Title: The Last of Wasted Days
Rating: Strong T
Timeline: Season 8. Begins post-8x11, Delko for the Defense.
Summary: It keeps happening, yet neither of them is the least bit concerned. They've wasted more than enough time already.

Okay, I've been turning this over for almost a year and it's finally time to let it see the light of day. I know we all thought (or at least hoped) they were already together shortly after the beginning of season eight, and when we got the "it keeps happening" spoiler a lot of people speculated it may have been something more. What if it was? What if they hadn't spent so much time dancing around what they really wanted?

-:- one -:-

Not for the first time, Eric felt as though he'd completely lost an opportunity with Calleigh.

She'd been all sunny smiles and playful banter, all coy looks as he "observed" her for the day. Her soft "excuse me" as she brushed by him had been just as playful, and her "Miami missed you" was as open an invitation as he would get.

And yet he was at a loss.

They had been unstoppable – inextricably bonded, soaring full-speed ahead with I love you's and successive nights together. Before the incident with his father, he could count the number of nights he'd spent alone in the past month on one hand.

Despite attempts to deny feelings and slow down, they'd found themselves in the strongest relationship either of them had ever been in. Friendship was already there; giving in to sexual tension was an added bonus, one that pushed the bounds of friendship into something much, much deeper – something they'd known existed but took so long so acknowledge.

Eric knew she'd had a few somewhat committed relationships before, but if the comfortable though restless way she'd attempted to sleep beside him that first night was any indication, she had never experienced anything quite like where they were headed. He'd chuckled, whispered her name, and pulled her close. She'd sighed, met his eyes in the dark, and admitted she felt weird – vulnerable – sleeping with someone else around.

But the ghosting of his knuckles over her arm and the comfort of being tucked against him had eventually lulled her into a deep, dreamless sleep. After all, she'd already trusted him implicitly. The rest had come easily.

They'd effortlessly fallen into a world of late nights and early mornings, of shared closets and dinners prepared together. She had been awed by the way he fit into her heart and her home, and utterly disbelieving of how patient he was with her guarded nature.

When she'd finally let him in, he'd been sucker-punched by a whirlwind of golden hair, creamy skin, Southern words, and genuine, mutual adoration. Suddenly he found himself wanting all those things he'd known he'd want someday – lazy mornings, shared space, kids, a white picket fence, and the promise of forever. Suddenly he wanted it all, and he wanted it all with her. Someday had come over three months ago.

And just like that everything changed.

He'd taken on the mess of his father's criminal activity without a word to her – to protect her, really. The plan was to explain everything afterward, when his father was safely locked away and the Russians would have no reason to track him anymore. But his own team had gotten too involved – Calleigh had gotten too involved. His carefully planned sequence of events had spiraled out of his control.

She'd questioned him, had spoken to him like he was an accessory in the matter. For once, he'd been the one to close off – with good reason – and to say that she'd been affected would be an understatement.

Now, he had no idea where that left them.

Logically, he knew they needed to start over. Rebuilding trust and faith should take time, but time was precious. Time had never mattered to them. After nine years of friendship, three of those loaded with lingering glances, they hadn't been able to help the intensity that instantly colored their relationship. She'd read his file, had known where he stood before she even got involved with him, and it hadn't taken her long to realize she wanted the same.

Six months. They'd been together for six months, which was amazing in itself, but what really amazed her was that they were here, together, at home, having this conversation.

God help him, he knew this was too soon, especially for Calleigh, but he couldn't help it. He'd taken on last minute uncle duties this evening, and while he'd known from work experiences that she could manage kids, he'd been completely unprepared for the smile that washed over her face when his youngest nephew had assisted him in greeting her at his door.

He'd tripped over an apology about ruined plans, but as she stepped into his condo he was far too caught up in watching her take his nephew into her arms when he reached out for her. The one-year-old tugged at her expensive necklace, fisted her long hair into his merciless hands, and slobbered all over her cell phone, but she hadn't minded at all.

She'd held him, laughed, and carefully pried her hair from his fists. She'd walked around Eric's condo, bent over slightly to hold two tiny hands as she helped the baby walk in front of her.

Eric had been blown away. Today had given him the briefest glimpse into something they hadn't dared discuss yet – something he desperately wanted in their future. Today, something had changed a little, had been brought into the light for deeper consideration.

And it hadn't taken her ten years of learning to read people as a CSI to know the gears were turning in his heart and mind. He was holding her now, letting quiet kisses to her neck and shoulders fill the silence. Seated between his legs on the couch, her back pressed to his chest, she tilted her head to the side as his lips trailed up her shoulder again.

His lips neared her ear, kissing the corner spot where her lobe met the skin of her neck, and he grinned as he rested his nose against her skin there.

"So," he began, and she was smiling because he'd finally gotten the nerve up to say something. "You like kids."

Arms tightening around her meaningfully, he playfully trapped her and pressed his lips to her skin once more.

"Yes," she agreed coyly, belly swirling with nerves. "I do."

At his appreciative "mmm" in to her skin, she closed her eyes, affected by the soothing low rumble of his voice. But he hadn't quite gotten what he wanted, because liking kids and wanting them were still two very different things. And years ago, when he'd been so confident about working kids into his life even as a busy CSI, she'd seemed a little on the fence.

"Do you want them?" he asked, still paused there.

This had the potential to landslide into so much more than they'd bargained for, so she breathed out deeply before replying with a simple albeit a little dreamy, "Yeah."

He smiled. "Soon?"

"Well," she began, tucking her tongue against the roof of her mouth until she had the right words, less implicative words. "I don't exactly have another ten years, so…maybe soon-ish, yeah." Smiling, she tilted her head back onto his chest. "You?"

"Now," he admitted, and she realized he was joking just a little when he added, "Five of them."

Laughing softly with him, she shook her head.

Now none of that was within sight. His feelings hadn't changed at all, but hers may have. And things had certainly grown complicated.

She'd been upset over his involvement with his father, more so because he hadn't told her than anything else. And then she'd been confused by his sudden trip to Puerto Rico for a much-needed breather. But he'd needed time away and she'd needed space. It had worked out in a way, though she seemed a little put off by the geographical distance he'd put between them in response to the boundaries they'd haphazardly set forth.

And now? Now he had no idea what to do. She had definitely been a little coy today, much to his delight, and he had the feeling the door was wide open. After everything, he was just at a loss as to how to proceed through it. He didn't want to assume too much or too little, didn't want to start over, yet knew it was too lofty to expect to pick up where they'd left off.

That was why his head was currently reeling – and why he was cracking a bottle open on the edge of his kitchen counter, hoping to ease his racing mind. He took a deep swig and let it settle in, leaning back against the counter

The doorbell was an unwelcome interruption to his ineffective brooding – that was, until he opened his front door to reveal Calleigh on his doorstep. Tilting her head as he opened the door, she lifted a familiar piece of his investigative equipment into view.

"Hey." She brightened, a smile highlighting her features as she coyly let his camcorder dangle from her fingertips. "Think you forgot something."

"Guess I did," he admitted, though his eyes drew over her pointedly instead of the insignificant camera. "You wanna come in?"

"Maybe." She shrugged her shoulders, pressing her lips together to keep a grin at bay. "Do you want me to come in?"

What he wanted was to pull her past the threshold right this second and pin her to the door. Instead he let a half-laugh, half-scoff push past his lips as he turned to walk back down his hallway, leaving her alone with a wide open door as an invitation. It didn't take long for the click of her heels on his wooden foyer floor to resonate throughout his home.

She rolled her eyes a little as she stepped in, closing the door behind her and placing the camcorder on a nearby table. By the time she'd followed him into the kitchen, he was setting the bottle down after taking another slow swig.

"Drinking alone?" she chided as she circled him. Turning her back to the counter, she pressed her hands against the marble and slid up onto it right next to his beer bottle. Eyeing the brand, she gripped the neck of the bottle in her fingertips and lifted it to her lips for a sip.

Flirting. She was flirting with him again. And he sure as hell wasn't going to brush it off this time for lack of clarity.

"Not anymore." Grinning, he purposefully let his fingers cover hers as he reclaimed the bottle, both surprised and utterly not when she let the contact linger.

She shifted, crossing her legs. "So how was Puerto Rico?"

"Beautiful," he admitted, eyes dancing between hers. "You'd fit in."

Calleigh rolled her eyes again, shaking her head as a reluctant smile demanded control of her lips. "That was such a line."

"You loved it."

He was right. She hated cheesy one-liners, but it was the charm behind him knowing good and well how awful it was that got her – and the fact that, despite how long they'd known each other, that charm still got him somewhere. Sometimes.

She spitefully stole the bottle back and tipped it to her lips. This was spiraling somewhere she hadn't exactly anticipated but hadn't ruled out either, and she was going to need a little liquid courage to take the edge off. They hadn't been together in months, yet this was too natural, too easy. She already wanted too much too soon – and not just physically.

"Actually, think I'll get my own if you don't mind." She needed it, but mostly she needed to put a little space between them.

"Here, I can-" He stopped short, for his attempt to move forward and still her with a hand to her knee came just when she was hastily hopping down from the counter. The result was a gentle collision – her body sliding along his despite her last-ditch attempt to stop it, his hand being treated to a quick glide up her curves as he half-caught her body against the counter. He'd been so close to it that she hadn't quite made it down, and currently she was suspended between the softness of his body and the harsh marble pressing into her back. Her belly was tucked against his, his face lingered just above hers, and a world of tension stirred in the little air between them.

She turned away from the temptation of his lips to smile awkwardly, all too aware of the tight grip he had on her waist. "Sorry," she uttered, but the moment she turned back to ease herself down she found them face-to-face again.

With the slightest tip downward, his nose brushed hers imploringly. Lips followed suit, his softly kissing her top lip before fully pressing his mouth to hers. Hands leaving the safety of the counter, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders to let her hands cup the base of his neck. His were already on her waist, but he smoothed his palms down to her hips, letting her complete her slide against his body until she'd reached the floor.

This was different, she realized as he pressed her into the counter again, his lips parting for her, the taste of anticipation hot on his tongue. There was a desire to prove within him now creating a desperate urgency, and she felt it, too. They'd already been a little more open and honest, him with his uncertainty over returning to CSI, she with her confusion over his sudden trip. There was a fire in knowing they could be better now, stronger.

That, combined with the raw desire over being apart for months on end, was rendering her utterly powerless to resist the pull of him. It was as natural as the tide.

Pulling away for a breather, Eric rested his forehead against hers and smiled. "I'm sorry. Did you, uh, want to talk?" Despite holding onto every thread of self-control he possessed, his fingers were toying with the hem of her top, one thumb tracing a glossy button he ached to push through.

It was a good question, she had to admit; she just couldn't think of the answer right now. Probably. But there was no way she trusted herself right now to formulate important questions and answers. Instead, she simply kept her eyes locked with his as she drew her hands to her top, slipping a button through – and then another, and another… Creamy skin peeked out at him and he slowly pressed his palms to her abdomen, feeling her flutter at his touch.

That was answer enough. His lips had found hers again in no time, hands trailing upward to take over for hers. After a short press and slide of lips, his teeth tugged at her bottom lip imploringly as he pushed the offending top from her shoulders. He caught sight of the red lacy material his hands were now trailing over just before she pressed her mouth to his firmly. Her lips moved with his, hot and insistent as his fingers trailed over her covered breasts, lingering just long enough to tease. The needy groan of protest that escaped her lips between heated kisses was his undoing, and he drew her hips closer in response.

She gripped the edges of his shirt, moving her hands up to make quick work of the buttons. Needing his skin against hers, to feel the ripple of his muscles beneath her fingertips, she pushed his button-up over his shoulders. With a desperate, breathless sigh, he tore away from her lips only to pull his tank over his head and let it fall haphazardly to his kitchen floor.

Her eyes flickered over his chest appreciatively before raising to meet his gaze, not at all surprised by the softness tempering down the harsh edge of desire in his eyes.

Wrapping his arms fully around her waist, he tucked her against his skin and offered, "Upstairs?"

Silently, Calleigh pulled away, his hand reaching for hers and holding on to the tips of her fingers until the last possible second as she stepped backwards. Almost into the hallway now, she couldn't resist the temptation of a smile as she lifted her hands to her waist and slipped the button on her black pants through.

He caught on quickly, chuckling softly as he took a step forward and watched her slide the zipper down with painstaking slowness. As she backed up toward the stairs, he noticed the beginnings of red lace obscured by her pants and grinned further. She shrugged coyly, toeing off one high heel and then the other until she'd dropped a good five inches.

And that was the final straw – her all adorable and seductive on his stairs, like some perfect manifestation of his dreams over the past several months. The moment he met her at the base of the stairs, he picked her up by hugging her thighs and reveled in the soft, feminine laughter that graced his ears. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, like she always did when she'd given him no choice but to haul her off to have his way with her.

This time, though, she grazed her fingers over the back of his skull and sighed contentedly. She'd missed him – had missed the calm his presence drew out of her, missed the way his hands skimmed over her skin as he settled her onto the bed. Skilled, familiar hands hooked the sides of her slacks to draw them down her hips. Warm, full lips landed on her abdomen with awe before slowly trailing up her body.

"Missed you," he mumbled against her mouth as he pressed it to his. Pulling kiss after kiss from her lips, he let his palm settle at her waist, encouraging her deep arch in to him. And when her hands began fumbling for his belt, he somehow easily found the resolve to kiss the corner of her mouth and whisper, "Are you sure?"

She ducked away to meet his gaze and knew. In his chocolate brown eyes, she found the need to know they were okay, that this wasn't a reckless culmination of desire and need after separation. He needed to know this wasn't just familiar; it couldn't be something they simply fell into to make things right. It needed to be right.

They hadn't talked yet, and she honestly wasn't sure she could give him that so soon despite already feeling it stirring within the depths of her. So she held his gaze, the intensity of which made her release a weighted breath before she nodded, capturing his lips with hers. They'd wasted more than enough time already.

Both with the rush of need and all the time in the world, his hands careened and skimmed and grazed over her curves, changing the pressure and speed of his touch as he moved about her body. Revealing the rest of her skin to his adoring eyes and curious hands, he finally guided his deft fingers where she needed them most. Pleasure rippled low in her belly and her heartbeat quickened, racing beneath his lips as he pressed them to her pulse point.

He stroked and whispered, and the pleasure blossomed, spreading outward until her body quaked beneath his and his name fell from her lips. The urge to have him closer was overwhelming as she tugged him down to her, forgetting he wasn't properly undressed when his pants scratched her bare thighs. She let out a little grunt of displeasure against his lips even as she hooked a leg around one of his.

"Off," she requested, a sated smile curving her lips upward as he pulled back to reach for his belt. As he discarded the final barriers between them, she pushed up onto unsteady knees to straddle him when he returned to her. Her hands did a little exploring of their own as her lips trailed down his neck, kissing and nipping until his hands were pressing into her hips.

Letting him draw her closer, her eyes fluttered open against his skin and she sighed, frustrated as she remembered an important detail even amid warm skin and Eric. "Eric," she uttered against cheek, and she could feel his fingertips digging gently into her skin for control.

"Cal," he returned, wanting, needing.

"I'm not on the pill anymore." She paused, breathless, and watched his eyes search hers.

"Oh." Eyes still fixed on hers, he smiled – a little sheepishly.

"Yeah." Biting her lip, she curled her fingers into a loose fist and let her knuckles graze the base of his neck imploringly. "Do you have anything?"

"No," he said reluctantly, palms caressing her thighs.

"No?" The notion of him not having a box stashed away somewhere was hard for her to accept, and the little smile playing across her lips at that amused him.

"Didn't need any with you," he explained, lips softly taking her bottom lip hostage for just long enough for her to need to tug it free. "Didn't want anyone after you." Fingers tangling into her soft, tousled hair, he admitted, "I didn't want there to be an 'after you.'"

Dropping her forehead to his, she let out another little frustrated sigh. "You are not making this easier…"

He chuckled softly and pressed his lips to hers. "Do you want me to go g-"

"No," she interrupted, arms instinctively tightening around him. She felt a little weak for that, but she needed his warm skin beneath hers, needed to feel him everywhere… Her hand glided down his chest, lingering teasingly on his abdomen.

"Calleigh," he practically groaned.

"I know," she agreed, carefully pushing up onto her knees and tilting his head back as she pressed her lips to his. Everything she'd been conditioned to be concerned about fell to the wayside as their mouths melded together over and over, his thumb tracing the hollow of her neck.

She shifted a little and lowered just enough for him to feel her heat, hovering there in question. He gripped her hips and met her eyes, judging the certainty there before he urged her down in silent, reckless response.

Somehow, it didn't feel reckless at all, though. It simply felt right. They were done wasting time.