Title: New Resolutions
For: Cherrydrops12
Summary: New Year's Eve is supposed to be a magical night full of mingling people, champagne glasses, and bright atmospheres….but right now it's nothing but the two of them nursing their hearts in the dark.
Rating: PG-13
A/N: All fluff, literally.
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"Countdown in an hour, folks," an announcer said into the microphone to the room full of fancily-dressed people. A small crowd had begun on the dance floors, other sitting at the numerous round tables set up around the room.
Sara Sidle was one of the very few who hid in the shadows that the large ballroom offered. Fiddling with her empty beer glass-she was never really one for the sparkling champagne-she watched as her colleagues moved to the music. Her ruby-red dress hung beautifully on her figure, clinging like a second skin, but no-one seemed to notice as it helped her blend in with everyone else.
Everybody was in sequins and silk, dresses swaying gently and leather shoes shuffling to the beat. All of the members of the graveyard shift, save two of them, were in the center of the dance floor, Catherine and Warrick attracting the most attention. They were deservedly the best pair out there, the strawberry-blonde being a former exotic dancer and the dark-skinned man being a musician at heart.
Her eyes turned coldly to the only other figure sitting in the gloom, a salt-pepper haired man. That was one of the many things she and Gil Grissom shared: loneliness.
"Would you like to dance?" a cheery voice shattered her world of silence.
Turning around in her seat, Sara faced her messy-haired friend, handsomely clad in a tuxedo, extending his hand out to her. His hair was slicked down delicately with hair gel, but still stuck up adorably in the back.
She shook her head, holding up her drink, or lack thereof, and rested her head warily on her hand. Curly silk locks tumbling down, the brunette tiredly pushed them out of her face. "Thanks for the offer though, Greggo, but I'm not much of a dancer. I hate parties."
Quirking an eyebrow, Greg Sanders grinned and pouted in his happy-go-lucky-way. "Who cares? It's New Year's, Sar," he protested, as if it explained everything. Without waiting for a reply, he gently pulled her to her stiletto-clad feet-how Catherine managed to coerce her into wearing those infernal shoes, she'd never know.
He led her to a more secluded spot on the dance floor, away from the grinding couples but close enough to feel the pulse of the songs throbbing through their veins. Sara shook her head at the mere idea of being there, surrounded by the passion and lust that was no doubt being created by the consumption of alcohol. She pitied those who had to work the next morning, especially Ecklie, the head of the lab. Hopping around like the Easter Bunny, Conrad Ecklie was making a big fool of himself, with Nick Stokes getting it all on his camera phone.
Catching his best friend's gaze, the cowboy CSI winked and waved the phone in triumph. Nick wasn't the type to blackmail, but there were quite a few people who were. Resisting the urge to laugh right out loud, Sara settled for a quiet giggle and began to relax in Greg's arms.
"What's so funny?" he asked as she rolled her eyes at the tall Texan.
"Nothing at all," she murmured quietly, burying her head into the crook of his shoulder.
They shuffled smoothly to the music, she leading them (for she would normally not have it any other way) across the floor. It soon proved to be too crowded, however, and they made their way to the empty balcony decorated with icicle strands of bright lights and dark red poinsettias. To Sara's surprise, fluffy flakes had fallen since early evening, coating the world around them in a blanket of white.
"It's snowing," she whispered in awe, relishing the wonderful winter sight before her. When her partner didn't reply, she turned in his arms to look at him, and saw the cheeky grin spread across his face.
Wordlessly, Greg pointed above them, where a fresh bough of mistletoe was hanging in plain view. They stood observing the plant until finally, the snow falling coated their lashes in a veil of white.
Shaking her head lightly, Sara gently brushed the flakes off; being careful not to smudge her makeup that Catherine had painstakingly took the time to apply for her.
In the moment that the pretty brunette was distracted, Greg gently took her cheek in the palm of his hand, and brought her to face him. Confusion crossed her face as he lightly brushed her soft skin with the pad of his thumb.
She arched into his touch, closing her eyes at the warm contact. Inching slowly closer together, a moment passed until there was only a fraction of an inch between their lips. The music inside had stopped, the voices of many chiming together to count down from ten.
And at the stroke of midnight, it all came together.
Glitter confetti mingling with the silvery snow, their lips met in a passionate embrace, them holding onto each other for the warmth.
People were cheering with their party twirlers and bottles of bubbly, unaware of the event occurring right outside the door.
What had been their first kiss had grown less chaste, more scorching as the last of the confetti fluttered to the ground. Only the need for air broke the connection, leaving the pair breathless and panting. With flushed cheeks and swollen lips, they stood there for a few minutes, lovingly brushing off the glitter and snow clinging to each other's clothes and skin. Sara smiled at the small traces of shiny lip gloss on Greg's lip-no doubt from her.
A dazzling light flashed, causing them to blink their eyes in confusion. Not more than a few feet away was Nick, clutching his camera and grinning madly at the priceless gem of a picture he just captured.
Neither minded at all, instead focusing on how to escape to the parking lot, to a warm bed and perhaps more.
Leading her to his car, Greg held a hand on the small of her back. As soon as they were away from prying eyes, he turned to her and whispered in her ear, causing a smile to grace her features.
"Happy New Year to us, Sara."