AN: For Eligirl, who suggested a canary one shot oh so subtly two months ago

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Cal grinned. She was pissed as a fart! And it was hilarious! She was being funny and flirty and so warm when she insisted on standing so close. Normally he was the one that pushed for contact, he draped arms around her shoulders, around her waist, he walked close to her, stepped in close to her, he wanted to be close to her. But tonight, it was Gillian who placed her hands on Cal's shoulders and on his chest while she steadied herself. She was the one who had pulled him into a lingering hug. She was the one who was basically hanging off of him. And now she was leaning in towards him and he couldn't do a thing to stop it. No, literally, he couldn't do a thing. It wasn't like she had him backed up against the wall or pinned down on a bed, it was just that he couldn't move. His body wanted this. Even as his head said this was the wrong thing to do.

"Gill," he managed to murmur before she was so close he couldn't focus on her eyes anymore without going cross-eyed. He closed them and a micro-second later felt her lips against his. Warm. She was so warm. It couldn't be possible. It was chilly out there on the balcony. But she was and she started a fire in Cal's gut so fast he was afraid. They'd kissed before. At New Years once and that had been a simple kiss like this one (although this one was going on for so much longer). And then that other time a few months ago when they had been working that case looking for a missing girl. That one had been really hot but not very intimate and even though he wished it had happened under different circumstances he had still spent a lot of time thinking about it.

"Mmmm," Gillian gave a slight moan and her fingers tightened against Cal's shoulder.

'Oh god!' Cal thought alarmed. He applied pressure to her arms, gently pushing her away. As their lips broke apart Cal felt suddenly cold. "We shouldn't do this."

"Why not?"

"It's not right. You're a little bit tipsy luv."

"A little bit?" Gillian gave him a lopsided smile. "I'm a lot bit."

Cal gave a slight smile. She really was very hard to resist when she was like this. Relaxed, funny, flirty. He sighed. "I'll take you home."

"And Ria. Cos she's not as grown up as she thinks she is and can't hand her liquor."

"Uh huh," Cal agreed. "Come on then." He turned and took her hand and gave a gentle pull.

"Wait!" Gillian cried. "Shoes!" She stooped to pick them up. Cal waited while she fluffed around and righted her balance when it seemed she was about to take a nose dive into the concrete tiles. They padded back inside and Cal made sure the door was locked behind them. Then they approached the sleeping Ria. "Maybe we shooed leave her here," Gillian suggested.

"Nope," Cal shook his head. "I'm not lockin' her in." He crouched down next to her and started pulling her unceremoniously into a sitting position. "Get her bag," Cal instructed the slightly swaying Gillian. He pulled Ria to her feet and half dragged/half walked her out to his car, Gillian following along, singing lightly. She had a fair voice but Cal was trying mostly to block it out. "If you throw up," Cal warned Ria as he put her in the backseat and clipped on her seatbelt. "I'll kick you out on the side of the road. Hear me?"

"Ohhhh," Ria moaned. Cal grinned to himself as he dropped the window half way and closed the car door. She was so going to feel it in the morning. He was going to pick up an air horn on his way to work. He turned to Gillian who was staring up at stars she couldn't see through light pollution.

"Come on then," he coaxed her.

"Alarm," she reminded him.

"All right then, you get in. I'll be right back." But she didn't get in the car, she followed him back to the building and leaned against him while he punch in the alarm code and then locked the door. She hooked her arm around his while they walked back to the car and while they drove to Ria's place in silence, she held his hand with both of hers. And it was doing Cal's head in. He loved her company just not under these circumstances...

Cal helped Ria inside and dumped her on the couch with a bucket and a blanket and then escaped, making sure her door was locked on his way out again. Gillian was singing again when he got back in the car and as soon as he'd clipped his seatbelt up again she leaned on his arm. "Cal, do you love me?"

"Oh sweetheart, I'm not answerin' that."

"Why not?" Gillian pouted.

"We really shouldn't be havin' this convasation."

"Why?" Gillian whined.

"Because you're drunk."

"Isn't that exactly why we should? Cos I'm drunk and I'm not gonna remember this in the mooring? You could tell me anything." Suddenly it was a great idea. "Tell me everything Cal. Unburden yourself. You walk round with all this bottled inside you," she waved a hand as she talked. "I'm a trained psychologylyist."

Cal sighed. Subject matter: serious. The way she was slurring and mixing up her words: hilarious! "Yes."

Gillian felt a shiver of realisation. "Yes I'm drunk?"

"Yes I love you," he said very quietly. So quietly, he wasn't even sure he had said the words himself. He felt sick. Had he really admitted it? He had been silently denying it to Emily for years; his firm 'don't cross that line young woman'. But he had never denied it to himself. He had known it for years and years, long before she had divorced Alec. He'd just never said it aloud. Now it was out there it was so much different. He felt different. Actually, he felt a little lighter. He looked over at her. She was staring at him. He gave a half shrug; eyes back on the road, as if to say: 'what do you want from me?'

"Then why have you been such a douche bag to me in the last few months? Huh? Cos that's not fairness you know."

"I know," Cal also gently admitted.

"You know you can be such a douche bag sometimes!" She punched his arm.

"I know," Cal almost whispered.

"Ow! What the hell have you got on under your arm? A metal suit? Oh my god! Are you Iron Man?"

Cal chuckled despite himself. She really was very entertaining while she was wasted. How was it he had never noticed before? Probably because they usually got drunk together. Should he start to worry about her drinking alone? And so excessively.

"Iron Man is also a shellfish narcisstic bastard," Gillian continued.

Whatever Cal was going to say died on his tongue.

"That would make a lot of sense actually," Gillian mused.

Cal focused on the road. Everything she said was absolutely correct. He was a selfish bastard. He was being a douche bag. He couldn't quite help it. He had just pushed it too far one day and when she didn't resist, fight, keep him in line, tell him to shut up, defend herself... he just couldn't help it. He kept on pushing. Where the hell were her limits? What had happened to her self-respect?

Call pulled into Gillian's driveway and walked her up to the front door. "Will you be all right?"

"Sure," Gillian agreed amiably. She dug around in her handbag for her keys. For ages.

Cal waited patiently for about half a minute. "I have my key," he suggested.

"Hmm mine seem to have grown legs," Gillian mused.

Cal slid his key into the lock and pushed her door open for her. "Good night Gill."

"Come in."

"Can't."

"Or won't or don't want to?"

"Yeah," Cal agreed.

"I don't bite."

Cal gave a half grin.

"Unless you like that?" She gave him a full smile.

Cal shook his head, trying to hide his now complete grin.

"Come in," she half whined, half begged. She bounced a little on the spot.

"I'll make sure you get some wart-a then."

"Ooooh great," Gillian breathed. "Cos I'm not sure I can manage a tap."

'Definitely sarcasm,' Cal thought as he followed her inside. She might be able to manage a tap, but she was having trouble walking straight. She almost tripped on the front step and Cal's hand shot out to steady her. She giggled and thanked him. He closed her front door and turned to find her gone. He wondered if he should stay. Then he heard a crash from the other room and decided he better just put her in bed and then leave. Left alone who knew what she was going to do?

He crept carefully down the hallway in the dark. All the lights were off in the house so Cal found her by noise. She was talking to herself. He felt up the wall for a light switch. She had her back to him as the light came on. In her bedroom. 'Oh god,' Cal groaned to himself. This really wasn't the ideal situation at all. He shouldn't be here. He should leave. Now. Except, the crash was the lamp on Gillian's bedside table and now she was attempting to pick up the pieces of it.

"I'll get it," Cal told her crossing the room quickly to take charge. Gillian giggled as his hands brushed against hers. He ignored her. Nothing was broken, just the shade had come off and the bulb had loosened and fallen out. Cal set the base back on the side table and reassembled the lamp.

"You're very handsy."

Cal wondered if she meant handy. "Nothin' to it luv. Now, go to bed and get some sleep. And drink lots of wart-a." He took a step towards the door, determined this time to get out of there.

"Cal?"

"Yes luv?"

"Will you tuck me in?"

'Of for fucks sake!'

Cal tried to shake his head. He tried to walk away. All right, he didn't try very hard. He wanted to ask what she wore to bed. He wanted to tell her to get changed. But neither of those seemed like good ideas. "I'll get the curtains," he offered lamely instead and walked around her bed. Her bed. Oh god, he should leave. 'Leave now!'

He pulled them closed slowly, giving her enough time to, he didn't know, take her pyjamas and leave the room or something. But no, even with him dawdling she had only peeled off her cardigan. Or at least tried to, it seemed to be caught around her head and she was laughing again, trying to free herself. Cal approached, waited for her to sort herself out but she still struggled. Finally he stepped in. "Thank you," Gillian giggled once she was free again. She draped her arms around his neck while he was distracted with throwing her cardigan onto the chair in the corner. When his head turned back towards her she caught his lips with hers again. Cal was pleasantly stunned for a second. He kissed her back, his hands finding their way over her bare arms. She tasted like his expensive scotch but he was pretty sure that wasn't what made his stomach flip flop.

Gillian shifted to the bed and lowered herself, pulling him down with her and all of a sudden he was leaning over her, their bodies pressed together while they kissed passionately. "See? I know you want me. I can feel you," she murmured against his lips, breathing heavily.

Cal sighed and tried to pull away but she held on to him tightly. "Gill. Not like this."

"Why not? Isn't this the prefect opportunity to take advantage for me?"

Cal wanted to say he'd never do that, but he did. And she knew that too. "Not like this," he repeated.

"How do you want me?" Gillian pouted at him.

"Sober."

"Ok so, well, you can remind me of this conversing tomorrow and then we can just pick up where you left it."

Cal wasn't sure that made sense but he spotted an opening and took it. "Sure, I'll do that." He pried his shirt loose from her fingers and straightened up again. "Tomorrow."

Gillian stayed lying down. She closed her eyes. "Undress me," she requested sleepily.

"Gill," Cal warned wanting to bolt for the door. Wanting to. But funny how he stayed, funny how he'd followed her inside and into her bedroom and let her kiss him and how he still hadn't actually left yet.

"Nothing funny," she sighed and squirmed her body closer to him. Her shirt rode up a little and he could see the flatness of her stomach. Cal stared. Then checked to see if she had noticed. Her eyes were still closed. "Please? I don't want to sleep in my clothing."

'Object. Leave.'

Cal reached for her hand and pulled her to sit up. "What do you sleep in?"

"A shirt," Gillian mumbled. She waved a hand vaguely towards her pillow so Cal lifted it and found the item of clothing folded neatly beneath. Very Gillian. He tugged her shirt off over her head, tried to ignore the skin revealed and pulled her sleepwear down over her head. Gillian fed her own arms through the sleeves and then Cal pulled her to her feet. He had done this a million times with a million other women but with Gillian it didn't quite seem like a friendly guy-friend kind of thing to do. He pulled her gently to her feet and tried not to think about what he was doing when he unbuttoned her jeans and pulled down the fly carefully so he wouldn't make contact with any part of her. He pushed them down off her hips and tried not to think about what colour her underwear was or that the skin he couldn't avoid was soft and that as he knelt in front of her to help her step out of her trousers that he was just about eye height with her...

"Thanks Cal."

"Yep," he managed to growl out. "Get in bed," he instructed gruffly. He stood and avoided her eye and draped her clothing over the chair in the corner. Gillian obliged thankfully and Cal made sure the covers were over her. He went to get a glass of water and when he came back she was sound asleep. He set the glass down, adjusted the covers one last time, brushed some hair off her forehead and then leaned down and planted a sweet kiss there. What had he done to her to make her get so pissed on his scotch and then throw herself at him? He was going to have to rethink his behaviour several times over, because that had been torture on so many levels. She knew he loved her and she wanted him. He couldn't explore it with her because she was drunk and in the morning she wouldn't remember anything they had discussed. And then there was why she had been drinking in the first place. Sorting out his messes again. Cal watched her sleep for a moment and then sadly walked away.

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Gillian woke, head pounding, mouth dry, the taste of stale alcohol on the back of her throat. But as hangovers went, it wasn't the worst she had experienced. Not the greatest, she wasn't off the hook, but it wasn't the complete hell it probably should have been. She sat up gingerly, noting that her clothes were over the chair in the corner and she was in a t-shirt and bra and underwear. The curtains had been closed and for a moment she was confused as to how she had gotten home. She had been at work. It had been a hell of a day; a day full of doing the shitty things she hated doing. She had drunk far too much. And then... Cal. She remembered everything. She even remembered telling him that she wasn't going to remember anything the next morning. She kind of believed it to be true at the time.

She was wrong. She remembered everything. She remembered every word, the tone of his voice, the smell of his after shave, the look in his eye. Gillian sat stunned for a moment. He had admitted to her so freely. Surely he would have realised there was a chance she would remember in the morning. So why did he do it? Or was she finally abusing the fact that he couldn't read her? Had she lead him to believe she was drunker than she really was?

She remembered word for word his confession. But she knew there was no way she could point that out to him. He would die of the embarrassment and indignity. So it would become just one more secret she kept for him. One more thing she did to protect him. From himself. From her. From as much as possible.