A/N: Thanks for the reviews, I really had fun writing this. All my love to Matthew. And thanks to Lauren for banishing my doubts.

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Generally, this is how it went: She pulled and he pushed. Not because that's what the proper balance of things required, but because he couldn't get close to her and not feel anything. So, she'd take hold of his lapels and yank him towards her with a force that certainly was more than he had bargained for. But, he'd gain his footing and shove her away, sending her spinning off into the void before she found her way back once more.

This time, this time... it was different. She had tugged lightly, very, very easily, and he'd come and toppled straight into her, their heads metaphorically bashing against each other, knocking both, quite literally senseless.

Her heart raced, came full force when she realized that yes, she'd finally done it and no, it hadn't taken all of her strength to do it. There he was, standing before her, panting out his aggression and his exhaustion. There he stood before her, dripping rain onto the 'Welcome' mat in front of her door. Sara watched as the droplets fell to be sopped up by the fabric as if to say 'Yes, you are welcome.'

Then, she realized how truly cliché the moment was, there on the threshold of her apartment, Gil Grissom stood dripping wet, imploring her to say something, anything. And instead of saying a thing, she laughed at him, full and throaty.

There he stood before her, looking forlorn and torn, covered in rain. Dripping, dripping, dripping on her doormat. He'd brought the desert chill with him, and it caused her to shiver, there in the open doorway.

This time she pulled and he came willingly to her. Stepped into her haven and shut the door behind him. A towel was flung his way and he was vaguely reminded of the old adage about 'throwing in the towel.' But that meant that she was giving up. Perhaps he should have been the one to throw the towel at her.

For he was finally giving in. And yes, he felt like a huge weight had lifted off of his chest, being able to admit to himself that he wanted her, needed her, in a new way. A way he'd never had her in.

All of it, everything could go horribly wrong or so very impossibly right with the clutching of one moment. She should be gone by now, he knew it. In his heart, in his head, he wished that she were gone so he didn't feel quite so guilty about having her here, pining away after him.

But she was pining, and so was he, in his own way of course. Deep, in the back of one of the boxes, a feeling arose and slammed against his chest full force, making him want to take her face in his hands, smooth away the worry lines, many of which he was sure that he'd caused. Smooth them out until they were all gone, and he'd be able to kiss her coolly, regretting nothing.

Grissom wondered, if she closed her eyes and thought of him, did she see the stars? Did she see the unobscured and endless sky, just as he did when he closed his eyes and thought of her.

Years and years and years of wondering would come to a close, she'd make sure of it, tonight. Tonight, they'd be set free.

She smiled at his bulky frame taking up space in her living room. It wasn't enough to have him in her apartment, not now. Not after giving herself so much time to think things over. She needed to show him just why she wanted him, just why she needed him. Because after all, men were idiots.

And then, and then again...

Maybe it would be as good as she thought. But then again, maybe it would be as awkward as he imagined.

Perhaps it would be lethargic and sweet.

Or awkward and embarrassing.

Sweat and skin?

She knew for sure that when it happened, her heart would crack and she'd be flooded with feelings that she'd never felt before.

He wondered if he'd hate her after, if he'd loathe the experience. Loathe the experience and still willfully indulge in the warmth of her body. A sensual pleasure.

It didn't matter.

She was still waiting, standing there before him in her living room, making it a point to stare directly into his eyes. Ironically enough, he stared back, droplets of water falling from his hair onto her hardwood floor. It was too difficult a task not to follow the little rivulets down to his chest.

There was a puddle of water forming on her floor, directly at their feet. She surely would have cared if she wasn't so busy staring at his shirt as it clung to his skin. Returning to his eyes, she was quite literally caught up in the tumult she viewed in them. Blacks and blues and greens and grays...

He wanted to be the very last to love her. She wanted to be the first to love him.

Doing the only thing that her unsettled brain could think to do was kiss him, so she did, soft and fast and far too quickly for her to really enjoy it, or process any of the thoughts passing through her brain.

So he did the only thing his unsettled brain could think to do, and that was to kiss her, with his open mouth, plunging his tongue inside. That stopped all thought for both of them, leaving room for the emotions to course through, confusing the both of them.

Who needed logic in the first place? It only got in the way.

But she decided that she wouldn't allow them to be confused this time, not this time. Not after taking such a huge leap and stepping over all the obstacles that had come before. This time they wouldn't think, they'd just feel.

So, again, she did the only thing that she could think to do. She pulled him towards her bedroom.

Oh yes, and this time, he came willingly.

-fin-