Title: White Heat
Grissom/Sara, angst, humour, pg
Thanks: As always, to Devanie; you help me out so much every time, so thank you so much! And also you can credit her for Sara's explanation of vanilla ice cream.
"Gris, it's boiling!" Sara exclaimed from her sun coated side of the vehicle.
"The air conditioning's on." Grissom responded, thinking that his pointing out the obvious would solve the matter, in a way only Grissom could.
Sara just grumbled, and squirmed around in her seat even more. Her agitation bothered him, and although no words escaped his lips, the looks he shot her made his feelings quite clear.
"Sara, we're in Vegas, of course it's hot!" He finally said, after more grumbling and squirming.
"Yeah, well, it sucks. I hate the heat."
"Well sometimes life does suck." Sara turned around in her seat so that she was facing him, and stared at him, not quite believing that those words had come from the Gil Grissom she knew. He had said it so softly, that she wasn't sure if he had actually said it or if she had been imagining things again. Before she could analyse the situation any further, he spoke.
"Look Sara, it's your lucky day." He pointed to his side of the road, empty miles of hot desert apart from one lone ice cream truck.
If Sara was amazed before, she was now astounded.
"The workaholic that is Gil Grissom offers to stop for ice cream while transporting evidence from a crime scene back to the lab? It cannot be." She said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
He just smiled, another unusual event, and said teasingly "What, you don't want ice cream?"
"The hell I don't!" She replied, jumping out of the Tahoe like a little kid, and heading off in the direction of the ice cream truck.
Grissom just sat and watched her, a bemused smile spreading across his face, until she turned around a few feet in front of the truck, and called out to him.
"Don't tell me you don't want ice cream, Gris. Come on, you know you can't resist the sweet non-goodness" she teased. By now she had walked up to his open window, and, leaning in towards him, she said huskily: "And besides, you offered me ice cream remember, which technically means you're buying" she finished with a wink.
"Technically?" he asked, equally huskily.
"Technically" she repeated, their faces now so close. So close. And with that she pulled open his door, grabbed his hand, and dragged him out of the car.
"Come on!" she exclaimed excitedly.
He followed, grinning at her sudden enthusiasm, and played along for the fun of it.
"I made him grin," she thought to herself happily. "Now there's a feat."
As they reached the truck, she let go of his hand and put both of hers up on the counter, greedily looking at all that was on offer.
After watching her in amusement, he finally asked "So, Sara, what do you want?"
"You." She thought to herself. "Um… vanilla."
"Sara, you've got a whole ice cream truck on offer to you, and you choose vanilla? That must be the plainest ice cream ever created."
"It may be plain, Grissom, but underneath is the perfect synthesis of ingredients." She replied softly, not able to look in his eyes.
He watched the invisible wheels turning in her mind, and wondered, desperately wanting to know what she was thinking of at that very moment. He was soon pulled out of his reverie by her voice asking him which ice cream he was going to get.
"Dark chocolate." He replied without even thinking, as if this were a regular occurrence for him.
She looked at him, genuinely interested, her head cocked slightly to one side.
"Why dark chocolate, Gris?"
"Because it's a beautiful ice cream. It's deep yet silky, unknown yet sophisticated, and with hidden depths you might never quite reach."
"Depends how hard you look, Gris." Came Sara's soft reply.
They could feel the electricity in the air, and both CSIs' blood pressures seemed to rise at the same moment.
"What's your pulse at now?" Sara asked, a small knowing smile crossing her face.
"Hey, do you two want ice cream, or are you just going to stand there gazing at each other all day?"
And the moment was broken. Both Grissom and Sara turned to face the ice cream boy, who didn't look old enough to be out of high school by Sara's estimations, and both took an identical step forward towards the van.
"Yeah, we'll take a simple vanilla ice cream" he said, looking at Sara, "and a rich dark chocolate one." He finished, still staring into her eyes.
"That'll be five dollars please, Sir" the ice cream boy said, breaking the moment yet again, this time being more polite as he was actually managing to sell something.
"Sure," Grissom replied, taking out his wallet and handing him a five dollar bill, while Sara collected the ice creams from the ice cream rack on the counter. She began to lick hers greedily, waiting until he'd put away his wallet to hand him his.
"Thanks," he said gently, taking his ice cream from her left hand as she held it out to him, their fingers touching just for a second, but a second long enough for the bolt of electricity to pass between them.
"No. Thank you." Both knew the other was talking about more than just the ice cream.
As they made their way back towards the hot Tahoe, the sun's rays beating down hard on them, Sara licked her ice cream contentedly, occasionally licking the cone it was in to try and stop it from dripping down onto her hand as the sun melted it.
Grissom watched her do so, unbeknownst to her, mesmerised.
"She looks just like a cat lapping up its milk" Grissom thought, smiling to himself. She seemed so at peace with the world as he watched her enjoy her ice cream like a little child, innocent, even if only for a few moments.
"Maybe life doesn't always suck." He thought to himself. He started to lick his own ice cream, continuously glancing over at his friend when he thought she wasn't looking.
But she was.
She smiled to herself, then looked over at him and gave him a massive Sara smile.
Things were changing. And they were changing for the better.