Feedback:Makes my day
Disclaimer:If it was in the show, it's not mine.
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Notes:For the LiveJournal CSReports Virtual Rewind challenge, to the "Buffy titles" challenge. And I couldn't just write one, so I ended up doing a minor series.
As far as Warrick is concerned, he and Sara are supposed to be going over a crime scene, looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack; or rather, evidence in a deserted park.
The rainstorm, one of those that appears out of nowhere, sending inches of rain in a sudden deluge, comes as a surprise.
When the first drop hits his forehead, he looks up at the sky, recognises immediately what's in store. Sara follows his gaze, realises the same, and her eyes grow wide as she looks back at him. A question begins to form on her lips, and he's pretty sure she's going to ask what they should do, but before she can get any more than the word, "What-" out, more drops are coming thick and fast, and getting faster.
Warrick reacts instinctively, because he knows that the work they're doing is follow-up at best, that the likelihood of any undiscovered evidence being here is slim in the extreme. So he answers with one word.
She blinks in surprise, and he grabs her hand, literally hauling her along with him, heading for the shelter of a grove of trees, leaving everything they carried behind them. He knows that from the trees they will be able to see anything they need to, that nothing can happen to their equipment, and at least there, they will be dry.
Short a trek as it is, by the time they get under the trees, both are soaked, and with one look at Sara, Warrick sees that she's caught it worse than he has. He, at least, was wearing a light jacket, but Sara had been warm earlier on, had taken hers off. She's paying for it now though, her thin shirt sticking to her skin, and Warrick can see shivers coursing through her slim frame.
She's laughing though, hands which are likewise shaking moving up to push back her soaking wet hair from her face. "I'll never get used to Vegas storms," she tells him, and her voice is shaking just as much as her hands.
She's still smiling up at him, but he's frowning down at her. "You're going to catch your death of cold," he warns her, a thousand warnings from Grams running through his head, and once more he's reacting instinctively.
"I'm fine," she begins to tell him, but he's already taking off his jacket. "Warrick-", she protests, frustration or amusement in her voice, but he shakes his head.
"Take the jacket Sara," he orders, his hands pulling it tight around her shoulders. She grins, looks down, the movement causing a lock of hair to fall down across her face. Barely aware that he's doing it, Warrick reaches up, pushes it back, and Sara raises her head slowly, meeting his gaze.
Warrick is suddenly very aware of their proximity, and the look on her face, but his lips meeting hers still comes very much as a surprise.
He's even more surprised when she kisses him back.