Disclaimer: Don't own it. Depresses me every day…the song used is Fever by Michael Buble (I know, not the original version but that's the one I was listening to when I wrote this)
A/N: I've been told it's too cheesy but the fluff is so hard to resist! It just comes and I can't stop it :P
Lucky in Las Vegas
Nick slammed closed the trunk of his Denali. He couldn't remember anymore why he was going through all this trouble, except that it seemed to be something that Sara had set her sights on and he knew how terrible she was at letting things go.
Dinner with friends had been a good idea, but now Nick was thoroughly regretting it as he struggled with shopping bags and a bouquet of flowers towards the front door. He suspected that the red chrysanthemums and cream-white lilies Sara had specifically requested had gotten a bit squashed-she was not going to be pleased.
Nick sighed and reached for the doorbell after figuring out that he couldn't access the key with his arms full. He'd always admired Sara's determination, the way she liked to do things better than anyone else, down to the very last detail. But who cared if their napkin holders didn't match their dining mats like Catherine's did?
Sara wanted everything to be perfect. Nick understood how it was a big deal for her, inviting all their friends over for the first time, everyone gathered in their home.
Their home. It was such an exhilarating, unreal thought. Nick was still getting used to the concept, they both were, but he hadn't imagined that Sara would get so freaked out about a simple dinner.
The front door swung violently open. Sara was wearing an apron and holding a whisk, looking flushed and more than a little anxious.
'Did you remember the cream?'
Nick's jaw dropped. 'Shit!'
'Nick!' she cried, sounding close to desperation. 'I told you how important that was! You always forget the cream!'
'Not always…' he protested.
'When it doesn't involve a bed, it doesn't count,' said Sara coldly, snatching a bag out of his hands.
'What about the kitchen bench top?'
She turned around and glared at him. 'We need cream. How can I serve pavlova without cream?'
'You've got apple pie and custard as well.'
'Nicky,' said Sara that tone of voice which sent the wrong kind of shivers down his back, 'please go back to the supermarket, otherwise I'll make sure that you never have cream ever again.'
Well, he didn't have a choice then, did he?
Nick arrived at the supermarket again, feeling rather foolish and reflecting that if he and Sara were to get married some day, planning the wedding would be utter hell. Luckily they were both far from ready for that kind of commitment, even though Nick liked to think about it occasionally. Okay, so maybe a lot, but it wasn't a crime. And Sara didn't ever need to know.
When he returned home she was hunched over some sort of diagram wearing an intense, concentrating look usually reserved for work.
'A seating plan?' he asked disbelievingly. The sketch of their dining table was perfect, neatly ruled and scaled too, he would have bet. Sara had pencilled in names at every seat.
'It's important. I don't want conversation to be awkward.'
'Sara, you live for awkward conversation. You go out of your way to make people uncomfortable. And you're sitting next to Grissom.'
She only said, 'Nick,' in that pleading tone of voice which pissed him off, yet he dropped it all the same. As always, it was the closest they would get to discussing that subject; he'd bring up Gil, and she would ask him to stop.
'Well, why don't you write up a list of topics for us to discuss and then it wouldn't be awkward.'
'Nick-' she began, but he was already out of the room by then.
Sara looked down at her seating plan and sighed.
Dinner wasn't quite the success she had planned. The apple pie was slightly burnt although Greg, who finished every last piece of it, didn't seem to mind. And watching Warrick spinning first Cath and then Lindsey around their living room to Michael Buble made her smile.
She wished it had been better, though. Nick hadn't spoken to her properly all night, and now he was talking to Jim and Greg sharing their own jokes. It made Sara incredibly uncomfortable when they didn't talk, when Nick ignored and excluded her but most of all she hated how she could never figure out a way to fix it. It was unfair, that he made it so easy for her and she seemed incapable of returning the favour. That made her wonder how they worked, how they were still together and if they would really last.
Nick looked up and saw her staring at him-he'd always been good at catching her out-and winked. Later he strolled across the room, singing to her while she rolled her eyes.
'Never know how much I love you…'
Nick grabbed Sara by the arms and pulled her irresistibly closer in to him, his voice dancing in her ears.
'…Never know how much I care…When you put your arms around me, I get a fever that's so hard to bear…'
'Nick.'
'You give me fever when you kiss me; fever, when you hold me tight…'
'Nicky…'
'Don't ask me to stop, Sidle.'
No one saw as she smiled into his shoulder. 'I wasn't going to.'
Sometimes she thought that they only kept going, kept being together because it seemed there was no other choice. It was impossible to go back, and every moment since they'd met had led to this, there was nothing else. There was nothing without Nick.
In those times, Sara knew she'd never felt so lucky in Las Vegas before.