The Talk

Propped up on his elbow, Grissom looked at the woman sprawled on the bed, and brushed her damp hair back from her forehead. She smiled up at him.

“Okaaaaay, I feel better,” she told him softly.

 He nodded slightly. “I feel a lot better. Sara--I just didn’t realize . . . .”

“—You never do,” she pointed out patiently, her lips twisting into a wry way. “Admit it, Grissom; this isn’t exactly new.”

He sighed and very slowly nodded. “I know. It’s not . . . easy to change at my age, Sara. I haven’t had to consider anybody’s feelings but my own for a long time.”

“Yeah, well true as that may be, I think you need to realize that you’re two down on this particular habit, and while I love you, don’t think I’m going to give you much of a third chance, buddy.”

“I wouldn’t deserve a third chance,” Grissom admitted honestly. “I know that.”

Sara caught and held his gaze, her expression going mock-stern as she did so. “Can I get that in writing?”

“Yes. I could write it one hundred times, like those punishments I used to do in school.”

Sara shifted to slide against his cooling skin, nipping his shoulder gently. “I will not go off on half-assed ventures without consulting a cooler head?”

“I will show Sara how important she is to me by sharing my impulses with her,” he countered. She nipped a little harder, making Grissom wince a tiny bit. “Ow.”

“Heh, that’s so you remember it.”

“That’s not exactly a negative reinforcement you know,” he murmured huskily.

 Sara smothered her smile against him, glad to feel his arm encircle her shoulders more tightly. “I know. Good thing Catherine doesn’t.”

Grissom had turned his face and was nuzzling her, his breath warm along her temple. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you by leaving you out, and by not thinking about how you felt.”

Sara sighed. “I know, and honestly, Grissom? I don’t want you to change—because that’s pretty much impossible. I just want you to grow.”

His drew in a deep breath and kept nuzzling along her cheek until his lips grazed against hers. Grissom spoke softly.

“Sara--when I’m with you . . . I bloom.”


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