Fanfic: Sea Foam and Starfish
Title: Sea Foam and Starfish
Author: vegawriters
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Sara/Grissom
Rating: Mature
Timeframe: Just before Grave Danger
Disclaimer: All the usual legal stuff applies. These characters belong to CBS and each other and in no way to me. I would like to remind CBS, however, that good writers are always looking for jobs.
Author’s Note: This is my “how they worked it all out” story. Woke up with it in my head, couldn’t walk away. It has direct references to happenings in the rest of the Sleeps with Butterflies universe and sadly, you will most likely be confused if you don’t have some basic knowledge of those stories.
Summary: She shook her head. “I need you. The man who loved me back in San Francisco. If you can’t give him to me, I’d rather find a way for us to just be friends. I need to be allowed to move on. We both do.”
“When did you and Supervisor Grissom become intimate?”
“Two … years ago. I think it was a Sunday.”
~Conrad Ecklie and Sara Sidle
Karen Carpenter wept. Rainy days and Mondays made her sad and Sara had to agree, even if it was a Sunday. She sat by the window of her apartment, the blackout curtains pulled open just enough to let the flat gray of a Vegas rainstorm encroach on the dim light of her living room. Her fingers trailed the rivulets of rain that ran down the glass, cutting rivers through a desert. She dreamed sometimes of rain, of days on the beach and racing through wet sand with her brother and her parents. Back, long ago, before drinking and schizophrenia and hospitals and social workers and cops puking their guts out in the corner.
Once, she’d found a starfish on a rock and spent the day sitting with it, waiting for the sun to come out. Her mother had come to sit with her and braided her hair and told her stories of the magical worlds under the sea. She’d told her a story about a little mermaid and the prince she’d fallen in love with and cautioned her daughter that when you gave up everything you had just for a man, you were destined to disappear into the sea, just like the mermaid. She hadn’t realized at the time that her mother was speaking from her own personal experiences and it was sage advice that Sara had pointedly ignored when she’d dropped her entire life and moved to Vegas for Gil. Lucky for her, she’d morphed out of the sea foam and into a much more powerful creature. Lucky for Gil, he’d finally taken his head out of his ass.
Sort of.
A key turned in her lock and a soft smile crossed her face. She was maxed out on overtime so her day of processing trace had ended right at seven AM. She’d had time to eat a light breakfast, shower, and even read a chapter in the book she’d stolen from Gil’s shelf. He’d picked up some history of vegetarian cultures and left it for her to find. It was his way of reaching out.
She appreciated the gesture.
It was odd. They were odd. She’d moved to Vegas to get away from Dan, to be with Gil, and nothing had quite worked out like planned. Well, Dan had stayed away from her.
Yes, the Vegas lab was the best place for her, but it hadn’t been easy for her heart. Gil’s nervous twitch about the power structure of their professional relationship transferring to a personal one was fair, but it hadn’t made the cut off in communication or the occasional solace-fuck any easier to handle. But since her suspension, things had changed. She recognized the look in his eyes - it wasn’t lust. That was always there. No, the look was compassion and tenderness and honest connection with her.
She just wasn’t sure what they were doing. She knew things had changed, again. She was glad he still had a key to her apartment. More than once he’d stayed too late to drive home and curled up with her in bed, but had hesitated to actually touch her.
At least until the other night, when he’d rolled over and taken her in his arms and his lips had found hers. The kiss had felt endless and all the walls tumbled down. Brick by brick, one on top of the other, he was her Gil again. But now, she was even more confused by what it all meant.
She wondered if that star fish was still sunning itself on that rock out by the old bed and breakfast in Tamales Bay.
“Hey.”
His voice, so soft. So measured. He made love to language when he spoke. His lips and tongue stroked and kissed each syllable. It made her wet.
“I hope it’s okay that I came by. I just …”
She winced at the tired, pained look in his eyes. He’d spent his shift processing a car accident with fatalities, one of them a three-year-old girl. Child cases touched him deeper than any of them, but he internalized it, cursing the world for its inability to protect the most vulnerable among them. He locked the door behind him and walked to her and took a space behind her so that he could wrap his arms around her waist.
“Gil …”
She wasn’t sure what to say. He took care of it for her.
One hand reached up and turned her cheek so their eyes met. Then, his mouth was on hers and his hands on her waist and she knew exactly where this was headed. Before it could turn into something they’d regret two hours from now, Sara pulled back, her hands on his shoulders.
“Gil.” This time his name was a statement. “What are we doing?”
He stopped and stared at her and terror filled his blue eyes. His hands fell away from her waist and he found her statue of the meditating Buddha quite fascinating. “I’m sorry, Sara.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just … what are we doing? Because if we aren’t picking up where we left off years ago, I’m ending this right now.”
He looked back at her and Sara tightened her knees on either side of his legs to keep him from bolting out the door. She was tired of the questions. “What do you mean?”
“I need more than the occasional sympathy fuck.” She shook her head. “I need you. The man who loved me back in San Francisco. If you can’t give him to me, I’d rather find a way for us to just be friends. I need to be allowed to move on. We both do.”
The terror in his voice frightened her. “Sara … that man let you get hurt in San Francisco. That man should have thrown you into a suitcase and dragged you away from there. That man broke your heart when you moved here.”
“That man has been the man in my life the last few months, even if you hide it. You made mistakes, Gil. So did I. I put too much pressure on you. I expected more than you were ready to give.”
“I should have been more honest with you.”
“Yes.” She put her hands on his cheeks, “But, I’m an adult, last I checked. I had some say in what happened and I could have handled things better.”
“I shut you down, Sara. Because I was scared of losing everything if you walked away. It was easier for me to be miserable watching you than risk you leaving me.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I haven’t gone anywhere. I’m right here, Gil. Right here. For whatever you need.”
He stroked her cheek with his finger. “You were willing to give me everything. Why?”
“If you have to ask, we have a long way to go. But I’m okay with that.” Sara leaned in and kissed him.
He met the kiss halfway, his tongue begging entrance to her mouth, his body letting her know exactly what he wanted. She wanted him to lay her out on the bed and have his way with her. She wanted him to kiss her tattoos and play with her jewelry. She wanted to feel his mouth on her sex, to tangle her fingers in his hair. She wanted to scream his name as she came and feel him collapse on top of her after his own release.
She knew his body intimately. She knew the space on his neck that made him instantly hard and how the soft pouch of his belly was covered in downy fur. She knew that his favorite position was to have her riding him, her hands on his chest, so he could watch how she controlled every movement. He liked sex on the couch and cuddling in bed. And she knew that making love to him today did not mean that tomorrow would be easy. He would still be distant and awkward and she would still love him in ways that tore her to pieces.
There were times she still felt like a school girl, standing in her professor’s presence. But they were so much more than that. And he was more than a half-formed figment of savior perfection. He was a man who had devoted so much of his time to work that he’d forgotten how healing a touch could be. He saw broken hearts every day and was terrified to someday have one of his own. She knew his worst nightmare was her ending up on a slab. He’d already attended a funeral for a woman he loved, he didn’t need to do it again.
Her shirt was somewhere behind her, his unbuttoned, when she pulled back again. “Gil …” she shook her head and grabbed his fingers to still them. “What happens later?”
“I’m done walking away from you, Sara.”
It was all she needed to hear. Gil Grissom did not say things he did not mean.
His hands made quick work of her bra, hers of his shirt, and, impatient, he picked her up and carried her back toward her bedroom.
It wasn’t the lovemaking of new lovers. They would never have that again. That had been the fairytale of San Francisco, the slipping into quite rooms to kiss and grope and tease and touch. The late nights of touching and exploring and learning each and every erogenous zone. She learned she loved having the backs of her knees stroked and he loved doing it.
It was the lovemaking of two people who knew what they wanted. Who went into heartbreak with open eyes because it was worth the risk. There was no shyness, no awkward giggling. She laughed when he blew on her nipple, he chuckled when she tickled him. When he slid into her, tucking one leg over his hip for leverage, she kept her eyes open. When she came, his eyes dampened, reddening around the edges with emotion. Still trembling, she stroked his beard, his cheeks, her fingers through his hair.
They loved each other, somehow. The rest would figure itself out.
He placed a kiss on her collarbone and moved, carefully pulling out of her body. The condom went quickly into the trashcan by her bed and he reached into the nightstand for the towel he knew she kept there. Gentle hands cleaned her and set the towel aside before he gathered her back against his body and caught his breath.
Sara chuckled.
“Not a sound a man likes to hear after what we just did.” He sounded ten years younger.
The chuckle became a giggle.
“What?”
“Ecklie wants both of us fired. This would do it.”
Gil joined her laughter. “You have a point.” His hand stilled on her arm. “Sara …”
“No, we aren’t going to go announcing anything right now, Gil. Not until we figure ourselves out.”
“I’ve figured it out.” He kissed her softly. “I’m done hiding from you.”
“Good.” She sat up and looked into his blue eyes. “I know it isn’t going to be easy, Gil. But I miss us.”
“I miss us too.”
The words hung in the air, but they both hesitated to say them. It was too soon, it had been too long. But she did love him and she knew, under all his layers, he loved her too. So she kissed him and let the actions linger. They were more powerful than any words they could ever say.
Fairytales be damned. Real life was much more interesting.
Continued in Miles High
Author: vegawriters
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Sara/Grissom
Rating: Mature
Timeframe: Just before Grave Danger
Disclaimer: All the usual legal stuff applies. These characters belong to CBS and each other and in no way to me. I would like to remind CBS, however, that good writers are always looking for jobs.
Author’s Note: This is my “how they worked it all out” story. Woke up with it in my head, couldn’t walk away. It has direct references to happenings in the rest of the Sleeps with Butterflies universe and sadly, you will most likely be confused if you don’t have some basic knowledge of those stories.
Summary: She shook her head. “I need you. The man who loved me back in San Francisco. If you can’t give him to me, I’d rather find a way for us to just be friends. I need to be allowed to move on. We both do.”
“When did you and Supervisor Grissom become intimate?”
“Two … years ago. I think it was a Sunday.”
~Conrad Ecklie and Sara Sidle
Karen Carpenter wept. Rainy days and Mondays made her sad and Sara had to agree, even if it was a Sunday. She sat by the window of her apartment, the blackout curtains pulled open just enough to let the flat gray of a Vegas rainstorm encroach on the dim light of her living room. Her fingers trailed the rivulets of rain that ran down the glass, cutting rivers through a desert. She dreamed sometimes of rain, of days on the beach and racing through wet sand with her brother and her parents. Back, long ago, before drinking and schizophrenia and hospitals and social workers and cops puking their guts out in the corner.
Once, she’d found a starfish on a rock and spent the day sitting with it, waiting for the sun to come out. Her mother had come to sit with her and braided her hair and told her stories of the magical worlds under the sea. She’d told her a story about a little mermaid and the prince she’d fallen in love with and cautioned her daughter that when you gave up everything you had just for a man, you were destined to disappear into the sea, just like the mermaid. She hadn’t realized at the time that her mother was speaking from her own personal experiences and it was sage advice that Sara had pointedly ignored when she’d dropped her entire life and moved to Vegas for Gil. Lucky for her, she’d morphed out of the sea foam and into a much more powerful creature. Lucky for Gil, he’d finally taken his head out of his ass.
Sort of.
A key turned in her lock and a soft smile crossed her face. She was maxed out on overtime so her day of processing trace had ended right at seven AM. She’d had time to eat a light breakfast, shower, and even read a chapter in the book she’d stolen from Gil’s shelf. He’d picked up some history of vegetarian cultures and left it for her to find. It was his way of reaching out.
She appreciated the gesture.
It was odd. They were odd. She’d moved to Vegas to get away from Dan, to be with Gil, and nothing had quite worked out like planned. Well, Dan had stayed away from her.
Yes, the Vegas lab was the best place for her, but it hadn’t been easy for her heart. Gil’s nervous twitch about the power structure of their professional relationship transferring to a personal one was fair, but it hadn’t made the cut off in communication or the occasional solace-fuck any easier to handle. But since her suspension, things had changed. She recognized the look in his eyes - it wasn’t lust. That was always there. No, the look was compassion and tenderness and honest connection with her.
She just wasn’t sure what they were doing. She knew things had changed, again. She was glad he still had a key to her apartment. More than once he’d stayed too late to drive home and curled up with her in bed, but had hesitated to actually touch her.
At least until the other night, when he’d rolled over and taken her in his arms and his lips had found hers. The kiss had felt endless and all the walls tumbled down. Brick by brick, one on top of the other, he was her Gil again. But now, she was even more confused by what it all meant.
She wondered if that star fish was still sunning itself on that rock out by the old bed and breakfast in Tamales Bay.
“Hey.”
His voice, so soft. So measured. He made love to language when he spoke. His lips and tongue stroked and kissed each syllable. It made her wet.
“I hope it’s okay that I came by. I just …”
She winced at the tired, pained look in his eyes. He’d spent his shift processing a car accident with fatalities, one of them a three-year-old girl. Child cases touched him deeper than any of them, but he internalized it, cursing the world for its inability to protect the most vulnerable among them. He locked the door behind him and walked to her and took a space behind her so that he could wrap his arms around her waist.
“Gil …”
She wasn’t sure what to say. He took care of it for her.
One hand reached up and turned her cheek so their eyes met. Then, his mouth was on hers and his hands on her waist and she knew exactly where this was headed. Before it could turn into something they’d regret two hours from now, Sara pulled back, her hands on his shoulders.
“Gil.” This time his name was a statement. “What are we doing?”
He stopped and stared at her and terror filled his blue eyes. His hands fell away from her waist and he found her statue of the meditating Buddha quite fascinating. “I’m sorry, Sara.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just … what are we doing? Because if we aren’t picking up where we left off years ago, I’m ending this right now.”
He looked back at her and Sara tightened her knees on either side of his legs to keep him from bolting out the door. She was tired of the questions. “What do you mean?”
“I need more than the occasional sympathy fuck.” She shook her head. “I need you. The man who loved me back in San Francisco. If you can’t give him to me, I’d rather find a way for us to just be friends. I need to be allowed to move on. We both do.”
The terror in his voice frightened her. “Sara … that man let you get hurt in San Francisco. That man should have thrown you into a suitcase and dragged you away from there. That man broke your heart when you moved here.”
“That man has been the man in my life the last few months, even if you hide it. You made mistakes, Gil. So did I. I put too much pressure on you. I expected more than you were ready to give.”
“I should have been more honest with you.”
“Yes.” She put her hands on his cheeks, “But, I’m an adult, last I checked. I had some say in what happened and I could have handled things better.”
“I shut you down, Sara. Because I was scared of losing everything if you walked away. It was easier for me to be miserable watching you than risk you leaving me.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I haven’t gone anywhere. I’m right here, Gil. Right here. For whatever you need.”
He stroked her cheek with his finger. “You were willing to give me everything. Why?”
“If you have to ask, we have a long way to go. But I’m okay with that.” Sara leaned in and kissed him.
He met the kiss halfway, his tongue begging entrance to her mouth, his body letting her know exactly what he wanted. She wanted him to lay her out on the bed and have his way with her. She wanted him to kiss her tattoos and play with her jewelry. She wanted to feel his mouth on her sex, to tangle her fingers in his hair. She wanted to scream his name as she came and feel him collapse on top of her after his own release.
She knew his body intimately. She knew the space on his neck that made him instantly hard and how the soft pouch of his belly was covered in downy fur. She knew that his favorite position was to have her riding him, her hands on his chest, so he could watch how she controlled every movement. He liked sex on the couch and cuddling in bed. And she knew that making love to him today did not mean that tomorrow would be easy. He would still be distant and awkward and she would still love him in ways that tore her to pieces.
There were times she still felt like a school girl, standing in her professor’s presence. But they were so much more than that. And he was more than a half-formed figment of savior perfection. He was a man who had devoted so much of his time to work that he’d forgotten how healing a touch could be. He saw broken hearts every day and was terrified to someday have one of his own. She knew his worst nightmare was her ending up on a slab. He’d already attended a funeral for a woman he loved, he didn’t need to do it again.
Her shirt was somewhere behind her, his unbuttoned, when she pulled back again. “Gil …” she shook her head and grabbed his fingers to still them. “What happens later?”
“I’m done walking away from you, Sara.”
It was all she needed to hear. Gil Grissom did not say things he did not mean.
His hands made quick work of her bra, hers of his shirt, and, impatient, he picked her up and carried her back toward her bedroom.
It wasn’t the lovemaking of new lovers. They would never have that again. That had been the fairytale of San Francisco, the slipping into quite rooms to kiss and grope and tease and touch. The late nights of touching and exploring and learning each and every erogenous zone. She learned she loved having the backs of her knees stroked and he loved doing it.
It was the lovemaking of two people who knew what they wanted. Who went into heartbreak with open eyes because it was worth the risk. There was no shyness, no awkward giggling. She laughed when he blew on her nipple, he chuckled when she tickled him. When he slid into her, tucking one leg over his hip for leverage, she kept her eyes open. When she came, his eyes dampened, reddening around the edges with emotion. Still trembling, she stroked his beard, his cheeks, her fingers through his hair.
They loved each other, somehow. The rest would figure itself out.
He placed a kiss on her collarbone and moved, carefully pulling out of her body. The condom went quickly into the trashcan by her bed and he reached into the nightstand for the towel he knew she kept there. Gentle hands cleaned her and set the towel aside before he gathered her back against his body and caught his breath.
Sara chuckled.
“Not a sound a man likes to hear after what we just did.” He sounded ten years younger.
The chuckle became a giggle.
“What?”
“Ecklie wants both of us fired. This would do it.”
Gil joined her laughter. “You have a point.” His hand stilled on her arm. “Sara …”
“No, we aren’t going to go announcing anything right now, Gil. Not until we figure ourselves out.”
“I’ve figured it out.” He kissed her softly. “I’m done hiding from you.”
“Good.” She sat up and looked into his blue eyes. “I know it isn’t going to be easy, Gil. But I miss us.”
“I miss us too.”
The words hung in the air, but they both hesitated to say them. It was too soon, it had been too long. But she did love him and she knew, under all his layers, he loved her too. So she kissed him and let the actions linger. They were more powerful than any words they could ever say.
Fairytales be damned. Real life was much more interesting.
Continued in Miles High