Privacy by SLynn
Summary: As Greg and Sara adjust to living together more permanently, outside influences begin to take their toll. Takes place three weeks after 'Issues'. Greg/Sara and Nick/OC
Disclaimer: It's all mine, because yeah, this is what I'd do with my free time if I actually owned these characters.
Notes: I guess this would be called trilogy now. Again – no promises on the frequency of updates. I really will soon be without internet access for about a month. :(
Chapter 1: What a Good Boy
"So, tell me how the move went."
"Good," Greg said with a smile, "really good. Everyone came over, helped out, had some food. We had a good time."
Greg laughed at the tone of her voice.
"I said that a lot didn't I?"
"A few times, but there's nothing wrong with feeling good is there?"
"No," he answered, rubbing the back of his head. It was almost like a tell for him now, when he was feeling nervous or uncomfortable. "It's just sometimes I think it's too good."
"Waiting for the other ball to drop?"
"Something like that, yeah. I don't feel like I deserve this."
"Everyone is entitled to happiness."
"Entitled, yes. I said deserve."
She nodded in understanding.
"Why don't you deserve happiness?"
Greg looked at her, clearly at a loss and just shook his head. He didn't have an answer for that.
Three days after going back to work after the incident, as it was coming to be known, Greg decided to try therapy again. Sara had agreed with him, thought it was a good decision, she only asked that he try another male psychiatrist first.
Understandably, Greg had been reluctant. Given his track record he figured he was better off seeing another woman, but knowing that's exactly how Sara saw it, as literally 'seeing another woman', he was willing to try.
He hadn't even lasted half an hour.
She understood, was glad he'd at least given it a shot, and as a compromise accompanied him to his first session with Dr. Dora Jennings. It had gone well. They both liked her. Greg enough to continue his sessions, twice weekly and Sara enough to no longer feel threatened about him doing so.
Probably the most important part of all of this was that Dr. Jennings agreed with Dr. Sanchez's initial diagnosis, that while having bipolar tendencies Greg did not need any additional drug therapy now that he was off of the chemotherapy. Mostly he needed an outlet, some place to go to vent his feelings and frustrations where he wouldn't feel judged. That's what she was there for.
Greg was again attending session on Tuesday's and Thursday's at nine each morning, Grissom fully aware. Having just left her office he stopped to pick up breakfast before heading home to Sara.
"Hello," he called as he opened the door.
"I'm in the bedroom," he heard in return.
It was only their third day there and the place was in disarray. Between them they had two couches, one recliner, one arm chair, a coffee table, an ottoman, two televisions, four bookcases, two coffee tables and three end tables. And that was just the living room.
Putting the food down on the kitchen counter Greg wandered off to find her.
"I thought you'd be sleeping," he said upon finding her perched on the bed attempting to hang pictures onto the wall.
"I'm off tonight, couldn't sleep so I thought I'd at least get this room done."
"I got breakfast," he said as he walked over and steadied the picture for her.
"Thanks. What did you get?"
"Bagels. You done?" he asked, as she finished with the hammer and took a step backwards and then off the bed.
"Yeah, let go."
Greg did and joined her as they gave it a once over.
"That's nice," he said still looking at it.
The words still hung in the air as the frame crashed to the bed with a dull thump.
"Bagels huh?" Sara asked turning to go.
A few minutes later they were sitting down at one of their three tables to have breakfast. Sara still couldn't figure out why he'd had two and where he'd kept it for so long out of sight.
"How was Dr. Jennings today?" she asked.
"Alright. We talked about the move."
"Did you ask her if she needed any furniture?"
"I asked the guy who sold me these if he needed any furniture," Greg returned.
Sara laughed. It was funny. Between them they'd collected enough furniture for two houses. It was hard getting around because of it. The strangest part was that nothing, absolutely nothing matched. And it was very easy to distinguish whose was whose. Everything Sara had been neutral, beige, very natural and earthy. Everything Greg was loud, bright, nearly glowing or otherwise hard to look directly at. She'd never noticed how different his stuff was because at his apartment it had all gone together, but now out of context and next to her normal things she began to seriously wonder if he might not be color blind.
"We can always start over," she offered but wasn't serious.
They couldn't afford it. Not a complete house full of things after just buying a house.
"No, we just need to put some stuff into the garage. Or sell it."
"Fine," she agreed, "we'll move your couch out…"
"No," he cut in, "not my couch. Yours."
"Greg your couch is yellow. Big Bird yellow. It doesn't go with anything else."
"It is not Big Bird yellow," he argued. "And how come you never said anything before? You've been sitting on it for like a year now, but now it's a problem?"
"Yes. It's out of place."
"Well, it's better then your…your… okay I don't have Muppet name to call your brown couch, but that's because they never made Muppets that color. It's dull. Children would never learn the alphabet or how to count in Spanish if your couch was trying to teach it to them."
Sara laughed. He was so serious about it, she couldn't help it. The last few days they'd had more arguments, stupid ones like this, then they had the entire time they'd been together which was almost a year now.
"It's not funny," he said looking down to put more cream cheese on his bagel, "I don't like your couch. It's itchy."
Sara was still laughing. He was trying hard not to join her, to just keep looking down, but she saw the corners of his mouth twitch. Greg just managed to fight it down.
"Seriously, some things have to go," she continued after getting her laughter in check.
"Why my things?" he asked.
"We're keeping your bed."
"The two of us barely fit in yours. And it's even staying; we're putting it in the spare."
Sara shrugged and took her last bite.
"Okay, but if my couch goes then so does that hutch," Greg said pointing to the corner it dominated in the dining room.
"What? That makes no sense. We only have one. Why would we get rid of it?"
"Because I don't like it."
Sara stood up and grabbed her plate. Depositing it in the sink she didn't say anything else, just gave him a glare before heading down the hall to the bedroom.
"Hey," he called, "it's either me or it."
"I'm going to miss you then," was the reply just before the door shut.
Half an hour later, Greg showered and threw on some pajama bottoms before crawling into bed next to Sara. Wrapping his arms around her waist as she lay on her side, he gently nuzzled her neck.
"You can keep the hutch," he whispered, relieved to hear her laugh softly in the semi-darkness of the room.
Having done nothing else, given the hours they worked, the blinds were the first things in place. It was hard to sleep with the sun shining in on you.
Greg kissed her on the shoulder and squeezed her once. She rolled over in his arms, facing him now. Smiling before kissing him full on the lips.
"You're very good to me."
"I know," he smiled back at her, kissing her again. Then again and again.
Sara had answered it but the call had been for him.
"Greg," she said shaking him from his sleep, "come on. You've got to get to the lab."
"I'm not on yet," he whined, pulling the covers up over his head.
"Well they need you now," she said pulling them back down.
"Who?" he asked, half sitting.
"What time is it?" he asked, noticing the room was full dark now. He briefly wondered if he was late.
"It's after eight."
"You let me sleep that long?" he continued to question. It wasn't mean spirited, just kind of surprised.
"You were tired," she answered with a smile.
"Okay," he yawned getting up and moving now.
Sara retreated back out of the room as he got dressed. Finishing buttoning up his shirt as he walked back out into the living room he was startled at the progress she'd made. A lot of the boxes that had been cluttering the halls were gone now. Pictures on the walls, bookshelves filled. He was only glad that she couldn't possibly move the couches alone or he knew which one wouldn't be there anymore.
Purposely sitting down on it now, he stopped to tie his shoes.
"What did Warrick say?" he asked as she came and sat down opposite him on her own sofa.
"Just for you to hurry. I think it's just you guys tonight."
"Don't know. Probably. It sounded important."
Greg nodded his head as he finished.
"I'll see you in the morning," he said as he got to the door, "just don't stay up all night doing this. Get some sleep."
Sara rolled her eyes at him, knowing he meant well but he still wasn't use to her normal sleep patterns. Her normal sleep patterns being anything but.
He'd almost gotten out the door with just a wave when he came back in again in a hurry. Before she could ask what he'd forgotten he was on her, had her pulled to him in an instant, capturing her lips with his.
"For luck," was all he said as he pulled away again, waving once more before leaving for real.
Sara looked at the door, wondering if it had just happened. Blushing and putting a free hand to her lips she finally turned back to what she'd been doing.
After all of this time he still got to her like that. Made her feel really wanted, like he couldn't do without her. She knew that despite the fact that they'd made up several times that morning he was probably still upset they'd fought. Even over something stupid. He needed her and was never afraid to show it even if he couldn't always say it.
It was such a good feeling.