"Grissom?" He didn't respond, so Sara pushed the covers aside, rested her head on her hand, and leaned over, looking at him. She loved watching Grissom like this. In sleep, his face relaxed into smooth lines and the harsh expression he affected during waking hours disappeared, making him look years younger. She trailed a fingertip lightly through his gray curls, then moved her finger down to his cheek.
"You like what you see, Sara?" Grissom asked without opening his eyes.
Sara jerked her hand away. "You're supposed to be asleep! Why didn't you answer me when I said your name a minute ago?"
He turned over, yawning. "And deny you your fun? Never. Besides, I watch you sleep, so I thought it was only fair." He held out a hand to her. "Come back here, I'm cold without you as my blanket."
"It's almost time to get up anyway, Gris. See?" She picked up the alarm clock from the bedside table and held it out to him "Five twenty-eight. If we go back to sleep now we'll just be that much crankier two minutes from now." She gave his shoulder a pat and stood up, stretching.
"Speak for yourself," he said, turning back into the pillow. "I get to sleep at least 'til you're out of the shower."
Sara growled something unkind and threw the covers aside, baring Grissom's skin to the cold air. "Get your butt up, bugman. This is an equal-opportunity household. If I'm up, you're up." She was gratified to see the goosebumps rising on his back as he tried to pull the covers back from her hands. "Did you have a late night last night and not tell me or something?" Sara asked with a laugh. "Come on, you fell asleep earlier than me."
Grissom gave a hard yank on his end of the covers and Sara's body came flying toward him as the strength of the tug pulled her off her feet. Pouncing on her, he grinned. "And this surprises you? I always fall asleep earlier than you, Sara. I'm not the one who hardly sleeps."
Sara scrambled to her feet. "Fine, go back to sleep. See if I come back to get you out of bed when I'm dressed. You can just be late to work and try to explain that to everyone else."
"Aw, Sara . . ."
"Nope," she said with a firm shake of her head. "Up, Gris."
Grissom grumbled, but slowly stood up. "You're evil. I don't have to work tonight anyway, Sara, why do I have to be up with you?"
"Oh, you know, I forgot about that. But still. You wouldn't want me to go to work hungry, now would you? You know I can't cook my own breakfast . . ."
"You did it for three years without me, Sidle."
"Mmm," Sara said noncommittally. She swaggered toward him, threw her arms around him, and kissed him deeply. "Wake up, Grissom," she said laughingly. "You can always stay warm this way."
Grissom groaned. "Sara, this is torture, stop."
"Ok," she chirped. She ran her fingers through his hair one more time and pressed against him, then pulled away and snagged a towel, heading into the bathroom.
Grissom shot a dirty look at her back. Well, he was certainly awake now, thanks to that kiss. Giving up on going back to bed, he pulled on a pair of shorts and wandered into the kitchen, pondering what to make for Sara.
He was just putting three waffles onto a plate when he felt a wet body against his back. "See?" Sara purred. "You love getting up just to cook for me."
Grissom stretched a hand behind his back, confirming his suspicion that Sara was sans towel. He turned around and hugged her, trying to ignore the fact that she was naked. "Come on, Sara, eat. You've got to get to work. And go put some clothes on and stop bothering the cook!" he added with a grin.
Sara simply shook her head and stood on her toes to kiss him. "The cook loves to be bothered. And I've got fifteen minutes before I have to start hurrying . . ."
Twenty minutes later
Sara kissed him again and stood up. "Remind me next time that there are better places than kitchen chairs, huh?"
Grissom only smiled, glad that he didn't have to move in the near future. "Go on and get dressed before I let you seduce me again. I don't think my back can take it."
"Old man," she laughed, and walked toward the bedroom, purposely swaying her hips just to hear Grissom growl.
She was back five minutes later, dressed and pulling a comb through her hair. "Ugh, next time I'll get the knots out of my hair before I do something that gives it enough time to dry into one big mass." Switching the comb to her other hand, she leaned against Grissom, who was balanced against the edge of the counter. "So what are you going to do with your day off?"
He shrugged. "Well, since I have so much time now that someone woke me up hours early, I might go out to a movie or something. How much time do you have before you have to leave?"
Sara checked her watch. "It's 6:45 . . . depending on how much I want to eat, I've got between forty-five minutes and half an hour. Why?"
He gave her a look that said "see how much I love you?" and sat down. "Do you still want to discuss a dog? No promises," he said quickly, "but I at least want to know what you want and why."
Sara forked a bite of now-cold waffle into her mouth and looked thoughtful. "Well like I told you, I want a Great Dane. I like big dogs. Can you picture either of us with little ankle-biters running around the house, trying to eat the bugs?" She laughed when Grissom shuddered. "Yeah, exactly. Anyway, Danes are one of the least demanding types of big dogs. They're not hyper and they're happy as long as you love them. And," she tacked on for his benefit, "they're friendly, but can be fiercely protective of their pack – that would be you and me."
Grissom looked skeptical. "They're also big enough to do major damage to the house, and they're tall enough to get to anything we try to put out of a dog's reach."
"That's the point of the training, Gris. You don't have to come to obedience classes, you know. I can go alone if you're not interested. I can make time for it."
"Ok," he said slowly. "Say I were to agree to this insane idea. What traits do you want in the dog you pick?"
"Well," she said carefully, "I wish you would have some input. I don't want to get a dog and then have you hate it because you only agreed to get it to shut me up."
"I have input," he said. "And I don't dislike dogs. I just want to know what kind of animal we'd have running around if you had your choice."
Sara sighed. "Ok, hmm. Well I don't want a dog that's going to be bouncing off the walls. Calm is good. Um, intelligent, friendly. Patient . . . the dog can't get pissed at us when we leave it at home during shift. And for what it's worth, I'd ideally choose a black or fawn-colored one. What about you?"
Grissom nodded pensively. "Your criteria sound reasonable. The dog would certainly have to be able to spend a few hours alone, and I don't think either of us could deal with a dog that's destructive."
"So?" Sara asked excitedly. "Can we get one?"
Grissom shook his head. "I'm not making an on-the-spot decision, and you should know better than to be making one too." He checked the wall clock. "You need to get to work, Sara. We can talk about this more tomorrow."
