Disclaimer: Although I'm watching them on TV right now, they aren't mine. Oops, I shut the TV off. Now they really aren't mine.

Rating: For now, T/PG-13.

Spoilers:Assume the timeframe to be late Season 4 or early Season 5. There is no Spork and no split.

Beta Props: Again, Cybrokat is a beta goddess and my BFF Jennie continues to read these wacky things and provide unending support and encouragement. I am so lucky to have them both. sniffle

A/N: The following is romantic and angsty GSR fluff. It is not Warrick/Sara – although I am building a lot on their friendship dynamic. This is just something fun I wanted to do with the lines they keep posting in the YTDAW Improv Challenge thread. I've had this storyline in my head for a while, but haven't had the time to get it written. Don't expect it to be anything spectacular.

First and last lines were provided, and are italicized. Because I like to do that kind of thing. Microsoft Word says that this has 1,715 words, so I made the limit, if not the timeframe.

The smoke drifted upward slowly. Sara stared at the half-finished cigarette resting in the battered black plastic ashtray. Warrick was sitting next to her, tapping his fingers nervously against the black lacquered tabletop. The air was stale, the lighting dim at best, and the padded seat of the red velvet dining chair was thin and uncomfortable. A portrait of Elvis was scowling at her from the far wall behind the man sitting in front of them.

Two fingers resembling burnt pork sausages lifted the cigarette from its resting place, and raised it to a pair of chapped, puffy lips. After taking a long drag, complete with the after-exhale cough of emphysema-filled lungs, the lips, or rather, the man attached to them, spoke.

"You were good. More specifically, you," he said, pointing a pork sausage finger at Sara, "were good. Brown, you were okay."

Warrick seemed to wince a little at this, and Sara was stunned. Never, in a million years, did she expect to receive a compliment for what she'd just done. Well, she and Warrick.

The owner of The Black Velvet Lounge continued. "The $500 is yours. You won it hands down. As for the slot on Thursday nights, it's also yours, if you want it. Pay is $200 a piece plus 25 percent of the cover. The more you bring in, the more you make. Got it?"

Sara looked at Warrick hesitantly. They'd both need to have Thursday nights off in order to do this. There was no way Grissom was going to agree to that. Warrick read the uncertainty in her eyes. "I'll handle it … well, him, if you want to do this."

Sara threw the ball back in his court. "Do you want to do this?"

"Yeah, I do. And dammit, we're good. And it's something away from all… of that, you know?"

Sara recalled Grissom's recommendation of finding something outside of work to relieve the stress of the job. This definitely qualified. She gave a nonchalant shrug and smiled at Warrick. "Eh… what the hell? Why not?"

The rotund black man beamed, recognizing a cash cow when he saw one. "Excellent. Then it's set. I'll see you here 8 p.m. sharp next Thursday. And missy…"

"Sara. My name is Sara."

"Okay… Sara. You're beautiful, babe. Wear something to flaunt what you've got, all right? Don't show up in that again."

Sara blushed crimson, and Warrick smiled softly at her before turning his attention back to their new boss, Samuel Clemson. "Thank you very much for this opportunity, Mr. Clemson."

"No, thank you Brown," he replied, "for bringing this lovely lady and her voice into my club."

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The next night, Sara was a nervous wreck. After assignments, she snagged Warrick's arm as he was walking down the hallway, and dragged him with her to the locker room. After closing the door, and checking to make sure they were alone, she spoke. "How are we going to do this?"

"Sara, relax."

"Relax? There is no way Grissom is going to let us both take off the same night. Did you hear the case load tonight? We're swamped! There's no way he's going to approve it."

"Let me handle it."

Sara took a step back. "You have a plan."

"Not exactly. Look, things are busy, right? I'll fill out the paperwork for both of us, and when he's swamped, I'll nag him, and he'll shoo me away. I'll pressure him, and he'll sign it just to get me the hell out of there. Problem solved. If that doesn't work, Catherine can forge his signature, and we'll just tell him he signed them and he doesn't remember."

Sara scowled. "He isn't stupid, you know."

"No, he's brilliant. And like all brilliant people, he gets distracted by details. And you know he hates paperwork."

Sara was torn. Singing last night, with Warrick on the piano… it had been amazing. It was just her, in the spotlight, doing what she loved to do from the day she turned five. And the crowd had loved her back. They'd won open mike night. It was like a whole new door had been opened for her.

Yet her job was her first priority, and putting the needs of the job aside was difficult. She knew Thursday nights were going to be tough with both of them missing. What if it got swamped? Would they have to leave the club? That was a sure-fire way of pissing off Clemson, and a return ticket to listening to the police scanner for entertainment again.

"Okay, handle it your way. And let me know."

Warrick put his hand on her shoulder. "Sara, relax. It's okay, all right?"

"I know. It's… just… well…"

"Look, I know. It's scary, doing something new. Sharing a part of yourself with everyone like that. But, they loved you. You kicked ass, babe."

"I really did, didn't I?"

"Yes. You're good. I heard it when you were in the shower in the locker room, and I asked you to come with me last night because of it. I know talent when I hear it and babe, you've got it."

Sara smiled, tears welling in her eyes. So many compliments, and all in under twenty-four hours… Warrick saw her expression and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into himself, holding her tight while she sobbed softly. "Hey, hey… it's okay."

Sara sniffed, "I'm sorry. I'm not used to this."

He hugged her gently; amazed that she could be so confident at one moment, and so helpless the next. "Hey. I'm here. It'll be all right. C'mon, where's that tough Sara I know? The one that rips those bad guys to shreds?"

She wiped her tears away abruptly with her hand. "You're right. I can handle this. Blame it on hormones or something."

Warrick let her go with a half-chuckle. "Hey, I ain't going there."

Sara smiled in return. "Smart ass." She sighed heavily, regaining her composure. "Let me clean up a bit and I'll meet you at the scene."

He winked at her. "See you there, tough gal."

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The week flew by, and just like Warrick had said, Grissom signed the approval forms, allowing both of them Thursday nights as their night off for the next two months. The paperwork didn't extend beyond that, so they'd have to do it again eight weeks from now. However, they'd bought themselves some time to try out their new hobby.

On Sunday, Sara had gone over to Warrick's apartment to run through some of the songs they'd be singing on their first night. She'd never been to his place before, and although it was small, it fit Warrick's style. Leather sofa and recliner, huge wide-screen TV with all of the 'required' electronic paraphernalia, and minimal furnishings everywhere else. No bath rugs in the bathroom, and although it looked like Warrick had tried to clean, it truly was a single guy's apartment.

The only item that seemed out of place was the one Warrick was sitting at when she arrived. The older upright was propped against the far wall, and Warrick was idly plinking away at the keys when she'd pushed open his door. They'd practiced 15 songs, most of them upbeat, jazzy-styled melodies that they both preferred, but they threw in a couple of ballads as well. And of course, they ended their practice session with the bar's namesake.

Shift was almost over and already Sara's nerves were in high gear. She'd gone shopping after their practice session, and purchased a couple of dresses that she thought were more 'revealing' than the skirt and blouse she'd worn before. However, shopping was not her thing, and she was hesitant to ask for Catherine's help. Cath would surely want to know why Sara needed such sexy clothes, and Sara wasn't about to inform her. For now, she wanted to keep this a secret. She'd pounded that into Warrick as well, threatening bodily harm if he said one word to anyone about what they were up to. Ultimately, she knew she just had to trust him, and although he didn't know as much about her past as Grissom did, she suspected he knew enough instinctively to realize she wasn't ready for her singing to be public knowledge.

She packed up her kit for the evening, and when she opened her locker, she stepped back in surprise. Inside a light plastic garment bag was a gorgeous and incredibly expensive evening gown. It was a deep blue, with a slight shimmer to it. Sara looked around to see Warrick standing in the doorway, a look of happiness and pride on his face.

"Warrick, you shouldn't have," she said, her voice filled with emotion.

He shrugged, speaking softly. "Hey, a pretty dress for a pretty lady. I gotta make you look good if I want to bring home the dough, right?"

Sara laughed softly, taking the dress out of the locker. It was then that she noticed the long slit up the side. It most likely went clear up to her hip.

"Warrick! I can't wear this!"

"Aw, you noticed. Damn. You ruined my surprise."

… continued next chapter ->