Fic beginning
He’s sure he’s seeing things.
But there is no way that he’s imagining Catherine’s fingers running through Sara’s hair. Absentmindedly, self-assuredly, as if she has every right to be touching Sara in such an intimate manner, as if she had done it before. As if, sometime in the near future, she’s going to do it again. His forehead scrunches in a frown, his eyes following the journey of Catherine’s nail along the curve of Sara’s throat, watching as the younger woman angles herself backwards, leaning into Catherine’s hands.
His jaw clenches. Catherine wasn’t allowed to touch Sara like that- and Sara wasn’t allowed to like it.
Feeling his glare scorching her skin, Catherine looks up, glances over at him. She must notice the look of warning on his face, but only quirks a half smile at him as her hands slide to a stop dangerously close to Sara’s collarbone.
Grissom has known Catherine long enough to know when she’s challenging him.
A curtain of blonde hair falls between them as Catherine looks down at Sara, whose lips move in an inaudible murmur. Sara tips her head up, twisting in her chair to speak directly to Catherine, and Grissom reads the words that fall from her lips.
“You’re incredibly good at that.” He stiffens. Catherine is still hidden behind her hair, her side of the conversation hidden from him. He doesn’t need to see her mouth. Sara is filling in the gaps for him.
“The hands on the clock are never going to move fast enough.” She pauses. “Your place?”
Two simple words shake the foundations of Grissom’s world. His anger, kept under lock and key in the back of his mind, begins to break free of its bonds. He could see his control of Sara slipping, Catherine pulling her chains from his hands. He wasn’t going to let that happen. Sara was his.