Summary: Spoilerish for Season Seven, episode 2 - Grissom and Sara's take on Ecklie
A/N: Felt like getting back into the groove of writing.
Sara felt like screaming her relief when she and Grissom finally got home. He looked tense and preoccupied, and all she wanted to do was sleep. Not bothering to shed her jacket and hang it up on the coat hook by the door, she simply slouched through to the bedroom, and shucked off her clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor. She was too tired to even consider changing into her pyjamas, and all she could dimly note as she slipped into slumber was that Grissom had not followed her.
Grissom sank on to the couch, heaving a sigh. The shift had just been too much for him. He hated investing energy and manpower in an investigation, only for there to be no breakthrough. He debated on whether or not he should put the case on the board, for future, slow shifts. The press, and people of Las Vegas, would demand an answer into the murder of a famous man, but he didn't know if it was worth it. It wasn't like this murder was consequence of a serial killer, or a sex offender, or something serious like ...
He shook his head. Prioritising over cases? What would be next? Inviting Ecklie and the sheriff to dinner? He shuddered at the thought, then noticed that Sara was nowhere to be found.
Ah, Sara. Did Ecklie really know? Gil didn't really think it was possible, he and Sara had been so careful, and spent numerous hours discussing the best strategies for not being discovered. It was simply Grissom being paranoid in his old age. He smiled to himself, and made a cup of coffee. Knowing how exhausted Sara was, he didn't bother to make one for her, upon pain of death if he roused her from sleep. That had surprised him - the first time he had ever woken her up, she had bitten his head off. He was completely unprepared for that, seeing as she had never struck him as someone who valued sleep much. Then again, she probably hadn't been engaging in certain ... activities ... that would result in her being over-tired.
Then he heard a throat clear behind him. He angled his head slightly, and could, in his peripheral vision, see Sara leaning against the doorframe of their bedroom, wearing nothing but her underwear. "You coming to bed?" she drawled sleepily.
He could tell the implication her sentence was in no sexually suggestive, just an offer of warm arms and comforting sleep, and he rubbed his eyes, feeling tiredness wash over him. "Sure. I'll be with you in a sec."
Despite the lack of suggestion in her voice, him going to bed had resulted in lots of nice things happening, so to speak. He thought that it would take him a long time to get used to the more physical aspect of their relationship, and in some ways it had. Whilst he found it very easy when he was with Sara, they fact that they were romantically involved still made his mind boggle when he chose on dwell on it.
Sometimes he just thought that after a hard case, they needed to make love, as a form of relaxation. Although sex was an expression of love for the both of them, it also proved to be a catharsis, as could be proved by her love bites and his scratched back.
Now, though, he was laying on his side, a frown on his face, a hand on her hip. She reached up and ran a hand over his damp hair. "What you thinking about?" she asked softly.
He pulled her a fraction closer and blew air through his lips on to her face. "Ecklie," was all he said, his tone rather absent-minded.
"Ecklie, huh?" Sara questioned, mock-suspicious. "My, I hope this is the first time you've thought about Ecklie whilst here in bed with me," she teased.
One corner of his mouth turned up, and he explained further. "Do you think he knows? About us?"
"Ahh," Sara murmured, now understanding. "I don't know. What do you think?"
"I think ... I think ... I'm not sure. For once, I can't tell what's going on in his head."
"You mean you're frequently privy to his thoughts? No wonder you're so weird." Sara couldn't help but make fun of him, and giggled hysterically.
Grissom simply grinned, and his hand tightened on her hip. "Thank you," he growled. Then his expression sobered. "Seriously. The way you looked at me when he'd left ... it made me think you thought he knew about us. Do you?"
Sara thought for a second. "In all honesty? No."
"But what he said. 'Of course you do' ... doesn't that make you think ...?"
Sara lifted her hand ran a hand over his now-smooth (well, it was slightly stubbly) jaw, her thumb toying with his dimple. "No, it doesn't. Not really. You know what he's like. He was just acting how he seems to be acting for the past few months. Unless he's keeping the fact he knows about us a secret."
Grissom had just been relaxing, when her final sentence invoked a fresh wave of anxiety. "You think?"
"Gil, Conrad isn't exactly the sort of person who would keep quiet about such a juicy piece of gossip. He would have used it to blackmail us if he knew." Her hand moved to his cheek, and she smiled tenderly at him.
Grissom returned the smile. "I guess you're right." He stopped briefly, his brows knit in thought. "I appreciate it that you ... stuck up for me. That you ... defended me in front of Ecklie."
Sara snorted quite ungraciously, eliciting a look from Gil. "I wasn't doing it to stick up for you. I agreed with you, that's all. Besides, you're so big and strong -" here, her voice dropped, and grew husky, " - you couldn't possibly need me to defend you."
He raised an eyebrow and kissed her gently. "Wanna bet?"
She chuckled against his mouth. "Hmm, yeah," she said.
"I'd protect you," he whispered earnestly, expecting to pull back in uncertainty. But she didn't. She simply kissed him again.