A/N: My favorite bromance: Danny and Don

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters or ideas created by Anthony Zuiker, Carol Mendelsohn and Ann Donahue. I borrowed them for the entertainment and amusement of my audience.

SUMMARY: Who would have thought that a simple pipe burst could turn into all of this?

GENRE: Dramedy

RATING: PG-13

DEDICATION: To afrozenheart412, for writing the CSI:NY-themed FML that inspired this piece.

DATE COMPLETED: August 9, 2012

::~*~::

Danny tossed his bag onto Don's couch and groaned as he collapsed next to it, almost ready to jump back up when he feared getting swallowed up in the sagging couch. Finally, the couch settled, albeit a little lower than Danny would have liked, but he was too tired to truly care. Rubbing his hands vigorously over his face, he could feel the stubble that was starting to appear. Great! One more thing to add to my laundry list of things to do. Why did this have to happen to me now, of all times? Leaning back, he closed his eyes in exhaustion, heedless of the uncomfortable position he was rapidly falling asleep in.

::~*~::

Danny hadn't been home in thirty-six hours, choosing to work two back-to-back shifts, with overtime and a couple of hours of sleep on the break room couch in between. He was looking forward to his day off, wanting to catch the end of the Rangers game that was on TV and catch up on some serious sleep. He didn't want to set foot out of his apartment until his next shift.

Whistling along to the tune that was playing on his mp3 player, he parked his motorcycle in its spot and shuffled down the stairs to his basement apartment. Checking the time on his phone as he set it to silent, he was relatively pleased to see that he had about thirty minutes of the game left. He had missed most of it, but usually the best parts were in the last few minutes, when the losing side started getting desperate.

"Hey, Danny," a female voice called down the stairs to him. With his key halfway to the lock, he spun around, flashing his smile at the young woman who was standing at the top of the stairs.

"Hey, Kourtney," he replied. He had had a thing for Kourtney since he had moved in, but had quickly discovered that she had a boyfriend. Not just your typical boyfriend, either, but a tree trunk with legs and a pea-sized brain. Danny rubbed his jaw unconsciously, remembering how he had learned the hard way that she was unavailable. She had immediately taken pity on him after the roughing up he had endured at the hands of her boyfriend and had quickly befriended him, flashing smiles his way, and saying "hi" when they passed in the mail room or outside of the building. Danny had decided that she wasn't worth the physical pain associated with trying to hook-up with her, but, because she had extended the hand of friendship, he had remained cordial with her, even escalating to a little flirting in the mail room when he was sure Tree Trunk wasn't lurking nearby.

"How was your day?"

Climbing back up a few steps, he said, "Honestly, it was a blur. Thirty-six hours straight, with only a three hour nap somewhere in the middle."

Looking appropriately shocked, she exclaimed, "That's horrible! I'll let you go so that you can get some sleep."

She turned away to go up to her apartment and Danny had half a mind to call her back to chat some more, but he realized he was so close to falling asleep on his feet, that he wouldn't be able to keep up any sort of a conversation with her. He doubted he would even make it to the end of the game.

Shoving the key in the lock, he turned it and opened the door.

::~*~::

Water rushed out of the open door, flowing around his feet and rushing to lap against the bottom step of the stairs. The shock of the cold water permeating his recently dry shoes jolted him to an alertness he hadn't felt for at least thirty hours. Swearing in frustration, he almost didn't want to turn on the lights to see the extent of the damage, but he had to, especially since he could still hear water gushing somewhere in his apartment.

The sight that met his eyes sent him into a litany of curses. His entire apartment was buried under at least four inches of water that might have been rapidly rising but for the now open door. Sloshing through the mess, he followed the sound of the gushing water to his bedroom.

"Oh, man!" he punched his fist against the wall. Despite the obviously weak structure that was allowing water to pour from a burst pipe through the ceiling and into the ocean that was now his bed, the wall resisted the force of his hand, leaving him to clutch it in pain against his chest while the wall stayed hole free.

Pulling out his cell phone, he tried in vain to contact his landlord, but after three fruitless tries, he called the water company emergency line and spent a further ten minutes demanding that they shut the water off to the building. He really didn't care what the other tenants thought, though an image of Kourtney flashed across his mind. He grudgingly had to admit that salvaging whatever was salvageable of his possessions was a smidge more important than whether or not she'd be able to brush her teeth, or wash her dishes, or even take a shower...

He shook himself out of that daydream, and started the endless task of grabbing water-logged stuff off the floor to place on shelves or tables or anywhere else that would get them out of the way of the lake he was presently standing in. That's what I get for going price over quality, he thought morosely. Never again!

After fifteen minutes of lifting things off of the floor and putting them up higher, he was dismayed to realize that the gushing noise in the background still hadn't ceased. Getting back on the phone, he spent yet another ten minutes arguing with the same guy he had talked to before and then five more minutes arguing with the guy's boss, even going so far as to threaten some kind of lawsuit. Within two minutes the water stopped. Within twenty minutes, he could hear the start of the angry shouts from his neighbors upstairs.

Furious beyond belief, he grabbed a pile of sopping clothes off of the floor and threw them into his gym bag after ringing out as much water as possible. Trudging thru the standing water, he stormed out of his apartment, attempting to slam the door behind him, which was easier said than done with four inches of standing water in the way.

Starting up the stairs, he held the number two button on his phone and soon heard the familiar ringing in his ears. Not paying particular attention to his surroundings, he almost walked right into Kourtney.

"Hey, Danny," she said brightly. "I don't know what happened to the water in my apartment, but I was just trying to fill up my water purifier and I was wondering if your water was—" she trailed off, clearly noticing the anger on his face and sopping wet bottoms of his jeans. Biting her lip, she asked, "Is everything okay?"

"'Is everything okay'" he repeated, hanging up his phone on Don's voice-mail. He picked up a loose stone from the ground and chucked it down the darkened stairs. Instead of the expected clatter as it hit the concrete, there was a very distinct plunk. "My apartment is flooded and it took me almost an hour to get the idiots at the water company to turn off the water, so the broken pipe over my bed would quit making the water level rise." He hadn't meant to take out his frustration on her, but it ended up just spilling forth. He sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you. As you can probably understand, this whole situation is pissing me off. Between my lack of sleep and now the flooding, I'm not very fit company."

Completely sympathetic to his situation, she quickly offered the use of her couch for a little nap, but he reminded her of her boyfriend and what he might do to Danny if he even smelled him in her apartment. Blushing deeply, she agreed with his assessment and asked if there was anything else she could possibly do to help him.

"I'm trying to get a hold of my buddy and see if I can crash with him for a few days, but since he's not answering, I was going to find a laundromat to dry the clothes I managed to liberate from a watery doom." She laughed at his poor attempt at humor, which he figured was a good sign for him, since it meant he had somewhat accepted the situation and was trying to laugh it away. "I better get going."

"Of course," she said. She turned to go back into the small building and Danny watched her go. A chill ran down his spine, but not immediately recognizing what it could be from, he turned around and was about to head off to his motorcycle when his eyes met a thick, burly chest directly in front of him. Slowly raising them, he grimaced as his eyes met Tree Trunk's angry ones. "Hey, my old sparring partner," he replied, cheekily. Did I just say that out loud?! I must really want to die today! Eyes widening as he realized his potentially fatal error, he quickly ducked out of reach of the bigger man and bolted to his motorcycle, tossing his bag over his back.

Starting it up, he was shooting off up the road before Tree Trunk could apprehend him. That's what I get for three hours of sleep in thirty-six grueling hours.