Disclaimer: I don't own them, I didn't create them, and I do not profit off them.

Rating: PG-13 for this installment. Maybe even PG if I am willing.

Author's Notes: Oh Julie, I am sure that you can pen anything you wish. I enjoy/ ed the R fics that you wrote and found them very "interesting" if you will. I'm surprised with myself that I actually wrote that chapter. I was like, "Hey, maybe Julie is right. Maybe I should have Sara help Nick out in the locker room." One thing led to another and now I am in hiding. Someone is going to report me, I swear.

All right Fiian, since you said that I have to write three a day, here is my third. : D

And in reference to the orange juice and gasoline making napalm, I have no effing clue. It's off of Fight Club so I assume that it's true.


Chapter Ten: Saw It In A Movie

You're mine, was all Sara could hear chanting in her mind as the CSIs chatted lightly around her, munching on doughnuts as they drank their coffees. She sat there beside Greg who was busy telling everyone a story about his roommate and the accident he had when he mixed equal parts of gasoline with frozen orange juice concentrate to make napalm.

"He saw it in a movie and he didn't think it was actually going to work."

"And it did?" wondered Nick, engrossed completely in the story.

"Well yeah. Napalm is an aluminum soap of various fatty acids that when mixed with gasoline makes a firm jelly used in some bombs and in flamethrowers."

"So then why orange juice?"

Greg shrugged. "Like I said, he saw it off a movie."

"And you didn't warn him?" said Grissom, slightly concerned.

"Man, he's fine. No one was hurt. I had no idea that orange juice and gasoline could make napalm. I didn't even know he wanted to make a bomb. I thought he was just being stupid."

"So what happened next?"

"He got arrested."

"Figures," muttered Catherine, rolling her eyes at the lack of intelligence of some youths. "I'm just surprised that you didn't get arrested too."

"Well, I have been known to be a ladies man, Catherine. I sweet talked my way out of it," boasted the lab tech, stretching his arms over his inflamed head and then folding his arms over his chest.

"You stayed inside and watched didn't you?" wondered Warrick dryly before taking a large bite of his strawberry icing doughnut with rainbow sprinkles.

"Yeah, well, you know…" he responded, scratching his head.

"So what happened to your case, Sara?" asked Grissom, curious to know why her and Nick weren't busy working.

"Accident," was her bleak reply.

"Wow, you two have had quite some soft breaks in your cases lately," remarked Catherine. "First, the boyfriend confesses to murder and now it's an accident."

Sara nodded distantly and it didn't go unnoticed by Nick. Ever since their little incident in the locker room, she had been rather quiet. Speaking only when someone was directly talking to her and giving monosyllables for answers. No one really noticed and if they did, they assumed that she was tired. Even Nick didn't know what she was thinking but he could see the wheels turning in her head and he doubted it was any good.

"Looks like we've got everything wrapped up here," announced Grissom, looking around the room at his CSIs and lab tech, a wannabe CSI. "Just put the reports on my desk before you leave." He left without another word and they all watched him leave.

"Where is our report?" questioned Nick.

"Grissom's desk," she replied, downing the rest of her cold coffee and then getting up to clean it.

"You're done already? I thought we were going to go over it together."

She heard the hurt in his voice but doubted that Warrick or Catherine even knew what they were saying. Catherine was busy brushing sprinkles out of Warrick's goatee and laughing at him while he smiled down at her.

"I know how much you hate paperwork and you were, well," her voice trailed off and finally she met his warm chestnut eyes. He filled in the blanks.

"Thanks. I've got it next time, alright?"

"Okay," she answered, turning her back to him once more to put away the mug.

He slowly got out of his seat and brought his empty cup with him. With Catherine distracting Warrick for the moment, Nick was able to drop a kiss on her neck and give her behind a firm squeeze.

You're mine.

For some reason, she could not let the words die down. She wanted Nick, she wanted a relationship, but for some unbeknownst explanation, the words haunted her. Maybe it was because of the way he had said it. She felt like she was his plaything and she supposed that she was, just as he was hers. That was what they had agreed on after all but now she was beginning to want more.

In her mind, she had had a plan to achieve it but somehow she doubted Nick was ever going to see her as anything else but a good screw, she thought bitterly to herself. She told herself that Nick was not like his reputation of being a ladies man. Sara knew that he was not shallow, that he was caring, and that using someone was not how he was by nature.

"Am I giving you a ride?" said Warrick, apparently finished flirting with his blonde coworker.

"Nah, I think Sara is?" he said with a hint of a question in his voice, turning back to Sara for an answer. She nodded. "Nope, but thanks anyway."

"No problem."

Nick gave Sara a not so graceful and polite elbow in the ribs, pointing for her to look at the door where Warrick was leaving with an arm slung over Catherine's shoulders.

"They're adorable," Sara said genuinely.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her tightly to his body, planting a kiss on her forehead. "Not as adorable as us, darlin'."

"No one is as adorable as us, Nicky," she said on a brighter note, giving him a chaste peck on the lips.

"Take me home, Sara," he asked, a huskier tinge in his voice than a moment ago.

There was slight hesitation in her demeanor before she even moved and when she did, Nick followed her keeping stride with, his hand sliding down her arm and then resting low on her hip.

This time Sara drove the Tahoe, glad to change it from the country station to something with a little more bass to it and she was afraid that if she left it on, Nick would eventually know a song and start singing to it. If he did, she would not be able to resist him when he would be saying goodbye.

It seemed like forever until the Tahoe was parked outside of Nick's place. It was bright outside and she heard the morning birds singing over the radio. She got out of her side and followed Nick up the never ending stairs to his front door. He unlocked the door and stepped aside to let her in.

"No, Nick. I think I'm going to go home and get some rest."

"You can always stay here and rest," he persuaded, taking her by the hand.

"Nick –"

"Honestly, Sara. I'll be a perfect gentleman."

She didn't want to give in but the heartbroken expression etched into his face broke her own heart and she complied. His knuckles skimmed her bare shoulders when he helped her take off her jacket and a shiver coursed down then back up her spine. As she kicked off her shoes gently, he asked, "Do you want anything to drink? To eat?"

"No. I just want to go to bed."

"Fine by me."

She followed him to his bedroom and nearly started laughing when she saw her chocolate stained bra on his bedside table.

"That's creepy Nick."

"I haven't had time to move it."

"Sure," she teased.

He smiled at her and then opened up his closet filled with shirts and sweaters. He pulled off his white socks and the shirt over his head, his back to her.

"Do you want a shirt or anything?"

"Um, yeah. I'll take a t-shirt."

He searched through the hangers and found something for her. He turned and gently threw it to her, unaware that she had stripped down to only her bra and underwear, which was a deep red satin. He swallowed hard and faced away, removing his pants. She had climbed into his king-sized bed, curled up on her side and he came behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist. She fit perfectly in the curve of his body and was instantly at ease.

"Goodnight, love," he murmured into her ear as he kissed it.

"Night Nicky."