How to Slide Down Horatio Caine's Chimney in 10 Easy Steps
by Carolina

Coffee. He needed coffee.

Ignoring all his coworkers glances, paranoia was starting to rear its ugly head, Eric headed straight towards the break room. Maybe that had been his first mistake. Coffee comes first, coffee always comes first. Doing anything before ingesting caffeine, even something as inconsequential as opening one's eyes, is just plain stupid.

He rubbed his eyes and blinked hard a couple of times, but that spot caused by the flash of Valera's camera was still there. Hey, not that he would need his eyes today for anything. He was only a scientist, after all. Valera would get hers, though. He was sure of that and just the thought of it made him smile.

Eric pushed the door to the break room open, and really, nothing should've surprised him anymore, but he still jumped when he felt something wet and gooey hit him square on the chest.

"Oh my God, Eric," Carrie exclaimed, her eyes the size of watermelons. "I'm so sorry!"

Eric remained frozen. "Do I have a kick me sign tattooed on my forehead?"

"No," Carrie said innocently.

"Then what the hell," Eric exclaimed, looking down at his shirt.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't see you," Carrie said apologetically, a hand covering her mouth as if she had committed a felonious crime.

One look at her face and Eric instantly felt bad. It was practically impossible to get mad at Carrie Delgado. She was like a cute little tiny kitten. If anything, her cuteness just made him smile. So he sighed indignantly and shook his head good naturedly. "Don't worry about it."

"I'm so sorry," Carrie continued anyway.

"Hey, it's just a shirt. I've got more at home." Eric looked down at the mess and touched the white substance, bringing his fingers to his nose to smell it. "What is it?"

"It's snow," Carrie said as she hurried to the sink to soak a paper towel in water.

Eric furrowed his eyebrows. "Snow?"

"Snow in a can," Carrie said. "I was decorating the break room; I swear I didn't see you."

"Ah, so it's you who's responsible for all those annoying Christmas decorations around the lab," Eric said as he approached the sink. He looked at her hurt expression, and quickly retrieved. "Did I say annoying? I meant endearing."

Carrie smiled dryly as she began to rub away the snow on Eric's shirt; a damp spot immediately appeared on it. "Well, I seem to be the only one who cares about Christmas around here."

"That's not true," Eric said, "Yesterday I saw Horatio admiring your beautiful display by the men's bathroom."

Carrie gave him a disbelieving look. "He was trapped in a tinsel web. It took three security guards to untangle him."

Eric laughed heartedly. "Hey, trust me, after the day I had yesterday I needed the laugh."

Carrie only allowed herself to smile, fearing the repercussions of openly laughing at Horatio, even if he wasn't around. You never know when he might suddenly appear in front of you. When the fake snow was gone from Eric's shirt, she hesitantly pointed at a spot near his neck. "You've got some on your... undershirt, there."

He looked down and thoughtlessly began to unbutton his shirt. Carrie took one step back, uncomfortable by the sight of Eric Delko down to a tee in front of her, and handed him another paper towel. That he would have to do on his own.

Eric put his shirt to the side, hoping it would dry quickly, and began to clean his undershirt and neck. He heard the door open and looked up to catch Carrie's eyes widening again. Eric looked back and saw Calleigh by the door, a curious expression on her face.

"Hey, Cal," he said noncommittally and continued to rub the moist towel on his tee.

Hand still on the doorknob, Calleigh looked at the scene in front of her and frowned slightly. "What's going on?"

"I was attacked with snow in a can," Eric replied without looking up.

Calleigh narrowed her eyes. "Snow in a can?"

"It was an accident," Carrie added, sounding a lot more serious than Eric had. "I was spraying it on the window and he walked in and I didn't see him and I kinda... sprayed it on him. It was an accident."

Eric chuckled. "It's okay, Carrie, it's not like you shot my dog."

That didn't seem to calm Carrie, though. Looking like she was about to cry, she grabbed the remaining of her Christmas decorations and quickly whisked past Calleigh, muttering an unsteady, "I have to get back to work."

When she was gone, Eric looked at Calleigh and shook his head. "She is way too sensitive."

"Uh huh," Calleigh said. Arms suddenly crossed in front of her, she walked over to stand in front of him. "Where's your shirt?"

Eric pointed at a nearby chair. "Over there."

Calleigh looked at the shirt, specifically at the damp spot on it, and pursed her lips. On the counter sat the infamous can of 'snow', and she picked it up to inspect it closely.

"It's not toxic, is it?" Eric asked.

Morning cheerfulness gone, Calleigh looked at him briefly, put the can back on the counter, and muttered an unfriendly, "you'll live," before she walked away.

Eric's eyes followed her as she left the break room, the door closing behind her with a non scandalous but definitely noticeable slam.

Oookay.

Shaking his head in confusion, he threw the paper towel away, wondering who was the poor, miserable, but definitely stupid, soul who had managed to piss Calleigh off five minutes into her shift. He briefly thought about following her to make sure she was okay, but he knew he would somehow manage to say something stupid and get himself into trouble. It would be best to let her cool off.

So he reached for his special blend in the cupboard. If it wasn't for his dear, precious coffee, he wasn't sure he'd be able to bear all of this. Just the smell was enough to put him in an elated, almost orgasmic ecstasy, no matter how chaotic the atmosphere surrounding him was. As he waited for the coffee to brew, he picked up the scraps of a newspaper someone had left behind and sat by the table, going over the day's least coveted news.

The water in the coffee maker had just begun to boil when suddenly the door opened and closed again, this time with a definite loud boom.

Eric looked up. Not Calleigh, but Ryan, looking like death going through heroine withdrawals.

"You and your stupid assumptions!" Ryan shouted.

None threatened, Eric smiled and his eyes returned to the newspaper. "Funny, I always figured you for a morning person."

Ryan walked over, taking long, aggressive steps, and sat next to Eric. "Ask me if I had a good night. Go ahead."

Eric frowned. "Did you have a good night, Ryan?"

"Well, funny you should ask, Delko. No, I didn't. Now ask me why!"

"Why?" Eric asked tentatively.

"Because of you," Ryan said accusatorily. "You and your stupid assumptions."

"You already said that part," Eric said, concentrating on the newspaper again.

"Oh, this is funny to you, isn't it?" Ryan said viciously.

"Would you calm down," Eric exclaimed. A strong smell of coffee filled the room and he stood up. "Here, have some coffee."

"I don't want your coffee," Ryan said stubbornly. "I want you to take it back, everything you said about Valera."

Eric smiled knowingly. "Oh, Valera."

"You had no right telling me that," Ryan said sharply.

Eric poured two cups of coffee and walked back to the table, handing one to Ryan. "What? That she likes you?"

"Yes... that," Ryan said. "It was completely unfounded and a shameless violation of her privacy."

"Well, first of all, she didn't tell me anything, I was just guessing. So technically I didn't violate her privacy," Eric said. "And second, so you know she likes you, what's the difference? I thought you didn't like her."

"I didn't!" Ryan huffed.

Eric raised one eyebrow. "You didn't or you don't?"

The anger in Ryan's eyes was quickly replaced by panic. "I don't know."

Eric chuckled again and took a sip of his coffee.

"Oh yeah, very funny. I didn't get any sleep last night, ha ha, hilarious!" Ryan said sarcastically.

Eric smiled. "I'm not laughing at you, Melvin. I think it's great."

"What?" Ryan asked incredulously.

"I think it's nice," Eric said. "You and Valera. Who knows, she might be the one."

"The one?" Ryan said overdramatically. "You have met her, right?"

"Yes, I have met her. I've known her longer than you, actually," Eric said and shrugged his shoulders. "So, she's a little... eccentric."

"She's a freak!"

"She's also caring, smart, cheerful," Eric said. "You could use some sparkle in your life."

"Jesus Christ," Ryan said, covering his face with his hands.

Eric frowned at him. "Hey, at least you know where you stand with Valera. I have to sit in a proverbial corner and wait for infrangibly scarce signals like fucking Helen Keller."

Ryan breathed in and out loudly and leaned back on his chair, staring at his steaming cup of coffee, liking the way it calmed him down tremendously. "We're pathetic, did you know that?"

"Yes, it's been made clear to me about eight hundred times in the last thirty six hours," Eric said, reading the newspaper.

Ryan sighed. "I'm her Secret Santa, too. Now I don't know what to get her. Everything's either too personal, or not personal enough..." he shook his head, trying to put it out of his mind. "What'd you get Calleigh?"

Eric finished drinking his coffee and pushed the cup away. "1938 Luger."

"Nice," Ryan nodded. "If I gave Valera a gun she'd probably turn around and shoot me with it," he bemused.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure that's what Calleigh's gonna do," Eric said.

"You better not load it beforehand."

"Way ahead of you."

"Yeah."

Both men sighed simultaneously.

"Whose idea was it to do this Secret fucking Santa, anyway?" Eric suddenly asked.

"I don't know," Ryan said. "But for their safety, I better not find out."

Eric nodded in agreement, feeling mellow. At least he had someone to wallow in misery with. It could be a cold and lonely place. Ryan seemed to be going through what Eric liked to call The Wretchedness of Falling for a Friend, Stage Two: Denial. Luckily, Eric's train had left that station long ago and he was indifferently settled on Stage Five: Quiet Desperation, which he was sure would be inevitably followed by Stage Six: Outward Displays of Mental Malaise, and then finally Stage Seven: Disgruntled Postal Worker Disorder.

At least he'd be on the news.

"What do you think her name is?" Ryan suddenly asked, staring at the coffee's steam as if in a trance.

Eric looked at him. "Valera?"

"Yeah."

"Who knows," Eric said, stood up, and began to put his shirt on, stained despite Carrie's best efforts. "I got 20 bucks on Miriam."

Ryan frowned.

"Anyway," Eric added, putting his empty cup in the sink. "I'll see you later."

Ryan looked back. "Where are you going?"

"I gotta go whore myself to Frank for a couple of hours," Eric said.

"Have fun," Ryan said indifferently, his forehead hit the table as soon as the door closed.