Ryan and the Pit of Poison Pins

AN: This fic was inspired by my sister (who rarely, if ever, watches CSI,) who walked in while I was re-watching some early season three Miami episodes, and remarked that Ryan spent most of his time in the lab looking like he was 'standing on the edge of the pit of poison pins'. This cryptic remark sparked a plot bunny, which I am too lazy to develop properly right now. So I wrote something very, very quickly, and am actually quite pleased with it now. I should also point out that I don't normally write Eric/Calleigh fics - in fact, this didn't even start out as one. It was just a machanism to make poor Ryan feel awkward. Set early season three, in Ryan's 'Poison Pin' days. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters, not making any money, don't sue, blah, blah, blah.

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And then he walked in on Calleigh and Eric in a clinch.

Ryan didn't think he could make his position much more awkward in the lab. He really didn't. He'd effectively replaced a much loved deceased man, had confrontations with said deceased man's best friend, just about succeeded in driving Calleigh, one of his very few allies, away through sheer pig-headedness, and suddenly, Calleigh and Eric were making out in a lab he just had to walk into with his eyes on his boots and his music on.

Safe to say, it took him a good five seconds to notice his colleagues, another good five seconds to actually process what he was seeing, and just five more to turn round and hurtle back out of the door.

That adds up to fifteen seconds, which happens to be the exact number of seconds it takes for two people caught in a romantic clinch to realise they've just been caught in a potentially compromising position by an OCD colleague who has difficulty lying to internal investigators when asked direct questions.

"Oh no," Calleigh was already up and racing after Ryan, stopping short in the door of the lab.

Eric covered his eyes with his palms, and wondered how the day was going to get any worse.

"I wont say anything, promise," Ryan blurted it over the DNA results he presented to Calleigh later that day.

The blond CSI contemplated him silently for several unbearable seconds, and tried very hard not to laugh. Ryan looked as if he was on the very edge of pit of many, many upturned poisoned pins, about to be pushed. "Oh, Ryan, don't freak out."

Ryan took a breath, and opened one previously tightly closed eye, "um…"

"I was feeling vulnerable," Calleigh waved a hand, "Eric was feeling over protective, we're both stressed out – add that to the fumes in those labs and things are bound to happen from time to time."

"Oh, right," Ryan carefully backed away from his mental pit of poisoned pins, "so, there's, um… nothing going on?"

"Not that I know of," Calleigh patted him on the head with DNA results, "Ryan, you need to learn to lay back every now and again, 'kay hon?"

Ryan nodded, eyes still wide.

"Did you talk to Ryan?" Eric asked her, later on that day again.

Calleigh shrugged.

"Is that a yes?"

"I talk to Ryan all the time. What was I supposed to be talking to him about in particular?"

"Calleigh…"

She laughed, "if you mean about the lab this morning, yes, I did."

Eric raised his eyebrows, apparently expecting more, but got nothing. He sighed, "what did you tell him?"

Calleigh looked him in the eyes for a brief second, then away, "about the same thing you're telling yourself right now."

"Oh."

Standing, frozen, behind the door in the lab, Ryan let out a low internal moan of fear, and stepped back up to the dreaded pit.