DISCLAIMER: If you recognize them, I don't own them.
A/N: Most of this story will take place in the house that Calleigh and Eric share. I'm not comfortable enough to write about crime scenes and lab stuff. That may change, though. CSI: Miami is on all the time where I live (lol), so I'm able to do lots of research. Oh, and I'm still undecided about the "no pairings" thing. If enough people want it, I might put Calleigh and Eric together, because I'm writing this for you guys. Thanks for the reviews!
Spoiler: Okay, I lied in the summary. There's a spoiler in this chapter. Its um..."Skeletons" from season 4.
Calleigh sat and sulked on the couch in the living room for a while, and then gave up. She got up and walked into the kitchen. She picked up the file on the breakfast bar, and then changed her mind, putting it back down. She poured a cup of coffee, and walked into the master bedroom. Deciding to ignore the outcome of the challenge, she began unpacking her suitcases, hanging her clothes up in the massive walk-in closet and unpacking her toiletries in the master bath. She smiled when she saw the jacuzzi bathtub, and promised herself she wouldn't step foot in the tub for fear that her beloved bathtub in her condo would cease to be her beloved after one soak in this one. Besides, it wasn't as though she would need the jets to massage her stress away. There was nothing to stress her out. She was now a housewife with none of the worries most other housewives had. She was getting paid to lay around the house all day and butt into other people's business. Okay, so the arrangement wasn't that bad, it just wasn't what she had expected. Calleigh had no sooner finished unpacking her belongings when her stomach growled. An investigation of the kitchen revealed no food. Calleigh sighed and left the house on her first mission as a homemaker. At least grocery shopping was something she enjoyed.
Meanwhile, Eric's good spirits had disappeared as soon as he got into the H2. Suddenly being a housewife seemed much more fun than going to crime scenes. He quietly stared out the window, marveling at the houses and sadly realizing that unless he married into it, he would never own a house like the one he and Calleigh were "living" in.
"So, uh, are you and Calleigh going to be okay on this assignment?" Horatio's voice interrupted Eric's thoughts.
"What? Oh, yeah. We'll be fine. H., I'm really sorry. We obviously weren't thinking back there, and we're both really competitive, and it just kind of happened."
"No worries. Just don't let it happen again. Try to behave yourself, Eric. Calleigh's angry enough as it is, so please don't do anything to agitate her. I don't need to investigate the death of a CSI." Horatio couldn't fight the smile as he thought about Calleigh unleashing her frustration over being unable to work crime scenes and having to play the dutiful wife.
"You don't have to tell me twice. I'm not pissing anyone off who's known as 'bullet girl' and who spends a ridiculous amount of time at shooting ranges."
"No girls, either, Eric." Eric's silence and slight intake of breath told Horatio that Eric hadn't had that realization yet.
"So? I can last a couple weeks without a date." Eric tried his best to sound nonchalant, knowing he failed miserably.
Horatio chuckled. "We'll see. We will see."
Calleigh returned home and unloaded the groceries. She had bought more than she had originally planned on buying, because half-way through the store, she realized that it was rude to buy food only for herself. She tried to pick up things that Eric would eat, but she didn't know what foods he liked to have in the house. Feeling guilty that she didn't know his favorite foods (other than the take-out he ate while working), she decided to make him dinner. She wasn't about to call his Mother and ask for the chicken and rice dish Eric had laughingly suggested, as she wasn't sure she could properly explain why she was cooking dinner for Mrs. Delko's beloved baby boy, and she was still a little scarred from her last encounter with Eric's Mom. After she put the groceries away, she turned on the television, but she couldn't find anything on that interested her. When did daytime TV start to suck, she wondered to herself. She gave up and turned off the TV. She poured a second cup of coffee and opened the case file.
John Barthelemy had lived in the neighborhood for the past ten years. While no DNA tied him to the scene, he had been seen with several of the victims before each girl had turned up dead. The girls who weren't lucky enough to have witnesses had died the same way the others had. Eight prostitutes had been strangled in hotel rooms and all had been tied to the bed. While it was difficult to prove rape in the women because of their profession, the CSI's had their suspicions that the women had been violated. No one was willing to believe the other prostitutes who had described John Barthelemy to a T, with the exception of Horatio. The patron saint of those society has dropped between the cracks, Calleigh thought with a smile. John Barthelemy had managed to avoid arrest because of the witnesses' lack of credibility, and Horatio was bound and determined to bring the guy in. While Calleigh wasn't supposed to follow his every move, she was supposed know his schedule and, according to Horatio's handwritten note in the file, get to know Susan, his wife. Susan Barthelemy was not a suspect, but she had to be suspicious that something was going on. Calleigh couldn't believe that a wife would be that clueless to her husband's state of mind. Calleigh continued to read over the file, committing as much as she could to memory. She looked up at the clock and was shocked to see that it was already four o'clock. Eric would be home in a couple of hours. Home, she thought wryly. How quickly I've gotten used to referring to our assignment as "home."
Calleigh stood up and stretched. She walked over to the refrigerator and grabbed the fixings for a salad. She pulled a loaf of garlic bread from the freezer and pre-heated the oven. After putting the bread in the oven, she began chopping vegetables and hummed to herself. She finished the salad and put it into the fridge. She checked on the bread and the jumbalaya that had been stewing in the crock pot all day. Deciding to continue her good deeds, she walked into the guest room and began unpacking Eric's clothes.
Eric walked into the house and was hit by the smell of the food that Calleigh had been working on all day. "Honey, I'm home," he called, his laugh echoing off the walls.
"Hello, dear," Calleigh teased back. Eric followed the smell into the kitchen and and to the crock pot. He began to lift the lid, trying to figure out what smelled so good. "Get out of dinner!" Calleigh called, still in the guest room.
"Damn," Eric swore under his breath. He left the kitchen and followed Calleigh's voice to the guest room. "Decided to follow the rules for once?" Eric asked.
"Not exactly," Calleigh replied.
Eric saw what Calleigh meant. "Calleigh, why are you hanging up my clothes in this room?"
Calleigh turned around, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Hanging up your clothes, honey. That's what housewives do."
"Calleigh," Eric whined. "This is your room. You lost the bet. I get the master bedroom. It has the jacuzzi!"
"Don't whine, its not attractive." Calleigh replied, not rising to the bait. She slid past him and walked into the kitchen, and began setting the table for dinner.
"Unbelievable," Eric said, rolling his eyes. He walked into the master bedroom. Sure enough, Calleigh had completely taken over the room. "Why couldn't Natalia have been assigned to the case?"
Calleigh returned to the bedroom. "Because Horatio doesn't want any CSI babies," She said brightly, winking at Eric.
"Low blow, Duquesne, low blow."
"Besides, who's to say Natalia wouldn't have taken over the master bedroom, too? Or would you not have cared because you would have been in the same room? Now come eat. I've been slaving over a hot stove all day." Calleigh smiled and returned to the kitchen.