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Starting Hand of King and Queen	By : caropornotp Category: 1 through F > CSI: Miami Views: 2872 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: Miami, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Starting Hand of King and Queen
- 1
Starting Hand of King
and Queen

by Carolina

As she stepped away from the baggage area and avoided getting trampled by a
hundred business suits who apparently had somewhere to go (and fast), Calleigh
couldn't help thinking that under different circumstances she would've gotten
down on her knees and kissed the ground.

It was a strange thought, after all, she'd always believed that she didn't
really belong to Miami, and Miami certainly didn't belong to her. Miami was glamorous, high
maintenance, and that's all it was. It was all she wasn't.

Not that she didn't love Miami. Of course she did. It was her
home, a home she risked her life to protect every single day. But she'd long
ago fallen in love with the romanticism of being a hermit, of belonging nowhere.
An immature thought, sure, but romantic nonetheless.

As she stepped away from the baggage area, however, she could've felt an
immense satisfaction in seeing the city she'd never really considered herself
to be a part of. And she could've kissed the ground -- if it were under
different circumstances.

Eric came up behind her, carrying one of her bags in a lame attempt to perhaps
be gentlemanly, but she grabbed it from his shoulder and he didn't protest.
Calleigh watched him as he stepped out into the street and started to chat with
a man who merely raised his hand in the air and a cab appeared as if out of
nowhere. Typical Eric. She'd come to the conclusion,
long ago, that everyone in Miami knew and loved Eric, because wherever they
went even strangers seemed to treat him as if they were old friends. Normally
she wouldn't care about his impressive social skills either way, but at that
moment she found them, and him, frustrating.

He looked back at her to make a gesture towards the cab, as if she couldn't see
it right in front of her, and for a brief moment she wished she could get back
on that plane and fly away. If they couldn't fly her to Jupiter, then at least
the Moon, somewhere where she didn't have to think or move or even be.

But then a voice in her head, albeit weak, reminded her that she was an adult,
and therefore responsible for her actions. So taking a deep breath and
mustering all the courage she could she walked over, ignored the fact that Eric
felt the need to open the door for her (his chivalry bothered her now more than
ever), and buried herself as deep into the left side of the backseat as she
could.

She heard Eric's muffled voice as he gave the cab driver directions to her
place, and Calleigh suddenly wished he would sit in the front and spend the
rest of the trip talking to his new friend the cab driver. No such luck.

He sat next to her (not really next to her, but for some reason he
seemed too close) and she tried to move farther to the left but only ended up
jamming the door's armrest into her ribs. It certainly didn't help that for the
past three hours they'd had to sit too close together in a too small plane,
trying unsuccessfully to converse too casually. It hadn't worked then and it
certainly wouldn't work now, but that couldn't stop her from praying on a
miracle.

"What are we gonna do?" Eric asked discreetly.

Calleigh let out a silent sigh and looked out the window. For once, she wished
she could go at least one day without making any decisions. Cereal or toast,
good cop or bad cop, work late or go home to nobody... just one day without
having to take the upper hand, to be the leader. She knew Eric was being understanding, letting her make the decisions because
perhaps he felt guilty. But she wished he could make the decision on his own,
not because it was too much responsibility but because she didn't want to
think, at all. She didn't want to think about the past two days. She didn't
even want to acknowledge they'd happened.

Problem was, she was terribly addicted to dominance.

"I think I know who can help," she said without looking at him.

He sank back into his seat. Calleigh looked at him through her peripheral
vision and he no longer look nervous, as if he trusted that when she said
everything would be okay, everything would be okay. She found a strange sense
of comfort in that as she settled back and watched the Miami landscape rush by.
ll

15 minutes later, they stood in front of a blue door, their luggage at their
feet. The cab driver sped away and Calleigh looked at Eric. He seemed as
hesitant about knocking as she, but he ultimately took the plunge.

As they waited he looked at Calleigh, but she refused to let him know how
nervous she was by looking down at the floor. In a way, he depended on her
ability to stay grounded to feel grounded himself, but even though she tried to
hide her hesitation behind determined eyes, he knew that this time he was the
one standing on higher ground. He'd always been the more relaxed of the two,
and over the years he'd learned to deal with her obsession with wanting
everything to be perfect. He'd also become very well versed in Calleigh
language, Calleigh sign, Calleigh gestures... she wasn't fooling him now,
though he always gave her credit for trying.

He knocked again.

Someone complained from the other side of the door and a second later Valera appeared in front
of them. She looked confused for a second, having them both there, but then a
smile appeared and she grinned, as if she knew something they didn't.

"Aw, I'm sorry," Valera
said sarcastically. "I'd love to let you in, but I'm afraid I don't have
any booze."

Eric looked down at Calleigh. Her eyes were wide, her face red, and she was
looking at Valera
as if the two women were absolute enemies. He could also feel the horror
emanating from her body and quickly began to fear she would explode at any
minute.

Valera must've
felt it, too, because she quickly retrieved. "Oh, I'm sorry. Are we not
joking about this yet?"

Calleigh frowned. "How do you... what..."

Valera smiled.
"The drunken phone call at 3 a.m. was sort of a tip off."

Calleigh's eyes widened in horror. She looked at Eric,
looked at Valera, and covered her cheeks with
her hands as she darted into Valera's
apartment, where she proceeded to plummet to the couch, her body rocking
slightly. "Oh, God."

Valera chuckled
and looked at Eric, who was too busy shoving the luggage inside the small
living room. He, too, looked like he'd witnessed a heinous crime.

"Hey, you shaved off your beard," she told him cheerfully, however,
neither Eric nor Calleigh seemed to share in her good mood, and he just
acknowledged her comment with a brief look. So Valera looked around the room and bit her
lower lip. "What happened?"

Eric looked at her and then looked at Calleigh, who was busy giving off one of
her most dramatic performances. He honestly didn't know if he could trust Valera, because though he
loved her like a sister the woman could be a bit of a blabbermouth. It wasn't a
malicious trait, something she did on purpose. No at all.
Valera just
didn't know how to be quiet. And in her obsession with blurting everything that
came to mind she'd invariably end up saying too much.

And that wasn't a good thing. Not now.

But Calleigh said that Valera
could help. How? Eric had no idea. But he trusted Calleigh. He trusted
Calleigh's ability to reason. So he figured he could trust Valera in turn.

He walked over, sat on the couch, and looked down at Calleigh. If he hadn't
known her any better, he would've assumed she was crying. But her body was bent
over so comically, as she hugged a cushion for dear life,
that he couldn't help but smile. And like she had some sort of radar
that detected his unprecedented joy, her body shot up and she frowned at him.

His smile faded.

Lucky for him, Valera
sat down on the love seat opposite the couch and crossed her arms and her legs.
She seemed to be enjoying their predicament.

"So?" she said, eyes wide and expectant.

Calleigh ran her hands through her hair and looked at Eric. He looked away and
pursed his lips, Eric language for, "I really don't wanna talk about this
and I'm surprised you even thought I would want to." So it was up to her.

She sighed, trying to gather her thoughts and make sense of this. She didn't
know why, but Valera's
eyes on her felt heavy and judging. The worst part was she felt a reason to be
ashamed. Ashamed in front of Valera. For Valera to find something shameful, it had to
be atrocious.

She cleared her throat to hopefully give herself the courage to get through this
without spontaneously combusting, though after a minute that began to sound
like a great alternative. Too bad she didn't have a lighter with her.

"Well..."

She'd been surprised when Horatio appeared as if out of nowhere to tell her
he'd chosen her to go to Las Vegas
to catch the serial killer they'd had their eyes on for nearly a year. Though
she tried to appear cool and collected, a voice inside her head screamed
jovially at the news. Vegas. Sure, she would be there on official business, but
it could at least be a mini-vacation, some time away from Miami, away from the rush of the lab.

"Take Eric with you," Horatio announced, and disappeared as
mysteriously as he'd appeared.

Calleigh smiled to herself. She'd never been to Vegas. She'd heard a billion
Vegas stories, but she'd never visited the town. Already her mind was racing
with thoughts, planning all the things she'd have to do while she was there. Of
course, she would have to go to the casinos. That was a must. And she wanted to
take a picture with Elvis, as her dad would probably love it so much he'd tape
it to his refrigerator door.

This was great. This was more than great. This was amazing. Completely shocking
as well, considering Horatio never sent them out on trips. Never.
He was usually the one who'd book himself to New York,
or New Orleans, or San Francisco, wherever it was that they
needed their help. But Horatio wasn't going to Vegas. She was. She and Eric. To Vegas.

She found Eric in the layout room, closely examining a set of prints. When he
sensed someone there he looked up and frowned at the goofy smile on her face.

"Eric, have you ever been to Vegas?"

"No," he replied. "Have you?"

"No."

She didn't say anything else, because she really
wished he would at least try to guess why she was so happy. But instead, he
went back to his fingerprints and ignored the grin on her face. She waited some
more, but he seemed so completely disinterested in her question that she
finally sighed out loud, forcing him to look up.

"Okay, what do you know?" He smiled cheekily.

"You and I, as in Eric Delko and Calleigh Duquesne, are going to
Vegas."

His smile widened, somewhat, mostly due to her spontaneous playfulness (which
was a rare thing these days) but he didn't really seem as excited as she.

"Eric!"

"You mean, you and I, and... how?"

"They found Morton Taylor in Vegas," Calleigh said, walking into the
room to lean against the table.

Eric looked up at her. "Morton Taylor, as in our serial
killer?"

"Yep."

Eric shrugged his shoulders. "That's great. But why can't they catch him
and ship him over?"

"Oh, Eric, who cares?" she said, frustrated. "We're going to
Vegas!"

"Can you fast forward a little bit, actually?" Valera interrupted.

"I'm sorry?" Calleigh said, a bit thrown off.

Valera looked
at her apologetically. "I mean, no offense, Calleigh, but this is kinda boring."

"You said you wanted to hear the whole story," Calleigh said
defensively.

"She already knows we went to Vegas, Calleigh," Eric chimed in, his
voice deep and tired. "She's the one who drove us to the airport."

Calleigh turned to Eric exasperatedly. "Do you wanna tell the story?"

"Me? Noooo," Eric said sharply.

"Okay, then," Calleigh said and turned to Valera. "Anyway..."

They didn't even have time to go to the hotel, as the sun had already set
and the night shift was working the case. As the taxi cab drove them towards
the Vegas crime lab, Calleigh couldn't help but look out at all the lights and
grin. Sure, Miami was usually buzzing at night,
and she'd worked the beats at Mardi Gras a few times,
but Las Vegas
was different. There was so much energy in the air, such mystique, and she was
sure she'd never seen so many lights in her life. If it weren't for the fact
that she knew it was night she could've sworn it was daylight. It was an
amazing view.

She could hardly contain her excitement as she shifted on the backseat. The
last year of their lives had taken a toll on them both, to the point where she
nearly walked away from her job, and this was the best thing that could've
happened to both of them. She briefly wondered if Horatio had sent her and Eric
to Vegas because he thought they needed a break. It wouldn't surprise her if
that had been the case; after all, the Vegas crew had all but put the cuffs on
their serial killer and sent him to Miami.
Any information she and Eric could provide would've fit nicely in a short
e-mail.

She couldn't be angry at him, though. She knew this was exactly what she and
Eric needed, some time away from home. And if she had any luck in the casinos
maybe she'd be able to go back a rich woman.

Her reverie was broken by a chuckle next to her and Calleigh looked over. Eric
was smiling down at the file in his hand.

"What's so funny?"

"You're like a kid in a candy store," Eric said.

She rolled her eyes playfully. "Eric, aren't you the least bit excited?
We're in Vegas!"

"I know we're in Vegas, Calleigh. You only remind me of that every 2
seconds."

Calleigh sighed. "I knew you'd be a killjoy. I should've brought
Ryan."

Though she'd been joking about that, and he knew it, too, somehow it seemed to
sting him.

He closed the file, shook his head and inched it closer to hers. "I just
wanna concentrate on this case, Calleigh, okay? But as soon as we catch this
guy, I promise to put on my best suit and take you out for a night in
town."

She smiled at him, though her eyes narrowed suspiciously. �You brought a suit?�

�Well, no,� he replied. �But it's Sin
City. Whatever I wear
there's bound to be 20 guys there who'll look ten times more inappropriate than
me.�

Calleigh smiled, looking at him, and then her smile grew into a grin.
�Eric."

"Yeah?"

"We're in Vegas," she whispered.

Eric shook his head. "I'm not gonna have to drag you back to Miami kicking and
screaming, am I?"

"That's ridiculous," Calleigh said indignantly. "Southern women
don't scream."

"Is that a fact or a challenge?" Eric said,
his eyes twinkling like Calleigh hadn't seen them twinkle in a long time.

She decided to take the comment as a joke (because yeah, it was, though a
dangerous one at that) and chuckled. Crossing her arms, she settled back and a
couple of minutes later they pulled into the Vegas crime lab.

As they walked inside, suitcases in hand, Calleigh couldn't help but notice how
different it looked from the Miami
lab. It was much darker, for one. Of course, that could be due to the fact that
it was 9 p.m. For some reason, the Vegas crew preferred to work at night, which
was fine, except the thought of roaming the streets of Miami at 3 in the morning gave her chills.
And then there was the conspicuous absence of tension in the air. Definitely
one of the most un-Miami places she'd ever been to.

"Are you two from Miami?"

Calleigh turned. An older man stood in front of them, with a file tucked under
his armpit and looking suspiciously like Richard Dreyfuss.

"Yes," Eric replied.

"Gil Grissom. I run the night shift."

Calleigh smiled and extended her hand politely. "Calleigh Duquesne."

"Eric Delko."

"Welcome to Las Vegas,"
Grissom said.

"Thank you."

Grissom began to walk down the lab; the CSIs
followed. "So this serial killer you've sent our way."

Calleigh took the opportunity to jump in. "We've been watching him for
nearly 10 months now. He likes to strangle women as they come home - all
single, white, usually in their forties, but one in her fifties. He doesn't
rape them, or steals from them, just leaves the bodies
hanging in front of a window so their neighbors see it first thing in the
morning."

"That sounds like our guy," Grissom said.

"Our boss said you already know where he is," Eric said.

"We have a couple of officers following him around."

"Why haven't you arrested him?" Calleigh said.

"Reasonable doubt," Grissom said, stopping in front of the DNA lab to
turn around and face the CSIs. "That's where you
come in."

"So you have the guy but not the evidence, and we have the evidence but
not the guy," Eric said.

Grissom cocked his head, showing Eric a warm smile. "Isn't symbiosis a
great thing?"

Calleigh smiled. She liked the way Grissom talked, as if everything was
radiating with logic. Very unlike Horatio, whose every sentence, every word
overflowed with an abundance of melodrama, not to mention a wide variety of
pauses. She decided at that moment it would be a lot more relaxing working under
Grissom than under Horatio.

"Hey, swamp guy, where's your crocodile?"

Calleigh smiled at once, recognizing the voice. She looked up and there was
Catherine Willows, leaning against the wall and smiling at Eric, who blushed,
chuckled, and walked over to give Catherine a peck on the cheek.

"Grissom, I told you they have alligators in Florida, right?"
Catherine said as she hugged Calleigh.

"I wouldn't have imagined that before you told me, my dear," Grissom
said sarcastically.

"And this guy," Catherine said, pointing at Eric enthusiastically,
"just goes into the swamp, with all these crocodiles, and he doesn't even
flinch!"

Eric's red cheeks deepened and Calleigh shook her head. Eric seldom received
much praise, so when he did he usually blushed like a teenage girl. She wished
sometimes it would happen more often. She figured he needed some validation, as
Eric's job was much more physical demanding than anyone else's was.

Grissom turned to Calleigh. "You know, I've been known to file up to a
hundred reports while surrounded by snakes and spiders. No flinching."

Calleigh chuckled. "Well, that's just as dangerous."

Catherine ignored Grissom and continued talking. �I might just up and transfer
to Miami. It's
more exciting down there; they have sharks, they have crocodiles...�

"We have Ecklie," Grissom offered
playfully.

Calleigh looked at them as they chuckled together. She looked at Eric, who
merely shrugged his shoulders, obviously missing the joke, too. My dear? She definitely wasn't that close to Horatio.

"You'll be working with Warrick Brown," Grissom said. "He's been
put in charge of the investigation."

"Great," Calleigh said.

"And I have a blind date with a decomp,"
Catherine said. "Great seeing you two again. Call
me before you leave, I'll show you around town."

"Definitely," Calleigh said.

After throwing a decisively playful look at Grissom, Catherine walked away. Grissom escorted Eric and Calleigh to the layout room, where
Warrick sat behind the table, hunched over and analyzing a few dozen pictures.

"Warrick, you have company," Grissom announced.

Warrick looked up and raised his eyebrows, his partially opened mouth a perfect
substitute for a smile. "Hey! Welcome to Sin City."

"Good to see you again," Calleigh said, shaking his hand and
wondering how it was possible that this Warrick Brown looked even more handsome
than the last time she saw him. As he proceeded to welcome Eric she continued
to watch him. She didn't know why, but she'd always been a little fascinated by
his features. From a purely scientific standpoint, of course.

Eric, however, didn't seem all that impressed.

As Grissom bid his farewell and left them there, he moved over the photographs.

"This from our case?"

"Yeah," Warrick said, all smooth and cool as he leaned against
the table. "I don't know if Grissom told you, but the evidence isn't being
too cooperative."

Calleigh put her bag down and picked up one of the pictures. The victim, a
white woman who was hanging in front of a window, had a haunted look on her
face. This was definitely one of the spookier cases she'd ever worked. "D�j� vu."

Warrick walked up next to her, leaning in. He pointed at the picture. "He
cleaned everything, used disinfectant, Clorox, must've
taken him all night. Unfortunately for us patience isn't something he
lacks."

Calleigh looked up at him. Warrick had only been in Miami for a few days, but
in that time he'd worked with her the most, and she distinctly remembered how
big a fan he was of leaning into people. Not that it bothered her, not at all.
Hell, Southern people were touchy-feely, too. But then there was something
about his body, or maybe his cologne, the intensity in his eyes, something that
always made her feel a tad exposed.

However, if Calleigh Duquesne was good at something that was
remaining utterly professional when she needed to. So she continued to
discuss the case. "FBI profilers have him listed as a white male, age 25
to 45, obviously obsessive compulsive, socially distant, must have issues with
his mother."

"Which pretty much narrows it down to every serial killer in
history," Warrick joked.

Calleigh chuckled slightly, placing the picture down.

�Can we just get on with it?� Eric suddenly said, rather sharply, with an
unpleasant expression on his face.

"Whoa," Eric interrupted as he turned to Calleigh. "What was
that?"

"What was what?" Calleigh asked innocently.

"What are you insinuating, Calleigh?"

"Eric, come on," she said discreetly, trying not to make a scene in
front of Valera.
"You weren't fooling anyone."

Eric's frown intensified. "With what, exactly?"

"Eric�"

"No, come on. Say it," Eric said.

Valera rolled
her eyes and sighed, but Eric and Calleigh were so involved in their stupid
squabble they'd obviously forgotten she was still in the room.

"With your little..." Calleigh said, suddenly feeling awkward.
"You know... jealousy thing."

Eric's eyes widened and he looked at Valera
and then back at Calleigh. "I was not
jealous."

"Eric�"

"If you're gonna tell the story, tell it how it happened."

"I am," Calleigh said sharply.

"Calleigh�"

"Eric�"

"Forget it," Eric said. "I'm
telling the story."

Calleigh crossed her arms and sat back. "Alright, be my guest."

"Great," Eric said and turned to Valera. "So Brown has these pictures on
the table..."

"FBI profilers have him listed as a white male, age 25 to 45, obviously
obsessive compulsive, socially distant, must have issues with his mother,"
Calleigh said.

"Which pretty much narrows it down to every serial killer in
history," Warrick joked, a perfect row of white teeth looking down at her.
His body was so close to hers his hand rested on the table around her back,
merely inches from her behind.

Calleigh laughed, putting her hand on his upper arm and leaning into him
slightly before she placed the picture down.

Eric shook his head. "So now that we're here, let's go get this guy,"
he said very, very politely and unconcerned.

"Right," Warrick said, ignoring Eric, and looked down at Calleigh.
"Do you need to store your bags somewhere? I love Grissom like a father,
but he can be a little inconsiderate."

"Oh," Calleigh said, her Southern twang somehow stronger, her smile
wider than Eric had ever seen it. "That would be great, thank you."

"You're very welcome," Warrick said smoothly, picking her bag up.

"It's not too heavy, is it?" Calleigh said,
her cheeks slightly pink.

"Not at all," Warrick replied.

"Hey, Cal,
maybe we should go check in before we lose our reservation," Eric said.

However, neither Warrick nor Calleigh acknowledged him as they continued to
smile at each other.

"Oh, my Lord," Calleigh said in the present, exasperated.

Eric stopped and looked back at her. "What?"

"What happened next, Eric?" Calleigh said sarcastically. "Did
the cable guy come in and the three of us proceeded to have one big orgy on the
table?"

"And even if it didn't, can we all picture that for a moment?" Valera said wistfully.

Eric ignored her. "I'm sorry, Calleigh, but that's the way I saw
things."

Calleigh sighed, rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"Why are you rolling your eyes?" Eric said and turned to Valera when Calleigh
ignored him. "Why is she rolling her eyes?"

"Cause you're full of shit," Valera
replied.

"You weren't there, Valera,"
Eric said defensively.

"No, but I tend to side with Calleigh."

"Why?"

"She's a very good shot," Valera
replied matter-of-factly.

Eric frowned. "And I'm not?"

"Well..."

"First of all, I was not flirting with Warrick," Calleigh finally
snapped. "We were merely discussing the case, as were you."

"Oh, Calleigh, give me a break," Eric said.

"And if that's what you saw, then, obviously you need an eye exam,"
Calleigh said.

"Okay, okay!" Valera
said loudly. "So, Calleigh was flirting and Eric was jealous. Just finish
the damn thing already."

Calleigh sighed, throwing Eric a hard look before she looked at Valera. She was beginning
to think coming here had been a bad idea.

"Later that night, we met with Detective Vartann..."

Later that night, they met with Detective Vartann...

"I don't give a flying hoot about Detective Vartann," Valera interrupted.
"Just get to the good part."

"Don't you wanna know how we caught the guy?" Calleigh asked sweetly.

"No," Valera
said. "I wanna know how you ended up calling me a three in the morning,
drunk out of your minds. That's what I wanna know. The rest I can read on
Monday's newspaper."

Calleigh hesitated and looked at Eric. He did the whole "look away/pursed
lips" thing again, meaning it was all up to her. Of course, now he wanted to stay quiet.

Idiot.

Valera had that
look on her face, like she was five seconds away from opening her Christmas
presents and Calleigh wished at that moment she could disappear. She could go
on and on about the case and Vegas and Morton Taylor without an ounce of
hesitation, but the details of the night before still gave her chills. She
would've given anything to forget about it all and go home, but she got the
feeling Valera
wouldn't accept that as an option.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Okay."

After apprehending Morton Taylor, a story Valera would later ignore on Monday's
newspaper, Calleigh and Eric went straight to their hotel. The thought of a hot
shower before a night walking around the strip had her as giddy as she'd ever
been, and already she was making the math in her head, trying to figure out how
much money she could throw away in the casinos. Eric went into his room to get
ready and she entered hers.

She took a quick shower and began to dry her hair, and after a few minutes she
heard a knock on the door. Down to her bra and panties, Calleigh looked around
quickly for some clothes, found the skirt she'd wear that night and the still
sweaty shirt she'd only taken off a few minutes before. She was expecting to
see Eric on the other side of the door, complaining about how long it took her
to get ready, but a bellhop carrying a basket greeted her instead.

She signed for it and frowned at it suspiciously before she walked over and
placed it on the table. She picked up a little white card that sat in the
middle. In it, there was a note from Catherine.

'Sorry I can't make it tonight, but work comes before play. It was great seeing
you again and don't hesitate to call if you're ever in town. Have a safe flight
and say hi to Horatio for me.

Kisses,

Catherine'

Calleigh sighed, disappointed. She put the card down and looked at the basket.
It was filled with all kinds of fruits, a couple of flowers, and a mildly
expensive bottle of wine.

She detangled the bottle from it and walked around the room, trying to think of
what to do. Not that they couldn't get to the strip on their own, but she'd
hoped to go there with Catherine, as she older woman obviously knew all the
nice places to see. Not to mention Calleigh had no idea where she could get
that picture of Elvis she'd promised her father.

Bottle in hand, she walked out of the room, barefooted, and knocked on Eric's
door. He answered after a few seconds, wearing a white sweater and black dress
pants, and also clutching a bottle of wine.

He looked down at hers and raised his eyebrows, and the expression intensified
when he looked at her attire: a black skirt, the same orange blouse she wore
during the day and no shoes. Her hair was half dry, half wet.

Eric smiled. "Well, don't worry, there's bound to be 20 girls there who'll
look ten times more inappropriate than you."

Calleigh narrowed her eyes at him, handed him the bottle of wine, and walked
inside. "Catherine can't make it."

"Oh?"

"Work," Calleigh replied. She looked around and noticed a basket sitting
on Eric's bed. She picked up the little white card. Another
note, but this one from Grissom, thanking them for all their help.

"Aw, that's sweet," she said. Her body suddenly jumped and she yelped
when she heard a loud popping sound behind her.

She turned around and Eric was pouring the wine into two plastic cups.

"I thought we were going out," she complained.

"We are," Eric said, handing her a cup. "To Morton Taylor and
his good taste in vacationing spots, may all future serial killers end up in Vegas."

Calleigh grinned and clicked her cup to his. "Cheers."

She sipped down her wine and frowned at it. A little too strong � but she
didn't complain when Eric re-filled her cup.

Calleigh smiled at the liquid. "You know, I can't remember the last time
we did this."

Eric sat on his bed. "You mean fly to Vegas? Cause
that's never happened."

"No," Calleigh said, sitting next to him. "I mean, the last time
we had a drink together."

"Ah," Eric said, deliberately looking away.

Calleigh bit her lower lip and looked down, not liking the direction the
conversation was taking, but for some reason she felt like being honest at that
moment. "Well, I do remember, actually."

"Cal�"

"It was the weekend before Tim was shot, remember?"

Eric nodded, looking down at his hands. Talking about Speed never came easy. He
knew he should've been over it by now, it'd been so long, but it still hurt.
The team still felt incomplete and sometimes it felt like he was the only one
who noticed or even thought about it.

"He threw up on my shoes that night," Calleigh continued.

"He always threw up on your shoes," Eric added.

Calleigh chuckled. Speed had never been a happy drunk. He'd smile, for the
first half hour or so, and then he'd keep drinking and drinking, and then he'd
just go quiet. Sometimes, depending on his level of drunkenness, he'd share
with Eric and Calleigh memories of his childhood and teenage years. Sometimes
he would just throw up on her shoes. She'd come to accept that as an inevitable
event, and after a while began investing on cheap shoes.

She looked up at Eric and though he was smiling at the memory there was also a
detectable melancholy in his eyes. She realized at that moment Tim had been
dead for more than a year and during that time she and Eric had somehow
changed, and though she still considered him her best friend, they weren't
friends like they used to be, all happiness and laughter. Now they seemed to be
serious all the time, too swamped with work to grab a few beers after work on
Friday nights.

She looked at her cup and gulped down the rest of her wine. "Sorry, I
didn't mean to�"

"It's okay," Eric said. He took a deep breath and stood up. "So,
are we going to see Elvis or what?"

Calleigh looked at her watch. In the few days they'd been there, she'd gotten
used to working nights and sleeping during the days. It was barely 9 p.m. now,
and she didn't know why, but suddenly the idea of possibly talking with Eric
about deep things (something they hadn't done in a while) seemed more appealing
than The King himself. She didn't want to drift further apart from him.

"I think Elvis can wait," she said.

Eric smiled and poured some more wine into her cup. This time, the liquid
nearly made it to the top.

"Whoa," Calleigh said, getting the cup out of the way before the wine
spilled. "Are you trying to get me drunk, Eric?"

"Could you blame me if I were?" he teased.

"Hm," Calleigh said, watching the dark
liquid swirl in her cup. "I gotta warn you, though, you might be out before me."

"Really?"

"Yes," Calleigh said. "Southern women don't get
drunk."

"I'm starting to think Southern women are very deprived," Eric joked.

He sat next to her and Calleigh leaned over. "Trust me, we're not."

Eric chuckled, blushing slightly. He watched as she took another sip of her
wine and he began to wonder what drunk Calleigh was
like. They used to go out drinking together, a lot, but Calleigh usually
stopped after two beers, with the pretense that she had to drive or one of them
had to remain sober. He imagined it had something to do with her father, an
irrational fear of ending up like him. Or it could've been her obsession with
being in control all the time. Whatever it was, he'd never seen Calleigh drunk.

(He had seen Calleigh on coke, however. She'd gone all crazy and hyper and he'd
been placed in the regrettable task of taking her home. The memories of that
night still gave him chills.)

And he, coming from a Spanish/Russian family, had learned to hold down his
liquor at an early age. Of course, he knew Southern people could hold down
their liquor, as well. It was going to be an interesting night, nonetheless.

Looking at the bottle of wine, he smiled and turned to Calleigh.

"Alright," he said. "You wanna go for it? Let's go for it."

Having never backed down from a challenge, Calleigh merely grinned at him.
"You're on."
III

An hour later, they lay in bed. The empty bottle of wine had disappeared
somewhere and they were halfway through the second one. Calleigh clutched her
stomach as she laughed at a joke that hadn't made much sense but she still
found hilarious, even though Eric had managed to mess it up. It didn't matter.
Seeing Calleigh happy was the best punch-line.

Her laughter died down and she turned to him. She inserted a bare foot between
his calves, though it seemed like she had no idea she'd done that and if she
did, she didn't think much of it, which was very uncharacteristic of her.

"Eric, we're in Vegas," she slurred.

Eric smiled, not as drunk as she but definitely getting there. "I remember
that."

Calleigh looked around, sighed and threw her head back
on the pillow. "But we're in a hotel room."

Eric looked up at the ceiling. "Well, it's a very nice hotel room."

Calleigh suddenly giggled, looked at Eric to analyze his face, and then got
close to him. Too close to him.

"Can I tell you a secret?" she whispered, sounding and looking so
unlike the Calleigh he knew that if he were sober he would've assumed something
was wrong with her.

Instead, he grinned, shifting his body closer to hers and placing a hand on her
hip. She didn't slap it away, and that was as shocking as seeing Calleigh
drunk.

"You can tell me two secrets," he said.

Calleigh laughed, though that hadn't made much sense. But then suddenly she
grew a bit serious as she put her hand on his cheek. "I don't like your
stubble."

Eric's eyes widened as much as they could under the influence of alcohol.
"What?" he exclaimed and placed his hand over his heart.
"Calleigh, you wound me."

"I'm sorry," Calleigh moaned dramatically.

"How can you not like my stubble? Everyone likes my stubble. All the
women, and I think that one guy in Trace, they all like my stubble," Eric
slurred.

"I don't," Calleigh said, elongating each word. "It's
prickly!"

"It's short hair. Short... prickly. Hair," Eric said. He brought the
bottle up and chugged down some of the wine.

Looking at the bottle, Calleigh grabbed it from his hands and drank down some
of it as well. Afterwards, she placed it between their bodies and looked up at
him.

"I don't like prickly things," she hiccupped.

"That... doesn't make sense."

"I have got a problem with prickly things!"

Eric groaned as he sat up. "That list of things you have got a problem
with is getting a little too weird, Calleigh."

Calleigh sat up as well, her body swaying before she regained her balance.
"I can't even look at those... those, you know, what do you call 'em? Those orange fruits?"

Eric raised one eyebrow at her. "Oranges?"

She laughed. Loudly. Eric looked down at smiled at
her. Oh yeah, she was drunk.

"The prickly ones," she exclaimed, slapping his chest.

"The prickly orange fruits?"

"You know what I mean," she said, placing her head on his
shoulder.

"I don't really think I do this time," Eric replied.

Calleigh smiled and looked at him questioningly. "So?"

"So what?"

"So why did you grow it?"

Eric shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. Laziness."

"Nuh-uh," Calleigh sang.

"No?" he said, amused by her playfulness.

"You grew it for a reason."

"I did?"

"Yes," Calleigh replied. "They say a man with a mustache has
something to hide."

"But I don't have a mustache," Eric said.

Instead of replying, Calleigh simply cocked her head to the side, waiting for
an explanation.

Eric chuckled and blushed, and looked away as he ran his hand through his
prickly stubble. "I just thought it looked good. Apparently, I was
wrong."

"I didn't say it didn't look good," Calleigh said and shifted closer
again, inspecting his face closely. "In fact, I think it looks kinda sexy."

Eric smiled. In a more sobering state, the alarms in his head would've started
ringing at that exact moment. But too drunk to think straight, he simply sat
back and enjoyed the closeness. It'd been a while since they smiled together,
laughed together, let alone flirted with each other.

For some reason, however, the flirting seemed more dangerous now than he
remembered it ever being.

"So if it looks good, why do you want me to get rid of it?"

"Because," Calleigh said. "I don't like it when you hide things
from me."

"I don't have a secret, Calleigh."

"I think you do," she teased.

Eric chuckled and looked down. "Okay, I may have a secret."

"I knew it," Calleigh said. "Tell me."

"Ah, but if I tell you then it wouldn't be a secret," he said.

"Yes it would. It would be our
secret," she replied.

Eric chuckled again and looked down. Damn her. Even drunk she still managed to
outsmart him.

"I think you know my secret, Cal,
it's kinda the easiest thing to figure out."

"Really."

"I don't do that thing you do, you know?"

"The thing I do?" Calleigh said, drinking some more wine.

"Yeah, the whole hiding your emotions thing. I
don't do that," Eric said.

"Oh, so that's why five years have gone by and we're still here?"
Calleigh teased.

Eric chuckled, embarrassed. "Okay, maybe a little bit."

She smiled up at him. In the depths of her subconscious, where it was warm and
sober, she instantly understood his confession and the implications of it. But
in her drunken consciousness, she was too numb to fully comprehend what they
were saying to each other, not to mention how it would change things between
them. She was happy just teasing Eric about his beard and being able to laugh
without having to deal with work.

And then for some reason it felt good, talking about that thing that had always
existed between them without the awkwardness. It was a kind of liberating.

"So," Eric said grabbing the bottle of wine from her hands.
"Since the secret's out, I guess I better shave it."

"I guess you better."

"Wrong again," Eric groaned, his eyes closed, he was leaning back
against the couch.

Valera groaned
from her seat. "What now?"

Eric sat up straight and turned to Calleigh. "I never suggested we get rid
of my stubble."

"Eric, I was there," Calleigh said.

"Why would I want to get rid of my stubble?" Eric said. "I liked
my stubble. I loved it. You're the one who hated it."

"Eric�"

"In fact, if I remember correctly, which I do, seeing as I was less drunk
than you, you're the one who said, 'Eric, let me shave it.'"

"What?" Calleigh squealed.

"Calleigh," Valera
purred. "What a great
come-on."

"I didn't!" Calleigh said and turned from Eric to Valera. "Valera, I didn't. Why would I say that?"

"I don't know, people say a lot of crazy things when they're drunk,"
Eric said, "which is how we ended up here in the first place."

"Okay, does it really matter who said what?" Valera said.

"Yes!" Eric and Calleigh shouted in unison.

"I don't want people to think I like to shave things when I'm drunk,"
Calleigh said. "I don't want people to think of me as drunk!"

"Well, Cal,
you wanted to tell the story exactly the way it happened, so," Eric said.
"No changing it around."

"Fine," Calleigh huffed, crossing her arms.

Eric smiled victoriously. "So, where were we?"

"Let me shave it," Calleigh pleaded, her
face merely inches from his.

"What?" Eric exclaimed.

"The beard. It has to go, Eric."

Eric ran his hands through his beloved stubble. "I like it."

"But I don't," Calleigh said, mimicking his tone.

"So?"

"So I'm the one who has to look at you every day," Calleigh said.

Eric sighed, looking around and trying to debate in his head whether he should
let her or not. Not that he could get too far into the thinking, what with all
the drunkenness and all, but he knew somewhere in his mind he didn't want to
shave it.

However, Calleigh wanted him to shave it. And Calleigh was currently all
pressed up against him, looking at him, waiting for a decision and she looked
so happy and so delicious there, all thoughts of resistant immediately
dispersed.

"Fine," he said.

Calleigh celebrated by giggling and jumping out of bed, after which she
proceeded to stumble to the floor. Eric helped her up and she scurried off
towards the door. He frowned at her but followed her anyway, and after opening
the door to her room she quickly disappeared into the bathroom.

Eric found her sitting on the counter, next to the sink. The water was running
and she was closely examining a pink razor like some psycho killer admires his
axe before attacking.

He smiled nervously as he approached her. "Are you sure you know how to do
this?"

"I've been shaving my legs since I was 13, Eric," Calleigh said.

"I think my face might be a little more sensitive than your legs,"
Eric said. "Much prettier, too."

"Oh, don't be such a baby," Calleigh said, running the razor
under water.

Eric looked at it reluctantly. "It's pink."

"So?"

"I don't like the idea of being shaved with a pink razor. It could ruin my
reputation," Eric said.

"Well, I'm sorry, but I left all my manly razors in my other bag,"
Calleigh said. "So this will have to do."

He looked at her. She was smiling at him, pink razor in hand. After closing his
eyes briefly and saying a silent, disjointed prayer, Eric walked over and
settled himself between her legs. She picked up a large bottle of shaving cream
and sprayed a mountain of it into her hand before she carefully approached his
left cheek, but ended up slapping the substance everywhere. She chuckled as she
ran it through his face, managing to get it up near his eyes, his lips, and
inside his nostrils.

"See, that right there? Tells me you're not very good at this," Eric
joked, pinching his nose to get the shaving cream out.

"Sorry," Calleigh laughed. "I'm better with the razor, I
promise."

"That's a comforting thought," Eric said sarcastically. "Is your
cell phone here? I imagine we'll need to call 911 in a few minutes or so."

"Oh, hush," Calleigh said.

She approached him with the razor slowly and Eric closed his eyes as she
brushed the razor up his neck. He never felt anything stinging, nor smelled any
blood, so he assumed she hadn't managed to gash his skin. So he opened his eyes
and looked at her. Her mouth was partly opened as she concentrated on her task,
running the razor under water and admiring her work after each stroke. Eric
smiled. Even drunk she was still the cutest thing he'd ever seen.

He took a deep breath and frowned. "This stuff smells."

"It's peach scented," Calleigh explained.

"Pink razor, peach scented shaving cream, you might as well put me in a
dress," Eric said.

"Is that a dare?" Calleigh drawled, looking away from her task for
just a second to give him her most determined look.

Eric chuckled again, blushing, and changed the subject. He hated when she made
him blush, made him feel like she had the upper hand. Not that he would ever
get the upper hand with Calleigh, but he could at least try.

"Kinda smells like you."

"I know, isn't it nice?"

"Very," Eric said, his voice deep.

Calleigh smiled and began to shave his left cheek. He looked down and was
suddenly surprised to find his hands on her thighs. His hands were on her
thighs. And Calleigh? Didn't seem to
mind one bit. In fact, her legs kept brushing up
against his and though he knew it was probably an instinctive act he
couldn't help thinking sober Calleigh would never allow him to be this close.

Sober Calleigh, however, seemed to have disappeared
somewhere far, far away, with very little chances of a successful rescue.

As she continued to shave him Eric dared to slowly glide his hands up, taking
the hem of her skirt with them, his long fingers grazing her skin hard, trying
to make up for the lack of sensation the alcohol had caused. And he really had
to admire her sense of coordination, because she never missed a beat as she
continued to shave him slowly while simultaneously wrapping her legs around his
thighs, drawing him closer.

Eric could suddenly feel the air grow dense and hot. He moved his hands down
only to go up again, this time ducking under her skirt and caressing her soft
skin. He looked at her and she didn't seem to mind, merely continued to shave
him with such delicacy he briefly wondered if she was drunk at all.

His hands continued to explore, up and down, slid down her inner thighs to come
up again, and then made their way around her back. She never once acknowledged
what he was doing and neither did he, just let his hands do what they wanted to
do, go where they wanted to go.

And they continued their trek until Calleigh grabbed a towel, ducked it under
the faucet and pressed it against Eric's face. After that, she picked up one of
her scented lotions and bathed his now smooth skin in it, running her hands
through his face a little more than necessary, before she sat back and admired
her work.

Eric smiled.

"Is that better?" he asked, his eyes ignoring the mirror behind her
and concentrating fully on her lips.

"Much," Calleigh drawled.

She turned the faucet off, looked at him and calmly grabbed a fistful of shirt.
She pulled him down slowly and licked and bit his lower lip before she kissed
him, and Eric being Eric and being drunk suddenly feared the hot vapors mixed
with the alcohol and the sensation of Calleigh's lips pressed against his might
make him pass out.

But he snapped out of it quickly and leaned into her, wrapping his arms around
her to draw her closer, lift her up slightly to rub himself against her, make
her feel him and make her feel the way she made him feel. She moaned when she
felt his erection and her hands quickly began to pull his shirt up. He helped
her take it off, threw it to the side and half of it landed in the toilet but
he didn't care. He sought Calleigh again, tongue prodded between her lips and
she moaned again as he tasted her, alcohol and fruit and her own little sweet
thing.

Her hands reached for his belt but he bent slightly to pick her up instead. She
wrapped her legs around his waist and Eric stumbled out of the bathroom blindly
as they continued to kiss hungrily, and it was a miracle he found the bed that
way but he did, and they both fell on it with a drunken laugh.

Eric climbed on top of her and Calleigh gave him a doe-eyed look and a wicked
smile, her legs wrapping around him and her pelvis grinding up to meet his.
Eric groaned before he kissed her again, slower and deeper before he moved to
her cheek, her neck and chest, Calleigh's hands guiding him where she wanted
him to go. He began to unbutton her shirt, breathing into her chest and leaving
behind goosebumps and little tremors. He continued to
kiss her skin as he went along, down every button, the second, the third,
kissing between her breasts and down her stomach as she sighed and arched her
body up.

Eric finally undid the last button and smiled as he reached for the clasp of
her bra.

"Okay, I think she gets the point," Calleigh interrupted tensely.

"No," Valera
cried out. "We're finally getting to the good part!"

"Use your imagination, Valera,"
Eric said.

"Wait," Calleigh suddenly told Eric. "Maybe it's better if she
doesn't use her imagination. This is Valera."

"Right," Eric nodded and turned to Valera. "Well, nothing happened."

"Yeah, right," Valera
said unhappily, like a child who'd been denied her treat.

"Really," Calleigh said truthfully.

He undid the last button and reached for the clasp of her bra. Calleigh
kissed him instead, running her thigh up and down between his legs and he
groaned again. She loved that groan.

But it wasn't long before his hands reached for her bra again, finding the
clasp around her back and having a little difficulty with it. Maybe if he'd
been sober, she imagined, it would've come off in a heartbeat, but right now he
seemed to be having a bit of a hard time doing two things at the same time.
Calleigh chuckled and sat up, reaching behind her but suddenly found she had a
bit of a hard time with the clasp as well. She'd never attempted to take her
bra off while she was drunk; then again, she'd never been this drunk either. It
was sort of funny.

Well, she found it funny. Eric just looked frustrated, like he and the bra had
become enemies at that moment.

"Forget it, just slide it down," Eric said impatiently, reaching for
the straps but finding her shirt was a bit of an imposition. So he began to
take her shirt off when Calleigh stopped and looked towards the door.

Her mouth opened in amusement and she looked down at him, giving him a quick
kiss before she stood up.

"Where are you going?" Eric complained.

Calleigh smiled as she covered herself and opened the door. She looked down the
hall, where a group of joyful people were celebrating something or other in one
of the rooms.

She gasped in delight. "Oh, Eric, it's a wedding!"

"So?" Eric said, sitting up and groaning at the sudden tightness of
his pants. "It's Vegas."

"They're so beautiful," Calleigh slurred, watching as the bride and
the groom walked everyone out of their honeymoon suite.

"Calleigh."

Calleigh closed the door and came back to bed. She smiled as she straddled
Eric's thighs, leaning down to kiss him before she pulled back. "I wanna
get married."

Eric smiled and kissed her. "You will."

"I mean now."

Eric pulled back. "Now?"

Calleigh nodded and grinned. "Let's get married, Eric."

Eric smiled without giving it much thought. "Okay."

"Well, I think I might have been a bit more reluctant than that, but
that's the gist of it," Eric added.

"That's it?" Valera
said, dissatisfied.

Eric nodded. "Well, there was the part where she forced me to get down on
my knees and propose, and then the part where she
fished my shirt out of the toilet and made me wear it like that, but yeah,
pretty much."

Valera pursed
her lips, obviously discontent with the lack of intimate details. She needed to
get better friends, friends with cameras, friends who weren't scared of using
the words 'cock' and the like.

"We can get an annulment, right?" Eric asked her and then turned to
Calleigh. "Don't worry, Cal,
we'll just get an annulment."

Valera was
about to say something when there was a knock on the door. She looked behind
her and turned to her guests. "Hold that thought."

Eric watched as Valera
disappeared and he turned to Calleigh. She was still looking away, lost in
thought and he sat back, suddenly feeling like the biggest scumbag in the
world. He couldn't believe he'd let that happen. He couldn't blame Calleigh, hell, she had been hammered that night. But he hadn't been
as drunk as she and he should've prevented all of this from happening,
should've been aware from the moment she suggested that stupid drinking
challenge that something would go wrong.

Calleigh looked over and gave him half a smile, but found she had no idea what
to say to him. Is that how it was going to be for the rest of their lives?
Would they need to fetch Valera
every time they wanted to talk to each other? Her friendship with Eric had been
on unstable footing as it was, and she feared now it might just die entirely.

She looked up when she heard a voice and groaned when she saw Ryan walk into
the room, followed by Valera.
Eric's reaction wasn't much different from hers, except with a lot more
colorful expletives.

Ryan wasted no time in jumping in with a good verbal smack.

"Why, Mr. and Mrs. Delko, what a delight. Back
from your honey moon, I see," he joked, but his smile faded when both Eric
and Calleigh looked at him with intense disdain their eyes. Ryan whispered to Valera. "Are we not
joking about this yet?"

"Bad timing, Ryan," Valera
replied.

"You told Ryan!" Calleigh snapped suddenly.

"No, of course not!" Valera said defensively but then hesitated.
"Well, maybe little bit."

"Why would you do that?" Calleigh exclaimed.

"I was tired," Valera
said. "The phone rang, I was sleepy, he asked who it was, I said Calleigh,
he asked what you wanted, I said you called to say you got married, he said
okay and we went back to sleep."

Calleigh groaned and sat up, heading for the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, Cal, I didn't know what I was
saying," Valera
implored.

"Okay, relax, guys, I won't tell anyone," Ryan said. "And
nobody's judging you. We've all been there. Right, Valera?"

"I've been drunk before," Valera
said lamely. "I... once stole an exit sign from Hooters."

"Yeah," Ryan said. "This one time I was so drunk I didn't even
tuck my shirt back in when I came out of the bathroom."

"See? Just... reckless," Valera
offered, trying to make her friends feel better. Obviously it wasn't working.

Calleigh came back with a glass of water. "Look, we just have to figure
out a way to get this annulled as quickly as possible so we can all forget it
happened."

"Well, you'll need a lawyer," Ryan said.

"You know lots of lawyers," Valera
told Calleigh.

"Well, I wouldn't want any of the lawyers we know finding out about
this," Eric said. "This is Miami,
you spit and three seconds later Ryan's reporter friend is talking about it on
the news."

"Very funny, Delko," Ryan said. "Where's your wedding ring, by
the way? Blow it up at the lab already?"

"Guys," Valera
said sharply before the two could continue. "What about those cheap
lawyers you see advertised on television?"

"Might as well flush your money down the toilet," Ryan said.

"Well, what else are they gonna do?"

"Why don't we just go home and deal with this tomorrow?" Calleigh
said. "I'm tired and the last thing I wanna do right now is think. So, Eric, go home, Ryan give him a ride, I'll talk to
you later."

Eric stood up inserting his hands into his pockets. "Cal, I don't think�"

"Eric, please," she said.

Eric sighed and looked at Ryan and Valera.
They turned around and walked away slowly to give them some privacy, but not
very discreetly. He walked up to Calleigh, feeling as awkward as she and it
didn't help that Ryan and Valera had stopped pretending and they were now
looking at Eric and Calleigh as if they were watching the climax of an action
movie.

"Alright," Eric said, not knowing what to do now that he had her in
front of him. After what happened the night before going home and leaving her
there didn't seem like the right thing to do, but Calleigh wanted him to leave,
and when Calleigh didn't want to deal with issues it was best not to push her.
So he leaned down and kissing her forehead, ignored the way her body tensed up.
"I'll call you later."

Calleigh nodded, looking at the floor. "Yeah."

She watched him as he walked away, picked up his bag and Ryan gave Valera a kiss before he
turned to help Eric with his bag.

"Left your beard in Vegas?" she heard Ryan ask.

"Long story," Eric replied before the two men disappeared.

Valera walked
back into the living room carefully, her arms crossed. "Are you
okay?"

"Yeah," Calleigh said, sitting on the couch with a sigh, somehow
feeling more emotional now that Eric was gone and she didn't have to pretend
anymore. "I think."

Valera smiled
sympathetically. "Come on, Cal,
people do stupid things when they're drunk."

"People get tattoos of Bugs Bunny on their asses when they're drunk, Valera," Calleigh
said. "What do I do? I marry my best friend!"

"It's no big deal, Calleigh; you'll just get an annulment."

Calleigh looked down and scratched her eyebrow.

Valera narrowed
her eyes at her. "Unless..."

"What?"

"Calleigh," Valera
sighed.

"What?" Calleigh exclaimed.

"You didn't... consummate the marriage, did you?"

Calleigh closed her eyes and groaned.

"Oh my God," Valera
exclaimed, covering her mouth with her hand dramatically.

"Okay, Valera,
you can't freak out because if you freak out then I freak out, too,"
Calleigh said.

"What happened?"

"Well, what do you think happened?" Calleigh said. "We got
married, we got back, there was a mini-bar, there were
cashews! It just happened."

"Well, God knows how erotic those cashews can be." Valera sat down on the loveseat again,
crossing her legs. "Okay, Eric's gone. Tell me."

Calleigh sighed and looked down. She hesitated for a while but then felt a need
to talk about it with someone, and though Valera
was a blabbermouth, she was also her only girlfriend. And hell, it wasn't like
she could reach a new level of humiliation, anyway.

"Okay, but this doesn't leave this apartment, Valera. I'm serious."

"Come on, Calleigh, it's me," Valera
said, then realized what she'd said and shook her head. "May a thousand
burglars break into my apartment and steal all my porn."

"Fine," Calleigh said. "So, after the whole... wedding...
thing..."

It must've taken Eric at least ten minutes to figure out a way to work the
key card so they could go back into their room. In the meantime, Calleigh stood
aside, admiring her wedding ring and clutching the wedding pictures in her
hand. When Eric finally managed to open the door he looked down at her, and she
began to walk into the room when he stopped her.

"Uh-uh," Eric said. "We just got married, that means I get to
carry you over the threshold."

Calleigh grinned at him. "You're such a romantic."

"I try," Eric said before he scooped her up.

Calleigh yelped and laughed, and when they walked in she used her legs to shut
the door.

Eric smiled at her. "So, Mrs. Delko..."

"Mr. Duquesne?" Calleigh said, kissing his neck.

"Should we celebrate?" he said, depositing her on the bed. She knelt
on it and kissed his chin.

"Mini-bar."

Eric grinned and hurried up to the mini-bar as Calleigh picked up the phone and
dialed the same numbers over and over again until a sleepy Valera picked up the
phone. She was looking for some kind of celebration, congratulations and
squealing and laughter, but Valera
merely grumbled something in her sleep and hung up the phone. Calleigh was
about to pick it up again when Eric came over and handed her a tiny bottle.

"Well, we don't have wedding cake, but we have cashews," he
announced.

"Just as good," Calleigh said, opening the can.

Eric grabbed two plastic cups from the top of the mini-bar and handed her one.
They poured their drinks, made a toast that made no sense, and drank it all
down with a gulp, the alcohol going to their heads immediately. Calleigh ate
one cashew � she wasn't going to let her own wedding cake go to waste � before
she put the lid on the can, threw it aside and urgently leaned in to kiss Eric,
her hands riding him of his shirt quickly.

He kissed her back, running his hands up her thigh, her back and settling on
her neck to pull her closer. She moaned before she opened her mouth, allowing
his tongue to tangle up around hers as her hands roamed around his chest. They
journeyed down until they found the buckle of his belt and this time it came
off without interruptions. She unbuttoned his pants and he writhed out of them
before he began to do the same for her.

Eric unbuttoned her shirt with more urgency this time, discarding it aside
before he was face to face again with his mortal enemy: the bra. This time, he
ignored the clasp and slid the straps down Calleigh's arms, kissing her chest
as he did, leaving the bra around her waist and celebrating his victory over
the garment when her breasts were completely exposed.

Calleigh laughed down at him and he gave her a lopsided smile before he took a
nipple between his teeth, pulling at it gently before he darted his tongue over
it, making Calleigh moan. He repeated the action to see if she would moan
again, but nothing happened until his hand reached out for her other breast,
closing in around it. Then she moaned out his name and wow, if the single moan
had sounded glorious, the addition of his name to it made it all the more
intoxicating.

Eric laid her back on the bed and settled between her legs. He felt lightheaded
for a moment, probably the effects of alcohol mixed with the effects of
Calleigh, but he closed his eyes, waited a few seconds and the feeling went
away. He found her smiling up at him and maybe he should've called her the
winner of this drinking challenge, because even though she drank more than him
she somehow seemed more lucid.

That was something he planed to rectify.

He hiked her skirt up (he had no patience for clasps or buttons at that moment)
and rubbed her through her panties, looking up and watching as she closed her
eyes, took a deep breath and let it out with a small moan.

Good response, that.

So he wormed his way down, found her hands behind her back, unbuttoning the
problematic skirt and he slid it down her legs even before the zipper had made
its complete trek down.

Eric smiled. "Black panties, very sexy," he said. "But I'm
afraid they have to go."

Calleigh chuckled and closed her eyes again when he kissed her abdomen, sliding
her panties down until they were forgotten on the floor. Eric parted her legs,
wasting no time in exploring her with two of his fingers and she was so wet he
couldn't help letting out a small grunt.

Her body twitched when his thumb began to press circles around her swollen
clit, his ear resting on her inner thigh, watching and enjoying the way she
trembled at both the sensation and the anticipation. When he felt her hand on
his head he complied and inserted a finger into her, replacing thumb with tongue,
distantly hearing her moan out his name again. He ignored her words and
inserted a second finger, his lips sucking the sensitive skin in to allow his
tongue to play with it before it slid back out again. She was moaning over and
over now, the alcohol getting rid of all her inhibitions, which only served to
encourage Eric more. Having already declared her moans his favorite sound in
the world, he wanted to know if she could outdo
herself, if it was true that Southern women really didn't scream.

So his fingers bobbed in and out of her faster, and a few seconds later Eric
began to feel her body tremble. He ignored the signs and continued until she
cried out, breathing hard and relaxing again, but tensing back up when he
didn't stop. This time, a third finger joined the other two, his lips and
tongue moving faster until a second orgasm washed through her, her hand
clutching the sheets around her.

"Eric," she panted when she could speak again, looking down and he
stopped only to kiss her inner thigh. Fingers still inside of her, he moved up
until lips found her lips again, and she kissed him with much hunger this time,
tasting him and herself and the faintest hint of wine.

He pulled back and gave her his cockiest smile, his fingers still moving in and
out of her slowly until she pulled them out. With strength she didn't know she
could have while drunk, she pushed him on his back and straddled his thighs,
smiling proudly at him.

"Nice hair," Eric quipped, his hands resting on her hips.

Calleigh brushed her hair back with her hands.

"Hey, what are you doing? I said nice," Eric joked.

"You really need to shut up," Calleigh said. He chuckled and she
leaned down to capture his lips, grinding her pelvis down to his, making him
grunt again. She reached between her legs and rubbed his erection through his
boxers, giving him a taste of his own medicine. But she didn't have the
patience he had, and she definitely was more interested in her own
satisfaction, so she moved aside, removed his boxers and threw them at his
face.

Eric caught them in mid air and threw them aside, more interested in the
devilish look on her face and what, exactly, it was a prelude for. She
straddled him again and reached between her legs and Eric took a deep breath in
anticipation, but frowned when she began to rub herself instead of him.

"Calleigh�"

"Shh."

Eric breathed hard and leaned back, enjoying the show, running his hand up her
thigh until she pushed it away. He groaned in frustration, feeling himself grow
harder as she continued to play with herself, tiny little moans of pleasure
percolating to her surface. And then she opened her eyes and smiled at him
before she sat on the bed, lay on her side and she kissed his stomach as her
wet hand circled around his erection.

Then it was Eric's turn to clutch the sheets as her hand moved up and down
slowly, her lips biting down on his skin as her hair swept across his stomach.
Too many sensations for a drunken mind to take, it was all very confusing. So
he ignored the tickling sensation and concentrated on her hand's ministrations,
the way it would accelerate only to go slow again, very agonizing, but he
wouldn't have expected anything different from Calleigh.

And then suddenly he felt... teeth. Teeth? He looked
down and she had managed to settle her head between his legs, her hand still
stroking him as she ran her teeth gently along the side of his shaft. He placed
his hand on her head but she pushed it aside and yeah, he should've known
Calleigh didn't like that.

He began to apologize but ended up saying something incoherent when he felt her
hot breath before she slowly took him into her mouth, her tongue swirling
around the head. He rocked his hips up at her and she gave into him, taking him
into her mouth fully and Eric must've gone through the names of at least a
thousands saints in his mind before he settled on her own.

But the strange noises coming from him didn't distract her and she continued,
using lips and tongue and hands, and it wasn't long before the alcohol became
an imposition and he felt it, faintly, but definitively. So he reached down
blindly, found an arm, and pulled Calleigh up, into his mouth, tongue running
through her lips as he rolled on top of her.

She let out a tiny moan as she wrapped her legs around him, her hands on his
butt encouraging. Eric pressed the head of his cock into her with his hand,
watching and loving the way her eyes closed and her mouth opened as he entered
her. Once partly inside, he rested his forearms on either side of her face and continued
to push in slowly, his eyes never leaving her mouth. He kissed her when she ran
her tongue through her lower lip, reveling in the many feelings and sensations
going through him.

Once fully inside Eric pulled back slowly and pushed in again, getting a tiny
moan, her hips urging him. He did it again, a little faster, out and in again
until they found a nice rhythm together. Her eyes still closed, she moaned a
little louder and Eric kissed her neck, reached up and pinched a nipple with
thumb and forefinger. She cried out for the first time and Eric picked up the
pace, feeling her nails dig into his back, her hips trying to keep up with the
quick tempo but not being able to. She planted her hands on either side of his
face and forced him up, kissing him messily between cries and moans.

Eric had never seen Calleigh this out of control before and he got the feeling
it wasn't something she usually allowed herself to be. And it was a real shame,
because she looked so sexy at that moment, rocking up and down and crying out
his name as she raced to the edge. He tangled his fingers through hers, feeling
the newly acquired wedding ring and remembering suddenly she was his wife now. His wife. Calleigh. Calleigh his wife. It seemed mind-blowing.

So mind-blowing he instantly began to feel himself losing control, picking up
his pace once more and going as fast as he could without hurting her. In turn,
her cries intensified, her hand clutched a pillow and she cried out God's name
before she cried out his. Nice to know God was still number one on that list of
hers.

He buried his face into her neck and whispered her name in her ear, urging her
because there was no way he'd be able to last much longer, not when she kept
squeezing him with her internal muscles, breathing as heavily as she was
breathing. He felt her hand reaching low between them and realized after a few
seconds she was rubbing herself, couldn't believe he hadn't thought of that
before but hey, he figured alcohol just made him stupid.

Not, Calleigh, apparently, because in mere seconds her body began to tremble,
her internal muscles twitch and she came loudly, squeezing her thighs against
his side. Eric closed his eyes and allowed himself to come, grunting as he
pushed himself in and out of her in sporadic movements.

When all sound and movements died down, Calleigh held him to her and finally
opened her eyes, running her hand through his side, reveling in the sensation
of him still inside of her. She took a deep breath and let it out, content, and
kissed the side of his face as he nuzzled his nose against her neck.

"Wow," Valera
breathed, her eyes wide, staring off into space. "I think I need a
cigarette."

Calleigh sighed and looked away, reliving the sensations, but trying not to. It
was all very confusing and Valera
wasn't helping.

"Are you sure you wanna divorce him?" Valera added.

"Valera,"
Calleigh exclaimed.

"Sorry," Valera
said. "Can I marry him?"

Calleigh chuckled, running her hands through her hair,
feeling exhausted both physically and emotionally.

"Well, at least you're laughing now!" Valera said. "Doesn't that feel good?
And I don't mean that comparatively."

Calleigh rolled her eyes playfully. She looked around Valera's apartment before she furrowed her
eyebrows and frowned at the DNA analyst, as if she'd just remembered something
important.

"Wait," she said, rising from her seat. "You slept with
Ryan?"

Valera looked
at her, opened her eyes wide and chuckled. "I know! Isn't that weird? We
both got laid at the same time."

Calleigh looked at her, speechless. "How... and when, and why?"

"Last night. We went out for a beer and then he dropped me off and... it just happened, I guess," Valera said.

Calleigh's eyes widened. "And you're fine with that?"

Valera shrugged
her shoulders. "Sure, why not?"

"It's Ryan."

"I know his name," Valera
said and stood up to seat next to Calleigh. She looked ahead and smiled, as if
she were suddenly fantasizing about something. "He's got that puppy dog
face, you know? Just makes you wanna put him on a leash and make him do naughty
things."

Calleigh grimaced. "I did not need to know that, Valera."

Valera smiled
and looked away. "He's okay, you know. He actually stayed till morning,
which is kinda rare for me."

Calleigh smiled. This was definitely a side of Valera she'd never seen before. "So you
actually like this one, huh?"

Valera pursed
her lips. "He knows his way around in bed, and... I guess he's smart,
too."

Calleigh chuckled. "Well, at least you didn't marry him."

"Oh, don't be such a drama queen," Valera said and stood up.

"Sorry," Calleigh said.

Valera suddenly
came back with the yellow pages. "Let's just find a lawyer and get this
over with. A few days, tops," she said. "And then, you and Eric can
go back to ignoring your feelings for each other and we can all be
unhappy!"

Calleigh sighed, turning serious. "This may be a big joke to you and Ryan,
Valera, but I'm
not laughing, and neither is Eric."

"Oh, come on," Valera
said as Calleigh stood up and went into the kitchen. Valera followed her. "You know, you make
fun of Ryan and I, cause he's an asshole and I'm
crazy, but at least we're honest with each other, which is something you and
Eric have never been."

Calleigh frowned at her, shocked at the sudden change in mood. "Are you
talking about your marathon of a relationship with Ryan, Valera? The one that's
lasted a grand total of 12 hours?"

Valera narrowed
her eyes at her. "At least we don't have to get drunk to tell each other
how we feel."

"You don't feel anything," Calleigh exclaimed. "You had sex with
him 12 hours ago, Valera.
That's not a relationship!"

Valera looked
hurt for a second before she turned around and began to organize her spice
rack, or at least pretend to.

Calleigh quickly realized what she'd said and took a step towards Valera, chiding herself.
What the hell just happened?

"I'm sorry."

Valera crossed
her arms and turned around. "I'm just trying to help."

"I know," Calleigh said, stroking her arm. "And I'm happy for
you and Ryan, I really am."

"You don't sound like it," Valera
said.

"I know, Valera,
I'm just tired and I don't know what to do about this thing with Eric,"
Calleigh replied. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to imply anything bad about
you and Ryan."

"You don't have to lie about it, Calleigh. I know he's not Mr.
Perfect," Valera
said. "But even if you don't think we're gonna make it I just want to know
you're rooting for me, as a friend."

"I am!" Calleigh said. "Look, I don't know Ryan like you know
him. We don't hang out after work, and apparently that's something you do a
lot. So if you say he's a great guy I believe you and I hope he makes you real
happy."

Valera smiled. "Really?"

"Of course," Calleigh said.

"That's just what I want for you, Calleigh," Valera said. "Aren't you tired? Cause, I'm
in the sidelines and I'm tired, so I can't imagine what you must feel like, or
Eric must feel like."

"I know," Calleigh sighed. "It's just complicated."

"Oh, you always say that," Valera
exclaimed. "Look, whatever happened last night, people tend to be very
honest when they're drunk, believe me, I know," she said. "I mean,
when I came home that night, after stealing that exit sign, I put it right next
to my door, you know, with the little arrow facing the exit?"

Calleigh chuckled, shaking her head. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm saying that it's been five years and what happened last night,
Calleigh, it wasn't random. I mean, there's all this tension and wasted time
and two bottles of wine and suddenly you're married?" Valera said. "You didn't get married
because you were drunk, Calleigh, you got married because subconsciously you do
wanna be with him."

"Valera,"
Calleigh began to complain.

"You know it's true," Valera
said. "I'm not trying to meddle, Calleigh, honest. I love you. I just want
you to be happy."

Calleigh smiled warmly. "Well, I love you, too."

The two women hugged and Valera
smiled, content. "This is a real Oprah
moment."

Calleigh laughed. "You're a little bit crazy, Valera. Did you know that?"

Valera pulled
back. "Ryan asked me the same thing."

"Well, at least he's not scared of knowing the real you," Calleigh
joked.

Valera smiled.
"Come on, let's find a way out of this
marriage."

Calleigh sighed. "I doubt there are any lawyers working at this
hour."

"Listen to you, always assuming the worst. Would you be positive for just
a second?" Valera
said. "Do you know the name of the chapel where you got married?"

Calleigh followed Valera
back into the living room. "I know we got married by Elvis."

Valera smiled.
"Classy."

"Well, my dad wanted a picture of Elvis, so, two birds," Calleigh
said.

Valera walked
up to the desk that stood in a corner and sat in front of her computer. She
found a search engine and typed the words 'Elvis' 'Las Vegas' and 'Chapel.' Thousands of results
popped up.

"Well, that's a start," she said cheerfully.
IX

It was late, very late, but Calleigh stood in front of Eric's door. Knowing
him, he was probably still awake. Not that she would be able to get any sleep
under these circumstances, either. Hell, the thought of having to go back to
work in the morning made her want to scream. She just wanted to get into bed
and sleep for days.

He opened the door, and looked so... normal there, with his shirt half opened
and barefooted. She chastised herself when she felt something inside of her
tremble, knowing it definitely wasn't alcohol induced this time, but still
strong enough that she couldn't stop it.

"Hey," he said, trying out a new care-free tone that definitely
didn't suit him.

Calleigh half-smiled. "Can I come in?"

"Sure."

His apartment smelled like the windows had been closed for days, and she knew
her apartment probably smelled the same. Looking around, she tried to remember
the last time she'd been there. She couldn't.

"So?"

Calleigh turned, and he was standing so close she nearly stumbled backwards.

"I, uh," she started, feeling distracted
until she shook her head and found her train of thought. "We called the
chapel."

Eric raised his eyebrows. "And?"

Calleigh looked up at him. "We're not married."

Eric's face fell. "What?"

"Apparently, Elvis doesn't like people getting married when they're
drunk," she said and sat on his couch. "Of all the chapels in Las Vegas, we managed to
find the one with moral values," she chuckled sarcastically. "Anyway,
we're not married."

Eric frowned, confused. "But, I bought a ring, I remember a
ceremony."

Calleigh smiled. "Well, they performed a ceremony but never filed a
marriage license. Apparently, we were very persistent about not leaving the
chapel without getting married, they saw your gun...
Guess I can't blame them."

Eric sat next to her. "But there was a ceremony."

"But no marriage license," Calleigh reiterated. "Yes, there was
a ceremony, but I would hardly consider Elvis a priest of God."

Eric looked away, trying to figure it all out. He knew Elvis was but a priest
dressed in a costume, a priest who had performed the wedding rites, and even
though there was no marriage license, a full ceremony had taken place. The
theological part of his brain failed to see how they weren't married still,
while the practical side agreed there was no marriage without a license.

It was all very confusing.

"Looks like you're a bachelor again," Calleigh joked half-heartedly.

Eric smile, somewhat. He felt an overwhelming urge to tell her that no, he
sided with the theological part of his brain and even though there was no
marriage license, in the eyes of God, and the good people of Graceland, they
were probably still married, and if he wanted to introduce her to his friends
as 'his wife,' he could because Elvis said so.

But he looked at her and he could recognize the confusion in her as well, even
though she could hide it better than him. Was she thinking the same thing?

"So what now?" he breathed.

Calleigh shook her head and stood up, preparing for a mad dart towards the
door. "Now, we just... nothing."

Eric stood up as well, premeditating her next move. "Cal�"

"Eric," she said.

"Regardless of whether we're married or not, that doesn't change what
happened�"

"Eric�"

"It doesn't change what you said."

"I know!" Calleigh sighed, rubbed her face, placed a hand on his
stomach and looked at it. Distance was good; avoiding eye contact was even
better. "Can we just forget about this, at least for tonight?"

Eric stared at the top of her head. "You're not gonna go home and forget
about it, Calleigh. That's not your thing."

Calleigh looked up at him, at her hand again and then around the room. Silence
crept in but it was neither awkward nor comforting. It was just... tired. She
was tired.

She drew a couple of quick patterns on his stomach before she shook her head,
frowning at her fingers.

"Ryan and Valera
are together," she said softly.

"Yeah," Eric said. "He mentioned that."

"She's insane, and he's... Ryan, and yet they're together," Calleigh
continued. "They don't care about their insanity or their Ryanness, they're just together. Just
like that."

Eric grabbed her hand, and when she didn't pull back he played with her
fingers, hoping she'd look up at him, hoping she could be Calleigh for a second
without all those intruding thoughts he knew could drive her crazy at times.

"I don't understand why it can't be that simple for us," she added as
an afterthought, and began to regret the words as soon as they came out, was
sure they made her sound weak and all kinds of pathetic.

Eric half-smiled, half because even though she'd just admitted there was
something going on between them (the first time she'd admitted it without the
air of alcohol) the statement had still seemed kinda
sad. It was sad. Seemed unfair that people were coupling left and right
and yet they couldn't seem to take one step forward without finding a wrong
turn or falling down on their asses. Sad and unfair that Ryan and Valera had all but met
five minutes ago and they were already happy together, and he and Calleigh had
had to wait five years for something that sometimes he thought would never
materialize.

He pulled her towards him. She didn't offer any resistance, again. It was rare,
but he figured she was too tired to fight. He wrapped his arms around her
shoulders and kissed her head, knowing they could probably use a friendly
gesture.

"I thought Southern women liked things complicated," he joked.

Calleigh chuckled, took a deep breath and melted into him, hugging him probably
a little stronger than necessary for all the troubles and heartaches she'd put
him through. She looked up, stood on her tip-toes and brushed her lips against
his, not an innocent kiss but not too serious, either, just a way to say all
the things she always had so much trouble verbalizing.

She was surprised to feel it still, now, the intensity and electricity. In her
mind she'd hoped they were merely the effects of alcohol, beer goggles or
whatever they called it. But if anything the feeling seemed even more electric
now, real.

She pulled back and rested her forehead to his, looking down at his bare feet.
She'd never noticed how well proportionate his toes were.

"I just need a little more time."

Eric nodded. He didn't know how much more time he could give her, because if
she hadn't made up her mind in five years he figured she never would. It was
frustrating, having to wait, always living with the fear that another guy could
sweep in unsolicited. It nearly happened with Hagen and he feared it could happen again.

But he wasn't about to force her into something she wasn't ready for, and if he
wanted to be honest with himself he had to admit there were way too many things
going on in his screwed up mind, and the last thing he wanted was to end up
hurting her.

So he nodded again and added an, "okay," and though she seemed just
as reluctant as she, he let her go when she pulled back.

Only now she looked much more like the Calleigh he had known a year ago, all smiles
and confidence. He had to admire the way she could do that, put on all her
masks so quickly and so easily.

"I like your new face," she joked.

Eric chuckled and ran his hands through his face, finding it weird that there
was no prickly hair there. "You know I'm growing it back," he said.

Calleigh shook her head. "Won't last."

He shook his head as he followed her to the door, only when she made it there
her body jumped slightly and she turned around.

"I forgot," Calleigh said, reached into her pocket and handed him a
shiny, silver band. "This is yours."

Eric took her wedding ring, somewhat sadly, and analyzed it. He looked up,
smiled at her and tried to give it back. "You can keep it."

Calleigh shook her head. "I can't."

"Calleigh, I'm not�"

"Eric, it cost money," she said. "You can pawn it, get yourself
something nice."

He looked at her, and she didn't seem too interested in his money but more in
the significance of the ring and what if meant if she were to keep it. So he
nodded, closed his fist around it and looked at her again.

"See you tomorrow," Calleigh said, didn't wait for him to say goodbye
before she disappeared.

Eric closed the door behind her and turned around, playing with the ring,
slipping it half-way into his index finger before he took it out again. Felt
heavier than it should've been, shinier, and after slipping it into one of
those decorative cups his mother always kept around the house, he opened a
kitchen cabinet and placed it way in the back, intending to keep it.
X

She lay in bed, facing the window, and though the spectacle of lights
outside had not subsided, she couldn't stop marveling at the shiny ring on her
hand.

Eric lay behind her, still awake and playing with her hair like any good, drunk man would. He reached over and turned the band around
her finger, imagined her expression and he grinned, having never seen her this happy and assuming she was happy because he made
her feel that way. And damn if it didn't feel good.

She sighed, content, and turned around. Her eyes were bright and shiny and she
pressed her lips to his before she drunkenly pulled on his earlobe for no
reason.

"I love you," she said suddenly and without an ounce of forethought.

Eric grinned gingerly. "Really?"

"Southern women don't lie," Calleigh said, giving her accent a
bit more intensity to convey her point.

Eric brushed her messy hair out of her face. "Well, Cuban men usually like
to say I love you first."

"Southern beats Cuban," Calleigh said lazily, closing her eyes and
finding a comfortable position to sleep in.

Eric kissed her bare shoulder and rested his chin to her head. "Love you
too."

He was rewarded with a soft snore.
Le Fin
- 1
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Starting Hand of King and Queen