Disclaimer: Neither of us owns CSI or any of its characters. neither of us is making any money from this fic. We both do, however, have the hots for William Petersen in the worst way.

A/N: This story is a sequel to mingsmommy's 13 Beers. This story is a collaborative effort between dreamsofhim and mingsmommy. The NC-17 version of this story was previously posted on GeekFiction. Spoilerish up to 7X14, AU beyond.

Epilogue – And Then Some...More Beer

Brass had already shed the suit in favor of jeans and a soft cotton blue button-down shirt. He was currently contemplating the contents of his refrigerator, vacillating between fixing himself an omelet or heating up some leftover lasagna. He was going to have to get used to fending for himself for his after work meal again since his breakfast companion of the last few weeks was definitely occupied with other things in her life.

He grinned to himself at the thought. Sara had returned to work the previous night after three nights off with a spring in her step and a smile on her face. Of course, he wasn't the only one who had noticed and most of the team had remarked about her good mood on their way to a robbery at a pharmaceutical warehouse. She had only smiled wider.

When Greg had teased her about a new boyfriend, Brass had been unable to stop a smirk from forming. She'd thrown Brass an outrageous wink as she countered, "I don't have a new boyfriend." Sara had calmly gone back to lifting prints while Greg had turned to him with a look of incredulous speculation.

Brass had given him a Mona Lisa smile and a raised eyebrow for his trouble.

He hadn't seen Grissom yet, but from the few words he'd been able to exchange privately with Sara he knew he was not only home, but well and they were both happy. Brass was glad to hear his old friend had decided to continue with his "sabbatical" and not return to work early. Sara was trying to wrangle some of her vacation time, but Catherine was being a bit of a pill about it. The detective was going to give Sara a day or two to work it out with the blond, but if she was unsuccessful, he had plans to step in and help Catherine see the light.

He pulled out the lasagna and shut the fridge; as he was transferring the pasta to a microwave safe plate his doorbell chimed. Sucking some stray marinara from his thumb, he crossed to the front door and opened it to find a six pack of beer at eye level with a smiling Gil Grissom behind it. Brass snorted at the sight. "Returning prodigals bearing gifts are good, bearing beer is even better." He took the six pack from his friend and looked over his shoulder, "Where's Sara?" He noted his empty driveway. "Where's your car?"

Grissom made his way into the house and followed Brass to the kitchen. "Sara had errands to run. She has the car. I, however, have a six pack of Arrogant Bastard..." He watched Brass pulling the 20 oz. bottle out of the carrier, "...make that 'had.'" He finished as Brass put the dark bottles in the fridge.

When he was down to one, he took a frosted glass out of the freezer. Bottle open, pouring with a practiced hand, Jim looked at his guest with a smile and an inclination of his head. "The Wild Turkey is in that cabinet next to the stove."

Returning Brass's smile, Gil held up both hands from his spot leaning against the sink. "No thanks...throwing up a whole night's drinking in an airport trash can has soured me on bourbon."

"Ouch." When Jim had a proper head on his beer, he set the half empty bottle on the counter.

Grissom mused, "Not one of my better moments."

Jim raised his glass slightly. "You want one of these? I have plenty..."

"Yeah, I would...thanks."

"No, my friend, thank you," the detective answered, nearly gleeful as he pulled another frosted glass from the freezer and another ale from the fridge. "Glad to see you made it home safely." He smirked at the younger man as he poured. "It sounds as if you've had quite the Odyssey." He handed Grissom the beer.

"Well, I doubt airport lock-downs, littering and snowstorms were quite what Homer had in mind; but sometimes the odds I was going to make it home felt a little worse than Ulysses's." Grissom smiled at his old friend.

Brass nodded in understanding and raised his glass, "Well, then, a toast to your safe return and to those that waited for you."

Grissom touched the rim of his glass to his friend's and said softly, "To Sara."

They both drank. Then there was a brief, awkward silence. Finally, Brass looked at the younger man and shrugged. "She seemed really good...you know, happy, last night." He shook his head and motioned for Grissom to follow him into the living room.

The scientist settled on the black leather sofa and Brass slipped easily into the matching chair; it was obviously his usual place, but he didn't relax back into it. He sat forward, forearms braced on his thighs, glass held lightly between his thumb and second finger, chewing his cheek. When he spoke, his voice was not unkind. "Gil, you've been my friend since I got here. I know you're a good man." He brought his glass to his lips and sipped, half surprised the other man was allowing him this lecture. "I know you've been working things out while you've been traveling. But," he shrugged, "don't make it one of those things you do just to keep from losing her...she deserves for you to do your best all the time."

Gil was about to take a sip, but thought better of it and eased forward on the couch, placing his glass on the table in front of him. "Doing my best all the time...I hadn't thought of it that way."

Brass waited for him to go on. After a moment, Grissom came back from wherever he'd gone. "I'm good at what I do, Jim. My work has been the most important thing in my life...well, all my life. I don't 'try' to do my best...I just do it...always."

Noting the puzzled expression on his friend's face, he went on. "When I fell in love with Sara...years ago...I put everything about her in a mental box. Now that we're together...I keep forgetting to think outside the box."

The detective shook his head. "Not sure I'm following you there, Buddy."

Grissom warmed to the idea that was finally taking shape in his head. "Even though we're a couple, I've kept our relationship separate from the rest of my life...compartmentalized. When I left Sara to go on sabbatical...it didn't even occur to me how much I would hurt her. She wasn't a part of the process I used to make my decision."

Brass gave a loud, derisive snort. "Sheesh. Can't imagine why she was upset by that." He took another sip of his beer and continued in a dry, flat tone. "Why in the world would she want to kick you to the curb for that?" He shook his head again, mournfully. "Asshat." But it was said without rancor, more with a disbelieving, distant affection.

To his credit, Grissom reddened with embarrassment. "It was a horrible mistake...once I realized...Jesus, Brass...I really hurt her."

"Ya think?" The older man's voice was heavily laden with sarcasm. But then he caught the grieved look on Grissom's face and he sighed. "But that's what you've been working on right? What all of the soul searching and talking has been about? De-compartmentalizing and really sharing your life?" At Grissom's nod, Brass continued. "I know she gets it...that it's work. I think you get that too, right?"

Gil nodded. "I do...and Brass, thank you for looking out for her. I should have been the one doing that, but I screwed it up."

Brass tipped his glass toward Grissom. "As long as you realize that and are moving forward, saying anything else is beating a dead horse." He took a deep drink from his beer and nodded in satisfaction. "As long as you're treating her OK...not any of my business." He grinned sheepishly. "Not really my business at any time, but, you know, I do stick my nose in...I care an awful lot about that girl, Gil."

"I know, Brass. And I'm grateful she has such a good friend. I couldn't ask for a better one for her." They drank in comfortable silence for awhile. Grissom seemed far away, staring into his beer, still working out something in his head. Finally, he turned questioning eyes to his old friend. "Have you ever seen something suddenly...something that was right in front of you...that you've somehow managed to deny?"

"Yeah...coupla times actually." He shrugged. "Looked around one day, suddenly saw my kid wasn't my kid; not too much later I realized just as suddenly it didn't matter if I was the sperm donor or not...she was still my daughter." He chewed on his lip, thoughtfully. "I realized, out of the blue, years later, when it was too late, my ex and I could have done better if we hadn't been so busy blaming each other."

Grissom nodded his understanding. "That night after you ripped me a new one, I went to a local pub and got stinking drunk...woke up hours later half on the bed, still wearing my coat." Making a face in his almost empty glass, he set it down and went on. "I was still drunk but I knew I had to go home. Not to Las Vegas or my house. No, I had to come back to Sara. She is my home."

Grissom stood and walked around the living room; he couldn't sit still. "It took all of that...leaving her, wounding her, being away from her, you jumping all over my ass and quite a lot of bourbon, to make me see that without her, everything I'd worked for for so many years was meaningless. I could lose it all, but if I had her, well...that would be living. Does this make sense?"

"Yeah," Brass nodded, solemnly, "yeah, it does." He sighed. "That's all I need to know." He pointed a finger in his friend's direction, "And it's all you need to remember." He drained his beer. "I'm getting another one; you ready for a refill?"

"Sure."

While Brass was knocking around the kitchen, Grissom studied the museum of Jim's life. There were awards and citations going back to his early days on the force in New Jersey, some sports memorabilia, a few knick knacks and photographs.

The pictures spanned at least thirty years. Grissom smiled at the image of a fresh faced Jim Brass with a full, thick head of hair. There were several pictures of Ellie at various ages and stages ranging from a fresh faced four year old to a sullen teenager. He knew that complicated relationship had caused his friend a lot of pain, so the sight of a ceramic picture frame with the declaration "World's Best Dad" had him half smiling as he picked it up from the shelf. But the picture in the frame stopped him cold.

There was a smiling Jim Brass with his arm slung in careless affection around the shoulders of a beaming Sara Sidle. Gil recognized the scene, a Christmas gathering at Catherine's house. He remembered being aggravated because he couldn't openly spend the evening as Sara's date and how Brass had attached himself to Sara after an inebriated Greg had resumed his open pursuit of the brunette. He realized now Brass had been protecting Greg from his wrath as much as he had been acting as a buffer for Sara.

Slowly, he turned the frame around and found a card tucked carefully into the back. "I am fortunate enough to be able to choose my family. You are a great Dad. Love always, Sara"

Brass reentered the living room and brought Grissom his beer. "Dad?"

The detective blushed lightly and shrugged. "I'll take it. Who wouldn't?"

Grissom raised his glass. "I'm glad, Jim. She deserves someone who'll look out for her. Like when her boyfriend leaves town suddenly and breaks her heart."

Their toast was warm. "To Sara."

xxx

Brass had always enjoyed Grissom's company; they connected in a way that was unusual for Brass. But he had never found himself so thoroughly amused by the scientist. He laughed at the stories of the cross country trek that offered Grissom so many challenges.

"So there I was at Logan, hung over...trying to navigate with a splitting head. Some idiot jumped security and they locked down the whole airport. All I wanted to was to get on a plane, close my eyes and maybe have some hair of the dog. Instead I ended up facing security and a suspicious little old lady." Grissom drained his beer and looked expectantly at Brass, who filled his glass again.

"When I left Williams, all I had was my laptop and the clothes I stood up in. Even with the windows open, the smell finally got to me." Chuckling at the memory that was funny only now, he remembered the anxiety that had driven him then and a shadow crossed his face. He took a breath and drank half the beer. "I made a midnight run through Wal-Mart and bought everything...shoes, shirts...underwear...you should have seen the look on the face of the check out girl. I was rank." He quirked an eyebrow at the detective. "Didn't do a lot for the 'world famous doctor of entomology's' ego to be coming out on the losing end of the opinion of a third shift Wal-Mart cashier."

Brass had heard the bare bones of the story from Sara but with none of the rich, ironic detail Grissom was spinning the story with. He laughed so hard tears leaked out of his eyes at the thought of the proper Gil Grissom being mocked by an entire CD and getting a ticket for littering. As Gil was described the old couple with matching velour track suits and a pair of obviously spoiled cats, Brass could barely hear the knock at the door over his own laughter. When he finally heard the increasing volume of the knock, he called out without bothering to rise, "Come in," and then smiled as Sara came through his front door.

"Hey, Doll!" He called with a slightly tipsy grin.

The young woman grinned back. "Brass, are you getting my boyfriend drunk?"

"Nope," the detective said easily as he watched Grissom capture Sara's hand and pull her down to sit next to him; he pulled her so close she was practically sitting on him. "He's getting me drunk." Brass grinned even wider when Grissom, seemingly without thought or embarrassment, put his arm around her shoulders and planted a kiss on her temple.

Sara's lips quivered in a smirk as her eyebrows rose. "I see." She turned to the man beside her. "Is this true, Griss?"

"Absolutely. I'm trying to soften him up..." he grinned, focusing his attention on Brass.

"I see," Sara pretended to contemplate the surety of Grissom's response. "Softening him up for the discussion?"

Brass's eyes narrowed. "What discussion?"

Grissom tilted his head and eyed Sara, much amused. "Sara?"

Unable to repress a laugh any longer, she stared right back at Gil. "Grissom?"

"Discussion?" Brass barked. "Nobody said anything to me about a discussion." He stabbed a finger in the air in Sara's general direction. "It better not involve me sitting on the floor and contemplating life's mysteries, because now that your boyfriend's back, those days are over."

Sara laughed. "No floor."

Brass blew out a gusty sigh. "Good. From here on out, I am only contemplating the questions of the universe from the comfort of a chair." He considered. "Or the occasional bar stool."

"Fair enough," Sara nodded at him.

One of Gil's eyebrows quirked up. "Yeah, Nick told me all about your deep thoughts, Jim...but no...no floor and I don't think there's much mystery in the discussion except what your answer will be," Grissom teased.

"Answer? Answer to what?" The detective was somewhat confused by the back and forth, but primarily unconcerned because of the lightness between his two companions. He decided to play along. "Can't you two make any moves forward in this relationship without me?"

Sara swigged the last of Grissom's beer. Taking the glass from her, he feigned innocence of the question in the air and asked, "Would you like a beer? Brass, are there any left or did we drink them all?"

"Funny, Honey," she bumped her shoulder against Grissom's. "Me joining in your beer fest is not on the agenda. We came to ask Brass a question."

"Yeah, Gil," Jim waggled his eyebrows. "Ask me a question."

Belching yeastily and instantly coloring slightly, Grissom looked at Sara. "Your question..."

"Well that was charming," Sara nudged him again. "Lose all of your manners in Massachusetts?"

"What question?" Brass interjected.

"No, dear," Grissom responded to Sara. "Excuse me, dear."

"What question?" Brass repeated.

"Really, Gil, you have the best manners of anyone I know and one beer with Brass..."

"Hello? Question?" The detective tried to insinuate himself back in the conversation.

"It was a very large beer," Grissom defended sheepishly.

"Somebody," Brass growled loudly and impatiently, "better ask me something...now."

Sara heaved a dramatic sigh. "Well, all right, fine." She threaded the fingers of her right hand through the fingers of Grissom's left hand. "We wanted to ask you...well, we can't come to an agreement on an issue and we needed you to make the decision for us."

He looked from Sara to Grissom. "So, OK, go on...what do I need to decide? Color scheme for the curtains? Your place or his? Boxers or briefs?"

Sara extended her left hand and asked, "Give me away..."

"Or be my best man?" Gil pulled her close and smiled at her like she was the only light in the room. After a moment, he looked at Brass. "We can't decide and neither of us will give in."

The smile that spread over Brass's craggy features was a thing of beauty. "You..." he stared for a minute at the sapphire and diamond platinum ring glinting on her finger. "You..." he grabbed her hand and pulled her up from the couch into a huge hug. "Sara." He pulled back and studied her face, his hands resting on her shoulders. "You sure you're up for spending the rest of your life with this guy?"

The beaming look she gave him was all the answer he needed. She shrugged. "Well, it was either him or you and you never asked."

He hugged her again, before reaching over to shake Grissom's hand vigorously. "When are you doing this?"

Sara stepped back into the circle of Grissom's arms. "As soon as you make a decision."

"Let me get my shoes," Brass nodded.

Grissom grabbed Brass's arm, "Wait...wait...we need your decision first!"

"No, you don't." He looked down at himself. "I should probably change, too. Is it just me? Or are you going to invite everyone else?"

Turning to Sara, Grissom asked, "I know we weren't planning on today, but...shall we? We can call the others from the car..." He glanced at Brass, grinning, "You'll have to call Ecklie, though."

"Done." Brass laughed as he headed back to his bedroom.

"Gil..." Sara's trembling fingers touched her lips, then touched his. "Are you sure?"

His kissed the tips of her fingers lightly, then her lips. When he was done, he gazed at her as she slowly opened her eyes. "I'm sure...are you ready?"

She looked at the man she loved, at the light in his eyes she knew was a reflection of the joy in her own. "Yes." She rested her forehead against his. "I'm ready for our life to begin."

Grissom nodded, "All right, let's get started."

It was different for both of them...the idea of doing something so big, so spontaneously. Somehow, though, it just seemed right.

And it was.

FIN