Lay Me Down In Ashes, Set Me On Fire
By: FlowerPotBloom
Summary: Things become clearer to Warrick and Sara in the light of day… WS post-Play With Fire 1st in a trilogy.
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, nor any of its characters. They are the sole creative property of Anthony E. Zuiker.
Wednesday, May 7, 2003
Sara really had to go to the bathroom.
That was the first thing she became acutely aware of as she came out of a deep, rather restful sleep. The second thing she became aware of as she blinked her eyes open and took in her surroundings as she got her bearings, was that this was not her bedroom, and this most definitely was not her own bed. Last night was a bit hazy, not from alcohol, she and Warrick didn't drink that much, just a couple beers over dinner, but their conversation had been heavy, emotional, and consequential. They had both been reeling after everything that happened yesterday: the lab explosion, Sara being caught in the middle of it right along with Greg, her pulling a gun on a suspect because she was so out of sorts, finding that Catherine had been the cause of the whole thing, and then, the cherry on top of a perfect day, Sara being simultaneously dismissed and rejected by Grissom.
It'd been too much, too overwhelming for her, and she needed a place to land, and so did Warrick, who had been frozen out by Catherine, and for the last time, he'd decided. All he wanted to do was talk to her, be there for her, comfort her, but she retreated, and it was becoming obvious to him that his affection for her, all the flirting, and the sidelong glances at each other was definitely purposefully being fielded by her because she didn't want to try and see if things might work between them. And the kicker was that it probably wouldn't. No, she had Lindsay to worry about, and the elephant in the room between them was that she still carried a torch for her deceased ex, Eddie. Warrick knew that he had to let her go and move on.
The rejection by people they deeply admired, possibly loved, was what had brought them together.
Warrick found Sara sitting in her car, staring straight ahead, tears running down her face, and he knocked on her window. She tried to stop crying and put on a brave face, hide her pain, fear, and embarrassment at first, but she just couldn't hold back and she cried more.
Before she was even aware of what was happening, she was suddenly out of her car and wrapped up in a bear hug, and she was holding onto him and sobbing against his chest.
They stayed like that for a long time, until her sobs died down.
Warrick expressed his concern for her, and he didn't want her driving herself, not in the state that she was in, and then he wondered, when was the last time she ate? And the cuts on her face and hand, someone had to tend to those…it wasn't even a question that he would drive her to his place.
Things took on a life of their own from there last night.
Sara turned her head to the side, and she saw Warrick sleeping next to her. He was a pillow-hugger, she observed, and wasn't stingy with the covers.
She gently pushed the covers off of her, and she sat up and got out of bed, and she headed to his bathroom slowly, stiffly, as she was a little sore between her legs.
Sara turned on the light and closed the door and she used the toilet and then washed her hands, and she took the opportunity to look at herself in the mirror.
Her cheeks were aglow, her hair was frizzy and tussled, her eyes were golden brown and slightly dilated, and her lips were slightly swollen…she was gloriously, thoroughly debauched.
It was definitely from the sex.
Goodness gracious, the sex; how was it that it was needy, desperate, and so satisfying all at the same time?
Oh, the things that Warrick could do with that mouth of his, she thought, and how generous he was, even when she mounted him and used his chest as leverage while she rode him like a pony.
She keenly remembered the grip of his hands on her hips, their deep, needy, hungry kisses, their pleasured moans and grunts and gasps, the easy slide of their sweaty skin, the dizzying relief of their multiple orgasms…it was all incredible.
Sara dried her hands, then she opened the door and went and got back into bed.
She stared up at the ceiling for a moment, just listening to the soft, mechanical whirrr of the central air conditioning, then she turned onto her side and faced Warrick.
He looked peaceful and at ease in his sleep, handsome…
He was a very handsome, attractive man, charismatic when he needed to be, always empathetic, caring, and compassionate. Flawed. Definitely flawed, what with his gambling habit, which he seemed to have a pretty good handle on these days, and his somewhat questionable, shady club and casino connections. But the parts of him that cared for his friends, loved and minded his overbearing, devout Catholic Aunt Bertha, regularly tended his mother's and grandmother's gravesites, and was good with kids balanced him out.
Warrick stirred a bit, then he opened his eyes, and his gray-blue met her brown.
He reached his hand over and tenderly caressed her cheek.
"Hi."
"Hi," she said softly.
"How are you feeling?" He asked.
"Fine," she said quietly, putting her hands on his chest. "Good. You?"
"I'm good," he said, gently drawing her closer and pressing his forehead to hers. "Um, Sara…I just want you to know that I…I didn't bring you over here last night just to…"
"I know," she said.
"I care about you," he continued. "I don't want to be the one who hurts you. I don't regret last night."
"I don't either," she said.
He leaned in and captured her lips with his in a tender kiss.
Warrick was so relieved to hear that Sara didn't regret last night because the last thing he wanted was for their friendship to be ruined and for the both of them to be awkward around each other. He certainly wasn't looking for what happened between them to happen, but it did, and it'd been intense for him. Seeing Sara so intimately, so naked, literally and figuratively, and the fact that he responded so keenly to her really made him rethink their relationship to one another.
And damn, the sex…
It'd been a while for him, and judging from how Sara rutted and clutched at him and rode him into pure, blissful, oblivion, he knew that it'd been a while for her too. He found though that he liked the way they fit together, he liked the way her soft skin melded with his, liked the pink rosy flush that bloomed in her cheeks and chest, liked the soft, warm, supple mounds of her breasts and the dusky nipples that fit so well in his hands, and relished her melodic cries of pleasure as she called out 'Rick over and over.
Warrick was seeing Sara in a new light, and she was something like hot, sexy, and it was a revelation to him because before last night, Sara had always been…Sara to him: a brilliant, obsessive, nerdy, stubborn, moody, frowny, but cute, skinny thing who really didn't need to become a vegetarian, she already didn't eat nearly enough as it was!
And now, she was Sara…still Sara, but he got to know the woman, the hidden parts of her that she opened up for him. He'd been with Sara the woman, who was lonely, yearning to feel appreciated, who wanted the comfort of being in the arms of a man she loved, wanted children even because she couldn't bond with her career.
They were both lonely, vulnerable, and they both wanted things that before seemed out of reach in their futile pursuits of two people who would never get it.
Now though…could those things that they wanted be possible?
Could they be possible?
Maybe it was, and the thought was overwhelming.
One thing at a time.
Sara felt warm, loose, and content as she finished pulling on her clothes from last night.
Once she was fully dressed, she walked out of Warrick's bedroom, headed down the hall, and met him in the kitchen.
He handed her a cup of coffee.
"Thank you," she said.
They sipped their coffee in comfortable, companionable silence for a long moment, then Warrick spoke.
"We should do something this weekend," he said.
"Yeah," she agreed with a soft smile.
"Whatever you want to do," he said.
She thought about that for a moment, then she looked at him.
"I want to cook for you," she said. "What's your favorite meal?"
"Spaghetti and fried chicken," he said, eyeing her doubtfully. "You cook?"
"I do, I actually quite enjoy it," she smirked. "I can do spaghetti and fried chicken."
He smirked. "Alright, girl, we'll see what you've got."
"You won't be disappointed," she promised.
"Wait, though," he said. "You're a vegetarian. How are you going to do with making fried chicken?"
"I'll find a way, I suppose," she sighed, feigning distress, then she looked at him rather bashfully. "Because I happen to like you very much."
Warrick leaned in and kissed her sweetly.
"I happen to like you very much too."
She smiled.
They had something here, a fire between them had been lit, and they both knew that it was going to be a good, long burn.
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