Title: The Bet

Author: Kat1132

Beta's: I lost them. I'm going to go look for them.

Disclaimer: I do not own either CSI: Miami, CSI: New York, or any of its characters. This story is not intended to infringe on any copyrights by the makers of CSI and it's owners. No profit is being made for this piece of fiction.

Summary: AU Eric is dared to get the newest CSI not only in his bed, but to fall in love with him as well. But how will Ryan react? And what will happen when an escaped convict from NYC brings Messer and Flack? Crossover in Chapter 2. Ryan is the MC. Alive!Speed

Pairings: Ryan/Eric (obviously), Danny/Don (perhaps in the future, but minor if anything at all)

Warnings: SLASH. Very AU. Speed is alive (and it will be explained). Danny Messer and Don Flack are coming in the second chapter along with a criminal that we all love to hate. This does not follow any sort of episode timeline or cannon, but I tried to stay at least somewhat true to the strange and obscure cases that land in the CSI's lap. And yes, I am taking several liberties with both canons. Don't worry, not to much. Some Spoilers (not sure how many or particular episodes, but there are some, none from the current seasons though, don't worry).

AN: Sorry it's so late. Hollidays are busy and all that rot. About two-thousand words shorter than the last couple of chapters, but I thought this was a good place to end it. The next chapter is in the works so never fear. Things will begin to fit together more in this chapter. The crossover and Ryan, Danny, and Speed's shared past will be further explained, as well as Ryan's side of his relationship with Danny.

Again, this hasn't been betaed yet, but my faithful beta is working on it. Let me know if you see anything, grammatical, spelling or otherwise, and I'll take care of it. Let me know what you think.

Chapter Three:

The drive back to the lab was long and silent. Ryan had tried to nod off once only to have his head violently slammed against the window as Eric made a sharp left into the parking lot. Head pounding and grumbling angrily, Ryan got out of the Hummer and started towards the lab. He may have been in a better mood had Danny not taken it upon himself to laugh at Ryan's disgruntlement. Shooting a miffed glare at the still chuckling New Yorker, Ryan walked up the marble steps and through the glass door, his coworkers and new housemates following him with amused smiles.

Ryan signed in and filled out the paperwork for the visiting criminalist and detective before handing Don and Danny their respective visitors badges.

"So you gonna show us around?" asked Danny after pinning the well worn, flimsy badge to his jacket.

"Of course," said Calleigh. She promptly launched into tour guide mode and lead Don and Danny around the lab, showing it off. Ryan and Eric shared a wry look at their colleague's enthusiasm and followed the blonde bombshell and the two overwhelmed New Yorkers.

After a thorough tour of the labs and an introduction to the various labtechs, Calleigh led the four men to the conference room.

Danny filed away the information he learned. Natalia, the newest CSI, seemed quite taken with Eric, but Danny hadn't missed the sly glances the brunet was shooting between the Latino and his friend. She came off friendly enough, if a little defensive.

Don met Detective Frank Tripp and liked the balding southerner. He was a little crass, and somewhat gruff, but he was the quintessential cop.

When they finally met Horatio, both Danny and Don could see why Mack liked the enigmatic redhead. He had a different passion for solving cases, and seemed to put a lot more stock in feelings and instincts, but the way he fathered his team and his mere presence echoed the ex-Marine's. There was also that creepy appearing out of thin air thing that Mac's sometimes did that Horatio had down to an art form.

Once they had gotten past the jurisdiction issues, and the good natured ribbing, the real work had started. Danny and Don laid out what they brought down with them. Danny pulled out his laptop, and Don emptied the bag Danny had entrusted to him. On the giant lit table, the two spread out all the evidence they brought down from New York with them. Copies of the autopsy reports, ballistic findings, fingerprints, blood samples, all of Rolasky's possessions, Sassone's case file, and even tapes of Gord's confession, everything the lab back home had discovered was placed on one of the Miami team's giant lit conference tables so the Miami team could familiarize themselves with the evidence.

Don launched started with the Tanglewood boys and their long and winded history in defying the law and making a mockery of the old time mobsters. Then Danny went into Sonny's character and the last few cases that had involved the mobster. He didn't necessarily avoid the topic of his former involvement with the gang other than touching on it briefly, and then moving on quickly to other aspects of those cases.

Ryan caught his friend's uneasiness and gave Danny an evaluating look. He was disappointed that his friend had gotten mixed up in one of the Tanglewood's murders, but he and Danny had already hashed their way through that after Louie was attacked last year.

It took most of the afternoon to work their way through the evidence. There was little more they could do. Mac and Stella were monitoring all of Sonny's old pals and polling the Riker's inmates for a possible motive in heading down to Miami, up in New York. Most weren't even willing to consider speaking with the criminalists without a promise of a reduced sentence attached, so not much progress was being made.

Horatio set Dan Cooper to tracing Joe Spegal's cell phone, but first the man would have to use it for them to trace it. Right now all they could do was wait. Looking around at his team, the redhead suggested they all go out for some after shift beers to make the new temporary additions to the team feel welcome. It had been a long day of flying for the New Yorkers, but Horatio insisted they all go out to the team's favorite bar.

Not nearly foolish enough to turn down free drinks on the boss, the criminalists eagerly agreed.

-

The lights were dim, but the relaxed, playful atmosphere removed any awkwardness that may have lingered once the server retreated with their order. Ryan was sent into laughter after mere moments of his friend's animated retelling of some of the random things that had occurred on the trip over.

"Because we bought our tickets on the same day, right, they mark the stupid things so we get stopped at every single security check point for 'random'," Danny made quotations with his fingers, his blue eyes alight part from irritation, part from humor at the ridiculousness of the situation, "security searches. I mean really, after they questioned me for the fourth time about my gun and then my badge, I was ready to knock some sense into those wannabe mall cops."

Ryan was a little uneasy. He had never gone out with his coworkers after work before. They had always excluded him, perhaps not intentionally, but it had been obvious that they hadn't wanted him there, and he had never pushed it.

He stepped out briefly to call up Speed and inform him of his new house guests. Speed said he'd take care of the issues around Danny not knowing he was alive, and while Ryan hadn't liked the sound of that, Speed hung up before Ryan could properly interrogate his friend. He really hoped Speed didn't turn up tomorrow morning to make breakfast or something, but knowing Speed, it was just the kind of thing he'd do.

The night at the bar was festive and fun, but every once in a while, Ryan couldn't help but feel as though he were merely an extra. Danny tried to include him as often as possible, surprisingly with more of Eric's help than was expected, but Calleigh seemed determined to steer the conversation to their guests.

Ryan stopped drinking after one beer, bound and determined to never drive drunk. Danny and Don could both hold their liquor remarkably well, and Horatio didn't seem fazed at all by his scotch. Eric was on his fourth Corona and Calleigh on her third Mimosa when they decided to call it a night.

It took some careful maneuvering, but Ryan managed to get both New Yorkers into his car without incident. Horatio offered to drive both Eric and Calleigh home as Ryan had no idea where they lived.

Dragging a hammered Danny to bed was not fun. Don was a little more able to walk, but still nearly fell several times. Ryan didn't even bother undressing the blonde man, just took off his sneakers and folded him into the guest bed.

Don crashed in one of Ryan's recliners, his favorite spot to read a good book, and started snoring into the dark leather upholstery. It took a grand total of twenty minutes to set up the sleeper sofa for the tall officer, and a further ten to convince the man to get in it.

When Ryan finally made it to his own bed, it was well after one o'clock and he was more than content to roll over and close his eyes, wishing for morning.

-

The warm smell of crisping bacon woke Ryan up. His green eyes snapped open in alarm. He remembered the chaos that had remained after Danny's last foray in the kitchen. He still wasn't certain how flames had occurred in the microwave, but that was better left for another time when his house wasn't in danger of exploding.

Ryan rolled out of bed, his feet barely touching the ground as he made record time to his kitchen. God he hoped that it was Flack cooking rather than his Italian friend. His bare feet had enough traction to stop his forward motion, but his body didn't seem able to cope with the sharp stop as he wavered dangerously close to falling over just inside his kitchen.

Danny and Don were sitting at the table, happy as you please, and one Timothy Speedle was at the stovetop, frying bacon like he was born to it.

Ryan shot feverish glances between his house guests and his not-dead friend, one hand clutching his heart as he realized just how fast it was racing. Speed had the infuriating nerve to turn to him and smile. How that man ever turned into a morning person, well, maybe Ryan didn't want to know how that particular change came about.

"Good morning, Ryan," said Speed as he nonchalantly flipped the bacon without using a spatula. Ryan cringed at the thought of all the grease splatter that was now coating his entire kitchen. Rather than comment, Ryan moved to sit at the table next to Danny. There was no way he was going to interrupt Speed if he was cooking.

Speed could actually cook quite well when he put his mind to it. He just didn't do so very often. Danny had probably learned his way around a kitchen after living as a bachelor for six years, but after the microwave incident, it had been well ingrained to never let Danny near the kitchen, even if it was mostly in jest.

"So, Speed, how come you ain't dead?" asked Danny when Speed laid the bacon platter on the table.

"Oh you know me, I'm just too pretty to die," said he. Ryan snorted, understanding the reference, and Danny looked non-pulsed before dredging up the long lost memories of watching Firefly with his friends over Christmas break one year. Don looked lost, but no one bothered to enlighten him to the long and involved joke.

"What's on the agenda?" asked Don after having finished two pieces of bacon and breaking apart a third. Half a piece of toast still decorated the detective's plate, but it was obvious to Ryan he had finished.

Ryan stood and gathered Don's plate first, before the man could decimate his bacon bits further, and then trying to take Danny's only to be batted away as Danny protected his second's, and then having Speed stand up and take his own plate to the sink before Ryan could so much as make a grab for it.

"Well, I have the day off today. I've worked seven days in a row and its policy that I get today off. So I was wondering if you wanted to do touristy stuff?" said Ryan.

After much arguing and whining, the four of them finally decided to head down to South Beach.

It had definitely not been funny during the first ten minutes of the ride when both Ryan and Speed insisted they knew the quickest way to the waterfront, and said routes were in opposite directions. Soon it had become one of the most hilarious things either Don or Danny had ever seen. Ryan would be studying one of those cheap free maps they had reluctantly requested from a gas attendant sometime after the first hour of driving around in circles, before flipping the map upside down and announcing that they were going the wrong way again, and needed to turn around, again. This would normally have involved a lot of careful maneuvering; however, Speed had earned his nickname for a reason that became all too apparent when he took a u-turn at thirty miles an hour, slamming Danny into Don despite his seatbelt.

It was only after half an hour that Ryan discovered that the arrows on the streets actually indicated streets that only went one way, and another fifteen to figure out that some of the streets they were passing weren't even on the stupid map. They knew the highway they wanted, it was getting to it that was the problem.

Don and Danny were, of course, adding completely unnecessary comments about the Miami criminalists innate sense of direction and further unwarranted sightings of signs that only the two New York Detectives could see indicating South Beach west one minute, east the next, and so on.

One might wonder why the two Miami natives were incapable of finding one of the most popular tourist destinations in all of Florida. The answer: Ryan had hardly found enough leisure time to familiarize himself with the best route to the beach, and usually he drove around until he found one, not necessarily South Beach. The root of their debacle, Ryan insisted, was that Speed had a particular beach in mind and insisted on that particular beach and no other. Speed, despite having this particular beach in mind, hadn't been to Miami in a good two years. It was absolutely amazing how much the layout of the city had changed in that short amount of time.

Finally, after much laughter and even more u-turns, they decided to pick a direction and see where they ended up, only to discover the beach five minutes away quite by accident. Of course as soon as they actually found the beach the sky opened up. Now that they had found the stupid beach, they couldn't venture out to it without getting soaked.

Speed looked around the car and bravely ventured the suggestion that they go to lunch and hope that the rain would clear up before they finished eating.

It didn't. After finishing lunch and then just sitting around the restaurant for over a half hour, nursing drinks, the four men finally gave the beach up as a lost cause and left. The conversation slowed and soon the detectives found themselves sitting in near silence.

They began driving around Miami aimlessly, hoping that they would find inspiration. When they passed a local movie hall showing older movies the bigger theaters had already stopped showing. Speed shared a look with his passengers before pulling into the deserted parking lot.

Speed paid for the tickets and they filed into the theater, grabbing all necessary snacking items while they were at it. The movie was good if a little surreal, and Ryan was totally absorbed after the first twenty minutes.

The four of them sat in the dark, empty movie theater, blindly shoving popcorn into their mouths, occasionally throwing said popcorn at the screen when the lead character did something particularly stupid. The only other people in the movie theater were a couple of teenage girls in the back who were giving commentary about the film that even Don enjoyed at times. Don usually hated people who talked through movies, but as he'd already seen this one when it came out a couple months ago, he found the discussion entertaining.

Even the chattering girls were silent as the intensity of the movie increased. Ryan was gripping the seat handle, popcorn forgotten in the heat of the moment, when Ryan's leg vibrated. He jumped about two feet off his chair in alarm before scrambling to get his cell phone out of his pocket. He gave Speed an apologetic look as he squeezed passed the man and out into the hallway, opening his phone as soon as he made it down from the stadium seating.

"Wolfe,"

"Mr. Wolfe," the woman's voice was brisk and harried, "we need you at a crime scene. Mr. Delko's AWOL. You need to report to the Golfstream Park Race Track, pronto." Ryan heaved a sigh and pulled his brow together with his hand before pinching the bridge of his nose. The track wasn't too far away and he did have his kit in the car. He should be able to get there on foot if there weren't any cabbies around.

"I'll be there ASAP," he told the dispatch caller before closing his phone and ducking back into the theater.

He found his friends easily and sidled up to them, not moving to reclaim his seat as Speed maneuvered out of his way. The other three men looked at him in askance.

Ryan sighed. "I've been called out. Delko didn't show up for work again and I've got to cover him."

Speed nodded, slightly confused. It was supposed to be Ryan's day off. It went against department policy for him to work another shift without more down time. A glance at his friend proved that this wasn't a singular occurrence. Delko had probably ditched many a call to Ryan.

"Do you need some help?" asked Danny. He was ready to get back out on a scene and feel useful, but Ryan shook his head.

"No, I got it covered," said Ryan, "Listen, you guys stay here, finish the movie, and come pick me up at the crime lab later." Ryan deliberately ignored Speed's incredulous look. "You've got spare keys to my car right Speed?" Speed nodded, "I'll call you when I'm done and you can come pick me up."

"How are you going to get to the scene?" asked Danny.

"It's not far from here. The scene is at the Race Track, about a mile from here. I'll a cab or something," said Ryan.

The screen lit up in a barrage of fire and the two giggling girls in the back started cackling. Ryan nodded at his friends and left the theater, wishing he could stay.

In true Miami fashion the monsoon that had tried to drench them earlier had moved on and the skies were clear when Ryan exited the theater. He shadowed his eyes against the blaring Miami sun and looked around the parking lot. There weren't any cabs, and there wouldn't be until much later in the evening. It was too early for cabbies to be hovering outside a movie theater, particularly one so close to the beach; but because he was so close to the tourist infested beach, the cabbies weren't too far away.

Ryan had a card in his wallet with a number for a cab should he wind up drunk and stranded at a bar or his car broke down or something. He dialed the number and they promised a cab within the next five minutes.

Ryan took the time to get his kit out of the trunk of his car before locking the thing up again and heading back to the theater in case the cabbie got bored after looking around and left without him.

True to form, it took the cabbie closer to ten minutes to finally arrive at the theater. Ryan got in the bright yellow car, gently placing his kit beside him, gave the elderly driver the track name, and they were off.

Ryan closed his eyes and relished the warm sun coming through the window and lulling him into lethargy, a drowsy trance that would rejuvenate him for yet another crime scene, with yet another dead body. Sleep had come easier last night than it had in months, but he was still had a lot of hours to make up as far as sleep was concerned. He was sure his easy night had to do with Danny being in his house again, and the old security that still lingered from his high school days he spent under Danny's "protection."

If anything, Ryan had been Danny's protector, maybe not in the physical sense as Danny had always been more muscular than him, but Ryan had effectively protected Danny fro, the life he was starting with the Tanglewood's. All Danny had needed, in those days, was someone who could open his eyes to the other options the world had to offer. Ryan had taken up that mantle and did his best to open Danny's eyes to the world, and then give him a shove out the door to get the stubborn man to look.

It was almost as though Danny felt a need to repay Ryan for his efforts by ensuring he wasn't harassed by anyone; not that it happened often or at all really, save the once that had prompted Danny's protective habits in the first place. Ryan had known well that he would have to prove himself to the diehard New York kids, and yet, he had been surprised and a little unnerved, that after the first month at the school, no one bothered him. It was as though the kids had felt a need to prove themselves, to make sure Ryan wasn't there to usurp the social hierarchy and knew his place in the pecking order. After a month or so, everyone was content to ignore him. He'd had no friends, a tentative acquaintance with Speed notwithstanding until much later in the year. Then the term changed and he'd found himself in Danny Messer's seat.

He and Danny had been close friends, but in many ways, Ryan was the lead in their friendship. Ryan pushed Danny out of his comfort zone and forced Danny to follow his lead.

Sometimes Ryan thought Danny saw Ryan as a child, that same ignored teen, who needed Danny to protect him from the Sonny Sassone's of the world, despite the fact that Ryan had been forced to mature much faster than his friend due to his parent's death. When his uncle Ron had abandoned him in New York, Ryan had had to depend on himself. Danny still had his family for support and that had helped him survive.

The cabbie pulled into the expansive parking lot and drove to the entrance. The police cars stopped them from getting too close. Ryan paid the driver and got out. He flashed his badge at the officer on duty and ducked under the neon yellow tape. It didn't take him long to scan the huge track and spot Calleigh's bright blonde hair. The beautiful woman was taking photos of a large horse downed on the track, gallons of blood dying the sand black. Ryan hurried across the dirt to offer his assistance any way he could. Alex was kneeling next to the horse but looking at the dead man on its back his face pressed into the dirt, her assistants hovering around like flies on the DB.

"Hey Ryan," said Alex when she looked up and saw him standing there.

The first thing Calleigh said when she looked up from her camera was, "Where's Eric?"

"I don't know, I guess he's sick or something," said Ryan, not wanting to say anything against the man who was recently being so nice to him.

"Hmm," said Calleigh as she went back to snapping pictures.

"So what do we have?" questioned Ryan.

"Your victim here was shot while taking Thunder, the dead horse, for a walk around the track to feel it out before race time," interjected Tripp. Ryan looked up at the Detective. He hadn't even noticed the man.

"Do we have a name for the vic yet?" asked Ryan as he took a picture of an entrance wound in the vic's thigh.

Frank shook his head, "No ID. We've contacted the horse's owner, he should know our vic."

"The bullet appears to have gone through the vic's leg and into the horse's chest cavity," said Alex, lifting said leg to show the hole that pierced the thin leather saddle and delved into the depths of the horse's massive body.

"We're probably looking at a sniper rifle of some kind. A bullet that can pierce a human leg, leather and a horse has got to be big." Calleigh commented, photographing the trail of blood that led to the horse. "It appears that the bullet entered the horse over here," she stood about five meters away from the bodies and was gesturing with her hands to indicate the smattering of blood, "and managed to keep going until it fell over by you."

Ryan and Calleigh got to work.

-

They were out in the hot Miami sun for three hours gathering evidence and taking reference samples. Calleigh gave Ryan a lift to the lab when she discovered he didn't have his car; he did not enjoy the mini interrogation he was subjected to about it though that Calleigh seemed to demand as payment for the ride.

It took a further five hours to log evidence and get said evidence in line at trace and DNA. During that time Ryan had found a name to go with his vic, a John Keil and gotten the cause of death from Alex. It made his job both easier and more difficult when Alex announced that the bullet to the leg, while lethal for the horse, hadn't been what killed the victim. It was a weird, extremely exclusive, drug used to enhance racing performance in horses. It was against regulations to use on racing animals, and deadly to humans, particularly in the amounts Alex had found in Keil's system. A syringe full of the stuff had been found in the saddle bags with red trace coating the glass tubing, and there was nothing in his reference samples from the scene that matched the fine red powder.

It was a difficult case and getting harder as now they had to find two, possibly three, perps instead of one.

He was close to solving the case, but night shift was kicking him out. They were a little too familiar with Ryan, and had forced him home before. He only left after they gave him the assurance that they would continue his analysis, if/when they got the chance, and leave the results on Horatio's desk.

Ryan called Danny. Calleigh had headed home at the end of shift, but given Ryan so much work he had felt obligated to stay and get a head start. He would have to come in tomorrow to finish the case.

Danny was groggy when he answered the phone, but promised he knew his way to the crime lab well enough to come and get him. When the man pulled up twenty minutes later, Ryan took one look at the exhausted, yawning New Yorker and decided it would be safer if he drove them home.

Don was already asleep when they arrived, Speed long gone. Danny quickly headed to bed, and Ryan decided to follow his lead, foregoing dinner. He'd had a snack from the vending machine at work, and besides, he'd eat in the morning.

After performing his religious nightly ritual he flopped into bed and clicked off the light. Ryan didn't even have the energy to roll over as he fell asleep.

-

Ryan's neck burned as he stretched. It was lobster red along with his nose, forehead, and cheekbones.

Danny laughed at him when he managed to stumble into the kitchen for breakfast, and Don winced in sympathy. Danny's darker skin tanned easier than Ryan and Don, who burned first and tanned as an afterthought of said burn.

Ryan tolerated Danny's humor as he buttered his toast. They had to hurry. The work at the lab was only piling up. He needed to get back to solving the Keil case, and his guests needed to get back on track and find Sonny Sassone.

-

"Hey Messer," said Dan Cooper as he burst into the trace lab where Danny was going over some of the evidence from New York with the Miami equipment to familiarize himself with the different set up. Ryan was standing across the room taking another look at the weird red substance he had found on the Keil needle.

"Yeah," said Danny as he pulled his head up from the microscope and pulling his glasses back down from his forehead to cover his eyes again, bringing Cooper's bright red shirt back into focus.

"I got a signal, we're in business!" said Cooper, his enthusiasm oozing around him.

"A'right!" Danny's grin was infectious. "I'll call Don and we'll head out. Ryan, you coming?"

"Yeah, I'll be right out."

"Coop, you send me those coordinates!" said Danny as he left the room at a run to get Flack and roll out.

-

It wasn't nearly as exciting as Danny thought it would be. The phone was on yes, but it was moving constantly so they did a lot of driving without much result.

Eric had decided to go with them and rode with Danny while Ryan drove Don around. When Eric saw where they had ended up, he cursed.

"What? Whazthmatter?" asked Danny.

"We're in Mala Noche territory. Your perp seems to be hooking up with the local gangs."

-

The news that Sonny was hooking up with the local gangs gave them a footing and an idea of what Sonny was planning. The drug trafficking market down in Miami was almost as profitable as the drug trafficking Sonny was used to up in New York.

He was making better contacts and probably planning to get Mala Noche help with whatever it was he had planned, unfortunately they didn't know what he had planned.

-

Sonny was indeed planning something. It hadn't taken much for him to find Ryan Wolfe's address. He figured sending a little house warming present to the bastard would be an appropriate gift.

His Mala Noche contact was more than willing to provide him with everything he asked. Of course, a little insurance was always provided, but as Sonny wasn't a threat merely a visitor who was making himself useful, the Mala Noche's were more than happy to help him out.

-

Eric was getting frustrated. Every time he tried to corner Ryan, Danny would appear as if by magic. How on earth was he going to pull off the bet if he couldn't say five words to the guy, let alone get some privacy?

He had missed work yesterday. He had just found out that his beautiful sister Marisol had cancer. It was devastating news. She was so young and full of life that he couldn't imagine her hair falling off or her body wasting away under the chemotherapy that the doctor had prescribed. Luckily, the doctors thought they caught it in time, and the prognosis was good. He had spent yesterday with her trying to comfort her. Ironically she seemed to be comforting him more than anything.

He honestly didn't feel like talking to anyone let alone Ryan. Perhaps tomorrow he'd get around to it. Perhaps tomorrow, he'd feel a little more able to finish the bet. Eric knew that Ryan was half in love with him already. It wouldn't take much more to win the bet. Maybe they'd hit the movies or something.

-

That night Danny decided to cook something partly to repay Ryan's kindness, and partly to prove to his friends that he did know how to cook, thank you very much. With Ryan's OCD, it was easy for Danny to navigate the kitchen.

Don had tried to dissuade his friend to no avail and went quietly into the living room to find a game to watch on the television.

Fortunately, or unfortunately as they case may be, Ryan wasn't home to stop him and insist that Ryan cook for his guests if they weren't going to go out to eat. Since Ryan was at work, Danny felt the need to surprise the Floridian with some home cooked Italian.

Ryan enjoyed eating the meal Danny had made, even though he was stunned that his house was still standing. Danny's smugly happy grin took him back to the moments when Danny had pulled a prank or was about to let you in on a juicy secret. It would have been more amusing to see if Ryan weren't in a terrible mood.

Calleigh had jumped on him this morning about how little he had managed to get done before the night shift had kicked him out. She had lectured him for quite a while on the importance of processing all evidence while on the importance of processing all evidence as quickly as possible. As he had done so many times before, he held his tongue, biting it at times to prevent the several acidic comments rolling about his head from exiting his mouth unbidden. He had learned that lesson. If he tried to defend himself, Calleigh would steamroller him. It was easier to let her get it out of her system and bare the lecture than contradict her. She didn't really mean it anyway, or at least he hoped she didn't. She had probably just had a bad night or something.

After dinner the three men spent the evening lazily watching House diagnose some random person with some bizarre disease that none of them had ever heard about, let alone encountered. Danny pointed out the similarities between the criminalist's job and House's diagnostics, while Ryan and Don argued that what they did was more difficult by far and much more interesting to boot. Danny reluctantly conceded after they admitted that he had a point, to the fact that they're job was much more fun than anything he'd ever seen on House. The conversation moved to Ryan's new case, and the younger brunette admitted that the whole thing had him stumped. He had a hunch that a jealous horse owner was involved, or perhaps a jealous jockey, but he wasn't going to take it to the bank before he had backed it up with the mountain of evidence waiting for him back at the lab. Danny and Don shared some of the more strange cases they'd had, including one involving a horse that had managed to survive just such a bullet wound. Danny laughingly explained that it was the first time he had ever seen Mac looked surprised when Stella came bursting into his office toting a massive sniper rifle and demanding he order the bullet extracted from the animal so they could solve the case.

Don and Danny shared a laugh at Ryan's wide eyes before laughingly explaining that it was time for him to turn in. Don agreed and Ryan headed up to his own room to vacate the couch for the dark haired New Yorker. His phone buzzed in his pocket. Ryan's brow furrowed in confusion. Who on earth would be texting him at eleven o'clock at night? A glance down at the abbreviated text message showed him that it was Eric texting him. He flipped open his phone and tried to decipher the small letters in the dark hallway before he gave it up as a lost cause and moved to his bedroom. Flipping on the bedside lamp he found that Eric was asking him to go to lunch with him tomorrow. Ryan said yes, even though he was sure that if he didn't he would have skipped the meal in order to finish the massive amount of backlog that Calleigh had been laying into him about earlier today. He flipped his phone shut and turned off the light. He did his nightly ritual before slipping into the bed and trying to go to sleep.

An hour later he gave it up as a lost cause. He grabbed the Forensic Journal that was on his bedside table and began rereading the article on how to detect a fake finger print when it had been made with a latex copy. It was fascinating enough to keep the drowsiness from overwhelming him for a few more hours. When he finally turned the light out at three o'clock in the morning he was confident that he had the method memorized. He fell asleep with Eric's warm smile behind his eyelids.