Comfort Zone
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Warrick/Sara
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Notes: For girlnorth,
who wanted Warrick and Sara, in
Sara knows that people think she’s a workaholic and she doesn’t mind that. It is, after all, quite true.
What people don’t know is the reason why she is the way she is. They all think that she works so hard because she’s not good with people, because she’s driven, because she’s in love with Gil Grissom.
They don’t know that it’s more to do with the fact that she doesn’t trust easily, doesn’t like to stray outside her comfort zone, because the risk of being hurt is just too great. Science is safe, the lab is safe, work is safe, and considering the ghosts and monsters that have chased her for years, Sara is all about the safe.
She’s a CSI and a workaholic, and she’s probably the only CSI in Las Vegas – well, definitely the only CSI in Las Vegas, probably the only CSI in the free world – who would complain about where she is now, and why.
The forensics conference isn’t the problem; after all, she’s a workaholic and a perfectionist, and she learned a lot.
Nor is she troubled by the location. When
you’ve been stuck in upstate
She doesn’t even mind the company, because Warrick’s equally content to either spend time with her or do his own thing, and he takes his lead from her, just like he does in Vegas.
And yet, she still complains, something that only an hour ago made Warrick shake his head, cluck his tongue. “Do you know how many people would kill to be where you are?” he’d asked her. “People who know how to clean up a crime scene and literally get away with murder?”
She’d crossed her arms over her chest, fairly glaring up at him. “I’m not other people,” she’d reminded him, and his chuckle hadn’t done anything for her mood.
“Don’t I know it,” he’d said, but something
in his tone had conveyed fondness, not annoyance, and she’d unaccountably
blushed, had had to look down. He evidently hadn’t noticed, because he’d continued,
“Look, we’ve got a whole afternoon and night in
She’d opened her mouth to say something about how the county would be better employed spending their money on upgrading their tickets and getting them back to Vegas earlier, rather than blowing good money on an extra night in a very nice hotel, but he’d beaten her to it, his hands landing on her shoulders with just enough force to let her know that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer, but not enough force to frighten her. “In fact,” he’d said. “You’re going to enjoy it, even if I have to kidnap you to do it.”
“Kidnap me?” She’d felt the smile on her face, hadn’t done a thing to stop it. “Warrick…”
“Not a word.” He’d held up a hand to stop her, and for once in her life, she’d gone along with it. “I’ll meet you out front in an hour,” he’d said. “That should give us both time to pack and get changed… we’re going to the beach.”
She’d looked down at her jeans and t-shirt, shaking her head. “I’m not exactly dressed for the beach.”
He’d evidently known without asking that nothing she’d brought with her was suitable either, and he’d looked heavenward and rolled his eyes. “You are the only woman I know who’d come to Hawaii without beachwear,” he’d muttered, his gaze swinging around, eyes lighting up as he looked to his right and pointed triumphantly. “Hotel shop,” he announced. “Go shopping.”
“Warrick…” It had been her last attempt at protesting, and he’d done something she’d never seen anyone do in real life before. He’d literally put the palm of his hand over her mouth and held it there, not allowing her to speak. His flesh was warm against her skin, and shivers had run up and down her spine, but they were nothing to do with shock, or fear, and she only hoped he couldn’t see it in her eyes.
“Sara Sidle, you are more in need of a vacation than anyone I have ever met,” he’d said, and there had been nothing light-hearted about his words, or the tone of his voice. “We’re in one of the most beautiful places on earth, with nothing to do but enjoy it… and if you think I’m going to let you sit in a hotel room and read forensics books, then you don’t know me.” A pause as their eyes met, and she’d felt another shiver run the length of her spine. “You gonna back talk me?”
Her eyes never left his as she’d shaken her head.
“You’ll come out with me?”
Slowly, she’d nodded, and, just as slowly, a smile had made its way across his face.
And maybe it was the way that they were
standing, maybe it was the fact that they were in
It makes her heart quicken now, but that’s only part of the reason. The other reason is that Sara doesn’t like to step outside her comfort zone, in work, in life, and especially in dress. Which in no way explains the way she’s dressed now, the outfit that had seemed fine in the shop seeming way too flimsy as she makes her way across the lobby. Beachwear, she’d asked the assistant for, and beachwear it had been, and she knows that there are people walking around in less than a light blue, one-piece swimsuit and matching sarong in various shades of blue tied around their waist. But she’s not used to wearing so little, not used to the skin of her back being on display, not used to the flash of leg that peeks through the sarong as she walks. She’s not used to the sidelong looks she knows she’s getting, and she wants nothing more than to run back to her room and not look at the ugly duckling she saw in the full length mirror.
She wants to do that, but something carries
her forward, through the revolving door and out into the bright
She turns, begins to walk towards him, and she can’t help herself; her eyes move over his body, taking in his appearance. The khaki shorts, the white shirt unbuttoned, sunglasses that cover most of his face. Sunglasses that she can see herself in as she walks towards him, and in the reflective silver, the ugly duckling looks almost like a swan.
She can’t see his eyes, but her reflection never wavers, until, that is, a slow smile spreads across Warrick’s face. It’s brighter than any sunshine, and the natural thing to do seems to be to smile back, which is what Sara does. She sees that reflected in his glasses as well, and it surprises her, because this close to him, she can almost think of herself as beautiful.
She chides herself the instant she thinks it, because Warrick knows beautiful women, has seen beautiful women, and that’s not her. So it’s a surprise when he removes the glasses, and the look in his eyes is the exact same one that she’s seem him turn on Leah and Catherine and Mia, and who knows how many others.
“You look amazing,” he says, and she ducks her head, finding it, for once, easier to look forward, to move on from here and see where they end up.
“Where are we heading to?” she asks, and he shrugs.
“I figured we’d follow the sun,” he says easily. “See where it takes us.”
She inclines her head in agreement, and they fall into step beside one another. As they walk, his hand settles on her back, his fingers tracing the length of her spine, stopping only when they hit the material of her swimsuit. She expects him to drop his hand then, but the touch lingers, stays there as they walk, the gesture managing to somehow be both intimate and friendly, casual but proprietary.
She thinks she should object, but she thinks she likes it.
Just like she thinks that, for once, stepping outside her comfort zone mightn’t be such a bad thing.