I'll just have to tell myself lies

Hi everyone, I'm 2BlckBlt. I was a major House fan fiction writer for a long time, but decided to make the jump to CSI Miami. I have fallen in love with the Eric/Calleigh pairing. Let me know how I did! XOXO!

I'll just have to tell myself lies. She isn't beautiful. Her accent, it doesn't make me crazy. And her personality, well, it isn't unlike any other woman's I know. Bright and caring, but with a steel core to keep her strong. No, she isn't. No she doesn't. I am going to have to tell myself lies.

"Eric, you didn't tell anyone about me trying on that veil did you?"

"No, of course not. You asked me not to."

"Okay, good. But people keep looking at me and smiling."

"Don't guys at the lab always smile at you?"

"Well, there is you, and maybe Ryan…Oh! And Horatio!"

Calleigh couldn't resist teasing him. She knew about his crush on her. Everyone did. But it was just a passing thing. Eric didn't do relationships. Not with blonde hair-green eyed girls.

"Horatio smiles at you?!"

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you were jealous Eric."

"Of Ryan? He's probably still considered jailbait in some states!"

"I was actually referring to your reaction to Horatio."

"Oh, um, that. No, 'course not. He's off limits to you anyways. Right?"

The last part was more of a squeak than an actual word. Eric knew it immediately too, his voice hadn't reached octaves that high since he was, well, jailbait himself.

I'm not jealous of Horatio. And I am certainly not jealous of Ryan. I'll tell myself lies.

"Don't worry Eric. Ryan is too young and Horatio is, he is just Horatio."

"There has to be somebody…"

"Why this sudden interest in my love life?"

"We're friends. Don't friends talk about this stuff?"

"Girlfriends talk about this stuff. Natalia, Valera, and I, when we go out and have a few drinks talk about this stuff. You and I? No, we don't talk about this stuff."

What I wouldn't give to listen to those conversations. And see what she is wearing when she is having them. I'll tell myself lies.

"Maybe we should."

"Why? We both know I'm not your type."

"Type? I don't know; I do have a thing for gorgeous women."

"Tell me, how many blonde woman have you dated?"

"I am hoping to be able to say, 'one,' very soon."

"Alright. You've got a night. Make it count."

"Deal. I'll come by at 8."

I am not going to spend the rest of my shift thinking about what Calleigh will be wearing when I pick her up tonight. Or how she will feel in my arms. Or…I'll tell myself lies.

If you took a peek inside Calleigh Duquesne's bedroom at 7:30 you'd think a tornado had hit. One specifically designed to tear apart her closet and dresser drawers, tearing out skirts, tops, bras, panties, flats, stilettos, and jewelry. Yet, know matter how many items came flying out, none made it on to the intended victim. The skirt, it was too long, and shirt apparently had a coffee stain. Don't even get her started on the visible panty lines that would have been going on with the underwear she pulled out at first. And where the hell was that strapless bra?

20 minutes later she was dressed, in a black skirt that came to a few inches above her knee, a black camisole, and a sheer black wrap top, with bright pink and yellow flowers on it. To complete the outfit she added a rose gold rope chain with a pink sapphire, matching earrings and black stilettos.

I am not going to get to Calleigh's early. She will not know how excited and anxious I am. I will not stare at her when she opens the door. And I will remember to be a gentleman. I'll tell myself lies.

Eric knocked on the door five minutes early. Not bad. Only minorly pathetic. Keep telling yourself that, Delko.

"You look…would it be inappropriate to tell a coworker she looks sexy as hell?"

No, she doesn't. I'll tell myself lies.

"At the office, yes, you'd get fired. I'd probably even have to help with the process. Tonight though, thank-you. My bedroom. Not so sexy. Looks like a hurricane came through. Hurricane Calleigh. Winds gusting to the point it may blow in blouses and black pants, and a storm surge of bras and panties."

"You're a regular comedian. Com'on. Natalia says you can dance. I'd love to see you prove it."

"With you?"

"Who else? Some creep who gropes your butt?"

"Point taken. Lets go. Wait—Where are we going?"

"Fuego y Hielo."

"Just how do you plan on getting us in to Fire and Ice?"

"I know the bouncer. Helped prove he wasn't a murderer. Needless to say, he loves me."

"Now I know I'm really not your type."

"Cute Cal. Just get in the car, kay?

"Okay. But only because I like to dance."

Hopefully at what would be considered an inappropriate distance for two people who work together. Damn it Delko. Keep telling yourself those lies. I'll tell myself lies.