Title: The Resolution Author: Summer Reign Rating: T Spoilers: Law of Gravity Disclaimer: The characters are not mine.
Summary: A firm resolution is made. But you know what they say about resolutions.
Sara Sidle never made New Year's resolutions. She considered them rather pointless. In her mind, you either did something or you didn't. Intending to do something, rather than taking immediate action, meant you didn't have the heart to do it in the first place. And, therefore, whatever you resolved to do was destined for failure.
Of course, there were exceptions to every rule and in the wee, small hours of the first morning after Grissom left for Boston, Sara made her first resolution in decades. When he got back—they'd talk. Really talk. About Their Relationship. Men hated those conversations and, truth be told, so did she, but he needed to understand how wrong his actions were. Not in leaving, but in the unilateral decision making and the brutally blunt way he had delivered the news.
They weren't just sharing beds and space. They were sharing lives and, with that, there should be some…consideration…for the feelings of the other party.
Yes, that's what they'd talk about. She'd spell it all out for him and he'd have to come to a full understanding before they'd pick up where they left off.
That was her belated New Year's resolution.
As the days went by, Sara added more and more details to her resolution scenario. She'd pick him up from the airport, drive him to his apartment, sit him down with some Chinese takeout and start talking. And she wouldn't let him interrupt until she was done. She'd managed to think of comebacks for every conceivable argument he might dream up to counter every statement she would make.
She was nervous, but firm in her resolve. This needed to be done before they could move forward.
And then two days before his scheduled arrival back in Las Vegas, she was walking down the hallway of the lab. Sara had spent the early hours of the morning in a garbage dump, collecting evidence and sifting through things she didn't want to give a second thought to. People, she had decided, were absolute pigs—and that was probably a grave insult to the animals. She was dirty and so … fragrant…she was offending herself. She walked with purpose. Two minutes to drop off the evidence and then she could make a mad dash to the showers.
No. No way. There was just no way.
She turned around.
"You're back," she stated, flatly.
The timing couldn't be worse.
She warned him about her smell and he wrinkled his nose and came after her anyway. Greg? Was he the one who told her something about how a real man wouldn't care about her…reeking? Well, Grissom sure was a real man. A real gorgeous man—standing there, looking like some demented version of Grizzly Adams. The newly grown beard was…a mess, but adorable. His hair was wild and wooly, just the way she liked it. But the look he gave her—she had seen that particular look only once before, when she had gone out of her way to buy something sexy to sleep in. Or, more precisely, not sleep in.
At the time, she hadn't even considered it all that risqué. It was a rather simple, dark pink satin nightgown: short with spaghetti straps and a somewhat daring décolleté. It hugged her in all the right places but it wasn't lewd or overly suggestive. It certainly struck the right chord with Grissom, though, as he immediately began stalking her around the room. She had laughed and told him he was scaring her and he laughed back and told her she had just cause to be frightened. In a minute, he kind of wrestled her to the mattress where they made love in a way they never had before—with laughter and teasing and a great sense of pure joy.
That was the way he was looking at her now. In the middle of the lab. Where there were lots of people who could bear witness to his behavior. Before he could take another step forward, Sara told him she was going to hit the showers. He looked at her in a way that made her want to grab him and never let go. Propriety be damned.
But, ah, yes. There was a resolution to be kept. And that needed to be her top priority.
"I'll see you later?" he asked with a kind of controlled giddiness that she hadn't seen in…well, she'd never seen it in him.
"Yeah, you will," Her voice sounded strange even to her own ears. It was a weird blend of promise and warning.
She lay there in the early afternoon, stroking her fingers through his somewhat wild curls. There was an addendum to the resolution: they'd have The Talk after he woke up. She had planned on doing it before…but he arrived at her door shortly after she came home and he looked so…so everything good and Grissom-ish, that she immediately postponed her plans and let her lips latch on to his.
God, he was a good kisser. For someone who, by all outward appearances, didn't seem to enjoy being touched, he absolutely enveloped her in affection. His arms were around her and his tongue was stroking hers as he breathed heavily through his nose. All she could think of was how much she had missed him, how much she loved him, and how glad she was that she took two showers with very sweet smelling soap.
Their joining was fast and hard and she'd probably be sore for a week, but it was worth it. She smiled and kissed the top of his head. He fell asleep, mid-nuzzle, using her left breast as his pillow. She knew how tired he was, leaving Boston slightly earlier than he had planned, throwing himself into a very emotional, rough case and trying to have a reunion with her. Plus, there was a time-difference. He hadn't even left the bed to change into one of those strange pajamas he seemed to own a dozen of. That was a very rare occasion, indeed. Grissom didn't really feel comfortable sleeping in the buff. She had a feeling it was some form of body consciousness, but he had nothing to worry about. If Sara had her choice, clothing would be banished where he was concerned.
She smiled at the thought. She just…loved him. While he was covered from the waist down, even his bare back distracted her. She hadn't slept at all. She just spent her time staring at him, touching him, kissing him lightly as he slept... For a very short and scary time, she hadn't been sure she'd ever have the opportunity to see this particular "view" again. She had been that unsure of what his leaving meant.
She sighed and turned her head to check the time. And there it was, next to the alarm clock: the letter that fell out of his jacket pocket when they were speed-stripping. He told her she could read it later. Well, now qualified as "later."
She took the envelope and gently opened the back flap. She removed the high quality stationary, and looked at line after line of Grissom's surprisingly beautiful handwriting. His handwriting wasn't the only surprise. The letter contained an admission of his own weaknesses in their relationship, a confession of how much he missed her and a Shakespearean sonnet. A love sonnet. No doubt about it, even if he sometimes had trouble verbalizing his emotions, he certainly knew how to compose a love letter. She carefully put the letter back in the envelope and returned it to the nightstand.
"I missed you, too, Gris. So much." She whispered as she kissed the top of his head and ran her fingers gently over his bare back.
He lifted his head and smiled at her. Oh, he'd need to trim that beard all right. No one would take him seriously looking like a Neanderthal emerging from a cave.
"You read the letter?" he asked.
"Since you've apparently been faking sleep for the last few minutes, you know I did."
"I meant every word," he said, his blue eyes never leaving hers.
"I know," she said, biting her lower lip as she felt the moisture fill her eyes. "That's the most beautiful thing I've ever been given."
He smiled softly, and moved to lie on his own pillow, leaning his head on his outstretched arm, just watching her for a moment. She knew he still didn't like talking much about emotions. But he had a satisfied look on his face. He knew he had "done good." He had actually "done good" all day. His publicly chasing her down the hall that afternoon, handing her the letter (and, thus, his heart) and the warm look of pure love he was giving her now were all shining examples.
He reached out with one finger and traced the reddish impression his cheek left on Sara's breast. "I think I need to shave. Your skin can't handle much of this."
"It just needs a trim. I'll get used to it, again. What made you grow it, anyway?"
"My face was cold."
The sound of Sara's laughter filled the room. He gave her a quirky half-smile and moved closer. "Aren't you going to sleep tonight?"
"I don't want to."
"Fair enough. Then, neither will I. In fact, that will be my new resolution. To spend more quality time with you. If you stay up, I stay up."
"You'll be asleep in five minutes, then."
"How did you reach that conclusion?"
"Simple. Resolutions are meant to be broken. And you're very, very tired."
And after a few minutes of very slow kisses and the gentle gliding of hands on skin…Sara's theory on resolutions proved to be correct. Grissom was fast asleep and she was beginning to nod off herself.
She stopped for one moment, thinking about another addendum to her own resolution, another postponement.
But she had everything she wanted right here, right now. And that was all that really mattered.
She broke her resolution and never looked back.
A/N: I usually sit on a story for a while, and perhaps I'm making a mistake by not doing it, but I kind of like it the way it is.
Since last week's story was dedicated to WP, this one is for Jorja Fox. (Stands on soap box)….Ehem…in a day and age when we are given precious few strong female role models and women are flashing their boobs to get what they want ('you tell me one thing and I'll pop another button for you, big boy')…. 'Sara' is strong, smart, warm, natural and lovely. And so is Jorja. I'd like my younger female relatives to turn out as well as she has and that's the highest compliment I can pay anyone. Anyway, she should be proud of the job she does because thousands of us really appreciate the work she's put out there for us to enjoy. And, well, she rocks.