Disclaimer: I own one over-sized puppy, three cats, one old dilapidated looking rabbit, one hamster, one gerbil, four guinea pigs, seven hermit crabs, and two beta fish. Do you see CSI anywhere in that crazy mix? Nope, I didn't think so.
A/N: Well hello everyone! And in case anyone's curious, yes, I (along with my family) do own all nineteen of those pets. And I'm hoping to add a scorpion or spider to the mix. Mum's not so keen on the idea, but I think I've almost gotten her to like the idea of having another puppy. Hee hee, good times. Anyways, I'm glad you liked the last chapter, so now onto the next one!
Dancing With the Law
Chapter Six: In Which Latin Lovin' is Discovered
"It is well to remember from time to time, that anything worth knowing can not be taught." Unknown
"That was lovely," Madame Parajanov said after a tense moment of silence.
"Really?" Greg looked floored by her compliment, as they were not freely given.
"Yes. You both held your posture and position better than some professionals. You followed the routine perfectly, you stayed on beat, and I could feel the passion you felt for the music and each other."
"Thank you," Sara fought the blush that was coming to her cheeks.
It had been a month since Sara had first agreed to be Greg's partner, and they had just finished their complete waltz routine. For the first time since they had begun the whole thing, Sara thought they might actually do a half-way decent job, and not completely embarrass themselves.
"Now, onto the Latin dances," Esfir clapped her hands and motioned for them to move to the middle of the floor. "We'll start with the Rumba, which you'll remember is the dance you'll be doing for the technical part of the competition. Now, you'll be able to pick your own music for this dance, but there are some specific moves, and a specific number of some moves you'll have to do. And of course, you'll be graded primarily on well you perform the specified moves, though of course it's always important to look nice while doing it. And it was decided that all the couples will perform the cha-cha simultaneously on the floor, for the audience's enjoyment."
The look on Esfir's face showed precisely what she thought of that idea.
"You…don't like that?" Greg hedged a guess.
"Putting eight couples, most with limited or no dance experience, on a dance floor, even a large one like the one you'll be dancing on, can only spell disaster," Madame Parajanov stated, walking back and forth in front of them. "You two, I have no worries about. You will be prepared, and beautiful. It's the others who I am afraid will mess you two up. Now I know four of the couples have had lessons; two of them for over a year. They should prove adequate, as I believe they've entered some amateur competitions previously. The others though, for the most part, are much like yourselves, with very limited or no experience."
"Oh. Gotcha," Greg bounced on the balls of his feet.
"Perfect!" Esfir clapped her hands.
"What?" Greg looked around.
"What you're doing," she pointed to his feet. "Staying on the balls and toes of your feet. For the rumba, which we're beginning today, the most important thing of all is the smooth walk, and completing the moves on the balls of your feet. Most of the dance will be done on the balls of your feet, and you will rarely step on your heels. So what you were just doing is good practice for your leg muscles; as was doing the waltz first. So you should prove to be fairly adept at walking smoothly."
"All right, what do we do first?" Sara asked.
"Hug each other," Esfir replied, hiding a grin.
"Excuse me?" Sara stared at her.
"Hug each other!" Esfir repeated, tapping them each on the back to move closer to each other till they finally embraced.
"Now what?" Greg asked. He didn't particularly mind, but he could feel how tense Sara was, and knew she must be uncomfortable with the prolonged contact.
"Walk. In time with each other. And Greg, make sure that you dictate where to go using touches, as you did with the waltz," she directed.
"Relax," Greg whispered as he pushed against her back with his fingers to get her moving with him. "This is just like the waltz."
"Except for the fact we're pressed fully against each other," she whispered back harshly.
"Well that's because of what the rumba is," Madame Parajanov interjected, having incredibly good hearing. "The rumba was picked especially as the technical dance so the judges can compare your passion as a couple! Why, I know you want to ask? Because the rumba is a dance that tells the story of love and eroticism between a man and a woman, thus there should be good interplay between the dancers! Which is why you need to be accustomed to touching each other, as you'll be dancing much closer for this dance than the waltz or cha-cha."
"So what else will we have to do for the rumba?" Sara asked, more than anything to keep her mind off of how close she and Greg were.
"Well, the rumba also places a great deal of emphasis on the body," Esfir tapped her chin in thought as she watched the two of them move. They really were a well-matched couple. "There are a lot of slow stylish body movements, as well as a good deal of hip action, including figure-eight hip rolls. So start experimenting with your hips, or better yet, go take a belly-dancing class next lesson. That'll cure you of any awkward hip movements. I'll spend the time working with Mr. Sanders on his leading."
"You're going to make me take a belly-dancing class, aren't you?" Sara gave their teacher an annoyed look.
"Yes, or if you refuse, I'll have Ilya pick out the skimpiest dance costume for you for the Rumba," Madame Parajanov grinned for two reasons. One, the fact that Sara paled at that idea and agreed to do a belly-dancing session, and two, because she was going to have Ilya find her something fairly skimpy anyways. After all, the rumba was about love and eroticism, so what better way to score some points with the judges than to have her wear something that would flaunt some of her assets?
"Wonderful!" She clapped her hands once a few minutes later once she was satisfied with their walking abilities. "See? The waltz helped you tremendously. Anyone else would spend the rest of class walking together. However, we'll move on to the basic close position for the rumba."
She proceeded to instruct them in the proper steps, and then had them spend the rest of class doing that. As they worked, she also had them work on posture, as it was different than when waltzing. She also ordered them to work on finding a piece of music to dance to. At the end of the lesson, she directed Sara to the office to sign up for a belly-dance class, and told Greg he had better be prepared to lead during the next lesson.
"You know, just when I think I'll be able to take what she throws out, she pulls something like this," Greg whined to Sara as they settled into 'their' booth for their customary coffee.
"You think you have it bad? I have to take a belly dancing class!" Sara shot back. "You just have to lead."
"Well yeah, but that mean three hours alone with her," Greg shivered. "And you won't be there to protect me. Besides, what's so bad about belly dancing? I've seen some of that stuff down on the strip and all before, and it looks kinda cool, when it's done right."
"The phrase belly dancing implies that I'm going to have to wear something that show my belly," Sara stated. "And I don't like that idea."
"Well why not?"
"Hormonal much Greg?" Sara raised an eyebrow.
"I didn't mean that I want to see it, not that I'd mind," he waggled his eyebrows with a laugh. "But seriously, I mean, you were always trim, but since we've started dancing and all I've noticed that you're more toned and muscular."
"How?"
"Well I dance with you about fifteen hours a week, and your shirts are usually kinda form-fitting on you," he shrugged. "Not to mention I can feel the muscles more in your back than before, as well as the fact that I've noticed I'm more toned, so it only stands to reason that you are too."
"Yeah, you're right," she nodded, taking a moment to look him over. "I hadn't noticed. You look good."
"Why thank you, so do you," he grinned and batted his eyelashes at her playfully. "But you're trying to change the subject isn't going to work. So come on, why don't you like showing off you abs?"
"Well you know I was in foster care," she started, then hesitated. He took her hand in his and nodded encouragingly for her to go on. "You also remember it's cause my mom stabbed my dad right? Well, she stabbed him in his stomach. So I guess I can't really explain it, except that I just have this…irrational fear…of showing my stomach, cause it just reminds me of that night. Stupid, I know."
"No!" That came out more forcefully than Greg had intended. "No. It's not. I mean, I've got this irrational fear of cashew nuts cause I choked on one when I was eleven. I haven't touched one since then. So your stomach issue isn't any stupider. We've all got things that freak us out, or that we just don't like, or are scared of. It's what makes us human."
"Well thank you Doctor Phil," Sara said with a teasing smile. "How'd you get so good at this?"
"Probably from hanging around Grissom. You tend to pick up some things after a while," he gave a quirky smile.
"I guess you do. Just promise me you won't start spouting off quotes every other sentence."
"I think that's doable," Greg agreed. They sat in a companionable silence for a few minutes before Greg spoke up again. "Do you trust me?"
"Yes."
"Then by trusting me you also trust I wouldn't do anything to intentionally hurt you, right?"
"Yeah," she nodded slowly, wondering where he was going with this.
"Then you'll also trust me enough to allow me to do an experiment tomorrow at our practice at the gym?"
"I guess," she looked at him quizzically.
"Good. Now how about some more horror stories from my childhood?" Greg changed the subject. "I've got this great story about the time I was in high school and got invited to this cross-dressing party-"
"I think I'll pass," Sara interrupted him quickly, not wanting to know where he was going with that topic. "Besides, we've got to get to work."
Greg nodded in agreement after glancing at the clock on the wall. After throwing some money on the table, as it was his turn, they gathered their stuff up and headed to their cars. Driving into work, they arrived together as they had for the last month. This of course hadn't gone un-noticed by the other CSIs. A couple of times, no big deal, but for a month? That made the others suspicious.
"All right, what is up between you two?" Catherine pointed from Sara to Greg, a suspicious smile on her face.
"What do you mean?" Sara's face held a look of genuine confusion.
"Everyday just about for the past, what, month?" Catherine looked to Nick and Warrick for confirmation.
"Yeah, about," Nick nodded.
"Okay, for the past month, you two have arrived together. Separate cars, but usually about the same time. So again, I ask what is going on between you two? Are you dating, cause if so, that's terrific, and none of us will tease you. Well they might, and I probably will too-"
"Catherine!" Greg smacked the table. "We…are…not…dating."
"Fine, you're shagging then," Catherine shrugged.
"Oh my gosh Cath," Sara laughed. "We're not doing anything, I swear. We just usually meet up for coffee or food and discuss the cases. It's good review for me, and good teaching for Greg."
"Oh," Catherine looked disappointed that it wasn't something scandalous. "Good idea. Sorry."
"It's fine, just try not to jump to conclusions next time," Greg stressed that, looking at all three of them.
"Aye aye captain," Nick grinned, before turning his attention to Grissom who was walking into the room.
OooOooOooO
"Okay, remember before shift you said you'd let me do an experiment before we got started, right?" Greg said first thing as he bounded into the gym classroom.
"Yeah," Sara nodded as she looked up at him briefly before turning attention back to the CDs she was skimming over.
"Good. Now first things first, stop fiddling with the CDs, lay down, close your eyes, and don't move," he instructed.
"Greg…what?" Sara stared at him, one eyebrow raised.
"C'mon, just do it," he pleaded. "You already said I could."
"Fine, but you better not be doing something stupid," she muttered, lying flat on her back as she closed her eyes.
"Depends on your definition of stupid," Greg replied, and she could almost hear his smirk. "Now, I'm gonna lift up your shirt so your stomach's showing, so don't freak on me, okay?"
"Greg…"
"Sara, I'm not going to do anything to hurt you, I hope you know that," Greg said gently.
He took the hem of her spaghetti strap shirt and slid it up a couple of inches, revealing a little of her stomach. He frowned sadly as he saw her immediately tense up at that move. Not letting himself get deterred, and reminding himself that she was afraid of him, but of past memories, he pushed it up a little further. Smiling, he grabbed the purple magic marker out of his pocket, and promptly began writing on her stomach, and then surrounded the writing with varying smiley faces.
"Okay, now get up," he nudged her side, trying to keep the situation light. He was a little worried that maybe he had pushed her too far when he saw how pale her face was. He didn't want to break that trust she had in him, but he also knew you had to confront the past sometimes.
"What did you do?" she asked, looking down at her stomach, trying to read what he had written.
"Come see," he answered, pulling her over to the mirror. He moved to stand behind her, and once again grabbed the hem of her shirt and tugged it up.
"Purple?"
"Yup, cause it's nice and girly," he laughed. "Now read."
"God gave us memory so we might have roses in December," she read hesitantly, not particularly liking the fact that she had to look at her stomach. "And your point is?"
"We have a memory so we can remember all the good things that happen to us. Unfortunately, the same goes for the bad things, no matter how much we don't want to remember them. And unfortunately for you, you've got a few more bad things than others blocking the good," he whispered, not sure how she would react to this.
She didn't say anything, but continued to stare at the words reflecting in the mirror. Not sure whether this was a good thing or not, he grabbed a paper towel and wet it with water before reaching around to gently wipe off the words after a few more moments. Pulling the marker back out, he handed it to her wordlessly.
He was completely surprised by her reaction. She ran her fingers over her stomach before she shakily drew a smiley face. Then she promptly burst into tears, burying her head in her hands. Greg immediately reached out and drew her into a hug, one arm tightly encircling her waist while his other hand rubbed her back soothingly. Nearly ten minutes later she had finally calmed down, with only the occasional shuddering breath.
"I'm so, so, sorry Sara," Greg apologised hurriedly as she pulled away from him. "I swear, if I had known it would upset you this bad then I never would-"
"Stop it!" She clapped her hand over his mouth to quiet him. "You didn't upset me. Well, you did, but in a good way. The quote and your words kinda forced me to truly analyse my fear. And the smiley faces you drew, and then having to draw one myself, made me realise that I was looking at this the wrong way. I always associated my stomach with my father's death, and now, thanks to you, I can start associating it with you, and dancing, and your overall quirkiness."
"So this means I did a good thing, right?" Greg still looked worried, and very much like a little boy desperately seeking his mother's approval.
"Yes," she laughed slightly. "A very good thing."
"So does this mean you'll start wearing midriff tops from now on?" He asked slyly.
"No," she replied, smacking him on the arm.
She couldn't keep the grin off her tear-streaked face though, and Greg couldn't help but think she had never looked more beautiful. Grinning back, he opened his arms for another hug, and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist as hers encircled his neck. They stood there, both simply enjoying the simplicity of the gesture. Sara took comfort from his strong, undemanding presence, while Greg was happy to provide comfort. Neither noticed the sound of the door opening behind them.
"Greg…Sara!"
OooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooO
A/N: Okie dokie, that's the end of that chappie! I know no one's happy with the cliffie lol, but I still hope y'all liked it. I'm certainly having fun writing them (the chapters, that is). Slightly different from AMOC, I'm trying to work on more dialogue. I can just see the two of them having quite a few fun, random conversations about all sorts of stuff. Oh, and to anyone who thought the whole 'drawing on the stomach' therapy idea was stupid…it's not. A close friend of mine had anorexia, and couldn't stand to look at her stomach, cause she used to always think she was fat. Doing stupid stuff like doodling on it helped. Anyways, random poll here- for the cha-cha, I have two songs in mind; "Let's Get Loud" by Jennifer Lopez, or "Smooth" by Santana. I'm kinda leaning to J-Lo, but I'll leave it to you all to decide. Oh, and if anyone wants to suggest more randomly weird and wacky disclaimers, feel free too, lol! So review if you want, you know I love it!