Release
Disclaimer: Grissom and Sara are the only characters that appear, and I can have them, right? Okay, so yeah, I don't own them, and I never will.
Summary: She relished the sudden power she had over him, the sudden darkness in his eyes. She was free. He wasn't. He was never free.
Author's Note: This is unbeta'd and probably shows it, but I needed a little release with these two, so here you go. Probably a lot different to anything else I've ever written so far, so read into that as you will…
000000000
If someone had told her an hour ago that she would be having drinks with Gil Grissom, she would have demanded to know what exactly they were on.
She took the time to ponder the surrealism of the moment as she leant back in her chair, idly circling the layer of condensation on the table from her glass. Grissom was likewise silent and contemplative opposite her, but the silence was a comfortable one, unbothered by the soft filtering of music coming from the jukebox in the corner, or the steady buzz of voices from the smattering of surrounding tables and booths.
The last shift had stretched on into a double, and they were both heavily worn down by frustration and fatigue. Their latest case involved the sadistic torture and starvation of several girls involuntarily forced into a prostitution ring in the seedy basement of one of Vegas' less notorious casinos. Young girls. Girls barely into puberty. The leader of the ring had conveniently vanished off their radar, and one of his lesser flunkies was taking the fall. The best they could hope to convict him on was aiding and abetting.
It wasn't fair. The injustice of the case struck a particular chord in her, and she suspected, in Grissom too. When he had suggested they go for a few drinks that night after work, she surprised herself by agreeing.
There were several things she could argue were be wrong with that situation-- first and foremost that they weren't generally big on social interactions. The very thought of consuming alcohol around Grissom after her near-DUI last year would normally have caused her refusal. But she was so tired, and so very very weary, and the idea of drowning her sorrows with another human being beat out a sleepless night in front of her TV.
She studied Grissom's profile in the dim light. His intense blue eyes were distant as they observed the comings and goings from the front entrance, and his chiselled features were tilted slightly in his attempt at relaxation. His broad fingers circled the outside of his glass vaguely, and she found herself wondering, for the thousandth time in her existence, exactly what a man like Gil Grissom could be thinking about.
"Do you want another drink?" he asked suddenly, breaking her from her musings.
She blinked, slowly glancing down at the glass in her hands, still half-full from her distraction. She shook her head, bringing it to her lips, allowing the bitter tasting liquid to slide down her throat with luxurious alacrity. "No, thanks. I'm fine".
He nodded, frowning thoughtfully. "We've never done this before, have we?"
Sara tilted an eyebrow at him, leaning back again casually. It was odd for him to be open, particularly after a difficult case. She forgot that even Grissom needed catharsis sometimes. Such a human imperfection made him seem more accessible to her, somehow.
"No", she murmured in agreement, reaching for another sip of her beer. She didn't need to elaborate beyond that. They both knew why.
"Do you think the others will be struggling without us?" she asked, pulling on the cuff of her denim jacket absently. It was stuffy in the muted recesses of the bar, and she could feel the clammy perspiration collecting at the nape of her neck.
Grissom looked uncharacteristically careless. "There weren't many pressing cases. I'm sure they can manage. And I think we're more than deserving of a night off once in a while".
She smiled distantly, silently agreeing. She was making a conscious effort to separate herself from work, and it wasn't as difficult a feat as she thought it would have been.
Her investigative eye took in Grissom's familiarity with the place, and she decided to steer the conversation away from their jobs, for once. The alcohol was loosening her reservations slightly, and she wanted to forget that he was her boss and she was his employee, and that they were exposed, day in and day out, to the utter depravity of the world. Their job was the only constant thing in her life, and yet it was the unremitting source of her unhappiness. Grissom had suggested this unprecedented excursion to drive away their current misery, and she was ready to get on board with that.
"So do you come here much?"
He glanced at her, and she felt his blue eyes sear her with their strength. For once, she didn't look away, allowing herself to enjoy the feeling of being under his gaze. His salt and pepper curls glowed slightly in the blue light, and he was clad in a masculine leather jacket, making his appearance particularly dangerous. She knew beneath his intelligent, gracious exterior a hidden danger lingered, and the intensity of his gaze was only a fraction of that power. The thought thrilled her, and for a moment, she contemplated how easy it would be to draw it out, if she really wanted to.
"I used to come here with Jim sometimes, or Catherine, once or twice, after a particularly hard night. I haven't been here for years, really".
She flicked her hair out of her face, surprised he felt comfortable enough to share such an obvious haven with her. She recognise the significance of the fact that he had brought her there, when he had just admitted he hadn't been there himself for years.
"Was this when Catherine was still married to Eddie?" she found herself asking, eyeing him over the rim of her glass as she took another drink.
Grissom fingered his own glass, leaving it to rest nonchalantly on the table. It was almost empty, and she couldn't remember if it was his first or second one. "Yes, I think it was."
She lifted an eyebrow, licking the corner of her lip where a drop of the amber liquid rested. "And Eddie didn't mind?"
Grissom looked introspective. "I don't think Catherine told him about it".
She wondered at that. She had often questioned how deeply Catherine and Grissom's relationship truly ran, and whether or not they had ever had an affair. They ease and camaraderie argued against it, but in her less rational moments, she couldn't help but wonder.
Grissom was watching her silently, and the strange flicker in his eyes told her he knew what she was thinking. She loosened her shoulders, lowering her empty mug to the table. "I guess I could go for that second round now".
Mutely, Grissom rose to his feet, heading to the bar to collect more drinks. She watched him go, feeling the stifling heat and the steady thrum of the music vibrating under her skin, finally sliding her jacket off and slinging the heavy fabric over the back of her chair.
When Grissom returned, Sara was staring indistinctly in the direction of the pool table, where a small group of college students had gathered for a game. One hand was resting leisurely over the back of her chair, and without her jacket, the subtle curves of her body were more evident in the dim light, exposing a layer of flawless tanned skin at her shoulders. Her hair was slightly tousled from the stuffiness of the bar, and her cheeks were flushed with a slight hue of pink. He placed her drink in front of her, unable to keep himself from wondering if this was what he had rejected when he so adamantly said 'no'; if this was what it would be like to be on a date with Sara Sidle.
She glanced up at him, cocoa brown eyes warm and comfortable, accepting the drink with a small smile. The earlier haunted tint to her eyes was faded slightly as the alcohol lowered her intricate barriers, and he decided that just once, he would allow himself to enjoy this moment.
"Eddie never particularly approved of my friendship with Catherine", he said after a moment. He knew what she had been thinking earlier, and he found himself wanting to correct that assumption. Sara glanced at him, silently waiting to see if he would continue. He did, to the surprise of both of them. "But despite what he may have thought, Catherine was never unfaithful to him."
She smiled distantly, taking a long mouthful from her newest glass. "He was, though".
"Yeah", he agreed, feeling incredibly tired.
"I think I've been here once before", Sara said suddenly, studying the bar with a thoughtful crinkle in her brow. Grissom glanced at her nonchalantly; aware this wasn't really in her neighbourhood. "When was this?"
She shrugged. "With Nick, or Greg maybe. I can't remember who".
She felt him considering her. "You and Greg… go out a lot?"
Sara glanced at him, detecting a hidden tone of something she couldn't quite identify. "Yeah. Sure. You know, Grissom, I don't actually have that many friends at work anymore. Not since Ecklie split up the team".
Grissom frowned. "What about… Sofia?"
She gave him a long, measured look. "We don't really get along, in case you haven't noticed."
He folded his arms on the table. "I hadn't, actually".
She rolled her eyes, smirking slightly, downing the last of her drink. "I don't doubt that."
His eyes zeroed in on her again, and she felt another thrill shoot through her at their intensity. "And why do you say that, Ms. Sidle?" Her name rolled off his tongue, and she simply loved the way he made it sound so intimate.
Sara felt her tongue loosened slightly in her inebriated state, and the added intimacy of their surroundings urged her onward. "If there's one thing I've noticed about you, it's that there are a lot of things you don't see, when you don't want to".
She could see her observation had annoyed him, and it felt liberating, when she realised she didn't care. Her fingers slid over her jacket, and she rose abruptly to her feet, gaze sliding down over him briefly. "You know what, I think I'm going to start walking. I'll see you tomorrow, Grissom".
She turned; shoving through the door to the bar and hearing it clang loudly behind her. The chill of the night air was blissful on her flushed features, and she paused on the sidewalk, considerably empty for this time of night, turning her face to the sky.
She hadn't walked far when she felt warmth on her wrist, and she turned around, meeting Grissom's impatient gaze with her own stubborn one. "I hope you don't think that I'm going to let you walk home", he said seriously.
She stared at him; feeling like her flesh was on fire, intensified by the touch of his hand on her wrist.
She tilted her head mockingly. "Are you going to drive, Grissom? That wouldn't be very responsible, would it?"
He pursed his lips. They were on the edge of the carpark, and his solitary SUV wasn't far away. "I'll call a cab, Sara".
"It's actually getting to you, isn't it?" she noted slowly, taking a twisted sort of pleasure in watching his stoic features as his eyes avoided hers. "What I said back there".
"Sara—" he said tiredly.
"Just let it go, Grissom", she said impatiently, suddenly letting her long repressed irritation out into the open. "All those emotions you're holding in, just let them out." She tugged on his hand, but he wouldn't release her, and she threw her free arm into the air, wobbling slightly, laughing humourlessly at the look of utter conflict battling on his face. "Do you have any idea how good it feels, Grissom? To let yourself be free? You have all of your responsibilities so far up your ass, you wouldn't even remember what it feels like."
She leant into him, allowing her breath to tickle his face. The warmth of his frame against hers was exquisite, and she relished it, relishing the sudden power she had over him, the sudden darkness in his eyes. She was free. He wasn't. He was never free. "Just DO it", she hissed provokingly, feeling the tension coil off his broad frame. It only energized her further. "Let go! What the hell are you afraid of?"
It was like watching a coiled spring snap. He grabbed her wrist roughly, pulling her into an adjacent alley, throwing her slender frame against a wall, and hovering over her angrily. "Is this what you want from me!" he snapped, leaning into her so hard she could feel the bricks pressing into her back. "Is this what you want to see, Sara?"
She ran her tongue over her upper lip, surprised by how easy it had been to break him. It made her realise she had more power over him than he had ever allowed her to see.
She could smell the alcohol on his breath as it mingled with hers, and she curved into him with sudden abandon, sliding her slender fingers up the front of his shirt, grasping a tight fistful of the material. She pulled him roughly, allowing their lips to crash together in that final, long overdue moment of contact.
The powerful surge of passion was immediate, and Grissom responded with equal fervour, and she felt him deflating, felt the moment he allowed himself to give into her whims completely. He forced her mouth open, sliding his tongue inside to tangle with hers, exploring her taste with such ardent passion, she had no doubt he had fantasised about this moment almost as much as she had.
She lifted her arms to circle around his neck, feeling strangely dizzy, unsure if it was because of the alcohol in her system, or the effect Grissom was having on her. She had a heightened awareness of everything; the faint, steady hum of music, the taste of beer, the musky odour of Grissom's shirt, the claustrophobic, erotic heat of her own flesh.
Grissom lifted a hand, pressing his palm against the coarse stucco surface of the wall beside her head, flattening himself against the length of her, his other hand burning against her hip as he cradled her against him.
His whiskers brushed against her neck with the most delicious sensation as he lowered his hot lips to her jawline, blazing a trail behind her ear. Sara felt herself moan, taking leave of her senses, and the fact that they were in some anonymous alleyway behind a seedy Vegas bar, and both of them had had far too much to drink.
His warm weight pressing into her was a welcome distraction from all that haunted her in the world, and she found it easy to pretend that they were not who she knew they were, and that this wouldn't matter at all when tomorrow came.
His mouth slid away from her neck, returning to her lips, and she dropped one hand into his soft curls, tugging his face more firmly against hers.
Grissom lowered his hand to her pants, struggling to find the zip to her jeans. Sara felt a modicum of sense hit her, and drew away from his mouth, panting slightly. "Grissom…"
He ignored her, and discovered the basis of his search, sliding his hand below the material, stroking her through her panties.
"Oh…!" she murmured, curving into his hand. He unclasped his belt, and all sense abandoned her completely as felt his firm length against her.
She slid her thighs apart, and groaned against his shoulder as they were joined together. He moved into her slowly, with a deep, steady rhythm, and she clutched the back of his shirt, burrowing against his neck as the eroticism and forbidden facet of their actions hit her full force.
It was her undoing, and she slid into immediate ecstasy, plummeting from her height all too quickly. She felt Grissom follow, and he sagged against her, pressing both of them into the wall.
Grissom was panting harshly, but he didn't pull away, or condemn her, and she suspected it was a release he had resisted allowing himself for far too long. Their attraction ran far more deeply than on a mere physical level, but the sexual tension between them had intensified to such heights after years of pretending, Sara felt like several heavy weights had been lifted from her shoulders.
She turned her face against his neck, feeling oddly dizzy and thrumming with life. "Take me home, Gil".
She felt him swallow, slowly sliding his hand down from the wall and over her cheek. His thumb lingered over her jaw line, tilting her head until she was facing him, and she smiled softly at his sudden gentleness. She knew this had not been his intention when he asked her here tonight, but they had found solace. Just a different kind to the one they were looking for.
000000000