Thanks to Fishy AKA CheesyPoofs. That's right, Cheesy Poofs. Oh, and to Gibby. That's all.
The stray whiskers on his face… she hated them. They poked out at odd angles and stood out in the light and glinted and just looked so out of place. Sara wondered if he would be at all offended if she took a pair of shears to them.
They were fun to run her palms across…
Across the break room, she watched him, her eyes dark, mischievous. And though she wished only to walk across the room and trail her hands over his face, for a moment she slowed herself down.
She was getting quite good at slowing down. She was becoming a pro at rationalizing everything, at taking everything as a grain of salt… even grains of sand. Mixing metaphors-there was obviously something amiss.
If she had such an issue with a few stray hairs, she couldn't help but wonder, help but agonize over what he might find annoying in her. Perhaps her voice, the way she sounded when she whined, her clingy nature while sleeping… it could all be lumped into the category of things she didn't particularly like in herself; maybe he didn't like them about her either.
Still, she stared, the non-dairy creamer going into the mug followed by the flimsy stirrer. His hand twirled the little, red, plastic rod around and around and Sara found herself drawn in by the motion. Clockwise, always clockwise.
A moment later she blinked and he was gone from the counter, seated beside her, clutching a section of the morning news in his hands. And he was amused, the slight smirk touching his lips giving him away. "Can't be that interesting."
"…huh?
"Watching me stir my coffee?" The mischievous glint that had been in her eyes now resided in his.
"It's not," she said casually, sipping her own now-luke warm coffee. "It's thoroughly uninteresting which is why it's so interesting to me."
"Expand," he urged, placing his mug down on the table, folding his hands in his lap to listen.
"Well," she began," You're so thoroughly odd to most people, you have the most strange mannerisms, past times… that the things that are normal about you, the things that everyone else does… are what really defines you."
She could feel his smile before he actually smiled it, but when he did, he didn't disappoint. Hiding his true mirth and amusement at her statement, Grissom reached out for his coffee and brought it to his lips. "Well… okay."
Sara too smiled, dipping her head as she watched his other hand sneak out to retrieve the newspaper. "You have nice hands," she said, her voice bordering on a whisper, but so filled with interest that he couldn't help but retort.
Like an epiphany, that's how her voice sounded, as if she had discovered some great treasure. She sounded as if she's unwrapped a Christmas gift and found out it was just what she didn't know she wanted.
"Yours are nicer," and he gave her a wink that nearly sent her sputtering into her coffee. "How does that saying go? Oh, right, tweaked for purpose of course but: If I said you had nice hands, would you hold them against me?"
That time she did sputter into her coffee, gasping for breath, looking over at him with a gaping mouth and saucer-like eyes. "What has gotten in to you?"
Flicking the page of his paper with one finger, he set his mouth in an amused, straight line. "That's a very good question, perhaps we should investigate." And he didn't even react when he nudged her in the ribs with his elbow. He was acting as if this was just any other day.
Any other day… yeah right.
'Caffeine overdose,' Sara mused and leaned over in her chair to see what he was reading. "The classifieds? For what?" Grissom said nothing, so she continued on, "Are you moving?"
Looking at her as if she had somehow grown a second head, he rolled his eyes. "For lofts Sara." A weighty pause and then, "For you."
After blinking a few times, Sara wondered if she should have been touched or upset. On the one hand, he was outwardly showing an interest in her; on the other, something like that was one hundred percent her decision. She decided to press the issue a bit further to give herself time to sort out exactly what she was feeling. "Find anything nice?"
Her voice was neutral as he brought the paper over to his left, so they could both look at it. "I circled the ones with decks. The ones in red have private yards; the ones in blue have a doorman."
"And the ones in black?"
"Those are the ones that I think would suit you the best."
"Suit me," she said incredulously, "The best."
Grissom nodded, but didn't look at her. "Well these have yards, and balconies and are in nice neighborhoods. And in comparison to the others, have the best rent. But that's just… that." He handed her the paper quickly and sipped his coffee. "Are you stopping by tonight?"
"Stopping by? I thought we had a date." If ever there was a moment for throwing her hands up in the air and freaking out on him, that was it. Mixed signals were exactly what she didn't need at that point, but to her credit, she reeled her aggravation in and waited for his answer.
"We do, I just don't want to pressure you."
Sara eyed him suspiciously, "I'll be by… for our date."
"Who's going on a date?" Warrick asked, breezing into the break room to grab his own mug of caffeinated motor oil.
Griss looked up quickly, glancing over at the other man. "Sara and I," Grissom said, cradling his mug in his hands, blinking at his reflecting in the dark liquid. He probably should have let her answer that question, but he couldn't help it. He liked… answering things.
"What, like together?" Warrick asked and Sara nodded, deeply invested in the classifieds. "Cool," he said, shrugging and then he left. His lack of reaction shocked the both of them, but neither let the other see it.
They sat there until there coffee was just disgusting and got up to track down the next lead.
"Can we do tonight at your house?"
Sara furrowed her brow as she attempted to apply mascara while balancing the phone against her shoulder. "Huh?"
"Can we have our thing tonight-"
"Our date," she rectified and coated the tiny hairs with black. "And why?" There had to be a reason.
"Well," he began hesitantly. "One of my guys got out of their-"
"Say no more, my place is fine, as long as you're still cooking." She smacked her lips, blotting her lipstick on a tissue. "I have like… a box of corn flakes and some baking soda and that's about it."
"No worries," he replied. "I'll supply the buffet."
And though he couldn't see her, she licked her lips anyway. "You'd better." Too erotic, but she saw him spread out over her comforter, his naked chest-
But no, she had to cut off that line of thought before she had to take another shower.
He casually dropped a kiss on her cheek when he entered her apartment and he moved to make dinner. She sat on the divider between her living room and kitchen and just watched him. Scissoring her stockinged feet back and forth, her eyes softened as he bent to stir his sauce.
At one point, he brought the spoon over to her for a tasting and she nearly jumped on him, forced him to the floor and begged him to just take her. But she didn't… and she deserved a pat on that back for that.
It was nice to just watch him move around. It was very arousing.
They didn't talk during dinner, just ate, just glanced at one another. The both of them felt that it was better to be comfortable in one another's presence than to attempt to force conversation about a subject that would most likely fail to engage either of them.
But when they were done with their pasta, Sara simply placed her fork down and rounded the table to settle herself down in his lap. Grissom's eyes went wide for a moment before his hands responded and cradled her hips.
She leaned in for a kiss.
"I've been eating garlic," he pointed out, good spirit withering a bit, careful to avoid breathing on her.
She just smiled. "So have I," and then she kissed him, tasting the delighted smile on his lips, the garlic, his tongue. They went on kissing, Sara wiggling around on top of him, Grissom attempting to keep her balanced on his lap.
Finally, he just gave up and slid her off of him and stood up. "Come on," and he grabbed her hand and tugged her in the direction of the bedroom.
Sara just allowed herself to be led. "O-okay."
Simply sitting on the bed had then in another world and the sweet yearning between them seemed to bubble over. With the gentle touch of his palm on her spine, she was helping him to divest her of her shirt.
All she wanted to do was feel his skin against hers… but then they would both be naked and that would lead to…
He kissed just beneath her chin when she arched her back, thrusting her chest into his palms. She really needed to stop. But it was hard… so hard…
"I," she gasped hard, though his kisses threatened to drag her all the way under. "I don't want to do this now."
And though he was firing on all cylinders (when Gil Grissom committed to a task, he committed) he pulled back, flushed and shamed. "I'm… sorry."
Sara's hands came up and grasped the sides of his face hard, giving him no choice but to look right at her. "That's not it, I want… to," and a naughty smile dared to tempt her lips. "It's just… this is going to sound so insane…"
"Go ahead," he urged, smoothing the hair out of her face, fingers on her temples.
Blushing, licking her lips, feeling like an incredible idiot she said, "I just don't want to uh… christen my uh… this sounds so stupid!"
Grissom smiled and nuzzled her cheek with his nose, "Tell me, Sara."
"I don't want to have sex in this bed if I'm moving to another place… leaving this behind," she said quickly, sucking a breath of air, quickly pressing her lips to his neck. "I don't want to have this be… I want this thing to be something I can have, that I can… live with."
Grissom blinked a moment.
"I can't leave here knowing that you and I… that we… damn it!" She raised her voice and snapped her head up, so that she was looking directly at him. "If we make love… Iwantittobeinmyhome," she spoke quickly. "Not just… just a bed somewhere. Not some random location that I can't… can't lay in, close my eyes, relive it."
His hands were splayed out over her ribs then and he leaned back on the bed and sighed, glancing around at all the boxes on the floor.
"Then we need to find you a place," he said quietly, "Because I need to feel you." Her sigh was sweet and cool against his cheek; he couldn't tell if she was crying. "All of the pain and the disaster and everything else. I need to be able to take it all away Sara."
Her sob broke through a chuckle and he held her head against him, finally realizing the true weight that her held. "No one can take it all,"
"I can try."