Disclaimer: OK, so we know they're not mine…yet!

Setting: sometime in season 7, even though I haven't seen the rest of season 6 ( I hate Aussie TV).

A/N: Just a short something that I wrote at 2am…seems all us CSI writers are insomniacs. I've just gotten back into the groove of writing seeing as I officially have no assessments due! Until the end of the holidays, that is…

I'm from Australia as some of you know, so colour is spelt with a 'u' and a mobile is a cell phone. I don't think I use either one in this story, but it's always good to warn anyway. All mistakes are my own.

And now to the story!

Important Dates

-xox-

He walked in like he owned the place; drifting around like the slight draught he let in when he opened the door. No one would guess how nervous he really was. Except me. I still can't believe I coaxed it out of him, but I must say, it's exciting to be let in on the secret.

And about time too.

"Hi Gil," I say, taunting him already with my voice; he knows exactly what I'm doing and replies with a curt, "Cath."

I link arms with him as I lead him over to the bar, away from the crowd of 'praise-people-who-don't-deserve-it' party. He leans against the countertop and again I see the façade of calm emerge. As the bartender gets our order of scotch on the rocks and one apple martini, I gently prod Gil, "So…"

He smiles at my obvious sticky beaking and raises an eyebrow. I'm gonna sweat to get this out of him. Easing my way into the topic, 'cause God knows he yells when it's blatantly put upon him, or at least I do, I say casually, "Is Sara coming tonight?"

He smiles and for a second there's a glint of something in his eyes. It's a blink and miss it moment, but I think I can see love-raw, emotional love. And then it's gone, saved away for only one person, but there's still that damned grin on his face; it's like he's living his teen years all over again.

Suddenly a sharp beat from the Big Band over in the corner snaps him out of his reverie and he realises that he's been staring off into space for a good half minute. He grabs his drink and takes a sip as if to hide his embarrassment, then smiles and says, "Yes."

OK, he's really not giving me anything to work with here, "Did you prepare something?" I also take a sip of my drink, trying to make this seem as casual as possible, while on the inside I'm a tangled mess awaiting Gil's next answer.

"I did," he sounds so proud of himself. I sigh in relief; finally something I've said has stuck with the man. If you fail to prepare, then prepare to fail.

He suddenly stops for a second, I don't know why. Then I feel the same breeze floating in that I felt when Gil himself walked in. Sara's here.

I turn around and find myself speechless-I can only imagine what Gil is feeling- the tomboy scrubs up well. She seems to glide over to us, a flowing trail of amethyst silk following in her wake.

They kiss quickly upon meeting and for the first time in my life I have no words to get me out of this third wheel situation. I settle for smiling awkwardly and saying, "I knew you two would make a good couple."

Sara smiles shyly and hides her head a little in Gil's chest, "Thanks." It's a side of Sara I haven't seen since we went out that night a few years ago. Vulnerable Sara doesn't happen too often, but I think Gil's broken down the brick and mortar walls.

I smile again, only because I know what's going to happen. As I walk off I hear Gil speak, "You look amazing."

Sara laughs, "You told me to dress up"

"I know."

I hear one of them say, "I can't believe it's been a year." And then it's too distant; without turning around I know that Gil's moved them both off to the balcony at the side of the Stratosphere's ball room.

I go and sit at one of the empty tables and watch from my vantage point as Gil goes down on one knee and pulls out the blue velvet box. I turn my attention back to my martini once the kissing gets too passionate to watch and let my mind wander.

I never quite understood why Gil hated these events, but now I get it. The unavoidable one's always fall on the crucial anniversaries.

As if on cue, Warrick appears at my side, glass in hand, he chinks it against mine and says, "One month down, rest of our lives to go."

I just smile, I can't seem to help it as it's been happening all night, then chance a look out to the still joint silhouette of Sara and Gil, and then turn my attention back to Warrick, "Shall we dance?"

-xox-

So…tell me what you think?

Em