TITLE: Assume This

AUTHOR: Gomey (grissomsgnomeyahoo.com)

ARCHIVE: Anywhere ... just let me know so I can brag. Hehe. J/K

SPOILERS: Assume Nothing (4-01)

RATING: PG-13

DISCLAIMER: All known characters and premises belong to their respective owners. So there.

NOTES: This takes place right after the exotic dancer flirted with Grissom, at the strip-joint. Many thanks to Caroline for being my forced Beta. grin You rock, my implosive friend! You rock.

Cheers!

Gomes.

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Gil watched as Catherine walked briskly towards the exit, and he threw the dancer a shy shrug. He jogged lightly, catching up to her short, but impulsive strides. "Cath?"

She huffed, incoherent words tumbling out of her mouth, interrupted with sharp inhalations and exhalations. She reached the car, fumbling for her keys. "Damn it!" The outburst complemented the jingled exclamation as the keys hit the pavement.

"Cath, calm down." Gil put his hand over hers and bent down to retrieve the keys. "You want to tell me what's wrong or should I assume it to be that time of month?"

"Assume nothing, Grissom - you know damn well what just happened." She purposely avoided his first name, creating an invisible barrier against their usually shared intimacy.

Gil cocked his head to the side, looking at her with a blank expression.

"You're just like every other man - fawning over half-naked woman - slack-jawed and drooling." She pinched her lips tightly together, trying to control her anger. "I really coined you for someone with a bit of class - guess I was wrong."

"I don't understand..." He unconsciously nibbled on the tip of his tongue, trying to piece together the puzzle that is 'Catherine Willows'.

"I'm not blind, Gil - I saw the way you were looking at her." She clenched her fists, her ire bubbling with intensity.

Normally, her frustrations turned him on, and Gil couldn't deny the sudden tightness in his pants, but confusion seemed to be winning over his lusty desires. "How was I looking at her, Catherine?" He asked, voice stable if only to irk her further.

She opened her mouth, words tumbling out faster than her mind could process. Her jumbled words forced her to take a deep breath, and start over. "Just this ..." she roughly brushed a hand through her hair, "the way your eyes ..." She threw her hands up in defeat. "I can't describe it!"

"Then how do you know?" He asked, serenity still present, his mood tranquil.

"Because I lived off those looks." She replied coldly, looking him straight in the eye.

Gil stared back defiantly. "So, you're going to get angry every time a woman makes a pass at me?" Gil questioned, still puzzled as to why she was fuming over something that didn't even leave any trace evidence of having transpired.

"God, it's your reaction, Gil! Especially when we're on a case!" She knew her arguments were without basis, but jealous seemed to overwhelm her senses, clouding her mind and motor-skills. She shook her head, perhaps the idea of him with a stripper angering her.

"... I don't know what to say, considering that I have no actions to validate." He leaned against the side of the Denali, eyeing her intensely.

"Tell me something," she turned abruptly, "if those kind of women get you off, y'know, the strippers, the exotic dancers," she shrugged, "Lady Heather ... girls who take their clothes off for a living - if those kind of girls excite you ..." She dropped her head to her chest, the anger slowly making way for her vulnerability.

"What...?" Gil asked cautiously, gazing at her through his lashes, trying to meet her eyes.

Catherine raised her head, her eyes red without trace of tears. "Then why didn't you ever think of me?" A fragile voice walked in harmony with her heart, tight with emotion.

Gil let out a defeated breath as he watched her get into the Denali and drive off. She cast one last glance as she passed him, leaving him standing between his car and her empty parking space.

After moment's pause, Gil decided to head back to the lab; confining himself in his office, pondering Catherine's behavior. He had no idea how to rectify the situation, and it pained him whenever they fought. He hated having her upset with him, and he chewed on the end of his pen, contemplating.

He could no longer ignore the tingling sensation that coursed through his body every time her statement flashed through his mind: 'why didn't you ever think of me?' He frowned, and let out a chuckle, as if it was the most absurd question ever posed. «Why didn't I ever think of her? I always think of her!» His mind dignified his laughter.

He spied her walk past his office and leaped towards the door, catching her as she turned the corner. "Catherine."

Silence save for the clicking of her heels.

"Catherine." He called out again, grabbing her hand as she crossed him.

"Gil." Her tone was menacing, and only provoked a daring grin on his face. "Let go, Gil." She tried to free her arm from his grasp her threatening voice a simple mean of protecting her bruised ego and rejected heart.

She finally stopped trying, her voice tired. "What do you want?" Effort was scarce with her words.

Gil just looked at her, the ghost of a crooked smile dancing across his lips. He nodded towards his office, inciting her to join him.

Reluctantly, she acquiesced with his demand, realizing that she could not excel any more a fool.

Aided by his loosened grip, he guided her into his office, locking the door behind her. Blinds shut, trapping the room intimately, he stood in front of her. Foretelling her voiced opinion, he silenced her with a finger to her lips. He kept it there momentarily, and added a little pressure, forcing her lips to part slightly, moistening his finger.

He gave her a half-smile, and she silently questioned the mischief in his eyes. He took a couple of steps back, and bent down behind his desk, reappearing with a boom-box. Placing it on his desk, he nervously chewed on his lower lip, waiting for the music to start playing.

Catherine's jaw dropped when Right Said Fred filled the office.

Her eyes grew wide as she observed Gil Grissom, her tight-ass supervisor start to groove to the 'I'm Too Sexy' beat. She tried to contain her smile, which erupted into a giggle as she watched him work the buttons of his shirt. She clasped her hands over her eyes, no longer able to deny the squeal of laughter that erupted from her heart. She watched through spread fingers as he took off his shirt and started whipping it around in a circular motion above his head.

He was so caught up in his strip-tease that he nary realized the music's breather, as his shirt was flung to the far end of the room. He opened his eyes, turning towards the tickled strawberry-blond. "Hey, I didn't even get to the belt buckle..." He offered lamely, trying to hide his embarrassment with attempted humor.

"If you confirm that you have tear-away velcro pants then I'll let you continue..." She countered, her eyes beaming.

He walked up to her boldly, taking her hands and placing them on his hips, forcing her to hook her thumbs in his belt loops. "I may surprise you ..." He wiggled his eyebrows.

She smiled, one hand straying and gliding over his smooth chest. "Trust me, you already have."

He grinned, and the heated gaze ping-ponged from one blue to the other. Her being still held captive by his stare, he broke the electrical moment. "So how bad was I?"

"Bad? You weren't that bad..." She whispered, as their faces drew closer.

Their hold on each other still remained unbroken. "I feel a fool." He dead-panned, his lips parting in anticipation.

"Good, you look it." She replied without thought; her main focus was his mouth, slowly advancing towards her.

They met amidst his scoffing chuckle, and humor evaporated as love melted, searing their lips.

Deepened, enjoyed and treasured, their kiss ended with promises of endearment. They took a step back, and she watched with amusement as he retrieved his shirt that he had propelled to the other side of the room. She helped him button-up, and her hands traveled to his neck, where she folded the lapels. Letting her hands rest on his shoulder, she met him for another intense exchange neither able to refuse the other.

"And here you left me thinking your talent stopped at crossword puzzles." She teased as they headed out of office.

He cast her a mock glare. "Well, I am an animal in bed, Catherine." He continued walking, noting his lover frozen in place.

She ran to catch up, pulling his body close to hers. "Really?" She breathed in his scent, her own concocted images of a primal Gil arousing her.

He smiled innocently. "Yeah, sometimes I go through four or five puzzles a night."

--Finis–