A/N: AU fic. There are certain differences about this universe that your average observant reader will notice (Horatio never married Marisol, who likewise never got cancer; Speedle never became a CSI; Boa Vista and Wolfe simply don't exist; House is slightly OOC). I have also bent some facts to make things easier for myself. House/CSI: Miami crossover. House, on vacation, witnesses a murder. Horatio investigates. Madness ensues. Slash, just because I said so.
Miami. You wouldn't think it the perfect vacationing spot for a crippled maverick doctor, and perhaps you'd be right. But that didn't stop Gregory House from going there at least twice a year every year like clockwork.
And who wouldn't love Miami? Sun, sand, drugs, nightclubs. Something for everyone. House personally didn't have much appreciation for the sun or sand, and the drugs he used weren't anything you could get on the streets, but oddly enough, he had discovered a strange affinity for Miami's club scene. When the hot young aspiring models had imbibed enough tequila and margaritas, they were pretty much willing to flirt - and sometimes more - with anybody. And House was certainly not going to object to drunk teenagers fawning over him. No, he intended to have the time of his life in Miami, and he did, without fail, on every single occasion he was there.
What House had not intended was to witness a murder.
Horatio Caine took off his sunglasses and looked down at the young man who lay facedown in the alley. Frank said he was a nineteen year old exotic dancer by the name of Leo von Damme. "Alexx?"
"He's so fresh I half-expected him to roll over and talk to me," she reported. "Hasn't been dead more than an hour." She turned the boy over gently, and touched a set of bruises on his neck. "Cause of death is definitely manual strangulation. No defensive wounds, nothing under his nails. He probably knew his killer. I'll tell you more when I get him back to the lab."
"Thank you, Alexx." Horatio slid back on his sunglasses and turned to Calleigh as she came up to him. "What have we got?"
"According to the manager, he was working the poles tonight. He finished his shift at about one-thirty and got on the dancefloor. Practically half the club spoke to him or danced with him. His roommate Kyle Slater found him in the alley at ten minutes to three."
"Hey, H." Delko came up. "We got a guy here who's demanding to see you. Says he's a doctor from New Jersey. Name's House."