Author: Shadowfax27
Fandom: CSI: Miami
Pairing: Eric/Ryan
Rating: PG-13 or T for language
Disclaimer: Me no own. You no sue. Okay?
Beta-ed by: Mistakes make me human…
A/N: Prepare for one upset and slightly buzzed Ryan Wolfe. You have been warned…
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Chapter 5 – Boys Gone Blind
"Club Sp- Space?" Ryan sputtered as he swallowed thickly, unable to believe what he was hearing.
"Yeah, the one Downtown," Eric added, still frowning bewilderedly at Ryan's odd behavior. "Why? What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Ryan answered quickly, shaking his head as he turned to look away.
"Ryan?" Eric now turned towards the younger man, a serious and worried expression on his face. "Ryan, look at me… What's going on? Did I say something wrong?"
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He was about to ask another question when Ryan turned to look at him, trying to hide his emotions and what he had just discovered from his face. But his eyes were too damn expressive, and one look at them conveyed to Eric everything that he wanted to know…
"No face… no name… no clue…"
They stared at each other and it was as if they could simultaneously see the events playing an invisible reel in their minds' eye, vividly replaying the minutes of that questionable night.
Follow the evidence…
Strobe lights.
Loud music.
Smoke.
The Bar. Large. Round. And smack dab in the middle of the steaming dance floor.
The smell of alcohol.
Laughter.
Chatter.
Nervous energy.
Beats thumping so powerfully, he could feel the vibrations in his chest.
Bodies. Wild. Uninhibited.
All in motion. Slithering… gyrating… rubbing against each other… except one.
Close.
Too close.
Damn Speed for choosing this place!
He sat on a bar stool, occasionally sipping his drink, looking around in anxious anticipation for his mystery date. His eyes carefully scanned the people scattered around the bar, paying particularly close attention to each of the women who looked like they might've come alone, and he wondered if one of them was his 'contact,' or if his date hadn't shown up yet.
He checked his watch for the 97th time: 7:08.
Maybe his date was running late, he knew how women could be sometimes. No, scratch that, he knew how women could be most of the time… fashionably late, or so they say, like they're trying to impress and make a statement. He snorted at that and took a deep calming breath before taking another sip of his beer, telling himself to relax and just wait. Maybe he'd enjoy himself tonight if Speed did indeed take care of this setup properly, like he said he did.
Patience is, after all, a virtue.
Yep. An overrated virtue… just like punctuality. Well… at least in his mind.
7:18 pm. Still no sign of this mystery date, and he was beginning to get impatient, no…annoyed. It had been ten minutes since the last time he had checked his watch -- ten long, fucking minutes since he had resisted the urge to flick his wrist and just check his watch for the 98th time. Eighteen nerve-wracking minutes since they were supposed to meet at the bar, their rendezvous point, by seven-fucking-o'clock.
Fashionab-fucking-ly late… yeah, right!
He rolled his eyes and drew in an irritated sigh as he took another swig of his drink. He seriously contemplated calling it a night and giving Speed a not-so-pleasant piece of his mind about stupid blind dates the next time he sees him, even as he ordered a second bottle to calm his nerves some more and didn't budge from his seat.
The bartender handed him his second bottle, and he took another long swig. He really shouldn't be drinking like this… wouldn't want to be drunk or disoriented by the time his mystery date showed up and make a bumbling fool of himself. He needed to stay awake and in control, but all this waiting was making him even more anxious, not that he wasn't already too damn nervous to begin with.
Despite his growing irritation, however, he found himself chuckling, the buzz from the alcohol beginning to take effect. When all else failed, he knew that he could always hold a brilliant conversation with himself in his head. Excellent company, he presumed. And free entertainment… for all its intents and purposes.
He felt a slight vibration on his hip, and he was jolted out of his self-discourse. For a moment, he wasn't sure what had caused the tickling vibration on his side. Was it nerves? The alcohol? He was about to launch into another self-discourse when there it was again… another vibration. And it took him another second to look down at his hip and touch his side, his fingers finally brushing against a cool piece of silver.
He chuckled in relief when he realized it was just his phone. Someone was trying to get in touch with him. Maybe it was his date? Maybe it was his job, calling him in to come back to work? Just what he needed right now. No, really… damn bastards!
Or maybe… Maybe…
"Wolfe," he finally answered.
"Ryan! Where are you, man?" came Speed's voice, and Ryan swore he could hear amused laughter in them.
Not funny.
Not funny at all…
"Where the hell do you think I am?" came Ryan's irritated reply, almost shouting it over the noise.
"Whoa! Calm down, Ryan. You don't gotta yell at me, you know?"
"I'm not yelling at you, Speed. It's loud in here, and I can barely hear myself think, let alone speak," Ryan explained huffily. "What do you want?" he almost growled… almost.
"Damn, Ryan! If I'd known you'd get all pissy with me for interrupting your date…" but he was cut off before he could finish his teasing.
"Date? What date?" Ryan asked incredulously, seething in his anger now.
"What do you mean what date?" Speed asked, now beginning to get annoyed himself. "The one I set you up with! I was just calling to check how things are going."
"Well, it's not going, Speed, no thanks to you!" Ryan spat on the phone. He was clearly losing patience… fast, "I thought you set everything up?"
"I did!" Speed replied indignantly. "And what are you getting so upset about? Don't you like who I set you up with?"
"Well, gee whiz, Speed. Let me think…" he replied sarcastically. "Unless you set me up with an invisible person, then I'd say that the other half of this blind date is a fucking no show."
"What?" Speed asked, clearly surprised.
"You heard me, man," Ryan replied, sounding tired all of a sudden. He could feel the temperamental rise and fall of his emotions as the alcohol coursed its way through his body, "Date's not here. So, where the hell is this person, Speed?" Ryan asked, his agitation rapidly returning again. "I don't see anyone who looks as… as… lost as me."
"Well, what are you wearing?"
"What the hell do you think I'm wearing?"
Speed thought for a moment before a slight tinge of panic settled on him, "Wait… you're not wearing one of your sweater vests, are you?"
And Ryan had to smirk at that, "What's wrong with my sweater vests?" he teased, despite feeling aggravated. He heard Speed groan in embarrassment and start to complain, but then cut him off, "I'm kidding, okay? I'm not wearing a sweater vest. There! Are you happy?"
"You better not be lying to me, Ryan… at least not about your sweater vest," Speed warned.
"Well, seeing as how this night is going nowhere fast, I might as well have worn it."
"Oh, don't you spite me like that, Ryan," Speed warned again. "And you still haven't answered my question. What are you wearing?"
"Why does it matter?"
"So I could tell your date what to look for," Speed replied in a "duh" kind of tone.
"Oh… well…" he looked down to assess his 'club' attire before answering, " just a plain shirt and jeans."
"That's it? Nothing else?"
"No, Speed. Really, that's it… I decided to skip the underwear and come barefoot tonight. You know? Just let it all hang loose," Ryan replied, rolling his eyes.
"Ew, over-share! But whatever, man… What color's your shirt?" Speed asked, ignoring his friend's sarcastic remark.
Ryan sighed exasperatedly, "Blue."
"Royal blue? Sky blue? Turquoise blue?" Speed listed impatiently. "I need specifics here, Ryan."
Fighting down another smirk, Ryan asked, "Did you just say turquoise blue?"
"Shut up, and give me the damn color!" Speed barked exasperatedly.
"Okay, alright!" Ryan backed off, his annoyance returning quickly. Speed could be so demanding and infuriating and trying and… and… "It's… blue. Dark… as in navy blue, I think."
"Alright, that's all I needed to know," Speed replied. "Let me do some checking and give hi- eurm… I'll give your date a call and find out their location," he said cryptically
"Fine," Ryan huffed. "Five more minutes, Speed," Ryan threatened none-too-happily. "That's all you have, and then I'm leaving."
"Alright, Ryan… geez!" Speed replied, backing off this time.
And then suddenly…
"Excuse me?" he felt someone tap his shoulder, and Ryan turned, frowning up at the man who had interrupted his phone call, "Do you have the time?" the other man asked, pointing at his naked tanned wrist, even as an apologetic look passed over his features at having interrupted his phone call.
Ryan's eyes narrowed and then widened slightly when he recognized who had interrupted him, before his eyes followed the man's movements, trying to make sense of his hand gesture.
On the phone, Speed began to worry that his friend hadn't said anything to him in a while, "Ryan? You still there?"
"Yeah… hang on," Ryan finally spoke on the phone. Then, looking down at his own watch, he answered the other man, "Uh… 7:24."
"Shit! I'm really late!" he muttered. Then turning to Ryan, he nodded, "Thanks, man," before turning hastily to head towards the other side of the bar, obviously looking for someone.
"Ryan?" Speed called again.
"Yeah…" Ryan replied tiredly as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'm still here."
"What was that about?" Speed asked curiously.
Ryan sighed, "Nothing… just some dude asking what time it is," he replied indifferently, not bothering to give Speed specifics about Eric being there, even as his eyes unconsciously followed the CSI lurking around the bar area.
He watched as the Cuban picked up his own cell phone and attempted to make several calls, all unsuccessful as far as he could tell, before he gave up and decided to sit down on the other side of the bar, almost directly across from where Ryan had perched himself, and ordered himself a drink before giving him another nod.
He had obviously thought nothing of having just seen Speed's colleague there… in the same club, sitting in the same bar, and running late, no less. He shrugged and tried to focus on what his friend was telling him over the phone.
"…out what's going on. Okay, buddy? Just… hold on, okay?" Speed pleaded trying his best to pacify his irate friend. "Don't go anywhere until I call you."
"I'm not making any promises," Ryan replied sternly. "Five minutes."
"Alright, alright, I'm on it," Speed promised quickly. "Just stay put, and don't do anything…rash." He heard Ryan snort at that, and he added, "Oh, and Ryan?"
"What?" came his exasperated reply.
Speed smirked, "Try not to look so lost either."
And with that, he hung up before Ryan could spit back a retort.
Connect the dots…
Eric was running late.
Eric was running really late…
He had planned on being at Club Space at least ten minutes early so that he could scout out anyone who might've been lurking around the bar, looking for their blind date. He had gone home immediately to get ready for the anticipated encounter as soon as his shift had ended, thankful that he and Speed were able to solve their case and complete their paperwork before shift was over.
But then his sister had called unexpectedly. She hadn't been feeling well, he knew, and she had gone to the doctor for her mandatory tests and checkup late that afternoon. It was 6:30, and he was just about to walk out the door and drive the twenty-minute drive it took to head down to Club Space in Downtown Miami, when he got the call from Marisol.
She needed him to come and pick her up from the hospital because the drug they had given her to help alleviate her nausea also caused her to become dizzy and sleepy. Consequently, she was unable to drive herself back to her place.
And so, Eric drove to the hospital to pick up his sister, took her back to her place and made sure to deposit her properly on her bed before he left, and then drove speedily back down to Club Space, all the while knowing that he was running extremely late, and hoping against hope that his mystery date hadn't given up yet and decided to abandoned him.
He was nervous, and he didn't know why. It wasn't like he hadn't been on countless dates before. But somehow this one had felt different, unique. Maybe it was the fact that this was the first blind date that Speed had ever set up for him that was making him slightly giddy and definitely nervous.
No, scratch that… maybe it was the fact that it was Speed who had set it up.
Or maybe it was the fact that Speed had said that he had 'found someone who would be so perfect' for him.
He wasn't sure whether to trust Speed and his underhanded ways about this whole antic or to be completely suspicious because of it. But one thing he could be sure of, however, was this: he could always count on Speed to be devious, especially when it came to setting up his friend.
Yeah… trust Speed to be one scheming and conniving son of a gun.
He reached the club, parked quickly, and then rushed up to the bar, his eyes swiftly scanning the plethora of women lurking around the area. None of them, however, looked like they were waiting for someone; none of them looked like they had come alone… except for one…
And he wasn't even a woman.
Taking a deep breath, he walked up to the gentleman with dark hair and dark attire, sitting alone at the bar, and casually tapped him on the shoulder.
"Excuse me?" he said as he waited for the dark-haired man to acknowledge him.
It wasn't until the other man had turned around and frowned up at him that he realized that he had been talking to someone on his phone and that he might've just rudely interrupted what looked to be a heated conversation, judging from the younger man's facial expression.
"Do you have the time?" he asked quickly, pointing and tapping his index finger on his bare wrist.
For a moment, the younger man seemed to just stare at him. But then something passed between them, something unexplained – a swift look of recognition, like a flash of lightning, and Eric could've sworn that the man before him looked familiar, that he'd seen him somewhere else before.
"Yeah… hang on," he heard the younger man say on the phone before looking down at his own watch and answering, "Uh… 7:24."
"Shit! I'm really late!" Eric muttered before turning back to the other man and nodding, "Thanks, man."
And with that, he turned on his heels and headed towards the other side of the bar, casually but carefully looking out for his mystery date. Deciding, however, that he didn't even know who to look for as Speed had stubbornly refused to give him any more details about this person's physical appearance, he grabbed his phone and dialed Speed's number, only to be connected directly to his voicemail.
He tried several more times, but kept getting the same result. Frustrated, he finally gave up, seeing as his phone was already running dangerously low on battery and would more than likely die any minute now. He took one of the empty seats in the bar and ordered himself a drink, noticing that he was now sitting across from the younger man he had previously interrupted. And once again, he nodded slightly at him in acknowledgement before scanning the crowds for his possible mystery date once again.
A few minutes later, he felt his phone vibrating on his hip, and he quickly answered it, "Delko."
"Eric!" came Speed's frantic but relieved voice.
He heard his phone beep several times, indicating that his cell phone was losing its power fast, and he silently prayed that it would last long enough for him to find out whom he needed to meet.
"Speed! Man! Am I glad to hear from you!" Eric answered quickly.
"Eric, where the hell are you at man?" his phone beeped faster this time as Speed was asking his question, and he knew that his phone was on its last leg.
Damn! They really needed to hurry this conversation up.
"I'm at the…" just then, his phone died, and he couldn't contain the frustration that came out of his voice, "Fuck!"
This night just can't seem to get any better. This was all Speed's fault, he told himself. If he hadn't been so damn obstinate about not giving away any information about his mystery date, then he would've known exactly who to look for. Instead, he's sitting there alone at the bar, running late as it was, when he could've been having a great time right now, if only he knew which of these girls was the one he had been set up with.
He smirked unconsciously as his eyes landed on the lone figure sitting across from him, noticing that he was once again talking on his phone, an agitated look on his face. Maybe he was looking for his date, too. He looked like he was waiting for someone. Actually, he looked a bit uncomfortable and out of place. Maybe he got stood up?
'Wait a minute…' he thought dismally. 'Maybe this girl had already left. But what if she never showed up at all? Maybe I'm the one getting stood up.'
He shook his head at the thought and decided to wait a little longer. He figured that it wasn't totally his fault if this blind date didn't work out as well as Speed had hoped. Unforeseen and uncontrolled circumstances just came up all of a sudden, and he couldn't entirely help the fact that he was delayed.
Besides, it would've been much more convenient had Speed just given him all the information he needed. But then this wouldn't have been much of a blind date if he knew everything about the other person, now, would it? Damn Speed and his crazy matchmaking ideas! He really should give his friend a piece of his mind when he sees him at work again the next morning.
And damn his useless cell phone for dying at the most inconvenient times, too!
'Not my fault,' Eric thought again, if only to avoid the guilt and to make himself feel better. 'I won't be blamed for why this whole escapade failed.'
Yeah… definitely Speed's fault.
Half an hour later, he and the same young man he had interrupted earlier were still sitting alone at the bar, and not a single woman had come up to either one of them to ask if they were each other's blind date. That did not mean, however, that they didn't get hit on by several beautiful women, all flirty and friendly and more than willing to be their so-called blind dates for the evening, if only they'd go out with them and abandon their futile search.
Recalling his last conversation with Speed, however, and how the CSI was extremely apologetic for failing to get a hold of his date but encouraging him, nonetheless, to stay a while and to "look for someone familiar," claiming as much that he had set his friend up with someone whom he 'knew' the younger man was supposedly attracted to, Ryan politely but adamantly refused each of their unwanted advances, stating that he had come there for one purpose, and one purpose only – to meet his blind date.
And despite his previous threat to abandon this poorly planned and poorly executed catastrophe of a date, Ryan stayed another hour after his last conversation with Speed to see if this mystery person would eventually show up. He glanced down at his watch again and sighed heavily. It was now 8:30 pm, ninety minutes past their supposed meeting time at the bar, and his patience had definitely worn out.
He looked up and saw the Cuban finally give up as well, relenting to a very persistent and very skinny redhead in a very skimpy outfit, who had come to seduce him repeatedly, and allowed her to drag him towards the dance floor. He tore his gaze away, feeling his stomach lurch as a strange surge of something unexplained swelled within his chest.
He stubbornly quashed the feeling, ignoring the possibility that the Cuban might just be…
No! He shook his head quickly, not wanting to dwell nor entertain those thoughts. There was no way Speed could've known what he had thought fleetingly about the other CSI, could he? Besides, Ryan hadn't given him any indication at all that he had found the Cuban to be physically attractive, at least as far as he could tell. This was just a coincidence, he told himself resolutely.
This was not the blind date that Speed had in mind.
No… definitely not.
He looked around once more, somehow hoping against hope that the right person would miraculously show up. But when no one came, he sighed dejectedly as if in defeat. He downed the last of his third beer, paid for his tab, and got up to leave, muttering to himself that that was the absolute last time he'd ever let Speed set him up on a stupid, stupid blind date. He vowed to get even with his wannabe matchmaker and to give him a piece of his mind first thing tomorrow after shift.
He left without a second glance back at the bar, went home, shut off his phone, showered, and then crawled under the covers. He closed his eyes, and before his head could even hit the pillow, he had already fallen fast asleep, the alcohol and fatigue finally overtaking him and shutting down his mind for the rest of the uneventful but disastrous evening.
As promised, the next day, both men did confront a very apologetic and sheepish-looking Speed, complaining that the entire night had been a disaster, not to mention a complete waste of time. Speed, of course, played it cool and did his best to pacify his two friends, promising to make things right for them, even as he laughed heartily at the strange looks they had given him when they told him what had happened the previous night.
The irony of the situation wasn't lost on him, of course, as he couldn't believe how truly blind his two friends really were. He supposed that as much as the setup had failed, their night really did turn out to be a hell of a blind date after all, as they were both too blind to see who their dates were supposed to be, too blind too realize that they had been sitting right across from their respective dates all along and during the entire night, no less.
And despite their adamant reluctance to give in, Speed still managed (albeit barely) to convince both of his friends to give it another shot, and that this time, he would make good on his promise to "hook them up" properly. Grudgingly and not without threats to do him some bodily harm should there be another repeat of the aforementioned evening, both men acquiesced and decided to indulge Speed for the last time.
Only, that last time never came to pass…
Life got too busy and too hectic for either one of them to find the free time to venture into another blind date, and Speed wasn't having any luck setting them up either. They were being pulled into so many different directions… so much so that it seemed like some unknown force was trying to prevent them from meeting and coming together at that particular time in their lives.
One month later, Speed was violently ripped away from his friends when he was suddenly killed by a single gunshot wound to the chest. Ironically, his death had brought his two anonymous friends together in the same place – his funeral.
And eventually, though not through the best of circumstances and certainly, though not what Speed would've wanted nor planned all along for months beforehand – the lab.
He never was able to make his clueless friends see that they were perfect for each other. He never got another chance to set them up properly and make them understand that they belonged together while he was still alive. His death had taken away all of that.
And Speed never got a chance to fulfill his promise to Eric and Ryan.
Until now…
"No face… no name… no…clue?"
And then draw conclusions…
"Oh, my God…" Eric gasped in stunned realization, his wide, shocked eyes settling disbelievingly on Ryan.
And Ryan tore his gaze away and buried his face in his hands as soon as he saw realization dawn on the Cuban's face, saw the truth flash before his eyes.
"Holy shit!" Eric thought incredulously as he stared at Ryan. "That was you?"
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TBCLet me know what you think. Reviews are much loved!
A/N: Mwahahahaha! That's all for now, folks! I really hate to cut this chapter here and leave you guys hanging (again…sorry!), but I've reached the point of exhaustion. No worries, though… our fav boys' night at the beach isn't over yet, and there will be more developments to come sometime soon (I hope). This story has definitely grown in length, and I've got to tame it somehow or else I'd never finish it, and you'd never get to read the really good stuff I have planned in later chapters either, hehehe! Complications are definitely the work of some pretty feisty and rabid plot penguins.
Oh, yeah… I've never been inside Club Space, so I'm not familiar with the layout of the place. But for the purposes of this story, I made up the whole bar area, where Eric and Ryan were supposed to meet.