Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not write for CBS despite how much I would like to convince them that I should. So, I do not own, I did not create, and I definitely do not profit from any of this. Shame, eh?

Rating: A light R for this entire story. I'm just saying that because you never know with me.

A/N: This is a response to a challenge Ashley bestowed upon me, somehow knowing that I would love it and take it under my wig. I'm thinking of making it a couple chapters long. It's something I always end up doing. You rock my rugby socks, girl. This is dedicated to you because we all know that tequila makes your clothes fall off.

Chapter One

"Come on, Sar," Nick whined, his accent thickened as he begged her.

He was trailing behind her as she made her way to her car, her walk brisk or else she was sure to be late for a case. It wasn't like it would take long for the wrong person to find out that the Dean of the most prestigious university in Nevada was lying dead in his own pool of blood, apparently in a rather compromising situation.

"Nicky, I have to get to this case," Sara stated, flinging open the door to the driver's side of her Denali. She met Nick straight in the eye and waited for him to plead his case.

"You never go out, Sar. It'll be just me, you, and Warrick. The old gang like the old days."

"Nick, in the old days, I wasn't exactly straying from the bottle and your asking me to go back?"

"I'm not – Sara, don't be so hard on yourself," Nick said softly, hating that their conversation was heading in this direction.

"Well, it's true."

"It's just a night out with the guys. I'll even invite Greggo if this is what this is all about."

His grin was lopsided and the one that Sara had grown to love over the years. The smile broke her down and made her succumb to anything Nick wanted.

"Fine. I'll come," she said dully, feigning boredom as she slid into the driver's seat.

Nick closed the door for her and waited as Sara rolled down the window. He crossed his arms and rested them on the sill of the driver's window, peering up at Sara with his trademark smirk.

"You'll know you'll have a good time."

Sara started the engine before gripping the steering wheel and staring straight ahead, purposely half ignoring Nick just to frustrate him.

"You gunna wear something nice?" he drawled, raising his eyebrows at her suggestively when she looked at him.

"Are you?" she asked pointedly.

"I'll wear my best Stetson. How's that?"

"Nicky, you don't even wear cowboy hats," Sara remarked casually, smirking at him when he shrugged. "Not that I'd complain if you did."

He raised one eyebrow and suddenly looked more intrigue than he had a few moments ago. "You like cowboy hats?"

Chuckling, Sara nodded and added dreamily for affect, "Something about a man in a cowboy hat… how could a girl say no?"

"Say 'no' to what, exactly?"

She looked at him evenly with a stoic expression. "What do you think, Nicky?"

"I –"

"Don't answer that," she said, cutting him off. "I'm going to be late if I entertain you any longer."

"I'll pick you up at eight?"

"Where we going exactly?"

"It's a surprise."

"I want to know what I should wear," she reasoned simply.

"Sara Sidle actually thinking about what to wear?" Nick said just to annoy her.

The comment received a punch in the arm but Nick didn't mind. She hadn't even hit him that hard that time. It was worth seeing her frazzled for a second or two.

"I told you already. Dress nice."

"If you're wearing your best Stetson, am I going to have to wear my best jean skirt and put my hair in pigtails?"

"How old are you, ten? You think 'Rick would actually let me drag him to a country bar? Or Greg for that matter?"

Shrugging, she replied, "You never know."

"I'll see you eight."

"Yeah, see you then."

Nick took a large step away from the Denali so that she could pull out of her parking stall. He watched her head out of the parking lot and speed down the end of the street until she drove out of sight. He rubbed the side of his unshaven face with his hand and wondered exactly how the night was going to turn out.

Sure enough, Sara's doorbell rang at eight o'clock sharp. Nervously, she fixed her hair in the mirror that was in her hallway. Looking with apprehension at the door and knowing full well who was behind it waiting for her, Sara pursed her lips together and then slid them across one another, the usual way of spreading lipstick evenly.

Letting out a rather large sigh that only helped melt a bit of her fear, Sara strode to the door with her head held, her own way of being defiant of her nerves. She wasn't sure why she was acting so silly. It wasn't a date. Warrick and Greg were supposed to be there as well.

Sara unlocked and opened the door, letting the cool night air shock her senses when a familiar scent was carried on it. Looking from his feet, which were clad in cowboy boots, up his denim clad legs and over his torso that was covered in a slightly fitting black t-shirt, Sara swallowed hard and then met his eyes. He was wearing a light brown Stetson.

"You said we weren't going to a country bar!"

"We aren't," he grinned at her, not hiding the fact that he was clearly checking her out.

"So why are you dressed like that?"

"Because I wanted to see if what you said was true?"

"And what did I say?" she asked, grabbing her coat off the hanger.

As she pulled her coat over her arms and shoulders, she closed the door behind her, never breaking eye contact with the Texan across from her. Keys in hand, she locked the door and followed him down the steps to where his car was parked.

"Something about a woman not being able to say 'no' to a man wearing a cowboy hat."

"Oh," she mumbled, beginning to blush, not even noticing that Nick had opened the door for her. "Yeah, that."

Smirking, he rounded the front of the car while Sara sat in her seat, fiddling with the hem of her skirt. True to her word, though it was in humor, she wore her best jean skirt that hugged her hips and came a couple of inches above her knees. On her feet were wedge heels that she could walk in easily since they weren't too high or else she would have definitely tripped down the stairs.

"So Nicky, where are we meeting Warrick and Greggo?"

"Um, we're not meeting them anywhere."

"I thought they were coming?"

"Well, Greg apparently has a date with the new receptionist and Warrick said that he doesn't drink or have fun any more."

"He didn't say that."

"No, he's working a double."

"You're an idiot," she breathed, rolling her eyes as she stared out the window.

There was a brief moment of silence as Nick drove and Sara tried to ignore the cowboy hat that was thrown casually on the backseat. She could see it out of the corner of her eye and she had an urge to grab it and put it back on his head. Luckily for her, she had self-control.

"You look nice," he said, breaking the stillness in the car.

"You told me to be."

"Doesn't mean you'll listen."

"That's true."

She paused and looked down at her sleeveless black shirt, the fabric bunching purposely at the shoulders and at the plunging neckline.

"Are you sure I'm not over dressed? You did say we're going to a bar, right?"

"It's also a kind of club."

"So we're going to a club? Where people dance… to music?"

"Yeah," he chuckled, glancing at her as he drove, "ever heard of those?"

"Well, yeah."

"Ever been to one?"

"Once."

"You've only been to a club once?"

"Maybe twice. I don't know."

"Girl, I've got to take you out more."

It was then that they pulled into a parking lot with lots of cars already there. Sara tried to look at the building but there really wasn't much to it. There was no cliché bouncer, picking and choosing who came and went, or neon lights saying the club's name. Sara thought she heard music but she wasn't sure..

The two of them got out of the car and as they made their way to the front door, Nick reached out a took Sara's hand, knowing full well that this wasn't going to be her typical scene despite how easy-going and fun-loving she could be at times.

"I'll be all right," Sara said simply, giving the man beside her a reassuring smile in hopes that it would stop him from feeling the need to baby her. She was there to have fun with her coworker, to have a couple of drinks, and then go home. Alone.

"I know. I'm just marking my territory," he stated as they stepped through the door and into the nightlife of typical Las Vegas.

"What did you say?" she asked. She hadn't heard him since he said something the second that they walked through the door, loud music assaulting their ears.

"Nothing," he called back.

Walking by a speaker wasn't ideal, so they made their way through the hoards of people on the dance floor. Nick noticed a bar on the other side of the large room while Sara pointed out that there were smaller spaces, cubicles almost but a little classier, where people were sitting, having drinks. Pulling Sara by her hand that was linked with his, Nick led her to an empty booth, away from the music and away from the people who were dancing to the energetic music.

"Where'd you hear about this place?" Sara questioned as she slid alone the leather booth seat that was in the shape of a semicircle.

"Greg."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"He might show up here with his date or so he tried to tell me."

"Angela would go to a place like this?"

"Hey, we're here aren't we?" pointed out Nick.

"Yeah, what does that say about us?"

Nick smiled at her and was glad that they had settled in with each other easily. He almost half expected for a slight awkward beginning or some point but so far, he hadn't found it and would be happy all night if there weren't one.

"I'm going to get us something to drink," he announced.

"Oh, I'll have – "

"Whatever I bring back," he responded with his smirk, sliding out of the booth.

"Nick, just make sure it's not – "

It was too late, however. The crowd of dancing people already engulfed Nick and Sara was left alone, hoping that he didn't come back with her particular brand of torture.