CSI Fic: Things Left Behind
TITLE: Things Left Behind
AUTHOR: jenbachand
PAIRING/CHARACTERS: Grissom/Sara & Greg
RATING: General
SPOILERS: Say Mid Season 8
DISCLAIMER: I made no money from the writing of this fic.
SUMMARY: The things that we leave behind sometimes mean more than we know.
NOTES: Thanks to the always lovely mingsmommy for the speedy beta. I was given a prompt of Grissom, Greg & tampons a while back. It somehow worked.
The fire in Greg’s apartment building hadn’t been too bad, but because it was a few doors down from him, he had been required to vacate his dwelling while the place was inspected.
The most surprising thing had been when Grissom, who was the one who showed to process the scene, had offered his spare room for a few days, with the disclaimer that fish and guests smell after a few days if he understood his meaning.
So, Greg had grabbed a duffel bag and filled it with toiletries along with a few outfits for work and after and followed Grissom to his house.
The dog was a surprise.
Well, not really if you consider that Grissom was All American Male in his love of all things baseball (and probably apple pie too). But that there was an actual pet that was of the mammalian variety instead of the arthropod type did make him do a double take.
“Hank, down!” Commanded Grissom, and for just a second Greg considered sitting too. He turned to Greg with a sad quirk to his lips. “He’s been overly hyper since Sara left. Keeps looking for her to come in behind me. Of course I do too.” After a pause he asked, “Do you run?”
Greg nodded. Words weren’t quite forming in his mind. Grissom had a dog, a dog he shared with Sara, and he was discussing Sara’s absence.
Grissom gestured for Greg to follow him down the hall. He showed Greg the room he’d be in, where clean towels could be found and left him to shower and unpack his things in the bathroom.
It was a pretty swanky bathroom. Plenty of room for two people to move around without bumping into each other. Lots of mirrors. The mark of Sara could definitely be felt in the near sterile countertops. And the Grissom standard of at least one bug display on the wall. He opened the cabinet to stash his hair stuff and was brought up short.
Sara’s stuff was still there. Greg started to gently move her stuff around so that he’d have room. Her flat iron, curling iron, blow dryer (at least he assumed it was Sara’s, he didn’t see Grissom as a blow dry man), medicines with her name, and a box of…
“Greg,” Grissom knocked and the sudden reappearance of the man startled Greg so much that the box of tampons he had been moving wound up scattered all over the bathroom. Grissom edged the door open and Greg’s humiliation was complete.
“Sorry Griss. Sorry. I wasn’t snooping. Just trying to make space, you know move stuff around, and there was Sara’s stuff, like she was still here, and you startled me, and---” Greg trailed off as Grissom started laughing. Not just a laugh, but one of those near to hysterical laughter bouts that leaves one doubled over laughing and gasping for breath.
Greg was mortified.
He would have to leave Vegas.
Leave Nevada.
No. The country. He would have to leave the country.
Once Grissom had recovered his poise and posture, he smiled again at Greg. “That’s fine Greg, but I was just coming to ask if you wanted something from the Chinese delivery.” He wiped at his eyes. “You can explain to Sara when she calls why you were molesting her feminine care products.”
Greg stared at Grissom’s back. Thoughts of getting to speak to Sara for the first time since she left were outweighing any lingering feelings of embarrassment. He missed her, and from the looks of things, she would be back, but hearing her voice would go a long way at making him feel better about it.
He just hoped Grissom didn’t insist on telling him the history of the tampon anytime soon.
AUTHOR: jenbachand
PAIRING/CHARACTERS: Grissom/Sara & Greg
RATING: General
SPOILERS: Say Mid Season 8
DISCLAIMER: I made no money from the writing of this fic.
SUMMARY: The things that we leave behind sometimes mean more than we know.
NOTES: Thanks to the always lovely mingsmommy for the speedy beta. I was given a prompt of Grissom, Greg & tampons a while back. It somehow worked.
The fire in Greg’s apartment building hadn’t been too bad, but because it was a few doors down from him, he had been required to vacate his dwelling while the place was inspected.
The most surprising thing had been when Grissom, who was the one who showed to process the scene, had offered his spare room for a few days, with the disclaimer that fish and guests smell after a few days if he understood his meaning.
So, Greg had grabbed a duffel bag and filled it with toiletries along with a few outfits for work and after and followed Grissom to his house.
The dog was a surprise.
Well, not really if you consider that Grissom was All American Male in his love of all things baseball (and probably apple pie too). But that there was an actual pet that was of the mammalian variety instead of the arthropod type did make him do a double take.
“Hank, down!” Commanded Grissom, and for just a second Greg considered sitting too. He turned to Greg with a sad quirk to his lips. “He’s been overly hyper since Sara left. Keeps looking for her to come in behind me. Of course I do too.” After a pause he asked, “Do you run?”
Greg nodded. Words weren’t quite forming in his mind. Grissom had a dog, a dog he shared with Sara, and he was discussing Sara’s absence.
Grissom gestured for Greg to follow him down the hall. He showed Greg the room he’d be in, where clean towels could be found and left him to shower and unpack his things in the bathroom.
It was a pretty swanky bathroom. Plenty of room for two people to move around without bumping into each other. Lots of mirrors. The mark of Sara could definitely be felt in the near sterile countertops. And the Grissom standard of at least one bug display on the wall. He opened the cabinet to stash his hair stuff and was brought up short.
Sara’s stuff was still there. Greg started to gently move her stuff around so that he’d have room. Her flat iron, curling iron, blow dryer (at least he assumed it was Sara’s, he didn’t see Grissom as a blow dry man), medicines with her name, and a box of…
“Greg,” Grissom knocked and the sudden reappearance of the man startled Greg so much that the box of tampons he had been moving wound up scattered all over the bathroom. Grissom edged the door open and Greg’s humiliation was complete.
“Sorry Griss. Sorry. I wasn’t snooping. Just trying to make space, you know move stuff around, and there was Sara’s stuff, like she was still here, and you startled me, and---” Greg trailed off as Grissom started laughing. Not just a laugh, but one of those near to hysterical laughter bouts that leaves one doubled over laughing and gasping for breath.
Greg was mortified.
He would have to leave Vegas.
Leave Nevada.
No. The country. He would have to leave the country.
Once Grissom had recovered his poise and posture, he smiled again at Greg. “That’s fine Greg, but I was just coming to ask if you wanted something from the Chinese delivery.” He wiped at his eyes. “You can explain to Sara when she calls why you were molesting her feminine care products.”
Greg stared at Grissom’s back. Thoughts of getting to speak to Sara for the first time since she left were outweighing any lingering feelings of embarrassment. He missed her, and from the looks of things, she would be back, but hearing her voice would go a long way at making him feel better about it.
He just hoped Grissom didn’t insist on telling him the history of the tampon anytime soon.