Perfect
Stetler flipped over on the mattress, his arm reaching out and limply slapping against the snooze bar of his alarm clock. Groaning softly, he nuzzled his face into the cooler side of his pillow. He lazily reached up and slid the window shut over his bed, shivering as the crisp and cool autumn wind breathed in their last until he slept again. Rubbing the sleep crust out of his eyes, he looked over to his clock.
6:02
His cell was charging on the nightstand on top of a paperback copy of 1984 and last month's Psychology Today. The little green light on the phone blinked at him. Curious, Rick reached over and pulled up his messages. It was just a note from himself that he had put on a timer.
Damn. When is West going to get back to me on that Delko thing?
He pulled up the message, the expression of irritation melting into one of peace.
"at approximately 6:30 pm – one year anniversary"
His dark eyes shone, catching the light from the dawn. The words 'one year' were read over and over. Everything that those two words implied rang with him. Still honeymooning. Still madly in love. Still innocent.
Wow… just a year? And it feels like it's been a lifetime. Maybe it has been. A new lifetime. Oh God. How did everything go right that day?
He reached over and clicked off the alarm setting before lying the phone back down and sliding off of bed. A small shiver ran down his bare body before he reached down and grabbed his robe off the floor.
Nothing can go wrong today. He thought as he padded over to the bathroom. The universe is going to give me one perfect day a year, and it shall be November 15th.
After doing his business, he walked over to the shower. An empty bottle of shampoo sat on the edge, a forgotten visual reminder to go out and buy some more. Rick picked it up and after confirming that it couldn't get much emptier, he tossed it in the garbage.
Hey, I should use that stuff Molly gave out after her vacation.
He opened the cabinet and pulled out a small green bottle. As he took his shower he noticed how sweet and calming the scent was. Maybe he'll order some later.
After his shower he pulled on all his favorite clothes. Favorite boxers, favorite suit, favorite silk shirt… sure that was a little odd, but he really liked it. He admired himself in the mirror as he secured his favorite bright pink tie. Considering he just grabbed a bunch of clothes he liked, it all came together very nicely.
Nearly bouncing down the stairs, he waltzed into the kitchen and opened his refrigerator. He pulled out a bagel, stopping when he noticed the little green fuzzy dots decorating it. The bagel went in the garbage. He checked the freezer, but all he had in there were some frozen mozzarella sticks, frozen pizza, and ice. There was a box of Total on top of the fridge. Crumbs. The box went in the garbage. Rick's eyes scanned over his kitchen until his eyes finally fell on a small bunch of yellow bananas.
I know! I'll make that banana thing Grandma used to make Claire and I.
His mind played with the sounds that made up the phrase "Claire and I" as he cut the banana into a cereal bowl. The banana peels went in the trash. Rick poured milk onto the banana pieces and then several heaping spoons of sugar onto all that. He was so excited about eating it for the first time in decades that he didn't even sit down or hold still. It surprised him that he forgot how good it was.
After tilting the bowl to his lips and drinking down the last of the sugar milk, he dumped the dishes into the sink, grabbed his keys, double checked his pockets for his phone and wallet, and danced out the door.
oOoOo
Molly and Jeremy watched as Rick strutted across IA. He decided to put a cap on the dancing around while at work. There was plenty of time to do that during his lunch break.
"You're almost a half hour late," Jeremy noted. "What happened?"
Rick shrugged. "Traffic jam".
Molly cocked her head. "For a half hour? That's intense".
"It was awesome," he grinned. "It was foggy, so I got a really beautiful view of the skyline. Then I put on 'In A Gagga Da Vida', because I rarely have the time to enjoy it. That's really a beautiful piece of work. So is 'Stairway to Heaven'. I've been way too busy; everyone should set aside some time to listen to larger classic rock pieces. Probably why I've been so uptight. I think I'll listen to Pink Floyd on the way home… or right now".
The two other IAB agents exchanged glances as Rick pulled out his mp3 player, and stuck an ear-bud in. Odd sounds mumbled from the unused ear-bud as a calm and thoughtful expression crossed Rick's face.
"Ricky," Molly smirked, "exactly how much coffee have you had today?"
"Or what exactly have you been drinking?" Jeremy added with a smile.
"No coffee. Just milk," Rick shrugged, forgetting himself and bouncing over to his office. "Oh! But I did find some Kit-Kats I forgot about in the back seat of my car. Don't give me that look. I bought them three days ago, tossed them back there, and forgot. I love Kit-Kats, don't you? Chocolate is so amazing. You know it releases endorphins? I think that's nifty".
The last few sentences were lost when Rick closed his office door behind him and kept babbling on.
oOoOo
Rick sat in the interview chamber, examining his voice recorder. Apparently the phrase "Hello from Seattle" was written on it next to the model number. He had no idea how he hadn't noticed it before, but it amused him now.
He looked up as he heard the door start to open.
"This is a witch hunt, Stetler," Eric Delko growled as he stood across from him. "What do you want this time?"
"You know that I need to investigate every time shots are fired," Rick assured him as he set the recorder down, turning it so he could read the "Hello from Seattle".
"I know you want to take down CSI. Just to get back at Horatio. He's just better than you, get over it".
"Then let's made this short, quick, and to the point so you can get back to the labs". He turned on the recorder. "Please describe the dock shootings in your own words, CSI Delko".
"I exited the Harbor View Lounge to investigate an odd smell. Once I got onto the docks-"
"-Did you investigate this alone and describe the smell".
"That's not important".
"Protocol says that you need a second officer with these sorts of situations. And it's my understanding that CSIs don't commonly investigate based on any odd smell".
"It was a cigar," Eric growled, "and leave Ryan out of this".
Delko curled his lips when he did this, drawing attention to them. Rick looked them over closely as he pressed on.
"I didn't say that CSI Wolfe had anything to do with this. I'm sure it's not his fault that you threw yourself into a dangerous situation". What is that? Is he wearing lip gloss? They're glittery. "Are you having some relationship issues? I know that has been a factor for you in the past".
"Leave Ryan and Calleigh out of this".
"A distracted mind can impair judgment is all I'm saying". He's wearing lip gloss. There's no way that's not lip gloss. "For the good of the department, should the evidence you collected be looked over by someone from IA?"
"No!"
That's lip gloss… just don't laugh.
Rick tried not to look at Eric's lips as he kept going. "Alright. Go on with your account".
"You know what, Stetler? You're why people don't trust cops and why cops don't trust IA".
Don't laugh at the lips.
"You just see the worst in everyone and that's why nobody can stand you".
No laughing at the shiny lips.
"You're a joke. I don't know who you fucked to get promoted to Lieutenant, but it shouldn't have happened".
You want a joke? Look at your lips.
"I remember when you tried to pin the smallest screw-up on my sister. For both me and H. Well, she's dead. Are you happy now?"
Okay, now you really can't laugh. He'll kill you.
"When she died, my world fell apart! And you just kept treating things like they're your stupid little investigations!"
Whatever you do, don't laugh.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you!"
Don't look at him. "Mr. Delko," Rick said to the table, "please, go on with your account of the events that happened this afternoon".
"You don't care".
No laughing. "The events of 2006 have little to do with this investigation. And did you ever go in for psychiatric counseling?"
"I don't need counseling".
Deep breath now. Calm down. "So, you went outside?"
"Yes. I approached the dock and was detected by a gunman".
He probably saw your lips shining in the sun.
Rick coughed and covered his mouth. "G-go on".
"He fired, but missed me. I ducked behind a dumpster before firing".
Calm down, stop wanting to laugh. "Did you call for back up?"
"No need, he was unconscious with the first shot".
I bet he was distracted by big glistening- "-And that's the subject Michael Brooks, who is currently is a coma at Miami General?"
"That was the suspect, yes".
Okay. That's enough fun. "And then what?"
"I called the ambulance and investigated to see if he was alone".
There we go. Enough of this laughing in church. "Were you alone?"
"No. Ryan was with me".
His rod and his staff, they comfort y- "-Then?"
"The ambulance came, I called Calleigh out to process the scene, and you started your stupid investigation".
Deep breaths. No laughing. "Thank you, Delko". Rick turned off the recorder.
"And you successfully held up another actual investigation," Eric growled, standing up.
Shiny lips!
Rick guffawed, covering it as a cough as he got up. "We'll see, Mr. Delko".
"Get bent".
oOoOo
Rick was in his car again, this time heading towards Coral Gables. He was still on a pretty damn good mood that nothing could knock him down from. He was enjoying all the little things, he was comfortable, and he had to admit that he looked almost sexy in the outfit he assembled and fluffy hair he acquired. On a whim, he pulled over at the first flower shop he saw.
A dozen roses. A dozen roses for November 15th.
The door gave a happy little 'ding' as he pushed it open. He half-danced and half-bounced in. If he would have seen himself he would have described his disposition as sickening. But he was having too much fun to care.
"Sir? Can I help you?"
Ha ha ha! Nobody is in a better mood than I am! "I'm looking for roses".
The clerk bit her lip. "I'm sorry, sir, but we sold out of roses yesterday and don't get any new ones until tomorrow".
"Well… I guess I don't need roses. I'll just look around".
"Alright. Sorry about the inconvenience".
"It's okay". I'll just find something better.
Rick walked around the store slowly. There was a pretty little strawberry plant that caught his eye. There was also a potted sensitive plant that was amusing. But damn, roses are so perfect. It would be too obvious that he didn't find any roses.
Maybe they have some at the grocery store. They have that floral section. I'll just buy one.
A little let down, he brought the strawberry and sensitive plants to the counter, already wondering what would happen if he could breed them. As he set them down he saw a small display case with a bouquet of carnations.
"How much for a dozen carnations?"
"Fifteen dollars. Would you like some?"
"Yeah, I'll take a dozen".
"Alright. What color?"
"Green".
oOoOo
Horatio was cutting the grocery store's rotisserie chicken when there was a soft knock at the door. He smiled to himself as he quickly gave his kitchen a once-over, hoping that dinner would be acceptable. A little nervous, although he wasn't sure why, he pulled his jacket back on and answered.
"It's been too long," the redhead smiled. "We have to see more of each other".
Rick smiled and ducked his head, the potted plants in both hands and a bouquet of eleven green carnations tucked under his arm, the twelfth tucked neatly into the buttonhole of his lapel. "Hi, Horatio".
The CSI stepped aside, letting Rick in. "May I help you with your plants?"
"They're yours," Stetler said bashfully as he set the sensitive plant down on an end table in the living room. As he drew his hand away he accidently brushed it, making half the plant fold up on itself. The bouquet found itself in Horatio's hands.
"You didn't have to do all this, Rick. We agreed that we didn't want anything big".
"I've just been in a good mood today," the younger man shrugged, walking into the kitchen and setting the strawberries down on the counter. "I wanted to get you roses. You deserve roses. What was I thinking? I should really go out and buy you a doz-"
"-Rick," Horatio chuckled, "the carnations are fine… and historically quite fitting". He pulled a vase out of the cupboard, filled it halfway with water and put ten of the carnations in. The eleventh he secured to his own lapel. "I like them".
"Really?"
The redhead nodded before stepping in towards Rick and pulling him in to an embrace. "I'm just happy to see you on our anniversary. I've… I've really just had a horrible day. First with the traffic, then with Eric and…" he sighed, "but you don't want to hear about that. It's all better now, anyways".
Rick gently kissed Horatio's forehead. "I'm sorry about your day".
"I'm fine now. Forget about it. How was yours?"
"Because of you: perfect in every way".
The CSI chuckled before letting go of Rick and gathering the food onto the table. They sat down, flowers beside them. "Tell me, Rick. How was today?"