Chapter 76

Drunk

When Gil wrapped up the murder case, for the first time in years, he got miraculously drunk. Originally, the idea had been to leave work on time at the end of the final dayshift and catch Sara at home – he felt more than pleased that somehow fate had allowed it that he should solve the case on Sara's day off.

His plans to make it to Sara's had been thwarted immediately when he'd been approached by the dayshift team. After having stressed nonstop for eight running days, celebratory drinks with the dayshift CSIs had been somewhat unavoidable.

Gil efforts in solving the case had been appreciated more than he'd even realised, and what had started out as the promise of just going out for one drink – in the spirit of not trying to be a killjoy - had quickly escalated. One drink become four drinks, then four drinks somehow became eight, and after eight he began to lose count of how many drinks the team did buy him, or how many in return he'd bought them.

With each consumed drink, he found himself only thinking of Sara more, and wishing to get to her.

Every time he advised the CSIs he was drinking with that he should go – that he had personal matters to attend to – he'd be convinced into staying for one more drink, and the cycle would repeat itself. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew full well this had been several months ago, there'd be no way in hell he'd even be sitting in that bar right now, let alone be drunk.

It was almost ten pm before Gil found he could no longer piece together the sentences of most of the famous quotes he knew by heart. Finally, it seemed it was time to stop accepting drinks. When he couldn't remember things, that's when he knew he'd reached his limit.

By the time he'd finally managed to walk away from the bar – or rather stagger – his head was pleasantly buzzing although he was still rather alert. Despite he still felt sharp enough to know where he was going and what he was doing, his body didn't seem to know anything at all. Suddenly, the slightest bump in the sidewalk would cause him to lose his balance and fall, the slightest crack would cause him to trip.

Even as drunk as he was, his only thought was to get to Sara. Over two weeks of separation had been eating at him, and it was finally time to close some of the distance that work – as well as other emotional issues – had kept them apart.

I'm going to feel this tomorrow, he thought as he picked himself up from yet another fall, this time down the first four steps in the stairwell of Sara's apartment building.

The last drink he'd had had been a double scotch, and he'd neglected to realise that the drink might have decided to kick in by the time he had walked to Sara's apartment rather than the opposite. He'd much assumed that he'd have managed to somehow sober up on the walk. No such luck.

When Sara had answered the door to him, he'd practically fallen in, landing on his knees on the hardwood floor with a soft thud, he caught himself on his hands.

"Gil?" Sara asked in confusion, she'd stepped aside just in time to avoid him landing on her.

"Sorry, I'm a bit unsteady," he replied with a good natured laugh, and he pulled himself up, swaying heavily from intoxication. He took a good look at her, and thought of how marvelous she looked in lime green pajamas with cartoon pigs, and pink terrycloth slippers. Her brown hair was tied back in a taut ponytail, and not a stitch of makeup spoiled her face.

"Are you drunk?" Sara gaped, as if she couldn't quite believe it.

"Probably," Gil rubbed his face tiredly.

"You are drunk," Sara then remarked, studying him for a moment. She had an ex-expression of defeat playing around her face. "I tried calling you earlier on your cell phone…just kept getting through to your voicemail service."

Gil paused to think, and suddenly realised he'd left his phone at work inadvertently. "It's at work," he sighed.

"How much have you been drinking?" Sara closed the front door.

"I…don't know, I lost count," he stared her up and down, he tried to think of something ultimately Earth shattering that would verbally seduce her enough into wanting to make love with him right at that moment, but by the disenchanted expression on her face, he realised the chances of that happening were becoming slimmer and slimmer by the moment.

"Drinking alone?"

"With dayshift. They insisted…didn't want to bring them down when they were all so pleased with wrapping up the case," he slurred.

"You have dirt on your jacket," Sara sighed, she grabbed onto the collar of his jacket and began to tug it off of him in a rather rough and careless fashion.

"I fell," Gil replied, raising his arms as she yanked on the jacket.

"More than once by the look of it."

"Ow, take it easy," he winced as she tugged too hard, hurting his arm.

Sara removed the jacket from him, "I can't believe you got drunk."

"What's the big deal?" he suddenly spurt, "I've been on this case for eight days running with very little sleep, huge amounts of stress…" he trailed off, "so what if I have a couple of drinks after work…?"

"Are you forgetting the whole 'alcohol' conversation we had over three weeks ago?" Sara asked, folding her arms.

Gil placed his hand against the wall to steady himself, "no…I'm not forgetting. I just…I don't know…" he put his hand to his head, "I can't think straight right now…all I could think about was coming to see you…" he stared at her again, he tried not to let it get to him but it was unavoidable. He wanted her. He'd spent two weeks wanting her, and not having her, and now that she was there in front of him, it was impossible to ignore. "God you're beautiful."

Sara sighed again, and she dropped her arms, "now that's the liquor talking," she replied.

"No…no it's not…" he reached out for her, catching her by the shoulders, he pulled her to him and drunkenly tried to kiss her, she recoiled, pushing him back forcefully.

"Not in this life time," she warned him with a venomous look in her dark brown eyes.

Why's she looking at me like that? All I did was get drunk, it's hardly grounds for dirty looks…

He tried to ignore his thoughts for now, deciding he might have been misinterpreting that expression in her eyes. "We haven't had sex in…" he stopped, trying to count, "twenty-three days…"

"I can't believe you're even counting," Sara retorted, "And we won't be having sex anytime soon. You're hammered. Look at you…you can't even stand straight."

"I'm standing fine," he assured. He wished he had more grasp on his body language to convince her otherwise. Right now, he felt as if the whole world were slightly off centre and at an odd twenty degree tilt. He reached out for the wall again to steady himself, the wall had seemed much nearer than it actually had been and his fingers missed it and he fell once again.

"Go sleep it off," Sara gestured to her bedroom with a sigh of defeat.

"Do you know the last time I was drunk?" he asked insolently, he pulled himself up awkwardly, using the wall for leverage.

"No."

"Neither do I," he confessed in, "way you're acting, you'd think this was something I did on a regular basis."

"It's not, and that's what bothers me about it. You don't even look like yourself anymore…and you're leering at me, it's creeping me out."

"I'm sorry, I'll try not to," he replied, although his eyes fell to her chest once again. The words 'purple bra' rang through his mind like a rather loud siren although he knew there was no chance in hell she might be wearing it. She wouldn't be wearing anything under that pajama top.

"You're still doing it, Gil."

"I'm sorry…" he raised his eyes back to hers, briefly, quickly flashed one more look at her chest before turning his attention back to her.

"Just go to my bedroom and sleep it off."

"What about sex?" he asked hopefully, he kicked himself for being so blunt, up until four days ago, he'd always considered any intimacy with Sara as making love. He supposed it could just be the liquor giving him the courage to be much more direct than usual. Courage doubled with liquor and frustration. Not a very nice combination for someone as quiet and reserved as Gil Grissom.

"No chance," she laughed. "Try taking a cold shower."

"You don't want to be with me?" he sighed, feeling rather dejected.

"This isn't about me not wanting to," Sara protested.

Could have fooled me, he thought.

"Then what is it about?" he dared to ask.

"You're drunk and I'm menstruating," she grumbled. "So you may as well get the idea of sex out of your head."

"No need for that cold shower now…" he decided in defeat, feeling rather turned off just by the thought. He didn't feel mortified by her admission, but he wondered had he been much more sober, would he have turned pink around the ears, and looked away from her in distress.

"You're so unlike yourself right now, it's scaring me."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he objected. "I'm just the way I've always been…only drunker," he shrugged.

"Just go lie down," Sara pointed towards the bedroom again, she averted her gaze from him, he wasn't sure if she was embarrassed or annoyed. "You need to sleep this off, Gil."

Gil sighed, realizing she was right, and he headed towards her bedroom with not another word. Without even removing his shoes he dropped to the bed, surprised he had not realised how truly exhausted he had been. He was sleeping within seconds, a deep, dreamless sleep.

Yeah, it's OOC, what can I do? I just thought it'd be nice to see the table tipped a bit here.

Ah, anyway: Thanks to the following reviewers...

lilegyptiangoddess, Mystical Panther, PamIrL, sarah makinson, jbr12476, Hope, NimrodDuckie, Aidriana, leddy, Wishing on the Moon, Niebezpiczny Kziezyc, michele, OrganizedChaos1982, the mad wanderer, kristy87, ElisaCollette, csibugman

Your reviews mean so much to me :) They continue to make my day every day :)

Ash