DISCLAIMER: CSI is the property of CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
PAIRING: Sara/Sofia

Five Stages of Love
By trancer



Sara was attracted to Sofia.

The realization had been jarring for Sara. The feelings hadn't built like an ember roaring to a flame. No, the realization had come fast and hard like being pushed off a high pier into deep, dark waters. Where she flailed and kicked to keep herself above water because she didn't know how to swim. Didn't know how to keep herself from avoiding the feelings she'd been thrown into.

"Hello Sara," Sofia stood in the doorway, smiling in that soft coy smirk of hers. And Sara felt the waters washing over her.

Only, this time, Sara didn't fight the tide.



Sara was wearing a new perfume.

Sofia didn't like to consider herself an expert on the scents of Sara. But, she had. Subconsciously catalogued everything about the woman, her smile, her moods, her favorite foods.

Normally, Sara didn't wear perfume. Normally, Sara was an array of shampoo, soap and lotion that combined into something that could only be called Sara. Now, there was something different to the mix. Something new, something that made the pit of Sofia's stomach twitch every time she inhaled.

"Is that a new perfume?" She asked quietly in Sara's ear.

"Mmm-hmmm," the woman smiled, snuggling closer.

"When did you start wearing perfume?"

Sara tilted her head up, flashing a smile that sent another wave of tremors deep in Sofia's stomach. "When I started dating you."



"Open your eyes," Sara paused. Ran her tongue along the curve of Sofia's neck, felt the vibrations of Sofia's groan rumbling against her tongue.

"Open your eyes," she repeated. "I want to see you."

With that, Sofia opened her eyes. Just barely, but enough. Gazed up at Sara with hooded lids and dilated pupils. Body strained as if the act, just opening her eyes, required some great physical exertion.

Sara exhaled, slid her fingers deeper, feeling Sofia gripping around her, pulling her in. Pressed her body against Sofia's, against skin slick with sweat that matched her own. Straddled the thigh between her legs. Until they were slip-sliding against each other, finding their rhythm, matching it, increasing it. Until the tension, like a live-wire stretched taut, snapped in an explosion of moans and gasps, as their bodies bowed and curled, trembled and shook.

Then, collapsed in each others arms.



She'd never seen Sara cry. After their first initial encounters, Sofia had humorously thought the woman incapable of crying, as if the very act were beneath her. She'd seemed too strong, too rigid, almost incapable of the act.

Now, Sofia knew differently.

Sara cried.

Because Sara had demons, deep, dark, soul-shattering demons. Demons she once suppressed with alcohol, with work, with solitude, she now exorcised through tears.

And Sofia could do nothing more than offer her support, support with the arms she wrapped tightly around Sara, with the words of comfort that whispered quietly from her lips, the lips that gently kissed her forehead, the fingers that brushed the tears away. All while she wondered if what she had to offer was enough.



Sara stretched languidly on the bed. Casually turned her head towards the open bathroom door. Sofia stood inside blow-drying her hair, humming softly to herself. Sara propped her head on her hand, gazing admiringly at the sight before her. Of all of Sofia's quirks, this one Sara liked the most - Sofia blow-dried her hair in the nude.

"You know," Sofia padded into the bedroom, tossing Sara a smirk. She clambered onto the bed, straddling Sara's hips. "I've arrested people for less."

"Handcuffs?" Sara grinned, surreptitiously licking her lips. "I didn't know you were into the kinky stuff."

Sofia planted her hands on either side of Sara's head. Leaning down she began planting a series of kisses across Sara's jaw line. "Oh, I'm an expert in all manner of exotic lovemaking. I'd give you a demonstration but the fancy cuffs are in my overnight bag."

"Well, you could always leave your overnight bag here."

"Why Sara Sidle," she spoke in a thick faux Southern accent. "Are you asking me to give in to a life of sin?"

"No," Sara paused. The flirtatious air replaced with a heavy seriousness. She stared up at Sofia, heart suddenly hammering in her chest. "I'm asking you to move in with me."

Sofia's face broke into a huge grin. "I thought you'd never ask."

The End

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