Title: Protectors.
Summary: Lindsay's boys are protective of her. And she loves them for it. D/L. Family fic.
AN: I actually have other stories featuring Gian, one about his birth in fact. I just don't like them that much yet. I liked this one though so I'm just publishing it. Forget chronological order =) Lame title yes but I'm notoriously bad at those. & Oh, I used to have a crush on a boy named Giovanni and everyone called him Gian, I loved that name and thought it was a nice sort of reference to Carmine Giovinazzo =)
Disclaimer: Danny and Lindsay aren't mine. Giovanni Joseph Messer is though =)
"Daddy?"
The tiny hands on his cheeks were the first thing Danny felt. He blinked rapidly, his contacts sticking uncomfortably to his eyes for a second until the tiny, miniature version of his own face came into focus. The same tired blue eyes stared up at him, brown hair sticking up on one side. Giovanni Joseph Messer crawled into his father's lap, five years old but still tiny enough to fit pretty comfortably in the crook of Danny's arm.
Danny hadn't meant to fall asleep when he'd settled into the sofa earlier after tucking Gian into bed. Apparently he'd been more worn out then he realized. He had worked a John Doe in the Bronx all morning before picking Gian up at his mother's and driving him to Tball practice. After practice they'd gone home and he'd cooked them both dinner. Then they'd watched 'All Dogs Go to Heaven Together' and popped some popcorn before he'd tucked his son in.
"What's up pal?" Danny straightened his back a little and adjusted his son until the five year old was sitting on one of his father's legs, Danny's hand smoothing down the back of his Ranger's t-shirt.
"Mommy isn't home yet," Gian explained simply and Danny squinted at the clock on the far right wall. Lindsay was due home two hours ago, he'd been asleep for a lot longer than he realized. His beer on the coffee table was open and untouched; a Yankee game from 94 was playing on ESPN classics. A bit of worry grew in his stomach but Danny ignored it, he knew better than anyone that hours in the NYPD weren't exactly convenient and that shifts were more of a guideline than a guarantee.
"I'm sure mommy just got caught up with some paper work Vanni," Danny assured. Most people referred to their son simply as Gian or even G but 'Vanni' seemed to be reserved special for his father. "She'll be home when you wake up in the morning, so you better get back to bed or you'll be falling asleep in your pancakes." It was tradition in their home that if one parent, or both, weren't able to be with Gian when he fell asleep then they made an especially big deal out of breakfast in the morning, cooking up stacks of pancakes, with whip cream of course, and staying in their pajamas just a little bit longer than normal.
Gian didn't look convinced, his tiny face set in serious, thoughtful lines. Since the day the little boy had been born Danny had heard it non-stop from his family that Gian was his own mirror image. He couldn't really argue; the blue eyes, the hair, the nose, the grin. And Gian could be known to have a bit of a mischievous side, definitely a Messer trait. However personality wise Giovanni Messer was mostly his mother's child. He was contemplative and sensitive to those around him, constantly worried about the welfare of others. And he was smart. Not that Danny didn't consider himself fairly intelligent but at five Gian was well spoken and detail oriented like his mother. Gian had a protective streak too, a strong one that obviously had him awake in the middle of the night, worrying about his mom. Danny wasn't sure if that came from him or Lindsay, probably both. Either way it was something he loved seeing in his little boy, one of the things that made him excited to see the man his son would grow into someday.
"I want to wait for her with you," Gian insisted simply, ignoring the suggestion about sleep and instead snuggling into his father's chest and focusing his attention on the television screen as one hand reached up to toy with the dog tags hanging from Danny's neck. Danny didn't have the energy to argue, tomorrow was Saturday anyway, and let his chin fall to the top of his son's head, beginning to quietly rattle off statistics and facts about the players on the screen. Gian was an avid sports fan and listened intently.
Twenty minutes later they both looked up at the sound of the key in the door, watched Lindsay slip inside, obviously trying to be quiet. She jumped a little when she turned to find them watching her, grabbing her heart and laughing. Danny felt Gian tense in his lap the second they saw the angry red scab already starting to form where his mother's lip had obviously been split.
The fiver year old shimmied out of Danny's arms and across the room, Lindsay kneeling down to intercept him and hoisted him onto her hip, pressing a kiss against the side of his head.
"You're hurt," Gian observed simply, placing a tiny hand on his mother's chin to inspect her injury. Lindsay plastered a goofy smile on her face.
"I'm fine baby, it's just a scrape."
"What happened?" Gian pressed as his father stepped up beside them, his own gentle hand replacing his son's as he too took a good look at his wife's lip. Once again Lindsay forced a smile.
"One of the bad guys didn't feel like going to jail I guess," she rolled her eyes, "but mommy showed him who was boss."
"Someone hit you?" Danny understood the rage in his son's voice, felt the same collecting in his tense knuckles. Lindsay sighed as she looked down at Gian's angry expression, looking even more like his father than he normally did, both of their brows furred over those sparkling blue eyes.
"Ok boys, go take a seat and let me get changed. Then we'll talk," she deposited Gian on the ground near his father's feet and took a second to press a quick kiss to Danny's mouth before disappearing into the bedroom.
Danny could picture her well, slipping her badge from her belt and tossing it onto the dresser beside his own. Pulling open the top drawer to unlock the small wooden chest (the one Gian had strict orders to never, ever touch) and depositing her glock inside.
When she came back out dressed in sweat pants and a green v-neck t-shirt Gian was once again at her legs, one arm wrapping around her thigh as they made their way to the sofa.
Danny flopped down beside his wife; let an arm fall around her shoulder as Gian settled between them, staring up at his mother expectantly.
"Does it hurt?" he questioned.
"Stings a little bit," Lindsay admitted, "But you know the guys who drive the ambulances? They came and they put some medicine on it for me and now it feels ok. It's really not very bad honey, I'm okay."
"But it's not okay that someone hit you," Gian insisted and Danny had to once again grasp how he'd had anything to do with creating such a smart kid. Lindsay smiled softly, genuine this time as she ran a hand through her son's hair. "Hitting is bad, especially hitting you because you're the police…and especially boys hitting girls."
Danny sat up a little straighter; okay at least he could take some credit for that. He was making it a strong point of teaching his son morals, about respecting those around you. Gian looked to his father for backup on that fact; he'd been the one to teach it to him after all.
"You're very right Vanni," Danny agreed and Gian looked pointedly back to his mother.
"You're right, it's not okay that he hit me," Lindsay started, "but you know that it's our job, me and daddy and Uncle Flack and everyone, to catch bad people. And this man wasn't a very good person and he never had a wonderful daddy when he was a little boy to teach him about rules and that boys don't hit girls."
Gian smiled a little, glancing at his father for a second before looking back to Lindsay.
"Well," he grinned that sneaky Messer grin, "My daddy did teach me that the only time hitting is even a little bit okay is when someone hits your first, when you have to stand up for yourself. Did you hit him back?"
Lindsay laughed a little.
"I didn't let him get away and now he's in jail, let's just leave it at that tough guy."
Gian didn't look satisfied with the answer but Lindsay stood up and held out a hand hand which he begrudgingly took.
"It is way passed time for little boys to be in bed, how about mommy tucks you in?"
"Okay," Gian grinned knowing very well he was getting two tuck ins in one night, which was rare. "Mommy," he started as they made their way down the hall towards his bedroom, "Will you still make the special pancakes in the morning, even though you're gonna tuck me in?"
Lindsay had to laugh a little, that was her boy, thinking with his belly. He held her hand until they reached his bedroom. The room was painted Giant's blue and brimming with toys and books, the walls decorated with sports and NYPD insignia. However it wasn't very large and she and Danny had been looking at new places for some time now, whenever they could find the time that was. Gian was getting bigger; he was going to need more personal space than a tiny spare guestroom soon. They'd even been looking at houses and even though she knew it would take a lot from their bank account it was an investment she wanted to make. Gian went darting across the room, firing himself into the bed so he practically bounced once. She shook her head and followed him, sitting on the edge of the bed as he snuggled beneath the comforter. She picked his beloved teddy bear off the ground, the one wearing an NYPD t-shirt that he'd had since he was born, and tucked it in against him.
"I already said my prayers with daddy," he informed her, "But I wanna add something."
"Ok, go ahead."
She watched him close his eyes and clasp his hands together.
"Dear God, P.S: Thanks for mommy and daddy catching the bad guys. Please don't let them get hurt at work. Amen."
Lindsay felt the tears prick at her eyes but blinked them away as she leaned over to kiss her son's forehead.
"Try not to worry so much baby, I promise I'll do everything I can not to get hurt."
"Kay," he rolled onto his side and scooped the bear beneath his arm, "Good night mommy. I love you."
"Good night baby boy, I love you too."
She flipped the light off on her way out but left the door open a crack, letting some of the light from the hall filter into the room. She could hear Danny moving around in the bathroom and followed the noise.
He had just plucked his contacts from him eyes and pushed his glasses up his nose when Lindsay slid into the bathroom, stopping to inspect her face in the mirror and grimacing just slightly at her reflection.
"Mac gave me the next two off," she spoke to his reflection in the mirror beside hers, "can't work the street with visible injuries anyway."
"I'm surprised he didn't send you home a while ago," Danny turned to her and she smiled a little guiltily.
"He offered. I wanted my hand in that interrogation, wasn't going to let him think he'd hurt me," she turned to him with a small grin and Danny pulled her close.
"Can I get the grown up version of what happened?"
"Me and Flack were working that dead cabbie in Crown Heights; ran the two suspects down, dead end alley. We both got one on the ground, my guy decided to pop me in the mouth," she shrugged, "I had his shirt over his face before he even had a chance to run." Danny had to smile a little; Lindsay was always resorting to hockey style tactics when it came to collaring perps, something about a frozen pond and broom hockey when she was a kid, "Flack tossed him into the car so hard it shook."
"I'm about as angry as your son about this," he admitted quietly in her ear and Lindsay wrapped her arms around his midsection, "thinking about someone hitting you…"
"Hey," she interrupted gently and looked up into his eyes, "that's the job; you know I can handle myself."
"Yea, I know. My Montana doesn't sweat street thugs. It doesn't make me want to kill that son of a bitch any less."
Lindsay wasn't sure what else she could say so she didn't say anything, just rested her head against his chest and sighed at the comfort of the position, of being in her home in his arms, knowing their baby boy was asleep safe and peaceful just down the hall.
"I meant what I said earlier," she told him, "you are a wonderful father. You're teaching him to be a wonderful person."
"You gave me a lot to work with," he smiled and brushed a stray curl behind her ear, "He's got your brains. Way smarter than I was at five, trust me. I was probably sticking crayons up my nose, letting Louie convince me that babies came from outter space."
Lindsay let her small hand rest over the left side of his chest and leaned up to press a kiss to his mouth.
"He's got your heart and that's my favorite part of him, of both of you."