3. Interrupted
Warrick and Catherine were making out against the jukebox when the bartender turned the house lights off and again informed them that the bar was closing.
Nick and Sara walked to them, hand in hand; Sara noticed silently that Grissom had gone. She said nothing, and neither did anyone else.
When they reached them, Nick raised an eyebrow, slapped Sara on the bottom, a promise of things to come. She grinned, cleared her throat to get Warrick and Catherine's attention.
"The bar is closing, you guys. We have to leave."
Warrick mumbled something to Catherine and she laughed, steadied him, tried to steady herself.
"C'mon, we'll drop you off," Nick said.
Warrick and Catherine staggered out of the bar behind Nick and Sara.
"Where we goin'?" Warrick asked, and Nick unlocked his truck and chuckled.
"Well I assume that you guys are goin' to Cath's?"
Catherine giggled as Warrick cupped her bottom, pushed her inside the vehicle.
"Yeah, yeah…" Warrick mumbled.
As much as the group had had to drink, the drive was quiet. The radio played softly, left on a local station from when Nick and Sara had arrived; Catherine and Warrick's makeout session could be heard, giggles and heavy breathing, which Sara and Nick tried to ignore.
They dropped the two off at Catherine's, talked briefly about their wager and Warrick and Catherine. They were quiet the rest of the way, and Sara silently wondered why Grissom had left the club without saying anything; moreover, why he'd showed up in the first place. Her thoughts trailed to lying in rubble, pain everywhere, Nick's arms around her, Grissom near her, and she frowned. Before she'd have wanted his arms around her, for him to be the one holding her, kissing her, telling her it would be alright. But now, she regarded Gil Grissom the man seemingly as nothing more than a distant memory. Gil Grissom the Supervisor, however, was alive and well. They worked together, said formalities to one another, passed one another in the hallway every now and again. Other than that, he didn't exist. Just as he hadn't existed there in the club; Sara decided to think of him now as nothing more than a shadowy figure in a crowded night club, sitting alone in a dark corner someplace, exiting unseen.
They arrived at Sara's, and Nick had to push her off of him more than once before they got inside.
"Let's get inside, first, Sar," he laughed, but she didn't seem to hear. Hands, fingers, mouth…everywhere. They were half undressed before they'd gotten inside, and no sooner than they were in the bedroom, someone knocked on the front door.
Nick pulled his jeans on, left them undone, his belt dangling in front. Sara tied her robe around her. Nick answered the door, Sara behind him, and, had they bet on who's facial expression would have won a most surprised contest, Gil Grissom the man would have won by a landslide.