The episode Butterflied has always bothered me because, as much as Grissom was thinking about Sara there was this thing going on between him and Catherine too. So this grew in my head as I was watching it the other day. It is not GSR, so if you're reading this with GSR in mind, you'll be disappointed. Please R&R. I'd love to hear what you think.

Gil Grissom sat on the patio, eating yogurt from the refrigerator, an open jar of peanut butter on the table in front of him. He was trying to think through case, the Debbie Marlin case but he was tired and the thoughts just wouldn't come together in his mind.

Catherine Willows, his long time right hand…and left, walked out, taking in his state of weariness. "Feel better?" She asked, concerned about his state. He was tired…and distracted. She sat across from him and continued. "Well, now that we fed you, we should probably talk about a shower."

His look was classic confused Grissom. He hadn't wanted to raid the fridge at the crime scene and now she was talking about a shower. In his state of tiredness, it confused him.

Catherine grinned slightly. "I mean at your place. You need to go home." Her look was full of loving concern as well as amusement at his momentary look of fear and confusion.

His expression changed to reveal that it had registered with him and he appreciated it. He spoke softly, gently in response. "As soon as we find some evidence, I promise."

"With fresh eyes, you won't miss it," she told him, knowing he would ignore the advice.

Grissom set the yogurt container and spoon down on the table in front of him. His weariness permeated his tone as he spoke. "Just talk it through with me, will you? What do we know?"

"All right. The bathroom is where things got started - candles, oils, steam shower, cleaned up, oiled up, sexed up." She answered, conceding defeat on her campaign to get him to go home.

Grissom gave her a thoughtful look. As he listened, his mind conjured the scene…or rather a similar one…in her bathroom, Catherine getting ready for a date…with someone else, another jerk in a long line of jerks… Anyone but him. His weariness fell away momentarily as he responded to her description and his vision. "Let's go back to the bedroom."

Catherine was running the ALS over the bed sheets while Grissom stood on the opposite side of the bed. He lifted the sheet corner. "Nothing on this sheet." They removed the top sheet and she ran the ALS over the bottom sheet.

"She changed her sheets for her date…I would," observed Catherine.

Grissom didn't want to think about Catherine changing her sheets, especially why, so he looked around the bed. His eyes fell on something along the side. He tugged at a red silk scarf tied to the mattress. "Hey, Cath? Got silk?" A brief image of her tying him with the scarf, essentially trapping him in her bed ran through his mind.

Catherine looked down on her other side and found the matching tie. Smiling she replied, "Why, yes, I do." She paused as the image of Debbie Marlin tied to the bed flashed in her mind. "I don't mean to embarrass you, but, um ..." She lifted the sheet away from the foot of the bed. "... some guys need leverage."

She smiled inwardly at Gil's expression as her meaning sank into his brain. "They do?" His surprise at her observation amused her but more than that, it gave her a tiny glimpse of what it might be like to be with him. His surprise told her that he didn't need leverage.

They continued working the case, running down every clue, and had their suspect. Unfortunately, they didn't have the evidence to nail the guy. Finally, Gil and Jim Brass had their man in an interrogation room. Gil sat quietly, listening as Jim fielded the questions. Even in his tired state, Gil knew that Dr. Lurie wouldn't crack. The perp knew they didn't have enough, so all he had to do was wait it out.

Eventually, Jim ran out of questions and Lurie and his attorney got up to leave. That's when Gil made his speech in an effort to connect with the guy… to get him to open up. He spoke from fatigue. He was too tired to measure his words or even control them. They just came out. Lurie ended the interview with "I'm still here…"

Mentally Gil conceded defeat. His next move was to go home. He desperately needed sleep. Arriving at his place, he kicked off his shoes and headed straight to bed. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out.

Gil's dreams were muddled, visions of Catherine mingling with Debbie Marlin, and then morphing into Sara. When he woke, he had a headache. After finding his headache meds and popping one in his mouth, he padded to his kitchen to find some food. The snack from Debbie Marlin's pantry was long gone and he'd only had time to raid the vending machines at PD. His stomach was growling and he suspected his headache had as much to do with hunger as anything.

Brass stopped by a little while later, still agitated over the case. After exchanging their frustrations over not being able to get enough on Lurie to arrest him, Brass cleared his throat and looked at Grissom meaningfully. "You realize Sara was on the other side of the glass, don't you?"

Surprise was plastered on Grissom's face. "What? She heard what I said…damn!"

Brass frowned. "I thought…I mean, you and she… I mean, if you have any feelings for her…"

Grissom groaned. "I don't know what I feel right now. I kept seeing her at the scene, but Debbie looked so much like her…. It was weird, even for me."

"So…you don't have a thing for her?" Brass's question was dripping with confusion.

"I… don't know," Grissom finally stuttered in defeat. "I…there's someone else…has been for a long time but the timing has never been right. Besides, I'm not sure I'd be good for her…a good match. And then Sara keeps getting in the mix and I… I'm just … at a loss."

Brass snickered. "It's always the quiet ones." He paused thoughtfully. "So, this other woman… you love her?" His question was quiet, full of understanding and concern.

"Yeah," Grissom smiled mournfully. "She's… everything to me… friend, sister, mother …everything but lover. I haven't ever told her… but, she is in my dreams and I'm always thinking about her."

"Geez Gil…" Jim Brass furrowed his brow and tilted his head. "So how does Sara fit into all this?"

"I met her when…things weren't looking too good and Sara was … encouraging. It gave me hope that maybe I wouldn't always be alone."

"I thought you liked being alone."

Grissom grimaced. "I did…but then, seeing …this woman … all the time made me realize what I was missing out on, what life could be… and it made me lonely."

Brass looked at his friend speculatively, an idea forming about who this woman could be. "Sounds like you've got some sorting out to do," he said feelingly.

"Yeah," Grissom agreed. "In the meantime…"

"Hey, this conversation never happened," Jim said with a smile. "As far as anyone knows, we were crying in our beer over not being able to make an arrest."

"Thanks Jim," Gil said warmly.

That night Gil Grissom sat at his desk at the Crime Lab. He'd arrived early to finish some paper work and also to collect himself before facing Sara. He had no idea how she would react to his tired speech the night before. She would know she was the younger someone who had come along and given him hope. What she didn't know was why he had been so hopeless in the first place and that in recent weeks, his hopes had been reawakened, but not by her.

"Hey," a silky voice called from his doorway. He felt his body smile before his face ever had a chance to react. Looking up at her, he smiled "Hey."

Catherine Willows sauntered into his space and slid on the corner of his desk. Her slacks were snug fitting, emphasizing the thing he loved most about her body, her tush. He'd watched her swing and sway over the years, always feeling the effects of her motion. He'd done all sorts of crazy things with his hands to keep them off her but occasionally had managed to cop a feel. It was those occasions that had filled his dreams. And now said tush was firmly planted on his desk.

He leaned back in his chair to focus his attention on her face, her eyes being another favorite body part and far less dangerous. Anymore concentration on her tush and he'd be stuck behind his desk for a long time.

She smiled down at him. "Feeling better?"

"Uh…I've slept…and showered," he said with a smirk. "But I am frustrated…"

Her mind was caught in the image of him in the shower when she suddenly caught his last word, frustrated. "Uh…frustrated," she said, amusement flowing through her body.

He smirked again and then an expression she didn't recognize flashed briefly across his features. "Um yeah…that we couldn't nail Lurie."

"Oh yeah…that is disappointing." She looked at him oddly, making him uncomfortable. "What?" he asked defensively.

"You're just being a little weird this morning, even for you."

His eyes widened as he realized he wasn't covering well. "Uh, guess I'm still kind of tired…"

"So let me fix breakfast for you after shift. And then if you're a good boy, I might even tuck you in..." she said as she slid off his desk and eased out of his office.

Gil's jaw dropped as he watched her walk away, his eyes taking in every nuance of her sway and his mind probed the insinuation of her tucking him in. Taking a deep breath, he tried to refocus on the paperwork in front of him but all he could think about was breakfast…and what might be on the menu.

The shift was one of the longest he could remember. Sara was being strange with him, morose and moody. He escaped her angst by pairing her with Nick. He always seemed to cheer her up. In the interest of having a clear head he paired himself with Warrick. Catherine got Greg. He saw Brass a couple of times during the night, although the detective was on the case Sara and Nick had. Brass looked harried and didn't even hint at the morning's conversation, much to Grissom's relief. Finally, morning came and Catherine showed up in his office doorway. "So, your place or mine?"

"Huh?" Gil said as he looked up from his computer screen.

"Breakfast, or have you forgotten already'" she asked mischievously.

"Uh, no…I…." he shuffled his papers into a folder and set them in the center of his desk. "I'm almost ready…just let me…"

"Okay, I'll meet you at the locker room?"

"Uh, yeah…good," he smiled in relief. A huge exhale sounded from him as she turned to walk down the hall.

They decided on his place, since he actually had breakfast makings in his pantry. Catherine started preparations but Gil was soon in the middle of the mix. They worked together well in the kitchen, years of similar mornings giving them practice. The familiarity was not lost on Gil.

They ate quietly, as they often did. Catherine often let him have his quiet, not charging into conversation but letting it evolve as the meal ended. But this morning, she noticed that he was unusually preoccupied. "Tough case?" she asked, trying to get at what was causing his more than usual silence.

"What?" he asked, pulled from his thoughts.

"Was last night a tough case?"

"Uh…no," he said, waving the question off with his hand. "I um…I've had something else on my mind."

She watched as several expressions worked across his face in succession, ending in what she could only think of as a little boy's shyness. "So, what great thought is Gilbert Grissom contemplating this morning?" She was teasing, trying to get his head back in the room.

He looked up at her, his blue eyes piercing hers with sincerity and…was that fear she saw? Her eyebrows shot up as her hand slipped across the table to clutch his one. "What's bothering you, Gil?" Her voice was soft, enticing. And it melted something within him.

"I…the Marlin case…you …"

"Did I do something wrong?" she asked, afraid she had somehow inadvertently made it more difficult.

"No," he answered firmly. "But when you showed back up…it was…like…when we used to work together all the time…before the team got so big and…we began going in different directions."

"We still work together a lot, Gil. Why just last week, I think we had four cases together."

"But, this case was…intense and…"

"Intense…I'll say. The vic looked so much like Sara that I…"

"Yes, she did and it had me thinking…visioning all kinds of things. And then you showed up and…it set things right for me again. You gave me … balance. As you always do," he ended with a smile.

"It's my job. But thanks for noticing," she smiled.

He smiled back. "But… I mean, do you think… could… well, I've been thinking…more like wondering…"

"Just say it Gil. You know you can tell me anything," she cajoled warmly.

"I can, can't I," he smiled. "But then you know me better than anyone else does anyway." She returned his smile and waited to hear what was bothering him. "I know you have this policy about the company pier and all but do you think…I mean, could…would you… have …dinner with me?"

Catherine chuckled. "We eat together all the time Gil. Why is this so hard for….ohhh, you're um asking…" she stammered as his meaning washed over her.

"A date," he finished forlornly. "But if you don't want to…I mean, I understand because of your policy and because…it's me."

Looking at his crestfallen face saddened her. "Why would you say that, Gil?" She asked angrily. "Because it's you…like you think I wouldn't … like any woman wouldn't be pleased to have dinner with you? My god, don't you realize how…how…handsome you are…how attractive… how irresistible women find you?"

He looked at her hopefully. "No. But I don't care what any women want or think…only what one woman thinks… about me…as a man."

Catherine rose from her chair and crossed to him quickly, before he had a chance to withdraw. Then leaning into him she kissed him, full on the mouth.

His look of shock was priceless and Catherine couldn't help smiling. "I um, think I said if you were a good boy, I might tuck you in…"

"You did, didn't you?"

An hour later, as Gil was kissing his way over her body, taking special pleasure in finally caressing her tush as he'd desired for so long, she heard him mumbling as he went. "What are you saying, Gil," she whispered as she writhed beneath his touches.

"Thine head upon thee is like Carmel, …

How fair and how pleasant art thou, O love, for delights!

This thy stature is like to a palm tree, and thy breasts to clusters of grapes.

I said, I will go up to the palm tree, I will take hold of the boughs thereof: now also And the roof of thy mouth like the best wine for my beloved, that goeth down sweetly, causing the lips of those that are asleep to speak."

"I'm a tree?" she asked, mystified. "And my breasts are like grapes? Squishy?"

"It's from the Song of Solomon… And you are like the sweetest wine, you intoxicate me. Sometimes, I can't think when you are around because… all I can think of is…"

She took his hand and guided it over the curve of her tush. "This?" she said with amusement.

Gil groaned and renewed his assault on her body which culminated a few minutes later as they both reached the heights they sought in one another and then collapsed back to Earth and the mattress of his bed.

"So, does this mean we're going steady?" He asked once his breathing had even out.

"Oh, I don't put out for just going steady, mister. This means you're mine, whenever I want you… which is all the time."

Gil's eyes opened wide and then his face softened. "I love you, you know."

She smiled knowingly. "I know. And I love you." Suddenly she got up and began arranging the covers that had been hastily thrown out of their way earlier. Once she was satisfied that everything was arranged correctly, she crawled under them, next to him. As she snuggled into him, he grinned. "Comfortable?" He teased.

"Just keeping my promise to tuck you in," she teased back.

He gently kissed her on the temple and pulled her closer. She purred as her arm wrapped around his torso, claiming him as he wanted her to.

The next night, he and Jim Brass were talking over a cup of coffee. "So, you looked more relaxed," Brass said, a hint of joviality in his voice.

"I sorted things out," Grissom said smugly.

"And the lucky woman is?"

"Hey, Gil… breakfast?" Catherine said from the doorway of the break room.

Jim looked from Catherine to Gil and back at her. Seeing the expressions on their faces, he had his answer. Nodding to himself, a smile of approval settled into his features. Getting up from his chair, he crossed to Catherine and handed her his cup. "Three's a crowd," he said as he left them in the room to themselves.