Just Coffee.
Sara takes Greg out, finally, for that drink to celebrate the passing of his proficiencies.
………
"Why are we in the middle of the desert?" Greg asked quietly, looking up from the mug of hot coffee he held in both of his hands, cocking an eyebrow at Sara.
"Because it's the only place in Nevada where you can get away from commercialism and unlawfulness and artificial materialism." Sara smiled warmly at him, and took a sip of her own coffee, breathing in the soft aroma.
"The last time I was out here was for the Kennedy case."
"The desert is much better when it's not a crime scene, loser."
"It's better now that I get to look at a body rather than for it, yeah." Sara laughed softly, and Greg took a long sip of coffee. "So what's the occasion?"
"You don't remember."
"Remember what?" Greg turned away from the vast expanse of desert, and crossed his legs, facing her, puzzled expression across his features.
"A year ago today, you passed your proficiencies." Sara laughed as realization dawned over him, and his eyes lit up.
"Oh man. It's been a whole year since that? Wow."
"I'll have you know this is the first real vacation day I've taken in four and a half years." Greg grinned, satisfied he had been the reason she had taken the night off.
"So because of Sherlock you brought me out into the middle of the desert and had me climb on top of the department Denali they trust you with?" There was a hint of teasing in his tone, and Sara rolled her eyes at him.
"I offered to take you out to celebrate, we're celebrating."
"Wait. What? When did you say that? Why wasn't I aware?" The teasing fell out of his expression, suddenly replaced by a solemn one.
"Greg-"
"No, that was like my number one wet dream. Why don't I remember it?" He smirked at her, causing her to laugh into her mug of coffee.
"I offered to take you out to celebrate passing your proficiencies, and you just looked at me and told me the blood drops on Watson's shoes were inconsistent." Sara swung her legs around, crossing them before her, facing Greg. "I thought you had lost interest, I mean, you're hardly the crazy lab rat you were when I came to Vegas. And after you didn't answer me, I figured your taste in women had evolved, just like your hair or your tee shirts."
"Hey, monochromatic hair and work shirts that have buttons don't define me."
"I'm going to go on record and say I like the monochromatic hair." Sara reached for the thermos, and refilled their mugs, giving Greg a small smile. He opened his mouth to retort, and closed it, casting his gaze downward to the mug of coffee in her hands. When he raised his eyes to hers, she arched an eyebrow at him, suddenly very aware of his knee against her shin. He pursed his lips as if making a decision, then leaned forward and caught her lips with his own in a sweetly chaste kiss. She tasted of bitter coffee and something else, something sweeter, and Greg was convinced that had he been standing up, his knees would have betrayed him. He felt a warm sensation that gripped his heart, and settled below his belt buckle.
He pulled away moments later, knitting his brow in a pained expression of uncertainty. What had he just done. If Pandora had opened a box, he had opened a closet. She was going to slap him. He shouldn't have kissed her. Oh god. They were in the middle of the desert where no one would find his body.
Sara took a deep breath, and chuckled at his sudden onslaught of teenage mannerisms. Panic flashed in Greg's eyes, and he started mumbling a steady stream of apologies. She smiled broadly at his rambling apology, and let him go on for a few moments, before leaning in and effectively cutting him off, capturing his bottom lip between her own, and pulling him into a less than ladylike kiss.
Greg recovered from the shock of Sara's lips on his in a matter of seconds, trading surprise for enthusiasm. He cradled her face with one hand, setting down his coffee and taking hers out of her hand with his other. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him, and shifted her away from the edge of the roof of the Denali. Sara was vaguely aware of where Greg was shifting her, and didn't pay it any attention until her shoulders hit the metal of the roof of the Denali. Greg had, in his movements, laid her down gently, and had settled himself between her thighs.
His kisses remained gentle, but with each one, they grew in intensity, and Sara was hit with a surge of heat that burst out of where Greg's hips made contact with the inside of her thighs. Somewhere buried in that warm sensation, something reached her heart, and her fingers tangled themselves in his longish wavy hair, pulling him down to her. She met him kiss for kiss, contact for contact, touch for touch, and with each kiss she realized Greg Sanders would be the last man, the first man, the only man she would ever truly love.
She placed a gentle hand on his chest, and he pulled away instantly, breaking their kiss. She made a futile attempt at suppressing a smile as he tossed her a lopsided grin, waves of unruly brown hair in his eyes, thanks to the gentle desert wind. He sat back only just, leaning over her on his hands, his hips settled snugly against her thigh. She reached up, touching the side of his face, letting slip a small smile at the soft prickles of his day-old stubble. She didn't register her expression becoming serious, but his mirrored it instantly, and she was surprised to see traces of tears swelling in his eyes. He blinked them away hurriedly, breaking eye contact with her. When he looked back down at her, he choked out a soft laugh.
"What's so funny, Sanders?" Sara propped herself up on her elbows, bringing her face inches from his. He put a finger against her bottom lip, and quieted her. When she arched an eyebrow at him, he broke out into a broad grin, making his eyes sparkle, and she had a fleeting thought that this must be what Greg had looked like as a child. His eyes flicked from her own to her lip, and back to her eyes once more.
"Can we just take a moment, here, Sara, please?" Sara sighed, humoring him. He tossed her a look, laughing. "I'm serious! My absolute favorite dream just came true." He paused, closing his eyes, in somewhat of a comical fashion, making Sara laugh, and pull him back down, kissing him fiercely. She arched involuntarily into him, and he groaned softly at the pressure against his hips. He pressed her against the cool metal of the Denali's roof in return, and she laughed against his kiss.
"What's so funny, Sidle?"
"You ever done it on top of a Denali, Sanders?"
Greg laughed in full, and let her flip him onto his back carefully. He sat up, pulling her legs around him. He pressed a delicate kiss to her collarbone, and lay back again when she pushed him down against the roof of her Denali.
At the rate his dreams were becoming reality, he would be singing back up for Marilyn Manson and having a drink with Billie Holiday by next Thursday.