AN: Just a bit o' fun that came to mind. Drabblish. Have no idea where the bunny came from, but ya gotta love that DL pairing. I have no idea if they're in character or not. So apologies if I got it wrong.
Disclaimer: Oh, I so wish. But, unluckily, that genie has not yet appeared. Not mine.
Detective Danny Messer stood in the hallway, feet spread, arms crossed, head cocked, and eyes narrowed toward the woman beyond the glass wall. His eyes started at the floor and traveled up: pointy black heels, slimming black pants, lab coat with the collar of a light peach button-down folded over the top, and a white wire running from her ears to her hip. He watched her as she stood at the table, her back to him, her hands slowly moving around the lab table as she passed small beakers into the machine. She leaned on the table in front of her, reading a report that had printed moments ago.
Danny admired her from his vantage point. For a CSI, she's certainly at home in the DNA lab. You'd never see a tech that comfortable in the field.
Her shoulders registered her happy sigh, as her iPod changed songs, and she began to hum. Danny's head tilted the other way, as his investigator's eye took this in.
Three feet behind him, Detective Don Flack mirrored his friend's stance, arms crossed, but his eyes were narrowed at Danny. He watched Danny, who was perfectly still, until she began to hum. Danny's head tilted, and he was still again. Until she began to sway slowly back and forth. That's when Danny visibly started.
Flack chuckled softly, and stepped forward to speak to Danny. "What do you suppose she's listening to?" Flack spoke softly, as not to alert her of their presence. Well, it was soft for Flack, anyway.
Danny's eyes shifted to his friend, then back to her. Her hips had not stilled, and she gave no indication that she'd heard them. She wrote findings down in front of her, and the easiest thing for Danny to focus on was her hips. After a moment, Danny responded, "Something slow. Knowing her? Probably James Taylor."
Flack grinned. "Naw, man. It's gotta be a country song. She did grow up on a ranch, remember?"
Danny grinned back, though both men's gazes remained locked on the slow sway of a feminine body.
"Is this a friendly bet?" Danny asked, his voice giving away his humor. Flack nodded, grinning, "Yah. I say country."
"James Taylor. For a twenty?" Flack almost balked at the low stakes. But, it was all in fun, after all. "Deal."
Both men were disappointed when Adam approached Lindsey in the lab, pointing out something on the results that had just printed, causing her to stop dancing to the music. Lindsey pulled out one earbud, and nodded slowly with a furrowed brow, thanking him. She then grabbed the paper that she had been writing on, gesturing to the paper with an amused demeanor.
Adam read the paper, and his face suddenly registered surprise. He lifted his head quickly to meet her amused smirk. He then slowly turned to look at both Danny and Flack, who, now caught, tried to pretend they weren't watching the exchange with interest. Adam's gaze settled back on her face, and he grinned, nodding. She returned the earbud to her right ear, returning her concentration on the casefile in front of her, resuming her soft sway, and regaining the attention of Danny.
Turning, Adam stepped away from the lab, and toward the two men who were eyeing him curiously. "Those results, Adam?" Danny asked, innocently.
Amusedly, Adam responded, "You could say that."
"What's it say?" Danny asked impatiently.
Adam chuckled as he read directly from the paper…
Couldn't resist a bet, could you boys? Country is an entire genre, Flack. Can't think of an artist? And James Taylor? Well, he is a god. But you're both wrong. Allman Brothers. Stormy Monday. Always bet on the blues, boys.
And Danny? No matter how hard you stare at my ass, you won't be able to hear the music.
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