Writing on a Blank Slate

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.

Rating: M for later content (please note that this is a precautionary measure: I don't plan on getting too carried away!)

Chapter 10: "A very sexy brunette."/"We only have the one."

Nick was still determined not to rush things, and Sara was just as keen to keep things from going too far too soon, so even after two weeks as a couple they were still sleeping in separate motel rooms. However, this hadn't prevented them from ending up in some exceedingly passionate embraces, and only the fact that this always happened in public places had prevented things from going further. In a further effort to keep things under control, they had deliberately resisted the urge even to hang out in the same motel room once they stopped for the night, choosing instead to head for the nearest diner, bar or cafe.

Nick had promised himself that he wouldn't be the one to suggest sharing a room, but it was difficult when he was spending almost every waking moment with Sara. Still, asides from the fact that he considered her perfectly capable of abandoning him by the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, he was rapidly coming to the conclusion that he couldn't face the idea of losing her, and if a bit of frustration was the price he had to pay then he was more than willing to pay it. He wondered if she felt the same way about him.

He was jolted from his reverie by a strange sound coming from the engine, followed by a muttered curse from Sara as she pulled over. They exchanged a glance and got out.

She popped the hood, and they both stared at the engine of the Ford, which was steaming slightly. Nick grinned wryly.

"Guess it's time we tried out that tool-kit of yours," he suggested.

Half an hour, several more curses, some oil smears and one burned hand later, they had reached the conclusion that, with a little luck, they might just make it back to the nearest town. Nick held a flannel soaked in water over his injured hand as they limped towards their destination.

"Nick, I'm sorry," Sara began. "I knew the engine wasn't good: we should have stopped for repairs days ago."

"Hey, don't worry about it," he replied in a slightly strained voice. "We both wanted to keep moving; I'm every bit as much to blame as you are."

"Yeah, but it's my car."

"Aww, and I thought you were gonna share." In spite of the pain in his hand, Nick cast fake puppy-dog eyes at her.

"You want a share in this heap of crap?" she asked in disbelief.

"I'll have you know I've had some very good times in this car."

"What, you're been sneaking blondes in here when I wasn't looking?" Sara teased, and he chuckled slightly.

"No, but I have been spending a lot of time with a very sexy brunette."

In spite of their current predicament,she grinned.

Holding the car to the fifty miles and hour that seemed to be all it could take, it took them just over an hour to reach the town they had passed through not long before the car died. Nick had fallen silent some time earlier and Sara was determined that, no matter how tough he tried to be, his hand would be her first priority just as soon as they'd found a place to stay.

The first three motels they passed were showing 'no vacancy' signs, and Sara swung in at the fourth. Nick followed her into the office, his face for once devoid of a smile.

"Hi," Sara addressed the motel clerk. "We saw your sign. We'd like two rooms for the next" – she considered Nick's hand and the repairs – "three nights."

"Oh, I'm sorry hon," the middle-aged lady behind the counter replied. "We only have the one. Whole town's booked out for a convention all weekend." She was plainly embarrassed at having to offer them a room together. "I had a last-minute cancellation, which is why I have the room free." She considered for a moment. "It is a twin, though: two double beds."

Sara looked at Nick, who flashed her a tight smile. Between him and the car, they weren't going anywhere for a while.

"We'll take it," she said firmly.

"Sara, I told you, I'm fine," Nick protested as she shepherded him into the room. A quick glance confirmed that there were indeed two beds before she propelled him past them and into the bathroom.

"The heck you are," she replied in the same firm tone she had used in reception. "Get that hand under cold water, Nick Stokes. Warrick told me to take care of you, and that's what I'm gonna do. Now let me see."

She gently drew the flannel away, to reveal a livid burn covering almost the whole surface of the back of his hand.

"Nick, that's serious. You should see a doctor."

Nick stubbornly shook his head, no. "I'll be fine Sara, don't fuss."

She could tell by the stubborn set of his jaw that he wasn't going to change his mind, so she contented herself with turning on the faucet with somewhat more vigor than was required.

"Fine then. Keep it under running water while I go find a pharmacy." She hoped there was one within walking distance.

By the time she returned, Nick was regretting being so short with her. The burn was pretty bad, and she was only showing her concern.

"That you, darlin'?" he called at the sound of someone entering the room.

"Yeah, it's me." He could tell from the tone of her voice that she wasn't mad, and was grateful. "I got some Tylenol and an antiseptic cream," she told him. "I picked up a first aid kit for the car, too. Seemed like a good idea."

She entered the bathroom, where Nick was still holding his hand under the water, and picked up a towel. "Let me see."

She patted his hand dry with a gentle touch, then washed her own hands before carefully smoothing on the lotion. Watching her, Nick was absorbed by her nearness and the tenderness and concern on her face. He swallowed.

"Okay." She smiled at him. "The cream has an anesthetic as well, so it should help with the pain. You'd better take a couple of Tylenol too."

"You don't have to take care of me, Sara," he protested weakly: he was enjoying her ministrations and didn't really want her to stop.

"I know," she told him. "You're big and tough and you can take care of yourself. She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him. "Maybe I want to take care of you," she suggested.

A/N: Okay, okay, so it's hopelessly contrived. So sue me.