"Magnificent Lasagne and Artificial Worms"
by Kristafied
Canon, what canon? Set post Grave Danger; mostly diverges from canon at that point.
Sara/Nick Friendship, becomes Snickers
Rating: M (for language and eventual smut)
A/N: Not sure if the timeline of Nick coming back to work and Warrick getting married matches up with how I have it here, but let's just roll with it for now. Also, I've never been to Vegas, so all locations are completely made up.
Disclaimer: If I owned them, I wouldn't have all this debt from grad school.
Chapter Ten – SMUT alert
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"So, as much as I strongly considered that steakhouse, or a barbecue joint, to keep up with my Texas theme for this evening, I wanted to eat somewhere you could get a good vegetarian meal, so voila."
The Indian restaurant was a few blocks off the Strip, and its bland, stucco exterior belied the homey yet exotic dining room with its gold-painted statues and curry-scented air. Nick held the door for her. "Do you want to sit on the floor with the cushions or at a table with chairs?"
Sara's face was rapturous and she was clasping his hand tightly between hers. He was pretty sure she was one small step away from jumping up and down. "On the floor, I'll manage with this stupid skirt somehow. Nick, this is fantastic! Did you know I've been looking for good Indian food since I moved to Vegas? It was one of the big things I missed from Frisco – we had this great little place with fabulous murgh saag and shahi korma that my team and I went to about once a week. The waiters all knew us – they were the sons and nephews of the family that owned the place – and they'd sneak us tastes of the new dishes whenever they changed the menu." Sara's excitement was palpable, and she was gesturing with both hands, even though one was still wrapped around Nick's.
"The mother always wore these gorgeous saris, and it was her family recipes they used for the specials. She used to tease the other women and I that it was a shame we weren't Indian because she'd love to marry off her sons to girls who loved her cooking." Sara smiled at the memory. "If I remember correctly, the woman they hired to replace me was from India; I wonder what happened with that... You're awesome, Nick. I hadn't thought about that in ages, and this place smells fantastic. For this, I will even forgive the two-stepping you're going to make me do later."
She grinned at him, and Nick burst out laughing and pulled her into an affectionate bear hug. The words slipped out so easily their importance didn't register. "I love you, Sara, I really do. You are somethin' else." He pressed a fast kiss to her hair just as the hostess greeted them.
Five minutes later, they were sipping mango lassis and sitting cross-legged on silky pillows in a quiet corner. Sara had tucked her skirt around her as modestly as she could, and now was scanning the menu intently, formulating a plan. "So, if we each get something different, we can share, and we can get both rice and bread – ooh, naan, I can't wait! -- and we should definitely save room for dessert."
Their waiter was a handsome man in his mid-twenties who clearly was charmed by Sara's enthusiasm. As he chatted with Nick and Sara, they learned that he had grown up in Vegas and was now a medical student home on summer break to help work in his grandparents' restaurant. The three of them had a lively, fairly graphic conversation about forensic pathology and cadavers which they finally cut short when they noticed the horrified stares of the other diners.
When it came time to order dessert, Samir leaned in confidentially. "Listen, my grandmother would kick my ass for telling you this, but the truth is, this isn't the best place to get dessert. Do you like chocolate?" Nick and Sara both nodded. "Okay, two blocks north of here is a little Tapas restaurant called A Taste of Heaven. Go in there and order the chocolate souflee. It's fantastic." Giving Nick a wink, he added, "That stuff's gotten me lucky a couple of times. Chicks dig it."
Sara rolled her eyes and all three of them laughed. Nick made sure to leave a huge tip and Sara promised Samir many return visits and shoved a take-out menu in her purse. They shook hands as they left.
Deciding to walk to the Tapas place, Nick slung an arm around Sara's shoulders. She snuggled closer and wrapped her own arm around Nick's waist, her hand splayed open-palmed against the side of his abdomen in a way that was making him wonder exactly how lucky that chocolate souflee was, and reconsider how much he wanted to take Sara dancing versus simply ravishing her in the back of his truck.
Bracing himself, Nick resisted the temptation. He was going to do this right, which did not mean (however much fun it sounded) a quickie in the truck bed on their first real date.
As promised, the souflee was meltingly delectable, causing Sara to close her eyes and moan in such pleasure that Nick had to rearrange the napkin on his lap. After the third moan, Nick caught her smirking at him knowingly and he scolded her for plotting to steal all the souflee for herself by distracting him, then helped himself to a huge forkful of the dark, rich dessert.
The honky-tonk was crowded and noisy. Nick fetched beers from the bar while Sara established them at a small corner table with a view of the dance floor. Leaning close, he yelled to be heard. "I promise I'll only make you dance the slow songs. Actually, I don't even know any of the newer line dances, it's been years since I've done this."
They sipped their beers and people-watched, the music being too loud for real conversation, and occasionally Sara would nudge him with her foot and point her beer bottle at someone particularly noteworthy. One guy had a brightly-colored tattoo that looked like a life-sized snake coiled around his arm. Another was trying to ride the mechanical bull but was obviously plastered and unwilling to let go of his beer long enough to balance himself on the leather seat.
They were snickering over the seventy-something woman in the tight denim mini-skirt who was badgering her eighty-something date for ogling the bartender – and spraying him with Bud from the long-neck she was waving as she hollered -- when the DJ announced a change in pace: "A classic by Alison Krauss, for all of you who were waiting for a slow song in the dark." With that, the lights on the dance floor dimmed and the boisterous, twangy guitar was replaced by a woman's sweet soprano. Nick grabbed Sara by the hand and dragged her toward the crowd of dancers.
The two-steppers were circling the outside of the dance floor. Deciding quickly to forgo teaching Sara the steps tonight, Nick pulled her to the center, where the couples were content to sway and swirl to their own rhythm. He pulled them into the traditional dance position at first; they smiled at each other as they swayed back and forth. "I've always liked this song," Nick told her.
Sara listened for a moment, "Beautiful voice. I like the lyrics." He nodded in return, letting his gaze flicker over the curves of her face and basking in the warmth of her regard. They moved without speaking, watching one another and enjoying the surprising peace of the moment and the gentleness of the song itself. The smile on your face lets me know that you need me; there's a truth in your eyes saying you'll never leave me; a touch of your hand says you'll catch me whenever I fall...
"It's a very romantic song, Nick." Sara smiled at him, and her left hand moved from his shoulder to brush tenderly across his cheek. "You know, you really are a very sweet man." She looked wistful for a moment. "It's a rare breed."
Nick found his thumb automatically stroking along the bottom of her shirt, gradually working under the material so he could feel the incredible smoothness of her skin beneath his fingertips. At first contact, he could feel a shiver go through her. Without further prompting, she stepped close and leaned her cheek against his. Feeling the contours of her body in its thin skirt and light sweater caused Nick to groan softly, "God, woman, what you do to me..."
The huskiness of her voice made the hair on the back of his neck stand up as she confessed, "Believe me, Nick, the feeling's mutual."
He pulled his nose from her hair far enough to meet her eyes and was stunned at the frank desire he found there. The heat from her body was making him flush, and he pulled their hands in to his chest, placed her palm against his sternum so she could feel his heart racing, then leaned forward to brush his lips against hers. Dizzy from the contact, he muttered her name before dipping his head again and kissing her with more purpose. Dimly, Nick was aware that they had given up all pretense of dancing, and that his hand was traveling in the general direction of Sara's breasts.
She moaned in his ear, the heat of her breath making him pant. "Ooohhh, Nick, I think you'd better take us home before we get arrested."
Mutely, he nodded, and with his hands on her hips, walked her in front of him off the dance floor and out of the bar, hoping the beautiful woman would distract people from noticing his raging hard-on.
They made it to his truck without incident, but as he pulled out of the parking lot, she put her hand high on his thigh and spoke in the throaty whisper that drove all rational thought from his brain, "Your place is closer."
Nick's foot twitched and he involuntarily slammed on the brakes, almost causing a pile-up behind them. His voice cracked as he ground out, "Jesus Christ, Sara, you're going to make me wreck the truck!"
She withdrew her hand and sat back, "Sorry." The unrepentant smirk on her face belied her words. Nick gritted his teeth and concentrated on the road. It was quiet in the truck for a few minutes as Nick tried to operate the vehicle safely while half his blood volume was in his groin. Sara fiddled with the radio until she found an Eighties rock station and started humming along with an old Heart tune. Nick's hands gripped the steering wheel even tighter at the sound, trying vainly not to think of other uses for that particular skill. Ecklie's bald head... cleaning bird crap off his car... human soup in a bathtub in July...
By ignoring the woman next to him, he had just managed to calm down when he heard Sara sigh contentedly, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw her reach up and stretch her arms above her head and her legs out as far as she could. Her shirt rode up and exposed a sliver of pale abdomen, and, surprise of surprises, a pierced navel. Nick swerved and pulled the car into the next side street, braking abruptly and throwing the transmission into park. Sara's arms flopped back to her sides, and she turned toward him, startled. "Nick? What -"
Her next words were swallowed by his mouth descending on hers as Nick crawled partly across the console and threaded his fingers through her hair and his other hand along the side of her neck. It took her half a second to catch up, and she pulled away, looked him in the eyes, and then reconnected their mouths in a hot slide of wet, deep kisses that had Nick's hands shaking. He felt her shift and her next move devastated his usual sexual self-assurance and made him think he was actually out of his league: without removing her tongue from his mouth, Sara managed to unbuckle her seat belt and swing herself over the console so she was straddling his lap. Nick was pretty sure he whimpered.
The feel of her against him was incendiary, and Nick slid his hands down along the sides of her neck and under her breasts. He felt her moan as his fingers circled the nipples whose tightness he could feel through her sweater. Her hands were everywhere: in his hair, along his chest, now moving along his skin under the front of his shirt, now scratching lightly back to his hips, now reaching behind her to slide up the inside of his thighs under her bottom. Nick was sweating by the time he got one hand up under her skirt, and when he found himself cupping her bare ass and discovering that Sara either was wearing a thong or had gone al fresco, it was all he could do to keep from coming right there. He had to slow this down or the night would be over before it began -- or he at least needed to move them to the back seat where the windows were darkly tinted, so they wouldn't attract the attention of a passing cop car, which would lead to embarrassing camera phone pictures at work.
Work. His mind flashed to an image of everyone at the lab, at PD, standing around a monitor, watching him in the box. Watching him now, fumbling in the front seat of his truck with a coworker.
What was he doing? This was Sara. He couldn't do this to Sara. He was going to fuck this up; he always did. His hands slowed, then stilled on her writhing hips. He couldn't do this. Nick opened his eyes, saw the glass windows in front of him and the unseen dark beyond them, and felt his chest tighten painfully. She was holding him down. The car was too small. He couldn't get out. His seat belt was buckled and the car doors were closed, and her hands were everywhere. The ants were everywhere. Panicked, Nick tried to pull his mouth from hers, tried to gasp for breath. Sara followed his lips blindly, still caught up in the moment she had not yet realized had passed, and felt his cheekbone hit her nose as Nick turned his head forcefully to the side, panting. He could see her confused face morph into shock, then hurt, then finally comprehension as his hands started pushing her away and slapping for the door handle. "I can't... I've got to..."
Quickly, Sara reached past him, opened the door, and vaulted clumsily out of the truck. Nick tried to follow but the seat belt held him fast. He couldn't breathe. "No, no, no, NO!" Frantically, he tugged at the straps. Sara managed to dodge most of his flailings to stretch across his body and wrestle the buckle out of its housing before jumping back out of the way as Nick clambered from of the driver's seat and landed gracelessly on his knees on the road before regaining his footing long enough to dive for the back of the truck and vomit.
Nick hung on to the truck bed, leaning his head against the cool sheet metal and looking up at the sky. Trying to remember what the department counselor had told him, he worked to slow his breathing. He kept his eyes open, focusing carefully on what was really there in front of him. Dark street, this street lamp was out but the others were still lit. An old warehouse which looked abandoned. Trash skittering and scratching along the empty sidewalk. This was not a safe part of town, but they appeared to be alone for the moment. They. Sara. Oh, God. He closed his eyes and listened. To his own breathing, to the traffic on the road behind them, to the engine still running and the faint radio noise from his truck. He couldn't hear her. She wasn't in his field of vision; he couldn't feel her touching him. Had she left? Probably, the bitter voice in his head supplied. Would you stick around with someone as fucked up as you?
Bracing himself, he stood upright and turned on shaky legs. Sara stood with her back to the open door of his truck, paler than he'd ever seen her, with a faint smear of blood under her nose and an expression on her face he couldn't identify at first because he'd never seen it before. When he met her eyes, she twisted her mouth into a parody of a smile and stood up straighter. That's when it hit him. Fear. She was afraid of him. His eyes flicked back to her small, pointed nose and the blood on her upper lip. He had hit her. Shame flooded him and Nick closed his eyes to hide the sudden anger at himself. His voice was rough. "God, Sara, I'm so sorry." His eyes were burning. "You must think I'm no better than your father." He buried his face in his hands.
Within seconds, her gentle fingers were in his hair, tugging softly at his hands until he looked up and met her eyes. Stunned, he saw the fear had vanished, and her face was full of that odd tenderness he was beginning to associate with moments when he had exceeded her expectations. Her voice was calm and soft, but firm. "No, Nick, you could never be him." She pulled his fingertips to her mouth and pressed a soft kiss there. "I'm the one who's sorry. I got carried away. You had a flashback, didn't you?"
The total acceptance in her eyes was too much. Nick reached out and gathered her close, perching his chin on her shoulder and breathing in the scent of her hair and perfume, careful to keep his vomit-tainted breath away from her nose. He nodded.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
He tightened his arms around her shoulders and shook his head. "Not now. Later, maybe, if you don't mind. I'm so tired. I've been tired for the past three weeks."
She stayed still in his embrace and let him hold her for long minutes as the cars whizzed past on the road behind them. Finally, he stepped back, his arms bracketing her shoulders, and met her eyes. She nodded, swooped forward for a fast kiss to his cheek, and winked as she hopped into the driver's seat and pulled the door shut before he could beat her to it. Nick shook his head as he walked around the front of the truck and climbed in on the passenger side for the ride back to his place. By the time she'd turned back onto the main road, he had her hand tightly in his. Sara drove one-handed the entire way, turning at stoplights to smile at him. Neither of them spoke. Nick was surprised at how comfortable the silence was, and his eyes drifted shut, though he didn't fall asleep.