Through the Years
By: Allison
Disclaimer: Not my players, just my playground.
Archive: The Graveyard, mine.
Rated: PG-13 for now.
A/N: The start of a new series that looks at Gil and Catherine's back story, starting with their very first Christmas. The chapters are a bit like standalones but connected. It's a bit of a new writing style for me. Thanks to Angie for encouragement and to Manda for the support. Thanks also go to the members/authors at graveshiftcsi: I love each and every one of your stories-you all make me strive to be a better writer.
Summary: A look at Gil and Catherine's past Christmases, using an experimental new style. Stories range from epic to drabble, from fluffy to angsty.
Chapter 1 - 1982
+++++
"Remember the day we first met?"
"Um, Cath...of course I remember, it was six months ago. You think I forgot already?"
"I didn't say that. I just asked if you remembered, that's all," a twenty-something Catherine Willows replied coyly as she sipped her eggnog. She let herself slide further into the oversized leather chair, eyes closing as the drink in her hand soothed her nerves. It was true, she'd met Gil, surprisingly, at a mutual friends Fourth of July party and immediately had hit it off.
"Speaking of which, Julie and Mark are expecting us tomorrow."
"So you got an invitation too, eh?"
"Yesterday. Mark dropped it off on his lunch break." Grissom picked up the neatly decorated card and looked it over. "To Gil Grissom, and guest. You think he'd trying to tell me something?"
Catherine's laugh rang through the townhouse, reminding Grissom of silver bells. It was her laugh, he knew, that drew her to him in the first place. Seeing her among a crowd of guests, her eyes shining brightly as her laugh seemed to float through the room. Once his eyes were fixed upon her, he couldn't look away. And when she'd caught him staring like the proverbial puppy in the window, she'd flashed him a smile, excused herself from the group she was with, and walked through the crowd towards him....
"Gil? Earth to Gil?" Gil cocked his head sideways in bewilderment as the memory faded out of his mind. Catherine had placed her drink on the coffee table: her arms now folded across her chest, her gaze curious and questioning. "Have you been listening to a word I've been saying?"
"Huh?"
"And there's my answer. What am I going to do with you?"
"Go to the party with me?"
"You really weren't listening, were you? I'm invited too, we can't just be each others guests."
"You tell me where in the Christmas party handbook that rule is stated," he teased as he moved to leather couch across from her.
"I believe it's rule number 7, but it's been awhile. I'd have to double check." At that Gil laid back, kicking his shoes off and propping his feet up on the arm of the couch. The two friends fell into a comfortable silence. Continuing to sip on her eggnog, Catherine studied the man who'd grown to be such a dear friend over the past few months. They were so different, like oil and water really. And yet, he was the closest thing to a confidant she had at the moment. Gil Grissom knew things, things about her that her own parents hadn't ever bothered to ask about, that her other friends hadn't had time to worry about. She wasn't sure how exactly that had come to happen. He had a way of getting under her skin, pushing past her barriers. Sometimes she hated him for it; sometimes she loved him for it.
Getting up out of the recliner, Catherine went to the front door, stopping briefly in the kitchen to refill her glass. On the table next to the door lay a brightly wrapped gift with the words 'to Gil' written on the top and taking it in her arms, she brought it back to the living room and set it down on the coffee table. She smiled to herself as Grissom eyed the large package. It had taken her days to think of the perfect gift, and hours of shopping to find it.
"Catherine, you didn't have to." Gil smiled back at her. Then carefully he peeled the edges of the paper making sure he didn't tear it. What he saw, took him back. "Catherine, you really shouldn't have, it's amazing."
"I wanted too. I've seen your old one a few times; it's pretty beaten up. It only occurred to me a few days ago that you might like a new one."
Gil moved his hand across the fine metal outer casing on the field kit in front of him. The silver shined brightly against the light, the metal cool underneath his fingertips. Turning the latch, he opened it up. The inside was lined in black with a tray that folded out to reveal a spacious bottom filled with slots and spaces for all of his equipment.
"Thanks Cath, it's perfect." He got up and went to the hall closet. "Now it's your turn," Gil called over his shoulder as he rummaged for what he was looking for. 'She likes to dance', he thought to himself as he pulled out the slender box from among the other gifts he'd bought. Catherine had told him once that she'd taken ballet when she was a child. It was her passion, she'd said. At age 16, she'd thought she would be famous someday.
Gil had just been browsing when he saw it. The perfect gift. There was no hesitation in his choice. Within seconds he was up at the counter handing over his credit card.
The look on her face would be worth it.
"Go ahead open it," he told her as he placed it into her hands and sat back on the couch.
Nimbly her fingers worked the paper off of the small, black, velvet box. She could feel the excitement building within her. Snapping it open she gasped at what lay inside. "Gil, you remembered."
"How could I forget?" He smirked.
Dangling upon a long silver chain, were tiny pair of silver ballet slippers, encrusted with aquamarine stones, Catherine's birthstone. And they definitely looked real.
"It's...beautiful Gil. How did you pay for this?"
"It's a secret," he replied as she moved over to wrap her arms around his neck. "I thought you deserved to have something as beautiful as you are."
"Thank you."
"Your welcome."
"Help me put it on?" She held it out and he took it from her, their hands brushing together for an instant. Catherine felt the electricity shoot through her body and when she saw the look on Gil's face she knew he'd felt it too. She could feel his breath as it hit her in waves, mingling with the smell of his cologne. She loved the way he smelled, the odor of his favorite old leather jacket mixed with Old Spice. She lifted her hair off of her neck so he could put it on and found her lips just centimeters from his, aching to be kissed.
~Soft lips.
Soft hands.~
He had soft hands. They tickled the back of her neck as he fiddled with the clasp on the necklace.
"There, got it." He took his hands away, and she wished that he hadn't. "It looks stunning on you."
Catherine fingered the necklace. It was cool against her skin, the stones flashing aquamarine light. Memories of long ballet practice and sore toes clouded her brain; memories of performances -good and bad, of the adrenaline as moved on stage in front of the crowd. Beautiful memories. Gil didn't know what he'd just done for her. He'd just given her something she'd thought she'd lost forever, her innocence.
"Go with me," she whispered, leaning into him.
"Go with you? I thought you were going with me?"
"Mmm...sure. As longs as it's together, who cares?"
"What made you change your mind?"
"Ballet slippers."
~*~*~*~
Catherine looked at herself in the dingy mirror that sat above the sink in her apartments bathroom. The necklace was still fastened securely around her neck, memories of the night before still fresh in her mind. She couldn't bring herself to take it off. It was as if she did then everything that happened the night before would be erased. She couldn't let that happen.
Fixing the last pin in place, Catherine critiqued her work. Her long strawberry blonde hair was pulled back in a secure bun, her wispy long bangs framing her face perfectly. The dress she had chosen was the same pale aquamarine, ironically, spaghetti strapped with a back that plunged and chiffon hem that just brushed her knees. A pair of small silver hoop earrings and a set of strappy heels completed the ensemble and she was ready to go.
And sure enough, her timing couldn't have been more perfect. Just as she fixed the strap on her sandal Catherine heard a soft knock at her apartment door. Gil. Grabbing her purse, she threw her keys into it and walked to open the door.
"Hey Gil," she smiled wistfully. "You want to come in first, or should we just get going?"
"If we leave now, we'll be there in time to help Julie and Mark set up."
"Then lets get going," Catherine replied as she slid through the doorway out of the apartment.
"Sure...hey Cath?" Grissom caught her arm as she moved past him, gently turning her back towards him. "You look absolutely amazing."
"Thanks, you look pretty handsome yourself, Gil."
Grissom held his arm out, and Catherine snaked her arm through it, pressing her body close to Gil's and they began to descend down the stairs to the first floor.
It was going to be a wonderful night.
~*~*~*~
Since the moment they had arrived at Mark and Julie's, Catherine had kept herself firmly attached to Gil's arm. Not that he minded in the least. In fact, he was quite shocked at Catherine's blatant affections for him. Unless he was completely tone-deaf (which was a distinct possibility), Catherine had showed purely platonic feelings towards him since the start of their friendship a little over six months ago. And he, well he never thought she ever would have any other type of feelings where he was concerned. She was amazing-beautiful, smart, funny, witty. Truth be told, she was way out of his league, at least in his opinion anyway.
"Hey Gil, I thought I made sure your invitation said to bring a guest?" Mark quipped; setting bowls of various munchies onto the coffee table in the living room.
"And I did."
"Catherine doesn't count."
"Hey!" Catherine feigned hurt. "If I wasn't so secure with myself, I may have been offended by that."
"You know that's not what I meant."
"Sure, I did." Cracking a smile, Catherine moved herself a bit closer to Gil. "But I think I'd have to disagree with you...Gil here asked me to come with him as his date; picked me up and everything. You didn't think we just happened to show up at the same time, now did you?"
"Well, yea, actually I did." Redness crept into Mark's cheeks as he realized his mistake. It stayed there for only a moment, however, as Mark's male ego did a reality check and kicked back into high gear. "I can't believe you finally asked her, hell, I can't believe she said ....hpfg!"
Mark was cut off as Julie came up from behind and clamped her hand securely over his mouth. "Don't mind my husband, he can be such a pompous ass sometimes," she told them, her voice like honey, dripping with sarcasm.
"Julie, you know his words go in one ear and out the other. It's been that way since freshmen year of college," Gil replied, placing his arm around Catherine.
"Ah, when Mark thought he'd try to bum notes off of you so he didn't have to go to class?"
"It never worked."
"Yea, you had too many scruples," grumbled Mark once Julie had removed her hand from his mouth.
Gil remembered those days, when pizza and caffeine ruled the twosomes late night study sessions. Mark and Gil had met in their freshman biology class and became fast friends. It surprised them both when they realized they lived in the same building, Gil on the first floor, and Mark on the third.
"Maybe you should have just gotten your ass out of bed and went to class. Then you wouldn't have had to beg me for notes half of the time."
Mark laughed, his lanky 6'2 frame shaking with delight, "What fun would that have been? I mean really? I probably would have slept through half of the lecture anyway." He winked, knowing it was true. Behind his light brown eyes, and shaggy brown hair lay a man with a near photographic memory; someone who could commit something to memory faster than you could say it.
"I think that's what you were doing when I met you!" Julie smiled as she found her way into Mark's arms. The brunette's green eyes met her husbands and Catherine and Grissom watched as Mark fought a losing battle. Julie had the man wrapped around her little finger. She knew it, and though she rarely used such charms in swaying her husband, sometimes they were necessary. "At least Gil was awake when he met Cath, you were snoring away in advanced chem. class when I saw you."
"Honey, don't you have guests to attend to?"
"Actually, yes, I do. Excuse me, you two, I should go mingle with a few of the other guests."
"You wouldn't happen to want someone to tag along with you, would you?" Mark asked as he untangled his arms from hers.
"Chivalry really isn't dead, now is it?"
And the two wandered off arm in arm, through the crowded living room and into the dining room, stopping briefly and chatting with the other couples. He watched them for a moment-he couldn't help it. The investigator in him, the analyst, wondered what it was that made them so perfect for each other, what kept them together. They seemed to be, well, made for each other.
He felt Catherine lean into him, her bare arms shivering slightly against him. Taking off his leather jacket, Gil slid it over her arms. She turned towards hem and gave him an appreciative smile.
"Julie was right...about chivalry."
"I'm just helping out a friend, no need for you to catch a cold on my watch." He rose and motioned for her to take his hand. "Would you like a dance?"
"Most certainly good sir," Catherine replied, taking his hand and rising from her spot. Strands of Bing Crosby's "White Christmas" played softly on the stereo, and Catherine wrapped her arms around Gil's neck as he placed his arms about her waist.
To Gil the dance was magical. Catherine's body seemed to melt into his own as they swayed to the song. All the people in the room vanished, and it was just the two of them. Catherine's head rested on his chest, and when he looked down at her, she was smiling, her eyes closed as she enjoyed the moment. Then Gil closed his too, and let himself become lost in her.
When they finally realized where they were, and that the song had ended, a room full of people were watching them, silent, expectant. No one moved, no one dared to ruin the moment. Gil remained cemented to his spot on the floor, arms still around Catherine when Julie ran into the room.
She stopped once she made it through the crowd, eyebrows raised knowingly as she took in the situation. "Erm, you two...you're under the mistletoe," she declared, pointing towards the green leafy sprig tied loosely to the ceiling fan. "Our doorways are to low for it. People would have kept hitting," she shrugged.
Catherine looked at Gil. Gil looked back at her. He found himself getting lost in the deep azure blue sea of her eyes. He was drowning in them. Reaching up, he ran his finger softly down her cheek.
Then he bent down and kissed her. Softly at first, tenderly. She brought her hands up and ran them through his curly brown hair before deepening the kiss.
~Soft lips.
Soft hands.~
She had both.
Right then, he felt like they were made for each other.
TBC.
By: Allison
Disclaimer: Not my players, just my playground.
Archive: The Graveyard, mine.
Rated: PG-13 for now.
A/N: The start of a new series that looks at Gil and Catherine's back story, starting with their very first Christmas. The chapters are a bit like standalones but connected. It's a bit of a new writing style for me. Thanks to Angie for encouragement and to Manda for the support. Thanks also go to the members/authors at graveshiftcsi: I love each and every one of your stories-you all make me strive to be a better writer.
Summary: A look at Gil and Catherine's past Christmases, using an experimental new style. Stories range from epic to drabble, from fluffy to angsty.
Chapter 1 - 1982
+++++
"Remember the day we first met?"
"Um, Cath...of course I remember, it was six months ago. You think I forgot already?"
"I didn't say that. I just asked if you remembered, that's all," a twenty-something Catherine Willows replied coyly as she sipped her eggnog. She let herself slide further into the oversized leather chair, eyes closing as the drink in her hand soothed her nerves. It was true, she'd met Gil, surprisingly, at a mutual friends Fourth of July party and immediately had hit it off.
"Speaking of which, Julie and Mark are expecting us tomorrow."
"So you got an invitation too, eh?"
"Yesterday. Mark dropped it off on his lunch break." Grissom picked up the neatly decorated card and looked it over. "To Gil Grissom, and guest. You think he'd trying to tell me something?"
Catherine's laugh rang through the townhouse, reminding Grissom of silver bells. It was her laugh, he knew, that drew her to him in the first place. Seeing her among a crowd of guests, her eyes shining brightly as her laugh seemed to float through the room. Once his eyes were fixed upon her, he couldn't look away. And when she'd caught him staring like the proverbial puppy in the window, she'd flashed him a smile, excused herself from the group she was with, and walked through the crowd towards him....
"Gil? Earth to Gil?" Gil cocked his head sideways in bewilderment as the memory faded out of his mind. Catherine had placed her drink on the coffee table: her arms now folded across her chest, her gaze curious and questioning. "Have you been listening to a word I've been saying?"
"Huh?"
"And there's my answer. What am I going to do with you?"
"Go to the party with me?"
"You really weren't listening, were you? I'm invited too, we can't just be each others guests."
"You tell me where in the Christmas party handbook that rule is stated," he teased as he moved to leather couch across from her.
"I believe it's rule number 7, but it's been awhile. I'd have to double check." At that Gil laid back, kicking his shoes off and propping his feet up on the arm of the couch. The two friends fell into a comfortable silence. Continuing to sip on her eggnog, Catherine studied the man who'd grown to be such a dear friend over the past few months. They were so different, like oil and water really. And yet, he was the closest thing to a confidant she had at the moment. Gil Grissom knew things, things about her that her own parents hadn't ever bothered to ask about, that her other friends hadn't had time to worry about. She wasn't sure how exactly that had come to happen. He had a way of getting under her skin, pushing past her barriers. Sometimes she hated him for it; sometimes she loved him for it.
Getting up out of the recliner, Catherine went to the front door, stopping briefly in the kitchen to refill her glass. On the table next to the door lay a brightly wrapped gift with the words 'to Gil' written on the top and taking it in her arms, she brought it back to the living room and set it down on the coffee table. She smiled to herself as Grissom eyed the large package. It had taken her days to think of the perfect gift, and hours of shopping to find it.
"Catherine, you didn't have to." Gil smiled back at her. Then carefully he peeled the edges of the paper making sure he didn't tear it. What he saw, took him back. "Catherine, you really shouldn't have, it's amazing."
"I wanted too. I've seen your old one a few times; it's pretty beaten up. It only occurred to me a few days ago that you might like a new one."
Gil moved his hand across the fine metal outer casing on the field kit in front of him. The silver shined brightly against the light, the metal cool underneath his fingertips. Turning the latch, he opened it up. The inside was lined in black with a tray that folded out to reveal a spacious bottom filled with slots and spaces for all of his equipment.
"Thanks Cath, it's perfect." He got up and went to the hall closet. "Now it's your turn," Gil called over his shoulder as he rummaged for what he was looking for. 'She likes to dance', he thought to himself as he pulled out the slender box from among the other gifts he'd bought. Catherine had told him once that she'd taken ballet when she was a child. It was her passion, she'd said. At age 16, she'd thought she would be famous someday.
Gil had just been browsing when he saw it. The perfect gift. There was no hesitation in his choice. Within seconds he was up at the counter handing over his credit card.
The look on her face would be worth it.
"Go ahead open it," he told her as he placed it into her hands and sat back on the couch.
Nimbly her fingers worked the paper off of the small, black, velvet box. She could feel the excitement building within her. Snapping it open she gasped at what lay inside. "Gil, you remembered."
"How could I forget?" He smirked.
Dangling upon a long silver chain, were tiny pair of silver ballet slippers, encrusted with aquamarine stones, Catherine's birthstone. And they definitely looked real.
"It's...beautiful Gil. How did you pay for this?"
"It's a secret," he replied as she moved over to wrap her arms around his neck. "I thought you deserved to have something as beautiful as you are."
"Thank you."
"Your welcome."
"Help me put it on?" She held it out and he took it from her, their hands brushing together for an instant. Catherine felt the electricity shoot through her body and when she saw the look on Gil's face she knew he'd felt it too. She could feel his breath as it hit her in waves, mingling with the smell of his cologne. She loved the way he smelled, the odor of his favorite old leather jacket mixed with Old Spice. She lifted her hair off of her neck so he could put it on and found her lips just centimeters from his, aching to be kissed.
~Soft lips.
Soft hands.~
He had soft hands. They tickled the back of her neck as he fiddled with the clasp on the necklace.
"There, got it." He took his hands away, and she wished that he hadn't. "It looks stunning on you."
Catherine fingered the necklace. It was cool against her skin, the stones flashing aquamarine light. Memories of long ballet practice and sore toes clouded her brain; memories of performances -good and bad, of the adrenaline as moved on stage in front of the crowd. Beautiful memories. Gil didn't know what he'd just done for her. He'd just given her something she'd thought she'd lost forever, her innocence.
"Go with me," she whispered, leaning into him.
"Go with you? I thought you were going with me?"
"Mmm...sure. As longs as it's together, who cares?"
"What made you change your mind?"
"Ballet slippers."
~*~*~*~
Catherine looked at herself in the dingy mirror that sat above the sink in her apartments bathroom. The necklace was still fastened securely around her neck, memories of the night before still fresh in her mind. She couldn't bring herself to take it off. It was as if she did then everything that happened the night before would be erased. She couldn't let that happen.
Fixing the last pin in place, Catherine critiqued her work. Her long strawberry blonde hair was pulled back in a secure bun, her wispy long bangs framing her face perfectly. The dress she had chosen was the same pale aquamarine, ironically, spaghetti strapped with a back that plunged and chiffon hem that just brushed her knees. A pair of small silver hoop earrings and a set of strappy heels completed the ensemble and she was ready to go.
And sure enough, her timing couldn't have been more perfect. Just as she fixed the strap on her sandal Catherine heard a soft knock at her apartment door. Gil. Grabbing her purse, she threw her keys into it and walked to open the door.
"Hey Gil," she smiled wistfully. "You want to come in first, or should we just get going?"
"If we leave now, we'll be there in time to help Julie and Mark set up."
"Then lets get going," Catherine replied as she slid through the doorway out of the apartment.
"Sure...hey Cath?" Grissom caught her arm as she moved past him, gently turning her back towards him. "You look absolutely amazing."
"Thanks, you look pretty handsome yourself, Gil."
Grissom held his arm out, and Catherine snaked her arm through it, pressing her body close to Gil's and they began to descend down the stairs to the first floor.
It was going to be a wonderful night.
~*~*~*~
Since the moment they had arrived at Mark and Julie's, Catherine had kept herself firmly attached to Gil's arm. Not that he minded in the least. In fact, he was quite shocked at Catherine's blatant affections for him. Unless he was completely tone-deaf (which was a distinct possibility), Catherine had showed purely platonic feelings towards him since the start of their friendship a little over six months ago. And he, well he never thought she ever would have any other type of feelings where he was concerned. She was amazing-beautiful, smart, funny, witty. Truth be told, she was way out of his league, at least in his opinion anyway.
"Hey Gil, I thought I made sure your invitation said to bring a guest?" Mark quipped; setting bowls of various munchies onto the coffee table in the living room.
"And I did."
"Catherine doesn't count."
"Hey!" Catherine feigned hurt. "If I wasn't so secure with myself, I may have been offended by that."
"You know that's not what I meant."
"Sure, I did." Cracking a smile, Catherine moved herself a bit closer to Gil. "But I think I'd have to disagree with you...Gil here asked me to come with him as his date; picked me up and everything. You didn't think we just happened to show up at the same time, now did you?"
"Well, yea, actually I did." Redness crept into Mark's cheeks as he realized his mistake. It stayed there for only a moment, however, as Mark's male ego did a reality check and kicked back into high gear. "I can't believe you finally asked her, hell, I can't believe she said ....hpfg!"
Mark was cut off as Julie came up from behind and clamped her hand securely over his mouth. "Don't mind my husband, he can be such a pompous ass sometimes," she told them, her voice like honey, dripping with sarcasm.
"Julie, you know his words go in one ear and out the other. It's been that way since freshmen year of college," Gil replied, placing his arm around Catherine.
"Ah, when Mark thought he'd try to bum notes off of you so he didn't have to go to class?"
"It never worked."
"Yea, you had too many scruples," grumbled Mark once Julie had removed her hand from his mouth.
Gil remembered those days, when pizza and caffeine ruled the twosomes late night study sessions. Mark and Gil had met in their freshman biology class and became fast friends. It surprised them both when they realized they lived in the same building, Gil on the first floor, and Mark on the third.
"Maybe you should have just gotten your ass out of bed and went to class. Then you wouldn't have had to beg me for notes half of the time."
Mark laughed, his lanky 6'2 frame shaking with delight, "What fun would that have been? I mean really? I probably would have slept through half of the lecture anyway." He winked, knowing it was true. Behind his light brown eyes, and shaggy brown hair lay a man with a near photographic memory; someone who could commit something to memory faster than you could say it.
"I think that's what you were doing when I met you!" Julie smiled as she found her way into Mark's arms. The brunette's green eyes met her husbands and Catherine and Grissom watched as Mark fought a losing battle. Julie had the man wrapped around her little finger. She knew it, and though she rarely used such charms in swaying her husband, sometimes they were necessary. "At least Gil was awake when he met Cath, you were snoring away in advanced chem. class when I saw you."
"Honey, don't you have guests to attend to?"
"Actually, yes, I do. Excuse me, you two, I should go mingle with a few of the other guests."
"You wouldn't happen to want someone to tag along with you, would you?" Mark asked as he untangled his arms from hers.
"Chivalry really isn't dead, now is it?"
And the two wandered off arm in arm, through the crowded living room and into the dining room, stopping briefly and chatting with the other couples. He watched them for a moment-he couldn't help it. The investigator in him, the analyst, wondered what it was that made them so perfect for each other, what kept them together. They seemed to be, well, made for each other.
He felt Catherine lean into him, her bare arms shivering slightly against him. Taking off his leather jacket, Gil slid it over her arms. She turned towards hem and gave him an appreciative smile.
"Julie was right...about chivalry."
"I'm just helping out a friend, no need for you to catch a cold on my watch." He rose and motioned for her to take his hand. "Would you like a dance?"
"Most certainly good sir," Catherine replied, taking his hand and rising from her spot. Strands of Bing Crosby's "White Christmas" played softly on the stereo, and Catherine wrapped her arms around Gil's neck as he placed his arms about her waist.
To Gil the dance was magical. Catherine's body seemed to melt into his own as they swayed to the song. All the people in the room vanished, and it was just the two of them. Catherine's head rested on his chest, and when he looked down at her, she was smiling, her eyes closed as she enjoyed the moment. Then Gil closed his too, and let himself become lost in her.
When they finally realized where they were, and that the song had ended, a room full of people were watching them, silent, expectant. No one moved, no one dared to ruin the moment. Gil remained cemented to his spot on the floor, arms still around Catherine when Julie ran into the room.
She stopped once she made it through the crowd, eyebrows raised knowingly as she took in the situation. "Erm, you two...you're under the mistletoe," she declared, pointing towards the green leafy sprig tied loosely to the ceiling fan. "Our doorways are to low for it. People would have kept hitting," she shrugged.
Catherine looked at Gil. Gil looked back at her. He found himself getting lost in the deep azure blue sea of her eyes. He was drowning in them. Reaching up, he ran his finger softly down her cheek.
Then he bent down and kissed her. Softly at first, tenderly. She brought her hands up and ran them through his curly brown hair before deepening the kiss.
~Soft lips.
Soft hands.~
She had both.
Right then, he felt like they were made for each other.
TBC.