AN: Talk:CSI Valentines Day challenge. A black eye, someone burns someone (accidentally, repeatedly or badly) and a strange smell where what I had to include.
And this is fluff. Seriously, I have written fluff. This needs to go on a wall of remembrance or something…
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Calleigh stirred her coffee thoughtfully, tipping in a spoonful of sugar. She inhaled deeply, thanking God she knew where Eric hid the good coffee, she'd always hated that instant stuff. She wondered, briefly, why she knew. No one else did, it was a secret he'd imparted only to her. Pushing that thought from her mind, she selected a magazine off the stand, one of those celebrity gossip ones; she normally stayed away form those now. She turned, eyes fixated on the title: "Skinny/Fat Celebs", and collided head on with a hot but solid object that let out an inarticulate cry as she splashed her coffee over it.
"Jesus, Calleigh!"
"God, Eric! I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" Calleigh asked, quickly running a cloth under cold water and pressing it to his scolded arm. "Eric, I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it," she smiled tightly, wincing as the cloth touched his hot arm. "I didn't mean to scare you."
"Well next time don't stand behind be all silent like that. It's not smart," she scolded, lifting the material to check his skin. It wasn't blistered, just a minor burn as far as she could tell. "You'll live," she concluded, reaching for his hand so he could hold the compress himself.
"Easy for you to say, you're not the one with the burnt arm!" he complained, obviously wanting her sympathy.
"Scolded," she corrected, smiling when she heard him click his tongue. "And I said I was sorry."
He merely smiled, shaking his head in disbelief. "How is it I can never stay mad at you?"
"My charming personality?" she offered jokingly, blushing when he nodded as though it was obvious.
She moved to her original destination, plonking herself down on the couch. He followed suit, still holding his arm as though it was going to fall off. Eric pouted at her, fluttering his eyelashes until she sighed.
"What do you want?" she asked. "Or am I gonna regret asking?"
"What are you doing today?" he asked, leaning his elbow on the back of the couch, his 'bad arm' still cradled against his stomach.
"Today? Well, I'm off this afternoon, figured I'd catch up on paperwork or something." she responded. A great way to spend Valentines Day, but she wasn't complaing, not really. The alternative was to spend it at home. Alone. Remembering the fact she was by her self this year. Again.
He was still silent, she noticed. "What about you?" she asked, wondering if she really wanted to know the answer. Could she be happy if he said he was spending the day with someone? The night?
"Me? Ah, I gotta hot date with Crystal," he said, chuckling softly.
Oh. Apparently, no, she couldn't be happy.
"That's nice," she forced out. Turning her attention to her half-empty cup of coffee. It wasn't 'half-full' right now. "How come you've never mentioned Chrissie before? You normally tell me about your girlfriends."
"Crystal," he corrected, frowning a little. His hand reached out to her chin, forcing her face around until she met his eyes. "My boat."
"Right," she breathed out, closing her eyes with embarrassment. He was kind enough to ignore the blush that crept over her face and neck.
"Why don't you come with me?" he offered, maintaining eye contact. His sore arm lay forgotten; he moved it now without complaint as his eyes bored holes into hers.
"I don't know, Eric." Spending Valentines Day with her best friend was normal. Yes. But this was Eric Delko. Was that normal? No. Did she have feelings for him? Yes. Was that allowed? No.
"Come on, Cal. No point us both moping around," he joked, poking her lightly. "Plus, you do anymore paperwork and the Brazilian rainforest's gonna have a problem."
She was silent for a moment, contemplating his words. "As long as you promise not to make me go diving!" she conceded, pointing a finger at him with her order.
"Snorkeling?" he offered, knowing she loved to do that. She'd never done it before, despite having lived close to the water for such a long time. Then, one day, Eric came along, dragged her out to sea (a rented boat called Lucia, this time), and showed her the wonders of the water.
"Okay," she giggled, giving in to his puppy-dog eyes. Damn that man. "I'll have to pick up some things though."
"I can be at yours in about an hour? I just came in to fax though some evidence." He indicated the manila folder he had placed on the coffee table.
"Sure thing."
/---/
He knocked twice, twirling his keys in his hand nervously. Eric couldn't quite wrap his mind around it. He was spending Valentines Day with Calleigh Duquesne. Granted, she thought it was just a friendly day out. But, if he had his way, she wouldn't be able to deny what she'd been skirting around for years.
He loved her, he knew that. And he knew she loved him too. But the issue was always there: denial. Neither of them could face that risk. At least, that's what he was thinking. Eric hoped he'd read her right. He didn't think he could cope if she rejected him.
She answered moments later, face slightly red and her breathing erratic. "Come in, come in," she rushed out, motioning him inside before running off again. "I'll be right with you."
He sniffed the air with trepidation as he walked through her door. "Cal? What's that smell?" It didn't smell like Calleigh's place normally smelled. There was no soft vanilla mixed with a hint of fruit. No, it smelt… strange.
"My AC's playing up again. I think it's burning out this time," she hollered from the other room. "I called my Super, he said he'd come up."
She popped her head back around the door. "Will I need anything special for our little trip?"
"Just you," he smiled, voice light. "Oh, and bring sunscreen." Last thing he wanted was her burnt as well. His poor arm was still throbbing.
Together, they drove to the beach in amicable silence punctuated by Calleigh's complaints about her air conditioning unit, and the countless times she'd asked her building Super to take a look at it. He merely smiled, nodding along, content to listen to her ramblings.
Crystal sailed merrily out to sea, the breeze ruffling the towels on board and pushing soft waves up against her sides. Eric deftly swerved her around rocks and sand banks until they were far enough out to see some of Miami's finest fish.
He glanced to Calleigh, immediately averting his vision as he saw her rubbing in her sunscreen on her legs. He couldn't look at that for too long, not when he wanted this date to be a success. Date? Technically, no. It was only a date if both sides knew about it. But, for now, Eric was happy to play make-believe.
As he pulled the boat to a stop, Calleigh wandered over to him. "We stopping here?" she asked, moving to look over the side of the boat. He smiled, as much as she complained when he wanted to take her out; he knew she loved the water.
"Yeah, see that rise at the bottom?" he asked, pointing to a slightly shallower patch of water. She nodded softly, squinting in the sun. "It's gonna be warmer there, we'll see more fish."
She nodded again, resting her hand on his arm so she could lean over and trail her fingers though the water. He was mesmerized; her hair shone brightly, her eyes sparkled. He knew then why most boats and galleons had female figureheads; he never wanted her to step off. It was all he could do not to reach over and kiss her. Instead, he pulled her back up: gesturing to the snorkeling equipment he'd pilfered from the shore front lodge, he wandered over to them himself. Eric was well known to the workers there and, since he'd bought his boat, he'd been spending more and more time down at the beach.
They kitted up, Calleigh laughing about how silly they both looked. Eric hadn't noticed, couldn't have noticed. Not when his eyes were focused on the way her lips wrapped around the mouthpiece.
He pushed her gently when she dangled her legs into the water hesitantly. She shot him an evil glare. "Don't rush me," she said, removing the mouthpiece. He rolled his eyes jokingly and she kicked some water at him, wincing when she realized she was probably scaring away fish. Calleigh finally plopped into the water, careful not to splash too much, and he quickly followed her in.
"Okay, now come over here," he told her, swimming softly towards the rise. She slowly made her way over, appearing a little nervous at the fish. It was the same dance, each time he took her out it took her ages to get into the swing of it. It could take him up to an hour to convince her that the fish weren't going to eat her.
He pointed out a small fish, and they both popped their heads under water, watching the little blue fish swim about happily. It was so relaxing under water; it was why he loved it so much. No sound. Just him, nature and the woman he loved. He watched her, the look of astonishment at the tiny fish making him smile around his snorkel.
He was distracted by another fish for mere moments but suddenly, his vision went black.
/---/
She'd watched the little blue fish swim away, already picking out the next one to arrive. They were so beautiful, but somehow, they still made her nervous. She knew they wouldn't hurt her, couldn't hurt her. They were tiny! But still, they could have teeth. She turned underwater to see him, noticing him distracted by another blue fish but, as she moved to follow him, her world slowed down.
Slime. Wet, horrid, slime was wrapped around her leg. She thrashed her legs trying to get whatever the hell it was off her body. She flipped in the water, her snorkel tube filing with liquid causing her to splutter. She let it go, not noticing it flow to the surface as she was too busy trying to disentangle herself from the horrid slime. Calleigh felt a presence next to her and, on instinct, lashed out with her right hand, colliding with something hard. For the second time that day.
She knew immediately, turned to see Eric fly backwards. She cringed as his hand went to his eye and he quickly kicked himself to the surface with Calleigh close at his heels.
"Eric, are you okay?" she asked once she'd got her breath back. His hand was still to his eye and he was pulling himself back into the boat.
She boarded, removing her goggles when she saw him do the same. He was bruised; she could see that from where she was. Calleigh kneeled down between his legs as he took a seat on a chair. "Let me see," she murmured, hand coming to move his away. His eyes met hers and she smiled nervously. "I'm sorry, Eric. Again." He chuckled at that, shaking his head. Her fingers traced the impression left by the goggles. "It's gonna bruise," she whispered.
"Don't worry about it," he replied, voice equally as low. "You seem to like hurting me Cal. Is this a dark side to you I don't know about yet?" His 'yet' was a mistake, she could tell by the way his eyes dropped from hers. His comment was meant to be a joke, but she wasn't laughing, and neither was he.
She let her hand drop, not taking her eyes of him. He smiled, she just blinked. Something was happening, they were having what would probably be called a 'moment' and she wasn't letting it go for anything. She'd hold on with both hands if she had to. Eric realized, letting his smile diminish almost as quickly as it had come.
His hands were on her suddenly, fingers lightly playing with the strands of hair at the base of her neck. It was drying now, flyaway curls driving her crazy, would have been if she could focus on anything but his lips. She didn't even try to hide the fact she was overtly staring, just did it anyway, and brought up a finger to trace his bottom one gently.
Eric pulled his head back as though he'd been burned. "I'm sorry," she muttered.
He shook his head, entwining their fingers. The sun was drying the salt on her back but his other hand came to rub it gently, smoothing away some of the moisture left behind. She shivered, despite the hot afternoon sun that was beginning to set and crawled closer to him on her knees.
Calleigh was hardly being subtle; her cheat pressed against his stomach, a hand on his chest the other still caught in his. She knew her eyes were begging, didn't mind, didn't care because she saw the same need and desire reflected in his eyes.
Somehow, through the daze of heat and arousal, she registered their lips were pressed together. He moved softly against her, hand threading though her hair, the other letting her go so he could pull her closer. It was an odd paradox. A perfect paradox. She was lost in him, his taste, the raw sounds she was pulling from the back of his throat; she prayed it wouldn't end.
Strangely, she felt no fear. Just an overwhelming need to keep him with her. She'd hurt him enough, both physically and emotionally, now all she wanted was to soothe away all the hurt she'd caused. This felt right. She wasn't even sure who had made the first move but it didn't matter anymore. Their games and little dances didn't matter. Who snapped first didn't matter. What was that saying? The end justifies the means.
And the end was damn good.
-- Fin --
-- February 12th 2008 --