A/N: Characters are not mine. You know the drill. The title "Here to Stay" is also the title of a very popular Korn song. I love Korn, so I paid them homage with the title. This however, is not a songfic. GregSara, mentions GSR... kind of. I really don't know where this is going. I'll probably make it a few chapters.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own the characters of CSI. Not trying to steal anything.
This is my first fic on this site but not my first ever.
Another day. No, another tough day. Another day dealing with another damn domestic violence case, and everyone knows how wound up those get me. Another guy who got a little carried away while beating on his wife and finally put her out of her misery.
Out of her misery? What's wrong with me? I think I've had a few too many this time, I'm no longer simpathetic. Just pathetic. Angry.
He's not here to make it all go away. He's not here to make that sly juvenile remark that I pretend to be disgusted by, but really has me in stitches, on the inside at least. I really should tell him how funny he is, and how he helps me get through the day. But, I'm not ready for that yet.
There's a knock at my door and I look through the peep hole to see who it is. It's Grissom. He knows I'm here, so I can't pretend I'm not. I don't feel like having my mind excavated today. Cleansing myself of my secrets feels good sometimes, but I just want to laugh for once.
"Go away, Griss." I say flatly.
"Sara, let me in." He doesn't exactly plead, he never has to.
I cave, like usual, "Okay." I open the door.
"What's wrong, Sara?"
"Let me guess, every domestic I get, ever, you feel the need to come over and give me a hug? What's your deal? I don't think it's my problem anymore. It's your concern for me that's almost sickening." I sit down in the usual spot, as he just stands there dumbfounded by my attack.
"Stop, before you quote another book. Spare me. I've done the 'talk it out' thing a million times. Not saying I haven't appreciated it, but I'm done crying. I've said all I have to say, and now I'd just like to be allowed to get pissed off every once and a while." I watch closely as he shifts uncomfortably on his feet.
"What?" He lifts up an eyebrow and I suppress a small chuckle.
"You gave up pretty quick. I didn't even have to raise my voice."
"What can I say? I'm a reasonable guy."
"No you're not, Griss. We both know that." I finally let out a laugh, which feels pretty good, considering the source.
"There's the Sara we all know and love." He reaches out and touches the bottom of my chin ever so lightly.
"I was never gone."
"Hey Sara, this gun's serial number is grinded down pretty good. Can you help me out?" Greg calls at me with his boyish charm that I can't resist. Anyone else would've truly been wasting my time.
"I swear I've shown you a couple... hundred? times. It's 'ground down', by the way." I say pretending to be combative.
"Oh, you can't resist me, Sara, and you know it." I smack him in the arm, almost instinctively to get him to notice something other than my smile.
"Okay. Polish the 'grinded' down part, and then put this solution on there and wipe it away." I say letting a smile slip out.
"Wait, was that a smile, Sara Sidle? Was it? By God, boys and girls, she can smile." Greg let out an innocent laugh.
I walk away, mostly to hide the fact that I'm blushing, "I hate you, Greg."
"Don't hate me cause I'm beautiful!"
This shift seemed like it took days, it's just not the same anymore. Just a few years ago I could've worked for days in a row and it would've felt like hours. After dragging my feet I finally plopped myself down on the bench in the locker room. I rested my head in my hands for just a second as Greg walked in.
"You alright Sara?"
"Actually, for once I think I am. I actually can't wait to leave work these days." I let out a laugh and look up at him.
"Me neither. Work sucks!"
"Stop lying Greg, you love being a CSI still." I shake my head at his lame attempt to be with me on something.
"Okay, okay you're right." He stops and thinks for a moment, "So, considering our conversation's subject matter, I assume you are off as of right now?"
"Right." I raise my eyebrow having a feeling this is going down a dangerous path.
"So, you wanna go hang out?"
"Sure." It slipped out before I even thought about it. I guess I need to do that more often. "I mean, I would've sat home and did nothing anyway."
"Really!" Greg exclaimed and then tried to contain his excitement.
"Hey, don't let me change my mind."
I'm flirting now. I can't believe this, it's coming to me so easy with him. He makes me feel so safe.
"Trust me, Sara, you're stuck with me now!" He says running over and sliding across the bench to give me a friendly shoulder squeeze.
"Where are we?" I question just making conversation.
"Oh, no place special. This is just a little club for little bands. You know me and my loud music." Greg tells me as he opens the door for me.
"Oh, so these aren't your straight out of MTV bands?"
"Hey, that's something Grissom would say..." He looks at me kind of frowning. I don't know what to say, "Speaking of Grissom..."
"Don't go there, please. I know what everyone thinks already." I say almost as matter-of-fact.
We both sit in a small booth towards the far corner of the place.
"What does everyone think, Sara?" Greg shrugs, getting kind of serious for once.
"Everyone thinks... which could or could not be true, by the way, that I either have a thing for Grissom, or he has a thing for me, or that we're together. The most latter I'll tell you is not true."
"I figured. I mean, Grissom's great and everything, but he's kind of old..." Greg smiles as he receives a smack to the arm. "What? He is."
I kind of slouch back for a minute, taking everything in. I decide to take a dive, and trust for once.
"Okay, I did have a thing for Grissom. But lately all he does is try to fix me."
"Like what do you mean?"
"Every time we get a domestic, he feels the need to come over and bother me..." I laugh, "But, you see there's nothing wrong."
"Um..." I stutter. I don't think I'm that comfortable yet. "Family stuff. I only told Grissom because he caught me in a weak moment. I'm not ready to share it with everyone."
"Oh..." He looks down. "Nothing wrong with that. I mean, I'm not gunna force ya to say anything you don't feel comfortable telling me. I'm nosey, not invasive."
"There's a difference?"
"Yes. There is. Nosey is listening in on what others are saying. Invasive is digging and investigating."
"Oh, right. Are these terms in the Greg Sanders World Dictionary?"
"Why yes they are." He says as he grabs for one of the menus that were placed on the table, his hand slightly brushes mine.
Now I have that high school-like tingly feeling. That's weird.
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