If you want it, come and get it -
for cryin' out loud.
The love that I was givin' you was never in doubt.

Let go of your heart, let go of your head -
and feel it now.

Babylon -

David Gray - Babylon

"Hey, Gris. Catch."

A small plastic container came sailing toward his head.

Gil Grissom, quite frankly, was not renowned for lightning quick physical reflexes. Gil's best and most effective reflexes resided in his mind, and that's just the way he liked it, thank you.

Nonetheless, and to his own surprise, he caught the dang thing. Mid-air. Felt pretty good about it, too.

Meanwhile, from her spot at the doorway of his office, Catherine Willows gave him what he silently referred to as 'the look.' It was adorable, too - a half grin, half smirk that softened her features, revealed her affection, and her trademark smart-ass attitude.

"For God's sake, Gris, don't sit there looking all smug. That was about the softest lob I could manage."

Typical. Gil smirked right back at her, then explored the canister. Instantly he burst out laughing.

Gil Grissom - in the throes of laughter. Catherine had hoped for a reaction from him - the offering was more than a little offbeat. This one exceeded her expectations. Oh, to hear him laugh, see a smile envelop his features, unrestrained and filling.

"Where in the hell did you find these?" he asked.

Catherine sat down in front of his desk and crossed her leg at the knee. "Hey, don't look at me, look to your surrogate niece. Lindsey found them at the grocery store last night and refused to leave without getting them for you."

The topic of discussion was a selection of multi-colored sweet tarts. In the shape of bugs. The canister they came in was a small round cylinder, complete with holes in the top, so it could be used as a bug jar once the candy was finished.

"Multi-functional," Catherine continued. "You can keep your pets in it when the sweet tarts are gone."

Grissom glowered at her without meaning it in the least. It was part of their routine, part of their comfort zone.

"The bugs are not my pets, Catherine. They simply fascinate me, their patterns, even their social developments as they group together - "

Rolling her eyes Catherine stood up quick and bowed out of yet another Grissom Dissertation on the Evolutionary Process of Bugs.

"Later, Gil."

But as she beat a fast track from his office, Gil's smile came anew. He studied the gift. Bug City Candy Tarts.

And he laughed again, murmuring into empty space, "Well I'll be damned."

Catherine was mind deep into Nora Robert's latest novel, curled up on the couch of her apartment. In a corner of the living room, near a bright, wide window was a desk. There sat Lindsey, her legs crossed at the ankles, swinging in an absent rhythm as she cyber-chatted with several of her friends.

Each time a message came in, Catherine heard the sound of a cow mooing. She was sorely tempted to ask Lindsey to turn down the volume, but promptly lost heart when she saw Lindsey's happy, expectant smile as she concentrated on her typing and carefully read each incoming missive.

Grinning, Catherine shrugged and returned to the family intrigue, romance and suspense of the book she read, figuring, cows be damned.

And then Lindsey giggled.

"Mommy, Uncle Gil is on."

Gil. The mere name alone made her smile. Big time.

"Tell him hello for me."

"M'kay."

Lindsey typed, Catherine read. The cows mooed. Over and over again.

"Mommy, Uncle Gil is asking me about bug candy. What does that mean?"

Catherine snapped her book closed and charged from the couch. Belatedly she realized her mistake and knew she was found out.

"Ah, it's nothing, honey," she said in a rush, standing behind Lindsey to see the message box. Oh. Shit.

"Um - let me talk to him for just a second."

"Is something wrong?"

"No, Linds. Nothing at all - " Catherine's words faded as she read the messages between Gil and Lindsey.

LigGub: Hey, Pretty Pretty Princess.
PPPrincess: Hi Uncle Gil! Mom says hi. Me too.
LigGub: Hello right back.
PPPrincess: How are you?
LigGub: Great, thanks to you. I love the bugs, Bug.
PPPrincess: Huh?
LigGub: The candy you got me. The sweet tart bugs.
PPPrincess: What candy? BRB.

Catherine cringed deeply, saying, "Lindsey, let mommy chat for a second. He's just a little confused is all."

Yeah, Willows, because you found the candy last night and felt like a giddy kid with a favorite treat for her secret crush. You couldn't wait to give them to Grissom, but you put the blame on Lindsey. Smooth. You are one royal chicken shit when it comes to being up-front about your feelings for one Gil Grissom.

Furiously she began to type, hoping to save her sorry ass.

PPPrincess: I remember now, Uncle Gil. The candy in the bug jar. Glad you liked it!

She clicked send. And waited in agony for his reply. Had she sneaked one past him?

LigGub: ::Laughter:: I did, Catherine. Thank you, my dear.

Seconds later, before she could continue their conversation, came the message, 'LigGub is no longer on-line.'

Emitting a soft groan, Catherine resigned herself to one plain and simple fact.

She had been busted. Big time.

Jitters followed Catherine to work that Friday night. Damn it all.

She was not one to succumb to anxieties for long, though. Especially when it came to Gil. Truly. It was just Gris, after all. Nothing to get worked up over if he found out she had covered an act of friendly kindness under Lindsey's umbrella.

The only reason she felt so awkward was because of her own feelings about the man - not his in return. God forbid Gil Grissom ever came clean about his own feelings and depth thereof. She knew he felt deeply for the ones he cared about. Lindsey and their own ages old relationship proved that fact promptly and totally.

But part of Gil remained cloaked in an aura of careful detachment - a distance not cold or impersonally aloof - just, well, distant.

That thought pattern accompanied her through the first hour or so of work, helping her feel much better about the whole situation.

Until she returned to her desk following a brief stint of trace analysis in the lab.

Logging onto her computer, Catherine discovered an e-mail from Gil. Curious beyond all semblance of cool restraint, Catherine opened the envelope post haste and read:

Cath:

Candy bugs are great. This would be much better though. Join me?

Where: Pamplemousse
When: Saturday night, 7 p.m.
Lindsey: Arrangements covered
RSVP

GG.

Catherine stared at the screen, jaw slack. She shook her head and laughed softly, clicking on the reply button.

Gil:

Wow. Nothing like pulling out all the stops. Dinner at Pamplemousse? I'll end up owing you a couple cases of bugs. Of course I'll be there.

Cath.

She reviewed her reply. It lacked any kind of mushy-gushy undertones, but that was the norm between her and Gil. This was simply a nice gesture - wonderful in fact. But it was friendship for friendship. Caring for caring.

Catherine refused to read anything more into Gil's offer than that, or she would risk getting her heart trampled. She did not want to find herself disappointed or worse yet heartbroken by high expectations. Best to be level headed.

After all, this was Gil Grissom, not some prince charming or knight in shining armor.

Catherine shook her head ruefully. Girlish thoughts. How is it the man could inspire girlish thoughts in the heart and soul of a woman who had long ago given up the notion of such things.

Nonetheless she re-read Gil's message and felt a thrill all over again.

In fact, she grinned like a fool, muttering, "Well I'll be damned."

She looked like a goddess. No other word for it.

Her strawberry blonde hair was slightly curled, dancing in attractive, perfectly styled layers around her neck and shoulders. Gil stood, watching Catherine with a smile as her keen, green-eyed gaze performed a sweep of the room and settled on him at last.

That's when the word radiant took on a whole new meaning - she smiled, deeply and truly, and it impacted his heart with warmth overflowing.

She was dressed in a simple knit dress of uninterrupted black; form fitting, cut just above the knee. The little black dress, Gil determined, admiring the effect. Never one for flash over substance, Catherine kept her jewelry simple. A liquid silver necklace adorned her throat - which was long and slender, Gil couldn't help admiring. Matching earrings dangled from her lobes. The sudden, vivid imagining he had of nibbling on that tempting piece of anatomy had him blinking a few times to restore sanity.

Rein it in, boy, he thought. Rein it in.

The maitre'de led her to their table, a small, intimate setting for two near a multi-pained window that overlooked the restaurant's small, flower bedecked courtyard. Candlelight lent soft, welcoming illumination to their space.

She moved to join him, smile still in place, her brows raised a bit. It never ceased to amaze him that a woman of such intelligence and mental acumen could also possess such bone deep sensuality and sense of female self. It was all there to see and admire - in the gentle sway of her hips, the smooth even glide of her footsteps. And her eyes. Lord above, those eyes.

Catherine, however, would not be Catherine without a sexy display of sass.

"Not bad, Gris," she said huskily. 'Not bad at all."

And Gil would not be Gil, he decided, without a wry retort.

"What can I say. For a woman who gets me bug candy, I'd do about anything."

"Including a black tuxedo," she quipped in turn, her voice ripe with admiration. In fact, she reached out just far enough to trail her fingertips along the satin lapel of his jacket. Nice, she thought. Very nice. "I gotta get you out more often, Gil."

He made show of straightening the bow tie at his throat and Catherine laughed as he pulled out her chair and did the gallant honors of seating her.

"For tonight I decided to pull out all the stops."

Catherine unfolded the crisp white napkin that had been placed on her plate and settled it across her lap. "Including my babysitter. Lindsey is in heaven. Greg settled right in. When I left he was hard at work on the computer, teaching her all kinds of tricks to developing her very own Sims universe."

Gil sighed, genuinely appalled. "Teach the child to read. I am begging you."

"Futile attempt, Uncle Gil. She's a product of the internet generation. Sorry."

A pause followed their moment of levity. And Gil came at her from left field, asking quietly, "So - are you ready for this, or is it too much?"

She pierced him with a look, venturing forth with a bravery she truly had not known she possessed. "I've been ready for years."

The meal was incredible. No printed menu was ever offered. Such was not the tradition of Pamplemousse. Instead, the waiter gave them a verbal listing of the day's offerings. Over the span of nearly three hours they were served a basket of crudités, from which they prepared a world-class salad using the fresh contents selected from a charming wicker basket. Next came jumbo shrimp, sautéed with scallions.

And the meal had just begun. Sorbet, of cool, delicious peach, cleansed the pallet before the introduction of their main course - duck in cranberry sauce. Each course exceeded the one before it.

Gil's laughter came frequently, easily, a low happy sound. Catherine found it so appealing she worked hard to keep hearing it over and over again. At length, their waiter delivered the concluding rite to their feast - a dessert to share.

Oh, Catherine was stuffed beyond all reasonable belief - but when she spied the Tartufo Pamplemousse Gil ordered, she was a goner. Vanilla ice cream, covered by a hard shell of dark chocolate, was served on a bed of Zabaione and flavored by mandarin Napoleon liqueur.

"Oh my God, Gil. Death by decadence."

Gil retrieved one of the spoons and broke through the chocolate covering to scoop free an offering for his companion. "Tasting is believing."

"Touché."

Catherine smiled winsomely, accepting the confection as Gil slid the spoon into her mouth, then gently retrieved it.

God above what an exquisite woman, he found himself thinking. Not that this was a major revelation. It was a given. Gil had admired Catherine for many, many years; increasingly so, in fact, as time progressed and age revealed mortality and an almost shocking number of lost chances.

Gil found himself drawn to a point where the issues between them, personal issues, demanded resolution. May the world be damned, he found himself thinking. Life was slipping by, and he never, ever wanted to look back upon his time with Catherine - their relationship together - and have it distinguished by a moniker of regret.

In the final analysis, that fact is what had pushed him to action.

"Catherine?"

"Yeah?" She was not paying a hell of a lot of attention at present. She was seated across a cozy, luxurious dinner table for two from the man she had always loved. Chocolate, ice cream and soft finger cake melted on her tongue, making her close her eyes in revelry.

"I was thinking."

"Uh oh." She swallowed, savoring the after-bite of the liqueur. "Go off on insects, Grissom, and I swear to God I'll kill you."

"About us."

Us. Us? Catherine came alert in a hurry. "Ah, yeah?"

Her tentative, almost skeptical reply gave him pause, but not for long. "Greg has, well - he offered to take care of Lindsey - and stay at your place overnight if needs be, and - well - "

Catherine's world was starting to tilt and spin wildly. All this? Over candy bugs? Had I but known, she thought, I would have found them one hell of a lot sooner. But her reply came out as smoothly as she could manage. "What's your point, Grissom?"

Straight to the point. Matter of fact. But beneath those traits of hers was a layer of vulnerability - of uncertainty - that gave Gil the courage to move forward and test the waters between them.

"Would you come home with me, Catherine?"

Oh yeah. The tilt-spin thing was going on in her mind and body with a fury now. "Gil, when you say come home - "

"I mean come home, Catherine. Be with me." And now a bit of his own vulnerability shone through when he concluded quietly, "If that's what you want as well - "

She didn't question why. She didn't ask for, or need, his motivations. Reasons did not matter. Results did.

"Gil, are you sure about opening this door for us? With everything that comes with it?" Before he could answer she held up a finger of caution, warning, "Be damned sure before you say yes or no."

He didn't blink. He didn't pause. He looked her straight in the eye in the way that never failed to make her bones melt.

"Yes I am, Catherine. Don't you think it's about time we stopped wasting time and started living our lives together instead?"

For the longest time she could only stare at him, wide-eyed and amazed. "I've felt that way for years. Don't ask me the when, or where - don't ask me the why. It simply happened for me. I found myself loving you in ways that still take me by surprise. I was just always afraid of letting the personal intrude upon what we spent years building together at CSI."

It was an impasse of sorts, revelations spelled out clearly between them. It was at that point when Catherine found herself laughing softly.

"What?" Gil asked, quirking a brow, seeming a bit annoyed at her levity during a moment of such impact.

Catherine settled her hand gently over his and held on tight. "Well, wouldn't you just know it?"

"What?"

"That it took bugs, Grissom, bugs to get me the chance to see you in a tux and give us both the chance to turn a page in our relationship."

This time Gil joined her laughter full force.

The moment was not about fanfare. It was not about candy hearts and rose petals. No, Catherine mused silently, it was about candy bugs. The unexpected, when it came to Gil Grissom, and, yes, even her own unconventional life, had become the norm.

But all paths led right here, to a stark, yet comfortable bedroom in Gil's townhouse. She distracted herself by taking in the small details, absorbing his space bit by bit, until:

"Catherine." He took her hand in his, drawing her close. "Second thoughts?"

"No." She cut him off quickly and emphatically. He had mistaken her silence for doubts.

He studied her, thoroughly, as if enthralled by each nuance of her persona.

Uncharacteristically hesitant, fearful yet completely eager for what the night would bring, Catherine waited on Gil, who had already choreographed this evening to perfection.

He began with a smooth, long caress of her body that left Catherine humming softly with approval. He lifted the dress up and away, enjoying the way Catherine stood before him, submitting to him, so rare a thing, and precious. She lifted her arms to make the job easier.

Dress removed and tossed to the side, Gil now realized she was bra-less and clothed only in thigh high stockings of taupe silk and an extremely brief black thong that contrasted provocatively against her fair, smooth skin, and high heel shoes.

When he paused, studying her again - studying her like he might scrutinize a piece of critical, fascinating evidence, Catherine smiled.

"Don't stop now. You're on a roll."

Gil laughed, toppling her easily onto the top of the bed. It was thick and comfortable, heavenly against her back. She kicked off her shoes, sliding against his prone body. Gil nuzzled her neck, nipped at her earlobe. She felt the touch of his fingertips moving slowly against her thighs, working down the length of first one leg, then the other to divest her of her stockings. Catherine squirmed eagerly. Next came the thong, peeled away by the touch of a man who was reverent about his subject, adoring even. Nothing, she swore, had ever felt so incredible.

He moved between her spread legs, eager to explore and discover. In fact, he slid his hands slowly down the front of her body, lingering briefly at her breasts, gently stroking the darkened skin of her nipples until they hardened, peaking tightly as his caress lingered.

Next came the flat planes of her stomach; and emboldened, he moved lower still. He flattened his hand, letting his touch side sinuously down her abdomen, then turning to move boldly between her legs.

His blatant intent was to rile - to stir and evoke. He achieved that goal to a degree that exceeded his hopes and aroused his own body to a fever pitch.

Catherine shoved his jacket aside - good thing, too, he was flaming hot right now, and the removal of his clothing was a damned fine idea. She attacked the buttons of his shirt, popping them free as he worked out of the sleeves and cuffs. She wrestled with him, growling lightly as the shirt came off and she exercised her rights on the remainder of his clothing - slacks, boxers, shoes and socks - until there was nothing but Gil - nothing but skin on skin, bodies sliding together with hunger and needs that had been pent up for way too long.

The length of him was thick and heavy, warm against her hand. Adding to her female sense of conquer and delight he closed his eyes, beginning to move in time to the ministering stroke of her fingertips and hand.

Restraint snapped, he rolled above her and held her hips. He entered her fiercely, broken free of everything that had held him in check - held him in check for years when it came to this incredible, vital, precious woman.

They moved together in motions hurried and ravaging. She was wet and hot to his touch, she lifted to him eagerly, a perfect partner in body, in soul. Their mouths didn't touch and stroke, they collided in a greedy dance that quenched one thirst, stirred millions more. Tongues danced and tasted, flicked and explored.

All the while, they moved, bodies in perfect syncopation as the tempo escalated and that relentless, dizzying need uncoiled with a snap that sent them both spiraling, clinging together, riding out the storm that assailed them.

Long, delicious moments later, laying perfectly entwined beneath the blankets of his bed, Gil remarked to Catherine, "Do you know why I chose Pamplemousse?"

Catherine battled a full-out laugh before replying, "Because the restaurant name, in French, translates to the word grapefruit?"

Gil's answering sigh was something between toleration and appreciation. "Always the smart-ass."

"Always."

I thought the credo of the restaurant would speak loud and clear, since I've never been much for words."

Catherine lifted up onto her elbow, stroking his chest, looking into his eyes. "What's the credo?"

Gil grinned expectantly. He even paused to build the moment before replying, "How beautiful life can be - when touched by love."

Catherine's answer to that was a long, deep kiss, full of love, full of promise for all that would be.

"Too true, Grissom. Too true."

FINIS