A/N: Sorry it took me a couple of days to post. I'm up to my neck in stuff right now. Let me reiterate, though: this is NOT a GSR story. No, Grissom will not come riding in on a white horse and sweep Sara off her feet. I'm extremely frustrated with Grissom's character right now, so I'm giving him what he deserves here! You all know that I'm an extreme fan of Geeklove (hence the name); this is just me venting. I do love me some Jim Brass, though.

As he rapped his knuckles against Grissom's office door, Brass took a deep breath. This had the potential to be ugly. "Come in," Grissom called.

Brass pushed the door open and entered Grissom's inner sanctum. "What can I do for you, Jim?" Grissom asked, barely looking up. Brass sat down and plowed ahead.

"Gil, I need to talk to you—friend to friend." The serious tone in his voice caught Grissom's attention. He put his pen down, took off his glasses, and regarded Jim with narrowed eyes.

"This sounds serious."

Brass didn't know how to respond to that, so he didn't. He simply plunged in head-first, heedless of the danger. "Gil, I just wanted to tell you that I'm taking Sara to dinner tomorrow night. I know how you feel about her—hell, we all know how you feel about her—but I also know that you're never going to act on it. You said it yourself to Lurie." Brass rubbed a big mitt over his eyes before continuing. "You're one of my closest friends, and I just didn't want you to hear it from someone else." Brass finished and looked up at his friend. Grissom was staring at him, expressionless. After a moment, during which Brass was sure time was crawling by at a tenth of its normal rate, Grissom opened his mouth.

"You're…taking Sara…to dinner." It was a statement, rather than a question.

"Yes."

"And this is…a date. As in, not just a friendly dinner."

"That's correct. It is a date. It is not just a friendly dinner."

"You…care for her."

Brass stared his friend down. "I do. Very much."

Grissom sat back and blew out a huge breath. Brass was relieved to finally see a trace of emotion cross Grissom's face. He was pissed—and trying to hide it. "Well, what do you want me to do, Jim—pat you on the back?"

Brass bristled, then quickly gained control of his emotions. In a slow, steady voice, hinting at the anger underneath, he addressed his friend. "Gil, I came in here as a courtesy. I neither need nor desire your permission to take Sara to dinner. You've made it clear a thousand times, including just now in the lobby, when you barely glanced her way, that you intend to do nothing about your feelings for her. Being in love with her and not acting on it might make you an idiot, but it does not make you a martyr. You have no claim on her and it's time you allowed her to get on with her life instead of throwing her a bone every now and then just to keep her close." With that last, Jim forcibly clamped his mouth shut, fearing he'd gone too far.

Grissom regarded him with wide eyes. Brass waited. Finally, Grissom spoke.

In a hoarse voice, laden with regret and tinged with weariness, he said, "You're right." He shrugged. "I love her, but I can't allow myself to do it." He paused, as if trying to work up the courage to say something else. Finally, while playing with a paper clip, "I apologize for what I said. It was out of line. I hope it…works out for you."

Brass rose from his seat, straightened his tie, and stuck his hand across the desk. "Thanks, Gil," he said firmly, trying to ignore the dead fish in his grip.

-

At 6:40 pm, Sara stood naked, save panties, inside her closet. Her hair was done and her makeup was on. Now for something to wear. "Dress casually." Right. Casual. What did that mean? Casual dressy or casual casual? She blew out a deep breath and decided to take him at his word—casual. There was almost no way she could go wrong with that. If he was taking her to a nice restaurant, he would have told her to dress nicely.

With a grunt of frustration and a hearty eye-roll, she rather roughly grabbed a white button-down shirt off its hanger. After a moment's thought, she paired it with a white silk bra, some faded jeans, a necklace of dark wooden beads, a single silver ring, and a comfortable pair of Birkenstocks. Adding a brown leather belt and her watch, she surveyed herself in the mirror. With a firm nod, she decided not to stress over it any longer. She looked good.

She grabbed her purse and walked into her living room to wait. She eyed the clock and grunted in frustration again. 6:45. "First dates suck," she muttered. Realizing her words, she raised a single eyebrow. First date? Would there be more? What on Earth was she doing? Jim Brass? Now that was a man she'd never imagined herself with. A small smile played on her lips. Somehow, against all odds, it seemed right. She settled back on her couch and waited.

-

Brass enthusiastically drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he began the cross-town journey to pick Sara up at her apartment. He was in a phenomenal mood, which helped to quell his first-date jitters.

He stopped at a red light and proceeded to reach for his wallet to double-check that he had enough cash. Flipping it open, his eyes fell upon his most recent photo of Ellie—her seventh-grade picture. Seeing his daughter in her more innocent, carefree days caused a bittersweet smile to play upon his lips—until he made the inevitable connection: his daughter was only a few years younger than the woman he was about to take to dinner.

Brass groaned and proceeded to do the math in his head. 'Sara turned 33 in September and I just turned 52. Oh, dear God. Nineteen years. I'm trying to rob the fucking cradle here.' He immediately began berating himself as the world's biggest lecher before his logical side won out and reasoned that Sara had agreed to see him outside of work. 'If the age was a problem for her, she would have declined my invitation.'

He pulled into the parking lot of Sara's apartment complex and killed the ignition. He took a deep breath and blew it out before exiting his vehicle. 'Come on, Brass, you're 52, not 16. First-date jitters are not cool.'

His nerves sufficiently calmed, he shut his door and started toward Sara's apartment. He knocked soundly and stood back.

After a moment, the door swung inward and there stood Sara Sidle, his date for the evening.

TBC