Just some Valentine's fluff, in honor of the two-year anniversary of "Stuck on You". I think many of us remember that night well. This is my attempt at reflecting how far the ship has come, and to celebrate DL. Hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: Not trying to do anything illegal, just exercising some fluff bunnies. Property of CBS, not me - the characters, I mean. The bunnies are actually mine. ;)

Still Stuck

Talk about déjà vu.

Lindsay glanced at her watch, noting that five minutes had passed since nine o'clock. The jazz music drifted effortlessly around the low-lit room, mellow and smooth. People smiled, nodded their heads, tapped their feet to the rhythm. Wine and cocktails flowed freely, enhancing the laid back atmosphere.

Everything was just as it had been two years ago. Two years to the day, in fact. And just as she was that night, she was once again waiting on Danny. Only this time, she was certain he would come – his heart was safely in her keeping, so he'd show, alright. There was not a doubt within her. Again she had butterflies, but they felt different this time. They were more pleasurable than anxious, because the mere sight of him still sent a tingle through her, a riptide of emotions she was helpless to break away from.

9:08. She tapped her fingers, glancing around at all the other Valentine's couples who were engaged in intimate conversations, whispers and touches that were promises for more to come later. The music, picking up the pace, only fueled the desirous mood of the listeners.

She considered pulling out her cell phone to call him, when the door opened and there he was: slightly out of breath and flashing a sheepish grin. "Same table, I'm impressed," he said as he approached her. "Sorry I'm late."

"It's okay," she chuckled. So far, this evening was playing out like a favorite childhood movie she had watched many times. Even the morning after their first 'date' here had been spent reminiscing, savoring each memory over and over until she could practically act it out.

"Did you order me a beer, too?" he asked. It was obvious that he, too, remembered.

"I did," she replied. Danny pulled his chair around the table so that he was closer to her. Sitting down, he casually slipped his arm behind her, his fingers tenderly touching her shoulder. She crossed her legs so that her foot pressed lightly against his calf. With a grin, she recalled how close she had felt to him last time they had been at this table, with mere inches separating them. Nowadays, she wasn't satisfied unless they were actually making physical contact.

Examining her, his warm expression suddenly changed to one of surprise. "Is that mine?" he exclaimed, reaching over to finger her shirt.

Indeed it was his black sweater, the one she liked on him but loved on herself. It was tight on him, to show off his muscles, and was comfortably loose on her. She loved the way it felt against her skin, the way it smelled of him. She had stolen it that morning on her way to work, fishing it up off the floor where she had tossed it after stripping it from him last night. Poking his side playfully, she offered, "You can borrow one of my shirts, if you want. It's only fair."

He grimaced as the waitress set a bottle of beer in front of him. "Gee, thanks, Montana." However, his voice was warm and honey-smooth, conveying nothing but contentment in the moment. It's so good to have him back, she thought. He had finally stumbled out of the darkness of tragedy, dealt with the guilt and grief -- and was still dealing, she knew. He was slowly finding his way back to her, his old self – the smile she missed so dearly and that melted her heart, the mischievous twinkle in his eye. Their relationship, and her faith in it, was stronger than ever.

Thinking of the most recent sadness made her even more reflective about the many obstacles they had overcome to be together. "It's been exactly two years since we came here, after solving that music promoter case," she mused. "Can you believe it? That night seems like yesterday!"

"Yeah, but so much has happened," he pointed out. "So much has changed."

"Your penchant for being late hasn't changed." She giggled as she sipped her zinfandel.

He attempted to glare at her, but failed, and smiled instead. "Well, tonight I really was running late. The first time, I was just too damn nervous to walk through that door."

"You? Nervous? Because of me?" The thought was incredible. How arrogant and cocky he had seemed to her back then. She had been the one to feel intimidated… or so she thought.

"I didn't know if you had asked me out on a date or not." He smirked, raising his eyebrow thoughtfully, a sign she had learned often meant trouble. "In fact, why don't you set the record straight right now." Leaning over so close that his lips were nearly touching her ear, he whispered, "Did you ask me out on date, or not?"

Unable to stop her cheeks from flushing with slight embarrassment, she figured she might as well come clean now. "You could say that. It wasn't just about showing you my mad investigating skills… I was pretty badly stuck on you," she admitted shyly.

"And how about now?" he prompted, licking his lips.

Rolling her eyes, she told him what he wanted to hear: "I'm still stuck."

Danny beamed in response, taking her hand in his and squeezing it. "Me too," he said. "I'm stuck on you like the glue that was all over the vic's face. What was his name?"

They were both quiet for a minute, searching their memories. "Epp! Gideon Epp," Lindsay announced triumphantly. "And I hope you aren't comparing our relationship to a dead guy."

He shook his head. "I knew it would be an unforgettable case, from the moment I got to the scene. That old man who owned the music store was causing a fuss because he lost business. Sad. And those girls are still in jail."

Lindsay nodded, the facts of the case flooding back. Potato starch glue. Bodies bumping over an ALS light. Rough sects. "They thought they were on their way to fame and fortune. And let's not forget the role of your pal the manager. Gus."

He huffed in response. "Talk about a wise ass. There's one of my top ten guys I loved putting behind bars." He pointed his finger at her. "You know, I caught him checking you out once. That made me mad." They both laughed, and the conversation took another upswing. "Maybe it was the end for them, and for Gideon, but it was the beginning for us." He clinked his beer bottle to her wine glass. "Happy Valentines Day, Lindsay."

He was serious, emotional, and a shiver of delight rushed through her. "Happy Valentines Day," she replied. She vividly remembered so many details from that night: she could still recall the melody of the song Mac and his band were playing, even though she never knew its name. Then there was the fuzziness of the wine on her tongue, the quiver in her belly as she waited for Danny to arrive, and then the pure exhilaration of sharing secret laughs with him. Looking into his eyes over the flickering candlelight, she had realized their depth of blue for the first time. She hadn't known then that a mountain of heartache would await them, divide them, challenge them – but ultimately, never conquer them.

The band launched into another number, an easy-flowing piece that made Lindsay feel – ironically - so cozy. Jazz music was the forte of neither of them, but maybe she could take it up. It had a special place in her heart, anyway. All of this reflection on their past just furthered her belief that she and Danny were meant to be. His hand rested on her knee now, tapping along gently with the music. It was without a doubt her best Valentine's Day ever.

They stayed for the rest of the concert – four more songs, another half hour of closeness and harmony shared. His apartment was closer to Cozy's than hers was, so their unspoken agreement was that it should be their next stop. In the cab, she rested her head on his shoulder, watching the lights of the city flash by, feeling incredibly lucky.

They climbed the two flights of stairs to his apartment wordlessly. Before he even opened his door, he pulled her against him roughly for a kiss. She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist, yielding to him. His arms went around her, wrapping his coat around her back. With one free hand, he managed to unlock his door and they both stumbled in.

"I really shouldn't come in," she began, cut off when his lips took away her breath and all logic. Several more minutes of passionate touches, and she knew she was losing ground on her argument.

"I think you should just stay tonight," he said, attempting to look thoroughly serious. "It's so late, and not safe for a pretty country girl like you to be walking around this big city."

"No, I should really go…", she tried again, the longing in her voice betraying her words.

He suddenly pushed her against the wall, gently but firmly, his strong arms boxing her in. "Alright, little miss Montana. You wanna leave? Go right ahead. Give it your best shot." Knowing full well that he had her entrapped, his eyes danced teasingly.

She screwed up her face and shrugged innocently. "I can't. I'm stuck."

He tossed his coat aside, then removed hers and did the same. "You got it. You're stuck with me."

She smiled. "And I wouldn't have it any other way. Ever."

And she wouldn't – there wasn't a single second she would take back, or trade, or sacrifice. She was still just as stuck on him as she had ever been. On this Valentines Day, chocolate and flowers were not on her mind. Instead she was reminded of not only how happy they were, but of how far they had come: two years, two hearts, a million and one unforgettable moments.