This isn't going to have a happy-happy-cheery theme. I don't know if it'll end happy or not. I'm going with the flow for now. I can tell you these three things:

- It's before we got any cutesy moments with the Bug guy and tall brunette

- You'll have to read to find out the pairing.

- Listen to sad music when you read some of the chapters. It seriously adds to the story. ie. Celine Dion, Augustana, George Strait etc.

Happy reading


Oh yeah, and some mildly bad language in this.

Blame Chemistry
Chapter 1

Dip. Dust. Dip. Dust. Nothing. Sara Sidle sighed. Passion turned to bore for the level three CSI, and she didn't exactly have the nerve to admit who she thought was the cause. Dip. Dust. Dip. Dust. "Yes! Finally." Sara growled in past frustration. "Ha-ha-ha. Eat that one you murdering son-of-a-bitch." Not knowing who was standing in front of her, she stood up quickly, subsequently throwing a jar of power in the air. "Oh shit."

Grissom covered his mouth trying to keep the evil little crystals from getting up his nose, while Sara mumbled unsuitable things out loud.

"Err. Mother Fucker. Fucking asbestos infested damn mother effing print powder!" Good Job Sparky. Embarrass yourself in front of him again. I give that two thum..

"I'm sorry. This is a bad time. I'll come back later." Grissom turned on his heel and walked away briskly. Like he wouldn't make a fool out of himself if he asked her. Sure, he wanted to, but…

"Grissom, no. Wait." Sara scurried to catch up to him. "Damn you walk fast."

He looked constipated. Mouth closed in a straight line, hands in his pockets, and walking fast to God knows where. "Yeah, well-"

"Well slow down!" She growled. They walked for a few minutes before she asked, "What did you want?"

Grissom began to answer. "Well I was just going to…well-"

Jeesuss. This is stupid. He wont say what he wants. He never does.

"Grissom. Just spit it out please. I have work to do." She said matter-of-factly.

He said nothing.

"Or don't say anything at all. That's fine. I'll see you later." Sara shook her head, turned and walked back the crime scene.

Grissom's head shot up and he turned to see Sara walking away. Had he been listening to her at all? "Have dinner with me!"

Sara stopped dead in her tracks. "Excuse me?"

"Will you have dinner with me?" He repeated.

She laughed. "That print powder must be affecting your brain. You might want to go visit a doctor." Sara shook her head and laughed, not because it was funny, but because it was happening again. He was toying with her. Only this time, it was probably her fault. She threw the powder. Then again, he was the one who snuck up on her while she was working.

"It's not the powder. And if it is, thank God it's given me the courage to ask you." Grissom replied honestly. "So I'll ask you again. Will you have dinner with me?"

"You're serious. Okay. Sure. When and where?" She asked, still not quite believing what was going on. Act cool, Sidle. Breathe. In. Out. In. Out. That's better.

Grissom pondered for a moment. "Well, I know this great Thai Restaurant on Sahara Avenue if you want to go there."

Oh my God. Does he know I love that place? One of the only vegetarian restaurants in Vegas. Chill Sidle. He probably looked it up on the internet. "That or he's a stalker." She whispered out loud, not knowing she was doing so.


Sara's head shot up. "Nothing. That's fine. What time?"

"How's eight tomorrow night? I'll pick you up?" He asked.

Not a good idea, Sara thought. She would need an easy way out it things didn't go well. "No. I'll meet you there."

"Oh alright."

They stood there for a while longer before Sara broke the silence. "Well, I have work to do, so I'll see you tomorrow night."

She walked away feeling higher than she ever had. Five years, eight months and nine days after she moved to Vegas did he finally ask her to dinner. And yes, she had been counting.

Congratulations, Sidle. You finally have him. Sara smiled at the thought, until another thought ran into mind. Or do you?


A/N: Can I get an encore on how gosh darn boring that first chapter was? Can I just tell you all how much I hate starting stories because it means I have to think. And that's something that doesn't come naturally. Trust me, this will be sad. And I'm pumped to see how this turns out. I don't expect any reviews. But what a frickin treat it would be to get a few.