A/N:  Post-Butterflied.  For all of us still waiting for Grissom to chase Sara.  Thank you to the chatters at PwF.

Spoilers: None for any episode that hasn't aired.

Disclaimer:  In case anyone has forgotten (I wish I could), I don't own anything.

A Proper Courtship

Sara Sidle counted out her change while the bartender retrieved her sandwich.  It was hard to get a decent sandwich so late at night, and she was fortunate to have found this bar near the lab.  She hadn't found it, actually.  It was where the lab employees would sometimes come for breakfast or a drink after shift.  Twenty-four hour bars were just another of Nevada's quirks.

"Here you go," the bartender handed her the sandwich.

"Thanks," she smiled, depositing her money on the bar.  As she turned to leave, the bartender stopped her.

"Hey, you know that guy, right?" he pointed to a familiar figure at the other end of the bar.  Grissom!  Recognition registered in Sara's brain.

"Uh, yeah."

"If he's a friend of yours, you'd better get him out of here before we have to throw him out," he warned.

"Okay, I'll take care of it."

Making her way down the bar, she stopped beside Grissom, who was staring into his scotch.  "Hey."

He grinned from ear to ear upon hearing her voice. "Hey, yourself.  What are you doing here?  Sit down, I'll buy you a drink," he offered with slurred speech.

"Oh, I think you've had enough for both of us," Sara met his smile with her own. "Come on, let me get you home."

"Are you going home with me?" he grinned salaciously.

"I'm driving you home, yes," Sara helped him to stand. "After that, you're on your own." 

She turned to the bartender, "Is he all paid up?"  The bartender nodded affirmatively and Sara and Grissom left the bar.

In the parking lot, Grissom staggered toward his car. "Give me your keys," Sara demanded.  Grissom grudgingly complied.

Sara managed to get him settled into her car, and they were off to his townhouse.  The drive was anything but boring. Grissom rattled on and on about various inanities, which to an intoxicated person were no doubt deep thoughts.  Sara decided drunken Grissom was very amusing.

"That's a nice outfit, by the way," he slurred. "Blue looks great on you.  Oh what the hell am I talking about? Any color looks great on you."

"Grissom—"

"No, seriously.  You'd look great in anything.  Or nothing?"

"Grissom—"

"I can't believe I said that."

"Grissom!"

"What?!"

"We're here."

"Oh."

It was a long walk from the parking space into the townhouse with a drunk man leaning on her, and Sara was grateful when she was finally able to let him fall back onto his couch.  She dropped her keys on the coffee table and excused herself to use the restroom before heading home.  When she returned, the keys were gone.

"Where are my keys?"

Gil grinned like the cat that ate the canary, "What keys?"

"Grissom, I need my keys so I can go home."

"You took my keys, so I took yours.  You have to stay."

"Give me my keys!"

"No."

"Fine. You know what? I'll stay.  Right here on the couch," she threw up her arms in defeat. "You, however, will go to bed and sleep this off."

"Sara," he leaned into her. "Stay with me.  I know you want to." Before Sara knew what was happening, he was lying over her on the couch, covering her with kisses.  It was wonderful, and yet, wrong.  Though she desperately wanted to give herself to him, she knew that this was only happening because of the alcohol.  Tomorrow he would be sober and forget anything ever happened. Or worse yet, he would blame her for exploiting the situation. Finally finding the strength, she put her hands to his chest and pushed him back.

"Grissom, no. Not like this."

"I thought you wanted this."

"I want the total package, Grissom, not an alcohol-induced one night stand.  Come see me when you're sober."

With the look of a man stung by a wasp, Gil stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door.  Sara curled up on the couch, but sleep didn't come easily.

As the daylight filtered in through the blinds, Sara unconsciously flung her arm over her eyes.  Grissom gently laid a blanket over her, placed her car keys on the coffee table and started making breakfast.  He knew he owed her an apology.  If his unarguably hazy memory served him correctly, he had behaved very disrespectfully toward her.  He prayed she wouldn't think it had only been about sex, but what else could she think? He'd never offered her anything else.  He started the coffee maker and cracked the eggs open to scramble them. 

The aroma of coffee brewing was the first thing Sara noticed.  Grissom was puttering about the kitchen, apparently making breakfast. She wondered if he remembered anything about last night.  She parked herself in a stool at the breakfast bar and watched as he turned and saw her.

"Good morning," he greeted cheerfully.

"Morning," she grumbled. She really needed that caffeine. "How much longer on the coffee?"

"A couple of minutes.  Sara," he began. "I'm really sorry about last night.  I was pretty far gone."

"I noticed."

"I was wrong to behave the way I did."

There it was. He regretted it even though nothing had really happened.  She was very thankful that she had stopped it when she did. It would have killed her to hear him say he regretted making love to her.  "I knew you'd regret it."

"I'm not sure you understand, Sara," Grissom explained softly. "I was sitting in that bar last night kicking myself for all the chances I've blown with you.  All of the opportunities I've had to let you know how I feel and I blew every one." He poured the coffee. "And then you were there. In my pickled brain, it represented another chance.  Pliny the Elder said 'In wine, there is truth.'  But I know that it was unfair.  You deserve better than that. You deserve a proper courtship."

Sara raised an eyebrow.

"I want to do this, Sara, but I want to do it right."

"I can't argue with that," Sara said, still stunned by this turn of events.

"What would you say if I asked you to dinner Wednesday? Maybe a movie, too?"

"I would like that."

TBC