This is one WIP I intend on finishing. In fact, I've got most of the next two chapters written hard-copy, just have to type them. This is a W/S story. Is overrated now, but many have suggested I make it "steam-ay" AKA, R-Rated. Probably won't go there, but if it does, I'll change the rating. (Duh)

Set in an AU where the team isn't broken up, but post-"Snakes", if that makes any sense whatsoever.

I own nothing, blah blah blah
(GG; Wonder what we sound like to them?
GS; Probably... blah blah blah
GG; Have any particular "blah blah blah" for me?

Warrick awoke to an unfamiliar sensation. Sleep clogging his vision, he blinked at his ceiling and attempted to raise a hand to rub his face. However, his arm was pinned by something very warm and very human. He woke fully and suddenly at the realization that his limbs were otherwise employed. Feeling rushed from his fingertips to his toes, alerting his body that there was another wrapped around it. Glancing downwards to his sleeping companion, Warrick's oval eyes widened, his groggy brain protesting the illogical information that was flooding it.

Warrick swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. The roughness in the back of his throat confirmed his suspicions that he had not been quiet last night, just as the dull ache in his head told of a fair amount of alcohol. The left side of his brain analyzed the situation, while the right side was well on its way to crazy town. One well-defined arm was latched possessively around a flared hip, while the other snaked around a smooth back; keeping the two bodies dangerously close. One of her legs was tucked between his, the long appendage wrapped around his, her own gesture of possession.

Her chestnut hair fell around her face, unusually tousled. Warrick could feel her warm breath across his bare chest, which she had jerry-rigged as a pillow. Instinctively, his eyes traveled down her elongated neck, down her freckled back, but the dark blue cotton sheet kept the scene PG-13. Stormy sea-green eyes snapped upwards to assess the destruction of his living quarters. 'Shit.' He thought immediately, his vocabulary failing him. Warrick, though he wasn't as compulsively neat as most CSIs, know for a fact that before last night the lamp on his bedside table had not been upended, and the papers on his desk were in neat, orderly piles.

An uncharacteristically smug smile invited itself onto Warrick's visage as he remembered exactly what action caused the papers' current state of disarray. However, the distinctly self-satisfied expression faded as he looked down onto the female in her arms. Hell, there was no denying he loved her, but an alcohol-induced frenzy was not what he imagined as the culmination of four years of intense emotions and thought. Allowing himself a brief reprieve from reality, Warrick recalled the wide array of said emotions. There had been near-hatred, to sympathy, to frustration, to empathy, to love, which surfaced, apparently, last night, along with the animalistic lust he harbored in his soul.

Stirred from his reverie by a hand stretching slowly across his stomach, Warrick's line of vision shot down, his heart clenching in trepidation. With a sigh, brown eyes opened. Warrick quickly donned a blank face, glad for the first time of his gambling prowess, as he watched her bright but alcohol-laced eyes comb upwards. The look of computation was recognizable in her expressions. Glad that she wore her feelings on her sleeve when drowsy, he recognized confusion, realization, and nervousness. By the time their eyes met, her face matched his.

"Hi," he said automatically, his voice only slightly more husky and passionate than usual. "Hi," she echoed, the simple sound of her rest-roughed voice stirring something inside him that told him to capture her lips in a kiss and ravish her relentlessly. His voice started and stopped, deep in his chest. He wanted to say, to confess, so many things. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she looked, how long he had wanted her. He wanted to ask how she felt about him, what she was thinking. Most of all, he wanted to know if, God forbid, she regretted what they had done.

Despite his brave attempts, his inquires died before they reached his throat. She sensed his predicament and raised a slender hand to touch his lips, hushing him and caressing him simultaneously. "I'm glad," she declared in a whisper, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards demurely.

Ch. 2 will be up as soon as I can type it, but I think I'm getting carpal tunnel. I deserve it, typing on my labtop while in bed. Ha.

To Amy, who wanted a hot ficcy, as well as sassytoo and grrlnorth, who have kick-ass W/S fics. Read them.

Reveiws make my day! They should have their own section in the food pyramid!