She'd taken the conference lecture spot on purpose, accepted the request within moments of seeing the date and location in the email. Uncharacteristically, she'd accepted the offer before even checking her own schedule, but the idea had nabbed her attention quickly. It had seemed... utterly perfect. A weekend to herself, without the stress of the firm, without having to worry. No bankroll, no pain in the ass over-achieving employees, no chasing after Lightman and picking up his scattered pieces.
A late spring weekend in a high end Charleston hotel, over her birthday, speaking to multiple training classes at one of the Federal Training Centers? Somewhere she could just... relax? Maybe even spoil herself? Oh, God... spa treatment. There was definitely some room in her schedule for a few days of pampering. She was going to spoil herself silly.
Sure, yeah, there would be work. But she'd never really had quite the same distaste for lectures that Cal had. She found them interesting and entertaining and, frankly, a lot of the questions raised were good ones, useful ones. Things they hadn't necessarily considered, uninvestigated aspects and nuances of their science (or, rather, his science, as he often reminded her). It wouldn't kill her to meet some new people, either. She was getting dangerously sheltered by how busy the Group kept her, by how singular she was starting to feel when she left it and ended up in her apartment reading novels and drinking tea more often than not.
Not that she didn't enjoy either... it was just starting to become glaringly obvious how enclosed and insulated she was becoming.
She needed it. And something in her had recognized that fact instantly (probably about the moment she'd realized she could get a professional massage without Cal needling her about it).
"Y'took the FLETC conference?" Cal followed her right into her office, the conference schedule in his hand as he invaded her space without asking. "Really? Foster, I need - "
"You need," she aimed at him accusingly but playfully as she turned fully, "often. I'm doing this."
His face scrunched with a guilty but bemused look, one shoulder shrugging at her, "Need you, darling."
Gillian tugged the papers from his hand and waved them up between the two of them. "Are you done?"
"Bein' charming?" he asked with a light tone, taunting her as he let his eyes scope and slide up and down the length of her.
She noted how long his glance lingered over her hips, smirking as he dragged his eyes up from where the dress was wrapped tightly on her. "It was a little smarmy, actually."
Cal made a chastened face, squinting at her. "Not subtle?"
"As an anvil."
He grinned wider into her quick banter, watching as she tossed the schedule she'd taken from him onto her desk top. "Foster - "
"Cal," she sighed hard into frustration, shaking her head at him with intentional force, "I'm going. I'm gonna eat five star dinners every night, pamper myself beyond reason, and enjoy the hell out of Charleston nightlife."
His face took on an instant pallor of distaste and she was surprised that he let it stay unmasked on his features as they held a look. "The nightlife or the local wildlife?"
"Jealous," she mocked at him, tugging once against front of his Henley before turning back to her desk. "And absolutely none of your business."
"S'your birthday, Gill."
The dropped quiet and sincere way he'd said it stilled her hands as she'd gone reaching for her other paperwork and she pressed her fingers against the folder. She paused completely, considering the fact that... well, she probably should have considered mentioning it to him. They had been spending birthdays together pretty consistently the last few years. Well, hers at the least. Dinners, theatre trips, memorial parks and cherry blossoms. Even an art opening that he'd spent the entire evening mocking despite the fact he'd also stood stunned for half an hour in front of one particular oil painting.
Usually they didn't mention his at all preceding (because he was a grump about it) and she'd sneak in a little mention of it on the day, find a way to gift him with something small that she'd spent the six months previous hunting down.
Hell, the year before he'd been extra grouchy the week of his birthday because she'd managed to spirit his watch away just to have it cleaned and have the band fixed.
She couldn't even remember what he'd done to break part of the latch but he'd been babying it for months before hand.
She was still pretty damn proud of herself for having pulled that over on him...
"Which is why I plan to spoil myself like hell," she explained quietly as she turned, suddenly conscious of his disappointment and feeling a sway of guilt. "Cal?"
His gaze was unfocused, despite the fact his eyes were aimed directly over her breasts, glazed vacancy in the greened hues as he exhaled, "Hmm?"
His despondency on the subject made her shoulders slump in concern, worry that she'd unconsciously offended him,"I didn't mean to... Do you really object to - "
"Not at all," he shook off suddenly, blinking back at her and meeting her eyes with an intentionally masked glance. His features were perfectly patterned, completely blasé just before he forced a smile up into his eyes and nodded. "You deserve it, love. You should enjoy yourself."
"Cal - "
"I mean it," he murmured, reaching out to squeeze lightly against her wrist to re-enforce his words.
She scrutinized him, jaw turning at an angle as she lowered her tone, "Were you planning something?"
"Like a party?" Lightman laughed quickly into shaking his head, hands up in honest defense of himself as he smiled. "No. Not at all. Y'think I've that much foresight?"
"Then - "
"When you get back, huh?" he compromised quietly, the mirth in his eyes staying gentle as he nodded and touched against her arm again. "Plans'll hold over."
"What plans?" Gill asked quietly, intentionally curbing any excitement from the sound of her voice.
"Nothin' that won't keep," he assured her. "Be a good girl now, huh? No trouble. No gambling or joy riding."
The quick and affectionate wink he gave her as he turned made her gulp down a little, something in her chest cinching tight on her lungs. She watched him leave, sinking back onto the edge of her desk as he let her door slide closed again. His hands caught into his pockets and she leaned forward a little to watch him head back into his own office, head forward and angled downward. Remorse dropped her shoulders down as she let herself look down the length of him, her teeth digging into her bottom lip as she frowned down over her shoes.
Well... she had been excited. When the idea had been fresh and new and before she'd realized that it had conflicted with a few years of him actually and repetitively being sweet as hell.
Now she was just going to guiltily wonder exactly what it was she was missing.
And feel a little traitorous about it too.
"Maybe I shouldn't go," she murmured self consciously as the last of the staff filtered out the conference room doors.
She felt him look up over the table at her, the entire length of his body lazily slacked along the edge and his chin buried in his curled palm. He was nearly horizontal and parallel to the table and she just studied him seriously, chewing into her lip as he stared her back down. Cal cocked his head into arching his brow, giving her a wry look before he snorted and swung a little heavier into the table, letting both arms flop out over the top of it. Her eyes caught the flexed strength in his forearms, searched over how he'd scrunched his sleeves up and she tried to shake herself out of staring as she swallowed.
"Y'should go," he told her directly, one hand lifting in her direction then dropping heavily. "Gill, you're right. Y'need a break. Take it and relax. Play puppy master with the Federal lapdogs. Drink champagne. Get a facial or whatever."
"But accounts are behind and - "
"You're goin'." His entire body launched out of the swinging chair all at once and she jumped a little at the quick movement but didn't look up as he rounded the table. "And you're expensing everything. Y'hear me?"
Gill just shook her head in stubborn negation, "The Collins case is more important than - "
"Torres has lead. It's under control." It was his hand catching hers up that finally drew her full attention and she let him tug her up from the table, let him pull her up into his space as he nodded. "I can handle the children, I promise. It's all good, Gill."
"What were you planning?" she asked quietly, searching his face for a hint she damn well knew wasn't coming. He wasn't going to tell her a thing, not when it had obviously been meant as a surprise. Not when there was still a chance of maybe impressing or surprising her when she made her way back.
"M'not tellin'," he mugged back with a face full of mischief. "You'll find out when you get back, huh?"
"Cal - "
"Not telling you, angel." There was a softness rounding out his accent, something still teasing but unbreakably affectionate. "A surprise is a surprise, i'nnit?"
"Come with me," she felt the sound of begging on her tongue and caught sight of how quickly he noticed it just by the way his head jerked up. "Maybe I'll finally get you to go salsa dancing."
Complete surprise panned over his face and she watched his eyes go a little wider, pleased by the utter astonishment over his face. It didn't last all that long but she was just as happy with the crooked smirk that took up his lips as he chuckled and turned away from her watching with a shake of the head. Something a little like self consciousness seemed to flood over him as his hands went digging into his pockets and his shoulders shrugged at her before he met her eyes again.
"That'll be the day," he muttered, looking sweeter for how boyishly embarrassed he seemed in saying it. "Eh, darling?"
His right hand lifted in the moment of quiet and she was shocked still by how gently he just clipped his knuckles against the side of her jaw before they turned. His fingertips took the same route, tracing up the line of it as he distractedly watched his own movements.
"Cal?"
"Gillian, you're going." His fingers tightened on her jaw as he nodded imploringly. "And you're gonna enjoy yourself, you're gonna relax."
She blinked silently as he pressed an endearingly soft kiss against her lips, just a brief and light touch of his lips before he brushed his fingers off her jaw and waved between them.
"That's your birthday gift."
She wasn't sure, as he left the room, if he'd meant the trip or the tender little kiss, or both.
Either way... it was annoyingly adorable and it lit a whole new heat into her gut.
Selfless Cal was always a delight to have nearby and she tended to miss him terribly when he wasn't around.
She was gonna have to find him a seriously extraordinary souvenir this trip... he truly deserved it this time.
It'd been a really stupid idea, actually.
She had realized that somewhere thousands of miles above Virginia and barely halfway into her flight. It had become obvious when she'd gone searching for gum and found a taunting little note he'd left in her purse about not frittering away all his hard earned money at a Craps table. He hadn't even signed it – hadn't needed to do so. She'd found another stuffed behind her wallet telling her that if she checked in at work more than once a day he'd have her horse whipped upon return – once he managed to track down a horse whip, that is. She didn't doubt there were more throughout her purse and carry on and she felt a sudden swing of loneliness, it throbbed all the way through her as she pinched the crumpled little notes between her fingers and stared forward at the seat back in front of her. She swallowed hard, wedged between an extraordinarily talkative widow and a businessman with shoulders like a linebacker and legs twice as long as her own. And he sat like he was riding a damn horse, legs splayed out and, damn it, if the man brushed his knee against hers one more time -
"Married?"
Wow. And she'd accused Cal of being less-than-subtle. So not the time, Pal.
"I mean, you married? Seeing someone?"
Jesus... at least her partner had a sense of humor... and charm, and humility (ish, sorta, not really).
At least her partner knew better than to open a conversation with her by being intrusive (except, again, not so much).
At least when her partner invaded her personal space he smelled insanely good and tended to whisper indecently funny commentary in her ear that only she would get and only he knew would make her laugh.
At least when Cal was nudging something against her knee it was because, even if only subconsciously, he knew she was amenable to it. He knew he could press his fingertips along her knee and nudge, or obnoxiously diddle his knee against hers to get her attention, or even just press gently and hold against her leg for no real reason at all.
"Just, ya know, no ring." She found that even his voice rashed on her, it was deep and grating and rumbling. "So, no husband?"
"My husband," Gill exhaled softly, her head lifted as her voice cooled, "grew up in London and has the emotional control of a pissed off badger."
Screw what Cal Lightman accused her of – she was a 'bloody fantastic' liar.
"I see," he responded despondently as he drew his leg slowly farther from hers.
Good, at least maybe he'd gotten the big picture.
The great big 'back-the-hell-off' picture.
"Oh," the woman on her other side's voice perked up excitedly, "how long have you been married?"
... it had been a really, really, stupid idea.
And she missed him – far more than she should have.
More than she'd expected to - more than anything, actually.
It was about to become the worst birthday she'd had in years and the sinking feeling in her stomach did its best to corroborate that suspicion.
"This was a terrible idea," she sighed out into the cell phone, inhaling quickly before continuing the voicemail she was leaving, "and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come down here. I'm just... It was stupid and I should've stayed home."
And she missed him.
She missed him already. Inexplicably and sickeningly and terribly.
Gill stalled her steps near the baggage claim, sighing off into the silence that had filled the line a moment before she just let the words tumble out. "Tomorrow won't be the same without you, Cal."
She hung up slowly and speechlessly, staring down the phone with a vacant glance, feeling something malignant in her gut.
Feeling exactly like she was about to spend her birthday evening alone when she'd spent it with him for, at the very least, the last three years.
It wasn't necessarily deserving of tears yet but, hell, it was the first time since shortly after her divorce that she'd felt really, truly, lonely.
And she'd done it to herself. She'd been selfishly -
"Now, tha's exactly why I changed the reservations." The jaunty clip of his accent, his uniquely comforting voice, it caught along her shoulder a brief moment before she felt the palm of a perfectly familiar hand stroke up her lower back. "Different city, different restaurant, same night, same escort."
The slow loosening of her lungs was as relaxed as the sway of her shoulders back into his touch, the way he curled up along her side and hugged his arm around her waist, tucking her up close.
He was, generally, impossible. He was, every day of her life, a pain in her ass.
And he was, evidently, also the only thing she'd unconsciously really wanted for her birthday.
He'd known it somehow too, known to make the moment a turning point. Impossible, really.
"Hi." She guiltily, shyly, turned her head into the way his jaw was nearly rubbing against her shoulder.
His grin flashed broad before he leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss against her cheek. "Hello, love."
"I'm sorry." His fingers turning her hair behind her ear as she turned her body into his was more distracting than his movements usually would have been, more intimate a shifting than she'd expected and instantly something that lit her lungs on fire. "I didn't think. I didn't - "
"Busy tomorrow night?" he asked right over her apology, utterly disregarding how agitated she was.
She blinked, slightly taken with how happily he was just ignoring her concern and carrying on with whatever he'd cooked up to surprise her. However he'd managed this, without her catching on...
It was... perfectly Cal. And just generally perfect, really.
"How?" she asked as she tugged her fingers up into his shirt and wound them into the fabric. "We had a staff meeting this morning. I just saw you at work."
His grin flashed proudly, jaw rising in her direction, "Left about three hours before you did. You thought I was with Torres, yeah?"
He was absolutely impossible. And it was impossible not to love that about him, not anymore.
It was sort of equally impossible not to kiss him, either.
She just didn't realize it until she'd already jerked him in by the shirt and planted her lips on his without a word of warning.
He laughed into it at first, nervously but amusedly and happily so. Both his hands caught onto her intentions before she realized entirely what she'd done and instead of caring she just let her tongue between his lips as his palms skiffed over all of her, hips and ribs first. Seemed like he couldn't manage to pin down exactly what part of her he wanted to touch, at least until he groaned his tongue along hers and both arms closed her into a certain safety and heat. One hand went up along the back of her head to demand more from the kiss and the other slid south, damn near indecent as he rhythmically stroked little circles just above her ass. She was far too distracted by how skillfully he was sucking along her tongue to keep a count of them, though. He let her breathe again by grasping her hair up in his hand and tipping her head back, keeping his mouth close along her ear as he exhaled harshly.
"If a guy in a cheap suit with shoulders like Andre the Giant walks by I want you to kiss me like that again, huh?" she whispered into how slowly he was rubbing his lips just in front of her ear.
"You mean the one behind you?" he asked just before gripping against her jaw to keep her head from turning, a chuckle coming up his throat. "Don't look."
Gill met his smile honestly before her eyes narrowed, "Is he staring at my ass?"
"To be fair to Andre back there," he murmured conversationally, even as his other hand wended south to take its fill and he squeezed lightly against her butt, "it's a grand sight to see."
"Cal - "
"I'll even take you dancing, I mean, if it's really a deal breaker," he told her, throwing off conversation of the stranger and drawing her attention back to the very fact that he'd intentionally let her run off alone just so that he could surprise the hell out of her.
Maybe, at one point in their relationship, she would have found it unnervingly intrusive of him.
But she couldn't see it that way – not when she'd very obviously been aching to turn right back around and get on the soonest plane home.
Not when she'd so strongly missed just having him beside her.
Gill smiled unintentionally, enjoying the way he was more than enjoying stroking his fingers on her so publicly, "Your hand on my ass is not subtle, Cal."
"Wasn't aimin' for subtle, Gillian. Not with any of it." His voice had gone distinctly intense and valved, warmly falling over her as he nervously smiled through it. "I was aimin' for extremely overt and possessive. Also adorable."
"I wasn't complaining," she shook her head into responding. "Coming here was stupid. I should have just - "
"Comin' here was brilliant." His interruption was quick and there was a looseness to him as he tugged her hips tighter along his, swayed her closer and just kept his hands on her. "Just wish it'd been my idea first."
"Well, it was later. In a way."
She smiled proudly over him, matched the obviously enthralled way he was studying her himself. There was a solid beat of a moment before the both of them laughed at themselves, at each other. The awkwardness of the moment went tossed out between them as he dragged her up even tighter and her hands found their way to tangling between his jacket and his shirt.
It didn't even feel strange, kissing him - not that she thought it would, or should.
But it was a surprise to her, even as he leaned forward and stole another warm kiss off her, that it was so inherently natural and inviting.
He felt more than just safe or comfortable. He felt, instinctively, like home.
"Can I take you out, darling?" his voice actually sounded tentative as he watched her eyes search over his face. "Think we need to celebrate."
"I think I can fit you into my schedule."
"Aye, aye. Y'can fit me wherever y'like, Foster." The way his arm looped her up along his side was refreshingly comforting, something perfectly normal but oddly new at once – because this time it wasn't just leading, this time it felt more like a promise of a sort. "That bloke botherin' you?"
"I think he got the hint," Gill laughed into leaning farther up his side, letting him nuzzle his nose teasing into her hair before he kissed roughly against the side of her head. "It's not my birthday yet, though."
"Think I can manage two nights in a row," he shrugged her up closer, wrapping his arm at her waist loosely, cozily and with such a flair of owning that she sank into it before she'd realized she'd even done so. "Had a few winks on the plane."
She lifted the shoulder that was wedged into his side, half shrugging as she looked over his profile and studied how relaxed the muscles of his face were, save for the smile that was semi-permanently perking his lips up. "Think I'd rather stay in tonight."
"No 'nightlife' then?" His head swung toward her with a little confusion, brow adorably knitted up and pinched as he shook confusion her way.
"I sure as hell didn't say that." She couldn't help but kiss him, could keep from lifting one light kiss against his mouth and laughing into the nearly stunned way he dumbly watched her retreat. "Did I?"
"Oh, I'm hearin' ya." he agreed after a moment, voice hedging lower and with some sensual grit as he nuzzled a kiss up below her ear before tugging her around and toward the baggage claim. "Let's get your bag."
"Cal?"
He paused in how he was stepping away from her, quiet confusion on his face as she reached against his shirt and tethered him still. His hand looped her wrist as he cocked her a concerned look. "What, darling?"
"Best birthday present," Gill murmured, tugging at fabric intently, "right here."
She didn't think he realized how easily that smug and haughty and still somehow humble grin of his made her lungs trap closed.
"I know." Well, maybe he did. Maybe he knew exactly what that grin did to her. "C'mon then."
It was twelve seventeen in the morning when he said it, one of his fingers drawing a winding line down her bare stomach as she giddily buried her face into the crook of his shoulder, "Happy Birthday, love."
It was twelve twenty two and following a handful of long kisses before she notified him, "I wasn't born in the morning."
"Sure, but I'm not short changin' ya on birthday wishes so," he cuddled her farther below him, angling his hips over her as he nudged his nose on her cheek, "let's hear one then."
"Can I have a cake?" she asked with completely honest pleasure in her eyes as she turned her head into his watching.
"We'll get you one. Chocolate?" A smirk tweaked one side of his mouth as she nodded with silent exuberance in response. "And with candles?"
"Not necessary." Gill countered easily, her fingertips finding the smile and feeling it widen out as she touched along his lips.
Cal gave her a quick look of disbelief, brow arched as he searched down the naked front of her and sighed out. His hand went back to stroking over her, curving and closing around one of her breasts before he brushed his fingers against her nipple and then down. His mouth followed after his fingers, taking it between his lips and against his tongue, sucking lightly as he stroked down her stomach and gripped onto her hip.
"One, at the least," he whispered, hushing warm breath along the damp nipple. "For the blowing out and wish making."
"No need now." She watched intently and traced on his temple, followed the slope of his tongue with her eyes as he measured the curve of her inner breast by licking it.
She felt his grin against her sternum just as easily as she saw it take over his mouth. "Y'like your present then?"
She made a hummed noise of consideration up her throat, stroking down his stomach and catching the way his eyes widened but went darker at once as she stroked between them and onto his thigh. "Which one?"
"Oi, handsy girl." He'd meant it to sound like an accusation but he sounded much more appreciative as the words strangled up his throat on a groan, hips thrusting into how confidently and surprisingly possessively she stroked her palm tight along the length of his cock. "Me, of course."
"Well," she mocked a slightly disappointed tone and sigh, shrugged into his mouth stroking over her shoulder and nearer her collarbone, "they say it's the thought that counts, right?"
"Cheeky," he grumbled happily between her breasts, drawing laughter up from her lungs as he started tickling against her ribs and refused to stop as he kissed over her skin. "Beautiful, cheeky, mouthy, handsy girl."
"It's my birthday," she supplied smugly and through laughter as she slapped at his hands. "I'm allowed."
"You're allowed on any day, darling." He settled pleasantly between her thighs, face buried between her breasts as she comfortably drove both hands into his hair. "That's the truth."