The Inhumanity of Crapsicles, a csi: new york fanfic

Notes: Watched "Tri-Borough" last night. The episode kicked serious...well, you know. And I was attacked by another post-ep plot bunny. The title is bad, I know. Someone should call the Pun Police, really. But I swear, I couldn't come up with anything that didn't have crapsicle in the title, lol. (Flack's line was the most hilarious I've ever heard on any CSI.) So, yeah, here ya go.

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Danny/Aiden (What else?)

Spoilers: Anything so far is fair game, but especially "Tri-Borough".

Disclaimer: CSI:NY and its characters belong to Anthony Zuiker and Alliance Atlantis, et al. I don't own, please don't sue.

Thanks to Dylan, the world's best beta.

The Inhumanity of Crapsicles

Aiden wrinkled her nose in disgust as she fixed her coffee. Her clothes - her favorite pair of DKNY pants and jacket, and the Polo blouse she'd found in the bargain basement at Macy's - were a lost cause, and she'd unhappily bagged and tossed them, thankful that she kept a couple of spare outfits in her locker. Five showers later, she'd washed her hair a total of ten times, and it was no use.

She still smelled like a Port-O-John.

An unhappy sigh escaped her, and she sipped her coffee, wondering how she always managed to end up with the strange cases. Bullet-eating rats, a pick-pocketing school...frozen chunks of airplane waste falling from the sky...

His footsteps echoed as he entered the break room, glasses pushed up with one hand while the other rubbed at his eyes. He blinked a few times, as if trying to clear his vision, then looked up and noticed her standing at the counter.

Danny walked over to the coffee maker, and pulling a ceramic mug out of the cabinet, poured himself a cup. "It's no damn use. Everywhere I look I see musty old books and scrawlly handwriting, and - it smells like a sewer in here."

She punched him in the shoulder - fortunately not the one he was presently using to drink his coffee. "Oh sure, rub it in."

He rubbed his eyes some more, blinking again- obviously they were irritated. "What the hell happened to you?"

"My vic pissed someone off. And they retaliated by knocking over a Port-O-John - with my guy inside. I spent two hours processing the thing, only to find that it wasn't what killed him."

"So what was?"

Her response was deadpan. "A frozen chunk of waste from an airplane toilet."

He managed to place his mug on the counter as he busted out laughing. "No way."

Her expression didn't change. Realizing that she was completely serious, he struggled to regain his composure, taking several deep breaths to stem his laughter. Unfortunately, the air-conditioning picked that moment to kick on.

And he was standing downwind of her.

He half-laughed, half-coughed for several moments, before finally managing to get both under control, rubbing his eyes and blinking yet again. Glancing at her, he wrinkled his nose, corner of his mouth turning upward in a lopsided grin.

"No offense, Aiden, but...you reek."

"Thanks," she commented with a wry smile.

The grin split his lips in full force. "You're welcome. What a pair we make, huh?"

She nodded, matching his grin. "Oh yeah. Blinky and Stinky." She frowned. "I've taken like, five showers and I still can't get the smell out. Maybe I should just take a bath in Pine-Sol."

"You tried lemon?"

"No. Does it work?"

"According to my Aunt Ida, it'll get anything out."

"I'm desperate, I'll try anything."

"You do that. Meanwhile, I'm gonna go wash my eyes out with a gallon of Visine and get started on my report." He smirked. "See ya, Stinky."

Aiden swatted at him, but he was already out of range. She settled for a rueful smile instead. "Later, Blinky."

The End