As always, I own nothing. Anyway, this story takes place just before Iced. I was wracking my brain trying to thing up a prequel for Finding Sara when this hit me like lightning. I hope y'all enjoy it!!

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"Ouch! Sara it hurts." Greg Sanders whined as his mentor led him into a secluded corner of the locker room.

What had started out as a routine B & E quickly turned sour when they discovered the suspect was still in the house. Only, they hadn't so much "discovered" him as he had lunged out from under a bed at Greg's turned back and slashed his thigh before being shot by Sara.

Long story short, that was how they came to be sitting in the locker room; with Greg grimacing in pain as Sara kneeled between his legs, poking and prodding through the stiff fabric.

She smiled wryly up at him. "What's wrong, Greggo? Not how you wanted to have me between your legs?" As soon as she said it both of them blushed furiously at the thought.

"I'll admit, this wasn't one of the scenarios that crossed my mind." Greg grimaced

Sara smiled "By the way, I need you to lose your pants." It was more of a demand than a request, Greg realized, as Sara's hands when to the button of his jeans. He only hoped Sara wouldn't notice his uh…excitement.

He smiled broadly as he noticed her fumbling with the button at the top of his fly.

"You need some help, Sar?" He asked in amusement

"No, I do NOT need help, Sanders." She grumbled, sending him an attempted glare.

He'd noticed that about Sara lately. Whenever she was mad at him, she couldn't look at him and still be serious. When she tried, the anger immediately faded. He liked to think it was because she had some ounce of romantic feelings for him, but he knew she was probably in love with Grissom.

"Sara, give it a rest. I think the pants win this round." He grinned, covering her hands with his own and helping her unbutton his fly. Greg blushed as his Scooby-doo boxer covered erection was exposed but if she noticed she wasn't saying anything. He only saw the ghost of a smile pass over her features, but it could've been at his choice of underwear.

Once again she continued to work on his gash: applying various alcohols, peroxide, gauze, and bandages. Greg also noted that she was humming, just as she often did while working a case.

"Hmm…I'm closer to where I started."

"I'm chasing after you." Greg's lips curled at the symbolism of the words he just said.

"You like that song?" Sara asked, looking sharply up at him.

"Yeah, I do. I also think it fits both of us pretty well." Greg smiled sadly.

Her interest piqued, Sara momentarily stopped working to hear what he had to say.

"Go on…" She raised an eyebrow

Greg sighed. He might as well get this over with and be slapped, he thought.

"'I'm closer to where I started. I'm chasing after you.' Sara, I've been chasing you for over five years and I'm still getting nowhere. You've been chasing Grissom as long as I've been chasing you." He said

Sara's mind skipped right over what was a revelation for her that she was the one returning Greg's feelings…not the other way around. Instead it zeroed right in on the other part of his speech. He thought that she liked Grissom?

"Greg, I have something going on with Grissom but it's not romantic and I haven't been chasing him." She smiled

"Then what is going on?" Greg asked in puzzlement, raising a brow

"That I can't tell you, but you will find out someday." Sara promised him as she took one of his hands in hers. "I can tell you though, that I'm staying here 'until you make me move.'" She laid a hand on his chest and smiled lovingly at him.

Greg couldn't believe his ears. Did Sara Sidle really have feelings for him? Did hell freeze over? She wasn't in love with Grissom? Ha!

Greg grinned devilishly, "Sara, first of all: I believe it's 'I'm standing here until you make me move.' Second: are you really saying what I think you're saying?"

Sara laughed lightly, positioning herself so that her face was a mere inch from his. "Greg, first of all: I was paraphrasing. Second: yes, now shut up and kiss me.

The kiss was everything Greg had ever fantasized about and more. In short: it kicked the crap out of his fantasies. He snaked his arms around her slim waist and pulled her closer, wanting to taste more. She moved her arms from his neck and ran her hands through his soft blonde hair, pulling it gently on occasion. They stayed locked in this heated embrace until…

"What the hell are you two doing?" Catherine's voice swiftly broke them apart. They both followed Catherine's mortified gaze down and began to fidget nervously and stutter in embarrassment. During their conversation, they'd forgotten that Greg had his pants down and now they were caught in an extremely compromising position.

"I…um." Sara muttered, unsuccessfully trying to form a coherent sentence.

"She had me take my pants off so she could treat my gash and we, uh, forgot." Greg rubbed the back of his head sheepishly after he buttoned his fly.

"I see that." Catherine retorted with a grin. "So you finally worked your feelings out, huh? I'm happy for both of you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go inform Nick and Warrick."

"They bet on us!?" Greg and Sara exclaimed simultaneously as both of their mouths fell open.

Catherine snorted, "Are you kidding? The entire office had a pool on you guys…even Ecklie." She spoke, Ecklie's name rolling off her tongue as a bare whisper.

With that, Catherine slunk out of the locker room to let the pair process the information. Sara was the first to collect her thoughts.

"Whoa…Ecklie."

"I know. I never would've pegged him as the gambling type. Then again, it is Vegas." Greg laughed

"Yeah, so what do you say to getting out of here and finishing what we started?"

"I say that sounds like a plan." He said, ducking his head to kiss her lips before taking her by the hand and leading her out of the room.

"Oh, and Greg?"

"Yeah?"

"It wasn't the Scooby-Doo boxers."

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Well that's it. I hope you like it. By the way, inspiration for the pants removal scene came from personal experience. Nothing dirty, it was actually similar to the story situation, minus the use of a knife.