By my calculations, Grissom and Sara got together sometime between the end of season 5 and the beginning of season 6. I firmly believe that Grissom was the one to finally initiate it. This is my version of how it may have happened.
The only thing that had really prevented him from pursuing a relationship with her in the past was fear.
Fear that she'd suddenly decide she no longer wanted to date an older man. A man approaching fifty, with salt-and-pepper hair that was becoming more salt than pepper. A man growing soft around the middle, and wrinkly around the eyes and forehead. A man with the social skills of a moth.
Fear that he'd fall in love, only to find himself dumped on his ass the second she met someone better. Someone younger. Much more handsome. And not emotionally constipated.
But as time wore on, it became increasingly obvious to him that his fear had been completely irrational. Thoroughly unfounded. Terribly illogical. Shamefully judgmental.
He'd come to learn that she was not the type of woman to date any man as a placeholder only until someone better came along. She had more integrity than anyone else he knew...himself included.
In their five years of working together, he'd only seen her date one guy. And she'd ended the relationship the minute she found out that the cad had been two-timing her with his actual long-term girlfriend.
All that time he'd wasted being afraid and doing nothing, he would never have that time back to get a redo. Time was on a constant march forward, yet he was stagnant. So stagnant, in fact, that sometimes he felt like he was actually moving backward.
Having lived so long with that one fear of his, it irritated him when a handful of new fears started to pop up. Fear of regret. Fear of missing out. Fear of true love passing him by without his even reaching out a single finger to try grasping hold of it.
It was time for Gil Grissom to stop denying what he felt for Sara Sidle. It was time to stop wasting his life and finally start living. Really living.
No longer was he afraid of having her — lately, he was more afraid of not having her. Of never knowing how it would feel to hold her body against his, or lay ardent claim to her lips, or lose himself completely in her passion.
Of never making a deeper emotional connection with her beyond that of mere friendship. Of never letting her in all the way past the walls he'd spent his whole life putting up between himself and other people.
Baby steps be damned — he was jumping into this with both feet before he lost any more precious time.
And that's how he found himself standing in the doorway of the locker room at the end of shift one morning.
"Hey."
Sara looked up from her open locker. "Hey."
"I'm going to a lecture today; do you want to come with?"
"Are you presenting?" Sara asked with surprised interest. She hadn't attended one of his formal lectures since San Francisco.
But he shook his head. "No. Just listening."
"Oh." With a casual shrug of her shoulder, she answered, "Yeah, I'll go. What's it on?"
"The maturation rate of the common housefly as affected by higher and colder altitudes, versus lower and warmer altitudes."
Bugs. Of course.
"Sounds fascinating," she lied through her teeth with a cute smile.
"Very," Grissom replied with enthusiasm, missing her hint of sarcasm completely. "Pick you up at your place in two hours?"
That would give her enough time to shower off the day's grime and look (and smell!) presentable again.
"Sure," Sara accepted easily. If nothing else, maybe she could get in a good nap at the bug lecture.
"Okay. I'll see you then." With that, Grissom left.
Sara watched him disappear out the doorway, then turned back to her locker with a light scoff and a shake of her head.
What a strange encounter.
She was not going to read into it. She'd drive herself nuts if she did that. She'd long ago quit trying to understand anything Grissom said or did.
They were just two colleagues — two old friends, even — taking in a lecture.
Nothing more complicated than that.
Freshly showered and wrapped in her robe, Sara stood before her closet in deep contemplation.
Pants...or skirt?
She wore pants every day. She liked pants — they were comfy and sensible. And best of all — they hid the evidence whenever she didn't feel like shaving her legs.
Skirts were a whole other monster. They showed off the legs she usually hid. Which meant shaving them. And lotioning them. And pretending they weren't quite so pale.
On the other hand, skirts were so much more comfortable than pants when it got really hot. And sometimes it was just nice to wear something girly and not feel like she was literally one of the guys.
She didn't mind being 'one of the guys' with Nick or Warrick, or even with Greg. With Grissom, however...
This was not a date, she reminded herself firmly.
Nevertheless, she reached determinedly past all the pants and grabbed her favorite knee-length, grassy-green flowy skirt and lacy white tank top.
She was not going to be 'one of the guys' today.
Dropping the garments on her bed, she returned to the bathroom to shave her legs.
Grissom spent a few minutes tidying up his short beard before stepping into the shower. Steaming hot water blasting over the tight muscles in his back, he made quick work of soap and shampoo.
Rinsing off and exiting the shower, he rubbed a towel over his hair and face, and then the towel went around his hips as he shuffled into his bedroom.
He barely gave a second thought to what he was going to wear — except he did prefer to wear jeans in his leisure time, instead of the more lightweight slacks that allowed for a lot of bending and crouching that he always had to do at crime scenes.
He was a man of simple choices, clothing-wise. Black boxers, blue or black jeans, black socks, black shoes. To break up the monotony of black today, he put on his nicest dark blue button-down shirt over his short-sleeved black t-shirt.
If it was comfortable, he'd wear it. And if it came in black or blue, he'd wear it very comfortably. He did own a few articles of clothing that were neither blue nor black, but he wore them so infrequently that he almost forgot they even existed.
Watch went onto his wrist, sunglasses were slipped over his eyes, and wallet was poked into his pocket. Then, keys in hand, he locked his townhouse and got into his car to pick up Sara.
Grissom had neglected to tell her earlier that the lecture was an hour's drive away.
That was an hour that Sara could spend appreciating from the corner of her eye how handsome he looked in that dark indigo-blue button-down shirt and black jeans he wore.
His hair had gained a little bit of a darker tint just a few days ago, and although she had no real evidence to support it, Sara suspected that he was deliberately keeping its shade artificially more pepper than salt.
Sara didn't really care what color his hair was, although it was kinda cute how he tried to hold onto his outward perception of youth. At least he still had a good head of hair to work with — many guys younger than him didn't even have half that much hair left anymore.
And then there was that closely-cropped beard. Her fingers itched to run themselves over it. Just once, to see how it felt. Well, maybe twice. Or three times. At least no more than four times in a row. Would it feel soft to the touch, or would it be scratchy?
Sara felt a little odd riding shotgun in Grissom's personal car — she'd done so only once before, when he took her home from the lab after she'd stupidly almost gotten herself a DUI.
But this day was a lot happier than that day had been. After having lost a lot of their genuine friendship over the years, they were finally beginning to get some of it back.
Maybe that was the reason Grissom had invited her on this little trip — to give her something to experience outside of work simply to keep her in the balance she used to have before she came to Vegas.
Agh — she'd promised herself she wouldn't read into it and spoil the day. Rewinding her thoughts, she focused again on the purely superficial side of her handsome-guy-appreciation mode.
Behind his mirrored sunglasses, Grissom kept one eye on the road and the other eye on the passenger beside him.
Sara was wearing a skirt.
He'd seen her in a skirt a couple of times when she still lived in San Francisco, California and he'd gone there for a few teaching seminars. But aside from court, the only other time he'd seen her wear a skirt anywhere in the state of Nevada was when she'd volunteered herself as bait for the Strip Strangler her first year in Las Vegas.
She'd nearly given him a heart attack that time. Not because of the skirt itself, but because of the dangerous reason she even put it on in the first place.
Grissom wouldn't have blinked twice at permitting Catherine to lure in a rapist/murderer at large. But Sara was the one person he absolutely could not lose. And especially not in that way.
And when that flawed FBI op tanked miserably, his aversion to guns had gone right out the window and he'd been the first one out of that surveillance van — gun in hand, running, desperate to protect her.
But there should be no need for protecting her from anything today...although that skirt could still attract more attention than Sara might have intended.
The hemline hit just slightly above the middle of her knees when she came walking out to Grissom's car at her apartment...and now that she was sitting down, it seemed to shrink even several more inches shorter.
It took a bit of careful concentration for Grissom to not accidentally drive the car into the ditch when Sara shifted in her seat and crossed her long bare legs beneath that flirtatious skirt.
He wished he was a better conversationalist, if only for the distraction. He needed a distraction from his distraction. Because Sara's lovely naked legs were distracting him. A lot.
But idle conversation failed him, as was often the case when Grissom didn't have work stuff to hide behind.
So he continued his mental cataloguing of the woman next to him. Her fitted tank top intrigued him with its lacy femininity. Her exposed arms, slender but strong, were pleasantly void of any artificial tanning products so popular among women.
Grissom preferred Sara's natural, rather pale skin tone. She would look just as beautiful with a tan, too...but it wasn't easy to get much sunshine when they worked the graveyard shift, so her skin retained its creamy lightness most of the time.
He couldn't tell if she was wearing earrings today, as her hair was down around her shoulders and blocking his view of her ears. But he'd noticed the vintage-looking teardrop pendant dangling from a thin silver chain laid delicately across her collarbone.
Were he to offer her a gift one day of more than just a lame entomology textbook for Christmas, a nice necklace might be an appropriate choice.
He'd much rather put his own lips on her neck, but in lieu of that he could also enjoy seeing a piece of jewelry gifted by him adorning her neck instead.
Sara's makeup was minimal, just the way he liked it. Mascara and a slight hint of eyeshadow. Enough to accentuate her natural beauty without overwhelming it. And her lips —
"Have you taken a vow of silence?"
His eyebrows furrowed as his train of thought was interrupted, and he glanced sideways at her. "What?"
Sara shot him a wry grin. "It's just...a lot of quiet in here. Even for you."
His lips twitched in almost a smile. "Sorry. I was...thinking."
"About?" Sara prompted casually.
Grissom turned his head briefly to look at her, though she couldn't read his eyes through his sunglasses. "You look nice today," he offered simply.
"Oh. Thank you," Sara answered, controlling her grin. "So do you."
He gave her a whole smile that time.
"So...have you heard this speaker present before?"
"Once," he confirmed. "Couple of years ago. A different city and different topic, of course."
"Must've been a memorable speech, to lure you back for another one."
"Actually, I only went the first time to take in the cockroach racing afterward."
Sara wrinkled her nose. "That figures."
"It's fun — you should try it sometime."
"I think I'll leave it to the pros," she replied, unconvinced.
"It's a highly-competitive sport," Grissom informed her. "For entomologists, anyway."
"Yeah, I'll take your word for it."
They shared a longer, lighthearted glance and companionable chuckle.
Sara inhaled deeply, enjoying this friendship with Grissom that had been lost for so long and was finally making its reappearance.
"Maybe some music would be nice?" she ventured, needing something to keep the silence at bay between conversation.
Grissom gestured a hand toward the radio. "Help yourself."
Hitting the power button, Sara found a classic rock station and kept the volume pleasantly low as the soft strings of an instrumental Pink Floyd song filtered through the speakers.
"Good choice," Grissom praised, pleased to know that he and Sara both appreciated good music.
Sara followed as Grissom chose a spot to sit among the rows of metal chairs in the auditorium. She took a seat directly to his left, crossing her legs comfortably and leaning against the backrest.
Removing a pen and small notepad from her bag, she dropped the bag onto the empty chair to her own left, both keeping it within reach and preventing someone else from sitting too close beside her.
Sara hoped to find something worth writing down, but she wasn't holding her breath. She still didn't quite understand why Grissom had invited her to tag along in the first place — he never had before.
Anyway, it was at least a good respite from Las Vegas for the day. And of course she enjoyed spending time with Grissom, regardless of where they went or for what purpose.
Grissom hadn't brought anything at all with which to take notes. He rarely ever did, as he'd been gifted with an exceptional memory, almost eidetic.
He slipped off his sunglasses and was about to poke them into his shirt pocket when he remembered that his shirt didn't have any pocket.
Ever observant and helpful, Sara nicely offered to set them safely inside the top of her bag where they wouldn't get lost or damaged.
"Thank you," Grissom accepted, handing them over.
The lecture lasted about two hours, and forty-five minutes into it, Sara still hadn't heard anything that really necessitated penning any physical notes. Instead, she took a few brief memos in her head, easily committing them to memory.
The tip of her pen tapped out a tiny rhythm on the notepad laying in her lap — not loud enough to disturb the others in the audience but somehow just audible enough that Grissom could hear it.
He reached his left hand over and closed it around her right hand, silencing the pen's infernal taps.
Sara's eyebrow furrowed as she looked down at the hand suddenly resting on hers.
She snuck a peek at Grissom, but his face was impassive. He didn't even look at her; he was still focused on the visual presentation.
With her own left hand Sara pulled free her captive pen, assuming that Grissom would then release her right hand again.
But with the pen no longer in the way, his hand now nudged hers open and his fingers slipped in between hers, curling down over the backs of her knuckles.
What the hell had gotten into her bugman? This wasn't the first time he'd taken hold of her hand, but it was the first time he'd done it like that. It was so...intimate.
So confused, Sara stared at the hand in hers and the arm resting halfway across her lap.
In the warmth of the early afternoon, Grissom had rolled the cuffs of his shirt sleeves up to the elbow, leaving both forearms entirely bare aside from the watch he always wore on his left wrist.
She'd always had a healthy appreciation for his arms. Big, strong, and masculine...just the way she liked 'em.
Tuning out the lecture, Sara decided to have just a little bit of fun. If Grissom could behave uncharacteristically, then so could she.
Abandoning her pen and notepad onto the seat with her bag, with her free hand she brought just the tips of her fingernails to the skin of his wrist and ran them lightly up his arm.
Grissom sucked in a sudden breath and his hand tightened in hers, but his eyes didn't stray from the insect presentation as he tilted his head just slightly in Sara's direction and scolded in a whisper, "Behave yourself."
With a satisfied smirk, Sara tuned back in to the lecture again.
Grissom's hand finally released hers when the lecture was over and they stood to leave. But it took up new residence on the small of her back as he followed her out of the row of seats.
"Dinner?" he proposed simply.
How bizzare, Grissom asking her to dinner.
"You don't want to stick around and chat about the presentation with your fellow entomologists?"
Grissom only shook his head. "No."
He had such a way with words.
Sara just went along with it. "Okay. Dinner sounds good."
"There's a vegan Polynesian restaurant nearby. I hear it's the best place in town."
She grinned. "Let's go."
Standing beside her on the sidewalk, Grissom momentarily faced the same direction she did, so he didn't see her reach into her bag and pull out his sunglasses.
"It's only two blocks away. You mind if we walk?"
"Not at all," Sara replied, always one to enjoy a good stroll.
Grissom turned back toward her to ask for his sunglasses when he noticed them suddenly perched innocently on Sara's face, shading her eyes from the late afternoon sun.
"I believe those belong to me," he said pointedly yet pleasantly. If she truly needed them, of course he would let her have them without complaint. But if she only wanted them...then she should have brought her own.
"Didn't your mother ever teach you to share?" Sara teased, removing his sunglasses from her face and handing them over.
"I was an only child," Grissom answered logically. "With whom would I have shared?"
Sara conceded that with a shrugging lift of her shoulder. "Alright, Mr. Bugman, which way?"
He sent her an almost playful look of distaste at the title she called him by. "That's Dr. Bugman," he deadpanned, sliding his sunglasses onto his face. "And it's this way."
With a soft laugh, Sara fell into step with him again.
And again Grissom's hand landed gently on the small of her back as they traversed sidewalks and crosswalks.
Sara didn't really like the feeling she got of being herded along, but she had to admit she enjoyed the sensation of his fingers on her back. So she figuratively bit her tongue and didn't say a word that might cause her bugman to pull away.
"This food is incredible," Sara praised heartily, digging her fork in for another delectable bite.
"I'm glad you like it," Grissom replied with a smile, taking a second bite himself.
"How did you know this place was here?"
His right eyebrow gave her a slight shrug. "Research."
"Going vegan, Dr. Grissom?" Sara quipped lightly.
Grissom chuckled. "Hardly. I still enjoy a good steak. I just wanted a safe place to bring a vegetarian without provoking any wrath."
Sara graced him with another easy smile, pleasantly surprised that he cared enough to plan ahead just for her. "Well, I appreciate that."
Impulsively she stole a forkful of Grissom's own meatless dish and popped it into her mouth.
"Hey, get your own." With a mock frown, he snatched a forkful off of her plate in return.
"Wow, you really don't like to share." Sara grinned shamelessly, swallowing her pilfered bite. "I think I should've ordered that one instead."
"Now you know what to get next time."
"Next time?" Sara echoed with a raised eyebrow. As in, next time Grissom took her to eat there?
"If you eat vegan Polynesian again," Grissom clarified.
Yeah, that was a much more likely scenario, Sara admitted to herself.
Polishing off their plates, they let the food settle for a bit before Grissom reached for the check left at the edge of their table.
"What's my half?" Sara questioned, digging for her wallet in the bottom of her bag.
"Don't worry about it," Grissom dismissed easily, pulling out his own credit card to pay the entire amount.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, it's fine."
"Okay," Sara relented. "I'll get the next one, then." Since she knew this was not a date, she technically meant the next work meal...but she'd leave her words for Grissom to interpret whichever way he chose.
But astonishingly Grissom accepted that without question. "Deal."
Sara's brows kinked in bewilderment as he stood from the table to go pay the check. Grabbing her bag, she rose to follow.
As the sun began to set behind them, Grissom no longer had need of his sunglasses so they went into the cubbyhole of his car's center console.
"Wow, check out the stars tonight," Sara marveled, craning her head to see more of the sky than the vehicle's windshield wanted to let her. "Never see a clear view like that from the middle of Vegas."
It was only early evening, but out in the desert away from city lights, there always seemed to be a few stars appearing high in the sky even before the sun had completely set.
"Want to stop for a minute?" Grissom offered generously. "Get out, stretch your legs?"
"Yeah...that would be nice." Sara gave him a smile. "Thanks."
He pulled the car onto the shoulder of the road and shut off the engine, and they both got out and walked just a couple of feet beyond the vehicle's front bumper.
Sara shivered a little in the sudden cool air, hugging her bare arms around herself and rubbing at the goosebumps that formed.
The summer day had been warm, but with nightfall came the customary drop in temperature, and she wished she'd remembered earlier to grab at least a sweater to supplement her tank top with.
Standing close beside her in the growing darkness, Grissom felt more than saw her shiver. But he had no jacket to offer her against the cool night air.
Hesitating for one brief moment, his fingers moved to undo the row of buttons down the front of his long-sleeved outer shirt that he still wore over his plain black t-shirt.
He slipped out of the button-down shirt and draped it open across Sara's shoulders from behind, his hands guiding both sides of it around her to encase her in the fabric.
Sara's breath caught in her throat at the contact, and she looked up at him over her shoulder.
"Thank you," she voiced softly, surprised at the thoughtful gesture. He did know how to share, after all. "You're not cold?"
"I'm alright," was all he replied.
Unrolling the cuffs, Sara slipped her arms through the long sleeves and buttoned the shirt down the front. It was warm from his body heat, and it wrapped her in his scent.
His fingers gently lifted her hair out of the back of the collar, and they skimmed ever so slightly across the nape of her neck.
Her second shiver of the night had nothing to do with the temperature.
What was going on with Grissom today? Not only had he literally just given her the shirt right off his back, but he'd also been touching her in ways he never had before.
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him about his recent personality transplant, but she didn't want to scare him off or cause him to retreat back into himself, so again she kept her mouth shut.
His gaze lingered on hers for a few seconds as he reclaimed his previous spot beside her and dragged his attention back to the rapidly darkening heavens and the quickly appearing stars.
Grissom couldn't deny that he enjoyed the sight of Sara in his shirt, even as innocent as the moment really was.
Sara stole one more peek at him from the corner of her eye before looking up at the sky again too.
Grissom opened his mouth to give Sara a lesson in astronomy, but another glance at her face and his words died on his lips.
Sara seemed to be looking at the stars, not with the logical eyes of a scientist, but with the wistful heart of a girl. A hint of a smile played on her lips as she took in the glittering beauty in reverent silence.
Grissom couldn't bring himself to break the spell about her. Now was not the time to impress her with his knowledge. Now was the time to simply be.
Besides, she probably already knew everything he would have told her, anyway, making the potential lesson moot.
So as she studied the night sky, he studied her.
She was so beautiful in the moonlight. Ethereal...angelic. Her skin so pale, contrasting with her hair so dark.
What was she thinking about? The vastness of the universe? Their insignificance within it?
Such beauty, Sara thought to herself, taking in all the varying degrees of twinkling light and the patterns they made in the sky. So simple to the eye, yet so intricate in their very existence. A study in contradictions...not unlike a certain baffling entomologist she knew.
Finally Sara turned her head again to see if Grissom was still enjoying the view as much as she was.
But he wasn't looking at the stars. He'd been gazing so intently at her that it almost startled him when her eyes met his again.
"What?" Sara asked, completely unaware of the reason for his stare.
He blinked, the spell broken. His mouth opened slightly to answer, but he hesitated too long as he always seemed to do.
"I guess we should get going, huh?" Sara filled the silence. "Thanks for stopping the car," she added with a smile, turning to head back to the front passenger door.
Her seatbelt clicked as Grissom also got in a few seconds later, and he attached his own seatbelt before moving to start the car.
"I've missed this."
Grissom's hand paused on the ignition switch. "What?"
"This. Us. Being friends again. It's nice to have it back. I've missed it."
Grissom gave her a warm smile. "Me, too."
He turned the key in the ignition.
And nothing happened. The 'check engine' light was the only thing that came on.
Lips pursed, Grissom tried again.
Still nothing.
"What's wrong?" Sara asked.
Eyebrows drawn together in concern, Grissom tried a third time.
"Car won't start," he stated the obvious.
"Seriously?"
Fourth try. "Nothing."
"That doesn't make any sense — it was just fine a few minutes ago." Her own eyebrows quirked in confusion, Sara pulled out her cell phone to call for a tow truck. "I have no cell service."
Grissom retrieved his cell from his pants pocket. "Me either."
"Okay then...now what?"
"Well..." Grissom thought a moment. "The edge of Las Vegas is still about twenty miles away. We can either stay here and try to flag someone down for help...or go for help ourselves on foot."
Sara glanced down at the shoes on her feet. Strappy sandals with a rather spindly two-inch heel. They were fine for wearing to a lecture. Not so great for hiking along the highway.
Nevertheless, she was no wimp. "I think we should pound the pavement."
"It's safer to stay in the car," Grissom objected.
"Yeah, if you want our bodies to be found in a week."
"It's late. It's dark." He gave a pointed look to his button-down shirt still adorning the upper half of her body. "It's not warm out anymore."
Sara sighed, never having possessed the patience to just sit around and wait for something to happen.
She sat back in her seat, removing her seatbelt again and crossing her legs comfortably at the knees to settle in for a long wait.
Once again Grissom allowed himself a satisfying glance out of the corner of his eye at what he could see of her long and slender legs.
Her sandaled feet hid from him in the dark shadows on the floor, but he'd seen their perfect size and shape earlier in the light at the lecture.
Feet in general didn't interest him...but Sara's feet did. He'd catalogued earlier her cute toes with the nails sweetly painted a pale rose hue. And surprisingly, a little blue flower tattooed on the top of her left ankle.
She always wore no-nonsense long pants and closed boots on the job, and it pleased him to see this more feminine and carefree side of her away from work.
Grissom punched the button on the dash to activate the vehicle's hazard lights. Then he, too, settled in for the wait.
"It's been almost an hour, Grissom, and not a single car has passed us."
"Hmm."
Sara looked at him. His eyes were closed and his head was tilted back on the seat's headrest.
"Are you asleep?"
"Yes." A fib, obviously. He'd actually been mulling over in his mind that this was yet another first date that he'd somehow managed to screw up through no fault of his own.
Sara stared at him a long moment but he didn't move. "Okay. You stay here and sleep, and I'll go for help."
Grissom's eyes popped open at the same time Sara's door did. He was out of the car in half a second, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste to follow her. "Sara —"
But it was useless to argue with her. She was independent and stubborn and headstrong. Normally he loved those qualities about her...just not right now, when he had no way of protecting her from whatever might be lurking in the dark.
"This is a bad idea."
"Oh, come on, Grissom — where's your sense of adventure?"
"It's at home with my flashlight and my gun."
Sara had neither of those items either, and in retrospect she wished she'd thought to bring them. But there had been no logical reason to, since they weren't on the clock or at a crime scene.
Pulling his keys from his pocket, Grissom hit the remote button to lock the car as they travelled away from it.
They walked in silence for a while, breathing in the cool night air and enjoying each other's quiet company.
All of a sudden Sara stumbled in an unseen dip in the road, and she might have fallen on her rear if not for Grissom's quick reflexes.
"Are you okay?" he voiced in concern, gripping her arms in both of his hands. "What happened?"
Regaining her footing, one of Sara's hands held onto him for balance and she lifted her right foot to examine her shoe in the darkness.
"Pothole. Stupid heel snapped off," she grumbled. "I guess that's what I get, buying shoes for their looks instead of their quality."
With a small sigh she lowered her broken shoe to the pavement again and let go of Grissom's arm. It was going to make walking a bit unpleasant, having one shoe still heeled and the other brokenly flat.
Grissom looked behind them at the car they'd left so far away. All he could see of it now was softly blinking hazard lights in the middle of pitch-black darkness.
He turned back toward Sara again, only to realize she'd begun walking once more. He increased his pace to catch up.
"Are you hurt?" Grissom asked, his sharp eye not missing the careful step her right foot took that had to do with more than just a broken shoe heel.
"I'm fine," Sara answered, unwilling to admit to injury and now trying even harder to take normal steps.
"Sara."
The stern tone in Grissom's voice made her stop with another sigh.
"Alright, I kinda...twisted my ankle back there in the pothole," she admitted. "Just a little bit. It doesn't even hurt."
Grissom gave her a no-nonsense look. "If it didn't hurt, you wouldn't be limping."
"I'm limping because my shoe is broken," Sara insisted stubbornly.
Stepping around in front of her, Grissom knelt down. "Give me your foot."
Sara almost laughed at the absurdity of it — Grissom kneeling at her feet with one expectant hand out and palm up.
Humoring him, she lifted her injured foot off the ground, feeling a little bit like Cinderella. Only her prince wasn't putting a shoe on her foot — he was taking it off.
Again she held onto his shoulder to keep her balance as he examined her ankle in the dim moonlight.
He touched carefully all around, his sensitive fingers expertly probing for any real damage.
Those fingers were doing some very unfair things to her all of a sudden that had nothing to do with her ankle. She gritted her teeth, enduring the tingling sensations flowing through her and silently begging him to hurry up and let go again.
Grissom, seemingly oblivious as to what he was doing to her, finally let go. "I don't think anything's broken," he voiced, slipping the defective sandal back onto her foot. "If it was, you wouldn't even be able to stand on it."
"I told you it was fine."
"We're going back to the car," Grissom decided firmly, standing up again. "We can wait there till morning and flag down help in the daylight."
"But we've already gone at least half a mile," Sara protested. "Shouldn't we keep going?"
"You're lucky it's only a half-mile walk back," Grissom answered, his fingers closing around her elbow to turn her back the way they came. "You're not walking twenty miles on a twisted ankle."
"Grissom —"
But this time he put his figurative foot down. "It's not negotiable, Sara. You need to get off that ankle sooner rather than later."
"Grissom!" Sara still didn't budge. "I know that, okay? Just let me get the rock out of my other shoe first."
He blinked, stopped in his tracks. "Oh. Sorry. Go ahead."
Laughing softly at her sometimes-overly-protective bugman, Sara braced her hand on his arm for a third time as she stood entirely on her injured foot for a few seconds to dig the tiny rock out from between her other heel and shoe.
Her twisted ankle actually did hurt a little bit, and she was grateful to be going back to the car to give it some rest.
"Lean on me if you need to," Grissom offered gallantly as they began walking again.
"Thanks," Sara accepted, slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow. Holding onto his arm really didn't do a thing for her ankle while they were walking, but it was an intimately pleasant experience so she enjoyed it while it lasted.
They walked back to the car in complete silence aside from the crunch of their shoes on the pavement and the whoosh of a breeze through the vegetation along the roadside.
Sara finally gave voice to what had been bothering her ever since Grissom had taken her hand at the lecture. No, actually...ever since he'd invited her on this unexpected little jaunt in the first place.
"Grissom...was today supposed to be a date?"
He gave her an endearingly sheepish look, with a quirk of one eyebrow and a slight tilt of his head to the affirmative. "If you don't want a second date, I understand."
Her brows furrowed as she returned his gaze with doubled surprise. "Why wouldn't I want a second date?"
Grissom shrugged, ambling along beside her at the pace she set. "Nobody ever does. I always manage to mess up the first date sufficiently enough that I don't get a second chance to try to fix it."
"Well...I don't know what kind of judgy women you've dated in the past," Sara began slowly. "But nothing that's happened today is any kind of deal-breaker for me."
He turned his head to look at her again, studying her steady gaze in the moonlight.
"I thought you knew me better than that," Sara chided gently, her eyes shining tenderly at him in the moonlight.
Grissom gave her a soft smile, appreciating her forgiving nature. "I apologize for underestimating you."
"Apology accepted." Sara graced him with a sweet smile of her own. "You know, if you wanted to ask me out, all you had to do was...ask me out. You don't have to hide behind a work-related pretense."
Grissom's lips formed a rueful smirk as he faced forward again. "Okay, then...would you like to go out?"
"No," Sara deadpanned.
His head snapped around to look at her again. "No?" he echoed in disbelief.
Feeling that he'd deserved that, she gave him a cheeky grin. "Kidding."
He sent her a mock scowl in return.
"Go out with me tomorrow after work." He deliberately did not phrase it as a question.
"Okay," Sara answered easily. With a little humor she quipped, "Hopefully we won't still be out here by then."
Grissom chuckled. "If we are, there's no one else I'd rather be stranded with."
His words warmed her. "Really?"
He gave her another long look, a smile playing at his lips as his eyes said far more than his mouth did.
Sara smiled back before looking down almost shyly. She focused her attention on the road again, on the lookout this time for any other potholes waiting to assault her.
Her hand moved from the crook of his elbow to slide down his arm, her fingers linking with his once again.
Now that she understood Grissom's almost-unspoken intent, it was a lot less awkward to indulge in the moment.
Grissom welcomed the gesture, his heart lifted by the knowledge that it wasn't 'too late' with Sara after all.
Mentally he filed away how her bare foot had felt in his hands as he'd checked her for injury. He'd wanted to run his hands all the way up her body, starting at her naked ankles and not stopping until he reached her forehead.
Grissom was free to touch as much of her as he wanted to in his personal, private fantasies. But he wouldn't do it to that extent in real life unless he knew Sara wanted him to. He respected her far too much to try stealing touches of her body like that without her consent.
In the meantime, he could still enjoy the tactile exploration of her hand or arm, or the small of her back, for as long as she allowed him to.
The walk back to the car seemed to take longer than the walk away from it, especially with Sara trying not to limp at all. But soon they were at the vehicle once again, and Grissom unlocked it by keyring remote.
"It's getting colder — we'll need to conserve body heat," he said in all seriousness. "There's an emergency blanket in the trunk. We'll have to share it. It'll be easier if we both sit in the back seat instead of the front."
Sara raised an eyebrow at his suggestion.
"I'll keep my hands to myself," he promised all-too-innocently.
"Well, where's the fun in that?" Sara teased lightly.
Grissom allowed her a small grin. Maybe he wouldn't keep his hands entirely to himself.
"Pop the trunk and I'll grab the blanket."
"I want you off that ankle," Grissom told her in a firm tone. "I'll get the blanket. You get in the car."
Sara had to be dreaming. This was no longer just bizarre — it was bordering on surreal.
She was spending the night with Grissom. Under a blanket. In the back seat of his car. After he'd just admitted that this was, in fact, a date.
Shaking her head in continued disbelief, Sara opened the back door and cooperatively climbed inside, leaving the door open for Grissom to follow.
His emergency blanket was large enough to accommodate two people, and Grissom was glad to have splurged for the highest quality one he could find. Even if it were late fall, they would still be toasty warm beneath it inside the car.
Tucking the folded blanket under his arm, he also grabbed his gallon jug of emergency water and box of granola bars, just in case they got hungry or thirsty.
The water and snacks he set within easy reach in the front passenger seat. The blanket he unfolded and shook open.
But five seconds after he climbed into the car beside her, Sara opened the door on her other side. "You know what? I'll be right back."
"Where are you going?" Grissom questioned in slight concern.
"To find the ladies' room," she responded. "Up to you to find the men's room."
"Don't go far," he called after her, disliking the idea of her alone in the dark with no protection.
"Okay, mom," she quipped with a smirk, climbing out the door.
Grissom sent a dirty look to her back but she was already gone, vanishing into a dark clump of bushes.
After a beat, he also exited the car. He went the opposite way from where Sara had headed and came back a couple of minutes later feeling much relieved.
Sara had beat him back to the car by a few seconds, and as he climbed in beside her once again she kindly held the blanket out of his way until he got himself comfortable.
"I'm sorry you have to spend the night in my car instead of your own bed."
Impulsively she reached one hand up to caress his bearded cheek. "Don't worry about it."
Grissom's mind flashed briefly to the one other time she'd touched him like that before, and now he voiced a question that had niggled around in his brain for a long time.
"There was never any chalk on my face, was there?"
Sara grinned, understanding immediately to what he referred. "Not a smudge."
"I thought so."
She shifted on the seat, turning to face him fully. "This is what I really wanted to do at the time." And cupping his face in both hands, she rose up on her knees in the seat and pressed a sweet kiss to his bottom lip.
Palms lingering on his softly scratchy face a moment after the kiss, she released him and leaned back again to return to her half of the seat.
But Grissom's hands had found her waist and he pulled her back to him for a much longer kiss.
He felt like a teenager again, making out in the back seat of a car. But his tired back and cramped legs reminded him that he was getting just a little too old to be doing that very much anymore.
"Damn this small car," his lips cursed resentfully against hers. "No room to move back here."
Sara gifted him one final kiss, her fingertips stroking at the nape of his neck. "We can pick this up tomorrow, no car necessary."
"Promise?" he asked with a hopeful glint in his eye.
"Promise." She sat back down on the seat again, adding with a saucy grin, "Besides...if you want more than just kissing, you're gonna have to earn it first."
Grissom narrowed his eyes at her only half-playfully.
He shifted himself a little bit sideways on the seat, stretching his legs out toward the other side of the floor.
"How's your ankle?" he asked, genuinely caring.
Sara flexed her foot to test it out. She shrugged. "It'll be okay."
She removed her shoes and pulled her feet up onto the seat, covering her bare legs and feet with the end of the blanket.
"Do you mind if I lean against you?" she asked. "It's kinda hard to sleep while sitting straight up."
"Not at all," Grissom answered. "Make yourself comfortable."
So she did. The darkness hid her grin as she cuddled up against him, slipping one arm behind his back so her elbow wouldn't be digging into his stomach, and resting her cheek against the nearest part of his chest.
One of his arms came snugly around her too while his other hand arranged the blanket over them both and tucked the loose edges in.
Sara stifled a yawn against his shirt and closed her eyes. "Goodnight, Griss."
"Goodnight, Sara," Grissom answered, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.
They woke in the early morning to an insistent knocking on the window and a flashlight shined aggressively in their faces.
Squinting in sleepy annoyance, Grissom turned his head to find the unamused face of a Nevada State Trooper glaring at him from mere inches away through the window.
"Step out of the vehicle please, sir."
Inhaling a deep morning breath, Grissom detangled himself from the blanket and from a sleepily protesting Sara, and rather stiffly exited the back seat of his car.
"Good morning, officer. I'm Gil Grissom with the Las Vegas Crime Lab. Would you mind calling for a tow truck?"
Jammed between the tow truck driver to her left and Grissom on her right, Sara endured the loud and bumpy ride back toward civilization.
Grissom had his left arm stretched along the back of the seat behind Sara to give their shoulders a few extra inches of space, and his fingers idly stroked at her shoulder through the fabric of his button-up shirt that she still wore from last night.
"I guess you'll be needing a ride to work," Sara ventured aloud.
"Yeah, if you wouldn't mind," Grissom answered.
"Oh, I wasn't offering — just stating a fact."
At his look of consternation, she laughed. "I'm kidding! Of course I'll give you a ride."
Grissom resisted the urge to spank her, and instead pressed a kiss to her temple. "Thank you, my dear."
He'd save the spanking for another time.
The End