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bunchofgrapesTitle: No Guarantees
Author: beaujolais
Rating: T for now
Pairing: Brass/Catherine
Spoilers: None
Notes: If you close one eye, you might be able to see this as a follow-up to Splinters or if you have both eyes open, it can just be a stand-alone. A version of it was originally posted on the Jim Brass egroups list but I re-wrote a lot of it (originally it wasn't Catherine). This is the unbeta'd version so it could change. The final version will be posted on ff.net. This is just a preview of sorts. And I've been wanting to do some Brass/Cath smut so I'm seriously considering a part 2 of the LJ version, another reason for posting it here first.
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Jim Brass sat at the end of the bench, just outside the interrogation room, and held a cold pack on his swollen jaw, unaware of the activity around him in the busy corridor. The EMT had told him to sit tight and that’s exactly what he was doing. Actually, if it hadn’t been so painful, he might have laughed. Sitting tight was really his only option. His knees were still shaking too much to do anything else.
He’d closed his eyes, trying to will away the throb in his right temple while replaying the events in his head.
“Less than stellar day, I take it?”
Silently, he looked up at Catherine Willows. “You could say that,” he replied gruffly as his gaze returned to the floor. He didn’t feel much like talking and even if he did, he could barely move his jaw, making him wonder if maybe it was broken.
“Mind if I sit?” She could tell by his dark mood that he probably did but she didn’t care. Whether he liked it or not, she wasn’t leaving. Under her calm, cool demeanor her heart was racing—much as it had been since she overheard the news back at the Crime Lab that Captain Brass had been attacked by a suspect during an interrogation.
Taking the space next to him on the bench, her thigh touching his, her hand on his, she pulled away the ice pack and exposing a red welt and a nasty bruise. “Nice. That’s going to leave a mark.”
He smirked.
“So, you going to tell me what happened?”
Brass leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees then looked over at her through his eyebrows. “Ever have one of those days where you should have just stayed in bed?”
“Several, but my bed’s been a bit cold lately.”
He stared down at the tips of his shoes, his anger giving way to guilt. She didn’t outright say so but Brass knew it was his fault. He’d been the one making excuses, working shifts that overlapped and putting in more overtime than was probably necessary. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Catherine. God, she was all he thought about. And that was the problem. He’d worried that he was speeding along with this thing while she was still trying to figure out what she wanted. He was backing off before he was told off.
“You want to tell me why you’ve been avoiding me?”
Brass had to tell her. He hadn’t always been truthful with Nancy: he wasn’t going to repeat that with Catherine.
Softly, he said, “I don’t want you to get tired of me.”
“Tired of you? Jim, I barely see you any more. I miss you. I’ve actually been hoping for a homicide or two just for the possibility of working with you.” No longer caring who was looking, she reached out and touched his shoulder, feeling him relax slightly. “You need to trust me, okay? So when I tell you,” she leaned forward so that she was now close to his ear, “that I’m in love with you, you’ll know I’m serious.”
He looked over quickly, forgetting about the cold pack, the pain in his jaw, and all his insecurities as her words sunk in. Catherine Willows was in love with him.
“Oh, don’t look so surprised.”
But he was surprised. Jim Brass always feared that he was nothing more than a fling, that one day she would get bored, move on to someone younger, better looking, more exciting than a follicle-challenged, middle-aged detective nursing a black and blue jaw.
“You’re just trying to make me feel better.”
“Is it working?”
“Yeah, it is.” He put his hand on her knee just long enough to give it a gentle squeeze. “I been so worried about wearing out my welcome, I didn’t think…”
“Jim, there aren’t any guarantees for us, not for the present or for the future—at least not until you trust me. Not until you understand that I’m not pretending about any of this. It took a while but I finally figured it out: we’re good for each other. Not perfect by any means but damn good.”
He didn’t reply but managed a lopsided grin in return. She was right: he did need to trust her.
Catherine’s gaze wandered down the hallway, to where Gil Grissom stood talking with the Sheriff. “I take it Gil was in the room with you?”
Brass followed her gaze. “Yeah, he was sitting across the table from the suspect during the interrogation. Guess I got to close and hit a nerve or something cause the guy went nuts. Must have clocked me with the handcuffs. Everything’s kinda hazy after that. Next thing I know I’m sitting out here and my jaw hurts like hell.”
Catherine didn’t tell Jim that she always worried something like that might happen to him. He had a habit of getting in the face of a suspect and pushing every button until he found the right one, the one that got a reaction, a confession, something. From the sound of it, this one got a reaction all right. She was just grateful he was okay.
Rubbing her arm over his back, not caring that Grissom or the Sheriff were now looking at them, she lowered her voice, “If you decide you need a little comfort, you know where I live.”
“Careful, I might show you my more intimate wound.” He was tired and his head hurt but this self-imposed separation was killing him.
“You’d better.” Standing to leave but giving him one last look, she leaned forward and kissed him, then walked away, nodding to the gaping Sheriff and a smiling Gil Grissom as she went, and leaving a blushing Jim Brass to look on in amusement.
oooooooooooo
It was nearly noon when the doorbell rang. Opening the door, Catherine wasn’t the least bit surprised to see a very weary, very bruised Jim Brass leaning against the porch railing.
“Does that offer still stand?” he asked.
“It does.” She opened the door wider and let him pass. “You look dead on your feet.”
He didn’t argue. He was dead on his feet but seeing her definitely gave him a little more energy.
Closing the door, she helped him off with his jacket, eyeing his discolored jaw as he removed his holster and cuffs and handed them to her.
“Is Lindsey home?” he asked, as she momentarily disappeared behind a closet door.
“No, she’s at my sister’s.” She closed the door. “How’s the jaw?”
“Not broken but it sure hurts like hell.”
“So, does it hurt all over?” she asked, narrowing the space between them.
His eyes were focused on her lips. “Mostly just everything above my shoulders.”
“So everything below your shoulders feels okay?”
“A few bruises maybe.”
“Does that include your more intimate wound?”
“Yeah.”
“But it’s nothing a tough homicide detective like you can’t overcome.”
He leaned forward. “Maybe with a little help.”
“Is this spot okay?” She gently kissed his chin careful to avoid his bruised and swollen jaw.
“That’s good.” He pointed at his neck. “I think this part’s okay too.”
She started at the hollow of his neck and worked her way up to his right ear. “How about here?” she whispered before nibbling his earlobe.
“That works.” He was leaning back against the wall for support, immensely enjoying her little assault.
“We should get rid of this.” She undid the knot in his already loosened tie and slid it off his collar then tossed it onto the floor. “And maybe unfasten a few of these.” Her fingers lithely freed the buttons on his shirt. “That’s much better.”
“I don’t know. It’s kind of drafty.”
“Hmmm,” slipping her hand inside his shirt, running her fingers across his chest, feeling the soft fur under her palm, she said, “maybe we can create a little friction?”
“That’d be nice.”
“You feel up to it?” Her hand ran along the placard of his trousers as her eyes lifted to his. “Yes, you do.”
“That part of me is functioning just fine.”
She took him by the hand and led him down the hallway. “Good, let’s go warm up those sheets.”
Author: beaujolais
Rating: T for now
Pairing: Brass/Catherine
Spoilers: None
Notes: If you close one eye, you might be able to see this as a follow-up to Splinters or if you have both eyes open, it can just be a stand-alone. A version of it was originally posted on the Jim Brass egroups list but I re-wrote a lot of it (originally it wasn't Catherine). This is the unbeta'd version so it could change. The final version will be posted on ff.net. This is just a preview of sorts. And I've been wanting to do some Brass/Cath smut so I'm seriously considering a part 2 of the LJ version, another reason for posting it here first.
Jim Brass sat at the end of the bench, just outside the interrogation room, and held a cold pack on his swollen jaw, unaware of the activity around him in the busy corridor. The EMT had told him to sit tight and that’s exactly what he was doing. Actually, if it hadn’t been so painful, he might have laughed. Sitting tight was really his only option. His knees were still shaking too much to do anything else.
He’d closed his eyes, trying to will away the throb in his right temple while replaying the events in his head.
“Less than stellar day, I take it?”
Silently, he looked up at Catherine Willows. “You could say that,” he replied gruffly as his gaze returned to the floor. He didn’t feel much like talking and even if he did, he could barely move his jaw, making him wonder if maybe it was broken.
“Mind if I sit?” She could tell by his dark mood that he probably did but she didn’t care. Whether he liked it or not, she wasn’t leaving. Under her calm, cool demeanor her heart was racing—much as it had been since she overheard the news back at the Crime Lab that Captain Brass had been attacked by a suspect during an interrogation.
Taking the space next to him on the bench, her thigh touching his, her hand on his, she pulled away the ice pack and exposing a red welt and a nasty bruise. “Nice. That’s going to leave a mark.”
He smirked.
“So, you going to tell me what happened?”
Brass leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees then looked over at her through his eyebrows. “Ever have one of those days where you should have just stayed in bed?”
“Several, but my bed’s been a bit cold lately.”
He stared down at the tips of his shoes, his anger giving way to guilt. She didn’t outright say so but Brass knew it was his fault. He’d been the one making excuses, working shifts that overlapped and putting in more overtime than was probably necessary. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Catherine. God, she was all he thought about. And that was the problem. He’d worried that he was speeding along with this thing while she was still trying to figure out what she wanted. He was backing off before he was told off.
“You want to tell me why you’ve been avoiding me?”
Brass had to tell her. He hadn’t always been truthful with Nancy: he wasn’t going to repeat that with Catherine.
Softly, he said, “I don’t want you to get tired of me.”
“Tired of you? Jim, I barely see you any more. I miss you. I’ve actually been hoping for a homicide or two just for the possibility of working with you.” No longer caring who was looking, she reached out and touched his shoulder, feeling him relax slightly. “You need to trust me, okay? So when I tell you,” she leaned forward so that she was now close to his ear, “that I’m in love with you, you’ll know I’m serious.”
He looked over quickly, forgetting about the cold pack, the pain in his jaw, and all his insecurities as her words sunk in. Catherine Willows was in love with him.
“Oh, don’t look so surprised.”
But he was surprised. Jim Brass always feared that he was nothing more than a fling, that one day she would get bored, move on to someone younger, better looking, more exciting than a follicle-challenged, middle-aged detective nursing a black and blue jaw.
“You’re just trying to make me feel better.”
“Is it working?”
“Yeah, it is.” He put his hand on her knee just long enough to give it a gentle squeeze. “I been so worried about wearing out my welcome, I didn’t think…”
“Jim, there aren’t any guarantees for us, not for the present or for the future—at least not until you trust me. Not until you understand that I’m not pretending about any of this. It took a while but I finally figured it out: we’re good for each other. Not perfect by any means but damn good.”
He didn’t reply but managed a lopsided grin in return. She was right: he did need to trust her.
Catherine’s gaze wandered down the hallway, to where Gil Grissom stood talking with the Sheriff. “I take it Gil was in the room with you?”
Brass followed her gaze. “Yeah, he was sitting across the table from the suspect during the interrogation. Guess I got to close and hit a nerve or something cause the guy went nuts. Must have clocked me with the handcuffs. Everything’s kinda hazy after that. Next thing I know I’m sitting out here and my jaw hurts like hell.”
Catherine didn’t tell Jim that she always worried something like that might happen to him. He had a habit of getting in the face of a suspect and pushing every button until he found the right one, the one that got a reaction, a confession, something. From the sound of it, this one got a reaction all right. She was just grateful he was okay.
Rubbing her arm over his back, not caring that Grissom or the Sheriff were now looking at them, she lowered her voice, “If you decide you need a little comfort, you know where I live.”
“Careful, I might show you my more intimate wound.” He was tired and his head hurt but this self-imposed separation was killing him.
“You’d better.” Standing to leave but giving him one last look, she leaned forward and kissed him, then walked away, nodding to the gaping Sheriff and a smiling Gil Grissom as she went, and leaving a blushing Jim Brass to look on in amusement.
It was nearly noon when the doorbell rang. Opening the door, Catherine wasn’t the least bit surprised to see a very weary, very bruised Jim Brass leaning against the porch railing.
“Does that offer still stand?” he asked.
“It does.” She opened the door wider and let him pass. “You look dead on your feet.”
He didn’t argue. He was dead on his feet but seeing her definitely gave him a little more energy.
Closing the door, she helped him off with his jacket, eyeing his discolored jaw as he removed his holster and cuffs and handed them to her.
“Is Lindsey home?” he asked, as she momentarily disappeared behind a closet door.
“No, she’s at my sister’s.” She closed the door. “How’s the jaw?”
“Not broken but it sure hurts like hell.”
“So, does it hurt all over?” she asked, narrowing the space between them.
His eyes were focused on her lips. “Mostly just everything above my shoulders.”
“So everything below your shoulders feels okay?”
“A few bruises maybe.”
“Does that include your more intimate wound?”
“Yeah.”
“But it’s nothing a tough homicide detective like you can’t overcome.”
He leaned forward. “Maybe with a little help.”
“Is this spot okay?” She gently kissed his chin careful to avoid his bruised and swollen jaw.
“That’s good.” He pointed at his neck. “I think this part’s okay too.”
She started at the hollow of his neck and worked her way up to his right ear. “How about here?” she whispered before nibbling his earlobe.
“That works.” He was leaning back against the wall for support, immensely enjoying her little assault.
“We should get rid of this.” She undid the knot in his already loosened tie and slid it off his collar then tossed it onto the floor. “And maybe unfasten a few of these.” Her fingers lithely freed the buttons on his shirt. “That’s much better.”
“I don’t know. It’s kind of drafty.”
“Hmmm,” slipping her hand inside his shirt, running her fingers across his chest, feeling the soft fur under her palm, she said, “maybe we can create a little friction?”
“That’d be nice.”
“You feel up to it?” Her hand ran along the placard of his trousers as her eyes lifted to his. “Yes, you do.”
“That part of me is functioning just fine.”
She took him by the hand and led him down the hallway. “Good, let’s go warm up those sheets.”
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no subject
Date: 2006-02-27 06:48 pm (UTC)Jim Brass always feared that he was nothing more than a fling, that one day she would get bored, move on to someone younger, better looking, more exciting than a follicle-challenged, middle-aged detective nursing a black and blue jaw
OMG, I love this. Catherine and Brass are both perfectly in character. Great lines. Very realistic situation. I could see this story (especially the first scene) being in the show.
I was a yo!blinger, but something about this season is making me see Cath and Brass as a couple more and more.
PS- there is a new group you should join.
no subject
Date: 2006-02-28 04:32 am (UTC)I checked out that new group but one thing kept me from joining: under interests, Brass isn’t included. It always peeves me when he gets left out but it looks interesting so I might just have to suck it up and deal...