Unreadable

Author: CK

Rating: R / P16

Summary: The results of consumption of alcohol were a curious affair. It made people say things they'd never say, do things they'd never do when they were sober. Or would they? - Callian smuff

Spoilers: Picks up where 3x05 "The Canary's Song" ended.

Disclaimer: If this was my show... no. Don't get me even started on that. I may use this moment to say: SAVE LIE TO ME! ...Okay, so show belongs to Samuel Baum and his team, as well as FOX.

Author's Note: No, I won't say that about two months ago I didn't even want to watch that show, much less become a fan, a shipper, AND write a fanfic. A smut one also, to only make it worse. Usually, my life is very predictable (which isn't such a bad thing, trust me; I hate surprises). Obviously it doesn't apply to my fandom life.

So... this is me, posting a LTM fic as my 71st (yay!) story on this site.

Cut for site policy reasons. Please visit my site for full version and download as PDF. Thanks.

Usually, Cal Lightman found a way out of any problematic situation, or problem in general, he encountered. He dealt with criminals on an almost daily basis; dangerous criminals, the kind that could pull out a weapon and shoot him if only he did one wrong move. It wasn't his job that was this dangerous. No. If he did his job as he was supposed to do it, and then went home like any other normal person, danger wouldn't be anything he would have to concern about. Most times, at least, and excluding politically motivated bombers.

Thing was, when he dealt with those criminals, it was because he liked a good challenge reading them while gambling or doing shady business with them was. Mind you, he usually knew well enough what he was doing, and at least tried to not take any unnecessary risks. He had a daughter, after all. And yet he couldn't refrain completely from doing it; he needed the thrill of that slightly unpredictable danger.

Right now, however, he was willing to give it all up for the thrill he felt in that particular moment - if only he could figure out how to deal with it.

He was perfect at reading people. That was a fact; he made this for a living, so he had to be good. Only a handful of people was able to fool him, and then also only for a few moments. Still, there was one person he had always been far from being perfect at reading: his best friend and partner, Gillian Foster. Even now when whatever guards she put up against his abilities should have been down or at least weakened due to the drunken state he'd found her in, he couldn't read much in her face - and that definitely wasn't the fault of the low light on the balcony. Of all people, it was her who was anything but an open book to him.

Life had an interesting sense of humor. He had learned that a long time ago - and he was confronted with it every day. Things happened although they shouldn't happen. People met who shouldn't ever meet. One saw something that rather should have remained unseen.

And Cal unexpectedly found himself reading emotions - truths - in faces of persons he otherwise had serious problems ascertaining. Truths in Gillian's face. Like that look, the one single look and nothing else, her eyes showed now. The one that spoke of want and desire. He neither needed to guess, nor to read what she was about to do, or what she wanted.

Cal knew he should have left the moment he realized that his friend of over sevenyears was drunk. Whenever Gillian had even a tad too much alcohol in her system, she became very dangerous - for him. Because while the two of them already were close and shared some good measure of bodily contact, when she wasn't sober anymore, Gillian was too affectionate for her own, and more so, his good.

Like now, when she hugged him, pressed herself against his body and seemingly couldn't stop touching him, and the soft curves of her luscious figure brought him alive in ways he'd rather not, not now at least. He wasn't sure whether he was grateful that she had turned out the light on his helmet; only the faint glow of the moon and the dimmed lights from the hall behind him illuminating her lovely face didn't make things exactly better for him. And by no means did it help his concentration.

It wasn't the first time they kissed. But the last time had only been a cover, a little additional proof that they were indeed the happy couple they pretended to be for that porn producer. And he certainly didn't count all the times they'd kissed each other as friends, always conveniently brushing the corners of each other's mouths while sharing this friendly gesture.

Be that as it may - this time was completely different. If he had ever been aware of a woman and her touch, it was now. Gillian pecked his lips repeatedly before playfully letting her tongue glide over them. Given that self-restraint had never been his strength when it came to women - and sex - Cal was very proud when he only allowed himself a quick taste of her, a short but very lustful kiss, before pushing her away; reluctantly so, but he needed to keep their encounter from becoming too passionate and reaching a point when he couldn't stop anymore. And didn't want to either. And surely he didn't trust himself to be willing to stop her.

"You're drunk, love," he stated, though he wasn't sure if he was telling it her or himself - so he could give his mind a reason to refuse her advances. Gillian, however, only let out a sound that he identified as something between a giggle and a chuckle.

"I... know," she answered, her words still slurred, and an adorable grin that was obviously meant to be seductive on her face.

For the umpteenth time, Cal wondered why he was such a gentleman with her when he wasn't one with any of his other women. Affairs. Well, one night stands.

Because she is your colleague and friend and it would only complicate things if you sleptwith her now, he told himself, very well aware that there would have been a lot to read had he looked at his own face. He was avoiding the truth, lying to himself, and he knew it. Some truths were better kept in the dark - especially when they concerned his feelings for certain best friends.

Swaying a little bit, Gillian leaned in and aimed for his lips once again, but this time he caught her before she was able to make contact. If she kissed him only one more time...

He needed to get away from here. From her. He didn't know how long he was still able to resist her. He wanted that woman - had wanted her for years. If there had ever been a real challenge in his life, turning Gillian down while she was willing to give him what he was longing for definitely was one.

"How'bout tschoo take me ho-" she suggested, and with one of her hands hanging around his neck to stabilize herself, she used her other to take the helmet off his head and put it onto hers instead, giving him the sweetest smile and that little raise of an eyebrow that always made him just this tiny bit weak in the knees.

"Sure," he agreed, not trusting himself to any more words. He loosened the hand on his neck and pulled her into his side, guiding her back into the hallway and towards the exit; not without muttering "But you ride in the back." under his breath though.

He couldn't tell how he made it to her house afterwards. Of course she had insisted on sitting in the passenger seat, and of course she had occasionally brushed his leg or arm with her hand; still, he was surprised that her actions had been so... innocent, given the state she was in and her behavior back at the office.

As soon as they were at her door and she had unlocked it, however, she had her arms back around him and was pulling him inside, somehow managing to even shut the door in the process. Cal breathed in deeply to gather together what was left of any common sense he might ever have possessed - but regretted his action instantly when her indulging fragrance invaded his nostrils and thus every last of his senses was now flooded with everything he associatedwith being uniquely Gillian.

"I don't think that's a good idea, love," he said in a soft voice, pushing her away gently. "Go get some sleep, and we'll talk tomorrow." He walked the short way to the door backwards so he wouldn't have to let her out of his sight - to avoid any more 'attacks', but also to memorize that incredibly sexy picture she gave, standing in front of him and devouring him with her eyes.

He so needed to get out of there. Before he forgot - again - how a gentleman should behave.

When he reached the door, though, habit stabbed him in the back - in an automated movement, he stole a short glance behind him to look for the handle. And that was all she needed. One moment of not paying attention had her arms around his neck again, and her breath heating his lips when she again came far too close to be healthy for him. Immediately his hands went to her waist and he tried to shove her back - carefully, but still, not without some force - while those delicious lips of hers planted kisses on his face whenever she got close enough.

"Not while you're drunk, darlin'," he repeated, forcing the words out, as her closeness made it with any passing minute literally harder for him to resist her.

"I didn't know you were such a gentleman, Cal," Gillian purred - and his brain needed a few moments to recognize the fact that this time, her words were far less slurred than before, and her voice, despite her seductive tone, too clear. Almost shocked, he pushed her back and looked into her eyes. Eyes sparkling with mischief and amusement, but also eyes of someone who was far from being drunk.

A frown formed on his forehead, and the woman in his arms chuckled. It had only been an act. Seeing that sparkle in her eyes he now realized that, and groaned low in his throat. An act. And he had straight fallen for it. So much for his ability to read her. Or not read her. Maybe she was a bit tipsy, and maybe the alcohol had made her a bit more relaxed - it was the alcohol, wasn't it? - but she was clearly able to still think straight and know what she was doing.

Which brought him to the point of thinking about her actions and what they-

Oh.

"Blimey, Gill, you're killin' me," he uttered, his voice low and thick with arousal.

"I rather take you alive, Cal," she responded suggestively, and when her lips sought his this time, he let her. Gillian Foster, the woman he'd wanted, hell, even been in love with for longer than he dared to admit, kissed him. Not as a friend, not for cover, but because she wanted it. Him. And he responded with so much pent up passion and longing and love that this time it were her who became weak in the knees. She completely forgot to breath, they both did, with their lips clinging to each other just like their bodies did, and their tongues dancing an incredibly erotic dance. When they finally parted, their breathing was so fast and shallow that Cal feared for a moment they'd pass out.

"You're not drunk?" he wanted her to confirm one last time when they both had back enough oxygen in their lungs, blood - and brains. If he did this, he wanted to be sure of two things - one, that she really wanted this, which meant she, and not some brain stimulating substance in her system, and two, that she would remember it.

"No, I'm not. Now, I'm probably not completely sober either, but," she made a pause and looked at him with unmistakable determination before continuing, "one thing I'm for sure - tired of waiting and pretending." Cal allowed himself a second of complete calm, closing his eyes when her words sank in.

They were all the reassurance he needed.

...

"I don't think I will be able to walk for the next few hours... or days... or so," Gillian groaned, clinging to him after their wild lovemaking, with arms and legs still wrapped around him, and drew light lines with her nails on his back and arms.

"Mission accomplished," he chuckled, and pecked her cheek. She failed in her attempt to send him a life-threatening glare, still recovering and recollecting her strength. When he moved to pull away, however, she found some of that strength to hold him to her.

"No, Cal," she stopped him, "stay just a moment longer. I like that feeling of you inside me." Cal was sure that as of this second, his brain was officially dead. Was this really his Gillian talking? He didn't realize he was gaping at her until she rolled her eyes and her lips formed a smirk. "What? Can't I be a little bit...," she tried to think of the right word, and smiled at him meaningfully when she came up with one, "naughty from time to time?"

"Darlin', you can be naughty anytime you want," he replied, emphasizing his words with a deep kiss, before breaking into a grin and adding, "as you can have that feelin' of me inside you anytime you- Ouch."

"Naughty moment is over," she deadpanned while he rubbed the earlobe she had just bitten into. He only huffed at that, let himself fall beside her, pulling from her body and making her groan. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close to him, never getting enough of her body, her naked skin, touching him.

"Got a question, Gill - why aren't you drunk?"

"Why should I be?"

"Well, ya know, drinking that awful lot of my expensive scotch and all makes me think you shouldn't be clear in the head anymore," he answered, and couldn't help but tease again a bit by reminding her of what had been his property.

"Who says that I am?" she quipped and gave that happy, adorable giggle of hers that made him fall in love with her a little bit more every time. Then she stated, matter-of-factly and with a smile on her lips, "It's you who thinks I can't put away a fair bit. I never said that," and kissed him. He grinned at her cheekily when they parted.

"Someone's got some practice?"

"Someone just knows when to stop. I only drink as much to be able to let go - if I want. Or stay clear-headed enough to not make any unwise decisions." She stretched to bring her mouth close to his ear to add, "Would have been a shame, wouldn't it?", and let her hands wander down his back.

"Never losin' control, are you, love?"

"Only sometimes," she whispered, and squeezed his ass, making him get up quickly and lift her into his arms, which had her squeal slightly with surprise.

"Can think of better places to cuddle," he answered the question she never got the chance to ask, and carried her to her bedroom.

"Cuddle, huh?" He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

"Oh yes."

And then, he kicked her bedroom door shut.

FIN