My Box of Chocolates

slight rant

Mon, 08 Sep 2008 10:51:22 GMT

Ok, so i know there is a similar topic to this over at YTDAW, but sometimes a person needs a little anomity from the whole board. Hence the rant going here. My rant is not from the POV of a reader or a writer, but as a beta reader. Because, yes, i will, quite gladly on most occasions, beta pretty much anything given to me, even if i don't really know the fandom. Heck, when i was in 6th form, i helped beta a CSI fic for a friend of mine when i didn't watch the show and had no clue who any of the characters i was supposed to be reading about did, acted with each other on the show, nothing. But even then i was able to point out grammer, spelling, general flow of the thing.

I digress.

I now, and have done for a number of years, beta CSI fics as a hobby. And i would like to repeat that last bit... as a hobby! And so it really irks me when i come home from a 2 week holiday to Canada with my family to find the same person has emailed me 5 times, and sent me 3 PMs on various sites, all 'asking' me to beta a chapter of their WIP. Only the entire thing is all in capitals, with !!!! after each sentence, making it seem like i'm beign shouted at, and then they go on to 'ask' why i havent answered any of their previous emails and PMs, 'threatening' to get someone else to look it over instead!

Now, for those of you who have asked me to beta in the past, i usually get back with an answer to their request within a couple of days. And if i don't, there is ALWAYS a pretty damn good reason why i have not replied. Being out of the effing country and away from PCs and therefore having no access to email accounts seems like an effing fair reason to me. I may not be feeling this way if, just once, they had asked if everythign was ok, but there wasn't a hint of concern as to my late replying.

It just really irks me when us beta reders, who volunteer our time to help others, get this kind of...i don't want to use the term 'abuse', but in a way that's what it is. I mean, we're not robots chained to our desks 24/7 waiting for the requests to come in. We're human beings with our own lives to lead, and if and when we get a chance we can choose to spend our time helping other people develop their skills as writers if we want. There is absolutely nothing stopping us from walking away from fanfiction if it no longer excites us.

It's just really pissed me off, because i had a wonderful time in Canada over the last 2 weeks, came back feeling happy and refreshed, and now i'm all angry and pissed again!

Is it just me?

Major CSI Season 8 finale rant.

Tue, 20 May 2008 21:46:16 GMT

That fucking fuckwit. What the fuck is up with shooting Warrick, for fucks sake? I mean, Jesus, i knew Gary wanted out, but was there any reason to go and KILL him?!! He hasn't even been in this season hardly.. what the hell has he done to piss people off so ficking bad?

As if his year want made of hell already.... close friend almost does under a mustang in the desert, only for her to leave soon after, finds out his wife is cheating on him and is pregnant with aomeone elses kid, sleeps with some girl who then turns up dead in his car, gets suspended, bcomes enemy of a mob boss, gets framed in murder, cleared but demoted, and then they go and fucking murder him?!!!! I just... GRRRR!!!!!!! I am so pissed off right now!

On the small upside, yay small kiss! (Ok, so it was nowhere near as good as the full on liplock Sara gave Griss when she left, but well, she was leaving! Warrick thought he was seeing everyone later! But NO Stupid fucking asshole has to fucking kill him!!!!!!!!!)

Of course, i'm probably listening to completely the wrong album right now, not to mention have a couple of hard drinks in me... but at least the shaking seems to have waned off.

And this was meant to be such a good day! I finished my finals... was going to be going out and celebrating with housemates tonight... but i suddenly really, really don't feel like doing anyting of the sort all of a sudden...

Actually, i feel like going through all my CSI DVDs and finding all the Warrick orintated eps which used to annoy me cos of the lack of GSR, but tonight really dont care.

And yes, i know that, bar Lockwood, there hasnt actually been an actual character death on Vegas when there have been on the other CSIs, and i know it's 8 years in the the guys want to do some other things... but just how does CM think Warrick is able to come back and guest star next season (as has been rumoured) when he's FUCKING DEAD?!!

Things can only get better... right?!

Tue, 18 Mar 2008 16:25:07 GMT

So far i'm not having the best of days.
In the last 24 hours, i managed to pull my laptop off my desk and it fell the 2 1/2 feet or so the the floor. Not the best of things to do, especially when it lands in such a way to give the surround of the onitor such a bash that it manages to disconnect slightly from the rest of the frame.

Bad move. So, i turn it off, and set about fixing it to the best of my ability. And (luckily) it was just a case of having to clip the side back into place, and it was all hunky dory again. And the fall didnt seem to have done much damage as i could turn it on without any problem whatsoever.

Turn it off, go to bed, wake up next morning and yeah... it wont turn on. Now, this is an inconvieniance at the best of times. But let me paint you a bigger picture. I am in my final year of university, and i have until the 9th April to write up an 8 week laboratory project to submit to the school for my disertation equivalent. (because i'm doing a science, we got the choice of doing a wet lab or a systemic review of other peoples work... i like doing my own work when i get the choice.) Anyway, either one we chose has the same weighting; 30% of our final degree. Not 30% of the year, but of the FINAL DEGREE!

So that's what i've been doing recently (when i havent been writing/reading fics...) Now are you beginning to see the small problem i have presented myself with? It gets better... Because i have been home for the past 2 weeks, and not going to and from university every day, the work i have been doing has been saved on the hard-drive of my laptop. Before, i was saving everything to flash drive, so i could transport it to and from uni. But these past 2 weeks i havent been doing that.

And, of course, it is only in these past 2 weeks i have had the time to sit down and work on writing what i have done up. Before, if i wasnt researching into the techniques i needed, or if i wasnt in the lab,i was reading articles and journals... basically getting all the background information i needed to be able to write a concise introduction, and have some idea of the work i can comment on in the discussion.

(That would be the introduction and discussion i have been working on for th past 2 weeks. The one sitting on the hard-drive of my laptop. The laptop that wont turn on.)

Oh Fucking Shit. I am so screwed.

So today i have been working at my sisters PC. Because, unlike my laptop, that one DOES turn on. And so far today i have written, from scratch, my introduction (and from what i remember of my pervious version this one actually follws a cohesive throught pattern, and makes more sense than the first version, not to mention is shorter (and when you have an 8000 word limit, the shorter the better as it gives more room for the discussion), so this may actually be a blessing in disguise... have to see...), the methods, the results i have processed to date, and the references. Yay me! There may be light at the end of this really, really, crappy tunnel.

*sigh*

Back to the grindstone i go... Lol

Challenge response

Wed, 20 Feb 2008 07:53:44 GMT

Title: Intimate encounter
Author: chibs_87
Rating: T
Genre: Angst/romance (but in a GOOD way!)
Pairing: GSR
Length: 1436 words
Spoilers: GD
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: What counts as intimate, anyway?

A/N: Response to a challenge over at YTDAW, set my milla. Thanks to inner_urge and butterfliedgsr for beta-ing this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first time we were intimate, we didn’t make love, or any other euphemism for that you want to use. We didn’t even kiss. No. What we did that day was more intimate than anything I had ever done before in my life.

May, 2005

“Come on, I’ll take you home.”

You don’t reply, still standing at the almost grave-site, a blank look on your face. I’ve seen that look on your face maybe five times in all the years I have known you, and it chills me to the core every time I do.

It’s a dead look. The lights are on but there’s no-one home.

I reach out and take your hand. I've held your hand maybe 3 times in all the time we have worked together, so I expect this will cause some reaction.

But it doesn’t. You still stand there, eyes fixed on the dirt.

“Come on.”

I pull gently, and watch as your eyes blink slowly, still unfocused. Your head moves, and for the first time you realise I am holding your hand.

But still, you don’t react. Just stand there, eyes now fixed on our hands. It’s like the lab explosion all over again.

I could call you “Honey” and I don’t think I’d get more than a blink.

It’s beginning to really scare me.

I tug again, and this time it’s enough to get some motor skill enabled. You follow me, almost mechanically, as I bring you to the Denali.

When I let go of your hand you still don’t react. I end up opening the door and helping you into the car. If you were anywhere near coherent you’d probably kick my ass for that. But as you’re not, the point is moot.

The drive over is quiet. Not surprising really, you're still out of it. As we pull up outside your place I think back to the last time I was here, and the situation behind it. But I don’t dwell; it’s depressing to think back to those times.

A lot has changed since then; the past few months we’ve gotten better at talking to each other.

I think we have, anyway.

I’m sure there are lots of things about your past you’ve not told anyone, I can’t blame you really. After all, I’m the same way.

We sit outside for a good 5 minutes, still in silence. And then you blink, slowly, and I see your eyes finally taking notice of where we are.

You look over at me, and I am blown away by the tiredness I see. I know Nick means a lot to you; he means a lot to us all. But I have never seen that expression on your face before.

Before I can say anything however, I notice the slight squint to your left eye. Your hand comes up and rubs at your temples in a circular motion.

“Headache?”

“Migraine. I get them from time to time.”

“Ah. Do you have any medication inside?”

You nod your head, and I can see the second you regret that move, a wince shuddering through your frame.

“Come on.”

I’m out of the car and opening your door before you’ve even got your belt off. You glare at me, as much as you can with the migraine, but I don’t move. Eventually you sigh, and let me help you.

Together we get up to your front door, and you’ve produced your keys from somewhere.

“Come on in.”

I follow you through the door, glancing around, and suddenly stop when I am met by a pair of intense brown eyes staring at me.

We just stand there, the two of us, in the entry-way of your home, gazes locked. Just as I am about to say something to you, we’re interrupted by the arrival of the mail. The noise breaks the staring contest, and I blink.

When I open my eyes the soulful brown orbs that held my gaze have gone, and I turn to look for you. You’re standing in the kitchen, glass in your hand, but you’ve stopped again.

I approach slowly, not wanting to startle you. My hand lands on your shoulder lightly, and you start, turning around quickly, your grip tightening on the glass.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s ok.” You shake your head as if to clear it, but it was a mistake, something you realise as your migraine reminds you of its presence once more.

“Pills?”

“Um, bathroom.”

“Want me to get them?”

“No. No, uh, I can manage. Make yourself at home.”

Mindful of how I know migraines can work, I click on a table lamp, lighting the room softly so I can see where I am, but not too bright to cause you more pain. I take a seat on your couch, and pick up the deck of cards sitting on the coffee table.

My brain is churning too much to settle on one thought, so I start a game of solitaire, trying to calm my head. In the background I can hear a tap running, and then you appear in the room once more, changed and with a glass of water in your hand.

“Can I get you anything?”

I raise my head to meet your still somewhat glazed eyes, and shake my head. “No, I’m ok.”

You sit on the couch next to me, but far enough away so we aren’t touching.

It’s you who breaks the silence first.

“I could have lost you today.”

I stop playing, blink, and look at you. Your eyes are unfocused still, be it from the days events or the pills for your migraine I don’t know.

I think over your words, and there is only one thing I can think to say to that.

“I could have lost you, too.”

We don’t say anything after that for a while, just letting the truth sink in. We could have lost each other. There were too many close calls on this case. Nick’s case.

“Do you think Nick’s going to be ok?”

“Physically, he’ll be fine. The ant bites are easily treated. I'm not sure about mentally.”

“No. No, me neither.”

Silence again.

“Griss?”

“Yeah?”

“Is it bad that I'm happy Nick was taken?”

“You are?”

“Well, not, no, not happy. Relieved maybe? No, I don’t mean that either. I mean, it could have been you, you know? And I couldn’t… It was hard enough it was Nick… if it was you I…”

“I know.”

“And then I almost lost you anyway. When Hodges called… god, what if he had called later? Another second and you would have been blown up… and god, you almost were. I don’t…. I can’t…”

We’re hugging then; clinging to each other, actually. And it takes me a second to realise that the wetness I can feel is our tears; both yours and mine.

A while later we pull apart.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to cry all over you.”

“It’s fine, Sara.”

“God, I must look like a mess.”

“You’re beautiful.”

I try to say something else, but I'm met with the same intense brown eyes I saw in the doorway, and instead I fall silent.

“Stay with me tonight.”

I blink, shocked.

“What?”

“Please? I mean, nothing has to happen. That’s not… I just…” you sigh, trying to find the words.

“I need to know your safe. That it’s over, and you didn’t get taken, or blown up, or something.”

It’s the vulnerability in your eyes that gets me.

“Yeah, I’ll stay.”

In return I get a smile, small but there. You stand up and reach for my hand. I follow you down the hallway, pausing in the doorway of your room.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I just…” you sigh again. “I need you tonight. Please?”

“Ok.”

I follow you once more, sitting on the bed, feeling slightly awkward. But then you’re pulling me to lie down, and so I kick off my shoes and relax into the mattress. I close my eyes, only to feel a shifting weight. And then I get the feeling I am being watched.

I crack open my eye, and, yes, brown eyes are gazing at me.

“Sorry. I forgot you…” You pause.

“Sara, Hank. Hank, this is Sara.”

I freeze. Hank?!

“Hank?”

“Yeah. Hank Aaron.”

“Oh.” Baseball. Of course.

“If he’s too much of a problem I can make him sleep in the other room…” you offer.

“No. No, he’s fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. Sleep, Griss.”

And we did.

So yes, the first time we were intimate we didn’t have sex. But then, there is more than one type of intimacy.

End

GSR FLUFF!!!! (Finally...)

Fri, 15 Feb 2008 08:40:22 GMT

Title: Understanding science
Author: chibs_87
Rating: K
Genre: Humour
Pairing: GSR
Length: 490 words
Spoilers: Through 8.06
Disclaimer: Not mine.

Summary: He was pouting.

A/N: I found my fluff muse!! AND she’s writing GSR! (Be very nice to her… she may run away again, and I don’t want that!) Not beta’d. Also, could be OOC for the way they were acting in the ep, but well, so what?!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She found him in his study.

Correction.

She found him, pouting, in their study.

The only thing missing was the protruding lower lip, and he would have looked like a 3 year old boy who had been told, again, he couldn’t have a chocolate bar. Or, knowing him, an ant farm.

Sara shared a glance with Hank as they both approached the door of the study.

Getting closer, she heard his muttering.

“There, there. He doesn’t understand. Don’t take it to heart. You know I still love you. Stupid FBI, what does he know anyway?!”

Standing in the doorway then, she realised he wasn’t alone.

His hands were caressing the smooth curves, his face level with hers, his tone reverent.

Sara burst out laughing.

His head snapped up at the sound, and she noticed with a small sense of glee he was blushing. Blushing!

“Sara…”

“Sorry… do you two want to be alone?”

“Um…”

“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything…”

“Ah…”

“You know, it’s a good thing I'm not the overly jealous kind…”

“Sara…”

She giggled again.

“Look, I’ll just leave you two to whatever you were doing… don’t mind me… I’ll be in the bedroom.”

Still chuckling, she made her way through the house, pausing on her way to her destination to make sure Hank had everything he needed. Satisfied he had, she continued on.

Grissom joined her a couple of minutes later.

And he was still pouting.

“So, what to talk about it?” she offered through her mirth.

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Yup.”

“You’re pouting.”

He sighed.

“Hemadefunofher,” Grissom eventually admitted.

“NO!”

“I'm serious, Sara!”

Sara tried to hold back her giggles, but failed.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he huffed, rolling over to face the wall.

“I'm…” she giggled again, before clearing her throat, trying to calm down. “I’m sorry, baby. What did the mean FBI agent say to get you all riled up, huh?” she asked, stroking his hunched shoulder gently.

“He made fun of my office. Which I can deal with. He isn't the first to ask me about the stuff I keep there. Even you have commented on certain things, as I recall.”

“What did I ever…”

“My Trigger ownership certificate.”

She paused, thinking. “Oh, yeah.”

“So I can pass over when he said my office looked like a surplus storage space.”

“Right.”

“But he didn’t stop there.”

“That’s when he made fun of her?”

“Well, he took a look, and I explained what she was, and he looked at me like I was some kind of crazy scientist.”

“Um, Gil, honey, you are somewhat of a crazy scientist.” Seeing his hurt expression, she continued, “but you’re my somewhat of a crazy scientist.”

He rolled to his back, his face tilted to see hers. The humour that had been present before was replaced by a seriousness that he could not deny.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And I love you, just as you are.”

He smiled.

“Irradiated foetal pig and all.”

Patience... not one of my virtues.

Thu, 14 Feb 2008 19:00:26 GMT

So i wrote this yesterday, but didn't post it here or at Gf cos of the smutathon going on... i was going to wait till the weekend and post it at GF then, but well, i got impatient, and it's going here for a few day before i post it to Gf.

Title: Saying the words
Author: chibs_87
Rating: T
Genre: Angst
Pairing: GSR
Length: about 700 words
Spoilers: Through 8.07
Disclaimer: No characters or any quotes in this fic belong to me.

Summary: He had so many chances to tell her, but now they were gone.

A/N: TPTB have broken my muse. This is the latest in a line of fics that have been GSR angst. If someone out there has seen either my GSR fluff/smut muse, can you please let them know I’m looking for them? Thanks to butterfliedgsr for the beta.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AJ: I’ve gotta tell her how I feel, you know? I’ve gotta tell her that I, er… well you know, that I er…

Joe: Love her.

AJ: Yeah. Now, how do I do that?

Joe: You say, “I love you.” What do you want, written instructions?!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He thought it would be easy, telling Sara how he felt, how he truly felt, about her. People tell each other every day, after all. And not just in real life. Book. Movies. TV shows.

All of them joining in with the millions, if not billions, of people who told someone how they felt.

So it surprised him when he couldn’t.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He knew he loved her. And he was pretty sure she knew he loved her. But there’s a big difference between knowing something and having it confirmed.

He had tried, of course, subtly to tell her.

The sonnet in the letter when he was away in Massachusetts.

The quotes he read out to her as they lay relaxing on the sofa.

Hints he could slip into conversations.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sex without love is meaningless. It makes you said.

Well I’m pretty sure I don’t make you said.

No. you make me happy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

But the simplest of words wouldn’t come.

In all the years he had known Sara, worked with Sara, loved Sara, he had never been able to say “I love you.”

Even when she had been taken and left to die out in the desert.

At least, not to her face.

Apparently, when his brain had shut down and he was filled with utter horror and dread, his uninhibited mouth had let slip to the team that Sara was the only woman he would ever love.

It seemed, ironic, somehow, that they could get the confirmation before she did… after all, they could all tell he was in love with her long before he realised he was.

And when they had found her, and the words still wouldn’t come, he had decided to give up on words, and show her though actions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There is no remedy for love but to love more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He knew not working with her on cases would be hard. It had been hard all those years ago when he was living in denial of his feelings for her. He had told her to get a life outside of work, and she had.

Just not with him.

And he had punished her for that, the only way he knew how: minimising contact.

He just didn’t appreciate that it would mean punishing himself too. Because as much as it hurt to see her happy, or at least apparently happy, with someone else, she was still Sara.

She was still his first thought in the evening and his last thought in the morning… even if he didn’t, couldn’t, or wouldn’t admit it to either of them.

But that was before he had lifted his head out of the microscope (got his head out of his ass) and had asked her to dinner.

And now, 2 years, 2 attempts on her life, attempts on their friends’ lives, and 2 shift changes later, he asked her to marry him.

Because he loved her.

And because she was alive.

And because now, now, they could.

The smile she had given him, even after being stung by a bee, had made his heart lift.

The ceremony had been small; so small in fact, not even their friends had attended.

They would have pushed for something big.

Something extravagant.

Something not them.

They had left the justice of the peace’s office husband and wife, and yet, even through the vows, promising to spend the rest of their days together, loving one another, until the end of their days, they had not said “I love you.”

After all this time, the words seemed superfluous, really.

But now, standing in his office, with a letter in his hand, he wished he had said the words.

Let her know, if only for a second, that he did love her.

Would forever.

But it was too late now.

She was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Love begins with a smile, grows with a kiss, and ends with a teardrop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Quotes, in order: Empire Records, Browning, Thoreau, Anon

(For those who may have missed it, my SMUT-a-thin entry, Show Me, is here.)

TPTB broke my muse...

Thu, 07 Feb 2008 08:06:50 GMT

Title: Moment of Truth
Author: Chibs_87
Rated: High T
Genre: Angst
Pairing: GSR
Length: 2040 words
Spoilers: Nesting Dolls
Disclaimer: Not mine. Glad about it.

A/N: You know those fics that just won’t stop badgering you until they’re written? This is one of them. I think it goes way OOC. A huge part of me never sees this happening in the first place. But well, what if it did? Thanks to inner_urge and butterfliedgsr for the beta, and telling me to post it already!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was when his hand was raised he realised what he had been moments, seconds from doing, and he froze.

Sara watched, almost comically, he dimly noted, as his face lost all colour and his limbs weakened, his hand falling to his side. If it wasn’t for the counter at his back, he would have slumped to the floor. And still, Sara stood there, watching him.

He couldn’t meet her gaze, eyes falling to the ground, shame and horror mixing though him. What the hell had he been doing? What the hell had he been about to do?!

“Feel better?”

He heard her words, but still couldn’t lift his head to look at her.

“Ok. Just take a few minutes. Whenever you're ready.”

There was some kind of thick fog surrounding his brain, and a buzzing in his ears. Thoughts were raging through his head, chasing each other in a violent whorl of colour and speed, meshing into one another as they continued their path.

He had…

Oh, dear god, no.

No, please, no.

Not that.

Not with Sara.

His eyes fixed on his hands, shaking now with emotion, the hate and anger he had been feeling moments before now turned to fear and self-loathing.

Her hand reached up and stroked the nape of his neck, trying to bring his head up to meet hers. But instead of doing what she was silently pleading him to do he shrugged off her hand, and turned his back to her, leaning heavily on the counter still.

Almost at once he realised his mistake. The warmth of her body made contact against his back as her arms slipped around his waist, holding him in her embrace.

He wanted to be sick.

“Sara…”

His voice cracked, and no words followed her name. He had no words to say to her… nothing he could possibly say right then would make matters better; they could only do more harm.

A faint movement was making its way into his brain, and he had to hold back a sob or a retch, he wasn’t sure which, when he realised she was stroking his back, trying to calm him like so many times in the past 2 ½ years they had been together when he had been affected by cases.

The shaking of his hands had spread, and now his whole frame was trembling, adrenaline for the flight he wanted to take coursing though his body. And still, she held him against her.

“Shhh. It’s ok. Shhh.”

Ok?! OK?! She was telling him it was ok?! Was she insane?! He had almost hit her for fuck’s sake!

It was suddenly too much for him and he made a lunge for the sink, his stomach emptying itself of its contents. But Sara still didn’t leave him; still stroking his back in what would be a soothing manner, were he in any shape to be soothed.

The sound of retching gave way to dry heaves, as his body still tried to empty itself, although there was nothing else for him to expel.

The warmth at his back left him, and a small part of him wanted her to come back, while the rest of his brain was telling him he deserved to be left. Normally, he fought the voice in his head, but not today. No, today he was in total agreement with it.

So it came as a shock to him when she returned, damp face cloth in one hand, and glass of water in the other. His dry heaving had stopped, but he was still leant over the sink, muscles too weak to support him.

With a gentle hand, Sara brought his head round to face her, running the cool cloth over his skin, cleaning it of the faint sheen of sweat that had appeared during his bout of vomiting. Running it under the cold tap for a moment, she chanced a glance at his face, and he could hear her sigh when she saw he had averted his gaze once more.

This time, the cloth was on the nape of his neck, the shiver it produced travelling down his spine. When she moved to ring it out once more, Sara picked up the glass of water, handing it to him.

“Here. Swill and spit.”

Grissom was on automatic pilot, doing what she told him without thought. After a couple of rinses of his mouth he set the glass down on the counter, and felt her take his hand in hers, pulling him from his perch in the kitchen to sit on the sofa in the living area.

“I…” he tried, but fell silent, the words still not there.

Sara said nothing, just sat next to him, running her fingers over the tendons of the hand that had been raised not 15 minutes before.

His eyes were downcast, and eventually focused on the movement of her. She was stroking his hand, like she had done hundreds of times before.

But this time was different.

This was the hand that had been raised.

Against her.

In anger.

He couldn’t even remember what the hell they had been arguing about. But whatever it was, it didn’t warrant a raised hand. Nothing ever warranted that. Even if she hadn't lived her life that way for the first 12 years of her life, he had sworn to never, ever hurt her.

“Why are you here, Sara?”

He was still looking at her hand, knowing if he were to look at her in the face he would break. He was barely holding it together right then anyway. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her shrug slightly, and his heart cried out in pain.

This was it.

“Because where else would I be?”

His voice did break then.

“What?”

“What? You think it’s the end of the world if you raise a hand once in a while?”

His face held her answer, and for the first time since the incident had happened, he met her eye.

“Gil, listen to me. I came from a family where being smacked around was the norm. I then went to being shunted from place to place until I could get away and go to collage. But even after that, I was sucked back to the West coast. The first time I felt I had a purpose in this world was when you spoke at that conference. I changed my entire life that day. You changed my entire life that day.”

She paused in her narrative to give him a chance to digest that, and gave his hand a quick squeeze.

“When you called me up to come and work for you, I didn’t even think. I was on the first plane out here. And then I spent the better part of 5 years being smacked around and shunted from place to place. Not physically, but emotionally. And that hurt a heck of a lot more than the physical ever could.”

His face had become pale during that statement, and she could practically see his brain thinking through those years before they were pushed by an external force, breaking the stalemate between them.

“I… Sara…”

She smiled at him, small but there.

“You didn’t realise. I know. But, and listen, because it’s a big one.”

She waited for his nod, and when it came, she continued.

“I love you. I have always loved you. When I married you, and said better or worse, I meant it. All of it. So ok, we had a fight. It happens. I dare you to show me one couple that live happily ever after. It doesn’t happen. So, ok, you raised your hand. So what? You stopped.”

“But I… what if…”

“Oh, believe me, if you ever do make contact I’ll be out of here so fast you’ll never see me go. But I know the day that happens is the day you die. And I’m not saying that as a threat or because I think you’re suicidal… it’s just the way you are. Hell, babe, you just threw up everything you ate in the past year. If you were to ever hit…”

“I wouldn’t. God, Sara, I couldn’t.”

She gave a small smile at that.

“I know.”

“How can you forgive me? I mean, how can you stand to be near me right now? Doesn’t this remind you of your childhood?”

“Not really. My dad? He was always drunk. Or high. Or both. And my mom wasn’t really all that much better. So they’d yell, and fight, and beat each other until one or both were senseless. Sometimes if things had gotten really bad we went to the hospital, but not all the time. And then a couple of days later it would start again. There was never this,” she waved a hand between them; “there was never this talking, or reaction to anything.”

Sara shifted so her head was lying against his shoulder. He tensed at the move, but didn’t pull away, letting her rest against him.

“The day,” she paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, “the day my dad was killed, things got a little out of control.” Sara gave a humourless laugh. “Well, that was obvious. I came home to find them yelling pretty heavily at each other. The things they were saying… Mom was cooking, so the knife was out on the counter. He grabbed it first. Chased her through the house.

I was hiding by this point. Mom had this really large walk-in closet. I could sit in there for hours without anyone finding me. That closet and I became firm friends fairly quickly.

“Anyway, my dad had managed to chase her into their bedroom. Stabbed her, right in the arm. They both stooped then; sort of looked at her, with this knife sticking in the muscle of her arm. He started laughing. And she joined in. Can you believe that? Both high off their heads and laughing at the picture of her with a knife in her arm.

“I guess the pain must have started seeping in then, or something. She stopped laughing, pulled the knife out, and went wild. Stabbed him, I don’t know, maybe 10, 15 times? Laughing the entire time, like it was some huge joke to her. It wasn’t until she ran out of energy she stopped. And then just went and bandaged her arm, like it was any other day.

“I don’t know who called the cops. But I remember it took them hours to find me, huddled up in the corner of that damn closet. Longer to get me out. So that fear you have of us becoming my parents? Not going to happen.”

Falling silent, Sara became aware of a small shuddering. Looking up at his face, she saw twin trails on his cheeks. The sight was enough to finally make her break, and her tears fell. His arm encircled her, bringing flush against his body, letting their strength mingle and support them both.

He pulled back, and laid a tender kiss on her temple.

“I don’t deserve you, Sara.”

“But you have me anyway.”

“One day, I'm going to work out how I got so lucky.”

She chucked a little at that.

“When you figure it out, let me know… I’ve never been able to figure it out.”

“Sara? I am sorry. And I…”

This time she silenced him with a kiss.

“I know you're going to be beating yourself up about this for a while. And I know no matter what I say nothing will change that. I even love you a little more for it. Just remember that when you’ve finished the Hail Mary’s and Our Fathers and whatever else you do, I’ll still be here.”

He nodded.

Things weren’t really ok, they both knew that. Even if he spent the next 50 years treating her like the most royal of all princesses (not that she would let him…) it wouldn’t be enough. But maybe, just maybe, with her by his side to help hold him together, they could put this behind them.

And they could have the happy ever after all couples were looking for; after all, every rule has an exception.

More Wedges (they're more fun than GSR right now...)

Wed, 06 Feb 2008 15:29:55 GMT

Title: Helping Out
Author: chibs_87
Rating: T
Pairing: Wedges
Genre: humour
Length: 830ish words
Spoilers: Lab Rats; Chick Chop Flick Shop
Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: This is in response to a request for a sequel to Concerning the Ego from Hodges POV… Hodges mind is a SCARY place to be… Not beta’d.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

OK, first of all, in my defence, I didn’t start the conversation topic. It was her… what’s her name? Newbie on Swing… but not in that Zach Braff, way or hyper Sanders way. Lake. Yeah. Totally her fault. And Simms was only defending herself… I was just trying to help her out. I am not a pervert.

I mean, it’s not like she uses her… assets… like other members of the female population… I’m referring here of course to Ice-queen “My boobs want answers yesterday” Catherine. And now that my dear friend Gil has succumbed to Miss Sidle’s, uh, charms, (What? I am a guy… and Sara is kinda cute… so if it wasn’t to be me at least it’s her he fell for,) they’re off the market.

Not that I was looking at them either. I mean, yeah, we could have made a cute couple, but well, he’s in love with Sara. I know when I’ve been beat.

So, Wendy Simms. Kind of a neat freak, likes things done in certain ways, likes to be in charge, (and man, does that have possibilities. Not that I'm into that…) and she’s also hot. Really hot. Again, I want to point out here that I am not a pervert, I am just a warm blooded male with all my, uh, parts in working order, no matter what that twerp Sanders has been saying.

Yes, I may have noticed Simms; it’s not like we’re all that far from each other at work… her lab is right next to mine. And if I’m sitting and she’s standing and facing my lab, well, her chest is just at the right height. Wait. That came out wrong. I meant the resulting height difference puts me eye-level with her chest. It’s not that I spend hours looking at her, not really. I have better things to do with my time than look at her chest, think about her chest and well, anything else with her chest.

But when little miss “I’m new and have opinions on everything” speaks up and basically calls Simms a bimbo with huge boobs, I can understand why she’s a little upset. (Simms, not Lake.) She (Simms) is not a bimbo, blonde or otherwise. Not that she’s blonde (in any sense of the word; she’s one of the smartest people I know, after the obvious.)

Anyway, I'm thinking of her intelligence, not her appearance. But apparently the female brain is not concerned about the intelligence factor, but the physical factor. I guess it must be something similar to calling a guy on the size of his penis or something. Whatever. All I know is Simms, Wendy, is defending her figure.

“Mine are kind of… medium.”

“But perfect.”

I am Helping! I am not stating I have ogled her from afar for years. But judging by the looks I'm getting from the people in the room with us, they don’t agree with my point of view here. So I now need to dig myself out of this hole before someone decides to bring up sexual harassment charges.

“…ly adequate. Better, in fact.”

There. That should cover my ass. I hope. I chance a glance at Sara at this point… Gil would understand me here, I'm sure, but as he’s not in the room right now, I'm going to settle for someone who must be able to understand him a little if they’re together and all. But she bails on me.

I hope there aren’t going to be any rumours about this little, uh, incident, spreading around the lab. They always get blown way out of proportion. I mean, I heard the other day that Sara and Gil got engaged… like anyone would believe those two would talk marriage. Ha!

So, no rumours would be a good thing. Because then Gil may be forced to move one of us to another shift or something. And as much as I don’t want to be moved, (because, let’s face it, Gil and I are like this,) and moving would totally disrupt our dynamic intellectual understanding of each other, I don’t want Simms moved either.

After all, she hasn’t done anything. It would be unfair. And as much as she can be a right royal pain in the butt at times, and impulsive, and using my cell to call a known serial killer, (oh, don’t think I've forgotten about that!) I'm not that vindictive.

Just because I mentioned she has a perfect chest, (because well, she does!), does not mean I'm attracted to her. And that thing a few months ago? The cell phone thing? That was annoying. And the petty arguments in the hall? Annoying too. Not cute. Nope. Not at all. I am not attracted to Simms. I’m NOT. Really.

Well, ok… maybe a little.

But I can totally deal with that.

And the odd chance I get to ogle her from my lab? Well, they just make the night that much more interesting.

End.

Wedges ficlet

Wed, 06 Feb 2008 00:57:21 GMT

Title: Concerning the Ego, companion to Helping Out
Author: chibs_87
Rating: T
Paring: WEDGES
Genre: Fluff/humour
Length: 670 words
Spoilers: Chick Chop Flick Shop, Lab rats
Disclaimer: Not mine… kinda glad atm…

Not beta'd.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: OK, so tonight’s ep was incredibly lame. And I’m sorry, but Sara just got engaged… even if they speed up the timeline to get it back to November (not that that matters much what with the strike and all…) but still… engaged/married to the guy of her dreams… there is no way seeing a 2 minute clip of a film would push her over the edge, as what the show seemed to suggest. So, in light of the writers giving JF crappy scenes (even though she did wonders with the emotions in them), I wrote some Wedges fluff.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ok, so maybe discussing some of my assets, such as they are, in front of pretty much all the night shift techs and a fair number of CSIs to boot wasn’t the best plan of action I have ever had. But, in my defence, I had to say something. I couldn’t sit there in quiet, when I had just been lobbed in with the “Bimbo with big boobs” who starred… appeared in these films. So yeah, I spoke up to defend myself from being placed in with that crowd.

Of course, the part of my brain I was using to defend myself was usually involved in a much bigger (and somewhat more important) part of my every day life, especially at work: David Hodges radar.

Because, as much as he annoys the living hell out of me, he can also be, dare I say it, sweet and caring at times (and I stress the at times). But there are other times when he can be, well, a complete guy!

“My breasts are kind of… medium”

“But perfect.”

Fantastic.

David Hodges has just admitted, in a room full of people no less, that he has spent time staring at my chest, deeming my breasts to be perfect.

I should be outraged really. But even as he stutters his way (or at least attempts to) out of the hole he has just dug himself, I am more concerned about me.

Now, luckily, being in my job and seeing what I see every day (night) has made me be able to have control over my blushing. Even now, after that little revelation, I know I’m not blushing a beetroot colour. Thank god. So that doesn’t have me concerned.

No. What has me concerned is why I feel somewhat pleased, no, giddy, that he has noticed me. I mean, there are a number of issues here that should scream Sexual Harassment! The first one being, it’s HODGES! Ok, so there was that night about 6 months back, back before Sara was taken and the miniatures were the ghost of the lab. My dear pal (!) David decided to get his little gang of groupies together and take a look at the 4 miniatures while the CSIs were out on cases.

And yes, he did pretty much infuriate me that night, what with his overly childish ways and bantering… I mean, I only called the number with his cell… what’s the big deal?!

But I digress. Where was I? Oh yes. Issue one: David Hodges has spent time looking at my chest. And from what he said, I’m guessing this wasn’t the first time. You don’t decide something is perfect in a split second. No. you need a little time to analyse everything before coming to that conclusion. Ergo, Hodges has spent multiple occasions looking at my breasts. This really, really shouldn’t be a cause for excitement but concern and a need for sexual harassment claims. But try telling my body that.

I swear my ego just inflated with his words.

Hodges was staring at my breasts. Long enough to make an opinion. He noticed me. ME! There are a number of fit women at the lab, 2 in this room right now. And then there’s Catherine, not to mention all the other people on other shifts and from PD and all the other people who we may, at some point, bump into.

Yet, despite all those, he has noticed me.

It is vital at this point I don’t do something the aforementioned bimbo’s with big breasts would do at this point; namely squee like a schoolgirl. No. anything along those lines can be done later. Much later. Preferably when I am home, away from the lab, away from him, if I do it at all… after all, it is kind of pushing the limit there just a little.

It is Hodges, after all.

But, a small part of me can’t help notice him. And that thought scares me the most. Am I attracted to Hodges?!

Committed ficlet... because gosh, i haven't written enough of these yet...

Sat, 02 Feb 2008 16:41:41 GMT

Title: Obvious signs
Author: chibs_87
Rating: T (couple of bad words)
Genre: Angst
Pairing: GSR
Length: 305 words or so.
Spoilers: Committed
Disclaimer: Not mine. (Nor is Firefly… if you catch the bit I mean, give yourself a clap. Lol)
Summary: The signs were all there, waiting for him to piece together.

A/N: I have no idea where this came from… thanks to butterfliedgsr for the beta.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He wonders why he hasn’t noticed it before. Because now that he has, it seems so obvious he thinks he may have been going blind as well as deaf.

The signs were all there. All neatly laid out for him, waiting for him to clue the fuck in as to what was going on.

The quickening heartbeat,

The sweaty palms,

The inability to form coherent sentences whenever she stood within 2 yards of him,

The inability to think at all when she smiled.

Here he is, supposedly one of the best scientists in the country, and it has taken this to work out that he loves her.

Of course, because it’s him, it’s them, the timing sucks.

She is trapped on the other side of the glass; with a crazy (and a certificate to prove it) man holding a ceramic shard to her jugular.

The human body can be drained of blood in 8.6 seconds in the right vacuuming systems.

But he doesn’t want to think about that.

His mind if flashing through all the incidences he could have, should have, said something to her.

It’s depressing to realise just how many there are, so he tries not to think about them, either.

All of his attention is on her, his heart crying out in pain.

Her eyes meet his for a fraction of a second, and he sees her fear; she doesn’t think she is going to get out of this alive.

It feels like he has been sucker-punched in the chest.

If, no, when she gets out of this, when the attendant gets the right key and opens the fucking door, he is going to take her into his arms, kiss her senseless, and never let her go.

Just as soon as she is free.

Which will be soon.

Any minute now.

Any second.

Right?

Belated Birthday Present

Thu, 31 Jan 2008 16:04:53 GMT

Title: Seeing Things
Author: chibs_87
Rating: NC-17
Genre: SMUT!
Pairing: GSR
Length: 1890 words
Spoilers: If it’s been on the show, it’s fair game.
Disclaimer: Not sure I even want to own them right now…
Summary: If he was hallucinating anything else but Sara he would go to the doctors. But he was seeing Sara. And he didn’t want her to go away.

A/N: So this is a (belated) birthday fic for the wonderful zamboni12… because she is all kinds of awesome, and has given me ample support and love since beginning writing… along with a fair number of crowns. I suck at making artwork etc, so I wrote instead. Happy Birthday hun! Thanks to inner_urge and kosmickway for the beta.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was hallucinating again.

It wasn’t the first time since her departure from his life 3 months ago it had happened, and probably wouldn’t be the last.

If it were anything else he was seeing, he would have gone to the doctor.

Maybe.

But he was seeing Sara.

Always Sara.

And he didn’t want her to go away.

Today, she was standing in the kitchen, a mug of coffee in her hands.

Yesterday, she had been reading the paper.

Last week, leaning against the vanity in the bathroom while he showered.

“Hello Sara,” he said, as always.

“Hello Gil,” Sara said, as always.

There was something funny about her voice, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“How was work?”

“The same. Cases and politics.”

“Ah,” the hallucination said.

Dropping his case by the door and hanging up his coat, he moved into the house, the morning paper in hand.

Settling himself into the corner of the couch, he smiled as she joined him in the room, choosing to sit on the chair she had insisted they buy.

The crossword today was mocking him.

6 Down. Hebrew princess. (4 letters) Sara

8 across. 4 chamber instrument’s abode. (4 letters) Home

He sighed and put the paper on the coffee table.

Maybe later, he thought.

Maybe later, when he wasn’t sitting looking at a projected image of the woman he was so in love with he couldn’t hate for leaving him a broken shell.

As he stood and stretched, joints creaking, he heard the click click click of nails on the floor.

A second later, and Hank was there.

By her side, as if he could sense where she was sitting.

Odd. But he ignored it.

Just as he ignored how the coffee pot was hotter than what it should be, how Hank hadn't begged to be let out, or even fed.

Sara was behind him now.

He could smell her shampoo, and the faint trace of perfume that she sometimes wore when she wasn’t at work.

That smell pressed at his brain, but he ignored it.

So what if today’s hallucination was slightly different to the rest of them… it didn’t mean he was going crazy.

But when her hands encased him from behind, and he could feel her body heat, he began to wonder at his sanity.

He turned his head slightly, and was met by tears.

None of the Sara’s, in all his hallucinations, had cried.

Not once.

This is strange, said the voice in his head.

You’re in trouble, it said.

You’re going crazy, it said.

“Gil…” Sara said.

It was when his hand skimmed across the flesh of her cheek he realised what was going on.

I’m not crazy, he told the voice.

Sara’s here, he told it.

Sara’s home, he told it.

And then his attention was turned to the more important things of the moment.

Like kissing Sara Sidle-soon-to-be-Grissom senseless.

His lips devoured hers, only to find hers to kissing him back with equal vigour.

“Sara…” he gasped.

“Hi Gil,” she said.

And then he was kissing her again. Because he had had to endure 3 months of not kissing Sara, and he didn’t like that.

He wanted to stop, to take in the picture of her.

Here.

With him.

But that would mean not kissing Sara, and he had had enough of not kissing Sara.

And Sara didn’t seem all that upset about him kissing her, either.

“God Sara!” Grissom said.

“Bed, Gilbert,” Sara said.

Bed. Yes, yes bed sounded like a wonderful plan.

Still kissing her, because he couldn’t stop, he walked her back through the house, until she spun him, and backed him into a wall.

Hello wall, he thought.

And then he went back to kissing Sara.

He tore his mouth from hers eventually. He needed to breathe. And apparently he couldn’t breathe and kiss Sara Sidle senseless at the same time. If it wasn’t for the fact that he needed to breathe to live, so he could kiss her again, he wouldn’t have bothered.

But he did. So he stopped.

Her lips were trailing across his face now.

Kissing his jaw.

His nose.

The scar above his eyebrow.

And then she too stopped, and pulled back to look at him.

Her lips were full, and lush, and he needed to be kissing them again.

So he did.

“Bed. Now,” Sara gasped between kisses.

Bed. Yes, bed sounded like a wonderful plan.

They were on the move again, away from the wall.

He didn’t realise she was pulling at his shirt until it was ripped from his body.

Goodbye shirt, he thought, as they pushed and pulled each other down the hall to the bedroom.

Together they stumbled into the room, pushing the door closed behind them.

Poor Hank! He thought.

I’m sorry, Hank he thought.

No I'm not, he thought.

And then he stopped thinking about Hank and started thinking of the quickest way to get out of clothes and into Sara.

His hands seemed to know what they were doing, so he left them to it.

Her shirt was silk and buttons, and then gone.

Goodbye shirt, he thought.

She hadn't bothered with a bra.

His mind shut down.

His lips were on her breasts then, pulling them into his mouth, teeth worrying the nipple.

“Gil…” Sara gasped, clutching his head to bring him closer, closer to her skin. His hand came up to play with her neglected breast, until damn pesky air became an issue again.

One second, and a breath later, he was giving her other breast the same treatment with his mouth.

Sara let out a moan as his teeth teased the skin under her nipple, giving it slight nips.

“Mine,” he growled against her skin. “Mine.”

“Yes. Oh. Yes,” Sara agreed.

The hand not toying with her breast was running the length of her torso, and he moved it to trace the waistband of her pants.

Soft, her skin was so soft.

And taut.

And rippling under his fingers.

“Need you. God. Need you,” she told him as her hips rolled against his, feeling the hot heavy bulge at his groin brush against her.

In response, his hand slipped under her waistband to trace her over her panties. He groaned as he felt her arousal, seeping through the thin material.

Carefully, he walked them back the few feet to the bed, lowering her on it and dislodging his mouth from her skin as he did so. Sara let out a moan as the cool air of the room met the wet flesh of her breast, rosy and hard now from his mouth and fingers.

His hands were at the clasp of her pants then, pulling them down her body. His mouth followed, kissing down the flesh of her legs.

“Gil…” Sara moaned.

Grissom smirked up at her, kissing his way back up her body. Meeting the material of her panties, he slipped them down her hips, removing them in a flourish, suddenly desperate to get to the sweet skin of her centre beneath.

His tongue came out, giving her cleft one long swipe, from her entrance to her clit. Sara gave a strangled moan at the move, and her hips pushed down towards his mouth, wanting more. He glanced up at her, wanton, needing, here, and gave in.

One finger came up and stroked the soft, wet flesh of her weeping centre, before it slid into her body, making her hips lurch up.

3 months. He had gone three very, very long months without her, regaining a relationship with his right hand, and now that hand was currently playing with her folds, one finger thrusting slowly in her slick channel, rubbing against the walls.

Gently, he brought her engorged clit into his mouth, suckling on it, whilst adding another finger into her. The stroke was slow but powerful, rubbing against the rings of muscles in her channel, seeking for, and when Sara cried out, finding her g spot.

Her hips were rolling insistently now, trying to escape the pressure of his mouth as he devoured her juices, and yet coming back as the pressure continued to build in her.

Grissom added a third finger, and her world exploded.

As she returned to herself, she found Grissom had not moved, and was still lapping at her folds gently, taking in the taste of her.

“Mmmm. Gil…”

“Shhh,” he said. “Busy,” he muttered, letting his tongue swipe against her clit again.

“Honey…” Sara gasped.

“You…” she tried.

“Oh god…” she groaned, as she felt herself begin to tumble over the edge again.

Her climax was smaller this time, but just as intense.

When her muscles relaxed their grip on his invading fingers, he withdrew them slowly, taking them into his mouth to clean.

“Want you…” Grissom told her, kissing his way back up her body.

“Need you,” he said.

“Love you,” he said.

And then he gave one strong thrust, and was inside her.

Home, he thought.

God, he thought.

“Guh!” Sara cried.

He was moving then. Thrusting deep, slowly into her.

“More!” she cried.

“Fuck!” she cried.

He was on auto pilot now. Had to be, because even thinking that he was with Sara again, inside Sara again, would be enough to make him explode.

But then her legs were around his back, and her arms were around his neck, and her mouth was fused to his.

His control slipped.

Then left.

And he was fucking her.

No gentle love-making.

No passionate sex.

Deep, harsh fucking.

“Yes!” she cried.

“God!” she cried.

“Deeper!” she cried.

He was brushing against her cervix now. Each thrust deep, hard, pounding.

“Fuck!” he moaned.

“Jesus!” he moaned.

“Sara!” he moaned.

And then she was coming around him, pulling him deeper still into her depths, smothering his cock with her juices.

“Come for me,” she said.

And she felt his release gush into her, bathe her walls.

He collapsed on top of her, unable to hold himself up any more.

Eventually he moved slightly, just enough so she could breathe.

“Hi…” he said.

“Hi,” Sara said.

“Sleep,” she said.

“M’kay,” he said.

They slept.

Sara woke to find herself tied to the bed with the silk ties they had bought months before that girl came into their lives.

She looked up to see a pair of deep, soulful eyes hovering over her. Before she could say anything, a tongue came out and licked her exposed neck.

“Hello Hank,” Sara said.

“Wuffle,” Hank said.

“Can you let me up?” Sara asked.

“Wuffle,” Hank said.

The bedroom door opened, and Grissom returned.

“Morning Sara,” Grissom said.

“Morning Gil,” Sara said.

“Good boy, Hank,” Grissom said.

“Wuffle,” Hank said.

“Gil,” Sara said, “why is Hank sitting on me?”

“So you won’t leave,” Grissom said.

“Oh,” Sara said.

“Gil?”

“Yes Sara?”

“Why am I tied to the bed?” Sara asked.

“So you won’t leave.” Grissom said.

“Oh,” Sara said.

“Sara,” Gil said.

“Yes?”

“Don’t leave me again. Ever. Promise me you won’t leave me again.”

Her voice caught. “I promise,” Sara said.

“Good,” Grissom said.

He pushed Hank to the floor and untied her. She immediately went to his arms.

“Sara?”

“Yes?”

“Marry me?” Gil asked.

“Yes,” Sara said.

“Good,” Gil said. He pulled her close and dropped a kiss on her brow. “Good.”

END

Birthday wishes and rant

Tue, 29 Jan 2008 13:38:18 GMT

So, first of all, HAPPY BIRTHDAY to zamboni12. I'm waiting on my beta for something... keep an eye out on geekfiction hun. ;-) Hope you have a good day. (even TPTB must have some idea... we get ~~case of the cross-dressing carp~~ the best GSR scene ever filmed tonight. :-D

Now onto the the main part of this post, a nice long rant!

Ok, so for those of you not in the know, i am in my final year at uni, and this semester i am doing my major project (similar to dissertation, but it's lab based instead of journal based.)

Anyway, to do my project, i need to be taught some techniques before i can go ahead with what the actual thing is about. Which, you know, makes sense... they're not about to let me loose in the lab when i don't have a clue how to do what i need to do to get the results i need.

So so far today, i've had a lecture 10-11, and then it was off to the lab. 25 minutes later the 4 of us working with the same supervisor were finally joined by someone who coulkd actually teach us something. And then she was going on about phagocytosis and how to analyse it. (Basically, the white blood cells eating bacteria.)

Only, my project doesn't involve this, so i told Lindsay, and she told me to find Liz (one of the techs) and see if she knew what i was meant to be doing. So at about 11.30 fonally tracked her down, only for her to say "I have no idea how to do this, i'll call Andrew (my super), see what he say's."

Andrew, nice guy that he is, says "Dont worry about it. I'll help out, but i can't be in the lab until 12.30."

So i'm told to come back at the lab an hour later. I figure this may be the only chance i get today to get some lunch, run off and shove some food down me. Get back to the lab for 12.30, and Andrew isn't there. But he had apparently been in touch with Liz again, cos she now had some idea as to what i was doing. So then i'm told to set up a solution of things that i can then detect cells in.

No problem... oh wait, yes there is. One of the things that i need to add is at the wrong pH, and so that needs to be rectified beforei can add it to the solution. So i add the rest of the stuff while Liz sets on fixing the pH. Andrew shows up, has a little tete-a-tete with Liz as to what i'm doing (without me, so i'm still clueless... not that i need to know this, it's only my project after all...)

Anyway, before i can do anything more, Liz tells me "Oh, by the way, can i ask you to come back at 2, cos everyone who works in the immunology department has a seminar at 1-2 on Tuesdays."

So i've been "in lab" since 11... and in that time i have added 5ml of one thing to 0.1ml of another, and spent the other 2hours 30 mins twiddling my thumbs... and i can't so anything for anothwer 30 mins.

But i suppose it could be worse... it could be my major project which is worth 30% of my entire degree.

Oh... wait a minute...

That's it. I'm off to the frigging pub!!

First Impressions

Wed, 16 Jan 2008 15:50:57 GMT

Title: First Impressions.
Author: chibs_87
Rating: T (for safety)
Genre: Um… Reflection? (Is reflection a genre?!)
Pairing: GSR (Greg POV)
Length: 1918 words
Spoilers: If it’s on the show, it’s fair game.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Blending in makes for closer observation.

A/N: My first Greg POV fic… he’s actually kind of fun to write. Not beta’d, because I'm being lazy.

~~~~~~~~~~~

People don’t think much of me at first glance. Why would they? I'm not overly tall. Nor short. Not fat. And now I'm in the field I don’t have crazy hair styles.

I used to be a lab rat. Had my own little domain, something even Grissom knew. Oh sure, the guy could terrify me, make me nervous and give me mildew reactions, but he was still a cool guy... someone you could rely on, you know?

He was there for me when the lab blew up on me. Gave me a second chance when I took a leak on my probation. Stand up guy.

And if it wasn’t for the fact that he was sleeping with the woman I was in love with I’d be proud to call him a friend. Not a friend who’d come to the bar after a tough shift. Nor one you buy presents for. But if you needed him, he was there.

Now, you may be wondering how A) I knew Griss is sleeping with Sara, and B) why I never told anyone I knew. See, I've been known to be a bit of a gossip at the lab. It’s not always true. And I've also been told I'm a little eccentric. They keep bringing up a certain dance down the halls of the lab with a certain queen of Las Vegas’ headdress. But that was years ago. Not anymore.

So yeah. The Boss-man and Sara. You have to understand, I found out completely by accident. Really. I wasn’t looking for them every time I left the house. Cos running into your boss outside of work is kinda creepy, you know?

So when I first saw him out at a diner, I turned round and started walking away before he could see me. And bumped right into Sara. Now, seeing Sara out is a much nicer view than seeing Grissom out. And the small shower Sara and I had to, HAD TO, take together a couple of years ago was just a bonus. Of course I didn’t look. I am a gentleman. Well, I can be. Swear down I didn’t look. (Ok, there may have been a little part of me that wanted to, but that was squashed by the knowledge that Sara could kill me. With her pinkie.)

Of course then she told me she looked. I felt a bit cheated then. But now I'm glad I didn’t look. Because it means Griss can’t kill me for ogling his girl in the shower. Oh, who am I kidding? He could kill me too. And they could both make it look like an accident.

But I'm relying on the fact that Sara and I are really good friends to save my ass a little. I mean, there’s a chance (as long as I don’t deserve it…) that finding out that her S.O killed little ol’ me will make him be in the doghouse. And believe you me, if you can do anything to keep yourself out of the doghouse where Sara Sidle is concerned, you do it.

Whatever. I digress. Where was I? Oh yeah, the run in with Sara. That’s right. Anyway, so I bumped into her, and we shot the breeze for a few minutes, made plans to catch a drink after shift that week, and carried on our merry ways. It wasn’t until 2 days later with her holding my hand was I lay gasping for breath through the pain as I lay a bloody mess on the pavement it hit me she shouldn’t have been there.

No, not my scene. Having her there was a breath of fresh air, really. No, I mean, she shouldn’t have been at the diner in the first place. Because while it’s fairly local to me, and just round the corner really for Grissom, it’s across town for her. So yeah, laying there in a pool of my own blood I started thinking that there may be something going on with the angel holding my hand and the man signing my pay slips.

It wasn’t long after that that Grissom left town for a month to teach a lecture series in Massachusetts. I was wondering if I was wrong about him and Sara then, right until he left and she became little miss depressed. She was always at the lab. Like, always. There after everyone else on grave signed out, and there before everyone on grave signed in.

Hell, sometimes I don’t think she even went home. It was like when she first started at the lab. She was always there, then. Being lab-bound myself at the time, I noticed these things.

Course I also noticed she had a thing for Griss. And if she had turned around on more than one occasion as she walked away from the guy, she would have seen the longing on his face as he watched her go.

If it wasn’t for him being my boss and being able to fire my ass for even thinking of talking to him about it, I may have said something. But well, there was the whole thing of liking my job.

I don’t know exactly what happened for him to get over whatever bug was sitting between him and her, but looking back on it I can make a guess at when it happened.

Sara had been miserable. Seriously miserable. And Grissom really wasn’t doing anything to help matters. If anything, he was making them worse. And then, after 4 years of always being at the lab and never taking any time for herself, she took some time off. I caught her talking to herself in a mirror on the first night she was back. Don’t know what she was saying or why… but yeah. Odd.

But she was back, and wasn’t always frowning, and sometimes there was even a hint of a smile. She looked after me that first year. I don’t know if that was something she wanted or was saddled with it from Grissom, but working with her pretty much every night was fun, and she was getting better. Smiling a bit more and everything.

And then the shift got split, and it seemed within a couple of weeks all the good work of her working with me was gone. Personally, I think it may have been something to do with Sofia. It was obvious she was liking Grissom, and it was obvious to everyone with a Y chromosome that he wasn’t interested. Not really. But apparently if you had 2 X chromosomes, you were blind to it.

Then she, Sara I mean, got suspended. Apparently she had blown up at Catherine after blowing up at a suspect… not something we all hadn't done before. But, well, none of us had done it in front of Ecklie. And had then gone on to explode at him too. I've gotta give the girl credit… she’s the only one of us to ever do that.

And yes, she got suspended for it. But hell, I would gladly lose my career if it was because I told that slimy git faced prick what I thought of him.

Anyway, she came back, again, after that, and it seemed that whatever had happened worked for her, because she was smiling again. And Grissom seemed more relaxed after that time too. And I swear I saw them at a diner together not 2 weeks after that.

So yeah, it looked like the two had kissed and made up, and were back doing their geek-mind-meld thing once more. Of course, at the time I didn’t know just how accurate the whole kiss and made up bit of that analogy probably was. And eeew. So didn’t need to think of that. *shudder*

There were other clues during the next year, now I look back on it. But because none of us were looking for them, they went by unnoticed. Like that case we had about a month before Brass was shot. Mother of the groom showed up dead, and then all our evidence was stolen. Anyway, we were talking about weddings, and I swear Grissom and her were sharing some pretty significant looks, if you get what I mean.

Anyway, about 6 months later, he goes away for a month, and Sara was depressed. He comes back, and about a week later she’s grinning again. And her OT disappears. So I figured there was definitely something going on. Of course, walking through the parking lot and seeing the two of them pressed up against the wall of the lab making out like their lives depended on it helped with that conclusion.

I just never expected Grissom, the guy who never ever gives away information about himself, to blurt it out to the rest of the team like that. Though, looking at his face, I don’t think he even knew he said anything. He was completely absorbed by the miniature. Not that I can blame him hell, we were all in the same boat.

Personally, I want to know who took the pic of the two of them at the crime scene of the totalled car, looking all chummy. Because if they knew they were being observed like that from one of our guys, I know they wouldn’t be standing like that, never mind being observed by Natalie. My guess is something happened there to show her what he had just told us.

Even hours later, when I was in the chopper looking for the car in the desert, I couldn’t help hating him. Just a little. Because if they hadn't done whatever it was that tipped her off, she wouldn’t have taken Sara. And this whole situation would never have happened.

When Grissom came into work 3 months after the ‘incident’ (as people had taken to calling it) had occurred, looking like someone had just ripped out his heart ad stomped all over it, I knew what he was going to say before he did.

Sara had left.

Everyone was rallying around him after that, trying to make him feel better. Not me. I had seen her slipping. And as much as I tried to be there for her, it wasn’t me she needed. And, judging by the lack of Sara, I knew, knew, he hadn't done so. Or at least, not enough.

So while everyone else tried to make Grissom feel better, I ignored him. Not that anyone else noticed, of course. Well, he did. I could see it in his eyes that he knew I wasn’t talking to him. And why. And he never called me on it, so in some way I guess he must have felt he deserved it.

I did eventually start speaking to him again. Just like that. One shift getting by on the bare minimum we had to in order to do our job, the next having actual conversation in the break room in front of others.

Because I had run into Grissom in the same diner I had the previous year, back when I first stated thinking something was going on. And he hadn't been alone. I gave him the smallest of head nods, before turning and leaving him and his wife to their meal.

And when everyone else gave shouts of surprise and glee when Sara Sidle-Grissom walked through the door, I sat back and smiled.

Yes, people often don’t think much of me at first glance. But that’s ok. It makes surprising them all that much sweeter.

Bstkeptprivate Secret Santa entry

Mon, 17 Dec 2007 22:33:25 GMT

Title: The first sign of madness. (bestkeptprivate Secret Santa fic for kay18jay)
Author: chibs_87
Rating: K+
Genre: Fluff/humour
Pairing: GSR
Length: 969 words
Spoilers: BoP, PNN, TAIE, PWF, Butterflied, ND, Committed
Disclaimer: Not mine.

Summary: The first thing to remember about this date is it is NOT a date

A/N: This is pretty much sheer madness fluff. Read at your peril. Lol. Beta’d by the wonderful butterfliedgsr

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first thing to remember about this date is it is NOT a date.

Ha.

Shush. It’s not. It’s just a breakfast between two colleagues because he wants to make sure you haven’t lost it after a crazy inmate held you at knife-point.

Yeah. Right.

It is.

Who are you trying to convince here?

Be quiet!

Look. Let’s stop and look at the facts for a minute here, ok?

Like what?!

When, in all the years you have known him, has Gil Grissom ever reached out to you? Don’t huff and point at the plant. You *know* he only sent it to you to keep you from leaving on that LoA. And the sad thing is you fell for it too. Still would, probably.

It’s a nice plant!

It’s a pitiful attempt of…

Look, you. He sent it to me. ME! You don’t see anyone else with a plant from him, do you?!

Because no-one else would be won over by a piece of vegetation.

How do you know?!

I don’t. You’re right. I’m sure Nick or Warrick would *love* to receive a plant from him the next time they want to leave.

They haven’t ever *threatened* to leave!

And therein lies my point. You are the only one he sent a plant to because he *knew* you wouldn’t leave if he got you it.

I thought you were trying to convince me this *was* a date… seems like you’re doing a great show of showing how it’s not.

No, no I’m not. Listen to me… OK, yeah, he sent you a plant but he never explained it. And called you beautiful, in his own way, and then continued on with the case as if he had never spoken the words. But except those and a couple of other occasions, he has basically shunned you from him.

Really not convincing me about this being a date here…

HE ASKED YOU OUT!

Uh-huh, and by *your* logic, that means tomorrow he isn’t going to do anything more about it, so why treat it as a date if it’s just going to wind up with me being hurt for thinking that in the first place?

*Silence*

There, you see?! And if he was so interested in me, why would he turn me down after that lab explosion?

Oh, you mean the one where his lab, the one place he has felt comfortable was blown up around him, by one of his best friends no less, leaving 2 of his people hurt, one serious enough to require a weeks stay in the hospital, with the lab director and sheriff breathing down him neck and dealing with his own health issue. Yeah, he was a right git for turning you down.

I… um… I may have…

Been so hyped up on adrenaline and feeling invincible to forget the guy is only human? Yeah, I know, I was there.

Ok, so other dinner invitations aside, it still doesn’t mean that he sees me in, you know, that way.

No? Have you forgotten a small case of a dead nurse who looks like your twin?!

What about it?!

Did you pay any attention to him during that case?! He wouldn’t let you see the body. He didn’t go home for 3 days straight. The only time he stopped to eat was when one of you guys physically stopped him. And then, let’s not forget the little confession behind closed doors.

Oh yeah, let’s discuss that. Let’s discuss how he was comparing himself to a murderer. Let’s discuss how…

…how he fell for a young and beautiful woman, someone who he could care about. Let’s discuss how he couldn’t do it. COULDN’T! Not *wouldn’t*, or *didn’t want to*, but *couldn’t*! My god, how much more proof do you *need* that the guy likes you?!

Try me.

Ok. He got jealous when he found out about Hank. He freaked when your basically twin sister turns up dead, he listened, honest to god *listened* to you when you told him of your past, hell, you trusted him enough to *tell him* your past. And then, let’s not forget the look on his face the other day when you were being held captive.

What about it?! He…

He looked like his heart was being shot repeatedly in front of him, and you know it.

Ok. I can see your point.

FINALLY!

But that still doesn’t mean that this is a date!

No? The guy who has all but admitted that he loves you almost saw you die, and then asks you to breakfast, and it’s not a date?!

It’s a jerk reaction to almost seeing someone you know killed.

A date.

NOT a date.

Phone.

What?

The phone is ringing… you going to answer it or what?!

Shh. I knew that.

“Sidle.”

“Is that how you always answer your phone?”

“Yes… why?”

“No reason.”

“Grissom?”

“Yeah?”

“You called me because…”

“Oh, right. I uh, I wanted to um, make sure that uh…”

“Griss?”

“Iwantedtomakesurewewerestillonforourdateaftershift.”

Told you it was a date!

Stop gloating.

I have a right to gloat. It’s a date!

Shut up.

Date. Date. Date. Date… Now, are you going to answer the guy’s question or what?

“Uh… oh, yeah, um, yeah. Right.”

“Sara?”

“Yeah?”

Oh god… Please tell me I did not just giggle.

You did not just giggle.

You’re humouring me.

Yup.

“Sara? Are you ok?”

“What? Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine Griss. Really. I’ll uh, I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah. And Sara?”

“Hmmm?”

“I’m glad. That you’re ok.”

“OK.”

“Ok. I’ll see you later then.”

“Yeah.”

“See you later Griss.”

You’re giggling again. Just hang up the phone before you guys give yourselves complexes.

Right.

“Bye Griss.”

The first thing to remember about this date was it was a date. With Grissom.

Oh boy.

5 CSI 6 word stories

Thu, 13 Dec 2007 21:13:42 GMT

This came about after reading the thread at YTDAW.

1) Eight years. Two lives. One journey.

2) Rings exchanged. Husband and wife. Finally.

3) Begging eyes. Sara sighs. Hank's family.

4) Her bed. His sheets. Domestic bliss.

5) "From Grissom" means "I love you."

Best served cold

Mon, 26 Nov 2007 21:59:45 GMT

Title: Best Served Cold
Author: chibs_87
Rating: NC-17!
Genre: SMUT!!!
Pairing: GSR
Length: 2585 words
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Not mine… Probably a good thing after this…

A/N: zamboni12 pissed off my smut muse by saying my fluff was better than smut. Instead of getting in a fight with my fluff muse, my smut muse wrote this… Um, yeah… Oh, and it’s a sequel to Fulfilling Promises (again rated Nc-17). Not beta’d.

If there was one way she would never had described Gil Grissom, it would be deliberately mean. At least, not to her. Sure, in the past his actions, or lack of actions, had hurt her more than she thought was possible. And yes, there had been the odd comment, back when their relationship was still fairly new that had caused unnecessary tension between the two of them. But not all of those incidences had been his fault, so she didn’t really count them.

Besides, they were all in the past now. And for the past 15 months, the two of them had managed to form a stable personal relationship with no harm to their work dynamic. So much so none of their workmates, as far as they knew, realised they were together.

But right now, Sara was seriously reconsidering his ability to be deliberately mean. It would be a much easier decision to make if she wasn’t aware, in some small part of her brain, she probably, maybe, deserved this. Just a little. She had, after all, chained him to the headboard and given him the slowest hand-job known to man last month.

She had bought the silk glove with the sole intension of jerking him off wearing it, and the results had been truly spectacular. Not only had she teased him to the point of pain, she had then made him finish the job himself while she had sat back and watched the show, before finally letting him finish in her mouth. Yes, it had been a fantastic display.

But now, he was taking his revenge.

She had woken to find herself on the edge of orgasm, his head between her thighs, tongue lapping teasingly over her clit. She had given a startled gasp, but instead of pushing her that little more she needed to fall over the edge into bliss, he had pulled his lips away.

Sara had let out a cry at the loss of contact, hips lurching up, seeking his mouth once more. Grissom had let out a smile at the move, but had kept his mouth away. Sara had gone to finish the job herself, but a small tug let her let her feel something she had been unaware of previously.

The silk ties had been bought after a rather intense round of sex had left Grissom with a married of bruises on his wrists. They had lucked out with the work schedule, and they had faded before he had been due back on shift, but since that day they had been wary of physically restraining each other. He had been surprised, therefore, when he had come home one day to find the long silk scarves sitting on his desk, and Sara on his bed wearing fuck-me heels, stockings and a garter.

And nothing else.

The silk ties had been used again tonight, tying each wrist to the headboard, pinning her to the bed. While there was usually no one dominant in the bedroom, something they had both insisted on, the message tonight was clear; Grissom was in charge.

A faint sound by the side of the bed brought Sara’s attention back to the present. Her lover was shutting the drawer to the bedside table, running another piece of silk through his hands.

“Do you trust me?” His voice was as serious as she’d ever heard it.

“Yes.”

“You sure? I won’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with. Say the word and we stop.”

Sara refrained from pointing out he had already made her uncomfortable, the overwhelming need in her centre aching, letting her know how much she still needed to come.

“I trust you, Gil.”

Grissom gave a small smile, before reverently tying the blindfold over her eyes. Pulling back, he kissed her ardently, letting his tongue drag down her body. Tracing over her breast, he smiled when she gasped as he pulled the erect nipple into his mouth, lathering it with his tongue. Her hips thrust up wantonly, wanting, needing more. His hand came up to play with her other breast, and Sara let out a moan at the contact.

Letting his other hand fall to her centre, Grissom lightly traced over her clit. Removing his mouth from her nipple, he whispered, “Come for me, honey,” before taking possession of her breast once more.

Sara gave a keen wail as Grissom slipped a finger into her channel. She came, hard, grasping his finger tightly with her inner muscles, trying to pull it deeper within her.

Feeling her tremors begin to subside, Grissom relaxed his mouth, gently sliding his finger out of her at the same time. Sara let out a moan at the loss of him, but gasped when the hand on her breast tweaked her nipple.

“God Sara, you look like sin!” Grissom’s voice was raspy, desire evident.

Before she could say anything, she felt him begin to kiss his way down her body once more. Passing over her breast, he began to press gentle kisses over her stomach, making her muscles jump at the surprise contact. The loss of sight was hitching her other senses up tenfold and each touch he gave her sent a spike of surprise pleasure through her.

His hand released her nipple, moving round to stroke the sensitive underside and her upper ribs as his mouth moved lower on her body. Grissom blew gently on her centre, making Sara give out a surprised gasp and a hip lurch. He chuckled at her move, but did not linger at her centre for long.

Sara felt his tongue trail down her legs, soft kisses and slight nips teasing her skin.

“Legs, legs, legs. My god, your legs go on for miles,” Grissom moaned, gently nipping at her ankle bone.

In response, Sara gave a small moan, words beyond her as the sense of need and desire returned. His tone, all honey and gravel, sent a spike of want through her, and her hips rolled, desperate for contact.

Sensing her desire, Grissom slowly, so, so slowly, made his way back up her body, still giving her little nips as he did so. Parting her thighs easily, his tongue traced up over her legs, his beard tickling the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.

“Gil!” Sara gave a wanton moan, pushing her hips up, telling him without words what she wanted.

Grissom lay a gentle kiss to her curls before parting her outer lips, his tongue slipping through the slippery flesh, lapping at the fluid there.

“Wet for me. God honey, you’re so wet for me,” Grissom growled, the vibrations travelling through her core sending another spike of pleasure through her. Gripping her hips in his hand to stop her bucking, Grissom reverently kissed the silken folds before him, but kept his tongue away from both her entrance and her clit. The teasing was causing Sara’s breath to come in gasps, her hips trying to get him into place, but his hands stopping her. Sara growled, lost in the feel of Grissom’s tongue on her, but not on her.

“God damn you. Stop playing!” she cried, tears slipping through the blindfold. Grissom lifted his head to take in the sight of her; bound, blindfolded and wanton for him.

“Mine!” he declared, finally letting his tongue trace over her clit. “You’re mine, all mine,” he moaned against her flesh.

“Yes. God yes. Please!” Sara was gasping above him, tears of need cascading down her face.

“Gonna make you come. Come so hard for me,” Grissom told her, never moving his mouth from her centre.

“Gil. Jes. Pl. God please!” Sara moaned, hips rolling as much as they could, trying simultaneously to get the contact harder and escape the torment. Capturing her clit with his teeth, he worried the little bud, sending sharp spikes through her.

“Come,” he all but ordered her, his voice muffled against his flesh. And she did.

Gasping as the shocks of pure pleasure raced through her, Sara let out a small moan, trying to get Grissom to release her. Hearing the sound, he let her clit out of her mouth, but did not move back up her body. Instead, his hand came down from he hip to slide around her drenched flesh. One finger slipped inside her, and she let out a whimper as her muscles clenched onto the digit.

Moving his finger slowly, he stroked the walls of her dripping pussy, pumping the digit into her gently. Adding a second finger, Sara let out a small groan when he found her G spot.

“There?” he asked, stroking the sensitive nerve bundle again.

“Yea…” Sara moaned, her hips rolling, the aftershocks of her second orgasm still fluttering through her.

“God you’re soaked,” Grissom told her as his tongue went to taste her once more. Sara was too busy trying to work out how she was so close to another orgasm already to reply.

Keeping the two fingers inside her moving at a steady pace, making sure to rub over her g spot on each thrust, his thumb came out to gently slip over her clit. Sara gave a gasp at the contact.

“No. No. Sens… to sensitive,” she cried, trying to escape the torturous feel of his thumb over his oversensitive nub.

“Ok. Ok, relax,” Grissom told her, moving his thumb away. Sara gave a pleased sigh, only for it to turn to a strangled moan when she felt him move up her body to take possession of her puckered nipple once more.

While his tongue ravishing her breath, moving around the full globe, pausing to suck on the underside and nip at the top of her breast, his fingers inside her increased their pace. He could tell she was close once more, the muscles rippling, clutching sporadically at his invading flesh.

He moved suddenly, pressing his mouth to hers in a hard kiss while his fingers stopped thrusting, rubbing insistently over her g spot. With a muffled gasp and curse against his mouth, Sara’s back arched as ecstasy was released through her as she was once more pushed over the edge into climax.

“Damn, you’re beautiful when you’re coming on me. For me,” Grissom told her, his voice drenched in desire for the brunette lying gasping in his arms. “Need you,” he told her, letting the tip of his leaking cock rub against her thighs.

Sara gave a small nod of consent, too far gone now to form the words. Grissom pulled his hand away from her drenched box, both of them letting out a gasp at the slick sound it made. He moved his hand to her mouth, and watched in fascination as her tongue came out, cleaning him of her juices. They both let out a moan at the action, and Grissom slipped his finger out of her mouth to replace it with his tongue, tasting her flavour on her own.

“Love you. God, love you,” he chocked out, lips seeking hers once more.

“Need you,” came her whimpered response, and the not-so-subtle hip roll let him know exactly what she meant. Pulling back from her body slightly, Grissom reached between them to guide his throbbing length to her dripping centre.

Nudging forward, they both let out a gasp as the tip parted her, pushing into her tight box, her inner muscles clenching around him tightly, drawing him in further. Her heat flooded him, and his lips fell to hers in a harsh, desperate kiss. Sara’s hips tilted slightly, her long legs coming up to push him into her fully. When his head was pushed up against her cervix, they both groaned.

With one arm supporting him, he reached up and tugged off the blindfold. “I need to see you,” he told her, his voice strained.

Sara smiled back at him, blinking away the rest of the tears that had formed during the course of their encounter. With a quick, wicked grin, she pushed her hips up against his, the movement lodging the head of his prick up behind her cervix.

“Jesus!” came his harsh whimper, feeling her muscles tighten around him.

Slowly, he pulled back so just the head was inside, feeling her clench on him as he moved. With the same slowness, he pushed himself back in, feeling her muscles give at the intrusion of his hot dick.

Sara licked dry lips with a raspy tongue, the feel of him inside her one she was sure she would never forget. The way he slid, so slowly, perfectly into her clenching sheath, hitting all the right spots. The rhythm he kept was slow, but his thrusts were hard and deep, making her gasp each time he fully sheathed himself in her.

She could feel the slow build of her orgasm begin once more, increasing with every drop of sweat that formed on their bodies. Sara glanced down between them, watching as his strong thickness let her body, only to plunge in once more. The sight racked up her passion once more, her sudden orgasm catching them both off guard. Expecting him to finish, she was surprised when he held still, simply feeling her ripple and tug at his turgid length.

Feeling the rapid shocks fall so only a slight tremor was left to run through her from time to time, Grissom began to move once more. A glance at his face showed his eyes glazed over in passion; the light blue turned hazy, almost a deep royal blue as his desire raged inside him.

His heavy balls were pulled up tight to his body, a sure sign he was close.

“Let go, baby. Come for me,” Sara gasped, as he changed his angle slightly, letting his pubic bone hit her clit on each thrust. She knew what he was trying to do, but was unsure if her body was capable of giving another orgasm.

“It’s ok,” she told him, arching her pelvis to let him slip in easier.

“Just a little more,” Grissom gasped, straining to keep his pace even and not thrust into her madly like his body was crying out for him to do.

Sara nodded, relaxing as much as possible under his big frame as he relentlessly pushed into her. He began kissing her, trailing his mouth over every inch of flesh he could reach. When his lips met hers, she kissed him back, tightening her thighs against him, bringing him into full contact with her.

Grissom lost it. With a strangled moan, his rhythm faulted, and he started thrusting quicker into her, not baring to be parted from her heat. Sara responded to the shift, her muscles pulling him tightly. With a cry, Grissom let go, his come spurting deep into her depths, bathing her with his warmth. It was enough to send her off into yet another climax.

Regaining her breath, she found she had been released and was now curled up tightly in Grissom’s embrace.

“Mmmm.”

“Good?” he asked, a sated smile on his lips.

“Mmm-hmmm,” she yawned, snuggling up closer to his chest.

“Want me to get you a cloth?” he asked, despite trying to work out if he would be able to move.

“No. Sleep,” she told him, her voice petulant.

Grissom did smirk at that. After all, he was the one to wear her out.

“Ok. Love you.”

“Mmm,” Sara mumbled, already dropping off into the sleep of the truly sated.

Grissom smiled as he pulled the comforter over their bodies. Oh yes, revenge could be the sweetest of all desserts.

new fic. :D

Sun, 25 Nov 2007 00:19:04 GMT

Title: Dancing in the Dark
Author: Chibs_87
Rating: K
Genre: Um.. angst/romance/fluff?
Pairing: GSR
Length: 1422 words
Spoilers: 1.02, 8.07, 8.08
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: You can’t start a fire without a spark.

A/N: Title and summary comes from the awesomeness that is Bruce Springsteen, and totally used without his permission… And the title probably has nothing to do with the fic, but m’eh. So I was sitting in Starbucks, planning to write a revenge fic for those who want it… and um, this came out… which, well, isn’t smut. At all. Um, yeah… sorry. Muchos thanks to butterfliedgsr for the beta.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She had been gone for 4 months. He had counted. 92 days had passed since Judy had handed him the letter. The one that had managed something not even Natalie had done all those months ago when she had taken Sara; the letter had shattered him. He had read it so much it was ingrained in his brain along with obscure quotes from Shakespeare. 190 words (he’d counted them too) had made his heart cry out in anguish. He was certain others must have been able to hear it.

Catherine hadn't understood. Not really. He knew as soon as she asked him why he hadn't gone after her. If Sara wanted him with her, he wouldn’t have been left in the lab with the taste of her kiss on his breath and her letter in his hand. He took as much comfort in Sara’s brief contact as a dying man who had just been given the smallest lifeline. Her voice, chocked with tears, had been the sweetest sound he had ever heard.

Her contact had been sporadic over the last 4 months. He had her number but didn’t call. It was her journey she was on. It wouldn’t do for her to know how much he wasn’t coping with her absence. He wanted her to do this so she would be there to come home to him. As soon as she was back, he would be whole again.

It had been the previous day that had hit him the hardest. Which was stupid, really. Neither of them had been all that big on Valentines Day before. But he had had a sudden sense of loss this year when he had woken to find the warm body sharing the bed was simply Hank. The dog had become almost as depressed as he had, but was not stipulated by emotional shields and had let his feelings known to all.

2 weeks after she had left him, he had caved and stopped pushing the boxer to the floor at ‘night’. The added warmth had helped him get an hour more sleep, but ultimately his body was always aware his fairer half was not there.

He had worked last night. Valentines was always a busy shift. Scorned lovers, fights, break-ups, and there was always the cases where violence had broken out over a wrong gift, or a gift from the wrong person. The case he was working on was almost identical to one from 8 years previous.

A heart-broken jumper at the Monaco.

Supposedly.

As he waited for Nick to throw the 3 dummies from the roof, his mind flashed back to the day Sara had walked back into his life. The applauding crowd brought him back to the present. He never understood the fascination of watching people figure out puzzles. It was like watching someone complete a jigsaw puzzle from the sidelines.

As the last dummy landed at the base of the hotel, he walked to the first and took a photo.

“Norman Jumped,” he whispered to himself.

A shot of the second, and his voice came again, “Norman Pushed.”

He walked over to the last dummy, and voiced, “Norman Fell.”

“Wouldn’t you if you were married to Mrs. Roper?”

Great. His mind was paying tricks on him. Her voice, low and husky, surfaced from his memories, filling in the words she had spoken to announce her arrival into his life once more. This time, he didn’t turn around. She wasn’t there. Grissom gave a sigh, but before he could do more, his cell phone began to ring.

Sara was displayed on the caller ID, and he felt his heart skip a beat. The scene, the job, Vegas, faded from his thoughts, becoming focused on the small piece of metal and plastic in his hand.

“Grissom.”

“This is the part where you turn around,” her voice said in stereo.

He wanted to. More than take his next breath he wanted to turn around. But his feet refused to obey. The cell in his hand gave a click as she hung up. Before his heart could give out at the loss of contact with her, her voice came again.

“Come on. You remember what’s next. ‘I don’t even have to turn around…’” Her voice was there. Behind him. Light and teasing, as though the past eight years had never happened. And suddenly he was able to move. With almost slow precision, he turned his body, his feet following as an afterthought.

“Sara.” His voice was a whisper and a prayer and a plea all at once. His heart gave an almost painful thud when she graced him with a smile.

An honest to god, jaw breaking, gap showing Sara Sidle smile.

“That’s me.”

And then she was there in his arms, and he felt his heart explode with happiness. He drew her close to his body, pulling her tight to him, her name his mantra.

Nick found them that way 5 minutes later, having come down from the roof.

“Hey Griss, how’d our guy die?” he asked, before realising his boss’s attention was not on the scene. Probably had completely shut down, as he caught sight of what, rather who, he held in his arms. Before Nick could say anything, Grissom pulled back from the desperate embrace he had on the brunette before his lips fell on hers.

The kiss was hard and desperate, and if the way the two were clinging to each other was any indication, nowhere near enough, for either of them. When they paused to draw some much needed air into their lungs, Nick finally approached.

“Guys. Go. Take off. I’ll finish the case,” he told them, his own vision blurring at the sight of Sara; a happy glowing Sara at that. A small yelp from said brunette and the Texan suddenly found his arms of his boss’s girlfriend and his pseudo sister.

“Sar-” his voice cracked. “God Darlin’, are you a sight for sore eyes. But we’ll catch up later. You go be with your man right now,” he told her.

Sara gave a small smile before kissing him on the cheek. A movement behind him caught his attention, and Nick gave a startled gasp.

Sara gave a puzzled look at the Texan before turning to see what had caught his attention.

Grissom.

Pulling a chain from around his neck, it had been the twinkle given off as the sun hit the diamond that had caught the younger man’s attention.

Sara’s face beamed. There was no other word to describe it.

Reverently, Grissom approached Sara, taking her left hand in his while his right slid the band into place. Drawing her hand up to his lips, he laid a gentle, loving kiss on her hand, before looking up at her.

“Marry me.” It wasn’t a question, but she answered him anyway.

“Yes.”

“Today.”

“Ok.”

By this time, the crowd had realised this was more than the case solving exercise of minutes ago, and had began to murmur. When Grissom had produced the ring, a startled gasp had been emitted. It was that that had made Brass turn his attention from the crowd to the three criminologists.

His brain suddenly caught up… three?!

He did a double take, but yes, there were three of them. He slowly approached, but his eyes caught the ring before he could speak. Grissom spotted him first.

“Jim. You free for the next hour?”

“Yeah…”

“You want to be my best man?”

“Ok…”

“Good.”

Sara meanwhile had turned back to Nick. “Give me away, Nicky?” she asked in a small voice.

“You… are you sure?”

“You’re the best brother I’ve had,” she said in a whisper.

“Darlin’, I would be honoured.”

She smiled at him, before turning her attention to Grissom once more. What she was about to say was lost as she found herself wrapped tightly in the arms of Jim Brass.

She gave a startled squeak. “Jim. Air. Breathe!” she gasped out, pleased when the pressure lessened to allow her to draw breath.

An hour and a Justice of the Peace later, Gilbert and Sara Grissom shared their first kiss as a married couple.

Breaking apart, Sara lent into the embrace of her husband (and wasn’t that a mind trip; Gil Grissom was her HUSBAND!) and said, “So. Tell me about your case.”

Nick, standing just behind them, couldn’t help but laugh at that. Off her questioning look, he explained, “Only you Sara. Only you.”

Sara smiled in response. It was good to be home.

BRE: Chapter 6- Final Chapter

Thu, 22 Nov 2007 17:12:09 GMT

Title: Break Room Etiquette, Chapter 6: No PDAs.
Author: Chibs_87/chibiness87
Rating: T (one or two cuss words, nothing OTT)
Genre: Fluff/my warped humour.
Pairing: This chapter: GSR, JAR, Wedges.
Length: 1,646 words.
Disclaimer: Not mine. If they were, THIS would have been IN the show!
Spoilers: This chapter: 7.11LLV, 7.21LL, 7.23TGTBATD, 7.24LD, 8.01DD, 8.02A La Cart, 8.04CotCDC

A/N: I have a strong suspicion my fluff muse is in denial, but I really don’t have the heart to make her come out of it. Besides, I read somewhere (can think where though!) that CM said JF WILL be back. Once again, muchos thanks to butterfliedgsr for the beta. Also, apparently it’s Thanksgiving State-side today, so I’m posting this a day early for ya’ll. :-)

~~~~~~~

Previous Chapters:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5

Chapter 6: No PDAs!

Catherine stopped in the doorway to the break room and performed a rather good impression of a goldfish. Seeing her posture, Greg and Warrick hurried to their friend, worried about what could be the cause of her reaction. Upon seeing it, they too were left speechless, mouths gawking.

There was no way they were seeing what was actually happening. It was just a figment of the imagination. The myths surrounding shared mirages were obviously solved, because if they were seeing what was obviously NOT happening it would cause serious brain disturbance. It would be like watching Sara and Grissom making out. No. obviously someone was acting as Wendy and Hodges, having a private moment. Not fighting. No impeding death. But hugging. Honest to god holding each other, total calm on their faces.

Wendy. Hodges. Wendy. Hodges. The three CSIs in the doorway gave a shudder in unison. A passer-by who had not seen the event in the break room would most likely find that amusing, but those aware of the couple, couple!, would most likely be shuddering along with them.

Sara found her former team mates and Catherine still impersonating fish a few minutes later. Silently, she observed them from slightly down the hallway. It was nice to see the guys again. Her cast had been removed a week ago now, and she was trying to get back into the full swing of things, balancing work with her home life; something she had found out in the hospital the night shift were now aware of.

It was nice to know that while she was fighting to get out from under the car and survive the harsh desert, her significant other was blurting out their relationship, one they had managed to keep quiet for over 2 years, to the team. Really. What was with that?! Even when he had been on the other side of the country and she had thrown herself into work to escape the utter SILENCE at home, they hadn't guessed.

Actually, that wasn’t quite true. Brass had worked it out. But that had been more by sheer luck than smarts. He had let himself into the townhouse to feed Grissom’s bugs, only to be met by a startled yelp and a 50lb boxer. It had been pointless to deny they were together; after all, Grissom really wasn’t the type to have throw cushions on the new couch. So. Brass knew.

And he had managed to keep the knowledge to himself, something that had actually surprised her. He had admitted, guiltily, that he had almost slipped when Catherine had asked him about Grissom’s relationship with Heather, but a nice new dead body helped him hold his tongue.

So now she was finally back, no cast, and ready to work. She had argued, pleaded and begged Grissom to let her work; after all, there was only so many times one clean a house without going crazy. He had grudgingly agreed, and she had realised then it was her move to swing that was causing the problem.

In her mind, it had been the easy and right choice. Yes, it meant less time together at home, and they didn’t see each other as much at work, but it meant the guys stayed together. She didn’t want them to have to get used to a new supervisor just because she was with Grissom. She had a new outlook now, aware that every moment together was precious, and how quickly it could all change.

Feeling she had watched the others long enough, Sara finally made her presence known.

“What are we watching?” she asked in a whisper, causing Greg to jump.

“Look,” he told her, pointing into the room.

Glancing in, she saw Wendy and Hodges were still hugging. It was… oddly sweet, she decided.

“What of it?” she asked.

“It’s Wendy and Hodges!” Catherine hissed, clearly bemused at the latest development.

“Yes. Your skills of observation are as sharp as always,” came Grissom’s voice from behind her. Sara hid a smile as his hand subtly ran over her hip. “Is there a reason you are blocking the hall?” he asked, as he made his way past them on his way to his office. “Or are you thinking of changing careers to statues?” came his parting jibe.

Catherine huffed, pulled herself together and started down the hall as if she owned it to the A/V lab.

Sara passed a laughing smile to Grissom, whose own mouth tightened at the corner, but his eyes were laughing with her. A muttered “See ya,” was offered from the guys as they too left to get to their evidence. Sara mouthed a “Later,” before entering the break room.

“Hey guys,” she greeted the couple that had been oblivious to the last 5 minutes.

Wendy and Hodges leapt apart from each other as if they had been shocked.

“Sara! I…uh… we…”

Sara interrupted her before she could continue. “Relax. Been there. Hell, still there. You guys have nothing to worry about from me. I'm happy for ya,” she told them, grabbing a soda from the fridge. Gulping the contents, she threw the empty can to the trash can, giving herself a mental high-5 when it landed in its target.

“Later!” she called cheerfully over her shoulder as she left the room, leaving two confused lab techs in her wake.

~~~~~~

Nick stood in the doorway of the break room, doing a great impression of a goldfish. If one was to compare his expression with that of Catherine, Warrick and Greg the day before, there would not be much difference.

Seeing him gawking, Greg mentally prepared himself for what he may see in the room. A quick glance later showed him it was the same as yesterday. Well, same, but different. Instead of Wendy and Hodges, it was instead Judy and Archie.

Apparently the lab was becoming the poster child for inter-office-romances.

Not wanting to cause the same kind of scene as yesterday, Greg nudged the Texan out of his stupor.

“Did you know about them?” Nick asked as the two made their way down the halls. “I mean, I’d expect Wendy and Hodges were together before them.”

Greg blanched. “Um… I think they are…” he stated, his mind flashing back to the scene of the day before; Wendy and Hodges hugging.

“Man. And we’re meant to be investigators!” nick exclaimed. “I mean, Sara and Grissom hiding a relationship I can get, you know? They’re trained to find clues, not hard to flip it on its head to hide them. But Judy and Archie? And Wendy and HODGES?!”

Greg nodded solemnly, “And here I thought the unwritten rule of no PDA was a joke…” he mused.

Nick nodded in agreement as the two made their way to the ballistics lab.

~~~~~~

It was the lab techs who were imitating a fish the following night. Catherine was working late, meaning she was still around when the guys on Grave got in. Hopefully she would be able to wrap the case up that night; multiple days of overtime were getting too much for her these days.

Coming up to the unsuspecting group of lab techs, she had a strong suspicion her results were still pending, if they had been started at all. Before she could open her mouth to ask what was going on, the boys of the night shift came to a stop outside the break room from the other direction. Passing glances over the heads of the techs, they all shrugged, none of them understanding what the spectacle was.

Not one to stand back, Catherine pushed her way to the front of the gawking techs, only to join in the fish expressions around her.

When Grissom had announced, almost casually, that Sara was the only person he would ever love, she had been shocked. Oh, she had known he had been attracted to her. Heck, everyone but him knew it. But despite everything, she had never once thought he would act on his feelings.

The way he had looked right then, sheer, utter ANGUISH in his eyes, she knew he had. And it wasn’t recent. Suddenly events from the pervious few weeks made sense. Sara’s curiosity of Heather. Brass’s cryptic statement of knowing something better than Grissom’s relationship with the dominatrix. Everything fell into place.

Sudden guilt had flooded her. She had answered Sara without knowledge of her relationship with Grissom. And had run her mouth. A lot. She could only hope the damage she had caused the relationship was minimal. It took them too long to find each other for her mouth to ruin it. As soon as they found her, she would apologise.

And when she had visited Sara, battered, bruised, but alive, she had done so. And had been forgiven. Again. The amount of mercy in the younger woman hit Catherine’s heart. She didn’t want to think what would have happened if she had died in the desert.

Thankfully, for all of them, she hadn't. Proof was standing before her eyes, as she watched one of her oldest friends kiss Sara Sidle senseless, right there in the break room at the lab, in plain sight.

Hell must have frozen over without her knowledge, and pigs sprouted wings.

Common sense finally kicked in. if Ecklie or the sheriff came to the lab and saw them, they would be out of a job faster than you could say “Fired!” Hell, it was a miracle they were still on shift after being together for so long.

“GRISSOM!”

Reluctantly, Sara and Grissom separated. They turned to the doorway to see all the techs and their teams stood in the doorway, mouths flapping silently.

Well, almost all.

“GRISSOM!” Catherine’s shrill came again.

“What?”

Silence.

“You called, no, yelled my name. What is it you want, Catherine?”

Silence.

“Honey,” Gil said from beside Sara, “I think she meant me.”

LE FIN!!

A/N2: Thanks to everyone who stuck through the madness. Your comments always mean a lot to me. If anyone has any ideas of other rules to break, don’t hesitate to say… I’ll see what I can do. :-)

BRE: Chapter 5

Wed, 21 Nov 2007 11:48:01 GMT

Title: Break room Etiquette
Author: Chibs_87
Rating: T for a couple of light cuss words, nothing OTT
Genre: Fluff/Humour
Pairing: Eventual GSR
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Spoilers: Mea Culpa, Nesting Dolls, Leaving Las Vegas, Redrum

A/N: This chapter goes kinda OOC… but m’eh, it was high time one of them did. Lol. Thanks to butterfliedgsr for her awesome betaness.

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5: No hogging the game station

It was Catherine who noticed her mood first. For the past year and a half, Sara had been happy. About the same time, the underlying feud between her and Grissom, which everyone knew about even if no-one had the nerve to ask about, had ended. From months, maybe a year of avoiding working with her alone on cases, he had suddenly paired himself almost exclusively with Sara. When Ecklie had split the team, he eventually started letting her work with others, even letting her work on swing on occasion.

Of course, that move hadn't ended in the best of ways; the fight in the hallway, in front of Ecklie of all people, and her following suspension. Although that incident showed her how far Gil had come in the game of politics. He not only took the blame for Sara, but called Ecklie’s bluff when he had threatened to fire him. It seemed her emotionally stunted friend was not completely unaware of his powerful position in the lab. If they needed to, she knew Ecklie and the sheriff would bend over backwards to keep Gil Grissom on their pay-roll. He brought too much money and respect to the lab for them to lose him without a fight.

That’s why, a month ago, they had agreed to let him take a 4 week sabbatical, teaching a seminar at Williams collage, Massachusetts. Everyone could tell the miniature serial killer had been getting to him. His migraines had been coming fast and furious of late, where at one time he had suffered from one or two a year.

His method of informing the team had been fairly typical; he had left it to the last minute. In fact, his manner had seemed somewhat familiar; it was the same as when he had told her over 3 years ago he was going in for surgery. She didn’t know when or if he had told the rest of the team, or if they had figured it out for themselves. But that was then, this was now. And right now Grissom was on the other side of the country, with another 2 weeks of his sabbatical remaining.

As much as she was happy he was taking the break he obviously needed, she was becoming worried about the other female member of the night shift. Sara had started reverting to her old ways, the ones she had shown all those years ago when she had first moved to Vegas. She had started working more overtime. In fact, in the last 2 weeks she had put in as much OT as she had in total in the past 2 months.

Her smile, which had become almost common place, had waned, and become a tight no-joy line if it appeared at all. There had been a faint revival of it for a few hours a couple of days ago, the same day she had sported a package, but as quickly as it came it had disappeared once more.

She suspected it had something to do with the absence of one entomologist, but even she was not stupid enough to challenge Sara on that. If there was something worth knowing, she was sure she would know it. But first, she had to stop Sara walking around like someone had killed her dog. Entering the break room, her eyes fell on the perfect distraction. After the reverse forensics deal she and Mike Keppler had pulled, she had tried to prove to the team she was trustworthy. So far she had managed to make up with everyone but Sara.

Speaking of her estranged colleague, Catherine turned as Sara came into the room.

“Hey,” she greeted the younger woman.

“Hi,” was the tired response.

“You ok?”

“Fine. I'm fine Cath.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I'm just…” Sara trailed off, waving her hand apologetically when words failed her.

“You know what you need? A distraction.”

Sara hid the wince at her words. Grissom had been telling her that for years. Something to keep her mind off all the cases that caused the most heartache. 4 ½ years after his first warning, she had finally found the perfect one. Unfortunately, her distraction was currently over 1000 miles away, teaching a seminar.

“Sara?”

“Huh? Sorry Cath. I zoned out. What did you say?”

“I asked, do you want a game?” Catherine repeated, nodding towards the game station plugged into the TV.

“Isn't that Nick’s?” Sara asked, dubiously.

“Think so. But he’s not using it right now, is he?” Catherine pointed out.

“True.”

A small smile began to form at the corner of Sara’s mouth. She had often wondered what all the fuss was about over the game station. Nick had hooked up a Nintendo shortly after her arrival in Vegas, and it was a fairly common scene to walk in and find him and Warrick, and/or Greg, competing in one game or another. After a couple of weeks, Sara had realised the only games were sports related; more often than not involving NFL.

She had watched with feigned disinterest as Nick trounced his opposition in all the matches he played and she assumed he had another game console at home with which to practice. She had eventually found out he did, however the method by which she had had left a lot to be desired. She could only imagine how unsettling it had been for her pseudo-brother to be stalked.

When he had moved house a few weeks later, she had bought him a new game station as a house-warming gift, a PS2 this time. Nick had been flattered, and had eventually replaced the battered Nintendo in the break room with it, buying an X-box 360 for his house.

New tournaments had been set up, and when the shift had been split, Sara had often come into work to find the guys staying late, playing as an excuse to have at least a little time with their old team.

But throughout the years, there had always been an unwritten rule regarding the game station: Nick had to be present, if not on it, to use it. Catherine was challenging her to play it; no Nick in sight. It was just the kind of thing she needed, Sara decided.

The small smile grew as Sara moved to inspect the games available. With the passing of years, he offering of games had increased. True, there were still abundant sports games, but there were now also puzzle games, and racing games. It was one such game that caught Sara’s attention. Picking up the case, she held it out to the older woman.

“Burnout 2 huh?” she asked.

“You get credit for driving dangerously.” Sara explained, having seen Nick and Warrick play it fairly recently.

“And we both know what our driving is like,” Catherine added, a smile forming on her own face.

Plucking the disc from the case, Sara inserted it into the machine, adding a series of key taps when it was loading up. Off Catherine’s puzzled look, Sara sheepishly said, “Archie provided Nick with a cheat code to get all the cars and tracks without having to earn them. There’s other things too, like making your car invincible to damage so you don’t lose points and all that.”

“Uh-huh. And you know this because…”

“I happened to be in the room when he mentioned it. You know what my brain is like for retaining knowledge,” Sara said, giving a small self-conscious shrug.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. It came in useful, didn’t it?” Catherine pointed out.

Sara nodded, setting up a track and cars for them to control.

“X is go. Square is stop. Arrows steer,” Sara provided, as the screen loaded up.

Catherine smirked. “You ready to lose?” she asked in a challenging tone.

“I’ll ask you how it feels when I beat you!” came Sara’s reply.

The race began, and Sara proceeded to show she was serious when she said she was going to beat Catherine. Comments flew between them as the virtual cars raced round the streets of a virtual city. They didn’t realise just how loud they were commentating until Nick strode into the room, Warrick and Greg on his heels. They guys stopped and stared at the 2 females as they battered for dominance of the race.

When Sara won by the smallest of margins, she threw her hands up in triumph.

“So, how does it feel to lose, Cath?” she asked, a broad smile on her face.

“Pah. Fluke. Rematch!” Catherine demanded, only then realising they were no longer alone in the break room when a snigger caught her attention. The two women shared a guilty look with each other, before turning to face the 3 guys in the doorway.

“Don’t mind us…” Nick said, feigning hurt for not being present for the whole race. “It’s only my game…” he added, holding his smirk in at the guilty expressions on the women.

“Nick…” Sara started, trying to diffuse the situation before there was a situation.

“Nope. You have broken one of the sacred rules!” he claimed, planning on milking the situation as much as possible.

“I’m sorry. But you weren’t around…” Catherine tried. “Look, why don’t we have a small face off? It’s a slow night.”

“I don’t know…”

Before an argument could break out over the merits of playing a face off, the situation was resolved by a small bang from down the corridor. There was just enough time for the team to exchange startled glances with each other before the power went out.

From down the hallway, they heard Mike Keppler give a startled yell as the emergency lighting flicked on.

“DAMMIT HODGES!!”

A/N2: So one more chapter to go in this series. Thanks to everyone who’s reviewed so far. You guys make my day a little brighter. :-)

BRE: Chapter 4

Sun, 18 Nov 2007 22:15:24 GMT

Title: Break room Etiquette: Chapter 4: No completing the crossword.
Author: Chibs_87
Rating: T for a couple of light cuss words, nothing OTT
Genre: Fluff/Humour
Pairing: Eventual GSR
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Spoilers: None for this chapter.

A/N: Thanks once more to butterfliedgsr for being such an awesome beta.

Previous Chapters
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3

Chapter 4: No completing the crossword.

It had been a long shift, and all Grissom wanted to do was sit in the break room for 20 minutes, relax, and do the crossword in the paper. Pouring himself a cup of the sludge the department laughably called coffee, he made a note to himself to track down Greg at some point soon and ask him to crack out the Blue Hawaiian.

If he refused, (which was entirely possible, and wouldn’t be the first time the lab-rat turned CSI stood up to him regarding the finesse of the coffee), Grissom would simply say it was in his and his pay check/holiday allowance interest to let him have a cup. And if that failed, well, he wasn’t above blackmail. Decomps didn’t solve themselves, after all.

Adding sugar to make the sludge at least passing for palatable, he sat down at the table, pulling the crossword towards him. Taking his glasses out of his pocket and sliding them onto his face, he was shocked to see the crossword puzzle had already been filled in. Not just the odd clue. The entire puzzle was finished.

His eyes widened in shock. Someone had filled in HIS crossword puzzle. Everyone, EVERYONE knew he did the crosswords. It was one of the unwritten rules of the break room. No-one did the crossword puzzle unless Grissom had specifically said it was up for grabs. Either that or if the paper was more than 2 days old. If that was the case, wither he was too busy, or had filled out the crossword at home in his own paper.

A quick glance at the date on this issue showed it was the paper from that night. More specifically, the one he himself had brought to work, should he get 10 minutes to take a break.

Someone had filled out his crossword. Someone was going to be on decomp duty for a month. The investigator in him took over. Realising breaking out his new batch of Red Creeper to print the paper was slightly over the top, he began to think logically over who could have filled in the puzzle while he was sitting, completely unaware, in his office, tackling the mountain of paperwork that he had been putting off for way too long.

Ok. First thing to do was work out who had access to the break room that night. Nick was immediately dismissed as a suspect. It had been his night off, and unless he had come in on his own accord, he wouldn’t have had any knowledge the paper was here. But he dismissed that idea from his mind. Nick had been gushing to anyone and everyone who would listen, or even if they wouldn’t, about the woman he was planning on taking out that night. So no, not Nick.

He thought over the assignments from the night. Both Sara and Greg had been solo, and Warrick had been paired with Catherine at a double homicide out on the border of Clark County. Their scene was at least a 2 hour drive from the lab, and it was unlikely they had finished processing and gotten back to the lab yet.

So that left Sara, Greg, and all the lab-techs on tonight, as well as anyone else who had dropped by. Leaving the current bane of his life sitting at the table and picking up the mug of sludge, he set off in search of Judy. Out of all the people in the lab, she would be the one to know if anyone had paid the lab a visit that night.

Finding her sitting quietly at the desk of the main entrance to the lab, he smiled quietly to himself. He would get to the bottom of this. He would.

“Judy.”

“Hi Mr. Grissom. Something I can help you with?” she asked, confused at the sudden attention.

“I was just wondering. Did anyone stop by the lab tonight? Not scheduled?”

“Um… give me a second to check,” she told him, giving a small confused smile. After a minute, she looked up at him. “No sir. It’s just your shift. Why? Is something wrong?”

“No. No everything’s fine. Thanks Judy.”

“Sure Mr. Grissom. Glad I could help.” She watched as he turned and headed back to the inner walls of the lab. Giving herself a small shake, she reminded herself not to worry about his strange manner. It was Grissom after all. Who knew how his brain worked sometimes?

Unaware of the scrutiny, Grissom returned to his office to think. So. Not Nick, Warrick or Catherine. Or was he jumping the gun too much with the last 2? Even with an approximate four hour round trip, it still left them 5 hours to process the scene. There was a chance, providing the scene was an easy one, they had been out, processed and had gotten back to the lab by now.

Only one way to find out. Fishing his cell phone out, he speed-dialled Catherine’s cell, waiting for his friend to answer.

“Hey Gil.” He cringed. Catherine’s tone was sugary sweet. A sure sign she was pissed at something or someone. And he had just placed himself in her perfect line of fire.

“Catherine. Just calling to see how your case is coming,” Grissom said, hoping the professional aspect to his query would diffuse her slightly. No such luck.

“Well. Warrick and I finally got to the scene 6 hours ago. The directions dispatch gave you were completely bogus. Then the scene was a complete mess. Seems every cop and paramedic and their brother has walked through it at some point before we got here. David was late because his van broke down, and we’ve only just finished processing. And now we have a 2 hour drive back to the lab. So how do you think the case is going?!”

“I’m sorry to hear that Cath. Tell you what, when you get back to the lab, just log everything in and take the next shift off if you want. Spend some time with Lindsay.”

Catherine suddenly became suspicious. “Thanks. Why?!”

Grissom sighed. “Because I’m well aware what happens when you don’t have time to decompress after long processes. Believe me, I'm doing this for me as much as I am for you,” he told her.

Catherine couldn’t help the smirk at that. “Ok. I’ll see. We’re heading out now. Later Gil.”

“Bye.” He hung up. Ok. So neither Warrick nor Catherine was not the culprit. So. Lab techs, Sara, and Greg.

“Hey Archie,” Grissom greeted as he walked into the A/V lab.

“Hey Grissom. I've almost finished going over the video footage for Sara’s DB.”

“Anything probative?”

“I got something. Give me about another hour and I’ll have it all synched up.”

“How long you been on this?”

“Coming up 6 hours. Tapes were one of the first things I got to tonight.”

“Ok. Good work, Archie,” Grissom said, leaving him to it.

Walking down the halls, he saw the multitude of test tubes in both Trace and DNA, with harried looking techs to boot. Passing the print lab, he again narrowed his suspect list. Mandy had a pile of prints on her desk. And from the grimace she gave when she stood up straight she had been there for a while.

So. Most likely not the lab techs. Besides, he had heard a rumour they were afraid of him. There was no way they would risk upsetting him by doing his crossword puzzle. And from the looks of things they hadn't stopped all night. Which left him with Sara and Greg.

Of the two, he was edging towards Sara. She could have a quote war with him for nights on end if she wanted to. Who knew how knowledgeable she really was? And it wasn’t like she was afraid of him, unlike others. He could still remember Greg telling him in the past he made him nervous.

Sara.

“SARA!”

“Yeah? What’s up Griss?”

“Did you finish my crossword?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

“No…” she told him, a curious tone hinting in her voice. “Why?”

“You sure?”

“Griss, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly.

Apparently too quickly, when she replied, “Yeah. And I'm a monkey’s uncle. What were you saying about your crossword?”

“Someone filled it in.”

“NO! My god. Who would do such a thing?!” Her tone was leaking sarcasm. When he failed to say anything more, Sara continued, “Oh wait. You think I would do your crossword puzzle?!”

“Did you?”

“What? No! I've been in the garage processing my vic’s car for the past 2 hours, and before that I was at my scene.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah! If you don’t believe me check with Brass. He was with me the whole time I was out there.”

“No. It’s ok. I trust you. If you say it wasn’t you, it wasn’t.”

“Let me see the crossword?”

“Ok. Sure. Here.” He passed it across to her, and sat back as her eyes ran over the filled out crossword. He would see her crease her brow every so often, and he guessed she was checking the filled out answers with the clues given.

“You know… whoever did this is pretty good. The clues are kind of tough for your everyday newspaper.”

“I know. That’s why I like it. So, any ideas?”

“Ask Greg.”

“Greg? Why him?” he asked, surprised she had brought up the one remaining person on his list without checking with others.

“Simple,” she replied, “it’s his handwriting.” She gave him a small smirk, before leaving him to stew over the new information. His head turned in her direction when he heard her call out to the person who was now suspect numero uno on his list.

“Greg. Griss wants to see you. Said it was kinda urgent.”

“Yeah? Where is the boss-man?”

“Break room last I knew. What you do? Finish his crossword?” Oh, she was good. Her asking him would seem like friendly banter.

“Greeeg?”

“I… uh…”

“Oh my god… you did, didn’t you? You actually broke the unwritten rule.”

“Maybe. Man… how bad is it?”

“Damage control. If you don’t it’ll be decomps.”

One day, Grissom vowed, he was going to ask her how she knew him so well. He heard a sigh, most likely from Greg, before Sara continued.

“Just so you know? You did good. I'm impressed with your knowledge.”

Apparently that had cheered him up, as he entered the break room positively beaming. Damn Sara for her kindness. Now he was going to have to completely downplay everything he had been geared up to say or look like the world’s biggest jackass. Over a crossword puzzle, of all things.

“Grissom? You wanted to see me?”

“Greg.”

“This is about that crossword thing, isn't it?”

“Why? Have you done something else I should know about?”

“No. Just making sure.”

“You know, it if were any other crossword, I would be impressed with your grasp of general knowledge and cryptic clue solving.”

“Any other?”

“Why, out of all the crossword puzzles in all the world, did you do mine?”

“I'm sorry. Look, I didn’t know it was yours. If I had, no way would I have touched it. But I figured it wasn’t because the clues seemed kinda simple. I figured it had been left over from a pervious shift. I promise, it won’t happen again.”

Grissom sighed. There really was no point in assigning him decomps. It was only a crossword puzzle. “Ok Greg. Just, don’t do it again, ok?”

“Sure. No problem.”

The next night Grissom sat down with a cup of Blue Hawaiian Greg had made him as a thank you for not assigning him any decomps, and slid the days newspaper towards him. Only to see neatly filled in squares. His yell could be heard throughout the lab, causing people to stop what they were doing for a minute and wonder what he had done this time.

“GREG!”

The fic i told myself i'd never write

Fri, 16 Nov 2007 18:01:39 GMT

Title: Genesis
Author: Chibs_87/chibiness87
Rating: High T
Genre: Angst. CD.
Pairing: GSR
Length: 1632 words
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Spoilers: Anything and everything is up for grabs…
Summary: On the seventh day, he rested.

A/N: The fic I promised myself I would never write. My smut muse and fluff muse are in ICU right now. I promise I have the best muse doctors on their case. Not beta’d.

~~~~~~

On the first day, God created Heaven and Earth

~~~~~~.

He had been brought up Catholic. Learning about Heaven and Hell, and purgatory and guilt. For, it seemed, a catholic could never have too much guilt.

Prayers formed an essential part of each day. Before meals. Before bed. Prayers of hope. Prayers for forgiveness.

God was very forgiving, after all.

Repent meant going to heaven when you died.

A good place.

A place of beauty.

The Monday he met her, he gave up being catholic.

Either that or he had died.

Heaven was the crinkle in her brow when she was thinking.

Heaven was the gap in her teeth.

Heaven was the way she looked asleep; sprawled out on the couch.

It was the way her socks never matched, how she was NOT a morning (evening) person, how her hair curled (Frizzed, she insisted, Frizzed!) with a drop of moisture.

God created Heaven, but Sara Sidle personified it.

~~~~~~

On the second day, God created day and night.

~~~~~~

He worked the night shift.

There was something about the urges of man that seemed to make the shift more bearable.

Everything was clear in the light of day.

He preferred confusion.

It was the best place for a scientist to be.

Vegas had its own set of rules.

There was a reason it was known as the City of Sin.

Sin in the desert.

Jesus survived temptation in the desert for 40 days and 40 nights.

Sin in the place of temptation.

Irony worked like that.

Holly Gribbs was shot on a Monday.

He prayed for help.

Prayed for forgiveness.

Prayed for heaven.

Sara Sidle came to Vegas on a Tuesday.

~~~~~~

On the third day, God created land and seas and plants.

~~~~~~

She threatened to quit on a Wednesday.

A form was sitting on his desk at the end of shift.

He wanted to leave it for the night, but the scrawl of her handwriting stopped him.

It was the title of the form that made his blood run cold.

He wanted her to stay.

When she mentioned the Feds, his heart lurched.

Feds got it wrong.

He should know.

He was confused.

For once not in a good way.

He needed her here.

But to admit that was to admit to other things.

And he couldn’t do that.

So he tried personification.

But she didn’t get it.

It was Catherine who made him realise what an idiot he was.

One day, she would be wrong.

He was waiting for that day.

A phone call to the local florists later and he wondered if he would ever understand women.

His initial assessment was no.

It was confirmed later that day when he got to work.

She was sitting in the break room, her plant beside her, and a smile at the corner of her mouth.

The first he had seen in a while.

Women, he decided, were a strange people.

Because, somehow, the plant convinced her to stay.

~~~~~~

On the fourth day, God created the Sun and the sky and the Moon and the Stars

~~~~~~

The car broke down in desert on a Thursday.

It was typical, he decided.

The one day he actually wanted to get away from shift on time, and he was stuck in the desert.

She was sitting on the hood of the Denali, her face to the stars.

He wondered if she had ever been stargazing before.

You couldn’t see the stars in Vegas. The neon lights blocking their natural beauty from the sight.

But nothing was stopping the natural beauty before him look at the stars in wonder.

She was standing before him, then.

Pulling on his hand, dragging him from inside the car to join her on the hood.

He pointed out the constellations he could identify.

She pointed out the “Big Pineapple.”

He was laughing then, the sound shocking her.

And then she was joining in.

They spent the 3 hours waiting on AAA naming shapes.

Clouds were absent, but stars made do.

That night, something changed.

To this day, he didn’t know what.

~~~~~~

On the fifth day, God created birds and fish.

~~~~~~

He took her to a carnival on a Friday.

They had been doing, whatever it was they were doing, for 6 months.

6 months since a crazy man held a piece of pot to her throat.

Only to cut his own.

While Grissom could do nothing but stand by and watch.

So.

This is what hell felt like.

He did something then he hadn't done in the 5 years she had been in Vegas.

He prayed.

For forgiveness.

For her.

For heaven.

And then she was free. Gasping for breath, pushing everyone away, but ALIVE.

And something in him snapped.

Because Heaven was supposed to be safe and beautiful, not held at knifepoint by a crazy rapist.

And now here he was, with her, at a carnival.

A ring toss game later, and she held a fish in her hand.

She had laughed at him then.

Laughed some more.

And kissed him.

He smiled at her.

Licked his lips, still tasting her breath.

And asked her to move in.

~~~~~~

On the sixth day, God created beasts and cattle and man and woman.

~~~~~~

She found him on a Saturday.

He had been back from Williams for 3 days when she heard the noise coming from the back yard.

They had tensed, but before he could do anything, she was already outside.

20 minutes later, they had found the source.

One look at her face, and he knew the dog would be with them for a long time.

A bowl of water was by his head, and he lapped at it gustily while she ran her hands over his flank.

A high pitched whine told him the dog was injured.

Blankets were fetched then.

And warm water.

Clean clothes to wash the deep gash.

The dog watched her with soulful eyes, but let her tend to him.

A phone call later, and the local vet was on his way.

Paperwork.

But forms he wanted this time.

The baseball fan in him won over everything else they suggested.

Hank was part of their family.

It was on that day he finally realised how much she meant to him.

When he paused mid sentence, she looked at him, worried.

He kissed her then.

And told her he loved her.

~~~~~~

On the seventh day, he rested.

~~~~~~

The day he lost her, he lost himself.

Strange how he didn’t know he was her until she was gone.

He waited for her to come back.

To Vegas.

To the lab.

To him.

After the first week had passed, he stopped looking up at his office door every 5 seconds, expecting her to be leaning against the door frame, like old times.

But her favourite juice was still in the fridge.

And some of her clothes were still in the closest.

The locket he had given her was gone, as was a few of his shirts.

He scent lingered in their house.

The dog looked up expectantly every time he came home.

He knew how he felt.

Home wasn’t home without her.

The first month went by, and life became routine.

Wake, wash, dress, feed dog. Feed himself, work, bureaucratic paper bullshit, home. Walk dog, eat, wash, sleep.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

The anniversary of his proposal, and her voice on his answer machine.

His name. And “I love you.” And a sorry.

He kept the tape.

The second year went faster than the first.

Until Jim was shot.

Again.

This time fatal.

He thought he saw her in the background of the funeral.

A blink later, and she was gone.

Work. Work. Work some more.

Greg had Hank now.

It was too painful for him to see the dog every day.

Brown eyes too much like hers.

5 years after she left him with a kiss and a letter, Nick was attacked at a scene.

And never woke up.

This time, he watched for her at the funeral.

Nick had been a brother to her.

She was there. He could feel it.

But didn’t approach.

It was her choice.

His heart broke again as she turned and walked away.

A letter was on his desk the next shift.

He was really beginning to hate that form of communication.

Catherine and Warrick were leaving.

Too many memories.

Too many hours watching him die a little each day.

He sighed, and let them go.

Greg stuck by him.

Until one day he was gone.

Blink and you miss it.

Explosions were like that.

10 years after she left, he was the only one still there.

There was no cake in the break room the day he quit.

No goodbye party.

Good.

He was never the social one anyway.

15 years after she left him broken, she came back.

She didn’t cry at the service.

That was what struck him the most.

She listened as people he had never paid any attention to talk about him.

The good, never the bad.

Then it was over. And the people left.

The thud as the first shovel of dirt hit the pine, and her shoulders tensed.

It was only when his coffin was fully covered did she let a single tear slide.

He waited for her for 7 years.

It seemed fitting, somehow.

She came to him, and they watched as Catherine scattered her ashes off the Golden Gate Bridge.

~~~~~~

He met her and redefined Heaven on a Monday.

She started working the night shift with him on a Tuesday.

He sent her a plant on a Wednesday.

She dragged him stargazing on a Thursday.

He won her a fish on a Friday.

She brought the dog home on a Saturday.

They both rested on a Sunday.

BRE: Chapter 3: No Ball Games

Fri, 16 Nov 2007 15:20:27 GMT

A/N: Thanks to butterfliedgsr for the beta once again. Posting this earlier than I planned to, because after yesterday I know I’ve been trying to find as many fluff/humour fics as I can…

Previous Chapters:

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3: No Ball Games

The first thing people noticed about her that night was her mood. Where she had been chipper, no, actually happy, for the last few months, she was now walking down the halls like hell itself was on her heels. Lab techs who usually tried to subtly flirt with her gave her the results she was after with straight demeanour; the unspoken theme: Sara Sidle was pissed off.

The second thing people noticed about her that night was her appearance. After the first year or so working in Vegas, Sara had stopped wearing much make up. If you were to look closely, it may have been possible to detect the complimentary lip gloss and eye shadow she wore, but beyond that her appearance was fairly natural.

Compared with Catherine, some people would say she was fairly plain. But if you knew the woman in question, that opinion was squashed. While Catherine dressed to show off her female sexuality, Sara Sidle did the exact opposite. She dressed for work, not looks. In her early days of working, back when she had been the “newbie”, people had asked her why. She had told them to process a scene for 7 hours in heels and a skirt, and see how they felt after it. Practicality won over looks with Sara. Every time.

But Sara was blessed with a natural beauty. Her tall stature, which on some would make them look lanky, but she had the muscle tone to pull it off. Defined cheek bones accentuated her eyes and mouth, and when she smiled widely her diastema gave it an added spark.

Today, she had dressed in her usual work attire; slacks and sleeveless vet top, but her facial make up was much more pronounced. The reason behind the extra layers of concealer was evident surrounding her left eye. As much as the concealer and foundation could hide spots and blemishes, dark purple bruising was another matter entirely.

For once, Sara was being looked at in a way she had learned to recognise and hate as a child. A look directed to her mother on too many occasions. The look of pity and worry shown to battered women everywhere. Hell, she was getting more sympathetic looks in 24 hours than Nick had in the months that had followed his traumatic experience of being buried alive in the desert.

Storming into the break room, she all but threw herself down into the sofa. Greg, who had been sitting at the table on his own break, wordlessly stood and poured her a cup of coffee. Approaching her slightly cautiously, he held it out to her.

“It’s from my stash…” he tried, when Sara simply looked at him.

Giving herself a mental shake, she gave the younger man a small smile. “Thanks, Greg,” she offered, reaching out to take to cup from him.

Greg gave a small smile of his own, before sitting back down.

Sara sipped at the hot brew, letting the taste seep into her and attempted to draw her bad mood away. Greg inwardly cheered to himself, pleased he had managed to cheer his friend up slightly. That cheering and Sara’s good mood disappeared with the next person to enter the break room.

Giving Sara a tentative smile, Nick went to inspect her eye, only to be brushed aside when she stood and stormed from the room.

Nick sighed. It wasn’t like he wasn’t to blame, after all…

24 hours earlier

It had been a slow shift. Nick and Warrick had paired on a apparent suicide case in Henderson. Once they had arrived at the scene they determined no foul play had occurred, and for once the apparent suicide was an actual suicide. They had gone through the motions anyway, just to make sure. Lifting prints off the pill box, Mandy had confirmed they belonged to their vic, and when Archie cracked the password on the PC they found a suicide note. Showing their findings to Vartann, the detective had agreed with the ruling of a suicide.

Greg was currently out with Catherine on a B&E, Grissom was out in the desert with his bug friends, and Sara was lab bound. Apparently she had maxed out on overtime for the month. While that wasn’t uncommon, it had actually taken her till the last week of the month to reach the limit. In 4 days it would be a new month, and she would be allowed out in the field again.

Used to the limitations after meeting them almost every month for the past 5 years and few months, she had not fought Grissom on his decision. In the past that would have raised red flags for the rest of the team that something was up, but for the past half year or so there had been an apparent truce called between Sara and their boss. Something they were all happy about.

There was currently nothing for the 2 guys to do. All their paperwork was up to date, no new cases had come in during the night, and they weren’t quite desperate enough to want to go over one of the cold cases from Grissom’s fish cork board. To pass the time, they had started a game of pass the ball, aiming widely to try to draw the other away from the comfortable positions they had taken up in the room.

Giving the ball an extra wide arc, with force he had picked up playing football in collage, Nick could only stand and watch as Sara entered not only the room, but also the path of the ball. The two men winced as it collided with her face, narrowly missing her eye.

“OW! Jesus!”

“SARA! Shit, are you ok?”

Sara didn’t bother to dignify that with an answer. Instead, she glared at both of them as best she could while holding her hand to her injured face. She moved further into the room, sitting down on the sofa, the guys moving in to see the damage they had caused their friend.

Removing her hand from her face, Nick and Warrick couldn’t help the small wince they gave each other. The tissue surrounding her left eye was already beginning to swell, making it hard for her to keep it open.

“I’ll get you an icepack,” Warrick offered, quickly leaving the room to head downstairs to the morgue and get an icepack from Doc Robbins; leaving the Texan to face the brunt of Sara’s wrath while it was still fresh. It was only fair, Warrick decided. After all, Nick had been the one to cause the injury in the first place.

Entering the calm quiet of the morgue, he was met by a startled Doc Robbins.

“Warrick? I thought Gil was coming down for the DB?”

The news that their supervisor had returned gave Warrick a slight pause. Oh, they were going to be in so much trouble. Grissom may not expose emotion well, but he was often an open book on his feelings for Sara. Something everyone but the woman in question seemed to be aware of. When Grissom found out about Sara, he and Nick would be the next case.

“Warrick?”

“Sorry. I don’t know about Griss. I'm actually here to see if you have an icepack?”

“Yeah. Why? What happened?”

“Short version? Nick and I were playing with a ball in the break room, Sara walked in and got hit in the eye.”

“WHAT?!”

Warrick winced. Trust Grissom to come in at that moment. Before he could say anything more, he heard the door to the morgue slam open as his supervisor left. Torn between going after him and staying out of his way, Warrick was brought back to the matter at hand when Robbins pressed an icepack into his hand.

Thanking the coroner, Warrick paused in the doorway of the morgue. “Hey doc? If they ever find mine and Nick’s body, when it comes to it I want to be cremated, OK?”

Robbins gave a small laugh. “I’ll remember,” he promised.

Warrick returned to the break room, icepack clasped in his hand. Entering the room, he wordlessly passed the pack to Sara, slightly surprised to see Grissom sitting next to her on the sofa, and the Texan nowhere in the immediate vicinity.

Grissom silently took the icepack from Sara’s hand, gingerly holding it to her face. Sara gave a small hiss as the ice made contact with her face, but otherwise sat quietly, letting Grissom tend to her.

Not pulling his attention from the brunette before him, Grissom asked Warrick, “Don’t we have a rule about ball games inside the lab?!” his tone showing he was striving to be calm and not beat the 2 men responsible for Sara’s condition to a pulp.

“Look, Griss… we didn’t mean to. We were just blowing off steam, waiting for a new case,” Warrick tried.

“That’s not the point! What if it had been Ecklie, huh? Or even the sheriff? Did you stop to think about that?!”

Oh yeah, Grissom was pissed. It was bad enough when either he or Sara were pissed off; both pissed, at the same people, and he had better check all his affairs were in order. Tina was going to be pissed to find he was dead. Their marriage was still new, and he doubted she was expecting him to die through causing harm to one of his co-workers and friends.

Any further comment was saved by the return of Nick, Doc Robbins in his wake. Nick had asked the older man to check Sara out; it wouldn’t be the first time bones were broken due to a football. Grissom reluctantly moved out of the way to allow Robbins in and check Sara’s face out.

With the utmost care, Robbins traced over Sara’s cheekbones, before moving to check her eye itself. After a few minutes, he sat back and moved the icepack back into place.

“Nothing broken, it’s just going to be sore for a while,” he told her.

Sara gave him a small smile of thanks, as big as she was able with her puffed eye. Robbins returned it, before pulling out a pot of pills, shaking 2 out, he gave them to her. When she raised her right eyebrow in question, he assured her they were anti-inflammatory and painkiller combination, to help reduce the swelling and her headache se would be feeling shortly, if she wasn’t already.

“Thanks doc,” Sara said, swallowing the pills dry.

Grissom returned to her side, unconsciously grasping her hand in his. “You want to go home?” he offered.

Sara gave a small sigh. As much as she hated to admit it, she wasn’t really in the mood to be coddled right then, and she knew if she stayed at the lab she would be.

“Yeah Griss. Actually, I think I would.”

“OK. I’ll give you a lift,” he offered. Sara gave a small smile in thanks.

As she left the lab, Grissom guiding her with a hand at her lower back, she could feel the sympathetic looks follow her down the halls. Nick and Warrick followed the pair, giving glares of their own to the looky-loos, making them retreat to their personal lairs.

At the entrance, Sara turned to face the two of them.

“If I see another ball anywhere near the break room, you can bet your ass I’ll burst it!” she threatened.

They nodded. There was no doubt in their minds she was totally serious.

Present

Sara returned to the break room to wash out her mug. Opening the door, she stopped dead. Her eyes moved from the room to rest on the soft inflatable ball that had just hit her head.

She growled, turning her attention to the room’s occupants. Nick and Warrick traded horrified glances, the message the same in both sets of eyes. SHIT! Run!

As one, they turned and hurried from the room before Sara could murder them. As they all but ran down the hallway, Sara’s cry followed them, making them surge that much faster from her growing wrath.

“YOU’RE. SO. DEAD!!”

Geekfiction's 80's Ficathon challenge

Wed, 14 Nov 2007 15:27:06 GMT

It’s Thursday in New Zealand. I could be in New Zealand… I'm not, but I could be…

Title: Brain vs. Braun.
Author: chibs_87
Rating: Um… T ( I think)
Pairing: GSR
Genre: Humour/angst (splash of romance)
Prompt: Television
Length: 1377 words
Spoilers: 503 Harvest, 513 Nesting Dolls, 521 Committed (NB, I wrote this BEFORE 804, bu i guess there's spoilers for that one too now...)
Disclaimer: Any recognised character or show in this story is not mine.

A/N: Thanks to butterfliedgsr for the beta.

~~~~~~~~

The door was locked.

Of course the door was locked... it just added to the cliché of the moment.

He and Sara had responded to the call-out of a 419 in Henderson and had been processing the basement when the support that had been keeping the door open had failed, letting the door slide shut, locking the two of them in.

A cursory glance at both of their cell phones had proved what he had already suspected; no signal.

Clichés. Sometimes, he really hated them.

A small click made him turn around.

“Sara? What are you doing?” he asked, as he watched her poke through her kit.

“Well SOMEONE has to MacGyver our way out of here, and, no offence, but I don’t see you jumping up and making an escape route out of a paperclip and a belt buckle.”

“…You watched MacGyver?

“Yes, Griss. I watched MacGyver.”

Seeing him raise an eyebrow in question, Sara continued, her attention split between the man behind her and her kit before her.

“You know when we had that case a couple of years ago with the kid who was basically being used as her brothers saviour, no matter what it meant for her to go through?”

“The Perez case. Yeah, I remember it.”

“Yeah. You remember what you said to me when I was checking over her computer?”

“I said you were probably a pretty smart 7^th grader,” Grissom replied, a smile twitching around his mouth.

Sara nodded.

“Yeah. Well, you weren’t wrong. I was pretty smart. Got in trouble for it too.”

“How?”

She shrugged, glancing at him.

“Not paying attention in class, more often than not.” Seeing his raised eyebrow, she elaborated. “It wasn’t because the work was too hard… if anything it was because it was too easy, you know? I’d sit there at the back of the class, reading. Sometimes it was textbooks for other classes… sometimes it was novels. A couple of times I was sent out of class for drawing.”

“Your harpooned whale?” Grissom asked, watching a small pile of objects grow at her feet as she pulled them out of the kit.

“That was a couple of years earlier… but yeah, same deal. Anyway, I got a bit of stick for apparently not paying attention in class but still coming out of the year with the highest GPA. The other kids thought I must have been cheating or something…”

“You weren’t.”

Sara smiled at the conviction in his voice.

“Nah. I had done the work. Hell, sometimes I did the work for the entire lesson in the first 10 minutes while the teacher was trying to settle everyone down. I would read to get a better grip of the world. If I didn’t understand something, I would go look it up. I think I spent more time in the library at school than the rest of the class put together.”

“Now why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“Oh come on Griss… like you were any different.”

Grissom smirked at her, nodding his head in acknowledgement.

“I used to think that being smart was a curse,” Sara admitted, not looking at him.

Grissom went to interrupt her at that, but she held up her hand, holding him off.

“I know better now, but at the time I was just a kid, you know? Anyway. About a year after my father… I was in this group home for a while. And a couple of the older kids were watching this tiny TV we had back then. 7 kids, one TV… you can imagine the disagreements we had over that.”

Grissom smiled, picturing a young Sara Sidle adamant about watching documentaries over the “usual” kids TV shows of the time.

“I came home from the library one day to see a couple of the older kids settled down watching this show. I had no idea what it was, but the main guy in it seemed to be kinda smart. I was entranced. I mean, here was a TV show about a smart guy, who used his brains instead of his fists… it was a new look on the world for me.”

The slightly humorous air that had been surrounding them fell away, and Grissom let the small smile he’d been holding fall at those words. It was so easy to forget sometimes just what she had been though as a child, things that no-one should ever have to go through. Sara didn’t look at him, knowing that if she did her mask would fall. Instead, she kept her attention on the pile next to her, sorting them out.

“Sara.”

It amazed her, even now, just how much he could express in the two syllables of her name. She paused, but still kept her back to him. She didn’t notice her hands tremble, but he did. Gently he reached round her, and pulled the tweezers from her grasp.

“Honey.”

His voice had an undercurrent of pleading in it, and for once Sara gave in. Grissom pulled her upright, before tugging her into his arms. Her arms fell around him, taking his offered strength.

“You are one hell of a woman, Mrs. Grissom. And I love each and every part of you,” he whispered in her ear.

Sara said nothing, just clung a little tighter to him. Getting her emotions back under control, she moved back slightly to kiss his cheek.

“Love you too. Now, how about we get out of here?”

He smiled at her, knowing their tender moment was over, and the CSI was back in control.

“Ok. So, what have you got?”

“Well. When I was printing the door, I noticed the lock was one of those catch ones. The thing that got me is the catch is on the house side of the door, not this side. I mean, to get out we need a key… not the other way around like you would expect. Might be probative.”

“Could be. I’ll have one of the others check it out when we get back to the lab.”

“Ok. So, based on the position of the lock, I figured I’d just pick it. Which is where the paperclips and tweezers come in. One to hold the Barings in place, and one to fiddle to get the lock in position so we can turn it and let ourselves out… Why are you looking at me like that?!”

Grissom’s amused look at the beginning of her idea had turned to one of slight alarm when he realised just how much she knew in the business of lock picking.

“Sorry… it’s just… lock picking? Anything other talents I should know about, dear?”

“Not outside the bedroom… Gil? Did you just whimper?!”

“I… Um... Yes.”

Sara couldn’t help but give him a look that could only be described as “smutty” at his admission. Before she could say anything else, however, the door to the basement opened.

Startled, the both turned to look at the figure in the doorway.

“Hey, THERE you are! Guys, I’ve found them!”

Catherine shot curious glances over the two of them, pleased to see they appeared unhurt.

“You guys ok?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re fine, Cath.”

“Good.”

“So, not that we’re not grateful for coming and letting us out and everything,” Sara said, kneeling back down to re-pack her kit, “but why are you here?”

“Oh. Jim said he tried to call you to ask you to check up on something at the scene, but when he couldn’t get through to either of you after the 3^rd try he called us, and here we are.”

“Ah. Well, thanks.”

“Anytime.” Catherine replied, eyeing over the jumble of items being packed away. When the last item had been returned to its place in her kit, the three of them began to head up out of the basement.

Exchanging a quick glance with Sara, Catherine nodded in understanding.

“You were going to MacGyver your way out. Good to see you had a plan,” she commented in a light tone.

“You watched MacGyver, Cath?”

“Well sure Griss. I think every female who was over 12 at the time was watching that show,” she said, exiting the stairway behind the others.

At his puzzled look, she continued.

“What? Richard Dean Anderson’s hot!”

A/N 2: Upon writing this it occurred to me I have a strong thing for older guys with greying hair…

Fulfilling Promises

Wed, 14 Nov 2007 15:22:54 GMT

Note: This is NOT part of my WIP... this is something completely different that snuck up on me during my Micorbial Pathogenesis lecture this moring.

Title: Fulfilling Promises
Author: Chibs_87
Rating: NC-17!
Genre: Smut.
Paring: GSR
Length: 1444 words
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: If he wasn’t to die of cancer, this was a close second choice.

A/N: Look who decided to come out of hiding! Un-beta’d, cos I'm being lazy…

~~~~~~

She was going to kill him. If there was one thing he was sure of, it was he was not going to live to see the night. He wanted to say she hadn't given him warning, but the truth was she had. Multiple times. He had thought she had meant it for all of 5 minutes, but deemed she wouldn’t. It wasn’t her style.

Apparently it was.

Grissom gave another hiss, and tugged once more at the bonds keeping him lying flat on the bed. He hips thrust up, trying to get better contact, but her silk covered hand just moved with him, keeping the pace slow and steady; her touch gossamer.

She was going to kill him. But damn, what a way to go.

~~~~~~~

The shift had been a hard one. For both of them. An Amber Alert had been issued on 4 missing kids. They had spent a double shift chasing lead after dead lead, all the time aware tie was against them. As the hours moved on, the odds of finding the kids alive dwindled; those of finding bodies increasing.

Neither of them did well on cases that involved children. Sara had her own demons to contend with, and Grissom hated their ruined innocence; children were growing up too quickly these days as it was. To have someone take that innocence away before it was time was a crime not even the death penalty could punish enough.

Miraculously, somehow, the stats had been wrong. All 4 of the boys had been found, 17 hours after the Amber Alert had first gone out. True, they were now all probably grounded for life, but they were safe. Their innocence preserved for another day.

When the announcement came that they had been found, the stress of the case had crashed onto Grissom with a vengeance, and he had all but collapsed with a killing migraine. Sara had found him half an hour later, eyes clenched shut against the harsh lights and sounds of the lab, as he lay on his uncomfortable office couch.

Immediately she was at his side, shutting off all the lights, closing and locking the door and blinds as she went. The daggers that had been plunging into him lessened with the darkness and muffled sounds, and he cracked an eye open experimentally.

“Sara.” Her name was a whisper.

“Shhh. Rest until you can move. I’ll keep the others away.”

She got up to leave, only to be stopped by his hand on his arm. Glancing at him, she saw his eyes, hazy with pain, plead with her to stay.

With a soft smile, she lifted his head slightly, sliding in to sit on the couch so his head now rested in her lap. With gentle fingers, she stroked his brow, easing the tightness of the muscles at his temple, lulling him to rest.

After a little while, he had woken sufficiently enough for her to take him home, and she had helped him collapse into bed, the healing sleep he needed converging in the corner of his eyes.

~~~~~~~

That had been the last thing he had been aware of, until he had woken to hind himself chained, hard, and being tortured. There had to be a reason behind this; he must have forgotten something important if it warranted his death.

Birthday? No, it was only May. Her birthday wasn’t for another 4 months. Anniversary of some kind? They’d been together for 14 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days (not that he was counting) so unless she had some sort of weird anniversary calculation thing going on, he was pretty sure that wasn’t it.

With the few brain cells that hadn't died from his redirected blood flow, he managed to form a thought.

“Sara? Honey?”

“Hey. There you are.”

“What… Uh… God…”

“Hmmm?”

Her touch was moving steadily. And light. And god, had he ever been so hard? He couldn’t think.

“Sah-rah!” His gasp was music to her ears, and she rewarded him with a silky caress of his balls. His hips lurched, and he let out a cry at the teasing touch.

“Easy, love. You need to relax.”

Relax. RELAX?! She had chained him to their bed, wrapped her hand in silk, and was torturing him to the point of pain; yet despite all that she wanted him to RELAX?!

“Shhh,” her voice came again. “You’re too tense. Shhh.”

“Sara. God, please honey…” His voice was all honey and gravel and restrained need. And damn if it, along with the sight he made, blushing a deep red, his cock leaking, didn’t make her ache for him. It would be easy, so easy, to slip him inside of her and fuck every thick inch of him to completion. She vowed to herself she would do that another time. Right now, having him here like this was what she wanted. She had promised to give him the slowest hand job known to man, and Sara Sidle did not back out on a promise lightly.

Her hand started adding the slightest twist when she dragged her fingers over the head of his cock, and she gave a coo of delight as a thick drop of liquid oozed from his slit. Before he could do more than blink, Sara finally gave in to the overwhelming temptation and licked it from him. Grissom gave a desperate cry at the fleeting heat of her tongue, but as quickly as it had come it was gone again. Above the cuffs, his fists were clenched tightly, wanting to break free and slam himself into her, coming in her. That or jerk himself off… he was past the point of caring; anything to come.

“Sara!” He was begging now. He knew it, she knew it, and, after another gentle run of her finger over his throbbing flesh, she pulled her hand fully away. At the loss of contact, slim as it had been, Grissom howled. His hips, well beyond his control, thrust up desperately, madly trying to find something to rub against.

The tension in his balls was driving him crazy; his cock so hard it hurt. Words, thought, were beyond him. His world was focused on the pain of need.

He watched with lidded eyes as she picked up a key on the bedside table, leaning over him to unlock one hand. He immediately reached for her, but she was too quick, moving back further than his range of movement would allow. Her eyes trained on his bobbing erection, blushing purple with need, and he got the message. His hand fisted himself tightly, drawing a moan from both of them.

All finesse of rhythm he have had had before she had brought him to this point was gone. His need was running the show now, and he ran his hand over his cock harshly, giving it the friction Sara’s silk glove had kept from him.

His hips rolled in sympathetic movement, thrusting wildly into his hand as he quickened his pace. Sara sat back on the bed, enthralled by the sight before her. God, he was beautiful like this. A glance at his face showed he was biting his lip, keeping his groans silent, trying not to give her the satisfaction of seeing how much power she had over him. In reality he knew the gesture was pointless; she already knew.

Just before he let go, she leaned over him once more, taking him deep into her mouth, sucking tightly. The sudden heat of her mouth and the suction she gave broke him, and he came. Hard. Swallowing everything he had to give her, she lapped at him gently, bringing him back to himself.

Quickly removing the remaining cuff, she felt herself being drawn into his tight embrace, his mouth seeking hers. She returned his desperate kiss, letting him release all the emotion he needed to.

“Sara. God. I. Jesus…” he gasped.

She smiled a satisfied smirk. There was something about a sated, speechless Grissom.

“I don’t know what I did to get you,” he continued, “but you’re stuck with me. I'm never letting you go,” he vowed, his voice taking on the sleepy tone of the truly sated. A glance at his face confirmed her suspicions; he was on the point of collapse after his harsh release.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Sara promised him. “Sleep. I’ll be here.”

“M’k,” he sighed, allowing his eyes to close at her urging. His arms stayed around her, keeping her warm body lying on him.

As his body slipped into sleep, his brain, eventually recovering as blood returned, was already dreaming up something that could be defined with one word.

Revenge.

Chapter 2

Mon, 12 Nov 2007 16:13:05 GMT

Title: Break room Etiquette

Author: chibs_87

Rating: T
Genre: Fluff/ my warped humour
Pairing: Eventual GSR
Disclaimer: Not mine. *sigh*
Spoilers: 5.11 Mea Culpa in this chapter.

A/N: Thanks to butterdfliedgsr for the beta!

Previous Chapters:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2: Keep away from Greg’s coffee.

If there was one thing that could be said about Greg Sanders, other than his exuberant attitude, often wild hair and taste in music, it was that he was a coffee connoisseur. He could tell the difference between brands with a single sip, sometimes even a sniff, of the brew. He wouldn’t touch the sludge the department claimed was coffee, instead preferring to supply his own. For that reason, it wasn’t unusual for members of the night shift to take their breaks around the same time as the lab rat turned CSI, evidence allowing. If Greg was making coffee and he was in a good mood, there was a slither of a chance of getting a cup of the good stuff.

Currently, the ‘good stuff’ was Blue Hawaiian. At $40 a pound, the stuff wasn’t cheap, and there was no way the department were going to splurge that kind of money on coffee. No. The only way the Blue Hawaiian made it to the coffee pot in the break room was through Greg and his won money. Consequently, he had never told anyone where he kept the bag of beans. So that was why he now stood, a deeply confused expression on his face, looking at the latest bag of Blue Hawaiian.

The half empty bag.

True, it was completely possible to get through half a bag of coffee quickly, especially if there was a hot case, requiring multiple people to double shift. But this bag had only been bought 2 days ago. Even if the whole team, and the rest of the staff at the lab, including all of the other shifts, had been brewing the coffee non-stop, the level wouldn’t be this low. And he had been home, keeping his coffee hidden. Someone had been in his coffee. Someone had broken an unwritten rule. Someone was going to have to pay. Even if it was Grissom. For when it came to coffee, Greg was the alpha over everyone else.

And right now, the alpha male was pissed. But before he started looking for the culprit, he decided to keep the rest of his coffee safe from the coffee wolves of the lab. Marking the bag with a big red ‘X’ for identification, he picked it up and headed out of the room. Humming the Mission Impossible theme in his head, he stealthily moved down the hallway to the locker room.

If it wasn’t for Sara just coming out of the room as he was entering no-one would have known. But the startled yelp she gave when they collided with each other proved he was still a solid mass, and no matter how he tried to bend the laws of physics, people could not yet walk through him.

“Greg! Jeez. Give me a heart attack why don’t you?!” Sara exclaimed, a smile on her face to soften the blow.

“Sara! Man, I'm sorry. Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I'm fine. It’s cool. You?”

“Fine. I'm fine.”

“Cool. Well, catch you at assignments, Greggo,” Sara said as she moved out of the room. Greg watched her go, his mind analysing the interaction. Sara was somewhat chipper tonight. No. Chipper was what she got when they got a new lead in a case. This was more than chipper. This was happy. Honest to god ‘the hills are alive with the sound of music’ happy. Like she had won the lottery. (And, because it was Sara, had given most, if not all, to charity.)

Something was up.

Surely she hadn't been in his coffee? As good as it was, he didn’t think it would be enough to make her grin like the cat that ate the canary. Or got the cream; Sara was a vegetarian after all. Hmmm. But she had to know by now she was one of the only people he could crack out the good stuff for if she asked.

Oh, he knew he had no chance with her romantically. She was completely hung up on their boss, something apparently everyone but the entomologist in question was aware of. But if Greg could make her smile, well, the world seemed like a brighter place. Recently it had seemed very dull. ‘The Smile’, as he had begun to secretly call it, had been absent for months of late. But now, it was back. With a vengeance.

A mumbled voice from the other side of the door broke Greg out of his stupor. Giving himself a mental shake, he approached his locker. Hiding the half empty, (he wasn’t a pessimist, but hey, last he knew the bag had been full!), bag of coffee behind his spare trainers at the back in the shadows, he shut and locked the door once more, before wiping the door clean. Hell, if push came to shove he could maybe lift some prints off the door if the coffee went down again.

A quick glance at the clock on the wall showed it was time for assignments. If he was lucky, Nick and Warrick might be hanging around after the end of their shift. They had started doing it lately after Ecklie had split the team up… stupid weasel of a man that he was.

Entering the break room, he gave a soft sigh when he realised neither the Texan nor the local man were present. Ah well. He had plans to catch the game with them at the weekend anyway. Turning his attention to the 3 other members of the night shift, it suddenly hit him. Grissom looked years younger. That in itself was unusual, but on the same night Sofia looked like she had sucked on a lemon for days on end and Sara’s grinning… Oh yes… something was definitely up.

Listening with half an ear as Grissom split the team up on different assignment, (Sofia solo, him solo, and Sara paired with him on a bug infested body in the desert), he mentally checked off people from a suspect list on his own personal case.

Sofia was definitely out. She had been a tea drinker for the most part, even before becoming pregnant. (Because there was no way she had gained that much weight in 4 months. None.) Sara only had to ask, a fact he was sure she knew, and Grissom… well, it was undetermined whether he would or not. He seemed ok with settling for the sludge laughingly called coffee, and unlike other members of the team, past and present, had never hounded him when he was taking a break.

Of course, that never stopped him appreciating a cup whenever Greg made him one when it looked like the boss-man needed a pick-me-up. He had always acknowledged him at those times, and Greg had sometimes used it to his advantage when he wanted something. Like asking, (begging), to get out of the lab and into the field late last year.

Other suspects included various techs in the lab, but most had a strong liking for Greg, and found him more approachable. They, for the most part, would ask him. Well, maybe not Hodges. But before going down that route he decided to try to eliminate the others.

A flash of blonde caught his eye. Standing as Grissom dismissed the team to work; he spotted Catherine walking down the corridor. Evidently, she was working some overtime on her case. He gave a small prayer it wouldn’t take too long; the Swing shift gave her even less time with her daughter than Grave had.

It wasn’t until he was elbow deep in his DB’s dumpster he realised something about the older woman as she had sauntered down the hall; she had been holding a cup of coffee. As he meticulously, if mechanically, sifted through the trash, he let his mind wander slightly, examining the evidence in his head.

It fit. Catherine worked the shift before him, therefore could steal his coffee without his knowledge. She had never had any qualms about the methods she used to get what she needed. She knew Greg bought the good coffee, and his tendency of hiding it from prying eyes.

The only thing he didn’t have was evidence she had been drinking Blue Hawaiian from his stash. He would- Oh thank god! There was the bag he had been looking for!- have to see if he could work it out when he got back to the lab. And had had a lemon shower.

An hour later, faintly smelling of citrus, he made his way to the break room. And stood in the doorway, watching the strawberry blonde woman, who was apparently pulling a double, make a cup of coffee with the bag he had carefully stored in his locker at the beginning of shift. He knew it was the same bag; the big ‘X’ on it mocking him.

“You know, I play nice. You could have just asked,” he stated, making his way into her line of vision.

“Greg!”

Greg decided there was something quite nice about the ability to make Catherine Willows speechless.

“Catherine,” he returned.

“I… uh… I needed coffee. You have good coffee. I needed good coffee,” she finally told him.

“And far be it from me to deny you coffee. Just… you could have asked,” Greg mock whined. Apparently he was pushing it, judging by the slight narrowing of her eyes. “Or I just buy you a couple of pounds for Christmas…” he tried.

“Sure. You do that Greg,” Catherine said, before adding creamer to her cup and leaving the break room.

Greg sighed. He would buy her some on the way home that night. At least then his stash would be safe. True to his word, he bought Catherine a pound of Blue Hawaiian that morning, leaving it at the reception for her to pick up as soon as she made her way into the building.

It wasn’t until that night, when he came to make a pot of the good stuff he realised something was amiss. The level in his bag of coffee had gone down. Again. And there, walking down the hall of the lab, blissful smile on her face and mug of coffee in her hand, was Catherine.

His cry could be heard at the reception desk. Hearing it, Catherine smirked, before leaving for the day. Sometimes, it was good to be her.

“CATHERINE!”