Title: Processing Evidence
By: Macx
 

Catherine Willows looked around the large living room, taking in the white walls, the leather couch, the expensive stereo system and the insects displayed in cases everywhere. Her eyes wandered to the conference table with its chairs, and the shelves, crammed full of journals, books and papers. She knew this living room by now, but it wasn't how she remembered it. Things had changed.
Subtly.
Grissom stood in the kitchen, chopping up some fruit and she leaned over the kitchen island, snatching a piece of orange. It got her a quirked eyebrow, a smile dancing in those blue eyes. She just grinned, chewing on the slice, then took her cup of coffee and walked back around the living room.
Changes.
Yes, there had been some. Tiny little details. And one bigger one. The couch. Grissom had had a small, brown leather one, but that had been replaced with a larger couch combination. A very comfy looking combination, she mused. There was a blanket over the back of the three-seater that didn't really look like it belonged to a man like Grissom. Some plants adorned the windows and one larger one sat close to the couch.
It looked.... nice. Homely.
Catherine looked at the man who was currently busy preparing breakfast. The invitation had surprised her, but with Grissom surprises were rather common.
"Milk or yogurt?" Gil called.
"Both. Fifty-fifty," she replied, smiling. "Say, who's your interior decorator?"
Grissom looked up from the fridge, raising an eye brow.
"From the style, I'd say it's Texan," Willows went on.
Her boss's head snapped up. There was a brief moment of shock, but he managed to wipe it off his features rather quickly. Catherine smiled. Bingo. Well, she had a brain and she could use it. The conclusions had been easy once she had walked the right way.
"It's nice. Looks... warmer."
"I bought a new couch," Grissom replied dryly.
"And you got some plants. The blanket's nice, too. The art print great, actually." She looked at a landscape print, clearly of Zion National Park. "Gives this whole place some character."
Another quirked brow. "And it had none before?"
"Well, it was kinda cold..."
"I have central heating," Grissom dead-panned.
Catherine chuckled. "Give the guy my compliments, Grissom. He did a lot with just a little adjustment here or there."
She accepted the bowl and used the spoon sticking in the combination of fruit, cereal, milk and yogurt to mix it all together.
"Did you a whole lot of good, too."
"Excuse me?"
"Well, first of all you look better."
Grissom shot her that typical quizzical look again.
"Second, you're more relaxed. You have fun again. Not that you didn't have it before, but lately, you are like the Grissom we knew before you took on Brass's job. You smiled so much more back then, you were funny, you were... different. Politics don't become you, Gil. They never have. You... aged. I'd say you are a lot younger now." She smirked at his surprised look. "Too bad it took you so long to find all of this."
Curiosity warred with suspicion. "The couch and the plants?"
Catherine laughed. "No, your decorator."
Grissom concentrated on his cereal bowl.
"You should keep him around."
"Who?"
God, the man could play dumb with the best of them. "Your interior decorator," Catherine answered, smiling sweetly.
"For what purpose?"
There was a faint sparkle in Grissom's eyes and she caught the twitch around his lips. He knew that she knew, but he refused to acknowledge.
"Could have had that sooner."
He gave her a quizzical look. "Doubtful. There were decisions to be made."
"About the design?"
He smiled. "Mostly. Accepting meant changes and I wasn't ready."
Catherine nodded, scraping some more flakes off the bottom of her cereal bowl. She knew what kind of changes it had meant. Grissom could be most unconventional and she doubted he had worried about the implications, both for his job or his personal life. He stood by his decisions and he was a strong character. But it had also meant an emotional challenge, a change to his detached lifestyle. He wasn't a people person and human interaction was sometimes rather rocky.
But it had worked. Miracle that it was, but it had worked. Catherine had to congratulate the Texan involved.
"I see," she said slowly. "Glad you finally came to the decision."
"Actually it was a cooperation."
"So, I take it this is going to be a long-term... joint venture?" she teased.
Grissom's expression was amazingly close to an impish grin. "Those are the plans."
She nodded.
"I'd appreciate it if this would remain between the two of us," he added, suddenly a lot more serious.
"You think I'd recommend your interior decorator to others? Hell, Gris, you can keep him. I doubt we could even afford the guy. He's a professional at his job."
The impish expression was back and Grissom ate the rest of his cereal mix, clearly pleased.
And so was Catherine. Pleased and glad and happy and relieved.

* * *

"Interior decorator?" Nick mumbled, snuggling closer to his lover as they lay on the bed, watching TV.
"Do you work a second job?" Gil teased, running exploring fingers over Nick's bare back.
Stokes sighed in pleasure and moved closer, warm lips paying attention to the skin close to them. "Not to my knowledge." He nibbled at an erotic spot and Grissom squirmed a little. "So, Catherine knows?"
"Yes. I suppose she has known for a while."
"She's cool with it?"
Grissom nodded. "Looks like it."
"Good."
Nick pushed himself up and leaned down for a long and deep meeting of lips and tongues. Grissom's arms came around his younger lover, caressing warm skin and hard muscle. A leg was wedged between his and Nick blanketed him.
"Y'think she imagines us like this?" he murmured, then nibbled along the jaw line.
"When it comes to Catherine, I wouldn't be surprised."
Nick chuckled. "Yeah. But imagination can never live up to the real thing. I know. I experienced both," he whispered huskily.
Grissom felt something inside of him stir, fire up at those words, and he hungrily caught the familiar lips.
No, nothing he had ever imagined was as good as the real thing.

* * *

Grissom couldn't help himself. He felt decidedly like a bug under the microscope and that feeling hadn't really occurred in a long time. Especially not when the one studying him was Catherine Willows. The blonde ran a speculative eye over him as he handed her the papers she had requested and a faint smile played over her lips.
"Thanks, Gil," she said, her voice holding a tone he couldn't place.
And had she just winked at him?
Slightly flabbergasted, Grissom watched his colleague leave the office. On her way out, she almost ran into Nick, who had been about to enter.
"Oh, hey, Cath," he greeted her cheerfully, giving her a friendly smile.
"Hey, Nicky."
That had been a purr! Grissom was sure of it.
Nick stared after the departing figure of one Catherine Willows, the unknown female factor. He shot his lover a confused look and jerked a thumb at Willows, who had by now disappeared.
"Was she checking me out?" he asked in disbelief.
"Not only you."
Nick blinked and walked into the office, stunned.
"So much for imagination," Gil commented dryly.