A/N: I am a horrible person. ScullyAsTrinity wrote and posted her chapter a month ago, and I'm just writing this now. She is ridiculously patient with me.

It had been a rough week, for both of them – pulling several doubles, barely getting to see one another. Finally, they both had a night off from work. After sleeping in all day, they woke up around five and lazed about the house until Grissom felt antsy.

He scanned the newspaper, looking for something fun to do. Unfortunately, the classiest offering in Las Vegas that week was a musical version of Dude, Where's My Car. Finally, he suggested that they see a movie.

Sara looked up from her forensics journal, furrowing her brow. "A movie? What kind?"

"I heard there's a new one out with Brad Cruise, where he plays a forensic investigator."

It was always kind of sad when Grissom tried to follow pop culture. "Griss, you know I hate watching movies like that. They get everything wrong. It's frustrating."

He shrugged. "Nobody's perfect. And it just so happens, those movies are generating a public interest in our field. Juries are more apt to listen to our testimonies now than ever before. Plus–" He waggled his eyebrows. "I heard Brad Cruise shows his butt in this one. And Matt Clooney plays his best friend… he's a babe, right?"

"Stop, before you hurt yourself. I'll go, but on one condition."

"Shoot."

"We have to sit through the whole thing. If we leave early, you…" She racked her brain for a suitable punishment. "You have to give me a pedicure. A deluxe pedicure."

Grissom was not a foot man, not by any means. But Sara's weren't hideous, and he knew he could certainly make it through a two-hour movie. "All right. You've got a deal."

They shook on it.

"Where are his gloves?" Grissom whispered, staring at the screen. "And who processes scenes without a shirt on?"

"I told you," she hissed back. "Should I get my foot scrub ready?"

"No, I'm not leaving… I'm just–" He winced as the heartthrob placed evidence in a cloth bag. "Just saying."

From the looks of things, the show was sold out – he'd been right about the public's burgeoning interest in forensic investigation. They'd been lucky to find two seats together. Grissom grabbed an obscenely large handful of popcorn, stuffing his face in the appalling manner which only seems normal under the dark cover of a movie theater.

Damn, the dashing man onscreen swore. I've gotten some of this evidence on my clothes. That means that… my clothes are now evidence. I'll have to process the rest of this scene… naked.

Grissom began to choke on his popcorn as Sara thumped him across his back soundly. The other people in the audience watched, enthralled, as the intrepid investigator began swabbing and dusting in the buff.

"This is absurd!" Grissom whispered between coughs.

"Actually, it's brilliant," she said, smirking at the screen. "Nude crime scenes. I'm telling you, this will catch on."

"Will not," he shot back.

Oh, my goodness, gasped a buxom blonde woman as she walked in on the attractively crouched figure of the buck-naked CSI. What in the world is going on here?

I got evidence on my clothes, he replied seriously.

You are so dedicated, she said lustily, shedding her own clothes and running into his embrace, still wearing her stiletto heels.

At this point, Grissom's head was in his hands, and Sara was laughing out loud.

"It's not funny!" he protested. "Look at that, she's bracing her hands against the piano – he never did get around to dusting that. They're destroying evidence, and–"

I have an idea, the screen star said suddenly. We know that the victim was tied up with this rope before he killed her. Why don't I tie you up with this same rope while we make love, and you'll be able to understand the victim better?

You're brilliant, the woman cooed. You should really write a forensics manual.

"Hey… you want to leave?" Sara asked him quietly, taking in the sight of Grissom's tightly clenched fists and wondering what exactly his pulse rate was at now.

"No, it's okay. I can do this." He began to breathe easier as the love scene ended. "I can do this. Yeah. Okay."

They watched as the investigators arrived at a new crime scene.

"That corpse is pretty accurate-looking," Sara said, trying to ignore the fact that the body was still breathing.

"I guess."

The studly cinematic CSI bent over the dead body, peering at it closely.

See anything interesting? asked his blonde cohort, thrusting out her chest unneccessarily.

It's hard to figure out time of death, he answered, squinting and pursing his lips. There's been extensive insect contamination. I'll have to get rid of them to look closer. With that, he started brushing the bugs off the corpse, stomping on them and kicking them away as the woman swooned.

They went out to dinner with Catherine and Warrick the following night.

"Fabulous dress," Catherine whispered to Sara as they made their way to a table in the crowded restaurant. "And your toes look fantastic in those sandals. Where do you find the time to get a pedicure?"

"Oh, I manage. So, seen any good movies lately?"