Disclaimer: Don't worry; I'll put the characters back when I'm done borrowing them, I promise.
Dedicated to all the Snickers writers here, you guys rock and have time and time again fed me my Snickers fix, thanks so much!
I slept with my co-worker last night.
Not once, but all three times that he reached for me.
If I were honest with myself I would admit that he only had to reach halfway before his hands and body met mine.
It's not considered 'using' someone if his need for your touch is just as great as your need for his, right?
All we had done was sit down in his living room to watch a movie. It was just another thriller, the usual genre we watched on these platonic movie nights, but tonight the gore and the violence and the ugliness turned me cold. After seeing the same sights shift after shift, it was somehow just too much. I went to quickly move off the couch to go somewhere, anywhere, but I froze at the sight of his face. The pain and fatigue was etched so deeply on his normally fair-weather face that I could have cried.
My movement had caught his attention, and our gazes collided and held. I'm not sure what he saw as he looked in my eyes, or who moved first, but in one wild moment his arms were opening and I suddenly found myself across the couch and in his lap. I cradled his face into my chest, and his hands clung tightly to my back.
I suppose what we were each so desperate for was simply the touch of another living person. Our life is to deal with death, day after day, night after night. We are forced to bury our most human emotions and deal with the horrible things people do to each other; rarely is there anything positive. One could say that getting justice for a victim is a reward, but how can you give back to them what was taken away? No matter what you do, what baffling case you manage to solve, if the victim is even still alive they are rarely whole. The pain and the injustice of it all just builds and builds until it overwhelms and defeats you.
Perhaps last night both Nick and I broke and were defeated together. Our hands may have begun moving across each other's backs as a comforting gesture, but rapidly the contact turned insistent, tinged with desperation. The sane part of my brain that was still working had some idea of where this might be heading, and I leaned back far enough to ask him the questions for which I had no words. I could see the same doubts and frustrations and desires and pain in his eyes that I'm sure were reflected in mine. I couldn't find a reason to deny either of us, so I made the decision and softly touched my lips to his.
The rest is history. I have never felt such relief and such emotion from the basic touch of another human being. Nothing before this ever felt so fulfilling or honest. Maybe that sounds corny, but it was about as far from bullshit as you can get. At first we were frantic and finesse went out the window. It wasn't 'making love'; it was fucking. Despite the rawness of our actions, there was an undercurrent of tenderness, an awareness of what we each needed that stemmed from being close friends for over five years. It was instinctive, we had never touched like this before but everything about him was so damn familiar, and because of that I knew that tonight was a temporary storm that we would weather safely together.
Through the night we reached for each other twice more, each time forging our fledgling relationship just a tiny bit stronger. And that brings me to now.
I am lying in my close friend's bed with him spooned snugly behind me, with what I can only assume to be his morning erection prodding me in the behind, and I'm baffled as to what's going to happen now. I'm pretty sure he's still sleeping; he hasn't stirred since I awoke to the thoughts running rampant through my head. Could we work? Could this be considered the start of something? Did it truly mean to him what it meant to me? Will he wake up and say 'Thanks Sara, that was great, but this can't happen again'?
Oh, his arms just tightened around me, I think I'm about to find out.
He planted a soft, nibbling kiss at the base of my neck in greeting. One night with the man and he already knew every spot that could light me up like a Christmas tree. His drawl was thick and course in my ear as he murmured, "Good mornin' Sunshine".
At the use of his nickname for me I felt a tiny flutter in my heart. Apparently I still have one, and it's rapidly warming with what I think is hope. I wiggled around in his arms in order to face him.
For a moment, he looked uncertain, but he must have seen the tiny smile dancing at the corners of my lips, and all of a sudden I was treated to the full power of a Nick Stokes ear-to-ear mega-watt grin. In it I could see bashfulness, peace, tenderness, and dare I say it, hope. I can't help but return it.
As I'm caught up in his arms once again, a favourite song lyric comes to mind. It's from the song Lovers in a Dangerous Time, and it goes like this: "You gotta kick at the darkness 'til it bleeds daylight". Maybe together Nick and I can beat back the darkness. Maybe together we can fix what is broken.
FIN.
A/N – Thus ends my first CSI fic, I hope you enjoyed it. I heard the song today and somehow this story managed to write itself. Reviews and comments are most welcome!