Rating: M (just in case – some adult content)
Spoilers: None
Disclaimers: I had a dream that these characters were really mine….does that count?
Author's Note: Written in response to the Unbound Challenge from 5 Sep 2005.
Just a Bit of Fluff
by Lapsus Stili
She gasped as the marshmallow hit her nose. It stuck there, warm and sticky, some dangling from the tip. Though her whole body froze in shock, her eyes twitched to fix upon the culprit.
Grissom stilled his actions and stared back at her through plate-sized eyes. "Oops…Sara, I'm so sorry!"
"Ooookay…when I said you could help me, Griss, this was not the kind of help I meant."
She was mildly irked at first, but the humour in it quickly won her over and she grinned. With his life not in imminent danger after all, Grissom relaxed.
"Well, this goo is all over my hand and I can't get it off…" he complained, gesturing to the melted Marshmallow Fluff in disgust.
She turned her head to look him square in the face and challenged, "So, in your infinite wisdom, you figured that the best move would be to shake your hand around in the air like you're some crazed one-armed man playing the bongos?"
He simply shrugged in response, turning away from her gaze, and continued picking at the gluey crud on his hand. Partly he did this to avoid her scrutiny, but also to keep from bursting out laughing. Sara had yet to wipe off her nose.
"I have no sympathy for you…you're the one who dropped the ladle in the pot and decided to fish it out with your bare hand." She sighed, pulling out two spoons from the utensil drawer and handing one over absently. "Here, smear a little butter on this and use it like a scraper," she offered, "It'll come off smooth as silk."
As he followed her instructions, which worked just as well as she professed, he glanced her way. She was performing the same task on her nose, guided by her reflection in the glass of the upper cabinet door. Satisfied that they were both now gunk-free, Grissom grabbed a paper towel and wiped away the greasy traces that were left behind on his hand.
"And where, may I ask, did you learn this ingenious little trick?" he asked, passing a clean corner of his towel over the now-shiny tip of her nose.
"I wouldn't have volunteered to make 12 trays of these goodies for the bake sale if I'd never made them before," she chimed. "As their name suggests, I learned to make Harvard Squares back when I was in college. Cooking while half-tanked gets messy…"
"Of course. One of your educational highlights, I'm sure."
Sara retrieved the two baking pans from the oven, each containing a small puddle of melted butter. She placed one on a trivet in front of her, the other on a hot-mat for Grissom.
"Alright, these are the last ones we have to do." That said, she divided up and doled out the graham crumbs.
Grissom muttered a low "Thank god" under his breath while he scooped the last of the melted Fluff into the waiting trays.
"I heard that." Sara added the walnuts. Wordlessly handing her the bowl of chocolate chips, Grissom then set about tearing open the last bag of flaked coconut.
This being the sixth time they had repeated this today, their interactions were approaching assembly line efficiency. Both were enjoying the relaxation of just being together – none of their usual stress invaded their conversations today, and it was nice.
Once the final ingredients were tamped into the pans, into the oven they went. It was pretty warm in the kitchen, and both cooks were starting to feel the heat. Sara wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, unknowingly leaving a smear of chocolate along her lip.
When she looked over, she saw him staring at her intently. "What?"
Grissom didn't answer her, but instead approached slowly. Sara parted her lips slightly and her tongue snaked out adding moisture to the sudden dryness there; Grissom mimicked her action unconsciously. She kept expecting him to stop any time… three feet away, then two feet… and by the time he had reached and surpassed the one foot mark, her heart was fluttering madly in her chest.
He didn't stop. Not until his lips pressed themselves to the chocolately smudge on her sweet, sweet mouth. Then he couldn't stop. Couldn't stop tasting her, breathing her, wanting her - all this while they were joined solely by their lips. Responding immediately to the tentative nudge of his tongue, Sara opened her mouth and welcomed him home.
Not surprisingly, things soon escalated. Hair was caressed, backs were stroked, bodies were fused almost into one as their long-denied passions were finally acknowledged. At some point Sara had taken it upon herself to steer them back until she had pinned Grissom against the fridge. A soft moan rose up in her right before she reached out and grabbed…
BUZZ!
Both of them jolted back to reality and Sara staggered back, breaking their contact at last. They stood, eyes locked, trying to breathe again. Grissom tired of the timer's screech. He reached over and silenced it.
With that the spell was broken and awkwardness ensued.
"Uh… we… the squares… dropped off by noon… um… need a shower and…"
Ever the gentleman, and surprisingly calm in light of recent developments, Grissom stepped in and saved her from her ramblings. "You go ahead and get washed up. I'll finish up here and then we can take everything over to the Rec Center. Ok?"
Sara nodded numbly, then headed for her room, but spun back when she remembered something. "Oh, don't forget that the Fluff containers are recyclable, but they need to be completely scraped out and rinsed first."
The man winced. He had forgotten about the gaggle of plastic tubs herded by the microwave. The remains of themarshmallow was still plastered to the insides.
"Aw crap… I'll get covered in it again! Then I'll need a shower too…" He stopped his rant realizing what he had implied. A mischievous grin preceded his wagging eyebrows.
Smirking back, Sara replied, "Isn't that your problem?"