Working Home

Summary: Hardworking men and the work they love...does it match up to the women in their lives? Men at work. Hmmm...sweaty Grissom and Giles (snaps out of it) Ok, I'm back.
Disclaimer. I am not (A) a male, (B) Joss Whedon, (C) Anthony Zuiker or (D) all of the above. I choose (D).
Feedback...YES! Feedback makes happy author. Happy author writes more.

Grissom wiped his sweaty face with his sleeve, turning his attention back to the specimen before him. The beetle was indeed unusual to these parts...now. Apparently the bug hadn't been at one time. Nevertheless, he was salivating over the chance to study a species of insect he didn't get to see at every crime scene.

Besides, it stopped his salivating over Sara.

Grissom looked over at Giles, who was intent on his own work, cataloguing the artifacts that had been near the body. According to the former Watcher, the body was a demon, rare and harmless, but as with the bug, long thought extinct to the region. Giles looked up and the men exchanged smiles. All of the sudden the sound of a wolf whistle filled the air.

"Hoo-eee! I'd like to get me some of that blonde!"
"Nah, I like the look of the brunette."

The two doctors looked around. There were two women walking their way, one with blonde hair and short skirt, the other with brunette curls and short shorts. They both wore hats to protect their faces, but Gil and Rupert knew who they were.

Sara and Buffy had come to call, Buffy carrying a basket.

Giles shot a fulminating glare at the men who spoke. He spoke.

"Keep a civil tongue in your head when talking to or about a lady."

The men subsided as Sara and Buffy reached them. "Hello," Grissom said. It had been a week of long, hard work and he and Sara had only gotten a glimpse of each other. She had told him that although she normally would have jumped at the chance to work with him, she needed the time off. She and Buffy had been taking Italy by storm instead, exploring the sites and checking on the Slayers situated in the nearby countryside.

He found the heat oppressive, since it was hot in Rome at the time, but it almost seemed bearable with Sara there. Beside, her thousand watt smile always dimmed the sun for him anyway.

She spoke. "Buffy and I wanted a picnic and decided to invite you two. Care to join us?"

Nothing short of his own death would have made Grissom say no at this point. Good thing he was in perfect health.
Giles had the same idea, and the girls pulled out a blanket and arranged it. Grissom and Giles sat close to their women and the four exchanged small talk for a while.

It was the closest emotionally Gil had felt to Sara in a long time. Maybe it was because he wasn't pulling away and she wasn't pushing, or he wasn't trying to pull her close and she pushing. (Come to think of it, his metaphorical arms were a little tired.) They were just being Gil and Sara, two people sharing lunch with friends.

He looked over at Rupert and Buffy. It was obvious how close they had been, or were, from the way they talked, finishing each other's sentences and handing the other something before being asked. It was also easy to see the soul-deep bond Rupert and his Slayer shared. He was straining toward her, trying to get close, and she, wary of having been wounded by him before, was trying not to respond. At the same time, her attachment to him was clear, as was his determination to win her back to him...the same determination that Gil shared.

It was as if, somewhere in this place, sometime during this week, the hearts of Rupert Giles and Gil Grissom had smacked the logical brains upside the head and said, "That's it! I've had it! I love her, and I've hurt her and I'm going to fix it and win her back come you or high water! Now, get with the program and help me figure out how!"

And the brains had gotten in gear.

But not today. Today was an unspoken truce between the four. No pushing, no pulling, no prodding, just peace and the comfort of being together.

A simple, peaceful day in the lives that were an almost constant battle between good and evil...in all forms.

End Working Home