Title: Birthday Blues
By: cassie_jamie
Pairing: Horatio/Speed
Rating: PG
Summary: Maybe birthdays weren't so bad after all.

Horatio Caine hated birthdays. They always turned out to be disaster-ridden, to the point that he'd spend the last one nursing a broken leg after one of his colleagues accidentally knocked him down the stairs at CSI.

This year, as he'd told Calleigh, he was staying home with his dog, maybe calling Yelena when she got off work, and eating a pizza. Peace and quiet – and no one around to make him have a bad day.

So he was quite perplexed to find himself sitting in the hospital...again...with an IV in one arm, a bandage around his shoulder and crossing his chest.

"Okay. Next year I'm checking into an asylum for twenty-four hours." He mumbled to himself, as his sister-in-law and Calleigh walked in.
Both women chuckled at his declaration.

"This isn't funny."

"He's right. This isn't funny." The blonde southerner started, "This is hilarious."

Sneering, he glared at her, "Hey, remember who holds the power of demotion."

She just continued to laugh, "Oh, come on, H."

"She's right, you know. The last forty-two years were someone else's fault. You brought this one on yourself." Yelena feels the urge to throw her two cents in.

The redhead groaned and pulled the pull over his head with his one good arm, "I hate birthdays."

Eric and Speed arrived then, enlarging their party and adding to his torment, "Okay, we're here. Will someone please explain to us what happened?" The latter inquired.

"I'm not telling and you don't want to know." The birthday boy retorted, then looked to the Latina, "Please tell me I can get out of here soon."

"You could leave now...if you tell them what you did." She rolled her eyes, "Schmuck."

The eldest in the room was not happy. Nah, he was a wee bit pissed off, "I shot myself with my own gun by accident, alright! I was sitting in front of the TV while trying to take apart my gun, and I was not paying attention. The damn thing went off, went through my shoulder, and now we're here! Can I go?"

"Wait a minute. You, Horatio Caine, actually shot yourself with your own gun?" Tim was a bit taken aback by that information.

"Yes. Good to know I'm human." It was a biting, scathing remark – and the boss knew it, "Lena, please. I hate hospitals more than I hate birthdays."

She nodded, a smile still plastered to her face and mumbling under her breath in Spanish about brother-in-laws and their idiotic luck.

"What time is it?"

"Eight at night." Delko responded.

Caine proceeded to attempt to sit up fully, only to have himself pushed back into the mattress by Speedle and Duquesne, "I'm fine, damnit! I am a big boy and I can sit up without hurting myself!"

They let him go, but he made no movements. The eye contact with others let them all know that Tim was taking him home. The redhead smiled jovially, "I think the morphine just kicked in."

"Let's find out." The Russian-Cuban grinned evilly, "So what were you watching that made you take your eyes off your gun?"

"Huumm..." He paused, "It was this movie on VH1...Empire Records. Guy in it looked like Speed. Was trying to figure out if it was or not."

The aforementioned man began to whine at the statement, "Do you know how many times I've heard that? I think I'm up to three hundred seventy-five. I hate that damn movie."

"Good to know."

Salas reappeared, "Alright. Who's takin' him?"

"He is." The unison reply made Horatio laugh hysterically, as they all pointed at their friend and co-worker. Each moved back a little as their superior continued his manic laughter.

"Ohh-kaay...We'll just be going. Bye, H. See ya' later." Eric grabbed Calleigh's hand and pulled her out of the room. Yelena leaned over and kissed his cheek, before dashing her way out. Tim was now on his own with a doped up boss.

Sighing calmly, the younger began to help Caine to sit up, stopped when a nurse appeared to remove the IV. A wheelchair was brought in, and the man was transferred to it. He was still giggling.

And he continued to giggle as he was loaded into the car, the ride back to his house, until his brain caught up and realized they were in the yellow-stucco home of the CSI supervisor. Then he upgraded to chuckling.

"I don't think you should ever be given any drug – medicinal or otherwise – ever again." Speed informed, plopping H down onto the couch.

"Oh, but I like it!"

"What are you, three?"

He shook his head wildly, "Uh-uh." No, he was decidedly acting like a five year old, and although he was drugged, the next thing he said was a surprise for his friend, "I love you."

Speed stumbled backwards, "What?"

"I love you."

"I think I'm going to blame that on the dope." He rubbed his forehead. Did he have to mention that he was so infatuated by the redhead that he was dreaming about the man?

"Not the morphine." Then, ignoring the pain in his shoulder, he leapt toward the younger. Lips connected. And an electrical current ran through them both.

Shoving H on to his back, Tim was nearing serious loss of self-control. It wasn't everyday that the boss jumped him, but still, "When you aren't under the influence of painkillers, we'll talk. For now, let me get you into bed, okay?"

The man pinned to the floor by his coworker conceded, nodded his head in acquiesce, and allowed himself to be pulled up from the floor. Bed would make things much easier.

Somehow they made it to his second floor bedroom without incident. Then they made it quite easily to the queen-sized bed situated beneath the windows. That's when the next...event occurred.

As Speed leaned the other back to sit him on the bed, the supervisor wrapped his good arm around the man's neck and pulled him down on top of H. Feathery kisses made their way around his face.

"Uh, Horatio? Question."

"What?" The breath floated over his forehead, causing him to shiver.

"Do you understand what you're trying to get me to do?" The brunet inquired, not sure if he could make sense of it himself.

"Yes. Don't you?"

He lowered his head to the pale, gauze-wrapped chest, "Yes. It's not like I haven't done it before. But I'd rather not. Not when *I'd* feel guilty in the morning."

The injured one started to grasp what he was being told, "Oh." It was muttered, "Oooh. Sorry."

"S'okay." Tim relaxed and stood again, finally managing to get Caine between the sheets and beneath a blanket. He turned to leave, then turned back, "But just for the record, I like you too." He kissed the hair, left without another word, though the elder was quite sure he'd only be downstairs watching TV.

Maybe birthdays weren't so bad afterall.