Inevitability (5/6)
Title: Inevitability (5/6)
Author: SomewhereApart
Fandom: CSI: Miami
Characters: Eric/Calleigh
Rating: PG-13, for now.
Summary: After the events of "All In," what happens when Calleigh and Eric go back to her place?
Authors note: Chapter 5 was supposed to be the last chapter, but then it became WAY too long. So Chapter 6 (which will be up shortly) will be the final chapter, in which these two will finally get their butts in gear and get naked. And Eric will speak Russian.
Calleigh woke, groggy and a little disoriented in the near-dark of her room. A quick glance at the bedside clock told her two things. First, it was just past noon, and second, Eric had been right last night: the narcotics would knock her out good and proper. Throbbing pain had pulled her from sleep around seven, and she'd managed to stumble to the bathroom with her meds, swallow them down with a palmful of tap water, and make it back to bed without fully waking up. And without waking him, which surprised her not at all. She'd winced when he moved to spoon her immediately, his sleep-heavy arm settling on top of her injured ribs. Not good. She'd shoved him (gently) onto his back, much to his sleepy protest, but all it took was two words from her -- "hurting me" -- and he settled down and conked back out. Arranging herself in the position that caused her the least pain possible -- on her right side, left arm curled in front of her, right tucked beneath her pillow, a second pillow wedged behind her as a buffer -- she'd finally managed to drop off as the drugs kicked in and dulled the pain away.
Until now. She could feel a vague ghost-pain in her side when she shifted, evidence that the drugs were still working at least a little bit, and she thought she should get the strenuous activities - showering and seducing Eric - out of the way before they wore off completely. That she had put sex with Eric -- something she'd still had reservations about even the day before -- onto her to-do list for the morning both amused and unnerved her, but she shoved the thoughts aside as she pulled back her covers and gingerly eased herself out of bed.
In the hallway, she could hear the low murmur of TV from the living room, a confirmation of what she had already assumed -- he hadn't left her yet. It had never crossed her mind that he wouldn't stay for breakfast once he had stayed the night. Breakfast had always been their thing -- they'd tried for a while to meet once a week before work at the diner near the lab. Eric was always late, and always gulped down three cups of coffee before she’d finished hers. Early mornings weren't exactly his strength; as she brushed her teeth she wondered-and not for the first time-how he'd ended up on her team instead of night shift. Not that she was complaining.
In the shower, her thoughts turned to the way he’d kissed her the night before, and to the startling comfort of whatever new level of their relationship they seemed to have stepped onto so calmly. Thank God for the dark, she thought, because she wasn’t sure she could have been so forthright with him if she’d had to let him look her in the eye at the same time. The thought made her feel foolish - she was a grown woman, after all. She should have no trouble facing a man, taking what she wanted. But this wasn’t just a man, it was Eric. Her Eric. Her friend, her confidante, and maybe that had been the cause of the belly rumblings the night before? Maybe it had nothing to do with how close their bodies had been, with the faded familiar smell of his cologne now clinging to her sheets, with the softness of his mouth against her temple, her hair, her lips. Maybe the nervous knot in her gut had simply been because he was trying to get close to her - not her body but her, the essence of her, the vulnerable, quaking heart of her - and she knew she’d been powerless to stop him. She simply trusted him too much, if there was such a thing.
There was definitely such a thing as too much contemplation, though, especially when one was still on the edge of a narcotic haze, so Calleigh turned her mind to the process of showering, making quick work of it and stepping out onto the plush bath mat. She toweled off, then wrapped herself in her favorite robe - the deep purple one Jake had given her for Christmas - and ran a comb quickly through tangled hair. When it was smooth and damp she studied herself in the mirror, wondered if she looked as tired as she felt. She couldn’t tell, which was probably a bad sign. She tugged the robe more tightly around her small frame, fingering the lapel. He’d thought it was her favorite color. She’d had to remind him that, no, purple was his sister’s favorite color; hers was pink. But the robe was Turkish cotton, soft and cozy, and she’d assured him that it didn’t matter, that she loved it, that she would look like a little girl in a pink robe anyway.
With a sigh, and the accompanying echo of dull pain in her ribs, she left the bathroom. Since the TV was off now, she wasn’t entirely surprised to find Eric in her bedroom. What did surprise her was the tray of food on the bed.
“How are you feeling?” He sat at the foot of her bed, one hand steadying the edge of the tray, which was set with a plate of over-easy eggs and toast and a cup of juice. Nothing special, but so incredibly special.
“Okay. Sore.” She padded slowly into the room, tilting her head slightly toward the bed. “Did you make me breakfast in bed?”
“I did,” he confirmed with a slightly shy smile. “You, uh, you ruined my plan by getting up without me. I was going to have this all right here when you woke up.”
“I think you ruined that one, Delko,” she teased, settling on the other side of the tray and reaching for her fork. “You got up without me. I woke up all by my lonesome.” Were they really doing this? Sitting on her bed and teasing about who had abandoned who in the morning? When had they become this and where had she been?
“Well, last time I checked on you, you were still drooling on your pillow, so I figured I had more time. Then I heard you in the shower.” He smirked and she set her fork down indignantly as she felt her cheeks flush.
“I do not drool.” Green eyes leveled on brown, challenging. There was no way. Absolutely not. Because she’d be mortified, and that just wouldn’t do.
“No?”
“No.”
“You sure about that?”
“Absolutely.” She picked up her fork again, cut neatly into one egg and let the yolk run. Her teeth gnawed gently at her lower lip and she took the piece of toast he handed over wordlessly before looking up at him again. “I don’t really drool, do I?”
He chuckled and leaned in, and she hoped he was still holding on to the tray because she certainly couldn’t be held responsible for it as he brushed his lips over hers once. “Maybe a little.” Twice. “Maybe not at all.” Lingering a third time for good measure. The schoolgirl thrill she got from three little kisses would be embarrassing if it didn’t please her so much.
“You’re really not going to tell me?”
“Well, you’re a CSI. What do you think?” He eased back, putting the inches of the tray between them again.
It took her a moment to catch his meaning, but when she did, she scowled at him. “No drool on the pillowcase. You’re a liar.”
“I prefer ‘tease.’” And there was that stupid smirk, the one she loved so much. The one he liked to give her when he was messing with her.
“Jerk,” she cursed, but there was no heat in it and she couldn’t help the slight curve of her lips.
“Tease,” he insisted before watching her dunk her toast into her runny yolk and munch on it. It was good, just the way she liked it, but Calleigh wasn’t particularly hungry so she ate slowly, quirking her brow at the distaste with which he eyed her food.
“What?” She took a bite of egg white.
“You know what.”
She did know, that was true. He hated the runny yolks. ‘Eggs should be eggy, not runny,’ he used to tell her as he shoveled down mouthfuls of hashbrowns. That he’d bothered to make her eggs the way she liked them was a testament to his affection for her. And it was affection, not love, because love she couldn’t handle today. Not right now, anyway. So she chose to simply smile at him and reach for her juice. “Thank you.”
“Of course. If you want to be gross, that’s your prerogative.” It earned him a smile and a chuckle - and a slight wince as her muscles constricted on the laugh. The smile he’d sported a moment before melted quickly into a scowl of concern. “Tramadol wearing off?”
“Yeah.” She nudged her egg with her fork. “A little bit. And I’m just… not very hungry,” Calleigh admitted quietly, offering Eric an apologetic look as she took another small bite of egg.
“Probably from the drugs. If you’re not hungry, don’t eat.”
“But you cooked.”
“And I can cook again, Cal.” He eased the fork from her fingers. “I’m not going to be offended if you don’t eat this.”
“You’re sure?” she scowled, half reaching to reclaim her utensil.
“I’m positive.” As if to prove his point, he tugged a napkin free from beneath the plate, then set it on top of the food. “I’m more than happy to throw out your runny eggs.”
Shaking her head at him, she snatched up the juice cup and murmured into it as she took a sip. “Fine. Toss it.”
No doubt pleased that he’d gotten her to acquiesce, he wasted no time in lifting the tray and heading for the door. “I’ll be right back.”
Author: SomewhereApart
Fandom: CSI: Miami
Characters: Eric/Calleigh
Rating: PG-13, for now.
Summary: After the events of "All In," what happens when Calleigh and Eric go back to her place?
Authors note: Chapter 5 was supposed to be the last chapter, but then it became WAY too long. So Chapter 6 (which will be up shortly) will be the final chapter, in which these two will finally get their butts in gear and get naked. And Eric will speak Russian.
Calleigh woke, groggy and a little disoriented in the near-dark of her room. A quick glance at the bedside clock told her two things. First, it was just past noon, and second, Eric had been right last night: the narcotics would knock her out good and proper. Throbbing pain had pulled her from sleep around seven, and she'd managed to stumble to the bathroom with her meds, swallow them down with a palmful of tap water, and make it back to bed without fully waking up. And without waking him, which surprised her not at all. She'd winced when he moved to spoon her immediately, his sleep-heavy arm settling on top of her injured ribs. Not good. She'd shoved him (gently) onto his back, much to his sleepy protest, but all it took was two words from her -- "hurting me" -- and he settled down and conked back out. Arranging herself in the position that caused her the least pain possible -- on her right side, left arm curled in front of her, right tucked beneath her pillow, a second pillow wedged behind her as a buffer -- she'd finally managed to drop off as the drugs kicked in and dulled the pain away.
Until now. She could feel a vague ghost-pain in her side when she shifted, evidence that the drugs were still working at least a little bit, and she thought she should get the strenuous activities - showering and seducing Eric - out of the way before they wore off completely. That she had put sex with Eric -- something she'd still had reservations about even the day before -- onto her to-do list for the morning both amused and unnerved her, but she shoved the thoughts aside as she pulled back her covers and gingerly eased herself out of bed.
In the hallway, she could hear the low murmur of TV from the living room, a confirmation of what she had already assumed -- he hadn't left her yet. It had never crossed her mind that he wouldn't stay for breakfast once he had stayed the night. Breakfast had always been their thing -- they'd tried for a while to meet once a week before work at the diner near the lab. Eric was always late, and always gulped down three cups of coffee before she’d finished hers. Early mornings weren't exactly his strength; as she brushed her teeth she wondered-and not for the first time-how he'd ended up on her team instead of night shift. Not that she was complaining.
In the shower, her thoughts turned to the way he’d kissed her the night before, and to the startling comfort of whatever new level of their relationship they seemed to have stepped onto so calmly. Thank God for the dark, she thought, because she wasn’t sure she could have been so forthright with him if she’d had to let him look her in the eye at the same time. The thought made her feel foolish - she was a grown woman, after all. She should have no trouble facing a man, taking what she wanted. But this wasn’t just a man, it was Eric. Her Eric. Her friend, her confidante, and maybe that had been the cause of the belly rumblings the night before? Maybe it had nothing to do with how close their bodies had been, with the faded familiar smell of his cologne now clinging to her sheets, with the softness of his mouth against her temple, her hair, her lips. Maybe the nervous knot in her gut had simply been because he was trying to get close to her - not her body but her, the essence of her, the vulnerable, quaking heart of her - and she knew she’d been powerless to stop him. She simply trusted him too much, if there was such a thing.
There was definitely such a thing as too much contemplation, though, especially when one was still on the edge of a narcotic haze, so Calleigh turned her mind to the process of showering, making quick work of it and stepping out onto the plush bath mat. She toweled off, then wrapped herself in her favorite robe - the deep purple one Jake had given her for Christmas - and ran a comb quickly through tangled hair. When it was smooth and damp she studied herself in the mirror, wondered if she looked as tired as she felt. She couldn’t tell, which was probably a bad sign. She tugged the robe more tightly around her small frame, fingering the lapel. He’d thought it was her favorite color. She’d had to remind him that, no, purple was his sister’s favorite color; hers was pink. But the robe was Turkish cotton, soft and cozy, and she’d assured him that it didn’t matter, that she loved it, that she would look like a little girl in a pink robe anyway.
With a sigh, and the accompanying echo of dull pain in her ribs, she left the bathroom. Since the TV was off now, she wasn’t entirely surprised to find Eric in her bedroom. What did surprise her was the tray of food on the bed.
“How are you feeling?” He sat at the foot of her bed, one hand steadying the edge of the tray, which was set with a plate of over-easy eggs and toast and a cup of juice. Nothing special, but so incredibly special.
“Okay. Sore.” She padded slowly into the room, tilting her head slightly toward the bed. “Did you make me breakfast in bed?”
“I did,” he confirmed with a slightly shy smile. “You, uh, you ruined my plan by getting up without me. I was going to have this all right here when you woke up.”
“I think you ruined that one, Delko,” she teased, settling on the other side of the tray and reaching for her fork. “You got up without me. I woke up all by my lonesome.” Were they really doing this? Sitting on her bed and teasing about who had abandoned who in the morning? When had they become this and where had she been?
“Well, last time I checked on you, you were still drooling on your pillow, so I figured I had more time. Then I heard you in the shower.” He smirked and she set her fork down indignantly as she felt her cheeks flush.
“I do not drool.” Green eyes leveled on brown, challenging. There was no way. Absolutely not. Because she’d be mortified, and that just wouldn’t do.
“No?”
“No.”
“You sure about that?”
“Absolutely.” She picked up her fork again, cut neatly into one egg and let the yolk run. Her teeth gnawed gently at her lower lip and she took the piece of toast he handed over wordlessly before looking up at him again. “I don’t really drool, do I?”
He chuckled and leaned in, and she hoped he was still holding on to the tray because she certainly couldn’t be held responsible for it as he brushed his lips over hers once. “Maybe a little.” Twice. “Maybe not at all.” Lingering a third time for good measure. The schoolgirl thrill she got from three little kisses would be embarrassing if it didn’t please her so much.
“You’re really not going to tell me?”
“Well, you’re a CSI. What do you think?” He eased back, putting the inches of the tray between them again.
It took her a moment to catch his meaning, but when she did, she scowled at him. “No drool on the pillowcase. You’re a liar.”
“I prefer ‘tease.’” And there was that stupid smirk, the one she loved so much. The one he liked to give her when he was messing with her.
“Jerk,” she cursed, but there was no heat in it and she couldn’t help the slight curve of her lips.
“Tease,” he insisted before watching her dunk her toast into her runny yolk and munch on it. It was good, just the way she liked it, but Calleigh wasn’t particularly hungry so she ate slowly, quirking her brow at the distaste with which he eyed her food.
“What?” She took a bite of egg white.
“You know what.”
She did know, that was true. He hated the runny yolks. ‘Eggs should be eggy, not runny,’ he used to tell her as he shoveled down mouthfuls of hashbrowns. That he’d bothered to make her eggs the way she liked them was a testament to his affection for her. And it was affection, not love, because love she couldn’t handle today. Not right now, anyway. So she chose to simply smile at him and reach for her juice. “Thank you.”
“Of course. If you want to be gross, that’s your prerogative.” It earned him a smile and a chuckle - and a slight wince as her muscles constricted on the laugh. The smile he’d sported a moment before melted quickly into a scowl of concern. “Tramadol wearing off?”
“Yeah.” She nudged her egg with her fork. “A little bit. And I’m just… not very hungry,” Calleigh admitted quietly, offering Eric an apologetic look as she took another small bite of egg.
“Probably from the drugs. If you’re not hungry, don’t eat.”
“But you cooked.”
“And I can cook again, Cal.” He eased the fork from her fingers. “I’m not going to be offended if you don’t eat this.”
“You’re sure?” she scowled, half reaching to reclaim her utensil.
“I’m positive.” As if to prove his point, he tugged a napkin free from beneath the plate, then set it on top of the food. “I’m more than happy to throw out your runny eggs.”
Shaking her head at him, she snatched up the juice cup and murmured into it as she took a sip. “Fine. Toss it.”
No doubt pleased that he’d gotten her to acquiesce, he wasted no time in lifting the tray and heading for the door. “I’ll be right back.”