.
Sara's heart stopped.
"Wh—What makes you think I wouldn't say yes?" she whispered.
He had been looking at his hands, but at her words, his head jerked up with whiplash-inducing ferocity. His eyes held a look of sheer joy, apprehension, and confusion all rolled into one. "Umm…I don't know. Would you be likely to say yes?" he whispered hoarsely, afraid to hear the answer.
She could not believe they were having this conversation. She was fairly certain that if someone had wandered by their table with a feather, they could have just knocked her on over with it. She took a deep breath and chose her words carefully. "Grissom…" she said in a low, throaty voice, "you already know what my answer would be. But…I don't know if you are ready. Your privacy…" she trailed off.
"Fuck privacy."
Sara's eyes snapped up. There had been a hard edge to his tone, one she hadn't seen coming. "Excuse me?"
A weary look. "Sara, I'm so tired of always being so closed up and private. I finally figured it all out and let you in. I can't back away now. It's all or nothing. There is no privacy now." He paused and took several gulps of the beer sitting in front of him. He steeled his nerves and plunged ahead. "Sara…when we get back to Las Vegas…" He lifted his head and looked her straight in the eyes. "Will you move in with me?"
Sara felt a faint buzz in her ears as the world went a little dark for a split second. Holy shit, she had almost passed out at his question. She took several deep breaths to steady herself and looked him in the eyes. "Gil, I want you to think this through for a few minutes. Are you absolutely sure you know what you're asking?"
He shook his head vehemently. "I don't need to think, Sara. I need to be with you. I know this is unbelievably fast, and if that's the problem, I understand if you say no. You can consider it an open-ended invitation. But I don't want you to say no because you think I'm not ready. I can promise you this: if I knew how liberating it felt to give in to my feelings and fall in love, I would have done this years ago. I'm not going anywhere, and I just want you to know that. If you're ready, I would love for you to live with me." Inexplicably, he began quoting Marlowe to her.
"Come live with me and be my Love
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dale and field,
And all the craggy mountains yield…"
He stopped, gauging her reaction.
"Cite your source," she whispered.
"Christopher Marlowe. "The Passionate Shepherd to His Love."
"Is there more to the poem?" He nodded. "Go on," she whispered.
"There we will sit upon the rocks
And see the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrig—"
"Yes," she interrupted.
"What?" he asked.
"Yes, Gil. I'll move in with you."
He stared at her, expressionless, trying to wrap his brain around what had just transpired. In the course of only two or three minutes, he had asked Sara Sidle to move in with him and she had accepted.
After a moment, he broke into a smile and reached across for her hands. "You've just made me a very happy man," he murmured.
Sara laughed and sniffled at the tears that were threatening. "I can't believe you just asked me to move in with you," she said.
"Neither can I, but I'm sure as hell glad I did," he said honestly.
Their server chose that exact moment to show up with their food—Harborwalk Pasta for Sara and Grouper for Grissom. Sara reached down and grabbed her phone and camera out of her purse and eagerly asked their server if he would take a couple of pictures of them. He agreed and took a picture with both the phone and the camera. When he was done, Grissom turned to her with a raised eyebrow and an amused look. Sara giggled and explained. "I had to take one with the phone to send to the boys. The camera was for my personal collection." She grinned at him and lowered her voice to a whisper. "I've never been in love before, Griss. I want to treasure every moment of this. Besides," she said with a lilt to her voice, "now I'll always have a record of what I looked like immediately after you asked me to move in with you!"