Thanks to Marlou.
The lab had taken on a decidedly more lighthearted mood. It might have had something to do with spring finally rolling around, bringing with it Easter candy and a sweep of fresh air. Or maybe with the Cadbury Crème Eggs, which floated throughout the lab, tulips gracing secretaries' desks.
Grissom wondered what Sara would look like holding a delicate flower in her hand. Sara wondered if Grissom would ever think to send her any type of flowers for any occasion. They both wondered when they would get together again.
Grissom caught up with her that evening in trace, watching her trade a Cadbury Crème egg with Hodges for his caramel one. He nearly chuckled; the exchange had about the it air of a drug deal, both taking their spoils and tucking it carefully away in their lab coats. Then it was back to business.
Hodges spoke to her about the hair she'd found on a victim's clothes clothing, Sara thanked him and Grissom looked on and wondered when Hodges had grown more personable than he had. She walked jovially into the hall, all the while tracing her fingers over the egg in her pocket. Grissom fell in step behind her silently, following her to the break room. It was only there that he made his presence know.
Clearing his throat loudly, he spoke. "Pardon me miss, but I'm going to have to confiscate that." Sara spun to face him, a look of guilt passing over her features.
"I uh, I don't know what you're talking about." Her lips formed a thin line as she rocked back on her heels, extracting the hand from her pocket to clasp her other hand behind her back. She looked like a kid who was caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
He maintained his businesslike stance. "What's in the pocket, Sara?" He tilted his head and held his hand out. Sighing so harshly that it displaced the hair in front of her eyes, she pulled out the damned egg and dropped it into his hand. He grinned at the gold foil wrapper and closed his palm around it. "Thank you"
"This is harassment, I swear"
He laughed, looked at his hand, opened it, and began to peel the foil back from the chocolate eggs. Sara looked on in disbelief as he did so, mouth agape. Smiling in that subdued manner he loved so much, Grissom took a large bite out of the confection and chewed slowly. "Now, why the hell was that necessary? Eating my damned chocolate?" She was actually becoming upset with him and he almost grinned at her.
The smile was gone as he popped the last of the candy into his mouth and retrieved a cup of tepid coffee to wash it down. At her dirty look, he retrieved another egg from his own lab coat pocket and tossed it her way. Tossing it to her, she caught it at the last moment, grinning like a fool.
"Don't want you to ruin your dinner." He said by way of an explanation, taking a seat at the conference style table in the center of the room.
"Dinner? It's two o'clock in the morning!" Sara sat herself down, furthest, away from him at the left, outside of the table. She'd eaten her dinner before even arriving at work. Continuing to glare at Grissom for eating her egg, though coveting the one she now held, she waited for an explanation. "Breakfast then, don't want you to ruin your morning meal."
"Huh"
He smiled at her after smacking his lips and finishing his coffee. "I said," He turned his back for a moment and rinsed out his coffee mug. "I don't want you to ruin your breakfast."
She shook her head, as if to get the cobwebs out. Perhaps she was hearing something wrong. "What about breakfast?"
Grissom sighed and turned to her. "I'm trying to tell you, in not so many words because we're at work, that I'm taking you out to breakfast." Glancing at her, nonchalance abound, he quirked his head again.
Sara shrugged her shoulders. "So, we're getting breakfast."
An aggravated sigh accompanied his answer. "No, I'm taking you out for breakfast. As in, I'm asking you to come for breakfast. As in I'm paying"
Sara was still lost. "Okay." She shook her head again, screwed up her face in confusion and moved to the door. "See you after shift then."
She left the break room, leaving him slightly sullen, upset that she hadn't noticed that he had just asked her out to breakfast... sort of. He didn't see her the rest of the evening. Which was fine, it gave him time to stew over what he'd said earlier and what it had meant. His brain was twisting around, attempting to rationalize his words, to find the logic behind them. But he kept coming back to the original factor: He just wanted there to be the possibility of kissing her after their outing, and that could never happen if they were still 'just friends'. Funny, how he was the one who now wanted to move forward when she seemed content to remain static in friend-om.
They met up at not a diner, but a nice little restaurant nestled in between a Yankee Candle and a small park. It was so quiet inside that they could hear each other breathe, and for some reason that comforted them both. As usual, they discussed work, but just a bit, before switching to other topics.
They spoke of old movies and tropical fish, baseball and blizzards. It was awhile a while before they ordered, both perusing the menu at leisure.
"I'm definitely not getting eggs." Sara mused, scanning the pages before smiling up at him.
He poked his head out from behind his menu. "Excuse me? Are the eggs here not to your liking?" His voice was soft, a hint of humor in it. It passed over her, causing goosebumps to pebble her flesh.
"No, no. It's just... whenever I go out to breakfast I always get eggs. And..." She paused to take a sip of orange juice before continuing. "Whenever someone cooks for me, it's always, always, eggs. An omelet, scrambled. But always eggs."
It was clear that he was confused by her rant, so she elaborated. "Honestly, I might be a vegetarian but haven't people ever heard of pancakes."
In that instant, her tiny smile, her low humming as she looked over the items, she was perfect. Unwound. He wondered what it felt like to be that relaxed, that trusting. Sighing, he relaxed back into the booth. Perhaps the pancakes, or the waffles or-
"Oh! French toast. I'm getting the French toast." Sara gleamed, and placed her palms flat on the table. Well, if she was getting the French toast, then he was getting the pancakes. That made the chances of brushing against her hand when they both reached for the syrup exponentially greater.