"Uh, Gil?" asked a hesitant Catherine, poking her head into his office and settling her eyes on his slouched figure. Probably another crossword puzzle, she decided.

"What are you up to?"

"Nothing," he answered. Never once did he bother to set a glance her way, but only kept his head buried in the pages of black and white, with `red' all over.

"Sounds fun."

She smirked and looked around.

"I'd say you could come in, but I have no idea what you want, Catherine," Gil said.

He scribbled something down in `across—square 18.'

"Well, then, I guess I'll come in," she told him. Catherine stepped into his office, the light splattering over her figure.

His eyes floated from her hips, all the way up to her face, exploiting every curve of her body. When his eyes caressed her face, they slightly widened, and he immediately dropped his vision back to his crossword puzzle. Apparently she had noticed his reaction and sighed.

"Is it that noticeable?"

She reached behind her and slammed the door.

"W-what, Catherine?" Gil asked, refusing to meet her vision. In his mind he tried to focus on her lovely curves, leaving her face out of the question for the moment being.

"God, don't do this to me—this zit!" she exclaimed.

She approached his desk and slumped down in the chair across from him, pointing at a rather large, red dot on the tip of her nose. He looked up, something resembling a smirk abruptly appearing and leaving his lips, before answering, "What zit?"

"This damn, red, pussy, shit-filled circle!" she cried, throwing her arms into the air.

"Oh…that," he answered. This time, she swore he held a smirk plastered to his face. "I didn't notice it until you pointed it out."

"Ri-i-i-ght," she said with a roll of her eyes, wishing to kick him from underneath his desk.

Maybe violence wasn't the answer, but it sure worked.

"And you're look of surprise when I came into your office was just that."

"I…well, you just look so beautiful, Catherine."

He smiled and wrote down another answer to his puzzle.

"Nice recovery. Unfortunately, it won't work on me—tell me the truth, Gil. Is it as big as I'm thinking it is?" she asked, her voice almost imitating that of a child's.

"Well…"

"Just say it."

"Uh…"

"Gil, if an answer doesn't come out of your mouth soon, you're going to wish you never lived."

"It's there, that's for sure," he began, meeting her widened blue eyes. "I'm just not used to seeing you…uh…like that," Grissom said.

He tried to manage a smile her way.

"Gee, thanks. At least I know someone cares," she mumbled, fidgeting with a pencil that had been lying on his desk. "I can't go out there. If anyone else sees me like this…with this horrid thing on my nose, I'll never live to see tomorrow!"

"Catherine, quit with the drama. I'm sure everyone has their day where they could be put in your shoes. Don't worry about it," he told her, reaching over to squeeze her hand.

She swatted him away and crossed her arms.

"Right."

"Hey, don't you have something that can cover it up?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah I do, but I left my purse at home…"

"I bet Sara has whatever it is you need," he suggested with a shrug.

"You're humoring me. You think that I'm going to go out there and hunt down Sara, letting this whole damn crime lab see me like this?" she cried, standing up and crossing her arms over her chest. She began to pace his office.

"Well…"

His words were shattered by a knock at the door. Slowly, a hesitant Warrick entered, obviously overhearing the raised voice from outside.

"Hey, boss," he gestured. "Hey, Cath…damn!" the African-American CSI said.

Grissom cleared his throat and began, "Uh, Warrick, did you need something?"

But the CSI's vision remained on Catherine's new item.

"Well, as a matter of fact, I…"

"Is it that bad?" she interrupted.

"Catherine, we've been through this already," Grissom reassured her.

"No, I want to hear it from Warrick. Is it that bad?" she repeated, tapping her foot on the ground.

"Well, I don't really know what you mean…"

"Oh, shut the hell up already! This damn zit!" she cried. "Is it that bad?"

"Cath, you could never look bad," Warrick answered through a smile of his pearly-white teeth. "Believe me."

"Why, thank you, Ricky, but that ain't going to go with me," Catherine told him.

"Gris, hi…just wondering if you could give me a hand in Trace. Hodges found one of your friends in that piece of drift wood that our vic was attached to," he explained, changing the subject.

"Yeah, I'll be there in five," the supervisor replied.

"Good. Thanks, boss. See you, Cath. You look great, as always," he told her, another smile meeting his lips. This time, there was no reply to his comment as his tall and muscular figure disappeared through the door.

"See—even he thinks you look great, Catherine," Grissom told her.

He stood up from his desk, stretched, and organized the puzzle he had recently been working on. Approaching her form, he rest a hand on her shoulder.

"Even if there is a flaw in your complexion, I don't think anyone will care."

"Do you?" she asked, gazing up at him through her lashes.

"Of course not. In fact, I kind of like seeing a change in your face."

He grinned.

"Now why don't you go find Sara. I'm sure she can help you with your… issue."

"Well, if you like it," she began, smiling widely from ear to ear, "then I don't see any reason why I should."

He blinked, realizing that she took his comment the wrong way.

"Catherine…"

He sighed, leaning down and planted a kiss on her nose. She cringed, but her cringe soon turned into a smile.

"You kissed my zit."

"I kissed your zit."

They both drowned out their conversation in quick laughter.

"Was pondering whether or not it was going to explode, but…" He grinned as she made a move to slap him on the arm.

"But," he continued, holding up a finger, "I'm not afraid of a zit."

She giggled and leaned up to peck him lightly on the cheek, his hands flying up to her face to cup her cheeks and guiding her lips to his own. She immediately pulled back and looked at him inquisitively.

"Gil?"

"Bye, Catherine."

He smirked and headed out the door.

"Gil?" she again asked, leaning out of his office.

"Bye, Catherine!" he repeated over his shoulder.

"Gil!" she hollered, finally getting his solemn attention.

"Yes?"

"What was that for?!"

"I'll show you after shift," he replied, before disappearing around the corner of the hall, heading for Trace.

She sighed, a smirk growing over her lips. Who would know that one damn, red, pussy, shit-filled circle could turn on Gil Grissom. Screw the cover-up. Catherine was going to let the whole world see her new item—the zit.

End.