Disclaimer: I own CSI. I own GSR. I won the patent to marshmallows, and am the heir to the marshmallow fortune. Not.

Spoilers: Only a little one for Mea Cupla, and if you don't know that the team was broken up, you've been living in a whole all year.

A/N: Response to a YTDAW improve challange. First and last lines given. This one's for Sassy, whose 'desperate' for some GSR.

She gasped as the marshmallow hit her nose.

"Very funny, Nick." Picking up the treat Nick had tossed in her direction, sara looked at it thoughtfully. "If you look at it the right way, this is the reason I'm here, now."

"Your here so that Nick can pelt marshmallows at you?" Greg asked.

"No." Sara shook her head. "Marshmallows are the reason I got interested in science, and that interest led me to a career in criminalistics."

"Now this, I gotta hear." Warrick poured himself a cup of coffee, and settled at the break room table across from Sara. He and Nick were almost ready to leave work, while Sara and Greg were waiting for their shift to begin. It had become a ritual for the two teams to meet for a few minutes between the shifts. They all missed working together, and this was one way they stayed connected

"I was a junior in high school. It was the first week of classes, and I had signed up for physics. I had already taken bio and chem, and neither had fascinated me. I walk into class the first day, and right away I'm convinced that I'm going to hate it. Standing in front of the class is this man in a tie dyed lab coat. A hippie teaching science? I was sure it was going to be a horrible year. I was even more convinced when he pulled out a bag of marshmallows."

As she spoke, another one came sailing in her direction. This time she caught it, and popped it in her mouth.

"I wath fong."

"What? You want a thong?" Greg teased.

"I was wrong." She glared at Greg before throwing a marshmallow at him, hitting him square in the middle of the forehead.

"Mr. Waits began by talking about air pressure. He put one of the marshmallows under a bell jar and hooked it up to a vacuum. As he sucked the air out of the jar, the marshmallow grew and grew, until it was about six inches across. When he let the air back in, it shrunk to half its original size and looked as wrinkled as a raisin. I was hooked I had to know why."

"Because of a marshmallow?" Nick asked.

"It wasn't just the marshmallow, but that was the start. We spent the year throwing eggs off of the school roof, racing cars, and chaining bowling balls to the ceiling. Believe it or not, I was actually planning on studying literature in college, until Mr. Waits class."

"We're glad you took that class, then." Warrick remarked, smiling at her.

So am I, thought the man standing just outside the room in the hallway. Grissom was on his way to pick up the assignment slips when he heard the conversation in the break room. The four former coworkers looked so comfortable together. It made Grissom realize yet again how much he missed his old team. He wanted them back, damn it. I still have Sara. At least, as much as I can say I've ever had her.

The next night, Sara opened her locker and in an automatic relax reached out to catch the bag that fell off the shelf. Marshmallows.

"Very funny, guys," she muttered. It had to be Greg or Nick. She would bet on it.

"Hey Sara, what's that?" Nick walked into the locker room.

"Stay out of my locker, Nick."

"What do you mean?" Sara watched him carefully, but the confused look appeared to be genuine.

"Never mind." Tossing the bag back in her locker, Sara left the room after throwing Nick a goodnight over her shoulder.

"Hey Sara. We've got a dead body at the New York New York." Greg caught up to her just outside the break room. He was grinning, the mystery of murder still being new to the CSI level one. "Grissom already left, but he gave me our assignment."

"I'm driving," Sara stated simply, reaching for the keys in her pocket. "Let's go."

"Aww, Sara..." Greg protested.

"Tell you what, Greggo. You figure out the case before I do, I'll let you drive home."

"Really? It's a deal." They reached the SUV, and Sara unlocked the drivers side door. Sitting on her seat was another bag of marshmallows.

"What, did you buy them in bulk?" She couldn't decide whether to be amused or annoyed buy the practical joke.

"Buy what?"

"The marshmallows, Greg. Just because I told one personal story, doesn't mean I want to see them every time I turn around."

"Your being stalked by marshmallows?" Greg couldn't stop the laugh, despite the look Sara was giving him.

"It's not funny anymore, Greg." Annoyed, Sara decided. She was definitely getting annoyed.

"It isn't me, Sara. I swear." He was giving her that puppy dog expression, and she was inclined to believe him.

"It had better not be." Turning the key, she started the SUV and pulled out of the parking lot. With the bag still in her hand, Sara passed it to Greg to she could concentrate on her driving. "Here, hold these."

Sara stormed down the hallway, seething. During the hours spent in a hotel room, puzzling together a murder scene, she had completely forgotten about the mystery of the marshmallows. Intent on returning to the lab and dropping of the evidence, so she could head home to sleep, she had climbed into the passenger side of the SUV without paying attention. The first thing that she noticed was the smell; the sickly sweetness of too much sugar. Trying to locate the source of the smell, Sara shifted in her seat, only to find that she was sitting in a melted puddle of white sticky goo. Hours in the sun had melted the marshmallows and weakened the plastic bag, which split the moment she sat on it. She had spent the whole ride home silently fuming. Well, maybe not so silently. Greg had been desperately relieved to arrive back at the lab, and sara was sure if he had left the surprise in the car he long ago would have confessed.

On her way to the locker room Sara passed Grissom's office, and out of habit she glanced inside as she walked. A dozens steps later she stopped and pivoted. She didn't stop at the door, but walked straight in until she was standing in front of his desk.

"You," she growled.

Grissom looked up from his desk, perplexed. Sara was obviously upset about something, but for the life of him he didn't know what. Quickly he tried to think of anything he had done lately that might have caused her to look at him the way she was. He he left meat in the community fridge? No. Had he refused any of her overtime requests? No. He was stumped.

"Me what?"

Sara jabbed at the open bag of marshmallows on his desk.

"Thanks to you, I have to do laundry tonight, and get my car detailed tomorrow."

Grissom was still confused, until she turned around to illustrate her point. The seat of her pants was covered in melted marshmallow. Her car seat, he could guess, looked the same. For just a moment he let himself enjoy the view, before trying to look contrite.

"Why in the world did you break into my locker and my car to leave me marshmallows?" She had to know, wanted to understand his reasoning on at least one thing.

"You were happy." A said it as if it was obvious, like she didn't even need to ask.


"Yesterday, in the break room. You were talking about blowing up marshmallows, and you were smiling and enjoying yourself. I haven't seen you smile like that for a long time. I guess I wanted to see if I could make you smile again." Grissom watched her carefully as he spoke. Sara showed no reaction as she walked around the desk to stand directly in front of him. Suddenly, her face broke out in a grin.

"That is so incredibly sweet." Before he could respond, she bent down and kissed his cheek, just above his beard. "Thank you."

"I have three more bags in my desk," he said, before grabbing her and pulling her back to him. This time he was the one to initiate the kiss, and he didn't settle for her cheek. In a move neither of them had yet been brave enough to make, he covered her lips with his in a kiss. She tasted like mint and coffee. He, understandably, tasted of marshmallows.

When they parted Grissom looked at his pants, where Sara had perched momentarily. They were white and sticky.

"Looks like I'll be doing laundry today too."

Smirking back, Sara replied, "Isn't that your problem?"