Current mood:	peaceful
Entry tags:	*yteen, -grissom/sara, velocityofsound

Title: Whisper and Hush
Pairing: Grissom/Sara
Rating: YTeen
A/N: Happy Birthday scullyseviltwin! Now that you can finally legally drink, god help us all. :) This is fluffy, which is weird and semi-inappropriate, but I hope you like it. (I think my sappy mood is a knee-jerk reaction to my depression over the Red Sox, but I digress.) I love you more than pie, and I hope you have a wonderful day and an even better year.





Sara grabbed the stem of her wine glass tightly, and scowled.

"No way."

"C'mon, it's tradition. Just do what I am sure you always do... stand in the back with your arms crossed over your chest and that look on your face," Catherine replied a little too cheerily for Sara's liking, winking at Doc Robbins and his wife, Sara's companions at her table.

"There are plenty of woman already who are more than interested in participating, I am sure. They won't notice..."

"Oh, yes they will..." Catherine said in no uncertain terms, causing Sara to slump a little bit in her chair, which resulted in another wrinkle developing along the waistline of her navy silk dress. Sara knew she probably shouldn't have worn the damn dress anyway, and started flattening the material uselessly with her fingers, but Catherine didn't seem to notice or take the hint. "You need to get yourself back out there."

Doc Robbins shot his wife a half-amused, half-oh shit expression, but Sara remained tight-lipped. "It's a spectacle. It's..." Sara sputtered, flustered and uncomfortable.

"You know, I caught the bouquet at my sister Claudia's wedding a week before Al proposed," Judy Robbins added kindly, trying to break up some of the tension between the two other women. "It is a bit... silly, as traditions go, but it only lasts for a minute and frankly, that's why they serve alcohol at these type of functions." Everyone chuckled, and Sara noticed Doc's hand wrapping warmly around his wife's forearm. "And who knows? It can't hurt to take the chance."

"Well, when I get an elbow to the eye from an overenthusiastic bridesmaid, I might beg to differ," Sara said quite sarcastically, but there was enough humor in her tone to keep the atmosphere light. "Are you going to do it, Catherine?"

"Sure," Catherine shrugged her shoulders, and smiled. "But mostly just because I'm competitive. I'm in no hurry to get married any time soon. A diamond, I wouldn't mind. A husband? I'd have to pass."

Sara sighed, and put down her glass as the DJ announced that "All you single ladies!" should gather on the dance floor, standing up and trying to smooth down her dress yet again. With an airy chuckle, Catherine reached out to Sara's hips, tugged the wrap dress a little bit, and then moved her fingers to the sash around Sara's waist, adjusting it until a low bow covered the wrinkles.

"There!" Catherine said with satisfaction as Sara gave her a look for the personal space violation. "Now you can stop fidgeting, let's go."

Together, they walked quickly to where a small group of women had already gathered, standing around and looking either miserable or a little too excited. Sara quickly fell to the back of the pack, standing beside Jacqui Franco and a woman she figured to be a friend of the new Mrs. Phillips, as she had sat on the bride's side of the church during the ceremony, and like Sara had hung toward the back of the chapel. As Sara leaned over to crack a joke in Jacqui's ear, she could hear a strange cheer off to her left, and turned to find Greg whooping her name and moving his arm in some sort of cheer-like fashion.

"Yeah Sara, take 'em out," Greg hollered, and although the music mostly drowned him out, she could see Nick and his date, who was very much unmarried and very much still sitting at her table, Sara noted, chuckling at Greg's antics.

Sara opened her mouth to reply, but Jacqui quickly cut in, giving Greg the finger just as the music died out and the reception hall became significantly more quiet. Mouthing a 'thank you' to Jacqui, Sara made quick work of trying to position herself near the back of the group, but sandwiched in enough that she wouldn't have the arm room to catch any flying flowers, and if necessary, she could always headbutt them into the arms of the woman in front of her.

The DJ launched into another cheesy speech, re-introducing Beth Phillips and making a few bad jokes, before a synthesized drum roll began to play. Sara needed to avert her gaze to the floor for a moment, to keep herself from looking like a total killjoy by rolling her eyes repeatedly. She was mostly staring at her feet, noticing a slight scuff on one of her heels, when the crowd of women collectively made a noise that caught her attention. Before she could look up and catch her bearings, she heard the woman from the back of the church next to her swear under her breath, and saw her feet shuffle back.

Before Sara knew it, or could do anything about it, she saw the bundle of white and coral roses bouncing off of the shoulder of the woman as she moved and winced. Somewhat caught between the mass of bodies around her Sara had nowhere to go, and her mouth fell open as the bouquet dropped onto her arms, whether she liked it or not. Her stomach immediately felt queasy, as a few of the other ladies began to stand back and clap, wide smiles on their faces.

Sara looked down at the bouquet, still perched sidewise on her outstretched forearms in a graceless version of a football carry, and frowned deeply. After a brief moment of self-pity, she looked up and nodded at the crowd, trying to be a good sport, which proved to be difficult indeed when she spotted Catherine openly laughing at her expense.

Not that Sara wouldn't have done the same, however.

Awkwardly, she managed to get a hold on the bottom of the bouquet, wrapping her fist around the tightly bound stems, and nodded at a few people, making a few good-natured but weak attempts at looking pleased by her supposed victory. She could hear the DJ making some sort of announcement involving her name, and this time she couldn't help but roll her eyes, and started to make her way off of the dance floor when she felt something tug on her free hand from behind.

It was Beth Phillips, David's new wife. A small woman who generally supported a mess of curly hair and glasses, Beth looked rather radiant Sara had to admit, in her simple and elegant gown, with her hair swept back and a warm smile lighting up her face. She slid her hand fully into Sara's, the other holding up a side of her long dress so that she could walk with more ease, and gestured toward the front.

"Pictures," she said simply, her voice a little high-pitched, but warm and sweet.

Sara's features twisted slightly, but she remained polite. "But, I... Uh..."

"We're going to do the pictures now; don't want to miss anyone by waiting. And your dance..."

"My dance?"

"The dance with the garter toss winner. "

"Right..." Sara said, slightly unconvinced, but allowing Beth to lead her back onto the dance floor and to a spot where she could stand off to the side and not appear in the background of any other pictures. She didn't remember anyone ever needing to dance because they had the misfortune of catching the bouquet at any other wedding she had attended. Then again, she hadn't attended many weddings for a woman of her age, and she had made a habit of taking bathroom breaks during that part of the reception, or smoke breaks back before she had quit. But now that she was thinking about, she vaguely remembered the practice.

Frustrated and a little uncomfortable, she looked up and had to smile at the blush still high on David's cheeks from the garter toss. Several photographs were taken of the couple, with various people she did and did not recognize, until Beth summoned her over, and Sara dutifully held the bouquet to her chest in a slightly unnatural fashion and smiled, flanked on one side by the bride and the other by the other winner, an attractive, if slightly nerdy looking, man in a full tux.

That collection of photographs was quickly completed, and Beth took the bouquet from Sara and gestured to the floor. "Sorry," Beth said with a little shrug, aware of Sara's discomfort. "But Josh is even quieter than David, so don't worry. Thanks for being a good sport."

Sara gave her a soft smile, and shuffled onto the dance floor, shoulders slightly hunched as the attention of many of the guests focused in on her and David's mild-mannered, and she had to admit, quite good looking brother. Josh made an awkward but amusing show of wiping his palms on his jacket which caused her to chuckle, and a standard ballad Sara didn't recognize began to play.

They assumed a classic dance position, and then began to sway without any true rhyme or reason around the dance floor.

"I'm glad you don't know how to dance," Josh said with a slight smirk, taking his hand off of her waist for a moment to adjust his glasses. "Otherwise this would be even more awkward, because this is as good as I will ever be at this."

Chuckling under her breath, Sara nodded. "Well... disaster averted. The only dance I can do with any proficiency is the Electric Slide."

"I think that's next..." Josh quipped, and Sara laughed, her surprisingly good mood not diminished even by the sight of Greg over Josh's shoulder, pointing at her and giving her a wink. Eventually, David and Beth joined the dance, diverting attention away from Josh and Sara, and then a few other couples trotted out to the dance floor slowly. Josh chatted with her amiably about the weather, which was surprisingly mild for that time of year, and Sara recounted the story of how David had suggested one of their corpses had been an alien life form, to Josh's amusement. The song ended, and they broke apart to light applause.

"Thanks, for not stepping on my feet," Josh said with a smile, and Sara rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

"Thank you, for making that a lot less painful than it could have been."

"My pleasure. Umm, Sara... would you like to maybe, can I buy you a drink?"

Sara's cheeks flushed a light pink, and she smiled honestly. "That's a really great offer, but..."

"Say no more. We can leave it at 'but...', that way I can make up the rest of what you were going to say myself. It generally turns out a lot better that way."

"I have a hard time believing you hear a 'but...' very often," Sara said plainly, and Josh blushed deeply. "You're a great dancer."

Josh laughed, and look at her awkwardly, before eventually picking up her hand rather clumsily and bussing her knuckles with just a whisper of a touch. "You're not a good liar."

Soon Sara's face was as tomato-red as Josh's was, and she took a step back. "Umm.. thanks. For the dance. I should, ummm..."

"Right, yeah. Me too. Nice to meet you," Josh stepped in quickly, and then gestured toward his destination of the head table.

"Bye," Sara said with an awkward little wave.

"Bye."

As soon as Josh had made it far enough through the smattering of guests around them to be outside of earshot, Sara exhaled, long and low, and took off for the lady's room. She thought about stopping for her purse, but collecting herself was her top priority, and instead she booked it toward the bathroom. Keeping her head down, she avoided the few people who were standing in the small, perfumed hallway, only looking up a few times to dodge a stand of dried flowers and make sure she didn't faceplant on to the mauve carpet. She had one hand placed squarely on the bathroom's door, and had begun to push it open when a familiar voice startled her and stopped her cold.

"Sara," Grissom said, without much affect but in a low, husky register, from where he was almost leaning against the pastel pink wall, a few feet back from the door frame.

"Jesus!" Sara sputtered in surprise, palm coming off of the door as she took a step back. "I thought you were called out."

"Apparently Days caught wind of the case as well, matches a serial burglar they've been tracking for months, targeting the newer developments out in Summerlin. If they wanted the case, I didn't see any reason to fight them for it."

"Makes sense if they have the overtime available," she said. Sara ran her eyes over his frame - the baggy forensics jacket pulled over his dress shirt, his tie loosened at his throat - and swallowed quickly. "Why did you come back?"

"We didn't have the chance to dance," he said with a whisper of a smirk lighting up his face, and she lowered her voice in reply.

"I... don't you think that would be a little obvious?"

"I'm sure the crowd is abuzz with your victory, and your promenade with the young Mr. Phillips, and wouldn't notice you pitying your boss with a dance."

"Oh shut up," she said with a huff. "You were here for that?" He nodded, and she shook her head.

"He looked quite smitten with you."

"He seems like a nice guy. He even asked me to have a drink, which I declined in a trainwreck of a..." she looked up into his eyes, which were dark despite the warm lighting of the hallway, and squinted a little. "You can not be jealous of that, seriously, Grissom," she almost whispered as she glanced around and then took his arm and pulled him a little farther down the hall.

"Who's being obvious now?"

Wide-eyed, she caught his gaze. "Gil..."

"I'm not upset with you, Sara. It's just that our situation can certainly have some negative aspects, and one of them is that I have to watch you dance from a hallway."

She gave him a weak half-smile, and reached out to lightly squeeze his forearm. "You can dance with me any day you want."

"I know," he said quietly. "Tell you what. Run to the bathroom, and then meet me out on the left side of the parking lot in a few minutes."

She raised an eyebrow, but her grin blossomed and she took a step back. "Okay."

Standing against the wall, he waited until she walked away and into the bathroom before leaving. Sara took the time to place a paper towel under a cold stream of water from the faucet, and then pressed it to her eyes, happy that she had chosen a waterproof mascara. A few quick dabs to her cheeks, and several runs through her hair with her fingers later, she once again adjusted the belt of her dress and then headed through the ballroom area to the front lobby and out into the parking lot.

The sun had set hours before, and the club that hosted the wedding sat atop a small but well-groomed golf course. The lot sloped down a hill and was surrounded by a fair amount of vegetation even with the dry, hot air blanketing them, making it more difficult for Sara's night vision to adjust to the change in scenery. Carefully, she walked away from the few smokers lingering by the front door and made her way between the cars, heels clacking against the pavement as she tried to spot Grissom.

Shivering a little in the dark, despite the late summer heat that still sizzled through the air, Sara reached the end of the lot and stepped out onto a dry patch of grass, the welcome mat to a pathway between some thin trees which cut around the first few holes and led to the water hazard on the back nine. She walked by the last car, and peeked around it, still unable to see Grissom with her now unobstructed view of the left side of the lot.

"Griss?" she tried to say in a hushed manner that still carried some volume, but it came out more like a hiss. "Grissom?"

"Over here," a disembodied voice came from down the path, and although she recognized it, she immediately became confused.

"What are we doing, playing Hide 'n Seek? Where are you?"

"Down the path a little farther," he said, and when she turned back around and focused she could make out his unique shadow burning through the faint moonlight that illuminated the space.

"I have heels on," she growled with amusement, but tramped her way, slowly and carefully, down the path until she finally came face to face with Grissom. He had a bottle of champagne in his hand, and two glasses in the other, and she tilted her head as she took the sight of him in.

"Did you steal those from the reception?" she asked.

"I'll return the glasses. And the refreshments are for guests. Technically, both of us are guests. Here, take this," he said bluntly, handing the bottle over to her, and grasping her other hand with his now unoccupied one. "This way."

Pursing her lips, she wondered what the hell he thought he was up to, but tightened her grip on the champagne and his hand and followed his lead. His steps slowly paced, no doubt to make sure she didn't trip, they made their way down the shortcut and soon they were climbing back up the other side of the hill, on a narrow gravel pathway for carts.

Under the moonlight, she could make out a few rolling shapes in the sand of the desert in the distance, and tugged on his fingers quickly to turn his attention to the sight. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

He hummed his agreement, and they continued walking for another minute until they reached an open vista, a straightaway to the right and a small cluster of palms and imported trees behind them. Taking the bottle from her wordlessly, he effortlessly popped the cork and then poured a glass, handing it to her before doing the same for himself. He placed the bottle on the ground, and then rose to his full height.

"You look wonderful tonight, Sara."

She blushed a little, never tiring of the words no matter how many times she heard them, and leaned in to kiss his cheek, stealing a peck at his lips while she was there. "You look good too, I'm glad you ditched the jacket."

His smirk was visible even in the dim light, and she raised her glass. "To my favorite dance partner."

Tipping his glass to hers, he smiled and then took a long swallow of the champagne. Sara sipped hers and then setting the fragile glass against the bottle on the ground, hoping that it wouldn't break. She took his glass from him as well, and then set it down, before taking his hands into her own.

"We don't have any music," she said in a whisper, and one hand began to sneak behind her waist, her hands also slipping into the proper position for dancing, although within seconds their bodies were drawn toward each other's, and her fingers tangled in the hairs at the base of his neck. With a low vibrato, Grissom began to hum a soft, lilting melody, and she giggled as they began to sway.

"Let me guess... Zeppelin?"

He chuckled, the warm vibrations passing from his chest to hers, and shook his head. "The Stones. You should have got that one."

"Damn," she huffed with a laugh, and his charming warbling began up yet again, as they resumed their gentle rocking. He eventually lost the tune, and started up with a new one, even managing to guide her along for a few steps, out and back, in a mostly successful full turn.

"So," he finally spoke, rubbing her spine lightly through the thin silk of her dress as he did so. "How did you feel about catching the bouquet?"

"I didn't so much catch it as the fates aligned to screw me, yet again," she said with some humor, and some lingering annoyance. "Catherine made me do it, to begin with."

"That doesn't surprise me," Grissom commented without rancor, guiding them through a few mangled box steps. "You don't think the tradition holds any weight, I take it."

"I think my supposed victory, as you put it earlier, is proof enough that this particular superstition can be firmly left in that category."

"I thought you weren't anti-wedding, according to your little tirade earlier this year."

She refrained from sticking her tongue out at him. Barely. "I'm not. I thought it was a nice ceremony, and traditional works for David and Beth."

"But not for you?" he whispered a little too casually in her ear.

"Not often," she admitted, a little breathless, wondering where the hell he was going with this line of questioning.

"So what would work for you? Hypothetically, of course," he asked her, stepping back a little so that he could look into her eyes. With her shoes still on, they were of equal height, and the intensity of their mutual gaze made her halt their movements all together. They had gotten through the declarations of love and fidelity rather easily, and settled into a level of comfort within a few months of finally coming together, but the secret nature of their relationship had seemingly aborted any conversations that dared to breach the subject of the future. With that element largely in the air, which was not discussed but understood, a status quo had been reached and then maintained in a generally easy silence.

But him finally touching on the subject, in a stolen moment on a hazy night, with pilfered champagne in her belly and ruined heels on her feet - it may not have been his intention, but it was the most romantic she had ever felt.

She felt surprisingly steady, and unafraid, despite the warmth of the champagne and her nerves swirling around her stomach.

"I don't know that I had ever really thought about even getting this far. Something like this... This really is very sweet," she said quietly but firmly, and his face seemed to soften just a touch around his eyes. It gave her courage. "What I really want is you. Not sinking a month's salary into a massive dress I'll only wear once, or wasting moments I could spend talking with you about art or literature, or even your bugs, on fretting about embossed invitations and napkin color schemes. I don't think that," she gestured lightly toward the clubhouse in the distance, "is us. This is us."

He murmured affirmatively, and pulled her back into his arms, swaying with their feet barely moving, in a rhythm slightly off a steady beat, all their own. "What about marriage?" he whispered, and she almost missed the words even though they were spoken into her hair, just above her ear, and she could feel them against her scalp.

"Maybe we should... table that discussion, until we work out a few other things," she replied, knowing that there were many more obstacles to that path than could be resolved on this night, or any other. "I'm not going anywhere. Are you?"

A big, open hand slid from her waist up to her shoulder blades, and then back down again, to rest at the very top of the curve of her bottom.

"No, I'm here."

"Good. Because that's what works for me," she said, pulling back her head enough off of his shoulder to kiss him softly. One tender brush of lips turned into two, and then three, and then her hands moved from his shoulders to the back of his neck. The kiss deepened, sweet and flushed with champagne, until Sara drew back with a happy sigh, licking her bottom lip. "You know - hypothetically."

He chuckled, quirking his lips up, and grabbed one of her hands, holding it out as if they were going to properly ballroom dance. She laughed a little with surprise, giving him a curious look.

"What?"

"Let's try one dance, a serious dance," he said, and she continued to giggle lightly. He guided her to take a few steps back, her heels pressing into the ground below and stopping their movement, and he took the opportunity to catch her eyes. "A little tradition might be good for us, don't you think?"

Her mouth fell open with a sense of bewilderment, and a small surge of joy that flooded her from the center out. His grin was just a little bit smug as they finally fell into an almost perfect waltz.



IN THE PARKING LOT, David's groomsmen were partaking in another time honored tradition - involving tin cans, glass markers, silly string, and one large ball of twine.

His roommate from med school, Jason, scowled. "Can you hold up that flashlight where I can see it, please?"

David and Beth, instead of having a limo, had rented a 1962 Buick Special Convertible instead, a gorgeous beast of chrome and slick pearl white paint, and Beth's brother Glen had finagled the keys out of David's pocket during a round of photos. Now the car sat in the service alley behind the clubhouse, with five men in tuxedos defacing it as much as humanly possible before they were missed inside.

Josh and Glen stepped back from the car, allowing the other men to work on affixing things to the bumper with more light. Leaning back against the stucco wall behind them, Glen lit a cigarette and took a long drag.

"Nice place, huh?"

Josh let his eyes sweep over the terrain, and its strange majestic beauty, a man-made oasis awash in moonlight. He was staring out, straight at the horizon line, when Glen nudged his side and pointed to the right, at the crest of a hill and a set of trees in the distance.

"Looks like someone's getting lucky tonight..." he said with a comic drawl, gesturing toward two shadowy figures moving slowly, bodies pressed together.

Pulling off his glasses, Josh could make out a hint of a teal sash at the woman's waist, the hem of her dress just at her knees, and the shape of the flip of her hair. "Lucky, hmmm," Josh said warmly, and then turned to Glen. "Do you believe in superstitions?"

"Ummm, depends I guess. Why?"

"I've recently discovered a newfound appreciation for them," Josh replied with a smirk. "I caught the garter after all."

"Oh yeah. I forgot about that. So, you think it's going to bring you luck?"

Josh shrugged his shoulders, and smiled. "I guess you can never really know... but I have a good feeling about it."