Disclaimer: I do not own them (Actually, I own George he just doesn't know it), I didn't create them and I do not make any money off them.
Rating: PG/ PG-13?
Author's Notes: Thank you everyone for reviewing. And I thought I should let you all know that sadly tomorrow I go back to school and back to rugby fulltime so I will not be updating three times a day. Just when I got you all hooked, eh?
Chapter Twelve: Sorting Things Out
It had taken them another hour to get out of bed. Nick had offered to make them some dinner and Sara was more than happy to oblige by lying in bed with a dreamy expression etched into her face. She could faintly smell what he was cooking, the door to his bedroom open a crack, pouring in the light from the hallway. His deep melodic voice filled her ears and sent a smile across her face as she heard him singing some country tune. He knew that she would hear him and that only made her smile wider.
After a few more minutes of enduring the delicious smell and his voice that overwhelmed the room, Sara searched for the shirt of Nick's that she had thrown to the floor in the middle of the her sleep before Nick had nudged her off the bed face first, before he had ungracefully asked her out. She pulled the navy blue, oversized t-shirt with some Frat symbol on it.
"What a dork," she muttered to herself, shaking her head.
What she hadn't heard when she opened the door and started walking down the hall and around the corner, was the doorbell ringing and Nick answering in. Warrick stood in the doorway before Nick invited him and all Sara could do was watch it happen, her standing there with an open mouth. If it wasn't obvious already that she had slept in his bed by the docile and content look on Nick's face, surely her standing there in his t-shirt – and only his t-shirt – would make it clear.
"Sara?" Warrick said, a frown across his brow, taking in the sigh of her disheveled hair and the shirt that was blatantly Nick's, her long legs peaking out. "What are you doing?"
"Dying," was her only response. She stood there frozen to the spot with a 'deer in the headlights' look on her face.
"Looks like I owe Catherine the massage then," he said with a smug grin.
The entire time Nick stood there, the doorknob still in his hand and a spatula in the other. His mind had gone completely blank until panic settled in.
"She slept in the bed, I slept on the couch," he said, the words could not have tumbled off his tongue any faster and Warrick barely caught them.
"Somehow, I doubt that," Warrick replied coolly, smiling at the two of them. "So how long has this been going on for?"
Neither of them answered until a thought hit Warrick in the head like a pile of bricks. "You're the one that he was in the shower with," he drawled leisurely, a smirk creeping across his thick lips.
She took a step back as she frowned. "Excuse me?"
"Nick's shower. You guys were 'implementing the crime scene.'"
"You told him," she deadpanned.
"He found it by himself," was his defense.
"Nick!"
"He threatened to lift a print that was yours. I never told him who it was!"
"But you were going to," said Warrick smugly.
"Honestly, what was he going to do with it? Take it to Greg and be like 'Hey, run this through AFIS' despite the fact that he's not on a case?"
"Actually no. I would have compared it to you."
"Why would you do that?"
"Because I had a hunch that it was you in there with him."
"Yeah? You had solid evidence?"
"The evidence never lies," mumbled Nick distantly, staring at the big 'T' in the middle of the room on the carpet.
"Yeah, but the suspect does," added Warrick, sending a reproving look at Nick.
"You can't tell anyone, War. Not even Catherine," Sara began, taking a step towards him.
"Why can't he?" wondered Nick, looking up at her in question from the ground.
"I thought you wouldn't want this to be public," she said incredulously but with a tinge of timidity.
"What have we got to lose?" Nick shrugged.
"Our jobs," she pointed out simply.
"There's nothing that says that a coworker cannot have relationships with another coworker," he stated.
"Yeah, that's because we're all science geeks," muttered Warrick. He looked up at them and then added, "Not that I'm complaining or anything."
"Of course not. Not with you and Catherine and all," countered Sara, giving him a knowing grin.
"There's nothing official between us. Now you and Nick on the other hand…"
"Just as long as you two don't 'irresponsibly' use the evidence room table, I don't think anyone is going to complain. Except maybe Greg."
Nick shot her a look and she only smiled back.
"Why the evidence room? That and the morgue are the last two places in the lab I would have sex in," remarked Sara.
"Quietest room in the entire lab," Warrick replied frankly.
For a moment there was a pause between the three friends. Sara was thinking about how weird this was going to be with Warrick and everyone else knowing. She wasn't used to having people being involved in her life, let alone her romantic life. Nick was debating whether or not Grissom should know, him being the boss and all. Nick figured that he would eventually figure things out. He was, in fact, a CSI after all. And Warrick was dying to get out of his coworker's apartment so that he could call up Catherine and tell her the news as soon as he got out the door.
"Does this mean I can tell Catherine?" he wondered, flickering his gaze from the Texan to the woman standing awkwardly to the side.
"Why don't you tell Greg? It'll get around the lab a lot faster," stated Sara sardonically.
"Oh that's a great idea."
"I was kidding!" she interjected as Warrick made his way to the door that was still open. "Warrick!"
The man was already out the door after Nick closed it before Sara could yell anything profane at him. She had taken a few steps closer to Nick without realizing it and again she felt the discomfort of standing there in only his shirt.
"It's official," he said lightly, a smile on his thin lips.
"Yeah. I guess it is."
"You don't want to back out, do you?"
"No," she replied quickly. "No, I was just trying to think of all the ways I could kill Warrick while making it look like an accident."
"Blame it on Greg."
"There's no motive."
"Warrick having a thing with Catherine? I consider that a motive for Greg. You could plant a few hairs, steal his shoes or blood for that matter –"
"Okay Nicky, calm down. I was kidding."
"Damn. I was serious."
She closed in the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his neck, looking up at him with a content smile on her lips.
"Fine. If he ever makes a pass at me, you can kill Greg."
"If he ever looks at you in a way I don't approve of, I'll kill him."
"Or that too."
