Falling for the Wrong One
Rating: Teen (May advance to Mature later on)
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or any of the characters.
Summary: They were kinda, sorta friends... at least... she hoped.
Pairing: Gil Grissom/Catherine Willows
A/N: Well... this is where I say goodbye! I wanted to give a special thanks to everyone who's read and enjoyed this story! I hope I was able to make a few Grillows shippers happy! Not to fret, either. I have another long one-shot that I'm halfway through writing. Sorry for any grammar mistakes!
He has no choice but to go back to work. He's not entirely excited about the prospect of leaving Catherine alone, but she had slept most of the day and had showed no signs of waking as he was getting ready for work. Leaning against the door, he watches her sleep. Sometime during her slumber, she had pulled her hair out from the ponytail, and now a mess of strawberry blonde hair fans out on the pillow under her head, the sheets have bundled around her waist, one slim foot peeks out from the end of the bed… he grins, pushes himself away from the door and presses a light kiss to the top of her head.
It's busier than normal, especially with Catherine out, but it's nothing their team can't manage. He clocks in for the night and heads off for the breakroom for a much needed cup of coffee. He's stirring in creamer and sugar when he hears them, with his back turned towards the door.
"They said he was running through the halls and like… almost pushed poor Ian to the ground."
"Grissom? I don't believe you."
"They've got to be together," the younger lab tech says, filing into the room and coming to a stop when they see him, stirring his coffee.
He knows that they're talking about him and Catherine, and simply lifts the cup to his lips, takes a sip, and walks past the two younger lab employees.
And it happens again when he's logging evidence from a crime scene he'd just gotten back from. He hears her name come from people he's never met, but people she's worked with for years. He knows it's best to stay quiet, but he doesn't want her reputation to be tarnished just because he couldn't control his emotions.
So he says nothing when Michael comes in early for the day, eyes sweeping over him with a smirk on his face, and says to him, "So… Catherine, huh?"
Not even when Conrad sees him leaving, and manages to stop Gil by calling out his name, right in front of the doors. He thinks for a moment the other CSI wants to talk about something mundane, so when he doesn't make it far when Conrad utters the words.
"How… disappointing," he says, disdain in his face.
It was clear that everyone in the lab knew about them, but what else was he expecting when all of his coworkers were investigators? And normally, things like this would bother him to some extent… but it's no more than a second thought. He was happy, for the first time in what seemed like forever, and he wouldn't be made to feel as if his relationship with Catherine was some kind of inconvenience for the lab.
So he leaves.
When he makes it back to his townhouse, he steps into a spotless living room, a burning candle on the counter, and Catherine standing in front of the stove. The smell of bacon fills his nose, and his stomach rumbles. She smells as if she's just gotten out of the shower, and he inhales deeply.
"Hope you're hungry," she says, reaching up to grab plates. She can feel him nod against her. "You're quiet," she observes aloud, and then feels him sigh. "What's wrong?"
He pulls away from her so he can lean against the marble-top island in the middle of his kitchen. One hand comes up to his face, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.
"It seems that our relationship is the talk of the lab," he says, deciding to get it out quickly. She takes in his words, nods her head, her tongue sweeping across her bottom lip as she thinks about what to say.
"Is that so," she asks finally, to which he nods slowly. For the first time since their acquaintance, he's having trouble reading her expression. She's plating their food, setting the plates down onto the counter when she's done, wiping her hands against the towel that hangs from the oven-door handle.
And he suddenly feels as if he should apologize.
"Catherine, I'm sor-"
All he sees is her hair fan out as she turns on her heels, grabbing at the lapels on his jacket, and pulling him down to her level. He's quick to grab at her waist, breakfast long forgotten, as she presses her lips to his. Her shirt rides up as she leans up on her toes to reach him better, and his fingers are like magnets. He squeezes gently, and their kiss breaks off as she smiles against him.
"I guess this means no more closing the door to your office."
–
They spend his birthday at home, just the two of them. The days are starting to blend together and before she knows it, she's itching to get back into the field. Against Gil's advice, she goes to Tadero anyway, and gets cleared to work.
"I'm fine. I'll start out slow, I promise," she says to him on their next night together, filing into the locker room while the other members of their team arrive. The looks that pass between them doesn't go unnoticed by Catherine, and she knows what everyone else is thinking. Grissom is oblivious to the exchanges, saying to her without looking at her.
"I'll grab you a coffee… go see what our assignment is," he says before throwing his jacket on and leaving the room. The other investigators, ones that are closing-in on their dayshift, all look at her with knowing, judging eyes.
The pretty, new CSI sleeping with the older, experienced level III transfer who's bound for greatness?
It was the perfect cliché.
And she hated that they all thought of it that way. As they file out of the locker room one by one, she can't help but feel betrayed by her emotions. She had never cared about what anyone else thought of her, not a day in her life, but this… she couldn't shake. Part of her feels guilty, because she knows the thought would run across her mind too if she weren't in her current position. Sleeping with the boss to get ahead? She's done a lot worse for a lot less, she thinks. But this wasn't the case… and she'd never wanted to prove herself before so badly.
The rest of their night goes by as she'd expect; most people asking about her run-in with the violent crime scene suspect, nearly dying in a dark alley, David apologizing profusely and promising to never leave her side again. But she brushes everything off with a classic Catherine smile, chalks up her encounter to inexperience, and assures everyone that she's fine… and ready to work.
Their assignments are given out, and to no one's surprise, Catherine is paired up with Grissom. He accepts the slip of paper that's got all of the crime scene details, and looks over his shoulder to make sure she's following him.
His professionalism is at an all-time high when they step out into the field, and the car ride to the scene just outside of the Strip is unusually quiet, but before she can open her door, he reaches over the center console. His hand lightly grabs at her forearm, stopping her from getting out of the car.
"I've got your back, you know," he says softly, just above the noise of ambulance and police sirens.
"Thanks," she says back, offering him a small smile and feeling him gently squeeze her arm.
–
She's tired, to say the least, by the time they make it back to the lab; tired from a broken sleep schedule, tired of feeling like she's walking on eggshells when she's around her own boyfriend at a crime scene, tired of the way people start whispering to one another when they see her walk the halls by his side.
Deciding then and there, while the cold leftovers Gil had packed for them currently spun around in the microwave, that she's going to do something about it… to end the pettiness once and for all. She pages the lot of the lab, and slowly, they start to file into the breakroom with confusion written on their faces. When the majority of them are crowded around the small table, she opens the microwave and takes out her food.
"Oh good… everyone's here." Their heads turn, one by one, when they realize it's Catherine who's called the meeting. Picking up a fork, she twirls the leftover spaghetti, takes a bite, and nods. "So…" She wipes away any sauce from her mouth with a paper towel. "It's come to my attention that there's a bit of… gossip being passed around."
Gil, Tadero, and Ecklie are the lasts to file into the room. Grissom staying back a bit, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the doorframe.
The silence was starting to ring in his ears.
"So… yes. Grissom and I are dating. In fact, living together now."
Someone coughs, another person's shoes squeak against the floor, and the sound of the printer from the lab next door can be heard.
"I've witnessed most of you ignore this man, brush off his contributions as if you're too good for the help," she says, eyes burning into Michael's. "But I took the time to get to know him, and I'm glad I did. So there you have it."
One of the younger lab technicians turns to Grissom, mouth agape.
The older man can't seem to hide the smirk growing on his face, not even with the loosely-formed fist pressed to his mouth.
"Is it true," someone else asks, to which Grissom tilts his head.
"You heard the woman," he says, shrugging.
A/N: There it is!