AN: I don't quite know if I like this, but I don't really know what's missing. Feedback is much appreciated.
She hadn't really meant it when she had agreed to take a raincheck on coffee with Wallowski. She was just trying to decline nicely, to say no without using the word. She knew better now.
As Wallowski sipped at her coffee, which she took black, Gill watched her. Sharon, as she'd insisted Gill call her, had not spoken of anything other than Cal and how he was doing on their latest case. 'Cal noticed this, Cal said this, isn't Cal just spectacular?' She internalised her groan of annoyance. She didn't think it would go over too well if Wallowski had heard that. She may not be a voice-reader, but she wasn't an idiot.
"But what about you, how are you doing?" Gill asked, attempting to move the conversation away from her partner.
Surprise flitted over Wallowski's features, but she obliged nonetheless, speaking about her family coming to visit and the possibility of getting a pet. Gill feigned interest, adding her own commentary at appropriate times.
Suddenly, Wallowski's voice fell away, mid-sentence.
"Oh my God, I'm an idiot," she said.
Gill tilted her head to look at her, clearly confused about her random revelation.
"I never thought to ask before. Is there something there between you and Cal? Do you have feelings for him?"
Gillian didn't know what to say. Did she have feelings for Cal? She was desperately attracted to him, yes. And maybe there were times she'd wanted a romantic relationship with him. But what about him? Did he return those feelings or did he have feelings for Wallowski? She wouldn't want to ruin what they had if he genuinely had feelings for Wallowski.
"I don't know," she said with a shrug, finding it difficult to meet Wallowski's eyes.
"He's with you," she added.
"Gillian, you can't say you haven't seen the way he looks at you. He may be with me, but I've always been sure he has feelings for you."
She took a long pull from her coffee cup, caramel and java coming together to calm her.
"I guess so. But, Sharon, if you have feelings for him, don't make it about me. Go with them," Gillian begged.
"No, Foster. I'll fix this for you, I promise," she said.
And although she couldn't help the tiny smile that pulled at the corners of her lips, imperceptible to the untrained eye, there was also a feeling of dread deep in her gut. This could turn out to be a very, very bad decision.
Gillian pulled up at the Lightman group about a half an hour later, an unfamiliar anxiety creeping up in her. She felt incredibly guilty for causing what she knew would be the end of Wallowski and Cal's relationship. The feeling grew stronger as she made her way to the lab where Loker was waiting for her with a client in the cube. She was meant to do the questioning while he watched, but she felt almost ill with worry.
When she opened the door to the lab, two heads turned to face her. It was too soon to face him, she hadn't yet had time to even decide whether she'd tell him what had happened or just wait until Wallowski did. Would be better just to face him herself?
He knew instantly that something wasn't quite right. To fool him would take all of her effort and she just didn't have the energy. Not having seen sadness or pain in her expression, Cal chose to leave it be, just until they could speak in private.
"C'mere, love, I could use some fresh eyes on this one," he encouraged her.
She listened just as intently as she watched the video clip that he showed her. Although the man denied every allegation, his face flashed with fear and shame with each careful reply. He was a terrible, terrible liar. And she thought for a minute that she must be the same, only no one could read her lies except him.
When they had concluded that he was lying, Gillian nearly ran to her office, trying in vain to evade Cal.
He followed her, slow enough that she could have a minute to regroup before he reached her office. He knocked before opening the door, just so she wouldn't be surprised by his presence, a sweet gesture that didn't go unnoticed by Gill. She was standing in front of her desk, leaning against it as she waited for his onslaught.
"What's up?" He asked her, positioning himself to read her.
"I just," she sighed, not knowing how to continue.
"Take your time," he prodded, quite impatiently.
"I've done something I shouldn't have and it's to do with you," she said.
"Me?" he asked, his face giving nothing away.
Shame coloured her cheeks as she sighed again, dropping her face into her hands.
When she was able to meet his eyes again, she told him what had happened at the cafe, blushing fiercely while she recapped what she had said about her own feelings.
By the time she'd reached the end of it, his eyes didn't speak but there were a thousand emotions raging there.
"Bloody hell, Gillian," he said, running his fingers through his hair.
She looked to the floor, squeezing her eyes closed. Shame. How could it be shame she felt after just admitting...that? Did she not mean it? Did she regret its implications? Of course, he couldn't tell. She was his blind spot in every way and despite her claims, a bloody fantastic liar. What was the truth of it?
She wanted to touch him, bridge the gap between them by placing her hands on his chest, smoothing out the wrinkles on his shirt. Instead, she took a few steps away from him, perching on the arm of the couch.
"That's not quite the reaction I expected," she admitted, biting into her bottom lip.
He turned to face her again, widening his stance and tilting his head to get a good read before speaking.
"What did you expect?" He asked her.
"Anger, Cal. I ruined whatever it is you had with Wallowski with no regard for your feelings. I-I...you didn't love her, did you?"
There was a pleading in her eyes, a look of desperation. She wanted him to say no, wanted him to absolve her of her guilt, tell her it was no big deal. That there'd be other Wallowskis just as there'd been other Claras, Poppys, Naomis. She'd be the first to know as it seemed he always made a special effort to have her see him with other women, with so many it made her head spin. They were usually blonde, long-haired vixens (oh, but always, always vixens) who were more wild than they were tame. Dirty cops, art thieves, and the like. Women who were exciting, who surprised him. Women who were not her, not even like her in the slightest.
"I'm not angry, Gill, just confused," he answered.
He understood now, her shame, but why was she so disgusted at the mention of Wallowski's name? Foster wasn't the type to be jealous and vindictive, even if maybe (and believe him, he knew that chances were slim) she did have feelings for him.
"Now that's a deflection if I ever saw one," she acknowledged. "I'm sorry, Cal. Really, I am."
But he wasn't. He was glad, actually. He'd give up Wallowski in a second if he could have Gill in her place.
"I didn't love her," he replied, answering her earlier question.
"You didn't?" she asked, relief weaved into her tone.
"Nope," he replied, popping the 'p'.
"That helps," she said, offering him the barest hint of a smile.
He didn't quite know what came over him next, but in just one blink of the eye, he found himself right in front of her, edging in on her space.
There was something other than surprise on her face at his sudden proximity and within seconds, he was pulling her up from where she was sitting and against his chest.
"If you don't want me, I think I deserve to know," he said.
"If you do want me, I think I deserve to know," she countered, not wanting to admit anything until she knew for sure.
"Thing is, I've already told you. Your turn, darling,"
And she remembered. How could she forget? Little Moon was going to kill her boyfriend and Cal was being a little shit and when prompted, he admitted he wanted her. 'In the worst possible way', he'd said. She had just assumed that he had said it for shock value or perhaps even to protect her. She had not believed for a moment that he had meant it. But knowing that he did want her, that he meant what he'd said, that changed everything.
She mused for a moment, chewing her lip before speaking.
"I-I want you, too," she managed to say around the nervous lump that had settled in her throat.
Without warning, his lips were pressing heat against hers. She gasped and he took the opportunity to push his tongue into her mouth. He tasted of citrus and spice and she couldn't get enough, wrapping her arms around him to grasp his shoulders.
"Cal," she groaned. It was a question rather than a plea against his lips.
"Hmm," he replied, the gravelly hum of his voice doing wonderful things to her.
"Cal," she repeated, firmer, as his lips moved to her jaw.
She quickly realised how easily her words could be mistaken for encouragement, especially with arousal clouding his judgement. After all, she was the vocal stress analyst, not him.
She didn't want to push him away, almost couldn't. So instead, she peeled her body off of his, putting some (agonising) space between them. And she cocked her head just the slightest bit when she met his eyes, so aroused, so confused. He wondered how just one kiss could make him realise that she'd long ago ruined him for any other woman. He was hers, had been for quite some time.
"You have to be done with her, Cal. A proper end," she insisted.
"Right then, a proper end," he promised. "How about I give you one, too?"
She gave him an exasperated look, stopping just short of rolling her eyes.
"You end your thing with Shazzer and you can give me a lot of things," she bargained, a small smile playing on her lips.
He wore a dumbfounded expression on his face as he watched Gillian brush by him and leave the room, tossing him a smoldering look before closing the door behind her.
That woman was going to be the death of him, but it sure as hell would be a fine way to go.