Title: Wake Up
By: Dr FooFoo
Summary: Not another drunken Florida boy...
Categories: CSI: Miami - Slashed > Eric/Speed
Characters: Eric Delko, Tim Speedle
Genres: PWP - Plot, What Plot?
Warnings: Adult themes
Series: None

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Eric wakes to the faint sound of a ringing telephone in another room. He cracks one eye open and stares at the wall opposite, and it must be at least mid-morning, because light from the window is reflected on white closet doors, and the shadows from the trees outside shift slightly. The phone rings again Eric's suddenly aware he's not in his own home; his phone doesn't sound like that.

"You gonna get that?" he mumbles to the body pressed up against his back. Not that he's surprised that there's a body pressed up against him -- his bitch of a headache is all he needs to guess what happened last night; got drunk as shit and ended up at some chick's house.

"Naw, leave it..." And *that* was unexpected. The voice is low and groggy and gravely in a morning kind of way, and it's way too familiar. Eric shifts and looks down at his chest where a thin arm covered in dark hair is draped gracefully from behind and yeah, definitely not a female arm. He turns his head slightly and is met with a shock of messy black hair, matching day-old stubble, and sleepy eyes. Eric blinks.

"Hey..." Speed says, amusement apparent through his morning rasp. Eric blinks again. Alright, random girl he could understand, but best friend? It's just not really working for him, and the hangover isn't helping. Speed shifts beside him and Eric squints out the window beside the bed.

Speed interrupts non-existent thoughts: "You look confused."

"Nah, it's coming back to me..." Eric replies, and part of him wonders why he hasn't leapt out of bed yet. He tells himself it's because he's naked and it's light out, but he's really not that modest. Speed doesn't seem to care, though, but that might have something to do with the moments that are flashing painfully back into Eric's memory.

Lips, teeth, tongue, and that was only after the second drink. He has a vague recollection of being horizontal on Speed's couch, and then more alcohol and he silently wonders if Speed let himself get as drunk as Eric knows *he* was. Considers asking *exactly* what happened, but he knows Speed will just laugh at him, so he sticks with trying to suppress groans and rubbing gingerly at his forehead.

"You want a hint?" And dammit, Speed's voice is hot in the morning. It's making concentrating very difficult, and Eric shakes his head slowly. More quick, sharp memories jar his mind and he sees Speed dragging him gently to the bedroom, swaggering slightly and kind of grinning.

It's not that he never though this would happen -- he's picked up on the way Speed stares at him all day at work -- but he never really thought it would happen like *this*; the smell of rum and Coke still lingers on Speed's breath and Eric leans towards it. Soon, even more memories rush back when he feels rough stubble against his cheeks, and remembers that stubble inching its way down his torso -- on his hips and across his bellybutton. He shivers at the thought and Speed pulls back and eyes him.

Eric smirks a little, coyly, and rolls over onto his back to stare at the ceiling; flinches a little when he feels rough, calloused fingers brush lightly across his stomach, but doesn't stop to question when Speed murmurs into his ear.

"So, uh... you want a drink?"