Disclaimer: I do not own Lie to Me or any of its characters.
I recently restarted watching the show and this piece came to me my mind. Haven't written fanfiction in years, and never one about Lie to Me. Hope you enjoy it.
He should do something about it. He should tell her. But he's still a bloody coward.
It's strange.
She's the only thing he won't gamble, and this, admitting he loves her, opening himself to the chance of losing their friendship, their partnership, their companionship… He feels the chances are too high, so he doesn't gamble, even if the winning prize is being in a relationship with Gillian Foster, the one he's loved for years.
He should do something about it, but he's a coward.
He tells himself that now it's not the right time. She just lost a friend; went through all of that. She's vulnerable. It would be not right. He tells himself he'll wait for the right time, that it's complicated. Isn't it what they've been telling each other for years, after all?
Weeks later they seem to be back to normal, their dynamic, that is. And he's fine with it. Really, Because having her companionship is the best thing in the world. Well, the next best thing. But he won't gamble.
They have a case. A murder. The husband is the suspect. Had been having affairs for ages. He states he didn't do it. Their sex life wasn't satisfactory, but he loved her. He would never leave her. Never. ´
One of his lovers did it, of course.
Jealousy, sex, love. The biggest drivers in human behaviour.
The case is draining and exhausting so, at the end of the day, Gillian does what she does best: shows up to comfort him.
She brings drinks to his office, takes off her high heels and sits on the sofa next to him.
They talk. Their voices ow, the office only half light by the lamp on his desk. She's close to him. So close he can feel her breath on his skin, so close he can smell her hair, her perfume… He stretches an arm on the back of the sofa, body half turned to hers and plays with strands of her hair. Her eyes close and she leans against the touch.
It's only a moment. A blissful, unguarded moment, but he can see it in her face, how much she wants this too.
Not long goes until they start dissecting their thoughts and feelings on the case together.
-I just don't understand why he'd cheat on her like that, over and over. Even I am not that much of a bastard. – Call says, sipping his drink.
-Well… - Gillian glances at her glass. – She was asexual, which wasn't very well known about twenty years ago and got together. From what I understood, she had sex with him, for him, for years, until she reached menopaused and decided to stop. – She paused, sipping her drink. – Sex is an important need for some people, and he never stopped loving. His mistake was not being open to her about having sexual with other women. And leading his affairs on. His error was lying to them.
Call nods but frowns because he read it on her face, the sadness and betrayal, that she let on for a split of second.
-Did Alec cheat, luv? – He suspected; moreover, he knew. But he'd never confront her with it. And here they were now.
She looks caught out of guard that he asked but doesn't look offended and nodded.
-Yes…- She whispered. – But it wasn't… It wasn't like this. – Call tilted his head at her.
-Like this? You mean, your sex life was fine? – he squinted his eyes at her, intruding now. – No, no it wasn't…
-Stop it, Call! – There it is: the damn line they put between each other. She looks down. He sees embarrassment, as much as she tries to hide it. – It wasn't. But he was the one…. – She takes a deep breath before looking at him. – He was the one losing interest. After we lost Sophie. He just wouldn't touch me anymore.
And she'd been so starved for touch during those times and after her divorce. She wouldn't ever let him know though.
-Straight wanker. – Call said. – I'd never lose interest in you if I had you, luv. – he says it out loud and honest and while she looks shocked that he did speak those words, she doesn't reply.
She lets the silence stretch between them before finishing her drink in one go and getting up, putting on her shoes.
-Good night, Call. Don't stay up too late. – She said, as she turned her back to him and walked off.
A couple more weeks go by before they face a case that's once again related to suicide. And Gillian does what she best; she looks out for him. And of course he ends up at hers, that night.
They order from their favourite Thai place. She showers and puts on some comfortable clothes while they wait for the food and Call picks a movie that they'll both like. A dark blue tank top and grey sweatpants.
Without a bra on, he can notice her nipples through. He wonders if she's at all aware of how much something as simple as that makes his heart rate go up. How he'd like to circle his thumbs over her nipples through the thing fabric and see her open, unguarded reaction to it. But those fantasies are something he saves for when he's alone with himself.
Of course he ends up sleeping in her bed with her and no in the guest bedroom. He never did. They always end up sleeping. Just sleeping. With Gillian in pyjamas and him in his boxers shorts.
And they always end up cuddling, nestling into each other. Her head tucked into the curve of his neck, arm across his waist and her leg over his.
When he wakes up they've both shifted and they're spooning. He has his arm tucked around her waist and up resting on her cheats, just casually there. Touching her breast.
And he has a hard on too, pressed right against the curve of her arse.
And well this may sound awfully repetitive, this has happened before. Better saying, it has happened, every time they've slept together. They simply ignore it.
This time they do too.
Three weeks later something happens that's a little harder for Call to ignore than his own painful erection and his hand softly cupping Gillian's breast. She falls asleep while they're watching the movie, half a bottle of wine later, her head resting on his lap and her body bellow her waist covering by the blanket she keeps draped over the arm of the sofa.
And that's fine, matter of fact, it's usual. It's happened before and Call always loves it. Always takes the chance to lovingly run his hands through her hair, to caress her shoulder and arm while she so peaceful sleeps.
This time though, she murmurs his name, and he think she's woken up for a moment. But she doesn't reply to him when he replies with a "Yes, luv?" he can only hear her peaceful dreaming and decides to focus on the movie.
Two minutes later, she does it again. And this time he looks down and sees one of her hands is cupping one of her breast through the shirt she's wearing, the other has disappeared under the blanket. She moans his name again and he freezes. Realizes she's dreaming. And that it must be a very… interesting… dream, by the sounds of it.
He probably should wake her up, but can't bring himself too, even if he berates himself for this voyeuristic behaviour.
It only lasts a few minutes before she goes tense and then falls limp and silent, not waking up after the climax achieved during her dream. He doesn't wake her up either, but can't stop thinking about how he has a raging erection at the moment and she's just there sleeping with her face on his lap.
He takes deep breaths, tries to focus on the movie but it seems like hell. She stirs awake more than half an hour later, when the movie is coming to an end and appears to be blissfully unaware of what happened. He decides to go home that night instead of sleeping in, gives her a half excuse about Emily and hopes she doesn't read him when he does.
When saying goodbye to each other, he pecks the corner of her lips, like they've both done so, so many times before.
Getting home to the privacy of his shower where he can deal with the voice of Gillian moaning out his name that doesn't seem to want to leave his head, is a relief.
Two months later she almost gets herself shot during a case.
He almost loses her.
Again.
And it finally strikes him: he cannot keep living like this anymore. He rather have her in its full plenitude for a moment, than just as a friend for the rest of his life. He's afraid he'll break her heart, of course, but maybe, just maybe, it's time to put all the cards on the table and let her make that decision on the gamble.
He rings her doorbell, hugs her tight to him and then leans in and stares her in those perfect blue eyes. His face is finally open for her to read. No more walls.
-I can't lose you, luv. I can't. – He says, as he holds her tight against.
She nods.
-I know. It's okay, Call, I'm okay. – She comforts him, arms wrapping around the back of his neck.
-No, it's not okay, Gill. It's not okay! – He admits in frustration, but never letting go.
He pauses and they just stares at each other's eyes for a minute. He glances at her lips too, wanting to kiss her so badly. Before he does, he has to say it though, she has to know.
-Do you know that whenever I look at you, my brain lights up in fireworks?
She shakes her head, not quite understanding where he's going with this.
-Call… - Their so close, she can feel her lips move against his when she speaks, nosing his cheek.
-I love you, Gillian. I really love you, and I… I can't live like this anymore… Looking at you everyday but not being able to reach you… - He takes a deep breath. – I know I will hurt you. ´
And then she interrupts him by chuckling. A bitter chuckle that cuts straight through his hurt.
-You've already been hurting me all these years, Call. You always make emends. – She says. And then, because she's always been the bravest of the two of them, she leans in and brushes his lips with hers, an inviting kiss.
His heart skips a couple of beats and he kisses her back, gentle at first, and then deeply, as if he's drowning for so long now and this kiss is the only thing giving him air.
She runs her hand down on his chest, pushes him away for a moment.
-If we're going to do this. – she says. – If I'm taking the leap with you, then I need to know your committed to it.
He nods. He'll do anything to prove it to her.
-I am, luv. I want nothing more than this. Nothing more than you. – And he has for so many years now. They both have.
They kiss again, and Gillian gets the front door shut with her foot before taking his hand and leading him to her bed.
The next morning they wake up not only with their limbs intertwined but also completely naked. He finally gets to know how she reacts when his hands massage her breasts, when his tongue and lips tease her nipples, and the tug he gets on his hair and the way she moans his name, different from the way she did in her sleep, loud and open and unashamed, because she's wanted this as much as him; as fantasised about it as much as him, for as much time as he has.
He has a bulging erection pressed against the curve of her arse and his hand cupping her breast, but they don't ignore it. Instead she uses her hand to press his to her breast and he presses slow and wet kisses to her neck.
-I love you, Gillian. – He whispers just before he nips a soft spot on her neck that makes her sigh in pleasure, pressing herself up against him.
-I love you too, Call. – she says in between breathes, turning and kissing him.
He's never going back to Vegas, but this one was a gamble he regrets not having made earlier.
Okay, this didn't turn out quite the way I had planned for it, but I hope you like it anyway. It's not proofread yet though, so I apologise for any mistakes. Please Rate and Review