Rating: PG-13ish

Spoilers: YGM and very slight PNN

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. I do own the plotline you're about to read, but since we all know it'd never make it to the show…then I must not own the show. Damn!

A/N: This is a sequel to my previous story "A Little Plant Lovin'." You'll need to have read that one to understand the situation in this story. That one was mostly humor, this installment is mostly angst and stuff. Consider yourself warned. Also, I've taken liberties with the effects and after-effects of Sodium Pentathol – if you should happen to know specifics on that topic, feel free to let me know.

More Plant Lovin'

Chapter 1

            Awareness made itself known to Grissom in the form of a pounding headache. Opening his eyes, he was immediately assaulted by the sun, which apparently had no respect for his delicate physical state. Slamming his eyes shut again, he attempted to throw an arm over his them. This effort was thwarted by a heavy weight on the arm in question. "Wha . . .?" he mumbled. Grissom decided he was man enough to brave the sunlight, and forced his eyes to open again. The weight simply had to go, he decided; his arm was starting to go numb inside his sleeve. Wait . . . sleeve? He didn't wear a shirt to bed, and certainly not a long-sleeved one. A quick mental assessment of the sensations on other parts of his body revealed that he was also wearing trousers and socks. What was going on here?

            Still trying to identify the arm-numbing weight, Grissom twisted around to look at the offending area. "Oh shit!" There was another arm on top of his. A pale, slender arm. An arm he recognized, but which should not have been anywhere near his bed. Wait . . . was this even his bed? He surveyed the room. Light yellow walls. Not his. His were green. Uh-oh. "Ok Gil," he thought, "focus. Let's use some logic, here. You are on a strange bed, in a strange bedroom, with a woman who is most definitely not a stranger. Sara. Shit, yet again!"

            "Ok. Slept next to Sara. Presumably in her bedroom. Did anything happen? I'm fully clothed. What about her?" He turned to look. Sara slept peacefully next to him in a t-shirt bearing the words "Physicists do it with force." Well, at least she wasn't naked. Not that he wouldn't cut off his right hand to see her so, but since he had no idea how this morning had come to pass, he was glad he didn't have to worry about why either of them was naked. Still, what had happened last night?! Grissom squeezed his eyes shut, reaching for the memories. Images began to work their way back into his conscious mind: Sara in a slinky black dress.  Nick kissing Catherine. "Wait . . . Nick kissing Catherine?! Let's hope I dreamed that one up on my own. Now, what else do I remember?" Sara, dress hiked up, straddling a lamp. "Pole dance?" Sara . . . on his lap. Why? He heard his own voice, slurred and drawn out: "C'mon Sara . . . gimme a kiss."

            "Oh god. Did I really say that?" She hadn't beaten the crap out of him, as he expected she would do to any man who made unwelcome advances, so maybe he was dreaming it. "Unwelcome advances, Gil. You really are a bastard, aren't you. What happened, you get drunk and horny?" No, no no. He wouldn't do anything like that to Sara. He valued her too much as a person to treat her like some sex toy . . . right? A movement next to him distracted Grissom from his self-flagellation.

            "Grissom? Mornin'," mumbled a voice. Her voice. Shit. "How you feeling? 'Cause you look like shit, if you'll excuse my saying so." She sat up next to him, eyes scanning his form. "You're not gonna puke or anything, right? Since we know that you're not pregnant, 's no need for a sample . . ." She chuckled at her own wit.

            "Uh. No, Sara, I'm fine. Well, mostly. Except that I don't remember how I ended up here. And my head is killing me. But no, I don't plan on vomiting on your bed."

            "Hmm, well I'm thankful for that. Just washed the sheets. You want some aspirin or something? Here, let me up and I'll grab you some." She rolled off the bed, giving Grissom a stutter-inducing glimpse of long legs and bare flesh. Returning with pills in hand, Sara surveyed the man in her bed.

            "You look . . . lost. What's wrong, Gris?"

            "Um . . .Sara, I, uh . . . um . . . What happened last night? How did I end up in your bed?"

            "Oh, that. I had the team over for drinks . . . you really don't remember any of this?" She looked strangely disappointed when he shook his head no. "Well I guess you, um, had too much to drink. We all did, actually. Which is why you're in here. Catherine's in the office on the hide-a-bed, Warrick's in the guest room, and Nick's on the couch. My bed was the only other place to put you."

            "Right, Sara," said a voice in her head, "just keep telling yourself that's the reason."

            Grissom nodded. "Oh. That makes sense."

            Sara nodded. "Yeah. So, um . . . I guess I'll go rouse everyone else. You want some lunch?"

            He shook his head. "I'd better get home. Gotta feed the bugs, you know. Besides," he added with a smirk, "I know you can't cook, and I'm not really in the mood for take-out."

            The smile on Sara's face wavered, then disappeared. "Oh. Fine. But I do cook, you know. Not every day, but sometimes." She didn't know why she felt she had to justify her eating habits to him. Yes she did, she didn't want him to think her as pathetic as he had thought Donna Marks was.

            Sara watched as Grissom made his way from her bedroom, wincing slightly as she heard the front door of her apartment click shut behind him. Making her way through the rest of her apartment, she discovered that apparently the rest of her friends had decided not to stick around for lunch either. The only sign that they had been there at all was a note Catherine had left on Sara's desk.


                        Let me know how it goes with G. I want to know what he thinks about the fact that he finally kissed you last night!



Sara closed her eyes, trying to gain control of her roiling emotions. She heard a crackling sound and looked down, seeing Catherine's cheerful note lying crumpled in her hand. With a sigh – "Well I'm certainly being melodramatic this morning, aren't I," she thought – Sara deposited the slip of paper in the kitchen trash can and headed for the shower.