Spoilers: To the end of U.S. season 4
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
AN: Many thanks to Kes for the beta.
"Everybody, soon or later, sits down to a banquet of consequences." Robert Louis Stevenson
There's no distinction between night and day in Las Vegas. All kinds of pleasure and debauchery can be found for the willing, regardless of the time. As a result of this regional quirk, the curtains in Vegas hotel rooms need to completely block out the sun, providing a comfortable sleeping environment for their nocturnal guests. So though it is late afternoon, Sara is momentarily blinded when she creeps into the bathroom and turns on the lights. The glaring white and gold fixtures and tiles certainly don't help, and she squints as her eyes grow accustomed to the contrast from the other room.
Looking at herself in the mirror, Sara is surprised to find that she doesn't look as bad as she thought she might. But then she didn't actually drink all that much; a few beer, and a couple shots of tequila. She was feeling good, but not drunk enough to leave her without control of her faculties. She knew what she was doing, and so did he. As she looks at herself more closely, she recognizes a difference in her appearance. She looks freshly fucked. Freshly and thoroughly fucked. Her lips are swollen, her eyes heavy-lidded, and there's a rosy glow to her cheeks that she would normally have to apply with a make-up brush. And if she's not mistaken, that's a bite mark on her collarbone. Jesus.
She sits down on the edge of the tub, the porcelain cold on her bare thighs. In her hasty retreat to the bathroom, the only item of clothing she stumbled upon was his shirt, so she put it on. Fingering a clutch of wrinkles on the chest, she remembers grabbing a fistful of the dark blue material and pulling him to her.
Hands roaming, bodies crushing. Lips pressing, tongues dueling. Clothes in disarray, a blue shirt unbuttoned before the 15th floor. Long legs wrapped around a waist, grinding heat. Fumbling for a keycard, a trail of clothes. Kisses. Caresses. Bodies sliding against each other, joining. Dizzying release. Entangled limbs. Sleep.
Sara gets up quickly, agitated by the memories of the morning's events. She walks back to the mirror and shakes her head at her reflection.
"What the hell do I do now?"
Talking hadn't been their priority this morning as they urgently removed each others clothes, and Sara is unsure of his expectations, or even her own. Was it a one night stand, and how would that affect their working relationship? Was it more than a one night stand? Sara doesn't know which option frightens her more. Will she regret it? Will he?
She hears movement in the other room, and figures that she will have the answer to her last question soon enough. She's not sure she's ready to face him yet, but there's no use delaying the inevitable. She takes a deep breath and tries to squelch the anxiety building within her.
The hotel room is no longer dark, the curtains pulled back to reveal the blazing Vegas sunlight. She can see the translucent heat rising from the other buildings outside, but it's chilly inside, the air conditioner doing its job well. His back is turned to her as he looks out the window, and she's not sure if he heard the bathroom door open. She takes a moment to admire his silhouetted form. His arms are crossed in front of him, accentuating his broad shoulders. He is wearing a pair of jeans, slung low around the waist, and nothing else. She is tempted to wrap her arms around him and rest her cheek on the smooth skin of his back, but she doesn't.
"Hey," she says quietly.
Warrick turns around to face her, his expression characteristically unreadable. "Hey."
"I uh... I borrowed your shirt." She's feeling self-conscious about standing there wearing nothing else, and reminding herself that he explored her body in detail earlier does little to ease her discomfort.
"Looks good on you," he says. "I thought you'd left, at first." Sara notices his hesitation as he says this, and is surprised by the slight show of vulnerability.
She shakes her head. She wants to tell him that she wouldn't, but the truth is that leaving had been her first impulse. But she fought the flight reflex, knowing it would only make things worse. Neither of them speak, and she desperately tries to think of something to say to break the awkward silence. Warrick beats her to it.
"You on tonight?" he asks.
"Yeah. You?"
He nods. More silence.
"Should we talk about this?" Sara blurts.
"Yeah," he says, "but we've only got an hour and a half until shift starts. Do you want to grab breakfast after work?"
She tries to decipher his state of mind by gauging his facial expression, but fails. He was a good gambler for a reason, and he's got his poker face on now.
Sara nods. "I'd better go home and change."
She begins to move around the room, picking up scattered articles of clothing. She can't find her bra, and her cheeks flush as she sees it dangling from Warrick's outstretched hand. By the lazy smirk on his face, it's obvious that he notices her embarrassment, and she knows it's a little silly to be shy about it when he's the one who took it off in the first place. But things always look different in the morning, and though the clock says it's almost evening, it's morning for a couple of CSI's on the graveyard shift. And she still doesn't know where things stand between them.
Their fingers brush as she reaches out to take the bra, and the sensation makes Sara's heart beat a little faster. If a simple touch can make her feel like a schoolgirl with a crush, she wonders what working together is going to be like if this was a one-time thing. But as awkward as it would be to get past a one-night stand with Warrick, trying to balance a personal and professional relationship with him would be difficult too. She doesn't know what she wants, and she's glad that he's suggested waiting until after shift to talk. It gives her some time to think things over.
Sara moves by rote as she gets dressed in the bathroom. Her mind is a million miles away, or more accurately, about five miles away at the lab. Her thoughts, as they often do, fall on Grissom. She wonders what his reaction would be upon learning of a personal relationship between two of his CSI's, and if she's completely honest with herself, she wonders what he would think on a personal level as well. After she asked him out to dinner, Grissom had made it fairly clear that nothing was ever going to happen between them. She had given him an ultimatum of sorts, telling him that it might be to late by the time he figured out what to do about it. She presumed that he would tell her when he had come to some kind of conclusion, but she shouldn't have, because this was Grissom after all. Months passed, and she started to accept his apparent decision not to pursue a relationship with her. She overheard him speaking to Dr. Lurie, the man they suspected killed Debbie Marlin, and he confirmed that though he cared for her, he wasn't willing to take the risk of being with her and all that it entailed. Any hope she had been hanging onto vanished, and she began to move on. But lately she has picked up a different vibe from him. Sometimes she thinks that maybe he's changed his mind, but she's not sure that it's what she wants anymore. She's not sure that it isn't, either.
"That's why you don't fish off the company pier, Sara," she quietly chides herself. It's complicated to have feelings for your supervisor, which may or may not be mutual. But when you have what may or may not be a one-night stand with another co-worker, complication becomes chaos.
Sara shakes her head and sighs as she picks up Warrick's shirt. She's exhausted from years of examining her feelings for Grissom, and now she's involved with another co-worker. What are her feelings for Warrick? There's obviously a strong attraction there, as they proved this morning. And despite a rocky start, their personalities compliment each other well. She reaches for the bathroom door, but stops herself as something occurs to her. She doesn't regret what happened. Whatever the ramifications may be, they'll have to deal with them. But the sex was fantastic, and Sara had just been frustrated for too damn long. She hadn't had anyone in her bed since Hank, and what a way to end a drought. She smiles as she remembers the string of curses that left her mouth as he brought forth one of the best orgasms she's ever had, and it's with a hint of that smile that she greets him, handing him his shirt. He looks at her oddly, his eyes tightening, and she knows that look. She's seen it enough times when they've questioned suspects. He's trying to figure out what she's thinking, analyze her smile.
"I'll see you at work," she says as she picks her purse up from the table by the door, where she'd dropped it on their way through. He nods and she turns to leave, but is stopped as his hand circles her wrist.
"Sara," he says. He pulls her to him and gives her a chaste, yet lingering kiss on the lips. "See ya."
She smiles and leaves, the hotel room door clicking quietly behind her.
"Hey!"
Sara turns around to see Catherine trying to catch up with her.
"Where's the fire?" Catherine asks.
"I'm late," Sara says, agitated. She hates being late, but by the time she got home, showered and changed, she knew she wouldn't make it to the lab on time.
"I know, it was shocking to us all," Catherine teases. "You're with me tonight."
Sara slows down, her frenzied pace no longer necessary. "What've we got?"
"DB in the desert. Warrick's with us too."
"Okay," Sara says, trying to keep her tone normal. Her stomach does a little flip at the mention of his name. Catherine looks at her strangely, but doesn't say anything. "I've got to put my things in my locker."
Catherine nods. "Yeah, I'll come with you. I have to go to mine too."
"What's everyone else working on?" Sara asks conversationally, trying to distract herself from thoughts of Warrick.
"They're still on the missing person's case, which is looking more like a homicide. They're pulling a double, but it looks like they've finally got a suspect. He was staying at the Hard Rock, and an eye-witness saw him dragging a large bag out of the elevator this morning. They're running tapes from the security cameras now."
Sara stops dead.
"Where was he staying?"
"At the Hard Rock. Why?"
Sara bolts in the direction of the A/V lab, leaving Catherine looking bewildered after her. As she reaches the door, she realizes that she's too late. Nick, Greg and Grissom are staring at the screen in shock.
TBC