When that same evening Grissom walked into the break room everyone was already there sitting around the table, deep in conversation and nursing drinks. He stood at the threshold for a moment watching the scene, unnoticed by anyone except Sara who bringing her cup to her lips looked up straight at him. Their eyes met, soft and complicit. A small smile tugged at his lips.

"So now you're late to your own shifts?"

Grissom refocused on Catherine and pursed his mouth, feigning irritation. "Technically speaking, I'm not late."

"Late for you," Catherine retorted in a slight pout.

Grissom could feel everyone's eyes on him, not least of all Sara's, but his mask was firmly in place. "I was...busy," he stated matter-of-factly as he stepped fully into the room.

Catherine's brow rose, and she exchanged a pointed look with Greg.

"You enjoyed your night off then," Warrick said jovially.

"I did," Grissom said, with a pleasant smile directed at Warrick. "Thank you."

"Cos you know, you're looking a little…red."

"In the face," Greg muttered under his breath.

Meaningful looks and smiles were exchanged all round, except for Sara, he noticed, who was looking at her drink.

"You should have put sun cream on," Catherine said, "You need to think about ageing."

"And cancer," Greg piped up.

On top of high blood pressure? Grissom gave an inward sigh then did his best to quash the smile that wanted to escape. "Thank you, Greg, Catherine," he said, deadpan, with a nod to each, "for your concern. I'll file it up for future reference."

Catherine's brow rose again. Warrick hid his wide smile behind his hand while Sara brought her cup to her lip, stifling hers.

"Now if we're all ready." Grissom's gaze narrowed in a no-nonsense look and swept over the group over the top of his glasses before it flicked down to the assignment slips in his hand. The top slip he held out to Greg. "Greg, I need you to go check out a suspicious odour."

Greg frowned then looked at everyone in turn round the table with disbelief before taking the slip from Grissom and checking the case detail. "At the city dump?" he exclaimed incredulously, earning himself a few well-meaning sniggers from his colleagues.

That'll teach him to place wagers on my love life, Grissom thought and pushed his glasses back up his nose. "Officer Akers is waiting for you there. Sara, I need you at a B&E in Sunrise – an African art gallery. Greg will come give you a hand as soon as he's done at the Las Vegas recycling facilities."

Sara gave a nod, and after giving her the assignment slip he turned to Catherine. "You and Warrick, you stay on last night's arson case. Hodges' results are back." He made to leave, but changed his mind. "If anybody wants me I'll be in my office catching up on paperwork."

Feeling a little smug at how well he'd conducted himself in the circumstance, Grissom turned on his heels to the scraping of chairs as his team stood up to get to work.

"I told you," he heard Greg say, not so quietly, "I knew I was right. Only a woman could get him in such a foul mood."

"Or sunburn," Sara retorted lightly. "Sunburn could."

Grissom couldn't see the smile tugging at her lips as she spoke, but he could well imagine it. Yes, he thought again, they would be just fine. Without looking back he made his way to his office and sat down at his desk. He was giving a sigh at the stack of files awaiting him when a quiet tap at the door made him look up. Sara stood there, smiling softly.

"Everything okay?" he asked, instinctively returning the smile and removing his glasses.

Sara nodded, then looked over her shoulder before stepping fully into the office, walking right up to the desk and placing a small tub of cream right on top of his files. She'd kept the door open.

"What is it?"

"It's…" her shoulder lifted, "moisturising cream."

He sighed, touched his face. His skin felt tight and a little sore. "Is it that bad?"

Again Sara's shoulder lifted. "Not that bad. Just noticeable."

"Is that why you got me the hat?" he asked in a scoff, "Because you could see me turn into a beetroot?"

Sara was looking amused, or pleased with herself, he didn't quite know. It didn't matter; he loved the hat. "Well, the way I see it," she said, "if you're serious about going fishing then you're going to need to look the part. Protection from the sun is a bonus."

His smile was indulging. "Then we're going to have to get you a matching one," he said, his gaze level, earnest. She may have been joking, but he wasn't.

Sara's smile faded as the implication of his words sunk in, before it reappeared, brightly this time, and she nodded her head. She turned toward the door, then back to him. "You're sending Greg out on his own?" she asked almost as an afterthought, "Is he going to be all right?"

"Yeah," he replied in a small chuckle. "According to PD, the bad smell's that of an as-yet-unidentified badly decomposed large animal. I had to send someone to make sure it's not human." He waved Sara's unvoiced but visible concerns away. "He'll call for backup if he needs it."

"All right," Sara conceded, her "You're the boss" remaining unsaid, and watched him at length before glancing hesitantly at the open door. "Talking of bad smell. How's Hank?"

Grissom's smile returned. "As good as new. You should see the state of the bathroom after we were done though, and I forgot to close the door. Won't make that mistake again," he laughed. "He traipsed water all over the hardwood floor all the way to his basket."

"But he smelled nice."

Trust her to see the bright side. "Yeah, he did," he said softly. "The car not so much."

Her gaze and smile lingered on him before she gave her head a shake. "Anyways, I should go."

He nodded. "Sara," he called as she got to the door, "Will you…go for a run tomorrow?"

Her smile returned. "Definitely."

His smile widened. A lab tech walked past his office and he put his professional face back on. "Let me know if you need help."

"Help?"

"B&E? In Sunrise?"

"Oh." She gave her head a shake. "I thought Greg was my back-up."

Grissom pulled a face. "He could be a while at the dump." With a smile and a shake of the head Sara disappeared out of the door. His eyes and dreamy expression remained on the empty doorway long after she'd gone.

For the next few days he and Sara met every morning after shift at the park. Sara would jog there while he brought Hank and the paper and waited for her. They'd take a walk around the park and sit at the café for breakfast and a chat. He looked forward to these rendez-vous all shift long, very much enjoyed Sara's company outside of work, and it would seem the feeling was mutual.

Grissom would wear his hat, and Hank would carry around in his mouth the red plastic ball Sara had got him at Lake Mead Harbour when she'd bought the hat. Grissom loved his hat so much that he'd taken it to work the previous shift, much to everyone's bemusement. Catherine called it a mid-life crisis ten years too late; he just called it being in love. He hadn't told anyone that.

Physical contact was still kept to a minimum between them. There would be hand and leg brushes as they sat around the small round table at the park café, some accidental, others not, and tender smiles and looks too, but Grissom was yet to kiss her. The setting, the situation was never right. To anyone happening to see them it would look like a fortuitous encounter. They weren't breaking any rules anyway – not yet. They simply were two kindred spirits enjoying their time together, and not enough of it.

A week later and Grissom was getting frustrated. Things weren't progressing fast enough for his liking. Sure he could have asked her out for a meal, but work afterwards made that difficult. And there was always the risk that they might get spotted. He'd decided to make his move on their next proper date – breakfasts at the café notwithstanding – when he and Hank took her to Red Rock Canyon. He was all set, but wangling another night off at the same time as Sara so soon after the previous one without arousing suspicion would take some doing.

Truth be told, he daren't. He daren't lest Catherine and the rest of the team put two and two together. He didn't want them to know. He didn't want anybody to know, and he was sure Sara felt the same. He could hear them all already, talking behind their backs, making judgements and remarks. And then there were the rules of course, department rules that forbade them a loving relationship.

He didn't want to jeopardise what he and Sara already had. He'd have to be patient, that was all, patient and crafty. He was about to give up hope when Greg came up trumps, asking to swap nights off with him. Some concert or other the boy wanted to catch. Grissom played it cool, but inwardly he was rejoicing. He couldn't wait to tell Sara.

He was packing up for the day when a knock sounded on his door. He looked up just as the assistant DA came into his office. Holding a briefcase, he was dressed for court. His expression told Grissom it was bad news. Grissom's heart sank; he didn't need to be told he wouldn't be meeting Sara at the park that morning.

"Sara, I'm glad I caught you." He paused, took a few seconds to catch his breath. "The assistant DA's just turned up. His main witness in the Martin's case has bailed on him. He needs to review the evidence again before he goes to court and…" his voice trailed off into a dejected sigh.

"You won't make the park."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Her smile was soft. "There's always tomorrow."

He nodded at her eagerly. "Yeah."

"Will he need you to testify in court?"

"No. Just review the evidence."

She nodded. "You want me to pick up Hank from the sitters? I could take him on my run. You…could pick him up from mine afterwards if you wanted."

The offer was very tempting. "I don't know, Sara. I don't know how long I'm going to be. Could be late."

"I don't mind."

He paused. "All right," he said, looking forward to it already, "Thank you. I'll call the sitter, let her know." Realising Sara didn't know where the sitter lived he patted his back pocket, took out his wallet and opened it to remove a business card which he handed to her. "The address is on here. I'll come as soon as I can."

By the time Grissom knocked on Sara's door it was nearly twelve. As he waited for the door to open, he rubbed at his eyes and let out a long weary breath. The meeting had been as long and tedious as he'd expected, but necessary. He heard Hank's nail clicking on the hardwood floor before he heard Sara's quiet voice as she came to the door and unbolted it. His heart lifted. Tail wagging Hank came out to greet him and even though he was tired Grissom took a moment to return the dog's affection.

"You look tired," Sara said.

"I am tired," he replied, glancing up at her. She wore sweat pants and a tank top, her hair loose, and a bright smile.

"You want to come in?"

Grissom smiled and nodded his head. "Everything went okay?" he asked, stepping inside Sara's apartment.

Sara closed the door after him and locked it. Instinctive gesture, Grissom idly thought. "Sure," she replied breezily, and turned to the pooch, hovering in their feet. "We had a good run, didn't we, Hank?"

"Thanks again," Grissom said.

"Any time. I enjoyed it. Hank and I, we're pals, aren't we?" she said, reaching down to ruffle the top of Hank's head. There was a pause before she asked, "You want some breakfast?"

"No, I―you must want to be getting to bed."

Sara shook her head, indicated the kitchen with her hand. "I haven't eaten yet. I was making myself some eggs when you arrived."

Grissom's eyes followed where she'd indicated. A glass bowl sat on the counter with beaten egg mixture in it, a skillet at the ready on the gas stove, grated cheese on the side next to cartons of milk and orange juice and a loaf of bread. Could she have been waiting for him to arrive so they could have breakfast together, he wondered? The thought warmed his heart.

"It's okay, if you don't want to."

He turned back to her and smiled, held her gaze. "No, I want to. Thank you."

A smile spread on Sara's face. She nodded her head and moved away to the kitchen. Drawers and cupboard doors opened and shut as she gathered utensils and plates. "Make yourself at home; I won't be a minute."

Turning back to the door Grissom toed off his shoes which he placed next to Sara's and slipped off his jacket. Content that they'd be staying a while longer Hank made himself comfortable on a blanket Sara had folded and placed in front of the window for him. Catching sight of the red ball discarded nearby made Grissom smile.

Dropping his jacket on the couch, Grissom watched as closing his eyes Hank went back to sleep. If only it were this simple, he mused, wishing he could just do the same. Hank certainly didn't seem in a hurry to be heading home, and neither was he. A dreamy smile on his face he joined Sara in the small kitchen and watched her work. His stomach chose this moment to remind him he was hungry, and he was grateful for Sara's breakfast offer.

"Mind Hank's water bowl," she said, nodding toward the floor while she continued scrambling eggs in the skillet.

Grissom looked down to where she'd pointed and shook his head in disbelief.

"Cheese?" she asked.

He gave her a nod in reply, then wordlessly picked up the two plates she'd set aside, set about locating the cutlery and set them on the counter. Sara held out the glass of juice she'd already poured for him and he took it, drinking from it gratefully. Knowing he'd cut down on his coffee intake she didn't offer any, but made some green tea instead – and that without asking. It made their breakfast that much more familiar and intimate. Soon the food was ready and they sat down to eat. For someone who proclaimed she couldn't cook Sara made a mean scrambled egg and cheese.

"You got a nice place," he said when they'd almost finished eating, casting his eye around the small apartment. It was small, but cosy and very Sara. He liked it there; he liked it very much.

"It's…a little small."

"I like it." With a smile, he put the last morsel of toast into his mouth.

Sara stifled a yawn, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He pushed to his feet, gathered their empty plates and took them to the sink. He turned the hot tap on, put the plug in and squirted a little washing up liquid over the dishes.

"What are you doing?"

"Washing up," he said with a look over his shoulder. "You cook and I wash up." He turned back to the sink and shrugged. "When I cook then you can wash up."

"You're on."

Grissom turned at the smile he heard in her voice and smiled. He washed up and Sara dried and put everything away back where it belonged. He liked that about her, the fact that like him she was tidy, that everything had its place in the apartment even if it was small. He liked that she'd made a place for Hank. Dared he hope that in time she'd make a place for him too?

"I forgot to say," he said as he rinsed the last of the cutlery. He turned the tap off, picked up a hand towel and turning dried his hands. "Greg's asked me to swap nights off with him next Saturday. How about…we take that trip to Red Rock Canyon then?" That gave them consecutive nights off, Sara Friday, him Saturday; that way they'd both be able to catch up with their sleep.

Sara frowned, and he knew that that was what she was working out. "Only if you let me drive," she said. "Then you can get a little shut-eye on the way."

His face softened. "Deal."

Sara stifled another yawn and he knew it was time to leave. "I ought to go," he said, "Let you go to bed."

She nodded, and he moved to the door for his shoes. She brought his jacket and Hank's lead over while he put his shoes on and called for the dog. Hank took his time about it, but eventually sauntered over, red ball in mouth and tail wagging. Grissom took his jacket from Sara and slipped it on. It all felt very formal suddenly, a far cry from the relaxed mood of a moment's ago. Sara unlocked the door and opened it and they stood there, watching each other with slightly awkward smiles on their lips.

"Thank you for breakfast," Grissom said. He swallowed, leaned across to kiss Sara on the cheek, but changed his mind. Lifting his hand, he cupped her cheek and deposited the lightest of kisses on her lips. He thought about taking it further, but they were both tired and this was not what he'd envisaged for their first time. When he pulled back his heart was racing, but in a good way. "Good night, Sara," he said, his eyes tender and loving.

She was smiling. "Good night, Griss."

The door closed behind him and Hank, and after hearing the deadlock slide back into place they took the stairs down to the ground floor. His lips tingled.

If she had asked him to stay, he wondered, would he have done?