Title: Bubbles in the Wine
Disclaimer: I assure CBS that their characters won't get drunk. THAT much, anyway. D
Rating: PG-13 (very light R for intimate scene)
A/N: Long one-shot. Sorry in advance for any mistakes in Norwegian...I used a translator (I don't know anything beyond hi.) You can skimp on the part between the wedding and the hangover; I don't think I'm very good at particular scenes. Probably OOC on the last bit. In response to a challenge:
1. Greg is preparing to leave, for good, when his sister calls
reminding him of her wedding that was days away.
2. Dropping off his two weeks he informs Grissom of the wedding and
asks if its possible for Sara to have off too, Greg takes Sara to
the wedding.
3. While there things happen between two (up to you), while there
Greg tries to tell Sara of his departure but can't.
4. neither talk once they come back, Greg leaves
5. finding out he left Sara tries to go after him, will she find
him? or not? will she talk to his sister about where he might be?
(where he goes is up to you)
6. MUST USE characters; Grissom, Cath, Nick, Mia, Hodges, Greg, and
of course Sara. other characters optional
7. Greg/Sara, other pairings up to you, if you can stand to pair up
anyone with Hodges you got alot of strength!
8. any rating
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On the computer screen on the bottom right-hand corner stood the time "1:28 AM"; it would be a few hours yet until the graveyard shift was over for the lab. Known but not seen by the white-coated people were neon lights and a big city waiting for Las Vegas' finest.
Not quite as busy as the outside world, the lab teemed with detectives, officers, and criminalists doing what they did best: ridding the world of everyday evil.
It took a while, but a pink slip with Greg Sander's name on it was going to make sure that he wasn't going to be a part of all that anymore.
"Greg? Did you finish the report on the McCallister case yet?" A graying head of hair poked through the glass doors of office.
The younger CSI looked up, and acknowledging the boss' words, rummaged through a pile of papers and pulled out a folder. "Here."
Gil Grissom raised his eyebrows at Greg's behavior, but didn't say a word as he walked back the way he came.
With a sigh, Greg shoved the files he was working on away and leaned back in his chair. Not that he didn't like Grissom and the rest of the team, but he wanted to get away. Away from the things that were slowly eating him inside and leaving a deep black hole.
At that moment, his silver cell phone rang to the Red Hot Chili Peppers. He picked it up and flipped it open in surprise. What was his sister's number doing on the screen?
"Gregory? Helvete , it's Emily.. It's been a long while, how are you?"
Emily was the only one in his family that actually spoke English more than Norwegian. Besides him, of course.
"I've been busy." His brow knitted in confusion. "Why are you calling, anyway? Isn't it kind of late for you?"
A happy laugh rang through his ears as his sister no doubted smiled on the other end. "What, I can't call and see how my favorite little brother is doing?"
"Never mind that I'm your ONLY brother, Em."
"Avrette. True. But never mind. I was making sure you were coming to my wedding in three days."
Greg nearly dropped the phone. What? "What?"
Another giggle. "Don't tell me you forgot, broren. I've only reminded you a dozen times."
Lying through his teeth, Greg muttered. "I didn't."
"You can lie as good as pigs can fly. Defintely not part of your ferdighetene, Greggo."
He chose to ignore that last comment. "So how is your soon-to-be hubby, anyway?"
"Matthew be fine once the wedding is over. Nervous as a cat on a hot tin roof. So are you coming?"
"Ja. Of course I would. Wouldn't miss it for the world."
Emily gave one last laugh. "That's great. I'll see you there then, ok? And bring a date." A click told Greg that his sister hung up on him.
Great. Now what was he going to do?
-----------
"Two weeks of leave is all I ask for, Grissom."
"Whatever for, Greg?"
Greg nervously ran a hand through his mussed-up hair before replying. "I've got a wedding to go to in three days."
"Oh?"
Seeing that Grissom was only slightly interested, he added, "My sister Emily."
"Ah. That'll be fine then. Where is it, may I ask?"
"Massachusetts. I'm the only one that's all the way near the West Coast."
Grissom nodded as he wrote it down on a piece of paper to be sent to the head of the department later. "Well, have fun. And try to keep the turban at home." He smirked as he remembered a slightly younger Greg taking a shot at being a psychic swami.
The other CSI had the decency to blush just a little. Clutching at the pink slip that was hanging out his back pocket, a lightbulb went off in his head. "I'm supposed to bring a date." Grissom's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "Maybe...I could bring Sara? If she wants to go, of course, but I'm sure she wouldn't mind and-"
"That's fine with me, even though Conrad won't be all that happy that two CSIs will be away on a vacation, however short it may be. I can always get Catherine or Nick to handle her cases."
Greg shrugged. Nodding at Grissom, he got ready to leave the room, then remembered. He turned back toward Grissom's desk and slipped the pink slip on top of a pile of papers.
Missing his soon-to-be-former boss' frown, he left to find one pretty brunette.
-----------
Five minutes later and quite a bit of looking, Greg found her sitting amidst heaps of evidence and papers. Muttering to herself, Sara Sidle held up a heavy bottle of what seemed to be chlorine.
"Sara?"
She jumped in surprise and nearly dropped the jug on her foot. "Greg! Warn me the next time you want to scare me, ok?"
He grinned in embarrassment, not wanting to make her any more upset. "Sorry."
Brushing the hair out of her eyes, she picked up the bottle and placed it back onto the metal table. "Did you need something?"
Greg hesitated. Did he really want to do this? "I wanted to ask you a favor." Seeing her look to continue, he went on. "I was hoping you could come to me to my sister's wedding."
She blinked in surprise. "Emily? The tall one?"
"The very same."
The pretty brunette sighed. "But...I've got so much work to do here on the Addams case. And I just can't leave it here...when is it?"
"Three days. All the way out on the East coast. Grissom said that he'd get Catherine or Nick to cover for you."
Doubt still lingered in her eyes. "But I've been waiting for Mia to finish the tox reports on my vic."
At that moment, David Hodges chose to walk in. "I think you need a break, Sara. No beauty sleep ruins the whole look for you."
Greg struggled not to laugh at Sara's look of fury. Before Sara could wrap her small hands around Hodge's throat, he cut in. "You can't back out. Grissom's already signed you out for the two week leave."
This time Hodges interfered before blood could be spilled. "Anyway, I didn't come here to convince you to go on this lovely little trip. Your victim, Daniel Addams apparently died from polyhexamethylene biguanide. An alternative to the type of chlorine used in pools. Somehow, your vic drank some and by the looks of it, at least half a gallon."
Sara smiled, but her mood quickly changed upon seeing a red-haired woman and a dark-haired man head toward their way.
Catherine Willows brushed a piece of copper hair behind her ear. "So, we hear that you and Greg are going to a wedding."
Her companion laughed. "Not theirs, I hope." Nick Stokes grimaced as both Catherine and Sara threw a light punch to an arm.
-----------
Two days, one tiring flight, and two pairs of sore feet later brought Greg and Sara to a Hyatt on the edge of Boston.
"So when is the wedding tomorrow?" Sara dropped her suitcase onto the plush floor with a dull thunk. Greg followed suit and wearily laid his body down onto the bed.
Only then did she realize something. "Uh...Greg?"
He lifted his head from the dark-ruby eiderdown. "What?"
"There's only one bed."
In one swift motion, Greg bolted from the fluffy warmth and stared at it. "Oh. Great. Emily really did think I had a date."
Sara's jaw dropped to the floor. "What?" She spluttered uncharacteristically.
"Um...nothing."
In a split second Greg was nose to nose one very flushed CSI. "Your DATE?"
"Yeah. But that's okay, you're more like a friendly date."
She glared. "And you were planning to tell me when?"
For a brief moment, Greg could almost compare her to a ruffled hen. Not that he'd tell her. "Um...uh..."
"Well?"
"I was gonna tell you, honest! Like right before the wedding. Except I just let it slip."
With a deep frown, Sara huffed but stepped back. "Anything else you want to tell me?"
Shifting from foot to foot, Greg faltered. There WAS something, and right now was as good of a time as any. "Actually there -" He was interrupted by a loud knock and several loud voices on the hotel room door.
"Greg!"
Avoiding Sara's gaze, he walked over and pulled open the door to find his family and Matthew Adhern, his sister's fiancé, waiting outside in the hall. Rushing to meet him, they stopped short upon seeing Sara standing in the middle of the room.
"Who's this, kjære? Greg's mother smiled lovingly at the nervous brunette.
"Sara Sidle, moren. She's a friend."
"A bekjent? I doubt that." His father chuckled knowingly as everyone decided to welcome the newcomers to Massachusetts.
Smothered in hugs, Greg refused to meet Sara in the eye. He couldn't tell her. Yet.
-----------
"I've got to hand it to your family, Greg, they really know how to plan a wedding." Sara's voice came out muffled from behind the bathroom door.
The two of them were back in their hotel room, getting ready for the wedding reception later that night. She had called dibs on the bathroom, because "I admit, women do take longer showers than men."
"Thank you. Are you done yet? Because we have half an hour till we have to meet everyone down at the lobby."
"Give a girl a break, will you, Sanders? I can't change into a dress THAT fast."
"Funny enough, I've never seen you in a dress. Must be why."
"I hope that wasn't gonna be an insult, because if it was, your nose will be as broken as your ego."
"Just hurry up already!"
Ten minutes later, Sara cautiously opened the door to see Greg looking handsome, almost sexy in a light blue collared shirt and pressed sandalwood slacks. Complete with a matching tie. At least his hair was still in a somewhat messy mop.
Greg, in turn, was absolutely smashed at her dulcet figure in the ruby and black halter-top number she had picked. Not quite ankle-length, but past the knees, it hugged tight to her body and righteously showing off the curves she normally hid. And, he noticed with satisfaction, that she was only wearing a little bit of makeup to top it all off. He whistled.
Sara flushed a deep pink and swatted at him with a grin on her face. "Stop it. Help me zip it up in the back, will you?"
She turned around and he gulped at the stretch of bare back she posed to him. "Su...Sure."
Holding one hand around her waist, Greg pulled the zipper up. Sara turned and gave him a smile, and heading for the door with purse in hand.
Strange thing was, he never removed his hand and she never complained.
-----------
"Won't you dance with your date, kjære?"
"Mother, we're just friends."
A very happy Emily bounded over to the dinner table where the parents, Greg, and Sara were sitting. "One dance, Greggo! It'll be fun!"
Greg adamantly shook his head no. "I don't dance." Sara nodded her agreement. Both downed what seemed to be their third glass of Pinot Noir.
Before they knew it, Emily and Greg's mother had dragged them up by the arm and forced them onto the dance floor. "I'll make sure you can't leave until you guys dance at least ONE dance." The newly-wedded bride's eyes gleamed mischievously.
Sara sighed. "Might as well. I hope you don't have two left feet."
With that, Greg grinned. "Don't worry about me. As long as you don't step on mine, we'll be fine." A slow dance began to play.
"Are you implying that I'm ungraceful?"
"Not at all." He took her around the waist, and held her at a comfortable distance. Gently he led her around the dance floor, making sure not to cross the personal space line.
Sara was puzzled. If she didn't know any better, and she did, she could almost swear that Greg was acting more stiffly than usual. So, she leaned forward and rested her head in the nook between his neck and shoulder.
Pausing for only an instant, Greg continued to move in time to the beat. "Tired?" He asked, deeply inhaling the scent of her strawberry shampoo.
"No, I'm just really comfortable."
Before they knew it, the dance was over. Another slow one came up, more melodious and passionate. Without thinking twice, Sara held on, and in disguised surprise Greg went on dancing.
Emily smiled when she caught them on their fifth song.
-----------
Holding their tenth glass of wine, the couple somehow made it into the elevator pleasantly buzzed and very much into the moment.
At first sight, they really did look like a genuine hopeless-in-love couple instead of friends.
"Thank you very much for taking me here, Greg." Sara slurred the words a little as the wine took on effect.
Greg couldn't pretend to be unaffected either by the alcohol. Relishing in her warmth, he pulled her close and softly set his lips on hers.
She responded immediately, leaning into the kiss and wrapping her arms around his neck for leverage. Grasping her just below the waist, he deepened the kiss and nipped lovingly at her bottom lip.
A chime sounded and the elevator doors opened. Somehow never parting, they made it down the hallway to their room and opened the door. Upon entry, they collapsed on the bed and enveloped themselves in the other.
Somehow between all the kissing and groping, the clothes they had been wearing ended up in a heap on the floor. How they managed not to rip everything off into shreds they would wonder about later on, but at the moment nothing existed except for just them.
For a minute, they drank in the heavenly sight that the other was
In the back of her mind, she had the notion that this was wrong, that it wasn't right. That they should stop before they went too far.
As if he knew what she was thinking, he had begun nibbling and teasing her nipples while his fingers worked her core, hitting all the pleasurable spots.
After that, it was pure bliss.
-----------
"Eurgh." Sara held up her hand to shield her eyes from the sunlight streaming in through the window. She didn't know why, but she had one hell of a headache.
Raising her head confusedly from the pillow, she sat up and looked around. Wait. Why was her dress on the floor?
Oh crap.
With as much speed that one can have with a killer hangover, she shot out of bed and grabbed the nearest towel she could find. Screw pleasantries. "Oh shit. This cannot be fucking happening."
Putting on some pajamas and tried to fix her hair, she left the room to go find some aspirin.
-----------
"Mmph." Greg rolled over and felt for warmth. When his arm touched nothing but cooled sheets, he carefully propped himself on his right arm and glanced around the room.
His jaw dropped in horror as the evidence of last night's events came crashing down on top of him.
"Fuck."
The gentle click of the doorknob turning caught his attention, and he quickly wrapped the sheets around his body.
"Here."
Dazedly Greg accepted the cold glass of water and the aspirin that Sara handed to him. "Thanks."
"No problem. We need to talk."
Leave it up to Sara to go straight to the point. "Not right now, Sar. Hangover'll kill me."
"Fine. I'll go order us breakfast." She raked her eyes down below his waist. "You might want a cold shower." She smirked as he sent her a death glare.
"Order the damn food, Sidle."
-----------
"Bacon and eggs, with a Belgian waffle. How'd you know?" Greg took a forkful of waffle dripping in syrup and swallowed it.
She shrugged. "So where do we stand now?"
He sighed and laid his fork down. "Where do you want to stand?"
Uneasy quiet filled the room. A brief sudden pause, and then: "Just friends." Even though it was entirely untrue, Greg seemed to have believe the lie. There was no way Sara was going to get attached now, not when her work could be on the line and she could lose a friend.
Deep down, Greg felt like the biggest asshole on earth. How could he have even thought for one second that she would have wanted to be something other than friends? That's what his resignation was for-he couldn't stand being around her, pining 24/7 when she didn't feel a single thing."Ok. Friends it is."
If she noticed the ice in his voice, she didn't show it.
The rest of breakfast was spent in stony silence.
-----------
Back at the lab in Las Vegas, Sara and Greg spent their first day back as far from each other as possible. He knew for a fact she was busy in the evidence room, and that she wouldn't think about coming to his office. They refused to think about the truce they unhappily made.
Several boxes were stacked by the door, awaiting for the last minutes of his shift. The only thing left to do was give all his reports and files to Grissom, and he was free from the place he had once called home.
Free from her.
-----------
The next day, Sara was set on talking to Greg. Fuck the fact that he didn't want to; she spent all day thinking about exactly what she was going to say.
As soon as she got into work, Greg was going to have to hear her out and nothing was going to stop her.
Except for the empty room that greeted her when she swung open the glass door to his office.
In shock, she yelled for Grissom, and stared blankly at the white walls as Grissom nearly ran to see what the matter was.
"What's wrong?"
It took her a minute to get the words out. When she did, the words jumbled over each other and almost sounded hysterical. "Where's Greg? I mean, why's his office empty? Maybe-"
"Sara.
"Where'd everything go? Did you move his office without telling me or-"
"Sara."
"Or maybe he's just remodeling his office. That has to be it, right? And-"
"Sara!" She blinked in surprise as Grissom finally raised his voice to catch her attention. "Greg is no longer here."
Time stopped, and her heart fell to the floor. "What do you mean?" The words came out fragile.
"He resigned the day you two left for Massachusetts. Technically, he had two weeks leave left so he took it."
His words hung limply in the air as Sara ran to the elevator and nearly bowled over a confused Nick in the process.
-----------
It took her a while to find out where Greg was hiding, but she knew it was worth it. A call to Emily told her that Greg never specifically gave her an address but that it wasn't in the city, at least not in the thick of casinos and strip clubs and 24-hour diners.
As close to isolation as one could be in the city of no sleep.
A week of searching almost non-stop, and she finally found it.
A small one-floor house that really didn't seem to fit into Greg's life at the lab, not quirky or geeky but just the average white picket-fence house that if there was family there, you could imagine a dog in the backyard and flowers growing by the front door with a welcome mat.
Standing on the house sidewalk, she whipped around in surprise as the door opened.
"Are you just going to stand there or are you going to actually ring the doorbell?" A disheveled Greg was leaning against the doorframe, looking as if he hadn't slept in days.
Giving no room for him to change his mind, Sara walked up and into the house. As soon as she stepped inside, he closed the door.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Greg looked down at his bare feet, and Sara knew that he did that because he didn't want to answer. And she was extremely hurt.
"You even told Hodges." The accusing tone in her voice was unmistakable.
He still didn't look up, but sighed and shifted feet.
In a fit of blinded emotion she slapped him, and with that he really did look up. And Sara was instantly sorry, because the sadness in his eyes grew like the red bruise that was beginning to form. "Why, Greg?"
"You."
"What?"
"You. Because of you."
She released the breath she didn't know she was holding. "Me?"
"You. I really did like you, you know. That's why I can't stay."
"Why not?" To her ears, she sounded like some broken record.
"It won't work, you know. You loving Hank, you loving Grissom, but me, I'm loving you and it won't work."
"Why not?"
The sadness in his eyes turned into fury. "Stop asking me that fucking question, Sara! You know damn well why not!"
Sara froze. She did know; she only wished...no, wanted him to prove her wrong.
"You know, don't you?" Anger turned back into misery.
"Yes. But you can't leave!"
Mocking her, Greg pulled a very uncharacteristic sneer. Only then did she smell a light scent of alcohol on him.
"Are you drunk, Greg Sanders?"
"Like you give a shit, Sidle."
That stung deeper that she thought possible, it really did. "I do give a shit, Greg! You're my friend and I'm not about to let you lay wasted like some piece of dumped trash!"
"Like you, huh?" Even though he was borderline sober, he knew he went too far.
One step forward and she had slapped him again. Repressed rage was rolling off her in waves. And to his surprise, she then grabbed his shirt and started to sob.
Not knowing whether or not to shove her away or comfort her, Greg decided on the latter and started to rub slow, smooth circles on her back. "I'm sorry, Sara, I didn't mean it."
A few minutes passed, and her muffled sobs became sniffles. Even though he couldn't see her face, he felt her lips curve into a small smile against his chest. Pushing herself away from him, Sara laughed softly. "I'm sorry I got your shirt so soaked."
Indeed, his shirt might as well have been dunked into a lake. "It's ok. I really am sorry, Sara. But I can't come back."
"Why not? We need you, Greg. We miss our resident lab rat."
He couldn't help but grin. "You guys still call me that even though I'm a CSI now? Or was," he added quietly.
The smiles on their faces faded. "Grissom still has the position open. You can come back."
"There's no reason to."
Her eyes grew hopeful. "There's me."
"I didn't even have you in the first place."
"You do now."
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Two days later, a bottle of bubbly Pinot Noir and a glass flute stood on his desk.