Title: It Started with Hank, part 2

Author: butterflied4life

Rating: PG13

Pairing: Grissom and Sara, of course

Spoilers: See Chapter 1

Summary: Maybe FBI Agent Jack Malone was right. Maybe it really did start with Hank.

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

A/N: Tons and tons of thanks to Keegan, my beta. She is so amazing, and I truly love working with her.

Grissom's townhouse turned out to be only a short distance from Sara's apartment complex. They made arrangements for her to come by at 6 p.m. to pick up Hank and stop by again at around 6:30 to drop him back off.

The next day, Sara walked over to Grissom's a few minutes early so Hank would have time to get comfortable with her. Standing on his doorstep, she noticed the doorbell but opted for knocking instead. Grissom appeared at the door a few seconds later.

"Sorry it took me so long," he apologized. "At first, I didn't realize you knocked. People usually ring the doorbell." He paused, almost as if he expected an explanation.

Sara looked down at her hands as she flexed them. "Umm, yeah. Well, the social worker always used to ring the doorbell when she would come to check on us . . . on me. I always associated doorbells with-with that . . . sort of thing."

Grissom immediately wished he hadn't said anything. He always seemed to cause her pain, no matter what he did. "I'm sorry," he said, noticing that was the second time he had apologized in five minutes.

"Don't be." Sara looked back up at him, smiling convincingly. "So where's Hank?"

Grissom whistled and Hank bounded up to the door, sliding on the concrete floor as he tried to stop before he ran into his owner. However, he failed. Sara laughed as Grissom braced his hand on the doorjamb to keep from stumbling. Hank pricked his ears at the sound and wagged his tail.

"You're a little troublemaker, aren't you?" Sara crooned softly to him. Hank flipped onto his back and stuck his legs in the air, as if expecting her to rub his tummy. Sara laughed again as she scratched him.

Grissom started thinking that maybe Sara walking Hank would be good for both her and his dog. It had been a long time since he had heard her laugh like that. In fact, up until then he hadn't even noticed she was wearing shorts and a tank top again. So much for that. He reached back and grabbed Hank's leash from the hall table and handed it to Sara.

She clipped the leash onto Hank's collar and stood up, turning away and starting towards the street.

"I'll see you in a little bit, then?" Grissom called out to her. She turned back to look at him, nodded, and then started to jog. Hank ran with her, happy to stretch his legs. Grissom watched from the doorway, enjoying the sight.

Nearly thirty minutes later when Sara got back to Grissom's house, he was already waiting at the front door. She unclipped Hank from his leash and let him run past Grissom into the house. Grissom made as if to take her hand, but he instead pressed a key into her palm.

Sara's mouth hung upon as she looked up at him. "I-I can't take this. It's a key to your house!" she exclaimed, stating the obvious.

"Yeeeesssss," Grissom drew the word out as if talking to a child. Before Sara could protest again, he continued, "It's perfectly reasonable. I'm not always home around six. And sometimes when I am I'm sleeping. You can just come in and get Hank. It's not a big deal, honestly. I trust you."

Sara felt her heart melt at the words. He trusted her. He really trusted her. "Okay. But only if you're sure."

Grissom smiled back at her. "I'm sure."

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Sara walking Hank turned out to benefit all parties involved. Grissom and Sara learned how to interact with each other outside of work again and now had Hank (the canine one) to discuss so that the conversation didn't always have to revert back to work.

Grissom was especially pleased with the plan because it kept Sara from spending too much time at the lab. Hank distracted her from all the cold cases she loved working on. She started acting like her old self, from before Adam Trent, before Debbie Marlin, before her near-DUI incident.

Sara truly enjoyed walking, or rather running with, Hank. And since things with Grissom were now better, she actually liked seeing him more often. She still loved him, but she was able to accept that some things were just never going to happen and move on with her life.

Lastly, Hank couldn't have been happier. He got to be with his two favorite people in the entire world on a daily basis. He could sense how truly happy they made each other. Now if Sara would only move into his house, his world would be perfect . . .

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Several months later

Grissom was sleeping peacefully one rainy evening after a long shift when the doorbell rang. He groggily grabbed a t-shirt and headed for the door. What he found there was enough to wake him up the rest of the way.

Sara looked like a drowned rat. Her hair was dripping wet and what had fallen from her ponytail was plastered against her face. Her clothes were soaked and therefore her white t-shirt was virtually see-through. She was holding the leash to Hank, who didn't look very happy either.

When she realized the door was open, she looked up at Grissom with an apologetic look on her face and started babbling. "I am so, so sorry. I left the key on your hall table and then I didn't watch the weather channel forecast so I didn't realize it was going to rain and yeah, like I said, I forgot the key so I didn't know what to do and I know you were going to try and get some sleep but I really didn't—"

During Sara's one-sentence-long explanation, Grissom had been struck by how absolutely gorgeous she looked, standing there on his porch soaking wet. He really had no idea what she was saying and wouldn't have cared if he did. All he could think was Beautiful, so beautiful.

He started to reach for her, to tell her it was okay, she could wake him up any day, every day in fact, but Hank made all that unnecessary. Hank, eager to get into the dry house, darted around to Sara's other side and through the door, and, in the process, jerked his leash against the back of her legs. She stumbled forward and Grissom caught her. Then he was able to do what he had been planning to do all along: pull her into his arms and kiss her.

Sara's mouth was still halfway open from talking, so Grissom took advantage of it and immediately deepened the kiss. Sara was so surprised that she didn't kiss him back at first. Once she came back to her senses, which were quickly being overloaded with the taste of Grissom's lips, Grissom's mouth, the feel of Grissom's hands on her back, her neck, her hair, she kissed him back just as hard.

Grissom nearly lost it when he felt Sara start to kiss him back. It's one thing to kiss an unresponsive person, even if you have fantasized about it for years, and a completely other thing to actually start making out with said person.

They would have gladly stood there all day kissing, but Hank had other plans. He had returned from the house and was sitting to their right, watching, and no doubt trying to figure out exactly what they were doing. Dogs didn't lick each others' faces for long periods of time, or at least the dogs he knew didn't. After a couple minutes he began barking loudly, a happy bark that Grissom knew well. It was also still loud enough to attract attention to Grissom's front door. He broke away from Sara, smiling somewhat sheepishly. Sara grinned. She started to say something, but Hank began pushing her towards Grissom and inside the house. Grissom smiled even bigger.

"Would you like to take this inside? Maybe dry off a little?"

Sara's eyes lit up. "Yes! I mean, if you mean what I think you mean," she added cautiously.

Grissom smirked, and, taking her hand, led her inside.

A/N 2: TONS AND TONS of thanks also to everyone who left a review for the last chapter. You guys were all so kind and supportive and eager for more. It really made my day. Please leave a review this time, too, and let me know what you thought of the story as a whole. Plus, I will include a sneak-peek of my next story for everyone who reviews.