DISCLAIMER: I don't
own/work with anything CSI related, I'm just a fan writing because
I'm a hopeless romantic and posting because I'm insane.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is still first person, Sara, but it's calmer now. Not so much on the crack this time.
SERIES: Sequel to Oh, God
Sugar is Sweet
Drugs. Drugs are good. I'm wishing desperately for codeine. Morphine. SOMETHING to take my mind off of the constant throbbing in my head, but I can't. No painkillers for Sara. Hm. maybe this will deter me next time...then again, maybe not.
Lindsey's chattering my ear off, telling me how Miss Jenny, her babysitter, had to drop her off early because she was running late for an appointment, and how Mister Craig is silly because he wears big necklaces, and only girls should wear necklaces. I'm looking through the kitchen cupboards, looking for something to make that breakfast I promised Lindsey. I wonder if Catherine's going to take the chickenshit approach and wait until I leave, but I'm not going to push it if she does--I about ran out on her. Stupid.
"Sara?" she asks me, shaking me out of my preoccupation.
I smile at her angel face, all innocence and energy. "Yeah, honey?"
"Can we have pancakes for breakfast?" Oh, there it is. That patented Willows smile--the one that says she knows she's about to get what she wants.
"Sure. Show me where the mix is."
She shakes her head, sending her new purple dangly earrings swaying. "We don't have any."
I nod. Of course you don't. "What about syrup?"
Another sway of the earrings. Okay. Looks like I'm gonna have to do this the hard way. It shouldn't be too hard, though. I've made do with less before. A quick scan of the cupboards gives me most of the ingredients I need, and enough substitutes to make it an interesting experience. I call out to Lindsey to go put some music on, only to wince at the sound of Mandy Moore singing about wanting Candy. Subtext, anyone?
Her impish face peers up at me from around the door to the living room. "Did you want something else?" she innocently inquires. Ah, to be that young and manipulative again.
"Do you have anything...smoother? Lighter? Not so poppyish? Anything?" Slowly pouring water into the batter, I try not to sound too pleading.
"Mmm....Mommy just got the new Kelly Rowland cd. Does that count?"
Catherine likes R&B? I never would have pegged her for it. "That counts, and it sounds wonderful. Do you know how to put it in?"
Her insulted eyes glare at me for a second before disappearing back into the living room. Guess she does. When I finally have something I can stand playing through the speakers, I ask her to get the butter for me.
And then I'm being hugged. Little arms are wrapping themselves around my hips and a blonde little head is buried in my waist. "I like having you here, Sara."
Oh. Insert breaking of heart here. "I like being here, honey." Big green eyes blink up at me, and a sweet, dopey smile is bestowed upon me by this little angel.
I'm smiling down at her, too, when I feel a pair of eyes on me. I'm being watched. All I have to do is raise my eyes. Right behind Lindsey is the most beautiful woman in the world--the one I'm not supposed to have any feelings for.
She offers me a small, sheepish smile before strolling into the kitchen.
"What? No hug for me?"
As if she's been scalded, Lindsey unwraps herself from being all over me and jumps on her mother. "You get hugs *and* kisses." She announces. I can't help but smile at the warmth and love radiating from the pair.
Catherine's hair is wet from the shower. She gets close enough to peer over my shoulder at the growing stack of pancakes, and I can smell the Dove she uses. I can feel the heat of her at my back, standing there as if it's the most natural thing in the world. Lindsey's telling Mommy all about how last night she saw the Veggie Tales movie and yelled at Marcie's little brother Tony because he took her Barbie and bit into her head.
Catherine's putting water in the coffee pot, listening intently. Occasionally, she'll throw in a comment or two, encouraging Lindsey to elaborate. Her hands are shaking. Is she nervous? Terrified? In need of a caffeine fix? I don't know. The music changes, and Train On A Track invades my head.
I want to laugh at the irony of it all. Oh god, what am I doing? Catherine's setting plates and utensils out on the counter when she stops and looks back at me.
"It just occurred to me that we don't have any syrup."
I smile at her and shake my head. "Not a problem, Cat. Relax."
"But how are we supposed to eat pancakes without syrup?" Her lower lip pokes out and suddenly I can see her world crumbling. It's not the pancakes. It's everything. It's last night and it's me. It just now hit her; she's just now realizing that we've changed our relationship forever.
I take a step toward her, and purposely gentle my voice. The last thing I need is to spook her. "Catherine, I used sugar. It's not as normal as syrup, but sugar's just as sweet, I promise you. It'll be all right. You'll like it; I promise."
I can see her sanity returning as mine is fleeing. Her head cocks to one side as she carefully considers my words. Suddenly her hands are in mine, and I swear to god I don't know which one of us made the first move, but there she is, right in front of me. My head dips down to meet hers and I'm inhaling her scent before I even recognize what I'm doing-it's intoxicating. And then my lips are on hers. The contact is brief, but electrifying. I feel it all the way to my core, and even as I bring my head in for another taste, one thought resounds in the back of my mind.
Dear god, what have I done?
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