This is about a week after the most recent episode (419?). I don't own the characters, Sam Cooke, or Indiana Jones.
Lindsay decided to relax with some Sam Cooke. Because that was what kept her mind from buzzing. She laid herself out on her couch, ice pack on her shin, and a pint of Ben and Jerry's in her hand. Listening to the sweet, soulful voice set her at ease, made her think that maybe things were easier than they seemed, and her boyfriend was a good guy after all.
Her hair was sopping wet from her third rain walk that week, an involuntary one to boot. The subway stop was nearly three blocks from her house, something Danny worried over constantly. ("Three blocks? Do you know what could happen to you in three blocks? Anything; that's what."). Lindsay never minded the three blocks; sometimes they were a comfort after a particularly brutal day at work – time to get her mind straight. But after being kicked in the shin by a perp, she was not in the best condition to walk three blocks uphill. In the rain. Limping.
Around the second verse of "Wonderful World," her cell phone ring pierced the smooth tones of her stereo. She leaned and stretched to get it, buzzing and beeping on the floor beside the couch. She was an inch from it when she rolled off the couch with a grand thump.
"OW!" she screamed.
She heard a muffled sound outside of her door. She was torn between the phone and the door, until finally she made a choice and pressed "answer" on her phone.
"He-hello?"
"Linds, you alright?"
"Danny? What – where are you?"
"Outside your door. I heard you fall. You OK?"
"Yes, I'm fine. Don't you have your key?"
"I didn't wanna barge in or anything."
She sighed heavily. "Just come in."
He needed no further hint. She heard his key scraping in the lock, and the door swung open, revealing a rain-sprinkled sex god.
Lindsay looked up at him from the floor crossly. Danny turned off the stereo, and sauntered over to her awkward sprawl on the floor and smirked.
"Oh, no," Lindsay warned, "you don't get to smirk. No gloating. Just get me up."
Danny leaned down and extended her an arm. He pulled her up and helped her onto the couch.
He placed the plastic bag he carried onto the coffee table and sat next to her, his hands on his knees.
He looked over at her bruise, and winced. He took the fallen ice pack and replaced it gingerly, easing it onto the bruise.
"Damn. You really got kicked."
Lindsay rolled her eyes and nodded. "What did you bring?"
"Why are you wet?"
She waved her hand in the air, dismissing him.
"Oh, no, if I don't get to smirk, then you don't get to shove away my questions."
"You don't get to smirk because you cheated on me," she said coldly.
His grin vanished, and he watched her with calm hurt. "I –" he started. "I – I –" he sounded like a broken Latin song – Ay-ay-ay! – just like she felt after laying that bomb on him.
"I'm sorry, Danny, I was just –"
"No, don't apologize. I probably deserved it."
She reddened anyways, shying away from him. She brought her hands to her lap and clasped them, twiddling her thumbs and fiddling with the hangnail on her right index finger.
"I'm proud of you for telling me," she said softly. "About Rikki, that is. Not for doing it. But it's good you told me."
"Linds, I –"
"Don't apologize. It's done."
He reached out into the bag and brought out the Styrofoam container within, opening it for her.
"I brought you some Chinese."
"Thanks."
"I guess you already ate…" he said, looking at the ice cream carton.
"I didn't actually have dinner," she said sheepishly.
His smirk returned. "Bad girl."
He got up from the couch and grabbed her a fork from the kitchen. He shoved it into the carton and handed it to her. "Chow mein," he explained.
She started to eat, not realizing how starved she was for 'good food' until she took the first bite. She destroyed the pasta, finishing it off in a few minutes. Danny was half-way through his sweet and sour pork when he looked up to see her laying down the carton.
"That was fast," he said.
She giggled. "I was hungry."
"So you wanna tell me what you were thinkin' goin' after a perp like you did?"
She mumbled something into the couch.
"What was that? 'Cause you better have a real good explanation."
She knew he was joking around, but she knew that he was worried as well. He had a habit of looking straight into her eyes when he meant something, whereas when he was just kidding around, he would look all around.
"I didn't know he'd kick," she explained.
"Huh," he grunted skeptically. "You ain't gonna do it again, right?"
She grinned and shook her head.
"Watcha mean, no? No as in, no, I won't do it again, or no, you're wrong?"
"Of course I'll do it again. I'm a cop. I chase people sometimes."
"No, you're a CSI."
"Meaning …"
"Meaning you let Flack do it."
"Or you."
"Right."
"You're a CSI."
"Yeah."
"Well, how come you can do it, and I can't?" She knew she had him when all he could do was open and close his mouth a few times.
"Fine. Just let me know ahead of time, so I can prepare for a heart attack."
Lindsay grinned.
"Now you gonna tell me why your hair is all wet?"
"I walked."
"From the lab?"
"No, stupid, from the subway stop."
"Three blocks? In the rain? With that shin?"
"What else would you have me do?"
"I was gonna take you home," he said, mock glaring at her. It was true. He'd raced around the lab after hearing about her encounter with a perp. He'd practically strangled Flack for not taking the guy himself. Flack swore up and down that there was nothing he could do – "Monroe came outta nowhere, man, I swear! Jumped on the guy. I was a hundred yards away – what was I supposed to do?"
"You don't have to baby me. It's just a bruise."
"Still. Look, would ya do me a favor and ride with me from now on, or at least until we catch this taxi killer guy?"
She hesitated, pursing her lips in thought.
"Please?"
"Fine. Not if it's raining. You know how I feel about being on your bike if it's raining."
"Alright, alright. If it rains, I'll borrow Flack's car or somethin'."
She smiled.
He grabbed her unhurt foot and dragged her close to him along the couch, kissing her forehead when her knees were at his waist.. Then he reached into the plastic bag he'd brought and pulled out an Indiana Jones movie. Lindsay gasped and hugged him around his neck.
He crawled off the couch and popped it in.
"Temple of Doom! This is my favorite one!" Lindsay shrieked excitedly.
Danny chuckled. "I know."
"The part where the guy's heart gets ripped out scares the crap out of me, though."
"I'll let ya know when it's over."
She giggled and curled into his side. He stretched her legs out onto the couch and replaced the askew icepack with his hand, gently touching the purpling, goose-bumped skin.
"So … at least try to let this not happen again, yeah?" he asked.
"Maybe."
"Good enough," he sighed dramatically.
She laughed and listened to the sounds of the movie.