Fandom: CSI RPS
Summary: After Eric left, George's house was a lot neater.
Author's notes: Thanks to witchling for the beta and boggit for the title.
After Eric left, George's house was a lot neater. There were no empty soda cans beside the computer, no candy wrappers on the coffee table. Coffee grounds didn't muck up the sink and there wasn't a mug on every surface because Eric shared his character's love of caffeine.
George could get a full night's sleep now without Eric's occasional spastic dream and arms and legs twined with his. He didn't have to shove aside five different hair gels just to shave and he usually had time for a leisurely shower because he didn't oversleep and he could use all the hot water he wanted.
When Jorja asked, he took Monica to the People's Choice Awards and everyone said they looked so perfect together and their photo was in Us Weekly. She was funny and very sweet and reminded him of his favourite cousin.
Eric called after the second day of shooting for Grave Danger. He'd read the script and he knew George, so he left a message on the machine. A one minute and thirty-seven second message that didn't mean anything, but said far too much in Eric-speak.
George sat on the couch with the phone in his lap for a long time before he left his own message that was twenty-two seconds long. Twenty-five minutes later, Eric was standing in his doorway, hands stuffed in his jean pockets.
George opened the door wider to let Eric in. Then, they were up against the wall, kissing desperately and frantically, and thankfully Eric had the presence of mind to kick the door shut before George was pulling off his jean jacket and he was making short work of George's button down. There were few words, but the air was thick with all the things they'd said before and each touch was heavy with meaning.
"I'm sorry," George said later, his voice low and husky, when they were in bed and Eric was laying beside him, absently tracing his chest with one hand.
"Me too." A pause. "I missed you."
Eric sat up a bit, looking at George in the dim light. "Do you think we can do this again? I hated seeing you so upset and I hated being mad at you and I'd really not like to do that again."
George sat up to meet him, sheets pooling at his waist. "It was never your fault. I was just so stressed about being fired, then when they took Jorja and I back, they... they didn't threaten, but the insinuation about you and I made me nervous. I didn't want you to get fired too, but it just spiralled out of control." He reached out and ran his thumb along Eric's jaw. "I love you, and if it came down to you and my job, I'd set fire to CBS this minute."
Eric smiled. "I love you too. But, if you get sent to jail for arson, I doubt they'll allow us conjugal visits."
George chuckled and leaned in to kiss him. When they parted, he smiled broadly, running his hand through Eric's hair. "Look at you man. Missing me made your hair go flat."
"It may have been in mourning for you," he admitted, ruffling it himself. "I've been thinking about getting a haircut, though."
George just laughed again and pulled Eric back down with him. They fell asleep wrapped around each other, woke up late and had a shared shower that only really saved them a few minutes.
Eric found his clothes from the night before marking their path from door to bedroom, and began putting them on in reverse from their removal. George met him at the door, dressed and with travel cups of coffee. Eric smiled at him and kissed him as he took the cup. George kissed him back, knowing his own smile matched; happy, relieved and a bit goofy. Eric left his car and George drove, Eric reaching over to change the radio to their compromise station, so named because it didn't play hard rock or country.
There was gel and hair products back on the counters, coffee by the computer and an occasionally flailing and always warm Eric in his bed. They went to award shows together and never had their picture in the paper unless they were with Jorja. But, Eric felt him up everytime and George returned the favour, and they sat together again, knees touching. They resumed mocking themselves when the show was on and fought over who would get the beer.
When another blind item appeared in some magazine, Eric framed it and George laughed before putting it with the other one and offering to recreate the experience. They managed to break another coffee table and three mugs, and the closet door never shut properly anymore, but George supposed it was better that way, in an ironic sense.
He couldn't be happier.