A/N #1 - I was inspired to write this while I watched The Notebook this week. Pianos can be hot, y'all.

A/N #2 - I mostly write GSR, but I have kind of a soft spot for Warrick/Sara every now and then, too. Don't you think he deserves a little love after all he's been through? Oh, and I hand wrote this while I was hanging out at the horse races today. Kind of random, but what can I say? I was inspired.

Sara was emotionally drained. She was tired, hungry, and, well...overwhelmingly horny. Getting pinned against the wall by the man you've been in love with since the beginning of time (it felt like it was that long, anyway) can do that to a girl.

When Warrick's case was over and they were free to go, the smart choice obviously would have been to go home and sleep. But Sara, Nick and Warrick were too keyed up to sleep. As Nick said, they were so tired that they weren't even tired anymore.

"Let's go to Frank's," Nick suggested. Warrick and Sara groaned, although Sara didn't really care where they went. Wherever Grissom wasn't, that was her only stipulation.

"We always go to Frank's," Warrick said. "Look, let's go to my place, okay? I've got food, drinks...it'll be fun. Come on, you guys never come over."

Nick and Sara looked at each other and shrugged. Neither of them had been to Warrick's before and they were admittedly curious.

They were mostly quiet on the way to Warrick's, listening to some rock station that none of them had the energy to change. Sara tried to keep her mind off Grissom, and his fingers slightly grazing her arm, and his eyes meeting hers, and...well, she'd work on that.

Warrick's townhouse was small and sparsely decorated except for some jazz posters on the wall and a baby grand piano in the corner. Sara was surprised. She knew he played, but didn't think it was more than an occasional hobby. She was suddenly intrigued. What else did she not know about Warrick? She'd always found him to be somewhat of an enigma. Even though they certainly didn't start off on the right foot, she had developed quite a bit of respect for her mysterious colleague.

Warrick played bartender for Nick and Sara. He was right; he did have a large selection of drinks. Nick requested some kind of fruity drink Sara had never heard of. When Sara smirked at him, he shrugged and said, "My sisters love it and got me hooked." She nodded, appreciating Nick's sensitivity. It merely added to his charm.

Sara was simple in her request.

"Give me a beer," she said. "Whatever you have."

Warrick grinned. "A woman after my own heart." He gave her a Budweiser, his beverage of choice, and also took one for himself.

The three of them talked about the case that put them through the ringer. Nick and Warrick laughed about how they almost got into a fistfight when the pressure became too overwhelming. The victim's sister only wanted peace of mind, which Warrick was unable to provide, and Nick was able to give it easily. The two men laughed about it over drinks, but there was a small bubble of tension built into the easy laughter. It was interesting to Sara, this ability to move on so seamlessly when neither of them actually wanted to.

"Man, Grissom really believed in you," Nick told Warrick after he had a few fruity cocktails in him. They were sitting on Warrick's leather sofa, Sara in the middle, all of them buzzed enough to begin not caring about boundaries. Nick had his arm around Sara in a mostly friendly gesture. Sara was eventually close enough to Warrick to put her head on his shoulder. She couldn't help but notice that he still, after a whole day of extreme stress, smelled good. Like, really good.

"Yeah, he did," Warrick was saying. "He's so cool and collected in high pressure situations. Do you think that comes with experience, or you're just born with it?"

Nick looked serious. "I think it comes with time, man. Give it time. We're still learning, you know?"

Warrick nodded. They all pondered how much they had left to learn.

Well, that's not actually what Sara was pondering. She didn't have anything positive to say about her boss at the moment. Didn't he feel the heat between them? Didn't he want to act on it? What was holding him back? He was the most frustrating man she'd ever met, and she was getting tired of it.

Sara's silence didn't go unnoticed, but the boys didn't comment on it. Instead, they kept her good and drunk. She wanted to protest; wanted to stop this festival of booze before it got out of hand, but she didn't. She actually quite liked the attention they were giving her.

As the night continued, an interesting dynamic began to present itself, settling over the three of them like a translucent fog. Both Nick and Warrick--fueled by alcohol, rivalry, and something else Sara didn't understand--started almost competing for Sara's attention. Sara couldn't be sure, but it certainly appeared as though they were both flirting with her. She liked it. She was used to lusting after someone who adamantly refused to return her affections. Sara was hopelessly in love with Gil Grissom, but that wasn't working out for her, so she hazily focused on the two men in front of her; her two co-workers that happened to be very attractive, and very drunk.

Nick had tightened his grip around her shoulders, but she was sitting as close to Warrick as space allowed. Any closer and she would be sitting in his lap. Which, it was dawning on her; she wouldn't have minded so much.

After a lively discussion about the merits of the Dallas Cowboys versus...someone, Sara wasn't really paying attention, Nick pointed to the piano in the corner.

"Why don't you play us something, man?" He slurred. "I haven't heard you play in a while."

Warrick scoffed and shook his head.

"You know I don't like to play in front of people anymore," Warrick said somewhat shyly, which Sara found to be quite endearing.

"It's just us," she said. "If you can't play in front of us, who can you?"

Warrick looked at her then. He looked at her in a way she was used to only Grissom looking at her, but it was different. Grissom's eyes always had a ring of hopeless desperation in them, like he'd given up before he'd even begun. Warrick's eyes hadn't given up. His eyes were only just starting.

Sara felt it. She felt his stare in her stomach, and then it traveled straight down to...other places. The slightest bit of moisture was building up between her legs, which made this situation just a bit more interesting.

"You're right," Warrick said. "Okay, I'll play. I'm a little rusty, though, so keep that in mind."

"Whatever, man. I know you practice every day," Nick said, grinning just a little too wide. Sara wondered if Nick sensed that Warrick was winning this strange game of flirtations. His strained grin and his death grip on her shoulders indicated that he indeed had a hint. Warrick rose unsteadily and maneuvered himself to the piano.

He played a few notes to warm up. Nick scooted closer to Sara, but her attention was solely on Warrick. Nick probably could stick his hand down her tank top and she wouldn't notice. All she saw was Warrick. As he started playing a song she recognized as Mozart--or it might have Beethoven--she was mesmerized by his fingers. The moisture between her legs was getting stickier now, creating a heat surrounding her body that was now impossible to ignore.

"Sara..." Nick whispered in her ear. She glanced at him distractedly.

"Yeah?" She almost demanded.

"Never mind," he muttered. He released his grip on her shoulders and scooted away from her, clearly defeated. Sara didn't even notice. The music; the sweet, satisfying music, took her over.

She rose and walked slowly but steadily toward the piano. Warrick didn't miss a beat as she sat next to him on the bench. Neither of them heard Nick call for a cab, and they definitely didn't hear him leave. Sara only saw Warrick's fingers on the black and white keys. She only heard the tantalizing sound the music was making in the air.

Warrick played a bit from Beethoven's Ninth symphony, which was one of Sara's favorites. Her first foster mother, the first of many, was a professional violinist. Sara loved to listen to her play, and the Ninth symphony was something she played often. It made the still volatile mess of emotions she was feeling on a constant basis a little less stormy. Warrick's music did the same for her. She forgot about Grissom and her unreturned love. She forgot about her aching loneliness, her inability to leave the painful cases behind.

They were again sitting very close to each other now, and Sara again could feel it. She found herself putting her hand on his knee. If this pleased him, he didn't show it. He just kept playing. And then, after a moment, he stopped. He looked at her, his green eyes giving him away.

"What do you want me to play now?" He asked almost in a whisper.

"Me," she said. Looking back, she would cringe at those terribly corny words. She didn't talk like that. She didn't like to tell people what she wanted because it tended to end in disappointment. But she sensed this time would be different. It was.

Warrick grinned. It wasn't a charming grin, or a cute grin, or even a sly grin. It was hot. It was sexy. It was hungry.

He leaned over and kissed her, putting his arms around her as he did. The kiss felt like fire. His arms felt like the sun. She moaned as feelings inside of her that had been lying dormant for a very long time came alive.

His tongue danced in her mouth. His hands moved swiftly through her hair, down her body, under her clothes.

He positioned her so that she was sitting on the keys. The sound the keys made as she sat down on them pleased her. The look on her face, the heat in her eyes, this pleased him. Without getting up, he looked at her while he unzipped her pants. She gasped as he then reached under her bra with the other hand and slightly pinched a nipple.

He slowly rose and kissed her more; chewing and biting her lips, making her feel raw and fiery. He pulled her shirt up and kissed her exposed stomach, going down to her belly button and then down to her panties.

"Ready for this?" He asked her. She could only nod.

He took her pants off and spread her legs. He kissed along her thighs, making her writhe and moan and gasp, and again came across the barrier of panties. He got rid of the barrier before she even realized what he was doing.

"You've done this before," she managed to say.

"A few times," he admitted. "But I've never really wanted something this much."

Before she could think of something to say, he stuck a finger inside her. She gasped. He grinned at how wet she was.

"You want it, too."

"Yes," she breathed.

He stuck another finger in her and stroked her clit with his thumb. He leaned in and licked her earlobe. She shivered.

"Tell me you want it," he whispered in her ear. "Say my name. Tell me now."

"I want you, Warrick. I want you to fuck me."

Okay, that was definitely not the way she talked. She blamed it on the booze and the long day and her irrational emotions...well, why did she have to blame it on anything? She was having fun. Warrick was hot, he knew what he was doing, and he wanted her. So she let it happen. Oh, did it happen.

In mere seconds, she was completely naked. He continued stroking her clit while he sucked on a bare nipple. This sent her into a whole different universe. And when he sat back down and parted her legs and put his tongue on her aching clit, she had to keep herself from screaming. The man was good at what he was doing, that was for sure.

When she was on the edge of the most powerful orgasm she'd ever experienced, he stopped abruptly. "I want you to taste me," he told her. It wasn't a question. She grinned and got on her knees. She unzipped his pants and took out his beautifully hard, beautifully long cock and wrapped her lips around it, trying to take in the whole thing, almost gagging on the length. He moaned, grabbing her head with both hands. And when she could tell he was about to come, she grinned evilly and said, "I want you inside me. Now."

She helped him put a condom on. Touching him, looking at his face, still tasting him on her lips...she couldn't wait to feel him inside her. Once it was on, it only took mere seconds before he had her lying on the piano bench. He penetrated her forcefully. She gasped because it hurt, and then because it felt so goddamn good.

Warrick took her in many different ways that night, but her favorite was when he took her from behind. He was pinching her nipple as he thrust, causing her to bite her lip in ridiculous pleasure. When he was done with Sara on the piano, he led her to the bedroom where he became gentler. They kissed softly and made love for as long as his body would allow. He played her like the greatest adagio--slow, sweet, and rhythmic. When it was over, they fell asleep together, not caring what consequences they would face when they woke up.

But Sara woke up before Warrick, her head throbbing. She left before he could say anything. At work, they avoided each other for days, even when they had to work together. It wasn't just a drunken hook-up, they both knew that, but they weren't ready to face what it could be. Neither of them wanted to be in a relationship. So they didn't talk about it, and eventually it was almost forgotten. Especially when, just a few weeks later, Sara watched from behind the glass as Grissom confided in a murder suspect what he never could have told her face to face--that he just "couldn't do it." Though, as time passed, it turned out he could.

Eventually, Warrick got married. Later, she found herself engaged to Gil Grissom. Life went on, and she and Warrick kept their secret. And when he met a tragic end no one could predict, Sara mourned him in her own way. She thought about that night. She would think about how he gave her what she so desperately needed even when she didn't know she needed it herself. He cared about her, showed her affection and passion when nobody else could. Sometimes, when she drifted off to sleep, she could still hear the music in the air--Warrick's overture, his imprint on her life that she would never forget.