Part Six

(this and one more part, and then it's done. Promise!)

Bright sunlight intruded rudely on her slumber. Without opening her eyes she reached across, searching with her hand for something to cover her eyes with. She finally found a pillow, pulling it over her head, welcoming the darkness.

She couldn't get back to sleep though. The light had set off a pounding in her head, and as her mouth felt full of fur, and her eyes felt laden with cement, she quickly came to the conclusion that she had been out drinking. Again.

She sniffed, trying to guess whether she was at home or Warrick's. They usually got a cab from the bar, and sometimes she had even managed to get back to her house. She seemed to be safe today, she recognised her washing liquid smell on the pillow. Now if she could just get enough working neurons together she could open her eyes and confirm this.

With little idea of how long it took, she finally prised her eyes open, still hidden under the pillow to save them from the harsh reality of daylight. It had to be fairly late, if she was in her room, she only got the sun in the afternoon. Finally she realised that as much as she wanted just to stay where she was, she was going to have to use the bathroom in the near future or spoil her new cotton sheets completely.

Mustering up the courage to face herself in the mirror, she swung her legs over the side of bed, rolled, and just about managed to make it to her feet. Taking a moment to steady herself, she started across the room.

She avoided looking in the mirror, deciding quickly that that pleasure could wait till at least after she'd drowned herself in the shower for a while. After relieving herself, she sat on the edge of the bath tub, washing her teeth, reflecting on a scale of one to ten of hangover experiences this wasn't too bad. After all, she could walk. Which was always a good sign. She could even remember little bits of last night. Nothing important like how she'd got home, but she remembered Warrick being there. That was something, right?

She looked forward to the nights more than she would dare tell Warrick. After all, he treated them so casually; she got the impression if something better came along, he'd be off. Not that she felt used or anything. She just got the impression that she looked forward to them more than Warrick did. Warrick had turned out to be a good listener, a good talker, and generally a good friend. In the few hours she spent in the bar with him, she had got to know him far better than three years at the lab. Who would have thought, after the arguments they had used to have that they could sit down and enjoy a friendly drink together. Or three. Or ten.

After using all her hot water in the shower, she stepped out at least feeling half human. She bundled up in a bathrobe, quickly deciding that she had to have a coffee before dressing. She couldn't wait any longer. Her lounge and kitchen were open plan, the bedroom and bathroom down a short corridor coming out into the lounge. She could see the light blinking on her ansaphone and wondered whether Grissom had been trying to get hold of her. Her mobile had been safely turned off, as she now did every time she went to the bar just in case she got some crazy idea of calling someone again to offload in her drunken state. She walked over to the phone, about to press play when a voice floated across the room.

'Sidle, did you have to use up all the hot water?'

Sara jumped violently, spinning around, clamping her arms across her front to stop the bath robe flying open. 'Jeez. Warrick! What the hell are you doing here?' She cried.

Warrick looked a little disturbed by the outburst, although Sara could see the edge of his lip twitching as he tried hard not to smile. 'I…you told me I could sleep on the couch.' Warrick answered uncertainly, pointing out the couch where a neat pile of sheets now lay, as if to help her recall. 'Remember?' He added.

'Uh no?' Sara answered somewhat sarcastically. Her heart was still running ten to the dozen, and she knew she shouldn't be mad but she just hadn't been expecting him. If she had, she certainly wouldn't be standing there in a bathrobe.

Warrick looked around, clearly wondering what to do. He picked up a cup off the counter in front of him and offered it out to her. 'I made coffee.' He said.

For a moment, Sara just stood there, then gave up, laughed and stepped forward accepting the coffee gratefully. 'Thanks. Sorry I yelled. I just-'

'Forgot that you had told me to stay.' Warrick finished for her. 'I guessed.' He said dryly.

'Yeah, so…good night?' She asked, making him grin.

'Not bad. I didn't have to carry you to the cab, anyway.'

'Why is it, that you drink the same as me, and you can still walk?' Sara mused.

'I'm a man. We can hold our drink better.'

'Right.' Sara said, drawing the word out into several syllables. 'Well, at least I don't turn into a gibbering idiot.' She mused.

'I thought you didn't remember last night?'

'Oh, I remember enough.' Sara told him.

At that statement, for some reason, Warrick got an even brighter grin on his face. 'Ah, but do you?' He asked, almost rhetorically.

Alarming bells clanged in Sara's pounding head, as she tried in vain to think what Warrick could be referring to.

The grin on Warrick's face, if possible, had only grown bigger.

'What did I do this time?' She asked at last.

'Oh, that would be too easy.' Warrick told her. He leant back against the counter, folding his arms against his chest, regarding her carefully, a twinkle in his eyes.

For a moment, Sara reflected how comfortable he seemed to be in her kitchen, making himself at home. And cursed the fact that even after last night, and in last nights clothes he looked like normal. 'Could you at least give me a clue? Was this before or after the haemorrhage?'

'Before.'

'Come on Warrick…' Sara pleaded, not having the slightest clue of what Warrick could be referring to.

Warrick didn't budge. Literally or figuratively. Sara brought her free hand up to her forehead, massaging her temples in both a useless gesture of relieving the headache, and trying to search for any useful memories of last night.

She gave up, turned her back on Warrick, and stalked to the ansaphone. She pressed play, a recorded voice telling her that she had three new messages.

'Sara, honey.' Was all she needed of the first message to know it was her mother, and she quickly pressed the fast forward button. Her mom tended to ramble on about stuff Warrick didn't need to know.

'Sara, you've got to call me.' That message also got cut off pretty quickly, the quirky unmistakable voice of her oldest friend being cut dead in its prime. Warrick also didn't need to hear that one.

The third message, as she could have predicted, was Grissom. 'Uh, hi, Sara, it's Grissom. Look, if you get this message, we could do with a hand tonight. No…no urgency or anything. I can't get hold of Warrick either. Oh well. Call if you get this message. Or I'll see you tomorrow night. Whichever.'

Sara turned round, raising an eyebrow at Warrick. 'Think he'll be mad I didn't come in?' She asked, not expecting an answer really.

'Who Grissom? Mad? At you? Cause you're unavailable at the drop of a hat? He'll get over it.' Warrick said, with a slight grin. 'Guess I know what's on my ansaphone.' He added.

'I haven't even listened to my voicemail yet.' Sara said ruefully. Now that the messages were out of the way, she turned back to the problem at hand. 'Well, my cell was off so I couldn't have phoned anyone- I didn't call anyone did I?' The last bit was said with a slight hysterical inflection.

'No.' Warrick said laughing.

Well, how bad could it be? She hadn't phoned anyone. Which meant it was just between herself and Warrick. A thought suddenly came to her, but she instantly dismissed it. But it kept nagging at the back of her brain. What if they'd kissed or something? She felt her cheeks flame up at the thought. Would he really be standing there so casually if that was the case? Why did she always drink too much to remember the vital details of a night out?

Warrick had obviously decided to take pity on her as he stepped round the kitchen into the lounge, propping himself against one of the stools at the counter. 'It wasn't so much what you might have done, to what you agreed to do later.'

Agreed to do later? Sara, for some reason, suddenly became very aware of the fact that she was standing there in her bathrobe.

'I'm gonna…go get changed.' She announced suddenly, all but running up the corridor to her room, firmly closing the door behind her. The distinct sound of a Warrick chuckle followed her up the corridor.

She did get changed, and tried to reason with herself what she might have agreed to do. She thought about the bits she did remember, as she slowly changed into jeans and a skinny-t. She'd got there before Warrick. Which wasn't a big surprise. She'd probably accused him of being late. There had been drinking. A lot of drinking. And by the smell of her clothes, she'd been smoking again. Why was it that with all her good intentions, as soon as she had a drink in one hand, she needed to have a cigarette in the other? She hardly ever got the urge as she had used to do when she was sober.

So, no shocks there. They'd talked about work. And some discussion on music, probably argued about films, probably gossiped about the rest of the crew at CSI, probably invented some stupid drinking games. Argued about whether green or blue aftershock was the best. None of this helped her. Buying herself some time, she sorted out the clothes from last night into the clothes hamper, thinking about what they had discussed about work. Their recent case had been a dead prostitute, and Sara remembered complaining about the friend's ability to lie. And Warrick getting all soppy eyed over her.

The warning bell came back, softer now, but still there. Something about that conversation, something about Marsh being sexy. Sara personally thought that it was too much, too fake. Warrick obviously hadn't thought so. She remembered that uncharacteristic flare of jealousy at the look in Warrick's eye when he was thinking about her.

No! She berated herself. She didn't think of Warrick like that.

Okay, so something about their differing tastes in women. About what was sexy. She just couldn't see what had Warrick smiling about it.

There was only one way she was going to get answers. She stalked back into the lounge, the unsolved puzzle along with the hangover making her feel somewhat cranky. Warrick was sat on the sofa now, flicking through tv stations. He looked up at her, about to say something, but obviously thought better of it.

Sara sat down on the opposite arm, facing Warrick. 'We were having a discussion about that witness. The one you thought was sexy, and I thought was too much.' Sara told him.

Warrick helpfully nodded.

'And…' Sara prodded.

'And you had better ideas of what constituted sexy.' Warrick finally said.

Sara frowned. 'Why would I…'

Warrick interrupted. 'You were drunk. Well, we both were. And we made a bet.' He had obviously had enough of watching her squirm.

'A bet?' Sara said, feeling a shiver of dread work it's way up her spine.

Warrick shut of the tv, and turned properly to her. 'Yes, a bet. If I won, you did all my paperwork for a week, and worked my next missing pet case.'

'And if I won…'

'I'd do your paperwork for a week, and work your next house invader case.'

'And what do I have to do to win the bet?' Sara asked, clearly dreading the answer.

'The next time we meet up, you have to be…sexy.'

The series of looks that run over Sara's face in two seconds was astounding. 'Be…sexy?' She finally asked.

'Yep. You have to prove that you can be sexy.' Warrick told her.

Sara's eyes were wide with disbelief. 'No way. We can't have shaken on that!'

'Oh, we sealed it- you even signed for it.' Warrick said, passing her a paper napkin. On it, clearly in her writing was a signed passage agreeing to the bet.

Sara groaned loudly. 'Why do I do this to myself?' She asked.

Warrick's answer was a chuckle. 'I can't wait Sidle. Have I told you how much I enjoy drinking with you?' He said, standing up. 'I've got to go. See you tonight.'

'But you can't…you can't expect me to do this!'

'A bets a bet.' Warrick said solemnly with a shrug as if that was the end of it. 'If you want to forfeit, I'll make sure I have enough paperwork to keep you busy.'

Sara looked at him disbelieving. 'Oh, you're so unfair! Taking advantage of me when I'm drunk.' She told him.

Warrick ignored her, walking out the front door with a smile lighting his face, hearing another hearty grown from Sara before he shut the door.

Maybe it was unfair. But what he wouldn't admit, ever, was that she could have won the bet just now. Seeing her in only a bathrobe had certainly fallen within the rules of the bet.

Not that he'd tell her that because he was looking forward to their next drinking session way too much.