Disclaimer: I don't own them.

A/N: So I'm just young enough to not remember the 90's all that well. Thus, all my information on clothing and hair styles is straight from the google machine... which proved, in Dead Ringer, to be less than infallible. But it's what I have. :)

Let me know what you think!

I made chocolate chip waffles in Sara's kitchen while she gushed over how she shouldn't be splurging for breakfast because she and her girls were going to make chocolate chip cookies later. I raised an eyebrow, pouring waffle batter into her waffle iron.

"Is that the whole plan for the afternoon? Baking cookies?"

She grinned. "Well, my group is competing against some of the others—we're using the classroom they use for cooking classes at the community center. Everything we make—besides the cookies we eat—will go to the community center's bake sale. They let us use their facilities for free, even after hours… so we try to give back as much as possible. After we clean up, everyone takes a cookie, pops some popcorn, and goes to their auditorium. There's a projector, and they're all roughly the same age, so we shouldn't have too much trouble picking a movie."

"Do you always do so much? I mean… like such planned activities?"

"No—last Saturday I took them all to the beach and started teaching them how to surf. Once a month they try to get the groups together and do a group thing, so the girls can meet others and make friends, but for the most part I just have my three… We've actually been planning a sleep over for next Saturday, but I'll have to tell them today I'm going to postpone it."

I frowned, pulling waffles out of the hot iron. "Why?"

"…Well, be-cause you're here."

I smiled. "Well, I could tear myself away from you for one night, if it's for them… Or, I mean, I could meet them too. If… if that doesn't break any rules."

Her face positively glowed at my words. "You'd want to meet my girls?"

I smirked. She seemed so disbelievingly happy. "Of course I would. They're important to you, they're important to me." I slid her plate over to her and together we carried our meal into the dining room to sit beside the abandoned crossword and the lukewarm coffee.

Just as we were easing into our seats, her phone rang. She gave me a half smile of apology and rose to answer the one on the wall between the dining room and kitchen.

"Hello?" I could distinctly hear a female voice, though it sounded like gibberish. "Okay, slow down. Why can't… well, right, but… I don't know who—" I glanced up when I realized that she had stopped speaking this last time not because the woman on the other end of the line had interrupted her, but because she was looking at me intently. "Hold that thought. I might have a solution." She covered the mouth piece with a hand and pulled it away from her face. "Are you busy today?"

My eyes widened. I shook my head. "…No."

"You want to be the cookie judge?"

My eyebrows raised higher. "I… Yeah, sure. If you need me."

"Great," she breathed, smiling again and lifting the receiver back to her face. "I've got a judge… An old friend…" She blushed at whatever the woman said and looked away from me. "Maybe…" She laughed. "Alright, I'll see you soon. …Bye."

She hung up the phone and returned to the table, sitting and picking up her fork immediately but not eating. "Thanks Gil. You just averted a tragedy."

"Your judge backed out of a cookie-tasting gig?"

She chuckled, cutting into the grid-shaped breakfast. "It was Jodie—head of this mentoring program. But her daughter's got the stomach flu. Apparently she's been puking since four this morning. She was hoping her husband could take the day off, but apparently he's got something important he can't miss today."

I smiled. "Well… I'm happy to help. …I'm excited to meet your girls."

She flushed again, and it made me happy to see it again. "I… They're going to have a lot of questions for you."

"Oh?" I asked, curious, but she gave me very little.

"Oh." She smirked, and started eating her waffle more quickly. "You'd better hurry if you want to stop and get a change of clothes…"

I showered while she dressed and cleaned up after breakfast, despite my arguments that she let me help, and in another pair of sweatpants and a borrowed t-shirt that her girls had made her—it had their handprints and said GIRL POWER in pink paint across the front… they were apparently big fans of the Spice Girls—we headed out, giving Hank a pat on the way to the door. He wagged his tail and rolled onto his side, ready to sleep the day away in the cool air conditioning that Sara's condo provided.

I don't know how, but Sara convinced me to keep the shirt on, so it was a quick change into jeans and a backwards baseball cap—I felt the need to make myself look at least a little masculine—and we were back in her car, headed towards the community center.

"Now, while we're here, you have to be objective—you can't hang out at our kitchenette. That was the whole reason we needed you—everyone else has a bias."

I smirked. "Apparently I'm about to be scrutinized as thoroughly as when I testify…"

She grinned. "Community center, court room… same thing, really." She signaled and then switched lanes, glancing at me a few times. "Speaking of… I never asked you—Why were you outside the court room the other day?" I frowned and she did too. "You don't want to tell me?"

I shook my head. "No, I just… I think the person I was headed to see was the D.A. you were so proud you'd just beaten…"

She laughed. "Matthews. He used to work in Vegas…"

I nodded, a rueful smile on my lips. "He's an amateur entomologist. We email every once and a while—generally when a new paper comes out. I left a couple textbooks he'd wanted to borrow in his office because he was in court at the time, and then half-way back to my car, I realized I should have probably left a note of some kind… It was probably rude to leave the books and not see him or leave a note at all. And then… I saw you and… I forgot about him completely."

She smiled a little proudly, a little indulgently. "Well… Who could blame you?" She teased.

"No one." I answered sincerely, and her teasing grin faded into a more relaxed smile. She took an exit, and within minutes was pulling up outside a home—not a community center. "…Are you picking them all up?"

She nodded. "We try to minimize the stress of being in this program for the foster parents—they're more likely to let the girls be involved if they aren't responsible for drop offs and pick- ups."

I nodded, wondering if she was going to honk or get out and go to the door, but neither happened. The front door swung open and a young girl of about twelve hurried out. She had light brown hair braided into pigtails. She was jeans that were only a little baggy, but torn strategically, and a small t-shirt bearing the words "Don't hate me because I'm beautiful, hate me because your boyfriend thinks I am." I smirked as she glanced at me warily and slid into the back seat.

"Hey Sara." Her voice was wary.

"Hi Jill. This is my friend, Gil."

The girl raised her eyebrows. "Like Gilbert?" Sara smirked and I grinned.

"You can call me Grissom if you like that better."

"Or Griss." Sara suggested, and Jill smiled.

"Griss…. Are you Sara's boyfriend?"

I glanced at her uncertainly, and she smiled too. "Let's say yes. It's… simpler."

Jill giggled. "When he's not around, you can tell us."

I looked back in concern at this statement, but she and Sara just laughed. I sighed. "Hey—maybe you should be sucking up a little more. I am the cookie judge."

Her questions on how exactly I came to be cookie judge took all most of the way to the next girl's house—Alexis. She too, did not need Sara to come to the door or honk. She was ready as soon as she pulled up, and she too gave me a strange look as she moved towards the car. Her hair was styled in a way Catherine had informed me was called 'The Rachel' after some TV show, but I didn't know which. She was wearing an overlong gray sweatshirt over white leggings. The wide collar showed a collar and a dark blue tank top strap stuck out. This seemed as strategic as the torn jeans. …I really didn't spend enough time around kids, apparently.

She slid in next to Jill. "Hi guys…" She was just as wary of me. Sara smiled.

"Alexis, this is—"

"Griss." Jill offered, preempting the name conversation. Alexis glanced at her and both girls giggled. "He's Sara's kind-of-boyfriend-slash-last-minute-cookie-judge." …And then they were giggling again. I sighed. I had a feeling there would be a lot of that today.

The three of them chattered mostly without my input until we reached the home of girl number three—Kaitlin. Jill scooted over to take the hump when the girl with long, wavy blonde hair came out in a loose-fitted short-sleeved dress, black, that fell to mid-thigh, and knee-high sheer socks. She smiled and waved, but as with all the others, frowned when she saw me.

Come to think of it—these were women mentoring foster girls. It was entirely possible that I would be the only man at this cookie thing. That was intimidating. Kaitlin slid into the open space in the back seat.

"Does Sara have a boyfriend?" She teased, grinning, without preamble, and the blush rose to Sara's cheeks again. Maybe my words couldn't make her blush anymore, but other people talking about me clearly still could. It was reassuring.

"Kind of." Supplied Alexis, at the same time as Jill said, "It's simpler to just say that."

All three girls giggled and I wasn't sure whether to laugh along with them or groan. Sara might find all of this second-nature… but I had never been a twelve year old girl. I totally didn't get it.

Still—I had agreed, and if I was going to be a part of Sara's life long-term, that included the giggling trio in the backseat. ...I might as well get in touch with my inner pre-teen girl.