Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: Not mine. No money, don't sue. No infringement intended.
Archive: Graveyard, ff.net and anywhere...just let me know.
Spoilers: None
Pairings: C/G
Feedback: I'm not above begging for it...

Summary: Cath's lunch choices baffle Gil...and he gets to the bottom of it. Gil POV

Author's Note: I had no beta...any errors are mine. This is my answer to the Graveyard Shift June fic challenge. This was a tough one. Rita - I hope I did the title justice. If it sucks, I'm sorry.

She eats the same thing every day.

I don't know how she can stand that. Me. I need to have something different every few days or I lose interest. For example, in college, I was so broke that I had to eat macaroni and cheese or ramen noodle soup almost every day. It was all I could afford. But to this day, the mere sight of the short cheesy noodles or the long swirly noodles gives me the shakes. I can't even look at them.

But not Catherine.

Salad.

Every single day for lunch.

And I know what's in them without even looking. I've ordered the damn things for her at least twice a week for the past 15 years. Spinach, Arugula, Romaine. A rainbow of vegetables join the leaf trio. Bright orange carrots, round red cherry tomatoes, pale green celery sticks, white triangles of cucumber. Thinly chopped turkey - lean, of course. Topped with shredded colby, cheddar and monterey jack cheeses.

Once, she actually asked for ham instead of turkey. I swear I almost had a heart attack.

"Are you feeling ok?" I said, confused by the change in her order. "Sick? Fever?"

"I feel fine, why?" She replied without even looking in my direction.

"Your salad."

"Gil, stop being Gil." She sighed wearily and glanced up at me.

"You ordered ham. Not turkey." I could feel myself smirking and I tried to stop it before my ears took a verbal beating. But my mouth got the best of me and the corners curled upward. "I just figured that maybe you were coming down with something..."

"Stop being such a smart-ass and just order the damn thing already." Catherine turned back to her paperwork with a smile, effectively dismissing me and my silly little comments.

I can still remember that day as if it were yesterday. That was the only time she ordered ham. It has been exactly the same since then. There is only one thing that makes each salad different from the others.

The dressing.

She picks a new one every day. And it has to be on the side. Always on the side. Monday she asked for red wine vinaigrette. Yesterday...it was some type of ranch. Some days, she asks for more than one kind of dressing.

Like today. She wanted honey mustard and some kind of asian peanut dressing.

It always comes in small plastic or Styrofoam cups. On the side.

As she eats, Catherine dips a forkful of lettuce and friends into the cup. It reminds me of a french dip sandwich with the au jus on the side. Only this is the green leafy version.

Just watching her eat has almost made me swear off salads forever.

Almost.

The thing is, she looks - and don't think I'm demented or something when I say this - sexy while she eats. Just now, she speared a small, perfectly round tomato, dipped it into the sweet yellow dressing, and slipped it between her lips.

I can't help but think how much I want to be that tomato.

And next, a cucumber takes a dive into the other cup and makes it's way into her waiting mouth. I can feel my heart start beating faster. I hold my breath to attempt to slow it.

And fail. Miserably.

I don't know why I even bother trying. The only way to stop myself from reacting to her, is by getting up and leaving. But I won't. I don't want to leave. I want to watch her manipulate her lunch.

Watch her and wish it were me she was manipulating. Besides, I think I'd cause a great deal of embarrassment for both of us if I stood at this moment. I know I should look away. I've gotten so hard that I'm almost in pain. And it will get to the painful point. I'll survive, though. I know I will. I've been here before. Too many times to count.

The only thing I can do is shift in my chair. Try and relieve some of the pressure. It never works.

Bite after bite I watch and wonder. Wonder what it would be like to have her mouth on me. To kiss her, to have her naked skin pressed against me. I feel a cool bead of sweat dribble slowly down my temple and it makes me shiver a little.

God, what I would give to kiss her. To just lean forward and place my lips on hers. To taste her...

Dressings.

"Gil?"

Catherine's voice snapped out of his trance.

"What?" I say a little too sharply. I quickly backtrack. "Sorry, didn't mean to snap at you. I was just sort of out of it."

"That's ok. But, why are you staring at me while I eat?"

Oh. Shit.

Do I lie? Do I tell her that I was thinking about a case? No, I can't lie to her. Do I tell her the truth? Do I say I was thinking about how much I want her to... No. I can't do that either.

Oh. Shit.

"Earth to Gil. Come in Gil."

"I was thinking about your salad."

"What about it?"

"The dressing."

"Ooookkkaaaaaaay." Her voice has that tone to it. The 'I'm really annoyed with Gil' tone. It makes me nervous. "And?"

Shit.

Now what? Should I take a risk here? Jump in...feet first?

"Uh, well..." I pause and try to figure out what to say. "Why do you get a different dressing each day? I mean how do you decide which one you want?"

She laughs. Her eyes twinkle when she laughs. Unfortunately for me, it does nothing but make my erection jump in my pants, causing it to push against the zipper.

"I don' t know." She shrugs. "I guess it just depends on the day."

"Depends on the day?" I shift again, trying to rearrange things in my lower region. Not succeeding in the slightest. "What do you mean?"

"Well, if I'm feeling happy, I get a light dressing."

My look of confusion garners a second laugh and a second smile. This time, I have to drop my hand into my groin to make a serious attempt at relocation.

"Gil, are you ok?" She reaches across and places her hand on mine...the one that still remains on the top of the break table. "You're sweating."

I am.

"I'm fine," I lie as I proceed to grab myself and shift it to the left. "Please, continue. I'm very interested."

"Ok. Like I said, happy - light dressing. An italian or vinaigrette. If I'm angry or depressed, I go with something heavier - french, garlic, ranch." She stops and spears another tomato. "When I'm feeling..."

She pauses. I know what she was about to say...why she stopped before she said it. She's not sure about crossing lines with me. We know each other very well, but there are those certain things - topics - we avoid.

This is one of them. Sex. Anything related to the word. Whether it has nothing or everything to do with either of us...we don't talk about it.

However, as she slowly slips that perfectly round piece of fruit between her lips, I decide that I'm finished avoiding. I'm ready to cross the line. Hell, I'm ready to sprint across.

I lean forward.

"Feeling....?" I prompt, a slight smile on my mouth.

"When I'm feeling horny, I get multiple dressings." Her tongue slides out to moisten her lips.

I look at the two cups placed in front of her and back to her face.

"I see. Interesting." I place my hands on the table and push myself up to stand. I walk over to her side of the table and watch as her eyes drop to the obvious. When her gaze returns to mine I lean forward again. "May I?"

"May you what?" She asks with a smirk.

I smirk back.

"May I taste your dressing?"

"Which one?"

"Both."

Before she can answer, I kiss her. I slide my tongue into her mouth and I can taste the pleasant combination of her salad dressings. I break away from our first kiss with a smile.

"Mmmmmmmm. Tasty."

"Very." Is all she says. Her face is red. Her lips puffy. She looks...adorable.

"So, you up for dinner tonight?" I ask nonchalantly as I walk around to my side of the break table and sit back down.

"Sure." She replies in the exact same tone I just used.

"Salad good?"

"You bet."

"My place?"

"Okay."

"Dressing requests?"

"Just make sure you have more than one kind...and lots of it."

"Will do."

The End