Fic: Untitled Title: Untitled
Author: Deb
Rating: R
Fandom: CSI: Miami
Pairing: Eric/Ryan
Disclaimer: I don't own the pretties, I'm just playing in the sandbox.
Summary: Take Ryan's OCD, add Delko and a foam party, mix liberally.
Author’s Note: Feedback enjoyed, flames are used to make S'mores! Too long to be a drabble, too short to be a fic. No beta, all mistakes are mine. I -know- a lot of people don't like slashing this pair, but this plot llabbit just wouldn't go away.

"Where.. where does this foam come from? Don't you know germs thrive in temperatures between forty and a hundred and forty degrees? This..pit..of foam is a living, breathing, multiplying biohazard site!" Ryan stared at Eric as if the other man had lost his mind. Eric was returning the look, amusement dancing in dark brown eyes.

"Relax, man. It's soap foam. Germs die in soap, don't they? How about you just think of it like a bubble bath with your clothes on?"

Ryan gave him a -look- and stared at the pit where people were dancing in armpit high bubbles. Not that you could call it dancing, the way people were plastered to each other and grinding and moaning and...that's when Ryan realized why Delko had brought him here. Why he'd ever let Eric talk him into this was an utter, absolute mystery but he'd agreed and there they were and now..."I need a drink."

"What you need is to get the stick out of your ass and loosen up, man. It's just foam. And the whole point of coming here was so I could rub and grind against you while pretending to dance and grope you with no one seeing."

"Okay, I lied. I need several drinks." Ryan ran his hand through his hair, intrigued by the whole idea but not willing to give in just yet.

"You need a Valium," Eric countered.

"You need to get laid." Ryan was not proud of that reply, but it was true.

"Yeah, so let's go dance and maybe I'll get lucky." Eric grinned.

"Drinks first, then dancing,"

"You drive a hard bargain, Wolfe."

"Okay. One more crack like that and you won't get lucky..."