Writing on a Blank Slate
Disclaimer: Do you have ANY idea how bored I am with typing this? No, strange as it may seem, I don't own CSI!
Rating: M
Chapter 17: "Give me back my t-shirt!"
They awoke the next day to grey sunlight filtering between the curtains and the patter of rain on the window. Their bodies were still entwined, and they both had stiff muscles from lying for so long in the same position. Something else of Nick's was stiff too, and Sara ran her hand down his torso with a smile.
"Well, hello there."
He chuckled and rolled her over.
Afterwards, Nick propped himself up on his elbow and smiled at her, one hand playing with her hair.
"What do you want to do today?" he asked. She shrugged lazily.
"I have no idea. Maybe we could go to a museum or something, or check out that convention?"
"Nah," he drawled at the latter. "I already checked: it's farming equipment." She made a face.
"Boring. What did you have in mind?"
"Well, I kinda thought we could stay in."
"In bed?"
"Sure, why not? I'll put the 'do not disturb' sign on the door, go pick up breakfast and a paper, and we can stay here." He ran his gaze down her body. "You won't even have to get dressed."
She considered it for a moment. The idea of spending a whole day in bed for no reason sounded incredibly decadent. The idea of spending it with Nick sounded like heaven.
"Sounds good," she agreed.
Nick took a quick shower and kissed her goodbye. The room seemed very quiet and very empty after he had left, so Sara occupied herself by picking up the clothing they had discarded the night before. Some items would need a wash, but the rest she folded neatly ready to be re-packed when they left. She also picked up three used condoms from the floor, and moved the trashcan to a more convenient position. She had no intention of spending every morning from now on picking up condoms.
She took a shower of her own and considered putting on her nightshirt, but decided against it. Instead she grabbed Nick's black t-shirt. It smelt of his skin, and she pressed it briefly to her face before putting it on, feeling like a silly teenager.
She added a pair of plain cotton briefs, having a sneaking suspicion that Nick would appreciate seeing her thus attired. She could definitely get used to being looked at the way Nick looked at her.
She heard a knock on the door followed by Nick's voice calling:
"Sara, are you decent?"
"No," she called back, and heard the key in the lock.
"Good," he replied, entering with several bags and a newspaper. "Hey," he exclaimed upon seeing her, "that's my t-shirt!"
"You wanna come try and get it off me?" she teased.
He narrowed his eyes, dumped his bags and crossed the room to the bed. To his surprise she ducked away, evading his grasp.
"Hey," he laughed, rounding the bed only to have her scramble across it, "come back here."
"Catch me if you can," she retorted.
He kicked off his shoes and jumped over the bed, but she was too fast for him and his fingers barely brushed her as she dodged him once again and leapt over to the other bed with a triumphant laugh. He laughed too and followed her. She led him a merry chase twice more around the room before he finally managed to corner her.
"Hah!" he exclaimed triumphantly, pushing her back onto her bed and kneeling across her waist. "Now give me back my t-shirt!"
"No, no!" she cried in mock horror, trying to fend him off while at the same time holding the hem of the shirt down, efforts not helped by the fact that she could barely breathe for laughing so hard.
He finally peeled the t-shirt off her, only to have her cross her arms modestly over her chest.
"Boobies! I want boobies!" he shouted, trying to pull her arms away.
They wrestled, laughing, until Sara rolled right off the bed and onto the floor.
"Ouch!" she exclaimed, before bursting out laughing again.
"You okay down there?" Nick asked through his own laughter.
She nodded, then gradually sobered, the occasional giggle still bubbling up as she brought herself back under control.
"Okay," she scrambled to her feet. "Now that I've worked up an appetite, what did you bring me for breakfast?"
Nick passed her back his t-shirt and they ate sitting together on the bed. The paper was a fat Sunday edition and they split it into sections to read, discarding the business, auto and real-estate sections without a second glance.
Sara had a private bet with herself that Nick would go for either the funnies or the sports section first, and was amused to see that she was right.
They read, then bent their heads over the crossword. Nick managed a credible compliment of answers, but was unsurprised when Sara, after only a few minutes' thought, succeeded in cracking clues that would have stumped him indefinitely.
"Beauty and brains," he commented, kissing her neck. "I am one lucky guy."
"And don't you forget it," she replied.