Author's Notes: I got a bit wrapped up in my other GSR story, and I didn't realize I was neglecting this one. But here's a new chapter for your reading pleasure. Enjoy, and as always, thanks for all the kind feedback.
Moments
by Kristen Elizabeth
The one thing Grissom missed most with the schedule he and Sara had adopted after Rosalind arrived in their lives was waking up next to his wife. Except for the occasional instance, he woke just as Sara was getting off the day shift. So there was usually no warm body curled up against his back when the afternoon sunlight stirred him from slumber. Just an empty pillow next to his that faintly smelled of her apple shampoo. He liked to bury his face in it before getting up to start his day.
But that particular morning, he didn't have to settle for Sara's pillow. He had the woman herself snuggled into the crook of his arm. It was going to be a good day.
Some internal awareness of each other, honed after three years of marriage, compelled Sara to wake at the same time.
"Morning," she purred. Still half asleep himself, all he could do was smile in pure pleasure when she started pressing soft kisses onto his shoulder. "It's only six-thirty…"
He nodded. "And we don't have to be up until seven."
Sara nibbled along the line of his beard. "And it's still a good time of the month…"
Fortunately, he was already aroused, or that might have killed things right there. As much as he wanted another baby, eight months of thermometers, schedules and doing it at the drop of a hat had turned sex into an obligation, rather than the fun it used to be. But even though Sara's mind was on babies, her hands were busy making him forget everything.
Half an hour later, sweaty and rumpled, they rolled apart to catch their breath.
"Morning, honey," he chuckled. "I can't imagine a better way to start my vacation."
She sighed the sigh of a thoroughly sated woman. "I'm a little jealous. Remember when I used to have ten weeks of vacation time built up? Whatever happened to those hours?"
"I think the answer to that question will be getting up soon, demanding her breakfast." Grissom glanced at the clock. "What time do I need to have her at daycare?" There was no answer. "Sara?"
When he glanced at his wife, she had a panicked look on her face. "Oh, Gil." She sat up in bed, a hand clapped to her mouth. "I forgot."
"Forgot what?"
She smiled at him and he instantly knew that whatever it was she'd forgotten, it wasn't going to be good for him. "Rosalind has a play date today."
"A play date?" Frowning, Grissom grabbed his glasses from the nightstand and put them on. "She's two and a half. She's not allowed to date for another twenty-seven and a half years."
"It's just a small group of kids from the neighborhood getting together to play."
"Doesn't she do that at daycare?"
"Of course. But this is more sociable." Sara paused. "Gil, you and I…we're not social creatures. In fact, I'd say we're borderline socially retarded. It's one of the things that drew us to each other. But…" She stopped and looked down at her hands.
"But?" he prompted.
When she looked back up, her eyes were misty. "I don't want my daughter to go through life feeling like the odd one out. She'll be smart. She already is. But I also want her to be popular. Or at least personable." Sara shrugged one bare shoulder. "Everything that I never was. And I think it starts here."
"Sara." He pulled her back into his arms. "Honey, I understand." He tilted her chin up for a kiss. "She'll have her play date, I promise. Whose house am I taking her to?"
She cleared her throat delicately. "Well, sweetie, that's the other thing I forgot to tell you."
Grissom did the math in his head. And wasn't happy with the results.
Thirty brand-new and freshly broken crayons. Twenty-five pieces of broken vanilla wafers on the carpet. Seventeen dirty diapers…so far. Ten picture books marred by childish scribbles. Five kids under five. Four women sipping virgin Bloody Mary's (somehow he managed to keep from yelling "they're just tomato juice" every time one of the mothers giggled about their clever drink choice…Sara had better be proud of him for that.) Two talking Elmo dolls that were in serious danger of having their batteries permanently lost in the pockets of his pants.
And one middle-aged entomologist, reminding himself every five minutes that he loved his wife very much. Very, very much.
"Mr. Grissom," one of the mothers…what was her name…broke his train of thought. "Or is it Doctor?"
"Gil is fine," he replied. "Is there something I can get for you?"
"No, nothing. I'm just fine, too." What's Her Name gave him a distinctly flirtatious smile. "You know, I've always thought that PhD's were far sexier than MD's."
"Well. That's…" Grissom searched for a distraction. "I should check Rosalind's diaper."
He plucked Rosalind up from the carpet, just before she could steal one of the other children's plastic horses and single-handedly start World War III.
"Da-de," she babbled happily as he carried her to the makeshift changing table. "Where Mama?"
"At the blissful peace I used to know," he replied under his breath. For his daughter, he went on, "Mama's at work, Rosalind."
"Mama work," the little girl repeated several times as her father changed her diaper. When he was done, Rosalind held out her arms to him. "Hug, Da-de."
It was an invitation he could never refuse. Grissom picked his daughter up and planted a kiss on her chubby cheek. "Love you, sunshine. Always will. But I don't care how old or social you get. If you're ever married and flirting with another man over a box of baby wipes, I'm handing you over to the nuns."
The front door opening was nothing short of salvation. Sara entered amidst a chorus of chirpy greetings from the neighborhood moms. Grissom watched his wife. There was a momentary flash of fear on her face, the reaction of a shy girl when suddenly thrust into the spotlight. Grissom understood that. He'd felt the same way when the women entered the house, two excruciatingly long hours earlier.
"Sara, darling!" What's Her Name kissed the air beside each of Sara's cheeks. "Your home is so lovely. I could just eat your daughter up. And your husband…"
"Mama!" Rosalind saved the moment by screeching for Sara. "Mama, hug!"
"Okay, baby." Sara crossed over to her family and took the little girl from Grissom. "I got off early to come be sociable." She winked at her husband.
"So, can I take your place back at the lab?" he asked.
Sara shook her head. "Rosalind, your daddy is so silly."
"So illy," Rosalind repeated.
Grissom followed the two women in his life into the living room. One of the women handed Sara a drink. "Virgin Bloody Mary," the woman said with a conspirator's wink.
"You know, they're just tomato juice," Sara informed her.
He couldn't keep a smile off his face. That night, if Sara thought it would increase fertility, he would have made love standing on his head. She'd earned it.
To Be Continued