Title: Gershwin in the Night.
Summary: Sara and her ruminations at night. Fluff. GSR.
A/N: Kill me now. Fluff? What was I thinking. And sugary sweet fluff at that. If you don't like it, toast it like you'd do with marshmallows. If you do have a sweet tooth, let me know!
The rights to any of Gershwin's songs unfortunately do not belong to me, nor do the rights to CSI.
II-II-II
Sara flipped over onto her stomach, pounding and shaking the pillow until it no longer resembled a regular rectangle but a pile of submissive cotton that looked inviting enough to fall back asleep on. Pressing her cheek onto it she sighed and flipped over onto her left side. And again she flipped, but now onto her right side and groaned, kicking the tangled cover from between her legs and switching on the bedside lamp.
Gershwin. Why the hell did she have this sudden urge to put on a Gershwin CD and dream away on the soothing tones of 'Embraceable You'? Figuring there was no cure for the Gershwin blues she stood up and half stumbled toward the CD player that stood in the living room.
It had been an hour since she actually climbed in her bed, fully intent on sleeping the night away. Well, she acquiesced, at least for four hours. After that, it would probably have been a battle of an exhausted body against a too-chipper mind. But no, falling asleep simply wasn't in the cards for Sara tonight. It had been yesterday, though. And the day before that. Come to think of it, she was hard pressed to remember a sleep which wasn't restful and comfortable in the last two weeks.
She turned and surveyed the room; the LCD display of her CD player cast a slight shine over the desk, but for the rest the room was generally dark, a hint of moonshine peeking underneath one of the window's blinds. It was soothing and calm and familiar, and upon deciding that laying in bed tossing and turning was less fruitful than taking a blanket and settling herself on the couch, she walked back to her bedroom, took out a knitted blanket from the cupboard and wrapped it around her shoulders. Passing by the mirror she caught a quick glance of herself and smiled slightly. Her hair was tousled, the blanket bulky compared to her lanky frame. And yet, her eyes shone. She mentally shook her head. How cliché could she get? But it was true. Her eyes were bright awake and smiling in a way only eyes could. No combination of lips and facial muscles could quite project the same brightness that was now lingering in her eyes.
Windows to the soul? Well, her soul must be one giant piece of sugary convection in order to be that… sweet. Or perhaps she was in love.
Her eyes widened in shock. Love?
No. No. Nononono. Love was too big, too all encompassing for her. Too serious. Truly caring? That worked for her. It was less scary, and while caring had the opportunity to get her hurt, the chances and results were far less detrimental than actually loving. And yet she knew deep down by the way her heart leapt and her grin grew that she was in love.
Having reached her couch after her mental ruminations she plopped down and shifted into the decorative little pillows, creating a little cuddly space. The music was still playing, and after a few minutes she got up again; the jazz-filled tones were too inviting to sit still with. Swinging a little in each step she took she walked to the kitchen and made herself a quarter pot of freshly ground coffee.
Nights off were not her kind of thing in the most normal of circumstances. They definitely weren't the kind of thing she wanted when Grissom wasn't there in bed with her. Yep, the big old L word was too darn applicable for her feelings for him.
And, she reflected when taking a sip of her creamed and sugared coffee, it applied to him as well. If his whispered 'I love you' earlier that night was any indication at least.
Finis.