What can I say? I crack under pressure…

The pub was rowdy, full of residents and tourists. The tourists because they didn't know better, the residents because whilst they wouldn't actually admit to liking it, but it's a bar and it serves alcohol, and there are worst places. Not much worst, but after a few drinks, everything starts looking good. Even the all out assault on red this bar had in the way of decoration.

Warrick didn't notice the décor. Didn't really notice the other patrons. He looked around only until his eyes caught sight of familiar brunette hair. He nodded at Harry, the bar tender he had never liked, but who at least remembered their usual, before winding through people in various stages of alcohol consumption to the usual table.

Sara looked up at him, and narrowed her eyes. 'You're late.'

Warrick wondered how he could be late to something that was arranged on the basis that neither were working that night, rather than any sort of formal arrangement, but shrugged it off. 'What you drinking?' He asked.

Sara studied the drink in front of her for a moment as if to try and ascertain what the hell was in the glass in front of her, before it finally came to her. 'Vodka tonic.'

Warrick looked up, caught Harry's eye, and signalled at Sara's drink, flashing two fingers at him. Harry nodded, turning to the drink dispenser. Warrick had never actually had a vodka tonic, but he'd try anything once…

They sat in silence, as was customary with these meetings, till Harry brought the new drinks, till they had clinked glasses and Sara had actually got a ghost of a smile to her lips. It was getting to be a regular habit, if they both had the night off, they met up at this pub, at this table, and drank the night into oblivion. Ever since Warrick had found Sara, completely off her head, one morning after the lab had been blown to smithereens, it had become a staple of their friendship. Warrick had learnt more about Sara in the few hours they spent in the bar than he had ever done in three years at the lab. Like the fact that she smoked. But only when she drank. That she had once snogged Grissom, and then had drowned her sorrows in tequila. One of his favourite was that she set her alarm so that she could be up to watch Little House on the Prairie every afternoon. He'd almost choked when he heard that. Death by laughter. Bet Al hadn't seen that one before.

Warrick near enough inhaled the drink in front of him, the only way he could stand the vodka. He turned to the barman, catching his eye after a few moments. 'Usual.' He said. Harry nodded, appearing in a few moments with a round of tequila slammers, a pint and a vodka redbull. Sara grinned as Harry walked off, pulling over a shot glass, and grabbing the salt pot. They worked in mirror image, licking the back of the hand, pouring on the salt, licking that, then downing the shot, sucking on the lemon desperately to stop the burning that felt like both their throats were on fire.

Their irregular drinking sessions had so far managed to escape the notice of the rest of the lab, who usually had an uncanny ability to spot any behaviour remotely like this and to spread it like wildfire, probably blowing it up into some big love affair instead. It wasn't like they were trying to keep it secret. It just never came up. They hardly even arranged it to begin with, just both turned up. It was just habit. A strange habit, maybe, but a friendly, comforting habit, that saw both of them turning up regardless.

It took a few drinks, but they were soon talking the night away. Their last case at work currently the subject, a murdered prostitute for which the woman's housemate had finally been arrested for. It had been unusually busy in the hallways around the Police department, namely because the suspect was Hot.

Sara though, was talking about Marsha, the suspect, and her uncanny ability to lie.

Warrick was finding it hard to concentrate on that aspect of the interview. 'Now she was one sexy lady.' He interrupted with a sigh.

Sara glared, then seemed to consider the response. 'You thought she was sexy?'

Warrick's answer was immediate. 'Hell yeah! Anyone could see she was sexy.'

Sara was still doubtful. 'You didn't think it was too much? All the hair, the make up. Like she was trying too hard?'

Warrick's answer held no doubt. 'Nope.'

Sara took a cigarette from the packet in front of her, having to concentrate pretty hard in her state to light it. She inhaled, blew smoke towards the ceiling, 'Anyway, her breasts were fake.' She dismissed.

'No way!' He instantly denied.

'Yes way. Only fake ones stand up like that.'

'What about, you know, bras and stuff.'

Sara rolled her eyes. 'She wasn't wearing a bra. You know, for a trained investigator, you're not very observant.'

Warrick sat in stunned silence for a moment. 'She didn't have a bra on?'

'Honey, no one could wear a bra under that top.'

The look went back to stunned, and a slight drool appeared in the corner of his mouth. His eyes fell to Sara's chest.

'Yes I'm wearing a bra.' Sara said, her tone huffy. 'Yes it's padded. Yes, I know I'm not a good advert for Wonderbra. Now can you quit staring?'

'I prefer natural.' Warrick said, his look finally shifting.

'Yes, that was what the drool was five seconds ago about Marsha.'

Warrick dismissed this with a wave of the hand. 'It's just a look. You've got to have substance, not just something to peer at. I mean, at least you've got a brain.'

Sara's eyes narrowed. 'Are you saying I'm not sexy?'

If Warrick had been slightly sober he would have changed the conversation. Then again, if he was even slightly sober he wouldn't have gotten into this conversation in the first place. 'You've got more substance. You're more than eye candy.'

'I could be sexy.' Sara told him, eyes narrowed.

Warning bells dampened in all the alcohol, Warrick carried on. 'Don't get me wrong, you're easy on the eye. But I can have a conversation with you.'

'But I could do sexy.' Sara insisted, not even wondering why they were having this conversation.

Warrick hesitated slightly. 'I just can't see it. You just don't have that…sexy edge.'

'You mean the triple F bra size pushed in your face.'

The drool was back. 'It's not just about the size of the chest.' He tried.

'You know, sexy's just appearing as a man's fantasy object. Anyone can do sexy if they find the right image.'

For someone that was seriously buzzed, he could still think pretty fast. 'Prove it.' Warrick challenged.

Sara narrowed her eyes at him 'Huh?'

'Prove it. If being sexy is so damn easy, the next time we do this, you do that.'

'Dress sexy?' Sara asked doubtfully.

Warrick shook his head. 'Be sexy.'

He thought for sure that Sara would refuse. Women's rights and all that. So he wasn't prepared for when he looked up to a pair of determined eyes and the words 'You're on. Who gets to judge?'

'Me.' Warrick answered as if that was perfectly obvious.

Sara appeared to think this over. 'If you want to prove you're sexy, then it's me you've got to prove it to. And only I'm going to be able to measure that.' Warrick said.

Sara pondered this a moment longer before slowly nodding. 'But you better be fair.' She warned. 'If I stir you in parts long forgotten, then I win the bet.'

'If you stir me at all, I'll do all your paperwork for a week.'

'And my next house invader case.' Sara added.

Warrick nodded. 'But if you don't, then you get my next missing pet case, and have to do all my paperwork for a week.'

Sara nodded.

Warrick let a slow smile come to his face. This was going to be great. He held up his drink, currently red bull and vodka, Sara mimicking the movement. They clinked glasses, each downing their drinks. Then they started giggling.