Title: Lions, Tigers and Bears

Summary: [Reconciling "Butterflied" and "Suckers"] When Grissom's Valentine's Date cancels, he calls a long lost friend to save the day. Now it's just them, dinner…and the mating rituals of lions, tigers and bears. Oh my! [G/S]

Pairings: Grissom/Sara

Rating: PG

Category: Humour/Romance

Archives/Links: I'd be honoured, and you'd be insane. Just ask!

Author's Notes: Sorry this update took so long, I have a terrible cold. Thanks to all the kind reviews, there were some very nice comments. :-) I'm glad you're all enjoying my twisted little mind. This chapter features "The Date", so my apologies. Or apopollylogies.

Disclaimer: All rights to CSI belong to those lucky SOB's that make their living off of it.

Now on with the story!

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Sara met him outside the auditorium, a truly breath taking sight. He recognized the dress as one she had for court, but shedding the jacket paired with strappy heeled sandals gave a new look. An incredibly more attractive look.

When she spotted him, a grin split her face. For the moment, they could have been anywhere. In the lab, in a restaurant…on the moon, as far as he was concerned.

"H-Hi," she said, stumbling over the simple word. She tugged at the hem of her dress nervously, and he noticed her hands shook ever so slightly.

"For you," he said, offering her a small box. "It being Valentine's and all, I thought you'd like it. I thought about flowers, but they're so…"

"Superfluous?" she suggested, grinning. More of her smiling-represses-the-gag-reflex grin then a relaxed beam, but he was willing to take what he could get at this point.

She pulled at the bow, opening the lid.

"Cute. Very Grissom-esque," she quipped, extracting her gift from its box.

"Hardly. My models are anatomically correct."

"Somehow I don't doubt it," she grumbled good-naturedly. "Of course you gotta stick me with the ladybug with heart-shaped spots."

"People tend to overdo Valentine's Day," he said dismissively.

"Yeah," she agreed quietly, then perked up. "So, what's the topic of tonight's symposium?"

"Wondering what dragged me out of my house?"

No, she thought. I was wondering what was interesting enough that you could stand my presence for more then thirty seconds.

"Yeah."

"The Mating Rituals of Lions, Tigers and Bears. It's about human intervention in the procreation of endangered species."

She laughed, significantly more at ease then she had been a few moments earlier.

"We should head in. Make sure we have dinner before the speaker starts."

She nodded, lost in her own thoughts. She was not conscious of reaching for the arm he offered, but reach for it she did.

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"It's nice," Sara said, taking in the décor. "A little overkill on the pink theme, but nice."

'A little' was quite a generous estimate.

"The lights go down in half an hour. Hopefully our eyes will survive the assault until then. And if all else fails, I have an extra pair of sunglasses in the car," Grissom dryly remarked.

He spotted a table near the back of the room and directed her towards it. She took a seat gratefully, silently thanking whatever higher power there was he didn't try to pull out the chair for her.

He sat across from her, and they studied one another for a minute. The silence was not awkward, but a heavy hush held power over them all the same.

A young woman came to the table, already looking a bit frazzled.

"Chicken or bass?" she asked bluntly.

Oddly enough, the attitude made Sara more comfortable. It wasn't any day she went out to dinner with The Gil Grissom. The waitress's grating voice reminded her that she was there, sitting in an over-decorated hotel restaurant waiting for Dr. Phyllis Walker to take the stage.

Grissom motioned the waitress closer, and then discreetly asked for a vegetarian plate. The absurdity was there was no vegetarian plate, and he looked guilty.

"Gris, it's fine. I'll have the bass. There's a big difference between eating fish once and cleaning up raw hamburger. "

She smiled in an attempt to reassure him, but he didn't look satisfied.

"I'll take the bass too. Thanks," he said.

"And for beverages?"

"Coffee."

He looked at Sara, who nodded.

"For both of us."

The waitress left.

"Hey, Grissom. Just so you know……… I had fun tonight."

"You've been here less then ten minutes," he noted.

"Yeah, but when we get called in early I'll probably forget," she chuckled. "By the way, how is it Night Shift isn't scheduled until 9:30 tonight?"

"Day shift's covering it."

"I know. Why?"

"Eckley needed my vote for the new policy. I told him he could return the favour."

She looked surprised. "You sold your morals for two hours off work?"

"I was voting in favour to begin with. Eckley doesn't need to know that though."

She gave a disbelieving snort.

"Good job Mr. Politico."

The couple at the neighbouring table glared at them, and Sara laughed harder.

"Must not like laughter interrupting their classy animal sex seminar," she whispered.

God she felt giddy.

The strong smell of coffee aroused her, and she took the offered cup appreciatively. The liquid was hot and strong, and she took several gulps before putting it down.

"I saw an interesting program this afternoon. Right up your alley. Kidnapping/murder solved by a tarantula."

"Jenny Munroe, 16. Disappeared in late March of '85. From New Mexico…Naya, I think. Found her body in Michigan."

"You're familiar with the case."

"No."

She wasn't sure if he was joking or refusing to discuss the situation, and she didn't care to find out. She cast about her mind for a change of topic, and hit upon one.

Who taught you to sign? She asked with her fingers.

He looked surprised at her display.

"When-" No, he reasoned. You know perfectly well when. Right after you snapped at her about understanding, over the Clemonds case. You express one iota of interest in a topic and she jumps to learn more. Whether it's the need to impress or hatred of someone having the one up on her was the only real question.

Instead, he found himself replying.

My mother.

She nodded. He launched into an explanation with his hands, relishing a shared secret. She mimicked his hand motions unintentionally, using them to help decipher his meaning. She finally held up her hands in defeat.

"I give. I'm not that fluent yet."

He explained in words then, and it proved the perfect jumping point to the conversation. The chatted continuously, pausing only briefly when dinner arrived. They discussed their parents –albeit briefly, as neither had much to say-, then some old memories neither had revisited in years. Around the time she imitated a monkey – a performance he knew several people would pay to see- the constraints of normalcy were gone.

They fell quiet when the houselights dimmed, both equally and separately engrossed by the speaker. When the houselights rose for desserts to be ordered, they both blinked in surprise.

"Truly fascinating," she said.

"Absolutely," he said.

Their waitress from earlier returned, looking more worn then before. She handed them a dessert menu – why they only had two main courses and about a dozen desserts was beyond Sara- and they quickly conferred.

"What'll it be?"

"Is there even that big a difference between dark and milk chocolate brownie sundaes?" Sara asked, incredulous that the choice existed.

"Milk chocolate is for kids. Dark chocolate is for lovers," Grissom explained.

"I know, I know. Dark chocolate has a higher percentage of cocoa…which means more phenyl ethylamine. Mimics the sensation of being in love. You have to love those chemicals."

"Must you be so scientific?"

"Yep," she taunted happily.

The waitress tapped her pencil against her pad impatiently. Sara and Grissom stared at one another, both daring the other to go first. Sara finally folded.

"A brownie sundae…" she paused for effect. "Dark chocolate."

She felt a surge of guilty pleasure at the look of horror on Grissom's face. He didn't say anything, just motioned that he'd have the same. The waitress left, rolling her eyes.

"Care to tell me something?"

She meant to reply with another embarrassing suggestion, but she noticed a strange look in his eyes. Too fast.

"I couldn't think of anything more appropriate for a couple of old friends to eat while they listened to a presentation on panda procreation," she smirked.

Old friends. Right.

He would have pursued that thought, but the lights dimmed for the second part of the lecture.

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Second intermission came at quarter after eight, and they decided to leave then.

"Don't want to show up on time," Sara explained. "And certainly not dressed like this. I'd never live it down."

"Can't see why you'd want to," he mumbled.

"What?"

"Nothing. Let's go."

He walked her to her vehicle, and they lingered there for a moment.

"Thanks for inviting me. Especially today of all days. Otherwise I'd be sitting at home feeling sorry for myself. I mean…the only reason this holiday exists is so card companies can make singles feel bad. It makes their chocolate stocks move in leaps and bounds."

He half-smiled. "Any time."

He reached to brush a tendril of hair from her face and she jumped.

"I'll…I'll see you at work."

The meaning of her words hung in the air.

I'll see you at work boss. And don't mention…this…because there's no way we could keep up the friends façade. Now is not the time for middle ground.

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Criticism most welcome. :-)