Beta'd this myself! Woo!

She was making fish. His favorite, cod. There was no special occasion, just a bit of free time and a nice gesture. She'd bought nice wine, to make some sauce that the cookbook had suggested went well with it. Just an all around nice gesture.

But as Sara Sidle prepared dinner, she began to speculate on how comfortable she found herself at the task. True, she was without the homey apron, or the telltale flour smudges on her face, but she felt... domestic. Like a wife, like she was waiting for her husband to come home from the office. It simultaneously thrilled and sickened her. 'Husband, Sara you've gone round the bend,' and she laughed to herself and lightly salted the fish.

Sara was stunned to find herself completely at home in Grissom's home. Her feet felt cool and welcome on the hardwood floor; she had a particular spot where she sat on his couch; she had a toothbrush in the bathroom. She was stunned to find she knew where everything in the kitchen was; she was downright floored that she was actually following a recipe out of an honest-to-god cookbook. It frightened her to think that she was excited for him to come home. 'Home,' she reminded herself. 'His, not yours.'

She seasoned the fish with some cilantro and lime and put it in the oven to bake. It had been a long day and truly, she wanted nothing more than to eat and fall into his arms and sleep for a good six years. The denim of her jeans caught the vestiges of moisture from her hands as she wiped them and she sighed.

Then she didn't know what to do with herself. She stood in the kitchen, simply looking around at the utensils and food stuffs. Sara heaved a sigh and began cleaning up. She washed the dishes, put the vegetables back in the crisper. She then cleaned herself up, just a bit, straightened her hair out a bit and dabbed some concealer under her eyes. Not a vast improvement, but a small one and once she was satisfied that she didn't look like a hag, she went and lay down on the sofa.

She was asleep on the sofa when he came in, briefcase in hand. His face was bewildered, he hadn't remembered inviting her over... but she did have a key. Then he smelled the fish and the vegetables and looked over her sleeping figure. Mouth slightly agape, hair tousled, skin freshly washed; he sighed and smiled and placed his briefcase on the floor. It was a wonderful surprise to come home to.

'Home,' he thought. 'Home.'

Grissom was content to stare at her for a few moments. It was moments like this that he wondered how any of this would work. It was perfect moments in time, captured in his heart that made him feel so desolate and frightened. She was all he needed, there, just lounging on the couch, and if she ever left, ever got taken away...

Inexplicably, he was drawn to her. He sat on the edge of the sofa and simply inhaled her scent, felt her warmth. To touch her, just to be able to touch was so very wonderful, a gift...

"Hey," a hand passed over her cheek and her eyes popped open. Sara yawned a bit and stretched her long frame over the couch.

She smiled at him for a moment and then sat straight up. "Oh shit, the fish!"

And Grissom laughed as she dashed from the couch into the kitchen to check on the dinner. He watched her putter around the kitchen, grabbing this from here, that from there, arranging things in the manner she liked. He hadn't expected her to be there waiting for him, but she had, and his heart clenched again at the thought of her there all the time, waiting for him. It wasn't an unwelcome thought at all, but it was unsettling to think that he might eventually cohabitate with someone.

Grissom shook his head to get rid of the comforting and confusing image. It couldn't be healthy to love a person this much, it couldn't be logical. There had to be something wrong with the entire situation. Nothing could feel this right. Sara arranged the food on the table and got out the wine and he walked up behind her and dropped a sloppy, open mouth kiss on her neck. She giggled and moved back against him.

Could he stop if he wanted to? If he needed to? Could he stop all of this?

'Nothing should feel this good,' kept repeating over and over through his head. Even as he turned her to kiss her lips, he kept telling himself that something wasn't right, something was off. 'Maybe everything is right at the moment, Gil,' he told himself and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. 'Maybe everything is right and that's exactly what's wrong.'

She made him move away and sit down and they ate. Grissom commented on her cooking more than once and even made a rather dirty comment as to what he'd rather be eating. She'd smiled, blushed a little and told him to shut up and just eat. Sara was rather pleased with her prowess in the kitchen and celebrated by allowing herself to have a third glass of wine. And when she got up to clear the table, he was behind her, kissing her neck, whispering things into her ear, bending her over the counter and ridding her of her shirt.

He was there between her thighs as he put her up on the laminated top, kissing her lips, and it hit him between the eyes with a baseball bat. He couldn't do it, it was all too much, too much... all of her, god, too much.

'You can't stop, it's full speed ahead, gotta pull out now or no turning back...'

"This isn't right, this isn't..." He looked into her eyes, appearing as if he'd just awoken after a long slumber. "I have to go."

And with that he was gone, leaving Sara sitting on the kitchen counter, shirtless and confused.