Author: EyerishEyes

Feedback: tamprollanet.org

Disclaimer: I don't own them, cause if I did, it wouldn't have stopped at taking her home

Rating: PG

Category: Humor

Summary: Campy movies and tomato innards

Author's note: Only "Attack of the Killer Tomatoes" and "Them" are actual movies (and Rocky Horror Picture Show, of course). Alcohol capsules are the little things you put under unconscience peoples noses. Reviews are ALWAYS appreciated and flames, well, those are used to light the sacrifical fire that I dance around under the moonlight.

Dr. Frankenfurter, I Presume?

Grissom approached the tomato warily. Although he would be loath to admit it, he would much rather have been sitting in his office doing paperwork than walking through a local 24-hour supermarket processing a homicide. The only problem with that scenario was, thanks to the increased criminal activity in Las Vegas tonight; he and Sara had been the only two left in the lab when the call had come in.

So now, here he was in the produce aisle, gingerly stepping over broken bottles of pomegranate juice and picking his way through a sea of slimy tomato innards. He hated tomatoes.

"Ugh, I hate tomatoes," Grissom grimaced, "They're so slimy inside."

"Oh, you're not going to let a little thing like a tomato bother you, are you?" Sara cooed.

"I wouldn't have such a problem if it were one tomato, but there happens to be a mound of them. And somewhere in the middle of this viscous offal is the bullet that killed our vic."

"Alright, I tell you what, I'll process the scary tomatoes and you process the body. Deal?"

"What's the catch?"

"Why does there have to be a catch? Can't a girl ever be nice without someone thinking that there are strings attached?"

Grissom just gave her that look, the one that made her knees turn to jelly. He cocked his head to the side and smiled. She sure hoped that someone had an alcohol capsule handy. "I reiterate, what's the catch?"

"Okay, I do this for you and you take me out to the movies. Harmless." It was nice being friends again.

Grissom decided that taking Sara to the movies was pretty good payment for not having to deal with tomato innards. He won either way. "Who gets to pick the movie?"

"Well," Sara just smiled, "since it was my idea, I get to pick. You can pick the next one."

"Who said that there would be a next one," Grissom questioned.

"You'll have too much fun with me to not want to go out again," Sara replied smugly.

"A little sure of yourself, aren't you?" Grissom said.

"Yeah," Sara retorted and turned to process the tomato mound.

----GnS----

Three nights later, while packing up his briefcase for the evening, Grissom found a note.

Seven o'clock. My apartment.
And no backing out.
Sara

Not that she would ever let him forget the supermarket. The night after the incident, he had arrived in the lab and found a gift on his desk. Someone had taken a plastic tomato and attached fake eyes, a mouth, nose, mustache and little arms to it. Taped to it, in little letters was a nametag that said Elmer. He had thought about that one for a while and finally figured it out. Tomato paste. The night after that had been two plastic tomatoes, one smaller than the other. The smaller of the two had a little dialogue bubble attached that said, "wait up". It hadn't taken him long on that one. Catsup.

Now here was a large one, again with the eyes, a mouth, nose, mustache and little arms. Clutched in one of the hands was a miniature hatchet. He had no idea what this one meant. He knew that Sara had been the one leaving him the plastic abominations and he would confront her as soon as he saw her that evening.

----GnS----

"Okay, I give. What does tonight's plastic produce mean?"

"Give up already? Boy, you must be feeling ill." Sara just grinned that gap-toothed smile of hers. "Either that or you really hate tomatoes."

"I really hate tomatoes." Grissom smiled at her.

"Then you're not going to like tonight's selection."

"And what would that be?" Grissom asked with just a hint of trepidation.

"Attack of the Killer Tomatoes," Sara said as she walked the door of her apartment.

----GnS----

That had been the beginning of a battle of the campiest, cheesiest movies they could find. Grissom had answered "Attack of the Killer Tomatoes" with "Attack of the Man-Eating, Brain-sucking Mutants from Mars". Sara had enjoyed that one, especially since the only place that he had found it was on DVD and she had been "forced" to sit on the couch and share a bowl of popcorn. Yeah that had been a real hardship.

She had volleyed back with "The Really Ugly Thing from Omicron Ceti 4". Thank you, Mystery Science Theater 3000. Grissom had returned with "Them."

"Only you would come up with mutant ants, Buggles." Sara laughed.

He had to laugh at that one. No one other than her would have dared call him that. He kind of liked it. Almost as much as he enjoyed finding the weirdest, campiest, cult movies he could find. Particularly since most of them could only be found on DVD. And that meant sitting on his couch, sharing a bowl of popcorn, their hands brushing against each other from time to time.

There was one that he had been thinking of lately, but he heard that to really enjoy it, you had to see it in the theater.

----GnS----

"I can't believe it. You brought me to see "The Rocky Horror Picture Show"? I haven't seen this since college."

"I hear it is really campy."

"Don't tell me that you have never seen Rocky Horror?" she asked incredously.

"Nope. I just heard that this one was good."

"So, you don't know about the audience participation?"

"Audience participation?" He asked warily.

"Yep, you'll see." Just thinking about Grissom dressed as a transsexual mad scientist almost made her wet herself with laughter.

He realized what she was talking about as soon as the audience threw uncooked rice during a wedding scene. He started to rethink his decision at that point. He looked at Sara and she looked at him and just smiled. He decided to stay.

All of that changed as soon as the audience yelled "Toast" and he was hit in the face with a flying piece of burnt bread.

"That's it. No more movies."

Sara couldn't help it. She chuckled as he picked debris from his beard.