Disclaimer: Don't own any characters.

A/N: I know I said earlier about supervisors not sleeping with their employees. Well , I'll just have to be hypocritical here. And they aren't having sex, it's a blossoming love story. Oh my lordy, how corny did I sound just now? Forgive me. Please review! Constructive criticism is always welcome.


Catherine walks down the corridor, on her way home. Grissom calls to her as she passes by his office.


"Hi, Gil."

"So... where are you headed?" he asks.

"I was just on my way home. Are you working late?"

"Mmm," he sighs. "I hope not. I was thinking of going to get something to eat, or cooking something. Care to join me?"

"Sure, I'm a little hungry myself. Actually, I could use some alcohol right about now."

"Long day?"

"Well, you're working this Henderson case with me, aren't you? I think you know," Catherine says, not meaning to sound as snippy as it did.

"Child murder cases are always the hardest. If you want, instead of going out we could just go back to my place and I can make you some pancakes."

"Sounds good. I haven't had pancakes in the longest time; I kinda missed the ones you make. Best I've ever had," Catherine replies.

"It's been so long since we've eaten together, just the two of us. It's nice, I like it," says Grissom.

"Yea, we should eat together more often."

"Cath, you wanna hand me that sack of flour?" Grissom asks.

"Here ya go," Catherine says, handing him the flour. His hand meets hers halfway, and the sack drops all over the counter and spills all over them both.

"Hehe, Gil, you look like you decided to go swimming in the sack of flour," Catherine laughs. Grissom throws a little handful in retaliation. "Hey!"

"There ya go, now we match." They both erupt into fits of giggles. "There's another sack in the cupboard."

"Well, I don't think we need to start any food-fights."

"Okay, fine. Party-pooper," Catherine whispers the last part under her breathe. They do manage to make it through the rest of the morning without projectile ingredients.

It isn't the meal they are enjoying, though. This morning it is each other's company that will keep them warm.

"Gil, I'm tired. It's like my life is stuck in a dead-end. It's lost all of its flare. I mean, I have nothing to look forward to anymore. Where's the fun and excitement?"

"Wow, Catherine. You think you've got a bad case of boredom. I've been stuck in that rut for a long time."

"Geez, what keeps you going?" Catherine inquires.

"I don't know. I have you; you and Greg keep things pretty interesting."

"Glad to know that I've been of some service to you. And don't worry. I won't tell Greg. But can I ask you something? Why didn't you go out with Sara when she asked you to dinner?"

"She's so much younger than me. Sure, she's brilliant, but what do I have to offer her? I mean, does she even know me? I think that it's just a little school-girl crush; Sara doesn't really know what she wants. Despite what you may think, I do want something other than intellectual discussions in a relationship. Also, she made it too easy. It wouldn't have been any fun with out the chase: it's the thrill of the hunt that keeps me interested."

"Really, now? I had no idea. So, what are you looking for?" Catherine asks.

"I'm not sure I'm really looking for anything. It's just, Sara doesn't know me like you."

"You know, we should share more meals. But right now, I'm getting a little tired. I think I'll head home and hit the hay."

"Why don't you just stay here? I don't really want to be alone right now," Gil offers.

"Okay, I think I'd like that. Do you mind if I borrow an old shirt?"

They finally settle in bed. Catherine in an old, half buttoned, excessively large polo shirt of Grissom's and her underwear, Grissom in his boxer pants and sans-shirt. For a platonic relationship, they were awfully close. But, maybe it is more than that. Maybe they are more than just friends. They are closer than close, so situations like this don't seem uncomfortable in the slightest.

Catherine snuggles up against Grissom, who is working a crossword puzzle. He puts his arm around her. She lays her arm on his chest, her finger playing with his chest-hairs. This is comfortable, just sitting here helping Gil with his crossword.

His body is warm, his breathing steady and even. Catherine is in a state of complete bliss. Van Morison's "Have I Told You Lately That I Love You" is playing on the stereo, followed by "One Fine Day" by Natalie Merchant. These songs express exactly how she is feeling.

With a gentle kiss good-night, they turn off the lights, pull up the blankets and fall asleep in each other's arms.

"Catherine, I love you. I always have," Gil whispers to his sleeping beauty.