Disclaimer: I'm in denial aboutGeorge not being mine.

Rating: Eh...PG-13 tops. It's only that way because of how men often wake up. : D

A/N: I know I'm not supposed to leave a/n in the form of responses to reviews but these a/n are really old so I figured I just leave them. Sorry Ash for taking so long to update! I know you understand life and well, lack of inspirations.

Rynn: Yes, it was intentional. I wondered if you'd notice.

Audra: Good thinking. Who could forget about the bed?

Cheryl: How to make any game not innocent: make it strip.

Jessica: Tequila + Nick. I think it's a good combination.

Julie: You don't have marshmallows? Here, I'll give you some.

Monica: Yes, it was a play on 'particular brand of vodka.'

MadGeorge: Most of the stuff I make them do is OOC. That's why I love fanfiction. You'll notice if you read more of my writing that I don't really try to keep them in character some times.

Kate: Who told you about the sandbox? That was only once and let's just say sand went where it shouldn't. That must be why we get along so well. I have a reputation? … Wow. Neck licking – Yeah, that's me. It beats a foot fetish. You rock my dirty socks.

Ash: Yes, it is my job to strip the innocence off of everything and make it dirty. Nick did have a jack… we all know it and I'm glad you noticed.

Chapter Four

He was fidgeting in his chair, wondering if following her into his bedroom was such a wise idea. They were friends, really good friends, and they were both bordering on the state of inebriation. There was no way he would be able to forgive himself if Sara woke up tomorrow morning regretting having done something with him. He valued her too much to screw up over tequila.

Carefully, he gripped the edge of the table and pushed back. His world span in a slow circle once he stood up probably a little too fast. He cursed tequila, glaring at the open bottle on the table littered with cards and empty shot glasses. Letting out a shaky breath, Nick slowly made his way out of the room and down the hallway that led to his bedroom. His door was open, the room was dark, and when he turned on the lamp on the bedside table and saw what was on his bed, he cracked a smile. Sara was curled up on her side, still wearing her skirt and bra, with her eyes closed and her chest rising and falling evenly.

He hadn't bothered to make his bed that morning so the blankets were all over the place. He pulled the comforter over Sara's sleeping form. She appeared so peaceful on his side of the bed, her expression at ease while she rested.

There wasn't really a way to explain how he felt when he slipped off his remaining clothing, found a pair of clean pajama bottoms in his top drawer, and crawled into bed with someone already in it. He moved closer to Sara, feeling the warmth of her body next to his. There was a large in him to reach out and touch her, maybe even pull her to his side but he fought it. Instead, he spooned up against her backside, his arm loosely draped over her waist. His head rested flat over her naval and he was surprised when her smaller, more feminine hand found his in her sleep.

His warm breath caressed her neck and over her shoulder. Her chestnut hair was splayed across the pillow that they were both sharing.

It was an oddity that he didn't feel uncomfortable holding her in his arms. If anything, the current state they were in seemed familiar and utterly right. His lips gently kissed the back of her neck and he inhaled the scent of her perfume that she woe just for him. Neither Catherine nor Sara wore perfume to work since it often became a distraction at crime scenes. Now Nick could relish in her scent all he wanted. He figured he should enjoy it while it lasted since he didn't know when the next time he would be able to sleep with Sara in his arms again.

The remaining thoughts running through his head were of the woman nestling back into his embrace. He was waiting to see what the morning would hold for them both, hoping there would be no awkwardness between them because that was the last thing that he wanted to happen.

Something very warm and succinctly male was pressed up behind her when she woke up hours later. There was the sun trying to filter through the heavy curtains of the window unsuccessfully. The light would have normally stung her eyes but her back was to it and it was a lot darker in the room than her usual bedroom. And then she remembered that she wasn't in her bedroom; she wasn't even in her own apartment.

When she stretched out her legs, moving only slightly, she felt the arm around her waist pull her impossibly closer to the body behind her. Sara looked over her shoulder and nearly melted when she saw the face of Nick Stokes asleep. She would have said he appeared to be what she guessed he would have looked like as a little boy but she was a little distracted by the prominent male appendage pressing against her that reminded her he wasn't six. There was a flush in her cheeks and she turned her head back, away from him, just in case he woke up and found her staring at him.

She looked down and realized that she was at least still wearing some of her clothes. Her emerald green bra was still in tact, though in slight upheaval, and her skirt was riding up. Embarrassment flooded her expression and she instantly tried to yank down her skirt to where it belonged but it proved to hard in Nick's arms and lying on her side. Sara tried to roll on her back but she only ended up on her left side, flush and face to face with Nick. The edge of the bed was behind her and any movement backwards would have sent her falling to the floor.

Nick was rolling onto his back and pulling her with him before she could stop him. Her body was now on top of his, her face nestled in between the spot where his neck met his shoulder, her hands on Nick's bare chest underneath her. She wiggled her legs around slightly, trying to find a comfortable position with her restricting skirt and when she rubbed against something hard, she froze instantly and watched his face to see if he would wake. The man slept like the dead, she realized.

"I hate mornings," she muttered to herself, slightly uncomfortable with her pelvis being pressed to his.

She really didn't want him to wake up and be embarrassed since it was obviously something no man could control while he slept. However, Sara would have paid a pretty penny to know what he was dreaming about, especially when one of his hands slipped down her back, over her behind and gripped the back of her thigh, urging her leg up to the space on the bed next to his hip. She suppressed a sound that had risen in her throat since she was now pressed more firmly against him. She noticed that he was begin to stir awake and when he blinked his eyes a few times until his vision focused, he got an eyeful of some milky white cleavage.

"Good morning," she murmured, hoping her smile wouldn't falter.

He raised the hand that was not gripping the back of her thigh and gently caressed the side of her face.

"How's your head?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep making his accent stronger.

"Surprisingly okay," she said. This time her smile was genuine.

There was in fact a dull ache in her head, especially behind her eyes, and she had to admit that her throat was definitely drier than most mornings. It felt scratchy and like it had been in use all of last night. Nothing some hot soup and Advil couldn't cure, she figured.

Sara suddenly realized that she was probably heavy on his chest, so she sat back on her heels, instantly regretting it. She saw him struggle to fight back a sound that she heard in his throat. She swallowed hard and avoided his gaze.

"Sorry, I didn't mean…" she trailed off and began to alleviate some of the pressure off of his lap.

He chuckled and sat her back down, this time successfully biting back a moan. There was a lazy smile on his lips and something in his eyes that she couldn't explain.

"If anything, Sar, I should be the one to apologize."

"You can't help it."

"I suppose, though I'm definitely helping it by letting you sit there," he grinned deviously.

She tried to get up but he stopped her again.

"I don't mind unless you do?" He raised an eyebrow questioningly.

She shook her head since forming words would have proved to be a waste of time. There was still a flush in her cheeks and she was avoiding his eyes. She was surprised that she was more embarrassed to be sitting in his lap than to be sitting in his lap wearing no underwear and no shirt. Self-consciously, she folded her arms over her chest and found a fascinating spot on the ground to look at.

"Hey, Sar, if this is too much…" he began, concern lacing his features.

"Did we do anything last night?" she asked suddenly, this time meeting his gaze.

"No, of course not."

"Then where's the rest of my clothes?"

"You don't remember?" he chuckled, smiling up at her.

"Not really," she replied honestly, running her fingers through her hair. "I mean, I remember tequila and I remember cards…oh."

"Remember now?"

She nodded gently.

Somehow sitting in his lap didn't seem awkward anymore, just like waking up in his arms. She watched him sit up and she adjusted to his new position, wrapping her legs around his waist loosely, her feet resting on the bed behind him. She felt like she could have purred when his arm smoothly slid up her back to cradle her neck, fingers slipping into her hair. Realizing that her skirt was riding up again, she struggled to pull it down and he laughed softly at her poor attempt.

"I don't care."

"You may not, but I certainly do."

"I already told you that if you're not comfortable with this, you're free to go."

But she was comfortable with it, probably more comfortable with it than she should have been. She wasn't going to question herself and why she was allowing him to touch her, why she was still sitting in his lap wearing next to nothing. If asked to, she would admit to having a crush on him for the past few years. There was no reason to hide it now. However, she was beginning to wonder if Nick's feelings had been dormant too or if they were simply born last night. She was pining for the former of the two.

"What?" he whispered, his hand coming around to cup the side of her face.

"It's nothing," she answered softly.

"This isn't new, Sar," he stated, as if reading her thoughts. "And it wasn't something born from tequila."

She was watching her hand that was resting on his chest. Her fingertip was tracing a small pattern on his chest as a distraction. This whole morning she had found it hard to meet his eyes, something that had never been a problem for her until now. She didn't like it. She hated feeling vulnerable and she hated cowering but that was exactly what she had been reduced to and it was nobody's fault but her own.

"Look at me, darling," Nick drawled out, tipping her chin up.

Obedience wasn't something she was familiar with but she complied nonetheless.

"I like you. Hell, I have ever since the day I met you."

"We were throwing bodies off of the roof of a hotel," she said incredulously.

"I remember."

"You disliked me. I could tell by the look you gave me and the look you gave Grissom."

"That's not true. I was in shock that Grissom didn't have enough confidence in our team but I'm glad that he brought you, Sara, or else I never would have met you. And you can't lie and say you don't feel the same because I know that you do," he grinned.

She slapped his chest lightly and smiled down. "Promise you won't tell Greg. You might damage his ego."

"Oh, he's the first person I'm telling just so I can see his ego deflate."

"Speaking of egos that need to be deflated," she said, raising her eyebrow as she met his eyes.

"I don't think it's my ego that needs to go down," he smirked, his tongue in his cheek.

"Yeah, have fun with that," she commented, quickly jumping out of his lap.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going?" he called after her, climbing out of bed.

"I'm getting dressed," she said over her shoulder to him. He was at the end of the hall, following her into the living room where the mess they had made last night was.

"Oh man," he groaned, eyeing up the tequila stained cards. He just hoped that they hadn't ruined the table too.

That was when something black on the floor caught his eye. Hooking one finger into the silk garment, he lifted it up for Sara to see and gawk at.

"Give me those," she demanded in a low voice.

Nick chuckled and moved around the table when she started to advance on him. "I don't think so, sugar. I think I might keep these."

She was gaping at him when he stuffed her panties into the front pocket of his jeans that he had slipped on when she had left him alone in his bedroom.

"Nicolas Stokes, you give me those right now."

"Didn't anyone teach you to say 'please'?"

"Didn't anyone teach you about taking things that aren't yours?"

"They're mine now," he chuckled darkly.

"You going to wear them?" she asked incredulously, still trying to get close enoughto him but that was proving to be difficult and fruitless.

"No."

"Then what are you going to do with them, hmm?"

Nick paused for affect, giving her his best devious look filled with an emotion that Sara wasn't used to seeing in a man's eyes when he looked at her. "You don't want to know." His voice was low and husky, making Sara's legs turn into jelly almost instantly.

"Fine," she stumbled out a moment later, "have them. I've got plenty others."

But she didn't have plenty other panties that were black silk and her favorite. She would get those back but since blunt demands and intimidation weren't working, she figured she might as well try reverse psychology though it seldom worked.

"Nice try, Sar, but it won't work."

He was still looking at her in that way that made her want to melt into a pool of liquid lust right there in his living room if she didn't have too much pride. She licked her bottom lip nervously and watched how his gaze followed the movement.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, moving towards the kitchen.

He had to pass by her to make it into the room and when he did, she made a reach for his left front pocket. Unfortunately for her, Nick saw her reach out before she got purchase. He stopped her with a simple grab of her wrist. Sara was one to put up a fight and Nick should have known that. So when she began to struggle out of his grasp but trying to get what she wanted out of his pocket, Nick wasn't sure exactly what to do.

All right, so reverse psychology hadn't worked like she had hoped. Sara mentally sighed as she jerked her arm away from Nick though the action was pointless. Drastic measures would have to ensue, she noted, thinking of what could possible qualify as 'drastic'.

Nick found that the only way to keep her still was to press her against the nearest wall. She was incompetent and unable to move with the wall behind her and Nick's body sandwiching her. She let out a dramatic sigh and instantly stopped trying to break free. He was holding both of her wrists at her sides but Sara was more focused on how close his face was to hers.

"Nick," she murmured, her gaze moving from his eyes down to his parted lips.

It was then that Sara decided maybe leading him on by using her femininity as an advantage wasn't such a good idea. Not with the way he was currently looking at her like he could devour her whole. It was blatant that he was trying to control himself from doing something he figured she didn't want. But he couldn't have been more wrong because Sara realized that what he wanted was exactly what she was yearning for.

The distance was made smaller when Sara leaned into him, glancing up into his eyes before brushing her lips gently against his. He didn't react immediately, just simply stared down into her eyes almost disbelievingly. She rested her head back against the wall, waiting for him to make his move.

A/N: There's an update, Ash! A little longer than I anticipated but I figured you wouldn't mind. : D Hope you enjoyed.