Emily (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2006-08-13 11:47 pm
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2006-08-13 11:47 pm
Eric/Erica - Routines
Fandom: CSI: Miami
Title: Routines
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
iluvroadrunner6
Rating: FRK
Pairing: Eric Delko/Erica Sikes
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
psych_30 Prompt: 02. Daddy Issues
Content Warning: N/A
Summary: In the back of her mind, that same old fear was still hiding, waiting for its chance to rear it’s ugly head once more.
Author's Note: This is a spin-off of my Miami AU series "Miami Sun." I got sick of trying to use the prompts to write the story (it was getting me nowhere) so i decided to just write them as they came to me, which works best for me anyway.
Disclaimer: I don't own Eric or Erica. They're owned by CBS.
He always followed the same routine when he came home. Depending on where she was in the apartment and where he was coming from he would find her, wrap an arm around her waist, drop a kiss on her neck, and whisper a hello in her ear. Same thing every day. She had become used to it, accustomed to it, and now she was beginning to somewhat resent it.
Her father had a routine too.
He would stumble in, reeking of another woman’s perfume. He and her mother would argue over something ridiculous and pointless with no bearing on what they really wanted to argue about. The fact that her father couldn’t remain faithful to her mother to save his life. She didn’t want to turn into her mother. She was too careful to turn into her mother.
But then again, she was living with Eric Delko.
She was living with a man with a reputation of being a player, a reputation of not getting serious, a reputation of being always out of her reach. She had yet to actually experience any of these things with him, and he’s been nothing amazing towards her.
Yet there was that voice in the back of her head.
That voice, telling her that she should be careful. That she should be worried about what Eric was doing when she wasn’t looking. That she should be thinking ahead and if she ever caught him to be gone faster than she could blink. Eric was probably using her, because what other reason would he have for being with her other than the fact that he could.
“You’re stewing,” he murmured in her ear as he watched her from the window. She shot him a look before pulling away from him.
“I’m not stewing,” she replied, moving away from him, and she knew the look he was using over her shoulder. The look that clearly said ‘yeah right. I know you better than that.’
“Erica,” he sighed, the warning tone in her voice clearly telling he knew she was lying to him, “You’re stewing.”
She turned around to face him, her face emotionless, but her eyes whirling in front of him. She getting worried and neurotic and feeling like she had something to worry about when really she didn’t. “What are you so worried about?” he asked, starting to move closer to her, closing the huge gap between them. She looked away from him, starting to nibble on her fingernails. He had started to notice all her little nervous habits. The ones he hadn’t noticed when they had downright hated each other. The chewing of the lip, and the biting of the nails, and the playing with her fingers. She did them when she was nervous. When she was feeling out of her element. And she most often did them around him.
“Hey,” he whispered, pulling her into him, “Talk to me.”
“My dad wasn’t exactly the most—devoted husband in the world,” Erica replied, still looking away from him. Down at her fingers, the cabinets around them, anywhere but his face, “And my mom—didn’t exactly do anything to better the situation.” She shifted uncomfortably and started to play with her fingers, “I don’t want to become my mother, Eric.”
He was surprised that he actually got this out of her. Saw a crack in the wall that was Erica Sikes. She kept things bottled up so well that he could never tell what she was thinking, only when and what kind of thoughts they were.
“Who said you would be?” Eric replied, trying to get her to look at him.
“No offense to you,” she sighed, “But look who I’m dating. You can’t deny that you have a reputation, Eric.”
“No, I can’t,” he sighed, “But I take what we’ve got here very seriously. I’m not sleeping around, Erica.”
“I know,” she replied, finally looking him the eye, “But someday, I’m scared that you might come home wearing a perfume that isn’t mine.”
He shook his head as he looked down on her, knowing that this fear was something every woman was scared of but Erica had experienced what it had done to her mother, and she didn’t want to re-experience it herself. Pushing her chin up to look at him, he kissed her softly.
“Never,” he replied, giving her a small smile, “Never gonna happen.”
Erica believed him as he pulled her into a warm hug, holding her in the middle of her kitchen like it was the most normal thing in the world to be doing. She believed that he would never do what her father had done. He wouldn’t cheat on her. He was going to take care of her.
But in the back of her mind, that same old fear was still hiding, waiting for its chance to rear it’s ugly head once more.
Title: Routines
Author:
iluvroadrunner6Rating: FRK
Pairing: Eric Delko/Erica Sikes
psych_30 Prompt: 02. Daddy IssuesContent Warning: N/A
Summary: In the back of her mind, that same old fear was still hiding, waiting for its chance to rear it’s ugly head once more.
Author's Note: This is a spin-off of my Miami AU series "Miami Sun." I got sick of trying to use the prompts to write the story (it was getting me nowhere) so i decided to just write them as they came to me, which works best for me anyway.
Disclaimer: I don't own Eric or Erica. They're owned by CBS.
He always followed the same routine when he came home. Depending on where she was in the apartment and where he was coming from he would find her, wrap an arm around her waist, drop a kiss on her neck, and whisper a hello in her ear. Same thing every day. She had become used to it, accustomed to it, and now she was beginning to somewhat resent it.
Her father had a routine too.
He would stumble in, reeking of another woman’s perfume. He and her mother would argue over something ridiculous and pointless with no bearing on what they really wanted to argue about. The fact that her father couldn’t remain faithful to her mother to save his life. She didn’t want to turn into her mother. She was too careful to turn into her mother.
But then again, she was living with Eric Delko.
She was living with a man with a reputation of being a player, a reputation of not getting serious, a reputation of being always out of her reach. She had yet to actually experience any of these things with him, and he’s been nothing amazing towards her.
Yet there was that voice in the back of her head.
That voice, telling her that she should be careful. That she should be worried about what Eric was doing when she wasn’t looking. That she should be thinking ahead and if she ever caught him to be gone faster than she could blink. Eric was probably using her, because what other reason would he have for being with her other than the fact that he could.
“You’re stewing,” he murmured in her ear as he watched her from the window. She shot him a look before pulling away from him.
“I’m not stewing,” she replied, moving away from him, and she knew the look he was using over her shoulder. The look that clearly said ‘yeah right. I know you better than that.’
“Erica,” he sighed, the warning tone in her voice clearly telling he knew she was lying to him, “You’re stewing.”
She turned around to face him, her face emotionless, but her eyes whirling in front of him. She getting worried and neurotic and feeling like she had something to worry about when really she didn’t. “What are you so worried about?” he asked, starting to move closer to her, closing the huge gap between them. She looked away from him, starting to nibble on her fingernails. He had started to notice all her little nervous habits. The ones he hadn’t noticed when they had downright hated each other. The chewing of the lip, and the biting of the nails, and the playing with her fingers. She did them when she was nervous. When she was feeling out of her element. And she most often did them around him.
“Hey,” he whispered, pulling her into him, “Talk to me.”
“My dad wasn’t exactly the most—devoted husband in the world,” Erica replied, still looking away from him. Down at her fingers, the cabinets around them, anywhere but his face, “And my mom—didn’t exactly do anything to better the situation.” She shifted uncomfortably and started to play with her fingers, “I don’t want to become my mother, Eric.”
He was surprised that he actually got this out of her. Saw a crack in the wall that was Erica Sikes. She kept things bottled up so well that he could never tell what she was thinking, only when and what kind of thoughts they were.
“Who said you would be?” Eric replied, trying to get her to look at him.
“No offense to you,” she sighed, “But look who I’m dating. You can’t deny that you have a reputation, Eric.”
“No, I can’t,” he sighed, “But I take what we’ve got here very seriously. I’m not sleeping around, Erica.”
“I know,” she replied, finally looking him the eye, “But someday, I’m scared that you might come home wearing a perfume that isn’t mine.”
He shook his head as he looked down on her, knowing that this fear was something every woman was scared of but Erica had experienced what it had done to her mother, and she didn’t want to re-experience it herself. Pushing her chin up to look at him, he kissed her softly.
“Never,” he replied, giving her a small smile, “Never gonna happen.”
Erica believed him as he pulled her into a warm hug, holding her in the middle of her kitchen like it was the most normal thing in the world to be doing. She believed that he would never do what her father had done. He wouldn’t cheat on her. He was going to take care of her.
But in the back of her mind, that same old fear was still hiding, waiting for its chance to rear it’s ugly head once more.