A/N: Another fluff chapter-not sure how many chapters left, so we appreciate hearing from you!

This Kind of Love

Chapter 13

Gil Grissom had made plans. True to his word, he brought food for Sara—or Sara to food. He worked off some energy by going home first and changing sheets on his bed, and then he shopped—stopping at a small hardware store for one purchase and then a department store where two ladies were happy to help him make decisions about several female items; with his final stop at the local grocery store, he filled a cart with a dozen items including yogurt, fresh fruit and 'healthy' muffins. Somehow, he had difficulty thinking muffins filled with nuts and chocolate were as healthy as advertised.

Then he called Sara.

Sara had not called him, deliberately. She was scared, truth be told—scared that he had proclaimed he loved her so calmly and easily. Scared that they would make a mistake at work and give away this secret she desperately wanted to keep from the gossipers in the lab. Scared that it would end as simply and suddenly as it had begun.

Then her phone rang.

"I'm coming up," Grissom announced with the same tone he used to assign duties in an exciting case when everyone would grab his enthusiasm.

Sara laughed, saying "What are you doing in my neighborhood? Looking for loose women?"

Before his laughter quieted, her doorbell rang, followed by a tattoo of several knocks.

"Oh! Someone's at my door—got to go!" She opened the door to find a smiling Grissom holding a shiny object between his fingers. "A key?" She asked.

"For you—to my place. So you can go and come." He smiled in a way seldom seen by anyone.

"A key," Sara said again. She was so surprised she could not think of anything else to say.

"Yes, and today—we're going back to my place. Pack your little bag, I have food and some other things and we'll eat, watch a movie." He looked so satisfied with his plans, Sara did not have want to disappoint.

Opening the door and waving him inside, she hesitated before taking the extended key but Grissom didn't seem to notice as he wrapped both arms around her and pushed the door closed with his foot.

He said, "How long has it been? I've wanted to hug you for," he chuckled, "at least twelve hours." Briefly releasing her before taking her face in his hands, he asked, "How are you?" He twined a lock of her hair around his finger. "Tell me you saw a doctor—got meds?"

Sara nodded. "I did—three days, drink lots of water, and—some other advice." Her eyes stayed on the second button of Grissom's shirt. Hurriedly, she added, "No sex for a couple of days." She grimaced, "Not even with a powder puff."

He shrugged. "I did some reading—got you some things and food—I'm so sorry this happened. But—decided to make it movie time," Grissom said, hugging her again. "We'll watch a movie, take a sex-break, eat popcorn and fool around."

She grinned at his "fool around" comment, but asked, "What's the movie?"

"Vertigo or Rear Window."

"Okay—I'll go." She was still uncertain about his plans but it did not take her long to pack her bag.

An hour later, standing in his kitchen, Grissom clasp his hands together, a nervous gesture on his part, as he said, "Are you hungry? You can decide—most mornings I eat cereal and fruit—but we have options."

"You have enough to feed a small army," Sara said with a laugh. She had noticed Grissom had kept several bags out of the kitchen and away from her. She held up several figs. "We can watch movies and eat figs!"

"You need more than figs," he said as he opened the refrigerator. He turned with a container of yogurt in his hand. "According to the latest, this stuff might help." He placed the yogurt on the counter and crooked a finger indicating she was to follow him to the sofa. His smile was enough to tell her he was pleased with himself.

When Sara sat down, he strolled across the room and returned with several shopping bags. "I got some things," he said. "I want you to feel at home here." He gave a cautious smile before continuing, "I enjoy having you here—more than I realized—and—and I know a woman likes to have—you know—things."

He handed Sara one of the bags. Inside, she found shampoo, bath soap, deodorant, lotion—all brands that she kept at home-along with a hair brush, a toothbrush, a package of pink razors. He grinned and handed her a second bag.

When her hand touched fabric, she cooed a soft sound, then expressed surprised as she pulled the article of clothing out of the bag. "What? Pants?"

In her hands, she held long pants—a pale gray silky pair—and the confusion on her face showed; she had never worn anything like these. Grissom sat beside her, a grin on his face.

"There's more," he said indicating the bag in her lap.

She reached in again and pulled out another piece of silky fabric—a tee-shirt, barely—with thin straps and lace around the hem. Her eyes widened as her hand withdrew another bundle of multi-colored silk.

"Underwear—panties?" She exclaimed as her fingers counted six panties.

Grissom sat back and smiled. "A powder puff is hard to find! I read about this—this infection," his finger waggled between them. "New bacteria and frequent—and intense sex introduces it." A pink blush spread across his face. "It—it happens—I—that's what the pants are for," his face winced in embarrassment, "and the panties—natural fabric is supposed to help."

Letting his purchases slid to the floor, she reached and took his face between her hands. "You are sweet, Gilbert!"

Grissom kissed her; he wanted to start nibbling on her ear lobe and continue all the way down her neck, her chest, down her belly until he reached the apex of her thighs. But he managed to keep his lips on hers.

Finally, he said, "I want to see this on you," he indicated the gray pants and top. "Get out of those jeans so you can—can—you know—breathe.

A few minutes later, she returned and did a model turn; the pants covered from the waist down but the tee left little to the imagination. Grissom was pleased.

Sara said, "You made a great choice—pants long enough." She pulled the thin straps away from her shoulders and felt her nipples respond to the silk. "I might need a sweater." She bit her lip when he smiled.

He patted the sofa. "I'll start the movie and get your yogurt," he said.

Along with yogurt and a muffin, he brought her a soft blanket from his bedroom, started the movie, and returned to the kitchen to pour cereal into a bowl. "You want cereal?" He asked as he added milk.

"No, I'm fine."

Settling at the opposite end of the sofa as the music and opening credits rolled for Rear Window, he decided they were fine, very fine.

And for the first twenty minutes of the movie, they remained apart. Sara had curled under the blanket and at some point Grissom motioned for her to stretch her legs.

"Put your feet here," he said as he patted his thigh.

She hesitated, then swung her feet towards him. He slid over so her feet were in his lap. He gave her toes a light squeeze. With a chuckle, he said, "I should have gotten matching socks for these cold feet."

In another ten minutes, as if by some magical process, Grissom's head was resting against Sara, her arm was draped around his shoulders. Her feet were resting—actually captured—between his thighs and snugly against his groin. He was struggling to follow the movie—or at least keep his attention on the movie instead of Sara's warm hip radiating heat to his belly.

She turned her head and when she spoke, he could feel her breath stirring his hair.

She said, "It's an art—this movie."

He responded by murmuring agreement yet his mind was thinking of her. She was art—graceful, glowing, beautiful. He wanted to smooth his palms over the peaks and valleys of her body, feel the smooth texture of her skin. He wanted to tighten his arms around her and taste her skin where her neck and shoulder met, let her scent fill his nostrils. But he did none of that. Instead, he laced his fingers with hers and attempted to focus on Grace Kelly and Jimmy Stewart.

At the movie's end, laughter bubbled from Sara's lips, revealing her white teeth showing that endearing gap that made him want to kiss her even more.

She said, "I love this movie—good choice." She sighed but did not move; he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.

He had to talk—say something to keep them together on the sofa—so he asked, "What would you do—what's one thing you've never done that you would do if no one would ever know?"

She laughed again. "Can I trust you not to laugh?"

"Well, you can trust me to keep a secret."

Sara seemed to think for a moment and then gave him an impish smile. "I'd go swimming naked."

He gasped in mock astonishment as she burst into laughter. "Now—what would you do? I will never tell!"

"I'd go swimming with you—naked."

Her hand threaded through his hair. Leaning over, Sara kissed the top of his head. "You need to sleep. I am on sick leave so I can sleep any time of the day or night." She wiggled enough to escape the tangle they had woven on the sofa. "Go to bed—I'll stay here."

Groaning as he stood, Grissom took her in his arms. Warmth surged through her as she fit against his body. He sighed against her ear and the intimacy of all of it caused Sara to shiver.

"Will you sleep with me?" He asked. "Just be in bed with me—I promise to sleep in jeans and on top of the covers, but I didn't invite you over to—to sleep on the sofa."

Sara leaned and kissed him. "Gilbert, we are spending entirely too much time together! We work together, we eat together, we sleep together!" She laughed softly, "We've even showered together." Her fingers played with the collar of his shirt. "We may suffocate each other."

Shrugging as he smiled, he said, "Well, when we can't breathe, I'll move to the sofa."

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