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An online haven where Grissom Sara Romance is free
to flutter ... By KMnO4 Fairytale Rating- G Summary- It starts where everyone else
ends… at happily ever after. Wise
men say Only
fools rush in But
I can't help Falling
in love with you... Sara had never been the world's greatest
dancer. She was no Ginger Rogers and Grissom was certainly not Fred Astaire.
At first his feet came crashing down on top of hers so many times that she
began to lose count, but by the end of their fourth dance they were as
synchronized as a time-tested Rolex. Nobody seemed to notice anyway. Their
eyes were focused on the beaming faces of the waltzing couple as they circled
the floor in elaborate sweeping steps. If they couldn't show off today,
when could they? Grissom dipped Sara directly in front of the table which
held the majority of their lab co-workers. A swell of applause went up into the
twinkling night sky, while the moon watched over the festivities with a
glowing fullness. A stream of drunken, but affectionate speeches followed and
finally the time arrived to cut their triple layered lemon cake. Sara placed
her hand over Grissom's and they gently plunged the knife in. "To my wife," he began.
"The most beautiful thing I have ever seen." "To my husband," she replied.
"You're not so bad yourself." Laughter echoed around them, and they
shared a long and lingering kiss as the party began to die down. Their family
and friends left in large groups full of animated chatter, so once silence
fell across the garden it was a sure sign it was all over. Grissom and Sara
sat down beside each other to survey the remains of their day. "It was good," she smiled. "It was great," he added. "It was perfect," they
concluded on the end of a sigh. Sara turned towards Grissom and cupped
his bearded face with the soft plane of her palms. "But never again," she
dead-panned. There was a brief glint within the
boundless blue of his eyes. "And I was so looking forward to
divorce," he teased. Mrs. Grissom punished him with the
pounding of her lips as they lightly brushed the surface of his skin. Come
fly with me Come
fly let's fly away If
you can use some exotic booze There's
a bar in far Grissom was not easily embarrassed.
However, in certain circumstances he had to admit defeat. His right foot was
uncomfortably wedged beside the tiny airplane toilet and his lower back kept
hitting the sink. Sara found it hilarious. She told him that the key to
success was to try and be as still as possible, but he wasn't convinced. Sara tightened her embrace and the
temptation of her neck proved enough to distract Grissom from his
complaining. The base of her spine began to tingle like a gypsy before a
premonition, but long legs and tightly enclosed spaces were no great match
for her either. There was a loud thud as her head hit the ceiling. It was Mr. Grissom's turn to laugh. His
wife was not amused; she slipped a hand below the waistband of his slacks and
quickly silenced him. Sara's eyes darkened with intent, a wicked smile
gracing her lips. Her husband captured them with his own and softly nipped at
the sensitive skin he found there. "Flying will never again be the
same for me," he whispered. "Don't expect this every time we
board a plane," she giggled. "Really?" Grissom frowned. "It's a honeymoon special,"
Sara purred. A consistent tapping on the toilet door
almost made their legs buckle with surprise. "Sir," the air hostess began.
"We are about to land in Sara held her breath, and gently pushed
Grissom's hands out from under her cotton shirt. "You too, ma'am," the
extremely perceptive woman added before discreetly walking away. They slowly disentangled themselves and
proceeded out of the tiny room, leaving a brief interval between their exits.
Once they were both safely restored to their rightful places, Sara gazed
excitedly out of the window, soaking in the breathtaking view of the island.
But, she did pause just long enough to playfully swat Grissom across the arm
as he voiced sweetly in her ear. "Busted." The
way you wear your hat The
way you sip your tea The
memory of all that They
can't take that away from me... Grissom observed Sara with an intensity that
made her shiver. She locked her gaze with his and offered him a beaming
smile. He pulled her across the couch and she settled against the broad
expanse of his chest. Her fingers made lazy circles on top of the soft fabric
of his shirt and she sighed with contentment. So this was what she had
been missing all these years. Mrs. Grissom loved: waking up with her
husband’s face an inch away from hers, the feel of his damp body at
night after his shower, the way he frowned when he did the advanced crossword
puzzles at the kitchen table, the little check cloth he threw over his
shoulder whenever he was cooking, and even the obsessive way he double locked
the front door on their way out. Gil loved: kissing his wife before
falling asleep at night, listening to her dramatic show tunes in the
bathroom, the soft underside of her legs which he frequently trailed his
hands along, the way she got especially talkative during times of extreme
tiredness, the special dinners she prepared for the neighborhood’s stray
cat population. "Sara?" He asked, stilling the
movement of her hand. "Yes, Gil," she murmured. "I'm happy," Grissom
whispered. "You better be." Sara laughed. Later, he walked across the living room
and caught a glimpse of her silhouette behind the French windows. Grissom
brought his face up to the glass and saw Sara frantically shining the
surface. He grinned, and lifted his hands to form silent words. She paused
for a moment to read what he was signing. "I am not a neat freak!" she
yelled. Gil beckoned her towards the opposite
side of the window, and kissed the smooth surface behind which her lips lay. "You smudged it!" she teased. "Am I in trouble?" he
returned. "Big time," Sara said, raising
her eyebrows suggestively. Grissom stepped out into the garden and
stole her duster before planting his mouth hard against Sara's, finally
making contact. Someday
when I'm awfully low When
the world is cold I
will feel a glow just thinking of you And
the way you look tonight... Sara pulled her overalls down to her
waist and tied them roughly around her hips. She attempted to wipe the grease
off her forehead but only succeeded in further enlarging the stain. Her white
tank top was sticky with the intense heat of the poorly ventilated CSI lab
garage. It had been five hours, and she still had nothing. No prints. No
fibers. No success. Nada! Grissom surveyed his wife from the
doorway. Sara always looked cutest to him when she frowned. Her face screwed
up like a defiant five year-old and she developed an attractive little
wrinkle above the bridge of her nose, dressed with a light splattering of
freckles. However, when she smiled, that was amazing. It would stop you right
in your tracks. Wham! "I brought you a sandwich," he
said softly. "Thanks," she sighed. "Can you take a break?" Gil
asked. "You tell me, boss..." Sara
laughed. It was a lovely sound. It brightened his
night. The stars outside of the tiny windows, shone just for them, and he
began naming constellations as they sat on the hard stone floor beside the
beat up Buick. Sara intertwined her fingers with his and brought them up
towards her mouth. She kissed Grissom's hand lightly then set in back down,
and began to eat. She loved his glasses. They glinted in
the half-light and cast little flecks of silver glow across the pale ceiling.
Yet, when he took them off, Sara could really see the blue of his eyes. They
sparkled and shined just as much as the reflective shades did. So, Mrs.
Grissom had the best of both worlds. It was fabulous. She was content. "Finished?" he asked. "You bet," she grinned. "I brought you some coffee, but I
forgot the sugar," Grissom said apologetically. "Kiss me," Sara voiced softly. "What?" He barely had time to
expel, before her lips were on his. She drew away slowly, resembling the
deliriously happy Cheshire cat from "That was sweet enough." I
want to love you and treat you right I
want to love you everyday and every night We'll
be together with a roof right over our heads We'll
share the shelter of my single bed... It was Sara's turn to get stuck in a
tight situation. She was currently hanging off the side of Grissom's tiny
bunk bed, about to fall into the crack beside the wall. He was pulling as
gently as he could, but was deathly afraid of hurting her. She promptly
informed him that there was no room for chivalry, especially not when the
resulting loud thump would definitely wake his mother. He started to laugh at this, and with a
giant tug, brought her crashing down on top of him. Sara had yet to work out
was so funny, as Grissom was rolling around as much as the small bed would
allow. She tickled his sides which only served to elevate the noise, so she
placed the smooth palm flat against his mouth. "Now, if I let you go, do you
promise not to make a sound?" his wife requested. She released her grip momentarily to
allow him to respond. "No," he voiced defiantly. "Why not? It's your mother!"
Sara said, trying to control the volume of her voice. "That's right. She's my deaf
mother," Grissom replied. Sara's face dropped several feet with
dismay. How could she have forgotten that when she'd spent the entire
Christmas Day signing until her fingers began to ache? Grissom grasped
her wrists which were still suspended near his smiling mouth. She sighed
heavily, and he pulled her into a tight embrace. They lay awkwardly entangled
beneath the sheets. "But you know it does have its
benefits..." he began. Sara shot him a disparaging glare. "Oh, no. I am not having sex in
your childhood bunk bed," she said sternly. "It could be fun..." Grissom
continued. "It could break..." Sara
laughed, turning towards his face in the dark. Midnights
in winter, the glowing fire Lights
up your face in orange and gold I see
your sweet smile, shine through the darkness Its
line is etched in my memory, so I'd know you by heart... Another party. This time it was their
one year anniversary, and it was being held at Sara's parents B&B. All
their Vegas friends had traveled over especially, for a weekend of untold
excitement at the hands of their excitable hosts. Grissom and the men were
held up in the living room doing whatever it is men do, while Sara and her
female counterparts had taken possession of the largest bedroom. The fancy underwear had been her
mother's idea. Sara had almost died of embarrassment when attempting to
explain the situation to her cousins and to Catherine, but they had found it
to be quite amusing. So, they were currently surrounded by a sea of lingerie
and night wear. A black bustier was being passed around in awe. "I am not trying to give my husband
a heart attack," she scoffed. "I think Grissom could do with a
little jump start," Catherine laughed. "It can't hurt to try, dear,"
Mrs. Sidle consented. "Mom!" Sara exclaimed. The room erupted in a fit of squealing
giggles, proving that you're never too old for a bit of girlish indulgence.
But eventually the evening wound down, and everyone headed for their rooms.
Tomorrow would be the official party, complete with all her father's famous
delicacies. Sara had obviously developed her distaste for cooking from her
spoilt mother. Grissom lay upright against the floral
headboard, half asleep from all the animated discussion. Nick and Warrick had
launched into a mammoth debate about baseball teams that had got everybody a
little over enthusiastic. Greg had ended up with a black eye, which he gave
to himself, while trying to reenact a memorable sporting event. "Gil..." she whispered. "Sara? Get out here already,"
he sleepily directed towards the closed bathroom door. "Okay..." Mrs. Grissom said
shakily. Through the flickering candle light, he
caught a vision of her form. Grissom fully intended to respond but found his
tongue had glued itself to the roof of his mouth. "You don't like it?" Sara
mumbled. He continued to gaze at her-- gob
smacked. "I should change. I knew it was too
much..." she sighed. Just as Sara's hand made contact with
the handle of the door, Grissom leapt out of bed and crossed the room towards
her. Gathering her up in his arms, Gil carried her over to the bed and placed
her on top of the equally floral bed cover. Looking down at his wife with
nothing short of desirous longing, he teased. "If anyone is going to take that
off..." "It's going to be me." Grow
old with me The
best is yet to come -
Robert Browning The
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