Summary: Eric Delko learns that you can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find you get what you need. Spelko slash, mention of Delkaine. Rated for, well, slashiness.

Disclaimers: You can't always get what you want. If you could, I would own CSI Miami and its characters. Unfortunately, all I do own is the plot.

Delko stared at the report and tried hard to make sense of it, but his brain just wasn't working. Every time he tried to assimilate the fact that the substance found in the suspect's shoeprint contained silicate, quartz and sodium chloride, his attention would drift away and onto something he should definitely not have been thinking about. Visions of red hair and sunglasses – the Sunglasses of Justice, as Delko had privately named them – flashed behind his eyelids.

Delko couldn't believe it. He had a crush on his boss. He knew it wasn't love or anything like that; he was old enough and wise enough to understand the nuances of emotion. It was just a crush. But still. He had a crush on Horatio Caine. How was that even possible?

"Eric." Speed had entered the lab, fiddling with one of his cuffs. "Sorry I took so long. Thanks for taking over for me. You run the stuff we found in the shoeprint?"

"Uh, yeah." Delko blinked and tried to focus on the report. "Silicate, quartz and trace amounts of sodium chloride."

"Beach sand." Speed cursed and pulled his wrist up to his face, apparently still trying to button the shirt cuff. "Jesus, did this thing shrink in the wash? Eric, gimme a hand here."

Delko reached for the cuff and Speed stepped closer to give him better access. The fabric felt soft; the shirt was silk. The smell of fabric softener and a faint hint of cologne drifted to Delko's nostrils as he pushed the button through the slit in the cuff. "You just take a shower?"

Speed ran a hand through his noticeably damp hair. "You got a talent for stating the obvious?"

"Silk shirt, just showered..." Delko frowned. "You got a date?"

Speed raised an eyebrow. "If I had a date, I'd be borrowing money from you right now because they raised the rent on my apartment." He took the report and studied it. "So how does beach sand get to the bathroom mat of a high-rise fifteen miles from the sea?"

"On somebody's shoe?"

"Funny." Speed glanced over at him. "You okay? You look a little...scattered."

"Yeah, I'm fine." The line felt flat, as he'd known it would. Delko sighed. "You ever have feelings for someone you're not supposed to have feelings for?"

Speed's reaction to that was sudden and surprising. His face closed completely, and he straightened up, shoulders tightening. "What do you mean, not supposed to have feelings for? Married woman, something like that?"

"Not exactly. I mean like...something that could cause workplace problems."

"You mean like Yelina."

Delko stared. "What?"

"Well, nobody cares if CSIs or lab techs date each other, so it's gotta be a superior. If it's not Yelina, it's gotta be Horatio." Speedle pulled up a stool. "So which is it?"

"Oh man." Delko gave a half-laugh, and put a hand to his forehead. "Look, it's not a big thing. It's just a...a crush."

"Who's it on?"

Delko shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Forget it. Hey, I hear Opium's having a big night tonight. You want to go?"

Club Opium was the newest and hottest club in Miami. It was famous for wild pounding music, an overtly sexual atmosphere and the deadliest and most delicious cocktails in the entire state. Delko had been once and was dying to go back. There was something freeing about being in the midst of a dancefloor, deaf from the music and blind from the lights and having to rely purely on touch. The anonymity of being just one of many made him feel alive.

"Yeah," Speed said. "Sure. But how are you getting there? You totaled your car."

Delko winced. He had had a disagreement with a tree a week ago and his prized MX-5 was now in a garage, waiting to be put back together by a couple of mechanics Delko knew personally. They were the only people he trusted to work on his baby.

"I noticed," he said wryly.

"I can give you a ride."

Delko's eyebrows shot up. "You're kidding me, right? You think I'm getting on that bike with you?"

"Hey, I get into the Miata with you. Well, got," Speed amended. "You'll be fine, Eric. I'm a responsible rider."

"You tell that to all the girls?"

Speed held up the report. "Since you're clearly in no mood to concentrate on work, I'm going to check in on Valera to see what she found in the blood samples and then I'm going to run everything by Horatio. You can feel free to catch up when you get your head out of your ass."

Delko couldn't help but grin. Speed had a dryness about him that made him amusing even – no, especially – when he was trying not to be. "Give me a couple minutes. I'm gonna call the mechanics, get the verdict on the car. I'll find you."

Speed was in the elevator when Delko ran into him again. "That took a little longer than a couple of minutes."

"Yeah." Delko checked his watch. It had been nearly forty-five minutes. Apparently his car wasn't in as good shape as he'd thought. "I'm not gonna have the Miata for three weeks."

"Ouch."

"Tell me about it." Delko sighed, and reluctantly, asked, "Ten o'clock?"

Speed glanced over at him. "Not afraid I'll kill you?"

Delko studied his friend and decided that Speed was actually one of the more attractive people in his life. He somehow managed to be enigmatic, charming and a complete gentleman while retaining the aroma all women seemed to love – eau de bad boy. Maybe it was the badge and the gun. Maybe it was the motorbike. Maybe it was the unshaven face, the half-closed eyes, the low rasp of the voice. Who knew?

"I trust you," Delko said.

Speed gave a quick, feral baring of teeth that only a mountain cat would have dared to call a smile. "You sure that's wise?"

Second thoughts instantly raced through Delko's mind. He pushed them away. "I trust you," he said again. "Besides, if you kill me, you have to train a whole new CSI from scratch." He smiled as the elevator doors opened. "See you at ten."