Chapter 26

The rest of the night passed without incident; the team was called out to only one case, a robbery, which was easily handled. As the hands of the clock crept toward 8AM, Grissom wondered what he was going to do about Sara. He couldn't very well invite himself back to her place after jumping down her throat when she'd mentioned it earlier. He didn't want to spend the day alone either, though. Being able to hug Sara, or even talk to her freely, was an experience so new that Grissom wanted to experience it constantly. He didn't want to spend a day without her now that he didn't have to.

At precisely 8 o'clock, Sara knocked on the door to his office again. "Hey . . . I just wanted to let you know that I'm going to, uh, catch a ride with Nick to pick up my car. No need to make you play chauffeur twice in once day," she said with a weak smile.

Grissom blinked. Was this a hint? Damn, he wished women came with an instruction manual. How the hell was he supposed to respond to that? With "see you later"? Or "I'll see you at work tonight"? "Uh . . . ok, Sara. Goodnight," he finally mumbled to her already-retreating form. Sighing, Grissom gathered his briefcase and his spider and shuffled toward his own car.

Grissom's townhouse

            When Grissom heard a knock on his front door, he had to stop himself from jumping out of his chair and running to answer it. It probably wasn't Sara, he reminded himself – did she even remember where he lived? He doubted it. He didn't bother to check the peephole. If it wasn't Sara, it was most likely Catherine, and he really didn't want to talk to his friend right now.

He opened the door.

It was Sara, holding a bag of pancake mix and a bottle of syrup. "You didn't seem too keen on the idea of having pancakes at my house . . . so I figured I'd try yours." She smiled tentatively. "So . . . can I come in?"

"Oh! Oh, yeah, come on in!" Grissom was trying to assimilate the information that not only did Sara know where he lived, but she was at his front door. And she didn't even seem to be mad at him. He threw the door open, almost knocking himself in the head in the process. This was becoming a comedy; he needed to calm down.

Sara hoped Grissom wasn't angry at her for riding home with Nick instead of him. It wasn't that she hadn't wanted to be in a car with Grissom, it was just that she had been – and still was – feeling overwhelmed by the happenings of the past few days. She had needed time to think.

Having spent the past two hours "thinking," she still had no idea how to handle all this, but at least she was feeling calmer. The pancakes were both a gesture of peace and an attempt at normalcy. "I think it's your turn to cook, Grissom," she smiled.

Grissom reached for the bag of mix, but Sara teasingly twitched it out of his hand. He raised his eyebrows. "Gee, this looks familiar, Sara. Are you going to get revenge on me for that flour episode yesterday?"

Sara smirked. "Maybe. Why don't we go into the kitchen and you'll find out one way or another?"

He liked the sound of that. Maybe he could get another peek at a wet Sara – oops, bad idea. Don't think about that. Think about pancakes. He followed her into the kitchen, smiling to himself.

"Finally, I get my chance to prove to you that I can cook, as long as it's not bread that you want." He reached for the bag of mix again and wasn't surprised when Sara continued with her game of keep-away. "Oh so it's like that, is it?" She nodded, trying to hide her grin. "Well then I guess I'll have to play as dirty as you do . . ." he said, inching closer until he had Sara pinned against the waist-high counter.

"Then again, perhaps there are things more interesting than pancakes," he said, leaning closer to her. Sara leaned back, moving the bag of mix behind her back. She fought it, but was soon mesmerized by his eyes. Unconsciously she leaned her face toward him while moving her body away. She blinked . . . and Grissom snatched the pancake mix out of her hand. Dropping a kiss on her cheek, he grinned. "Thanks, dear."