A/N: Thanks as always for reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoy this new rule!

I don't own CSI.

Rule 3: No sex

Six months.

Sara and Grissom had been dating for six months, and, to Sara's chagrin, they had not yet consummated their relationship. They had certainly been close, but Grissom stopped them every time. He told her that he wanted their first time to be special.

Sara wondered what the rules were that defined "special." She didn't know, but she had a feeling that they involved a very elaborate evening. She couldn't find the words to tell him that, although his feelings were incredibly sweet, just being with him was special. She didn't need a night at a fancy hotel or a bed covered in rose petals. She just needed him – and he was holding back from her.

"Would you like to come over?" Grissom asked quietly as they walked out to their cars together at the end of their shift. "I can make you breakfast."

Sara smiled. "That sounds great. I'll follow you."

"Good." He didn't say anything more, but gave her a smile that promised a lovely morning together.

Sara pulled into his driveway as he was getting out of his car. He stopped to wait for her, and they walked up to the front door together. His key had just turned in the lock when booming barks sounded from within the house.

Sara giggled. "Does he do that every time you come home?"

"Yes," Grissom smiled. He opened the door, and Bruno bounded out to greet him. "Hey, buddy," he said, running his hands over the dog's head. "Look who I brought home today!"

"Hi, Bruno," Sara said, holding out her hand to the dog. Although she had been at Grissom's house many times, she always thought it was best to remind Bruno of who she was.

Bruno sniffed at her hand, then licked it. She scratched his head, and he wagged his tail happily.

"Come on, let's go inside," Grissom said. He grabbed the dog's collar to direct him back into the house.

"Doesn't he need a walk or something?" Sara asked as the dog bounded beside them into the kitchen.

"I'll let him out back," Grissom said, opening the door so Bruno could run out into the fenced part of the yard. "We can take him for a walk later, if you like."

Sara smiled and nodded.

"Now, about breakfast …" Grissom washed his hands, then began opening cupboards and pulling out ingredients.

"How can I help?" Sara asked, washing her own hands.

"Talk to me," Grissom said.

"What?"

He smiled. "Amuse me while I work."

"You don't want help?"

"Not yet."

Sara shrugged and took a seat. They chatted as he worked to make pancakes and eggs. When the food was complete, Sara helped him carry everything to the table. They sat down together, and she promptly drowned her pancakes in syrup.

"What are you doing?" Grissom asked.

"What?" she asked, looking up at him. "Don't you like syrup?"

"Not in those quantities."

"Why not? It's wonderfully sweet and sticky."

He shook his head. "Just a little is all you need."

"Not at all," she said. She trailed her finger through the ocean of syrup that had collected at the edges of the plate. "The more the merrier." She lifted her finger out of the syrup and put it in her mouth.

"Sara …" Grissom muttered, his eyes locked on her finger.

"Yes?"

He leaned across the table to kiss her lips, still sweet from the syrup. Taken by surprise, it was a moment before Sara responded.

"Griss …" she whispered against his lips.

"Hm?"

"Could we take this out of the kitchen?"

"Gladly."

The both stood up, and Grissom grabbed her hand, pulling her up the stairs to his bedroom. Laughing, they fell onto the bed. He rolled on top of her and began kissing her again.

Clothing was beginning to fly off when Grissom pulled back.

"We should stop," he gasped.

"Grissom, please," Sara moaned. "Please don't make us stop."

"Sara, I want our first time to be special," he said. "My bedroom isn't special."

"Yes, it is!" she exclaimed. "If you're here and I'm here, it's special. It's special because of the people and the act, Gil, not because of the place or the decorations."

He looked at her in wonder. "You called me Gil."

She frowned. "Okay …"

"You've never done that before."

"Would you rather I not?"

"I don't care what you call me," he said. "I just always assumed that you weren't comfortable enough to call me that."

She smiled and ran her hands down his bare chest. "I'm intimately comfortable with you. I have been for a long time now. That's why I want this for us. I want to make love with you. Why won't you let us do that?"

He grabbed her hands and kissed them, then her lips. "I want to make love with you, too," he whispered against her skin.

They didn't eat their pancakes that morning.

They never felt the need to officially lay down the rule that they couldn't have sex at work. It was so obvious that it went without saying. They both knew that they had far better places to engage in that act than the Las Vegas crime lab.

"Sara? Can I see you for a minute?"

"Sure," Sara said in surprise. She got up to follow Grissom, leaving Catherine alone to go over the crime scene photos from their latest homicide.

"In my office," Grissom said, leading her down the hallway.

A bit of fear crept into Sara's veins. He was being far more abrupt than he normally was. Had someone found out about them? Was that someone Ecklie?

He opened the door for her to walk into his office ahead of him, the followed her in, closing and locking the door behind him. Sara looked around, noting that the closed blinds blocked out all the light from the hall.

"Griss, what's going on?"

He crossed the room in two strides and pulled her close to him, pressing his mouth insistently against hers. Sara jumped a bit in his arms, then returned the kiss.

"What the hell was that?" she asked as they broke apart.

"Sara, I haven't seen you in days," he moaned.

"You see me every single day."

"I haven't seen you outside of work."

"We've been busy."

"I know," he said. "I'm not blaming either one of us, I'm just stating the facts. But, you're right – I see you here every day. I watch you walk, laugh, talk, work, and all I can think about is how much I want you." He leaned in and kissed her neck.

Her eyes widened as she realized why he had called her into his office. "Griss …"

"Please, Sara …"

She bit her lip in a moment of indecision, then smiled. "Oh, hell. Why not?"

She reached for him, pulling him closer, kissing him as though she'd never have another chance. Hands, lips, tongues, fingers on zippers and buttons …

Twenty minutes later, Sara walked sedately back into the lay out room. Catherine glanced up at her, then did a double take.

"Where were you?"

"With Grissom," Sara said evenly.

"That's completely untrue," Catherine said. "You've had sex."

Sara's eyes widened. "Catherine! I haven't left this lab!"

"All right," Catherine said slowly, turning back to her photos.

"Don't be so accusatory."

"Sorry." Catherine gasped and closed her eyes, then opened them again. "Sara, please tell me that you did not make Greg's dreams come true."

Sara laughed out loud. "No, Catherine. Nothing like that."

Catherine laughed, too. "Sorry. I had to ask. I really thought that you had … oh, well. What did Grissom want?"

Sara flushed. "Oh … just to give me another assignment."

As she lay under the twisted wreckage of a Ford Mustang, Sara played back all the happiest memories she could think of in her head over and over again. She found herself inexplicably thinking of those two moments repeatedly: the first time she and Grissom had made love, and the only time they had done so at work. Maybe they had more meaning than the others. Maybe Grissom had gotten his wish … they were special.