Nick showed up with a bag of barbeque chips and a twelve-pack of beer. Grissom let him in with a practiced pout. “I told you not to bring anything, Nick. I’ve got it covered.”
The Texan shrugged and gave a classic grin. “My mother taught me to never show up empty handed.”
“Great. Well, put it next to Catherine’s potato salad and Warrick’s watermelon,” he instructed. “Jim brought coleslaw and Greg walked in with a huge vegetable platter. None of you can follow directions…”
Most of the other guests had already arrived and were scattered about the first floor of Grissom’s new home. He begrudgingly allowed people to refer to the gathering as a housewarming party, but only after warning all of them that if anyone showed up with a gift, it would be given to goodwill. It was just a little summer barbeque he assured them all, blowing off their suspicion. He had a new place, and it had been a long time since everyone got together outside of work. It would be a nice, casual afternoon.
Like all gatherings, people chatted, people drank alcohol, people…admired the unusually bold colors Grissom chose to paint the walls. It was odd, but not unheard of, they supposed—that Grissom could have an eye for interior design.
“Grissom needs barbeque tongs for the hot dogs,” Catherine said, making her way through the large kitchen. She headed toward a long drawer on the wooden island, thinking they could be there. Sara was talking to Warrick near the sink, but she still turned and opened the fourth drawer down on her left—handing the tongs to Catherine while simultaneously laughing at Warrick’s punch line.
It was only after Catherine had given them to Grissom and returned inside to the air conditioning that she realized how odd it was that Sara knew exactly where the barbeque tongs were, opening the correct drawer on the first try.
Sara eventually wandered out the sliding glass door to the ungodly heat on the patio. Grissom was monitoring various meat products on the grill. “Are we really doing this?” she asked softly, which was silly because no one could possibly hear them over the loud buzz of the air conditioner.
“Do I have to remind you what Greg saw?”
Sara winced, and he nonchalantly flipped a burger…
There were rough shifts, and then there were kick-you-while-you’re-down, leave-you-on-your-knees shifts. This night had been the latter. A dead fourteen year old girl, a mentally ill father, an evil, uncaring mother, and lacking evidence all around left Sara feeling emotional, on edge, and most of all—it left her needing Grissom. And not at all in a supervisory way.
She’d made her way into his office with tears in her eyes, reluctant and yet, purposeful in her approach. “Look, I need you,” she stumbled, meeting his gaze head on.
He was on it—all over her “I’m about to have a breakdown” expression. This wasn’t confident, professional CSI Sidle, this was at home Sara—and she was in trouble. A hint of confusion lingered on his face. What could he do about it here?
“Sara,”
“Please? Just—I’m developing pictures.” She sniffled and slipped out of the room hurriedly.
He followed.
He entered the dark room not thirty seconds after she did.
Sara’s arms were around him as the door closed. She had stopped crying, already soothed by the promise of him. She released a long, heavy sigh and seemed to collect herself in his welcoming embrace. “I’m sorry. I’m extremely needy right now.”
“I can see that,” he teased, glad when he was able to make out her smile in the dark. Her forehead pressed against his.
“I needed human contact.”
“And you decided I would do?”
“Yeah. You were as good as the next guy,” she explained, wiping her eye with the back of her finger. She sniffled, and he kissed her cheek.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered, a little embarrassed. She just broke the cardinal, albeit unspoken rule of their relationship: No intimate contact at work. Ever.
“It’s okay,” he said, squeezing her and dropping a kiss near her ear. “I miss you.”
“I miss you, too,” she said, straightening. She leaned in to give him a quick kiss goodbye.
It could have been her emotional state, or maybe he really had missed her all night, but whatever the motivation—they kept kissing. Certainly neither of them meant for it to get passionate, but…
The bright light of the hallway made them tear apart. Their own shock was second only to Greg’s open mouth, horrified expression. “What the…?”
They had forgotten to put the exposed photo warning light on to deter anyone from coming in.
“Greg,” Grissom said calmly. For some absurd reason, his arms were still full of Sara.
Greg, in the meantime, had slammed his eyes shut and covered them with his hand. “My eyes! I’m blinded for life.” The gossipy weight of the situation seemed to hit him then. “Oh my God, nobody’s going to believe this!”
“Greg!” Great, now they had to stop him from getting away and telling everyone within earshot.
“Shit,” Sara whined, feeling emotional again. What had she done?
Greg’s demands, in exchange for his silence, were simple. An outing. Not the excursion kind. No, a semi-public disclosure. A revelation. A revelation where, he himself could be present to witness it. According to Greg, people needed to know the magnitude of the secret he’d kept hidden…
“Right, right. I know, we have to tell them,” Sara nodded. She paused and added, “I want to.” Grissom spun a hot dog around to the uncooked side. “Do you want to?” she asked—just for needless clarification.
“I already told you I want to. We’ll be fine.” He let his gaze linger an extra few seconds on her face. Then he glanced at her left hand. “Where’s your ring?”
“It’s in my pocket, ready for retrieval, dear.”
“Knock it off,” he grumbled. He’d always had an aversion to terms of endearment, even if she was only teasing.
“Greg’s going to flip,” she said happily, fingering the ring in her pocket.
“Well, I can’t have him thinking he has any sort of upper hand here.”
“So that’s why you proposed…”
He studied her profile, taking note of the subtle grin. “Yeah, that was it,” he deadpanned. “And I’m sure that’s why you accepted.”
She shook her head. “Nope, nothing that calculated. Sorry, turns out I just love you.”
“No apology necessary.” He glanced through the sliding glass door at Al and Jim who happened to be looking right at them. They were most likely just admiring the backyard. “I hope they can’t read lips. When are we doing this?”
Sara thought a moment. They didn’t really have much of a plan beyond getting everyone there and making some kind of an announcement. “How about when you’re done cooking? And everyone has food in their mouth. Maybe they’ll choke.”
Grissom narrowed his eyes at her. “That’s a little twisted.”
She just smiled.
Jim poked his head out to ask if they were barbecuing on purpose so they could be anti-social. Sara went back inside with him.
Not long after that everyone was spread out in Grissom’s living room, hovering over plates piled with meaty offerings, side dishes, etc. After sending secret messages to each other from across the room, they silently agreed it was the right time.
Grissom cleared his throat and got everyone’s attention. “Well, I know I asked you all here for a barbeque to…see my house…”
Greg seemed to brighten when Grissom started talking. Sara found the moment unexpectedly amusing. She put down her plate of fruit and vegetables and set her half eaten roll on top. Her fiancé deserved her undivided attention.
“But there’s…more to this,” Grissom was saying.
“I knew it!” Catherine blurted. “You’re not dying, are you? Because a party at your place? C’mon…”
“All right, cut her off,” Grissom said, and everybody laughed.
“It’s just not like you!”
“Yeah, well. I’m not…like me…anymore.” He glanced at Sara who had one arm folded across her waist, and the other hand lingering over her lowered eyes. He couldn’t read her. Was she embarrassed?
“There’s another reason for this party. I mean, well, I guess it’s not a party, really…”
Sara tried not to snort. It was just so funny to her. Mr. Public Speaker was going down in flames.
Grissom tried to focus on her face without drawing attention to her. Wait a second—was she smirking? She was laughing at him?
“You think you could do this better?” he said, voice full of playful accusation, and their eyes met.
“I’d be done by now,” she replied.
Like a tennis match, everyone’s eyes bounced back and forth.
“What’s going on?” Nick asked, oblivious. Greg was chomping at the bit.
“Get over here,” Grissom commanded, flustered and uncharacteristically excited.
He watched her avoid looking at anyone else as she made her way across the room to him. She was beat red and grinning now.
“This isn’t really my house,” he went on.
“Then whose house is it?” Warrick asked.
“Oh my God,” Sara muttered, rolling her eyes. “It’s our house. We’re a couple. A…thing. Okay? It’s over, it’s done. It’s not a big deal.”
Mouths dropped and eyes widened. Frowns of shock appeared. She turned back to him, slightly proud of herself.
“That’s it?” he asked conspiratorially.
“Oh! I almost forgot!” She turned back to the stunned people in her living room and reached into her pocket. “Sorry, one more thing—we’re engaged, too.” She shoved the diamond onto her finger and reached for Grissom’s beer, raising it into the air. “Drink up, people!” She took a swig and winked at him.
Quiet gasps, laughs, and mutterings filled the room, until Greg squealed, “You’re engaged? You didn’t tell me that!”
“You knew about this?” Nick yelled, shocked.
“I saw them kissing three weeks ago, and I haven’t been the same since. It’s not really something you recover from—”
“Hey!” Grissom barked.
“You’re engaged?” Greg asked again, shaking his head.
Sara glared at him. “Yes, Greg, get over it.”
Catherine suddenly appeared at her side. “I want to see the ring.”
Jim shook Grissom’s hand and slapped him on the back. The other men lined up to do the same.
And that was that. They were outed. Eventually their house cleared out and the excess food was put away. Loading the last pieces of silverware into the dishwasher, Grissom was lost in his thoughts, recalling the day. He decided he liked the way Sara had put it. It’s over, it’s done. It’s not a big deal. It was a nice summation of their relationship.
From the kitchen, Grissom watched her bend down to pick up a napkin that had fallen under the coffee table. He titled his head in fond admiration of her rear end.
Of course, Sara had been completely wrong. It was just beginning. They weren’t finished in the least, and—
Sara tossed the napkin in the trash and sauntered over to him. She fell against him tiredly, and kissed his neck. His hand instinctively landed on the spot he was just admiring. He could spend the rest of his life touching it.
And that, in and of itself, was a very big deal.
THE END
