A Little Help from a Fiend... er.. Friend.

A Little Help from a Fiend... er… Friend.

Author: clueless

Beta: The most excellent and completely swell and totally lovely Binx_349, and thanks to Taramis for the suggestions regarding the pillow snack.

Contact: quidditchfan1@gmail.com This is my first CSI fic. Feel free to rant… bitch…moan…

Rating: NC17 since I’m not sure where R starts and NC-17 takes over. Better safe than sorry.

Category: GSR (It might look a little suspicious at the beginning, but honest. Greg is just an attractive means to an end.)

Summary: What happens when one Spiky-headed Cupid takes matters into his own hands?

Spoilers: loads. Written postep- Unbearable

Written for: My Own Sick Mind... and it's technically a V-Day fic. This was meant to be fun, not very serious, but I tend to act like a girl and mix up some Angsty/Fluff. Or some Fluffy/Angst. Oh, and I think I might have gotten the "You can call me Gil" line from somewhere, but I'm damned if I can remember where. Please let me know, and I will of course credit. Thanks!


~~**~~**


Greg Sanders couldn't believe his eyes. Sure, Vegas was a big place, and lots of people often went out for breakfast, but what in five holy hells of Hoboken were Grissom and Sofia DOING?


Greg immediately went into uber-stealth mode. He slouched down out of their line of sight behind a convenient plant and opened a menu. His mind started producing the theme to 'Mission Impossible'. Greg peeked around the side of the menu. Yep. One Supervisor and One Slightly-Scary Blonde Spending Too Much Time Licking Syrup Off Her Fingers.


Greg watched them for a few minutes shaking his head. How could a man that was so incredibly intelligent, even Zen-like in his pursuit of science be so damn clueless? What about Sara? How could he be sitting there with Scary Sofia? I mean, she talked to herself, for Christsakes. And poor Sara... she was looking so sad lately. What would this do to her when she heard?


"Excuse me, Sir? Would you like to be seated now?" The waitress was used to weird Vegas types and didn't bat an eye at Greg's oddball behavior.


Greg lowered the menu. The idea of pancakes didn't sit well with him for some reason. He didn’t think he could ever eat syrup again. "No thanks. I think I'll try my luck elsewhere." Greg stood up, managed to keep his back to the restaurant in case either of them happened to look up, and walked out. The beginnings of a plan were coming together in his fiendish mind....

*******

Dear God. Please don’t let me lose my job. Greg was ready for Phase One of ‘Operation VDay’. Sara was sitting alone on the bench in front of her locker. Her head was bowed and she seemed to be lost in thought. He cleared his throat and took a step forward. Sara came out of her reverie with a start.

“Hi Sara.”

“Hi Greg.” She smiled that half-smile of hers. “Ready to go home?”

Greg’s throat was dry. He had to start twice before he could actually get words to come out of his mouth.


“You still look like you could use a friend. I, uh, I wanted to take you to breakfast, or buy you a beer, or, uh, both. I really am a good listener.” Whew. He managed to get all that out without his voice cracking. Maybe she didn’t notice the uhs.


Sara blinked, obviously a little surprised.


Greg stood there and tried not to blush. It wasn’t that long ago that he would have died to be able to spend time with Sara away from the lab. But that was before he picked up on the connection between her and Grissom. Getting romantically involved with her would feel a lot like banging your head against a brick wall… and his head was too cute to mar.


Sara opened her mouth, shut it, and opened it again. Greg’s hopes sank. ‘Operation VDay’ was off. No way would she want to hang out with him. Why did he set himself up for these humiliat--


“Sure. That sounds, that sounds like fun, Greg.” Sara grinned at him. Why not? These past few months had been complete shit. Greg was always good for a laugh, and she could really use one.


Greg had to stifle the urge to go, “YESSSS!”


“I think I want something a little more entertaining than beer though. I just finished up that child abuse case.” Sara’s voice was amused. Greg really had a hard time keeping his face straight.


That was enough to pull Greg out of his euphoria. “But you got them, right?” He opened up his locker and got his jacket, closing it with a bang.


“Yeah. But that bastard just sat there, so smug…anyway. You’re buying, right?”


Greg grinned and doffed an imaginary hat. “For you, my dear I would buy you a diamond, a small country… A…”


“A load of crap?” Sara had cocked her head and was looking thoroughly amused.


“If that is what my lady desires…” Greg motioned for her to walk through the doorway first.


They were both laughing, both enjoying the friendly banter so much that neither noticed a man standing in the shadows… with a very grumpy look on his face.


******

Sara was very flirty when she was hammered.


Phase Two was in motion. Greg had to keep the plan firmly in mind when Sara stroked her hand up the side of his face to pat his spiky head.


They had actually had fun. They had gone to a local mom-and-pop type breakfast barn. The food was fast, filling and very tasty. Over breakfast they had talked about work, and Sara had opened up to him a little bit about her suspension. She also gave him the details on the Great Ecklie Tell-Off. When they had decided to go get some drinks his conscience had had a few moments of panic. Was this friendship even if he had an ulterior motive? What if the motive was a really, really, really good one? They had found a bar that served drinks 24/7 (this WAS Vegas after all) and had gone through a couple of rounds. Well, Sara had gone through a couple of rounds more than him. Several, in fact.


When they talked, subjects went between cases, to anecdotes from their childhood, to gossip about people they knew. Grissom’s name was conspicuously absent. Greg didn’t even want to go there, and Sara was unwilling to speak his name lest a flood of recriminations started. Greg was just being a pal. He certainly didn’t need to know all her baggage.


Greg looked at his watch and was shocked to find it was already four in the afternoon. His body was exhausted. He couldn’t tell by looking at Sara, but she definitely had that slightly glazed look of someone that was seriously trashed. Slurred speech, the works. It was time for Phase Three.


“You look too toasted to drive, Sara.”


She nodded happily. “Yep. You sure ‘re a trained ‘vestigator. So, ‘m I goin home with you?”


Greg blinked. A Klaxon-like wail went on in his brain. She most definitely was too drunk to go to her place. She’d probably pass out in the shower or something. Then he would definitely go to hell. His mind raced. Phase Three rested heavily on him getting into Sara’s apartment and borrowing…


Sara stood up and lurched forward. Greg managed to catch her, but not before smacking his funny bone on the table top. He winced. It was a sign. God was trying to warn him. He should abandon his mission. He should take Sara home and put her to bed. He definitely shouldn’t take her to his apartment. He really definitely shouldn’t drive. For some reason his brain didn’t seem to be working properly.


He signaled to the waitress, asked her to call them a cab, and paid for their drinks, wincing only slightly when he saw the amount. All the relative “glory” of being a CSI meant that he had had to take a pay cut. But hey. All was fair in love and war, right? It took some work to maneuver Sara towards the entrance. He had to get out his sunglasses with one hand, and try to keep her from falling flat on her ass with the other.


Sara groaned and turned her face into his chest when the sunlight hit her eyes. “’uckin’ sun…” he heard her mumble. He had to grin. Fortunately the cabdriver pulled up, and Greg managed to get them both in the backseat. He gave the cab driver his address.


******

Greg was thankful that he lived on the first floor. Sara was very close to being comatose. She was currently singing a song about being a butterfly in a drunk, very un-Sara like voice. Greg managed to unlock the door, get her inside and shut the door. He tripped over one of his shoes and they both almost went to the floor. His head seemed to be spinning; maybe that was why Sara seemed to have two faces. Greg got her to sit down on the couch (finally!) and both took a minute to get his breath. That walk had seemed to take a really long time.


“Wait here a sec.” Greg turned and went to find her some clothes. He found some sweats, said a little prayer that they were indeed clean, and made it back to the couch. Sara looked as if she was going to pass out any second. “Here. Put these on.”

Somewhere out of the midst of Sara’s drunken stupor, came the thought that Greg was really a good guy under all the hair gel. She tried to tell him that, but all that came out of her mouth was, “good, gel.” Greg looked slightly confused, but held out the sweats to her anyway. Sara started to strip. Her body craved sleep, and she didn’t care where she was when she got it.


Greg’s eyes almost popped out of his head as she lifted up her shirt. He saw a glimpse of black lace before he quickly turned around, blushing furiously. “Uh, well… um… ‘Night then!” He speed walked to his bedroom, and sat down on his bed. He was not going to think about Sara naked in his living room. He wasn’t going to think about the smooth expanse of skin that looked so… An image of Grissom at his snarkiest popped into his head. Phase Three. Concentrate. Phase Three of ‘operation VDay’ was still possible. It would be sneaky, and take lots of hutzpah, but it was doable. Just.


*****

Phase Three was in motion. Greg poked his head out of the bedroom. Lights were still blazing. He walked out to the living room, and saw that Sara had passed out on the couch. She had managed (thank god) to get the sweats on, and her clothes were strewn all over the living room. He let his gaze rove around the room. It stopped on one article of clothing. Taking a deep breath, Greg tippy-toed out to it, scooped it up, and almost ran back to the safety of his bedroom. Sara didn’t twitch.


Now for the hard part. He told his conscience to go take a hike, that he had important things to do. They were good things, all of them. In college, he had written a paper on Machiavelli. The Prince. The end justifies the means. He repeated that to himself as he purposefully didn’t set an alarm clock. The end justifies the means. The end justifies the means. The end…


****

“GODDAMNIT!” There was a shriek, a curse and feet pounding up to his door. Greg, who had been waiting awake on his bed for the last 45 minutes watching the red alarm clock numbers flip by, jumped. He was relieved that he wasn’t going to have to go and wake her up. That put him in too close of proximity to grievous bodily harm. He sprung out of bed as the door flew open and a very hung over, very bed-headed, VERY pissed off Sara stood in his doorway.


Sara took one quick look of him standing there in nothing but the jeans he wore to work yesterday, then opened her mouth.


“DID YOU KNOW IT’S TEN-THIRTY?”


Well, yes, actually he did. Sara turned on her heel and ran back to the living room, grabbed her clothes and hustled to the bathroom. “Hurry up! We’re late!” He could hear her voice through the door. “Damnit, there’s no time for me to go home and change. We’re already late. Oh god, Ecklie is gonna love this one.”


Greg’s heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t even thought of Ecklie. ‘Operation VDay’ was all well and good, but surely Sara wouldn’t lose her job for being late once in five years? His conscience rose up and whacked him on the head. Oh Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn!!!


Greg turned and dove into some clothes. No time to shower. As Sara came hustling out of the bathroom, he went in and brushed his teeth. His mouth felt like a baby dragon had used it for a litter box. When he came out of the bathroom, Sara was looking in his couch cushions. She had her cell to her ear. When she saw him, she turned around. “What’s your address?” He gave it to her. “And, and extra fifty if you get a cab here ten minutes ago!” She hung up the phone. They had about three minutes to look at each other awkwardly before the screech of tires informed them that their cab driver was there.


*****

“Tonight’s assignments. Sofia you’re at the Tangiers. Looks like a smash and grab. Greg, you’re with me at….” Grissom’s voice trailed off as Sara slunk into the room and sat down between Sofia and Grissom. She looked horrible. Pale, except for two red flags of color high on her cheekbones, hair pulled back into a very sloppy ponytail. She was clutching a Dr. Pepper as if her life depended on it.


“Sara?” Grissom’s voice was warm with concern. Maybe she had the flu? He leaned forward and to his left to better look at her. “Are you okay?”


“Yeah- sorry about that. I was unavoidably detained.” She kept her eyes on the table. For some reason, Grissom noticed Greg squirm in his chair out of the corner of his eye. As he squirmed, his knee jiggled the table, causing Sara to lose her grip on the soda, sending it crashing into Grissom’s lap.


Sara jumped up, grabbed some napkins that were fortunately strewn around the table top, and began to blot up the puddle of soda. Her brain was sluggish from an incredible hangover and it took Grissom’s fingers wrapped around her wrist for her to realize that she had her hand on Grissom’s crotch. Sara paled even more, then turned fuchsia.

“I can get the rest, Sara, thanks.” Grissom’s voice was mildly amused. She really must not be feeling well.


Sara pulled her hand back as if it had been burned. Greg was watching them with his mouth slightly open, and Sofia was openly smirking.


“...at the outskirts of our jurisdiction. Body on a highway. Sara, Nick was looking for you to finish up something on that rape case.” Grissom stood up and finished wiping off his Dockers. He chucked the mess of napkins and Sara’s now empty Dr. Pepper bottle in the trash.


Sara nodded and got up rather quickly to leave the room. As she was walking out, Nick was walking in, looking for her, completely oblivious to the little comedy that had been going on previously. “Hey, Sar. I matched some prints to...hey. Didn’t you wear that shirt yesterday?” It came out of Nick’s mouth before he could stop it. Sara, who had finally managed to get her blushes under control, turned bright pink, mumbled something and grabbed Nick’s arm, walking very quickly with him down the hall.


Greg intently examined a hangnail while wondering if it was wise for him to go out in the middle of nowhere with Grissom. If ever there was a man who knew how to kill someone and hide the evidence….


Sofia stood up, saying, “Good. It certainly looks as if the poor girl had some fun last night. Good thing too. She’s been moping around here for forever.”


Grissom had discovered a never before found tick in his left eyeball…possibly caused by clenching one’s teeth together. He told Greg to meet him at his car and walked to the locker room to change into a jump suit, adamantly refusing to think about the fact that Sara’s lovely, long fingered hand had been touching him…. but had quite possibly been touching someone else hours earlier….


*****

Phase Four.


It had been two days since Phase Three. Sara had been avoiding him. Grissom was too professional to kill him outright, and in a perverse way Greg sort of enjoyed watching Grissom act like he wasn’t bothered by two of his CSIs having a torrid affair. That was the rumor, anyway. He and Sara had apparently spent the night together in the Presidential Suite of a Casino having wild monkey sex and now she was expecting his love child. It didn’t seem to matter how much he and Sara both told the story of what had actually happened- that they had had a bit too much fun on a work night- the gossip mill was working overtime. Grissom was his same coldly polite self. It was then, fortunate, that Grissom happened to be helping himself to some of Greg’s coffee while Sara sat in the break room eating some Thai food. She was good with the chopsticks, eating neatly and reading the newspaper. Greg watched how she tensed when Grissom walked in for coffee, but pretended to ignore his presence.


These two made this almost too easy.


Greg walked in with a crumpled paper bag. There was a strategically placed hole in the sack that was currently covered by his hand. “Heeey Sara. How’s the Mother of my child doin’?” Sara looked up, rolled her eyes, and mumbled something very rude under her breath. “People are so stupid.”


“Hey Grissom.”


Grissom grunted.


Because he had acknowledged Grissom’s presence, Sara had to.


Greg and Sara’s relationship had changed a little since their wild night out. They were more comfortable with each other, definitely more friendly. They had a common bond of feeling that the gossip about them was completely asinine.


But, Greg was having a problem. Phase Four hinged on some embarrassment on her part. Possible Death on his. The end justifies the means….. even if the justified part was sorta in a grey area.


Oh well. He had come this far. He lowered his voice to a level that was technically whispering, but that Grissom could still hear if he listened hard enough. Which of course he would.


“Uh, Sara… I uh found this at my place. He moved his hand and slid the paper lunchbag across the table. A black strip of satin and lace fell out of the strategically placed hole.


Sara choked on a Thai noodle. Greg, alarmed, began to whack her on the back, but Sara was focused on getting the paper bag out of sight. Greg risked a glance at Grissom and was pleased to see his gaze locked on the lingerie, knuckles white on the coffee cup. Greg looked back down to a very embarrassed Sara, but not before Grissom leveled him with he coldest blue gaze he had ever seen. Well, it was done. His work anyway. Phase Four was complete. The rest was up to them. He was done with this cupid bullshit. If Grissom’s gaze was anything to go by then his life was over anyway. Possibly just his job… but he wasn’t counting on it.


Sara gasped her thanks (Greg felt rather like scum at that) and started to laugh. She didn’t notice Grissom walking out of the break room, or the fact that Greg was suddenly incredibly clumsy with nerves. To use a sports metaphor, the ball was in Grissom’s court. His work here was done.


******

Grissom sat at his desk looking at the clock. Catherine had popped her head in the door to wave goodbye at the end of her shift. Things had been rather strained between the two of them as of late, and he rather missed the camaraderie they had had. He could picture her face when they broke open the piece of tar, and she realized he had screwed up her evidence. It was priceless. He was rather proud of himself for his exit line too; usually he never thought of something clever to say until he was ten minutes out of the door.


Twenty minutes until the end of the shift.


He felt the beginnings of a headache start behind the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t get the image of Sara’s bra out of his head. Or the fact that it was Greg who returned it to her. Greg. Young, funny…. Spiky headed punk. His mind easily supplied images of Greg and Sara together, kissing, hands over skin, legs entwined…


Whatever chance he had had with her was gone. He had putzed around too long. It had taken all the courage he had to hold her hand when she was sobbing in front of him. He had desperately wanted to take her to bed, to take that sad, hurt look out of her eyes… but he waited too long. Sara was too young to wait on him. Too beautiful…Greg, the little bastard; was funny, energetic… they probably liked the same sort of music, movies…. It was inevitable that they were together.


Grissom pulled his mind back to work with an effort. He had to look twice at the date before it registered that today was Valentine’s Day. With a snarl he finished the paperwork. By forcing his mind to focus on trivialities, he was able to make it through the end of his shift.


*****

Grissom sat in his SUV, quiet as a stone. His mind was running in circles. Rational, Thinking Human seemed to have been left at the office. He was her Supervisor and it was his job to see that no inter-office hanky panky interfered with the job. He was sort of her friend, and wanted to see if she was okay. Making a sudden decision, Grissom got out of his truck and started walking to her apartment. A sudden thought caused him to freeze in the middle of the sidewalk.


What if she was there with Greg? Grissom thought his heart was breaking at the thought. Surely not. Not right after the shift. He glanced around to see if he saw any familiar spiky hair. Well, his car wasn’t here.


Grissom started walking again, and resolutely knocked on the door. He heard her moving inside, heard the pause as she looked out of the eye piece, heard her slide the locks off the door before opening it with a slightly confused look on her beautiful face.


“Grissom. Hi, uh, can I help you?”


Grissom had to keep his teeth clenched to keep the flood of words inside his mouth. He forced his lips into something resembling a smile, and nodded towards her living room.


“Oh, sure. Come on in.” Sara was worried. Why was Grissom at her door? Why did he look so upset? Surely he hadn’t come to fire her….had he? Maybe Ecklie had heard about her being late. With Sofia working there, that was definitely possible. Probable. Sara’s mind slipped into overdrive. He couldn’t fire her. What would she do without the lab? Without seeing him-


Grissom’s shoulder brushed her arm as he walked inside. He sat down on the couch, feeling a bit of déjà vu as she curled up in the chair opposite him. He swallowed with difficulty. He couldn’t believe he had the stones. Where should he start? What if it was too late? What if it wasn’t? What if he had a heart attack before he managed to open his mouth?


Sara was staring at him. She was going through a litany of all the things that she had done in the past few days, weighing them to see if anything was worth Ecklie firing her via Grissom. She couldn’t come up with anything, which was very troublesome as it didn’t explain why on earth Grissom was once again in her apartment, sitting on her couch.


Grissom took a deep breath.


“Thanks for letting me in. I have to talk to you about something that I should have addressed earlier. You and Greg. Er, that sort of fraternization is inappropriate.” Well, that wasn’t exactly where he wanted to start, but the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them.


Sara froze, immediately on the defensive. Fraternization? He was going to fire her because of her friendship with Greg?


“I understand that sometimes when you work together with a person, it is very easy to want to take the relationship to the next level, but we have a very strict policy between coworkers being sexually involved.” There was no such policy. Talk about an exercise in futility. Grissom heard his voice and inwardly winced. God, who was this pompous asshole speaking with his voice?


Sara blinked. Sexually involved? Wuh? Her eyes narrowed.


Sara’s voice was cold. “Sexually involved? Are you saying that you believe that bullshit about Greg and me? Jesus Grissom. Nothing happened at work…. Wait, why are you even here?” She was purposefully rude. If he could ignore every conversation they had had together and believe a lousy rumor…


Grissom sighed. His mind focused on her comment that nothing happened at work. He tried to be kind while his heart bled. Saying that nothing happened at work was akin to saying that ‘Something’ happened while Not At Work. “Sara,” he said gently “You don’t have to fudge the truth. It’s okay.” It most certainly was not okay. He never in a million years thought that he would be having a conversation about Sara and another man WITH Sara of all people. He knew about Hank of course, but that didn’t affect her job performance.


Sara uncurled herself from her chair and raised her furious gaze to the calm blue of Grissom’s eyes.


“It’s okay,” she repeated dully. Sara couldn’t believe her ears. She felt betrayed that Grissom would think… that Grissom would actually sit here in her living room and say that.


“You stupid son of a bitch. Get out. Get out of my apartment!”


Grissom’s mouth fell open in shock. Okay, maybe he didn’t hear what he thought he did.


“I beg your pardon? Did you just say what I think you said?”

Sara’s fists were clenched at her sides. “I said get out! Don’t you dare sit there and tell me whom I can and cannot sleep with. You don’t even care about the truth. You’re just sitting there judging something you know nothing about!”


Now wait just a damn minute. This wasn’t going at all like he had envisioned. Now, he too was angry. He tried to control it, but some of it leaked out of his voice when he answered, “How can I know nothing about you and Greg? You come in late wearing the same clothes from the day before, reeking of alcohol. You and Greg aren’t acting normally. You…”


Sara took a step closer to him. “And what, Grissom, ‘You’ what? How can you even stand here and have this conversation? You know what? The Hell with you! You sound like a jealous little kid, and I’m sick of this. Sick of you running hot then cold, of you pushing me away, of YOU!”


Grissom’s eyes narrowed. Rationality seemed to have flown away. He took a step forward so that they were nose to nose. “So why the hell was Greg Sanders giving you back your bra? What, is he doing your laundry now? What’s a matter, you had to leave without it? Was that the same day you had your hands all over my lap?”


“What business is it of yours Grissom? Why do care all of the sudden?” Sara’s voice grew dull. As angry as she was, she had no defenses against Grissom’s words. He obviously believed that she was some sort of … tramp. The fact that the only person she could even think of being intimate with was standing here in a rage… a completely unfounded rage… screaming at her over some imagined romance was too ironic for words. The fact that he believed those stupid rumors was too hurtful to contemplate with him standing here. He had to leave… before she started to cry again. Sobbing in front of him had been one of the most humiliating experiences of her life.


Sara’s words seemed to hang in the air between them.


Grissom was moving before his brain even registered the fact. His lips came down on hers hard. He was angry, wanted to punish her in some sick way for not waiting for him, even though it was his own fault that she had gone to Greg. Their lips met in a furious tangle of open mouths and tongues. He couldn’t tell her. He could only show her why he cared.


Grissom heard the small noise that she made in the back of her throat as he kissed her, and wrapped his arms around her body to bring her closer to him. He changed the kiss a little, pulled back and licked her swollen lower lip. She made that noise again, that incredibly sexy sound that seemed to be responsible for him hardening against her stomach.


Time stopped as they kissed. Both of their overactive brains went blissfully numb as with actions both could finally acknowledge what neither could ever manage to say. His hand slid up to the back of her neck, pulling that amazing mouth closer. Her hands rested on his chest, fingers curled into his shirt. He pulled away from the kiss, moved his lips down the curve of her jaw and up to her earlobe.


Sara shivered, making that sound again.


It came as a complete shock when her hands pushed him hard so that he fell back onto the couch. He looked up at her, vaguely aware of how ridiculous he must look, mouth swollen, eyes glazed with passion—did he really just kiss Sara? Dockers tented…


She stood there with her hands on her hips, looking down at him with a look of fury on her face. “Wh…what?” Her voice was low. Grissom’s heartbeat slowed as he saw her eyes tear up.


He made Sara cry?


He held his hand out and struggled to sit up from her overstuffed couch. She turned away from him and hugged herself, walking to the back of her apartment. “Just go, Grissom.” Her voice was choked with hurt. He struggled to get up from the damn couch, but before he could he heard the soft sound of a bedroom door closing.


Grissom sat there for a second with his head in his hands, trying to get his traitorous body under control. What had just happened, indeed? Had he really just barged in here and started flinging accusations in Sara’s face? His mind flashed back on the hurt look of shock on Sara’s features. She didn’t owe him a damn thing. She didn’t, but he definitely owed her something.


Grissom sighed, stood up and walked towards the bedroom. It wasn’t hard to figure out which room was hers. He just followed the sound of muffled sobbing. He felt lower and lower with each step he took.


The door to her room was cracked, and it swung open noiselessly. He stood there, taking in the scene in seconds. Sara was sprawled on the mattress sobbing into the end of a pillow muffling the sounds of her grief. Grief he had caused. He had put her through a lot. She had been through a lot in the past month, and his actions today had certainly not helped her at all. This wasn’t the miffed sobbing of an angry woman. This was the sound of a broken heart.


“Oh, Honey…” He whispered, crossing to the room and seating himself on the bed. He pulled her into his arms and held her there; firmly, like he should have done when she told him about her parents.


Sara tried to pull away, but his hand came down to stroke her hair and all of a sudden she didn’t want him to leave. She craved comfort like some long forgotten sweet. His fingers were gentle as stroked through the dark strands. She could hear the rumble of his voice as he spoke to her words that held no meaning, just comfort. She gave up and cried herself out.


The human body can only cry so long without feeling the effects. Sara slowly got herself under control and sat there with her head against Grissom’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. It was solid, calming. It registered that sometime in the last few minutes they had lay back on her bed and her head was pillowed on his chest. She felt him kiss the top of her head and pull away. She made a muffled sound of discontent and could feel him smile against her head.


“S’okay. I’ll just be a minute.” Had Grissom’s voice ever sounded so gentle? He rolled over, got up and walked to her bathroom. She heard the sound of running water. He was true to his word, coming back to her quickly with a warm washcloth.


He sat back down and offered her the cloth. Sara just looked up at him. She was slowly coming down from the idea of Grissom-the-Great-Reassurer to Grissom-her-boss-was-in-her-bedroom. She sat up at the same time that he reached down to wipe her face.


Their heads conked together. They both winced and brought up hands to cover the offending spot. Their eyes met.


And they both burst out laughing.


Sara’s laughter might have been slightly hysterical, but Grissom was gentleman enough not to point that out as she wiped her streaming eyes with the warm washcloth.


“You know I didn’t really mean those things I said to you.” Grissom hated to break the moment, but he had to get that off his chest.


Sara looked up at him. “You seem to be one of the few people that can really set me off,” she said shyly.


“Oh great. Now, I’m lumped in with Catherine and Ecklie.” Grissom’s lips twisted in that derisive not-smile of his.


Sara smiled, but her finger was idly tracing the pattern on her bedspread. “No. Not that bad,” her gaze remained resolutely on the pattern, “I’m not in love with either of them.”


She heard Grissom suck in a shaky breath and inwardly winced. Maybe this wasn’t the wisest course of action, but she was sick of dancing around the subject. She had him here. In her apartment. In her bedroom. It was beyond belief. Why shouldn’t she lay out everything on the table? At least when he ran off this time she wouldn’t have any regrets.


“I have done for some time. But you probably realized that. Which is why you wouldn’t let me get near you.” She risked a quick glance towards his face and was gratified to see a very un-Grissom like look on his handsome face. His eyes were wide-open, jaw somewhere in the vicinity of his chest. Rather like a fish. At least he didn’t look disgusted.


“I understand that we won’t talk about this once you leave. I won’t make things hard for you at work or anything. Actually, I was thinking about finding something else. Leaving Vegas.”


Grissom heard her say the words, but couldn’t believe his ears. She loved him? And he had made her so miserable that she felt she had to leave.

“No… Sara…” Grissom reached out to her with both hands, sliding them up her arms to her shoulders. Words failed him. Moments like this just weren’t covered in Forensic Science Quarterly. All he could think of was to take sad look out of her eyes.


She looked at him with her eyes wide in surprise, then her eyelids fluttered shut as his lips met hers.


Heat.

This kiss continued where their first left off. Hands seemed to be everywhere, a neck, the side of an arm, a chest, a back. Sara made that odd little sound again and Grissom was lost, pushing her back onto her back. Somehow her shirt melted away and his hands were sliding up under her bra to touch her breasts. He could feel her nipples under the palms of his hands. The bra was in the way. He removed his hands, then turned her over to rid her of the cumbersome covering. The back of it was smooth. There was no clip, clasp, hook, combination lock… nothing. Damnit. How do these bloody things work? Grissom took the opportunity to touch the smooth expanse of her back. He loved how her back sloped into her bottom. He leaned over and kissed her, turning her back over so that he could get her out of the rest of her clothing. Her jeans he could figure out. He just had to unbutton and slide them off her legs. Those long, smooth…


“Hey.” Grissom looked up the line of her body at her whisper. “If you stop now I’ll have to hurt you.” Her voice was soft. Her face, without all the defenses she had to keep up around him she looked even younger than her years.


“Beautiful…”


Sara smiled. “Okay, you’re forgiven. Now come back here.” She held out her arms and he smiled again, leaning back in to kiss her. Sara maneuvered so that he was laying in between her legs, his weight pressing her into the mattress. They both moaned as their bodies connected. His Dockers and her panties were fairly insubstantial barriers, not at all hiding the fact that she was soaking wet and he was rock hard. It felt so good to be against her that he arched into her again.


Sara whimpered and rolled so that she was on top of him. She pushed his shirt up and they both scrambled to get the material up and over his head. Her lace-covered breasts were incredibly hot against the naked skin of his chest. She sat back on him and stroked her hands up her stomach, then over her breasts.


Holy Lord. Grissom thought steam was going to rush out of his ears.


Sara moved her hands to the front clasp –aha!- of her bra and shrugged out of it. Grissom surged up, holding her so that she was sitting on his lap with her legs wrapped around his waist. His mouth fastened onto one hard nipple and she cried out his name.


“Gris-som!”


He sat back and smiled, pulling on her nipple until it popped out of his mouth. “Under the circumstances,” he arched up into her again, “you may call me Gil.” He switched breasts and spent a good bit of time giving the other the same attention. Sara tried to laugh, but it came out as a strangled moan. God, he loved hearing those sounds come out of her throat.


Sara pulled away a little and moved so that she could lose herself in those incredible lips of his. Her left hand ghosted its way down his chest as her right slipped down into his pants. Her hand brushed over him and it was his turn to gasp and moan. Sara brought her hand down over his chest, lightly scraping him with her nails, wrapping her other hand around his hardness. Her left hand unbuckled his pants to give the other more room. She lifted him out of the cloth and continued those maddening motions with her hands. When he felt the heat of her mouth Grissom’s world halted for a second. Then he made a mad grab for her wrists.


“S-Sara…” He stuttered a little before she finally stopped. He had never wanted something and wanted something to stop simultaneously before.


Her gaze met his. She bit her lip then licked it. Grissom couldn’t’ quit looking at that amazing mouth. He leaned back, not letting go of her wrists. No telling what she would do if he let her go. She fluidly moved with him so that she was once again on top, straddling him. It was much nicer without his pants, but she was still in her panties. Frustration, thy name is Grissom.


Sara was sick of going slowly. She had been waiting for forever to be in just this exact spot (well, not exactly, but close enough) and the two of them drawing things out was as close to torture that she ever wanted to come.


She surged up and shimmied out of her panties. Grissom helped her once he realized her intent. Her hand was wrapped around him again as she sat up on her knees.


Grissom touched her face so that their eyes met when they joined together for the first time. The feel of him inside her, her hot, wet heat wrapping around him… oh god, she was moving and her head was thrown back so he couldn’t see her eyes, but he didn’t mind really and she was making that sound again, only it bubbled up through her lips and she was crying out his name, and his name never sounded so sweet and this was actually finally happening, it was Sara on top of him, Sara with her head thrown back and his name sobbing from her lips, his Sara grinding her hips down and his hands were fisted arching himself up every time she pushed down… this was bliss… this was Heaven… this was…


*****

Sara was once again lying on top of Grissom, listening to his heartbeat. Her own heartbeat was just starting to slow down. The sweat on her body was making her a little cold. Her little shiver made Griss- no, Gil slide his hand over her back.


“Where are,” he had to clear his throat, “where are the blankets?” It was the first sound in the room after Sara had collapsed on top of him.


“Under,” she mumbled.


“That means that I have to move to get them, right?”


She nodded. Grissom slapped her ass.


“Well c’mon. The sooner we move, the sooner we can get comfortable.” Sara laughed and groaned, rolling over so that he could pull the covers out from under them. She rolled back and he covered them both. As she did so, her gaze was caught on the calendar on her desk.


“Hey, Gil?”


“Yes?”


“Happy Valentine’s Day.”


She got comfortable again, kissed his shoulder, and started to drift off to sleep.


Grissom reached over, removed his glasses (How the hell had they stayed on his face?) And set the alarm clock. As he did so, for some inexplicable reason, the image of Greg Sanders arose in his mind’s eye.


Seeing Greg crouching behind a plant while eating breakfast with Sofia.


Greg offering to take Sara out to eat.


Greg accidentally-on-purpose flashing Sara’s bra for Grissom to see.


Why, that spiky headed little lab rat set him up!


But did he mind? Grissom ran his fingers through Sara’s hair. He could still hear her tell him that she loved him. It was her curled up next to him, asleep on his shoulder.


No, he didn’t mind. But revenge was certainly going to be sweet. And soon.


~~ fin.

(One of my reviewers asked for a pt2... and It'll be done.. as soon as I finish the one I'm on.