Disclaimer: Not mine.

There was a knock on her door. She took a slow, deep breath, not wanting to seem like she'd been waiting so eagerly, and then walked as slowly as she could force herself to the door. She glanced out the peephole, just in case, to be greeted by her boss's distorted features. She couldn't help but smile and quickly unlocked all the locks she had just relocked after her garbage dump, pulling the door open. Grissom smiled softly at her, a look in his eyes that was a bit too knowing for her taste, but that was Grissom. His knowing-too-well-ness was an inescapable character trait.

"Hey, come in. I'm just going to grab my purse." He stepped in and she closed the door behind him and then moved around him to take her things from the bar top. When she glanced back up, he was inspecting her door.

"You feel the need for all three of these?" He asked, seeming a little surprised. Color rose in Sara's cheeks.

"There were some break-ins in the neighborhood a month or so ago. You know how one break-in gone wrong can end in a murder…" She swallowed hard, looking at the floor as she moved to slip her shoes back on. She avoided his eyes, glad she had taken the trash out before he arrived, and slung her purse over her shoulder a little too aggressively, clutching her keys in her right hand. "Ready?"

He opened her door and stood to one side to let her move past him. She did so a bit awkwardly, but resigned herself to put that awkwardness aside. If he felt uncomfortable the entire time, he would think he'd been right not to take her up on dinner in the first place. When he had stepped into the hall and closed the door behind himself, she smiled brightly and moved to lock the doors, regretting immediately her decision to be carefree—now she couldn't reasonably try to hide that there were two separate keys for her door. He would definitely pick up that she was hiding something, even if he didn't pick up what. Once locked, she turned and smiled again, and they made their way to the elevator in a state of silence.

Sara didn't want to talk about work, but also couldn't think of any other ice breaker, so she began her story about something foolish Greg had done in the lab yesterday. He rolled his eyes at first, but a reluctant smile grazed his lips when she nudged him gently. "It's funny. Admit it."

"If I didn't have to be in charge of his shenanigans it would be a lot funnier."

She rolled her eyes at his grumpiness, feeling that the ice was broken now, at least. She climbed into his vehicle with little difficulty—the dress and heels had been easier to manage in her little car—and buckled up automatically. He glanced over at her, and then turned behind him to back up, out of the visitor parking space.

"So, where are we going?"

"A little Italian place I like, close to my townhouse. It's not well known, but it's nice, and I figured pasta was a good option for a vegetarian."

She smiled—not that he knew she was a vegetarian, there was a plant in her apartment that was the result of that argument, but because he'd taken it into consideration when choosing the restaurant. It showed prior thought. She glanced at him then, taking in for the first time the details of his appearance that she'd been too self-conscious to notice in the apartment. He was wearing nice gray slacks and a long-sleeve blue button up that she was sure he hadn't been wearing earlier in the day—he'd had short-sleeves. His hair had been combed down, his curls less unruly than normal, and she noticed now, taking in a deep breath, that he smelled good.

Although she had decided not to get her hopes up, the amount of effort he had put in sabotaged this effort. She beamed, thinking of him going home and fretting about what to wear or which cologne to use. He glanced over at her again.

"What are you smiling at?" She looked at him, unable to pull the grin from her face.

"You smell nice." His eyebrows narrowed as he smiled in response—as if he was both happy and confused at her words.

"Thank you. Did I mention you look… beautiful?" He had wanted to say nice, but it felt like a repeat of the conversation they'd had earlier, and that seemed… too repetitive, like he didn't mean it. He did.

"Since when have you cared about beauty?" She asked him, repeating what she'd once said to him on the side of an ice rink. He smiled wryly but did not reply. His response at the time had been "since I met you." He obviously felt this did not bear repeating. That didn't dampen her spirits, and shortly he was circling the parking lot, looking for a close space. Once parked, he got out quickly, trying to get to Sara's door to open it for her, but she hadn't known what he was doing, and opened it herself instead. Climbing out, she straightened her dress a little self-consciously, trying not to worry about it so much, and walked into the restaurant with him at her side. She thought, for a moment, that he had raised his hand to rest on her lower back to guide her inside, but she never felt contact, and when she glanced back at him, his hands were at his side.

He requested a table for two from a man he apparently knew well, and then were seated after only a moment. It was the type of place that people went to for the atmosphere, whether the food was good or not. It was darker in the area they were seated, a lamp dangling above their heads dispersing a warm glow over the small table. Sara was certain that if she scooted her body completely up to the table, their knees would be touching. It took her eyes a minute to adjust to the lighting, and then she lifted her menu slowly and opened it.

"Wine?" She peeked over the top of her menu. His eyebrows were raised in a question. She smiled. Wine was definitely a date-drink.

"I would love some."

He grinned. "Is it still Merlot?"

A surprised smile graced her lips, making her eyes alight. "How did you know that?"

"All those conferences we kept 'bumping into each other' at, way back when… At the cocktail parties the colleges would hold for their 'honored guests', you would always be drinking Merlot."

Her eyes crinkled slightly—not losing their happiness, but reverting, just slightly, to the look she had when examining evidence. How had he remembered something that had happened over six years ago?

When the waiter greeted them, he too appeared to know Grissom, and asked how he had been before requesting their drink orders. Grissom ordered for the pair of them—two glasses of Merlot. The waiter smiled and walked away. Sara turned her eyes back to the menu, seeking out her meal of choice for the evening. Pasta was good, but so many of the sauces were garlicky, which was not a good choice on a first date. The corners of her mouth twitched as she thought the words—it felt like one, anyway. She couldn't help her hopes being lifted, just a little, considering all he'd said tonight. Maybe he had changed his mind; she hadn't really believed it was possible, at least not anytime soon.

"So… what did you drink, at those cocktail parties? I can't seem to remember."

He smiled, folding his menu in front of him. "Generally, whatever you were having… that way, if I asked if you'd like another, while we talked, I knew what to get you."

She laughed. She hadn't expected to laugh. "So you… what? Stalked down my bar tenders and made them remember what one out of a crowd had ordered?"

He smiled indulgently. "No, pretty shortly I realized your preference and just… assumed. I don't think I ever returned with a wrong drink though."

She thought back, trying to remember and separate the drinks from the rest of the evening. "No, I guess not. I just remember spending the time you were away thinking of new questions, to keep you talking to me."

He looked down, smiling. "Part of me knew that, even then."

Her eyes met his for a moment, and she made a decision. He knew how she felt, after all…

"But you never acted." It wasn't a question, yet it begged an explanation.

"No. You were… too young, too beautiful… how could I explain it away as interest in a colleague? The power structure was all off…"

Normally this statement would have made her blush, but instead a strange, unidentifiable smile crossed her lips. His eyes asked the question, and she shook her head, choosing instead to respond to his words, not expound on her memories. "I'm a colleague now."

Grissom tilted his head. "I'm your boss now. Power structure. And… aren't you out to dinner with me 'now'?"

The waiter arrived then, forcing Sara to close her mouth and they quickly ordered. When he was gone, they started on wine and bread in silence. It was not a comfortable silence, but not uncomfortable either. It felt like progress.

"No."

Grissom looked up from his bread in surprise, chewing slowly and then swallowing, before asking, "No?"

"The power structure might have been off then, but it isn't now. At least, not any more than it would be if nothing ever happened between us. We have a history. We have an attraction. And you know more about me, personally, than anyone I've ever been intimate with. It would always be off, even if we never acted on it."

He was quiet for a moment, and then smiled softly. "I would not have guessed that about you."

"What? Guessed what?"
"That you were afraid of disclosure in a relationship… I guess I thought… after we processed the jet…"

She finished for him. "Any girl who can join the mile high club and speak of it freely probably isn't afraid to share her personal life? That's the fallacy though… I made a concerted effort to be adventurous and revealing sexually, so that one would not assume I was less than revealing in other aspects."

Grissom watched her face as she spoke—how her eyes narrowed when she described having to lie with her body to hide the lies from her mouth—how the corners of her lips turned down when she said 'revealing' like just the word made her uncomfortable—how her entire face was now positioned downwards, though she had hardly moved it.

"So… I know you better than… any man you've ever known."

Her lips twitched as she looked back up to him, distracted from her confession. "Well, you know my inside better… you certainly don't know my outside better."

He shrugged. "I don't know that that's true. Wouldn't you say you know my body, lacking certain details, just simply the shape and the dimensions and the… essence of it… at least as well as anyone I've slept with?"

Color filled her cheeks, at both of his implications, and considered. "I suppose… yes, at least as well, minus… some details."

They were silent for a moment, and then the waiter was there, asking if they'd each like another glass. Grissom responded yes, and he topped them off at the table, before sweeping back to the kitchen. Sara took a slow drink, focusing on how it tasted in her mouth and moved down her throat as she swallowed, and decided she would just say it. She might not ever get another chance.

"Listen… how about a freebie?"

Grissom coughed, mid-drink, and had to snatch up his napkin to prevent making a mess of himself. When he had sufficiently recovered, he took the time to look over her face again before answering. "A freebie?" He wasn't entirely sure he understood her, and thought clarification might prevent him from offending her with his assumption. She would not have been offended: he had assumed correctly.

"Just for tonight, you put aside your reasons not to and your rationalizations, you… have sex with me," She had wavered from 'make love to me,' because she thought the L-word might be too much just now. "And afterwards, we go back to normal. Then you have all the information. If your reasons still stand, you can choose not to do it again, and it never happened."

His heart was pounding, and he took a deep breath to calm himself before responding. "And if my reasons… fall through?"

She shrugged. "Then I was right all along, and we can… I dunno, have dinner again…"

He tapped his foot on the floor beneath the table and removed his glasses, trying to give himself a moment to process her suggestion. He rubbed his hands over his face, and was startled when he pulled them back to see a plate being set before him, and then another before Sara. He put his glasses back on.

"Can I get you folks anything else right away?"

Grissom shook his head, and Sara replied, "No, Thank you." Their eyes met again, and Grissom sighed.

"I don't do… freebies."

She smiled, and he couldn't understand why at first. "I know you don't. That's part of the appeal… your respect for women. But I know that you respect me. You could make a one-time exception…"

He shook his head. "I don't think so."

She shrugged again, lifting up a fork to cut a piece of ravioli in half before raising it to her mouth.

He grumbled then, picking up his own fork and beginning to eat rather less gracefully. Silence again. Sara was beginning to think that was the apparent theme of the evening. She wasn't giving up yet though. She reached for her glass again, raised it to her lips, and said softly, though she knew he would hear her quite well, "You could tie me up." And then drank slowly, as if nothing had been said.

He nearly choked again. Raising his napkin to restore his dignity a second time, he looked at her, incredulous. "Excuse me?"

She smiled. "Just enticing the offer. Different times when you've had to… restrain me, to determine evidence… those have been the times when I broke the tension, rather than you. I just kinda figured it was… something you liked."

He swallowed hard, and didn't respond for a moment. They both continued eating. Then he set his fork down rather noisily. "You see, that's why I couldn't make an exception with you."

She looked alarmed now, and set down her fork as well. "What? Why?" Apparently this was backfiring. She had thought the offer was generous… that surely it would make him consider her proposal, at least.

"Because you're too eager to please. I don't want to sleep with the woman you think I want you to be. What would be the appeal in that? If all I wanted was someone to do as I asked and forget about it later, I would pay someone to do it."

She sat in silence for a moment, surprised at his outburst. At first she didn't know how to respond, but she dissected the statements, analyzing each in turn, and this made it easier to answer instead of bursting into tears. She didn't want to cry in front of him again.

"But… you do want to sleep with me. …I don't think there's anything wrong with playing out your partner's fantasies if both parties are consenting. It would be to please you, but it wouldn't be… what you're implying. It wouldn't be another way to hide myself, because I have nothing left to hide from you. You know what I kept from the others and more—you know me more thoroughly and intimately than I have ever been known. How could I hide, even if I wanted to?"

She was the one to pick up her fork aggressively this time, finishing off the last few pieces of ravioli. Despite the distracting conversation, the food had been delicious. She would have to remember this place… though she would probably run into Grissom here, and if the night didn't go well… maybe she didn't want that.

When she had finished, pushing her plate slightly forward, toward the center of the table, and removing her napkin from her lap, she chanced a glance at him again. He had finished too, and was watching her thoughtfully.

"Let's just… finish the evening with no more talk of… freebies. Did you want dessert?"

She half-smiled, thinking. "I have a whole cheesecake I just bought yesterday at home. We could go back to my place and have a slice and some coffee?"

He raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Your place?"

She shrugged, taking the final drink from her wine glass before speaking. "Why not? You afraid I'm going to jump you?" He rolled his eyes and her breath caught in her throat—she never got used to how blue they were.

"I'm pretty sure I could get away, Sara." She smiled.

"It's settled then. Cheesecake at my place."

Grissom opened his mouth to argue, but the waiter arrived then, inquiring about dessert and leaving the check when they declined. Grissom pulled it toward himself and Sara put a hand over his, to stop him. "I can pay for my half, Grissom." His eyes narrowed.

"Don't be silly. I asked you to dinner. I'm paying." He placed a card in the black folder and pushed it to the edge of the table.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. …You know, only you could offer a "freebie" with one breath and then worry about me paying with the next…" She laughed.

"It's only around you that I'm so crazy."