"Hello..."

He spun at the sound of that familiar voice as he straightened his tie, his stomach twisting in knots. There she was, standing before him once more. His deity, his reason for living... Catherine Willows. All he was able to manage was a somewhat surprised, "Hey!"

The pair stood smiling at each other for a moment before Gil unbuttoned his suit jacket and moved to sit behind his desk. "Nice tan."

She grinned, approaching his desk as she gestured at his attire. "Nice suit," she replied, the same amount of surprise in her tone.

"Yeah well I knew you were coming back today, so I dressed up," he teased, voice breathy.

Her grin widened. She was on to him... "Right..."

"Really." He peered up at her over the tops of his glasses, noting her stare... the way her eyes roamed his body as her eyebrow quirked. She'd never stared at him that way before. "What?"

"Nothing!" she replied quickly in a sigh, her voice an octave higher than normal. "It's just unusual to see you... dressed... like that."

He smirked halfway. Perhaps he *could* get to her. "I had to go to the chief's funeral," he admitted in a low voice.

She nodded, pursing her lips, a teasing smile soon making its way across them. "Miss me that much, huh?"

With that, she turned and began to exit his office, just as he glanced up to watch her go. She turned slightly over her shoulder, and it was then she gave him 'the look'... that knowing look that always teetered on the edge of flirtatious, before she tossed her hair and disappeared around the corner. As he watched her go, he couldn't help but smile. Oh yes, he most *definitely* missed her.

He missed her smile, he missed the sound of her voice... though he'd heard it several times over the phone while she was in Miami, it wasn't enough. That could never be enough. He needed her directly beside him, challenging him and bantering with him. It was comforting. In a world of death and destruction, it was his security blanket. Without her, he felt he was going insane. He'd almost flown down to Miami just to see her.

After ten minutes of staring at the door, he finally stood and started off toward the locker room, hoping he'd catch Catherine alone.

*****

Catherine hummed contentedly to no particular tune as she padded around the locker room barefoot, the white towel from her shower wrapped tightly around her body. She flung her locker door open and grabbed her hair dryer, slamming it shut and padding back toward the mirrors. After plugging the dryer in and turning it to 'high,' she grabbed a brush and began drying her hair, her thoughts drifting toward the trip she'd just returned from.

She missed Gil terribly the entire time, and almost called to ask if he'd come to Miami, just so she could see his face. Hearing his voice over the phone wasn't enough... it never was, for her. She needed the flesh and blood Gil... anything else just didn't match up. Her thoughts then meandered toward the man she worked with in Miami... Horatio Cain. He'd seemed like a nice man... quite a bit like Gil, himself, actually. He seemed like he didn't have anyone, and didn't open up or admit to much. But to the woman fortunate enough to steal his heart, he'd show her the world.

She almost felt bad for the man... and not just because of his likenesses to Gil and his hermetic tendencies. Just before she and Warrick were about to get back on the helicopter to head home, she'd taken a moment to say goodbye to Horatio... and it seemed as if he was flirting with her for a moment. She smiled at the thought... and at the fact that she had to keep herself from saying that she had a boyfriend. She had to continually remind herself that no matter how much she wished and prayed... Gil just was not her boyfriend. He was her friend... her best friend. And her supervisor, on top of all that.

She was so lost in her thoughts she almost didn't realize that her hair was now completely dry. Sighing heavily, she turned the dryer off, unplugged it, and wound the cord around it, padding back to her locker. She resumed her humming, giggling in the middle of it when she realized her giddiness was because of Gil. Because she was home and in his presence again. She almost didn't want to get dressed. She wanted to spend the rest of her day padding barefoot around the locker room, humming and thinking of Gil.

She sighed when she finally resolved that she *had* to... and she pulled her clothes down from the top shelf, slamming the locker door a second later. She jumped, catching sight of who was on the other side. "Gil..." she breathed, her hand over her heart... both to calm its wild palpitations and to hold up the miniscule towel she was currently sporting.

She watched the amused twinkle in his eye as he smiled boyishly at her, allowing his eyes to briefly roam her body before meeting hers once more. "Hi."

"What are you doing in here?" She smirked, unable to miss his stare of admiration...

"I, uh..." He once more let his eyes wander her form, lingering on every curve before he finally dragged them up her body to meet her sea-blue orbs again. "I came in here to tell you that I really *did* miss you... a lot."

She cocked her head slightly, a heartwarming smile spreading across her lips. "Gil..." He wasn't known for expressing his feelings... or any sort of emotion whatsoever... so when he did it was like stumbling upon a priceless artifact. "I missed you too..." she finally admitted. She blushed, remembering she was clad in only a towel. "Now that we've gotten that out of our systems, do you think it would be alright if I got dressed?"

"Oh! Sure, sure..." He closed his eyes, spinning to face the other direction.

Catherine grinned widely, wondering if she should tell him that when he opened his eyes he'd be staring right at a mirror. She considered this notion for a moment, before ultimately deciding that this little turn of events could end up working out to her advantage. She waited for the moment his eyes would open before she began her 'game'...

He slowly opened his eyes, realizing in vain that he was facing the full-length mirror, and he almost groaned at his idiotic choice.... but that was before Catherine's towel hit the floor. When it did, his eyebrows shot straight upwards on his forehead, and he almost dropped to his knees to thank God for the wonderful vantagepoint he'd just been blessed with. He watched avidly as Catherine twisted her body toward her locker, giving him an excellent view, before twisting away with a bottle of lotion in her hands. {{Oh dear God...}} he thought... gulping, though his throat was completely dry.

Catherine smirked, only stealing glances at him in her peripheral vision so he wouldn't catch on to her, and she opened the cap to her lotion, squirting a generous amount into her hand. After setting the lotion on the floor, she propped her right leg, the leg closest to Gil, up onto the bench... rubbing the sweet-scented product into her skin. She'd known Gil for sixteen years now... and though they'd not once been lovers, she knew exactly how to push his buttons, and the precise time to push them. She knew how to wrap him around her finger, and knew it wouldn't be long before he was, completely.

Gil's mouth dropped slightly, his lower lip jutting into a pout as he watched Catherine work the lotion into her smooth, newly-tanned skin. Voyeurism had never really been 'his thing,' but he knew that if this was what it consisted of... watching a goddess like Catherine Willows rub intoxicating scents into her skin... he figured it would become an easy hobby to pick up.

Catherine almost lunged for him the second she saw that much-lusted-after lower lip jut out, wanting to permanently latch onto it... but she knew she had to keep up the slow pace. She had to bring him just to the boiling point. But to her dismay, she realized that she was almost at that point, herself.

Gil gazed unabashedly at her body as she finished rubbing the lotion into her skin... almost groaning when he watched her rub the excess lotion off her hands and onto her breasts. He placed a hand on the locker beside him to steady himself when his knees began to buckle, and his tongue jutted out the side of his mouth. He bit down hard on it, closing his eyes in agony as he clenched a fist at his side. When he finally found his voice, he asked softly, "Cath? Are you just about finished getting dressed?"

She grinned widely, noting the shaky tone of his voice. {{Man, I bet he's about to snap...}} she thought wickedly. Outwardly, she casually replied in a sigh, "Not quite yet, Gil." She added coyly, "A girl DOES need to take a moment to moisturize, you know."

She heard him clear his throat briefly, before he softly responded, "Of course."

She giggled, watching his fist clench and unclench repeatedly. {{Alright, maybe I'm being TOO mean...}} She then sighed slowly, reaching into her locker to retrieve her neatly folded clothes. She smirked at the back of his head as she whipped her jeans out in front of her and slowly stepped into them, pulling the form fitting denim up her slim legs, leaving the button and zipper open and dangling precariously at her hips. She then turned her back to him and slowly slipped her bra on, clipping it expertly into place while tossing a casual glance over her shoulder.

Gil squinted his eyes shut as he caught a glimpse of her clipping her bra on, silently damning himself for even mentioning the fact that she needed to put clothes on. What the hell kind of man was he, anyway? He'd practically *begged* her to put her clothes on... and why? What harm was it doing her to showcase that fabulous body of hers... even though she probably didn't know she was doing it. Then something clicked in his brain. Or DID she? Was she doing this on purpose?

Why else would it be taking her so long to get dressed? He knew it was rare that she would use lotion... she normally just wore perfume. So why today was she so intent on taking the time to put some on? And he didn't miss that look she tossed in the way of the mirror only seconds before. Did she know? Did she know he was watching her? Was that her plan the whole time? A slow smile spread across his face as he watched her toss another glance at the mirror over her shoulder, this time a smirk inching its way across her full lips. Oh yes, she knew damn well what she was doing. And now it was up to him to get her back for it.

When he heard her lilting, musical voice tauntingly float through his head, he smiled. "Okay Gil, I'm ready now... you can turn back around."

He did so by spinning on his heel, and he almost groaned in frustration at the sight of the button and zipper on her jeans wide open... just a hint of pink lace peeking out. She most definitely was doing this on purpose. And he WAS going to seek his revenge. But he knew just the way to do it. A smirk slowly spread across his lush lips... knowing he could easily just gesture to her open fly and she would be able to fix it in a jiffy... but knowing he had a better idea already formulating. "Well..." he sighed, sauntering toward her in a way that was so obviously flirtatious. He stopped when he was toe-to-toe with her, his hands sliding up her thighs to her hips while his eyes burned into hers. "I'm afraid you're not *completely* ready..."

He heard the distinct sound of her breath quickening as his hands stroked her hips, his thumbs caressing the bare skin just above the waistband of her jeans. In a shaky voice, she replied, "N-no?"

He nodded, allowing his eyes to drift toward her open fly and the hint of lace showing through, his lower lip jutting outward in a pout as he dragged his eyes up to hers, then back down. He knew how she loved his bottom lip... he saw the look in her eyes every time it would sink into a pout. She suddenly would take on the characteristics of a caged, wild animal begging to be set free. He glanced back up, smiling mischievously into her eyes, knowing she was his captive audience for whatever move he would next make. His voice came out low and breathy... "Your, uh... fly... is down."

"Oh..." she breathed, unable to take her eyes off his face... unable to take her mind off his hands, still drawing little imaginary patters on the exposed skin just above her jeans. "Well, lemme just--"

He held up a hand to stop her, winking at her. "No... allow me." He slid his hands over the material, glancing up at her through his lashes when she gasped, her skin twitching at his touch. While reaching for the zipper, he turned his hand palm upwards to allow his thumb and forefinger to grasp the small piece of metal... his other fingers accidentally brushing intimately against her with a mind of their own. He glanced up at her again at the second gasp escaping her lips, only to find her eyes had slipped shut in pleasure and... agony, maybe?

Grinning, knowing everything was going to his liking, he dragged the zipper up, straightening as he did so. He met her eyes as he slipped his fingers into the waistband of her jeans, grasping the side with the button in one hand, and the side with the button-hole in the other. He pulled her tight against his body while he brought the two sides together, his lips now suspended dangerously close to hers. "You should double-check yourself next time, Cath..." he breathed, his body responding when she whimpered, a feathery touch against his lips. A huge smirk twitched up the corner of one side of his mouth as his eyes twinkled. "Maybe in the mirror?"

Her expell of breath became a puff of air against his lips, and though he had to strain to hear it, he nonetheless caught the tiny groan that escaped her own lips. "Okay..." she shakily whispered moments later.

He pulled away slightly and smiled into her eyes, the task of buttoning her up now completed. He dipped his index finger teasingly into her waistband one more time, gliding it across her stomach. "Good," he whispered, then turned and headed for the door... leaving Catherine standing there dumbfounded. "Shift's almost over," he announced. "Why don't you get your things together and meet me at the Tahoe. I'll make you a welcome-home breakfast at my townhouse."

"Sounds good..." she replied, still standing cemented in place, dazed and flabbergasted by what had just occurred. When she heard the door close, she let out the breath she'd been holding, and practically collapsed on the bench. "I have a feeling that's gonna be one damn satisfying breakfast..." she murmured.