AN: Another tiny one for you, hope you like! A big thanks to everyone who took the time to read the last installment, and especially to those of you who reviewed – every single review make my day
As always, thanks to AM0616/unc-annie for the beta help!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything relating to CSI
Time of Your Death
"So, what's your fantasy?"
They're in bed, the blackout curtains shutting out the lights of the city, softening the world around them.
"Just you."
Sara smiles into the darkness. "That's sweet, but a little… corny."
"I don't mind being corny," Grissom replies. "What's yours?"
"Uh-uh, I asked you first."
"And I told you. Your turn."
She shifts to be able to look at him – not that she can make out much in the dark. "OK, let me rephrase – if you were going to pay for the ultimate fantasy, what would it be?"
"Why? Thinking of calling up that Caprice guy? It's not my birthday for a few months, but I guess some of those scenarios require some preparation."
She snorts. "I don't think I can afford even a five-minute fantasy, sorry."
"Probably not." He goes quiet again, but the quality of the silence has changed, and she knows he's thinking. "I don't know about fantasy; I've never really been much for escapism. Would you settle for an ideal day?"
"Hmm… I guess."
Another moment of silence before he starts. "So first off – no call outs, no dead bodies, no crime scenes. Lazy morning, breakfast in bed. A spring day, not too hot. A long hike – you, me, Hank. Maybe out in Red Rock Canyon, up to the waterfalls. Lunch at that little diner we found last time on the way back to the city." His hand slides along her ribs, making her shiver a little. "Afternoon in bed. Dinner somewhere fancy with a view of the sunset."
She can follow the scenarios he paints in her mind, can almost see them in front of her.
"Your turn," he repeats.
"I think I'll steal yours," she replies. "Except… by the coast. Maybe a picnic on the beach, I know it sounds cliché, but… one of the only happy memories I have from my childhood is a picnic on the beach on one of Mom's good days. Maybe Santa Cruz Mountains, I haven't been in years… dinner at the wharf. Again, cliché, but…"
"For a reason."
"Yeah."
He nudges her a little and she moves back to let him roll onto his side. "No… afternoon delight in your scenario," he notes, trailing a hand up her arm to cup her neck.
"When was the last time you hooked up at the beach? Sand everywhere."
He chuckles. "True."
She inches closer, sliding a foot up his calf. "How about some… morning delight?"
"Mmm, I like the way you think."