Mistletoe and Wine (or 'The Obligatory Christmas Fic')

Rating: K

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.

Author's note: Just a little something until I write some more chapters for Snapshots.

Chapter Two: Wine

December 24

Grissom was gone when Nick and Sara parted, their gazes lingering on one another's faces. They still had their arms around each other, and Sara was suddenly aware of just how quiet the lab was, as though the whole world, or at least their small corner of it, were waiting to see what would happen next.

Nick, for his part, was having trouble thinking about anything apart from how beautiful Sara's smile was. He blinked and said the first words that came into his head.

"Uh, do you have any plans for Christmas Day? Before shift, I mean."

Sara's smile widened as she anticipated an invitation. "Not really, no."

"You wanna come round to my place? I can fix us a Christmas dinner or something."

She nodded. "Sure. That'd be great."

They were silent for a moment, then awareness of where they were seeped back in. Sara dropped her arms reluctantly from around Nick's neck. "Um, we really should get back to work."

"Yeah."

"What time Christmas Day?"

"Huh? Oh, I dunno. Is one o'clock okay?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "One o'clock sounds good."

She finally moved around him into the break-room and he turned to go check on Greg, then looked back at her.

"Sara?"

"Yeah?" She turned towards him, and he smiled at her.

"Merry Christmas."

She smiled back. "Merry Christmas Nick."

December 25

At precisely 1pm on Christmas Day Sara knocked on Nick's door. She was wearing a red sweater over blue jeans, a casual yet flattering combination that it had taken her almost an hour to decide on.

She and Nick had worked separate cases on Christmas Eve, and she hadn't had a chance to talk to him alone since he had issued his invitation. Now he answered the door with a smile.

"Right on time. Come on in." He shut the door behind her then turned to her and, as he had two nights before, placed his hand lightly on her cheek before kissing her. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you too." She smiled back. "Uh, I brought a bottle of wine."

"Perfect." He took it gently from her hand and headed towards the kitchen to open it. Not knowing what else to do, she followed him. "I did some shopping yesterday," he called over his shoulder. "I got some chestnut stuffing, and there are potatoes and a whole bunch of vegetables. The gravy's vegetarian too."

"Thanks," she said, touched by the level of consideration he had obviously put into planning the meal. "That was really thoughtful of you."

He poured them each a glass of wine and handed her one with a smile. "Anytime."

He kissed her cheek and gestured towards the living-room.

"So," she said as she sat down on the sofa and reached for the remote, "what do you want to watch?"

He shrugged. "I don't mind. Whatever's on is fine."

She nodded, then set her glass down and turned to face him with a serious expression on her face.

"What are we doing here?"

"You mean in the cosmic sense?" he asked. She gave him a withering look, and he sat down facing her on the other end of the sofa. "I was kinda hoping that you'd tell me."

She raised an eyebrow. "As I recall, you were the one who kissed me. Twice, in fact."

He smirked a little. "I didn't hear you complaining."

She swatted at him. "I'm being serious!"

"So am I!" He held up his hands in protest, then sobered. "Seriously Sara, didn't you ever wonder what'd happen if we stopped fooling around and actually started seeing each other? Didn't you ever think that maybe we could be good together? That maybe we should find out?"

"And what if we're wrong?"

"What if we're right?" He reached out and took her hand. "What if we're right, Sara?"

She took his other hand and drew him closer. "Then I think you should kiss me and we should find out."

Nick smiled and obliged. As it had at the lab, time seemed to stand still as their lips touched, parted, and met again in a slow, tender dance. Eventually they ended up seated side by side, her head resting on his shoulder.

"So," she smiled up at him. "What did you get me?"

"What makes you think I got you anything?" he teased, and she swatted him again. "Hey!" He caught her wrist gently. "Is this goin' to become an abusive relationship already?"

"That depends on whether you got me a present or not," she teased back.

"You know, if you're only going out with me for the money, you picked the wrong guy. If, on the other hand, you're after good looks and charm – "

"– Not to mention modesty and a head the size of a small planet –" she interjected

" – then I'm your man." He finished, ignoring her. "And this –" he got up and walked over to his small artificial tree, picking up the present that was underneath it "– is for you."

Her grin widened. "Can I open it?"

"Well, that depends. Have you been a good girl this year?" She pouted, and he laughed. "Go ahead."

The package was small and flat, obviously a CD.

"Norah Jones," she smiled. "I've been meaning to get this. Thank you."

He smiled back. "You're welcome." Then he bounced, puppy-like, on the sofa. "What did you get me?"

She reached into the handbag that she had dropped by the sofa and pulled out a square package.

"Now, I'm sure you've been a good boy this year, so you can go ahead and open it."

He tore off the wrapping paper eagerly.

"A Magic Eight-Ball!" he exclaimed in delight. "Man, I used to have one of these in college. They're the best." He opened the box and shook the ball. "Should I go out with Sara?" he asked, then paused to wait for an answer.

"What's it say?" she asked.

He grinned at her. "It says 'it is decidedly so'."