Category: Romance/angstyness...or is it angstiness? Know what? Neither of them are real words.
Archive: Please ask first I might say yes.
Disclaimer: I own the park, I created it in my head.
Dedication: To GeekLoveFan. I'm completely infatuated with her series 'Facades'. All of you GSR fans need to read it, it's positively amazing. Go, GO NOW!!! I can't freakin write because I can't. STOP. READING. Damn you GeekLoveFan! Damn you I say!!
Author's Note: Also... the line about confession was stolen. :::blushes embarrassedly::: I took it from Barenaked Ladies' 'Blame It On Me' off of their album Gordon. BUTTTT! In all fairness... I've spent HUNDREDS of dollars on their concerts (having been to twenty of them) so I feel I have SOME sort of right. ;-)
Summary: She reached out and traced random designs in the grainy surface, wiping them away when her arm had reached its extent, and starting over.
At first he had wondered if it was too little, too late. If his showing up at the park would anger her, if she would push him away, just when he was on the brink of giving in. It was incredibly difficult for him to ignore his feelings, and he was still unsure of as to why. But he was pleasantly surprised. She had responded welcomingly, eventually acquiescing by falling into bed.
So many years of loving what he thought was lost... Some many years spent wading in the middle, hoping something would come along and shove him in the right direction.
He could not deny himself the fact that waking up wrapped around her body was a like a gift. A gift that he opened with his lips and tongue and hands. He'd never felt so warm in his life; it was a warmth deep down in his bones that even the chill from her air conditioner could do away with.
He remembered, a short time ago, sitting next to her in the sandbox and feeling like a child, a child discovering the wonders of the girl he loved. At the time, he thought that maybe it was the way the wind ruffled her hair, the way the moon caught her eye and the way she looked up at it as if to say "thank you." He had truly been enchanted. Though, in reality, he had been enthralled with her since the day that she had raised her hand and told him that she thought that he was wrong. Since the day that they had gone out for coffee. Since the day that she had allowed him, once upon a time, to let his hand fall easily against her lower back as they strolled along the Charles, nothing more than teacher and student.
Perhaps Gil Grissom truly did believe in such a thing as a soul mate? He scoffed that off quickly, almost laughing at himself for thinking of such things. Soul mates. An improbability when held against rational science.
"Screw science." His right brain said. His right brain, the flippant and creative side sat lounging in a hammock, listening to Jimmy Buffet, smoking a cigarette slowly. "Screw science Gil, then go screw her again." In his head, it laughed at him and winked. Grissom was surprised when his left side didn't return the volley that his right brain had sent.
He could admit to himself that he was ready to be with her; be with her in the comfort of their own space, on their own time. He wasn't quite sure how to handle the situation at work however, and he didn't know how to bring it up in casual conversation.
So, when he got into work, he began to formulate a plan in his head.
True, he had left that evening after a rather long jaunt in Sara's shower (with the shower's owner) and had surely kissed her goodbye appropriately. He was quite sure that he was indeed proceeding with things properly.
So, that being realized, he stopped his frantic pacing for a moment to give himself a mental pat on the back. Imagine, Gil Grissom, finding himself comfortable in intimacy. He smiled just a bit; yes, yes he was proud of himself. He was especially proud of the fact that she had (unbeknownst to her) screamed out his name quite a few times while they soaped themselves that evening.
His head spun for a moment as he recounted the events of the past day. For a moment, he felt as if he had done something wrong but began to rationalize with himself. She had wanted it, he had wanted it... they had said that they...
He had forgotten that they had told each other that they lo-
Impossible. It hadn't happened. He couldn't have spoken the words to her. That would mean far too many things; things that he couldn't possibly wrap his mind around in the state he was in. But, he figured, since he did indeed love her (that word again)... that it was okay that he had told her so. Grissom just wasn't absolutely positive that telling her in the midst of... oh what was he to call it? In the midst of... of... coitus (there, that was a nice, safe, scientific word). He wasn't positive that spitting out something quite that monumental during coitus would be taken to heart.
So that would mean that he'd have to tell her over and over again. But would she believe him? He shrugged, alone in the presence of only his bugs and specimens. He'd just keep telling her until she believed him, that was the only real way to go about it, he rationalized.
He smiled to himself and allowed his body to calm, just a bit. That was a nice solution, just keep telling her that he loved her until-
But that didn't really solve the predicament about work... that he found himself in. So, in a fit of self-aimed rage, he began pacing again. Back and forth. Back and forth, his tarantula watching him interestedly. He peered back at the arachnid as if it could give him some sort of timeless answer. He arched a brow at the creature but it trotted away from the glass.
Grissom sighed and retreated behind his desk, plopping himself in his chair. A large hand came up to swipe over his face. He felt that he was in a great predicament, though he knew that he shouldn't be. Deep down, he knew things would probably work themselves out. That perhaps the first few days would be awkward, but that things would...
Aw, hell he was scared. Scared that she was going to come in and realize that-
No, no, he wasn't. He was... worried that he'd want her during-
In all actuality he was most concerned about the fact that he wasn't really concerned about anything. He was simply trying to come up with reasons to be agitated about the situation because he thought he had to be. He sighed again, heavily and sat back in his chair, allowing his eyes to drift shut.
Suddenly, the shrill ringing of his phone startled him out of his catatonia. He reached over, and before he checked the caller ID, he flipped the thing open, holding it to his ear. "Grissom." He panted out, dejectedly enough for the person on the other end of the line to feel it.
"Stop moping. Everything's fine. Everything's... perfect." A long sigh, a smile traveling back to him through the line. "Come hand out assignments." Sara said and ended the call.
If he had believed in God, he was sure that he would have had a religious experience right at that moment. Forgive me father but I've fallen in love and that's all I have for confession today.
He allowed a tiny smile to trail over his lips as he threw his glasses on his face, grabbed the assignment slips and walked briskly from his office. Oh yes, Gil Grissom truly felt like a redeemed man.
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