Disclaimer: I do not own Lie to Me or any of the characters in this story.

Thanks for the feedback! This one's a little on the longer side. I've bumped the rating up to M to be on the safe side- I don't want to offend anyone who wasn't expecting it. Personally, I think I'm being overly-cautious, but better safe than sorry. The 'M' chapters are going to be optional, so I've posted this as a standalone rather than part of the rest of the story.

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"Cal, where are you?" Gillian asked. She needed to get him home... well, back to their hotel room, anyway. He needed to be with her, where he belonged. When they flew to the other side of the country to get married she hadn't pictured sitting in hotel room by herself and waiting for him to come home drunk after they'd fought about not having a family together.

"Clllearing my head," Cal informed her. He watched as the 20-something year old next to him spread salt on the bar then licked it off before taking a shot of tequila. "Oi," he said. "You probl'y shouldn't lick that." You'd have to be an idiot to put your mouth on a public bar, especially one in a joint as seedy as the one they were sitting in now.

Gill's eyes bulged and she almost dropped her phone. "Lick what?!" she asked. "Cal, where are you? Who are you talking to? I want you to come back to the hotel, please," she all-but begged, tears filling her eyes. "Please, Cal. Honey, whatever's upsetting you we can talk about. We'll work it out together. I'll help you."

Cal shook his head, although Gillian couldn't see. "I'm right, love," he lied. "I'm just having some fun." Of course, he wasn't. He was drowning his sorrows in scotch. After a tough case Gill was normally there to do that with him, but this time he was alone.

"Can't a bloke have some fun?" he asked. "Is like a one-man bachelor party," he informed her. "No strippers, though," he mused. "I don't really like 'em anyway. You ever been to a strip joint?"

"Cal!" Gillian exclaimed. "No, I haven't," she said. "I think that sort of behaviour is best kept between two people."

"Private room?" Cal suggested, and Gillian bit her bottom lip. She was getting close to losing it. "Cal," she said as calmly as she could. "Please come back to the hotel now. We can talk about strippers when you get here." Of course, she had no intention of continuing the conversation, but she had to say something to get him back.

"I like the sounda that," Cal informed her with a grin. "Lemme find a cab," he said, making his way to the door. He hadn't had enough to drink that he was unsteady on his feed, but then again he'd always held his liquor reasonably well... when it came to his physical coordination, anyway. How it could affect him mentally and emotionally was another story entirely.

Gill rolled her eyes. Despite that, she wondered briefly if Cal would be turned on if she stripped for him. She liked the feeling of power she got when he let her take the lead and didn't try to hide the effect it had on him.

"Oi!" Taxi!" she heard him yell, followed by the door opening and closing and Cal giving the driver the name of their hotel. Yes, Cal had gotten into mischief, but the second Gill had asked him to come home he knew play time was over and it was time to respect her wishes. He knew she'd be upset with him when he got back.

"How far away are you?" Gill asked.

Cal paused to think. "Ten minutes?" he suggested. "Why? You miss me?" he was saying it to be obnoxious, but that didn't stop Gill from answering honestly.

"Yes," she replied softly. "I always miss you when we're apart. It upset me that you went out without me. I was lonely."

"Sorry, love," Cal apologised, leaning his head against the window of the taxi. He didn't bother justifying his actions.

"Oi! Stop!" Cal told the cabbie, patting him on the shoulder. "I gotta go in there. I'll be right back. Keep the meter running," he told him as he ducked out of the taxi. Gill could hear the diver protesting in the background.

"Cal, what are you doing now?" she asked him. "I thought you were coming back to the hotel." She was trying to remain patient, but he wasn't making it easy on her.

"Just making a stop," Cal informed her, and she heard the background noise of a radio as Cal entered what she assumed must have been a convenience store. A bar would be louder, and nothing else would be open this late. She sighed again and continued to wait. She heard him greet the sales clerk and pay for his purchases then get back into the taxi.

"Mr, you can't have that in here," the taxi driver told him. Gill wondered what he'd bought.

"It's not for me," Cal said. "It's for Foster."

The taxi driver looked at him in the rear view mirror and decided it was easier not to argue.

A few minutes later Cal was outside the hotel. He went to the concierge and asked to borrow a pen. Seconds later he returned it and Gillian heard him press the button for the elevator.

"I'll be up in a minute," he said, hanging up.

Gillian got out of bed and turned the light on, running her fingers through her hair so she was at least a bit more presentable when he arrived. It wasn't long before she heard his footsteps in the hall and a knock on the door. She moved to open it and found a dishevelled looking Cal standing there, orange slushy in hand and an apologetic smile on his face. He extended his arm to offer her the drink and she took it, noticing he'd written her a message on it.

'Sorry, love. I've been a git.' Despite how upset she'd been, the scrawled words made her smile.