A/N: Sooo, finally managed to finish my Secret Santa fic. I had Dana (DNAisUnique), who requested a snowstorm where the power goes out and Cal and Gillian are stuck. I also threw in her request that Cal wear glasses, so, you know, two birds and all that. ;) Hope you like it! Happy holidays, Dana!

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We leave traces of ourselves wherever we go, on whatever we touch.
- Lewis Thomas

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Since coming into his life, Gillian Foster had left several marks all over it, in indelible ink. Every time he saw or heard the words "pudding" or "slushie", he thought of her. Every time he saw the color pink, he remembered that it made her happy. Whenever he heard the name Sophie, he thought of what a wonderful mother she'd made for that short time, and what a wonderful mother she would be someday.

Indeed, everything she touched, both literally and figuratively, seemed to become a coveted entity. Now, here she was, in his house, touching his remote, neatly folding the blanket on the back of his couch, twirling his pen between her fingers, sipping from his wine glass, leaving the scent of her perfume wherever she went. She was everywhere, all the time, making it impossible for him to even breathe without thinking of her.

Not that he didn't love it.

He did. He relished every bit of it, right down to the lipstick marks on her glass. It was a contributing factor to his suggestion that they work at his place that day. It was Saturday, and the rest of the Lightman Group had the day off, but the work never ceased for Cal. At least, not when he had the chance to spend the day with Gillian, alone and uninterrupted.

Emily was at a friend's for the night, and Cal swore to himself that this was it. This was the day he was finally going to tell Gillian exactly what he was feeling…more or less. Funny that a man of so many words had such difficulty finding the right ones to say to a woman he loved so dearly.

"You nearly finished?" Cal asked, peering over his glasses at Gillian, who was sitting pretzel-legged on the floor, their case file spread out around her.

"Not yet," she told him without looking up, chewing on the end of his pen.

"Oi, woman, quit slobberin' all over my pen! That's an expensive one, that is!" he joked, pretending to be massively upset at the prospect of losing his $3 writing utensil. In reality, he was quite jealous of the pen.

Gillian simply rolled her eyes in response. Cal grinned.

They worked in comfortable silence for the next half hour, Gillian handing Cal papers without taking her eyes off what she was doing, Cal stealing glances at her every so often. He was about to suggest they take a food break when the lights flickered. A moment later, the power went out completely.

"What the—" Cal said, looking around. "Bollocks," he muttered, glancing out the window at the snowfall that had by now escalated into a full-on blizzard. "Looks like you're stuck here, love," Cal said apologetically, though inwardly, he was celebrating.

Gillian's nose wrinkled, "Well," she pondered, "At least now I've got a logical reason to ask for hot cocoa, right?" she asked with a hopeful grin.

Cal laughed, "Darling, forgive me, but since when do you ask?" he teased, walking with her into the kitchen.

Twenty minutes later, they were still without power, but they hardly noticed it. Gillian was huddled beneath a blanket on the couch, and Cal had put on a sweatshirt and was sitting beside her, she with her cocoa, and he with his Earl Grey. "I'll never understand how you can drink that bloody stuff," Cal told her.

"It happens to be delightful, thank you. I'll never understand you Brits and your need for tea," she teased back, grinning at him over her mug.

"It happens to be good for you," he retorted with a smirk.

"So is hot cocoa," she replied adamantly. "It releases your inner child. Maybe if you weren't such a Mr. Grumpy Gills…"

"Did you really just quote Finding Nemo at me?"

Gillian grinned proudly, "The fact that you know which movie that's from tells me that your inner child is still in there, desperately trying to claw his way out of your tough, British exterior."

"Don't psychoanalyze me, woman," he quipped, unable to quit smiling. She was the only woman to ever have that kind of effect on him. Even when he didn't feel like smiling, around her, he couldn't help himself.

"I'll do as I please," she asserted in jest, her eyes seeming to sparkle even more than usual.

Cal caught the innuendo in her tone, and hoped to god he wasn't off in his assumption that it was time to make his move. "You know, love, I'm a bit chilly," he proclaimed.

"And what, you wanna share my blanket?" she asked in amusement.

"My blanket, love," he corrected her with a grin, scooting closer.

"Don't you remember who gave it to you?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Course I do. Still makes it mine, though," he murmured, pulling half of it over his legs and leaning in closer to her, invading her space in every way possible.

"Cal," she objected, in almost a whisper.

"Gillian," he mimicked her tone, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth, despite his nervousness. "I'm happy to be stuck with you," he said, reciting the lyrics of the song they always joked was 'theirs'. It seemed quite appropriate for their current situation.

Gillian let out a gentle laugh, "Just now, or in general?"

"I think you know the answer to that, love," he said softly, leaning in a bit further.

In that moment, Gillian made her most indelible mark yet on Cal. Closing the space between them, her lips claimed their territory, leaving behind traces of her lipstick. Leaving behind the taste of her on his tongue.

Gillian went on to leave many more marks that night, most of which were not visible or known to anyone but Cal himself, but he was more than happy to keep that little secret.

He was very much looking forward to the next blizzard.

Fin.