SmutJester Productions presents...

TITLE: Bend it Like Grissom

AUTHOR: Gomey

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

SPOILERS: None

RATING: Supervisor

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

SUMMARY: "I didn't know you could bend like that."

NOTES: Thank you to Caroline for the great writer's block challenge and to Mac for always just being there and not letting me beat myself up too much about my literary and artistic insecurities. :)

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"...wow." There was a long pause, silence reigning save for a constant sputter of staccato breaths. "I didn't know you could bend like that."

"Neither did I." A tense voice gritted out, followed by a breathy exhalation.

"It was kind of a turn-on - "

" - Cath." His voice inched to a squeak as he made the bold error of trying to hoist himself up.

" - I mean, this might just be the serenity talking - "

" - trust me, I don't think I'll ever experience that state of bliss - "

" - but it was quite a sight to see you - "

" - Cath! Can you help me to the couch so I can expire in comfort?" He tried in vain to lift himself up, and managed to get himself in to a 'push-up' position.

Catherine knelt on the floor, grabbing one arm and throwing it over her shoulder. Scrunching her face, she pushed upwards, getting him into a standing position.

He exhaled loudly, a string of curses following suit. Every second step boasted a new word, while each other step offered a threat to his strawberry-blonde counterpart.

She helped him to couch, offering him a counterbalanced weight in aid of a slow descent downwards. "You good?"

"No." He replied, eyes closed tightly, nostrils flaring slightly.

"You're mad." When he didn't reply, she sat on the edge of the couch, facing him. "Anything I can get you...? Meds, a drink..." She trailed off.

"A gun."

She rolled her eyes, noting the forced tightness in his voice. "Please, you just pulled a back muscle, you're not dying." She gently rubbed his arm, though a condescending tone emerged from her voice. "You're just a little drama queen, aren't you?"

He glared at her, piercing her mock-cooing. "Go away." His voice was low, an unmistakable childish pout now present. "Go away and let me rot in peace."

"Can I get your office?"

"Cath." He warned.

She put up her hands in defeat, backing away from the grumbles that the irate man produced. "But I will be redecorating, once you give up this room."

"Cath!"

She dashed out the door, slamming it behind her. Leaning against it, she bit her lip in a vain effort to control the giggles that mischievously desired to escape.

"Catherine?"

She glanced up at Warrick, who was looking at her with a curious edge. A beat passed and she succumbed to her fit, trotting away from the door as a few squeaks escaped, thus allowing distance to shield her squeals of laughter.

Warrick shook his head, a small smile peeking. "Have you been teasing him again?"

"Me? Never..." She giggled and then vaguely pointed to his office. "Ah, he'll be fine. He just hurt his back." She glanced at the clock, noting there was only two hours left in their shift. "Look, I'm going to drive him home, make sure he gets some rest." She already began to head for the door. "Do you think you can hold the fort for the rest of the shift?"

Warrick opened his mouth to answer, but Gil's door slamming shut beat him to the punch. Brow furrowed, he cocked his head to the side. "Sure."


Gil groaned as he let his head fall back against the car seat. "I can't believe I let you talk me into doing some yoga." He grumbled. "What the hell was I thinking?"

She swung open the passenger side door where he was seated, and reached over, unbuckling his seatbelt. Ignoring his rants, she yanked his arm a little to hard, causing his body to jerk in pain.

"Okay, okay..." He relented his complaining, and slowly pushed himself out of the car.

"When you were napping - "

"- passed out from the pain - "He corrected her with an interruption, as they walked up the stairs to his townhouse.

" - in the car, I ran into the pharmacy and got you some painkillers." She informed him, once again ignoring his snarky comments.

He looked at the bottle of pills that she handed to him, and then back at her; perplexing gracing his boyish features. "How in the world did you get prescription medicine -for- me, without -me- being there?"

"Just take them." She ordered, helping him into his room. She pulled down the covers of his king-sized bed, and then walked back to where he stood, still reading the directions. She began to unbutton his shirt when he swatted at her hand. She met his eyes.

"I'm not taking these." He replied defiantly. "It says here that it makes me drowsy and is known to cause hallucinations and a general..." he paused, searching for the word. Sighing, he blurted out the first description that came to mind, "loopy feeling."

She sighed and returned to her task of shedding his clothes. Shirt unbuttoned, she help him slip off the piece of clothing, and discarded it in the laundry basket in his room.

His eyes snapped to hers when he felt her hands run along his waist, meeting in the center right above his belt buckle. "Catherine?" Her name was slow and deliberate as he felt himself drowning in the intensity of her eyes. "What are you doing?"

After unbuckling the belt, her fingers toyed with the button of his slacks. "Do you think you can manage taking off your pants by yourself?" Her tone was bitten with humour and she offered him a taunting grin.

"No." He replied softly, still holding her gaze that never wavered.

Her hands returned to their task, unbuttoning and sadistically enjoying the way his breath would jerk every time her fingers brushed against his skin. She knelt down, coming face to face with an embarrassingly large bulge in his pants. She lowered her gaze, helping him extract his legs from the pants' grasp. Still squatting, she watched him move slowly away from her, turning around and sitting down on the bed with an admirable steadiness.

With a flick of his wrist, Gil tossed the bottle of pills in her direction, watching as it landed right next to her feet.

She retrieved the bottle and walked towards his sitting form. "Gil, you're going to have to take something for your back, you can't just - "

" - can you open the bottle?" His words squeezed past hers, halting further conversation.

She looked at him, slightly surprised at his easy defeat. A part of her was glad that the battle was deemed victorious by her side, but a smaller part thrived on the adrenaline of the fight - each war cry hollered offering a moment of energy scarcely felt. Her hands fiddled inside her purse, until she produced a bottle of water. Opening it, she handed it to him along with two chalk-white pills. "Open." She instructed him, taking a gander in his mouth to make sure that his medication was given the chance to work.

Gil crudely stuck his tongue out, looking at her through his lashes. "Satisfied?" He grimaced as he allowed himself to be pushed back on to the bed. "Oh God..." He held his breath, waiting for the pain to subside before being lowered another inch.

"On the bright side," Catherine huffed, "we're both getting a work-out in places we both need: my arms, your abs."

"Shut up." He exhaled loudly, as he finally lay uncomfortably on the bed.

She grinned, sending him a taunting wink before reaching for his legs. Grabbing both, she gently turned him, granting him the most comfort obtainable in said situation. "Better?" She cooed, covering him with the blanket.

"No." He paused, looking at her with a childish pout. "I hurt."

She leaned down, letting a hand rest on his chest. "How about you try to rest for a bit - let the medication kick in." She gave him a warm smile. "In a few hours, I'll wake you up and give you a nice massage, okay?"

He nodded, a goofy smile reposed on his lips, courtesy of a medicated influence. "You take so good care of me." He mumbled incoherently.

She raised her eyebrow, a small chuckle being held captive in her mouth. "I do good, huh?" He mocked, gently caressing his cheek before stepping out of the room. She glanced at her watch, and then glanced around his living room, wondering what could offer distraction for the next three hours.

–TBC–