Disclaimer: They're not mine.
A/N: Thank all of you for all of the reviews! They truly meant the world to me! And, as they all came so fast, I was motivated to do some proof-reading tonight, so there's another chapter! :)
The only problem with this enthusiasm is that I only have up to chapter 20 finished, so I need to start writing! lol
Also, for those who asked, I will be taking them to Vegas. I'm doing my best to follow the series as close as I can--so everything we saw in the episodes, will happen as it did, but maybe with a little interesting subtext due to the baggage we didn't know they had... and the events that take place between them, that we didn't get to see.
There will be no season one sex, to answer the other question... just a ridiculous amount of sexual tension. Hehe!
Please review and let me know what you think!
Chapter 16: Merry Christmas
The rest of the week was back to normal—or, at least, what normal was like with Gil in my life. I still felt like I was stealing time from someone else's life, but this time I was content to take it. I didn't feel the need to question it or be suspicious… I didn't even really feel like I was hiding part of myself anymore, though I was. It just felt right.
He helped with everything—sorting through their things, packing up items I wanted to keep, items for Jim's sister, items for goodwill… he talked to the real estate agent, made the arrangements, paid for the hotel room and our meals and held me each night whether we fell asleep after exhausting ourselves in the throes of passion or I cried myself to sleep, telling him that Jim and Marlene had been just about the best thing that had ever happened to me.
The day after their funeral we spent going through the house, but that night he took me out to eat for Christmas Eve and then dragged me to a store to buy twinkle lights. When we'd curled up in bed with wine in plastic hotel cups and only the twinkle lights, spread across the functional surfaces of the hotel room, to illuminate the room, he pulled out a wrapped package and my eyes widened in surprise.
"Gil… you didn't need to get me anything."
He shakes his head. "We were spending Christmas together… I wasn't going to not get you anything… Open it, please?"
I grin. "Let me grab yours out of my suitcase, okay?" He looks as surprised as I had felt, but my explanation was the same—how could I have gone to his home for Christmas and not brought anything? I retrieve a large box from my sizeable suitcase and bring it back to the bed, passing it to him. He smiles, taking it.
"Thank you."
I roll my eyes. "Don't thank me yet. You might hate it…"
He shakes his head. "Never. Now, please, open yours. …I hope you like it, it's… well, kind of a strange assortment."
I grin, cuddling up close to him. "You know, I never liked Christmas. I mean, I liked it with Jim and Marlene, but there weren't many of those, you know? Two when I lived with them, and then…when I moved back to Berkeley, I would sometimes make the day trip. …Marlene said it made her sad, but… even knowing that, I felt like being there was… intrusive…like I was invading their holiday."
He runs a hand over my back, gently. "You'll have to spend holidays with me from now on… you'll never be intruding."
I smile, and feel a blush covering my cheeks. "…Promise?"
"Always." He kisses me softly. "No more stalling, Sara."
I giggle. "Okay, okay." I gingerly lift the tape and pull the paper off to find a long white box, about the size of a large clothing box, from a department store. I shake it experimentally, and there's a lot of noise. "…This sounds like more than one thing."
"Good investigating, Miss Sidle, but I already told you it was an "assortment," didn't I?"
I elbow him playfully in the ribs. "Fine, fine." I pull the lid of the box off, and find everything inside wrapped in tissue paper. I grin. "You put a lot of effort into this, huh?" He rolls his eyes, about to urge me on again, so I snatch up an item at random, to stop him. It feels like a small, hard-cover book. And, surprise, it is. When I slide the tissue paper off and turn it, to appraise it, however, I see that it's a copy of Of Mice and Men. An old copy. I look at him.
"It was one of the original publications. You… told me it was a favorite and… well, we have some good memories, surrounding it." He blushes, a little, like he's nervous about the gift, but I smile and kiss him quickly, to reassure him, my mind automatically falling back to his office and the leather chaise therein.
"It's amazing, Gil. But… it's too much."
He shakes his head. "No, it's not. It's the biggest present, I promise, okay?"
"…Okay."
And it's true—the rest of the items are little, though thoughtful: a picture frame, with our beach picture in it, an old movie I had told him—to his great shock and alarm—I hadn't seen, a new pair of Harvard sweat pants—I'd told him in November that I'd torn a big hole in mine, and that I'd have to get around to ordering another pair, and a dark blue UCLA sweatshirt that I'd all but lived in, at his townhouse, before I'd left…
I lifted it softly to my face. "It still smells like you…you didn't have to give me this." I took another deep breath, and noticed one more small item left. I pick it up and unwrap the tissue paper to reveal a container of what looks like fingerprinting dust, except that it's bright red. I glance at him, curiously.
He grins a little sheepishly. "It's fingerprinting dust that I… I make myself. I know that sounds kind of crazy but… well, it works better! And… I know it probably isn't protocol, in San Francisco, but… if you have it in your kit, then you'll always think of me, when you're at work."
I feel my heart melting softly, at his words, and I smile. "Do you use this, in Vegas?"
"Only with really elusive cases…"
"Thank you, Gil. This… all of this, really, is too much."
He smiles, softly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "No, honey, not for you."
I blush again, scooting up to his side again. "Open yours now."
He smiles tauntingly, turning to me. "Should I stall like you did? Make you wait to see if I like it…"
I roll my eyes, pushing the box into his hands a little roughly. "Gil."
He chuckles. "Alright…" He tears the wrapping paper away a little less neatly than I had—he does it with the air of someone who has unwrapped presents—expected presents—in abundance all his life. He doesn't need to open the box—the picture on the outside says it all.
"A terrarium?"
I grin. "You told me you had wanted a tarantula, for your office… I figured I'd get the house, and then when we get a chance, I'll take you to the pet store to pick out your own spider. I wanted to… pick up all the supplies and everything, but I didn't know what to get… I figured it was best if you made the selections."
He beams, and I feel amazing. His excitement is downright childlike. "You're really going to buy me a tarantula?" …He might as well be asking about his first bike.
I laugh. "As long as I never ever have to touch it."
He mock-pouts. "But who will he call Mommy?"
I shudder and then shiver—the latter not from the spider reference, but because he's kissing me with as much passion and fervency as he ever has. He tries to push me down onto the bed, but I fall on my box of gifts, and we break apart, laughing. I bite my bottom lip, an idea occurring to me.
"Gil, wait… I think I have another present for you."
He looks confused. "Sara, you don't—"
"I know. I didn't plan it, but… well, maybe it was just wishful thinking… You clear off the bed, I'll be right back."
I stop briefly at the closet, to snatch a few articles of clothing from my suitcase, and then rush into the bathroom, changing quickly because I don't want to keep him waiting. When I step back out into the room, still illuminated by the twinkle lights, he's sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for me. I smile when his jaw drops, aware that I'm having the desired effect.
I had purchased the red lingerie on a whim, thinking I would wear it when I missed Gil… maybe even describe it to him over instant messaging in one of those conversations... It was all lace—narrow spaghetti straps leading down to elastic lace that clung to every inch of my skin, see-through all the way down, stopping only an inch below my underwear. I had grabbed a black lace bra and black lace panties, which I had packed for no particular reason, just in case I needed to be without underwear lines in one of my outfits. But I thought they'd be a nice touch, under the red… and apparently I had not been mistaken.
He stands, abruptly, as I come close to him, and struggles to close his mouth. "…Wow, Sara…"
I grin. "Merry Christmas, Gil, You did say you had a weakness for red lace…"
I don't know how I made it to the bed—he had nearly tackled me into the wall beside it—but I know that by the time my head fell onto the pillows he was completely naked and had somehow snaked my bra off and out of the lingerie, without even lowering the straps.
I was lost in the feel of his mouth against mine, his hands on my body, his hips pressing him up hard, between my legs, until he finally lost his patience and ripped the remaining black lace from my body, freeing me to his fingers and, after only a moment, the entire, glorious length of him.
He left the red lace on, though by the time I was peaking my third orgasm, he was desperately trying to remove it, with little success, and, upon coming down, I slip it over my head in an act mercy. "Oh, thank god." He gasps out, starting to rock into me again and attaching his mouth to my newly exposed breasts.
Within minutes I can feel him shuddering inside me with every motion, and his mouth has stopped its attentions, his eyes squeezed shut tightly. "Oh, god, Sara… come, come Sara, please, I can't… I can't hold it, please… just… just once more… come for me."
His pleas, and my own realization at how hard he's working just to get me there one more time—the level of love and devotion that requires—sends me over and he comes hard into me, screaming out in both pleasure and what seems like it must almost be relief. We don't have words, as we slowly come down, exhausted. We separate, hot and sweaty, our breathing rapid, and by the time it has slowed, we're both asleep.
