Title: Grumpy Old Men
By sexyspork
Fandom: CSI Miami
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Slash, language, fluff out the wazoo
Pairing: Eric/Ryan, misc. others
Summary: Almost everyone, except for Alexx who was still an ME with the MDPD and the only real ally two troublemakers like Eric and Ryan had left, had already retired.
Once upon a time, I told myself that I wouldn't watch CSI: Miami; LV and NY were enough for me, after all. Then I recently caught a few eps on A&E, so I told myself, "watching is okay, but don't touch the pretties, I have enough fandoms and I want to keep with Will/Sam (Transformers) for the time being".
Well... I lied.
And I totally wasn't lured by the idea of Eric as a retiree.
--
When the concept of handing in their badges and guns first came up, Ryan really couldn't talk (coherently, at least) as he was drugged to the gills and Eric was so spitting mad that macabre bets ran around the ER staff about when exactly his heart would give out. Luckily, both made it out of the hospital and home intact, the reaming Alexx gave Ryan not withstanding.
It wasn't the first time they faced a close call, but this was... different, and Eric couldn't understand why. So as he ran gun-calloused fingers over the bandage on Ryan's temple (toodamnclose!), he wondered what they were still doing. Almost everyone, except for Alexx who was still an ME with the MDPD and the only real ally two troublemakers like Eric and Ryan had left, had already retired.
Horatio had been given a forced retirement years ago, and though he was still called upon as a consultant, everyone knew he'd continue to work with law enforcement until the day he died (Eric hazard to guess that his sunglasses were his Dorian Gray-esque portrait, because the man just wouldn't die). Calleigh has moved to Louisiana with Jake to be closer to her father before his death, and Jake had retired while Calleigh was now permanently assigned to the lab. And Natalia had left after Frank had been killed in the line of duty, the loss of a husband almost too much to bear.
So he brought up the topic to his partner of some twenty plus years, and the resulting argument ensured that neither would talk to the other for two days.
Alexx wasn't pleased.
--
A month passed, and this time, it was Ryan who cautiously broached the topic.
They managed to go a whole hour before their tempers caught up with them.
--
The third time certainly wasn't the charm, as Eric had poured them liberal amounts of whiskey and made sure the love of his life was well soused before trying again. He knew this was something they should have discussed a long time ago, especially when Eric started on the downward slide to the big 5-0; because as much as he hated to admit it, his memory wasn't what it used to be (fucking bullet) and it just felt like an exercise in futility when he tried to keep up with the younger officers.
And Eric knew he wasn't the only one feeling the strain, because time and again he'd find Ryan hunched over, fingers pressing into the ridge over his eye, knuckles white from the pain. Those days they'd crawl into bed, shades shut and lights off, and Eric would curl around the other man as they both waited for the migraine to pass.
So he knew he had to do something, for both of their sakes, and if it took to making Ryan drunk enough to sign a contractual agreement, well… he'd had no problem doing it. Sleeping on the couch was a bitch for his back, but everything would turn out right in the long run.
--
Once they started the ball rolling, it was like everything fell neatly into place, and Eric was sure someone higher up had been waiting for this day for a long time; they were the last of Cap. Horatio Caine's team, and had managed to cause more "incidences" combined than anyone else in all the history of the MDPD. Ryan just told him to stop being paranoid, because they had both put in over twenty-five years of service, the minimum for retirement, and for the first time in a long time, things were looking up.
Because as much as he loved his job, Ryan was the one he had devoted his life too, and Eric wasn't about to loose him.
--
"What do we do now?"
Eric blinked for a moment and then looked down at the man sitting between his legs. From the tense shoulders, this was something that had been bothering Ryan for a while, so Eric pulled him closer until he relaxed fully against the older man.
"What do you mean?" He replied, nuzzling the soft skin behind Ryan's ear before kissing the ("Minimally, damnit!" Ryan bellowed at him for the hundredth time) receding hairline. Wolfe's salt and pepper hair glowed in the dying sun, and the sight was far more enjoyable than the water before them.
"What do we do now?" The younger man looked over his shoulder, eyes just as bright as they were twenty years ago, and Eric couldn't help but give him a tender kiss.
"They call it retirement for a reason." Eric smirked at Ryan's growl. That was almost just like the one he heard in bed this morning. "We can do whatever we want, Doctor."
"Ass." An elbow jabbed Eric in the stomach, though because of slight paunch he just couldn't seem to get rid of, it was more annoying than painful. Hmph. At least he still had all his hair.
"Watch it, Wolfe, I know where you sleep." He grinned at the echoing snort of laughter. "And you could always teach at the Academy. They'd love to have you, but…"
He trailed off prompting Ryan to quirk an eyebrow in silent inquiry.
"We still have a good twenty or thirty years, yeah? So we don't have to make decisions now."
The smile that crossed Ryan's face was bright, reminding Eric of all the time they had spent together. And he was grateful for every single one of those moments, good and bad.
"You just want to laze around and torture the snowbirds."
Eric's grin was feral.
"That too."
--
Because I can see Ryan and Eric being an old married couple for years 'n years.
Floridian slang, "snowbird" is our term for northerners. They're crazy and wear socks with flip-flops. And complain about the heat.
This is self-betaed, so please feel free to point out mistakes.
sporkie