Chapter Five:
Halfway through what should be a normal nightshift for Sara, a text message chimes through to her cell, breaking the quiet oasis she has created for herself whilst browsing the aisles of a Health Foods store near her apartment. The major bonus point of working the graveyard shift, is that on a night off, or in Sara's case a lengthy suspension, with the benefit of 24 hour stores, shopping at 3am is quiet and somewhat serene, no school children loitering the aisles and no old ladies arguing over who gets the last lot of antacids. One can browse at a snails pace. Pulling her cell from her pocket and putting down a box of crackers, she flips it open. Seeing his name across the screen she can not help the smile that spreads easily across her face.
Quiet night, will probably finish early, if you are still up for breakfast?
Of course, I even did some shopping!
She replies quickly. Picking the crackers back up she heads towards the checkout, where a young women is sat reading a book, engrossed in the text she doesnt even notice Sara standing there. Ping, another text from Grissom. The girls head snaps up at the sound, smiling apologetically to Sara for having her head buried in a book.
See you around 7am?
Yes, can't wait!
She fires back, immediately regretting the eagerness in her response. Shaking her head at her own admission, she begins to load up the checkout, mentally reminding herself to change her bed sheets, should he plan on staying... again.
'That's $28.75 mam.' The cashier pulling her out of her day dream of Grissom and fresh bedding, smiling to herself she hands over her card. Hauling the bags out to the car, she turns on the radio, switching between stations before settling on a random station playing something upbeat and current. The drive home is short and clear, on her way she discovers a new coffee shop not far from the lab, perfect for her catch up with Catherine tomorrow to "really talk it out". That should be interesting she muses for a moment. Pulling into her lot she kills the engine and heads up the stairs to her apartment. Putting away the shopping, she makes her self a cup of tea and settles down with her book. Setting an alarm to give herself enough time to tidy up and freshen up, she sinks lower into the cushions, reminding herself of his gentle touch on her arm, his soothing voice and kind words after she exposed her past to him. He is the only person who she has ever really told, well besides from professionals, hired to listen. She knows he isnt judging her, but just taking the time to understand her, to be her friend again, and right now there isn't any more she can ask of him.
Soon, a few hours have passed, her clock reads 6am, a quick shower and a pricey skincare routine later, Sara is stood in the kitchen preparing for their breakfast. After whisking the egg, vanilla and cinnamon in a bowl she lays all her ingredients out next to the stove, ready to create her master piece. Yes, its only french toast but if Sara Sidle, can do anything in the kitchen, its make the best French toast this side of Vegas. Whilst preparing the skillet she receives another text message. Wondering whether she should set him his own ringtone to distingush his messages from anyone else's, then again who else really contacts her this often nowadays.
Leaving the lab now.
Calculating the time it takes to drive across town, in traffic this time of the morning, she anticipates his arrival in roughly 20 minutes. Just enough time to quickly ensure the bedroom is cold and dark enough to lure them into a deep sleep, should the plan go ahead. 15 minutes after his text message, Sara begins to cook the bread in her prepared mixture, ensuring to turn the bread for an even browning on both sides. Five minutes later as if on que, there is a knock on her door. Rushing over to answer, swinging the door open and moving quickly back to the kitchen so as to not ruin their breakfast she shouts over her shoulder.
'You know it would be easier if you just had a key.' He doesn't respond, worrying her joke has ruined the mood, she turns to watch him shuffle into the room. Toeing his shoes off and shrugging out of his jacket. It looks like he hasn't been home and changed since the end of his shift.
'Hey.' His head snaps up and his focuses on her and she notices he looks tired. 'You ok?'.
'Yeah, the rest of shift took a weird turn.' He removes his glasses and rubs his eyes moving over to the kitchen.
'Oh. Anything I can help with?' She transfers the toast to the waiting plates infront of the kitchen bar.
'Unless you know a way to slow the crime rate in Vegas and stop people maiming each other, then no.' He closes his eyes and pinches his nose. Sara slides a plate in front of him, placing a cup of orange juice and cutlery down next to his plate. Followed by a bowl of fresh fruit, some yoghurt and muffins.
'Eat, might make you feel better.' He thanks her silently, slides onto a stool and begins to wolf down his breakfast, not realising just how hungry he was. They eat in silence, Grissom clearing his plate in record time.
'You sure you're ok?' She puts down her glass and wipes her mouth on a napkin.
'I'm probably not going to make the best company right now; I should go?' He turns to her and smiles sadly. Sara stands and removes his plate, walking around him to the sink.
'No, I'd like you to stay… but only if you want to?' She doesn't want to pressure him into this, especially if he isn't feeling too well. This is progress.
'I'd like to stay, if that's ok?' She nods, a tendril of hair falls from behind her ear in front of her face, but she doesn't move it. They both pick at a muffin, making idle chit chat about his night, he drops a crumb onto the floor.
'Sorry.' They both drop down to catch the offending crumb but Sara beats him to it, using his knee she hoists herself back up and walks over to the trash can. He raises slowly, watching her every move. They clean up slowly together, just enjoying being in each others company doing the mundane of tasks, rinsing the dishes and putting them away, moving the rest of the fruit and untouched yogurts into the fridge and head to her bedroom.
'Do you need to freshen up?' He shakes his head.
'No, I showered at the lab.' He then looks down and takes in his appearance, black slacks and a red button shirt. She nods and moves around to the bed. Grissom taking to his side and laying down slowly, pinching his nose yet again. All the signs of a migraine heading his way.
'Mind if I read?' She asks, all too aware of his bad migraines can get and that conversation can sometimes make it worse. He smiles softly and shakes his head. She grabs the book from her bedside table and sits crossed legged on top of the comforter next to him as he lies down heavily. Her thigh touching his arm. Without even thinking he begins to move his little finger, as it rests alongside her long thigh, gently rubbing. It shouldn't be erotic but its doing something to her she can't explain. Slightly distracted she clears her throat before continuing and he notices, making him smirk to himself. After twenty minutes he is asleep, and she settles down next to him atop of the covers this time and pulls a blanket over them both.
This is their dance for the remainder of her suspension. A quick text or phone call to confirm plans, who is providing food, whether anything is needed, milk, eggs, beer. Every night, he turns up at her door, they eat, talk, sleep, grow.
On the fourth night, he brings a pair of old sweatpants and a brushed grey t shirt.
'To sleep in, maybe I can keep them here? That way I can be more….. comfortable?' He presses whilst putting away the last of the dishes, his knowledge of what is kept where quickly improving.
'Yeah, sounds….. sensible.' She smirks and turns to drop the tops off their beers in the trash. Handing him one, they maintain eye contact whilst taking a swig.
'So, any documentaries you wanna gross me out with today?' She brushes past him into the living area and settles down on the sofa, pulling her feet up under herself. He looks down and laughs to himself, grabbing some popcorn from the counter he joins her on the sofa for another marathon on something neither of them is really that interested in but none the less, they go through the motions. Every click of the remote, bringing them closer. Every pull on the bottle of beer warming their smiles in the room. Every playful push, shove or teasing tone.
Every day he wakes up inches from her, with her hair on his pillow and his hand closer and closer to her warm skin.