A/N: Yay for references to the purple t-shirt and its deliciousness. Yay for having a week off. I wrote this all in one afternoon, because my dear friend is ill and needs something to read. Maybe if you're lucky, I'll have another one up before Friday. Holla at my Good Little Jewish Wife and dedications to DerekRiffchyn'sAssistant. A little advice, never ever ever get your industrial pierced and take out the barbell and put it back in after having it out. My poor ear is sad. Yay for sea salt. Prompt: Wine. R/R Ideas for the next one are awesome. Double bonus points if you can tell me where my title is from. (Oh and if you do, worry not, that is not my subject matter.)

Coats Like White Elephants

Ryan was pretty sure his quasi-girlfriend was drunk. Maxine Valera was draped across his couch looking at him with bleary eyes. The aquamarine dress she wore had hiked its way up to her mid-thigh and a pair of ridiculously high heels was abandoned on the carpet next to her. Usually, Ryan would've been bothered by this, but he was too busy checking out her legs to notice. They were quite possibly the longest legs he'd ever seen, in fact in his alcohol clouded mind, he was sure they defied all means of logic.

"You're such a pervert, Wolfe." She muttered, but made no effort to cover herself. Clearly, she was inebriated.
"Am not. I'm just…admiring the view." He slurred back, proving he had one too many drinks at dinner.

"I see you checking me out. I'm not that drunk…just kinda tipsy." She scowled at him. "I can hold my alcohol fine."

"I never said you couldn't." Ryan was leaning against the archway that separated his tiny living room from his equally tiny kitchen, arms folded across his chest. He and his coworker-girlfriend-friend-friendwithbenefits (He didn't know what the hell she was now and he didn't even want to try and figure it out after consuming so much wine.) had gone out for dinner and out of nervousness, Ryan invited her back to his place where they drank nearly a bottle of wine. Good wine, too, the kind one would save for a "special day" or at least that's his Bubbe told him. Ryan highly doubted that inviting the colleague that you fooled around with at the last MDPD "Holiday Celebration" (really, "Christmas Party" but political correctness had Human Resources in a bind) out to dinner and then back to your apartment qualified as a "special day", but he didn't care. Thinking back on the "Holiday Celebration" in question made him anxious, but he schooled his features in to a mask of indifference, all the while watching his tipsy coworker slowly sit up, swinging herself in to a sitting position.

"You look so fucking stiff standing there like that." Valera noted, the red wine didn't hinder her observation skills, apparently.

Ryan smirked. During his evenings out with Eric, who was insistent on polishing the younger CSI's lady skills, he had noticed that women took on a whole different persona when inebriated. Some women cried, some women gave Mike Tyson a run for his money, some thought they were porn stars and some swore like they were on leave from the navy and it was 1943. Valera was obviously the latter. And he was glad too. He wasn't quite sure what he would have done had she shimmied out of her dress or broke down sobbing. He probably would have died. He flopped on the couch next to her, sighing heavily. Wine always made him feel like he just ran the Boston Marathon. He sneaked a peak at her out of his peripheral. Valera had a rosy glow about her that made him and to reach out and stroke her cheek. If his memory served him correctly, she had skin that was softer than anything he'd ever felt and that thought made his fingers tingle and itch. She looked content on his sofa, her body sinking into the cushions as she stared at his immaculate coffee table. Ryan wondered if she was still ticklish at the base of her neck or if that was just something he had made up every time he revisited those fumbling fifteen minutes in the abandoned hallway near coat check. He could still hear her giggle softly, lips brushing the column of his neck, her hand tugging on his tie, his hands coasting down her back, wanting to feel every inch of her skin at once…

"Were you always this…fuckin' neat?" Valera's loudness interrupting his memory.

"What?" Ryan was confused. What the hell was she talking about? Realizing what she meant, "Oh. Uhm…yeah, I guess. I don't ever remember not-" he gestured like that was supposed to mean something. He always felt vaguely freakish when anyone asked about his OCD, particularly anyone from work. He didn't want them to think that he was a risk to the lab and now a beautiful woman who a coworker at that, was staring at him with interest and asking how many times he washed his hands a day. "It's not like that. It's…it…"

"You have sex right? I mean, you don't get weirded out or anything like that?" She cut him, blurting out her question. The wine must be going to her head.

"What kind of question is that, Valera?" he wasn't comfortable calling her anything that sounded even remotely like her first name. It sounded too intimate.

"Well, I just thought with all of the body fluids and DNA and germs and microorganisms, it would gross you out. Y'know, you've got the whole neat and clean shit going on so do you hose down with bleach afterward? Or just, like a regular shower?" Along with swearing like a sailor, the already blunt Valera lost the brain filter that stopped someone from asking too many questions.

"It's not like that" was all he could offer for a response. "Why'd you keep asking questions?" Ryan was eager to escape any more embarrassing OCD related queries.

"Nobody knows a damn thing about you; Wolfe and I wanna find out." She slurred indignantly, clearly not pleased with the response he gave.

"People know plenty of stuff about me," he retorted, "It's you they don't know about. Hell nobody knew your first name until recently and everyone knows that I got fired and that I was on the news and that I am a complete fuck-up" Ryan mumbled the last part acrimoniously, frowning."

"Fine. I ask a question and you can ask one and no lying, deal?" Either she was choosing to ignore the dig he made at himself or she was completely oblivious, because she shifted around so she faced him, staring expectantly at her.

He folded his arms across his chest and looked at her through raised eyebrows. "Deal. Ladies first."

"What the fuck happened to you?" she asked plainly.

Whoa. Ryan totally wasn't expecting this one and wasn't quite sure what she meant, so he cocked his eyebrow, hoping she would elucidate. "Excuse me?"

"The fucking sweater vests and shit and now you look like some Crockett on Miami Vice cast-off. You know, nobody in Miami actually dressed like that, right? It was jut a horribly tacky show and nobody least of all you, should be using that as a fashion example. And the hair? Your hair is fucking ridiculous." Valera's question sounded a hell of a lot like a tirade. An injured look must've crossed his features, because she quickly doubled back. "I mean most of it isn't bad, it just can get a little 80s male modelesque sometimes and that's weird. Y'know, you're ha-alright looking, so you don't have to try so goddamn hard." Valera quickly caught herself, hoping that her good-looking coworker wouldn't notice, but he did and almost cracked a smug grin.

"I just felt like a little kid with the sweater vests. I live in Miami, why did I own sweater vests?" he offered.

"True, but they weren't that bad…you could wear that purple t-shirt more often, that was nice." Truth was, it really wasn't the sweater-vests she missed, it was the old Ryan. The old Ryan wasn't smug or guarded, the old Ryan had been shy and uncertain in a way that made her want to reassure him. She saw the old Ryan at the party, off by himself, unsure of how others in the department would react to him; the whole reinstatement was just too fresh. That's when she had come over and stood next to him, trying to bring him out of his nervous shell. Twenty minutes later, his hand was caressing her thigh and she was trying to loosen his tie.

"My turn. Nick Townsend? Why?" Ryan cut right to the chase, jarring her slightly.

"What the fuck, Wolfe? He was a douche and we went on a date. You were at the lab when it happened. What else is there to know?"
"You didn't answer my question." He said quietly, surprised she escalated that quickly. Maybe she was a Mike Tyson drunk after all.

Valera took a deep breath. "He was dangerous."

"Well, obviously. Natalia said-" Ryan retorted, not getting it.

"No. He was dangerous and that was so hot. The whole bad boy image. I know what Natalia said, I just didn't care." She said slowly. "I've always had a thing for bad boys, rebels and the like."

"Oh." Was it just her or did Ryan sound disappointed? She knew that he found her attractive, but they fooled around at a Christmas party, for christssake! Everyone knew that stuff like that didn't count.

"Yeah. My first boyfriend, Mikey Herolls? He was just charged with GTA back home. He should be fifty by the time he gets out."
"Oh." Ryan's first girlfriend had two kids, was married to a banker and more likely than not, drove a mini-van. "I know it was a while ago, but are you okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, of course. I mean, Mikey was a real asshole and he made out with my best friend, but that was high school" Valera laughed slightly, finding his concern endearing.

Ryan gave her a befuddled look, not sure what she was talking about. "…?"

"You meant Nick?" realization dawned on her and the lab tech turned red from embarrassment. "Of course you meant Nick. I'm fine. I mean, not at first because I thought I fucking killed him, but after that, it was okay." She nodded, still endeared (maybe even more so) by his concern. She had seen a glimmer of the old puppy dog Ryan and couldn't be more pleased.

The questions went back and forth for the next twenty minutes, dancing around the elephant in the room and Valera learned that not only did Ryan see his Uncle Ron on a regular basis, but his mom called him at least twice a week, asking him when he was going to come home. She also found out that he had been in his high school's chess club and played in marching band and much to his embarrassment, his date for the senior prom had ditched him early on in the night, leaving him to stand awkwardly around the edge of dance floor for the rest of the evening.

"She didn't know what she was missing." Valera announced. She was sitting next to him and placed her hand on his knee.

Suddenly, Ryan became hyper aware of her hand and his heartbeat hitched slightly. "Yeah." He replied sardonically. "I was a real catch. 'Cause y'know, in high school, everyone wants to hang out with the weird kid."

"Don't be so fucking harsh on yourself. You're a really sweet guy. You're smart, you've got a great job, hell you're a cop! Women find a man in uniform to be sexy, I bet you she's married to some corporate drone and that she hates her life." She was absently stroking his knee.

"Really? I always thought that was something Lifetime made up." He tried not to focus on her hand.

"Nope. It's true." She nodded, resolutely, more to herself than him. "Hell, Wolfe it doesn't even matter than you don't wear a uniform, it's just that you could." She rested her head on his shoulder, catching an intoxicating whiff of clean laundry and aftershave that reminded her of mint and eucalyptus. Valera wished they could stay like this forever.

"…Maxine?" her name felt foreign on his tongue, but he said it with surprising ease. Must be the wine.

"Hm?" a warm wave coursed through her when she heard him say her name. That was something she could definitely get used to.

"…that time in the coat check…"

"We weren't in the coat check." She knew they were going to have to talk about this sooner or later, but why did it have to be now? He was going tell her that he open bar was to blame and that he had just been horny and lonely and he didn't want those fifteen minutes of fooling around like high school students at junior prom to ruin their friendship, not to mention their professional relationship. And she would have to laugh it off and agree, when in all honesty, she had a crush on him since he showed up in his patrol uniform. That fumbling around was definitely something Valera entertained long before it happened, but now she'd have to make a joke of it.

"I'm sorry if it was creepy. I usually don't…"

"…feel your co-worker up next to your bosses' coats? Yeah, me neither." She jibed.

"Yeah. Well, no that's not what I meant." He panicked slightly. "I meant to say... What I mean is…"

"Don't worry, I haven't told anyone, your job is safe."
"No, I don't care…I do but…I…" he was growing frustrated at the sudden jumble in his brain and forced himself to focus on what he wanted to say.

"Shut the hell up, Wolfe and stop moving so much, you're going to knock me in the head." Valera was growing annoyed at his desire to drag out the already painful process.

"NO. Sorry, what I mean is, I don't regret what happened, in fact it was really fucking awesome, but I do regret how it happened. I… I wanted to at least take you out on a date first. One that doesn't involve H's awkward dancing or the Eric and Calleigh sexual tension or Stetler's evil eye, a real date. One with me picking you up at your place and dinner and conversation and not this much alcohol."

Valera smiled. "Are you asking me out on a date, Ryan?"

"Yeah, maybe." He sounded like young, hopeful Ryan. "…y'wanna go get dinner with me next time we both can

Valera turned her head and kissed his neck gently. "That'd be really fucking awesome, as long as you wear that purple t-shirt and this aftershave and smile more often."

Ryan laughed and grinned. "As long as we can fool around in the coat check."