Ring ring. Ring ring. Sara turned over in her bed, reaching out blindly for the phone. She wondered why there was no bulky body to buffer her arm, but nothing registered. "Y'hello?" she mumbled into the phone.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," came the sweet, soft voice down the phone.

Sara's eyes fluttered open properly, and she knew why she hadn't encountered Grissom's body when she had stretched out for the phone - he wasn't there. "Honey, where are you?" she mumbled, only a slight amount of urgency rushing into her voice.

"I got a call-out again. I left a note on the pillow, but I didn't want to wake you up when I left. I just thought I'd better call you and let you know I'd gone before you started freaking out, thinking I'd run off or something."

Sara laughed slightly. "Thanks for letting me know. See you later?"

"I've got work tonight," he reminded her sadly. Sara had the night off. "Tell you what. Come over about seven, I'll cook us dinner. Give me something to look forward to."

Although she couldn't see his face, she pictured him standing by his Tahoe, out in the desert, in a shirt and his CSI vest and baseball cap, smiling. "Give me something to look forward to," she echoed.

"Anyway, I've got to go, before my sentimentality arouses suspicion," he whispered, and she imagined him grinning. "So I'll see you tonight?"

"Sure thing," she replied. "Take care," she added rather wistfully.

There was something about his life changing that Gil couldn't put his finger on. He'd always quite enjoyed his job, or so he thought - after a few years, the spring in his step had dampened somewhat. He had still thrown himself into his work, knowing it was all he had. But now, these past few days, maybe even the past few months over which his relationship with Sara had re-developed, had renewed the bounce. He felt revived, refreshed; satisfied with his lot. Of course, he knew that there were plenty of issues for them to deal with, and potential problems that could arise, and definite problems that would arise, but this last week - he was happy.

It was two in the afternoon when he returned from his call-out, so he slept for another two hours, and then got a shower. He recalled how pleasurable it was sharing a bathing experience with Sara, and made a note to share more often. But what had hit him hard was going to sleep in a bed without the comfort of her body, without something to hold on to. He hadn't thought he would miss the warmth of another body next to his, and had always felt rather solitary in bed, but her presence had ... he wasn't quite sure what it had done to him, aside from increasing his protectiveness of her. He smiled to himself as he washed his hair, reminded of the night he lay between her legs as she massaged his scalp, and he wished her fingers were there now.

He dried himself off, dabbed a bit of cologne around his beard, and changed into a white t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Although he had asked her over for dinner, he had no idea of what to cook - couscous was a possibility, but he didn't know what else he could put with it. Fish might not go with it, so what else could he do? Olives, perhaps, and maybe some pitta bread and hummus.

At half past five, his cell phone rang, and, taking a look at the caller ID, felt a simultaneous flash of joy and panic. "Sara, is everything okay?" he gushed, before she even had a chance to open her mouth.

"Uh, yeah, why wouldn't it be?" she answered, the bewilderment clear in her voice.

"I thought you were calling to take a rain check," he confessed.

Sara's heart warmed at his submission to vulnerability, and she smiled. "No, the opposite, actually. I was going to ask, if you're free now, is it okay if I come over? I'm stuck here with nothing to do, and I'm missing you already." She winced, worried that she was coming across as too needy.

Her words relieved Grissom. "Good, 'cause I've been missing you too," came his quiet reply.

"Really?"

"Yep. I was lonely in bed before. And in the shower," he added slyly. "Come over as soon as you're ready."

He couldn't keep the smile from his face when he opened the door to her. He pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly. "Hey," he greeted her. "How are you?"

"Mmm," she murmured. "Fine, thank you," she replied, losing herself in his strong hold. "You?"

He pulled away, and touched her cheek. "Much better for seeing you," he told her. He put an arm around her shoulder and led her through to the living room. "I have a proposal. Not that sort," he added, seeing her face. "Do you want to stay tonight? So you're here when I get in from work?"

Sara turned her face to look at him as they trudged to the couch. His proposal was ... interesting, to say the least. She wanted to be there when he got in, she didn't think she could bear another night of him not having his arms around her, but at the same time, she felt intimidated - she would be here, in Gil's apartment, treating it like it were hers. "Yeah," she breathed.

"Good. Just sit here, I'll be back in a minute."

She sat there, feeling like a lemming. She looked up as he came back into the room, carrying a bowl of olives and the hummus. "I'll be back in a minute with the wine and pitta bread." And he was, placing them on the table.

Sara picked out an olive. "Close your eyes and open your mouth," she instructed. She waited for him to obey, and popped the olive on to his tongue. She wasn't quick enough in removing her hand, and his mouth closed over her finger, and he sucked gently before chewing on the olive and swallowing. He opened one eye to observe her expression and grinned, pressing a kiss to her finger. Then he leaned over and selected an olive himself, slipping it between her lips. The look she shot him as she bit down was plain saucy, and he smiled back unashamedly.

"Before we start tearing each other's clothes off, we should eat," he told her softly.

The meal was simple yet filling, and when they had cleared the dishes, they sat back on the couch, happy and sated. "How was the call-out?" Sara asked, settling comfortably against his shoulder.

Grissom rested his head against hers. "Messy," he grunted. "Not pleasant at all," he added with a sigh.

She could tell that the case must have been hard for him, for whatever reason, not that she'd ask him to go into whatever it was that happened. She pulled away from his shoulder, and swung a knee over his lap, straddling him.

He smiled at her, grateful for the distraction, and rested his hands on her upper thighs. He reached up to kiss her, but was stopped by a finger on his lips. He shot her a questioning look, his eyebrow cocked.

"Garlic breath," she explained.

"I don't care," he told her, capturing her lips with his. She emitted a deep-throated groan, and his hands squeezed her thighs. "I haven't had my recommended daily allowance of you," he said against her mouth.

"Screw recommended daily allowances, I'd be overdosing on you by now," she replied, bringing her hands up to his face. "Are we just going to sit here necking like a pair of hormonal teenagers until you go to work?"

His hands tightened their grasp around her thighs, and for a moment, he seriously considered picking her up, carrying her off to his bedroom, and having his evil way with her. But he controlled himself, fully aware, at least in his eyes, that he had done nowhere near enough to be granted such a privilege. "Yeah," he gasped. "This is okay, isn't it?"

"Can't think of anything I'd rather do more," she rumbled against his mouth.