LMOM08 :: Day 16 :: "But There Was No Shower..." [CSI, Sara/Sofia, R] for darandkerry
Title: But There Was No Shower…
Author: A. Magiluna Stormwriter
Author’s Email: stormwriter@shatterstorm.net
Pairing: Sara/Sofia
Rating: R for language
Date: 14 November 2008
Word Count: 1605
Written for: AJ's Lusty Month of May 2008
Recipient: darandkerry
Prompt: Photographs and memories, with an appearance from Catherine in whatever form you see fit.
Written for: smut_69 table of prompts
Prompt: 33, cuddle
Summary: Where's Bobby Ewing when you need him?
Spoilers: Seasons 7-9 are fair game, especially where the Miniature Killer is involved
Warning: Established lesbian couple. Don't like it? Don't read it.
Disclaimer: "CSI: Crime Scene Investigators," the characters, and situations depicted are the property of Jerry Bruckheimer Television, Alliance Atlantis, and CBS Productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This site is in no way affiliated with "CSI: Crime Scene Investigators," CBS, or any representatives of Louise Lombard, Jorja Fox, or Marg Helgenberger.
Author's Notes: Once again, my muses decided to go for angst instead of smut. Obviously, it's that time of year again… *rolls eyes* But this was kind of fun…until my muses became perverse little bitches, but I do love them for that, too…
Oh, and bonus points to anyone who gets the reference to the title... *veg*
Dedication: My muses, for always keeping me on my toes…
Beta: shatterpath, as usual…
"But There Was No Shower…"
By A. Magiluna Stormwriter
"This is bullshit!"
I glance up to see Catherine glaring at me from the doorway. My brow furrows in confusion at her anger. I start to speak, but she holds up her hand and turns to glance back out toward the living room.
"Aren't you supposed to be the adult here?" she asks finally. "Or are you just going to hide in here until she leaves?"
"I'm not hiding, Catherine."
"Bullshit, Sofia! You were in the other room, talking and sharing with everyone, and the minute she walked into the house, you high tailed it in here and haven't come out since."
I take a deep breath and hold it for several seconds before releasing it. She's right, of course, but I'm loathe to admit that. "What am I supposed to do, Catherine? She made her choices and she said some pretty damned ugly things, too. They both did. And now I'm supposed to just ignore that and act like none of it ever happened?"
"No, of course not." She comes further into the room to sit next to me at the counter where I've been chopping up the contents of a can of black olives… because I can. "She broke your heart, I get that. I wish I could say that I'd seen it coming, so I could warn you, but they were pretty damned sneaky about it. But you're here because of Warrick, not them. Greg and Nick think they've offended you somehow."
I wince and try to think of how I can make it up to the boys. They were just as upset with me when I left as Catherine was, and she knew I was leaving. "Damn it, Cath, this hurts. It's bad enough that Rick's gone, I don't need to be dealing with her on top of it."
"Did you really think she'd stay away?"
"No," I say with a heavy sigh. "Then again, I never expected her to just up and leave him either, so…"
"So why just sit here and hide like a coward? Damn it, Sofia, she's the one that should be feeling out of place here, not you."
I nod slowly and drain my bottle of beer. I know I shouldn't do it, but I get up and grab another one. I can always get a cab to take me back to my place or hitch a ride from Jim. I'm not sure I can face her -- them -- without a little more liquid courage.
"Hey, Cath, are there any more oliv--" Just the sound of that voice stops me in my tracks. "Sofia? I didn't know you were here."
"Yes, Sara," I reply, venom dripping from each word, "I am here. Or am I not allowed to mourn my friend because he was your friend first?"
"That's not fair."
"Life's not fair, Sara." I take a deep breath and put the beer back in the fridge before turning to smile weakly at Catherine. "You're right, Cath, I can't do this. I'll go say my goodbyes to Jim and the boys, then I'm heading on home. I'll call you after the service tomorrow, okay?" When I move to try to get past Sara, she shifts to block my way. "Excuse me, Sidle, but can you get your skinny ass out of my way so I can go home?"
"No."
"Don't start this shit, Sara. I'm not in the mood, and this isn't either of our homes. Just let me leave in peace."
She stares at me for a long moment before stepping aside. "Fine. Go. Run out on the team just like you did a year ago. You're pretty good at cutting and running."
"Fuck you!" I hiss, getting right in her face. "Oh wait, that's right, I already did. And so did Grissom. I'm surprised you never tried to arrange a threesome. Go back to hell, Sara, and stay there this time, okay? And for the record? The short hair looks like shit on you."
And with that, I shove her out of the way and head out into the living room. I walk up to the three men I still consider friends, say my polite goodbyes and give the appropriate hugs, then head toward the front door. Gil Grissom wisely doesn't come anywhere near me. I'm almost to my car when I hear familiar footfalls behind me.
"Sofie, wait up!" I pause long enough for him to catch up to me at my car. "You doing okay, kiddo?"
"No," I reply roughly, tears nearly choking me. "It's bad enough to have to come back to deal with Rick's death. Do I have to deal with her, too?"
"Part and parcel of the process unfortunately. You need some help getting home?"
I shake my head and try to smile. "I'll be okay. I only had two beers and I've got plenty of adrenalin rushing through my system right now. But I'll call you when I get home if that'll make you happy."
He gives me a bone-crushing hug and murmurs encouragement before letting me go. He's still standing there when I turn the corner away from Catherine's house and head home.
*****
Daylight and I do not get along well when my alarm goes off the next morning. I was plagued with nightmares and memories of Sara all night long. I ended up taking one of the sleeping pills I'd gotten after the whole fiasco with Bell's shooting, but all that did was stop me from being able to wake from the nightmares. By the time I have to get up, I feel less rested than when I first went to bed. But there's nothing to be done about that now. I'll just get ready for the funeral, sit as far away from the team as I can so I don't have to deal with Sara and Gil, and then come home to have a few drinks and go back to sleep. She'll go back to wherever it is she ran off to, and I can go back to my work in Boulder City and pretty much not deal with any of them unless I absolutely have to. And of course, my shrink will be able to get started on that addition to her house with the therapy I'll need again to deal with this shit.
A long hot shower certainly helps to perk me up, but I know that caffeine is going to be the real antidote to my illness. Well, until I can get some sleep. I slip into boxers, a wife-beater, and my comfortable old robe, then head toward the kitchen to start the coffee brewing. Only the smell assaults my nostril the minute I open the door. What the fuck? And then I notice the pillow and blanket on the couch. Umm…
"Oh good, you're awake."
"What the fuck are you doing here?" I growl upon seeing Sara standing in my kitchen.
"Well, good morning to you, too, sunshine," she teases, sidling up to wrap her arms around my neck. When I abruptly shove her away from me, she squawks, and that's when I see the long hair framing her face. "Sofia!"
"Wait. You had short hair last night. How in the hell--? How long was I asleep?"
She moves slowly toward me, like she's approaching a rabid dog. "Honey, what's going on? I haven't had short hair since I was a kid. I don't like short hair."
I sink into a chair and rest my head in my hands. What the hell is going on? And then I notice the glint of silver on my left hand. The commitment bands. Oh fuck…
"A nightmare," I mutter incredulously, rubbing at my eyes. "It was just a fucking nightmare?" And then I remember the woman standing only feet away from me. A glance up at her shows the confusion and worry in her eyes. "Oh god, I'm sorry, Sara," I moan, reaching out to pull her closer to me, feeling the tears of frustration and relief burning behind my eyelids.
"Shh, it's okay," Sara murmurs, stroking my hair. "Wanna talk about it?"
I only pause for the briefest moments before the words begin to tumble from my lips. The entire sordid story: the Miniature Killer, learning about Sara fucking both Gil and me, Sara being kidnapped, rescuing her, leaving her and transferring back to Boulder City to get away from them, Sara leaving, Warrick being murdered, Sara coming back for his funeral. All the pain and humiliation comes pouring out of me like so much verbal vomit. By the time I'm finished, I'm limp as a rag and sobbing hysterically.
"It was so fucking real, Sara."
"I know, honey," she soothes. "Come on." I let her drag me back into the bedroom and crawl into bed. She pulls me closer and cups my face to brand me with a sweetly passionate kiss. "Do you really think I could be that manipulative? Use you like that? I've never seen Gil that way, not seriously, you know that."
Nodding, I sigh. "But that whole thing about Rick…"
"No more beef tongue and marshmallow fluff sandwiches before bed for you," she warns with a smile. "I don't care what kind of cravings you're having."
I grumble good-naturedly, but nod in agreement. "Okay, I guess you're right."
"And you owe me a day of pampering for scaring the hell out of me and shoving me like that."
"I think I can do that." I snuggle in closer to pepper her face with tiny kisses. "I love you, Sara."
"I love you, too, Sofia."
Author: A. Magiluna Stormwriter
Author’s Email: stormwriter@shatterstorm.net
Pairing: Sara/Sofia
Rating: R for language
Date: 14 November 2008
Word Count: 1605
Written for: AJ's Lusty Month of May 2008
Recipient: darandkerry
Prompt: Photographs and memories, with an appearance from Catherine in whatever form you see fit.
Written for: smut_69 table of prompts
Prompt: 33, cuddle
Summary: Where's Bobby Ewing when you need him?
Spoilers: Seasons 7-9 are fair game, especially where the Miniature Killer is involved
Warning: Established lesbian couple. Don't like it? Don't read it.
Disclaimer: "CSI: Crime Scene Investigators," the characters, and situations depicted are the property of Jerry Bruckheimer Television, Alliance Atlantis, and CBS Productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This site is in no way affiliated with "CSI: Crime Scene Investigators," CBS, or any representatives of Louise Lombard, Jorja Fox, or Marg Helgenberger.
Author's Notes: Once again, my muses decided to go for angst instead of smut. Obviously, it's that time of year again… *rolls eyes* But this was kind of fun…until my muses became perverse little bitches, but I do love them for that, too…
Oh, and bonus points to anyone who gets the reference to the title... *veg*
Dedication: My muses, for always keeping me on my toes…
Beta: shatterpath, as usual…
"But There Was No Shower…"
By A. Magiluna Stormwriter
"This is bullshit!"
I glance up to see Catherine glaring at me from the doorway. My brow furrows in confusion at her anger. I start to speak, but she holds up her hand and turns to glance back out toward the living room.
"Aren't you supposed to be the adult here?" she asks finally. "Or are you just going to hide in here until she leaves?"
"I'm not hiding, Catherine."
"Bullshit, Sofia! You were in the other room, talking and sharing with everyone, and the minute she walked into the house, you high tailed it in here and haven't come out since."
I take a deep breath and hold it for several seconds before releasing it. She's right, of course, but I'm loathe to admit that. "What am I supposed to do, Catherine? She made her choices and she said some pretty damned ugly things, too. They both did. And now I'm supposed to just ignore that and act like none of it ever happened?"
"No, of course not." She comes further into the room to sit next to me at the counter where I've been chopping up the contents of a can of black olives… because I can. "She broke your heart, I get that. I wish I could say that I'd seen it coming, so I could warn you, but they were pretty damned sneaky about it. But you're here because of Warrick, not them. Greg and Nick think they've offended you somehow."
I wince and try to think of how I can make it up to the boys. They were just as upset with me when I left as Catherine was, and she knew I was leaving. "Damn it, Cath, this hurts. It's bad enough that Rick's gone, I don't need to be dealing with her on top of it."
"Did you really think she'd stay away?"
"No," I say with a heavy sigh. "Then again, I never expected her to just up and leave him either, so…"
"So why just sit here and hide like a coward? Damn it, Sofia, she's the one that should be feeling out of place here, not you."
I nod slowly and drain my bottle of beer. I know I shouldn't do it, but I get up and grab another one. I can always get a cab to take me back to my place or hitch a ride from Jim. I'm not sure I can face her -- them -- without a little more liquid courage.
"Hey, Cath, are there any more oliv--" Just the sound of that voice stops me in my tracks. "Sofia? I didn't know you were here."
"Yes, Sara," I reply, venom dripping from each word, "I am here. Or am I not allowed to mourn my friend because he was your friend first?"
"That's not fair."
"Life's not fair, Sara." I take a deep breath and put the beer back in the fridge before turning to smile weakly at Catherine. "You're right, Cath, I can't do this. I'll go say my goodbyes to Jim and the boys, then I'm heading on home. I'll call you after the service tomorrow, okay?" When I move to try to get past Sara, she shifts to block my way. "Excuse me, Sidle, but can you get your skinny ass out of my way so I can go home?"
"No."
"Don't start this shit, Sara. I'm not in the mood, and this isn't either of our homes. Just let me leave in peace."
She stares at me for a long moment before stepping aside. "Fine. Go. Run out on the team just like you did a year ago. You're pretty good at cutting and running."
"Fuck you!" I hiss, getting right in her face. "Oh wait, that's right, I already did. And so did Grissom. I'm surprised you never tried to arrange a threesome. Go back to hell, Sara, and stay there this time, okay? And for the record? The short hair looks like shit on you."
And with that, I shove her out of the way and head out into the living room. I walk up to the three men I still consider friends, say my polite goodbyes and give the appropriate hugs, then head toward the front door. Gil Grissom wisely doesn't come anywhere near me. I'm almost to my car when I hear familiar footfalls behind me.
"Sofie, wait up!" I pause long enough for him to catch up to me at my car. "You doing okay, kiddo?"
"No," I reply roughly, tears nearly choking me. "It's bad enough to have to come back to deal with Rick's death. Do I have to deal with her, too?"
"Part and parcel of the process unfortunately. You need some help getting home?"
I shake my head and try to smile. "I'll be okay. I only had two beers and I've got plenty of adrenalin rushing through my system right now. But I'll call you when I get home if that'll make you happy."
He gives me a bone-crushing hug and murmurs encouragement before letting me go. He's still standing there when I turn the corner away from Catherine's house and head home.
*****
Daylight and I do not get along well when my alarm goes off the next morning. I was plagued with nightmares and memories of Sara all night long. I ended up taking one of the sleeping pills I'd gotten after the whole fiasco with Bell's shooting, but all that did was stop me from being able to wake from the nightmares. By the time I have to get up, I feel less rested than when I first went to bed. But there's nothing to be done about that now. I'll just get ready for the funeral, sit as far away from the team as I can so I don't have to deal with Sara and Gil, and then come home to have a few drinks and go back to sleep. She'll go back to wherever it is she ran off to, and I can go back to my work in Boulder City and pretty much not deal with any of them unless I absolutely have to. And of course, my shrink will be able to get started on that addition to her house with the therapy I'll need again to deal with this shit.
A long hot shower certainly helps to perk me up, but I know that caffeine is going to be the real antidote to my illness. Well, until I can get some sleep. I slip into boxers, a wife-beater, and my comfortable old robe, then head toward the kitchen to start the coffee brewing. Only the smell assaults my nostril the minute I open the door. What the fuck? And then I notice the pillow and blanket on the couch. Umm…
"Oh good, you're awake."
"What the fuck are you doing here?" I growl upon seeing Sara standing in my kitchen.
"Well, good morning to you, too, sunshine," she teases, sidling up to wrap her arms around my neck. When I abruptly shove her away from me, she squawks, and that's when I see the long hair framing her face. "Sofia!"
"Wait. You had short hair last night. How in the hell--? How long was I asleep?"
She moves slowly toward me, like she's approaching a rabid dog. "Honey, what's going on? I haven't had short hair since I was a kid. I don't like short hair."
I sink into a chair and rest my head in my hands. What the hell is going on? And then I notice the glint of silver on my left hand. The commitment bands. Oh fuck…
"A nightmare," I mutter incredulously, rubbing at my eyes. "It was just a fucking nightmare?" And then I remember the woman standing only feet away from me. A glance up at her shows the confusion and worry in her eyes. "Oh god, I'm sorry, Sara," I moan, reaching out to pull her closer to me, feeling the tears of frustration and relief burning behind my eyelids.
"Shh, it's okay," Sara murmurs, stroking my hair. "Wanna talk about it?"
I only pause for the briefest moments before the words begin to tumble from my lips. The entire sordid story: the Miniature Killer, learning about Sara fucking both Gil and me, Sara being kidnapped, rescuing her, leaving her and transferring back to Boulder City to get away from them, Sara leaving, Warrick being murdered, Sara coming back for his funeral. All the pain and humiliation comes pouring out of me like so much verbal vomit. By the time I'm finished, I'm limp as a rag and sobbing hysterically.
"It was so fucking real, Sara."
"I know, honey," she soothes. "Come on." I let her drag me back into the bedroom and crawl into bed. She pulls me closer and cups my face to brand me with a sweetly passionate kiss. "Do you really think I could be that manipulative? Use you like that? I've never seen Gil that way, not seriously, you know that."
Nodding, I sigh. "But that whole thing about Rick…"
"No more beef tongue and marshmallow fluff sandwiches before bed for you," she warns with a smile. "I don't care what kind of cravings you're having."
I grumble good-naturedly, but nod in agreement. "Okay, I guess you're right."
"And you owe me a day of pampering for scaring the hell out of me and shoving me like that."
"I think I can do that." I snuggle in closer to pepper her face with tiny kisses. "I love you, Sara."
"I love you, too, Sofia."