Oooooohhhhh... TWO updates in ONE day! You love me, right?

In this one, I got to use the word "apex" it's such a great word!

Still own nothing. This chapter's for (deep breath); Meg, Amy, Katie, Erin, Suzie, Elyshia, Sarah, Aoife, Kaija, Roshni, Mattie, Veronica, Allie, Heather, Sean, Shane, Danielle, Deb, Libby, Elaine, Chris 1, Chris 2, Brandon, Allison, Tracey,Taylorand a bunch of other people.

How's this for irony? Alcohol is a vice, a crutch that provides no support. But at that moment, both Sara and Warrick wished for more. Long ago, Warrick had noticed that no matter how clear your thinking seems at night, the morning sun uncovers the flaws in all the reasonings you've unearthed under the cover of darkness.

His plan for wooing Sara originally entailed a grandiose scheme, flower petals in her locker, secret admirer notes, and at last, a lyrical attempt to capture her heart. But now, months of consideration for naught, Warrick was at a fork. Though Sara lay in his arms, a surreal fact at best, he couldn't help but wonder if he had her heart.

The idea of elaborate, romantic gestures came about upon realizing Sara's mistrust for all. His logical mind produced the theory that Sara fell in love foremost with her head, rather than her soul. Therefore, he must dedicate the time and energy that was so worth winning her, so she would be sure of his feelings. 'Warrick Brown, you stupid ass,' his brain pointed out the obvious, 'Romantic a drunken romp is not.'

Despite his subconscious' obvious discomfort, Warrick found solace in Sara's words. Her frame of reference unmistakable, Warrick couldn't resist questioning exactly how much weight her words carried. Ideally, they meant that she, too, saw him as more than a friend. However, he had always been more of a realist than an eternal optimist, and a night that could make or break his relationship with his dream girl wasn't going to change that.

Yanked abruptly from a bittersweet reverie by the shifting of mass, he looked downward, expecting to see Sara hightailing it in an emotion he had dubbed, "Post One Night Stand Reality." Rather, he saw brown eyes filled with hurt. A sense of self-depreciation sunk in rapidly when he realized that he became the source of that hurt when he failed to reply.

Sara sat up, blue sheet languidly slipping off her form as she turned away from Warrick to leave. Warrick's fingers instinctively reached out to wrap firmly but gently around her wrist. "Wait." Warrick's voice started commanding and authorative. "Stay," he said simply, a traitorous note of pleading forcing it's way into an otherwise steady, velvet voice.

"Why?" A small and feminine, yet strong voice asked a fair question. Warrick sensed astutely that she was taking more than staying in his bed under consideration. In a way, it almost felt like she was asking him every question ever asked, in that universally called upon "why."

"Because you make my sun set and my moon rise," is what he would have said if he were poetic. "Because I've loved you since I laid eyes on you," the choice and untrue response for a man who believed in destiny. "Because you complete me," also known as the sappy Jerry Maguire reply.

But what was Warrick to say? She alone possessed the power to light up a room for him, to say nothing of his heart. "Because I love you." Warrick handed over the words as if they were a deed to his soul, which, in a way, they were. He gave them both to Sara gladly.

Her eyes burned, salty tears threatening to spill over. She slid back into Warrick's bed, where he gently kissed away one that had escaped. For a man whose belief in humankind itself had been questioned, the thought that flitted through his brain was an uncharacteristic one. For as Sara's happy tears subsided, and Warrick pulled her slim form to his once again, they both knew that, maybe for the first time in both their lives, they were right where they were supposed to be.

Sara awoke a few hours later, roused by the insistent buzzing of Warrick's phone on his hall floor. Though the sound was something akin to the spilling of dry cereal into a bowl, she had always been a light sleeper. Instantly aware that she and Warrick were due at work in three or four hours, she harshly pushed the thought of more sleep away.

She stretched her toes out a little, relishing Warrick's warm body, soft blankets and his hot breath on her head. She smiled a little, trying and failing to remember the last time waking up next to someone had felt so satisfying. Snuggling gratefully into his protective arms, she recalled his earlier words. Sara laid a few discrete kisses along the apex of his breastbone, and then halted. She looked up at his face, hers softening slowly. Warrick always maintained his world-wise, all-knowing, soul-searing expression even when he was a million miles away.

Sara was slightly missed at her own thoughtlessness. Here she had heard the words she had dreamed of, uttered by the same person featured in her fantasies. The wonder if wishful thinking had finally crossed the line separating reality and otherwise flitted into, and out of, her head. So, because she was so obviously there, with Warrick, in a long awaited but never expected situation, the least Sara could have done was reply when he confessed his love for her.

Acting upon that thought, Sara snaked a hand up his chest and shook his shoulder. Bent on waking him, she hadn't notice his breathing had subtly changed from deep and slow to a contained rhythm. "Warrick…" Sara frowned slightly. "Warrick, c'mon, please wake up." A sly smile snuck onto his face, "If you call me baby I'll wake up." He'd been kidding, but he wasn't about to argue when she complied, voice pitched low and sexy, music to Warrick's tone-aware ears.

Sara rolled her eyes good-naturedly at Warrick's request, but what the hell. Means to an end, right? "Warrick, baby, open your eyes." She purred the words gently, s if he was still asleep. Her hand left his muscled shoulder and settled on his face. Her fingertips cautiously, admiringly caressed his strong jaw line. "I want you to know, I love you, too." She slipped a slender, pale leg between his long, coffee-colored ones, a combination of her actions and words making his eyes snap open.

She grinned as she won that test of wills. Sara 1, Warrick 0. However, the fictional scorecard disappeared as his hands found her hips under his covers. "I know." His already mesmerizing eyes took on a fascinating glint as he pulled her into a searing kiss that should have made the windows of his bedroom fog up. Just before she protested for the sake of their jobs, the sense of being surrounded by Warrick made reason vanish with a "pop" to wherever the scorecard had gone.

This was definitely different for both. But, as a philosopher once said, "Tomorrow is the promise of change." And it was a brand-new day.

Ok, yeah, the ending was VERY corny, I know. Now, I'm not sure where I'm going after this. You guys want some work interaction? Some more "hot-n-spicy," their first fight (I make no promises)? Should this be the end? Please, take the time to reveiw if you have any opinion whatsoever on this fic. It's needed.