I've somehow kept from embarrassing myself in the past hour, and as Sara and I wait in line at our gate I silently congratulate myself. Maybe it was just some initial jitters – things will have to get easier for me, because I can't come off much worse than I already am.

Sara stands next to me, a snarl on her face. Her foot's tapping at about 120 beats per minute – a good march tempo. Too bad we're waiting in line and not marching. "We'll get there," I lean over and whisper to her. "Please don't attack anyone in front of you."

She gives me a quelling look. "I know. 'If you kill someone now, Sara,'" she mimics, "then we'll miss our flight.' You're the soul of understanding, Grissom."

"I didn't say that."

"I read your mind."

I raise my eyebrows and give her a look that asks for more explanation. She shrugs. "I'm kidding. Obviously."

She returns her attention to the couple standing in front of us. They're obviously tourists, and they have typical tourist manners. The woman put down her carry-on bag squarely on Sara's foot a few minutes ago, and I really thought Sara was going to lose it, but she managed to restrain herself.

She elbows me and I look over at her, then follow her eyes toward the male half of the tourist couple. He's somehow managed to back up while his wife stayed put, and now he's looking over his shoulder at Sara and doing strange things with his eyebrows. She looks back to me and grimaces painfully, begging me to do something.

What am I supposed to do about this?

I clear my throat, hoping that the man will realize how close he is to us and give us our personal space back. He glances at me for a second, but seems to dismiss me and stays where he is. Sara kicks my heel and glares at me and I glare back, trying to telepathically order her to get herself out of this and leave me out of it.

The man eases another step backward, and now he's within inches of Sara's body. She moves to the side, trying to get out of his path, but he shifts with her.

She looks completely exasperated now. The next time the man gives her what he thinks is a seductive stare, she crosses her eyes and sticks out her tongue at him. I have to stifle a laugh, but he doesn't seem to get the joke and just wiggles his eyebrows back.

They're rather unkempt eyebrows, I think, though there's really no reason for me to notice such a thing. I hope mine don't sprout random long hairs like his do, and I raise a hand and smooth it over my left eyebrow before I realize what I'm doing. Sara grins at me, obviously following my train of thought, and mouths, "He's disgusting!" to me.

I shrug, then nod. Well, yes he is. That doesn't mean I should pick a fight with him because Sara doesn't like him. I stay where I am and mouth back to her, "Wait him out."

At that moment, he fakes a cough and takes another step back, bringing himself directly in contact with Sara's front. She huffs loudly and pushes her way out from behind him, moving closer to me.

I'm about to label the problem solved and return to my thoughts when she takes a firm hold on my arm and announces, "Honey? When are you teaching that Judo class, again?"

Hell. I have no choice but to play along, and so I say, "Not until Monday, dear. They had to put down the extra padding to cushion the people I throw, remember?"

"Oh." She nods grandly. "Right." Slewing her eyes to the side, she checks to see if our act has discouraged Eyebrow Man. It hasn't, and he wiggles his eyebrows yet again, this time making suggestive – and lewd – movements with his mouth.

Sara shudders. "That's it." She stands still for a moment, seeming to psych herself up for something, then very deliberately steps forward, pushing the man back toward his wife and away from her. "Sir, I'm sorry you seem to have some sort of facial tic," she begins in a voice designed to sound as un-sorry as possible, "but you really need to direct it at someone else. My husband and I are trying to enjoy our honeymoon."

My eyes widen so quickly that I'm afraid one of them will end up prolapsed, and I stare at her, dumbfounded. I notice after a second that the man is giving her a similar look, and that if I want him gone I ought to act like it's just another day of being married to Sara. "That's right," I announce, putting an arm around her shoulders. "I'm sure your wife would rather you give your attention to her."

The man gives me a dirty look. "Maybe you ought to tell her to stop snuggling up to me, then," he says, and his voice is as repulsive as the rest of him.

I'm starting to get angry now – I've rarely met someone so rude to women. The man's on the verge of sexually harassing Sara right here in an airport! "Sir." I try to sound as calm as possible, not as though I'd like to deck the guy. "I'm going to ask you one more time to leave us alone, and then I'm going to go find a security guard."

Sara snickers, no doubt trying to embarrass the man as much as possible. The cretin isn't getting the message, though, and opens his mouth to say something that will doubtlessly be more offensive than his last. She looks at me desperately and I do the first thing that comes to mind: pull her closer to me and kiss her.

Well, I almost kiss her. It's more like my lips brushing her cheek as I whisper to her to make this look good, but it still feels like a kiss.

We can't hold this pose forever, trying to look as though we're kissing, and I realize that I have two choices. I can release her, and hope the man got the hint, or I can completely embarrass both Sara and myself and kiss her for real. Knowing that we won't be moving in this line for at least another fifteen minutes, I'm forced to opt for the latter.

"Play along," I manage to hiss to her before I force her head towards me, pushing our lips together. I feel her body jerk as she realizes what I'm doing, then go limp for a moment as she decides what to do. She only really has one choice, though, and soon enough she's forced to kiss me back.

I really hope she won't kill me for this later – I'm only doing this to rescue her.

Not like I'm enjoying it.

It's just a duty. Something to protect my CSI.

Yeah, right! My subconscious isn't aware of my supposedly honorable motives, and as it takes over those thoughts scatter from my mind.

She's kissing me back just as earnestly, I note defensively as I wrap my arms around her tighter. Something that might be a moan or a whimper rises from her throat and her body relaxes again. I pray she hasn't fainted or something.

Eyebrow Man makes a rude noise and mutters something undoubtedly crude to his wife. She giggles shrilly. I open my eyes and look over Sara's head at them. He's turned away, finally. I have no more reason to be touching her, and yet I'm finding it difficult to send that message to certain areas of my body.

I loosen my hold on her and pull back my head slightly, releasing most of the pressure on her lips, then gradually remove my mouth from hers entirely.

When I release her, she stares at me with wide eyes. I don't know what to say to her following that performance, and so I turn away. Of course, what I've just done to protect her from a man's harassment could very well be interpreted as more harassment. I hope that Sara wouldn't think I had meant any harm, but given our relationship just lately, I can't count on anything.

We're going to need to talk about this.

Somebody kill me.