Disclaimers and whatnot are in part one.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I hadn't intended on doing a part two for "A Helping Hand", but this story kind of fits it, so here it is. I highly recommend you reading the first story, not because it's all that and a side of fries, but because you'll be surprised to find G'n'S in bed together at the beginning of this story if you don't! As always, for what it's worth, kudos to WP and JF for bringing so much more to the table than us viewers and amateur writers could have ever hoped. And bigger kudos to my beta reader, papiliondae, who brings way more to the table than I could ever have hoped. *grin*

*

Sunlight seeped through slits in the blinds, extending fingers of light into the darkened room, the rhythmic mechanics of the central air system, which kept the occupants of the room comfortable in their slumber, holding back the silence. However, a closer look would reveal an error or two in this picture.

First of all, they weren't sleeping, at least, one of them wasn't. Second, there was a hushed symphony of sounds. Heartbeats. Easy breathing. Her inarticulate sounds of peaceful slumber. The soft rasp of skin on skin as he lifted her hand from his chest to stroke her long fingers.

He was content to be here, to do this forever, until he was startled out of his reverie.

"You have an odd fascination with my hands," Sara sleepily mumbled into his chest.

His laughter sent a rumble through her ear. "I seem to have an odd fascination with all of you," he admitted.

She lifted her head and looked at him. "I think that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

Turning his head, he returned her hand to his chest and reached across to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "You're cute with bed-head."

She sighed dramatically. "Couldn't you have let me bask in the glow of your compliment?"

"Don't worry. I'll give you more compliments in the future," he promised.

Pursing her lips as if giving this thought, Sara relented. "Okay then."

He shook his head, eyes bright with amusement. "If your bed head is anything to go by, I would hazard a guess that you slept well?"

She flopped back into her pillow and gave a dreamy grin. "I slept great."

"Did I hog the covers?"

Now her grin grew into a full smile. "Yes, in fact, you did hog the covers. But that's fine, it just gave me an excuse to get closer to you." When she saw his eyes widen in amazement, she asked, "Is that okay with you?"

His brows came down in confusion. "Of course it's okay with me. Why would it bother me if I hogged the covers?"

She reached across and lazily slapped his shoulder. When his laughter died down, she repeated, "No, seriously, Griss. Is… this… okay?"

Turning on his side, he dared to let his fingertips linger along her collarbone. His eyes watched this action until he could finally resist her gaze no longer. "I have to admit, this is a little… different for me. I haven't had a woman in my bed for a long time." When he saw the look of relief on her face, he couldn't help but quip, "At least, not a woman who was fully dressed."

His hand quickly left her collarbone as it came up to deflect the flurry of flailing blows she was raining down on him. "Hey! Hey! Ow!" His laughter was only making it worse for himself. "I give, I give! 'Uncle' already!"

Satisfied with the outcome, Sara snorted an exaggerated, "Hmmph!" and turned her back to him.

Trying in vain to keep the amusement out of his voice, he leaned into her. "So is this something I should get used to in this relationship?" His hand found the patch of skin along her ribcage that her twisted shirt had left exposed. "You're going to beat me up for talking about a non-existent other woman?"

"I'm going to knock you on your ass for thinking of another woman, non-existent or not." Her attempt to say this sternly was thwarted by the warmth of his hand on her skin. She turned around slowly, in order not to break their contact. "Is this what we're in?" she asked. "A relationship?"

His touch tickled her abdomen as his fingers moved upward. His eyes seemed to darken with every inch of progress. "I don't know, Sara," he conceded. "Maybe not a relationship this very minute, but I think we're on the threshold and the door's wide open."

She seemed satisfied with this admission. "Okay."

His fingers now grazed the band of her bra and brushed against the satin curve of her breast. Her mouth opened to let out a whispered moan and his eyes narrowed as if filing this sound away, and the gesture that caused such a sound to come from the mouth of his Sara. He smiled at the endearment his mind had given her. His Sara.

The smile was short-lived, however, when he heard her say, "I should have taken this bra off earlier." His smile was replaced by an open-mouthed look of shock. She cupped his chin in her hand to close his mouth, and she winked, "These things are a bitch to sleep in."

His eyes narrowed once again, but this time in amusement. "I see."

Stretching out his fingers, he gently curled them around her breast, the delicate fabric of her bra smooth under his palm.

"I think," she took a shaky breath, "I think we should examine your hands next time. They're… oh, they're much nicer than mine." She covered his burgeoning grin by capturing his mouth with her own.

He hadn't lied to Sara. It had been a long time since he'd had a woman in his bed, regardless of her state of undress. And now here he was, draped across the body of a woman he had yearned for since… since he could remember. Her hand in his hair, his hand up her shirt, their mouths entangled and entwined. If this was a dream, he never wanted to wake up.

The shrill bell made them both jump.

"Jesus!" Sara exclaimed in surprise.

Grissom looked around, for a split second wondering if it had been a dream. Relieved that although the alarm was still ringing, Sara remained in his arms, the corner of his mouth tugged upward. "No, it's my clock."

Reluctantly separating from her, he twisted over and clicked the alarm off. Rolling back, he draped his arm around her waist and rested his head in the crook of her shoulder.

She idly drew patterns on his shoulder. "You don't have an electric alarm clock."

"No." When no other response was forthcoming from her, he lifted his head slightly. "What?"

Grinning, she shook her head and replied, "Nothing."

Eyebrow raised, Grissom repeated, "What?"

She gave a small shrug. "I don't know. I just find something very… comforting in knowing you have a manual alarm clock, that's all."

His eyebrow came down to join the other in a frown. "You can be very odd at times, Miss Sidle."

"Part of the fun is trying to figure me out."

"Oh, really? Well then I shall enjoy the journey as much as the destination."

"You know," she whispered into his mouth, "you could cover a lot of distance if you only had a snooze button on your clock."

He kissed her softly. "What are nine minutes when a lifetime isn't enough?" When he saw the expression on her face, he smiled. "See? I told you I'd compliment you more in the future."

She gave him that wide gap-tooth smile he had loved since the day he met her. Returning his kiss, she said, "I think we complement each other."

Before this combination of kisses and wandering hands could lead them on to the myriad of desires running through his mind, Grissom reluctantly rolled away from her and got out of bed. He returned her pout of dismay with a grin, although it did take him longer than necessary to relinquish her hand, his fingertips fighting to keep in contact with hers for just a moment more.

Their connection finally broken, he walked around the foot of the bed and towards the door.

"The bathroom's to the right," he told her. "Use whatever you like. I'll make you breakfast."

Always one to find the positive in any situation, Sara stretched out across the bed that now solely belonged to her. 'Like a cat,' Grissom thought, as she uncurled her long limbs and arched her back contentedly.

"Mmmm, sounds good," she all but purred. "I could get used to this."

Twenty four hours ago, this would have been the kind of situation that would have made Grissom run and hide, eager to avoid anything resembling emotional involvement. Of course, twenty four hours ago, Sara Sidle wasn't laying claim to his bed. Or his heart.

"So could I," he whispered. Before she could express whatever feelings her eyes were conveying, he smiled. "Omelette sound okay?"

She returned his smile and nodded. "Omelette sound great."

"Okay."

He had just turned the corner when she called out after him. "There better not be any bugs in mine!"

*

He pulled into his parking spot, briefly scanning the lot for Sara's car, not really expecting to see it, so not particularly surprised that she hadn't arrived yet. After her shower and a breakfast with him, she'd left for her apartment and a change of clothes.

So now here he was, sitting in his office pretending to read the paper when what he was really doing was waiting for his heart to start beating again. He strained to distinguish each new voice outside his door, with every movement, his eyes jerked up expectantly. The echo of footsteps from the hall had him flicking through his mental files; was it the match he was looking for?

He had to laugh. How many times had he caught himself waiting like this? Waiting for a glimpse, a smile, a look in his direction? His mind might have registered the recent seismographic shift in his life, but his senses were still practicing usual habits, keeping up his customary surveillance. Even today, after all that just occurred, he was still waiting for her. 'The more things change, the more they stay the same,' he smiled.

" 'Grinning Grissom' just doesn't have the same ring to it as 'Gruesome Grissom'," noted a voice from the door.

Startled out of his reflection, he looked up and saw Catherine. "Hello."

"Hello yourself," she answered. Jerking her thumb over her shoulder, she said, "I thought you'd be in the conference room by now."

He flicked out his wrist and glanced at his watch. "I'll be there in ten minutes."

Catherine tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. "You okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know. I guess the smile caught me off guard."

He made a face of mock amusement.

"Okay…" sensing nothing more forthcoming, she backed up. "I'll see you in- Oops!" Her sentence was cut off as she turned to leave, colliding with Sara. "Sara! I didn't see you there."

"It's okay, I just showed up."

The same look she had given Grissom was now directed at Sara. Stepping to the side, Catherine looked at the young brunette, then over to Grissom, then back to Sara again. "Smiling Sara and Grinning Grissom. How interesting." As the two subjects remained mute, Catherine looked curiously at Sara, "Speaking of Grissom, isn't that his shirt?"

Before her brain could warn her it was a trick, Sara quickly looked down at her shirt in a panic.

Pleased her little ploy had worked, Cath gave a throaty laugh. "I see! Well, well, well." Sara's panic was now directed at the older woman. Gentler now, Catherine said, "Look, no one is going to find out from me, I promise. I won't tell a soul." The playfulness returned to her voice and she gave a little wink. Patting Sara on the cheek, she added, "I won't have to, sweetie." And with that, she was gone.

Frozen in the doorway, Sara lightly hit her forehead repeatedly with her fist. "Shit, shit, shit."

Grissom came around from his desk and stood in front of her. "She won't say anything. No matter how much she'd love to be the bearer of the news of the century, she knows there's more to it than just what goes on between us."

Exhaling loudly, Sara conceded, "I know. It wasn't Cath I was worried about." Seeing his questioning look, she continued, "You know, all the way here, all I could think about was how this was going to work. How we were going to work. At work. And I couldn't even make it through the first ten minutes without my big doofy smile giving us away."

"First of all, 'doofy' is not a word."

"Grissom, don't joke about this. What are we going to do?"

"Well, funny enough, I, too, was giving this some thought on the way to work. And I couldn't stop returning to the evidence."

"Which is?"

"Which is, this situation is going to call for me to pretend I don't have feelings for you, that my heart rate doesn't jump through the roof every time you're near me, and that all I want to do is kiss you." She couldn't help but smile. "So," he shrugged, "it's no different from what I've been doing for the past two years. Piece of cake."

Her smile dropped and she jabbed him in the shoulder. "That's not funny! This is serious."

He pressed his lips together hard, in a vain attempt to disguise his grin. Stepping even closer, he lowered his voice. "Look, I know this isn't going to be easy, and I can't promise difficult times in the future, but we'll try and muddle our way through things as they arise."

He handed her a folder, and when she took it, he used it as a shield to disguise the fact he was caressing her hand. Her eyes softened and the corner of her mouth twitched. "The thing is," he whispered, "I don't want to miss all the little things that are happening now, because we're worrying about things that might happen in the future. In fact, the furthest ahead I want to think is the end of this shift."

"Oh?" she asked, just as quietly as he had spoken. "And what's happening tonight after the shift?"

"I was going to ask Greg to come over to discuss Pink Floyd's effect on concept albums, what do you think?" Stroking her hand gently with his fingertips, he asked, "Will you come over?"

"I don't know," she replied. "You're going to have to find some way to uninvite Greg."

"Done," he quipped.

Her broad smile reappeared. "Okay." Then, as if something had just occurred to her, she shook her head. "Oh, I can't. I had planned on putting some overtime in tonight."

Grissom nodded. "Ah, here it is, the moral dilemma of being your boss and your paramour." She grinned at this word. He pursed his lips, as if giving this dilemma some thought. "What are you spending overtime on?"

"Well, I had this interesting conversation last night with my 'paramour' about hands that got me thinking I needed to refresh my knowledge of anatomy. So I was going to go down to the morgue and spend some quality time with Doc Robbins."

"Ah, I see. Well that's one dilemma solved." She raised an eyebrow at him. "You see," he clarified, "you can't bill the lab for that time. That's your own personal interest which must be done on your own personal time. Of course, I could arrange private tutoring for you."

Her eyes widened at his suggestion. This playful seductiveness was a new addition to the Grissom repertoire. She curled a finger around his and squeezed. "I may never log in another hour of overtime ever again."

He felt a small heat creep into his face, surprised at his own newfound brazenness and the fact that it was Sara who was inspiring and returning it. "Perhaps we should concentrate on logging in our scheduled time before we start thinking of overtime."

Reluctantly pulling his hand away, he looked at his watch. "We've got two minutes." He held up a finger, stifling the wisecrack he could almost hear in his mind as she opened her mouth to speak. "I'll walk you to the conference room."

With his hand on the small of her back, he gently guided her out of the office. Leaning into him ever-so-briefly, she whispered, "Kill joy."

*

They reached the room with thirty seconds to spare, and as Sara dropped her slender frame into a chair, Grissom made his way over to the coffee machine. Cath was sipping her own coffee while Nick and Warrick were catching up on sports scores over a game of cards. Cath gave Nick a nudge under the table with her foot and looked over at Sara.

Palming the twenty dollar bill Cath had just slid across the table, Nick played a card, then greeted his brunette colleague. "Hey, Sara."

"Hey, Nick."

"Is that a new shirt?" he asked.

The loud clank behind him was the sound of Grissom dropping his spoon on the counter in surprise. Fortunately for Sara, the phrase "her jaw dropped to the floor" was only an expression, though her mouth did a pretty good job of enacting the words.

Oblivious, Nick looked at Cath, then at Sara, then back to Cath again. "What? What did I say?"

-end