Gil sipped at his tea and flipped the page of the report he was reading. The dawn light slanting through the window onto the kitchen table painted shadows across the paper and the tiny print. Setting down his cup, Gil laid down the page in his hand and rubbed at his eyes. He leaned back in his chair and his lips twitched at the softest brush of skin upon his shoulder.
A familiar, serene presence seated itself across from him and took a sip from her own tea cup – two sugars and a drop of honey to his teaspoon of milk and single sugar. He always teased her for it, the dominatrix who liked more sweetening than the scientist. She would ignore him utterly but for the slightest upturn at the corner of her mouth.
His phone rang abruptly, shattering their peaceful time, and he almost sighed aloud. Checking the caller, he was unsurprised to see Catherine's name flashing. He stood and moved toward the door, then stilled. Turning on his heel, he strode swiftly around the table and gently grasped her hand, lifting it to his lips with a murmured, "Heather."
Her smile was small but sincere as she watched him pull away. Her voice was clear and kind when she spoke, "It's fine, Gil. Enjoy yourself."
Gil smiled at her. Heather was one of the only people who understood the joy he found in solving crime, no matter how gruesome. As he left, he distinctly heard a hummed tune follow him out and his smile widened. It was their little secret that Heather could sing. She refused to so much as hum unless it was just the two of them. He climbed into his car easily and sped off to the lab.
Flashing his ID, he met up with Catherine and she brought him briskly up to speed. When she was finished, he stopped to think a moment and pretended not to hear her curious, "Grissom, are you humming?"