Disclaimer: Don't own 'em.

Spoilers: Nada.

Rating: M

Summary: Early GSR.

Esperar

It was their first planned sleepover. He felt so dumb calling it that, but as he rifled through his leather overnight bag that had, up until that very moment, been used for business trips, Grissom had to concede there was no other word for it. They had been having what he supposed was a relationship for two and a half months. The details went unspoken, and their little trysts at her apartment a few times a week should've seemed more clandestine, but they just weren't clandestine people. Instead, a pattern developed. If they were both done with work when the shift was over, all it took was a moment of eye contact, an imperceptible nod, and he knew it was okay to come over. Grissom would pick up something light to eat – a salad usually – from the little deli across the street from the lab. He'd wolf it down at his desk, brush his teeth at the tiny sink in the far corner of his office, and then head to her place.

There was never any preamble. They attacked each other at the door – sweetly. Unless they decided on some oral foreplay, he was usually inside her in five minutes flat. The sex was great. Invigorating. While Grissom was in Sara Sidle's bed, he was a man, not a scientist. Every area in his brain that had been dedicated to thinking, to worrying, was momentarily shut off. His senses became acute, and all he could do was smell her heady aroma, feel the soft scrape of her nails at his back, hear her whimpers and pleas for more.

At the beginning, the afterglow was almost always soon replaced by fear. He would fidget slightly, adjusting his arm around her, and wait for the inevitable talk where she, like every other woman in the world, would want to discuss the ins and outs of their relationship, where they were going, and how he felt about her.

For her part, Sara would stretch, turn her body into his, yawn, and then fall asleep on his shoulder. The first time she did this, he stayed stock-still for three hours, eyes wide open in terror as he ran over different scenarios of the events to come in his mind. He pictured her waking up and asking all sorts of questions about the status of their relationship, how he felt about her and what he wanted from her. They were all questions that he couldn't answer because he had never been brave enough to ask them of himself. The only thing he could say with absolute certainty was that he was terrified of her and the fact that he was naked in her bed.

But she never asked.

When she woke, she only smiled at him and watched him get dressed.

"I'll see you at work," he had said as he slipped on his shoes. He remembered to add a smile and when she only beamed brighter at him, he had kissed her goodbye.

The following weeks led to variations of that first night. They would make love and then he would wait for the discussion that would never come. For a long while, Grissom was relieved that Sara was apparently happy with nothing spoken. Most guys would kill for a no strings attached relationship with loads of sex and no talking. He knew that. He knew he was lucky that she wasn't pushing him to take her out to dinner and buy her presents and make some sort of official commitment to her.

So why did he want to take her out to dinner and buy her presents and make some sort of official commitment to her? It made no sense. Grissom knew he should just be happy with what he had and not do anything at all to alter it. The sex was great. Spending a couple of hours with her sleeping on his shoulder was great. Knowing that he'd be able to do it all again was amazing. The status quo was perfection.

But still, as he watched her do her post-coital stretch before turning to rest on his shoulder, Grissom seized her arm gently and caught her attention. "You have two nights off in two days, right?"

Momentarily phased by the interruption to her routine, Sara blinked at him before answering. "Um…yeah. Why? Do you need me to come in?"

"I was supposed to be in court those two days, but the defendant took a last minute plea bargain. I was going to go to the lab to catch up on paperwork but…"

"But what?" she asked, brows furrowed.

"Maybe we could…I don't know." Why was this so hard? He had just gone down on the woman. Suggesting they spend their days off together shouldn't be so difficult. "I could take you out to dinner and a movie, and then we could come here."

Sara settled her head on her palm and looked thoughtful for a moment. "I don't need all of that."

"But do you want it?"

"Do you want it?"

"What if I do?"

She yawned. "Then I say find a restaurant with a decent vegetarian menu and I'm there." With that, Sara turned into his shoulder and closed her eyes.

Grissom settled back into bed, tightening his grip on her as he thought about what he had just done. Pandora's Box had been opened, no doubt about it, but he felt strangely eager. All those hours he spent in bed, staring at the ceiling while she snoozed at his side, were spent deep in thought, answering the questions she hadn't asked.

God, he loved her. He loved her more than he ever thought he was capable of loving a person. It was a scary feeling, to be sure, but it wasn't accompanied by dread. All he wanted to do was explore that love.

He got his chance.

On their mutual night off, Grissom showed up at Sara's apartment in the early evening, clad in a freshly-pressed button-down shirt and a blazer, ready for a romantic evening. Out of habit, though, they fused together the moment she opened the door and, in a practiced dance, made their way toward the bedroom.

"Wait, wait," he exhaled, pulling his lips from hers. "We're supposed to go out."

Either she didn't hear, or she didn't care, because Sara failed to pause as her hands made their way to his belt buckle. The moment her fingers met his hot flesh, Grissom lost the ability to care.

There was an edge to their need, as if it were more acute than normal. Semi-clothed, they fell into bed, joining impatiently. All of Grissom's plans of wooing her into a real relationship went out the window as they writhed against each other, straining for a closeness neither one could define. She came hard, causing him to lose his last shred of control. Grissom collapsed on top of her, moving only when he could muster the strength several minutes later. His shirt was wrinkled beyond reprieve and looked to be missing a button. His pants were stained with their shared fluids and his only change of clothes was in his overnight bag, which was currently sitting in his trunk. Grissom frowned. By the time they got themselves cleaned up and halfway presentable, they'd miss their reservation.

"I forgot to tell you how handsome you look."

He blinked and turned to face her, a little bit surprised to find her wide awake instead of gearing up for a nap like she usually did after sex. "What?"

Sara lifted a hand to his face and rubbed her palm against his beard. "You look very handsome tonight," she smiled. "But then again you look handsome every night."

Though he was slightly embarrassed by the compliment, it went a long way towards loosening him up. He smiled at her and hooked an arm around her waist as she snuggled into his shoulder, burying her face in the crook of his neck. "So is that it? You only love me for my looks?"

The moment the words left his mouth, he froze. Time seemed to stop. Grissom wished he could suck that last sentence back into his mouth and swallow it. Sara slowly lifted her face from his neck and pursed her lips.

"Well…"

He shifted uncomfortably.

"…let's see. You do have an extensive vocabulary."

Grissom arched a brow as she moved to straddle his body.

"And nice penmanship. You're well-read and very hygienic. And let's not forget you have a very, very large…"

"Sara!"

"…brain," she finished, smiling slyly.

A great breath whooshed out of his mouth, sending the stray hairs framing her face flying.

"But none of that matters," she said simply, shrugging. "I love you because of your looks. What can I say? I'm shallow like that."

Grissom opened his mouth to say something, anything, but no words would come. Sara smiled down at him before going back to her place at his side, stretching, yawning, and then tucking her face into the crook of his neck once more so she could rest.

He knew what she was doing. She was giving him time, just as she had done before.

She'd give him hours to think, hours to find the answers, and while he was busy trying to figure out what she had known all along, she'd hold him tight and be ready and waiting to ease him through the next step when the time would come to take it.

"I love you, too."

THE END

A/N: I have been very busy but I had to write this down (very quickly!) after it popped in my head It started off as a fic about Grissom having to use Sara's deodorant and feeling awkward about it, and then it morphed into this. The working title was "B.O." You see, that really weird bad idea is basically what my brain is like without any filter. Also, "esperar" means "to wait" and also "to hope" in Spanish.