LKFICS.COM (Story)

Floored
Pin me down to the tenth power, baby. I do love a good crime scene reenactment. GS
Rating: PG-13; Published on 04/04/2005 - Reviews 2

Chapters: - 1 -

Disclaimer: I’m sorry, I’ve been away on vacation—do I own these characters now? No? Darn, I was hoping that contract to write a few episodes would have come through while I was gone…

Summary: Pin me down to the tenth power, baby. I do love a good case reenactment. G/S.

A/N: Thanks Marlou for a very speedy beta job, AND for…well, your great hospitality!

Sara didn’t think about the time until after she’d dialed, and now the phone was already ringing. She quickly checked her watch and realized Grissom might very well be asleep.

“Hey,” she said apologetically when he answered. “You still up?”

“Yeah. What’s going on?” He’d spent the last forty minutes flipping channels trying to get his mind off their case. He was certainly tired, but sleep wouldn’t come easily tonight.

“I think I know what happened,” she announced without taking a breath. “The husband’s lying. It wasn’t self-defense. I don’t think they were arguing when he stabbed—”

“Woah, slow down.” He sat up on his couch, ready to listen to her theory.

“Sorry, I’m hyper,” she admitted reluctantly. “Can I come over and run this by you?”

Grissom surveyed his living room in a panic. “Uh, okay.”

“It’s possible I’m just overtired and delirious, but I think I may have this figured out.”

“All right, come on over,” he said, already piling up the newspaper he’d read when he came home from work. “I’ll be here.”

The knock on his door fifteen minutes later startled him, despite expecting her. He closed the dishwasher he’d been loading and let Sara in.

“Hi.”

“Hi. Okay,” she started off, stepping confidently into his home. “Come in the living room.”

He paused a moment to observe her boldness, and then followed obediently.

“Something was bugging me all shift, and I couldn’t figure out what it was. So, finally, it hit me. What was the wife wearing?”

“A nightgown.”

“No, it wasn’t a nightgown. It was a hundred dollar black silk negligee,” she reminded.

“Okay.”

“So, the husband said they hadn’t been intimate in months and barely spoke to each other except to argue.”

Grissom watched her fidget back and forth on her feet. He’d seen her like this a few times before—during difficult cases. “So?”

“Grissom, uh, how do I put this…” She looked away embarrassedly and then announced, “Women don’t wear silk negligees because we like to slip all over the bed.”

He just blinked at her, catching on within seconds. “Okay.”

She seemed to snap right back to hyper-investigator mode. “So, go with me on this. Lay down on your back on the floor.”

If the screwed up, surprised look on his face was any indication, he wasn’t following her and needed some convincing.

“I’m serious,” she prodded, dipping her head to the floor expectantly.

He tossed one of his couch pillows down on the floor with a sigh and did as she asked, grunting a little for dramatic effect. His eyes widened when she immediately knelt on the floor by his feet. “So, the husband’s been saying all along that she came at him with the knife and there was a struggle. Yet, when we try to plot the scene from a standing position, the angle of the wounds and the bloodstains don’t match up.”

“Right. So you think he was lying down?” he asked quizzically. “How’d he stab her while lying down?”

“Watch this.”

Like a cat, she moved forward on all fours, her knees straddling his legs and her hands on the floor next to his arms. An eyebrow rose automatically with concern. “Sara,”

“Just—don’t panic. I’m going to lie on you.”

“Sara!”

“Just watch!” With that, she lowered her body against his, and every nerve ending seemed to come alive in that instant. There was no time to process it—she was talking to him! He had to focus.

“I’m your wife, and I’m all sexy in my black nightgown. There’s no argument. There’s no yelling. There are hot ‘n’ heavy things going on on the floor of that living room.” Her voice was husky and authoritative, and it made the moment all the more intense and mystifying. Then she began gyrating her hips every so slightly. “You get what I—”

“Yeah, I get the picture,” he interrupted, looking anywhere but her face. God, was he starting to sweat? He could barely breathe. Was she at all aware what she did to him?

Sara’s gaze caught his and they both froze, exchanging an open, hungry stare. Her mouth dropped as she became exceedingly aware of their proximity and position. What the hell was she doing?

“Move your hand,” she blurted unsteadily, continuing with the reenactment.

“I’m not touching you!” he defended with a panicked squeak to his voice.

“No,” she laughed, “I mean, I want you to move your hand! Put it on my back like you’re going to stab me.”

“What?”

“Do it—watch what happens…”

Reluctantly, hesitantly, he placed his hand on her back, balling it into a fist—as if holding a knife. Their eyes were locked, and they both stubbornly pretended not to notice the heat building between them.

Then his eyes narrowed, as if deep in thought. “Huh. That’s the right position to get the awkward, sideways angle of her wound.”

“There’s no way you can get it standing up,” she argued, shaking her head. “And watch this—” She wriggled a little, shifting to one side of his body. “If I’m stabbed in the back, and my lung is punctured like his wife’s was, I’m drowning in my own blood.” She slid a little more and rested her weight on her elbow. Her waist and legs still sprawled across him. “So you pull the knife out and—”

“Roll you off of me,” he finished, gently turning her away from him and twisting to his side.

“Which is why she was found on her back.”

“And why there was blood in only one spot on the carpet,” he nodded, becoming more and more comfortable with their proximity.

“Exactly. Then he called 911 and made up the struggle story. I think it could have been premeditated.”

“You did figure it out,” he said softly, offering a proud, albeit lopsided grin.

She exhaled heavily, half from exhaustion and half from relief. She rested the back of her hand on her forehead and stared at the ceiling for a few seconds. “Good. I thought this one was going to drive me nuts,” she said, glancing at him.

His hand was still on her waist, and she didn’t know what to make of that. Shyly, she studied his eyes—looking for an answer to the question she wasn’t willing to ask. It felt so absolutely wonderful, like maybe he wanted her in his arms.

And then Grissom did something unexpected. He rolled forward and kissed her. Sara let out a tiny gasp of surprise, when his lips touched hers. He stopped, hovering, checking for her rebuff. She only lifted her face closer to his. They kissed again, and once more, before relaxing into the soft sequence of gentle, explorative kissing.

His quiet hum of pleasure reminded her that this was not supposed to be happening. Why was this happening? He held her cheek, keeping her near when she pulled away—a guilty expression on her face.

“It was not my intention to come over here and seduce you,” she whispered sincerely.

Grissom said nothing, only staring at her with dark, serious eyes. “I’m sorry,” she breathed out, pressing her forehead to his cheek in some sad, strange attempt at an apology. Could she louse things up between them any more?

He kissed her again, a small peck, and she looked up at him with big, bewildered eyes. “I’m the one who kissed you,” he reminded gently.

“Oh.” But wasn’t she the one who put him on the floor and pounced on him? She thought about that for a few seconds.

“Perhaps we should…” He trailed off, having no idea what to say.

“Pretend this never happened?” she asked painfully.

“No!” His adamant disagreement surprised her. “No…” he repeated again.

“Do it again?” she smiled, burying her face in his neck with an embarrassed laugh.

“Yeah,” he mumbled immediately, lifting her chin for another kiss, which promptly morphed into several others.

Needing a moment to catch his breath, Grissom pulled back and smiled at the attractive flush of her cheeks. Then he dropped a tiny kiss on her cheek.

“You okay?” he asked, mildly concerned about the distant look in her eye.

“Yeah. I’m...” She interlaced her fingers with his, letting her head fall back on the pillow while she collected her thoughts. “…Just wondering what all of a sudden brought this on.”

He respected her wariness and knew she deserved some sort of an explanation. “It wasn’t exactly all of a sudden, Sara. It’s a…desperate act from a desperate man,” he sighed. A long moment followed where they sank into the closeness and just got used to it—not really looking at each other, just breathing each other in.

“I’m hoping you still like me,” he said quietly, making her smile and almost laugh.

Seeing his serious, tentative expression, she rolled her eyes and said, “Of course I still like you.” Grissom worked hard not to show how truly relieved he felt. “Despite your attempts to thwart me,” Sara continued, “You’re a fairly likeable guy.” She wasn’t quite yet willing to admit how deep her affection for him went.

He hugged her and lightly kissed her neck. The unexpected yawn that escaped Sara did little for the moment. “Am I boring you?” he teased.

“I’m sorry,” she laughed, silently blaming him for making her feel so nice and relaxed.

“It’s okay.” They both needed sleep. It was getting late. Of course, they just continued to lie there on his living room floor, entangled in a warm heap of arms and legs. Neither wanted to move.

“I should get going,” she sighed, fighting the urge to yawn again. She still didn’t budge.

“I’m glad you came over,” he admitted, slowly getting up from the floor. He held out a hand to help her up, which she accepted with a shy smile.

Standing before him, a worried look appeared on her face. “Are you going to be all right with this?” she asked, squeezing his hand. “I mean, we have work—”

“I know.” They started toward the door, still holding hands. “I’ll be fine.” Grissom sighed and shrugged, sensing she needed more convincing. “I’ve had a lot of practice, pretending I’m not emotionally invested in Sara Sidle.”

She smirked and blushed beautifully. “If you’re not careful, this could turn into an intimate conversation.”

He gasped comically and said, “God, I hope not,” and Sara laughed.

They reached the door, and he shoved his free hand in his pants pocket. “Do you want to go out…after work tomorrow?”

“I’d like that,” she replied with a grin, still amazed at the situation. Grissom just asked her out. It would probably take several hours for that grin to fade.

“Good work, by the way, on the case.”

“Thanks.” She started to leave and then turned back, leaning toward him, and then retreating indecisively, looking down shyly.

“I bet this’ll get easier,” he commented, stepping closer and resting his hand on her waist. She nodded and leaned into him, tilting her face to kiss him good-bye.

“I’m sure it will,” she replied, and slipped out the door with a quick wave.

THE END.

Reviews 2 - Submit a Review

Chapters: - 1 -