The Consequences of Swimming
Rated: M
Summery: What does black panties, Catherine Willows, and a pool have in common? Sara Sidle and Greg Sanders are about to find out.
A/N: OMG just found something on soooo if anyone wants any hints on the finale message me or tell me in a review!! It has to do with Grissom (at least I think anyway) it kind of creeps me out and yet it doesn't.
And SOO sorry for the delay, lots of school work and tests. My next two weeks are booked with state testing so please forgive me!
The atmospheres of the night club life almost scared her, that is why she opted to live in San Francisco in the first place. Sure, they were a night life, but it wasn't wild and dangerous as the ones in Las Vegas. She had to keep her gun, badge, and a can of pepper spray in her purse at all times.
She guessed that it was just the job that turned her off the wild life. She used to want that, the completely popular party scene, many people to spend it with too. But she grew out of that once she found out how those people ended up.
Now, she found herself yet again, back into another Las Vegas club sitting lonely at the bar like a broken beauty. Her hair was put up in a messy, yet elegant bun and small curly strings framed her face. Her black halter dress came up a bit above the knees, with a pair of stiletto, black leather, knee high boots to match. The only jewel she had was a small charm bracelet that donned charms of pro breast cancer research.
But it really wasn't just the dark, wild, dangerous atmosphere of the club life that turned her off, it was the drunken patrons who danced on tables, taking off what little clothing, they possessed. They sung to the great songs, making mockery to them. The desperate women threw themselves on anything that possessed a penis while the groping men slipped their hands down in the girls lacy thongs.
What was she doing?
She sat at the bar, with no one beside her except a broken down broker who talked to himself and a middle-aged woman who had passed out from intense booze. She rolled her eyes softly, shaking her heads with a frown of disrespect on her face as the girl slumped over and fell head first out of her chair.
While the broker ran to tend to the 'fallen lady', Sara took another dignified sip of her dignified peach and lime daiquiri, letting the rum numb her tongue and emotions. She looked over at the man, who had the blond in his arms, his eyes lit with hungry flames.
"Would you care to dance?"
"I'd like too, but I am not so sure I can stand at this point," she giggled with a drunken hiccup.
"Would you rather wait for a slow song?" he pressed.
Sara rolled her eyes again and let her finger fall into the remaining crème at the bottom of her drink. The cool ice licked at the tips of her fingers as she let them surface, before twisting them under again, almost erotically. She sucked the icy foam off her finger and pushed the glass toward the bar tender, wanting yet another glass.
"Another glass Mam?"
So I guess we're back to us, oh cameraman, swing the focus
In case I lost my train of thought, where was it that we last left off?
(Let's pick up, pick up)
"Waiting for someone?"
"I was, before I asked you that after this glass to please call me a cab."
"Stood you up?"
She observed the man, like many others before him. Looked like he was in his late twenties, but already saw grays settling on his head, with bright blue eyes and a well built frame. She shook her head yes slowly and looked back down, her cheeks began to blush as he gazed at her.
Let's get these teen hearts beating. Faster, faster
So testosterone boys and harlequin girls,
Will you dance to this beat, and hold a lover close?
So testosterone boys and harlequin girls,
Will you dance to this beat, and hold a lover close?
Dance to this beat
Dance to this beat
Dance to this beat
She giggled, trying to compose her structure before looking at the man again. But it was a failed attempt, seeing she broke apart laughing with him when she looked up.
"See I still got it," he whispered handing her a glass.
"Got what?"
"The ability to make anyone laugh."
"Nice quality."
"My lovers say so to," he replied with a wink before he left her alone.
She turned her head, preparing to tell them to please leave her be, when she stopped. A smile graced her features and she looked down for a moment, her eyes glittering with the excitement.
"I am so sorry I was late," he whispered. "Traffic was murder."
"Translation . . . . you couldn't find anything to wear," she replied confidently.
"That, and I was already late so I decided to make it up to you," he whispered.
She looked over at him, as he handed her a small, red blooming, thornless rose.
"Thank you."
"Now you can make it up to me by," he started before taking the last draw of her drink, "Letting me drink the rest of that."
"Oh go ahead," she laughed sarcastically.
" I knew you wouldn't mind. And you can."
But it wasn't any use to ask; before she knew it, he had grabbed her hand and drug her to the dance floor.
"I can't dance Greg!"
"You can dance, I have saw you dance," he teased leading her into the crowd.
She began to blush at the comment. "That doesn't count."
"Why?"
"You were a Peeping Tom and I was in a towel."
"Nothing I haven't seen before. After Hasmat of course."
They stood at the edge of the crowd, pushing forward through hormonal teenagers and adults alike. She felt herself being pushed against him and her fingers began to slip from his own. The multi colored lights flashed above like strobe lights and a light mist off fog surrounded them as Panic! At The Disco played from the large speakers above. The crowd pushed and pulled them, to and from the overcrowded dance floor.
He slipped his hand around her waist, keeping her close. Tingles flew up her body, the good kind mind you. He leaned into her, as if sharing a secret, but all she heard with his slightly ragged breath.
She sighed in content as they moved, she strangely, wanted to feel like this forever.
They stopped momentarily as another song began to play, a romance novel condensed in verses. Just for the pure use for lovers to hug close and whisper the lyrics in the others ear.
Normally, she would have found this sickening. And for a moment, she did.
They danced slowly, in union beats, their bodies moving as one across the floor. Their bodies grazing, breath beating against the others skin, their own hearts racing against their bodies.
Just let me hold you while you're falling apart
Just let me hold you and we'll both fall down
Through everything they had always been there for each other. Protecting and shielding all the pain from the other when they are down and low. She had always felt strong feeling for him, just thought they were friendly protectiveness instead of insane jealously.
He had always fought for her, even when she wasn't the innocent one, wanting to do something about it.
He never could handle seeing her in pain.
"Just let me hold you while you're falling apart," he whispered to her.
"Just let me hold you and we'll both fall down," she answered, keeping her eyes closed and moved to the music.
"Thank you Greg."
"For what?"
"For finally making me realize who the only man for me is," she answered.
"Greg?"
"Yeah Sar'."
"Do you want to know who that man is?"
"Not particularly," he whispered crest fallen.
"Greg?"
"Yes Sar'?"
"That man is you."
"Really?"
"Sara, I have waited for seven years-"
"Greg. Don't ramble."
"But-"
"Sara I-"
"Greg. Just. Kiss. Me."
"What?"
"Just kiss me."
She laughed as his eyes lit with realization. She watched his hazel orbs dance as he leaned down, etching ever glitter into her mind before her eye lids lost and she lost between the heart wrenching pleasure.
Forever with you
Forever in me
Ever the same(Ever the same)
As the song parted, all the dancers cleared out as a Backstreet Boys song blared from the speakers. But even as the horrible music roared on, their lips never parted.
Until Greg pulled away and a cup of coffee appeared in his hands.
He waved the glass under her hand; BH making her nose tingle in delight.
"Sara, wake up Sara. You need coffee. Good coffee before I drink it all."
"Greg are you crazy! Where did you get the coffee?"
"Sara- drink the coffee. It loves you, it needs you."
Suddenly everyone appeared with cups of BH and headed toward her chanting "Sara Drink Coffee." Greg at the front of the group.
Sara snapped up sweat pouring down her face and she franticly looked around her. The room was empty, all of her coworkers moved out of the house.
Except the blond cackling in the floor with two cups of coffee in his hands.
Sara groaned, inwardly wishing Greg was more like he was in her dream, sensitive, sweet, charming and witty, sexy. But he was always-
No. Greg isn't sexy.
Last night had no effect on her. Sure, she dreamed intimately about him, but rage of hormones.
She never would like, nor love, Greg Sanders.
Would she?
"Damnit Greg, give me my coffee now before I beat your ass," she muttered.
Greg giggled, regaining his composure and looked over at her, cracking a smirk.
"So exactly what was I doing to you in that dream of yours?"
Sara's eyes bugged out and almost shot her mouth full off coffee across the room.
"Excuse me?"
"You know," he said, "You were moaning my name."
"What?"
"Oh come on Sara! Did it involve me chained to a bed with a blindfold and you in dominatrix leather and a whip?"
"Greg! No!"
"Damnit. It would have been really a coincidence if you did."
"So what did you dream Greg?"
His face turned red before he muttered about coffee and changed the subject to their coworkers.
Sara smiled.
She loved winning things like this.
A/N: OK just to point this out, the italics was NOT from the future in this chapter, it was a dream, and the bolded italics was the song that was being played at the club. In the next chapter, it will be future centric, about Diane and Sara. Once again SOOO sorry for not posting sooner! School has been so tough on us, next week we will be studying for finals and the next week after that state testing so my weeks are booked!
So thanks for the reviews in the last chapter, and please review now!