Catherine Willows hurried, pinning wayward honey curls into a bun at the back of her head, all the while leaping over abandoned Barbies and scattered vanilla pillows on her journeys through the living room. Someone- some innocent, naive carpenter- had constructed her house in such a way that the kitchen and her bedroom were connected by the sprawling white-and-blue living room; and as she deftly leapt over a smiling, naked Ken doll, Catherine realized just how much she hated it.

"Damn it!" The digital display of Lindsey’s Josie and the Pussycats alarm clock read 4:55, and she swore sharply once again as her elbow nicked the item and sent it flying off a table and onto the creamy blue carpet. She’d told her once, she’d told her again...but Lindsey still insisted on Catherine leaving the alarm clock- a Christmas present from Eddie- in the living room, so his daughter could see it every time she came home. But at the moment it only served as a reminder that the door would open shortly, admitting Gil Grissom into the still anomalous household.

If it hadn’t been his birthday, she’d sworn she never would have bothered. Five o’ clock in the morning was hardly the ideal time for a party, and certainly was the time of morning she would have denied any child of hers a piece of cake. But in Grissom’s case, there was no better time than five in the morning, as he was fresh from trying cases and even more trying witnesses, when encounters with Ecklie could be forgotten over a slice of cake with dripping, melting frosting oozing over his fingers. Catherine had just recovered from tripping over an end table when the knock on the door, sharp and quick, gave her reason to swear a final time before she called admittance, and Grissom stepped into the foyer.

"Housekeeping was late, I take it?" He smiled, sidestepping a child-sized sneaker laying in front of the shoe-mat, and Catherine paused in the doorway to the living room to grant him a tired, amused smile.

"And the wit and wisdom of Gil Grissom at long last reaches volume two." She tipped her head in the direction of the kitchen, loose hair tickling her jawline irritably. "Follow me, your highness. Your birthday awaits."

The kitchen was beginning to warm with the rising sun as they crossed the threshold, Catherine turning ivory blinds down to block out the all-too-early sunlight. It was quiet, all signs of her daughter erased from this particular room, as she’d only found enough time to arrange what needed to be arranged on the terra-cotta countertop and rosewood table. Surfaces glistened with care, streamers dangling from the polished blades of a ceiling fan in the center of the slightly arched wooden ceiling.

"All this for me?" The crow’s feet around tired blue eyes began to vanish, as if time took pity on this man, on his birthday, allowing age to seep away- the modern day Cinderella. "Catherine-"

"Don’t get fuzzy on me, Grissom...you’ll shatter my image of our fearless, unswayable leader."

Catherine’s own eyes sparkled, traces of fatigue temporarily lost behind the glow of elation and pleasure. "It took me ten minutes to get everything perfect...if that makes you feel any better."

"It does." She slipped onto the countertop and he approached, standing nearby as slender hands transferred a brightly decorated box into his palm.

"Lindsey left this for you. She’s at my sisters...and wanted me to tell you that it isn’t much, but she made it in class, and thought you and I would like to try it out."

His fingers deftly tore through the faces of Snoopy and Beetle Bailey, landscapes of King Arthur and advertisements for new bagless vacumn cleaners, finally revealing a rolled up piece of fabric, and a package of push-pins, multicolored pipe-cleaners attached securely with scotch tape.

"What...?"

"It’s Pin the Legs on the Tarantula," His hostess explained, eyes still alit with amusment, conveying the understanding that only a mother possessed. "She told me that Pin the Tail on the Donkey was ‘passe’."

"I see." The ‘tarantula’ was rolled out, end tumbling to meet the floor as the two adults scrutinized it thoughtfully, heads tilted to analyze the document at different angles. "I think the eyes are down there.."

"No, that’s the grape jelly. I was helping her while she ate dinner." Catherine slipped down from her perch and snatched the game from the unsuspecting grasp of her friend, carrying it to the door of the pantry and holding it against the stained wood. "And I hope you don’t plan on cheating."

"I wouldn’t dream of it."

She fell against the wine rack with a clatter, hand reaching blindly to grasp the cast-iron vines which made up the elegant rack, and pushing her body upward. The blindfold- a ragged, flower-print dishtowel- was pulled away from her eyes, and Catherine lost no time casting a vengeful glare in Grissom’s direction.

"You did cheat," She accused sharply, reaching for the glass of red wine she’d abandoned on the kitchen table. Another swig fueled the next string of accusations, and she turned to regard the tarantula on her pantry door, legless...although the surrounding wall had certainly gained the ability to walk by that time. "How else do you explain why not a one of my legs has touched that thing in the past hour and a half?"

"I don’t think it’s me who needs to explain, Catherine." He wasn’t quite as drunk, merely tipsy with the combination of wine, company, and constant amusement. They’d still managed to not get to the other few items scattered on the countertop, and without difficulty he seized her shoulders and directly her toward them. "Now...what about the rest of these presents?"

"They’re yours.." Sliding back onto the smooth ivory surface, Catherine grasped a package of almond M&M’s and tore the corner with sharp, white teeth. The multicolored globes spilt into her palm, and she held them out, apologetic. "But first...the cake. I didn’t have time to bake, Gil..."

"That’s all right. But-"

"Dammit....I forgot. You’re allergic to Gum Acacia, aren’t you?" The package of candy was abandoned, and she reached into a nearby wicker basket to withdraw a sealed ziplock. "Well...we could stick a candle into Lindsey’s leftover Snoball, if you get hungry."

"That’s fine, Catherine..." His eyes had trailed to what sat beside her, and her own eyes twinkled in understanding as she handed him the most peculiar package, so closely resembling a hotdog, yet the look in her eye assured him that there was indeed no meat product inside the hard, cardboard box.

"Go ahead, open..."

He did, hands divesting the box of newspaper covering, revealing what even Greg may never have considered tasteful advertisements; flourescent yellow letters claiming the object inside was ‘portable, guaranteed’, and stating that ‘On the beach, you steal the show’!

"The...Grissmo?" His eyes rose away from the box, as he raised an eyebrow and scrutinized Catherine, who toyed with the open package of M&M’s on the counter. "Let me guess- you thought of me when you saw this."

"For more reasons than one," She replied, popping an orange candy into her mouth. "You know, the stockboy had it on the shelf right next to the Spiderman underwear."

"Fastinating. But a logical place to put the sex toys."

"I was fortunate enough...they had your size in briefs...but the salesboy was nice enough to inform me of the fact that over 400 Grissmo units are purchased every hour in various outlets...and I had to assume that was an omen." It was Catherine logic, at seven-forty-five in the morning, as the sun began to break through the cracks in the blinds, casting increased amounts of light over the hanging tarantula, and the distressingly amusing object held within Gil Grissom’s widely experienced hands.

"I can see how you might think that." He pried at the box lid, the material yielding easily to his determined fingers. "But what I don’t see is why you think I’d need this, Catherine. I’m getting a year older...but that’s not proof that my sex drive diminishing."

"I didn’t say that, Gil...you’re putting words into my mouth." She dismounted from the kitchen island and tiptoed across the tiled floor, rising on her toes to whisper suggestively into his ear. "And although I’d normally love anything you put into my mouth..."

"Catherine...."

"Just grab the spare batteries out of the basket by the microwave," She said, reaching one crimson painted toe to grab the M&M bag by a corner and bring it up to her hand. "And follow me, birthday bug."

"I still don’t think I need this," He called, batteries already in his hand as she walked into the living room, quickly disappearing from his sight.

"If you hurry up, then we’ll have time to disprove that theory before your birthday is officially over!"

His fingers seemed all too clumsy, slipping batteries into his new birthday gift, and with a grin that surprised even his own reserved psyche, Gil Grissom grasped the renowned Grissmo with a chuckle, and made his way out of the now sunstruck kitchen.

The Spiderman underwear, he was certain, would never have been as memorable.

~End