Title: Flickering Candlelight
Disclaimer: These guys don't belong to me.
Author's Note: When I originally wrote this, I was trying not to be character specific so if anything seems a little odd that's probably why.
Summary: Gil celebrates his fiftieth birthday.
Spoiler(s): None that I'm aware of.
He waits.
Being a patient man, he contemplates the flickering shadow caste by the flame of a single candle burning in his artificially darkened bedroom. It is his birthday. He took the night off and, uncharacteristically, took a vacation day or should it be night, as well.
Earlier in the week……………
"The big five oh," Catherine commented, entering his office and taking the seat across from him, "how do you plan to celebrate?"
"Oh, I'll probably read a book or something." Gil quietly replied, baiting his trap and waiting for her to berate his solitary choice.
"That's hardly the way to spend a milestone birthday," she stated defiantly crossing her arms.
"Okay," he responded with a slight smirk, "I want to be with you." Gil laid his glasses on top of the paperwork he had been studying and added. "Other than it being just the two of us, I don't care how we spend it. So, what would you like?"
"Hmm, well then," Catherine began, serious contemplation adding a slight wrinkle to her forehead, "since I'm working tonight, I'd like to arrive at your place in the morning," she cocked a suggestive eyebrow, "and find you in bed – naked."
"If you found me in such a state of undress, would you have your way with me?" Gil huskily inquired.
"Most definitely!" Catherine assured before confiding the rest of her fantasy. "Then, after some great sex, we could sleep without the alarm clock waking us because someone conveniently scheduled me the night off."
"I wonder who that could have been?" Gil facetiously mused while his smirk grew more pronounced.
"I think, someone already had a plan." She mockingly accused although she was secretly pleased by his forethought.
"Very likely," he agreed, his smirk fading to a pleasant smile, "with a fantasy in mind, quite similar to the one you described."
"What's the old saying – great minds think alike? I'll see you tomorrow then." Catherine rose stepped to the door then turned and with a salacious grin said. "Just make sure you're well rested and 'up' for the occasion!"
"I seriously doubt that will be an issue," Gil muttered to the spot at the door from which she had just vanished.
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Gil Grissom is a man of detail and has a list of all the things she likes. Therefore, he has a bottle of Pinot Grigio, on ice, near the bed. Two fine crystal wineglasses accompany the candle on the bedside table. Prosciutto, Lomo Curado, and an assortment of imported cheeses labeled 'Romance' waits in the refrigerator. He has a loaf of fresh baked bread, a selection of Crostini toppings, an assortment of crackers and toasts, mustards, olives, pickles and Black Forrest Cake from her favorite restaurant for dessert.
Satisfied with his preparations, he waits for her.
A key faintly rasps in the lock of the front door. He oiled the hinges last week so it no longer creaks but he hears the latch catch then the deadbolt hammers into place after the soft thud of it being shut. As always, for the past few years, he rejoices in his ability to hear these faint occurrences. Heels click across the hardwood floor, keys jangle as they find a resting place on the wooden table surface then clink as a her handbag joins them. Her overnight bag thumps into the chair by the table, one shoe then the other plops to the floor. He imagines she's removing her jacket to hang it on the back of the chair. She will place her pager on the handbag but her cell phone will accompany her. He knows the only calls she will answer will concern her daughter.
He closes his eyes in anticipation. Seconds later, he sees the bright pink of his closed eyelids as the bedroom door swings open with a flash of invading brilliant daylight, then darkness returns with the closing door. He cracks an eye open to peek at her approach. She places her cell phone on the bedside table, leans over and places a tender kiss on his lips.
"Hey." She says.
"Hey, yourself."
She shrugs off her overnight bag and places it at the end of the bed just past his right foot. He could easily nudge it off, if he so desired, but he prefers to silently observe her movements. Her back is to him as she casually removes her clothing, neatly folding each garment, occasionally flipping her hair over her shoulder. The candlelight glows on her skin and glints in her hair.
The contour of her body is framed in the bathroom door by a night-light's luminescence. The night-light was placed in the bathroom years ago to circumvent the need to turn on the harsh overhead light when he awoke to nature's call. Water trickles in the sink as cabinet doors are opened and closed. An array of her toiletries has found a home in his bathroom. He finds it a comforting reminder of their relationship when he is alone.
His unwavering gaze is focused on the bathroom door, anticipating her return. His perseverance is rewarded by another split second glimpse of her nude silhouette. He studies her approach, how the shadows fill in as she enters the pool of flickering candle light.
"Just what I asked for." She whispers as he lifts the sheet to grant her entrance to the warm cocoon of his bed.
Turgid flesh in his loins throbs to accentuate his desire. They have no need of words, preferring to indulge their senses - to touch, taste, smell, hear and see one another in the soft flickering light. They lose all sense of individuality to become one and keep the cold, hard, cruel world at bay………if only, for a little while.
Afterwards, sweaty, exhausted but sated, he props up on his elbow to kiss her languidly. He tastes the minty toothpaste she used and feels a deep satisfying contentment. If God granted wishes to fifty-year-old birthday boys, his wish would be that this moment could last forever.
Finis!
