He feels the moment when he loses her, when she goes unconscious under his touch. Her entire body loosens up and goes still under his slowed touching and he can't help but grin, unaware how wide the smile is until he lifts one of his hands from her spine and rubs his knuckles into his lips. She's right adorable, really. Her entire body is curled forward on the desk and she's got pretty lips parted against her sleeve, sleep puffing past them and her eyelids closed dark under exhaustion. Cal presses the other hand flat against her back, lets his fingers span out from from spine on either side and counts the slow beats of her breathing, waits out the thudded repetition of her heartbeat. He can feel the pulse of her and for a moment, he lets himself focus on it, his fingers unconsciously and slowly clenching into her shirt as the thump-thumping continues under his touch.

"Cal?"

"Shhh." He frowns into the fact that he's unintentionally woken her but takes advantage of it, stroking his hand around the side of her rib cage and turning it to the inside of her arm. "C'mere."

"Sorry, babe," she shushes into his pulling, her other hand lifting to scrub adorably over her face.

"S'alright," he mutters, slack stunned a little by the endearment and how easily she's let it slip from her lips. Not like she hasn't been so sweet and uttered silly little terms before, playfully or even just affectionately. This lights him up, though. Puffs him up a little with pride that even half conscious and not at all coherent - she's so blindly comfortable mumbling it into the pull of his hands. She's said it so blithely, not at all intentionally, just instinctual and perfect to his ears.

She's said it in a way that now, finally, really belongs only to him.

Cal kisses lightly on her temple, tugs her heavy arms up slowly and curls them on his shoulders, "Come with me, love."

"M'not in the mood, Cal." Her voice is a little peevish but she links her arms on his neck, not entirely aware as she scrubs her face tiredly down.

He snorts a laugh, lets it heat along her ear as she weighs onto his shoulders, putting most of her weight into him as he tucks her hips closer to his and nudges the chair away with his foot. "Not like you'd be any fun at it right now anyhow, Foster. Just to the couch before you ruin all my hard work."

"Sorry I'm grumpy." She relaxes perceptibly into him, lets him lean and carry most of her weight backwards as her voice treads apologetic and self conscious. "I don't wanna do this anymore."

"Which bit?" He isn't much worried that she's referring to him considering that even as she'd said it she had just clung tighter to him, wiping a sleepy kiss on his jaw.

An exasperated groaning comes up her throat, leans on him just as much as she does. "The boring bit. I'm always the boring bit."

"The paperwork?" Cal asks quietly, lifting his jaw from how tingling her hair brushing his cheek has become, how much it makes his skin flush up along his throat. "Make Torres do it."

"She'll just brush it off and run after another case." The tripping of her heels after they round her desk has him catching up against her waist, tugging her still and tight into his chest as he looks over how unevenly she's slumped into him. Her arms come down slowly and she curls into him, elbows and forearms folded up between them as she hums comfort and lays her head into his shoulder. "She's just like you. They're all just like you."

"Arguin' about the children, are we?" Cal kisses the question into her hair, lowering his voice back to its original softness as she snugs closer. "Takin' after me?"

"It's not funny. Not fair."

"Down y'go, darling." He laughs lightly into how heavily she follows his prodding, how compliant she seems when she just flops onto her own couch and goes limply stretched and silly. His hand catches against her as he bends, fingertips tapping her calf as she grumps a little noise out past closed lips. She's bein' intentionally pouty, playing at letting him take care of her, enjoyin' every damn minute of it, she is. "Shoes now. C'mon."

Her eyes are sleep lidded and darker in color than usual, slim as she watches his movements and lifts her foot into his hands as he tugs a shoe off her. She looks deliciously comfortable under his care, more pleasantly playful than expected. He can feel the grin rise up on his lips but doesn't much care how obvious it is, not when she groans an appreciative sound of happiness and lifts the other foot. Her movement is near silly but he catches against her heel and tugs the other shoe off as well, letting both of them thunk to the floor before he lowers her legs back to the couch. One hand takes a stroke against one of her nylon covered calves and she makes another sound up the stretch of her throat that has him arching a glance over her and that same grin goes wider.

Gillian's fingers catch out prying on the fabric of his shirt, tugging him closer to the edge of the couch as her head banks back, swaying with continued sleepiness and bemusement. "Stay with me."

"Where am I goin', huh? Nowhere. Tuck in," he demands, voice churlish and sharp even as he bites down on a grin, watches her wedge into the back of the couch and make room with appreciative eyes.

It's a hell of an invitation, just laying into the safe and innocent heat of her. It's something he hadn't allowed himself for years, hadn't allowed himself to consider actually. But it's his now, right? It's freely offered and given and it's, well fuck, it's Gillian. And despite the fact that, at times, he can actually rely on better judgment... He cannot deny himself this pleasure, this surety.

Not when stretching out on the cushions beside her is the closest to a salvation of sins he's ever gonna get.

"We can't sleep another night on a couch, Cal." She says it as he does his best to curl up on and around her, angling them both up so that they're half facing each other on the couch.

He grunts a sound of utter disregard, waving off the veracity of her argument just to further enjoy the pleasure of how warm and solid and curving her hip is pressed so tightly into his crotch. He wiggles closer, makes a giddy little show of dancing his body closer up and over and around her and it near immediately brings on the desired effect, has her the nearest to girlish giggling she ever actually gets. The sound of it is a balm to him, a warm benediction of sorts.

"Gonna watch me sleep?" she asks into the scruff on his jaw.

He lifts the free shoulder in a lazy shrugging while his hand is shifting hers, drawing her palms curled and up into his chest. "Might do."

Gill gives up a snort, a puff of breath against his ear that makes the entire back of his neck tense up in a pleasurable sensation. "Freak."

"What's that say 'bout you then?" Cal asks quietly, conversationally and nearly lacking in attention as she threads one thigh between his and rubs their legs closer into a warm tangle. "Eh, love?"

"Questionable judgment."

A broad chuckle of honest amusement that he can't contain comes off him, unconsciously nodding agreement with her sharp assessment before he turns his jaw down and catches her glance. "Anythin' else?"

She makes a quick sound of agreement, her eyes gone more brilliant than blue as she smiles. "Accent fetish."

"Oh, really? And then what?"

A thoughtful hum passes her lips as she rubs her cheek closer against him. "And I love your stupid face."

"Excellent," he murmurs, palm wiping down over her eyes to shut them as he lays his lips onto her forehead. "Go back to sleep now."