(no subject)
Title: For Once Was Lost
Author: Sev(Tan)/Mathilda
Fandom: NCIS/CSI:Miami Crossover
Characters: Horatio Caine, Tony DiNozzo
Rating: FRT
Prompt: #5 - Lost
For: Kat/Ryan
Disclaimer: There should be a law about these things - seriously. >=3 Unfortunately I do not own either of these shows nor am I writer of the scripts, so therefore I'm not claiming as such to either association. However, I wouldn't mind owning these characters because - RAWR - the things I could do with them . . .
A/N: Yeah, I said in like an hour or two but . . . kinda went over that time limit! xD But here it is! Hope you like it.
PIMPING:
ficlet_trade
The warm Miami sun slowly began to rise above the glittering green of the ocean, bright shafts of light illuminating and bouncing off the calm waves. Early morning surfers, daring swimmers, and the trickle of Miami's 'Go Getters' began the day with indulgent smiles at their clocks - if they had them - and single minded aspirations for that first cup of coffee, or wave, or perhaps beating the ever problematic traffic to be the first to the office. A typical morning ritual that seemed a scripted and choreographed chaos. It was as much beautiful as it was utter madness.
Horatio Caine was one of those early birds, having always rose with the first few rays of the sun no matter if he'd only barely curled against his mattress hours, minutes, seconds before. It was something innate, learned from childhood and sweet moments of peace with a loving, indulgent Mother who's eyes and smile were always brightest in the morning light. Even after leaving home and making a life for himself with a good job and comfortable home of his own, the red headed man could never fight against the lull of the rising sun nor deny the sight of first light trickling through the blinds. Oh he tried, bought blackout curtains, worked himself into exhaustion, but no matter the circumstances Horatio always found himself out of bed and working on a cup of coffee before five-thirty. It was an oddity, a quirk, and wholly his own.
However, today as the sun continued to climb above the water and the city began to wake, Horatio refused his routine. He denied the urge to pull back the soft comforter and climb out of bed, ignored the compulsion to move towards the kitchen to start the coffee pot. He was staying in bed. He'd called in to work before he even left the parking lot yesterday and there was no real reason for him to move. Really, that was made further apparent by the comfortable weight of a thick arm thrown haphazardly across his chest and a gentle warmth of breath ghosting against his neck. He smiled for a moment, only frowning as the night before played back the reason he had a bedmate.
Walking up the pebbled path leading up to his door, Horatio noticed that he had a new addition to his steps. A huddled figure in muted tones of black (leather jacket) and red (soft silk shirt) sat in what could only be described as a dejected slump against the railing, hands folded together as if in prayer but too loose for such a benediction, hanging low between parted knees. A thatch of unruly brunette spikes dropped low over slackened forehead, looking as if those unmoving hands had spent hours running long fingers through it - a nervous gesture that the red head had never associated with the man he knew this figure to be.
Horatio drew near on silent feet and called out in a calm, inviting voice, "Tony?" The man on the stairs didn't stir but there was a slight tensing of the shoulders, a sudden alertness in his postures; the CSI smiled to himself and continued forward, relieved that at least the other was aware. "Tony, what are you doing here?"
World-weary eyes looked up into fathomless blue through thick eyelashes, broadcasting more than a little hurt and all but begging for understanding. Horatio's heart clenched painfully in his chest at the sight of them and immediately dropped to his knees before the man, something his knees would probably protest later. He was half afraid to lean forward and wrap his arms around the younger man who looked as if he desperately needed their warmth, strength, acceptance, but that was all moot because as soon as he made the slightest gesture of spreading his hands wide, Tony launched himself forward and latched onto the thin frame of the Lieutenant, burying his face flush against the pale neck with a muffled sob.
They sat like that for what seemed like hours but in reality was only a few minutes before the Italian calmed and the soft, sweet words of comfort washed away the last of those bone-wracking shakes. Turbulent green roiled and pitched, forecasting emotion but Tony was able to offer a small, sincere smile when Caine offered one of his own; in that simple act they both knew that the process of healing had begun even if only the Agent himself knew the reason it was needed.
Horatio fitted his hand against the curve of the lax face and swept his thumb at the curve of the smooth jaw beneath with an affection that still amazed him that he could still produce. After Speedle and Marisol. . .they were both loved and would forever be, but Tony was here now, with him, and was the reason he felt as if the walls of his heart would burst through his chest. And he did love this man beside him and probably always would - He couldn't bare the thought of the Italian leaving. Not again. Not ever.
"H. . .?" A sleep muffled voice chuffed against his neck. "whatimzit?"
Horatio chuckled as he deciphered the garbled question and leaned down to kiss at the unruly brown of Tony's hair. "It's early. Go back to sleep."
Tony shifted closer, arm dropping down to tighten around a slender waist. "Can't. You're thinking to loud." Warm lips pressed against bare, pale shoulder before coming to rest, still and eased, against the other man's neck.
They lay like that for endless minutes with no sound between them beyond their rhythmic breathing, until Horatio, as he moved his eyes to stare directly at those beautiful, sleep glazed green eyes, broke the barrier with a single word - a question, a plea, a promise.
Stay.
Author: Sev(Tan)/Mathilda
Fandom: NCIS/CSI:Miami Crossover
Characters: Horatio Caine, Tony DiNozzo
Rating: FRT
Prompt: #5 - Lost
For: Kat/Ryan
Disclaimer: There should be a law about these things - seriously. >=3 Unfortunately I do not own either of these shows nor am I writer of the scripts, so therefore I'm not claiming as such to either association. However, I wouldn't mind owning these characters because - RAWR - the things I could do with them . . .
A/N: Yeah, I said in like an hour or two but . . . kinda went over that time limit! xD But here it is! Hope you like it.
PIMPING:
ficlet_trade
The warm Miami sun slowly began to rise above the glittering green of the ocean, bright shafts of light illuminating and bouncing off the calm waves. Early morning surfers, daring swimmers, and the trickle of Miami's 'Go Getters' began the day with indulgent smiles at their clocks - if they had them - and single minded aspirations for that first cup of coffee, or wave, or perhaps beating the ever problematic traffic to be the first to the office. A typical morning ritual that seemed a scripted and choreographed chaos. It was as much beautiful as it was utter madness.
Horatio Caine was one of those early birds, having always rose with the first few rays of the sun no matter if he'd only barely curled against his mattress hours, minutes, seconds before. It was something innate, learned from childhood and sweet moments of peace with a loving, indulgent Mother who's eyes and smile were always brightest in the morning light. Even after leaving home and making a life for himself with a good job and comfortable home of his own, the red headed man could never fight against the lull of the rising sun nor deny the sight of first light trickling through the blinds. Oh he tried, bought blackout curtains, worked himself into exhaustion, but no matter the circumstances Horatio always found himself out of bed and working on a cup of coffee before five-thirty. It was an oddity, a quirk, and wholly his own.
However, today as the sun continued to climb above the water and the city began to wake, Horatio refused his routine. He denied the urge to pull back the soft comforter and climb out of bed, ignored the compulsion to move towards the kitchen to start the coffee pot. He was staying in bed. He'd called in to work before he even left the parking lot yesterday and there was no real reason for him to move. Really, that was made further apparent by the comfortable weight of a thick arm thrown haphazardly across his chest and a gentle warmth of breath ghosting against his neck. He smiled for a moment, only frowning as the night before played back the reason he had a bedmate.
Walking up the pebbled path leading up to his door, Horatio noticed that he had a new addition to his steps. A huddled figure in muted tones of black (leather jacket) and red (soft silk shirt) sat in what could only be described as a dejected slump against the railing, hands folded together as if in prayer but too loose for such a benediction, hanging low between parted knees. A thatch of unruly brunette spikes dropped low over slackened forehead, looking as if those unmoving hands had spent hours running long fingers through it - a nervous gesture that the red head had never associated with the man he knew this figure to be.
Horatio drew near on silent feet and called out in a calm, inviting voice, "Tony?" The man on the stairs didn't stir but there was a slight tensing of the shoulders, a sudden alertness in his postures; the CSI smiled to himself and continued forward, relieved that at least the other was aware. "Tony, what are you doing here?"
World-weary eyes looked up into fathomless blue through thick eyelashes, broadcasting more than a little hurt and all but begging for understanding. Horatio's heart clenched painfully in his chest at the sight of them and immediately dropped to his knees before the man, something his knees would probably protest later. He was half afraid to lean forward and wrap his arms around the younger man who looked as if he desperately needed their warmth, strength, acceptance, but that was all moot because as soon as he made the slightest gesture of spreading his hands wide, Tony launched himself forward and latched onto the thin frame of the Lieutenant, burying his face flush against the pale neck with a muffled sob.
They sat like that for what seemed like hours but in reality was only a few minutes before the Italian calmed and the soft, sweet words of comfort washed away the last of those bone-wracking shakes. Turbulent green roiled and pitched, forecasting emotion but Tony was able to offer a small, sincere smile when Caine offered one of his own; in that simple act they both knew that the process of healing had begun even if only the Agent himself knew the reason it was needed.
Horatio fitted his hand against the curve of the lax face and swept his thumb at the curve of the smooth jaw beneath with an affection that still amazed him that he could still produce. After Speedle and Marisol. . .they were both loved and would forever be, but Tony was here now, with him, and was the reason he felt as if the walls of his heart would burst through his chest. And he did love this man beside him and probably always would - He couldn't bare the thought of the Italian leaving. Not again. Not ever.
"H. . .?" A sleep muffled voice chuffed against his neck. "whatimzit?"
Horatio chuckled as he deciphered the garbled question and leaned down to kiss at the unruly brown of Tony's hair. "It's early. Go back to sleep."
Tony shifted closer, arm dropping down to tighten around a slender waist. "Can't. You're thinking to loud." Warm lips pressed against bare, pale shoulder before coming to rest, still and eased, against the other man's neck.
They lay like that for endless minutes with no sound between them beyond their rhythmic breathing, until Horatio, as he moved his eyes to stare directly at those beautiful, sleep glazed green eyes, broke the barrier with a single word - a question, a plea, a promise.
Stay.