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

Eric walked into the police station behind a large cop who was dragging a prostitute inside while she shouted obscenities at the sky. Eric thought this woman must have been in her sixties, at least. Her hair was messed around, her make up was all over the place and he didn't wanna look at her long enough, but he was sure she was missing half her teeth.

Gross.

"What are you looking at, candy ass?" she suddenly asked, giving Eric a spiteful look.

Eric shook his head and raised his hands as politely as he could. "Nothing."

"You look like you could use a good time," she said, suddenly grinning. "Wanna meet me out back in an hour?"

Eric grimaced, feeling the vomit practically in his mouth already.

"Dammit, Marla, stop traumatizing the kid," the burly cop said and dragged her away.

As the litany of obscenities began again, Eric's eyes scanned the room for Frank Tripp. Didn't take very long to spot him, seeing as Frank was probably tallest standing structure in the Miami-Dade area. He stood near his desk, phone pinned between his ear and shoulder, looking tense. But that was nothing out of the ordinary. Frank always looked tense. Frank always made people around him feel tense, too.

Eric took a deep breath and let it out, cracked his fingers, and moved his shoulders around in circles like he was about to step into the ring for a long boxing round. Well, say the wrong thing to Frank and the simile could become a reality in a heartbeat. It wasn't the fact that Frank had a gun that made people anxious. It was the fact that Frank didn't need to use his gun very often that made people anxious.

He approached him from behind, taking note of all the emergency exits and calculating how long it would take him to run towards the nearest one as a maddening Frank chased him like a giant ball would to an Indiana Jones. Frank seemed to be in the middle of a work related conversation, and Eric waited until the older man sounded most relaxed to take one last step forward.

"Uh, Frank?"

"What?!" Frank barked.

"Nothing," Eric whimpered, turned around and walked out of there as fast as he could.

Okay, not very graceful. Not particularly manly, either, but he valued his life too much to see it end in the hands of Frank Tripp as a bunch of cops cheered in the background and threw their donuts at him. If he was gonna die, he was gonna die with dignity, even if he felt everything but proud of himself at the moment.

Lucky for him and his reputation, nobody seemed to notice him as he walked out, not even Frank, who was now on his way to interrogate a suspect like nothing had happened, probably because he never heard Eric behind him and had barked at the person he was talking on the phone to, rather than at the CSI himself.

Once outside, another litany of curses began, but this time they didn't come from Marla the decaying prostitute. With the exchange of gifts taking place tomorrow, Eric was pretty sure this mission had been nothing but a waste of time and a testament of just how pathetic he actually was. Not that he needed proof anyway, but he was sure this time he'd set a new record. He hoped his ancestors weren't actually watching him from the heavens right now, because he was sure this would give them enough reason to disown him even from the great beyond.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

As he hit his head against the station's cement pillars over and over again, hoping it would cause brain damage and erase the last five minutes of his life from his memory, a suspiciously clean car suddenly parked in front of him and the famous dark curls of Yelina Salas stepped out of it. She proceeded to help a fellow cop drag a suspect out of the back seat and towards the station.

Eric grinned and walked over to meet her halfway.

"Hey, Lina, you got a minute?"

"Eric, sure." Yelina smiled and turned to her partner. "Take him in; I'll be there in five minutes." She watched them go inside and looked at Eric. "What can I do for you?"

"I was just wondering who you got in the Secret Santa draw," he asked coyly.

Yelina frowned at him. "Isn't that supposed to be a secret?"

"Not really," Eric said. "I think they cared more for alliteration than accuracy when naming the game. You know these things lose their actual meaning when they're translated over and over again through the centuries? Like the bible."

"But isn't it an American game?" Yelina said suspiciously, her accent less thick than usual. "Because Horatio said—"

"Yeah, don't worry about Horatio," Eric said playfully. "He's just a little misguided."

Yelina chuckled. "I'm sure he would love to hear that."

"I'm sure he wouldn't, so let's not tell him," Eric said and smiled. "So?"

Shaking her head, Yelina reached into her pocket and showed him the tiny piece of paper. "Alexx Woods."

"Alexx," Eric repeated the name, going through some more calculations in his head. Horatio probably wouldn't switch him Calleigh for Alexx, but at least he wouldn't be stuck having to buy a present for the boss. Plus, he was pretty sure there was something between Horatio and Yelina neither of them seemed to have the guts to start. Who knows, maybe this would give them the little push they needed? An otherwise selfish act might actually give birth to a good deed. Yeah, definitely a no brainer.

"Is that all?" Yelina asked.

"Not quite," Eric said and reached into his pocket to retrieve a similar piece of paper. "See, I got Horatio and I can't really seem to find a gift he'd like, and since you know him better than I do, I thought maybe you'd like to switch with me?"

Yelina looked at the paper reluctantly, like she had a terribly important decision to make, but then shook her head. "I don't know, Eric."

"Come on, Yelina, my job is in jeopardy here," Eric begged. Over dramatization always worked with women.

But Yelina continued to shake her head regardless. "He is not going to fire you because you bought him a bad present."

"It wouldn't score me any points, either," Eric said. "Imagine it's time for him to promote someone, who do you think he's gonna choose? Ryan, the young, motivated, go getter; or Eric, the guy who got him a Chia Pet for Christmas?"

She let out a sigh, looking around before she finally caved in. "Okay."

Eric frowned. That was easy. Too easy. "Really?"

"Yes, you take Alexx, I'll take Horatio, you keep your job," she said, taking his piece of paper and handing him hers.

Eric smiled broadly, cradled her neck and kissed her cheek. "Thank you!"

"Just don't tell him I switched, okay?" Yelina said. "Horatio takes his games seriously."

"Yeah, we've never met," Eric said and winked at her. "Thanks, Yelina."

Yelina smiled and shook her head as she watched him go, and went inside the station.

--

Eric arrived at the lab feeling much better than when he had left. No, maybe he wouldn't get to be Calleigh's Secret Santa, but at least he wouldn't have to be Horatio's, either. The thought of it was enough to give him goosebumps. Hey, he loved Horatio as much as the next person, he was like a second father to Eric, but aimlessly walking around the mall as he tried to find a good gift for Horatio, which he was sure was something that didn't exist, was not his idea of a rewarding afternoon. Or a fun Christmas, for that matter. He could already see the look on Horatio's face when he opened up his gift, expecting something good and getting... the Clapper. Eric could also see himself on Christmas Day, clapping all the way to the unemployment office.

He would have to thank Yelina properly for this. Flowers, candy... a kidney, anything to show her his undying appreciation.

As he walked past the layout room, he spotted Calleigh inside, leaning into the table and examining a piece of clothing through a magnifying glass. He wondered if she was still pissed. He wondered why she had been pissed. It wasn't like Calleigh to get worked up over nothing. And she had been her cheerfully self that morning, so maybe she received a bad phone call? It had to be something big.

So Eric opened the door hesitantly and stood by it. She didn't look up. "Hey."

She didn't look up at that, either, but replied noncommittally, "hey."

Not in a good mood, definitely, but not vengefully pissed, either. He decided to risk it and walk in. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to place this guy at my crime scene," Calleigh breathed.

"Any luck?" Eric asked, coming around to stand next to her.

"I just started," Calleigh said, eyes on her work the whole time.

Eric nodded and watched her work for a while. It was fascinating, seeing Calleigh submerge herself into her job. Her eyes got bright; a smile appeared on her face... she was like a kid in a candy store. Not now, though. Now she seemed completely alienated from the task in front of her. It was weird and a bit troubling. Very unlike the Calleigh he knew.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, not caring much for a potentially negative reaction.

Calleigh finally straightened up and looked at him questioningly, not an ounce of mirth in her features. "Why?"

"You just look a little... tense," Eric said. "Did something happen?"

Calleigh shook her head. She wanted to punch him and kick him and throw him out of the room, but something about his tone of voice, the concern in his eyes as well, made her soften up. So instead, waved her hand around dismissively and returned to her examination. "It's nothing."

Eric looked around the room before he hesitantly asked, "Is your dad okay?"

Calleigh was taken aback by the question. Shocked, really, to see him cross that line from friendly to downright intimate. Not that her father was a national secret, but everyone who knew her knew the topic of her father was absolutely off limits. Eric himself had been on the receiving end of a few of her lectures.

Did he actually have a death wish or was he genuinely concerned?

Not knowing if she should feel touched that he cared or pissed that he had broken her sternest rule, Calleigh merely nodded. "Yeah, he's fine."

"Good," Eric said. Looking around the room, he spotted a chair in the corner and dragged it over, sat down and rested his elbows on the table, staring at the shirt she was examining.

Calleigh frowned. "Don't you have work to do?"

"Slow day," Eric replied.

Suddenly not knowing what to do with herself, unnerved by his presence, Calleigh sighed discretely. "Well, maybe Ryan needs help with his case?"

Eric looked up at her. "Are you throwing me out?"

"No, but I can't work with you sitting over there."

"Why? I won't say anything."

"I still know you're there," Calleigh said, magnifying glass still in hand, but forgotten. .

Eric shrugged his shoulders. "Pretend I'm not."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I know you're there! I can see you, I can feel you; I can hear you breathing," Calleigh huffed, frustrated.

"Well, I have to breathe. How else am I going to stay alive?" Eric teased.

"You won't stay alive much longer if you keep pestering me like this."

Eric straightened up. "I just wanna know why you're pissed."

"I'm not pissed!"

"You're pissed right now."

Calleigh rolled her eyes. "Because you won't let me do my job, yes, Eric, I am pissed right now."

"Why were you pissed this morning?"

Calleigh sighed. "Eric—"

Eric frowned. "Is it a guy?"

"Just drop it."

Eric stood up defiantly and reached for his gun. "Tell me who he is so I can kill him, and then I'll leave you alone."

Calleigh scoffed. "First of all, how incredibly demeaning of you to think I would let myself get worked up over a man."

"Alright, I apologize," Eric said, taking his hand off the holster and sitting down again. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He loved to tease Calleigh.

"Second, if somehow a man was involved, what makes you think I couldn't take care of him myself?" she asked, eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm sure you're more than capable of taking care of him yourself, Calleigh, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't want to smack him around a little bit. In fact, I'd need you there to hold him down for me," Eric said casually.

Calleigh's eyes widened and she shook her head disbelievingly. "Oh my God."

"What?" Eric said defensively. "If I had a girlfriend and she broke my heart, wouldn't you track her down and smack her around, too?" Suddenly, he smiled. "By the way, for the purposes of visual aid, feel free to embellish your response as vernacularly as you possibly can."

Calleigh shook her head. "You're disgusting."

Eric raised his eyebrows suggestively, speaking in a sexy tone. "What would you do to her?"

"And pathetic," Calleigh added, eyes glued to the shirt again, trying to ignore him but it was impossible.

"Would there be Jell-o involved?"

She was about to yell at him and throw something at his head, really, but then just shook her head and looked away, covering her mouth with her hand.

Eric followed her with his eyes, grinning. "Is that a smile I see?"

Calleigh looked down at the shirt again, trying to suppress a smile by biting on her lower lip. It wasn't working very well.

Eric laughed. "Never let it be said that my affinity for a good female on female Jell-o match never brightened your day."

"Yeah, you're a regular Mr. Rogers," Calleigh said sarcastically, grabbed a plastic bag with a pair of pants inside and threw it at him. "Here, make yourself useful."

Eric caught it in midair and reached for another magnifying glass, and the two settled on a comfortable silence as they searched for any traces of evidence on the suspect's clothes.

If there was one thing he loved about his job, among other things, it was working with Calleigh. Maybe it was the rose colored glasses talking, but he thought they made the best partners in the lab. There was something almost artistic about it, the way she would compliment his best abilities and vice versa. Like a tango, if he wanted to get particularly corny. She knew the things he didn't know and he knew the things she didn't. It never got competitive or malicious. Sure they bickered sometimes, but that only seemed to make them better partners. Unrequited love, and modesty, aside, Eric thought they were the best twosome working at the Miami-Dade lab.

But considering the massive exaggeration, the rose colored glasses were definitely speaking there. He was okay with that, really. The rest of his life was a sham, might as well lie to himself a bit. Just to cheer himself up.

The silence was eventually broken by Calleigh.

"What do you think I should get Sam?" she asked, hunched over the table still.

Eric looked up at her and frowned. "Why, why are you getting gifts for Sam?"

"I'm his Secret Santa," Calleigh said casually.

Eric rolled his eyes. Of course. Sam. Stupid Sam, with his sexy accent and his manly features, those warm eyes you could get yourself lost into on a cold, winter night... He shook his head, nearly slapping himself. That man had the entire lab on a curse! Just what he needed. Competition from his own geographical brother.

"How about a Chia Pet?" he replied bitterly.

Calleigh frowned at him, detecting a bit of cynicism. "I thought you liked Sam," she said. "Don't you guys hang out after work sometimes?"

Eric grimaced. "He's picked up this annoying little habit of talking about himself on second person. It's always, 'You can't catch a break, can you?' or, 'it's nice coming to work when you get all that attention,'" he mocked in a thick Spanish accent. "It's starting to get a little annoying."

"Huh," Calleigh said. "I've never heard him talk like that."

"Well, he does," Eric said.

Calleigh shrugged her shoulders and went back to work, ignoring his suddenly foul mood. Eric had been acting a little bit strange these past couple of days, nothing concerning, she thought, but he was definitely up to something.

They went back to work on the clothes, and the silence was broken a second time, but by Horatio, who stood by the door with his hands on his hips.

"Eric."

Both Eric and Calleigh jumped simultaneously; Eric nearly fell off his chair.

"A woman was trampled at a toy store by a crowd. Let's go," Horatio said intensely and walked away.

Eric sighed and stood up, pushing his work towards Calleigh's side of the table. "Well, I leave you with my pants. Zipper's a little tricky, so please be gentle."

Calleigh snickered. "Careful with those soccer moms, one of them attacked Frank yesterday."

"I'll use Horatio as a shield," he joked.

"Hey," Calleigh called him when he was outside, and struggled a bit with her words. "Thanks for the whole, you know..."

Eric smiled. "Cheering you up bit?"

"If you have to put it that way," Calleigh said. "I appreciate it."

"No problem," Eric winked and walked away, leaving her with his pants and a couple of red cheeks.

He found Horatio outside, warming up the Hummer and looking like he was about to go solve the case of Kennedy's assassination. Eric didn't share his enthusiasm. A city as big as Miami, and he was on his way to peel a woman off the floor of a Toys R Us. Meanwhile, he was sure Ryan was working the headlines. It really wasn't fair. He was gonna have to start watching that kid before he became Eric's boss.

But he didn't really mind it much as he jumped on the passenger seat. He had just made Calleigh happy and that was enough to send him on a blissful stupor. And if everything went according to plan, he would have her name on a little piece of paper by the end of the day... If he could just get the same crowd of Christmas shoppers to trample on Horatio instead.

Silently, Eric began to practice his, "He's got the last Elmo!" call.