Nick looked from Grissom to Sara, mouth hanging open. He was getting a really strong sense of déjà vu watching them.

"Eat!"

"I already ate, Grissom! I'm fine!"

He sighed. Apparently it fell to him every time they did this. "Guys, stop," he said, waving a hand between them. "There's pizza on the way and you can stuff each other to your hearts' content. In the meantime, can we actually try to accomplish something here?"

Warrick elbowed Catherine in the ribs, laughing. "Is it fifty years yet? 'Cause man, they're still going."

Catherine snorted and tossed a stuffed bear at his head. "Leave 'em alone, War. Where else would we be provided with 'entertainment to move by'?" She gave his butt a light slap and started to walk past him, chuckling.

Warrick grabbed her around the waist and hauled her over his shoulder, kicking and screaming. Heading into Sara's bedroom, he said over his shoulder, "We'll be back in a few minutes, guys. Catherine just needs to. . . do something!"

"Or someone," Nick muttered as they heard the door slam.

Sara and Grissom both stopped mid-shout and looked at each other, wide-eyed, then burst out laughing. "God, am I glad I'm not going to be sleeping on that bed anymore," said Sara, slewing her eyes toward the bedroom door Warrick had just shut.

Grissom shook his head in disbelief. Was the sexual tension contagious? He looked at Nick, expecting for a moment to see the younger man kissing Brass or something. Nothing of the sort, of course, and he contented himself with striding toward the bedroom and banging on the door. "We're not saving you guys any pizza!" he hollered. If that didn't get them out, nothing would.

Within seconds, the bedroom door opened. Catherine was tugging at her shirt, while Warrick was trying to press his hair back into something resembling a normal shape. "Geez, can't have any fun around here with you two married folks," he pouted. He was immediately hit by the same teddy bear that Catherine had thrown, only this time it stung, having been launched by Sara's stronger arm.

"I'll show you 'married'!" she yelled at him, then laughed. "Or not." She turned to Grissom, smiling widely. "We should have everyone over more often, I forgot how much fun it can be."

"Uh-uh," Grissom said, shaking his head violently. "Not in my townhouse. They break things. Think how traumatized Fluffy would be!"

Sara could only laugh. Trying to calm herself down, she picked up a pile of towels that were waiting to go out to her car and headed for the door. Pulling it open, she came face-to-face with a pimple-faced teenager wearing a Domino's cap and bearing three boxes of fragrant pizza. "You can go on in," she told the boy. "Ask the guy with the gray hair to pay you."

"I heard that!" Grissom yelled. "I'll have you know it's not completely gray. Some days there's brown in it!"

Nick shook his head, laughing. "Give it up, Gris. You're old, face it. You're just lucky Sara has a thing for old guys," he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Grissom stared at him for a moment. "Hey, who can fire who here?" he reminded Nick, and was rewarded with seeing the grin wiped off Nick's face, if only for a moment. Sighing, he dug in his pocket and handed the delivery boy thirty dollars while Warrick relieved the delivery boy of his load.

"Sara!" Nick yelled. "If you don't get in here, I'm eating your share!"

"Gris-som!" Sara yelled through the door in response. "You better protect my pizza, or there's going to be two couples in here denied alone-time!"

"Ouch," Grissom chuckled. "You heard the girl. Hand over the pizza and no one gets hurt."

Nick cracked an imaginary whip, which set him and Warrick to laughing again. "Whoop-sch! Go Sara go!"

Catherine raised an eyebrow coolly. "Hey, she's got the right idea. I wouldn't laugh if I were you," she told Warrick pointedly. "A man's got to protect his woman's pizza or he's useless."

Warrick gave her a wide-eyed look and snapped up a box of pizza, hugging it to his chest. "Mine!" he told Nick, who was still laughing too hard to talk.

Sara appeared next to the group and patted Grissom on the head. "Good boy." Seeing his scowl, she grinned. "Now see, if we had a dog I would be saying that to it instead of you."

"You're getting a dog?" Nick asked excitedly. "What kind?"

Sara clapped a hand over Grissom's mouth. "Great Dane. Ow!" She snatched her hand back and gave Grissom an angry look, rubbing at the new bite mark on her hand. "I thought we had a deal, bugman."

"We are not getting a dog, Sara! Especially not one that's taller than either of us!"

The rest of the CSIs settled back to watch the show, taking mental notes for future coffee-break discussions.  "Twenty says she gets the dog," Warrick whispered.

"You're on," Nick agreed, then turned back to watch the action.

"They're great dogs for protection, Grissom! You're always saying that I can't take care of myself, you should be glad to hear I want to get a dog that can protect me when you're not around."

Grissom took an angry bite of pizza, chewed, and swallowed. "I'm not training a dog. You don't have time to train a dog. And Great Danes aren't aggressive enough to protect you."

Sara flung down her crust and retorted, "Neither are you!"

"Oooooh!" came from the peanut gallery. "Thirty," Brass suggested, jumping in on the betting.

Catherine glared at the men and hissed, "She's gonna get the dog, don't bother betting. Trust me on this."

When Catherine turned back to the action, Grissom was staring at Sara, who was laying on her back, legs kicking, as she laughed so hard that she cried. He looked at the group with a "what just happened here?" expression, then leaned over Sara tentatively. "What's so funny?"

Sara hiccupped, made an unrecognizable sound, then tried again. "Sorry . . . this is just the funniest thing I've heard in a long time. Do you realize they're betting on outcomes every time we fight?" She sat up carefully, hugging her stomach. Brass gave her a look that said "now you know how I felt" and she broke into laughter again.

Finally regaining her composure for a moment, she looked at Nick. "How much on who?"

"I don't know what you're, uh . . ."

Sara said nothing, only looked at him steadily.

"Thirty on you," he admitted.

Sara crowed. "Yes! See Gris, when Nick and Warrick's odds say I'm gonna win, you might as well throw in the towel."

"You haven't won yet," Grissom reminded her, laughing in spite of himself.

"We'll see," Sara said, smiling mysteriously. "I have a secret weapon."

"Aw, Sara!" Nick complained. "We don't want to think about you guys doing that!" A second later, he was wearing the slice of pizza Sara had been about to bite into.

"Shoulda known better, bro," Warrick said.