Thanks for the great response so far.
"What have you got planned for today?" Sara's eyes never left the sample she was studying under the microscope.
Grissom took off his glasses and looked up from his, situated on the other side of the room. "If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise," he admonished gently.
"Right," she snorted, lifting her gaze from the lens and catching his eye. "I'm sure that's code for 'I have no idea of what I'm going to do.' Can't men ever just admit that sometimes they simply have no idea?" She smiled teasingly.
He raised an eyebrow and straightened up from his microscope and returned the smile. "Well, I could just take you over this here table," he growled, motioning to the evidence lay-out table that sat between them, "but I wouldn't want you thinking that's your present for today." Seeing her cheeks flush gave him a sense of achievement. "Look, I've got it covered, okay?"
Sara allowed herself to pout. "I'm beginning to wish we'd just gotten all this over with last night," she half-moaned.
Grissom's smile was, this time, downright evil. "Don't go saying things like that without having any sort of insight into the future." He used the fact that he was getting ready to leave the room as an excuse for approaching her in a distinctly predatory fashion. He brushed past her, allowing his hand to slip along the small of her back. "Trust me," he whispered in her ear, "this time next week, you will not be complaining."
Sara turned to see him exit, and tried to quell the fire that arose in her.
Sara was sitting at home, reading a book. She was beginning to feel rather disillusioned with Grissom - was he making promises that he couldn't keep? After all, he had called quits on them last night - this could have all just been a way for him to control the situation. Then again, the look in his eyes when they had spoken earlier - unashamed, unhidden lust. Oh, who knew any more? She was pulled from her reverie by the sound of her doorbell ringing. She book-marked her page and dropped the book on to her couch, rising wearily and trudging to the door.
She had not looked through the peephole in the front door, so was surprised to open the door to what looked like a huge bouquet of flowers on legs - a new life-form perhaps? But as soon as she heard this 'new' life-form's voice, she knew who it was.
"Happy birthday plus one," came Gil's soft voice.
"Oh my God," she said breathlessly, standing deadly still in the doorway.
"Uh, not meaning to spoil the moment, but may I come in? Before my arms give way?"
Sara stood back and allowed the walking, talking bouquet to troop through the door. She closed the door behind him, turning to study his back. Mmm, jeans, she thought. Nice. "How are you?"
The human/plant turned to face her. "Are you just going to make me hold these all night?" came its sarcastic drawl. Sara bit back a smile and accepted the flowers, finding a vase for them. On closer inspection (and she did wonder why she hadn't noticed at first), she saw they were roses -
"Two dozen," Gil said quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets, looking faintly embarrassed. "I know it's not much," he continued, as Sara filled the vase with some water and arranged the roses, "but I just thought that maybe I'd start off slowly, small, y'know?"
Sara finished with the roses, and walked through to the living room, placing them on the window sill. She returned to the kitchen, where Gil was still standing, and slipped her arms around his waist. "Thank you very much," she whispered against his ear. I appreciate it very much."
Grissom turned in her hold, and his arms landed on her waist. "You're welcome. You deserve it," he told her. He bowed his head and his lips grazed her cheek. "How are you?" he asked, resting his forehead against hers.
"Much better, now you're here," she told him. She relished the moment - standing here, in Grissom's arms, being shown how important she was to him. She felt a pleasant warmth radiating from somewhere within her. "How are you?"
"Much better now I'm here," he replied, grinning.
Sara stood back from him and placed her hands on his chest. "Can I get you anything? A drink? Something to eat, perhaps?"
He took hold of her hands. "I ate before I came over, but I'll have a coffee if you're making one," he said softly. He enjoyed this - holding her in his arms, kissing her - God, he could think of nothing more ... well, he could, but those images weren't for now.
"Take a seat, and I'll bring it in."
"No," came his low voice.
"Huh? Are you disobeying a direct order?"
"No-o. I'd rather stay with you in here while you make the coffee, if that's okay with you." His cheeks flushed slightly, and his eyes shone brightly.
It was Sara's turn to flush. Either you're insecure, or needy, or ... she thought. "Sure," she acceded, turning her attention from him to their drinks.
Grissom leaned back against one of the kitchen units, watching her bustle around the kitchen. She was hurried but graceful, hands reaching out and taking the things she needed, sure exactly of where they should be. She wasn't much different to how she was at work, breezing about the place, always in a hurry, always rushing about in search of justice. The sight of her doing this in her own home somehwat amused Grissom, as well as slightly saddened him. She doesn't ever stop. She keeps going, but when she crashes and burns, boy does she do it in style.
"Something wrong?" Sara inquired, upon seeing the distant look on his face. She handed him his coffee and steered him towards the easy couch in the living room, sitting him down and then following suit. They leaned into each other, shoulders touching.
"I was just thinking," Grissom replied, staring into the depths of his mug.
"Nothing unusual with that," Sara teased lightly. Then she sobered. "What about?"
He heaved a sigh. "Watching you, the way you go about things. Your intensity worries me," he sighed again.
"That tends to be a problem with a lot of people, men especially. But if you want this to go somewhere, then that's something you have to get used to."
"I'm not saying I have a problem with it," he countered. "If anything, I can relate to it. I know how easy it is for one's intensity to act as a turn-off. In our case, I'd say our mutual intensity was in turn a mutual turn-on. What I mean is, I worry that you'll burn out. You're constantly on the go. How do you relax?"
Sara huffed a laugh. "Same way as you - read, think about work, read some more." She took a breath. "I ...".
"What?" Concerned that he would distract her train of thought, he continued to not look at her.
"I never thanked you."
"For what?" He risked looking at her out the corner of his eye.
"For always making sure I didn't burn out. Or for trying to make sure I didn't." She looked up into his eyes. "I can't tell you how much it means to me. To know you care - it means a lot."
Grissom nodded. "S'okay. You're worth it." He smiled.
Sara returned the gesture, continuing to sip her coffee. "Uh, are you doing anything up until shift?"
"No. Why?"
"Uh, do you want to sleep over? Nothing in it, just ...".
He smiled at her flustered face. "Like last night?" He watched her nod. "Of course I will."
On cue, Sara yawned. "I'm going to go and get ready, okay?"
"I'll go and get some spare clothes from my car, then."
"Just come straight in, don't bother about knocking."
She was tucked up beneath the covers when he got back from collecting a pair of pyjamas. "You look very cute," he said, perfectly serious.
"As opposed to not looking cute at any other time?" she questioned, winking.
Grissom began stripping off his shirt. "Sara, you always look cute," he appeased her. "You just happen to look even more cute lying there." He pulled a white t-shirt over his head, and slipped out of his jeans, sliding into bed next to Sara. He spooned her, and rested his head on her shoulder.
"Do you have a picture of yourself wearing jeans?" Sara sleepily mumbled.
"Me? In jeans? A picture? Why?"
"You have a cute ass when you wear jeans. I like it," she confessed. She felt a throaty chuckle from Grissom vibrate through her body.
"Maybe I should just wear jeans at work," he said, running his mouth over her vest-clad shoulder.
"No way!" she protested.
"Why not? I thought you just said you liked my ass!"
"Exactly! If you wore jeans, I wouldn't be able to keep myself from jumping you."
"And that's a bad thing?"
She playfully slapped his arm and leaned back into his chest. "No," she conceded. "Oh, just go to sleep before you seriously confuse me," she protested.
"Sleep well," he murmured into her ear, before he nipped it, ever so lightly.