CSI Redux
Title: CSI Redux
Chapter: Werewolves
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Grissom/Sara
Spoilers: Season 6
Summary: AU series. Grissom and Sara have a past that is more than most realize.
Author’s Notes: Okay, this is one of those fics that has little to do with story growth and everything to do with fun. I would say I’m sorry but who am I kidding, I like to have fun!
Anselmo’s was one of those gems that the tourists rarely saw and only the more adventurous of locals ever sampled. It was a place that had regulars not just because the service was good and the cuisine great but because the place had a memory. The maitre d remembered his customers’ favorite table, the waiters recalled preferred drinks, and the man himself, Anselmo, always remembered his patrons names. Yes, Anselmo’s Ristorante had a memory and memories in a town like Las Vegas could be a very elusive and exclusive thing.
Sara loved everything about the place. From the slightly tacky décor that seemed overly influenced by the Godfather movies to the jukebox with its repertoire of fifties and sixties Italian American singers. There were more upscale restaurants to be sure, but Anselmo’s always felt right, a piece of home in the strange land of neon lights that never wane.
With Tony Bennett softly crooning over head, Sara relaxed in to her seat as she waited for her date to return from the men’s room. It had been awhile since she and Grissom had dined at Anselmo’s, a lifetime to be exact, when they had both been younger, unscarred by heartache that only those that have truly loved and lost can feel. Sara’s mind honed in on the memory, only to forcibly shake it from her thoughts. She did not want to dwell on the past when the present was just beginning to look up.
“Hey,” Grissom greeted at his return, sliding into the dark burgundy, horseshow shaped booth. “Sorry it took so long. Enzo caught me on my way back.”
“Enzo?” Sara smiled, looking in the direction of the bar. “He’s still here?”
“I think Enzo will be around when they turn off the lights to Vegas,” Grissom quipped as he reached for his scotch, downing the last of the amber colored liquid.
A buzzing from Sara’s purse caught both of their attention, their eyes stabbing at the offending bag in unison.
“Damnit,” Sara muttered, snatching the phone free and checking the digital i.d. before answering it. “CSI Sidle.”
Grissom watched Sara, catching her side of the conversation and extrapolating the other half of the call from past experiences. He’d been a part of that conversation thousands of times over the years, called in on a night off because of a big case, or his expertise was needed, or just because the CSI on call didn’t respond to his page.
“Alright, let me know if you get a hold of him,” Sara told the caller at the other end, her voice tinged with disappointment.
The moment Sara snapped her cell phone closed, Grissom asked, “Dispatch?”
Sara nodded reaching for her glass of red wine. “Logan from swing isn't answering his page and for some reason Sophia told dispatch to call me.”
Grissom gave her a crooked smile before his attention was momentarily diverted by their waiter refreshing his drink. Three scotches in one night, Sara thought, one eyebrow rising. Must be in a good mood.
“Is it urgent?”
“Not according to dispatch,” Sara answered, slightly surprised at Grissom’s relaxed air. “I think Brass had her running the LUDS on our vic’s phone and checking the 911 call.”
“Mmm,” Grissom hummed, leaning back into the booth, both arms spreading out to rest on the back of their seat. “Well until dispatch tells you otherwise, I guess you’re mine.”
Sara suppressed the tiny shiver that danced along her spine, causing a noticeable flush to breakout upon her cheeks. Grissom’s voice was low and sensual, his blue eyed gaze hooded as if to control the heat that was already burning there. When he rolled his lower lip in with the tip of his tongue, Sara found herself curling her hands into fists to stop herself from grabbing him and pushing him over in the booth. Her mind had instantly calculated the possibilities of getting away with jumping the man there in their candlelit alcove for two and negated it, knowing the risks of getting caught were too high.
Damn!
“I guess so,” Sara finally answered, her voice rougher than usual.
“Do you want another glass of wine?” Grissom asked, inclining his head at her empty wine glass.
“No, I should probably stay clear headed,” Sara said not bothering to hide her annoyance.
“I could drive you home, but that’s not exactly what I want to do,” Grissom revealed, his voice down right suggestive.
“Not exactly,” she whispered.
“Not exactly.” Grissom licked his lips, his eyes nearly caressing Sara’s body as they lazily traveled up and down Sara’s body.
Oh, my, he is in a good mood!
Leaning in towards Sara, Grissom placed his lips at her ear, whispering exactly what he wanted to do. Without hesitation Sara called for the waiter and their check, it was time to leave, and the quicker the better by the look in Grissom’s eyes. If it wasn’t for her phobia of cheap hotel rooms, Sara might have suggested they grab one. As it was, Grissom got them back to his place in record time and only mildly bending the speed limit. Of course, once they were behind closed doors, moving violations were eagerly committed throughout the townhouse.
* * * *
An hour and a half later, Sara pulled up to a remote phone booth to find a mildly annoyed Sophia Curtis chewing on the end of a tooth pick. Sophia would pick at Sara and Sara would let her words roll off with unusual ease. She wouldn’t let the former CSI get under her skin, not tonight. Sara would process the booth, take the evidence back to the lab, leave a nasty note for Logan about picking up his phone when he is on call, and pray she could find Grissom right where she left him.
Asleep and naked in bed.
Chapter: Werewolves
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Grissom/Sara
Spoilers: Season 6
Summary: AU series. Grissom and Sara have a past that is more than most realize.
Author’s Notes: Okay, this is one of those fics that has little to do with story growth and everything to do with fun. I would say I’m sorry but who am I kidding, I like to have fun!
Anselmo’s was one of those gems that the tourists rarely saw and only the more adventurous of locals ever sampled. It was a place that had regulars not just because the service was good and the cuisine great but because the place had a memory. The maitre d remembered his customers’ favorite table, the waiters recalled preferred drinks, and the man himself, Anselmo, always remembered his patrons names. Yes, Anselmo’s Ristorante had a memory and memories in a town like Las Vegas could be a very elusive and exclusive thing.
Sara loved everything about the place. From the slightly tacky décor that seemed overly influenced by the Godfather movies to the jukebox with its repertoire of fifties and sixties Italian American singers. There were more upscale restaurants to be sure, but Anselmo’s always felt right, a piece of home in the strange land of neon lights that never wane.
With Tony Bennett softly crooning over head, Sara relaxed in to her seat as she waited for her date to return from the men’s room. It had been awhile since she and Grissom had dined at Anselmo’s, a lifetime to be exact, when they had both been younger, unscarred by heartache that only those that have truly loved and lost can feel. Sara’s mind honed in on the memory, only to forcibly shake it from her thoughts. She did not want to dwell on the past when the present was just beginning to look up.
“Hey,” Grissom greeted at his return, sliding into the dark burgundy, horseshow shaped booth. “Sorry it took so long. Enzo caught me on my way back.”
“Enzo?” Sara smiled, looking in the direction of the bar. “He’s still here?”
“I think Enzo will be around when they turn off the lights to Vegas,” Grissom quipped as he reached for his scotch, downing the last of the amber colored liquid.
A buzzing from Sara’s purse caught both of their attention, their eyes stabbing at the offending bag in unison.
“Damnit,” Sara muttered, snatching the phone free and checking the digital i.d. before answering it. “CSI Sidle.”
Grissom watched Sara, catching her side of the conversation and extrapolating the other half of the call from past experiences. He’d been a part of that conversation thousands of times over the years, called in on a night off because of a big case, or his expertise was needed, or just because the CSI on call didn’t respond to his page.
“Alright, let me know if you get a hold of him,” Sara told the caller at the other end, her voice tinged with disappointment.
The moment Sara snapped her cell phone closed, Grissom asked, “Dispatch?”
Sara nodded reaching for her glass of red wine. “Logan from swing isn't answering his page and for some reason Sophia told dispatch to call me.”
Grissom gave her a crooked smile before his attention was momentarily diverted by their waiter refreshing his drink. Three scotches in one night, Sara thought, one eyebrow rising. Must be in a good mood.
“Is it urgent?”
“Not according to dispatch,” Sara answered, slightly surprised at Grissom’s relaxed air. “I think Brass had her running the LUDS on our vic’s phone and checking the 911 call.”
“Mmm,” Grissom hummed, leaning back into the booth, both arms spreading out to rest on the back of their seat. “Well until dispatch tells you otherwise, I guess you’re mine.”
Sara suppressed the tiny shiver that danced along her spine, causing a noticeable flush to breakout upon her cheeks. Grissom’s voice was low and sensual, his blue eyed gaze hooded as if to control the heat that was already burning there. When he rolled his lower lip in with the tip of his tongue, Sara found herself curling her hands into fists to stop herself from grabbing him and pushing him over in the booth. Her mind had instantly calculated the possibilities of getting away with jumping the man there in their candlelit alcove for two and negated it, knowing the risks of getting caught were too high.
Damn!
“I guess so,” Sara finally answered, her voice rougher than usual.
“Do you want another glass of wine?” Grissom asked, inclining his head at her empty wine glass.
“No, I should probably stay clear headed,” Sara said not bothering to hide her annoyance.
“I could drive you home, but that’s not exactly what I want to do,” Grissom revealed, his voice down right suggestive.
“Not exactly,” she whispered.
“Not exactly.” Grissom licked his lips, his eyes nearly caressing Sara’s body as they lazily traveled up and down Sara’s body.
Oh, my, he is in a good mood!
Leaning in towards Sara, Grissom placed his lips at her ear, whispering exactly what he wanted to do. Without hesitation Sara called for the waiter and their check, it was time to leave, and the quicker the better by the look in Grissom’s eyes. If it wasn’t for her phobia of cheap hotel rooms, Sara might have suggested they grab one. As it was, Grissom got them back to his place in record time and only mildly bending the speed limit. Of course, once they were behind closed doors, moving violations were eagerly committed throughout the townhouse.
* * * *
An hour and a half later, Sara pulled up to a remote phone booth to find a mildly annoyed Sophia Curtis chewing on the end of a tooth pick. Sophia would pick at Sara and Sara would let her words roll off with unusual ease. She wouldn’t let the former CSI get under her skin, not tonight. Sara would process the booth, take the evidence back to the lab, leave a nasty note for Logan about picking up his phone when he is on call, and pray she could find Grissom right where she left him.
Asleep and naked in bed.