A/N: This is in response to a challenge where Sara dreams of a marriage proposal under the moonlight. Greg decides to do so on the night of the CSI Christmas party.

Rating: T

Disclaimer: If I owned anything, would I be here?

"Tell me again why we're here playing tourist?" Sara asked the man who had his fingers entwined in hers, as they made their way to the lobby of the Treasure Island hotel.

Cocking an eyebrow, he told her "I never said in the first place. I mean really. You're almost as bad as Mia about having no sense of adventure."

She blinked. "Being with you is adventure enough. Isn't it?"

"You just saved yourself from sleeping on the couch tonight."

"Greg, you couldn't stay mad if you wanted to. Besides, you'd be on your knees begging me to come back to bed after five minutes anyway." They both laughed, knowing her comment was true.

Not quite a year ago, he couldn't believe his luck when Sara finally said yes to going on a date with him. Almost six whole years of persistance had paid off and he couldn't be happier. Happier included her moving in with him shortly after since that's where she practically lived as it was. He could, but he wasn't sure if she was ready to go down that particular road yet.

They had come straight from work after pulling a double to close a grueling case where a teenage girl had killed her parents in a fit of rage. So a night of mindless fun on the town was definitely in order.

She couldn't stop staring at him tonight. But she knew that was always a good thing. His ever-changing hair was once again spiked in all directions with bleach blonde tips. He looked good enough to eat in a navy blue pinstriped button-up shirt over a tshirt, his favorite black leather jacket, and jeans that were tight enough in all the right places.

The show he wanted to take her to, Sirens of Treasure Island, was standing room only. He moved to stand behind her, pressing the full length of his body into her. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he rested his chin on her shoulder and inhaled the trace scent of her sunflower shampoo that he loved.

"Greg, stop!" she whispered, not wanting him to stop at all, as he nipped her earlobe playfully.

He wasn't one to be defeated so easily. His fingers found the hem of her shirt and slipped underneath to dance across the bare skin of her belly. If she was getting a thrill from this mild taste of exhibitionism, she could only imagine his reaction. But she could certainly feel it.

The stageshow had finished and they made their way to the tropical bar known as Kahunaville where Greg had dinner reservations waiting. Sara smiled wistfully as a newly wedded couple exited the wedding chapel. He noticed this and made a mental post-it for future reference.

"I've always thought it would be so romantic to be proposed to under the moonlight. Around here though, I think you'd have to go to Pahrump or Pioche for that," recalling the two remote areas they had gone during case investigations. "But I could never do the drive thru thing like Warrick. Especially after that one case Nick and I had a couple years ago with Elvis from Area 51."

Greg laughed at her recollection as she shuddered in memory. His final proficiency test that he failed was taken during the same time, and the labrats' gossip mill had a heyday with both cases. But Nick and Sara's hadn't hurt as bad as his did.

"Then again I've never really pictured myself as the marrying type. A girl can dream though."

Chewing thoughtfully on his pina colada chicken, the gears in his mind started to turn, which could be a good or bad thing depending on how you look at it.

"Sara baby, we're gonna make a marrying woman out of you yet. We just have to figure out how, when and where. And pray the rest of team can help with that because I don't have a clue."