Just the Fics, Ma'am

FF: Tongue-Tied

2007-01-03T22:13:04Z

Title: Tongue-Tied

Author: Dana

Rating: CSI - 3

Disclaimers: I don't own anything. I'm just borrowing the characters.

Summary: Maybe being tongue-tied isn't such a bad thing...

Spoilers: None

A/N: I have no beta, so any mistakes are mine.

For my beautiful Ace. Happy birthday!

***

I looked away quickly, embarrassed that she'd caught me staring at her. I tried to focus on the experiment, but because she was there, I didn't have much luck.

A couple of weeks ago, I'd told her about an experiment I wanted to do. I was surprised when she offered to help, but I gladly accepted. The experiment was work-related, but required more time than could be allotted during a regular shift. So she gave up her day off to work overtime on my experiment.

Since we were just going to be in the lab, I told her to wear casual clothes.

It was because of her in those casual clothes that I had difficulty concentrating. I'd seen her in casual clothes before, but there was just something different about her this time.

I waited a few moments before I snuck another peek at her. Our eyes met, she smirked, and I looked away again, berating myself for being caught staring at her twice in less than a minute.

Then she stood, the metal legs of the stool she'd been sitting on scraping against the floor. It took three seconds for her to be at my side.

"Something I can help you with?" Her lower back rested against the edge of the counter, and she crossed her arms in front of her.

I glanced at her for a split-second, but it was long enough to get a good view of the area above her crossed arms.

"I was just going over the breast--rest of the details."

I can't believe I said that.

She smirked amusedly, but didn't comment right away. I could feel her looking at me, and that only made my embarrassment increase.

I jumped when the backs of her fingers came into contact with the heated skin of my cheek.

"You're so hot, Gil!" she exclaimed, glancing at my eyes to see how I'd react.

Leave it to Catherine to make a game out of my embarrassing glances and verbal blunders.

I shifted away from her touch and muttered something about it being too warm in the lab.

Finally, she went back to her part of the experiment, and I returned to mine.

We worked in silence for nearly an hour before she got up to stretch. As she stretched, she turned, and I couldn't tear my eyes away from her backside. I've always liked it when she wears jeans.

It was then I realized I'd been caught again. Her back still to me, she looked over her shoulder and grinned.

I wracked my brain for an excuse as to why I was staring in her direction. "I was just looking for some tush--push pins."

"Oh, okay," she laughed. "And why do you need tush..." she paused, imitating my verbal miscue. "...push pins?"

"In case I need to pin something to the wall."

That didn't come out right. I was utterly tongue-tied. I closed my eyes, rubbed my face, and sighed, trying to regain some composure.

She laughed again, then went right back to the experiment as if nothing had happened.

Somehow, we managed to finish the experiment, but I barely remember going through all the steps.

We cleaned the work stations and left the lab together. I walked her to her car and waited while she unlocked the door. Her hand rested on the door handle, but the door remained shut.

"Thank you for helping with the experiment."

"Just don't forget to sign my overtime sheet," she replied with a grin.

"I won't."

She hesitated before continuing. "Gil, about what happened inside...are you okay?"

Just when I thought I'd escaped that conversation...

"You're fine. I mean, I am. I'm fine."

I'd done it again! I hoped she hadn't heard the first part, but I could tell from her smirk--the same one she'd had earlier--that, once again, my tongue-tied Freudian slip had not gone unnoticed.

"You sure are," she replied with a grin.

"Huh?" was the only thing I managed to get out before her lips were on mine, and she was pulling me against her.

There was a 'thud' as her backside connected with her car, but she tried to pull me closer. I was so stunned by the action that I forgot to respond until I felt her pushing me away.

She reached for the door handle. "I shouldn't have done that, Gil. I just thought after all that flirting inside..."

I took hold of her hand and removed it from the handle, gently letting it fall by her side. Suddenly, I wasn't scared of holding her gaze, and I looked deep into her blue eyes. My hands brushed her shoulders, then landed flat against the car, effectively trapping her.

"Catherine..."

"Don't..."

I silenced her words with a kiss as I pressed into her. When the kiss ended, we were both breathless.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," I told her.

"Then what took so long?"

"I didn't know if you wanted to."

"I did...do. I do," she whispered as she grinned and pulled me down for another kiss.

My right hand slid down her side and came to rest on her backside. She sighed happily as we continued to kiss.

When we broke apart, she grinned mischievously. "Is this what you'd call a 'tush pin?' "

"It's one definition of the term," I replied teasingly.

"Then I'm guessing we need to examine the other definitions."

"Most definitely," I agreed.

Our lips met again, and I still couldn't believe we were actually kissing.

Whatever reservations I had about really being with Catherine were gone. I'm not going to be tongue-tied around her anymore.

At that moment, her tongue eagerly slipped into my mouth. That brought a new meaning to the phrase 'tongue-tied.' One that I like much, much better.

Maybe being tongue-tied isn't such a bad thing.

~Finis

FF: Yuletide Yearnings

2007-01-03T22:11:24Z

Title: Yuletide Yearnings

Author: Dana

Rating: CSI - 3

Disclaimers: I don't own anything. I'm just borrowing the characters.

Summary: “Isn’t it a little clichéd to consummate a relationship on Christmas?”

Spoilers: None

A/N: I have no beta, so any mistakes are mine. My apologies that this is so short. I really tried to write a little Christmassy somethin’-somethin’, but, alas, my writing tank was empty.

For the Graveyard's 2006 Twelve Days of Christmas Challenge, Day 8 (December 21). Happy Holidays, everyone!

***

Catherine stretched out on the couch, her head in Gil’s lap. As they lounged, they gazed at the glittering lights of the Christmas tree in the corner of the room.

It was a rarity for both of them to have the same shift off and even rarer that it would be Christmas Eve. For once, the crimes in Las Vegas were at a minimum.

He slowly ran his fingers through her hair, and her eyes slipped shut as she shivered at the sensation.

“Cold?”

“Mmm. No,” she sighed. A few moments passed before she continued. “What took us so long to start dating?”

His hand stilled. “Ignorance, timidity, fear of losing our friendship…”

“It was a rhetorical question, but thanks for clearing that up,” she replied. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter; we’re together now.”

“And that alone makes this the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

“Aw, you’re sweet,” she said, sitting up.

She turned sideways on the couch and leaned toward him for a kiss. Something about the kiss was different from all the ones they’d shared before. There was something magical, something extraordinary, something sensual.

She pulled back slightly, then essentially draped herself over his body to get a better angle for their kissing to continue. She slid her hands under his shirt, loving the feeling of his skin on her fingertips.

“Wait,” he stopped her.

“What is it?”

“We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” she asked, her brows furrowing.

“I…we…”

“Are you saying you don’t want to make love tonight?” she asked, moving back to her previous position on the couch.

“Yes. No. Damn it, I don’t know what I’m saying,” he said frustrated. “Isn’t it a little clichéd to consummate a relationship on Christmas? I mean, the only time it would be more clichéd is Valentine’s Day. I just want our first time to be special. Well, not just the first time; all the times. I mean, assuming there will be more times.”

She let him finish his ramblings before she spoke. “Gil, every time we make love will be special because we’re together. But I understand if you’re not ready.” She smiled and placed her hand reassuringly on his arm.

“I’m sorry, Cath. I’m not very good at this.”

“You’re fine, Gil.”

Then he abruptly stood and pulled her into his arms.

“What…” she gasped.

“You’re right. It shouldn’t matter what day it is. The fact is that I love you, and you deserve to be shown how much.”

“Don’t feel like you have to…”

The rest of her words were lost as his lips crashed onto hers.

When he broke the kiss, he breathlessly panted, “I want to. And hopefully, you do, too.”

She grinned as her eyes sparkled. “I do.”

Afterward, they were still tangled as sleep threatened.

“Pinch me,” Catherine uttered.

“Why, does that turn you on? You wore me out, though, and I don’t think I can go again.”

“I just want to make sure this isn’t a dream.”

He slowly entwined their hands and placed them on his chest so she could feel his racing heartbeat. “It’s definitely not a dream, Cath,” he assured her.

“Mmm…It is,” she murmured as sleep invaded further. “A dream come true. Love you. Merry Christmas.”

“The merriest.” He sighed contentedly, certain they’d made the right decision by acting on their yuletide yearnings.

~Finis

FF: Cookie Calamity

2007-01-03T22:09:25Z

Title: Cookie Calamity

Author: Dana

Rating: Trainee

Disclaimers: I don't own anything. I'm just borrowing the characters.

Summary: “It’s a good thing you’re a CSI and not a baker!”

Spoilers: None, although this takes place when Lindsey was between eight and ten.

A/N: I have no beta, so any mistakes are mine.

For the Graveyard's 2006 Twelve Days of Christmas Challenge, Day 7 (December 20). Happy Holidays, everyone!

***

Catherine and Lindsey Willows had a Christmas tradition. No matter how tough Catherine’s work schedule was, she always managed to get a few days off to spend with Lindsey. One day was set aside solely for baking cookies. And each of the previous baking days had ended the same—with burnt cookies and exhausted Willows women. They always had fun, though, despite the kitchen fiascos.

This year, however, Catherine was determined to keep the cookies edible.

***

“Rise and shine,” Catherine called to Lindsey. “It’s time to start baking!”

Lindsey mumbled and rolled over so her back was to Catherine.

“Come on, Lindsey. We don’t have all day!”

Although Lindsey was under the covers, Catherine heard her giggle.

“We do have all day, Mom,” Lindsey finally replied. “We do this every year, and it takes all day.”

“Okay, wise one,” Catherine grinned. “That still doesn’t mean you can go back to sleep.”

When Lindsey didn’t make an effort to get up, Catherine stepped closer to the bed.

“I do know where your ticklish spots are,” Catherine told her in a sing-song voice. “I’m getting closer…”

Lindsey was already in a fit of giggles before Catherine touched her. “I’m up, I’m up! Don’t tickle me!” Lindsey squealed.

“Works every time,” Catherine laughed.

Minutes later, they were in the kitchen ready to start on the cookies. Lindsey found the ingredients as Catherine read them off the recipe card.

“Can’t we get the ones that you just put in the oven?” Lindsey asked, holding a pile of ingredients.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Catherine joked.

“At least those don’t hurt your teeth when you bite them,” Lindsey replied.

“Hey!”

Lindsey giggled. “I’m just kidding, Mom.”

Lindsey put the ingredients on the counter and waited while Catherine got the mixing bowl.

“Can I stir?” Lindsey asked.

“Sure. We just have to get all the stuff in there first.”

They followed the recipe carefully and got the ingredients in the bowl so Lindsey could mix them. Then they put some of the batter on the cookie sheet and slid it into the oven.

Ten minutes later, Catherine smelled something she’d become accustomed to on their baking day—burnt cookies.

“Oh no!” she cried, as she rushed to the oven. She pulled open the door and dark smoke billowed out into the kitchen.

“Not again!” Lindsey yelped.

Catherine quickly removed the ruined cookies from the oven and put them on the cooling rack, even though they wouldn’t be eaten. She sighed and shook her head as she took off the oven mitt.

“Shall we try it again?” she finally asked Lindsey.

“Yes. But this time, try not to burn them!”

“Okay,” Catherine laughed. “We’ll try a shorter time.”

More batter went on the next cookie sheet, and the cookies were in the oven for seven minutes. When Catherine pulled them from the oven, they were too gooey, so she put them back in the oven. Once again, however, the cookies burned.

“Mom! You were supposed to *not* burn them!”

“I know, I know.” Catherine took the second sheet of burnt cookies from the oven and put them on the rack with the first burnt batch. “Okay, we’ll try one more time.”

They had just put the batter on the last cookie sheet when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” Lindsey yelled as she raced for the door.

“Make sure you see who it is!” Catherine called to her.

“It’s Uncle Gil!” Lindsey said as she excitedly opened the door.

He wasn’t completely through the door before she hugged him tightly.

“Hi, Lindsey!” he replied as he returned the hug. “Where’s your mom?”

“In the kitchen,” Lindsey told him as she pulled him behind her.

“Hey, Gil,” Catherine greeted him. “Is something wrong?”

“No.”

“Then why are you here?”

He grinned. “Well, I knew you’d be burning cookies about now…”

Lindsey laughed as Catherine made a face.

Gil looked around and got a glimpse of the burnt cookies on the rack. “It’s a good thing you’re a CSI and not a baker!”

“Oh, shut up,” she said as she playfully snapped him with the dishtowel.

He smiled and quirked an eyebrow.

“So, what are you doing here?” Catherine asked again.

“I was in the neighborhood…”

“You live on the other side of town.”

“That’s just a technicality.”

It was Catherine’s turn to quirk an eyebrow.

“Okay, fine,” he gave in. “I knew you’d be working hard, so I thought I’d stop by with lunch.” He held up a paper bag.

“What’s in the other bag?” Lindsey asked.

“Dessert.”

“Cookies?” Lindsey asked hopeful.

“Perhaps,” Gil replied. “But we have to eat lunch first.”

“Mom, can we eat lunch now?”

On cue, Catherine’s stomach growled, and they all laughed.

After lunch, Lindsey eagerly tore into the cookies—the ones Gil brought. She handed Gil and Catherine one each and kept the rest for herself.

Catherine bit into the cookie, amazed by everything about it. “This is the best cookie I’ve ever had. You have to give me the recipe, Gil.”

“You sure you won’t burn it?” he smirked.

“I said I liked baking, not that I was good at it,” she responded.

“Oh, okay,” Gil grinned. “Here’s what you do. You go to the store, and in the refrigerated section, there’s pre-packaged cookie dough…”

~Finis~

FF: A Christmas to Remember

2006-12-14T21:38:16Z

Title: A Christmas to Remember

Author: Dana

Rating: CSI - 1 / PG

Disclaimers: I don't own anything. I'm just borrowing the characters. I obviously don't own the lines from the movies, ‘A Christmas Carol’ or ‘It’s a Wonderful Life.’ I’m just borrowing them because they fit.

Summary: Catherine won’t forget this Christmas.

Spoilers: None

A/N: I have no beta, so any mistakes are mine.

For the 2006 Twelve Days of Christmas Challenge, Day 1 (December 14). Merry Christmas, everyone!

***

Catherine Willows sighed heavily as she shut her locker door and momentarily leaned against it. It was Christmas Eve morning, and she’d worked more overtime in the past two weeks than she’d ever worked before. She was past the point of exhaustion, and all she wanted to do was go home and sleep for a few hours so she’d be somewhat prepared for the exuberance Lindsey always exhibited on the 24th and 25th of December.

She left the locker room and was almost to the exit when a normally soothing male voice called her name. He’d only said her name, yet she could tell by the tone of his voice that he was not just being sociable. She momentarily considered ignoring the man, but quickly banished the thought and turned to face him.

“Gil.”

“Catherine. Glad I caught you. I didn’t think you heard me.”

“Loud and clear,” she said, actually finding enough energy to smile at him.

“Good. Look, I know you were leaving, but I’ve got a scene I need you to take.”

A look of disbelief washed over her face as she processed what he’d just said.

“You’re joking, right? I mean, I’m nearly maxed out on overtime, and I’ve got a daughter at home who I barely see because I spend the majority of my waking hours here. It’s Christmas Eve, for crying out loud! I should already be at home with Lindsey.”

“Crime doesn’t take a holiday, Catherine.”

Hot, angry tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but she somehow managed to keep them at bay.

“You know, this is just like you,” she seethed. “You’ve got no family here so it doesn’t matter whether or not you work on holidays. Well, it matters to me, Gil.”

More tears had accumulated, but she refused to let him see her cry. She sighed heavily, her anger increasing.

“We don’t even have a Christmas tree this year because I didn’t have time to put one up. And you know why I didn’t have time? Because I’ve been here, working my ass off for you! I’d hoped to get home and sleep for a couple of hours, then put up a small tree, just so there’d be something. But now there’s no sleep, no tree, and I can’t even begin to imagine how upset Lindsey will be.”

“It’s just a B and E; it won’t take long. Then you can be on your way.”

“A B and E. You’re serious?”

“Very. And the longer we stand here discussing this, the less time you’ll have with Lindsey.”

“Fine,” she said through gritted teeth as she took the paper from him. “Is that all?”

“One last thing,” he replied. “Merry Christmas.”

“Bah, humbug!” she muttered as she turned and walked away from him, exiting the building into the brisk morning air.

***

As she drove to the site of the breaking and entering, she fumed. She couldn't remember when, or if, she'd been that mad at Gil. She wasn't mad that he'd asked her to do her job; she was mad because he didn't seem to care that she had a daughter waiting at home.

She looked at the clock on the dash and decided that Lindsey would still be asleep. She had a slight bit of hope that she could process the scene quickly, get the evidence back to the lab, and get home before Lindsey got too upset.

She approached the address that was listed on the paper Gil had given her, but instead of finding a scene that needed processing, all she found was an abandoned building. If there was a breaking and entering at that address, it was a long time ago. Puzzled, Catherine pulled off the road and turned on the interior light so she could look at the paper again. She checked the address on the paper against the address on the abandoned building, and sure enough, they were the same.

She sighed in frustration and pulled her cell phone from her bag. She tried Gil's office but got no answer. When she dialed his cell, he answered after the second ring.

"Finished already?" he greeted her cheerfully.

"Haven't even started. I can't find the crime scene."

"What do you mean?"

"You must have given me the wrong address, Gil. There's nothing here but an abandoned building. Judging from the places around it, it used to be a store."

"Hmm. I double-checked the address. Is there any activity nearby? Someone you could ask?"

She looked down the road in the direction she came from, but all the shops were bathed in darkness. About half a mile in front of her, she saw a light on in one storefront. "Just one place," she informed him, rubbing her already sore neck.

"Okay, check it out, and then call me back."

She didn't even bother with the formality of a spoken goodbye.

She tossed the phone back in her bag and turned off the interior lights. She pulled out into the road and drove the half mile to the lighted store, which, actually, was a 24-hour diner that remained open, even on holidays. There were only three other vehicles in the parking lot as Catherine parked and entered the diner. As she pulled open the door, a set of bells above her head jingled, alerting those in the diner to her presence.

"Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings," the heavy-set, gray-haired, woman behind the counter said in greeting.

"You and your angels, Mae," one of the patrons teasingly called to her.

"Oh, Joe. It's because of those angels that I'm still alive. So I'm gonna make sure a whole bunch of angels are getting their wings," she replied in a light, albeit matter-of-fact, tone. Then she turned her attention to Catherine and smiled. "Merry Christmas, Honey. What can I get for you?"

"Hopefully some information. I'm Catherine Willows with the Las Vegas Crime Lab. My supervisor sent me out here to process a crime scene, but there's not one at the address he gave me.”

“Huh. I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Maybe he transposed some numbers, and I've got the wrong place. Have you noticed anything strange around here recently?"

Mae slightly leaned on the counter, her eyebrows crinkled in thought. "Can't say that I have. Everything's been pretty quiet. I'm the only one open on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. People have got to eat, and I don't have family nearby..."

"What about us?" another male asked.

"You didn't let me finish, Junior," Mae replied. "I don't have any family nearby, except for the diner regulars. And no one should be alone on Christmas, so I work."

A wave of sadness rolled over Catherine as she thought about her tree-less house and her saddened daughter.

"Oh, Honey!" Mae exclaimed. "That's not a good face. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Catherine quickly replied, forcing the thoughts and feelings back inside. "Are you sure nothing's happened? Not even something minor?"

"Nope. It's all been running like clockwork."

"Okay, well, thanks for your time," Catherine sighed. She dug in her bag for a business card, and when she finally found one, she handed it to Mae. “This is my card. If you do see anything, I’d appreciate a call.”

Mae took the card and glanced at it through the bottom part of her bifocals. "Wish I could've helped, Honey," she said, putting the card in the pocket on the front of her apron.

"That's okay," Catherine replied as she smiled weakly and turned toward the door.

"Merry Christmas," Mae called out to Catherine.

"Merry Christmas," Catherine responded, although there was nothing to indicate merriment in her tone.

The bells above the door jingled as Catherine pushed opened the door, and Mae repeated the phrase about the angels. At least someone had some Christmas cheer.

Catherine climbed into the SUV and started the engine before she called Gil again.

"Grissom," he answered.

"It's me. I just left the store--diner. It was a diner. I talked to a waitress, who apparently is the owner, but she said that nothing had happened."

"That's strange," he replied.

She sighed before she continued. “She said things had been quiet; nothing out of the ordinary. And there was nothing indicating a crime scene of any kind within blocks of the address you gave me.” She paused and pressed the phone closer to her ear. "Gil, are you listening to Christmas music?"

"Yes," he answered simply. "Why?"

"It's just unusual for you; that's all."

"Well, it's not like I listen to just one music genre. Besides, there's no better time to get into the holiday spirit than the day of."

"I'm so glad you've got enough energy to celebrate," she said sarcastically.

"Catherine, I'm sorry about the miscommunication. I'll make it up to you. For now, just go home, and spend some time with Lindsey."

He sounded like he halfway cared.

"Finally," she muttered under her breath.

"Hey, Cath?"

"Yes?"

"Merry Christmas."

The barest hint of a smile pulled at the corners of her mouth as she voiced Christmas wishes to him.

***

She arrived home absolutely drained. She wanted to climb into bed and sleep for days. Realistically, though, she knew she'd only get to sleep a few hours—even fewer since Gil had sent her on that wild goose chase. She unlocked the front door and pushed it open. Bells jingled overhead. She cocked her head to the side as she remembered Mae's words. She didn't have time to contemplate why jingle bells were over the door, because Lindsey, wearing a Christmas sweater and jeans, walked into the foyer.

"You know, Mom," Lindsey stated. “Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings."

Catherine's brows furrowed, and she stared at Lindsey, sure that she had said that phrase out of pure coincidence.

"Are you okay?" Lindsey asked.

"Yes, I'm fine. It's just been a long night." She shook her head, trying to clear the imaginary cobwebs. "You look wonderful, Sweetheart, but what are you doing up so early?"

Lindsey beamed at the compliment, but laughed at the last part of Catherine's sentence. "It's after ten. If this was a school day, I'd have already been up for five hours."

"Ah, good point," Catherine said, pausing as she heard a familiar Christmas tune. “That’s strange," Catherine thought aloud.

“What is?” Lindsey asked.

“That song was playing when I talked to Gil. Oh well. It’s probably just a coincidence.”

Lindsey hid a smile as she took Catherine's hand and led her from the foyer into the den. There, Catherine gasped as she saw the small, but elegantly decorated, Christmas tree. Tears welled in her eyes as she admired the shimmery evergreen. "How did you do all of this?" Catherine asked when she finally found her voice.

Lindsey glanced over Catherine's shoulder, and Catherine turned to see what Lindsey was looking at.

Gil stood there smiling. "She had a little help."

Catherine's hand flew to her mouth as more tears filled her eyes. "You... How did you...?"

"Very carefully," he said, still smiling. "It all had to run like clockwork."

“Clockwork?” Catherine whispered. Then realization hit. “Wait. You set this whole thing up? You,” she said to Gil, “you,” she addressed Lindsey, “and…Mae?”

Catherine’s gaze returned to Gil, who beamed.

“The bells, the angel-gets-its-wings quote, the song, and the line about clockwork. You set me up! There was no crime scene; it was all a ruse to keep me away from here so the two of you could do this.”

“Busted,” Gil stated.

“Merry Christmas, Mom,” Lindsey said as she hugged Catherine tightly.

Happy tears rolled down her cheeks as she returned her daughter’s hug. “Yes, Merry Christmas, Sweetheart. Thank you so much. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Lindsey replied.

Gil watched as they embraced and was suddenly filled with joy.

When Lindsey pulled from Catherine’s hug, Catherine caught Gil’s gaze. “You know, if I wasn’t so touched, I’d be incredibly mad at you.”

He smiled. “I’ve seen you mad, so I’m glad you’re touched.”

Another thought crossed Catherine’s mind. “Oh, Gil! The stuff I said to you at the lab!”

“Don’t worry about it. You were stressed and tired.”

“I still shouldn’t have said those things to you. I’m so sorry.”

“Sending you to a B and E on Christmas Eve—I probably deserved it.”

“Yeah, you did,” she laughed.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you,” he said.

“You said that earlier, but you’ve more than made up for it already.”

They smiled at each other, and she stepped into his embrace.

“Merry Christmas, Catherine.”

That was the third time he’d said that to her, and the third time proved to be the charm. She smiled into his chest. “It certainly is. Merry Christmas to you, too. And thank you for everything. You’ll never know how much this means to me.”

She stepped back from him slightly and raised up on her toes so she could kiss his cheek.

“Okay, you can stop right there,” Lindsey declared. “Any more of that mushy-mushy stuff will completely ruin Christmas.”

“Maybe for you,” Catherine grinned. “But for me, this is definitely a Christmas to remember.”

~Finis~

FF: Trick or Treat

2006-12-06T22:19:57Z

Title: Trick or Treat

Rating: CSI-2 to be safe

Disclaimers: I don't own anything. I'm just borrowing the characters for a bit.

Summary: Trick or treat...

Spoilers: None, although this takes place when Lindsey was young.

A/N: I have no beta, so any mistakes are mine.

***

"Mom, do you think he'll like my costume?"

"Honey, he'll love it because he loves you."

Lindsey rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips--moves she'd probably picked up from me. "That's something only a mom would say."

"Well, I believe I fit that description," I said, mimicking her moves.

"Mom!" Lindsey erupted into a fit of giggles.

"Lindsey!" I joined in with my own giggles. "Are you ready to go?" I asked, once our giggles had subsided.

"Yep," Lindsey replied. "I've got my pumpkin and my ghost, so I'm ready." She held a plastic Halloween container in each hand.

"Just because you take both of them doesn't mean Gil will give you two treats."

"Yes, it does. I'm his favorite kid," she said proudly.

I couldn't help but smile.

***

When we got to Gil's townhouse, Lindsey was incredibly excited and raced ahead of me to ring the doorbell.

Gil opened the door a few moments later.

"Trick or treat!" Lindsey yelled.

"Well, hello to you, too!" Gil replied as he stepped aside and let Lindsey pass.

Gil waited for me by the door, and kissed my temple in greeting. I smiled, enjoying the small display of affection.

As he shut the door behind us, Lindsey tugged on his hand.

"Guess what I am! Guess what I am!" she exclaimed. She turned in a circle so he could examine her costume.

He looked at the stuffed black socks sewn to her long-sleeved black shirt, and pretended to think for a moment. "A tarantula?"

"Yes!" Lindsey stated as she jumped with delight. "I made it all by myself."

"All by yourself?" Gil asked.

"Well, Mom helped a little. She paid for the stuff and sewed it."

His eyes flashed to mine and he smiled. "I like it. You both did a good job."

"Thanks!" Lindsey replied. Not one to waste a second, she changed the subject. "I'm hungry. What's for dinner?"

"Tarantulas usually eat crickets," Gil told her.

"Yuck! I'm not eating crickets!" Lindsey proclaimed as she made a face.

"Then how about spaghetti?" he asked.

"I love spaghetti!" she said as she took off for the kitchen.

Gil and I stole a quick kiss, then followed Lindsey into the kitchen.

After dinner, I told Lindsey to get her stuff together because it was a school night and she needed to get to bed.

"Wait," Gil called when we were almost to the door. "You forgot your treat."

Lindsey raced back to him as he held out a large bag of candy.

"I don't know which one to pick," Lindsey said.

"You don't have to pick. They're all yours."

"Really? Mom never gives me candy! Thanks!" She took the bag from him and gave him a hug. "Mom, can I have one now?" she asked as she walked back to me.

"One," I said. "But you have to brush your teeth and go straight to bed when we get home."

"Okay!"

I was surprised she didn't complain.

As she picked out a piece of candy, I mouthed, 'Be right back,' to Gil. I smiled at his mouthed reply of, 'I'll be waiting.'

Twenty minutes later, I tucked Lindsey into bed. "Goodnight, Sweetheart. I love you."

"I love you, too, Mom," she replied sleepily.

I kissed her on the forehead and quietly left her bedroom. I said goodbye to the babysitter and drove back to Gil's.

I rang the doorbell and waited for him to answer.

When he opened the door, I yelled, "Trick or treat!" like Lindsey had a couple of hours ago.

A grin spread across his face as he took my hand and pulled me inside. "No tricks tonight; only treats."

"I love treats," I replied giddily as I followed him to the bedroom.

~Finis

FF: Quickie

2006-12-06T22:16:55Z

Title: Quickie

Rating: Supervisor

Disclaimers: I don't own anything. I'm just borrowing the characters.

Summary: It doesn't take long.

Spoilers: None

A/N: I have no beta, so any mistakes are mine. PWP.

For Erica, who did something really nice for me a long time ago. I didn't forget, it just took me this long to get up the nerve to write smut. :-)

***

"I need you," he whispers urgently as he pulls me into the morgue.

"But we're at work, Gil," I say just as his lips crash into mine.

"That's never stopped us before," he replies as he kisses his way down my neck. "I'm not going to last long, anyway. It'll be a quickie."

"What if someone sees us?" I ask, even though there's no way I'm stopping what he started.

"No one's here. I already checked."

He slips his hands under my shirt and walks me backward as he showers my face and neck with more kisses. Suddenly, the cool metal of the morgue drawer doors is on my back, and I inhale sharply because the contrast of the cool metal and his warm hands and lips on my skin is unbelievably arousing. I don't even care that we're in the morgue, just as long as he doesn't stop.

His lips are on mine again, teasing and tasting, and his hands tangle in my hair as I quickly undo his fly and push his pants to the floor. My pants soon follow suit, and I'm more aroused than before when his half-naked body presses mine harder into the cool metal.

I wrap my legs around him as best I can with my pants around my ankles, and he slides into me with ease. He knows my body so well, and he easily finds the spot that he knows will send me over the edge. I'm already so hot for him that it doesn't take long for me to get there. He thrusts once more, and the tightness releases as hot waves of pleasure rush through my body.

A couple of thrusts later, he explodes inside of me, prolonging my bliss. I don't want to move, and I'm not sure I can.

We stay like that for a moment, relishing the feel of each other.

"You're so amazing," I whisper as I capture his lips with mine.

We're still panting when we pull away from the kiss, and he rests his forehead against mine. "Thank you."

"Anytime." We kiss again. I slowly untangle my legs from around him, and slide down his body until my feet rest on the floor.

He steps away, then bends down to retrieve his pants. I lean over to get my pants too, struggling to get them back on over my shoes.

I fumble with the zipper on my pants--my hands are still shaking as the result of some of the best sex I've ever had. Apparently Gil is having the same problem, because he's still working on his belt buckle when the morgue door opens.

We look up, eyes wide, as Doc Robbins enters, surprised to see us in our states of undress. "Oh. Making happy morgue memories, I see."

Gil looks at me. "Okay, maybe I didn't check," he admits.

I lean my head back against the drawer door and I can't contain the laughter that erupts from me.

Happy morgue memories, indeed.

~Finis~

FF: Interruptions

2006-12-06T22:14:43Z

Title: Interruptions

Rating: CSI-3

Disclaimers: I don't own anything. I'm just borrowing the characters for a bit.

Summary: Five interruptions equals a lot of frustration.

Spoilers: Tiny one for 'Jackpot.'

A/N: I have no beta, so any mistakes are mine.

For the Graveshift's October 2006 Challenge, also known as the Challenge of 5s. Each chapter has exactly 500 words (provided I counted correctly).

***

Chapter 1

***

"Gil, are you okay?"

I jumped at the sound of her voice. "I didn't hear you knock."

"That's because I didn't. I don't need to." She half-smiled as she sat in the chair across from me. "So you care to explain why you were sitting there staring off into space and looking dazed?"

"Just thinking."

"About?"

"About you." There are no secrets between us anymore.

"Oh. Good things, I hope."

"Of course."

"Well, you want to elaborate?"

I felt my face flush. "Shower."

She grinned because she knew exactly which shower I meant. "I can't stop thinking about that either."

"Really?"

"God, Gil. You did things to me that--" She paused and her voice was softer when she continued. "You made me feel special."

"You are special," I said as I stood up and walked around my desk to where she sat. I took both of her hands in mine and slowly pulled her to her feet. As we started to hug, there was a loud knock on the other side of the door.

"Gil, are you in there?" Ecklie called.

I groaned and pulled away from Catherine. She sat down in the chair she'd vacated less than fifteen seconds ago, and I returned to the chair behind my desk.

"Come in," I called.

"Gil, I--" He paused when he noticed Catherine. "Ah, Catherine, good. I needed to see you, too." He waited for a response from either one of us, but continued when he realized none was forthcoming. "This just came in." He handed the paper to Catherine since she was closer. "I figured you two would be perfect. Lots of bugs and blood. No bodies, though."

Catherine skimmed over the paper and handed it to me. "How do you know it's a crime scene if there's only bugs and blood?" Catherine asked.

"I didn't say 'only.' There are body parts. Lots and lots of body parts."

He uses the word 'lots' too much. It's irritating. Then again, so is he.

I refocused my attention on the case when I heard Catherine talking.

"...get right on that, Conrad."

Ecklie nodded once in agreement and exited my office, leaving the door ajar.

Catherine looked at me, her eyebrows raised in question.

"Not now," I mouthed.

***

"Okay, spill it," Catherine said, once we were on our way to the crime scene.

"He interrupted us."

"Well, we were at work. It's not the place to..."

I sighed. "I know. It's just that he makes me mad anyway, and then he interrupts our moment. Now I'm double-mad at him."

Catherine laughed. "Double-mad?"

The tension in my neck released and I laughed, too. "Kind of childish, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, but it's cute seeing you all hot and bothered because of an interrupted moment."

"I was *hot* before Ecklie *bothered* us."

She patted my arm as we arrived at the crime scene. "Me too," she replied. "And as soon as this shift is over, it'll just be you and me. No interruptions."

***

Chapter 2

***

At the crime scene, we found exactly what Ecklie said--bugs--maggots, actually--blood, and body parts. We collected samples of the maggots and blood and bagged all the body parts.

Back at the lab, Catherine ran the blood samples through CODIS, and I studied the maggots. The complete results would take a few days, but because we didn't have whole bodies to study, I wasn't sure how much the maggots would tell us.

At the end of the shift, Catherine found me in the lab, still studying the maggots.

"You ready?" she asked.

"I need to finish looking at this. You go on and I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, go on."

"Okay." She walked to the door, then turned around. "But don't make me wait..." she paused and looked at my pants. "...long." She grinned suggestively, then walked down the hallway, her hips swaying more than normal.

I couldn't wait to get out of there.

***

I parked my SUV behind hers, then walked to the door and rang the bell.

"It's open!" Catherine called from inside.

I stepped inside and shut the door. "Cath," I called. "You shouldn't leave the door unlocked--even during the day."

"I knew you'd be here soon."

I followed the sound of her voice and found her in the laundry room.

"Besides, you won't have to worry about that any longer," she said when she saw me. "I got you a key."

She tossed a shirt into the washing machine and shut the lid.

"You got me a key?"

"Don't sound so surprised, Gil. It's time you had one." She pulled me to her until she was sandwiched between the washing machine and me. "Now, where were we?" she asked as she wrapped her arms around my neck.

"I believe we were discussing--" My words were stopped by her ringing cell phone.

"Let it go," she muttered as she kissed my neck.

Seconds later, the ringing stopped and we were engrossed in each other. She'd just pulled my shirt from my pants when my cell phone started to ring. She closed her eyes, shook her head, and gently pushed me away.

"It's got to be important if they're calling both of us."

Her logic made sense, so I pulled the cell from my pocket and flipped it open. "Grissom."

As I listened to the man on the phone, I rubbed my temple with my free hand. "I'll tell her," I said when he finally stopped talking. "We'll be right there." I closed my phone and sighed.

"Day shift overflow?"

"Same case, new location."

"Our case?"

I nodded.

"Day shift can't handle it?"

"Our names are on the original," I explained. "And Baker, the guy on the phone, said he'd heard we were the best with bugs and blood."

"Sometimes being good is bad." She kissed me quickly and stepped away. "Let's take care of this, then there will be no more interruptions."

"That's what you said last time."

***

Chapter 3

***

Since we were going to the same place, we rode together. When we got to the scene, it was obvious that it was fresher and more extensive than the first. We gathered our gear and approached the man taking pictures of the scene.

“Baker?” Catherine asked.

The man stopped taking pictures and turned to us. “Yeah. I figured you might need some help. I hope you don’t mind,” he said, referring to his camera.

“No, we appreciate it,” Catherine replied.

“Who would do something like this?” Baker glanced back at the scene.

“Hopefully, that’s what the evidence will tell us,” I said.

We processed the scene silently until Catherine spoke. “There’s something weird in the blood. Not sure what it is. We’ll check it out at the lab.”

We finished processing the scene and packed up the evidence and kits.

Although we were well into overtime and I just wanted to go home with Catherine, we decided that it would be better if we took the evidence back to the lab instead of sending it with Baker.

We were surprised to find David Hodges in the lab.

“What are you doing here so early?” Catherine asked.

“Early? I never went home. A lab rat’s work is never done,” he replied.

“Well, all that work that’s ‘never done’ is going to have to wait just a little longer. We need this stuff processed. Priority,” I said.

“Technically, Ecklie’s stuff gets first priority. He is the boss.”

“Technically, I don’t care about Ecklie.” I paused and took a deep breath. “He gave us this case,” I continued evenly.

“There you go. That makes it Ecklie’s stuff,” Catherine stated.

He narrowed his eyes in consideration. “I’ll see what I can do. You’ll see that I get overtime?”

“If we get the results, you’ll get the overtime,” I told him.

“Find us when you know something,” Catherine called as we left.

When we were out of earshot from anyone, Catherine asked, “You okay?”

“I never thought I’d say this, but I wish Greg was still in the lab.”

“You’re just saying that because he sucked up to you more than Hodges does,” she laughed. “It will probably be awhile before the results are back. How about we grab something to eat?”

I was hungry, and twenty minutes later, we were in a booth at the diner frequented by officers and criminalists. We ordered breakfast, even though it was into the lunch hours.

We lapsed into a comfortable silence while we waited for our food. After the waitress brought it, Catherine spoke. “You look exhausted, Gil. Let’s finish eating then go home and try to get some sleep. No interruptions.”

“You know, every time you say that, we’re interrupted.”

On cue, my cell phone rang.

Catherine laughed.

“I don’t see what’s so funny.” My cell phone continued to ring.

“Well, there is something different about this interruption—we’re not in an intimate embrace.”

“Definitely not funny,” I muttered as I flipped open my phone. “Grissom.”

Chapter 4

***

“Gil, it’s Jim.”

“Doesn’t anybody ever sleep?”

“What?” Jim asked.

“Never mind. What do you need?”

“I heard you had a couple of gruesome cases.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, there’s another one,” he said.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” I sighed.

“Good news, though,” he continued. “There’s a witness.”

He gave me the address and said he’d meet us there.

When we ended the call, Catherine was staring at me. “Don’t tell me...”

“There’s a new one.”

“I asked you not to tell me that.”

We quickly finished eating and paid the check. Inside the SUV, I told Catherine about the witness. When we got to the new scene, Jim and Sara met us.

“What are you doing here, Sara?” Catherine questioned.

“I, uh, heard it on the police scanner and thought I’d come help out.”

“Okay,” I said. “You and Jim talk to the witness. Catherine and I will take the scene since we’re already familiar with what’s there.”

She wasn’t thrilled about talking to the witness, but she didn’t protest.

Catherine and I found the same things we’d found at the other scenes. She also found more of the unknown substance she’d left a sample of with Hodges.

As I examined a maggot cluster, I noticed some stray hairs. I collected and bagged them, then put the bag in my kit.

Jim and Sara returned.

“What did you get?” Catherine asked.

“Guy’s name is Jesse McDaniel,” Brass read from his notepad. “Says he was jogging when he saw an old brown van—possibly a Chevy Astro—leave here about two hours ago. Says the only reason he noticed it was because the driver, a female, was driving ‘real slow.’ Gave him a ‘bad feeling.’ Then he found this and called it in.”

“I found some hairs. Maybe there’s a connection,” I told them. I turned to Catherine. “Let’s get this stuff back to the lab.”

“We’re both exhausted. Let Sara take it,” she pleaded.

“I don’t mind, Gris,” Sara added.

I didn’t have the energy to argue, so I handed Sara the evidence we’d collected.

Sara got into her SUV as Catherine and I walked to mine.

“Give me the keys,” Catherine said as she held out her hand.

“I’m fine,” I insisted.

“Gil, you’ve not had any sleep in twenty-four hours, and your driving was a little erratic on the way here.”

“You associate my erratic driving with being tired, but that’s wrong. It’s because I’m sick of these interruptions. I know it’s the job, but I just want to spend time with you.”

“And that’s what we’re going to do now. No inter—“

I cut her off. “I know—no interruptions.” My tone was sharp and I sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, Cath. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

I placed the keys in her hand and leaned in to kiss her just as her cell phone rang.

“Damn,” Catherine groaned.

“Not much fun, is it?”

She half-glared at me as she answered her phone.

***

Chapter 5

***

"Willows."

"It's David...Hodges."

She turned the speakerphone on so we could both hear David.

"What do you need?" she asked.

"I need a girlfriend, but that's beside the point. You told me to call when I had results. Are you coming back to the lab?"

"We worked a double, so we're going to try to get some sleep. Sara will be in with more evidence soon, but tell us what you've got now," I said.

"The unknown sample from the blood--brown paint used on Chevrolet's 1989 Astro Vans. I ran it--there's only seven registered in and around Vegas. The best part--the hair you found is female. I ran it, too, and got a hit--Hillary Bradford. The connection--she owns one of the brown Astros."

"Great work, Hodges," Catherine said. "Call Brass and have him get a warrant. We want to talk to Hillary when they find her."

She ended the call and climbed into the SUV. A short time later, we were in her house.

"Home, at last," she sighed.

"Don't say it."

"What?"

"That phrase you've said four times today that led to us working longer."

"You mean--"

"Don't!"

It didn't matter because my phone rang anyway.

"Isn't the battery on this thing dead by now?" I grumbled before I answered the phone.

"Gil, it's Conrad." It was only fitting that he interrupted us again. "I just got word that they found the suspect in your case and they're bringing her in now. Do you and Catherine want to be there for the questioning?"

"Yeah, we'll be right there."

***

Catherine questioned Hillary, while I watched through the two-way mirror.

After ten minutes of standard questions, Catherine asked, "Why did you do it?"

"For the thrill of watching you piece it together."

"You mean..."

"Yeah. I watched you and the old guy collect all the evidence. He's kind of hot...but I guess you already knew that," Hillary said with a sly smile.

Ecklie stood next to me, but didn't comment.

"This was a game?" Catherine asked.

"Sure was. I played the game and lost. It was fun while it lasted."

"Take her," Catherine told the officer behind Hillary.

"Don't you want to know where I got the body parts?" Hillary asked.

Catherine stared at her.

"It's amazing what people will do for a little cash. I didn't commit a crime. I'll be out in hours," Hillary finished with a laugh as the officer took her out of the room.

***

Later, we were in my office.

"We should stay here," Catherine said. "Shift starts soon."

"We're taking off."

"What?"

"Cath, we've worked almost a whole day. We'd be less than our best if we stayed."

"Who will run shift?"

"I don't care. I just know it won't be either one of us."

"We'll have time alone? No interruptions?"

We both cringed, waiting for a cell phone to ring or someone to knock on the door. When nothing happened, we let out sighs of relief.

Finally, no interruptions.

~Finis

FF: Sticky Situation

2006-12-06T21:59:43Z

Title: Sticky Situation

Rating: CSI-2

Disclaimers: I don't own anything. I'm just borrowing the characters for a bit.
Summary: What happened to Gil's beard between seasons 6 and 7?

Spoilers: Season 7 previews, a small one for 'Inside the Box,' and I suppose a small one for late season 6.

A/N: I have no beta, so any mistakes are mine. Part of the plot was an idea that stemmed from some responses to a question that used to be on my LJ--which I"m now using!

Written for the Graveshift's September 2006 challenge.

***

"Cath, you got anything to drink in here? My mouth is dry." Gil sat in the passenger seat of Catherine's Tahoe.

"Well, you should've thought about that before you downed two large tubs of buttered and salted popcorn during the movie. You can eat two tubs of popcorn, but you only get a small drink?" she kidded him.

"If I'd gotten a bigger drink, I would've had to go to the bathroom. And I didn't want to spend a minute away from you."

She glanced at him and rolled her eyes. "Suck up," she said, smiling. "I've got some bubble gum in my purse. That's the best I can do until we get back to my house."

He dug around in her purse until he found the bubble gum. He unwrapped the pink confection and popped it in his mouth. "Thanks." Soon, he was chomping loudly on the gum. He tried to blow a bubble, but decided he didn't have enough gum to do so. He fished through her purse again until he found another piece. He unwrapped the second piece and put it into his mouth, too. He chewed the gum until it was malleable enough to blow a bubble. He blew a sizable bubble, then sucked it back into his mouth with a loud 'pop.'

"Gil."

"What?" he asked before popping another bubble.

"Stop."

"Why?" He popped one again.

"Because it's irritating!"

"Then you shouldn't have offered me the gum."

He started to blow another bubble when she interrupted him. "I swear, Gil. If you do that again, I will pop it for you."

He chuckled, but chose not to blow any more bubbles for the remainder of the ride.

***

When they arrived at Catherine's, they pulled into the driveway and parked next to Gil's Tahoe. Once inside the house, they went to the kitchen to fix some drinks. As she filled the glasses with ice, he blew another bubble, just to tease her. Her reaction was faster than he anticipated and she smashed the bubble gum against his face.

His stunned expression made her giggle and she quickly covered her mouth with one hand.

"Catherine!" he exclaimed.

"Gil, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do that!"

His beard was covered in the pink, sticky goo. "Right!"

"I honestly didn't, Gil. I just wanted to pop it, not get it stuck in your beard. Besides," she continued, stepping closer to him, "I like your beard. Why would I deliberately do anything to mess it up?"

Even though they had had some rocky patches in their relationship, he could never stay mad at her for long. He offered a tiny smile and allowed her to step into his embrace before saying, "Regardless, you're going to help me get this stuff out of my beard."

She giggled at the pink stickiness once again.

"That's only fair." She stepped out of his embrace and walked to the pantry. "Peanut butter and mayonnaise are good for getting gum out. Or ice."

"Peanut butter and mayonnaise? Really?"

"Yeah, I went through many jars of both when Lindsey was little. We'll try the peanut butter first."

She found the jar of peanut butter in the pantry and took it back to where Gil stood. She stuck her hand in the jar and got a good amount of peanut butter on her fingers. She spread it over his sticky beard and waited for a few minutes. When she tried to wipe the goo off his beard, only the peanut butter and tiny bits of the gum came off. The majority of the gum was still there.

"Okay," she said, slightly puzzled. "Let's try the mayonnaise." She put the peanut butter jar on the counter and got the mayonnaise from the fridge. He held the jar and lid while she slathered the white-ish blob on his beard. Again, they waited. And again, little pieces of bubble gum came off, but most of it refused to budge.

"Damn!" she exclaimed. "Well, we can try the ice." She wiped her hands on a dish towel as he put the mayonnaise jar on the counter next to the peanut butter. She then grabbed one of the glasses she'd filled with ice and shook a cube into her palm.

Gil watched as best he could while she rubbed the piece of ice along his sticky, pink-plastered beard. "Jeez, Cath. You're not going to have to worry about getting gum out of my beard. You're going to freeze off my whole damn jaw."

"I'm just trying to help. We're making some progress."

"At this rate, we'll be here all night. This was not how I pictured our night off."

"I know, and I'm really sorry. I don't know why none of this is working. Just one of them worked when Lindsey used to get gum in her hair." She shook another cube into her palm, the first one melted away.

He gently took her wrist in his hand, effectively breaking the contact between his jaw and the ice. "It's no use. I'm just going to shave it off."

"But, Gil--"

"No, I've been thinking about shaving it off anyway. Now is as good of a time as any."

"I really am sorry, Gil."

"Don't be. It was my fault," he admitted, pulling her into his embrace. "I shouldn't have blown that last bubble."

"I'd kiss you if you didn't smell like peanut butter and mayonnaise."

"Well, let's get me cleaned up so we can get to the kissing."

"Come on," she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him behind her down the hall toward the bathroom. She flipped on the light and he shut the door behind them.

She got the shaving cream and a disposable razor from the cabinet under the sink. "Here you go," she said as she offered him the can and the razor. "It's the only thing I've got besides my razor. And I wouldn't want you to cut your face by using that one."

"Me neither." He took the items from her and put them on the counter. Then he plugged the sink drain and filled the sink with hot water. When he looked in the mirror, he couldn't help but chuckle at his own reflection. "I don't wear bubble gum well, do I?"

"I don't know. It's not that bad," Catherine replied. "Pink is a good color on you."

He cut a sideways glance at her before spreading the cream over his beard. "This is a little better."

"Now you look like Santa Grissom."

"Ho, ho, ho! Well, I do know what you want for Christmas," he said. "And Santa Grissom will do his best to see that you get that."

She laughed and gently shook her head, enjoying his playful side.

He rinsed his hand in the water and picked up the razor. He removed the protective cover and swished the razor in the water. As he shaved the first strip of his bubble gum beard, Catherine sat on the edge of the tub and said, "I'm really, really sorry, Gil."

He shaved away another strip. "I already said it's not your fault. You didn't make me blow that last bubble." He continued shaving off his beard.

"So you're not mad?"

"No, but can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Do you have another razor?" He showed her the razor that had bubble gum stuck on the blades. "I'm only half done."

She laughed. "Yeah. Under the sink."

He found another razor and repeated the motions he'd done with the first one.

She watched him shave off the rest of his beard.

"I think I'll keep the mustache. How's this?" he asked, turning so she could see the new look. By the look on his face and the tone of his voice, Catherine knew he was being facetious.

"It looks worse than Nick's did. It's got to go," she replied in her own joking manner.

"Ouch!" he exclaimed in mock-hurt. "What will Nick say when I tell him that?"

"Nothing, because you're not going to tell him. I mean, how would you explain that the bubble gum was from me and that you shaved off your beard in my bathroom? He would put the pieces together and figure out we're more than friends."

"Good point." He shaved off his mustache and let the water out of the sink.

"So, what do you think?" he asked as he turned so she could fully see his face.

She smiled widely and stood up. "I like it." She stepped closer to him and cupped his face in her hands. "I like the beard, but this is nice, too. And it's been a long time since I've been able to do this." She gently kissed the cleft in his chin. Both of them grinned when she pulled back.

"Ah, yes. I believe it was right after my surgery three years ago. I'm glad I told you about that beforehand."

"Me, too. And I'm glad I could be there for you." They wrapped their arms around each other, her head resting on his shoulder, his cheek against her hair.

"So, do I still smell like peanut butter and mayo?"

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Nope. You smell like my favorite scent."

"Shaving cream?"

"No. You."

"Does that mean I get a kiss?"

"What do you think?" she asked, slightly pulling back and cupping his face in her hands again. She kissed him thoroughly and grinned when they broke the kiss.

"What?" he asked.

She could hardly keep from laughing. "You still taste like bubble gum."

***

Finis

FF: Because It's Tradition

2006-12-06T21:46:38Z

Title: Because It's Tradition

Rating: CSI-2 (just to be safe)

Disclaimers: I don't own anything. I'm just borrowing the characters for a bit. Summary: Gil and Catherine continue with tradition.

Spoilers: None

A/N: I have no beta, so any mistakes are mine. You should probably read "Someone Forgot," since this is its sequel. I didn't plan on there being a sequel, but I was recently bit by the writing bug, and this is the result.

For the Graveshift's 50 Fics Challenge, August 17, 2006. Enjoy!

***

Catherine was true to her word. We met in Harrison's parking lot that night at seven o'clock on the dot. We drove separate vehicles--because it's tradition. I held the door open for her and followed her inside. As we approached the host stand, she linked her arm through mine, inevitably stepping closer to me.

"How many?" the host asked.

"Two," I replied.

"Oh, back again tonight, sir?" the host questioned.

I felt the heat slide up my neck and into my cheeks. The same guy was there the night before and had obviously remembered me. "Yes."

I felt, rather than saw, Catherine smile.

The host spoke again. "If you don't mind my saying so, sir, you look much happier tonight than you did last night. I would too, if I had a woman as beautiful as your wife on my arm."

I glanced at Catherine, only to find her already looking at me. We smiled at each other and I held her gaze even as I said, "I am so much happier tonight. And, yes, she's very beautiful."

"Oh, Gil," she whispered.

And for a moment, we were the only two people in existence.

Then a man behind us loudly cleared his throat, instantly reminding us where we were.

The host led us to a quiet booth near the back of the restaurant. I waited as Catherine slid into the booth, then I sat down next to her--because it's tradition.

A couple in the booth across the aisle from us watched as we settled into our seat. The woman smiled at us before turning her attention back to her husband. "Honey, isn't that so romantic? You can just see the love they have for each other." If she was trying to be discrete, she failed; I heard every word she said.

Catherine apparently heard the woman, too. She patted my knee three times, her hand finally coming to rest on my thigh, just above my knee.

When the waiter arrived to take our order a minute later, our menus were in the same place the host had laid them. We ordered the same thing we've had every year--steaks, baked potatoes, salads, and wine--because it's tradition.

We ate dinner slowly, savoring the time we had together. The waiter came back to our table, and I ordered a piece of strawberry shortcake for Catherine and I to split--because it's tradition.

Minutes later, I dipped a whole strawberry into the whipped cream and offered it to Catherine. She quirked her eyebrow at me--because it wasn't tradition. She took a bite of the strawberry but some of the whipped cream was left on her lower lip.

My eyes were drawn to her lips. "Catherine, you've...got..." I couldn't finish my sentence because my lips were otherwise engaged--with hers. I was utterly surprised--because it definitely wasn't tradition.

When she pulled away, her eyes were sparkling. "That was new," she said. "Why..."

"I felt like it. And I wanted to start a new tradition," I told her. "After all, it is my fiftieth birthday."

"Well, you know it's not officially a tradition until it's done twice," she whispered.

"Is that your way of saying you want to kiss me again?"

"Technically, you kissed me."

"You do have a point."

"Gil, just kiss me."

And I did--because now it's tradition. Hopefully that one will be repeated before my next birthday.

***

Finis

FF: Happy Payback, Dr. Grissom WIP

2006-12-06T21:43:01Z

TITLE: Happy Payback, Dr. Grissom
AUTHORS: Star Journeying and Dana
RATING: Supervisor
SUMMARY: Gil has a memorable birthday with consequences.
DISCLAIMER: CSI and its' characters belong to Anthony Zuiker and CBS Broadcasting Company. We do not own the rights or claim to do so.
WARNING: Sexual scene toward end of story.
SPOILERS: None

***

Nick was relieved to be inside the air-conditioned comfort of the lab after a sweltering night out processing crime scenes. After documenting the evidence, he headed to the break room. It had been hours since he had eaten and his stomach was growling. The tuna sandwich he bagged for lunch was the only important priority before him, besides getting out of the heat.

Upon opening the refrigerator, a sickly sweet odor drifted out, assaulting his nostrils and making him back off with a loud protest of disgust. Grissom had been at it again and left one of his vile experiments to ferment. His lunch was ruined along with everyone else's. In fact, the whole break room smelled similar to the body farm at its worst.

He slammed the door to the refrigerator closed and threw out his sandwich just as Warrick walked into the break room. Nick just gave the other man an angry look and threw up his hands in frustration as Warrick detected the reason for Nick's colorful theatrics. After wrinkling his nose against the foul odor, Warrick shook his head and sighed, "Okay, what died?"

Nick just gave the other man a strangled sound and blurted out, "It seems Gris has been at it again."

"What did he leave in the break room this time?" Warrick dryly commented.

"I don't have any idea," Nick replied with a snort. "But I'm getting sick and tired of having my lunch smell like a rotting corpse. That's the third time in the last two weeks I’ve had to throw out a perfectly good sandwich."

"Hey man, at least his experiment didn't crawl away this time," Warrick reminded him. "Last month, that pet tarantula of his got loose and took up residence in my locker."

"At least you didn't have to eat it," Nick griped. "I'm constantly reminding him the break room refrigerator is not a dumping ground for his maggots."

"You think that's bad," the other CSI huffed out. "I had to be issued a new field kit. Gris never secured the lid on my fingerprint dust he borrowed last night while we were processing the Wasser scene. We were on a tight schedule, so I never checked the contents before meeting you at the Tangiers. I wound up having the dust spill all over everything inside. His absent-mindedness ruined a perfectly good field kit."

"No wonder you looked so pissed at the scene," Nick ventured in afterthought and then tilted his head in question. "That's why you left so suddenly? I thought you were called back to the lab."

"That's what I told you and Gris," Warrick explained and shrugged. "I didn't want to make an issue of it."

"What is it with him lately?" Nick asked as Warrick shrugged in response. "He's never been this careless."

"Or so nonchalant about his behavior," Warrick added. "He's too used to us putting up with his shenanigans when he's bored or engrossed in a case. We deserve some respect, too."

"I think it's gone a little too far," Nick retorted. "I'm fed up with reminding him to use the lab fridge for his little projects. And how about his experiments on us to prove a case? Greg wasn't too happy about the rash he got on the bottom of one of his feet so Gris could test a theory on some gathered evidence."

Warrick grinned, remembering how Greg complained about the itchy rash that developed on the bottom of his left foot--all caused by Grissom's determination to prove a point. The older CSI had to agree. His supervisor had indeed crossed the fine line of expectable behavior. A guy could only tolerate so much.

"I'll tell you what we're going to do about it." Nick smiled at Warrick's raised eyebrow. "After Sara gets back here, we're going to have a little meeting. Gris's birthday is coming up soon. How about if the team gives our boss a birthday week he'll never forget?"

Warrick just smiled and said, "I suppose lunch can wait. We have some planning to do. Gris is going to have a birthday like no other."

******

Meanwhile, not long after Nick discovered his spoiled sandwich, Sara returned to the lab from her crime scene, still fuming at Grissom. She had told him numerous times that fly- and maggot-infested meat made her stomach turn, but for some reason, he couldn’t remember that. She’d take dead bodies over raw meat any day. At her crime scene, she got both.

The victims, Max and Eleanor Houston, were found by the neighbor’s dog in their backyard tool shed. Sara had talked to the dog’s owner, Samantha Henson, and had learned that the Houstons often had ‘heated arguments’ with their other neighbors. Jeremy and Hannah Cooper lived in the house on the other side of the Houstons . They frequently had cookouts in their backyard, much to the dismay of the Houstons, who were vegetarians.

”I heard them yelling over the fence all the time,” Mrs. Henson told Sara. “Well, at first Max and Eleanor were nice about it. You know, ‘Could you please not cook the meat outside. We’re vegetarians and we don’t like the smell.’ Well, that pissed off Hannah and Jeremy, so they cooked out even more. Then, a couple of days ago, I was out walking Yogi,” she referred to her dog, “and I heard a loud clanging from Jeremy and Hannah’s yard. I didn’t think it was anything out of the ordinary-- just another cookout.” She paused and took a deep breath before continuing. “Then I heard Eleanor yell, ‘Damn, Max! You were just supposed to take the grilling rack, not break the whole thing!’ ‘Well, at least we’ll be meat-stench-free, now,’ he said. Yogi and I high-tailed it outta there--I didn’t want them to know I heard them.”

“But Yogi found the Houstons ?” Sara pressed.

“Yeah, I was out walking him again, and he kept pulling and straining against his leash. And barking up a storm. Honestly, I’ve never heard him bark like that. He eventually pulled on the leash so hard it slipped out of my hands. Then he took off into Max and Eleanor’s backyard. By the time I got back there, Yogi was already in the tool shed still barking and carrying on. That’s when I knew something was really wrong. When I opened the door the rest of the way, I saw Max and Eleanor on the floor, dead. Dead and covered in raw hamburger meat. They had been there a while, too--you know, the meat was brown and flies were everywhere.”

Sara felt a little wobbly thinking about Mrs. Henson’s description.

“And there was the note,” Mrs. Henson continued. “It said, ‘It was so nice to *meat* you.’ It was imbedded into Max’s stomach with a grilling fork.”

Sara had seen the bodies and the note and was on the verge of being nauseous. She told Mrs. Henson she would be back in contact and quickly headed for her vehicle. The only thing that kept her from puking was her anger at Grissom. She was going to give him hell.

****

Sara was in the break room giving Nick and Warrick the 'Grissom's-going-to-get-it' rant when Brass came in. He made a face, obviously aware of the smell, but decided not to question that. Instead he asked, "You guys seen Gil? I’ve tried his cell and Catherine’s, but neither one of them answered.”

“No, haven’t seen them, but he’s going to get an earful when we do,” Sara said tersely.

“Why, what’s up?” Brass questioned.

“He left another experiment in this fridge. Spoiled my sandwich again!” Nick told Brass.

"And due to his usual absent-mindedness, Gris ruined a perfectly good field kit," Warrick chimed in. "He forgot to secure the lid on my fingerprint dust. It went all over the inside of the damn thing."

“And he sent me to a raw meat crime scene, knowing full well that I’m a vegetarian,” Sara said as she crossed her arms over her chest. “One of his meat-and-maggot-slash-fly experiments is the reason I’m a vegetarian anyway.”

“Okay, well, I see that you’ve all got a beef with him. Can I join the club?” Brass asked only half-jokingly.

Sara glared at Brass.

“What?”

“Beef,” Sara spat.

“Oops. Freudian slip,” Brass replied.

“Okay, so what’s your…” Nick trailed off and looked at Sara with a smirk on his face.

Her glare shifted to him. “You say it, and you’re dead, too,” she warned.

Nick chuckled as he turned back to Brass. “What’s your problem with Grissom?”

"He keeps snitching pens from my office," Jim explained as he sat down. Nick gave the detective a hesitant look, deciding if it was worth telling Jim what was going on.

"Your idea, so you tell him,” Warrick said as he noticed Nick's expression and slapped his friend on the back.

Nick grinned at Warrick. “Gil’s birthday is Thursday. How about we play a few harmless pranks on him for his birthday to get him back for all the things he’s done to us.”

“Nick, I like your style,” Brass smiled.

"That's what we want to talk to you two about." Warrick waved for everyone to sit down. "And Jim, drop the term 'beef' in front of Sara."

Jim just chuckled and settled in his chair comfortably. Looking toward the door, he smiled when Nick closed it and sat down next to him. Leaning forward a little, he put his hands on the table and said, "Looks like I finally can get back at Gil for all those pens he keeps stealing from my office. You know how embarrassing it is to borrow a pen at a crime scene to take notes? A cop is supposed to be prepared for all contingencies--badge, gun, notebook, and a pen. Thanks to Gil, I never have one. I think he eats them!"

"Please Jim," Sara wailed as Greg opened the door and slipped in. "Don't mention the words 'eat' or ‘beef’ again!"

"Okay, okay," Brass said in an apologetic voice to Sara as he waved in the former lab rat to take a seat. "Greg, have you seen Catherine or Gil?"

"They both took off for dinner about a half-hour ago," Greg told him and then asked what was going on. After Brass filled him in, his eyes took on a mischievous light as he came out with a delighted, "Cool."

Nick rubbed his hands together and then rapped the table with his knuckles to get everyone's attention. Leaning back in his chair, he grinned at the smiling faces around him and announced, "Now, this is what we're going to do."

-TBC-

Yes, we know that this is supposed to be a birthday story, but we had to set up the rest of the fic with this as a base. We’ll get to the birthday festivities soon enough.

FF: Someone Forgot

2006-12-06T21:38:54Z

Title: Someone Forgot

Rating: CSI-1 for a few bad words.

Disclaimers: I don't own anything. I'm just borrowing the characters for a bit.

Summary: Someone forgot Gil's birthday.

Spoilers: None that I can think of.

A/N: I have no beta, so any mistakes are mine.

This was written for the Graveshift's 50 Fics/Gil's Fiftieth Birthday Challenge: August 17, 2006.

***

She's never forgotten my birthday. In the nearly two decades we've known each other, she's always remembered. Until yesterday. I'm now half a century old and the only person I care about remembering my birthday forgot. It shouldn't bother me so much. She's not my wife; hell, she's not even my girlfriend. But she's my best friend. And she's always remembered.

I was lost in thought when someone knocked on my office door. Before I could yell, 'Come in,' the door was already open and the knocker was standing in my office. Catherine. Great--just great.

"Hey, Gil. I haven't seen you in a while, so I thought I'd stop by and see how your case is going."

"Fine." That sounded colder than I meant it to.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.

"Fine." Damn, I did it again.

She hesitated. "Okay..." She turned to leave, but apparently changed her mind because she faced me again and asked, "See you at seven?"

"Seven?" I repeated.

"Yeah, you know. We always meet at seven o'clock on your birthday at Harrison ’s."

"Yesterday was my birthday, Cath," I uttered.

"Gil, your birthday is August 17th."

"I know. That was yesterday. I was at Harrison ’s at seven. You obviously forgot."

Then she surprised me--she laughed. "I didn't forget, Gil. Today is the 17th."

"No, it's not."

"Look at your calendar. I'm telling you--it's the 17th."

I moved some papers around on my desk, looking for a calendar. It was nowhere to be found, but I remembered that my cell phone's display screen showed the date. I noticed Catherine's smirk, but I didn't comment. I picked up my cell phone from the top of a stack of papers on my desk and flipped it open so I could see the screen.

"See? It's the...17th.” I paused and stared at the screen for a moment. “Well, I'll be damned. I tried to make myself fifty a day too soon.”

She laughed again. "Wait. Let me get this straight. You thought I forgot your birthday when, in actuality, you were the one who forgot." A grin remained plastered on her face. "You know, Gil, I've always heard that the mind is the first thing to go."

I knew she was joking and I smiled back, relieved that she had not forgotten my birthday. "Now that I'm old, I'm going to need you to remind me of things."

"Even more than I already do?" she questioned with a smirk.

"Yes, even more than you already do," I repeated.

"Good. I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Me neither. We make a great team."

"The best."

We smiled at each other and she turned to leave once again. She closed the door behind her, but reopened it just as quickly.

"Gil?" she said, poking her head back inside my office.

"Yes?"

"Happy birthday. See you tonight."

My smile remained, even after she shut the door.

***

Finis

FF: X's and O's WIP

2006-12-06T21:36:18Z

Title: X's and O's

Rating: CSI-2 (but that could change with later chapters).

Disclaimers: I don't own anything. I'm just borrowing the characters for a bit. Summary: A serial lover is on the loose.

Spoilers: None in particular, although it's post-Season 5.

A/N: Thanks to those who offered support and suggestions. Also, this is my first attempt at a case fic. *crosses fingers* Bear with me; this might take some time. :-)

***

The graveyard shift at the Las Vegas Crime Lab started much like any other. Horrendous crimes had been committed in the early evening hours, and it was up to the nightshift CSIs to gather the evidence that would eventually bring the criminals to justice.

Five of the six CSIs gathered in the break room--their usual spot--for the handing out (in Gil's case) or receiving of assignments. The only one not present was Sara Sidle.

Gil Grissom, over-worked and under-paid, sat at one end of the table with three folders in front of him. Catherine Willows sat to his right, working on a crossword puzzle she knew he would finish later. Greg Sanders, playing air drums and head-banging to his own beat, occupied the seat next to Catherine. Nick Stokes sat at the other end of the table, wolfing down a doughnut. An empty seat--the one Sara would be in later--was between Nick and Warrick Brown. Warrick, seated to Gil's left, was frustrated by the recent phone call from his wife, Tina, but he wouldn't let his co-workers see that.

They had waited for Sara--some patiently, some impatiently--for two minutes. As Gil began to speak, Sara raced into the room and plopped in the chair between Nick and Warrick.

"Sorry. Overslept," she said breathlessly.

"You slept?" Nick joked.

Gil cleared his throat.

"Sorry, Boss," Nick muttered.

Gil had no reply. Instead, he continued with the assignments. "As I was saying, we've got a lot on the table tonight." He picked up the top folder and glanced at each member of his team, trying to decide which two CSIs he should send. Finally, he spoke. "Greg and Warrick--Summer Stewart. Age 14. Apparent suicide." He handed the folder to Warrick, regretting that such a crime had been committed. Every crime was unsavory, but the ones involving children were some of the hardest to deal with. He and his team had jobs to do, though--jobs that didn't have room for emotion.

Returning to CSI mode, Gil picked up the second folder and glanced at the top sheet. "Clive and Olivia Edwards arrived home from vacation to find their house ransacked. Nick, Sara, Brass will meet you there." He handed this folder to Warrick, too, who then handed it to Sara.

There was one folder left. "Catherine, you're with me on this one." He handed her the remaining folder that, for the moment, only contained a few pieces of paper.

Catherine looked at the first page inside the folder. "A serial...lover?" she questioned, quirking her eyebrow at Gil.

"X's and O's."

~TBC

FF: Nightmare

2006-12-06T21:34:17Z

Title: Nightmare
Rating: CSI-2
Disclaimers: I don't own anything. I'm just borrowing some characters for awhile.
Summary: Gil has a nightmare.
Spoilers: 'Time of Your Death' Season 6
A/N: I have no beta, so any mistakes are mine.

A/N2: I like Sara, but not with Gil. This is not meant to pick on her, but I had to explain this episode somehow.

***

He thrashed around violently, refusing to accept what he was seeing.

"Gil! Gil, wake up!"

Gil sat straight up in bed, panting and sweating.

She gently touched his arm, feeling his clammy skin beneath her fingertips. "What's wrong?"

He ran a hand through his hair as he tried to calm down. "Nightmare," he panted. "God, Catherine. It was awful."

She scooted closer to him and rested her hand on his thigh. "You want to talk about it?"

He licked his parched lips and released a shaky sigh. "We were working a case. All of us. You and I started the case together, but somehow I ended up working with Sara. We were at this place that makes people's fantasies come true." He swallowed, trying to keep the bile down.

She patted his thigh, letting him know she was there for him.

He sighed heavily and rubbed his face with both hands. "The guy walked away and then turned back to Sara and me and said, 'I hope all your dreams come true.' And
I...I, we..." He paused, frustrated. "Sara and I shared a look. I swear, Cath. I don't feel that way toward Sara."

"I know that," she whispered, taking his hand in her free one.

He sighed again before he continued. "And then we were all back at the lab talking about the case. That fantasy place led us to talking about what Greg wanted for his birthday. You mentioned that he liked latex. He said he'd settle for a birthday breakfast with you, you said that was a fantasy, and then the two of you left the room. And Sara and I shared another look."

She squeezed his hand. "It was just a dream."

"Nightmare."

"Okay, nightmare. The point is, it wasn't real. You're not sharing fantasy looks with Sara and I'm not giving Greg a birthday breakfast or anything latex. I'm your wife, you're my husband. We are together. Nothing is going to change that. Okay?"

She felt him relax.

"I love you, Cath."

"And I love you, Gil."

He turned his head toward her and leaned in for a kiss. The kiss was light, but it warmed his heart.

"Thanks," he said, before he kissed her again.

"Anytime," she replied. "Do you want anything? Water?"

"No water; I just want to hold you."

"No complaints from me."

He laid back in their bed, gently pulling her with him. He pulled the covers up over them and slid closer to her. With her back to his front, he draped his arm over her mid-section and anchored her even closer to him. Her arm naturally found his and their fingers easily entwined.

He breathed in her scent before he uttered, "My reality."

"Our reality," she replied, settling against him.

They didn't need fantasies because they had each other. And that was reality.

Finis

FF: Allergies

2006-12-06T21:32:18Z

Title: Allergies

Rating: CSI-2

Disclaimers: I don't own anything. Big surprise.

Summary: Grab the tissues--it's allergy season.

Spoilers: None.

A/N: I have no beta, so any mistakes are mine. I'm not an expert on police procedure, and this is just a fic, anyway.

***

Catherine was late for work. She scurried around the house looking for the black boot that matched the one next to the coffee table. She finally found the elusive boot in the bottom of the laundry hamper. Stumped by how the boot had gotten there, but with no time to ponder it, she hopped down the hallway on one foot while trying to pull the boot onto her other foot. Finally in the living room, she grabbed the other boot and quickly stepped into it. She grabbed her purse and keys and rushed out the door into the Las Vegas night.

Before she even got to her Denali, she sneezed. 'Crap, I forgot my Zyrtec,' she thought. She was supposed to pick up her prescription on the way to work, but with as late as she already was, she decided that it would just have to wait until after her shift ended. She'd have to suffer the consequences--watery eyes, runny nose, and sneezing.

She climbed into the Denali and slammed the door with more force than necessary. She sneezed. 'Damn,' she thought. She buckled her seat belt and started the engine. She sneezed again. 'This is going to be a long night.'

She backed out of the driveway quickly, shifted the vehicle into 'Drive,' and was soon on her way to work. She had made good time considering how late she'd left her house. Traffic wasn't too bad and she hoped to be at work only a few minutes late.

She was within a mile of lab when she felt the familiar allergy-induced tingling in her nose. Never one to sneeze quietly, she was prepared for the thunderous explosion emitted from her nose. Her sneeze was so powerful, however, that during the process, she yanked the steering wheel to the left, smashing into a silver BMW.

'This is not happening, this is not happening.' Her thought was punctuated by another sneeze. Catherine maneuvered to a stop, as did the driver of the BMW. Catherine grabbed her cell phone out of her purse and quickly unbuckled her seat belt. Before she could get the door open, the woman driving the BMW was out of her car looking at the damage the Denali had done.

Catherine opened the door and slid out of the driver's seat, already dialing a familiar number.

"Grissom," came the voice on the other end of the line.

"Gil..."

"You're late, Catherine. Where are you?"

"North Trop. Boulevard." She sneezed. "I was in an accident." She sneezed again.

His tone changed immediately. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine, but can you send Jim out here? I'm less than," she paused, trying to hold off another sneeze. She sneezed anyway. "I'm less than a mile from the lab," she finished with a sniffle.

"Yeah, okay. Just stay there."

She rolled her eyes. "Where would I go, Gil?" she sighed, before sneezing yet again.

He didn't hear her, though. He'd already hung up.

She flipped her cell phone closed and approached the woman. "Ma'am, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, but my car's not. What the hell's wrong with you?" she said, agitated.

"I had a sneezing fit while driving and jerked the wheel too hard. Look, I already called the LVPD; someone is on the way." She sneezed. "Hang on, let me get a tissue," she uttered, turning toward the Denali.

She found a travel pack of tissues in the console. When she turned back toward the woman, Jim's Taurus was pulling up next to them.

Jim cut the engine, opened the door, and stepped out of the Taurus. Gil wasn't far behind.

Catherine did a double take when she saw Gil. "What are you doing here?" she asked as the men approached.

"I had to make sure you were okay," Gil claimed.

Catherine sneezed. "I told you I was."

"Yeah, well..."

The woman interrupted him. "Look, can you flirt with her later? I've got places to go and things to do. I'd like to get this cleared up ASAP."

Catherine and Gil shared a look, but didn't say anything.

Jim approached the woman. "I'm Captain Jim Brass from the LVPD. Could you tell me what happened here, Mrs..."

"Lambert. Cheyenne Lambert. I'd love to tell you what happened. I was just driving along, minding my own business, when this woman side-swipes me like we were damn bumper cars."

Jim looked at Catherine, eyebrow raised.

Catherine sneezed. "Damn allergies," she muttered. She sniffled and and wiped her nose with a tissue.

Jim turned his attention back to Cheyenne. "Okay, Mrs. Lambert. We'll have to report this to the insurance companies, of course, and we recommend that you go to the ER to be checked out. Just to make sure there are no internal injuries."

Cheyenne sighed and closed her eyes. "Fine."

Three hours later, Catherine and Cheyenne were released from the Desert Palm ER.

Catherine decided she could still get in four hours at the lab, so she climbed into her barely-dented Denali and headed for work.

At the lab, Catherine's first stop was Gil's office. "Hey," she said, not bothering to knock.

Gil was leaned back in his chair reading a case file. He lowered the folder when he heard her. "What are you doing here? I didn't expect you in tonight."

"Why not? I got a clean bill of health. Except for my allergies. I'm allergic to the damn dust. Not something you want to be allergic to living in the desert."

"You didn't take your medicine?"

"I didn't have any to take." She sat down in the chair across from him.

He placed the folder on his desk and leaned back in the chair. "So, what happened earlier?"

"I sneezed."

"What?" Gil asked with a small chuckle.

"I sneezed, damn it." She paused and raised an eyebrow. "What, you've never sneezed while you were driving?"

"Not and caused an accident," he replied, trying to keep the smile off of his face.

"This is your fault, you know," she teased.

"How is it my fault?"

"Well, if you hadn't kept me up late this morning, I wouldn't have overslept, and I would've had enough time to get my medicine before work."

He finally understood. He leaned forward and rested his clasped hands on the desk. "If my memory serves me correctly, you weren't complaining this morning."

"Fine," she countered, suddenly remembering how her black boot had ended up at the bottom of the hamper. "We're equally at fault."

"Fair enough," he complied.

She stood up and was almost to the door when he called after her, "See you after work?"

"Eight o'clock," she said, tossing a smile over her shoulder to him. She turned back toward the door and sneezed. "Damn!"

"Gesundheit," he laughed. "Better make that eight-thirty so you'll have enough time to get your meds."

Finis

FF: The Past

2006-12-06T21:29:22Z

Title: The Past

Rating: CSI-1

Disclaimers: I don't own anything. Everything belongs to Jerry Bruckheimer, CBS, and Alliance Atlantis. I'm just borrowing some characters for awhile.

Summary: Gil goes through some stuff.

Spoilers: 'Forever,' 'Grissom Versus the Volcano,' and 'Still Life.'

A/N: I have no beta, so any mistakes are mine.

A/N 2: Gil and Catherine are in the beginning stages of a romantic relationship.

A/N 3: The books are real. The people on the baseball cards are real people who played during the 50s and 60s, but I don't know if they were actually on the cards. For the sake of this fic, they are on the cards.

Thanks to a person who shall remain unnamed. You know who you are.

***

"Catherine, I appreciate your offering to help, but I don't want to tie you down."

She arched her eyebrow at his choice of words.

"I didn't mean it like that," he stuttered, trying not to blush. "I just meant that I know you've got better things to do on Saturday than helping me clean out this bedroom."

The 'bedroom' was more like a storage room for Gil's old stuff.

"Doesn't look like this room has ever been cleaned. What is all of this stuff, anyway?"

"My past," he said, almost sullenly.

She touched his arm. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be insensitive."

"You weren't," he replied with a half-smile. "It just brings back a whole lot of memories, good and bad."

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yeah. There's no sense in hanging on to all of the stuff in here. Most of it's no use to me, anyway."

"Okay. Where do you want to start?"

He sighed and surveyed the chaos before them. "How about these boxes?" he asked, referring to the ones just inside the doorway.

They sat down in the floor and he pulled the first box toward them.

He cut through the tape and pulled back the flaps. "Wow..."

"What have you got?" Catherine asked.

"Ian Fleming's James Bond books. Most of them were Dad's. We used to read them together." He picked up one of the novels. "'Diamonds Are Forever' was the first one we read. He said it was the most special because it was published the year I was born. Part of it even takes place in Vegas, if I'm not mistaken." His slight smile was sentimental, but sad. "I want to keep these," he firmly told her, placing the book back in the box.

"Of course," she said as she lightly rubbed his knee. She stood up and picked up the box. "I'll start a book pile out in the hall. Something tells me these aren't the only books you've got in here."

"Thanks, Cath. And you're probably right about the books."

By the time she was back in the room, he had the second box open. Inside that box was a powder blue John Travolta-style disco suit, bell bottoms and all.

Catherine held back a giggle at his audible groan.

"Oh, God. I thought I got rid of this years ago!"

"Oh, come on, Gil. It's not that bad." She tried, unsuccessfully, this time, to hold back her laughter.

"Burn this!" he practically bellowed.

"You don't want to show it off?"

"I doubt I could even get it on, but, no, I don't want to show it off."

"Fine, fine," she said with one last giggle as she went to start a new stack in the hall.

Things progressed like that through the afternoon and into the early evening. They had managed to rid the room of most of its clutter, including his old bicycle, two old radios, a black and white TV, a typewriter, a cork board, two chemistry sets, an ant farm--minus the ants, three glass tanks that Catherine assumed to be former homes for spiders and/or bugs, and more boxes of clothes, textbooks, novels, and miscellaneous stuff.

There were only three boxes remaining in the room. Catherine sat down in the floor next to him as he began to open one of the boxes. She was eager to see what was in the box even though she'd been carrying them to the hall all day. She was learning about Gil's life before they met. She enjoyed that aspect of it, but the best part was that he shared willingly.

He slowly reached into the box and pulled out two baseball gloves--a small one and a large one. He fingered the leather tie along the side of the large glove. "Dad loved baseball. He always wanted me to play." He sighed before continuing. "I tried, but I was terrible. Never stopped me from being a fan, though."

Catherine patted his arm and laid her head on his shoulder. "We never forget our loved ones, Gil."

"No, no we don't." He found her hand and squeezed it gently. Their silent communication said more than words possibly could.

He let go of her hand and studied the gloves for another moment. Putting them aside, he reached into the box again. He pulled out a shoebox. He knew what was in it before he took off the lid.

"My baseball cards," he practically whispered. He lifted the lid and sure enough, there were his baseball cards that he had cherished so much as a child. He placed the lid aside and took a few of the treasured cards out of the box. "Bob Gibson, Frank Robinson, Roger Maris, Ernie Banks, Catfish Hunter, Hank Aaron, Ted Williams, Mickey Mantle, Willie Mays, Sandy Koufax." He read each name with a childlike excitement that Catherine had rarely seen.

"Wow, Gil. You've got quite a collection."

"Did you know that baseball cards used to be packaged with gum?" He didn't give her a chance to answer. "Most of the kids I knew were only interested in the gum. I used to trade my gum for their cards. I knew the baseball cards were more important than the gum."

"Logical reasoning, even at nine years old. Somehow I'm not surprised," she joked.

He smiled at her, even as sadness once again pulled at the corners of his eyes and mouth. "After Dad died, I had no choice. I had to step up and be the man of the house. I grew up real fast."

"I'm sorry, Gil."

He sighed loudly and regrouped his thoughts. "No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

She interrupted him. "There's nothing wrong with remembering the past. The past makes us who we are."

He chuckled. "That sounds like something I'd say. I'm rubbing off on you, aren't I?"

"We’ve spent the better part of twenty years together. That surprises you?”

“No. Just don’t get too much like me.”

“Don’t worry. That won’t happen,” she replied, with a wink. "Now, what's in these last two boxes?"

He was amazed at how quickly she could change his mood. "I have no idea. Go ahead and open one."

She pulled back the flaps and saw several pictures of Gil as a young boy. Some of them were candid shots, others were posed for. She picked a few of them up and flipped through them, smiling at the captured moments. Some of the pictures were of Gil and his dad or of Gil and his mom, but most of them were of Gil and his various pets--spiders, tarantulas, and, of course, bugs. She was sure the glass cages in the pictures were the same ones she'd taken to the hall earlier.

One picture in particular caught her eye. In it, Gil was standing next to an ant farm, holding a first place ribbon. "So did your ant farm beat a volcano?" she asked, turning the picture around so he could see it.

"Bugs are always better,' he replied with a wry smile.

"I'd take my second place volcano over your first place ant farm any day," she retorted.

"That's why I'm the entomologist, my dear."

"Ha, ha. Stop trying to be funny and open the last box."

Inside the last box were things from Gil's high school days. Most of the box was filled with lesson notes that he'd never thrown away. 'I might need them one day,' was his rationalization for keeping them. His cap and gown from graduation was in the box, as well as his diploma.

Catherine was looking over his shoulder and saw something more interesting than the notes and the graduation paraphernalia--his senior class yearbook. She reached over him and took the yearbook out of the box.

"I love to read what people wrote," she said as she sat down and opened the front cover. She read many cookie cutter entries--'Have a great life,' 'Keep in touch,' 'Don't get in too much trouble,'--but one signature was unique. "'I was always 'buggy' for you. Love, Candace.' Who is Candace?" she asked, trying to hold back her laughter.

"She was obsessed with me. Followed me everywhere. She intentionally did bad on exams so she could ask me for help."

"She just had a little crush on you."

"Little crush? Cath, she waited at the door to the school every morning so we could walk to class together. She tried to hold my hand--or take my class ring; I'm not sure--more times than I can count. I think she just wanted my ring so people would think she was my girlfriend."

"And you didn't want that."

"I still have my ring," he said, pulling a small ring box out of the larger high school box.

He opened the box lid and pulled out the ring. It was a simple gold ring with 'Class of '74,' engraved on the outside of the band. He tried it on and was surprised that it still fit. He flexed his fingers a few times and studied the ring he hadn't worn in thirty years.

"What are you thinking?" Catherine asked.

"That a lot of stuff has happened since I got this ring," he answered, enigmatically. He removed the ring and put it back in its box. He stood up and helped Catherine to her feet. "Thank you for helping me sort through all this stuff."

"I'd never pass up a chance to spend time with you."

"Nor I with you. I love you, Cath."

"I love you, too," she said, pulling him in for a long, languid kiss. "Now, how about we go make dinner. I'm starving," she said, patting her stomach for emphasis.

"Wonderful idea. You go ahead and I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Okay." She kissed him once more and left the bedroom for the kitchen.

In the kitchen, she washed and dried her hands and was standing in front of his pantry trying to decide what they should have for dinner. She settled on spaghetti and took the box of noodles and the pre-packaged jar of sauce off of the middle shelf. When she turned around, she was surprised to find Gil in the floor, down on one knee.

"Gil! You scared me. What are you doing?"

"Come here," he said, holding out one of his hands.

She put the stuff on the counter, took his outstretched hand, and stepped closer to him.

He took a deep breath and gently squeezed her hand. "Catherine, I'm not ready to propose, but I would be honored if you would wear my ring," he said, pulling his class ring out of his pocket.

"Gil..." her voiced cracked.

"You're my girlfriend, and aren't girlfriends supposed to wear their boyfriends' class rings?"

Catherine giggled despite the tears threatening to fall. It was the first time he'd called her his girlfriend and it made her absolutely giddy.

"I'd love to wear your class ring." She leaned down and kissed him, the tears finally falling as she closed her eyes.

When their kiss ended, he got to his feet and pulled her into his embrace. They stood there for a few moments, relishing in the comfort that the others' arms brought.

"Could I put it on my necklace, now?" she asked, still wrapped in his arms.

"By all means. Here, let me help you." He reluctantly released her so she could turn around. He brushed her hair to the side so he could get to the necklace clasp easier. Once the clasp was undone, he slid his ring onto the chain and refastened the clasp.

She held the ring lightly in her hand as she turned back around to face him. "Thank you, Gil. This means so much."

"It means a lot that you're wearing it. You're the only one, you know."

"That must make me special."

"You're special no matter what." He pulled her back into his embrace.

"You're pretty special, yourself. I guess I got lucky that you weren't 'buggy' for Candace." She laughed into his chest.

"You're never going to let me forget that, are you?"

“Which had you rather remember, Candace or the John Travolta disco suit?”

He groaned as her laughter continued.

***

Finis

FF: Fortune Cookie

2006-12-06T21:21:11Z

Title: Fortune Cookie

Rating: Trainee / G

Disclaimers: I don't own anything. Everything belongs to Jerry Bruckheimer, CBS, and Alliance Atlantis. I'm just borrowing some characters for awhile.

Summary: Catherine reads her fortune.

Spoilers: Small ones for 'Ellie,' 'Burden of Proof,' ‘King Baby,’ and 'No Humans Involved,' but nothing that will ruin the episode if you haven't seen it. It takes place during or after season 6.
A/N: Thanks to Star Journeying. And now, on with the PWP.

***

I take off my glasses and put them on one of the open folders on the desk. I close my eyes and rest my head in my hands, my elbows on the desk.

I'm so tired of doing paperwork, but with Gil out of town, I'm the ‘lucky’ one who gets to do all of it. I’ll never understand why those bug conferences are so important, but different strokes, I guess.

I sigh and look at the clock. No wonder I'm so tired--it's 4:23 am, and I've been in this chair for nearly three hours. I even missed my lunch break--or whatever a meal at 3 am is called. As if on cue, my stomach growls.

I've got some leftover Chinese food in the break room refrigerator. Maybe it's good that Gil's not here. He'd probably have an experiment in the fridge. I smile at his quirkiness as I stand up. My smile turns into a grimace as my tired muscles protest the movement. I stretch my arms upward, trying to alleviate some of the tension. I should make Mr. Quirky give me a massage when he gets back. Too bad that’s not until tomorrow.

I leave my office and I'm not surprised to find the break room empty.

I take the bag with the two containers of leftovers out of the fridge. My mouth waters before I can even get the food into the microwave. In a couple of minutes, the orange-pineapple chicken and fried rice are piping hot and smell delicious. My stomach growls again.

I put the food on the table and grab a bottle of water from the fridge. I could use coffee, but it wouldn’t taste that good with Chinese. My mouth is still watering when I sit down to eat. I quickly finish the savory leftovers, wishing I had more. Maybe I’ll stop at my favorite Chinese restaurant on the way home. It never closes. This is Vegas, after all.

I stand up and grab the bag the containers were in. There's something still in the bag. A fortune cookie. Jackpot! I decide to save the fortune cookie for the walk back to my office. I remove the plastic wrapper from the fortune cookie and throw away my trash before leaving the break room.

I break the fortune cookie in half, popping one half in my mouth and pulling the slip of paper out of the other half. As I chew the sweet treat, I silently read my fortune: 'The love of your life will appear in front of you unexpectedly.' Love of my life--yeah, right. Like that will ever happen. Oh, well. At least the fortune cookie is good. I pop the other half in my mouth as I near my office.

I toss the slip of paper on my desk as I sit down in my chair. I'm fed and refreshed and ready to get back to another round of paperwork. I don my glasses and dive back into the piles of papers strewn across my desk.

An hour later, there's a knock on my door.

"Come in," I call. I look over the top rim of my glasses to see who's at the door. The door cracks open and I'm surprised to see the person standing there. "Gil? What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be back until tomorrow."

"Good to see you, too." He smiles.

"That's not what I meant," I reply, rolling my eyes.

"I know. I got an earlier flight."

"Couldn't wait to get back to work?"

"I wanted to see you."

"Right," I say sarcastically. “Oh, wait. Let me guess. You missed my tush.”

He smiles and I know he remembers saying those words. I joke with him, but I know I’ll never forget hearing him say them.

"I missed more than that.”

Enigmatic as always. Not that I expected anything else.

There’s a pause. It’s not uncomfortable, though. We’re silently daring each other to respond to what was just said.

He eventually buckles and changes the subject. “So, do you mind catching me up on the cases?"

"Now that sounds like the Gil Grissom I know. Gets off the plane and comes to work for, two hours." I smile as I remove my glasses. "Well, since you're here, do you want to come in?" I gesture to the half-open door.

He opens the door the rest of the way, showing me the bug case he's holding. "Let me go put these guys in my office. I know you love the fetal pig, but I also know how you feel about my creepy crawlies."

"Thanks for thinking of me."

He turns to leave and mumbles something that sounds like, 'I always do.'

No, that can't be right. There’s no way he said that. I watch Mr. Quirky walk away, and as I put my glasses back on and refocus on my desk, the slip of paper catches my eye. I pick it up and read it again. 'The love of your life will appear in front of you unexpectedly.' Love of my life... Unexpectedly... I look at the doorframe where Gil had been only a moment ago. Maybe there's something to this fortune. And maybe I’ll even ask him for that massage.

The end.

FF: Kissing Under the Mistletoe

2006-12-06T21:16:09Z

Title: Kissing Under the Mistletoe
Rating: CSI-3
Disclaimers: I don't own anything. Everything belongs to Jerry Bruckheimer, CBS, and Alliance Atlantis. I'm just borrowing some characters for awhile.
Summary: 'Kissing under the mistletoe' pretty much says it.
Spoilers: None. Established relationship, though.
A/N: I have no beta, so all mistakes are mine.

For the Graveshift's December 2005 Challenge

***

Part 1

***

Gil Grissom had to admit that he was having a good time at the Crime Lab's Holiday Party. He'd always hated these things because most of the time he'd never had a date. This year was different though. He arrived at the party alone, but his date was there. He just couldn't tell anyone who his date was. The two of them were keeping their relationship secret, but it was difficult because he often found himself staring at her or 'accidentally' touching her.

He meandered around the room drinking his eggnog and occasionally making small talk with others who worked in the lab.

"Grissom!"

He smiled inwardly at the sound of her voice. He turned to face his date. Why she chose to be with him, he would never know.

Catherine, holding her own cup of eggnog, stepped closer to him. "Are you having a good time?"

"It's not too bad. How about you?"

"It's okay." She lowered her voice. "It's about to get better," she whispered with a sly grin.

"Why's that? Are we leaving?" he countered suggestively.

"Not yet. Have you noticed where we are?"

"Yeah, at the Christmas Party."

"Well, technically, it's a 'Holiday Party,' but that's not what I meant."

"Then what..." Her eyes shifted upward and his gaze followed.

Above them hung mistletoe, complete with a red ribbon. People were beginning to stare at them, wondering if they would actually go through with the kissing tradition associated with mistletoe.

They stood there a few moments before he said, "Well, we can't break a tradition. It's bad luck. I guess we've got to kiss, Cath." His voice was loud enough for others to hear.

"I guess you're right, Gil. We don't need any bad luck." She tried to hide the smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

She licked her lips in anticipation of their kiss. He shifted closer to her and gently placed his free hand on her waist. She, in turn, put her free hand on his shoulder, desperately waiting for his lips to meld to hers.

By this time, everyone in the room had their eyes glued to the pair of CSIs camped beneath the mistletoe.

He leaned down slowly as she tilted her chin up. Their lips met with flaming intensity and it was all either one of them could do to keep it 'friendly.'

"Damn! It's not a kissing contest," a certain brown-haired female CSI said.

The lip-locked CSIs ignored her comment, but finally broke apart, gasping for air.

"Quite a kisser there, Doctor Grissom."

"Right back at you, Miss Willows."

Their co-workers broke into applause. Some even made comments about how they thought Grissom would chicken out.

Grissom shrugged off the comments and smiled at Catherine, whose eyes sparkled with delight.

"I've got to get some fresh air. Do you want to go with?" he asked.

"That'd be great."

***

They stepped out into the cool Nevada night. "Do you think they know?" he asked.

"Who?"

"Everyone."

"I don't know. We can't hide it forever, though."

"I know." He paused. "What was that inside?"

"Huh?"

"You know. With the mistletoe."

"Hey, you were the one standing under it. Actually, you should be thankful that it was me who kissed you. Any Tom, Dick, or Sara could have come along and laid one on you."

He laughed. "You know I wouldn't kiss any of those people. I only kiss you."

She grinned. "Good. Let's keep it that way."

He took her hand in his. "I love you."

"I love you, too." She stood on her tip-toes so she could kiss him. "We better get back inside."

"I guess you're right. Maybe if we get lucky, we'll find some more mistletoe."

She giggled. "Gil, I think the 'lucky' part comes after the mistletoe."

"Is that a promise?" he quipped.

"You better believe it!"

"What am I going to do with you?" he said with a light chuckle.

"Ravish me," she replied dramatically.

"Name the time and place."

"Anytime. Any place." She paused. "Except right now. We've got to get back inside."

They kissed once more before returning to the party.

***

The next night, Catherine arrived at the lab wearing tight black pants, black shoes, a red button-up blouse and some newly acquired jewelry. She put her bag and coat in her locker and headed to the break room to join the rest of the team.

Everyone else was already there, so as soon as Catherine sat down, Grissom began to hand out assignments. When he looked at Catherine, he knew he was going to have a hard shift. Not only was she the sexiest woman he'd ever known, but she was wearing a long necklace with a mistletoe pendant and matching dangling mistletoe-shaped earrings. All he could think about was the mistletoe from the previous night and the 'tradition' associated with it.

"Gil?" Catherine questioned. "You zoned out there for a second. Are you okay?"

He cleared his throat. "Yeah, fine." He reluctantly tore his eyes away from her and finished handing out the assignments

As everyone got up to leave, Grissom said, "Catherine, could I see you in my office?"

The younger CSIs went one way while Catherine and Grissom went the other way. He unlocked his office door and pushed it open for her. When they were both inside, he shut the door and pulled Catherine into his embrace. He kissed her feverishly and ran his hands up and down her back. He couldn't get enough of her. They broke apart, panting, trying to recover from their fiery kiss.

"What was that for?" Catherine questioned, although she already knew the answer.

"Two reasons. Because I wanted to and because of the mistletoe tradition."

"Good answer, especially the first part. There was a problem, though. You didn't kiss under the mistletoe." She ran her hands seductively up his arms. "We can't break that tradition."

"No, we can't. We've got to keep that tradition alive. Where shall I begin?" he said with a grin.

She returned the grin and tilted her head to the side, silently urging him to smother her in kisses. She didn't have long to wait.

He kissed her neck below where the dangling mistletoe earring touched her smooth, creamy skin. He gave the other side of her neck the same treatment when she tilted her head the other way. He kissed his way down her neck, across the hollow of her throat, and to the top of the first button. The necklace was too long.

"Looks like I'm going to have to unbutton some of these buttons. You know, in order to follow tradition and kiss under the mistletoe."

"Whatever you have to do," she sighed. She certainly wasn't going to stop him.

He quickly undid two buttons and his mouth returned to her heaving, heated chest. The 'tradition' escalated and soon her blouse was completely unbuttoned. He continued to cover her in kisses.

She was just starting to pull his shirt from his pants when his phone rang. "Let it go."

"I am," was his short reply. Thoughts of mistletoe were gone for the moment. They were focused on only one thing.

Within a minute, there was an incessant rapping on the other side of the door. They both jumped in surprise, startled because of their proximity to the door.

"Grissom, I know you're in there. I saw you and Catherine go in a few minutes ago. I need to talk to you about a case."

"Be right there," Grissom shouted while he and Catherine frantically tried to get redressed.

As soon as they were dressed, Grissom opened the door. Ecklie stepped into Grissom's office and Catherine stepped out.

"I've got to get to my case. I just had to ask Grissom a question." She sped away from Grissom' office, hoping her makeup wasn't smeared too badly from their mistletoe-induced make out session.

***

The next few nights at the Crime Lab were quite stressful. Criminals certainly didn't take time off for the holidays. Grissom and Catherine were working on different cases and had not had a chance to talk since Ecklie interrupted them. Finally, in the early hours of Christmas Eve morning, things seemed to be slowing down.

Grissom was walking down the hall toward the DNA lab. Catherine hurried after him, then quickly fell into step with him.

"Merry Christmas, Catherine."

"Merry Christmas, Gil."

"I see you're not wearing that necklace or those earrings." He looked a little disappointed.

"Well, they almost got us in trouble."

"Necklaces and earrings don't get people in trouble. People get people in trouble," he said jokingly.

"Ha, ha. You think you're so funny. Did Ecklie say anything?"

"No, I told him that you were just upset."

"Yeah, that he interrupted us."

"So, what are you doing after work?"

"Oh, I thought I'd go to this guy's house. Give him his Christmas present." She grinned.

"He's one lucky guy. Anyone I know?" he said with a matching grin.

"Possibly," she smirked.

They arrived at the DNA lab. Grissom went into the lab and Catherine continued down the hall, each thinking about what would happen after work.

Part 2

***

Grissom left the lab at precisely the time the graveyard shift ended--a rarity for him. When he arrived at his townhouse, he was not too surprised to see Catherine's SUV already in his driveway. He pulled his SUV in behind hers and smiled, knowing that she'd already let herself in and, hopefully, made herself comfortable.

He cut the engine, got out of and locked the vehicle, and hurried inside. He half expected Catherine to meet him at the door. When she didn't, he closed and locked the door and went in search of her. She wasn't in the kitchen or the dining room. He started down the hall toward his bedroom, but before he could open the door Catherine yelled, “Don’t come in here!”

“Merry Christmas to you, too! Why can’t I come in?”

“I’m wrapping your present.”

He heard paper rustle and tape tearing.

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I always get gifts for the people I love.”

“Your love is enough, Cath.”

“I’d kiss you if you were in here.”

"Then let me in."

"No! You can't see your present."

“Fine. But I’ll hold you to that kiss. I’ll be in the kitchen,” he called.

“Okay. Be right out.”

He went to the kitchen and she finished wrapping his gift. When she finished, she left his bedroom and walked back to the living room where they had put up a small Christmas tree. It was the first tree he’d had in years, and although he’d been against it at first, Catherine was finally able to talk him into getting it.

She placed the wrapped, medium-size present under the tree. She turned on the tree’s lights and stepped back, admiring the way they glistened off of the simple silver and white ornaments.

“Beautiful,” he said, walking up behind her.

“It is.”

“I was talking about you.”

She turned to face him and smiled. “You certainly know the way to a girl’s heart.”

“Yours is the only one I’m interested in.”

“You’re just saying that because you want Christmas sex,” she teased.

“No, I said that because it’s the truth.” He paused. “Although the sex would be a bonus.”

She slapped him playfully on the chest with her hand.

“You know you want it too, Cath. It’s been almost a week.”

“Six days, eighteen hours, and thirty-eight minutes.” She wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I said ‘almost’.” He kissed her quickly then broke from her embrace. “I want you to open your present first, though.”

“You can’t be serious. We’re about to make love and you want me to open a present. Honestly, Gil. Sometimes I don’t understand you.”

He handed her a neatly wrapped package. “Just open it. You’ll understand soon enough.”

She was still pissed at him, but took the package anyway. She tore the wrapping paper from the box and lifted the lid. When she saw what was in the box, her irritation dissolved and she erupted into laughter. Nestled in the red and green tissue paper was a bra and panty set with small mistletoes scattered across the black satin.

She was still laughing when she hugged him. “Thank you, Gil. I love this.”

“You’re welcome, and I knew you would. Now, where were we?” he said, trying to kiss her.

“Not so fast!” she exclaimed, extracting herself from his arms. “You have to open your present.”

“But…”

“No ‘buts.’ You made me open mine. It’s only fair that you open yours, too.” She handed him his present, giggling at the scowl on his face.

He ripped the paper and opened the box. As was the case with Catherine, his annoyance subsided when he saw his gift. Catherine's gift to him was black satin boxers with the same mistletoe pattern as the lingerie he’d bought for her. He broke into his own fit of laughter. “We make quite a pair, don’t we?”

“Great minds…” she replied.

“So, um, you want to try them on? See how they look?"

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," she countered seductively.

"And then we get to, uh...kiss under the mistletoe?"

"Each and every one."


The End

FF: Outside the Microscope

2006-12-06T21:09:33Z

Title: Outside the Microscope
Rating: CSI-2
Disclaimers: I don't own anything. Everything belongs to Jerry Bruckheimer, CBS, and Alliance Atlantis. I'm just borrowing some characters for awhile.
Summary: Short little post-ep.
Spoilers: 'Burden of Proof.'
A/N: I have no beta, so any mistakes are mine.

For Graveshift's September 2005 challenge.

***

Screwdriver in hand, I make myself comfortable on his couch. I watch him order the plant for Sara and smile. 'From Grissom.' Some sentiment. I know Sara will read more into the gesture than she should, but I'm glad Gil's trying to make amends.

He hangs up the phone and we talk as he finishes preparing dinner. He refuses to let me help, though. He gets the plates down from the cabinet and the silverware out of the drawer.

I finish my first screwdriver and return to the kitchen to make a second one. He smiles as I add a little more vodka than I should have. I ask if he wants another one, but he's still working on his first one.

He plates our dinner and carries the plates to the table. I follow him with the napkins and silverware. He pulls out my chair and I sit, touched by his simple gesture.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

We eat in companionable silence. I'm looking at my plate, but I can feel him staring at me. I glance at him, but his eyes quickly dart away. I smile slightly and continue eating.

We finish eating about the same time. "Would you like some more?" he asks.

"It was wonderful, Gil, but I'm absolutely stuffed."

"Okay." He stands and picks up our plates, carrying them back to the kitchen.

"Do you need some help?" I ask.

"No, I'm fine. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable."

I take the rest of my screwdriver back to the window so I can look at the city. He's got such a nice view.

I'm staring out the window and don't hear him until he's standing right behind me.

"Cath?" His hand lightly touches my shoulder.

I'm startled and I turn to face him.

He leans down and kisses me softly on the cheek. "Thank you."

"What for?"

"For making me see that there's life outside of a microscope. I don't want to shut you out anymore," he says with emphasis on the 'you.'

"Just me?"

"Just you." His hand slides down my arm and he takes my hand in his. I can feel him shaking. He's nervous. He licks his lips and shifts his weight, but never lets go of my hand. "I'd like...I'd like to kiss you."

I have butterflies. "I'd like that."

He licks his lips again. He leans down slowly and it feels like an eternity before our lips finally connect. The kiss is soft and sweet, but hints at things to come.

"I wanted to do that earlier but I chickened out," he confesses.

"I'm glad you didn't chicken out this time," I reply.

"Me, too."

We smile at each other and lean in for another kiss.

Sara may get the plant, but I have something she'll never have.

~Finis~

Chocolate Covered Lover, 5-7

2006-12-06T20:57:17Z

This is really where the fun with chocolate begins... :-)
Rating: Supervisor
Disclaimer: Didn't own them in the first part; don't own them now.

Part 5

***

Still plastered to the fridge, Catherine gasped as Gil's chocolate smeared beard scraped deliciously against her skin. She was unsure if her voice would work, but she managed to squeak out his name with a breathy sigh.

"Hmm?" he mumbled, not stopping his chocolate onslaught.

She gently pushed him away and inhaled a couple of quick breaths. Even as her chest heaved, she smiled, reveling at how sexy he looked all covered in chocolate. "We shouldn't do this, Gil." It was a direct contradiction to what she wanted to do.

He was confused. She had smiled at him, yet halted any further advances. He looked down at his feet. "Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have retaliated with..."

She interrupted his rant. "Gil, I just meant that we shouldn't do this with everyone here. But if you don't want to..." It was her turn to look at her feet.

He placed the side of his index finger under her chin, gently tipping her face upward, effectively shifting her gaze back to his eyes. "Let's see how fast we can get them out of here." He smiled and leaned in for another kiss. He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth for a second then turned and began walking away. When she didn't immediately follow, he turned back toward her. "You had chocolate..." He winked.

She grinned and hurried to catch up with him. Hoping they could get the others to leave quickly, they left the sundae ingredients on the counter and headed back outside. They thought they might find the younger CSIs playing one of Greg's games, but no noise emanated from the yard. Warrick, Nick, Greg, and Sara were nowhere to be found.

"Maybe they're inside," Grissom suggested.

She froze. "Do you think they saw us?"

Grissom, enigmatic as always, just smiled and walked back toward the house.

Once inside, they bypassed the kitchen, knowing no one would be in there. Catherine started down the hall while Grissom returned to the living room. They checked the rooms, but the house was empty except for the two of them.

As Grissom walked by the window, he was alarmed at what he didn't see. "Hey, Cath? Did you know your Denali's gone?"

"What?" she asked, as she made her way back down the hall.

"My Denali is the only one out there."

Catherine went to the window for conformation. Chewing on her lip, puzzled, she turned away from the window and noticed a piece of paper on the table that she was sure was not there before the party. Picking up the paper, she recognized Warrick's scrawl. She read the note, smiled, and handed it to Grissom.

When he finished reading it, he wore his own smile. He glanced at Catherine, dropped the note, and pulled her to him. "Does this mean we can continue what we started in the kitchen?"

"Oh yeah," she sighed, pulling his head down for a kiss. She broke the kiss and stroked his beard with both hands. She backed out of his embrace, caught his hand in hers as it slid off of her hip, and pulled him toward the bedroom.

They only made it halfway down the hall before their passion got the best of them. Their lips fiercely collided and their arms wrapped around each other, causing them to lose their balance. They crashed into the wall, leaving a chocolate smear in their wake.

They recklessly stumbled into her room and she shut the door behind them. They separated slightly as she ran her hands up the front of his stained shirt. She made quick work of the three buttons near his collar, but because of the height difference, it was nearly impossible to pull the shirt off over his head. Finally, she stood on her tip-toes as he bent over slightly. Catherine eagerly pulled off his shirt and tossed it onto the floor. Remaining on her toes, her lips latched onto his neck. When she pulled away, a bright red mark was already forming. "Chocolate," she said, giggling.

She reached for the hem of her shirt, but he stopped her. "Cath, are you sure you want to do this? Maybe we should talk about this, first."

She was nearly panting and fury raged in her eyes. "You cannot be serious! Gil, we're both covered in chocolate, we're in my room, you're half-naked, and you're asking if we should talk first?" She grabbed his hand and placed it on her breast before he could pull away. He felt her nipple harden under his palm. "How can you think I don't want this?"

He smirked. "I was kidding, Cath. But this is a nice bonus," he said, referring to his hand on her breast.

She sighed half in frustration, half in relief, and rolled her eyes. "Jerk," she said, laughing as she kissed his exposed chest.

His hands glided over her ribcage down to the hem of her shirt. He looked deep into her eyes for one last confirmation and peeled the garment off over her head. He tossed her shirt aside and gazed at what he had revealed. She wore a pale blue satin bra, that quickly drew Grissom's attention. "Beautiful," he sighed.

Catherine, although she'd recently told Greg that no one could make her blush, felt the heat spread from her chest to her neck and into her face. She looked toward the floor.

Gently tilting her chin back up with his index finger, he gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't be embarrassed. You're magnificent." He kissed the tip of her nose.

"More chocolate?" she questioned, her eyes gleaming.

"No, I just wanted to kiss you."

"Oh." She felt a new wave of heat surge through her body, this one unrelated to embarrassment. She was completely turned on by his uncharacteristic boldness.

He studied her face. "I know what you're thinking. I'm not drunk. I know exactly what I'm doing, and I want this as much, if not more than you do." He cupped her face in his hands and gently kissed her lips.

"You're very observant, Mr. Grissom," she said once the kiss ended. "Get comfortable. I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?"

"It's a surprise. Just get comfortable." She turned away from him and an impish grin appeared on her face.

Part 6

***

While Grissom tried to get comfortable in the bedroom, Catherine returned to the kitchen, giggling as she passed the chocolate mural they created when they'd slammed into the wall only minutes before.

When she got to the kitchen she gasped and covered her mouth with one hand. There was chocolate on nearly every surface in the kitchen--the refrigerator, stove, and most of the counters were smeared with the sticky syrup, while the wall and floor had distinct chocolate spatter patterns.

'It looks like a crime took place here,' she thought. 'Yeah, a crime of passion.' She grinned at her own morbid joke and located the once-forgotten-about syrup bottle. She picked it up, put her arm behind her back and started toward the bedroom. She glanced at the smear on the wall again, hoping it would come clean so she wouldn't have to explain it to Lindsey.

When she walked back in her room, Grissom was standing in the same place he was when she left. He was in a daze and didn't hear her re-enter the room. "Gil?" she questioned. "Are you okay?"

He jumped at the sound of her voice. As he turned toward her, he noticed she was hiding something. "What's behind your back?" he gulped.

"Nothing," she tried, innocently.

"Cath..."

"Fine," she said, showing him the bottle.

His eyes went from her eyes to the bottle, then back to her eyes. He knew exactly what she had in mind, but it still scared the hell out of him. "Aren't we covered in enough chocolate?"

Knowing she might regret her decision later, she offered him an out. "Do you want to stop, Gil?"

Their eyes remained locked.

"No."

A wide smile spread across her face and her eyes glistened with unshed tears of happiness. "Me, neither." She stepped closer to him. "Now, take off your pants, Gil."

He was still quite nervous, but he wasn't backing out now. A sudden wave of boldness swept over him. "Don't you want to help me?"

"I want to watch you."

He felt like the bugs he so intently studied. He squirmed under her scrutiny, but began to undo his belt buckle. His pants were soon pooled around his ankles and he kicked off his shoes and pants, leaving him clad in only his socks and black silk boxers.

Catherine smiled appreciatively. "I never pictured you as a silk kind of guy, Gil."

"What? You don't like them?"

"Oh, no. I like them a lot." She glanced at them again before taking his hand and leading him toward the bed.

He sat on the edge of the bed and reached for his socks. He flipped them toward the pile of clothes accumulating on the floor. When he looked at Catherine, her smile was even more radiant.

"What? You think I was going to leave my socks on while we're making love?"

She swelled with happiness. He'd said, 'making love,' not 'having sex.' "Well, I..."

"I assume that's where we're going since I'm in my boxers and you're shirtless. Not to mention the chocolate."

"Patience, Mr. Grissom. All in good time," she teased. "Now scoot toward the middle of the bed."

"Sounds like I'm not the only impatient one," he retorted. He complied to her wishes anyway.

She removed her shoes and climbed on the bed, still wearing her bra and capris. She straddled his thighs and felt his very-evident arousal near her core. She squirted some of the chocolate syrup on his chest, just below his sternum. He arched off the bed, squirming in excitement from all of the sensations he was experiencing.

Catherine put the bottle on the bed and leaned forward, placing her hands on either side of him for balance and support. She hovered over him, languidly licking the chocolate off of his torso. Each slow stroke of her tongue sent him closer to the edge. His eyes snapped shut tightly and he struggled to regain his composure.

She saw the effect she was having on him, so she stopped and waited for his breathing to slow down. She wanted to prolong his pleasure as much as she could. That, and she liked to tease him.

His breathing was almost back to normal before he opened his eyes. Catherine smiled at him. "You okay?"

He nodded as she picked up the bottle. "What about you? You need a turn."

"This is just for you." She squeezed some syrup onto his nipple and he once again arched off the bed. As she licked and nipped, his eyes slipped shut and beads of sweat broke out over his whole body. He gripped the sheets until his knuckles turned white and he fought to hang on as she lavished his nipple.

He couldn't take anymore of her sweet torture--he had to have her.

In one swift move, he flipped her onto her back, taking her by surprise. "Pants...off...now," he growled. She eagerly undid the button and zipper, but before she could slide them off, he was frantically pulling them and her panties down her shapely legs. She leaned up enough for him to undo the clasp on her bra, and soon the blue material landed on the floor with the rest of their clothes.

The only obstacle that remained between them was his black silk boxers. Catherine loved the feel of silk on her skin, but she was sure she would love the feel of his skin on hers much more. They made quick work of his boxers and sighed simultaneously as the final barrier was removed.

Wrapped in each others' arms, they kissed passionately, hot and hungry and aching for release. His tongue slid into her mouth and he tasted the sweetness she had licked from his body.

When she could no longer breathe, she pulled away, immediately missing the contact. "Gil," she pleaded. "Now."

That was all the encouragement he needed. He drove into her hard and fast and in only a few thrusts, her eyes closed and she felt herself begin to tumble over the edge. She desperately wanted to wait for him, but her control was gone.

He watched her writhe in ecstasy as she approached the realm of bliss. Feeling the pressure build, he managed to grunt an 'I love you' before she climaxed.

Upon hearing those words, her muscles clenched and she came hard, wave after wave washing over her every nerve ending.

Never had he seen anything as beautiful as she was at that moment.

The hot, happy tears flowed freely as the weight of his words hit her. Her previous lovers had only said those words once they'd been satiated. None of them had ever professed their love when she came.

The tingling sensation began to course through his body and he knew that ultimate release was close. He felt Catherine still clinging to him and he heard her say the words he had longed to hear come from her lips.

"I love you, too. Let it go, Gil. Let it go."

Seconds later he came, spilling into her. He collapsed into her embrace and she stroked his back, trying to soothe his erratic breathing.

When his breathing returned to normal, he rolled onto his back, pulling her halfway onto his chest. She draped her arm across the other half of his torso and lightly ran her fingers along his side. She smiled as his fingers lazily traced a pattern on her back.

"Cath," he sighed, contently. "You're amazing."

"You're pretty wonderful, yourself. Happy birthday, Mr. Grissom," she said, placing a small kiss on his chest. "Mmm, you still taste like chocolate," she said, licking her lips.

He laughed. "Still don't taste as sweet as you."

She giggled. "You know, this reminds me of something I read. Catherine Zeta-Jones said that the only thing better than sex is sex with chocolate on top."

"Ah, another beautiful woman named Catherine. She was wrong, though."

He felt her tense as she hesitantly asked, "What do you mean?"

"The only thing better than sex, is sex with *my* Catherine with chocolate on top."

He heard her sigh of relief and felt her body relax against his.

"Damn it, Gil. Don't do that to me," she said, lightly slapping his chest. "Besides, you had more chocolate on you than I did."

"This time, maybe."

"So you're saying we'll have more chocolate escapades?"

"You better believe it."

"Sweet," Catherine giggled.

***

They drifted off to sleep in each others' arms. When Gil awoke two hours later, he tried to slip out of her arms without waking her, but she was a light sleeper.

"I'll be right back. I just have to, uh, you know...go."

"Go?" She knew what he meant, but wanted to drag it out of him. Teasing him was so much fun.

"Yeah. To, uh, relieve myself."

She giggled at his choice of words and waited for him to return.

When he re-entered the bedroom, he looked at the clock--12:25 am.

He climbed back into bed and pulled her into his embrace, easily spooning around her. He kissed the back of her head and whispered, "I took the night off."

"I know. Sofia's got the shift."

"How'd you know?" He was both surprised and unsurprised that she already knew.

"I have people."

"Greg."

"I cannot reveal my sources. I must admit that I'm somewhat shocked that you took tonight off. I've known you twenty years and I can count on one hand the number of nights you've taken off. What were you going to do with the rest of the night if we hadn't ended up here?"

"I didn't plan on leaving."

Her breath caught in her throat. "What were you going to do, seduce me?"

"Well, it's my birthday, isn't it?" he joked.

"It certainly is. I hope you've forgiven me for throwing you a party."

"Cath, I must be honest with you. I knew about the party from the beginning."

"What? How?"

"You're not the only one who has people."

"Greg!"

He laughed, but didn't answer outright. "I wasn't going to give up the chance to spend more time with you."

She sighed. "You know, for someone who claims to not know what to say to women, you're doing a hell of a job reeling me in."

"You're the only fish in my pond."

She laughed and turned in his arms.

They kissed languidly, stroking and caressing any skin they could find. The kiss ended and he gently tucked her hair behind her ear before lovingly cupping her face. "Thank you for this, Catherine." He paused. "I'm glad you were the last one to wish me happy birthday."
"Saved the best for last, huh?" she quipped.

"Most definitely."

"Well, I'm glad I'm the last one too. And speaking of birthdays, don't forget that you've got some presents in there."

"I don't need them. I've already unwrapped everything I want. I got the gift that keeps on giving," he said with a mischievous grin.

"Well, if I'm the gift, I've got to get some sleep if you want me to keep on giving."

"Guess you're right. We'll need some energy later. Love you, Cath," he said, placing a kiss on her forehead.

"Love you too, Gil."

She snuggled into his arms again, grateful that they'd both taken a chance.

***

Catherine woke up first and got out of bed without disturbing him. She grabbed Gil's discarded shirt before she left the room and slipped it on as she made her way to the kitchen. She looked around the kitchen at all the dried chocolate smears and spatters. "This is going to be a bitch to clean up," she said aloud.

Realizing that she was quite hungry, she opened the fridge looking for something to make for breakfast. She honestly hadn't planned on having company for breakfast, so all she found was a package of stale bagels, outdated orange juice, an egg, and a box of baking soda. Slamming the fridge door with disgust, she headed to the pantry. Her luck wasn't much better there. She found a poorly sealed bag of pretzels, a can of tuna, and about eight cans of soup. Soup for breakfast wasn't appetizing, though. Standing at the pantry door with her hands on her hips, her back to the rest of the kitchen, she was startled by Grissom's smooth voice.

"Whatcha doing?"

"Damn! You scared me! Did I wake you?" Her eyes grazed over his body. He was wearing only the black silk boxers.

"Well, I woke up and you were gone, so yeah, I guess you did. What are you doing?"

"I'm looking for something to fix for breakfast."

"What have you got?"

"A whole bunch of nothing. Unless you want soup."

"Got any cherries?"

"Yeah. We didn't use them last night. Why?"

"My own little sundae on Sunday. There's a little chocolate left, you know." He waggled his eyebrows and made a thumbing motion over his shoulder.

"God, Gil. You're insatiable," she said, grinning.

"Only when referring to you. I just can't get enough of you."

"Good, because I can't get enough of you, either. I love you, Gil."

"I love you too, Catherine," he said as he pulled her to him. "So how about if we just skip breakfast and head right for dessert? I've got the chocolate."

"I'll grab the cherries!"

Part 7

***

He rolled onto his back, groaning. "Ow."

Catherine stirred, smiling languidly. "Too much?" she joked as she opened her eyes to look at him.

"Not enough," he replied. "But I'm really sore."

"Me, too."

He tried to pull her into his arms, but his aching muscles screamed at him.

She slid closer to him, resting her head on his chest and draping her arm across his torso. They were silent for a few minutes, just holding each other.

Reluctantly, Catherine eased from his embrace. "As much as I'd just like to stay here with you, Gil, we've got a lot of cleaning up to do before work."

"Five more minutes."

"Nope. That's five more minutes for you to try to talk me into staying longer." She sat up on the edge of the bed, her naked back to him. "You can have the shower first. I'll start cleaning the wall in the hall."

"I think I might need some assistance in the shower."

"You mean, 'to the shower,'" she said, looking over her shoulder at him.

"No. In the shower." He grinned.

She rolled her eyes. "Get your ass in that shower."

"Fine."

"It sure is," she said with a wink.

He went to the shower and she, after putting on a t-shirt and cotton shorts, went to get the stuff to clean the chocolate off the wall.

Twenty minutes later, almost all of the chocolate was gone.

Gil emerged from the bathroom with a purple towel wrapped around his waist.

"Feel better?" Catherine asked.

"I'm not as sore as I was half an hour ago."

"Good."

She went back to scrubbing the wall.

He stood there staring at her for a few moments.

She was aware that he was staring at her. "Yes?"

"As much as I love this purple towel," he said almost sarcastically, "I think I'd be more comfortable in real clothes. Will you go grab them from the Denali?"

"You brought clothes? Wow, you really didn't plan on leaving last night, did you?"

"No."

"Well, why can't you get them?" she teased.

"Because I'm wearing a purple towel."

"Well, if you don't like my purple towel, you could always take it off."

"You want to share me with your neighbors?"

"Good point. I"m not sharing you with anybody. Where are your keys?"

***

She returned with his clothes a few minutes later. He was still wearing the purple towel, but he was in the kitchen cleaning up the mess from the night before.

"You know, I like you in purple," she said as she watched him work.

"Ha ha. I'm sure you wear purple better than I do."

"Yeah, you're right." She walked to where he was standing, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled his head closer.

"Don't get me all sticky."

"You know you'd love it," she said as their lips collided. She broke the kiss. "I'm going to go take a shower."

He smiled.

"No, I don't need your help. We'll 'help' each other later."

He watched her walk away, thinking that he was a damn lucky man to have a woman like her.

***

Catherine felt better after her long, hot shower. She had never been that sticky. She was sure she'd be washing chocolate out of her hair for weeks. She dried herself with a towel that matched the one Grissom had and wrapped herself in her robe.

She went back to her bedroom and giggled at the chaos within. Sundae sex. She took the sheets off the bed and headed to the laundry room with them. She added some extra powder, but she was sure she'd have to buy new sheets. Chocolate and cherries didn't come out of sheets too easily.

Back in the kitchen, Grissom was nearly done with the cleanup. The chocolate spatters had been cleaned off of the walls and the floor--only the counters and the refrigerator still had chocolate on them.

"I'm gonna have to buy new sheets," he heard her say.

"I'll buy us some."

"'Us.' Nice."

"Lindsey called. She asked if she could stay with her friend."

"Oh. What did you tell her?"

"That you'd call her back."

"Oh. Did she ask why you were here?"

"Yes."

"And you said..."

"That I was here for 'sundae' brunch."

"Oh."

"You know, chocolate, cherries..."

"Yeah, I got it," she said smiling.

"I didn't tell her that I stayed here last night, if that's what you're wondering."

"I wasn't thinking that. I was thinking that you're the greatest." She stood on her tip-toes so she could kiss his cheek.

"That's all I get for being the greatest?"

"What do you want me to do, pin you against the fridge?"

They glanced at the fridge and erupted into fits of laughter.

***

Catherine sat in her office, thinking about all that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. She had seen him five hours ago, but she couldn't wait until the beginning of the graveyard shift.

Her phone rang. "Willows." She listened. "Okay, I'll be right there. Thanks."

She left her office and headed for the front desk.

"Hi, Ms. Willows. Someone left this for you," the woman said, referring to a non-descript gift bag.

"Any idea who left it?"

"Yes, but I'm not allowed to say."

"Oh." Curiosity got the best of her, and she quickly removed the tissue paper. As she glanced inside the bag, her eyes widened and she blushed. She'd blushed more in the past twenty-four hours than she had since she was a teenager.

"Thank you," she told the woman. She replaced the tissue paper and scurried back to her office, bag in hand.

Once in the sanctuary of her office, she removed the tissue paper again and took the revealed item out of the bag. There was a note attached to the bag. It read: "Thought you two might want to try something other than chocolate." The note was unsigned, but she had a pretty good idea who had sent her the package.

***

Grissom arrived at work, happier than he'd ever been. He was in love with a beautiful woman who was in love with him.

He went out of his way to get to his office, walking past Catherine's door. The light was off, but he knocked anyway. There was no response. He'd hoped to see her before his shift started, but it looked like that wasn't going to happen. He walked by the break room on his way to his office. Greg and Sara were already waiting inside, their backs to the door.

He returned to the break room a few minutes later, only to find Nick and Warrick there, too. No sign of Catherine, though.

"Hey, boss," Greg said. "You look well-rested." He snickered and smacked Nick on the chest with the back of his hand.

"Did you have an accident with the vacuum cleaner?" Sara questioned, bitterly.

Grissom was confused. "What?"

"You have hickeys!" she spat.

His face flushed. He'd forgotten about those.

His cell phone rang. Saved by the bell. "Grissom."

"Gil, it's Jim. Gotta scene you need to check out." Brass filled him in on the rest of the details, and they hung up. Grissom pocketed his cell phone.

"Was that your vacuum?" Sara made no attempt to hide her jealousy.

He ignored her comment for the moment. "That was Brass. He has a homicide for us." He gave Sara and Greg their assignments and turned toward the door. Then, almost as an afterthought, he turned back toward the young CSIs. "My personal life doesn't concern you, Sara." Four stunned sets of eyes watched him leave the break room.

***

Greg was in the locker room gathering his things before he left for the crime scene. Catherine entered and sat down next to him on the bench.

"Hi, Greg." She smiled.

"Hey, Cath." He smiled back.

"I just wanted to thank you for the butterscotch."

"You're welcome." He stopped. "I mean, what butterscotch?"

Catherine smiled. "Next time get someone else to write your note."

"You're good."

"That's what I hear." She stood up leaving a stunned Greg staring after her.

***

It was only the middle of the graveyard shift, but Grissom couldn't wait for the shift to be over. He longed to have Catherine in his arms again. As if on cue, he heard a quiet rapping on his door. Before he could even answer, Catherine was already walking into his office. She held a gift bag in her left hand.

"Good morning, Gil," she said, excitedly.

"It is now," he replied. "What's in the bag?"

"You'll see."

Again with the surprises.

"You going home?"

"Yeah, in a little while. I wish you could go."

"Me too, Cath," he sighed, taking off his glasses and rubbing his temples.

"Rough shift?"

"Shift, no. CSI, yes. Sara's pissed."

"Oh."

"She saw these," he said, pointing to his neck.

Catherine giggled. "They're not that noticeable."

"Liar."

"Maybe I need to take a closer look."

She put the gift bag on the edge of his desk and walked around the desk. Leaning over, she tilted his head to the side so she could get a better look at the purplish marks. "Yeah, I can see why Sara'd be pissed. I like them, though. I told you earlier that purple was a good color for you." She kissed him quickly and stood up.

She stepped behind him and began to gently rub his shoulder muscles.

"What are you doing?

"Giving you a massage."

"There you go buttering me up again."

"I'm so glad you said that."

"Huh?"

"You said, 'buttering.' Well, I promise no more buttering you up, but what about 'butterscotching' you up."

He turned to look at her. "What?"

"Someone left this at the front desk." She pulled the butterscotch syrup bottle out of the bag.

"Oh, that's nice." A sly smile spread across his face. "I suppose I could go for a little more sweet," he said, smiling. "One condition, though."

"What's that?" she asked, turning his chair so she could sit in his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck as his arms easily slid around her waist.

"I get to do the butterscotching."

~Finis~

FF: Chocolate Covered Lover, 1-4

2006-12-06T20:53:35Z

Title: Chocolate Covered Lover
Rating: Supervisor
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. I am just borrowing them for, um...fun!
Summary: See title...'nuff said.
Spoilers: None.
A/N: This is my attempt at the chocolate challenge. For the sake of this fic, Grissom's birthday (August 17) is on Saturday. That just makes it easier to write. And now, on with the fic!

***

Part 1

***

"No, Catherine!"

"Come on, Gil."

"I said, 'no.' End of discussion." He put his glasses back on and looked down at the chaotic mess of papers covering most of his desk.

She wasn't about to give up. "What's wrong with throwing you a birthday party? It's just dinner and a little fun. You do remember what fun is, right?" She'd meant it as a joke, but he glared at her over the top rim of his glasses, obviously unamused.

He removed his glasses and laid them on the desk. He sighed loudly as he rubbed his beard. "I'm too old for a birthday party. Besides, I don't like to be the center of attention."

She stood up, placed her hands palm-side down on top of the paper-covered desk, and leaned closer to him. "Gil, you're never too old for a birthday party. And it's not like I was going to invite the whole damn lab--just our guys. And maybe Ecklie and Hodges," she added with a smirk.

He glared at her once again. "Great--an ass and an ass-kisser. I think I'll pass."

"I'm only kidding," she said, as she walked around his desk to stand behind his chair. She kneaded his back and shoulder muscles, concentrating on the area between his shoulder blades. "You're so tense, Gil. Relax!"

'I can't relax when you're doing that,' he thought to himself. The unexpected massage felt wonderful, but he had to stop her before she gained complete control over him. "I know what you're doing."

"I'm giving you a massage to help you relax."

"You're trying to butter me up so that I'll say 'yes' to your party idea. It's not going to work."

Her strategy had to change quickly if she was going to get him to comply. She stopped massaging his knotted back muscles, rested her hands on his shoulders, and bent down until her lips were mere inches from his left ear. "Even if it'll just be a party for two?" she whispered in a husky, sultry voice.

She heard him gulp. She was wearing him down.

"A party for two? You and me?" he asked, shakily.

"Of course," she whispered. "Unless you'd rather party with Ecklie." She giggled, and her breath tickled his ear.

"Fat chance," he snorted.

Finished with her teasing for the time being, Catherine stood upright and stepped toward his desk so that she could see his face. "So, what do you say?"

"I don't know, Catherine."

"What? You don't want to be alone with me?"

"That's not it. It's just...is it a date?"

"Do you want it to be a date?"

"Do you always respond to a comment with a question?"

"I don't know. Do I?" she smirked.

He rolled his eyes.

"Gil, you're stalling. Answer the question. Do you want it to be a date?"

A bright red blush quickly covered his neck and face. "It's just that I haven't had good dating experiences," he mumbled, embarrassed.

"It's only me, Gil, but if you don't want to call it a date, we won't call it a date. For now, let's call it, 'a birthday dinner between friends.'" She flashed her magnificent smile, turned on her heels, and headed toward the door.

Before she reached the door, his smooth, tenor voice stopped her. "I didn't say 'yes.'"

"You didn't say 'no,' either. We'll talk about it later." She quickly left his office before he could say anything else.

***

She was throwing him a party--one with the entire team--whether he wanted one or not. She knew she'd pay for it later, but she was willing to accept the consequences if it meant seeing him loosen up, if only for a few hours. If she was going to pull off this party, though, she had to get help from the team. 'Funny,' she thought. 'I still think of us as one team.'

Catherine found Nick and Warrick in the break room, waiting for their shift to end. "Guys, I have something I need your help with."

"What's up, Cath?" Warrick asked, hoping there wasn't another crime scene to process.

"Grissom's birthday is in a few days, and I wanted to give him a party. Are you two free Saturday evening?"

"We're both on-call, as far as I know," Nick replied.

"Wait," Warrick interjected. "Grissom's going to let you give him a party?"

"Grissom doesn't know that it's a party. He thinks the two of us are having dinner. I'll tell Grissom to come to my place at seven. Could you come over about five-thirty and help me get things setup?"

"Ah, I see. You told him a little white lie to lure him to his own party," Warrick said with a chuckle.

"I didn't lie to him. I just didn't tell him the whole truth. There's a difference."

"You sound like one of our suspects," Warrick kidded.

"Oh, shut up!" she said as she playfully slapped him on the arm.

Nick laughed at their exchange. "Yeah, we'll help you, Cath. You know he's going to be pissed at you, though."

"Yeah, Nicky, I know. Don't worry, I can handle him. Thanks for your help, guys. You're both wonderful!" She turned to leave, then remembered something else. "Oh, I'll call Jim and Doc Robbins, but if either of you see Greg or Sara, tell them about the party."

"All right, we'll tell them. Do you need us to bring anything?" Nick asked.

"No, I'll get everything we'll need. But if I think of something, I'll let you know. Thanks again, guys. See you later."

"Bye, Cath," they called, but she was already gone.

Part 2

***

She left Warrick and Nick in the break room and headed toward her office to get her things. After she got her stuff, she turned off the lights and locked the door. She decided to see if Doc Robbins was around. She found him in the autopsy room, just as he was closing the drawer door. "What's up, Doc?" she quipped.

"Yeah, like I haven't heard that one before," Doc Robbins said sarcastically. "I'm only kidding, Catherine. What can I do for you?" he continued, the sarcasm gone.

"I was wondering if you're free Saturday evening."

"Ah, sorry. I promised my wife we'd go out on Saturday. It's been a long time since we've had a nice meal together. What'd you have planned?"

"Gil's birthday is Saturday. We're throwing him a party at my place."

"Gil's going to have a birthday party?"

"That's the same thing Warrick said. Anyway, Gil doesn't know it's a full-fledged party. He thinks he and I are having dinner at my place--well, he hasn't accepted yet, but he will."

"Using your feminine wiles to trap the bug guy." He grinned. "Very sneaky."

"Damn, Doc. Did Warrick call down here and tell you to say that?" she laughed.

"No, it's just that you and Gil are very predictable people."

"I'm not predictable!"

"Sure you are. It's not a bad thing, though. Take Gil--hermit, married to his work, definitely not the party type. You--vibrant, savvy, and not afraid to push people, especially Gil, to the limit." There was a hint of humor in his voice, but every word he spoke was true.

"Well, I don't guess I can argue with that," she said, taking his description of her as a compliment. "You know, for someone who spends day after day slicing and dicing, you sure notice a lot."

"Just because I observe the dead doesn't mean I'm ignorant of the living." He flashed her a smile.

She returned the smile. "I know, Doc. Well, I know you've got work to do, so I'll leave you alone. I wish you could come Saturday, but I hope you and your wife have a really nice dinner."

"Thanks, Catherine. I hope you have a nice time, too. And I hope that Gil doesn't kill you for doing this."

She gave him a look.

"Did Warrick say that, too?"

She shook her head. "No, Nick did."

"See, even Warrick and Nick are predictable," he said with a chuckle.

"I'll see you later, Doc. Oh, and don't tell Gil."

"My lips are sealed. Bye, Catherine."

"Goodnight," she said as she turned toward the door. "And I'm not completely predictable!" she called over her shoulder as she left behind the pungent smell of Robbins' 'office.'

***

As she passed the front desk on the way to her vehicle, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed Jim Brass. He answered on the third ring.

"Brass."

"Hey, Jim. It's Catherine. Do you have a minute?" she said as she climbed into her Denali.

The rest of Catherine's conversation with Jim went much like the one she'd had with Doc Robbins. Jim even made a comment about how she could talk Gil into almost anything, merely by batting her eyelashes at him. He also mentioned how agitated Gil would be by her mischievous plan, but he wished her the best. Jim thanked her for the invitation, but had to decline because one of his high school buddies was flying in from New Jersey and wanted Jim to show him around the city. She told him to have a good time and to let her know if his plans changed. Although their conversation was almost finished anyway, a call came over his radio and he quickly told her he'd talk to her later.

She clicked 'end' on her cell and laid it in the passenger seat. 'Zero for two,' she thought. 'Maybe Nick and Warrick will have better luck.' She turned on the radio and sang along for the rest of her drive.

***

Through out breakfast the next morning, Catherine could tell Lindsey wanted to ask her something. "What is it, Linds?"

"Is it okay if I go to the movies and spend the night with Amy on Saturday?"

"I don't know, sweetheart. Did Mrs. Williams say it was okay?"

"Yeah, but you can ask her when she comes to pick me up for school."

"I'll talk to her, okay?"

Catherine received a smile--a rarity from her pre-teen daughter.

A few minutes later, Mrs. Williams arrived to take Lindsey to school. Since Amy and Lindsey went to the same school, Mrs. Williams and Catherine alternated weeks driving the girls to school. Catherine followed Lindsey out the door. She chatted with Mrs. Williams about the movie and sleepover. After hearing that it was okay with Mrs. Williams, Catherine told Lindsey that she could go.

"See you later, honey," Catherine told Lindsey through the rolled-up window. "Love you."

'Love you, too,' she saw Lindsey mouth through the window.

Catherine waved then went back inside the house. She was so tired that she decided to lie down for a little while longer. When she woke up, she had just enough time to get ready for work and grab a cup of coffee.

***

With help from the traffic lights, she got to the lab a few minutes early, only to find Warrick and Nick already waiting for her in the break room. "I'll be right back, guys," she told them as she passed the door. She dropped her stuff off in her office and returned to the break room. "Afternoon, guys. We're a little bit early, so first things first. Did you find Greg and Sara?"

Warrick spoke up first. "I talked to Sara. She thought it was a wonderful idea, but she's pissed that she didn't think of it. She said she'd help, though."

"Greg offered to help, too. He was pretty excited about it. Said he'd bring some party games and, uh, entertainment," Nick added.

"Do we really want Greg in charge of games and entertainment?" Warrick joked.

"Certainly will be amusing," Catherine laughed. "Okay, I was thinking about the party on the way here--you can't park your vehicles in the drive because Grissom will know something's up. How about if we meet at the shopping center near my place about five-fifteen, then we can all go back to the house in my Denali. We'll get your vehicles when the party's over."

"Yeah, that's cool," Warrick replied, as Nick nodded in agreement.

"Great. You'll tell Greg and Sara?"

"Yup, we got it," Nick declared.

"Good. Now for the real reason we're here." She quickly glanced over the assignment sheet. "Only one case right now. 419 just off the Strip. Why don't you both head out there. I'll page you if I need you back at the lab." With that, she rose from her chair and headed out of the break room toward her office.

***

Hours later, still swamped with paperwork, there was an enthusiastic knock on her door. "Come in."

Greg pushed open the door and practically bounced into her office. "Good evening, Cath! How are you on this wonderful, lovely night?"

She removed her glasses. "Have you already been in the coffee, Greg?"

"No, I'm naturally this vibrant and enthusiastic." He flashed her a goofy grin. He shut the door and pulled a chair over in front of her desk. "So, what's the deal with Grissom's party? I told Nick that I'd bring the games. I love party games! Are we going to have a cook out? Cake? Ice cream?"

She wished she had half of his energy. "Calm down, Greg. You'd think it was your birthday!"

"I just love to surprise other people. So what's the deal?"

"I assume you haven't talked to Nick or Warrick today." He shook his head, so she continued. "We decided to meet at the shopping center near my house at five-fifteen. Grissom would know something was up if he saw all of your cars there. Speaking of Grissom, is he in yet?"

"Yeah, he's in his office. I heard him talking to some of his bugs."

"Thanks. Anyway, if we meet then, we'll still have plenty of time to get things setup. I know you, Sara, and Grissom have to work Saturday night, so I'll take you back to get your vehicles once the party's over."

"Actually, Grissom put in a leave form for Saturday. Sara's pissed because he gave Sofia shift."

"Really?"

"Yeah, Sara thinks that she should get shift because Grissom's known her longer."

"No, I meant that I'm surprised Grissom put in a leave form. I didn't think he knew what one was unless it had someone else's name on it."

"Yeah, it surprised me too, but I thought you two might have a little somethin'-somethin' planned for, uh, after the party."

She cut him a look.

"Sorry, none of my business," he squeaked.

"You're right. It's not. And, just for future reference, you can't embarrass me." She tried to stop herself from smiling, but the corners of her mouth twitched enough for Greg to notice.

"Okay, I'll keep that in mind," Greg said as he stood up. "I guess I'll see you Saturday, then."

"Hey, will you tell Sara about the plans to meet? I told Nick and Warrick to tell her, but you'll probably see her before they do."

"You got it, Cath," he said with another goofy grin and a 'thumbs-up' sign. He left her office and closed the door with a loud bang.

***

She knocked on his partially-open door.

"Come in."

"Good evening, Gil," she said once she was in his office. "Have a nice day?"

"Wasn't too bad. How about yours?"

"Paperwork is a pain in the ass, but otherwise, not bad. Only one case so far. I sent Warrick and Nick, both."

"I was just about to hand out assignments myself."

"Oh, well, I won't keep you long. I just wanted to make sure you're still coming on Saturday."

"Not beating around the bush, are you?"

"No, but you are. Come on, Gil. What's the big deal? It'll be just like all those breakfasts we've had at your place."

"Except that it's dinner and it's at your place."

"Semantics, Gil," she quickly replied.

He sighed loudly and removed his glasses. "You're not going to quit until I say 'yes,' are you?"

She smiled sweetly. "You know me too well. So, I guess I can take that as a 'yes?'"

"Cath," he groaned.

"I promise we'll have fun." She began to walk toward his desk, but he stopped her dead in her tracks.

"Fine. I'll come." He couldn't handle another of her 'massages' at the moment.

"Good. Saturday, seven pm, my place. I think you know the way." As she did the day before, she quickly left his office before he could respond.

"You're going to be the death of me," he whispered shaking his head. He put his glasses back on and left his office to hand out the assignments for the night.

Part 3

***

Not much was said about Grissom's upcoming party for the rest of the week. They met at the shopping center as planned--Greg and Sara in their own Denalis and Nick and Warrick in Warrick's. Catherine was the last to arrive and they all piled into her vehicle with their gifts. Greg also toted a backpack with miscellaneous goodies inside. When asked about the backpack's contents, all Greg said was, "All in good time, fellow CSIs. All in good time."

Once they were at Catherine's house, they climbed out of her Denali and waited while she unlocked the front door. Greg and Sara hung streamers and the 'Happy Birthday!' banner inside while Nick and Warrick moved the picnic table to a more convenient place in the backyard. Catherine put a paper tablecloth on the table and took out the supplies that wouldn't spoil in the August heat.

They finished their preparations and awaited Grissom's arrival. Finally, at 7 pm on the dot, the doorbell rang.

"Okay, everyone in place," Catherine whispered on her way to the door. Pulling the door open, she smiled. "Hi, Gil. Come on in." She stepped aside so he could go into the living room.

"Surprise!" everyone yelled, emerging from their hiding places.

"What the hell?" Grissom exclaimed. He was surprised to see the five CSIs standing there--he had expected to see only the blonde-haired female. When his heart rate calmed down, he took Catherine's elbow and the two of them stepped outside, closing the door behind them. "What is this, Catherine? You said it would just be us!" He sounded upset that they weren't going to be alone.

"Gil, it's your birthday party. You're so stressed and I wanted to get you to loosen up."

"But I told you 'no party.' I agreed to have dinner with you--you said it'd be like the breakfasts at my house. You lied to me."

"I didn't lie--I intentionally misled."

"Semantics, Catherine," Gil spat, borrowing the word from their conversation earlier in the week. He began walking toward his Denali. "I can't do this, now."

She quickly followed him. "Gil, wait." She got no response. "I know you're upset with me. I'm sorry." She practically had to run to keep up with him. She grabbed his arm trying to stop him. "Look at me. It's just that it's been so crazy since Ecklie split us up. I miss the whole team being together. I know we've worked cases together, but we don't see each other like we used to. I just wanted it to be like old times." She could see his irritation begin to dissipate, but she pressed on. "Don't go, Gil. I promise I'll make it up to you, later." She pouted and batted her eyelashes and both of them knew she had won that battle.

She was the only person who could infuriate him, then just as quickly make his anger go away. "Fine. I'll stay, but I'll hold you to that promise."

"Good." She smiled. "Let's go have some fun."

They made their way back to her door. This time when they opened the door, four uncertain faces met them.

The six of them stood there for a few moments until Greg broke the silence. "Happy birthday, Grissom. This was not my idea." He chuckled nervously.

"I know, Greg," he said, glancing sideways at Catherine.

"Yeah, happy birthday, Gris," Warrick chimed in.

"Yeah, ditto," Nick added.

"Saved the best for last. Happy birthday, Grissom," Sara said with a slight smirk.

"Hey, Cath, did you wish Grissom 'happy birthday,' yet?" Greg asked, only half innocent.

Sara cut him a look.

Catherine displayed her own smirk but was still eager to move past Sara's comment. She clapped her hands. "So, everyone ready to eat?"

"Always ready to eat," Nick exclaimed. "What can I do to help?"

"How about getting the burgers and things started? You and Warrick can do that."

"I don't eat meat, Catherine," Sara responded.

"I know." She paused long enough to receive a look from Sara. "I got you veggie burgers."

Even Greg smiled at the shocked _expression on Sara's face.

"You do eat those, right?" Catherine continued.

"Yeah. Uh, thanks."

"Anything else you need help with?" Greg inquired.

"No, nothing major. I already made tea and lemonade. Sodas are also in the fridge. Just help me carry them outside."

"Sure thing," Greg said as he headed toward the kitchen.

Catherine followed Greg into the kitchen and Grissom and Sara went outside with Warrick and Nick.

***

Later, everyone sat around the picnic table eating their dinner.

"You guys did a really good job with these burgers," Greg said. He had already finished two and was working on a third.

"Thanks, man," Nick said as he finished his second hot dog. He reached for a burger.

Everyone seemed to enjoy their food, but they especially enjoyed being back together. The last few months since Nick's kidnapping had taken its toll on everyone and the party was the first time all six of them had been together since that horrible event. All of them were relaxed--even Grissom looked a little less tense.

Once they were done with their hot dogs and burgers, both the meat and the veggie kinds, Catherine spoke up. "I've got the stuff for sundaes if you want to fix them now. Or we can wait 'til later."

"I'm too stuffed for a sundae," Grissom replied.

"Me too," Greg added. "But how about some party games?"

"Party games?" Grissom asked as he glanced at Catherine then back at Greg. "What kind of party games?"

"It's a surprise. Let me go get my bag," Greg said, referring to the mysterious backpack he'd brought along. He returned a few moments later with the bag in tow. He unzipped the bag enough to pull out a game box. "I've got Pin-the-Maggot-on-the-Decomp..."

Sara whirled around to face Greg. "Where the hell did you find a game like that?"

"I ordered it from Bugs-R-Us. It's an online site like Toys-R-Us, but it's just bug stuff."

Not really in the mood to play the maggot game after his massive beef buffet, Nick asked, "What else do you have in that bag, Greggo?"

He pulled out each item as he told them what it was. "Well, I've got Bug Bingo, grasshopper-shaped darts, Bug-opoly--complete with bugs and insects of all kinds--Checkers with ladybug and leaf pieces, a frisbee with a picture of a butterfly, a Speed Beetle Yo-Yo, and a virtual bug. The virtual bug is mostly for kids, but I thought it was cool. It's like a computer game--you can feed the bug and watch it grow. And when it dies, you just press the 'reset' button and you get a whole new bug. Cool, huh?"

Catherine raised an eyebrow and glanced at Grissom at the mention of the grasshopper-shaped darts. He was smiling at her, apparently for the same reason.

"Wow, Greg," Sara exclaimed. "That's a lot of bug stuff."

"Well, I thought the boss might like it. I know I do! So what shall we play first?" he asked excitedly.

Nick realized he couldn't escape the bugs, so he opted for something that wouldn't require a lot of movement. "How about the darts," Nick suggested.

Grissom rolled his eyes. "Have fun."

"Oh, come on, Grissom. It's your birthday--you have to play!" Greg whined.

"I'll admit that I'm impressed with your selection of bug games, but no, Greg. I'm an old man."

"You're just afraid you'll lose," Catherine quipped.

"I'm not playing grasshopper-shaped darts, Pin-the-Maggot-on-the-Decomp, or any other bug game," he said, adamantly.

"Fine. Suit yourself," Catherine said, shrugging. "We picking teams?" she said, turning toward the younger CSIs.

"Hell, yeah!" Warrick exclaimed. "I call Nick!"

"You can't do that!" Greg complained. "That means I'm on a team with Catherine and Sara."

"Man, you better watch out," Nick told Greg with a smile. "Either one of them could kick your ass!"

Greg glanced at both women and decided Nick was right.

They decided to put the dart board on a nearby tree.
Warrick estimated the standard distance of 5 feet 8 inches from the ground to the bulls eye, then hung the board. Nick then estimated the standard distance of 7 feet 9 1/4 inches from the base of the tree to the release line.

"Are you two ready to go down?" Greg asked Nick and Warrick enthusiastically.

"I don't think so, man," Warrick said with a laugh. "The Darting Duo will prevail."

"'The Darting Duo?'" Quick, we need a name!" Greg said turning to Catherine and Sara.

"How about the 'Trifling Trio,' Warrick suggested. He and Nick laughed.

"Hope you didn't mean that as a dis," Sara said. "We could kick you ass, too!"

"I didn't say anything," Nick added.

"Good thinking, Cowboy," Catherine replied.

The banter died down and soon the grasshopper-shaped dart flinging was underway. Grissom sat back and watched two of his current CSIs and three of his former ones. Catherine was right--he was having a little fun, although he wouldn't admit that to anyone. He hadn't noticed how much he'd missed their interactions until that moment.

When he saw the scene before him, he couldn't help but chuckle himself. Everyone but Greg was howling with laughter.

Nick laughed so hard he had to sit down on the ground. "Dude! The object of the game is to hit the dart board, not send the darts flying past everything!"

"I was just getting warmed up. Let me have another dart."

Warrick handed him the dart. Greg got into his dart-throwing stance and aimed the dart at the board. His release was good, but the dart landed in the tree, two feet below the board.

Sara was laughing so hard she had tears rolling down her face. "Damn, Greg! Who taught you how to play darts?"

"Nobody."

"Apparently!"

"Hey, that's not funny!" Greg whined.

"Yes, it is, Greggo! Yes, it is," Nick said, still on the ground.

Finally, their laughter ceased and they were able to continue with their game. Warrick and Nick easily won the first two rounds. Their total score was divided by two, whereas Catherine, Sara, and Greg's total score was divided by three. By the third round Greg managed to hit the board with two darts for a total of 30 points. Catherine was the last to throw and she needed 60 points to tie Warrick and Nick, and 61 to win. Her first dart hit the 20-point wedge. Her second dart landed just to the right of the 20-point wedge in the section worth one point. Always able to work well under pressure, Catherine aimed her last dart. It centered the double bulls eye worth 50 points.

"Yes!" Greg screamed. "We won!! Way to go, Cath!"

"Nice throw," Sara said with a smile.

"It was nothing," she said, although her smile told them otherwise. "Who's ready for sundaes?"

After receiving affirmatives from everyone, Catherine told them to continue playing and wished Sara 'good luck.' She started toward the house but stopped when she heard Grissom calling her.

"I'll help you."

"You don't have to, but I'd appreciate it." She smiled.

"That was a nice shot."

"Thanks. I learned from you. Oh, and I didn't mean anything by that comment about you being afraid you'd lose. I just wanted you to play."

"I know."

She smiled again, then asked, "Seriously, though. Why didn't you want to play? We could have been on a team and really kicked their asses."

He smiled. "Yeah, but that wouldn't have been fair. We've had fifteen years of practice."

"True. You could have teamed up with someone else, though."

"I don't want to play with anyone but you."

She glanced at him and he winked.

Part 4

***

Once in the kitchen, Catherine and Gil began to gather the sundae supplies. Gil got the cherries, chocolate syrup, and other things they would need for the sundaes from the pantry while Catherine got the bowls from the cabinet. She put the bowls on the counter and turned to get the spoons from the silverware drawer. She turned back around only to find Gil aiming the open bottle of chocolate syrup at her.

Her eyes widened as she realized what he was going to do. He smiled and inched toward her. Dropping the spoons, Catherine began backing away, desperately searching for something to defend herself with. She saw the sink hose out of the corner of her eye and thought about making a break for it, but she knew he could easily nail her with the chocolate before she could get the water turned on and the hose aimed at him. She decided the sink hose was not an option.

They were quickly approaching the fridge and she had to come up with something fast.

Escape plans eluded her and she continued to back away. "Gil, what are you doing?" she questioned with a hint of nervousness. Then realization hit. "Is this," she said referring to the bottle, "because of the party?"

He smirked. "Of course, my dear."

She gulped upon hearing the words 'my dear,' but she continued to try to talk him out of covering her in chocolate. "Gil, you wouldn't do that," she said, eying the bottle in his hand. "That's chocolate. It's messy and sticky, and doesn't come out of clothes. Besides, I'm your best friend and revenge doesn't suit you."

He was unaffected by her pleading.

She tried a slight pout. "But I did this for you!" she said as her back connected with the fridge.

He was still approaching, bottle in hand. "You said that. You also said that we'd have fun. And while Greg's games were certainly amusing, I'm having more fun now than I've had all evening."

"But, but..."

He grinned. He loved teasing her. "Now, Cath...do you really think I'd do that to you?" he asked with a hint of laughter.

"I'd like to think you're above that childish behavior."

Her breath hitched as he entered her personal space. He paused and she quickly took advantage of his hesitation. She grabbed the syrup bottle, turned it toward him, and plastered his shirt and neck with the sweet, sticky substance. She tried to escape, but he was faster than she anticipated. He grabbed her waist with one arm and pushed her back against the fridge with a loud 'thud.'

The bottle dropped from her hand and she giggled at the look on his face.

He looked down at his shirt then back at her. "Do you think this is funny?"

"Yeah," she said nodding. "And you're right. This is the most fun I've had all evening, too!"

"Ah, but the fun is just beginning." Then, before she could say anything else, he swiped some chocolate off his shirt and planted his chocolate covered hand on the porcelain skin of her face. Trails of chocolate ran from her cheekbone to her chin. He wished she could have seen her own face. He sported a smirk.

"I can't believe you did that!" she exclaimed. She scooped some chocolate off his neck and rubbed in into his beard. They flipped expressions--his was one of shock and hers was a smirk.

He caught her hand before she could reload it with chocolate and brought it to his mouth. Snaking his tongue out between his lips, he licked her fingers clean of what little chocolate remained. Catherine felt her knees weaken and she struggled to stay on her feet. Their eyes locked and his hands moved to her waist. She slid her hands up his chest then around his neck, smearing chocolate as she went. Her sticky fingers tangled in the graying curls at the nape of his neck, and she waited in anticipation for him to kiss her. Their lips collided only milliseconds later and neither cared that the top halves of their bodies were smeared with chocolate.

They were so wrapped up in each other that they didn't notice the two youngest CSIs who had come to look for them.

Greg squealed with excitement and Sara screamed in frustration. Still, neither of the supervisors noticed. Greg raced back outside to urge Warrick and Nick into the kitchen. He knew they wouldn't believe him if they didn't see it with their own eyes.

When Greg got back to the kitchen, Sara was standing frozen in place, staring at the pair locked in a sticky embrace.

Nick and Warrick were close behind and their jaws dropped in shock at the sight.

Catherine and Gil remained oblivious to the four sets of eyes staring at them.

Sara, who wanted to stop their chocolate escapade, refused to leave the kitchen. "Greg, where are those darts? I'll bet I could get their attention with one of those!"

She was livid enough to use the darts, so Nick and Warrick each grabbed one of her arms and pulled her from the kitchen.

Nick and Warrick decided that the evening had shifted from a party for six to a party for two, so they quickly gathered their things and prepared to leave.

Warrick found a piece of paper and a pen so he could leave a note. He wrote, 'You were otherwise engaged, so we'll 'catch' you later. Not that you'll find this note anytime soon, but we'll have your Denali back before too long. Your keys were on the table, hope you don't mind. Anyway, thanks for a wonderful time, Cath--although I'm sure you're having a better time now. It's about damn time!'

He left the note on the table where they would find it--eventually.

As the four of them got in Catherine's Denali, Nick mused, "My birthday's tomorrow. Do you think Cath would throw me a party like that?"

"Don't bet on it," Warrick laughed. "Although I wouldn't complain about a party like that, either."

"Oh, shut up," Sara said, punching Warrick's bicep.

"Ow! Damn, woman," he said, rubbing his arm. "Why did you punch me? I only agreed with Nick!"

"Good point," Sara said just before landing a blow on Nick's bicep.

"Thanks a lot, man!" Nick exclaimed, rubbing his own arm.

"Hey, you guys. Looks like Sara was right--she can kick your asses, too!" He received a glare from Sara and prepared himself for a punch. "Uh, guys? Do you want to come to the lab and help me with her?" He got another glare. "Never mind. She's the epitome of cheerfulness!" he squeaked.

"Damn, right," Sara retorted. All became silent as they left to get their Denalis.

FF: Now, Never, or Forever?

2006-12-06T19:48:55Z

Title: Now, Never, or Forever?
Rating: Supervisor
Disclaimer: Don't own anything...all characters belong to the creators of CSI. =(
Summary: A little fight...do they get a second chance?
A/N: No beta. All mistakes are mine.

***

After their shift ended, Grissom caught up with Catherine in the locker room and asked if she wanted to eat breakfast at his townhouse. He said that it had been a while since they had eaten together. She saw it as a good time to catch up. She followed him to his townhouse in her Denali, and together they made breakfast--she scrambled eggs on the stove while he made pancakes on the griddle.

While he finished the pancakes, she made herself a screwdriver--more vodka than usual--and a plain orange juice for Grissom. Grissom started brewing the coffee--they would have that after breakfast. They carried their plates and glasses to the dining room table and Grissom returned to the kitchen to retrieve forks and syrup.

Their conversation was light. They talked about Lindsey as well as a few minor details for a case about to be closed. Halfway through their breakfast, the conversation shifted to their food.

"Gil, these pancakes are wonderful. Just the way I like them," she said, smiling.

"The eggs are really good too, Cath."

"They must be. You're wearing them," she said with a tiny giggle. She grabbed a napkin and reached over the table to wipe the little egg pieces out of his beard. His neck and face flushed and he quickly looked away.

"Um, thanks. Coffee should be ready. Do you want some?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Uh, yeah, I guess so. I'll help." She started to push her chair away from the table, but he stopped her, saying that he'd be fine.

She looked at him quizzically, but remained seated.

He returned a few minutes later with two steaming mugs of coffee. As he handed her a mug, their fingers brushed slightly, and a shot of electricity passed between them. Obviously affected by her touch, he sat down in his chair and stared at his breakfast.

Catherine studied him for a moment before asking, "Gil, you okay?"

His head snapped up at the sound of her voice. "What? Yeah, I'm fine." The flush returned to his neck and face.

"You're awfully, jumpy. I'm worried about you." She pushed her chair away from the table and stood up. She walked to his side of the table and placed the back of her right hand on his forehead. "You're burning up! Do you feel okay?"

"Yeah, Cath. Just a little warm. But, I'm fine. I just need some water." He wasn't fine. Her close proximity was intoxicating. Every time her skin touched his, it was as though he had been set on fire. He didn't know what came over him. He worked beside her for almost twenty years, and although he thought she was attractive, he had always hidden his feelings.

She turned toward the kitchen and he watched her go. When she returned with a glass of water, he was in a daze, still staring toward the kitchen. "Gil?"

Upon hearing his name again, he snapped out of his reverie. He knew it was a mistake looking into Catherine's eyes because he didn't have enough time to collect his thoughts or contain his emotions. All of his feelings for her were evident in his steel blue eyes. Suddenly parched, he grabbed the glass of water from her and downed the entire thing. When he took the glass away from his lips, she was still staring at him. This time though, she had a slight smirk on her face.

She saw the look in his eyes. It was a mixture of passion, lust, and something else she couldn't quite define. Catherine was pretty sure that those feelings were directed toward her. Then, perhaps from the excess vodka in her screwdriver, she did something out of the ordinary. 'It's now or never,' she thought. She stepped closer to him, took the glass from his hand and placed it on the table. She inched even closer to him, gently took his hand from his knee, where it had landed after releasing the glass, and firmly placed it on her waist. She repeated the action with his other hand. To her surprise, and his, he didn't pull away. She continued.

"Stand up."

Gil wasn't sure he could stand up. He only thought he was on fire when she touched him before. If he stood up, he was sure he'd melt into a pool of hot lava. Or spontaneously combust--if he believed it could actually happen. He was more flushed than he'd ever been, and his breathing was labored and erratic. Still, he didn't push her away.

"Stand up," Catherine commanded, again. She tangled her hands in the curly hair on the back of his head, urging him out of the chair. As he shakily stood, their eyes remained locked. "Now, kiss me."

He hesitated.

She took his hesitation to mean that he was about to pull away, and that was not going to happen. She pulled his head down toward her, and their lips crashed together with searing intensity. She pried his lips apart, and took his full bottom lip between her equally plump ones. So many of her fantasies revolved around his lips. And his eyes. And his beard. And his hands. And his--

"Cath, we can't do this," Gil said, pulling away breathlessly. "If we don't stop this now, I can't be stopped at all."

"I know, Gil. That's the point." Her impish grin further fueled his fire, and losing all rationality, he gave in to his carnal desire to have her. She pulled him back down for another kiss, but this time, she was the one left breathless.

Uncharacteristically dominant, he ran his hands up and down her sides, producing chills of pure pleasure for them both. He coaxed her lips apart with his this time, aching to be as close to her as possible. A deep moan escaped from her sultry lips, and he quickly ended the kiss. There was something else on his mind. He slid his hand up her rib cage and down her arm, leaving more pleasure chills in its wake. Gently taking her hand, he gazed into her eyes. Blue met blue. Without words, he knew she wanted the same thing. He led her to his bedroom where they released years of pent up passion. Afterward, she curled up in his arms and quickly fell asleep, happier than she had been in a very long time.

***

When Gil awoke later that afternoon, he was in a state of euphoria. Catherine was amazing. She made him feel so many things he thought he was incapable of feeling. It was certainly a wonderful feeling, but as he laid there with her in his arms, the rational, scientific part of his mind took over. 'This was wrong. We shouldn't have done this. She doesn't have the same feelings for me that I have for her," were only some of his less-than-optimistic thoughts. He knew he would probably regret his decision later, but he quietly untangled himself from around her warm body, grabbed a change of clothes, and walked out the door--leaving behind all he'd ever dreamed of.

Catherine awoke with a smile on her face as she remembered the events leading up to her current location. She willingly followed him to his bedroom where they made sweet, passionate, love. She was the recipient of some of his well-hidden talents, involving his hands, his lips, and his beard. When she tried to reciprocate, he stopped her, saying that it was for her. Never had a man put her needs and wants before his. That almost made her cry.

Hours later, she still tingled from his touch. It was Gil's turn to feel. When she opened her eyes though, she knew something was wrong. She turned over to her other side, only to realize that she was alone in his bed. 'The sheets are still warm. Maybe he's in the kitchen,' she thought. She picked up his discarded shirt and wrapped it around herself. Padding toward the kitchen, she called out his name. "Gil?" No answer. She checked the bathroom, the den, and the rest of the rooms, but no Gil She was alone.

She glanced out the window and noticed that his Denali was nowhere to be seen. "Damn you, Gil. I thought you were different!!" she yelled, even though no one could hear her. Hot tears sprang to her eyes. She quickly returned to his bedroom, flung his shirt on the bed, and changed into her clothes. She angrily returned to the living room, grabbed her purse, and left the townhouse, slamming the door behind her. It was only when she was behind the wheel of her Denali that she began to sob.

She barely made it home without causing a wreck. The rest of the afternoon she fought with whether to go to work or to call in. During the angry spells, she decided that she'd rather face him sooner than later. She wanted to give him a piece of her mind. Then, during her fits of crying, she decided to stay as far away from him as possible. But, being a strong woman and never shying away from anything, anger eventually trumped crying. She wanted an explanation, and she wouldn't stop until she got one.

Part 2

***

Upon entering the lab, she had one destination on her mind. Without even knocking on his office door, Catherine barged in, fuming. "How the hell could you do that to me, Grissom?"

'Uh, oh,' he thought. 'She called me Grissom.' This was the moment he had dreaded all day. He knew she'd be furious at him for leaving, and that eventually, he'd have to tell her why he left. Knowing that would happen didn't make the actual event any easier to deal with, though. "What can I do for you, Catherine?" he asked, taking off his glasses, and tilting his head to the side.

"Don't give me that crap. You know damn well what I'm talking about. You left me in your bed." The hot tears she had tried so hard to control since entering the building began to gush furiously down her cheeks. She quickly brushed the tears away with the back of her hand. "I want to know why."

He stood and walked toward her in an attempt to get her to calm down, but it was to no avail. "Catherine, we need to talk, but not here."

She hated that phrase--'we need to talk.' Nothing good ever came out of a conversation like that. "No, Gil. We talk here and now. I want to know why you left your own townhouse. And I deserve to know why you left me." She was sure many of the people in the lab could hear them, but at the moment, she didn't care.

Running a hand through his hair, he said, "We'll talk later. I have to hand out assignments."

Catherine slammed and locked the door and turned to face him with even more fury than before. The assignments were going to be a little late. "Am I that revolting to you? Are you mad at yourself because you broke down and did the whore?" she hissed. She knew those words hurt him, but she didn't care. He was the one who shattered her heart. Another flash of anger followed more hot tears. "I always thought we'd be there for each other, possibly be more than just friends, but I can see now that that's not the case." She turned toward the door, only to be spun back around as Grissom grabbed her upper arm.

She definitely pushed his buttons. Her 'whore' comment infuriated him to no end. "Damn it, Catherine!! Don't ever call yourself that again!"

"Let go, Gil," she yelled, trying to pull her arm free.

"No. You wanted to talk? Fine, we'll talk." He was still intensely upset that she called herself a whore, but he loosened his grip on her arm. His baritone voice returned to a normal speaking level. "Do you want to know why I left?" After a steely glare from her, he continued. "When I woke up with you in my arms, I'd never felt so complete, or so happy. I watched you sleep, I watched you breathe, and I wished that I could just stop time right there. Everything was perfect."

He paused.

"That still doesn't tell me why the hell you left, Gil."

"I left because I'm not good enough for you, Cath. You can do so much better than me. You deserve to have someone who will make you feel special, not someone who spends eight hours a day with bugs."

Her eyes widened and she sighed loudly. "My god, Gil, you do make me feel special. No one ever made me feel as special as you did. That's why it hurt so bad when I woke up alone. I wanted to show you how I felt, but you were gone. It was as if I wasn't good enough for you." Her eyes filled with more tears that threatened to fall at any second. She looked down at the floor.

For the first time, he saw how badly he hurt her. He hated himself for putting those tears in her eyes and that pain in her heart. "Catherine, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have left you. But I got scared and I didn't know what else to do."

Her anger increased once again as her eyes flashed up to meet his. "So, you ran away and hoped to forget it happened so that you could return to your own little anti-social, dysfunctional world?" She was too hot to stop now. "You're in the real world Gil, and it doesn't work like that--you can't run away from everything. Sometimes you've got to stand up and fight. Sometimes you've got to take a chance. I mean, we've been dancing around each other for nearly two decades, Gil, and we never took the chance. Touches were just touches, and glances were just glances. They never amounted to anything more. Do you know how long I've wanted them to be more? Almost the whole damn time we've known each other. I just needed to be sure that you wanted more too."

She stormed past him toward the middle of his office, turned to face him, and continued. "This morning when I brought you water, I saw the look on your face. The look you tried so hard to hide. You wanted me. And I wanted you, too. But I knew that if I didn't make a move, it would just go down as one of those looks that never amounted to anything. I couldn't do that anymore, Gil. I got tired of waiting."

When she stalked past him, he turned to look at her. "Cath, I'm not the most socially capable person. You're right. I have a problem with personal relationships."

"It's me, Gil. We've known each other a long time--"

"That's the point, Cath. I've seen the guys you date. I'm nothing like them."

"Which is exactly why I'm not with any of them, now. None of them were like you. They wanted one thing. You never wanted that."

"I never said I didn't want you, Cath. I just never thought I had a chance."

"You would've had more than a chance if you'd asked." Her anger was almost gone. Her voice softened. She looked deep into his eyes. "Gil, those flings, or whatever, never lasted because I compared them all to you. They were never as smart as you, or as caring as you, and they certainly never made me feel the way you do."

"Infuriated?' he said, with a slight smile.

"No, like a queen. Like I'm the only woman in the world."

"You are the only woman in my world."

For someone who was socially inept, he certainly knew what to say to dissolve what was left of her anger.

"I just have one question," he said.

"What's that?"

"You said that I was smarter and more caring--was I cuter, too?"

Her anger was completely gone, and her little giggle turned into a full-blown guffaw. It was times like these that she knew why she was still by his side. As they moved toward each other for a kiss, there was a knock on the door.

"I'm busy, come back later," Grissom shouted.

"Gil, it's Conrad. I need to talk to you," he said, trying to open the locked door.

"I said I'm busy, Ecklie."

"Now, Gil. Sheriff Atwater will only wait so long. He needs to talk to you about some bug evidence from a case a couple of years back."

Knowing that it would just be easier to open the door than to continue yelling through it, Catherine passed Gil and unlocked the door to allow Ecklie access to the office. Obviously pissed that they were interrupted and she didn't get to kiss Gil, she told him that she'd pass out the assignments for the night, and stalked past Ecklie, never saying a word.

***

When she entered the break room, three sets of brown eyes and one set of greenish-blue ones stared back at her. Pretending not to notice their stares, she proceeded to hand out the assignments. "Warrick, Sara, here's your case," she said, giving Sara a piece of paper. "Nick, you're with me. And, Greg, don't you have some samples to run?"

The four sets of eyes continued to stare at her. "Come on, people. Chop, chop. We don't have all night!"

Greg was first out of the room, quickly followed by Warrick and Sara. Nick remained. He wasn't sure if he wanted to work with her tonight.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, tentatively.

"Yeah, Nicky, everything's fine," she said, still slightly irritated. "Ecklie's just being an ass."

"Oh, so he's being himself." Nick laughed at his own comment and Catherine's mood lightened.

"I have to agree with you, there. You ready to go find some evidence?"

"Yup. Let's go." He followed her out of the break room glad that Catherine wasn't going to be irritated all night.

***

When they got back to the lab, they checked in their evidence, said their goodbyes, and went in separate directions. Nick went to change clothes and go home, and Catherine went in search of Grissom. He wasn't in his office. Greg was still in the DNA lab, so she went in to see if he'd heard from Grissom. He hadn't. After a brief conversation, she left the DNA lab. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed the familiar number. His voice mail picked up right away.

"Gil, it's me. I just wanted to see what you were up to. Call me later." She pressed the 'end' button and continued her search for him.

Twenty minutes later, she still couldn't find him. She decided that she'd just talk to him later. She went back to the locker room, grabbed her purse and headed home.

***

Once she got home, she changed into her pajamas, ate a bowl of cereal, and sat down to pay some bills. As she finished signing her name on the check to the phone company, the door bell rang. She looked through the peep hole and was surprised to see who was on the other side of the door.

Opening the door, she smiled. "What are you doing here?"

"I want to finish our conversation."

She was surprised for the second time in less than ten seconds. She never expected that he would be the one who would push to finish their conversation. She stepped aside and allowed him to enter her house. She closed the door and turned to face him. He stood in the middle of the living room looking very nervous.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He paused, then took a deep breath. "Catherine, I'm so sorry for being a jerk. I didn't think about what leaving would do to you, but I know that I hurt you, and I can't apologize enough. I can't promise that I won't be scared, but I will try not to shut you out. You were right--we have been dancing around each other for a long time. I shouldn't have waited so long, and I shouldn't have left. Will you give me a second chance?"

Tears welled up in her eyes. They weren't angry tears, though. They were tears of pure joy. A radiant smile appeared on her face and she nearly knocked them both to the floor with the impact of her hug. She pulled back slightly and gazed into his eyes. She saw the passion and lust again, along with that something she hadn't been able to identify before. It was clear that that something was love.

She ran her hands up his chest and around to the back of his neck, where she wound her hands into his hair. He shifted slightly, inevitably pulling her closer to him. He held her to him firmly with one arm while he ran his other hand up her back toward her neck. He gently moved his fingers over the silky plane of her neck and face, and softly caressed her bottom lip with his thumb. He watched her eyes darken as she placed a small kiss there. He bent down to replace his thumb with his lips, and they were soon engaged in a slow, sensual, mind-blowing kiss.

Reluctantly, they pulled apart. Breathlessly he asked, "Is that a yes?"

She giggled a little before replying. "Make love to me, Gil."

"No, Cath. We'll make love together."

She smiled and took his hand. "I like that idea." Then she led him to her bedroom.

Once inside her bedroom, they undressed each other and climbed into her bed. There was no teasing, only passionate, luxurious love-making. As he felt her build to a climax, he told her to open her eyes. She struggled, but was finally able to comply. Just before she reached the pinnacle, she saw and heard him say, "I love you, Cath."

Those were four words she loved to hear, and that was all it took to push her over the edge. She moaned his name as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her body. She closed her eyes because she didn't have enough energy to keep them open. When her breathing was somewhat regulated, she gazed at Gil who was still positioned on top of her.

He smiled down at her. "That was amazing."

"You got that right," she said, returning the smile. She leaned up to kiss him. "I love you, too, Gil."

She rolled her hips against his and he moaned into her mouth. In just a few thrusts, he reached his own climax, and managed to bring Catherine to her second one in less than five minutes.

Breathless and satiated for the moment, he rolled off of her and onto his back. She grabbed the comforter that had been haphazardly flung to the floor, covered them with it, and snuggled into his arms.

Using his chest as a pillow, she spoke. "Promise you'll be here when I wake up?"

"I promise, Cath. I'll be here forever."

"Good, because if you'd said 'no,' I would've had to handcuff you to the bedpost," she said, jokingly.

"Damn it, I should've said no," he replied. "We could've had fun with those."

She giggled. "Oh, just shut up and hold me," she said, lightly slapping his chest.

"As you wish, my love." He brushed his lips across the top of her head. Languid smiles formed on both of their mouths, and they drifted off into a sound sleep wrapped in a lovers' embrace. They would definitely be together. Forever.

The end.

FF: Right Up My Alley

2006-12-06T07:40:13Z

Title: Right Up My Alley
Rating: CSI-3 / R, just to be safe.
Spoilers: King Baby
Summary: Gil and Catherine continue their evening.
Disclaimer: These characters don’t belong to me…I’m just having some fun.
A/N: I took some liberties with this fic, so some parts might be out of character. Also, they have to have some time off, right? Hope you enjoy reading anyway! Another also, all mistakes are mine...no beta.

***

I really wished Jim would leave. He’s my friend and all, but he just had to pick that moment to join Gil and me at that table. That moment!! Gil told me he missed my tush and before I could elaborate on my ‘thank you,’ Jim showed up at our table from out of nowhere! He ordered a light beer and the three of us talked about the case for awhile, but the last thing I remembered was something about Fiji. Hmm…Gil…me…Fiji. That would certainly be nice, but it’ll never happen.

“Catherine?”

I was pulled out of my Fiji reverie by that silky baritone voice that I’ve known for two decades.

“Huh?”

“Jim said he was leaving.”

“Oh.” I looked at Jim as he stood up. “I’m sure our paths will cross again soon, Jim.” That was so lame. I can’t believe I said that.

“Yeah, see you two later.” I could tell that Jim was more than ready to go, and he quickly made his exit.

Gil and I were alone once again. I snuck a quick glance at him, only to see that he was already looking at me. No words were exchanged at that moment, but our eyes were seemingly glued to each other’s. He continued to stare at me, and I began to squirm. Nothing is as intense as the gaze of Gil Grissom.

“Anything else, sir?” the waitress asked.

Damn! What are we—people magnets? These people just won’t leave us alone tonight.

Gil told the waitress that we didn’t need anything else, and as she left to find other people to interrupt, his eyes returned to mine. “Are you ready to go?”

“I guess so.” I reached for my purse, but Gil was quick to stop me.

“No, drinks are on me tonight.” He smiled at me and there was no way I could argue with him.

I returned the smile. “Thanks.”

We stood up and walked toward the exit, and he gently placed his hand on the small of my back. It was then that I realized I didn’t want the night to end yet. I missed him too. I had to make a move then. I
turned to face him and his hand fell back to his side. “Um, Gil? We haven’t spent a lot of time together recently, and I was just wondering…maybe if you want to…have you ever been bowling?” I don’t know why, but I was incredibly embarrassed. My eyes were drawn to the floor where I found the tile pattern very interesting.

At first he didn’t say anything and I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

“Bowling? You mean with ten pins at the end of a lane and ugly shoes?”

“If you don’t want to go, it’s okay.”

“Cath,” he said, reaching for my hand, “I didn’t mean anything by that, I just never pictured you as a bowler.” He squeezed my hand and I found myself looking into his eyes for the millionth time.

“Does that mean you want to go?” I said hopefully.

“Yes.”

We took his Tahoe to Vegas Lanes, but there wasn’t much conversation during the ride over. After Gil parked, he told me to stay in the Tahoe so he could open my door. I was touched by his random act of
chivalry—it made me feel more special than I’d felt in a long time. His hand returned to the small of my back as we made our way to the entrance. Once inside the bowling alley, Gil approached the man at the counter, “I’d like a lane and two pairs of shoes.”

We got our shoes (Gil was right about them being ugly) and went to lane 12. Gil put our names into the computer as I tried to find a bowling ball. I finally found a bright orange one to use and I returned to lane
12 to put on my shoes. By the time I had finished tying my shoes, Gil was back—with a black bowling ball. I guess some things will never change. Gil put my name in the computer first, so picked up my bowling ball and took my stance. I knocked down seven pins with my first ball, which I didn’t think was too bad. I didn’t pick up the spare, though—I missed the three remaining pins.

The pins re-racked and Gil assumed his bowling stance. He released his bowling ball and it looked like it was going to fall off into the gutter, but it made a sharp curve toward the middle of the lane and hit the
pins with a decisive ‘THWACK!’ A strike! He smiled as he passed me on the way back to his seat. The second frame was no better than the first. I knocked down the same seven pins. And once again, I missed the same three. Gil repeated his strike. The rest of the game continued much the same, although there were a few spares for both of us. In the end, though, Gil won 172 to 123. He asked if I wanted to bowl another game, and after my affirmative, he reset the computer for the second game.

During the first frame of the second game, I threw my bowling ball in the gutter on my first try, and only managed to get five pins on my second try. I started toward my seat, but Gil stepped in my way. “Can I
offer some friendly advice?”

“Sure.”

“If you want to get a strike, you’ve got to use your knees more. You’ve got to get lower to generate more power.” I couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped my lips. When he realized what he’d said, his cheeks and ears turned bright red. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Cath.” That only made me laugh harder.

“The gutter!!” I howled. “Did you have to say that at the bowling alley?” I laughed so hard that my face hurt.

“It wasn’t that funny.”

“Yeah, it was,” I said, trying to contain my laughter and regain my composure.

Gil got another strike. Before I bowled the next frame, I tried to smooth things over. “Can I ask you something?”

“As long as it’s not about a gutter.”

“I promise it’s not. I was just curious about where you learned to bowl.”

“My mother taught me. I practiced nearly weekly until the end of college.”

“Why’d you quit? They wouldn’t let you bring your bugs?” I said with a smile and a wink.

“No, I was just tired of bowling.”

“Oh.”

I didn’t question him any further. I picked up my orange bowling ball from the ball return and tried to remember what he’d said about getting lower. I bent my knees and stayed low. I released my bowling ball,
kept my low stance, and watched as my ball sped toward the center of the pins. I wanted a strike, but I left a single pin standing. When I turned around, Gil’s eyes were focused somewhere lower than my eyes. <Was he looking at my *tush*?> I didn’t tell him that I noticed his distraction. I assumed the stance once again (to try to pick up my spare), and once again, Gil was distracted when I turned around.

<Two can play this game.> I already had a plan forming in my mind. Gil seemed to regain his focus because, surprise, surprise, he got another strike. He tried to pass me, but I grabbed his arm. “Gil, I just
can’t seem to get a strike,” I said, in a saccharine voice. “Do you think you could show me?”

“Well, I told you, Cath…all you have to do is…”

I put my finger to his lips to silence him. “I know what you told me. I want you to show me.”

“Uh, you mean…on the lane…with you?” he asked, obviously panicked.

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

“Um, okay.” <WHAT?!?!> I didn’t really think he’d go along with it.

I grabbed the bowling ball from the ball return, and I glanced over my shoulder to make sure he was following. I wasn’t even sure I could go through with it. Then, Gil got a burst of confidence. He pressed
himself against my back—his knees were directly behind mine and the fronts of his thighs were solidly plastered to the backs of mine. His chest was like a wall against my back, and his rapid breathing was hot on my right ear. His hands were quite possibly the best part though. His right hand was loosely placed over my right hand (I have no idea how I held onto the bowling ball), but his left hand was splayed across my stomach, his thumb incredibly close to touching my breast. Even through my clothes, his touch set me on fire. My breathing was already erratic, but I thought that I would stop breathing at anytime.

“You ready to do this?”

This was supposed to be my game, but all I could do was nod. I didn’t have the ability to answer to answer with words.

Somehow we managed to release the bowling ball, but because his knees bent further than mine, I lost my balance, knocking both of us down. We landed on the lane in a heap of tangled limbs with me mostly on top. I didn’t want to move, but the floor of the bowling alley is not the place to make a move on a friend. I tried to push myself off of Gil and the floor, and eventually I was able to stand up. I helped him up as best I could. I just happened to look toward the other end of the lane—no pins. “Look! We got a strike!” That was all it took for us both to dissolve into fits of laughter.

After receiving some condescending looks from other bowling alley patrons, Gil and I decided that we should probably leave before we were arrested for indecency. We changed back into our shoes and went to the counter to pay. I opened my purse to retrieve my wallet, but just like at the restaurant, Gil refused to let me pay.

“Come on, Gil. You have to let me pay for something,” I said, placing my hand on his bicep.

“You can buy breakfast,” he said with a wink and a grin.

I returned the grin. “That’s right up my alley.”

That caused another round of laughter. This time though, as we headed toward the door, his hand wasn’t on the small of my back—it was on my tush!

<He *was* looking at my tush!!!>

***

Finis

Bowling notes:
Spare-takes two tries to knock down all the pins.
Strike-knock all the pins down on the first try.
Split-when there’s a lot of space (bigger than the bowling ball) between the pins.
Gutter- trough-like space on either side of the lane in which the bowling ball can fall into (no points are awarded if the bowling ball falls in the gutter).
Frame- a single unit in a game—like an inning in baseball or a point in tennis. There are ten frames in one game.

New Look

2006-12-06T06:55:44Z

This place finally has a new look. It's about time--I know.

I couldn't have done this without tons of help from Star Journeying (whose LJ is way cooler than mine)! Thanks a bunch for all the late-night LJ lessons, O Wise One. Your grasshopper appreciates it!

Anyway, this is now one place where you can find all my fics. That's why the page's title is, 'Just the Fics, Ma'am." Heehee!

Thanks for stopping by, and I hope you enjoy your stay.

FF: What's Left?

2006-12-06T06:08:28Z

Title: What's Left?
Rating: CSI-3/ R, to be safe.
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or the characters. I'm just borrowing them.
Summary: It wasn't supposed to be like this.
Spoilers: None.
A/N: Any mistakes are mine. I have no beta.

**Angst** You've been warned.

Written for the Graveshift's November 2006 Challenge. Enjoy!

I can tell by the way my room is lit that outside, the sun is shining brightly. I don’t care, though, because I’m in no mood to see the sun. I roll over in bed so that my back is to the window and I stare blankly at the wall, feeling nothing but an aching numbness through out my body.

I really screwed up. I had everything I ever wanted, and now I have nothing.

I’ve replayed the scene in my mind a thousand times since it happened and each time I hate myself even more.

***

Three days ago...

***

I sat on the ledge of the park fountain, looking into his eyes as he knelt in front of me on one knee. He grasped my left hand in his right one as he pulled a small box from the left front pocket of his pants.

His voice cracked as he tried to say my name. He smiled nervously, cleared his throat, and started again. “Catherine, you’ve been my best friend for twenty years. Sometimes you’ve been my only friend. You’ve kept me in line and you’ve always got my back. You’ve been a constant source of support and I can’t express how grateful I am to have you as my girlfriend. What I’m trying to say is…” He let go of my hand for a moment, fumbling as he tried to open the small box. When he recaptured my hand, I could feel him shaking. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Nothing would please me more than for you to be my wife. Will you marry me?”

I felt the hot tears roll down both of my cheeks as I glanced at the ring in the box, then back to his eyes. “I…I…can’t.”

The shock of those words hit both of us, and my hand slipped from his as he stood up and moved away from me. I got up and followed him, unsure of what to say. I put my hand on his arm, but he wrenched it away from me as though I’d burned him.

I said the only thing I could think of. “Gil...”

He quickly turned to me. “It’s fine, Catherine,” he said, even though I knew he was lying.

“No, it’s not, Gil. We need to talk about this.”

“Fine. You want to talk? Tell me why you won’t marry me.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. “It’s not you, it’s me.”

“That’s a classic bullshit line if I’ve ever heard one,” he spat. He only swore when he was angry or hurt. In this case, I knew he was both. And I was the cause.

More tears streamed down my face as I continued. “It’s not bullshit,” I insisted. “You don’t know what it’s like to be in a bad marriage.”

“Are you saying that being married to me would be bad?”

“No! It’s just…” I sighed. “After Eddie…”

“Damn it, Catherine. This has nothing to do with Eddie. Only you and me.”

I tried, unsuccessfully, to swallow the lump in my throat. “It has everything to do with Eddie. Because of that bad marriage, the thought is in the back of my mind that subsequent ones will be just as bad.”

“I’m not Eddie.”

“I know that. But it’s still not easy to rush into another marriage.”

“We’ve been dating for two years. We’ve been lovers for almost that long. I wouldn’t exactly call that rushing.”

“Marriage changes people,” I said softly, as I looked down at my hands.

“It won’t change the fact that I love you.” He tipped my chin up with his finger, forcing me to look into his eyes. In all the years we’ve known each other, I’d never seen him cry until that moment.

“I’m not saying we’ll never get married, Gil. I just need some time before I say ‘yes.’ ”

“No, Catherine. It’s now or never.”

I searched his face for a sign that he wasn’t serious. But he was.

“That’s not fair. You can’t expect me to answer on the spot.”

“If you don’t have a definite answer now, maybe we’re not meant to be.”

“Then I guess it’s never,” I whispered, trying to hold back the new wave of tears. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me, too,” he replied as he ran his fingers down my cheek for the last time. His fingers lingered on my lips for a second then he turned and walked away.

I called out his name, desperately hoping he would come back so we could work it out, but he just kept walking. Walking away from me.

***

Now I’m in my bed, the bed where we made love for the first time nearly two years ago. Ironically, it’s the same bed where we made love for the last time four days ago. I can still feel him; touching me, holding me, loving me. Yet I know he’ll never do any of those again. The bitter reality sets in that he’s gone, and he’s not coming back.

I had it all—the perfect man, the perfect proposal, the perfect promise of a ‘happily ever after.’ But I was too scared of pursuing a more permanent relationship with him and because of that timidity, the only man I’ve ever truly loved—the only man I will ever love, is gone. He’s gone because I couldn’t make the ultimate commitment; I couldn’t go the distance or take that final step. Why, when my heart said ‘yes,’ did my head say ‘no?’ And why did I listen to my head?

I hug ‘his’ pillow to my chest, wishing it were him instead. A fresh surge of tears gush from my eyes. I hate myself for hurting him and I hate myself for loving him so much. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Despite what he said, we were meant to be together, but I ruined it. It took twenty years to get where we were and only minutes to destroy it beyond repair.

Another bitter irony creeps into my mind as tears roll across the bridge of my nose and land on the pillow beneath my other cheek. ‘Lover’ is such a strong word, but what’s left when the ‘l’ is gone is even stronger. Over. And for Gil and me, it is…over.

~Finis

Just the Fics, Ma'am

FF: Tongue-Tied

FF: Yuletide Yearnings

FF: Cookie Calamity

FF: A Christmas to Remember

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FF: Interruptions

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FF: Happy Payback, Dr. Grissom **WIP**

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FF: Nightmare

FF: Allergies

FF: The Past

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FF: Happy Payback, Dr. Grissom WIP

FF: X's and O's WIP