Spoilers: YGM and very slight PNN
Archive: www.grissomandsara.com. Anyone else, ask permission and I'll probably say yes.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. I do own the plotline you're about to read, but since we all know it'd never make it to the show... then I must not own the show. Damn!
Summary: G/S (some W/C ∓ N/OC) - Grissom wakes up the morning after the team's crazy night of charades...
Chapter 6 - Grocery shopping with a vegetarian
"Sara. Sara! Would you please wait? If you're going to make me the pack mule, at least stop running so the mule can keep up with its handler."
Sara eyed him appraisingly. "Was that a joke I just heard, Grissom? From you? Ah, doubtful. Now, keep your mind on the task at hand," she joked. "Selecting the right head of broccoli takes talent and precision."
As they made their way through the market, Grissom became more and more apprehensive each time Sara threw something into their cart. Wheat germ? Organic soy cheese? What sort of quiche was this woman making? "'Eggschange egg substitute'? Sara what exactly do you plan to feed me? You know I'm not a vegetarian."
Sara smirked. "You said you wanted to make it up to me. You also said I couldn't cook. Well, if you still believe the latter, then prepare to suffer from the former. If you think that maybe I can cook after all, well then you have nothing to worry about, now do you."
Grissom gulped. "Yes'm," he ventured to Sara. To himself, he could only think, "God I feel like I'm having dinner with Lady Heather, not Sara Sidle. I hope to god she hasn't got any handcuffs at home. Er, well actually... hmm."
Sara puzzled over the sudden flush that rose on his cheeks. "Maybe he's finally had the good sense to be embarrassed about insulting me. No, probably not. He's probably just embarrassed to be seen in public with me, bad cook that I must be." Shooting a glare at Grissom, she picked up the pace.
"Since you obviously don't like being here, how about participating a little so we can get this over with? Hand me that bread flour. And no, don't ask what it's for. You're an investigator - try putting your skills to use."
"Smart ass," Grissom muttered.
"I heard that. Get moving, old man." In spite of herself, Sara was beginning to enjoy this outing. It felt almost like they were, well, married or something. Going grocery shopping together... definitely an activity for couples. Which they weren't, she reminded herself. But a woman could pretend. She smiled at her companion. "I promise I won't send you home dead, ok Grissom? Cause god knows Catherine doesn't want the shit that goes with your job."
A gesture of peace, he assumed. Well that was fair enough. "Hmm... I suppose I can trust you," he smirked, enjoying Sara's annoyed expression. "Oh come on, Sara, you know I trust you. You're probably the only one of my CSIs that I'd trust to cover my back alone. That extends to your cooking, even." This was greeted by a smile.
Had he just complimented her? He had! Damn, maybe this night wasn't going to be as bad as she had feared. Sara grinned. "C'mon, Gris, we're almost done. Just keep telling yourself it'll all be over soon."
As they made their way toward the checkout lane, Grissom surveyed the contents of the cart. Egg substitute, three heads of broccoli, sugar, milk, soy cheese, banana pudding, "nilla" wafers, bread flour, wheat germ, yeast, olive oil... "Sara, do you actually have any food in your house? Or are we buying all of it?"
"Um, well I do have food. Mostly not stuff I'd feed anyone for dinner, though. That pie, some cereal, a few soy yogurts."
As she spoke, the cashier began ringing up their purchases. Grissom watched the prices flash by on the register's screen. "$5.60 for a half pound of fake cheese?!" he thought. "Damn stuff better clean up the kitchen for us after dinner for that kind of price," he mumbled to Sara.
"Shush. Quality food costs more. Stop sulking just because I'm making you eat healthy tonight." She began to dig around in her pockets, trying to recover the two $20 bills she knew were buried in there somewhere. Before she could find them, Grissom had handed the cashier $35.23 from his own wallet. Sara noticed that, exacting as always, he had counted out exactly the amount of their bill. "You didn't need to pay, you know."
He shrugged. "It was either that or wait for you to clean out your pockets. Besides, this is my penance, remember? Only fair that I pay for the items of torture." He adroitly ducked the swat that came flying toward his head. "Predictable, Sara - you're getting predictable," he chuckled as they headed out the door.
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