The Pine Box
A W/S ficlet
The closet in the spare room was the only unpacked part now. It was the destination for anything that couldn't be categorised somewhere else, and therefore full of junk. For a small cupboard, it held a lot of junk. Backdated journals, heaps of various household bills, old stationary, redundant gadgets. All came to rest in that cupboard.
On one shelf, sat a pine box. It was old, battered, full of ticket stubs. She wasn't a compulsive horder, but there were some things she couldn't face throwing out; ticket stubs being one of them. Any place that she'd ever been that issued a ticket got put in this pine box on the shelf. She thumbed through them now. Life changing events down to the nativity play she'd been in as a child were all in that box.
She picked up a boarding pass. The first flight to Boston, when she'd left home at eighteen. Away from her family life to somewhere she was free to be herself.
College life was well documented with concert stubs, nightclub flyers, special events evenings. When she'd thrown herself into student life to it's fullest.
Gradually the focus of events changing; more theatre shows, classical concerts, even the ballet. (ok, the nutcracker, and she'd fallen asleep half way through, but she'd tried it once, anyway.)
More boarding passes, this time to San Francisco. Out of college into her first job. Reminders in the box of dates, of watching the forty niners. Less frequent now, working life getting in the way. (plus, a huge student loan to repay).
The occasional bus ticket home, to Tomales Bay. Avoiding all the major holidays if she could help it. Way too much family drama.
She held one particular stub up. The last minute flight from San Francisco to Las Vegas. The day Grissom had called, needing her help. The day her life changed forever.
Three years in Las Vegas and not one show stub. Not much the first year. Obsession with work overriding her once vibrant social life. A few more after she'd met Hank. Movie stubs mostly. A ticket for an out of town vineyard.
Then months of nothing.
The door to the spare room opened and Sara glanced round. 'Almost done? The van should be here soon.'
Sara nodded, her hand reaching out suddenly to pick up a flyer for a club. Free admission. Foam Night. The night he'd dragged her out, saying she needed to come with him. Those were his words. She needed to.
Their first date, she supposed. His chuckle told her he'd read what the flyer was. He came to sit beside her, reaching out for the flyer.
'That was some night, wasn't it?' Warrick said.
She raised an eyebrow. 'Like you remember any of it.'
Too much alcohol. A dare that seemed funny at the time. Being thrown out for causing a bit of a fight. Still giggling when they got back here.
'I remember the important parts.' Warrick told her. 'The part where you lead me on, used me.'
'I used you?' Sara said, laughter evident behind the incredulous tone.
'You kissed me first.'
'Oh really?' Sara said with an arched eyebrow.
In truth, Sara didn't know who started it. Or quite how a shirtless Warrick was stood in her lounge suddenly looking so…desirable. Or why she felt the need to kiss him. And not stop kissing him. It had just…happened.
She turned slightly to look at him. 'You weren't complaining at the time.' Sara reminded him. 'You shouldn't have lost your shirt.' She added.
Warrick laughed. 'I knew you only wanted me for my body.'
Sara reached over, laying a hand on his chest. 'Yes, for your body.' Her voice suddenly quiet and serious, a smile playing on her lips. Her other hand come to rest on the side of his face, her fingers tracing around the side of his lips. 'And for your lips.' She whispered, softly kissing him. 'And your smile.' She added, smiling herself at his response. 'Everything changed that night.' She whispered, looking him in the eye.
He didn't verbalise a response, just softly placed a hand at her neck, pulling her forward for another, longer kiss.
Her life had changed course dramatically with a kiss like this.
She knew that there was more in the box from the last few months than the whole three years in Las Vegas. He brought her out of herself, took her places that she had never considered going before. One example, her favourite, a helicopter ride over the Grand Canyon. Even the little things like fruit picking or something still sparked wonderful memories.
Her life in ticket stubs. Her past in a box. Not breaking the kiss, Sara reached out and gently closed the lid. She had more important things to consider at the moment. It was always fun to look back, to remember. But it was also fun to look forward to the future. In the arms of this man.