Disclaimer: I do not own Lie to Me or any of the characters in this story.
Thanks again for the reviews and PMs! One very exciting one in particular :) Just something kind of cute and playful.
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Cal hadn't brought up about the dog again, deciding that was probably more trouble than it was worth. They were eating dinner a few nights later when Gill smiled across the table at him. "It's your birthday next week," she said, a hint of excitement in her voice.
"I was trying to forget about that," Cal told her, grumbling as he picked up some mashed potato with his fork.
"We can't forget about your birthday," Gill told him. "Birthdays are a reason to celebrate! If not getting older, than the fact that I'm lucky you were born.... Plus, there's cake," she grinned.
Cal rolled his eyes. "You and your bloody cake," he smiled.
"It's yummy," Gill defended herself with a shrug. "Plus, I never get to bake anymore. Please let me make you one?" she implored him. "Any sort you like." Her beautiful blue eyes were sparkling with excitement, and Cal didn't have the heart to turn her down, especially when she looked at him like that.
"Alright," he agreed. "Carrot cake."
"Carrot cake?" Gill asked, almost sounding appalled at his choice. "Cal, honey, really? It's your birthday. What about chocolate?" she suggested, emphasising the word as if the sweet brown substance had some sort of magical powers that Cal should be enticed by and take advantage of. "Black forest, maybe?"
"I like carrot cake," Cal insisted. "With the white icing on it."
"Cream cheese frosting?" Gill suggested.
"Is that white?" Cal asked.
"Yes."
"Then that," he told her. "And chopped up bits of walnut." When Gill sighed he sat up a little taller."Hey, it's my birthday," he reminded her. "And you said I could have any cake I wanted."
"I didn't think you'd pick carrot cake, though," Gill admitted, a slight look of disgust on her face.
"I'm sure it'll be delicious. You're a good cook," Cal replied, continuing to eat his meal. "You've got kind of a Martha Stewart thing going on. Y'know, the sexy homemaker thing. Oh, that's another one. I want you to wear an apron."
Gill snorted at his comment about her being like Martha Stewart. "An apron?" she asked. "Cal, I never wear aprons. I save that for you, sweetheart. How could I compete with your beauty when you wear that delightful floral number?"
"Hey, enough of that," Cal frowned, pretending to be hurt. "I happen to think you'd look very nice in an apron."
Gill knew the difference between real and fake hurt, so she didn't worry about it. "Which really means you've fantasized about me wearing one," she called him on it.
"Maybe..." Cal admitted, reaching over to steal some of Gill's beans.
"Hey!" she complained, swatting his hand gently and grinning at him. "Behave yourself." She reached over and stole a piece of roast beef in retaliation. "What else am I wearing in this little fantasy of yours?" she asked.
"I don't think I want to tell you. You hit me," he pouted.
"I'm sorry. Come here, baby, let me kiss it better," Gill cooed, taking Cal's hand and pressing her lips to it softly. "Boo boo all gone?"
Cal didn't let his mind linger on the fact she'd just reminded him about having kids again. "Yes," he decided, taking his hand back. He had to admit, deep down he kind of liked it when she fussed over him like that... in private, of course.
"Are you going to tell me what else I'm wearing?" Gill asked, her tone still soft, but leaving the baby talk behind.
"No. Just the apron," Cal told Gill.
"Just an apron?" his wife asked, smiling.
"No, you're wearing clothes, I just wasn't going to tell you what else... You're doing that on purpose. Gettin' me all flustered," he complained.
"It didn't really take a great deal of effort," Gill pointed out, unable to hide a self-satisfied smirk. She loved knowing she could affect Cal. "Why won't you tell me?" Cal was normally pretty good at talking about his fantasies if she asked. While Gill was more inclined to only talk about them when things were already getting a bit hot and heavy, she had a way of getting Cal to open up to her in the most innocent of situations. Like now, over a casual dinner.
"I'm busy sulking about being smacked," Cal informed her, his hands on his knife and fork now as he went back to feeding himself.
Gill could have made a racy comment about him liking it, but instead she sighed quietly. "Okay," she replied, ignoring Cal now while she ate her own meal. She'd learnt it was a much more effective means of getting what she wanted than trying to plead with him.
Cal wasn't used to not getting Gill's undivided attention these days. Even when she was working from home she always stopped the second he wanted something from her. Maybe she wasn't too far off base when she started treating him like a small boy- he was, after all, acting a little childish. "A skirt or a dress and high heels," he eventually mumbled, hoping to win her attention back by answering her question.
Gill smiled. Cal was cute when he sulked. It was rare, but adorable. Of course, if it happened too often it would begin to get tiresome, but for now it just made her want to hug him. She let her mind linger on that for a little while before switching it back to being more cool, calm and slightly detached. "Any particular dress or skirt?" she asked casually, like it was no big deal. If she had to make a prediction she'd say the pink dress.
Cal thought about it, chewing carefully on a piece of roast beef. "That top with the flowers on it... roses or whatever they were, and the gray skirt," he decided. "The one you wore the day I got back from that vacation you sent me on."
"Oooh, the day I got the flowers from Jack!" Gill helped him with a smile, teasing a little. Cal scowled. "What?" Gill asked innocently. "Can't a girl like receiving flowers? They make me feel special."
"I buy you flowers," Cal reminded Gill.
"When was the last time you bought me flowers?" she asked. Her tone was more expectant than accusatory.
"Umm..." Cal paused to think, scratching his chin. That was a good question. "Before the wedding,.. Point taken," he conceded, making a mental note to make sure he rectified the situation. "Sorry, love."
"You're forgiven," Gill smiled, rubbing Cal's calf with her foot under the table. "So, back to the outfit. That one? Always? I thought you'd have picked the pink dress."
Cal shook his head. "Nah," he told her. "The pink dress is nice, but it doesn't come up then."
"I'll keep that in mind," Gill smiled, standing up and kissing Cal's cheek as she collected the plate he'd finished eating off. "Do you want to go out for dinner for your birthday, or do you want me to cook? And since it's your birthday Emily will be coming over, right?"
"One of her friends is having a birthday party that night. I told her she should go to that instead," Cal informed Gill, standing up to help her load the dishwasher.
"So it'll just be the two of us. You still need to make a decision, though. Dinner out or at home?"
"Home's good," Cal told Gill. "But I don't want candles and singing with the cake. Just cake."
"I can do that," Gill agreed with a smile, bending over to put the last plate in the dishwasher then standing up and kissing Cal softly. "I love you. Thank you for letting me do something special for you." She knew Cal wasn't really into the fuss, but it was something Gill enjoyed.
"I love you, too," Cal told Gill, closing the dishwasher and turning it on. "Feel like an early night? I taped NCIS."
Gill wasn't really into the military-based crime show, but two of the characters had amazing chemistry, and she had a serious thing for Mark Harmon. "Can you give me half an hour to iron you a shirt for tomorrow and pack lunches?" she requested.
"If you iron I'll pack lunches. We'll get it done in half the time and then you can put your feet up," Cal offered, kissing his wife's cheek. "I wish you'd let me get my shirts dry-cleaned. It'd save you a lot of effort."
"You're so thoughtful," Gill replied, kissing Cal back, her own kiss landing on Cal's lips. "I like washing your shirts myself. It makes me feel like I'm taking care of you," she said.
"Martha Stewart," Cal mumbled, earning a laugh from Gill.
"You call me what you will," she said. "But I know just how much starch and fabric softener to use, and which ones give you that awful rash," the brunette reminded him, her brow furrowing in concern as she remembered how uncomfortable it made him. He seemed to have an allergic reaction to certain types of fabric softener, and Gill was always careful to buy the one that didn't irritate him. She reached out and stroked the skin on the back of his neck soothingly, where it had always seemed to affect him the worst.
"You're right, love," Cal agreed, wrapping his arms around his wife and pressing his lips to hers softly, enjoying her gentle touch. "I do appreciate you taking care of me. You do a good job of it, too," he admitted, genuinely thankful. He gave it a second before he kissed Gill again, lingering this time, and growing slightly firmer. His right hand ran down her back then over her hip before finding its way to her rear.
Gill mmed, her body pressed tight against Cal's. "We're not watching NCIS tonight, are we?" she asked with a knowing smile.
Cal shook his head and grinned. "Nope, not tonight." He followed his statement by giving Gill a mischievous swat on the ass. "Go on. Upstairs, Martha. I have other plans for you," he teased, ushering her towards the staircase.
The playful words of Gill's reply were impossible to make out through her laughter and amused squeals as Cal chased her up the stairs. The ironing would have to wait 'til morning.