Rating: PG-13 by default
Spoilers: Speculation on 'Leaving Las Vegas'/hints of 'Fannysmackin''
Pairings: As God is my witness, GSR – with implied Greg/Sara
Disclaimer: Disclaimer? I don't need no stinkin' disclaimer!
Notes: This story might just be the last complete CSI fic I ever write at the rate I'm going. Actually, I wrote this some time ago for the LJ one-bed ficathon, just before the winter hiatus last season. I hadn't posted it here because, well, I forgot. That and, as I hated almost all of S7, it's not my favorite story; and I obviously hadn't found my happy place yet when I wrote this (which, I have now... it's called Heroes). So, here it is. And yes, I'm still working on 'Ties'. :)
Summary: Sara finally understands something about Greg. In bed. It sounds dirtier than it is.
Wanted by SLynn
Sara looked over at Greg with something like fear.
"What do you mean…"
She never finished that question.
Sara found herself flung into the door of the Denali as Greg did an impromptu u-turn in the middle of the street.
"What in the hell, Greg?" Sara screamed instead.
"We're never getting off this mountain," he answered as he floored the gas pedal.
"You're right," she countered. "The way you're driving we won't live that long."
"Haven't you been listening to me?"
"Of course I have," Sara lied.
Greg glanced her way as he continued to speed back up the mountain.
"No, okay? I haven't. What? What is it?"
"There's a wreck on the 157. A bad one. It's backing traffic up the mountain."
"And the snow."
"This is Vegas," Sara scoffed. "We don't get real snow."
"No, this is Mount Charleston," Greg returned. "Vegas is forty-five miles south of here. Mount Charleston gets real snow and I don't want to spend the night in it."
"You can not be serious."
Greg parked the SVU in front of the Mount Charleston Lodge.
"Listen," he said with unusual gruffness. "I'm tired. I'm cold. And it's been a very long scene."
"Greg," Sara tried, but he just shut his eyes tight and shook his head not willing to listen to her objections.
"This is my third day on, and I work nights. I've already cancelled my holiday plans to help out the lab because I am a team player. But I am not, will not, be sleeping in the car on Christmas Eve."
"Okay," Sara agreed. "We just need to call…"
"Then call," Greg said shortly as he got out of the vehicle and stomped away.
Sara watched him go, shaking her head as she did and wondering when he'd gotten so angry. Actually, she knew when; it was after he'd been attacked on the job. At first she thought he'd be okay, Greg had come back to work a little more detached then before, but that was to be expected. But he never came out of it. He'd gone from detached to moody and from moody to angry.
Sara used to enjoy working with him. Now she didn't know what to think.
She was worried about him, but didn't know what to say. Or how to say it. Her attempts at talking it over with him had all been rebuffed. She thought about asking Nick or Catherine to intercede, but felt like she should be able to handle this best. Somehow over the past few years, Greg had become one of her closest friends. She thought she was one of his as well.
Trying her cell phone, she quickly realized was a waste of time. There was positively no reception. That and, angry or not, Greg seemed to be right about the weather. What had started as a few flurries had quickly escalated into a shower.
Fifteen minutes later, Greg slid back into the driver's seat.
"No luck?" she asked, for the first time worried that they might actually have to sleep in the car like he'd threatened.
"They only had one cabin," he said without looking at her.
"Oh. Well, it could be worse."
Greg didn't wait for her to continue, just got back out of the car again and popped the back open to gather up the evidence the had collected earlier in the afternoon.
Sara hesitated only a moment before joining him, grabbing everything of value, and following him to where they'd be staying for the night.
"Did you get a hold of anyone?" Greg asked as he unlocked the door to the cabin.
"No reception," Sara answered, happy to be inside. It was getting unbearably cold.
Greg didn't answer her, just began stacking the evidence on the table.
The cabin was really rather nice, better than it had looked from the outside, but something a little more honeymoon and less hotel than she'd have preferred.
"Phone's dead," Sara said as she had placed the receiver to her ear. "Must be a pretty bad storm."
"Manager said it should be over by the morning."
"So," Sara said sitting awkwardly on the foot of the bed, "I guess that means the cable is out too."
Greg managed the briefest of smiles, before returning to his previous glum mood.
"Are you hungry?" he asked.
"There's a restaurant up by the front office," he said. "But we probably shouldn't leave the evidence unattended, right? I could go get us something, or if you want to go… I don't care either way."
"You can go," Sara said, certain it was what he wanted despite the weather. "Just, you know, I don't eat…"
"Sara," he interrupted, "I know what you don't eat. I'm not that oblivious."
Sara started to say something in return, but Greg was gone before she had the chance.
It was strange.
Stranger still, he was gone for nearly two hours.
Sara was long past worrying and almost resolved upon setting out after him when he finally showed back up.
"Where have you been?"
"Waiting for our food," Greg answered.
"And I may have had a drink, or eight, during that time," Greg continued as he handed her the containers, "but really, it was a long wait. This is like the only restaurant… ever."
"You're drunk," Sara said without anger. She was too shocked to be angry.
Greg looked for a moment like he was going to argue with her, but threw his hands up instead.
"Yeah, I am. I'm really very drunk," he said with a laugh. "Oh man. I'm still not on the clock, am I?"
"We'll just say you aren't," Sara answered, taking him by the arm as he accidentally swayed into the wall.
"Yeah, well… that's probably the last thing I need, right?"
"Why don't you just go lie down," Sara suggested, walking with him to the bed. "Get some sleep and tomorrow morning we'll be on our way back home."
"Home," he repeated with some like a sneer. "That's what I want."
Sara watched as Greg lay back on the bed and shut his eyes before retreating to the other side of the cabin. She ate quietly and quickly and waited. Sara waited until she was certain Greg was asleep before joining him in bed, but she still was having trouble with it all. With his attitude. With all the changes.
Things in her life were confusing enough already, what with Grissom's sudden sabbatical. She didn't need things to be weird between her and Greg as well.
Sara wanted to be supportive of Grissom, she wanted to be that person who understood, but she just didn't. Why hadn't he told her? Why hadn't he said something sooner? Why didn't he…
"Sara?" Greg whispered.
She looked briefly at the clock and marveled at how quickly time passes. It was already after four.
"What is it?" she asked back, sitting up on her elbows.
"Sorry," he returned. "I thought you were sleeping."
"Then why did you say my name?"
"Okay, I thought you were awake," he admitted. "I just… did I get drunk and act like a jerk?"
"Yes, but not in that order."
Sara heard rather than saw his head hit the pillow.
"Greg?" Sara whispered.
"I'm sorry, Sara. I know I've been acting like an ass to you. I've just had a lot… yeah, that's not an excuse. I'm sorry, okay?"
"You don't have to apologize."
"No, I do. I haven't been very fair to you."
"Fair?" Sara asked, turning over on her side to face him.
"Ever since I've, um, known about your… your relationship…"
Sara felt her face flush in surprise as Greg stammered on.
"I haven't," he went on. "Well, I haven't exactly known how to act… around you… or… you know what I mean?"
"When did you…"
"A few months ago," Greg answered.
"And that's what all this… the moody, passive aggressiveness…"
"I know, I know," Greg interrupted, turning now to finally face her. "I've been acting like…"
"An ass," Sara supplied with a small smile. "Yes, we established that."
"I'm sorry," he continued. "I'm going to stop, I promise. I've, you know, accepted it and I want us to still be friends. Like we were. Before I started acting like an ass."
"Wow, Greg, I had no idea…"
"That I was interested in you?"
Sara was silent, blushing in the dark.
"That wasn't what you were going to say, was it?" Greg asked, sounding as embarrassed and surprised as she felt. "I didn't think it was a secret."
"I just…" Sara began but stopped short. "Wow. I don't know what to say. I just thought you were a flirt, I didn't know that you meant…"
"Greg, you flirt with everyone. How was I supposed to know?"
"That's fair," he grudgingly admitted.
"Not that I'm not flattered," she hastily added. "But I am kind of involved now, so…"
"Kind of?" Greg asked, sounding hopeful.
"You know Grissom," Sara answered weakly. "Sometimes it's hard to know with him too."
Greg didn't say anything. The room was just light enough for her to make out his face; to see that he was looking at her.
"I'm sorry I didn't know sooner," Sara said honestly. "About how you felt. I wish you'd have told me."
"Me too," Greg returned.
They continued to watch one another in the dark for a moment more. Both of them unsure of what to say next.
"Hey," Greg said with a laugh, "if things don't work out between you two, you know where to find me, right?"
"Greg, I don't expect you to wait…"
"I've already waited six years," he added. "What's a few more?"
If he'd meant it as a joke, Sara certainly hadn't taken it that way. She only stared back at him in surprise before leaning over and planting a kiss on his lips.
"Not that I'm complaining, but what was that for?"
"Just, um, a thank you."
"A thank you for what? I've been awful to you for weeks, even after you've gone out of your way to help me and… I'm confused."
"Just a thank you," Sara repeated. "For reminding me what it's like to feel wanted."
Greg didn't question her again, only nodded briefly in the dark before turning back on his side to feign sleep.
Sara couldn't sleep the rest of the night either, divided between tears and smiles.
She had a lot to think over.