A/N: Ah, yet another fluffy chapter! This one's full of New Year's Fluffiness, written actually on New Year's Eve--which might explain the randomness. Usual Disclaimer...and away we go!

Chapter 33- Kiss Me at Midnight

"Kiss me at midnight
Dance until the morning light
Party into the New Year
All of our friends are here
And when the timing's right
Kiss me at midnight

I've been waiting for the special night
To be with you
The colors of Christmas are still shining bright
And I know what we're gonna do
Anticipating, music is playing
The magic is in the air
All through the season
You've been the reason
I have so much love to share

Kiss me at midnight
Dance until the morning light
Party into the New Year
All of our friends are here
And when the timing's right
Kiss me at midnight

Kiss...
Kiss me at midnight
Kiss...

We've been making promises in the dark
Our resolutions
As a brand new year is about to start
And we're together.
Celebrating, no more waiting
Our time has arrived
The beat in my heart
As the countdown starts
Just look into my eyes

Kiss me at midnight
Dance until the morning light
Party into the New Year
All of our friends are here
And when the timing's right
Kiss me at midnight

Baby, it's New Year's Eve
Time we can believe
In making wishes
Dreams come true
Just for me and you

Kiss me at midnight
Dance until the morning light
Party into the New Year
All of our friends are here
And when the timing's right
Kiss me at midnight
Kiss me at midnight
Dance until the morning light
Party into the New Year
All of our friends are here
And when the timing's right
Kiss me at midnight"

Kiss Me at Midnight by Nsync

Looking back, Sara would never remember if she talked Greg into letting them have a New Year's Eve party, or vice-versa, but either way, when the day rolled around, both realized they were in over their heads. It had actually been Catherine's idea. She had suggested that they throw a combination New Year's/housewarming party for the new house they had just bought.

It was a cute house, a modest townhouse in a nice suburb not too far from the lab or the hospital. Greg had been wary to buy a new house, worried as always about the limited funds they had, but Sara had managed to convince him that they needed more room for their child.

Either way, neither of them had any clue what to have at a party, since most of the parties Greg went to contained loud, angry music and illegal drugs, neither of which would sit well with the CSIs and police officers coming over to their house, and the only parties Sara remembered involved lots of drinking, which she wasn't allowed to do. With no alternatives left, they turned to the only person they knew who would know how to plan a party: Catherine. She was more than happy to help them out, helping them buy accessories and food and everything else, but when it came to setting up, they were on their own.

Henceforth, when Sara woke Greg up at eight o'clock in the morning on New Year's Eve to help decorate, he wasn't too happy. "Sara, the doctor says I need rest," he complained, sitting on the couch in a pair of boxers and an old white t-shirt. "I'm not getting much rest by being up and decorating."

Sara glared at him. "You're also not being much of a help by sitting there and complaining, now are you?" she snapped. "Get over here and help me hang this up. Then go make yourself useful in the kitchen!"

"Ma'am, yes ma'am!" said Greg, saluting her before shuffling over to help her hang yet another brightly colored sign that proclaimed, "Happy New Year!" He stepped back to admire their handiwork. "Sara, I think you and Cath went a bit overboard at the party store," he commented, looking around the family room and living room. "I mean, it's nice that we're wishing everyone a happy new year, but do they really have to see a sign saying so every two feet?"

Indeed, no matter where one looked in the downstairs of the house, he would see at least five, if not more, cheerfully bright and shiny posters glaring back at him.

Sara, in turn, glared at Greg. "I don't think we went overboard," she said, still giving him the evil eye. "Besides, didn't I ask you to go make yourself useful in the kitchen?"

"Actually, you more or less commanded it," he muttered, ducking into the kitchen to avoid the roll of tape that she flung at him. "Hey, Sara," he called, eyeing the directions Catherine had written out for various hors d'oeuvres. "Are you sure you want me to attempt this?"

"Greg," she said through gritted teeth. "I am in the middle of blowing up balloons, setting up tables, silverware, and other such things, and I am pregnant. Today is not the day to test me."

"Alright," he said, shrugging. "But if we have to call the fire department, it's your fault." He grinned cheekily as he heard the various swear words she was muttering, before getting to work.

Several hours later, Greg called Sara into the kitchen to view the food he had made (miraculously enough, without burning anything down). She blinked at the unidentifiable brown goo bubbling in the pot on the stove, stared in shock at the faintly green paste that occupied a bowl, and wrinkled her nose in disgust at whatever it was that was cooking in the oven. "Um, Greg…" she started, unsure how to break it to him.

"Look, I followed the directions exactly!" he said, waving the recipe at her. "Well, except for one thing…it said soda, and I wasn't sure what type to use, so I used Coke. I hope that's ok."

Sara stared at him, dumbstruck. "Greg, it meant baking soda, not that kind of soda!" she exclaimed.

"Oohhh…" he said, nodding slowly. "That explains a lot."

Sara rubbed her forehead. "Now what are we going to do for food?" she asked.

Greg shrugged. "I didn't see the point of making all this fancy crap anyway. I vote we go with the best party food there is, chips and beer."

Sara opened her mouth, about to yell at him, then paused. "That may actually not be such a bad idea. I mean, who doesn't like chips and beer?"

Greg grinned, already heading to his room to change. "Looks like we're making a trip to the grocery store."

An hour later, everything was ready. Bowls of chips and pretzels were placed strategically throughout the rooms, the beer was chilling in the fridge, and Greg was breaking out his CD collection. He had volunteered to DJ, and Sara had agreed, provided he played holiday-type music, and absolutely no Marilyn Manson, Black Flag, or anything that Grissom wouldn't listen to. This provided a challenge for Greg, who spent close to an hour digging through his CDs before finding a few holiday CDs he had been given a few years ago.

Once Sara was satisfied that everything was ready, she disappeared upstairs to get ready. Greg remained downstairs, only going up when she yelled for him. She needed help zipping up the zipper on her dress. She then proceeded to demand what he was planning on wearing. When he had looked down at his clothes (A Led Zeppelin t-shirt and a pair of black jeans), wondering what was wrong with them, he thought she was going to blow a gasket.

Making a hasty retreat to his closet, he decided on a simple black button-down shirt paired with nice black pants, with white pin stripes, and a pair of black and white wingtips. The finally accessories on his outfit were a solid white tie and a black and white fedora. All in all, looking at his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he gelled his hair, he didn't think he looked half-bad.

The sound of the doorbell brought him out of his reverie, and he headed downstairs to let Nick and his girlfriend in.

For the next half hour, Greg alternated between answering the doorbell and making polite conversation with all the guests. When everyone had finally arrived, he slipped into the living room, joining Warrick and Nick, who were conversing loudly about who was going to win the Rose Bowl.

As the night went on, he and Sara visited with everyone, even Ecklie, though that conversation was pretty forced on Greg's part. They hung out with the lab techs, though Sara felt slightly left out of their casual camaraderie, and with the CSIs, though Greg felt slightly left out when they discussed various cases.

As it was, the night progressed, the beer flowed freely, and needless to say, by the time eleven o'clock rolled around, most people were at varying stages of drunkenness. There were some who, like Greg and Sara, had decided to abstain from drinking, and it was at this point in time that the true comedy of the evening began.

Greg and Sara had decided not to drink because they remembered all too well what had occurred the last time they got drunk. Instead, they watching with mounting hilarity as their friends became more and more inebriated. Someone, most likely Nick, had decided to turn the living room into a mini dance club. This would have been fine, except no one decided to tell the people already in the living room.

So there was Nick dancing it up with his girlfriend, and then there's Captain Jim Brass, watching them and wondering what was going on. Luckily enough for Nick, to save him from looking like a complete moron, more people decided to dance.

Now, for those who do not realize, drunken dancing is not at all like sober dancing, or even buzzed dancing. Drunken dancing involves every couple choosing a different dance to do, and all of them doing it at the same time, despite the fact that the song playing doesn't go along with any of the types of dancing that they chose.

Greg grabbed Sara's hand and dragged her into the room. "C'mon, let's dance!" he shouted over the music.

"Alright," she agreed, laughing. "What type of dancing should we do? Salsa? The tango? Maybe the rumba?"

Greg grinned. "How about we just dance, alright?"

"I suppose…" she said, smiling up at him. They danced for a while, only pausing to break out the champagne when it reached five minutes until midnight. Then they stood waiting, watching the TV, which was broadcasting the countdown, live, from the Strip.

Greg's fingers wove with Sara's as they stood, and he looked around the room with a smile. This was his family. These were his friends.

The countdown began at ten seconds, and everyone counted along. "10…9…8…"

"I resolve to live for the moment," whispered Greg to Sara.

"7…6…5…"

"I resolve to make every second of every day count," she whispered back to him.

"4…3…2…1…Happy New Year!"

Greg leaned in and kissed Sara. She kissed him back, wrapping her arms around him and deepening the kiss. Then they broke apart and turned to watch who else was kissing.

Nick and his girlfriend were kissing, no surprise there, and neither Greg nor Sara was particularly surprised when Catherine gave Warrick a kiss, but both chuckled appreciatively when she also gave Hodges a peck on the cheek, mush to his embarressment. They watched as everyone wished everyone else a happy new year, and then Greg spoke up over the din. "Alright, so I realize that some of you are not in the best driving condition, so if you want to crash here tonight, that's fine. Grab a couch, a chair, whatever."

To Sara, he said, "We, on the other hand, are going to go upstairs, and then I want to wish you a proper Happy New Year."

Sara blushed. "Greg, we can't do that! Not while everyone's here!"

Greg grinned wickedly at her. "Oh, but we can. There's a lock on our bedroom door for a reason." He leaned in and whispered to her, "You're the one who resolved to make every second count."

She smiled at him, then took his hand and led him upstairs.