A/N: This is the first in a series of related one-shots based on the same first line: 'She wakes beside him in the night'. These exist in a world where Ryan and Natalia have gotten together at some point, all though not all will be related to that. There will be at least one each for Eric and Nick. These are in no particular order. Without further ado, I give you Part One.
Oh, and of course I don't own CSI:Miami, or the characters. The writing, however is mine.
Ryan
...
She wakes beside him in the night, blinking as her body emerges slowly from the clutches of sleep, smiles as she takes in the broad shoulders of the man beside her, facing away. He's home.
Today had been her day off, and while they'd spoken at his lunch break, she's used to seeing him throughout the day, and she missed him.
She listens for a moment in the moonlight bathed room, deduces from his breathing that he's still awake and inches closer, pressing her nose into the crease of his spine, feels him wince, startled.
He turns over, covers sliding over his naked torso, dark eyes searching her face for a moment before he speaks, barely above a whisper and full of warmth. "Hello."
A grin tugs at her lips, and she leans in for a chaste kiss. "Hi."
"Did I wake you?" His voice is rough with fatigue.
She shrugs. Hint of a smile. "I don't know. Maybe. Did you just get home?"
He nods, finds one of her hands with his, laces their fingers.
"I tried to wait up, but I fell asleep and woke up with a crick in my neck so I thought I'd better just go to bed."
A quirk of his lips, and he brushes his thumb over the back of her hand. "I told you not to stay up and wait for me." His tone is gentle. Quiet admonishment.
They are silent for a moment, regarding each other, breathing into the stillness of the room. She can see his tiredness in the sharpened lines of his face. The planes harsher, the hollows deeper. Her free hand comes up to cup his face, palm flatted against his cheek. "Did you solve the case?"
"Yes." It's a single word, and yet it's delivery tells her everything she needs to know.
"A hard one." It's not a question. His answering nod is almost imperceptible, the hard swallow that follows is not. "Oh." It's more a breath, a sad gust of air than a word. She presses her forehead against his briefly, kisses his temple. "I'm sorry."
And then she is being crushed against him, his arms weaving around her waist, one hand slipping beneath her oversized T shirt to press into the small of her back seeking the warmth and solidity of his palm against her skin.
She closes her eyes, fingers kneading into his shoulders, melting into his desperate embrace.
Two people, holding each other as though it can heal the brokenness of the world around them.
Perhaps they'll talk about it tomorrow, in the tender light of morning. Perhaps they won't. Right now, it isn't necessary. They understand each other, and that is enough.
A/N 2: Thank you for reading! I would love to hear what you thought of it. Reviews are much appreciated. I have at least three more of these partially written, but I'm not going to set a timeline on it.
Also, if you happen to be a Mentalist fan, I'm planning a similar series for Lisbon, so keep your eyes out.
Thank you!