Songs of Joy and Peace by Rhi [Reviews - 7]
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Category: CSI - Ship Ahoy! > Gil/Sara
Characters: Catherine Willows, Gil Grissom, Greg Sanders, Jim Brass, Nick Stokes, Sara Sidle, Warrick Brown
Rating: PG-13
Genres: Angst, Character Study, Pre-relationship
Warnings: None

Summary: Grissom accidentally gets drunk, and it's definitely a catalyst. No, the result is not what you'd think. A Grissom character study, spoilers through 'Mea Culpa.'



Sara Sidle has spiked the coffee. The only reason Gil Grissom, CSI Level Three and possibly the best investigator in Las Vegas, knows this is because she is not drinking any. Sara adores coffee, even if she does despoil it by putting three packets of sugar in it. And there would be no reason she would not be drinking the coffee otherwise. Yes, the coffee at Luna's Lounge is lousy, but Sara would usually be swilling it down, seeing as she would not be having margaritas with the others.

Instead, she is having eggnog, sans alcohol.

Sara Sidle has most definitely spiked the coffee, Grissom thinks.

It is a little late to regret the three cups he has already had, as well as the margarita Catherine and Nick insisted he gulp down at the beginning of the night. It was an extra-strong margarita, and Grissom suspects that it numbed his taste buds so that he couldn't sense the vodka (the only possible thing able to get past him--good vodka) in the coffee. That would mean that everyone was in on the prank, which bothers him for about half a second, until he realizes that he doesn't particularly care. Tomorrow he will care. Tonight, he will attempt to enjoy himself amidst the faux pine and the holly berries and the six foot dancing Santa in the next room.

It's rather hard to enjoy himself when Sara is looking at him with that damned impish grin on her face and those sparkling eyes, wells of darkness that he has to ignore, and when Greg is teaching Warrick and Brass (of all people!) how to do the latest dance--at least, Grissom thinks that's what those movements are--to some song that is about taking someone's mama out and wearing cheap cologne.

Grissom wonders how exactly everyone can be so damn cheerful when their team is split in two. Then he tries not to think about that, or about Sara grinning at him, or about Greg's ass--where did that come from?

"Grissom." Catherine is suddenly at his elbow (how the hell did she get there?). "Grissom."

"My hearing is fixed, Catherine. I can hear you just fine." This makes Sara giggle. Grissom wonders why she thinks this is so funny, seeing as she's not drunk. Does Sara know about his hearing problem? He can't remember. The words are out now, anyway.

"How are you feeling?" Catherine looks concerned, but only in the sense that she is holding back laughter. Grissom growls at this. He growls audibly, sending Sara into even further hilarity.

"Tell Ms. Sidle over there that her practical joke is not appre...appreciated." Shit, now it's gotten to his speech. He hasn't been this drunk in nearly two years, and he doesn't want to think about the last time. When Sara had asked him for dinner, and he'd said no, and then felt like an asshole. But Sara was...is...untouchable. She shouldn't have to worry about him and his darkness on top of her own. Grissom has a lot of demons inside, he knows that no one thinks so, but why else would a man work with bugs and dead bodies?

And yes, what about work? Yes. Work. He can't ever get past work. Work work work. Goddamn.

"What about work?" Catherine. Shit, he was thinking out loud. Did he say that about Sara? She can't hear him from here, because of some song about intuition that Greg has had turned up louder. Greg has got to be gay...that ass proves it. But Catherine is right there, so maybe she did hear him...

"Nothing. Just thinking." Grissom hopes she'll understand.

But she doesn't, because as she walks over to Sara, picks up the half-empty bottle of Grey Goose sitting on a chair, she winks at him as she brandishes the vodka, whispering to Sara. She and Nick then do shots of the liquor, playing some silly game with Sara as referee, Sara, who is now ignoring him. Nick is wearing reindeer horns with blinking red lights, and seems to not particularly care about his headgear. It makes Grissom hypnotized for a second, sipping his coffee. He is glad to see that Nick has also noticed Greg's ass, as has Catherine, as they are pointing and whispering to Sara, who is rolling her eyes. They do not appear to have noticed Sara's, something Grissom thanks the gods of science and technology for. He himself is appreciating Sara's jean-clad ass immensely, now that he has had several drinks. It is now facing him on the stool, and he shouldn't be looking, but he is, he can't help himself.

She must have felt him looking at her, because his stare is that loud, and she turns. Grissom's reflexes are off-kilter and so he doesn't shift his gaze in time, and Sara notices and she bites her lip and turns back to Nick and Catherine, and Grissom suddenly feels like a big asshole all over again.

They stay that way for hours, Grissom trying to catch Sara's attention, but instead only having Warrick talk to him about dung beetles, of all things.

Then suddenly everyone's on the way out, for some reason Nick and Greg and Catherine are all together and laughing even though Greg looks like he's about to piss his pants, and Warrick and Brass are going to go for some food and probably plot how to off Ecklie perfectly, without evidence. And for some reason Sara has agreed to take him home.

"No," Grissom says. "I don't want to trouble you, Sara, you shouldn't have to shuttle an old man home." That's what he feels like, an old man. A troubled, drunk-off-his-ass old man. No good for Sara to be dealing with. But Sara merely looks at him, those eyes no longer sparkling, and gives him a hand up. This was not what Grissom wanted. He wanted to go home alone and lick his wounds, maybe drink a few glasses of water, and pass out. He did not want to have to talk to Sara while doing it.

She drives her SUV--energy efficient, she reassures him--through the city, making small talk about various things, including Greg's ass (had EVERYONE noticed it?) and sports, and the idiocy of holiday decorations. And Grissom's heart breaks about ten times, at least, because the usual timbre of her voice is not there, it's as if he were anyone else, not even else, but some acquaintance.

"Sara," he says.

They are at a stoplight. "Yes?" She turns toward him, and for a second he swears he can see that sparkling again in her eyes and it makes him want to...to...do something, there aren't words for what he wants. But then the lights change again and they are driving onward, talking about the weather.

As they pull up to Grissom's apartment (Grissom doesn't ask how Sara knows where he lives, it must be an innate thing, like he knows exactly where she lives because those are the sort of things one knows), Joni Mitchell is singing on the radio, singing 'River,' which is so perfect because it's far too green in Vegas in winter to put up lights and trees, which reinforces what Sara was just saying, and it strikes him that there isn't any river in the desert either. He wonders if Sara wants to skate away too, with him, not alone.

The car stops, and Grissom doesn't want to get out. It smells like Sara and leather in there, and he knows that he will smell Sara on this button-down shirt until he washes it ten times in bleach, and even then he will imagine that he smells her scent still. He knows this with a sudden intense clarity, and suddenly he's fumbling at the door, but he can't get it open, and Joni's still singing about how she made her baby cry and he's going to cry right here in Sara Sidle's energy-efficient SUV. This is bad on so very many levels.

But Sara is at the door, and she opens it, gently pushing him back into the seat when he starts to fall, and then he is sobbing on her leather jacket, which smells even more of her, and that makes him cry more, and apologize ten million times.

"Grissom, please," she keeps saying. "It'll be all right. I'm so sorry that I spiked the coffee." But it isn't all right now, and he can never make it up to her, even if he kissed her right now. And he tries, but she stops him, shaking her head, and then she's crying too, and she helps him up the stairs and puts him on his bed, covering him with a blanket and supplying him with tissues and water.

When Grissom wakes up, he has a horrible headache and his face is covered with salt. But Sara is there on his couch, and she is relieved to see him up, but her eyes are still flat and tired, resigned to her fate. So as she goes, he kisses her once, on the lips.

"I'm sober now," he says, and then the glint is back in her eyes.

"I know." She kisses him back, just a little, then opens the door. "Happy holidays, Grissom."

He wants to tell her to wait, but he doesn't, and she's down the hall before he manages to slide outside in his dirty clothes and say the word 'later.'

And Sara hears it, and she nods. And then she is down the stairs and outside and gone.

Grissom watches her go before he scrubs the dry saline off his face and prepares himself for another day alone.

Love, after all, takes time.

FIN

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Author's Notes: So I desperately wanted to write 'Sara spikes the punch at the Christmas party and Grissom gets drunk and dances' fic, but it didn't happen like I wanted it to. Songs mentioned, in order, are Scissor Sisters' 'Take Your Mama,' Jewel's 'Intuition,' and Joni Mitchell's 'River.' 'River' is especially worth a listen, and is the only song that's really relevant to the text as is. The title comes from said song.
Written on spiked coffee (mine's rum). This is my first CSI fic, and my first holiday themed fic, so please be kind, as I've worked hard not to make it sappy or typical G/S, and also to write it in a sort of drunken!Grissom style. Archiving? Please ask first. And remember, not leaving feedback really does make the Baby Jesus cry. 1623 words. Happy holidays.