This Is Your Song
Chapter Three
Author's Notes: I have no idea where this story is going. I just keep writing and writing because fanfiction.net doesn't prove such a distraction. Even though I have exams, I just keep writing and writing... Thanks: To Tash, of course, because she's so awesomely amazing. Tash, I think I thanked you in every single chapter of my other fics, and now also of this fic! You're totally cool, thanks for all your help, and as a way to thank you, I decided to add Sara in ONE more scene. LOL Also thanks goes out to my friends at school, whom I miss, and also to Amber for being so cool about everything. Allison, you're so cool. You help, me and you're just too damn cool! And to Alisha, for "helping" with the present idea. Note: There is no disclaimer, just to prove to everyone that we don't need a disclaimer, because we're not going to get sued.
Warrick was driving my Tahoe. It felt odd to be seated next to him on the cool leather interior, watching him as he slowly maneuvered the vehicle from road to road, turning corners and stopping at red lights. I knew we had a long way to go before we got to the lab, so I reached over and switched on the radio, giggling when the music came on so loud Warrick winced.
"Country?" He asked me, his tone slightly mocking. I blushed.
"Lindsey likes it." I said, switching the station in embarrassment and feeling a headache coming on already. Gil was right, I couldn't hold my liquor.
When I was a teenager, I used to get bugged by my friends because in one or two beers, I'd be gone. It hasn't gotten any better with age, either. I'm still teased mercilessly at parties for taking one drink, because all the guests know that if I drink more than three, I'll be really happy.
I was glad that I had managed to only embarrass myself slightly that night. I was still a tad tipsy, though, I could feel it in my head. Ironically, Warrick broke the silence by asking me,
"Do you need an aspirin? I've got one left." I sighed, taking the Tylenol from him gently and popping it in my mouth.
"Thanks." I said quietly, rubbing my now-pounding head with my thumb. I looked over at him and found he was smiling slightly, and he wore an amused expression. "Something funny?" I asked him, clearing my throat and waiting for the medicine to melt away my dull pain.
"Naw," he said, peeling his eyes away from the windshield for a quick second to grin at me. "I was just thinking about something. A story Sara told me once."
"Oh?" I asked, curious.
"She said at Jim's birthday party you got totally trashed and started dancing on a table." I groaned and put my head in between my hands. He laughed when he saw my reaction. "I'm sorry I missed that one."
"Where were you that night, anyhow? I was looking all over for you, and Gil wasn't too happy you skipped out." Warrick didn't look at me.
"I had a gig, I think. I'm not sure." His voice was coated with emotion, so I let the subject drop. "Why would Gil care?"
"Oh, we played a 'girls against boys' game of charades. Gil had Doc Robbins on his team, who sucks at all party games, and you know how Gris hates losing." I laughed at the memory. "And Nicky was sick, so he didn't show either."
Warrick smiled a little and turned a corner. "So you and Sara kicked the boys' ass'?" He asked me.
I nodded. "Oh yes. If you ever need a good laugh ask Doc Robbins to act out the movie title 'Dirty Dancing'" I told him. He burst out laughing.
"I will definitely remember that one, thanks."
There was something about his presence in my sport utility vehicle that I didn't want to disappear. His scent, maybe, the way it drifted through the air and landed right beside me. He made this monstrosity of a car seem glamorous, romantic, and a little mysterious.
"You got the nice model." He said about my Tahoe. I laughed then, because it was like he had read my mind. But he didn't take it that way. "No, seriously you did."
"The nice model? We all got the same year, same company, same crappy Chevy." I told him, but felt bad. "OK, Chevy's are normally good cars, but this one is just a huge, gas-guzzling SUV."
"True." Warrick agreed. "But there's gotta be something about it you like."
"Not really." I said bitterly.
"How about the power steering?" He suggested. "It's a nice colour. And there's enough room for Lindsey and her friends." He said, motioning to the back seats. "And it smells like you."
I was a little taken aback, but I said nothing, only smiled. "You mean like strawberries." I said, thinking of the body spray I used every morning.
He shook his head. "Like fabric softener, orange juice and chewing gum." I giggled. "And strawberries." He added. "And Ivory soap and perfume." I was blushing. I found it beyond flattering that he knew exactly what I smelled like.
"Is that a good thing?" I asked, smelling my shirt for traces of orange juice. I made a mental note to keep using Ivory soap.
He nodded. "Yeah." He said simply, and I could tell by his face that he meant it. Just before an uncomfortable silence began he turned into the CSI driveway and parked in my space. I turned to him and smiled.
"My headache's gone. Thanks for driving me." I tried to look into his eyes but he wouldn't let me. He kept shifting in his seat, when he finally unbuckled his seat belt and told me I was welcome.
"Come around to the club again, if you want." He suggested, and climbed out of the Tahoe. I walked around to his side and put my hand on his shoulder.
"I just might do that."
I had a birthday party at my house on the Friday night of that week, before shift. I had invited a lot of people: Brass, Gil, Sara, Nick, Warrick, Greg, Doc Robbins, David, and a couple other old friends, but I didn't expect them all to show up. I didn't want them all to show up, actually, which is why I chose my words very carefully when typing out my invitations.
"Come if you want. Low-key, some alcohol, just a before-work party." I intended it to be the exact opposite. I felt bad for not inviting everyone I was friends with so I lied on the invites and crossed my fingers, hoping only a few choice people would come.
Gil arrived first, as usual, and made his way to my sofa, crossing his legs, handing me my present, and grinning as he saw the selection of drinks. "The invitations said 'some alcohol', Cat. You've got the equivalent of the neighborhood bar in here." He motioned to the bottles of Jack Daniels, Mike's Hard Lemonade, Budweiser, vodka, rum, whiskey, wine, and anything else I could get my hands on.
"Yeah, I lied." I said. "You want anything?"
"Throw me a Bud." He said, and I did as I was told, chucking the cold bottle across the room to him. He caught it and twisted the cap open, taking his first sip almost instantly.
"Tough day?" I asked him, raising an eyebrow at his thirst for alcohol.
"You could say that." I waited for him to tell me what had transpired, knowing I was the only one he wouldn't keep it a secret from. "It's personal." He said when he caught my eye. I tried not to look hurt.
"When has that ever mattered?" I asked him, picking up a Mike's out of habit but not really intending to drink it. "We're friends, Gil. Tell me what's wrong."
I crossed to the couch where he sat and watched his facial expressions tighten. He swirled his finger around the mouth of his beer bottle and sighed. "I was just thinking about my mother." I nodded, not knowing what to say.
I massaged his back and marveled at how tight his muscles were. I had never imagined one man could be so stressed out. I knew he didn't want to talk about his mom, so I decided to change the subject. In my head, though, I was calculating how many years it had been now since she died. "You should get out more, Gilly."
He smiled weakly at the name, drinking a bit more of his beer before setting it down on the table. When my hand moved to his lower back he stood up and shook his head, and I sighed. He always took it the wrong way.
"Afraid of physical contact?" I asked him, and he laughed.
"Terrified." I repeated to him that we were friends, and that I wanted to be there for him. He seemed to understand, this time, what I meant when I said friends, and I watched him relax.
"Can I open my present?" I asked, looking at the gift bag hanging off the side of a chair in the dining room. He shook his head.
"No way. Wait until everyone else gets here." I pouted, but agreed.
"Do you have any idea who's all coming to this party?" I asked him, taking a handful of chips and stuffing them down my throat. "Cause I didn't get any RSVP's."
"You didn't ask for any." Gil commented. "I know for sure Sara, Nick and Warrick are all coming." He sat down on my counter, not so much as flinching when the doorbell rang. He stood and went to go answer the door.
Warrick stood there, a blue package in his left hand. He was grinning, and he looked good. Really good. I shook my head and forced a normal smile, walking up to the doorway and greeting him.
"I didn't really know what to get you.." He said nervously, shoving the present at me as soon as I got close enough to reach it. I took it gently in one arm and hugged him with the other, noticing that he was wearing more aftershave than usual.
Putting the present on the counter, I offered him a drink but he shook his head. "Could you open it now?" He asked me, once Grissom had left for the washroom.
I gave him a confused expression. "Now? There's no one here."
"I know, that's why." He looked incredibly nervous, and he kept wiping the palms of his hands on his trousers. I shrugged and ripped the blue wrapping off of the box, wondering at the odd shape of the cardboard.
I opened it, revealing a clear CD case. Looking at him oddly, I snapped the cover apart from the case. He said nothing. Inside was a CD, blank save the words that were written in black marker. "Songs by Warrick." I read aloud, and smiled.
He cleared his throat. "I didn't know what to call it." He had his head bent down to stare at the carpet beneath his feet. I bit my lip, running my fingers over the surface of the CD and grinned.
"This is beautiful, Warrick." I hugged him again, letting myself linger this time. The bathroom door closed softly, and Gil walked into the living room.
"Break it up, I'm back." He said jokingly. I hid the CD behind my back upon seeing Warrick's embarrassed expression. He didn't want anyone else to know.
"Gil, could you get me the trash can from the kitchen?" I asked him, my eyes still staring into Warrick's face.
"Sure." Gil complied, disappearing into the opposite room. I shoved the CD into a drawer and winked at Warrick, and was seated beside him on the couch when Grissom came back into the room.
It promised to be an interesting night.
Author's Notes: I have no idea where this story is going. I just keep writing and writing because fanfiction.net doesn't prove such a distraction. Even though I have exams, I just keep writing and writing... Thanks: To Tash, of course, because she's so awesomely amazing. Tash, I think I thanked you in every single chapter of my other fics, and now also of this fic! You're totally cool, thanks for all your help, and as a way to thank you, I decided to add Sara in ONE more scene. LOL Also thanks goes out to my friends at school, whom I miss, and also to Amber for being so cool about everything. Allison, you're so cool. You help, me and you're just too damn cool! And to Alisha, for "helping" with the present idea. Note: There is no disclaimer, just to prove to everyone that we don't need a disclaimer, because we're not going to get sued.
Warrick was driving my Tahoe. It felt odd to be seated next to him on the cool leather interior, watching him as he slowly maneuvered the vehicle from road to road, turning corners and stopping at red lights. I knew we had a long way to go before we got to the lab, so I reached over and switched on the radio, giggling when the music came on so loud Warrick winced.
"Country?" He asked me, his tone slightly mocking. I blushed.
"Lindsey likes it." I said, switching the station in embarrassment and feeling a headache coming on already. Gil was right, I couldn't hold my liquor.
When I was a teenager, I used to get bugged by my friends because in one or two beers, I'd be gone. It hasn't gotten any better with age, either. I'm still teased mercilessly at parties for taking one drink, because all the guests know that if I drink more than three, I'll be really happy.
I was glad that I had managed to only embarrass myself slightly that night. I was still a tad tipsy, though, I could feel it in my head. Ironically, Warrick broke the silence by asking me,
"Do you need an aspirin? I've got one left." I sighed, taking the Tylenol from him gently and popping it in my mouth.
"Thanks." I said quietly, rubbing my now-pounding head with my thumb. I looked over at him and found he was smiling slightly, and he wore an amused expression. "Something funny?" I asked him, clearing my throat and waiting for the medicine to melt away my dull pain.
"Naw," he said, peeling his eyes away from the windshield for a quick second to grin at me. "I was just thinking about something. A story Sara told me once."
"Oh?" I asked, curious.
"She said at Jim's birthday party you got totally trashed and started dancing on a table." I groaned and put my head in between my hands. He laughed when he saw my reaction. "I'm sorry I missed that one."
"Where were you that night, anyhow? I was looking all over for you, and Gil wasn't too happy you skipped out." Warrick didn't look at me.
"I had a gig, I think. I'm not sure." His voice was coated with emotion, so I let the subject drop. "Why would Gil care?"
"Oh, we played a 'girls against boys' game of charades. Gil had Doc Robbins on his team, who sucks at all party games, and you know how Gris hates losing." I laughed at the memory. "And Nicky was sick, so he didn't show either."
Warrick smiled a little and turned a corner. "So you and Sara kicked the boys' ass'?" He asked me.
I nodded. "Oh yes. If you ever need a good laugh ask Doc Robbins to act out the movie title 'Dirty Dancing'" I told him. He burst out laughing.
"I will definitely remember that one, thanks."
There was something about his presence in my sport utility vehicle that I didn't want to disappear. His scent, maybe, the way it drifted through the air and landed right beside me. He made this monstrosity of a car seem glamorous, romantic, and a little mysterious.
"You got the nice model." He said about my Tahoe. I laughed then, because it was like he had read my mind. But he didn't take it that way. "No, seriously you did."
"The nice model? We all got the same year, same company, same crappy Chevy." I told him, but felt bad. "OK, Chevy's are normally good cars, but this one is just a huge, gas-guzzling SUV."
"True." Warrick agreed. "But there's gotta be something about it you like."
"Not really." I said bitterly.
"How about the power steering?" He suggested. "It's a nice colour. And there's enough room for Lindsey and her friends." He said, motioning to the back seats. "And it smells like you."
I was a little taken aback, but I said nothing, only smiled. "You mean like strawberries." I said, thinking of the body spray I used every morning.
He shook his head. "Like fabric softener, orange juice and chewing gum." I giggled. "And strawberries." He added. "And Ivory soap and perfume." I was blushing. I found it beyond flattering that he knew exactly what I smelled like.
"Is that a good thing?" I asked, smelling my shirt for traces of orange juice. I made a mental note to keep using Ivory soap.
He nodded. "Yeah." He said simply, and I could tell by his face that he meant it. Just before an uncomfortable silence began he turned into the CSI driveway and parked in my space. I turned to him and smiled.
"My headache's gone. Thanks for driving me." I tried to look into his eyes but he wouldn't let me. He kept shifting in his seat, when he finally unbuckled his seat belt and told me I was welcome.
"Come around to the club again, if you want." He suggested, and climbed out of the Tahoe. I walked around to his side and put my hand on his shoulder.
"I just might do that."
I had a birthday party at my house on the Friday night of that week, before shift. I had invited a lot of people: Brass, Gil, Sara, Nick, Warrick, Greg, Doc Robbins, David, and a couple other old friends, but I didn't expect them all to show up. I didn't want them all to show up, actually, which is why I chose my words very carefully when typing out my invitations.
"Come if you want. Low-key, some alcohol, just a before-work party." I intended it to be the exact opposite. I felt bad for not inviting everyone I was friends with so I lied on the invites and crossed my fingers, hoping only a few choice people would come.
Gil arrived first, as usual, and made his way to my sofa, crossing his legs, handing me my present, and grinning as he saw the selection of drinks. "The invitations said 'some alcohol', Cat. You've got the equivalent of the neighborhood bar in here." He motioned to the bottles of Jack Daniels, Mike's Hard Lemonade, Budweiser, vodka, rum, whiskey, wine, and anything else I could get my hands on.
"Yeah, I lied." I said. "You want anything?"
"Throw me a Bud." He said, and I did as I was told, chucking the cold bottle across the room to him. He caught it and twisted the cap open, taking his first sip almost instantly.
"Tough day?" I asked him, raising an eyebrow at his thirst for alcohol.
"You could say that." I waited for him to tell me what had transpired, knowing I was the only one he wouldn't keep it a secret from. "It's personal." He said when he caught my eye. I tried not to look hurt.
"When has that ever mattered?" I asked him, picking up a Mike's out of habit but not really intending to drink it. "We're friends, Gil. Tell me what's wrong."
I crossed to the couch where he sat and watched his facial expressions tighten. He swirled his finger around the mouth of his beer bottle and sighed. "I was just thinking about my mother." I nodded, not knowing what to say.
I massaged his back and marveled at how tight his muscles were. I had never imagined one man could be so stressed out. I knew he didn't want to talk about his mom, so I decided to change the subject. In my head, though, I was calculating how many years it had been now since she died. "You should get out more, Gilly."
He smiled weakly at the name, drinking a bit more of his beer before setting it down on the table. When my hand moved to his lower back he stood up and shook his head, and I sighed. He always took it the wrong way.
"Afraid of physical contact?" I asked him, and he laughed.
"Terrified." I repeated to him that we were friends, and that I wanted to be there for him. He seemed to understand, this time, what I meant when I said friends, and I watched him relax.
"Can I open my present?" I asked, looking at the gift bag hanging off the side of a chair in the dining room. He shook his head.
"No way. Wait until everyone else gets here." I pouted, but agreed.
"Do you have any idea who's all coming to this party?" I asked him, taking a handful of chips and stuffing them down my throat. "Cause I didn't get any RSVP's."
"You didn't ask for any." Gil commented. "I know for sure Sara, Nick and Warrick are all coming." He sat down on my counter, not so much as flinching when the doorbell rang. He stood and went to go answer the door.
Warrick stood there, a blue package in his left hand. He was grinning, and he looked good. Really good. I shook my head and forced a normal smile, walking up to the doorway and greeting him.
"I didn't really know what to get you.." He said nervously, shoving the present at me as soon as I got close enough to reach it. I took it gently in one arm and hugged him with the other, noticing that he was wearing more aftershave than usual.
Putting the present on the counter, I offered him a drink but he shook his head. "Could you open it now?" He asked me, once Grissom had left for the washroom.
I gave him a confused expression. "Now? There's no one here."
"I know, that's why." He looked incredibly nervous, and he kept wiping the palms of his hands on his trousers. I shrugged and ripped the blue wrapping off of the box, wondering at the odd shape of the cardboard.
I opened it, revealing a clear CD case. Looking at him oddly, I snapped the cover apart from the case. He said nothing. Inside was a CD, blank save the words that were written in black marker. "Songs by Warrick." I read aloud, and smiled.
He cleared his throat. "I didn't know what to call it." He had his head bent down to stare at the carpet beneath his feet. I bit my lip, running my fingers over the surface of the CD and grinned.
"This is beautiful, Warrick." I hugged him again, letting myself linger this time. The bathroom door closed softly, and Gil walked into the living room.
"Break it up, I'm back." He said jokingly. I hid the CD behind my back upon seeing Warrick's embarrassed expression. He didn't want anyone else to know.
"Gil, could you get me the trash can from the kitchen?" I asked him, my eyes still staring into Warrick's face.
"Sure." Gil complied, disappearing into the opposite room. I shoved the CD into a drawer and winked at Warrick, and was seated beside him on the couch when Grissom came back into the room.
It promised to be an interesting night.