Sara looked at him incredulously. "Are you implying that I haven't let you do so?"

Grissom shook his head. "I've alluded to the fact once or twice that I need space to breath," he said. And how could either of them forget? Their cryptic words, mostly relating to people within a case, but neither of them missed the fact that their words were uttered with more than a slight tint of bitterness or suggestiveness. Just like most words they'd said to each other. "I want you to let me do it now," he reiterated. "I'm ready. I just want to be sure that you're ready. Y'know? You could have left Vegas, or dated other guys. I want to be certain that you're committed to this."

Sara's eyes clouded over, almost black instead of their usual sweet chocolate. "You've got a fucking nerve," she hissed. "I'm the one who stayed here, often against my so-called better judgement. You have absolutely no right to ask me if I'm ready. ive years ago, maybe. But this long? Fuck you, Gil," she spat.

"Hey, I'm sorry," he murmured, genuinely taken aback by her anger. One of his hands traced up her back and rubbed gently. "I didn't mean it like that. Shit, I'm an idiot," he moaned, closing his eyes in frustration.

In a change of heart, Sara placed a hand on his cheek. "I didn't mean to get mad," she apologised. "I just get so infuriated with you sometimes."

"That's what I mean," he gushed desperately. "I'm a difficult person to get along with, I don't want you to think this is going to be easy. Because I can assure you, it won't be."

"What did I tell you before? I love you for who you are. You're infuriating, yes, but I didn't say I wanted to change you. Shit, I love your quirks, because they're part of you, and I love all of you, so of course I love them," she stressed emphatically. She kissed his lower lip gently, and he opened his eyes.

"You mean that?" he asked in surprise. She nodded. "Jeez, no-one's ever said that before. All the women I've dated in the past, and that's not many, wanted to change me. Make me more sociable, make me more open, mold me to who they wanted me to be." He blinked slowly, drinking in this woman's presence. She was intoxicating.

"Well, if I asked you to change, that'd be projection, wouldn't it? Let's face it, baby, we're too much alike for me to judge you on how you act. And I don't think I could change."

"I wouldn't want you to," he told her earnestly. He smiled in spite of himself. "Oh, what a tangled web we weave," he intoned, sighing.

"We don't," Sara countered. "We're just ... complex. And not really used to dealing with living human beings. So this is bound to be hard for us." She smiled and rested her head on his chest.

Grissom sighed. "This all feels very strange. In a good way," he added as he felt Sara's head rise in panic. "I'm still trying to come to terms with the fact that we're lying here, in the same bed."

"It's a very surreal experience," Sara agreed. In a moment of folly, she pressed her lips to his left pec, and felt the skin and muscle underneath ner touch flinch involuntarily. "Sorry."

"You know, we really need to break the habit of apologising for everything we do or so," he told her. "I didn't flinch because I didn't like it," he explained. "I just wasn't expecting you to do that." Sara mumbled something, but she was muffled against his chest. "What?" he asked.

"I'm tired," she said.

"Go to sleep then." Grissom closed his eyes, and rubbed her back.

Sara wasn't prepared for the sight of flesh when she woke up, and she nearly freaked, until she remembered that she was pressed up against Grissom's chest. For some reason, she was starting to feel rather aroused. Shaking her head slightly, she struggled out of his grip and checked the time on the digital clock on the bedside table. It was three in the afternoon. "Griss?" she whispered against his chest. No reply. She pulled herslef level with his face, and spoke into his ear. "Gil? I think we should get up." Her voice got slightly louder. When he still did not move, she hesitiated, then pressed a kiss to his mouth.

Grissom had the sensation of feather touching his lips, and his eyelids, their gentle black eyelashes fluttering delicately up and down, moved. "Sara? Did you just kiss me?" he asked incredulously. He felt her nod. "I thought I was the one that supposed to make the first move," he scolded.

"Got fed up with waiting," Sara teased. "Are we going to get up?" she asked.

Grissom nodded reluctantly. "Maybe, but ti's so nice and warm here, I don't wanna move," he confessed.

"Do you think we should try and do something about that when we get back to Vegas?"

"Are you suggesting that maybe we stay with each other?"

Sara shrugged laconically. "Possibly. Perhaps just one or two days a week, see how we cope being around each other with a professional relationship going on in the background."

"But we haven't even consummated yet."

"Is sex such a big deal to you?" Sara questioned.

"It's not sex," he told her. "It's physical intimacy. I just though maybe we'd make love before considering the next course of action."

"Well, no offence, but I'm certainly not sleeping with you whilst we're here. Not with my mom around, anyway." She looked into the pools of his eyes, and kissed him again.

"But you don't mind kissing me?" he asked smugly. She silenced him with her mouth, and he happily reciprocated, their lips teasing gently. One of his hands was still positioned on her bottom, and he pulled her towards him. Her arms slipped around his body, and she groaned in pleasure.

"What are you doing?" she asked when he extracted himself from the clinch.

He smiled. "Later," he said. "Come on honey, we should really get up." He kissed her briefly, and sat up. "Lets go see how your mom is," he grinned.