Burrito Love

Disclaimer: Not mine. How I wish they were...

A/N: This is a response to a private challenge by Cropper to use the sentence, 'You can smell it but don't eat it'. Then I found Gibby's challenge about how Brass found out. So I kinda combined the two.

I was on my way to grab a cup of coffee when I heard it. I couldn't believe my ears. All these years, all the dancing around, and they are given away by food. I stood just outside the door, mouth hanging open while I listened to the most private people I know behave like a couple.

"What are you doing?" Sara asked, her voice teasing.

I could hear the smile in Gil's voice when he said, "I was just heating up your lunch, dear."

Dear? Dear?? I'm pretty sure I rolled my eyes at that one. The really odd thing was that it didn't sound odd coming from him.

Sara giggled, yes giggled, at that. Then she says, "Don't think you're getting my burrito. You shouldn't have fed your leftovers to Bruno."

That confused me a little. Who was Bruno and why was Gil feeding him? But I wasn't confused for long.

"How could I not give him the leftovers? He looked at me with those eyes and you know I have a weakness for brown eyes."

That last sentence was almost a caress. I felt like a voyeur - guilty for even listening. Never thought there would be a time I'd hear that tone in his voice.

I was about to walk off when Sara said, "And four legs?"

A snort of laughter from Grissom was followed by the ding of the microwave. I listened as the door opened and closed. And then I heard something that made my ears bleed and may have scarred me for life.

I could hear the amazement in Sara's voice when she said, "What are you doing with my lunch?" There was a pause and then she said, "You can smell it but you'd better not eat it."

Now that, by itself, isn't so bad. Nope, that's not the thing that made me wish I was anywhere but outside the break room. I should have run when I had the chance. Instead, I am standing here when Grissom says something I don't want to hear.

I can hear the smirk, the pride, in his voice when he says, "That's not what you said this morning."

I turned around then, hell bent on getting away from them. Unfortunately, I heard Sara's reply.

"Maybe we could share – like we did this morning." Her normally husky voice was lower, more intimate.

I wished for a second that I could be Gil Grissom, that I could find a woman who would talk to me with that heat in her voice. That thought followed me all the way back to my office.