Disclaimer: Dear CBS, if you hadn't made them so beautiful I would be borrowing someone else's characters instead wouldn't I, so therefore it's your own fault!
Author Notes: This one was just a whim… pure fluff. I have to do something whilst we wait impatiently for the 15th of Jan!
If you were looking for a time frame for this I'd say early to mid season 6.
I would like to say a HUGE wow and Thank You to all the people who have left me such wonderful reviews for the first and second parts of this, and to all those who have it on their alerts and favourite story lists. I love you guys!! Your encouragement means the world.
I also do not own the present Sara gives, but I really want one, they are simply heaven! ;)
Please note that I have changed the rating on this story, knocking it up to a T (for now…) Blame the GSR!! ;)
Holding Patterns.
By Rianne.
Chapter Three.
When she finally stirred awake he was already there before her.
That may have been what drew her to consciousness.
He was holding her hand, playing with her fingers.
Hmmmm… she was in bed with Grissom again…
Warm, sleepy and cuddling with Grissom.
Such a comfortable bed, good firm mattress, warm snugly soft covers.
How had she got here…
Ohhhhh.
Her stomach sank as she felt her pleasure level dip severely. Felt a frown crease her forehead.
Little boy with broken glasses.
Grissom in tears.
She'd never seen Grissom cry before, it had twisted her soul.
She had never felt so useless. Holding him as tightly as she could as he shuddered with grief.
She screwed up her already closed eyes, trying not to think about the heavy black weight of the day before that was creeping back to her.
She was glad that they were still here in the safe haven of his bed.
They needed simple quiet time like this to realign their minds.
It was suddenly the glaring piece that had been missing from the puzzle of her life all these years.
Comfort.
With eyes still closed she concentrated on the soothing way that he was tracing the lengths of her fingers, swooping the sensitive cuticles, stirring her by stroking her knuckles.
She let the sensations chase the dark edges of her thoughts away.
His big bear paw of a hand completely swallowed hers.
Warmer, rougher skinned, but he was surprisingly gentle.
Like he was touching something delicate. Like you might touch a flower, or a kitten, or he would touch a vital case-breaking piece of evidence.
The last word that anyone would ever use about her, Sara Sidle, was delicate, it just wasn't a word that people thought of around her, but she liked it.
Just the chance that he saw her on equal weighting with evidence…
God, when had her life become so pathetic that being compared to something left behind by a killer was a compliment!
But she had to admit that she wouldn't have it any other way right now.
She liked the way that he had been treating her since they had carefully started dating. He somehow managed to make even a grumpy, prickly, tomboy like herself feel feminine and womanly and attractive and treasured and dare she even whisper it…sexy?
But this, these subtle caresses, it was more than just touching.
The feelings, the emotions, that his gentleness stirred, spoke volumes of the emotions she knew he was trying to convey.
His touch betrayed the depth of the feelings that neither of them were ready to express with what was destined to be an awkward and embarrassingly painful conversation.
Not just yet anyway.
She liked this tender exploration.
This time where they didn't need words to say what needed to be said.
Each touch set her nerve endings alight.
It coaxed her closer and closer to full consciousness and she was for once happy to be led.
Especially if it was into a reality where she was waking up with Gil Grissom in her arms.
He was moving again, turning over her hand in his to stroke her palm.
The pads of his fingers slipping patterns across the flesh, tracing the lines and valleys of her palm like a palm reader as her fingers wiggled ticklishly, reflexively.
Tracing her life line, her heart line, her head line, like he was searching for the answers to their future.
She bit her lower lip lightly to concentrate hard on not squirming.
She curled her toes instead.
Her thighs tightening and pressing together, her knees bumping.
Her body groaning silently.
Then her fingers were lifted.
She let her eyes drift open, the pale blue wall before her focusing into the cotton weave of Grissom's T-shirted back.
Her arm was still slung with careful affection over his waist, hand curled to lie against his chest.
She couldn't see what he was doing to her fingers, which made the experience all the more heightened.
Blinking slowly at the warm light that filled the room.
Her body and brain lazy and sleepy and contented.
Yet his touch was bringing her round and tempting her awake in more ways than she could describe.
Her stomach quivered tingling as she waited, alert for his next touch.
The restriction of her sight, beyond the wall of blue, sharpening her other senses.
She could smell him, hot, sleepy, musky and male.
She could hear him breathing, slowly, evenly, calmly.
Yet in complete contrast to all the quiet she could feel each stroke he bestowed to her skin like he was statically charged.
Pleasurable crackles sparked where they made connection.
Each next point of contact was suddenly the focal point of her world.
She tried her hardest to stay still and let him experiment, but her brain was humming happily to life as it dreamt up all the delicious possibilities for where his next caress might fall.
Her belly warmed at the intimate fantasies that rippled forth.
Then she didn't have to wait any longer.
He pressed a kiss to the swirling print of her index fingertip.
The warm soft of his lips, the heat of his breath, so sweet she almost groaned.
So he was feeling better then?!
Migraine meds and sleep working wonders.
The bristle of his beard against the inside of her finger induced shivers, which closed her eyes again as she instinctively increased the squeeze of her thighs.
It was either that or give into the heady urge she felt to slide one leg over his hip, wind herself about his body and squeeze him instead!
Were they sleepy enough for her to get away with that?
Oh it was tempting… she really wanted too...
Even if she was only brave enough to simply think it right now.
But no, she couldn't act on those impulses, not quite yet.
Soon though, a few more necessary barriers to surmount and she would be free to act as she only dared to dream.
Act without nerves, without spooking him.
But the way he was caressing right now was restrained and loving, touching just for touching's sake. Just for enjoyment. Not for starting anything.
But as he gently sucked on her finger her brain reeled from the stroke of his lips and her thoughts were immediately lost to the sensations.
His lips had moved on, brushing hot and open down her finger, nibbling.
His bristles torturing pleasure across her already tingling palm induced shivers and bad, bad, very bad thoughts.
Thoughts about the way that beard would feel against even more sensitive vulnerable flesh… her wrists… her stomach… her inner thighs…
Ooooooohhhhhhh God!
It was fast becoming too much.
If he didn't want to encourage her to jump him that was…!
Morning sex was her favourite, sleepy, tangled and slow.
Defences down. Vulnerable to intimate suggestion.
She was always so instinctively defensive and knowing that about herself didn't make it any easier to control.
But she wanted to learn to let him in. Wanted to feel that she could trust completely.
And there were already a good few cracks appearing in her battle-scarred armour.
The first few conscious moments of her day when she was relaxed, and open, when she was able to enjoy without pressure, when she was warm and comfortable and drowsy, they were the perfect moments for someone to slip easily into her arms and coax intimacy.
When that little voice which niggled her, which delighted in pointing out that she was certainly no topless dancer, that she hadn't been working out enough, that questioned what a man, any man, saw in her, wasn't awake enough to torment her.
Ohhh, just the idea of sharing a blissful morning encounter like that with Grissom…
Hell, Any sex with Grissom!
No holds barred, kisses that stretched long and teasing, achingly sweet, arms around one another, curling, cuddling, close.
Just thoughts of it and her head was already spinning.
Her whole body arched as his lips pressed into her palm, fragmenting her thoughts for a much better reality.
His mouth open, his hot tongue sliding out to stroke across the salt of her skin.
Her shudder was hungry.
Then his lips pressed to her wrist and her head titled back as she fought the gasp.
That was one curiosity that had just been seriously satisfied.
One to tick off the list!
Feel of beard against wrist: groan inducing.
She heard the groan escape, felt her hips arch instinctively towards him.
Nuzzling her nose into his back she was surprised to feel him freeze.
So wrapped up with the warmth of his back and the feel of his heart beating that it took her a moment or two before she realised that he really was no longer moving, that there were no more kisses to her wrist.
He had stopped?
She waited a little longer, humming softly as she rubbed her nose back and forth against the cotton between his shoulder blades, trying to coax out more of those kisses.
But he remained still.
Was he shy?
Was he worried that she would be upset to know he had been touching without permission?
Had he been practicing his seduction techniques whilst he though she was asleep?
Did he think that she might laugh catching him being so silly and affectionate?
She pressed a small smile to his back.
She could practically hear the complicated cogs in his mind whirr.
Did he think he was busted, that his manly standing was at stake?
That one brought an actual smile. A sly one, but a smile none the less. Wide and broad.
Whatever the reason, his touch, oh it was certainly working on this girl.
Woman.
Whatever!
God! Would she ever understand the man who lay beside her?
Probably not, that was the sad truth of the matter. But at least now she had the chance to give fathoming him out a try!
Some part of that supposedly clever brain of hers must be able to find an answer someday, somehow!
Although his brain was so damn smart that by that time she finally figured a way through the defences he had built that he'd probably have found a way to evolve even further and forever protect his secrets!
But God damn it if she wasn't completely smitten with the wonderful, gentle, charming, utterly frustrating man in her arms.
Lifting her head, giving up the pretence of sleep for good, she propped herself up a little. Then she reached out with her free hand and slid her fingers tenderly into his curls, stroking and massaging, tumbling the silver coils.
"How are you feeling?"
Her voice was rumbly, hushed and low.
He was quiet for a long moment and then she felt the pressure against her fingertips increase.
He hummed in approval of her magic fingers, leaning back into her touch, and finally managed an equally gravely barely conscious, almost groan of "better."
Tilting his head back on his shoulders, encouraging her touch, his grip on the hand he held in his tightening.
After a few more moments of silence, broken only by the faint sound of breathing, she allowed her fingers to slow.
"What time is it?"
She yawned into her words, her body stretching out along his, pressing against his.
He groaned softly in protest of her halting fingers.
She could practically hear the hinges on his eyelids as they reluctantly cracked open.
But he still didn't answer her question.
The clock was on his side of the bed.
When he didn't answer she nudged him with her nose, breathing in the scent of his hair.
"Griss…"
He grunted.
"Griss," he still didn't answer.
Hitching closer she slid her nose into the curve of his neck, before seeking out his ear so she could let her lips brush heated across the sensitive outer shell.
"Griss!" she growled through her sulky laughter! "Don't you dare go back to sleep after waking me up!"
She felt his chuckle before she heard it, the deep smoky rumble shuddering through his back and ebbing into her chest.
And then in seconds she found herself flipped onto her back, the squeal, which managed to escape, tumbling into laughter as she saw a fully awake and aware Grissom clambering to capture her, looming and male, his hair wild and tumbled, his strong arms coming down on either side of her, trapping her, pinning her to the bed, delighted glint in his eyes.
Her heart rate leapt with surprise and anticipation.
Oh, someone was definitely feeling better!
That predatory gleam in his eyes was new and thrilling.
"Three," he growled teasingly. "It's three o'clock."
Then he pressed a quick light kiss to her lips, moving away before she had a chance to catch him.
"One."
An eyebrow raise.
Another quick sneaky kiss.
"Two."
And before he could dip for the third she had already hauled him down again, laughing wildly, hungry for a real kiss.
A real kiss. Mouths meeting hot and open, both groaning at the sensual sweetness of hot sliding questing tongues, morning breath be damned.
Her arms curled tightly around his back, pressing him warmly against her breasts, fingers searching blindly over the broad expanse, feeling their lovely combined weight sinking into the soft bed, their legs tangling.
His palm slid up to cup her cheek, fingers easing behind her head, dislodging the silky strands from the tenuous hold of her hairband, before they curled nice and tight into her hair to keep her mouth close to his, the other palm finding its way under her waist to feel her against him.
Oh yes, this was the life.
Their kisses were deep and slow, and lazy.
His teasing tongue as inquisitive as his mind as it stroked her lips, her palate, sucking her lower lip, greedily swallowing her responses.
Then in another quick breathless motion she found herself astride him, strong hands on her hips, gliding up her back, the heat of his heavy hands burning through her t-shirt.
She swayed there a moment, very still, mouth still open from her gasp of surprise, supporting her own weight on her hands and knees, thin sliver of air between them.
The feel of him beneath her so suddenly was unexpected.
She couldn't fight the nerves tensing her muscles, had to think hard about forcing her breathing to slow, willing herself to relax.
There was nothing to be afraid of.
This was Grissom.
This was just Grissom.
But it was new. Really new.
And her thighs were spread really wide, wider than she had imagined.
Up close he was so much bigger than her.
His hot hands were sliding lower, smoothing down her back, to put gentle pressure on her hipbones.
"Hi." He whispered, his eyes glittering, his smile cheeky.
She huffed softly at him, but his sweetness was working, she could feel her body really relaxing, sinking into his.
The long strokes of his palms in a warming rhythm against her back, soothing.
Her eyelids flickered as relaxing brought her weight to settle more intimately against him.
She could feel him hot and ready through the soft sweats, pressing against her, and she was ready too.
He must feel her.
Her lower belly was warm and beat in time with her heart.
She smiled down at him, all flushed cheeks, and lazy sensual eyes, her warm curves pressing a welcome weight.
Then nosing close she lowered her face until she was scant millimetres from his, her newly freed curls falling over them like a curtain. She rested her weight on her lower arms beside his head.
She was blinking slowly, her lips hovering gently over his, dipping close, brushing, teasing, breath tangling, and then pulling back, before finally allowing herself to get caught.
They kissed with eyes open, under the shade of her hair, gazing longingly at each other as if they were worried either might bolt at any second, the sheer intimacy trembly and nearly overwhelming as they continued lightly stroking lips over and over side-to-side.
The pull was sensual and strong, and eventually they sank hungrily, eyes lulling closed, surrendering into the heady temptation of one another's heat and desire.
Their bodies building friction, arching and rubbing together, acting upon centuries old instinctive rhythms. Both able to feel the straining heat and need in each other.
Tumbling over and under one another, tangling the sheets about their sweat pant clad limbs until she lay beneath him once more.
Satisfied with swollen lips and giving gasping breaths a time to calm they searched out other new territory, both rumbling with shivers at the heat of lips to the sensitive spots of necks and ears.
His tongue sliding out to stroke over the hammering of her pulse feeling her hips wiggle in response.
Her lips sought out that vulnerable line along the edge of his beard where it curved to his jaw line.
The first time her stomach rumbled she got away with it. It passed as a lower octave moan, both were lost anyway, swept up in heat of their passions, his nose and beard stroking down her throat.
The second time she knew she was busted when he lifted his head.
She tried to follow his lips with hers, pull him back but he was far to quick for her aroused brain and sleepy reflexes.
She pouted, "Where are you going?"
"Food," he announced with a grin.
"Not hungry," she moaned, her voice thick, managing to secure his lips again, until her stomach once again made itself known. Loudly.
"Liar," he teased.
She sulked until he pulled her from the tangle of his bed and guided her into his bathroom, hiding his pride at her faint stumbling on weakened legs, before nudging her in the direction of his nice big bathtub.
That made her smile again.
He swooped to grab her backpack with her extra clothes from by his front door, placing it just inside his bathroom.
She paused in the bathroom doorway to look at him, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe, sighing longingly.
Her hair was a rumpled, tousled mess, her t-shirt hugging her distracting, extremely interested curves, her cheeks rosy and pinked, she looked thoroughly kissed and utterly beautiful and so very, very tempting, but before he could give in and haul her close again, she brought him back to himself.
Lifting her palm, she reached out and caressed his cheek, her touch tender and so light.
His beard teasingly rough in contrast to the softer skin beneath it.
"Chalk?" he enquired the little lines around his eyes creasing.
With an 'I'm humouring you' smile she slipped away, shaking her head, whispering "I'm glad you're feeling better," as she slid the bathroom door closed obscuring his view of her.
But thoughts of her in there looked set to torture him for the entire time she was in his bathroom.
On the other side of the door she leant back against the wood for a moment to steady her limbs, she was trembling softly, goosebumps rising to decorate her exposed flesh.
He'd dragged her from the bed; the cooler air shocking the edge off the warmth of her desire and her aroused body missed the heat of his already.
Rubbing her arms she crossed to investigate the bath, trailing her fingers along the huge fluffy towels he stocked.
With a twist of her wrists she turned the hot water on full force to flood into the big tub. Adding a splash of something clear with a faintly clean smell into the rapids. Then she stripped slowly, taking her time as the sound of the water roared, leaving her clothes in an abandoned pile on the floor.
Her body welcomed the warmth of the water, closing her eyes with a pleasurable groan as she sank into the depths.
She let her head loll back against the rim of the tub, smile broad and luxurious.
But thoughts of him would not leave her alone.
And to make matters worse she was gloriously naked, in his bathtub, whilst he was just metres away on the other side of the door.
Being a damn gentleman!
Her fingers idly traced the bubbles on the surface as her head danced with thoughts of the heat of those heavy hands, the hungry suckle of his lips, the deep glittering desire in the depths of his eyes.
Desire for her.
Oooooohhhh God!
Taking a quick breath she ducked her entire head under the water, splashing the excess liquid everywhere in a rolling wave of bubbles!
Outside in his kitchen Grissom could not get out of his own head. He would not think of water, of hot bubbly water, of sliding droplets of hot water caressing down her sleek long, long legs, of steam curling her hair, of beads of moisture gliding down her slippery skin, of the way she was kissing him back just a few minutes ago.
Damn it! He was being a gentleman for what reason again…?
He took a few minutes just to stand, his grip on the kitchen counter tightening till his knuckles whitened as he fought to calm his body.
When that wasn't working he began to pace. Up and down. Up and down.
He knew both of them hadn't really wanted to leave that bed.
It was stupid. But he wanted to do this right.
He wanted to take her out somewhere first, buy her flowers, and whisper sweetly in her ear all night about what he planned to do to her when he got her all to himself.
God that sounded stupid.
When he heard himself think like that he sounded his advanced years. Sounded like he had watched far too many black and white movies.
It wasn't like he didn't have her all to himself right now either.
But she was special to him.
He wanted the build up.
He wanted put effort into seducing her.
She deserved more than just him in sweats with hair stuck out all over before he'd had chance to brush his teeth.
Not that she had minded before. Or complained if she had.
He did his best to keep his brain distracted, he made toast and coffee and bowls of fruit, putting the bacon slices in his fridge right to the back in case she ventured in there for milk, despite his own mouth watering at the sight of them.
And speaking of mouth wateringly good…
This morning, this morning had been really good.
He hadn't woken up with a smile like that for a long time.
Certainly not the morning after a migraine.
He felt clearer, lighter, free.
And when was the last time he had slept for six hours straight?
Sara.
She'd helped drive the horrors of the day before into the deep compartmentalised fathoms of his brain.
Helped prepare him to go on and help the others who needed him.
She'd given him time, and patience and her arms.
She'd not forced him to talk, she'd not even forced him to listen.
She'd just been there.
For him.
He was not worthy of this graceful creature.
It put him in a whole new place.
Just knowing that she wouldn't let him get away with being nervous when it came to her. Just like she hadn't that morning.
Just knowing that he could be open with her and not fear ridicule.
To know he could reach out and touch her.
He had woken with her arm still slung comfortably around his middle, her elbow crooked so that he could hold her palm over his heart.
The first few strokes up and down her fingers were simply exploratory, sleepy, just enjoying having her affection, just having her there.
But soon that hadn't been enough.
He had seen those clever fingers at work, examining evidence, pointing violently at offenders, comforting the victims, he'd even held them once, no twice, but neither time had been under good circumstances.
But here, here was a moment of privacy where he could find out what it felt like to caress her skin, to no longer imagine what her skin felt like against his skin, against his lips.
He had started off gently, but the more he touched the more he wanted too. He tried to keep it light, testing out the boundaries between them, he still wasn't completely sure what was allowed and what wasn't.
But he really hadn't wanted to stop.
He had frozen in surprise as he had heard her stir awake in his arms, but it hadn't been her movement that caught his attention so sharply, after all she had been wiggling around sleepily behind him for a little while before that moment.
No, it had been her growing reaction to his touch that had startled him.
Really startled him.
Aroused him fully without her even knowing it.
It had been hearing the groan she made as he pressed his lips to her wrist.
He couldn't believe that he had caused her to make that sound.
A sound so erotic, so unguarded, that it had instantly paled all fantasies he had ever held dear about her.
She was real.
She was really with him.
She was really there with her arms about him.
His bed had even smelt of her. Like coconuts. Fast becoming his favourite smell.
But before he had been able to sort out his thoughts her fingers had been stroking through his hair and her loving touch had shaken all the thoughts from his head.
It was so much easier than he had ever anticipated.
It was so easy to let her in.
To let her see the loving, thoughtful, attentive man who liked to touch, tease and laugh.
The man he was afraid to show.
He couldn't for the life of him remember why.
Was this quiet, calm affection between them what he had been so afraid of?
It was many things, comfortable, intimate, slightly awkward, pretty damn frustrating, but not in the least bit frightening.
Although between sleeping and working there had so far not been much time for their stubborn, and independent natures to collide. Yet.
But still on new uncharted ground he had tried to behave. Trying to keep to his self-made promise to be patient, to enjoy taking his time to woo her. Did people even say that any more… no probably not? But it was fast becoming a real struggle to stay still, to keep his hands to himself as her nails scratching his scalp arched his spine, her fingers were working such magic in his hair and his bodies reaction to her was straining desperately to get his attention.
He had then been forced to curl his toes in his grand effort to remain still as she began whispering his name into his ear with all the heat of her breath and the tingling caresses of her lips.
He had behaved so valiantly until he just couldn't stand it any more.
And then in a move so quick he had even stunned himself she had been beneath him gasping and smiling.
A smile twitched his lips as he remembered the look on her face when he had first flipped her over onto her back.
Naughty, surprised, cheeky, delighted with him.
Happy.
Sara.
He wandered over and leaned his shoulder against the bathroom doorframe. Looking hard at the closed door. Really hard. Really, really, hard.
It was a shame he hadn't asked for x-ray vision last Christmas, that or nerves of steel.
o0o0o0o0o0o
Once they parted company in the Lab car park later that afternoon, she flit her eyes to his as she walked away and she smiled.
And that smile got him through the boredom of the first few hours of his shift as he barely caught sight of her again all evening.
She and Warrick were finishing up their current case.
He saw her once from afar, arguing out something, her cheeks flushed, her eyes flashing, her chin stubbornly held, her shoulders squared.
Her hair had curled, from drying naturally after her time in his bathtub.
Her lips were still pinker, shining with some kind of moisture stick she had smeared on in the car on the way to the Lab.
It made them fuller than usual, unless he was just fixated, which may have been the case.
He could still taste those lips.
"Hey Earth to Gris!"
Nick was pressing a palm to his shoulder, jerking him back to the hallway, whipping his head round and out of the warm memories and forcing him right on back to the endless mountains of paperwork that awaited him.
She managed to stop by during her late lunch break, and his first thought was of how much he had missed her.
She didn't stay long, she brought him coffee and in her other hand was clasped a small cloth bag, she twisted the fabric nervously.
He smiled at her over the mountain range of papers on his desk as he slipped off his glasses, glad to see that she was still standing there when his eyes re-focused.
"Brought you some coffee," she announced redundantly, her smile shy.
"Thank you, Sara."
He took it from her, feeling the awkward silence getting louder.
Why was it always so much more awkward between them when they were trying to be personal in the Lab!
"Brought you this too," she admitted quickly, thrusting the cloth bag in his direction, "thought it might help."
A present?
Then she was gone, her smile soft as she retreated quickly with a slight shrug, leaving him holding the small bag she had left behind dangling from cautious fingers.
He looked at it curiously.
"Grissom, have you seen the notes for the Wilkinson case?" Catherine voice was fast approaching, already speaking before she had made her way fully into the room.
With a deft slight of hand he managed to slide Sara's present into the drawer and with the other hand locate the file Catherine wanted from the grand selection before him.
And there his present waited for another two hours before his curiosity about it drove him from his paperwork to drag it from the drawer to examine that instead.
Pulling the drawstrings open he tipped the contents onto the desk before him.
Huh?
It was made of copper.
Had a handle and eight little spindles or prongs, divided into two sets of four.
A fork?
She had given him a big fork?
So he could dig through his paperwork?!
He huffed softly, confused.
Well let's start with what it isn't…
It wasn't an egg whisk, or a comb, or modern art… he didn't think.
It wasn't a backscratcher, and it didn't look like any sex toy he'd ever seen and he'd seen a lot.
In his line of work of course!
But how was this supposed to help him in any way?
Damn it sometimes he hated puzzles!
o0o0o0o0o0o
After she had fumbled over giving him the gift Sara didn't see Grissom again until right before the end of shift.
She and Warrick had stopped by his darkened office to give in their case reports.
She found, much to her surprise that she was smiling with some small degree of satisfaction, pleased with yet another case solved.
She'd had a really good day.
Night.
Whatever!
When Warrick got up to leave she lingered. Pretending to be casual. Failing terribly of course, but Warrick and the others were so used to the complicated push and pull relationship between her and Grissom, that he barely shook his head as he slunk away at her usual 'nervous around Grissom' weirdness, closing the office door with a loud click. He was probably very glad to be able to get out of there and leave her and Grissom alone.
Alone.
The room seemed to get smaller around her and all his collections loomed down at her from the shelves and frames which lined the walls, with their thousands of bug eyes peering, wondering what on earth she was waiting for as she stood there mute and just looked at him.
She had something she wanted to say, but finding the words…
Sure there were more appropriate places for telling him, but she knew that if she didn't get the words out now she'd panic and maybe never say it.
And she wasn't sure how much longer she could wait!
There had been nothing in her head but this all night. Her poor brain had been working overtime just to keep up with the simple workings of the case she and Warrick were finalizing.
She was supposed to be working!
But tell that to her brain, any chance she gave it, it was right back curled up in bed with a deliciously scruffy haired Grissom, sliding her fingers under his t-shirt to the warmth of his skin, sliding her mouth down is neck to the spot which made him squirm.
Yeah… she knew things like that about him now.
She wanted to know more.
No, she needed to know more.
It was time.
But here in his office, the idea that she would have to open her mouth and actually express those thoughts to him with all those magic combinations of letters called words was tightening her fingers into fists.
She just knew that she had to somehow give him a gentle shove in the right direction.
She just had this feeling that he was waiting for a sign from her. For permission.
But it was so hard to ask. So hard to tell him what she wanted.
It was stupid considering the way that had been together that afternoon.
At least halfway there to what they both wanted, maybe a little more.
Lost in the safety of their arms and desires.
But moving further, it was such a personal decision.
He had wanted to wait, that had been very clear that afternoon when they had been on the brink, she could certainly be assured that it wasn't a matter of lack of physical interest or arousal, but he had put them off, he wanted to be a gentleman and she understood all of that.
But it was driving her crazy!
He was definitely getting closer though, and she just wanted to give him that final push.
But why did her capacity to speak about anything personal vanish the moment she looked him in the eye?
Although silence was debatably better than the old over-talking trick she used to pull, she had finally managed to break that bad habit, thank goodness.
But damn it she was still waiting…
Her pulse was picking up. Its rhythm beating at her throat making it hard to swallow.
She opened her mouth to speak.
Finally forcing through the fear.
But her words got lost in his.
"Griss I…"
"I wanted to thank you."
There was a moment of silence where they both just blinked at one another and then they were able to laugh, embarrassed at their terrible awkwardness, averting their eyes.
"I'm sorry," he acceded, holding out his hand to her with a smile to indicate that she should speak first.
But the fearful ball inside her was unravelling its claws into her fast and she urged him to speak before her.
He nodded his head, one side of his mouth turning up before he carried on.
"I just wanted to thank you for your gift," his expression was suddenly turned curiously awkward, he wouldn't meet her gaze anymore, "very useful, so, thank you."
His voice drifted off.
She had to fight to fashion the grin she felt bloom back into a controlled line as she suddenly understood.
He had no idea what she had given him! Oh this was too funny!
Too easy.
She sometimes forgot just how naïve he could be, after all he was so smart in so many ways.
"Useful ha, I'm glad." Her smile was sly. "Want to give me a demonstration?"
The flicker of fear in his eyes was brief, she could see him actually squirm, and then she felt bad for causing him any amount of pain, shame on her, even if he covered it quickly mumbling some excuse that she didn't even bother to listen to!
Moving around his desk she paused beside his chair looking down at him and simply held her palm out.
On to him. Ever so busted.
Pursing his lips, he sighed, hanging his head in uneducated shame, before removing the present from its hiding place in his desk drawer and carefully placing it in her waiting hands.
"Do I want to know what you thought this was for?" She asked with a softer smile as she casually perched herself on the edge of his desk, she carefully twisted the handle, arranging the eight prongs so that the contraption now looked more like one of Grissom's spiders than a fork.
Off his look she laughed! "Okay, so I guess not!"
His ears had turned pink.
"Close your eyes," she whispered, voice suddenly soothing.
She hitched closer, into his space, and when he tilted his face to look up at her she found in his expression the mirror of her own affections. Those matching curious, teasing smiles changing his office into a different place, both feeling that warm spell falling like a fog about them, creating for them a private, intimate bubble which seemed to fade their surroundings into the distance until only they existed.
He eyed her a moment longer, his eyes closing to a squint, before he took a breath and letting it out slowly he closed them fully for her.
She took a moment to enjoy just looking at him.
Smiling shyly as across her current image of him appeared the vision of him looming over her, grinning wildly, enclosing press of his body to hers, the overwhelming, complicated, wonderful feelings which had filled her then filling her again at the memory of it.
Feelings of heat, affection, desire, safety and love.
She took a breath, her mind and body both so much lighter.
Then handle grasped loosely in her fist she slowly lowered the prongs of the spider contraption to his head, tips of them disappearing into his curls as they gently sought out the pressure points on his scalp, twisting her hand this way and that, lowering and lifting, watching his face for the inevitable reaction.
Her grin broke as he groaned way too loudly for the office, his eyes opening to hers were filled with surprise and pleasure, his pupils dilating wildly in the dark room.
"For your headaches," she smiled kindly, watching his eyes roll as she hit a particularly good spot sending what looked like really good shivers down his spine, his lower back curling as the sensations rumbled all the way to his toes.
"Good ha?"
His jerky laugh was confirmation of that!
God she loved this man.
She loved him.
She could do this.
"Griss?"
Her voice sounded small and vulnerable.
He cracked an eye to look at her.
She took another breath, leaning closer to him so she could whisper.
Hoping to give her words the kind of importance that they deserved.
"I'm ready."
She was suddenly aware of her heart beating painfully fast.
She watched him blink at her a few times, both eyes open now as he searched hers for understanding.
She smiled nervously, willing him to get it.
Please get it. Please.
Don't make me explain.
She lowered her hand from his head bringing the copper spider with her.
The world around them was deathly quiet as she waited.
Then he moved, pushing back his chair to stand.
Bringing himself to his full height, he reached out to guide her down from his desk, searching her rising eyes.
Her heartbeat picked up at that look, the intensity in the way he studied her.
She was suddenly too afraid to say anything else, even to brush away her words with a forced laugh.
She was very aware of her chest rising and falling all of a sudden.
It seemed to take him forever, but she saw the exact moment that he got it.
When he got what she was asking.
What she was trying to tell him.
Then he smiled, really smiled.
"Then… lets go." He said very carefully, with a nod, trying to make sure his own voice didn't reveal his nervousness.
But she knew it anyway and it helped.
The look on his face told her all, his shy smile was as sweet and terrified as hers.
Terrified in the good way.
She felt like her whole body sagged in relief, but somehow she was still standing, maybe from the building anticipation that waved to fill the gap.
He was crossing the room to the door, regaining his balance faster than her, sliding his coat off the stand, eager to be behind more private closed doors with her.
Turning back when he realised she wasn't beside him, he found she was still there, wavering where he had left her in place by the desk, just gazing at him dreamily, happy expression beaming.
"Are you coming?" He asked with a shy smile.
She gave a little jump, then reached out to lay the copper spider head massager on the desk.
"Oh and Sara?"
She turned to him. Humming distractedly in response.
He pointed at the contraption in her hand.
"You might want to bring that."