A/N: Yes, soft pore corn. Note to readers: Do NOT drink an assload of wine, call your friend in Boston, and then actually think you're going to say anything coherent. Ok? It's just not going to work. You'll end up saying stuff like soft pore corn, which sounds like some kind of genetically-engineered food.

Once, she had taken a chance on him. Twice, actually. The first was when she agreed to stay in Vegas. The second had been when she had asked him to dinner—and he had turned her down. Cold. Then he had followed it up with what had to be the lamest excuse in the history of man.

"Sara…I don't know what to do about this."

What the hell had he been thinking when he uttered those words?

Simple. He hadn't been thinking. His heart had taken control of his mouth and the plain and simple truth of the matter was that no matter how much he loved her, he was just that much more terrified of her. His heart was frozen in fear.

And now, as he held a once-again sleeping Sara Sidle in his arms, he knew what he had to do. She had taken a chance on him. Now it was his turn to take a chance on her—to take a chance that she wouldn't get bored with him, wouldn't get frustrated with him, wouldn't simply wake up one day and decide to leave him. The ball was in his court; she had been patient enough.

His lips formed a small smile as he carefully removed himself from her bed, trying not to wake her.

"Mmmph," she said, rolling over to face him. "Where're you going?"

He smiled down at her and gently bent to brush his hands over her face. "I have to run some errands and take care of some of life's dreary details," he lied. "But may I take you to dinner before work tonight?" he asked to soften the blow.

"Mmm," she smiled. "That sounds nice. Where are we going?"

"I don't know yet. Dress nicely."

"What are you trying to do? Spoil me?"

'You have no idea,' he thought.

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As Grissom drove through the streets of Las Vegas, his mind engaged itself in an exhaustive debate over whether or not to do what he had already decided to do. Even as he walked into the jewelry store, one part of his mind was screaming, 'Don't do it! Don't do it! She'll never say yes!'

As the jeweler approached him, Grissom took a deep breath and steeled himself. Before he could change his mind yet again, he blurted out, "I need to buy an engagement ring."

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Sara fiddled nervously with her necklace as she waited for Grissom to pick her up. Her mind was spinning out of control from their earlier conversation. She couldn't believe she had been able to go back to sleep after telling the man balls-out that she would marry him if only he asked. 'God, what were you thinking, laying it on the line like that?'

She stood up and began to pace her living room. It wasn't entirely insane of her to do what she had done. After all, he had said it first. "I want to marry you." Plain as day. 'But then he went all fucking enigmatic again!' she screamed to herself. When the urge to put her fist through the wall hit her, she willed herself to calm down by taking a number of deep, cleansing breaths.

Just as she was beginning to feel like a normal human being again, the doorbell rang.

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The ride to the restaurant was spent in relative silence. Sara had a constant flutter in her stomach, which wasn't helped by Grissom's gentle hand lying encasing hers. Her eyes grew large as she realized where he was taking her.

"The Eiffel Tower Restaurant?" she spoke in amazement.

"I heard it has a nice view," he said with a small smile.

Ten minutes later, they had parked and he was holding her against him as the glass elevator whisked them to the eleventh floor of the fifty-floor Eiffel Tower replica.

Sara eagerly ordered the only vegetarian entrée on the menu, the Baked Cassoulet of Twelve Vegetables and Belgium Endives. When she had finished the last bite, she looked at Grissom, licked her lips appreciatively, and declared that she would have to dine at five-star restaurants much more often. "Ah, this is the life," she said, tongue-in-cheek, causing him to tilt his head to the side and give her a most disarming smile.

"Got room for dessert?" he inquired.

"Ugh," she said, nose wrinkled. "I'd love to, but I'm afraid my tummy would explode."

He nodded his head in understanding and flagged down their waiter. After taking care of the bill, he stood, gave Sara his hand, and said, "Would you like to take a little tour before work?"

She wrinkled her eyebrows in a gesture of confusion, and said, "A tour?"

A sly grin. "Follow me, Miss Sidle."

A moment later, they were back in the glass elevator, but they were heading up, rather than down. Sara looked at him and grinned in understanding.

"Wow," she murmured. "I've never been up here, but I've heard the view is outstanding."

"As have I," he replied, his heart suddenly racing. He willed himself to breathe deeply, so as not to tip Sara off to his nervousness. "Close your eyes," he said on the spur-of-the-moment. "That will make it all the more breathtaking when you suddenly open your eyes and see everything."

Sara grinned and let her eyes flutter closed. Grissom fingered the outline of the small box in his pocket and swallowed hard.

A moment later, the elevator reached the top and the doors slid open. Grissom reached for Sara's hands and pulled her out of the elevator. "Open your eyes," he whispered.

When she opened her eyes, she simply gasped, placing her two slender hands at her mouth. After a moment, she whispered, "I never knew Las Vegas could be so beautiful." Grissom took the opportunity to slip behind her and drop to one knee, suddenly oblivious to the other people milling about. When he didn't reply, she turned to him and blinked for a moment, not seeing him. The she looked down and saw his head—at eye-level with her stomach. He was kneeling and holding a small black box as he looked up at her with shining blue eyes.

As her brain began to register what was happening, she thought for a moment that she might throw up, but the next words out of his mouth chased away all thoughts of nausea.

"You said all I'd have to do is ask. Sara, will you marry me?"