Title: Trickery
By: Ranlie
Pairing: Cath/Sara
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Sara wasn't sure when she made the decision.
Word Count: 891
Notes: This is the third and final installment of the storyline I created with Awkward and It's up to You. I wanted it to be a neat little trilogy of three drabbles, but, uh...yeah. That didn't work out so well.

***

Sara drank when she was nervous.

It was a bad habit: one she had been meaning to break. The problem was, when she got nervous, the farthest thing from her mind was which habits to keep and which to throw away.

So she drank.

That said, she was still Sara Sidle, and so after three glasses of wine, she was pleasantly talkative, rather than completely sloshed.

Lindsey had gone to bed hours ago, and that only when Sara had promised that she would be leaving after helping Catherine clean up the kitchen. She had meant to leave, actually. Her jacket was at that very moment slung over the armrest of Catherine's couch, upon which she had curled up. Catherine sat on the other end looking elegant, one leg crossed over the other, a glass of red wine held by the tips of her fingers.

If Sara had been sober, she probably would have felt ungraceful and angular compared to Catherine. But she wasn't--sober, that was--so she was happy to sit and observe the graceful curves of Catherine's body.

"I don't know why I took Christmas off," Sara admitted, he. "I didn't have anything planned. It just seemed to be the thing to do, to ask to get Christmas off."

"I'm glad you did." Catherine said, as she swirled around the little bit of wine that remained in her glass.

A few hours ago, Sara would have stopped and started at her, unsure of whether or not there was some subtext that she should have been paying attention to. Now, their obscure comments had become a game. Sara wasn't very good at it yet, nor was she even really certain if Catherine was
playing the same game she was, but she was trying.

So she replied, "I'm glad too."

Catherine smiled, almost absently, as she studied her glass. "I hate mistletoe."

Sara paused for a moment, first to wonder at the non sequitur, and then to think of a witty reply. In both cases she came up short. "Sorry, what?"

"It's a trick," Catherine said, her brow furrowing in mild irritation. "Totally unfair. If I'm going to kiss someone, it's not going to be because of some stupid plant."

Sara was still a little confused as to where this conversation was headed, but for a lack of anything better to say, she managed to offer a helpful, "I think they're made of plastic nowadays."

"See?" Catherine shook her head in mock disgust. "You can't even get the real thing. That's why I didn't put any up."

"Nobody really puts mistletoe up in their house anymore anyway," Sara shrugged. "I mean, unless you were having people over, why would you bother?"

As quickly as it had appeared, Catherine's irritated facade melted away into an amused expression. "I bought some."

Sara, confused, looked more closely at Catherine, searching for a clue as to what the point of all this was. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she suspected that they weren't speaking under the guise of innuendo and subtext anymore.

For her part, Catherine still looked amused, though she hadn't once looked up from her wineglass. "When you said you'd come, I went out and bought some. But then I thought about how unfair and awkward it would be, so I tossed it."

Their conversation was veering into dark and dangerous territory, and Sara began to feel vulnerable and nervous for the first time in hours. She hesitated for a moment, and then mumbled something about not having had enough wine. She had already risen, intending to flee to the kitchen, when Catherine grabbed her wrist.

"If you have more wine, you'll be drunk," Catherine said, her fingers gentle but firm around her wrist. "You can't be drunk. Not now."

Sara knew that her jacket was on the couch only feet away, just as she knew that Catherine would release her the instant she tried to pull away. She could leave. Run to her car, escape to her apartment and never return. This wasn't a game any more, or if it was, Catherine had just asked to see her hand.

"You...don't want this," Sara said, trying her best to look stern. She only ended up looking pained. "You can do better."

"I know what I want," Catherine replied, her every word clear. "You can sit down or you can leave, but I'm not giving you an easy way out."

Somewhere between the panic and the worry, a cynical part of Sara wondered if this was how Grissom felt when she had forced him to make a choice about their would-be relationship.

She wasn't sure when she made her decision, but two minutes later, when she was still standing beside the couch with Catherine's hand on her wrist, Sara knew that she wasn't going to leave. Catherine didn't bother to move out of the way as Sara sunk down beside her, nor did she release Sara's hand.

When Catherine smiled, her expression was a mix of smugness and sympathy. Her fingers slid up Sara's arm, past her shoulder, and into her hair. "Now do you see why I didn't want to use any tricks?"

Sara blushed, but let out a soft laugh just the same. Before she tilted her head to receive Catherine's lips, she murmured, "Because it's more fun this way."

***