Author: geekyfrog
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Grissom/Sara
Spoilers: general through the end of Season Six
Disclaimer: I'm not affiliated with CBS and don't have any claim to these characters.
Author's Notes: Nomadic Soul, thanks as always for the beta work. I really needed it this time.
Thank you also to those who have been commenting. I'm sorry it took so long to get this chapter finished... it was quite recalcitrant.
And one more note: you'll get to know Lisa Archer a bit in this chapter. She is loosely based on an actual person I used to know, who is now deceased. So please be kind in your comments about her.
Chapter Five: Thermogenesis
Grissom held the door open for Sara as they walked into Angelo's a few minutes before 8:00. Pleased, he realized the place was just as he remembered… comfortable and unpretentious. The tables were covered with burgundy cloths set on the diagonal, so that their dark wooden corners peeked out. Chubby white candles in hurricane globes burned in their centers, granting each group of diners an intimate glow in the otherwise dimly-lit room. The intricately-carved booths upholstered in cordovan leather lining the far wall offered an even greater level of privacy, each one its own secret world. Blanketing the room, the sound of an Italian tenor knit together the clink of dishes and the low hum of conversation into a rich, warm tapestry.
"Oh, Griss, this is incredible. It smells delectable in here!"
He inhaled, breathing in the aroma of wood smoke intertwined with basil, garlic, and tomatoes. "I think they have an open-hearth oven for their breads and those fancy pizzas. I'm glad you like it."
She smiled at him in warm delight. For a moment he forgot to breathe as he drank in the gift of her pleasure.
Placing his hand at the small of her back, he guided her to the maitre d' and announced, "Grissom, for eight o'clock."
I can't believe I'm actually here, with her. Touching her.
"Certainly, sir. This way, please." The man showed them to one of the booths along the back wall. "Will this do?"
"Sara?" He looked to her for confirmation. "I thought a booth might be better for conversation, but if you would rather have a table…"
"No, this is perfect. Thanks." His hand slipped from her back as she entered the booth, but she caught her fingers in his and gave a gentle squeeze. Shedding his light jacket and placing it on the seat, he sat across from her.
After telling them that their waiter would be with them shortly, the maitre d' walked away. They looked at each other uncertainly, not sure where to begin their conversation.
"Sara, I…" "Grissom, I…" They both laughed at their awkward beginning.
"You first," he said, and she nodded.
"I just wanted to tell you that, no matter where this goes or doesn't go between us, I'm grateful for tonight. For the chance."
"So am I, honey. So am I."
Luckily, their waiter arrived at that moment, preventing the uncomfortable silence from reinstating itself. He handed them menus as he said, "Good evening and welcome to Angelo's. My name is Bruno and I'll be serving you tonight. Our special this evening is sea bass baked with garlic, tomatoes and peppers, and served over a bed of risotto. May I start you off with something to drink?
She looked at Grissom. "Want to share a carafe of the house red?"
"That sounds great, thanks."
Bruno nodded. "Very well. I'll be back to take your order shortly."
Sara perused the menu, sighing in pleasure over some of the choices. Grissom glanced at his briefly before putting it down, taking advantage of the moment to watch her unobserved.
Awestruck. The word came to him, a perfect summation of how he felt in her presence. He noted the way her long slim fingers curved over the side of the menu, nails short and unpolished. Her dark hair gleamed, and he studied the way she had tucked it behind her ears so it wouldn't shadow her face.
How can you move me so much without saying a word? I love the honesty of those bare nails… and I'm jealous of those fingertips that get to stroke your hair and the helixes of your beautiful ears. Oh, Sara… to touch you there…
She looked up abruptly and caught him staring. "What are you going to have?"
"You."
Her eyes darkened, nostrils flaring slightly as she saw the hunger behind his uncharacteristic boldness.
Watch it, Gil. You're crossing the line here. Don't make assumptions. Intentionally dampering down his desire, he smiled ruefully. "Sorry, honey. It's just that… candlelight becomes you."
Her pleased smile combined with a slight blush let him know that it was okay. This time. He covered his embarrassment by answering her question. "I think I'll have the sea bass special. What about you?"
"Well, there's so much that looks good, but I think I'll choose the angel hair pasta with mushrooms, tomatoes, and olives, dressed in oil and garlic… and maybe an order of bruschetta to share?"
"I'd like that."
The uncomfortable silence returned, but Bruno's arrival with their wine kept it mercifully short. As the waiter walked away after pouring their wine and taking their order, Grissom raised his glass to Sara.
"A toast… to us, and to possibilities."
Smiling, she met his wine with hers, glasses colliding with a soft clink. "To us, and to transformation."
Puzzled, he tipped his head to the side, studying her. "What are we transforming?"
She laughed outright at that. "Us, Griss. Our relationship has been dysfunctional for so long. Maybe if we really try, we can forge some new patterns. And move forward, together. What do you say?"
"To transformation, then!" They both took a slow sip of wine, and the nervous tension that had shimmered between them dissipated.
The conversation flowed easily as they enjoyed their time together. Between bites of bruschetta, he learned that she loved hiking, hated the color orange, had dreamed of being an astronaut as a child, and had flirted with the idea of majoring in applied mathematics before settling on physics.
While twirling pasta around her fork, she learned that he still sent Christmas cards to his childhood best friend, Mike Masterson, that he had dreamed of playing professional baseball, that he had lost his virginity at age seventeen when the girl next door came home from college, and that he hated disco even though he was a child of the seventies.
As the exquisite sea bass melted on his tongue, he learned that her biggest regret from college was not studying abroad, that her wildest unfulfilled dream was to go sea kayaking in Alaska, and that she was addicted to Sudoku.
Stabbing one last errant snow pea, she watched as he put down his fork. "You know, we've talked a lot more about me tonight than about you."
"I know. But – you're so much more interesting. I'm not used to talking about myself." He closed his eyes briefly, waiting for the attack.
She reached across the table and touched his hand lightly. "It's okay, Griss. This is uncharted territory for both of us. We have all the time in the world."
Grateful, he gripped her slim fingers in a wordless thanks. "Are you interested in dessert?"
"Depends what's on the menu." She wiggled her eyebrows at him suggestively and was delighted to be rewarded with a faint blush kissing his cheeks. "You're cute when you're flustered."
"That's good, I guess." His voice grew serious. "Because I feel like I'm always flustered around you."
"Griss…"
Holding up one hand to silence her, he rummaged in the jacket which lay next to him in the booth and drew out a slim package, neatly wrapped in dark green paper. He hesitated for a moment, then slid it across the table to her.
"What's this?"
"Open it. I wanted to get you something to mark this occasion…" He shifted in his seat, looking distinctly nervous.
Intrigued, she carefully removed the paper, using her short nails to slit the tape so she didn't damage anything. She turned the slightly worn volume over in her hands, running her fingers along the saddle-brown leather binding. "Shakespeare's sonnets?"
At his nodded encouragement, she opened the cover, and read aloud the inscription written in his small, neat hand, facing the frontispiece:
To Sara,
As we embark on the next phase of our journey together, with reverence and joy and hope for what the morrow may bring.
Yours,
Gil
"Oh, Griss," she began, and looked up to find him watching her attentively.
"Sara, I'm… I'm not good with words, and yet there are so many things I want to say to you. I was hoping that…"
…that this incredible master can somehow measure the breadth and depth of my love for you…
"You're better with words than you give yourself credit for. But I love it, and I'll treasure it always."
He smiled, relaxing a little. "I marked one for tonight. Shall I read it to you?"
She nodded, handing the book back to him. Not needing the words, he was nonetheless grateful for something to fill his nervous hands. Opening to the page marked by a small slip of paper barely protruding from the top, he looked intently at her and began to recite.
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved. (1)
He closed the book slowly, gathering his courage. "Sara," he began, reaching across the table and stroking her hand gently. "The way I feel about you today is just an intensification of the way I felt when we first met. Nothing alters it, honey. No matter what circumstances have come along, nothing has shaken the love I feel for you. And I… I want you to know that, so you'll never feel you have to change for me or hide from me. I want to be your partner, Sara, for wherever life takes us.
"I hope I'm not saying too much too soon, but I feel like it's very late already, and…"
Why isn't she saying anything?
Her eyes were wide with desire and bright with unshed tears. "Let's go home."
Hands linked easily together, Sara led Grissom into her apartment. "Want another glass of wine? Or I can make a pot of coffee…"
"Coffee would be great, thanks."
"Okay, make yourself comfortable, I'll be right in."
While she set up the coffee maker, he sat down on the end of the couch and closed his eyes. The warm glow of the wine and the easy comfort of the evening had him feeling more peaceful than he could remember. Sighing happily, he slipped effortlessly into sleep.
"Griss?" He felt a tentative nudge of his knee. Opening his eyes, he saw her standing in front of him, two steaming mugs in hand.
Smiling with pleasure at the simple rightness of the scene, he reached out for one. "Sara. Guess I dozed off – sorry about that."
But I hope you know what a compliment it is for me to be relaxed enough to sleep in front of you.
"No problem. I love that you trust me enough to do that. Look, are you too tired? Do you need to go home?"
"No, I'm enjoying this evening too much for it to end quite yet. Sit down with me for a little while."
She kicked off her sandals and curled up on the other end of the couch. "You don't mind, do you? They're pretty comfortable, but it feels good to get them off at the end of the day."
"Here, allow me." He motioned for her to put her feet in his lap. She stretched out and purred with contentment as he began to massage one of her feet. He worked in silence for a while, stretching and loosening each of her toes in turn.
It feels so good to do this for you, honey. To give you this little oasis of relaxation. You have some hard days coming up. I wish I could go with you and rub all the tension away each night.
I wish you would talk about it.
"Sara." His request was gentle. "Tell me about Lisa."
Tears threatened instantly at his words. Sustained by the warm pressure of his hands on the ball of her foot, she took a deep breath and blinked them away.
"Lisa. We met on move-in day at Harvard. I think most people had talked to their roommates on the phone by then, but she and I had never managed to connect, so we were brand-new to each other. I was pretty apprehensive – I mean, I'm not the most socially-gifted person now, so you can imagine me back then…
Oh, Sara, I can. Arms full of books, all long legs and infinite ideas. Fierce in your pursuit of knowledge…
"…and I just knew I was going to get some party goddess social queen as a roommate."
"And did you?"
"Well, yes. But my mistake was in thinking that would be a bad thing. I was so wrong, Griss. It wasn't just a good thing. It was the best thing.
"She was late for move-in. She was late for everything. I had unpacked what I brought, which wasn't much, and I remember sitting on my bed with my knees tucked up under my chin, wondering what to do next. Trying to swallow the panic. And all of a sudden this – this tornado burst into the room.
"She was beautiful. Tall, with this mass of curly dark hair, and the brightest blue eyes. She was really tan, and she had on the cutest little outfit. I wanted to hate her."
Intrigued, he started working on her other foot. "Why didn't you?"
"I don't know, really. You just – you couldn't. She had such a warmth about her – it was captivating. I mean, there I was, sitting on the bed, all weird and sulking. And this goddess bounces into the room, drops all her stuff, and pounces on me. Hugs me so tight I can't breathe, squealing about how we're going to be best friends and how great Harvard is going to be…"
"I'm surprised. I would have guessed you would find something like that – offputting."
"I know, it should have been, right? Not my kind of thing at all. But she… caught me up and swept me along. We went to dinner together that night, and she linked arms with me and dragged me into the dining hall, telling anyone who would listen that we were the dynamic duo and we were going to be immortal…"
Oh, Sara. She wasn't, was she? And neither are we. I'm so glad we're not wasting any more time, honey.
A deep, steadying breath. "We were inseparable for the next four years. People loved her; they just gravitated towards her, and I – I got to bask in that glow. And I think… I think I centered her. We balanced each other like that – I was the darkness, she was the light… I was the storm, she was the sun… she made me feel normal. For the only time in my life."
Her voice broke. "I can't believe she's gone." Tears began slowly, making little rivulets down her cheeks, but she made no effort to wipe them away. "I – I don't know what to do, Griss."
His voice was rough with emotion as he answered her. "You honor her. You honor her by telling her story. You honor her by… by acknowledging the pain, by accepting it, by embracing it.
"Let it break over you, Sara. I'll be your anchor."
She held her hands out blindly and made a choking sob as he took them and pulled her close. Great keening wails were wrenched from her as she doubled over with the pain, pausing only to draw in desperate lungsful of air. He simply sat with her, reassuring her with his presence, not repelled by the animalistic sounds she made.
Gradually, her grief ebbed and she settled back into consciousness. He slid her off his lap and onto the couch and left the room briefly. She was vaguely aware of water running in the kitchen. Returning, he handed her a box of tissues. "Blow your nose."
When she had, he tenderly wiped her face with a kitchen towel he had dampened with cool water, carefully erasing the remnants of her tears.
"Feeling better?"
"Yes, thanks," she said, amazed at the comfort she had drawn from him.
He looked at her reddened, puffy eyes. "You're so beautiful, Sara."
"Oh, please, all teary and snotty…"
"No." He cut her off. "You're so beautiful."
She raised her eyes to his, surprised, and was caught off guard by the electricity that suddenly sparked between them.
"Don't ever hide, honey," he whispered, and leaned in, pressing a kiss against her shocked lips. "I want you just as you are."
She moaned slightly and opened her mouth to him. He kissed her again, more thoroughly, tasting tears and coffee on top of the wine and rich spices of dinner, a heady mix.
Ohgod, Sara. I knew you would taste good but I didn't know, I had no idea… you taste like heaven itself.
She laid back on the couch and drew him down with her, exploring his mouth with equal fervor while her hands twined in his grey curls.
He pulled back a little to look at her, flushed and panting beneath him. "So sweet, Sara." He bent back down and followed the vee of her sweater with his tongue, delighting in the glazed look in her eyes.
Is this really real?
He twisted his hips slightly to get comfortable between her thighs, then continued his ministrations. He slid his tongue back up the other side of the vee, then pressed kisses down her arm and into her palm. At her gasp of pleasure he smiled and drew each finger into his mouth in turn, suckling, nipping, rubbing his teeth over the ridges and whorls on her fingertips.
"Ohgod… Griss… so erotic." Her hips bucked upward. "D- don't stop," she whimpered as he let the last finger slip away.
He sat up and pulled her with him, resting his forehead against hers as he tried to catch his breath. "Christ. What do we do with this? I've never felt anything like this kind of combustion, this… this… thermogenesis. It just… consumes me…"
"Then take me," she begged.
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because… it scares me. I want to make love with you more than I've ever wanted anything in my life, honey. And I'm as certain as I have ever been of anything that it will be a transformative experience. Merging with you will be like shedding my skin… I'll be ready for new growth, but so vulnerable. I… I can't, Sara, when you're flying to Boston tomorrow. I need to wait until I can see you and hold you and be with you the next day, and the day after that… please?"
"Ohhhh, Griss." She groaned in near-physical pain. "I understand, of course. But, ohhhh…"
"I know. I know. I'm sorry, honey. I'll make it up to you, I promise. I want our first time together to be… pleasing you pleases me, Sara. Will you let me?"
Soft and low, "I will, Griss. And… you'll be pleasing me in my fantasies tonight."
Sara thinking of me. Sara touching herself while she thinks of me. Holy mother of god. Sara moaning my name while she…
Ruthlessly, he slammed the door on that line of thought. Get out while you still can, Gil. When she gets back from Boston…
"I have to go, honey." He kissed her once more, fiercely, then stood, pulling her up with him. "May I take you to the airport?"
"No, I'll drive myself, since I'm getting an open-ended ticket. But I'll call you when I get there."
"Okay." He rested his forehead against hers for the briefest of moments.
Gil, you have got to go. NOW. Or you won't go at all…
"Safe travels, Sara."
He brushed his lips against hers in a gentle farewell, then forced himself to walk to the door. As his hand touched the cool metal of the knob, he heard a soft voice.
"I really do love you, Grissom."
"I know, honey. I love you, too." He slipped through the door and into the night.
(1) William Shakespeare, of course… Sonnet 116