A/N: Here we go with a little GSR oneshot! This story takes place right after the shootout from the 10x01 premiere, and I've made a few little changes. I just couldn't resist writing some much-needed GSR goodness :) I hope you guys enjoy it!

She still wasn't too familiar with the whole "husband and wife" handles. They had only been married a few months; barely any time at all for her to get used to the idea of having a spouse and shared checks with both their names on the top corners. She still half-expected to come home to an empty apartment and warm up left-over Chinese takeout for dinner every now and then.

But as the smoke cleared from the barrel of her police issue Glock, and she stared at the back bumper of the retreating black van that had kidnapped their corpse, one and only one thought rang through her mind very clearly:

My husband is going to kill me.

She could picture the phone call now. He ignored his cell phone during lectures, but once he recognized her number, she knew he would halt class and pick up right away. She would start out easy, tell him how her day was, that the team had say hi-- she would make harmless chit-chat, play it safe. But as soon as she mentioned the words "shooting" and "lab", she knew he would lose his usual calm reserve and start panicking. He wouldn't let her talk, asking a million questions a minute, and then when he was done, and he was assured that for the hundredth time, yes, she was fine, his lecture for her would begin.

She tried not to groan, dreading his response. It was only when Nick asked her if she was okay that she remembered that she was still standing in the middle of the street.

"You okay?" he asked her, his breathing ragged and face caked in sweat.

"Yeah," she nodded, and she motioned to him. "You?"

"Yeah," he replied, before something caught his eye. Holstering his pistol, he took a step toward her, and his eyes widened. "Sar, your shoulder."

"What?" Sara blinked, and she followed his gaze to her left shoulder, noticing the dull ache there for the first time. Upon closer inspection she noticed that something had torn straight through the synthetic leather, and her stomach sank. Shrugging her jacket off her shoulders, she saw the skin underneath it was bloody and bruised. Sometime during the shootout, a bullet had grazed her arm.

Oh shit.

"You need to get that checked out, Sara," Nick informed her, and she hated the way his face was crinkled in concern. Oh, this was just getting worse and worse. No doubt he was going to make a big production out of this.

"It's fine, Nick. It's just a scratch," Sara shrugged, and she tried to reassure him with a smile.

It was to no avail, and within fifteen minutes, she was in the back of an ambulance having an EMT check her out.

"Is this really necessary, Nick?" Sara asked him, wincing as the EMT rubbed the skin around the wound with alcohol.

"Yes," he simply replied.

He stayed right there, making sure Sara didn't have to go to the hospital, and that the wound wasn't anything serious. Once the EMT had finished cleaning the wound, bandaged her shoulder, and had told her that the hospital wasn't necessary, Nick escorted her back to the lab. "You were really lucky, Sara."

"I know," Sara tried her hardest to smile, already counting prematurely how many times Grissom was going to be saying "oh my god" on the phone. "So were you."

"Oh, and you might want to give Gris a call."

Sara's eyes widened in horror, and she stopped walking when they were almost to the front doors of the lab. "Oh god Nick, please tell me didn't."

He shrugged, propped the door open for her, and almost as if on cue her cell phone began to ring.

She tried her hardest not to shoot Nick a glare as she took her phone out of her pocket. She knew he was just looking out for her, but at the moment, she wanted nothing more than the throttle him.

Letting out a sigh, she answered the phone without even looking at the number. "Hi, babe."

"Honey, are you okay? Nick told me about what happened. Are you hurt?"

Sara bit back her smile, loving and yet hating the sound of worry in his voice. "Calm down, Gil, I'm fine. Nicky overreacted; it was just a scratch."

"A scratch that required medical attention."

"Gil, really, it's not a big deal," Sara assured him, walking through the lab to the break room. She needed a cup of coffee right about now. "The bullet just grazed my arm, that's all."

"What the hell were you thinking?" he asked her, not in anger, but in concern.

"Look, I know it was stupid," Sara replied. "But everything just happened so fast. The bullets were flying everywhere, and I saw Nick run outside and ran out with him. I couldn't just let him go alone, could I? He was a little out-numbered."

There was a pause on the other line, but Sara knew he hadn't hung up. She could still hear his slightly ragged breathing. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Would I be talking to you right now if I wasn't?" she teased, and she could almost hear the hint of a smile on his face now.

"I suppose you wouldn't," he conceded. "But I've been thinking, Sara. I'm worried about you. Should I come down there?"

"And abandon your lecture route?" Sara asked, pouring herself a cup of coffee from the machine. "Just for a little scratch? I think I may have the best husband on the planet!"

She heard his chuckle on the other line and it instantly brought a smile to her face. Even though they had only been away for a few days, she was already missing him horribly. "You know that I'm very susceptible to flattery, Mrs. Grissom."

"That's what I'm counting on," Sara wryly replied, taking a small sip of her coffee. Then, after a minute, "I'm not getting out of this lecture, am I."

"Not a chance."

"I figured as much," Sara groaned verbally this time.

"Nice try," Gil replied, innocent enough.

"Is there any way you could email it to me? We're kind of backlogged right now," Sara replied.

"Oh, don't worry," he assured her, and she could've sworn she heard a laugh escape. "I've thought of another alternative."

Catherine suddenly cleared her throat from the doorway of the break room, and waved a slip of paper at Sara in her hand. "419 out by Lake Mead, Sara. Be forewarned, it's a floater, and this guy is pretty ripe."

Sara's jaw actually dropped in shock, and she stared at her cell phone, as if it were a person. "Gil Grissom!" she hissed into the phone.

"Yes, dear?"

"Don't you 'yes dear' me," she growled, trying to sound angry, although the more she thought about it, the more she decided that the floater was actually worth avoiding his lecture.

"Would you rather I cancel my classes for the afternoon so we can have a little chat?" he asked her, knowing what her answer would be. He wasn't trying to punish her, that wasn't the point of this at all. But he just wanted her to be safe, and he had never known of any better way to get a point across than to make someone process a putrid dead body that had been soaking in the dark waters of Lake Mead for a prolonged period of time.

"No," Sara muttered, her face fixed into a pout. "But you better make this up to me later."

"I will, honey. Don't worry. I love you."

"...I love you too," she mumbled, and she tried to still sound annoyed, but she couldn't help the smile that crossed her face. "I love you, too."

"Be safe, honey."

Sara hung up the phone, and her face was permanently fixed into a smile. She wasn't looking forward to the task that lay ahead, but she knew that she was loved, and that was all that really mattered.

After grabbing the assignment slip from Catherine, she headed down the hallway to grab her kit, and she tripped over an empty cart that had been in her way, not having looked where she was going.

Gazing down at her sprained ankle, Sara let out a moan of embarrassment, shaking her head in her hands. She half-expected her phone to ring again at any second.

I wonder what he'll have Catherine make me do next.