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: Hello! Hello!! I'm back!! Blame my muse for distracting me into writing three other stories, 'When you find yourself in a far away land' (Happy Geek Endings ROCK!) and 'The only way out is through' (working out my For Warrick sadness - again!) and also a big thank you goes out to those wonderful writers over at Geekfiction, who tempted me into writing 'Honey Bee' for their Valentines Smutathon!!
All of which you can find on here through my profile page!
So technically I've been a writing demon!! But I'm finally back to this, God I love writing this story!!!
Thank you all for your patience!! Hopefully it's worth the wait!
Holding Patterns
By Rianne.
Chapter Four.
Sara and Grissom slipped out of his office, discretely together, glad that the Lab was in a mid-shift lull which allowed them to glide out through the corridors with ease and without coming into contact with other Crime Lab employees.
It was perfect.
Neither wanted anything to pull them from their current residence inside the little intimate bubble where only they existed.
Taking a left into the locker room they found it too was quiet, shaded and empty.
Standing a few feet apart, they both stepped up to their respective lockers and with flicks of their wrists the padlocks were open and the doors too and they began lifting things out, placing things in.
But neither paid much attention, their motions driven by autopilot and played out along familiar routines whilst their brains were spinning, their thoughts remaining deliciously entangled in sensual and sweet fantasies of what was to come.
Both unable to believe that they were finally at this point.
Finally!
Indulging in the images flickering pleasurably across their minds eye, stirring the body and the brain and drawing both closer without taking a physical step.
Tempting them into surreptitiously glancing longing and heated at one another.
Look, look away, look, get caught, and look away.
Unable to stop the corners of their mouths from curving upwards in coy bliss.
The subtle unspoken connection reflecting back and forth between them not needing words to be intensely potent.
She'd done it! She'd told him and he hadn't panicked. He hadn't fled. He hadn't turned her down with careful precision.
And considering the nerves currently ratting around inside her, he was damn lucky that she hadn't done both of those things either!
But they were both acting so calmly!
Or at least she seemed wonderfully calm and secure about all this whilst he hoped he was desperately pulling off something in that area whilst waiting, counting silently in his head he tried to calm his racing thoughts.
She was ready.
Ooohh God she was ready!
And yet she looked so normal. She'd just said words they had both waited years to hear and yet outwardly, apart from the gentle upward quirk of her lips she looked just the same.
Was she in just as much turmoil inside?
He watched as she lifted her arm to remove her ID badge from its grasp on her jean clad hip. Her motions graceful and sleek and tempting.
Watching the way her hair rippled as her head dipped to watch the progress of her fingers, the soft locks shading her face momentarily before her head rose again and tilted back as she reached up to place the badge safely in her locker, revealing her profile to him again and he was struck by the glowing curve of her cheek and the beauty of her heavy dark eyelashes.
God, she was simply unhooking a badge and he was hypnotized by her.
Somebody help him!
He leant forward into the cave of his locker where he was veiled from her sight and pressed his forehead against the cool steel of the shelf. The lovely chill sinking into his skin, but even the brain freeze wasn't helping.
Wasn't calming the storm of excitement, which was bubbling up inside him.
They were really going to do this.
He took several slow calming breaths.
She was ready.
They were ready.
Then harnessing the wave of bravery and desire his thoughts elicited he was straightening his back, rubbing a hand through his curls, letting the smile he felt brewing break.
They were ready.
But he had plans, a few things he had in mind, and he'd need a little time to put those plans in motion.
He needed to make a few stops on the way home, his mind was quickly scribbling out a mental list.
How to tell her that he needed at least an hour to prepare, how to do it without spooking her…
Or making her worry that he was stalling, or fleeing.
The past was certainly proof positive that his pattern with her tended to be reel in, flirt, tease, then freak out when she curled affectionately close and actually offered what he wanted on a plate.
This time was different.
This time the plate was to be shared.
A very mutual devouring.
And one that deserved time and thought to be put into it.
She picked up her bag, carefully flattening and then sliding the head massager into the side pocket.
She lifted out her sunglasses, preparing to face the harsh Las Vegas late morning sunlight. Using the glasses to push her hair back, she left them resting on top of her head.
She could still feel his eyes on her.
Flickering intimately over her flesh like butterfly wings.
Warming her skin.
The air between them was practically glowing, from the heat of their thoughts and the yearning in their bodies.
God… if they were like this in such an innocent situation…
She reached for her jacket to distract herself from the sweet heated wave of longing that spiralled down through her belly.
She shouldered her light jacket, unaware of the sudden chivalrous longing to help her into it, which swept him and made his fingers twitch to reach out.
But he couldn't.
Not here.
Then all their tasks were done and they both found themselves closing their lockers with a deep unanimously drawn breath and a two sure metallic clinks.
Both outwardly appearing terrifyingly calm.
And yet both were thrilled by the tension brewing tempestuously under the surface.
Another tinglingly good secret only they shared.
Turning to one another they hovered.
Both suddenly feeling light-headed and breathless.
He broke the silence not with words, for they didn't seem to be able to form those carefully enough right now, but with a slight lift of his eyebrows which encouraged her to fall into step with him as they left the locker room moving out into the neon glow of the glass hallways.
They weren't touching.
Merely gliding instinctively on two individual paths. Her longer strides and his scuttling sway.
Neither needing to glance at the other again for the moment, safe in the knowledge that they were destined to intertwine.
That their paths, and limbs and hearts and souls were destined to collide in the very near future.
The culmination of something that had been on the very edges of their horizon from the very first moment their lives had crossed paths.
They had certainly come a long way.
A long winding way.
Right now both of them would have been proud to admit that all the heartache had been worth it.
Sure it would have been nice to have found themselves at this point in their relationship earlier.
The idea that they had missed out on having 'this' together for so long was the only slight tinge of regret they felt.
Now was just the perfect time.
Now that they had worked out all their worries and fears and battled the demons that had haunted them and kept them from letting each other in for so long.
They had learnt how to let them go, to let their real feelings shine through.
And had figured out how to ease into one another's lives.
It was never going to be a seamless melding, but even in these first unsteady days the pleasure already far outweighed the adjustment required.
Stepping out into the light, she slid her sunglasses into place as they headed in the direction of her car.
He trailed her, his mind still deciding how to break it to her that he could do with an hour or two to go shopping…
He could tell the truth of course…
Yeah! I'm sure she'd love to hear that he was delaying being with her in order to head to the local store for essentials, especially if only a few of the items on his mental list could actually be considered essential.
But he didn't want to lie to her.
That was no way to go either.
Reaching the car he watched her unlock the door, the lights flashing.
She opened the back door first to sling her bag in, not even bothering to look where it landed.
She was far too busy lifting her palm to smother a yawn that had snuck through her defences.
Busted.
The weight of their long shift crashing over her all at once.
And the perfect excuse.
The perfect way for him to get some time to prepare and to get her the rest she clearly needed.
He stepped closer to her, moving in so that his chest was millimetres from her shoulder, much closer than he would normally have dared at work, safe in the knowledge that they were shaded by the tree branches which over hung this end of the parking lot.
He was close enough that her face in profile was a gentle blur.
"Sara," he whispered, the word warmed with his concern.
She took a deep breath in, and behind the shade of her sunglasses he saw her eyelashes flutter.
He liked that. That he affected her so. That he felt that he was allowed now to stand so close to her that he could see down the side of her glasses to the expressions shaded behind the dark lenses.
"You're tired."
She didn't say anything, but he saw her gaze flit to him, and he knew she was immediately worried, that she sensed she might not like the next words out of his mouth.
"Go home and rest."
She reacted just as he knew she would.
Her whole body tightened. She straightened, rising to her full height, defensive, ready to bolt, ready to fight back, ready to challenge.
She slid her sunglasses down her nose and off in one sharp swipe.
Her arms came between them, crossing across her breasts protectively.
Once prepared enough to guard her heart she turned.
Opened her mouth to protest before she wavered to a stop.
Her mind spun and she found herself taking another deep breath, her body reacting in a rush she was unprepared for, as she realised that they were close enough to almost brush noses.
Close enough to kiss, right there in the parking lot, with work mere feet away.
Her gaze was hypnotised by his lips as she saw him form his next words.
"We've all the time in the world," he soothed.
She dipped her head, wanted to hide her disappointment and the wave of fear she knew would be rippling through her eyes.
She couldn't let him see disappointment, but she couldn't help the sag of her shoulders.
Oh God, he was sending her home, he was changing his mind wasn't he.
Please don't be fleeing.
Please don't let him be changing his mind.
She wanted to look at him. To look in his eyes, frantically searching for signs of his intentions. Desperate to confirm that in the last few moments he hadn't had a change of heart, or allowed the nerves clearly jangling inside both of them to get the better of their newly discovered bravery.
Damn her stupid body for being tired.
Damn her stupid job for tiring her out!
"I'll pick you up later," he reassured. "And we've tomorrow off." He added with a
shy but growing grin.
Shaking her head sadly she managed to find her voice, whispering, "I haven't."
"I think you'll find if you check with your boss that you do have tomorrow free."
Her forehead creased as she lifted her head; his words coaxing her to look at him, and look pointedly at him at that, before she found herself breaking into a small curious smile at the excitement clearly shimmering in his suddenly boyish blue gaze.
"Don't look at me like that," he challenged. "Greg just about got on his knees and begged me for a swap, something about some very attractive blonde someone…" he confessed with a gleeful grin, leaning even closer to whisper, "So, surprise!"
She smiled then, the corners of her eyes creasing up, she was still wary, but starting to relax.
She wanted to trust him.
They hovered there still smiling.
Until her face distorted into yet another yawn.
Her hand rising rapidly to smother it as her cheeks flushed pink as her attempt to hide the extremely obvious clearly failed.
She really pouted then, letting her hand fall between them again, sulking at his theory being proved irrefutably correct.
"Go on," he encouraged. "Go home and sleep."
Still lost in their little bubble he didn't think twice before he reached out and slid the tips of his fingers down the curve of her cheek.
Her eyelashes fluttered.
His thumb tenderly caressed over her pouting lips.
The stroke soothing them into a warm smile once again.
She pressed a soft, secret and sweet kiss to his stroking thumb before his touch slid away.
Her smile continuing to spread, as she watched his back move away from her, enchanted by his sentimental actions.
By his caring.
And then he was gone, away to his own car; still parked a few spaces down and completely out of sight.
Still smiling to herself she finally opened the car door and slid into the drivers seat.
A few more moments passed in warm dazed silence.
Then she was just reaching to belt herself in when a ringing cut through her tantalising thoughts, jump starting her brain and damn near causing her to smack her head on the roof!
The digital display was of course flashing 'Grissom' when she managed to wiggle the vibrating phone out of her pocket, her hands scrambling.
She held it up a moment, watching the screen flash out a beat, the little dancing phone receiver by his name bobbing to the tune, taunting her to give in to curiosity and answer it.
She frowned at the screen.
She gave in.
"Did you fall asleep, Sara?"
His voice was rich and deep in her ear.
Damn nearest to intimate she'd ever heard from him and the tone made her shiver.
She straightened her back to avoid squirming.
"No," she laughed.
"Good, now get yourself home safely and get some rest, I have plans for you later!"
She laughed again, but the sound was lower.
Oh God what did she sound like!
"I'll be there to pick you up at seven." He confirmed.
The line went quiet for a moment.
She was just about to hang up when she caught his final whisper.
"Sleep well. I'll miss you."
o0o0o0o0o0o
The bell above the door jingled as Grissom stepped into the lush and fragrant inside of the store.
The smell hit him first, sweet and earthy, the pungent scent of growing and life.
Then the colours overwhelmed him, every spectrum of the rainbow was represented here, and even some he knew weren't even found in nature, all decoratively laid out in a sprawl before him.
Hundreds of different choices.
Hundreds.
He turned in a slow circle.
The flowers were arranged by colour, white, yellow, pink, red, purple, blue, orange.
And green. Very green.
His fingers had instinctively found their way into the pockets of his trousers as he pondered.
Too many choices.
The lily's were elegant and beautiful, the roses romantic, there were irises in deep indigo…
"May I help you, Sir?"
Then his eyes fell on the perfect gift for Sara.
"Yes," answered, feeling quite pleased with himself. "I'll take this one, please."
"Excellent choice," the florist replied, "a gift?"
Grissom nodded.
And then immediately regretted it.
The florist spent the next ten minutes fussing with bows and cellophane, arms flailing, scissors wielding, like Las Vegas's first Octopus Man.
Whilst Grissom stood and stared, and stared, and the eventually just openly glared.
"There you are Sir," the florist finally slowed enough to speak as he gestured to his creation, obviously expecting congratulations.
Extremely misguided.
Disappointed when Grissom only handed the man his credit card, he pointed vaguely in the direction of a little plastic stand saying with a sigh, "There are cards over there for your sentiments."
Moving over to the small table Grissom perused the selection of little cards, settling on a nice plain one.
The words were easy.
His penmanship flowed his thoughts across the small rectangle.
Before he carefully sealed it into the small matching envelope with a private smile.
o0o0o0o0o0o
She had been so tired.
And yet there she lay.
Listening to the echo of her own breathing waving out into her lonely, empty apartment.
It was the first time she had attempted to sleep alone in three days.
Her own bed, once the comforting highlight at the end of her shift, felt strange, unfamiliar and empty.
For years she had been the poster-woman for insomnia.
But even then she had still slid between the cavernous sheets for the comforting enclosure there, to think, to read, to relax and rest.
Just what she needed right now.
But sleep still eluded.
She really would just have to accept that the last three nights of warm, desperately needed sleep had been a fluke.
But she didn't want too.
She wasn't ready to give up hope just yet.
She was also not quite ready to admit some vulnerable truths.
She was not that attached to Grissom already!
But the evidence…
Who did she think she was kidding!
She had been attached to Gilbert Grissom from the first moment that her skin had touched his, they had shaken hands, introducing and unwittingly entwining themselves into the intriguing patterns of their lonely and yearning lives.
She turned over, pressing her hot, frustrated cheek against a cooler portion of her pillow.
For a moment she was soothed.
Yet it was only for a moment.
She was fast becoming more and more worried that she was far too overtired to sleep.
And way too wired.
She curled up tighter around herself.
But even then the cocoon of covers didn't provide any defence against her overactive brain.
Couldn't prevent the invasion of some of the thoughts that danced temptingly on the edge of her consciousness.
She shifted her position again, pointedly trying to escape them.
Purposely calming her thoughts, she refused to let herself even consider what might be in her immediate future.
What might happen when Grissom came to pick her up.
She couldn't.
What if the reality didn't live up to her daydreams?
Especially as her life had certainly not given her many examples to prove that theory wrong…
She didn't think she could bear that disappointment.
That decided she made an effort to think of other things.
To appreciate the soft feel of her sheets against her skin, stretching her legs out like a cat enticing a stroke.
Wriggling her toes.
After a few more twists and sighs she eventually managed to doze in and out for a while as she found herself falling back on a previous relaxing technique she had long over used and hoped not to need anymore.
She fantasised.
She twisted and turned her sheets into a tangled cocoon.
She sighed.
She set the scene.
Drawing happily from events of the morning and the last few days.
Now that she had the added spice to her imaginings of knowing what those hands of his felt like on her skin.
Knew the taste of his lips.
The way she felt in his arms.
Bath. A bath would have been wonderful right now.
She smiled at the memory of lounging lazily in his.
Her small apartment didn't have a bath.
Hmmm… a bath with Grissom.
She was reclining, surrounded by bubbles.
Hey it was her fantasy!
Bubbles, which strategically covered.
He was leaning in the doorway.
Smiling.
Watching.
Intent burning in his eyes.
Then crossing the room to the bath, his shirt gliding to the floor.
Her eyes lulled closed again as she allowed that thought to distract her, she soothed herself to relax, wriggling some to find the perfect place to settle, arranging the covers over herself more comfortably.
Imagining leaning back against the warm cradle of his broad bare chest.
His knees either side of hers, his arms and hands gliding gently but eagerly over her.
She would be able to feel what made him male, even more intimately than she had earlier today.
Skin to skin.
The fit of their bodies, and the contrast of them making her feel very female.
Intimate and comfortable in his arms.
Her hair damp around the edges, would be curling with the heat, as he brushed it away from her throat, dragging his lips over her sensitive flesh. His mouth would be hotter than the water lapping gently over them.
His lips would slide along the slope of her shoulder, his fingers gliding up her sides, making her laugh. Making her squirm happily against him.
Stirring the water and the heat and the desire.
And then…
And…
o0o0o0o0o0o
He hovered.
His panic face well and truly in place.
Oh god!
This was worse than the florist.
Way worse than the florist.
Before him row after row of coloured boxes stared back at him just as blankly.
The rest of his shopping had been over and done with in a matter of minutes.
He had selected a good red wine he had enjoyed before and knew would be perfect to share.
He had picked up vegetables, pasta, salad, fresh crusty bread, just a few items he could throw together just in case she was hungry.
He had also bought pancake ingredients, syrup, chocolate sauce, breakfast juice.
He had even spent a few minutes standing before the women's toiletries section.
Had picked up a spare toothbrush, a stick of the deodorant he had seen in her locker, and had resisted the urge to open and sniff the selection of body and shower gel that was on offer, finally just picking the nearest one.
He knew Sara was the most organised woman he had ever known, she was most likely going to bring such a collection of her own with her, but he wanted her to feel welcome. To feel comfortable in his home.
Especially when he was very keen on her staying there a lot more often and she seemed happy about it too, especially if the last few days had been anything to go by.
So those items, and a few other things currently weighted his basket.
Yet it was the choice that still remained before him which was becoming his biggest burden.
Footsteps behind him had him reaching frantically for the nearest pack.
The ones with the most uncomplicated description he had seen on the shelf before him.
He found himself watching in slow motion as his fingers grasped the packet, and in the process managed to knock several more to the floor in a shower of cardboard boxes.
He scrambled after them.
The footsteps halted.
Then the next minute a small, clearly old, feminine hand was passing him the furthest box.
Somehow he managed to grunt out a barely discernable, "Thank you."
He didn't look up as he fumbled to return the packets to their place on the shelf.
He couldn't look up.
Oh God, what if that hand belonged to the Nun he had passed on the last aisle.
Oh God, he would die.
He couldn't look up.
He couldn't confirm it.
He couldn't have been more humiliated.
His face was flaming.
Oh God, how old was he and here he was panicking about buying birth control like a horny and uncoordinated teenager!
The things men did!
His contraband safely in his basket he fled to the checkout.
Never so glad to hand over his cash and dash to safely stow the brown paper sacks into the back of his car.
o0o0o0o0o0o
She woke from a dream she could only barely remember with butterflies tingling in her stomach.
It was half five in the early evening.
Grissom would be there in an hour and a half.
Sliding on a big t-shirt she shuffled into her kitchen to try and quiet the fluttering with a mug of steaming hot coffee.
Her shower was hot and steamy too.
She luxuriated under the unrelenting stream, washing and conditioning her hair.
Her legs had been carefully shaved for the last few weeks, ready for any surprise eventuality, but tonight she spent a little more time, lightly tracing her slick soaped skin with her razor. Neatening.
Then slathering herself with a sweet scented moisturiser, until her skin softly gleamed.
Returning to her bedroom wrapped only in a towel she stood by her open closet, using another towel to rub her hair.
She had no idea what to wear.
What did you wear to an evening like this?
Underwear was sorted at least.
No thanks to the most awkward shopping trip she had ever been on.
It had been the pretty colours in the window display that had drawn her into the store.
That and the tingles of 'new relationship' that no woman could fight.
New relationship, new underwear, new hopes and dreams.
And damn it…
It had taken her so long to tempt Grissom this far that she was damn well going to do her best to look good when she finally got him there.
She had hovered by the window, taking in the display before her.
And suddenly she recognised that the plain black or white cotton she usually wore would not really measure up.
Functional and work appropriate as it was.
She had the quick flash of herself dressed in something sensual and soft.
Something she'd feel sexy in, and comfortable too.
And certainly something simple and classic.
And not something which would give him a damn heart attack either!
She wanted to be all woman.
That was the little boost that got her over the threshold and into a place that made her feel more uncomfortable than any crime scene.
At least at a crime scene she had training. She had experience.
This store, the colours in there alone had been overwhelming, before she had even factored in the styles and the sizes and the fabric and the matching.
She had stumbled about a little, trying to find something.
Moving from stand to rail to stand to little hanger.
It was a few minutes later when a nasally voice had cut through her musings, correctly guessing her sizes in a sharply honest toe to shoulders sweep that had brought heat to her face.
The sales assistant, a woman in her forties, with platinum hair and spider-like eyelashes had then trailed her around the store, twittering in her ear about colours to suit her, and ways to enhance curves and lengthen legs.
Yeah… like she needed help in that department.
With her annoyance growing with every passing minute, she had in the end just grabbed a handful of different colours and styles eager to get to the counter and the hell out of there as quickly as possible.
That had been a week or so ago.
All of the things she had bought that day still had all the tags.
Yeah she could really see herself rummaging through a decomp at a dumpsite wearing something like this under her forensics overalls.
Reaching out she finally selected a set in a sensual shade of deep wine red, rubbing the silken fabric between her thumb and forefinger.
She took a deep breath; silently apologising for all the bad thoughts she had aimed at that irritating shop assistant.
The woman had been right, it wasn't just about being practical.
The fabric was sexy under her fingers.
She smiled as she slid the underwear into place.
Catching her image in the mirror, she blinked once, before she let her breath slide back out.
Yeah, this could well be just the boost she needed.
The butterflies were back in force, but their fluttering was easing closer to sweetly intoxicating.
o0o0o0o0o0o
The bedcovers settled in a wave of refreshingly cooler air and the soft enticing scent of freshly washed bedding.
He was trying to pass the time.
Which in its turn was crawling.
His home was overly tidy.
He had rested, restlessly, for a time.
He had showered, shaped his beard, pulled faces at his wrinkles in the bathroom mirror.
Chosen clothes, casual blue short-sleeved shirt, blue jeans.
Practised sucking in his stomach and then felt stupid about it.
Prepared a pasta dish and salad with the ingredients he had purchased earlier.
Too early to heat it.
He was now left to clock watch.
He was determined to be on time.
Not wanting to surprise her by being early or unnerve her by being late.
But just sitting waiting for half an hour to pass was absolute torture.
When had he become so impatient?
He was a man who had been known to sit for days studying the life cycles of bugs, a man who had sat for hours watching bugs devour animal carcasses.
Although the last time he had done that he hadn't been alone.
He had spent his first 'night out' with Sara.
It had hardly been a date, but the mood had been right, there had been moonlight and stars, and quiet, there had been coffee and blankets and plenty of things to keep conversation rippling.
He had realised he was falling that night.
Not that he had known what to do when he landed.
But he did now.
29 minutes.
17minutes.
11minutes.
At five minutes he gave up with the awkward pacing.
Grasping his car keys he made it all the way out to his car before he remembered that he had forgotten her gift.
With a frantic sigh he scurried back inside.
Eventually he made it to her front door with only two minutes to spare.
Two minutes to hover.
Her gift clutched awkwardly in his left hand.
Two minutes of calming breaths, and knowing that the future lay just beyond that wooden door.
His arm lifted.
His knuckles made contact with the surface of the door.
Twice.
It was seven pm.