Stubborn (1/1)

[froglatte]

Title: Stubborn

Author: Me, of course.

Fandom: Lie To Me (Callilan, you guys, CALLIAN)

Rating: G

Disclaimer: Not my characters, not my world, but the pleasure is all mine.

Summary: Cal takes some convincing.

Notes: Ficlet written for Sneezefic Fest 2011, but couldn't get the darn thing to post there! Prompt words: mountain, parallel, pain. This is for my fellow (and maybe ONLY other) Lie To Me fan, catmuffinz. Enjoy!

Gillian Foster stood in the doorway to Cal Lightman’s office, studying him with a mixture of amusement and irritation. He was lying flat on his back, feet crossed comfortably at the ankle, his hands clasped across his chest. She approached as quietly as she could and nudged him gently with one knee, eliciting only a soft grunt in return.

“Oi, Foster, I know it’s you,” Cal said, his voice muffled. “And I have a mountain of paperwork to finish, so if this can wait...”

“Really?” She smiled thinly, tapping one foot. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks very much like you’ve been napping with a file folder across your face.” She lifted a corner of the file and he blinked up at her blearily.

“Appearances can be deceiving,” he said.

“Not in your science, they can’t.” Gillian retrieved the file and paged through it, a frown creasing her forehead. “We closed this case a month ago,” she said, tossing it aside. “What’s wrong with you today, Cal?”

“Sit down,” he said, lifting his legs just high enough for her to slide under. “It’s giving me a headache looking up at you.” He propped his head in one hand after she settled herself next to him. “What makes you think anything’s wrong?”

“Okay, first of all, that was deflection,” she said. “And more concerning, you didn’t tell Loker exactly what he could do with his 41-page report on coding the facial expression of pain in laboratory mice.”

“I thought Torres handled that ably.” He groaned and ran a hand over his face, giving a series of pitiful-sounding sniffles. “Have any tissues on you?” he asked.

“Here.” She reached over the arm of the couch and tossed a box to him. “You’re still avoiding the question.”

Cal caught the box neatly and levered himself into a sitting position. He barely had time to grab a handful of tissues before he folded forward with a harsh, wet sneeze.

“Gesundheit,” she said.

“Thank you,” he said, blowing his nose. “And don’t look so smug.” He crumpled the tissues and held them out to her.

“You can’t be serious.”

He shrugged and chucked them in the direction of the coffee table, dropping his head wearily into his hands.

“Honestly, Cal,” she said. “You don’t look well.”

He gave her a sidelong glance. “Flatterer.”

“I mean it.” She placed a hand gently on the back of his neck. “You’re sick. Go home and rest.”

“I can’t,” he groaned, running his hands through his hair. “I go absolutely bonkers at home with nothing to do.”

“Then go home and drink,” she said.

He turned toward her so suddenly that Gillian gasped. Grabbing her by the arms, he pulled her close, until they were nearly nose to nose.

“That’s my girl,” he said in a low voice. “You gonna join me?”

“Not a chance,” she said. “And If you infect me, I swear, once you’re feeling better I will beat you within an inch of your life.”

“Promises, promises, darling.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You just realized that?” Cal released her arms and flopped his head against the back of the couch. “I’m not going home. End of story. Find someone else to coddle.”

“I don’t know if you realize,” she said. “But there’s this odd parallel between how lousy you feel and how adamantly you insist on not being coddled.”

“If ever I was not in the mood for your psychobabble, Foster...” He was interrupted by another violent sneeze. “Bless me,” he muttered. “This is my business,” he insisted, when Gillian remained stubbornly silent. “I can’t just skive off, even when I’m ill.”

“You can, and you will,” she said firmly. “It’s our business, Cal. And I’m telling you to get out of here before you make all of us sick.”

He regarded her for a moment. “Excellent point.” He stood slowly and retrieved his jacket from the back of the couch.

“Of course it’s an excellent point,” Gillian said, rising with him. “I made it.”

Cal stuffed his hands into his pockets and shivered. She draped his striped scarf around his neck and gave him a quick, affectionate peck on the cheek. “I’ll drop by later to check on you.”

“Don’t bother. Em will be home and I don’t need the both of you clucking around me like broody old hens.” He began walking toward the door and then turned back to her. “Do me a favor, Foster?”

She nodded. “Anything.”

“Would you tell Loker for me exactly what he can do with his mouse study?”

She smiled. “My pleasure.”

[Tarkus]

Tim Roth...andAND...CALLIAN...

Eeee! I'm so gonna go rewatch some Lie to Me goodness now!

Your writing and description are breathtaking and I LOVE the scenario you've written out! I've read this at least five times and every time I reread it I find some new, sexy, little nuance

Thank you SO MUCH!!!!!

[ichixshiro14]

What a great start, thanks for sharing!

[Sierra]

ahh, so spot on, love how you've captured their banter and Cal's Britishisms and attitude. I enjoyed this, thanks for sharing!

[gingerbreads]

Soooo cute, I adore tim roth ❤️