Never in Vegas
Rating: PG
Pairing: Sara/Warrick
Feedback: Makes my day
Disclaimer: If it was in the show, it's not mine.
Archive: At my site Checkmate (http://helsinkibaby.ahkay.net) , Fanfiction.net; anywhere else, please ask.
Notes: Three drabbles for the LiveJournal CSReports “Out of Town” challenge.
Declaration of War
“What are you
doing out here?”
It’s a
reasonable question Sara knows, because there is no earthly reason for anyone
to be outside on a day when the mercury is below zero, when there is feet of
snow on the ground, when there’s a greater than excellent chance that their
flight home to Vegas is going to be cancelled tomorrow. Inside, there is heat
and light, convention attendees talking forensics, hotel staff serving dinner;
here, there is a blanket of white, broken only by pale grey tree-shadows.
And there
is Warrick, all bundled up, staring at the falling snow as if in wonder, his
breath visible as frosty puffs of air. When he turns to her, he shows no signs
of being bothered by the cold, not even by the snowflakes on his face, clinging
to his long dark eyelashes, and instead of the puzzled look on her face, there
is a smile on his that she swears could almost cause a thaw. “It’s snowing,” he
says simply, and then she figures it out.
“You don’t
see much snow in Vegas,” she allows and he tilts his head in acknowledgement
before looking at her strangely, as if something has occurred to him as well.
“’Bout as
much as you see in
It’s a
challenge, teasingly given, and she replies in kind. “Four years of Harvard
winters,” she counters, holding up her hands. “Kinda takes the gloss off.”
“True,
true.” He looks at her a moment longer, then up at the slate-grey sky. “Doesn’t
look like it’s gonna stop.”
“We could
be spending another day here,” she says, and he chuckles.
“Snowy Lake
Placid or hot
She laughs
at that, a real laugh. “Not for me,” she says, turning on her heel. “I’ll be
inside.”
His voice
follows her. “You sure you won’t stay a while?”
She doesn’t
turn. “I’m going in to where it’s warm,” she calls back, and she’s only taken a
couple of steps further before a stinging pain on her back has her wheeling
around in shock. In that split second, she realises what’s happened, but in
that same split second, another snowball whizzes through the air, nailing her
right on the shoulder. Her eyes meet his and his laughter floats across the
air, and she remembers that he went to college on a baseball scholarship,
realises he’s still got a hell of an aim on him.
She also
realises something else.
This means
war.
>*<*>*<
A Natural Surprise
Warrick
knows what he’s done the instant he throws the first snowball, because he knows
Sara, knows her competitive nature, knows that he’s just declared war.
He
rationalises that it’s hardly the first time that they’ve been at daggers
drawn, over issues a lot more serious than this. He also knows that Sara can
take a joke.
Besides, he
thinks when the second snowball hits its target, it’s worth it, just for the
look on her face.
She doesn’t
take it lying down; he’d’ve been disappointed if she had, and he’s already
moving before she can throw her first missile; consequently it sails past him,
not even close. He laughs, which causes her to redouble her efforts, her second
coming closer, her third even wilder, but that’s because she was ducking as she
threw, trying to avoid his next effort.
Her shriek
of mirthful fear reaches his ears, makes him grin, a grin that only grows when
she gives chase, trying to get closer to him before she throws again. It’s
harder to hit a moving target though, so he zigs and zags, all the while trying
to throw more snow in her direction.
He doesn’t
give up either.
Eventually,
they are both red-cheeked and breathless, and he manages to get lucky and catch
a hold of her coat, so he does what seems like the natural thing, pulls her to
him and tries to force the snow he is holding down her neck. Sara, meanwhile,
is doing what no doubt is the natural thing to her; struggling, trying to get
free of him, knowing what’s about to happen.
She’s wrong
though, because in her efforts to get away, she slips and loses her footing,
falls backwards, and Warrick tries to grab her, to halt her descent. Neither
one of them are any match for momentum though, so she lands heavily on the soft
snow, with him on top of her, and when he looks at her, he realises how close
together their lips are.
So he does
what seems only natural.
He kisses
her.
Her kissing
him back is unexpected, but welcome.
Her skin is
freezing cold against his, as are her lips, but her body is warm against him,
her mouth hot against his, and he doesn’t want this moment to end.
When it
does, she is looking up at him with smiling lips and smiling eyes, not looking
like a woman who’s going to haul off and slug him. In fact, she looks very much
like a woman who doesn’t want this moment to end either.
He clears
his throat, knowing that the next words he says will change their future
forever, for good or ill. He needs to take time to come up with the perfect
thing; unfortunately for him however, she shivers, and he realises where they
are. “We should get you inside,” he says, wincing when he realises how that
sounds.
But her
smile just grows brighter. “I thought you’d never ask.”
>*<*>*<
Never In Vegas
This would
never have happened in Vegas.
In Vegas,
they are just friends, just colleagues. They talk to one another, laugh with
one another, eat together, but at the end of the shift, they navigate the neon
streets alone, home to their silent apartments and their empty beds and the
niggling knowledge that something is missing.
But here in
upstate
They do not
repeat their outdoor activities after dinner; instead Sara gets her way, where they
find a couple of seats in front of the fire, pull them close together and
continue talking. Sara makes herself comfortable, curling her legs underneath
her, resting her arm on the back of the chair, her head on her arm, and as the
firelight dances golden shadows across her face and her hair, Warrick finds
himself unable to take his eyes away from her.
And as he
sits there, staring at her, with want and flame burning in his eyes, Sara can’t
take her eyes off him either.
Neither one
is sure when exactly their hands find one another, when their fingers become
intertwined; only noticing it much later in the night, when the lounge is
nearly deserted, when the other convention attendees have all retired for the
night, in hopes that they will indeed be able to return home tomorrow as
planned. Sara doesn’t need much sleep though, is quite content to stay here,
like this, with him, and Warrick is just as happy to let her.
They only
leave when the bar staff begin hovering around them with slightly reproving frowns
etched on their faces, and when Warrick’s arm slips around Sara’s waist, it
feels perfectly natural to both of them.
Just like
it feels natural when he walks her to her room for her to turn to him, to press
her lips to his.
Just like
it feels natural for him to kiss her back, to wrap his arms around her waist as
her fingers twist in his hair, to follow her into her room and not look back
when he pushes the door behind him.
It feels
right, just like it feels right later when they are lying together in bed,
bodies entwined, the heavy comforter trapping their body heat, when her head is
on his shoulder and his fingers trace the path of her spine.
This would
never have happened in Vegas.
But they
know it will in future.