Wherefore

Chapter 15

"What about cold cream, would cold cream help?"

I just shrug in response. I've never been in this situation before.

"Okay." Grissom's pacing back and forth in agitation, wearing down the hotel room carpet as he composes a shopping list. "Cold cream, Neosporin, ice packs... astringent?"

"Are you insane?"

"No astringent. Anything else you can think of?"

I'm lying face-down on his bed, tracing the blanket's paisley pattern with my finger. "Ice cream."

He jots it down on the list. "Does the brand matter?"

"Yeah, Ben and Jerry's. Try to get Chocolate Fudge Brownie, if they have it."

"Chocolate Fudge Brownie," he repeats dutifully. "And that'll help with the reaction?"

"No, but it'll taste good."

"Okay." Folding the list carefully and sticking it in his shirt pocket, he makes his way over to the door. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"No rush."

He pauses for a second before opening the door. "I really am sorry, Sara."

I smile as convincingly as I can manage, waving goodbye as I get up and head into his bathroom. This really is a new level of embarrassment.

The sink isn't the right size or shape for soaking, so I run cold water over a washcloth and hold it to my right cheek. Don't look in the mirror, whatever you do. But of course I look, and wince at my reflection.

Newton's Third Law, Sara. How many times did I recite it as a kid? For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Sensitive skin, plus a three-hour make-out session with a bearded man, equals this. Hundreds of tiny cuts, all over my swollen cheeks and chin. I'm not sure if the redness is from the rash or the pure humiliation of the situation.

Grissom is back in twenty minutes, with two huge grocery bags in tow. "Okay, I talked with the pharmacist, and he told me what to do."

Oh, to have been a fly on the wall during that conversation. Only not, since Grissom probably would have gotten distracted by the fascinating insect and ignored the pharmacist altogether.

"What'd you get?"

"We're supposed to start with Bactine," he says, holding up a small bottle. "Have a seat."

Adjusting the swivel lamp on the desk to shine directly on my face, he pours a small amount of Bactine onto a sterile pad and dabs my cheeks so tenderly that my eyes grow moist.

"Am I hurting you?" he asks softly.

"No, I'm fine," I murmur. "Just disappointed. Not the way I'd pictured us spending the evening."

He doesn't reply, just pours more Bactine onto the pad. Once he's finished, he rummages in one of the grocery bags till he finds a small container of generic ibuprofen.

"For the swelling," he says, waiting for me to swallow a couple of pills. "Now we apply one percent hydrocortisone cream." With the same precise, gentle hand, he spreads a thin layer of cream over the red areas. Then he presses a kiss to my forehead. "All done."

"That's it?"

"We reapply the cream twice a day. Pharmacist said it should be gone by mid-week."

"So then what's with all the bags?"

With a mischievous grin, he reaches into the closest grocery bag. "Comfort food. Four types of Ben and Jerry's ice cream, including two pints of Chocolate Fudge Brownie..."

"Bless you," I moan, grabbing the nearest carton.

"Spoons, napkins, extra-large cups..."

"What are the cups for?"

He pulls a gigantic bottle of A&W soda out of the bag. "Root beer floats. I got caramel ice cream for those, because the flavors seem like they'd be complementary."

This is getting to be like Christmas morning. Abandoning the ice cream for now, I snatch the second grocery bag off the floor, eager to see what other treasures he's brought. "Jumbo-sized bags of Cheetos and Fritos, and..." I frown, pulling out the next item. "Right Guard deodorant?"

"Oh, uh, I'll take that," he says quickly, his cheeks coloring. "And the front desk should be sending-"

A knock on the door sounds with impeccable timing, and he jumps up to answer it. A bellhop wheels in a cart, then disappears in a flash when Grissom palms him some cash.

"What's all this?"

He grins. "A DVD player, along with a selection of movies for our viewing pleasure." There's something in his smile that I can't quite place - a combination of excitement, fear, and...

"You still feel guilty, don't you." I stand up and walk over to him, rubbing his arm gently.

"Of course I do," he sighs. "My beard ate your face."

"Your beard didn't eat my face."

"Well, it tried."

Grissom's wrinkles are more visible up close, and I'm not sure why anyone would ever find them unattractive. To have lines etched into your skin after years of squinting in the sunlight over a crime scene, years of laughing and frowning and feeling... shouldn't such lines be a thing of pride? After all, if someone didn't have any, it would mean he hadn't experienced life.

"I can shave it off if you want," he says miserably.

"Don't you dare." I lean forward and kiss the edge of his beard softly, still feeling a little bit shy about it. "Okay, do you know how to hook up a DVD player?"

"Um..." He stares at the cords dubiously.

"Right, so I'll hook it up," I continue. "You read off the names of the movies, and we'll pick something to watch."

"Sounds like a plan."

Picking up the DVD player, I try to make sense of the mess of colored wires. The player is a relatively new model, and the colors don't seem to match up with the holes on the old television set.

"Dude, Where's My Car?" Grissom calls out blankly, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from giggling. "After a night they can't remember, comes a day they'll never forget." He pulls out the next DVD case. "The Big Chill. The story of eight old friends searching for something they love, and finding that all they needed was each other."

Okay, call me crazy, but shouldn't the yellow plug go into the yellow hole? Isn't that why they color the cords in the first place? These damned things are not fitting right, and my face is starting to sweat, which is making the hydrocortisone cream start to run down my chin. God, I'm so sexy, no wonder he wants me.

"Say Anything," he continues. "To know Lloyd Dobler is to love him. Diane Court is about to know Lloyd Dobler." He pauses. "Lloyd Dobler?"

"Don't you dare say anything bad about Lloyd," I warn him. "He was my second big crush."

Chuckling, he moves on down the row of DVD's, pulling out the next one. "Oh my god."

"What?" I turn to see him holding up a movie case reverently. "A Bug's Life?"

"Sara, I know this is supposed to be your night, but can we please watch this? I've always wanted to see it. Please?"

Rolling my eyes, I continue trying the different plugs. "You're lucky I love you, Grissom." Ah, got it - the red plug goes into the yellow slot, the white plug goes into the red slot, and the yellow goes into the white slot. Blowing my hair out of my face, I click on the machine. "We can watch it, but only if you agree not to complain every time there's a factual error. Deal?"

When he doesn't answer, I glance over at him. He has the strangest expression on his face, and I'd swear there's a glint of tears in his eyes.

"Griss?"

He nods, finally, clearing his throat and handing me the case. I pop the DVD in and push play, shaking my head in bemusement. Who knew he felt that strongly about a silly movie?

By the time the credits roll, we've consumed two pints of ice cream and most of the chips. Grissom has to reapply the hydrocortisone cream after orange Cheetos powder sticks to my face, and at this point I'm not sure I could feel less attractive.

"So what'd you think?" I call, as he heads into the bathroom to throw away the used sterile pads.

"What?"

He probably doesn't know that I can see him from this angle, and that I'm watching as he checks himself out in the mirror. Runs his fingers through his hair, sucks in his gut. Maybe I'm not the only one who feels unattractive.

"What'd you think of the movie?"

After one last glance at his reflection, he heads back into the room. "It was good."

"Good?" I scoot over on the bed, leaning against the headboard, and he plops down beside me.

"It was entertaining," he says, not meeting my eyes.

"Entertaining?"

He lets out a frustrated breath. "It's just... did they do any research? I mean, come on, the part where a male mosquito orders a Bloody Mary? Everyone knows only female mosquitoes drink blood!"

"Well, maybe next time they'll consult you," I say placatingly.

"Maybe."

It's nice, sitting with him like this. No cases to worry about, no smell of decomposing bodies clinging to our skin. Just two normal people, lying in bed. One whose face looks like it ran into a rabid cheese grater, but still, normal people.

After a few minutes of silence, he leans over to switch off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. I can hear the rustle of sheets as he gets under the covers.

"Grissom, what are you doing?"

"Going to sleep?"

"Then, uh, could you turn on the light so I can get back to my room?"

With a click, the light comes back on.

"You're leaving?" He blinks at me sleepily, his chin peeking out from under the blanket. "Why?"

"You thought I was staying?"

"I guess I assumed."

"Why would you assume?"

"Assume is the wrong word."

"What's the right word?"

He shrugs. "Hoped?"

My heart softens. "But I'll get hydrocortisone cream all over the pillow."

"That's why we won't share a pillow. See, I thought this through."

Grinning despite myself, I get under the covers too, trying to stop my pulse from racing at the implications of the moment. "Good night, then."

The light goes out again, and I can hear the faint sound of his breathing. We're just normal people, that's what we are. Sharing a bed, and breathing.

"Hey, Sara?"

"Mm?"

"You said Lloyd Dobler was your second big crush. Who was your first?"

Note to self: your cheeks hurt even worse when you're blushing. "Truth?"

"Truth."

"Niels Bohr."

There's no response, but after a few seconds the bed starts to shake.

"Are you laughing at me?"

"Niels Bohr is dead."

"So?"

"Niels Bohr died in the sixties. Before you were even born."

"What's your point?"

He reaches out to grab my hand, threading our fingers together. "Nothing," he says, his voice as warm as his palm. "You're just lucky I love you back."