Oh god its another fandom
Title: Five Things Greg Sanders Never Knew About Gil Grissom
Author: manic
Rating: M
Apologies: to pretty much everyone who wanted something erudite, this ain't it.
Pairing: Grissom/Sara
Item One:
Okay, so he lied to Nick. Big Whoop. Everyone was lying these days. Him, Grissom, and Sara for Pete's sake, they were all lying. So yeah, he lied to Nick. It was bad enough he was the youngest CSI, newest, whatever. He was like their mascot, sort of. He'd always be Greg, the kid, or newbie, or rookie or the guy who made the coffee. Either way, he was damned if he was going to admit to be ignorant with this whole Grissom loves Sara thing. Or Sara loves Grissom. Because, it was Grissom, Grissom who wore saggy pants that rode up his ass, not that Greg ever looked at Grissom's ass, but there they were. And the hats were their own country of hurt and badness, and they were floppy. There was the walking like a duck and the bugs and the general weirdness and Sara had an ipod and hybrid and Grissom still ate meat.
Maybe.
Because if Greg were to use his finely tuned CSI powers of investigation, and he did and in the most inopportune times because once he became a CSI and even before that, it was damned hard to turn it off and that was how he found out that a certain someone, Ashley, was sleeping around on him, fucking around, he was much more careful these days to get the terminology correct and what Ashley was doing with that turd of a dealer could not in anyway sane be called sleeping, and none of that really mattered because of that picture.
The one Natalie drew, of Grissom's hand on Sara's arm. Greg was furious. None of them had seen it, at all. When he turned around and everyone was going years, years the two had been together he got pissed, not at Sara, because it was Sara, and when she smiled at you with that gap-tooth and whatever it was awesome, but at Grissom. He took that smile and put it somewhere where only he could see it and there was a part that was only his and that wasn't fair. He took the best part of Sara and he locked it up in that hermetically sealed place of his. So Greg was damned if he was going to get all starry-eyed at the great love between Grissom and Sara or whatever.
So maybe he didn't really lie to Nick.
Because he was there at the hospital when the helicopter brought Sara in. He'd seen Grissom's face as they cut her clothes off, tossed them in a corner and covered her in cold packs and tubes and machines and watched as Grissom hovered nearby and then went to Sara's side after they stabilized her. He was pretty certain that Grissom didn't even notice when he'd backed out the room, because he couldn't take his eyes off of Sara's face and the wet tracks that Grissom's tears left on her cheeks as he pressed his forehead to hers and his lips to her skin.
So he really didn't lie to Nick. He knew before anyone else. He'd seen the proof; he never knew Grissom could cry before.
Author: manic
Rating: M
Apologies: to pretty much everyone who wanted something erudite, this ain't it.
Pairing: Grissom/Sara
Item One:
Okay, so he lied to Nick. Big Whoop. Everyone was lying these days. Him, Grissom, and Sara for Pete's sake, they were all lying. So yeah, he lied to Nick. It was bad enough he was the youngest CSI, newest, whatever. He was like their mascot, sort of. He'd always be Greg, the kid, or newbie, or rookie or the guy who made the coffee. Either way, he was damned if he was going to admit to be ignorant with this whole Grissom loves Sara thing. Or Sara loves Grissom. Because, it was Grissom, Grissom who wore saggy pants that rode up his ass, not that Greg ever looked at Grissom's ass, but there they were. And the hats were their own country of hurt and badness, and they were floppy. There was the walking like a duck and the bugs and the general weirdness and Sara had an ipod and hybrid and Grissom still ate meat.
Maybe.
Because if Greg were to use his finely tuned CSI powers of investigation, and he did and in the most inopportune times because once he became a CSI and even before that, it was damned hard to turn it off and that was how he found out that a certain someone, Ashley, was sleeping around on him, fucking around, he was much more careful these days to get the terminology correct and what Ashley was doing with that turd of a dealer could not in anyway sane be called sleeping, and none of that really mattered because of that picture.
The one Natalie drew, of Grissom's hand on Sara's arm. Greg was furious. None of them had seen it, at all. When he turned around and everyone was going years, years the two had been together he got pissed, not at Sara, because it was Sara, and when she smiled at you with that gap-tooth and whatever it was awesome, but at Grissom. He took that smile and put it somewhere where only he could see it and there was a part that was only his and that wasn't fair. He took the best part of Sara and he locked it up in that hermetically sealed place of his. So Greg was damned if he was going to get all starry-eyed at the great love between Grissom and Sara or whatever.
So maybe he didn't really lie to Nick.
Because he was there at the hospital when the helicopter brought Sara in. He'd seen Grissom's face as they cut her clothes off, tossed them in a corner and covered her in cold packs and tubes and machines and watched as Grissom hovered nearby and then went to Sara's side after they stabilized her. He was pretty certain that Grissom didn't even notice when he'd backed out the room, because he couldn't take his eyes off of Sara's face and the wet tracks that Grissom's tears left on her cheeks as he pressed his forehead to hers and his lips to her skin.
So he really didn't lie to Nick. He knew before anyone else. He'd seen the proof; he never knew Grissom could cry before.