Fic Post - Vintage
Title: Vintage
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Nick/Sara
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don’t sue.
Previous: Curtain Call, Strings, Fear, Common Ground, Breakfast, Progress, Snapshot.
Summary: He wishes the lab a quiet night, a caseload they can handle without having to page him, because he and Sara have plans. It’s Sara’s birthday, something no one at CSI has ever celebrated because no one knew.
A/N: The last part of the “Curtain Call” series. A huge thanks to everyone who read these little fics and took the time to let me know what they thought. I hope you’ve enjoyed.
It took no small amount of wheeling and dealing for Nick to trade shifts and get tonight off, and he’s still technically on call. He wishes the lab a quiet night, a caseload they can handle without having to page him, because he and Sara have plans. It’s Sara’s birthday, something no one at CSI has ever celebrated because no one knew.
Nick wouldn’t know either, if it hadn’t been listed in one of the social worker’s reports he read, months ago now. The same report that told him why Sara prefers to ignore her birthday as much as possible. Nick’s been torn between letting her ignore it, or at least trying to give her one good birthday after all these years. He finally settled on trying, and if it doesn’t work, well, he’ll know better next year.
As far as Sara knows, they simply have a date this afternoon, a winery tour and dinner in Pahrump. It’s not often they actually get to go somewhere. Working nights can be hell on the social life; if one or both of them isn’t working, about to go on shift, or sleeping, then it’s an awkward time of day and things aren’t open.
They leave their kits in the back of Nick’s truck, just in case. “My grandpa used to say, if you carry an umbrella, it won’t rain,” he comments. “Two kits with us, we ought to be safe.”
Sara grins. “Want to take an umbrella too?”
They toss one in the back as a joke, but, as usual around here, there’s little chance it’ll be needed for superstition or for shelter. The sky stays more or less the same from Vegas to Pahrump: overcast, but not at all threatening.
Although Nick enjoys wine, he doesn’t know much about it. The production part of the tour is interesting, but most of the talk about bodies and bouquets means nothing to him. There is a difference in taste between one sample and the next, but if he were given them blind, he doubts he’d be able to tell which is which. He certainly wouldn’t know which one to drink with any given meal. He can’t complain, though; the wines are good, at least to his palate.
Even better, this all feels refreshingly normal: wandering around a winery on a date; listening while Sara chats with the tour guide and pretending he gets their joke about Beaujolais Nouveau; making small talk with the other couple on the tour, retirees from Arizona; roaming the gardens and the gift shop to pass the time and then heading inside to the winery’s restaurant for dinner.
“I didn’t know you were such a wine buff, Sunshine,” he remarks while they’re waiting to order.
“Me?” Sara laughs. “The last time I tasted subtle citrus overtones was that tropical fruit juice this morning.”
Nick chuckles. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“I took an art appreciation course in college called Influences of Postmodernism in the Mid-Twentieth Century.” She grins at Nick’s expression. “I needed a humanities credit. Learned everything I ever needed to know about faking it.”
“And I thought at least one of us knew what we’re doing here.”
“You mean other than getting away from work for the evening, enjoying the scenery, and tasting some good wines? What’s to know?”
Because neither of them really knows which wine they ought to order, they settle on Symphony, the rare one that the tour guide kept talking up. “Well,” Nick raises his glass and mentally crosses his fingers. “Cheers, Sara. I know it’s not really your thing, but happy birthday.”
It’s clear that she’s by no means surprised; Nick’s pretty sure Sara’s suspected this since he brought up the coincidence that neither of them has to work tonight. He has to admit that the whole thing was a more than little obvious, and so he deliberately didn’t say anything until now.
“Can’t hide anything from a CSI, huh?” Sara grins wryly before lifting her own glass. “Thanks, Nick. And cheers.”
The wine is good. The fact that Sara soon relaxes into a smile is better. They don’t mention her birthday again until they’re on the highway, heading home.
“Hey, Nick?” Sara fidgets her hands in her lap. “Thanks. For this evening. I had a good time.” She pauses. “A good birthday.”
He glances over for a second. “Good. ‘Cause there’re presents at home, too.”
She laughs and rests her forehead on her palm. “You just do not quit.” She’s not displeased, though, and Nick breathes a small sigh of relief.
He grins and shakes his head. “No, I don’t.”
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Nick/Sara
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don’t sue.
Previous: Curtain Call, Strings, Fear, Common Ground, Breakfast, Progress, Snapshot.
Summary: He wishes the lab a quiet night, a caseload they can handle without having to page him, because he and Sara have plans. It’s Sara’s birthday, something no one at CSI has ever celebrated because no one knew.
A/N: The last part of the “Curtain Call” series. A huge thanks to everyone who read these little fics and took the time to let me know what they thought. I hope you’ve enjoyed.
It took no small amount of wheeling and dealing for Nick to trade shifts and get tonight off, and he’s still technically on call. He wishes the lab a quiet night, a caseload they can handle without having to page him, because he and Sara have plans. It’s Sara’s birthday, something no one at CSI has ever celebrated because no one knew.
Nick wouldn’t know either, if it hadn’t been listed in one of the social worker’s reports he read, months ago now. The same report that told him why Sara prefers to ignore her birthday as much as possible. Nick’s been torn between letting her ignore it, or at least trying to give her one good birthday after all these years. He finally settled on trying, and if it doesn’t work, well, he’ll know better next year.
As far as Sara knows, they simply have a date this afternoon, a winery tour and dinner in Pahrump. It’s not often they actually get to go somewhere. Working nights can be hell on the social life; if one or both of them isn’t working, about to go on shift, or sleeping, then it’s an awkward time of day and things aren’t open.
They leave their kits in the back of Nick’s truck, just in case. “My grandpa used to say, if you carry an umbrella, it won’t rain,” he comments. “Two kits with us, we ought to be safe.”
Sara grins. “Want to take an umbrella too?”
They toss one in the back as a joke, but, as usual around here, there’s little chance it’ll be needed for superstition or for shelter. The sky stays more or less the same from Vegas to Pahrump: overcast, but not at all threatening.
Although Nick enjoys wine, he doesn’t know much about it. The production part of the tour is interesting, but most of the talk about bodies and bouquets means nothing to him. There is a difference in taste between one sample and the next, but if he were given them blind, he doubts he’d be able to tell which is which. He certainly wouldn’t know which one to drink with any given meal. He can’t complain, though; the wines are good, at least to his palate.
Even better, this all feels refreshingly normal: wandering around a winery on a date; listening while Sara chats with the tour guide and pretending he gets their joke about Beaujolais Nouveau; making small talk with the other couple on the tour, retirees from Arizona; roaming the gardens and the gift shop to pass the time and then heading inside to the winery’s restaurant for dinner.
“I didn’t know you were such a wine buff, Sunshine,” he remarks while they’re waiting to order.
“Me?” Sara laughs. “The last time I tasted subtle citrus overtones was that tropical fruit juice this morning.”
Nick chuckles. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“I took an art appreciation course in college called Influences of Postmodernism in the Mid-Twentieth Century.” She grins at Nick’s expression. “I needed a humanities credit. Learned everything I ever needed to know about faking it.”
“And I thought at least one of us knew what we’re doing here.”
“You mean other than getting away from work for the evening, enjoying the scenery, and tasting some good wines? What’s to know?”
Because neither of them really knows which wine they ought to order, they settle on Symphony, the rare one that the tour guide kept talking up. “Well,” Nick raises his glass and mentally crosses his fingers. “Cheers, Sara. I know it’s not really your thing, but happy birthday.”
It’s clear that she’s by no means surprised; Nick’s pretty sure Sara’s suspected this since he brought up the coincidence that neither of them has to work tonight. He has to admit that the whole thing was a more than little obvious, and so he deliberately didn’t say anything until now.
“Can’t hide anything from a CSI, huh?” Sara grins wryly before lifting her own glass. “Thanks, Nick. And cheers.”
The wine is good. The fact that Sara soon relaxes into a smile is better. They don’t mention her birthday again until they’re on the highway, heading home.
“Hey, Nick?” Sara fidgets her hands in her lap. “Thanks. For this evening. I had a good time.” She pauses. “A good birthday.”
He glances over for a second. “Good. ‘Cause there’re presents at home, too.”
She laughs and rests her forehead on her palm. “You just do not quit.” She’s not displeased, though, and Nick breathes a small sigh of relief.
He grins and shakes his head. “No, I don’t.”