Those people who know me and my feelings towards CSI will know it's a huge deal for me to be writing a GSR fic! I was dead set against them, right up until some time towards the end of season 6. Billy and Jorja are just so damn fab. I hope you enjoy this littl ebit off fluff, god knows there are a lot who will need it!

Thankyou to Patty (aka Just Thinking from YTDAW) for being my very helpful beta.

As You Like It

"I've read this part."

Sara looked up from her newspaper and gave Grissom a questioning look. "What?"

"This page. I've already read it."

Grissom smirked with a knowing glint in his eye, lifting a familiar looking envelope to let Sara know what he was talking about. She blushed, hoping he wouldn't notice. She knew he had, but the gentleman in him noticed her embarrassment and didn't say anything. She smiled.

"Did you read my letter?"

Sara raised an eyebrow. "Don't you mean my letter? It has my name on the front."

She smiled that lop-sided smile of hers that made Grissom melt. He smiled back, understated, but full of affection.

Sara let a comfortable silence hang in the air between them before she spoke. When she finally did speak, her words had a careful insistence about them. She trod carefully, but was still determined to get the answer she wanted. "Why didn't you send it?"

Grissom closed the book, replacing the envelope between the pages. He leant forward and placed it on the coffee table with deliberate slowness. When he sat back on the sofa, he moved closer to Sara, but far enough from her that they weren't touching. He could see her tense, and smiled to himself.

"I guess I was embarrassed" he said, looking her straight in the eye to show his honesty. She appreciated it, but didn't expect any less.

"You should be," she said, smirking. "Shakespeare?"

He kept his gaze fixed on hers and didn't flinch. "Too corny?"

"Maybe. But corny can be good sometimes." She leant closer to him, but before Sara could do anything about it, Gil moved away, taking up his previous position on the couch.

"Still doesn't explain why you picked it up." Grissom didn't meet her eyes; he resumed the reading of his book.

Sara watched him, playing along with the nonchalant persona he was trying to give off. "If you didn't want me to read it you shouldn't have left the book on my side of the bed." She didn't take her eyes off him, watching him with a smile plastered on her face, waiting for him to respond, knowing he would.

"I didn't want Mitch to rip it again." He looked up from his book, and Sara knew he hadn't read a word since he picked it up. His facial muscles didn't move an inch, but Sara could see right through him, sensing the playful flirtation beneath.

"That's not fair. We both know the dog isn't to blame." Now Sara was the one to lean in closer, teasing Grissom; except she didn't quite have the same self control. She shifted on the couch, so she was facing him. Her copy of the Las Vegas Tribune slipped off her lap, forgotten before it hit the carpet.

Grissom raised one eyebrow inquisitively, the hint of a smile playing on the corner of his lips. He could feel Sara's warm breath on his cheek and the warm comforting feeling he got whenever she was around rushed through his body.

Sara closed the rest of the gap between her mouth and the side of Grissom's face in a second, planting a forceful kiss near his lips, but not on them. She pulled away just as quickly with that smirk on her face that drove him mad. She laid a hand on his thigh in order to push herself up off the couch, and walked out the room.

Grissom sat still for a moment, not moving except to release the breath that had caught in his lungs the moment she touched him.

"You've not answered my question Sara." He raised his voice so she could hear him from the kitchen, but made no effort to turn around.

A moment later she reappeared in the doorway, a magazine in one hand. "What question?" She sat down in her previous spot, which was at the other end of the sofa, much to Gil's disappointment.

He replied simply, "The letter."

Sara shrugged. "I was curious I guess."

"We all know what curiosity did, don't we?"

Sara deflected that rhetorical question with a bashful smile. "Seriously, it was sweet. You should have sent it."

"Despite the Shakespeare?"

An innocent smile spread across her face, but flirtation glinted in her eyes. "That was my favourite part." She watched him for a moment, taking in every detail of his face as he mirrored her own shy smile. Finally she sighed, "Come on, I wanna get back to the lab and follow up on that crime scene."

Grissom didn't move. When Sara moved to stand up, he caught her by the arm and pulled her back into the comfort of the sofa cushions. "You work too hard Sara."

She gave him a pointed look. "Look who's talking."

"I've just come back from a sabbatical" Grissom retorted, and then his voice lost the flirtatious edge, and was replaced by an intense seriousness that Sara was well used to seeing. "Don't go back to the lab, stay here."

Sara grimaced. That look told Grissom what he already knew, that she would much rather remain curled up on the couch with him. He smiled inwardly to himself, admiring her dedication. His hand moved from her arm to her waist.

She made a lazy attempt to wriggle free. "I can't leave Nick to process by himself."

Grissom shrugged, "Sure you can."

She could tell she wasn't going to get anywhere, but her sense of duty meant she tried again, even though most of her being was pleading with her to stay put. "Come on Gil…" She trailed off, and then a thought seemed to hit her, "I'll cook for you if you let me up."

Grissom smirked, "Cook?"

Sara stopped, already realising the flaw in her plan. She laughed slightly in resignation and tried a different tactic. "The sooner I leave the sooner I can get home." All the while Sara was arguing Grissom did not relax his grip on her waist. She squirmed again.

"The lady doth protest too much, me thinks."

Grissom winked, and Sara laughed and visibly relaxed, leaning into his side. "I guess I could stay here for a bit." Their eyes met for the briefest second, then Sara turned her head and rested it on Grissom's shoulder.

He looked down at her and smiled warmly, but her eyes were already scanning the magazine she'd brought in with her and she didn't see him. "Does this mean I don't get the pleasure of your cooking?" He said with sarcasm.

"You can cook." She answered lazily, engrossed in an article, only partially aware of what he was saying to her. "What are we having?"

Grissom gently lifted her head off his shoulder and stood up, leaving the room without saying a word. Sara took her eyes off her magazine and watched him go with confused curiosity. "Griss. What you cooking?" A moment later he reappeared in the kitchen doorway.

He winked, his voice staying level and serious. Only his eyes betrayed his tone. "Eye of newt and toe of frog."