Title: Case Closed
Disclaimer: These guys don't belong to me.
Author: Nuclearjane
Summary: Gil and Catherine close a case and celebrate.
Rating: PG-13
Spoiler(s): None
Gil Grissom sat at his desk, valiantly attempting to lessen the mountain of ever-present paperwork. He had been elated, another case solved, until he saw his desk. Mood deflated, he mechanically began processing what lay before him.
"Hey, Case Closed!" Catherine announced her arrival.
"Hey." He dismally responded.
"I thought, we were gonna celebrate."
"Uh, I forgot about all this paperwork. These two piles are due by 8 AM. I'm sorry."
"Oh." She remained in the doorway; for a moment, then entered and sat down across from him. He peered over the rim of his glasses as she picked up the first case review from the second pile.
"You don't have to stay."
"Well, it's no fun to celebrate alone; besides, I have to wait for someone to give me a lift home. My ride is in the shop, remember? Sooo, in the meantime, I'll help you." She answered, delighted by the little smile that crept over his features. They worked in companionable silence, finishing the required paperwork, and made good progress on a third pile.
"You still feel like celebrating." He inquired, dropping his spectacles atop the pile.
"Depends, what do you have in mind?"
"Breakfast, my treat."
"You're on."
Breakfast ended in the inevitable whirlwind of getting one Lindsey Willows off to school. In the meantime, Grissom unobtrusively poured himself a scotch and donated his pocket change to Lindsey's snack fund. Catherine had just finished her first screwdriver and he, his second scotch. He seldom had more than one drink; before escaping, so Catherine decided to push, just a little. She carried their glasses to the kitchen and fixed another drink.
"How about some music." She suggested as she sat his Scotch on the end table.
"Mmmm, sure." He indolently answered and sipped. Catherine put on some light jazz she thought he'd like.
"I'm gonna get more comfortable, be right back." She told him.
Gil's POV
He rested his head against the sofa cushion, closed his eyes and dreamily thought. "When a woman told a man that in a classic Noir film; it meant she'd return, in lingerie." Meandering memories, of various classic screen sirens, were easily replaced by the thought of Catherine, clad in sexy, slinky lingerie.
"She'll be back in a T-shirt and shorts." He ruefully reflected. However, he'd get to see those firm, tanned thighs and calves, slender ankles and cute little toes. Comfortable and slightly intoxicated, he set his imagination free.
"Are you asleep?" He heard her inquire.
"Must be." He mumbled.
"Why is that?"
"You're sitting on my lap." He further indulged his dream by lazily caressing her bare thigh, the tips of his fingers lightly skimming her smooth, soft skin.
"That's nice." She huskily whispered in his ear. He felt her hands move over his chest, unbuttoning his shirt. He felt a twinge of guilt; he shouldn't be fantasizing about her on her own sofa. Her hands slid inside his shirt and he hazily considered; "Studies show, most people fantasize, about sex, with a co-worker. It's perfectly normal, so I'll just enjoy it, 'til she returns."
Gentle caresses over his torso and kisses on his neck; he felt the stirrings of desire. "Need to stop, now!" He thought, or it would be so obvious, when she returned. He groaned, sighed then opened his eyes. The thought of how much he wanted to make love to her, and not, sate his desires with solitary masturbation, abruptly ended; when he saw she was sitting on his lap, attired in lilac lingerie.
"I'm not dreaming this, am I?"
"No."
Catherine's POV
Catherine sat her screwdriver on the dresser, after taking a huge swallow. She wondered if she would actually be able to go through with her plan. "It's now or never." She thought as she opened a drawer to finger the lilac lingerie stored inside. The tap pants and camisole weren't much more revealing than the spaghetti strapped tank tops and shorts she'd worn before him in the past. But, this was lingerie; it was meant to signal, something else, entirely.
She sighed and snatched it out of the drawer; she was going to do this. If nothing else, a rejection from him would put the matter to rest, for her. After that, she'd have to concentrate on rebuilding their friendship. She changed, then studied herself in the full-length mirror inside her closet door. A few adjustments, freshened make-up, a dab of perfume on the pulse points and she was satisfied. With another gulp of her screwdriver, she made her way back down the stairs.
"He can't be asleep!" She frantically thought as she observed his still form. "Christ, I'm planning the seduction of the century and he goes to sleep! Shit!" Gathering her courage, she decided to proceed. If he were asleep, he'd never know the difference so she carefully settled herself astride him.
"Are you asleep?" She inquired.
"Must be." He mumbled.
"Why is that?"
"You're sitting on my lap." He answered. A shiver ran through her and goose bumps formed as the tips of his fingers lightly skimmed over her thigh.
"That's nice." She whispered. She determined he was in that twilight area between wakefulness and dreams, a perfect opportunity. She unbuttoned his shirt and slipped her hands inside to caress his chest. He moved his head to one side; she couldn't resist the urge so she kissed his exposed neck, rolling her tongue to taste his skin. He groaned, sighed then revealed the lust in his half-lidded eyes.
"I'm not dreaming this, am I?" He softly inquired.
"No."
Finished!