Disclaimers: All characters from CSI: Miami are property of CBS. I own nothing connected with CBS or with CSI: Miami, I don't know anyone connected with CBS or with the show. I gain nothing from posting these stories save self satisfaction.
Title: Mutual Valor
Pairing: Horatio Caine/OC
Rating: NC 17 I know, 'M' is an accepted rating, but this is just in case you don't know, this is what 'M' means. This is not only for sexual content, but also for violence and references to sexual child abuse well.
Spoilers: There are references to previous episodes through fourth season.
Challenge: For you true experts on all CSI: Miami, the J's I use for story breaks, and the Sorority House, are references to one episode in particular. It will be up to you to figure out which episode and why I used the lines of J's.
Comments: Both negative and positive comments are always appreciated. I learn from the negative and enjoy the positive.
Thank you: Many thanks to my betas, Elena and Tonie. If not for you, this would have been a mess! I am truly grateful for your efforts.
Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy!
Summary: Story: Sometimes the rescuer becomes the rescued.
Chapter 14: Horatio's day off leads to unexpected results
Chapter 14:
Since Horatio's position, as head of the CSI day shift, allowed him to be pretty much self-directed and self-governing, and since his location, the beach in Miami, was among the top tourist destinations of the world, he decided, for once, to take advantage of both. The day before, while sorting through his messages, he'd resolved that the one day off, Sunday, had been nice, but not enough, and that, after the hell he'd lived for the last week or so, maybe overdoing a good thing would be perfect. The night before, he'd invited Manuela to join him in playing a little hooky, and she had readily accepted. So, first thing in the morning, he'd called in to work, made sure nothing needed his urgent attention, and asked Paula to inform his team he would not be in for the day.
Finally, that morning, he first slathered on industrial-strength sunscreen for his redhead-pale skin, dressed in his lightest linen slacks, a light, long sleeved shirt, and heavily soled sandals, and finished the outfit with a desert-storm style slouch hat. Stuffing his pockets with money, entry keys, a travel-size bottle of sunscreen, and dark glasses, he stepped into the hallway, and pulled the door shut with a decided thump. Feeling euphoric with freedom already, he slid in a dance-like move to next-door, beat a quick rat-tat-tat, then shifted from foot to foot in unaccustomed impatience to get the day started.
The short wait was quickly rewarded when Manuela opened the door. She was a lovely sight that morning and obviously as ready for fun as he was. Dressed in form fitting retro style, pastel pink Capri slacks, sleeveless white, square-necked cut-off cotton top, and sandals with white spaghetti straps that laced up past her ankles, she had even slicked her hair back. Goggle-like dark glasses perched on her head completed the 'look.'
"Breakfast at Tiffany's!" The words popped out of his mouth with a grin.
"Darn! You guessed!"
"Heh! Well, Audrey, are you ready to walk to forever?" Granted, he was referring to the plan to simply walk down the beach for the day, but, in his current mood, he couldn't resist the phrase.
"Oh, Darling," she even managed a slight Hepburn-like break in her voice, "and ever again! Let's go." She took his proffered arm and pranced gaily beside him to the elevators.
The night before, discussing the day to come, they had made a pact to not discuss work, or anything resembling it, nor personal problems, and certainly not world affairs. Even so, no one would have detected even a minute of silence between the two; from brunch at a beachfront restaurant, to inspecting several hotel shopping malls, watching a display of dueling kites on the beach, snacking on soft pretzels and sno-cones—strawberry for her, grape for him—the banter between them seldom stopped. They chattered about everything, from the artwork on the kites, to the shape of the majestic clouds above them.
Exploring the world on a day off was like exploring a new planet for Horatio; everything seemed remarkably interesting and different, unlike anything in his daily world. The elation he'd first felt in the hallway that morning, remained, invigorating him as he'd seldom been in the last year or so. That day, perhaps the first, he didn't think about Marisol or Ray. For the first time in ages, he didn't mind being silly or rattling inanely about how beautiful the day was. He was having a good time!
By the late afternoon, their conversation got comically heated and lively, and all because they had broken the pact of the night before. Nearing their condo, they began poking fun at each other about their respective jobs' acronyms.
"Really! I swear I'm not making this up. I've heard CPS called Carousing Pot-smoking Scumbags!" Walking backwards, pants rolled up, Horatio's voice carried over the sloshing waves.
Shoes in hand, walking the line marked in the sand by the incoming surf in the late afternoon sun, Manuela was following him, and in mock indignation, putting her wrists to her hips, she said, "Oh, yeah? Well CSI stands for Clown School Invertebrates, so there!"
"How about Crappy Piss-ant Shits?" Horatio suddenly had to sprint for his life, chased by a growling Manuela. Since he'd started too late to escape her, Manuela easily grabbed at his shoulders and fell against him, pushing him to the sand onto his hands and knees. His hat falling from his head, he turned onto his back, holding his arms over his face to protect his eyes from the sand tossed about by the softly flailing arms. "Hey! Hey!"
"Take that back! Take it back!" She pretended to beat at his heaving chest, as he lay nearly convulsed with laughter.
"No! No! No!" he gasped, shaking his head from side to side.
Climbing onto him, straddling his waist, she returned, nodding vigorously, "Yes! Yes! Yes!"
"No! No! No!" He raised his voice to a falsetto and tossed his head again.
Lowering her feminine voice as much as she could she added a bit of a growl, "Yes! Yes! Yes!"
Still replying with 'no', still laughing, suddenly Horatio began nodding in agreement, up and down.
Manuela's grin widened as she responded with 'yes,' but shook her head widely from side to side.
"No! No! No!" nodded Horatio.
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" responded Manuela, as she negatively tossed her head.
Finally, she'd placed her hands on Horatio's shoulders, leaning on them, looking into his happy face a moment. Releasing him, she triumphantly pulled herself up, raising a finger in the air, and announced, "'Singing in the Rain!'"
"Funny movie! Best scene is where Donald O'Connor is singing 'Be a Clown' doing flips off walls in a movie set until he hits a wall made of paper."
"And goes right through! Bam! Oh but the 'Yes! Yes! Yes! No! No! No!' was so good." She threw herself off of her victim and collapsed onto her back in the sand beside him.
Lying back, staring up at the blue sky, Horatio took a deep breath, noisily exhaling. "God! It feels good to laugh! I can't remember the last time I laughed or felt so good."
"Same here! Really good! Needed this, lots!" She rolled onto her side, propping her head onto her shoulder. "You get good ideas sometimes." Taking off her dark glasses, she propped them up onto the top her head with a flourish, smiling back at her companion.
Looking into her eyes, he noted the slanting sun brought out flecks of gold against the shades of brown and bits of green. "Yes," he acknowledged, "on rare occasion, I do." He almost reached out to stroke her cheek, but instead he hauled himself up onto his feet, stared around, and put his balled up fists on his hips. "Well, whaddya know? We're back home!" He looked down at her, "You know what? I'm going inside to grab a shower. Then we can continue this fun-and-games day going out to dinner. What do you say?" He reached down to her.
Responding to his outstretched hand, Manuela allowed herself to be pulled up. "I think we'd better go in through the side door." She came close, put a hand up to his shoulder, a finger to her lips in a gesture of secrecy, and theatrically looked about. "If we track sand through the lobby, there'll be a polite note in our boxes from the Building Association."
Walking in the direction of the building's side door, Horatio was happily surprised to find Manuela's arm slip about his waist as she fell into step beside him. Responding by shortening his stride, he let his arm fall loosely onto her shoulder and felt her fitting herself against him.
By the time the elevator carried them to their floor, they realized how tired they were, and decided not to go out after all but to order in and an hour later, they were dining al fresco on his patio.
Finishing as much as she could of the arroz con calamarias from Horatio's favorite Cuban restaurant, Manuela begged off of the container of coquitos. "I'll make some real coffee, later, and we can have them then." She rose from the patio table, taking her plate. "You sure you don't want this?" She indicated her unfinished plate.
Though he had easily finished his vaca frita, two tortillas, and a good part of the berenjenas rellenas he put his hand out in silent denial. "Put it away please, save it. If I ate that, you'd have to eat all of the coconut balls yourself, and I'd hate for you to suffer like that."
A couple of minutes later, just as she was stepping back out onto the patio, she heard a loud, long belch. It had been a while since she'd heard such a thoroughly male sound and somehow the noise was strangely pleasant to her ears. Though she knew of some women who could equal the length and the volume, none could ever quite replicate the intensity. This one made her think of whales, sounding from the depths, sending messages to others of their kind hundreds of miles away.
"Was that you?" She found him leaning casually at the rail of the balcony, staring pensively at nothing in particular.
Looking at her with a shy smile, he looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry. Took me by surprise. I guess I ate too fast."
"No need to apologize. I just wasn't sure if it was you or a passing jet." She joined him, keeping a serious face, but glancing coyly out of the corner of her eye, pretended to scan the sky as if for aircraft.
Knowing she was waiting for a retort and deciding not to satisfy her, he shook his head, smiling slightly as he turned to also look out to the dark skyline. Even at this time of the year, the beginning of hurricane season, the horizon was dotted with the huge light displays of cruise ships, signifying thousands of people crammed into a small area, all declaring freedom, joy, and the power to eat at every waking moment for five to ten days straight. Added to these few bright stars were the lesser lights of fishing craft and party barges.
Another indicator of the season was the warm, heavy air that lay on the skin, like a damp heating blanket turned up to high. The only relief to the otherwise suffocating atmosphere was the slight breeze carried to the land from the cooler off shore ocean current, most noticeable in the evening; this air flow, however, seemed to stagnate during the day, terminated by the sun, or so it seemed. This time of the year, anywhere more than half a mile inland, the weather was endurable only with air conditioning or at the very least, fans. It was amazing how bearable humid air could be when propelled by fans.
Of course, it wasn't nearly so balmy when a hurricane was threatening. Just before the winds kicked up, the air would be so dead, so still, it felt like you were inhaling lead weights. Along with that was an electric feeling that crawled about, almost as if static was an entity out hunting for a place to inhabit, using the nervous system of any living thing as a conduit. Even if you didn't know from the air that a hurricane was approaching, the clue was in the change in the horizon which, instead of being starred as heavily as the sky itself, would be as dark as the cloud covered sky, devoid of vessels which were all heading for safe ports.
Horatio liked the feeling of the air, reassuringly warm and moist against his skin; liked standing here, on his patio, relaxed, stomach full, a beautiful woman by his side. Yes, just now was a good time.
Manuela suggested dancing, but after two songs, they decided they had both had enough activity for the day and wanted to just sit and listen to the salsa mix.
First, she went inside and attended to coffee, bringing the finished brew out in a complete service on a tray. As she suspected, Horatio took his black, but she needed the cream, the sugar, and mostly, she just liked using the pretty blue china coffee set. Finally seating herself, they both allowed their cups to cool, then each took a coconut ball from the syrupy plate at almost the same time, and finishing together, both noisily licked their fingers of the gooey treat.
When she returned from putting the coffee service in her kitchen, Manuela was drawn to the outer balcony wall again, seeking the errant breeze after the stagnant indoor air. She leaned her back against the rail, her head up, propping her elbows high on the top bar, completely unaware of how attractive she looked, dressed in white, fine linen slacks and a white sheer cotton blouse, both of which fit her curvy figure extremely well. Standing with her arms back, the light, coming from inside the condo, highlighting her breasts and hips against the darkness beyond, she was a vision to behold, though she was completely unconscious of the fact.
Rising from his seat, Horatio was drawn to her as moth to flame but, resisting temptation, he turned his chest into the rail beside her and pretended to scan the sidewalk below, hoping to find something to remark on, something to talk about, to keep himself from reaching out and touching her. His hands on the top rail, his arms out from his shoulders in a batwing position, he leaned forward, trying to block the tempting sight of her from his view, he was a little surprised to feel his left elbow being tapped, "Hey."
He turned, thinking that perhaps he had crowded her, ready to apologize, and was amazed to find her facing him, an unmistakably inviting smile playing about her lips. He was more amazed when she moved in closer and, finally, was astounded when her arms reached up to curl around his neck and pulled him down into a sweetly suggestive kiss. Quickly the surprise passed and he couldn't help but respond, taking her into his arms. Ten silent, but pleasantly active minutes later, she pulled away, said goodnight, and closed the gate behind her.
Stepping inside, Manuela paused at the open patio door, listening. She knew Horatio had not yet moved from where she'd left him, so she waited. Finally, she heard something that was barely louder than the sound of the waves on the beach, something between a whispered whistle and a breathy 'whew', and then he went inside. She took note of it all. Unsure of herself, unsure of her actions, she did feel reasonably convinced that what she had heard was close to what she'd wanted as a response. Manuela thoughtfully retired.