"Among the many that mine eyes have seen,
Not one whose flame heart so much as warm’d
On my affection put to the smallest teen
Or any of my leisure’s ever charm’d"

I recite quietly under my breath as Catherine passes my window. Today, or should I say tonight, she is a vision of loveliness - as she is every other night.

She walks past my window again and acknowledges me with a look, I quirk the corner of my mouth lightly in response. And that’s all we need, words only get in the way.

Catherine continues on her way with Brass, from the way she holds herself and the slight smile that graces her face I can tell she’s solved her case. I have no doubt that I’ll hear about it over breakfast.

An hour later, she knocks on my door and asks me I’m reading to go. I still have a little work to do, and I usually don’t like to leave until it’s done, but I still nod an affirmative and make to leave. Work can wait. Catherine can’t.

We say goodbye to the rest of the team, after stopping once to ask Greg about latest music tastes we get in our cars. It’s Catherine’s turn to name the place. She leads the way into the busy streets, I recognise where we’re going as one of our favourite places. It’s always quiet there, away from lights, hustle, and groping couples. I dimly wonder which were escaping from today.

We order our breakfast - de-café with bagels. In spite of what some of the lab-techs think, I actually require sleep.

"You solved your case," I state simply, no need for congratulations, solving it is enough.

Pulling out her pager she nods, "Another crime of passion," she says grimly.

I raise an eyebrow, "What’s that, the third in two months?"

Having turned off the small device that I’ve heard compared to a ball and chain she nods again, "At the very least."

The conversation turns - there wasn’t much point discussing the so finer points, I read them in the report anyway - so she asks me about my own case and gently teases me about the mound of paper work I have weighing down my desk.

Our food is brought just as we are discussing just how Greg’s managed to keep his hearing for so long. Busy commenting on the lack of talent today’s bands have I smile distractedly and thank the waitress, as she was leaving Catherine started smirking.

"What?" I ask.

"How can you be a senior CSI and not notice the waitress is making eyes at you?"

I give her my best sceptic ‘yeah right’ look, usually reserved for witnesses that have said something completely see through.

"Because she’s not," I answer simply.

"Like Sara doesn’t make eyes at you?" she questions innocently.

My best look turns into a glare.

Catherine laughs it off, she knows I’m becoming uncomfortable, just as I know that she’s enjoying herself, but she continues the thread of conversation regardless.

"Though I really can’t blame her, after all you are good-looking, intelligent, educated and well off. What more can a girl ask for?"

She’s smirking again, she can tell she’s embarrassed me by the way I start fidgeting with my bagel, I feel slightly annoyed because I know that it’s damn near impossible to embarrass her. I settle for rolling my eyes.

"In some ways I can’t blame Sara, I mean every girl dream of having a lover that can say something Shakespearian to her."

Times like these I wonder how I put up with her, but I know that if I really examined it I’d only find that I have grown too ... accustomed to her presence.

"You sure that coffees de-café Cath?"

It was said in jest but look into her eyes tells me that there’s some very serious reason behind it.

"Say something Shakespearian to me Gil."

Both my eyebrows rise on there own accord.

"I just need to ..." she waves her hands as though it will capture the elusive words, "I just need to hear some passion, without the crime," she finishes quietly.

I thought for just a second before replying, "Fair is my love, but not so fair as fickle; / Mild as a dove, but neither true nor trusty; / Brighter than glass, and yet, as glass is, brittle; / Softer than wax, and yet, as iron rusty: / A lily pale, with demask die to grace her, / None fairer, no none falser to defacer her."

I look down at my coffee, but pull my gaze upwards at her words.

"Why cant they all be like you?" she asks, blinking away the tears.

Not able to think of anything to say I just reply, "The Passionate Pilgrim, act VII," as if it has the power to explain it all.

We finish our breakfast in mostly silence, the waitress returned fill our coffee quite often though. On the second occasion Catherine laughed, "Aren’t you going to ask her out?"

I glanced up from my crossword, making sure she was serious. "No," I say, seeing she was.

"Why not?"

I look sharply up from reading the latest clue, about to give her a scathing answer when something else occurs to me.

"Why the sudden interest in my love life?"

"Lack of Gil, lack off," she corrects, not missing a beat.

I give her another look but inside I can feel my stomach clench in a strange way.

"I just want to see you happy, doing something other than work - or bug - related."

"And dating a waitress will make me happy?" I ask politely.

"Maybe," she says, but it’s a totally non-committal tone.

I have no idea why but then I say, "I happen to be working on the issue of my love life, or lack of," as I start to leave.

"So your going to ask out Sara," she says as she gets up.

I give her the yeah right look and then just to make sure I say, "No."

"Then who is it?" she asks, I’d like to say nervously, as we head back towards our cars.

We’re nearly at her car when I finally make my decision, the clench in my stomach increases ten-fold. I stop, two or three meters from her Tahoe; she stops also and looks at me in question.

"Among the many that mine eyes have seen, / Not one whose flame heart so much as warm’d / On my affection put to the smallest teen / Or any of my leisure’s ever charm’d"

She looks confused for a moment then what I said hits home. I notice the grip on her keys weaken and her other hand flies to her mouth.

I stand there, waiting the rest of her reaction, hoping and praying that I haven’t destroyed our friendship, that she’s as ... accustomed to my company as I am to hers.

Noticing the tears in her eyes once again, I look away, ‘unconsciously’ plotting escape roots.

Out of the corner of my eye I notice her moving towards me, the jangle as her keys hit the ground travels to my damaged ears. However, all I can help thinking is 30 seconds tops and I could be out of here.

Catherine’s standing directly in front of me, and I pull myself away from the quickest way to take the car. She seems to notice where my eyes where and chuckles slightly, then she leans towards my ear.

"A Lover’s Complaint," she says simply.

Through the haze of non-comprehension, I nod.

"You will have to read me the rest later," she whispers and closes the distance between our mouths.

The break room was quiet, there wasn’t much to do that night and so all three pairs of eyes travelled with Grissom and Catherine as they passed. Sara broke the silence.

"Have you guys noticed anything different about Grissom and Catherine lately?"

Nick shook his head no as he made for the coffee while Warrick asked, "In what way?"

Shrugging she searched for the words, "Just quieter I guess, but they have been spending more time on cases together."

Both Warrick and Nick shook their heads and shrugged their own shoulders as if to say so.

Sara shrugged, "Guess it’s my imagination then."

End.