"Everybody, sooner or later, sits down to a banquet of consequences." - Robert Louis Stevenson
Earlier, at the end of the previous shift:
"Hey Sara," Greg almost yells as she's about to leave his lab. She turns back around to face him, eyebrow cocked. "I almost forgot. Do you want to grab a drink after shift?"
Sara begins to shake her head. She likes Greg, but he's asked her out before and she just can't see herself dating him. He's cute, but he's just a little too strange for her tastes.
"Don't worry," he adds with that cocky little grin of his, "I asked Nick and Warrick too. We're all going."
"I don't know, maybe. Where are you going?" she asks, considering it. It's been a very tiring shift, and though they're now into overtime, it's not over yet. She and Warrick are on the cusp of closing a murder/suicide, and she was thinking of just going home and crawling into bed. A drink with the guys might be nice, though, to take the edge off a hard night before going home to sleep.
"The Hard Rock," Greg says with a grin.
"The Hard Rock?" Sara repeats dubiously. "Isn't that kind of touristy?"
"Nah, it'll be fun," he assures her. "Come on, live a little, try something new, roll with the homeys..."
"Greg," she cuts him off, grinning despite herself. "Alright, I'll come."
Sara walks into the Viva Las Vegas Lounge, and looks for the guys. She sees Warrick sitting alone at a table, and waves.
"Hey," he says as she sits down.
"Hi," she responds. She sees that he's got a half empty beer in front of him and wonders how he got there so quickly when they both finished up at the same time. It was almost half past nine by the time she left the lab, and she almost didn't come, but decided that one drink wouldn't hurt. "Where are Greg and Nick?" she asks.
"I don't know, they're supposed to be here," he says. "They're working a missing person's with Grissom, guess they got hung up."
Sara nods. She shrugs out of her denim jacket and hangs it on the chair back behind her. The lounge isn't very busy at this hour, and she wonders who chose the location, and why. It's not a very exciting locale, just a regular lounge with a bar of honey colored wood and matching tables, adjacent to the casino floor.
"Why here?" she asks Warrick. He shrugs.
"Sanders wanted to come here. Actually, there's pretty good Mexican food at the Pink Taco Bar, but it's not open until eleven. Maybe he's thinking of sticking around until then." Warrick chuckles as he adds, "Or maybe he's hoping to hook up with you, get a room."
Deciding not to dignify that remark with a comment of her own, she gives him a patented Sara Sidle glare. Warrick just smirks.
"You've been here before? I can't see you here," she comments.
"A friend stayed here," he says by way of explanation.
Warrick's cell phone rings, and he picks it up from its resting place on the table. A server comes and Sara orders a Corona, happy to have an excuse not to listen to Warrick's one-sided conversation. She always feels a little awkward doing that, like she's intruding, though not by choice.
"That was Nick," he says as he hangs up. "They've got a lead on their case, looks like they might end up pulling a double."
"Oh," Sara says somewhat uncomfortably, wishing she hadn't just ordered a drink.
"What, you afraid to be alone with me?"
"Of course not," she says with a grin. "I'm alone with you all the time."
"Not off the clock," he says, resting his elbows on the table and leaning forward, and Sara is a little taken aback. Is he flirting with her? She's always felt like maybe there was an underlying attraction between herself and Warrick, but they've never overtly flirted the way she and Nick do, or the way Greg flirts with her, or even the subtle flirting she once shared with Grissom.
Sara is saved from having to respond by the server bringing her beer. Warrick orders another drink as well, and as he speaks with the server, Sara sits back in her chair and takes a moment to really look at him. She worked side-by-side with him all night, yet if someone had asked her what he'd been wearing, she wouldn't have been able to tell them, and she wonders when she stopped noticing things like that about her co-workers. Some CSI she is.
He looks good. He's wearing a dark blue shirt that compliments his skin tone, and the sleeves are rolled up below his elbow, showing off his forearms. She doesn't know what it is about a man with good forearms, but she finds it incredibly sexy. His are good.
As usual, his shirt is unbuttoned half way down his chest, and that's definitely something she has noticed about him before. He's got a nicely sculpted chest, and he does well to show it off a little. She's surprised, though, that Grissom doesn't call Warrick on his attire being a little less than professional. Of course, some of the outfits that Catherine wears border on risqué as well. And hey, this is Vegas, baby, and the rules that apply to the rest of the world are stretched a little more here.
Sara is roused from her reverie when Warrick asks her what she's staring at.
"Uh... nothing," she says unconvincingly, and Warrick just chuckles and nods. Sara can't help but feel that they're entering into dangerous territory this morning. She takes a big gulp of her beer, seeking both courage and comfort, and maybe buying a little time.
"Does it bother you, being here?" she asks, nodding her head toward the casino floor.
"You've been with me at casinos before," he says, evasively.
"Not off the clock," she says, echoing his earlier sentiment.
He huffs an amused acknowledgement and nods. "A little." He doesn't elaborate, at first, and Sara can tell that it's not easy for him to admit his weakness. "But this is Vegas, there's no getting away from it."
Sara nods seriously, and not for the first time, admires his fortitude. There was a time when she was judgmental of his addiction, but she's grown up a lot since coming to Las Vegas, and she is no longer the self-righteous Sara Sidle she once was.
The server comes back, offering them more drinks. Sara is about to decline, thinking that she should get home and get some sleep, when Warrick orders two shots of tequila. Sara quirks an eyebrow at him, and he shrugs easily, leaning back in his chair.
"I don't feel like going home just yet," he says. "You gonna make me drink alone?"
"No," she says simply.
She can't really say what the catalyst was in the meeting of their lips. All she knows is that one moment they were leaning in close, talking about work with their mouths and sex with their eyes. Now their tongues are entangled, and their hands are roaming over each other's bodies. She pulls away when she feels the brush of his hand under the back of her shirt, and he looks questioningly at her. She glances toward the only other patron in the bar, who is blatantly staring at them, apparently enjoying the show. Understanding, Warrick stands up and offers her his hand. She hesitates momentarily, a thousand thoughts entering her mind, but she takes his hand and lets him lead her out of the bar.
When they reach the hotel check-in counter, Sara leans back against it and tries not to consider the implications of what they're doing. The alcohol in her system brings an easy smile to her face, and she blushes as she glances over to see him staring at her. His gaze is as intense as it is when he's examining a vital piece of evidence, and she wonders what it is about her that demands his scrutiny.
Oh my God, this is Warrick, is running through her mind, slowly becoming drowned out by God, I want Warrick.
When the desk clerk, who Sara couldn't describe if her life depended on it, hands Warrick their keycard, he kisses her again, their bodies pressing tightly together. He guides her backwards, towards what she assumes to be the elevator bank. She's gently backed against a wall and stifles a moan as his body is firmly pressed against his, her centre coming into contact with the bulge in his pants.
Warrick must have pressed the up button, because the elevator dings and he's pushing her into it. Again her back meets the wall and she's glad there's no one else in the elevator with them because she doesn't think she would be able to keep her hands off him. His hands slide down to the backs of her thighs and she feels herself being lifted. She wraps her legs around his waist and presses herself into him, eliciting a deep throated moan that she feels against her throat.
He slides his hands up her sides and under her fitted shirt, his thumbs fingering the lace on the underside of her bra. She inhales sharply and is rewarded by a thrust of his pelvis. Their mouths meet again and Sara runs her hand over his muscular back. When she reaches his waist, she yanks the tucked shirt out, wanting to feel his skin too. She slides her hands around to the front, making space between their bodies to undo the remaining buttons of his shirt. Finishing, she leans down and kisses as much of his chest as she can reach from this position. Warrick lets his head fall back, leaving his beautiful throat exposed to her hungry mouth.
The elevator slows and stops, the bell dinging as an extra indicator that they've reached their floor, and she wonders when he even hit the button. She's glad one of them had the foresight to do it, or they'd never make it out of the elevator, which, come to think of it, could be fun.
Warrick grabs her ass and lifts her away from the wall, keeping her legs wrapped around him. He backs out of the elevator with Sara nibbling on his ear. As the elevator doors close behind them, neither give a thought to the cameras that have been recording their every move.
TBC