Happy BFF day to my buddy C! Enjoy this!

"Hey Jim, have you seen Grissom?" Sara asked, trying to sound neutral, knowing full well that Jim Brass was painfully aware of their relationship.

He had always been onto them and would make suggestive remarks or jokes when it was just the three of them at a scene or at PD. It was all in good fun, but Sara and Grissom would never give in to it and let on.

It was hard to deny it anymore though, after she had answered Grissom's door with no bra in an oversized tshirt and sweats with her damp, freshly showered hair pulled back into a messy loose ponytail a few months back, and to her surprise, found him on the other side. They had had a long shift and neither felt like cooking, so once they returned to his condo Grissom had uncharacteristically ordered a pizza.

Since spending more days and nights at his condo, Sara's takeout dependency had all but dissipated because as she quickly learned, Gil Grissom could cook. Exceptionally well, at that. He would always, no matter how tired, make them something delicious after shift and try to teach her as he went. Sometimes it was simple like omelettes, sometimes more complex like lasagna, but regardless she would always wear a mischievous grin and end up stealing the cut up cheese or vegetables or cooked noodles as he was preparing. He would pretend to be disappointed and annoyed, but she knew deep down he loved it and enjoyed their natural playful moments away from the darkness of the lab and the realities of the monsters outside his condo walls. He even started cutting up more than a recipe would call for because he knew she would swoop in like a starving vulture and get handsy with the peppers and mushrooms.

Despite being incredibly well fed for the last year, she still had a soft spot for a greasy slice of cheese and mushroom pizza and had a skip in her step as she made her way to the door with his wallet... but the smile on her face turned to shock when instead of a pimple faced delivery boy, she was met with an equally shocked looking detective Jim Brass.

She swore under her breath, and he quirked a quick "gotcha" smile. They simply looked at each other for what felt like minutes. He didn't even need to ask and she sure as hell wasn't about to say anything either. The pizza guy arrived a few seconds after she opened the door, and she quickly paid for their deluxe veggie pizza, with Gil's Amex, as Brass looked on at her. He definitely noticed it was Grissom's card and he watched her as if she were a puzzle he was trying to decipher. Once Connor the delivery kid left, the blush returned to her face.

She cleared her throat, and asked if he needed them for a scene. He said no, he was just stopping by to see if Grissom wanted to grab a drink. She nodded.. and awkwardly shrugged as she asked if he wanted to come in for a beer and a slice of pizza. He said no, but to tell Gil he stopped by. She awkwardly said she would. And then he left with a wink, and cheekily quipped have fun as he turned around.

Neither of them spoke of it again but there was definitely an understanding. When she told Gil she was nearly sick to her stomach with nerves but he simply laughed heartily, and explained that Jim new months ago without evidence. He assured her their secret would be safe with Jim, and it might be nice to have someone in their corner. He proved to be right, because every now and then having someone at work who knew came in handy... like today.

"He's in my office, taking a nap on my couch." Jim raised his eyebrows at her as if to poke fun, "Pretty sure he's got a migraine. He's been dealing with pedophiles and dead kids all evening."

Sara nodded sadly, and shot him a lopsided grin as if to thank him. He winked before he turned and headed towards the coffee cart.

Turning her body towards Brass' office Sara let out a sigh. If he did in fact have a migraine he would be in no condition to drive, or to fulfil the plans they had set to watch a movie and ironically, order in dinner. After the pizza incident it had become a Friday tradition of sorts when they both managed to be home at a decent time.

She peeked through the small cracks of the shades and could vaguely make out his form on the couch, and decided not to knock, knowing sounds made his head worse. Instead she quietly and slowly opened the door, sneaking in so as to let minimal light and sound into his little sanctuary.

Closing the door behind her, Sara glanced around the dark room, her eyes landing on her lover laying on the couch, his face twisted from the pain, and his strong hands draped onto his upper stomach.

She breathed deeply, and made her way to the floor beside the couch, kneeling beside him.

She knew he could sometimes be sensitive to touch when he had migraines, but sounds were monumentally worse, so she apprehensively outstretched her long fingers to lightly brush against his temples and tuck a rogue salt and pepper curl behind his ear. He flinched, briefly, but then breathed a sigh of comfort and relief at her touch.

Sara pursed her lips with a half smile, soaking up the knowledge that this was her man. Even if he was rendered invalid by his migraine, he was hers. His breath of relief at her touch told her enough.

Being their typical selves, they had yet to actually express the word love to one another, but the implication was always there. In quiet moments like this one, Sara had absolutely no doubt in her mind that he loved her and she had never been more sure she loved him too.

"Hi." She whispered tenderly, her lips forming and lopsided Sidle smile.

He simply groaned, and tried to form a small smile, but moving his face caused him to wince even more.

"Do you feel sick?" She whispered again, knowing that more often than not his particularly bad headaches would be accompanied by a bout of nausea and sometimes even vomiting.

"Not yet. But it's coming." He croaked out, swallowing sticky saliva down his bone dry throat.

"Ok." She nodded, not that he could see it behind his closed eyes, "We should get you home before you do. I can drive."

Grissom opened one eye to take in the sight of the woman on her knees beside him, and despite all of the discomfort and pain coursing through his body at that moment, his heart swelled with emotion at the sight of her.

The golden morning sun was beginning to seep through the blinds, highlighting her brown hair with a shade of red. Her eyes were gentle. Dark. Full of tenderness and affection, the same way they would be after making love. The same way they were yesterday morning around this time when she woke him up with her lips on his manhood and her fingers on his hips.

She had her red faux leather jacket on, and her cross body bag was slung over her shoulders. Her sunglasses were atop her head. She was beautiful.

"Come on." She smiled sweetly as her finger tips brushed against his temple one last time before leaving his face and making their way to his shoes that were on the ground. As if she were his mother, she slipped his shoes on his feet gently, and helped him sit up.

"Sunglasses." She whispered as she handed them to him. He smile gratefully and stood up beside her, his body wobbling with dizziness.

"You ok?" Sara questioned as she placed a steadying hand on his back. She was met with a slow nod.

"Ok. Let's get out of here."

He walked close behind her, keeping his eyes slitted behind his sunglasses, following her lead. He knew where he was going of course, he could walk these halls blindfolded. But there was something intimate about being led through the halls by Sara Sidle without a touch. No one else knew it. No one they passed knew they were going home together, nor did they know the things they did together in private. He couldn't quite name it, or describe it, but it was a feeling of total surrender and vulnerability that only she would ever see.

Over the last year they had both done wonders for each other.

They had both learned to let someone else in. Let someone else care for them. To listen to their own hearts and minds and act on those secret, forbidden desires.

She never, not once, judged him.

Not when he told her his fantasies. Not when he confessed he had fantasized about her before they became intimate. Not when he was so consumed in a forensic article that he forgot to even acknowledge her presence in his home or in his bed. One night he hadn't even heard her come home, or heard the shower running and then turn off. He didn't hear her say goodnight.. and when he finally made it to bed a few hours later and saw her asleep holding his pillow in her arms, it hit him like a ton of bricks. For a spirited woman who often lost her temper at work; in their home life she never judged him or got angry. Not even when he got a migraine after Nick was rescued and basically slept on his bathroom floor.

They hadn't even officially decided to "try this out" yet.

They had been getting significantly closer since the Adam Trent situation, but nothing official, certainly no lingering intimate touches or kisses yet. No real conversation about what exactly was happening between them.

After visiting Nick at the hospital and exchanging hugs and tears with the rest of the team, she showed up at his condo with a bottle of scotch to find him disheveled and pale. She immediately knew he had a migraine, she could see it in his eyes. She brushed past him, placing the scotch on his kitchen island and getting him a cold glass of water. He accepted it and drank it gratefully, and took his prescription medication with it. They didn't speak. They didn't need to. She sat with him on the bathroom floor for hours, her head leaned up against the cool tile wall, occasionally on his shoulder, watching him pinch the bridge of his nose and grimace and choke as waves of nausea coursed through him. He was never sick, thankfully, but he attributed that only to her presence. Each time a wave would come she could see it on his face and would run her long fingers through his soft hair, and massage his clammy head as he hung over the toilet until it passed. It was more intimate of a situation than either of them had ever experienced with another human being, and it was equal parts terrifying and eye opening.

Eventually, when the morning light came and his medication kicked in, she encouraged him to his bed and made herself comfortable on his couch to rest. When he woke several hours later his mind was clear and everything was still and quiet, and he could smell strong coffee brewing and her quiet voice humming from the kitchen. He remembered it all, every head massage, her soft voice, the feel of her cold fingers against his hot skin. He remembered her staying. He remembered her whispering to him as he succumbed to sleep in his bed that she would be here when he woke up. And she was.

He would follow her anywhere. Anywhere she led was always to a place of security and immense intimacy, whether it was to a shared bed in the throes of passionate love making or just down the health food aisle watching her pick out the right brand of vitamin C. She had awoken him, and introduced him to a way of love making that he had never known. He had been sexually intimate before, of course, but never like it was with Sara. He had never felt a woman's lips on him before Sara, and my god was if euphoric. She couldn't believe it, the first time she went down on him, when he stopped her and said he had never done that before. But she didn't laugh. She didn't even purse her lips in her quirky way. She simply moved back up to kiss his lips softly, and then his cheek as if to reassure him it was ok, and then moved herself back down. She never broke eye contact. She didn't make a scene of it like they do in pornographic videos - it was simply an extension of their love making. It was beautiful and passionate and when he... came... she swallowed all of him gratefully, licked him clean, and kissed his head in gratitude.

He had also never made love to a woman with her on top, witnessing her immense climax as if it were the worlds most erotic and beautiful IMAX movie. In reality, he realized he had been quite inexperienced before Sara. He had known how to pleasure a woman with his fingers and his tongue - her gasps and moans and shudders and the way she dug her finger nails into his back reassured him he hadn't lost his touch. But, he had always been on the giving side of things, never the receiving end of things... until Sara.

He had dreamed, oh so many times, he had dreamed... but it wasn't until she opened his heart and unlocked the man inside of him that his dreams could become a reality. A visceral, earth shattering reality.

"Are you going to get in?" She asked quietly with a chuckle in her voice as they finally stood by her silver Toyota Prius. Her soft voice snapped him out of his trance and he offered her a small smile and tried to manage a wink behind his glasses, as he ducked low into her car and fastened himself in.

The drive was quiet. Sara was typically an aggressive and fast driver but on this particular morning she drove slow and carefully. The radio was turned off. They didn't speak. No casual conversation about what they'd eat when they got in. About what toiletries they needed to replenish. About something funny Greg said, or about the cases they had just worked. No, they drove in silence, her fingers entwined with his on the centre console.

Once inside his condo, Sara immediately made her way down to his open concept kitchen and turned on the stove to boil a kettle of water. She carefully retrieved two green tea bags from his tea cabinet and placed them in two matching baby blue mugs.

He watched her as she puttered around his home. His home, that he had willingly opened up to her. The home he willingly, no, eagerly shared with her. His home where she spent most of her free time now, either on his couch wrapped up in the knit blanket his mother made years ago reading one of his textbooks or entwined with his limbs wearing nothing at all in the warmth his bed. His home that was very much also her home now.

Suddenly feeling some relief of his migraine, something became abundantly clear to him.

He loved her.

He loved her with every fibre of his being.

Really, he had always known. But right now in this moment, watching her lovingly prepare tea for him in his kitchen, reaching up into cabinets so that her little shirt revealed an inch of her soft, irresistible skin, doing her best to be quiet and slow... he had this overwhelming response. This all consuming fire in his chest.

"Sara." He spoke, low and guttural, as he came up behind her.

"Go lay down, I'll bring this in and grab your pills too." She spoke quietly, flashing him a quick sad smile. "You should rest before it gets worse."

He shook his head. Suddenly able to completely ignore the intense pain behind his eyes.

"Sara," he began again, placing a gentle hand on her hip, and attempting to turn her to face him. She did so willingly under his touch.

"Sara." He sighed with relief when his eyes met hers. He returned the smile, and searched her eyes.

"Are you ok?" She giggled as she brought a hand up to his face, brushing air off of his cheekbone with her thumb. She probably thought his migraine was making him delirious.

"Yes." He nodded, his voice certain, as he leaned his head down to brush her lips with his own.

Kissing Sara was never a chore, and was never just ordinary. It was like the first time every time. Her passion and empathy and love poured out of her body with every ounce of every kiss. He could literally drink her up every single time and never be full. He would gladly drown in her essence before letting go of her lips. This time was no different.

In fact, this kiss was exceptionally moving. He felt it, and he was certain she did too. Her body responded immediately, and he could feel her knees weaken and begin to buckle underneath her as her pelvis instinctively lent forwards into his. He placed a supportive and protective hand on her lower back to reassure her of his presence.

Lips danced and fluids were exchanged for what felt like a lifetime, until their lungs both screamed in revolt.

Releasing her lips from his own, he placed his tacky forehead against hers, and smiled, breathlessly.

"What happened to that migraine? You should really take it -"

"I love you Sara."

"- easy... what?" Her eyes widened as she backed up slightly to meet his gaze.

"I love you." Gil repeated, confidently, "I am in love with you, Sara."

"Oh." Sara gasped, hearing his words clearly, "Oh."

They simply stared at each other in a comfortable shock, searching each other's faces for answers to unspoken questions, until the kettle began to screech.

"Oh shit, sorry." She jumped out of her trance as she quickly turned to remove the kettle from the heat so the whistling would subside and not worsen his head. "Sorry."

Grissom watched her pour the two mugs of tea as her hands shook and her body trembled. Still blissfully unaware of the now dull pain in his head, he placed a hand over hers to still it, and guided her to place the kettle down. She did.

"Sara." He repeated her name deeply. Intimately.

She was avoiding eye contact, he could tell, so he gently turned her body towards his and lifted her chin to raise her eyes to his. What he saw broke his heart, and a burst of pain shot through his fragile head forcing him to close his eyes quickly with a grimace. Her eyes were drowning in unshed tears and fear.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you." He grumbled, as he opened his eyes to see her tear filled ones still staring at him in shock.

"No," she shook her head and forced a small, lopsided grin, "No I'm not upset, honey."

Once again her hand found it's favourite spot, cupping his cheek. Her fingers danced along his jaw line, teasing his beard hairs for a moment before travelling upwards to his disheveled hair where she began to run them through softly.

"I love you too." She whispered, her voice shaking, and a tear finally escaping from her right eye. "I love you so much, Gil."

Now it was his turn to glance at her in shock. His eyes were wide and the softest shade of blue they had ever been. He had known she loved him. Realistically, they both knew they loved one another before the words were spoken. In fact, he knew she probably loved him long before he ever let her. But to say it out loud, to hear it, finally, stirred in him emotions he couldn't label or explain.

"Oh." He smiled, repeating her sentiments.

They both laughed at the irony and intensity of the moment, and he wiped the stray tear away from her cheek.

"I've known for a while, I just realized today you need to hear it and I needed to say it." Grissom kissed her forehead.

Sara let out a deep breath she didn't realize she had been holding, and allowed him to envelope her in his strong arms, bringing her head to his chest. His heart was beating heavily underneath her cheek. He smelled like books and his soap and a little bit like sweat, but it was a musk that she associated with home, with love. They stood there for several minutes until reality hit her again that he did, in fact, have a migraine and needed rest.

Pulling herself away from him slowly, she glanced up to his hazy eyes, and saw them full of sleep and lingering pain. He needed to sleep.

"Come on baby," she whispered, as her hand snaked down to his and entwined their fingers together, "you need to take some medication for your head and we need to sleep."

He nodded, slowly, the exhaustion and pain finally catching up with him again. She was right.

Ideally he would have liked to have consummated their words passionately. He would have shown her just how much he did, in fact, love her.. and she would have been equally as enthusiastic to prove her own devotion to him. She always was. But that just wasn't the case this morning. Reality had other plans; his body had other plans. The spirit was willing, but the body was weak.

He watched as Sara padded away into his bathroom to retrieve his prescription, and she returned a moment later with two white pills. She handed them to him, along with his now lukewarm mug of green tea, and encouraged him to drink.

After the pills had been swallowed, she returned the mug to the counter and focused her fingers and their attentions on his wrist cuffs, making quick work of the buttons, smiling up at him as she moved to the buttons around his neck.

While she knew that these ministrations wouldn't lead where they both wanted them to because of his head, she found satisfaction in teasing him ever so slightly. She knew he was a sucker for her long fingers and loved when she slowly undressed him. Their first time making love she had done this same thing albeit not as gracefully and with much more nervous fingers.

Sara gently released the 8 buttons all the way down the front of his shirt, and helped him remove it tenderly, draping it over a stool by the kitchen island. He was left standing in a soft black cotton tshirt and his slacks. She ran her warm, flat palms across his chest, soaking up the intimacy of the moment. She had waited years for this. Wanted him for years. To touch him. Be with him. Be around him in comfortable silence, having unspoken understandings. Now he was second nature to her. She knew every crevice, every nerve ending, every freckle. She knew how to read his face, and sometimes even his silence. She knew everything he liked, and everything he craved. His body was merely an extension of hers, and she found immense pleasure in pleasuring him.

Her hands moved from his chest to his upper arms, and her finger tips danced along his biceps feeling him shudder underneath her.

"Come on," She smiled and pursed her lips before turning to walk towards Grissom's bedroom with him following closely behind.

When they entered his room it was exactly how they had left it the previous day. The bed loosely made, half empty glasses of water on each side table accompanied by their personal books with bookmarks sticking out. Sara's "side" also housed a 3/4 empty cup of tea, and a small tube of lavender hand cream. The room still smelled of their sleepy musk even in their prolonged absence the last several hours. The sheets were a few days old but they'd been well used.

This was their sanctuary. Their safe space amidst all of the crime and chaos in Las Vegas. This room, this bed.. it was their oasis. Where they could drink each other up in in private, quench their thirst for one another, be wholly and truly themselves and know they were accepted and now, for a certainty, loved.

They quietly made their ways to their respective sides of the queen sized bed, and began to undress. It wasn't erotic by any means, it was simply routine, but somehow it all felt heavier.

Sara quietly slipped off her shoes and unbuttoned her pants and slid them down her long creamy white legs revealing her purple striped cotton underwear. Grissom followed suit and did the same, his eyes never leaving her and her body.

She removed her shirt and bra, replacing it with the oversized Harvard shirt that was stuffed under her pillow, and drew back the comforter to crawl in. She watched as Grissom did the same, keeping his boxers and tshirt on.

Once his head finally hit his pillow, Grissom let out a sigh of relief and brought his fingers to his nose to pinch it's bridge.

Smiling to herself, Sara scooted closer and draped her soft, long leg over his and pressed her lithe body into his side. Her right hand snuck up underneath his tshirt, and her fingers found their way to his soft chest and began to rub in circular motions.

"I do love you, Sara." He sighed, voice heavy with sleep.

"I know." She nodded against his chest with a grin as she breathed him in. Lemons and books and love.

Her love.