A/N: Just a little Sandle oneshot I started when school was still in and I forgot about until now. If I'm not mistaken, the idea came to me when I told my friend Eleen to pick a random activity over MSN and she said 'mini golf'. So this is dedicated to her.
Disclaimer: I do no own CSI or any of the characters.
You Light Up My Life
"Damn it!" Sara cried as she watched the neon orange ball circle the plastic cup in the ground before bouncing out and rolling back down the small slope, ending a few feet in front of her.
"No worries," Greg said as he picked up her ball and placed it back on the starting point. "I'll show you how to shoot properly."
"I know how to shoo-"
"Nuh-uh. If you did, the ball would have gone in the hole." He cut her off.
Sara groaned as he came up behind her, placing his hands over hers on the miniature golf putter. Just as he swung the putter forwards; Sara, noticing his sleeve, blurted out "You're purple."
The ball went up in the air, hit the wall at the end of the hole, before bouncing over to a corner, where it nestled itself under the black lights.
"That's shooting properly alright." Sara stated blandly as Greg glared in annoyance at the orange ball.
"Well, it would have gone in if you hadn't told me I was purple!" Greg exclaimed.
"Well you are." Sara noted as she poked the sleeve of his white polo shirt, which was now, evidently glowing purple under the lights of the glow-in-the-dark mini golf building.
"Sara, you of all people should know that white turns purple under black light." Greg muttered as he went to pick up the ball.
"I do. I just thought I'd point it out."
"Sometimes, I think you're more aggravating than Nick." Greg said as he placed the ball back down on the floor.
"If I'm so aggravating, why did you ask me to go out with you tonight?"
"Because Nick and Warrick both had to work."
"So what, I'm just a replacement?" Sara asked, gasping. She had a feeling that she was here with Greg because she was the only other one who had the night off, but secretly she was wishing that it was something more.
"No! That's not what I meant!" Greg exclaimed raising his arms in defense, his putter held out in front of him in case Sara decided that she wanted to trade her neon orange golf for the new Sanders edition.
"Then what did you mean, Greg? Cause it sure sounded like I was just a replacement!" Sara retorted, trying her best to keep a straight face. There was nothing she liked more than to see Greg squirm. The way his eyes widened and his mouth twitched up into a scared smile while he tried to stop the blush from creeping up his neck and over his cheeks was enough to make her melt.
"I meant that- well, that… You know I would never think of you as a replacement for anyone, Sara!" Greg tried.
Now you've done it Greggo, you've gone and made Sara mad at you! He reprimanded himself.
The last thing he wanted was for Sara to think that she meant nothing to him. In truth, she was his world; his love for her was wider than the night time sky could ever stretch across the heavens and deeper than any of the oceans ever flowed, their darkened depths nothing more than a shadow compared to his Sara's beauty. No, nothing in this world or the next could ever be more of a marvel to him than the fiery brunette standing in front of him at this very moment.
"Really, Greg? Then why did you say it?"
"Say what?"
"That you only asked me to come because Nick and Warrick were working tonight!"
"I lied!"
"You lied to me?"
"Maybe."
"Why would you do that?" Sara questioned, thoroughly confused. Sometimes she just didn't understand her spiky-hair friend, no matter how badly she wanted to.
"I don't know."
Another lie, Greg mused. You seem to be doing that a lot lately, especially when you're around Miss. Sidle.
"Shut up." He scolded the miniature of himself, sitting on his left shoulder.
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
"Greg, you said something. I heard you."
"Umm, why don't we just continue the game. You can use my ball." He replied as he pulled a neon green ball from his pocket and set it on the runway. "I assume you can hit it yourself?"
Sara just grumbled something incoherent under her breath as set up her aim. Noticing that Greg was still standing behind her, she loosened her grip and turned back around.
"Greg?"
"Yes?"
"Unless you want me to hit the wrong ball, I suggest you move."
Blushing, Greg ran up by the end of the hole, taking up residence on the stone guard rail.
There it is… Sara thought, That blush I like so much.
She smiled to herself as she took her aim and hit the ball, sending it up the runway, stopping less than a foot away from where Greg was standing.
"Bravo! Bravo!" Greg cried as he clapped, "Excellent shot Mon Cherie!"
"See, I did it all without your help." Sara replied, making her way up to meet him.
"I'm so proud of my Sar Bear." Greg gushed.
"Sar Bear?"
"Yeah. It's your new nickname."
"And if I don't like it?"
"I think it's cute."
Sighing, she said an idle "Whatever Greg," before debating on what angle would be best to get the ball in the hole.
After lining up her putter and the ball, she was aware that Greg was silently breathing down her neck. Didn't he ever learn?
"Greg, didn't I already ell you not to stand behind me when I'm sho-" The pressure of Greg's lips falling over hers made her stop dead.
Surprise flooded through her body as the warmth from his touch brought her out of her generally glacial state. She dropped her putter, bringing her hand up to his neck, leaning into the dusty kiss. He followed as one of his hands found the small of her back while the other began running up and down her arms. I felt like an eternity that they were locked in a moment of bliss and it would have been longer if Greg hadn't stop his ministrations at the sound o a timid little voice, a few feet from them.
"Mommy, that man and lady are kissing on the course!"
Sara opened her eyes a fraction, reluctantly turning her head away form Greg. She was met with the sight of a little girl, probably no more than seven, grinning and pointing at her and Greg, while the short, stout woman beside her, presumably her mother, was frowning at them.
"Come on," Greg whispered in her ear, a smirk finding its way onto his face. "Let's get out of here., I'll take us somewhere more private."
"Like… ?"
"The movie theatre. I heard Titanic's playing at the Oxford tonight, we can make out during the sex scene."
Sara giggled as she let Greg drag her back through the darkened course, their putters and balls forgotten.
"Sar?"
"Yeah?"
"You're like a neon golf ball in a glow in the dark course."
"What? How?"
"You light up my life."