Title: Details
Rating: I supposed more 'adult' thematic elements than anything else I've written but nothing graphic. Plus some foul language.
Summary: Lots of people have written stories examining Danny's dog tags. I am no exception. This is set sometime shortly following Snow Day. This is DL, a more accurate summary would probably be Lindsay memorizing the details of Danny. I hate summaries.
AN: I can't tell what the tags he wears on the show are, if they're novelty or what. So I chose this interpretation. And I had to write something, two weeks with not even a DL acknowledgment on the show is killin' me. This is, clearly, not one of my kidfic stories featuring Gian. For those of you paying attention however, I guess you could say this occurred in the same universe. And, Mazzoni is my last name so I guess I name dropped myself in here, oh well =) And okay, just to make this the longest AN ever, I would love it if anyone could recommend a good DL livejournal community where you think my fic would be well received. I've posted on LJ before for other fandoms but I don't know which one is best for DL, I prefer to just post in one good community rather than cross post everywhere. That would be awesome, thanks.
Disclaimer: Not mine, I'm not making any money besides my 7.50 an hour daycare gig.
He was all hard muscle, sharp angles, course body hair and a lifetime of scars mapped across olive skin. Danny was a man, made anyone else that had ever fumbled with her clothing look like a little boy. Their sexual relationship was new and they were thoroughly exploring it. As any good investigator would she was carefully documenting everything she found; drinking in and memorizing every mark and freckle, mentally recording the low timber of his groans, the rumble of his chest when she made him laugh in the middle, the way he always turned towards her instead of away in the breathless moment after.
His eyes were closed but she knew he wasn't sleeping, just letting his rapid heart rate slow with a strong arm draped across her bare belly beneath the sheets. The hand attached to that arm was recently free from a splint, the fingers still angrily scabbed and probably always a little bit crooked. But they worked, could still close around the handle of the NYPD standard issue Glock 22., adjust the focus of a microscope, successfully rid her of her clothing and therefore, he considered their recovery a success.
He shifted his weight and the dog tags he wore bounced against his shoulder with a gentle clank. The thin sheets of metal were an ever-present part of his appearance, usually tucked inside his shirt and she imagined cool against his chest. They were always there and she'd never even taken the time to wonder about them.
She reached out, tugged the chain towards her and grasped one between her fingers to read the engraved text.
Mazzoni
Giovanni A.
RA34875892
OPOS
Catholic
"My uncle," Danny explained without her having to ask, his eyes sliding open and finding hers, "Ma's older brother, he died over there, Vietnam."
She'd never met any of his family, not besides Louie and she was fairly certain it didn't count as a meeting if one party involved was demonstrating discouraging levels of brain activity. She'd seen a photo of his mother, tacked to a bulletin board in the living room, heard her voice pleading for him to come for Sunday dinner on the answering machine.
"Wow, were they close?"
"He was a good five, six years older than her but yea, from what I can tell," Danny explained, "he volunteered too, didn't wait to be drafted. Everyone thought he was off his rocker."
"How was old was he?"
"When he died? Twenty. These," he grasped the Dog tags in his hands, "were all that was left of him. There was no body to send home, I guess you know, the remains were lost or scattered or somethin'. Just these came back."
"I can't even imagine that," Lindsay whispered, one small hand palming the section of skin over his heart. She thought of her brothers, the three broad shouldered goofballs back home that she hated to admit she missed more than anything else, "Your poor mom."
"She used to tell me stories about him, said he was funny," he grinned weakly, "She used to tell me and Louie that our looks might have come from our dad but our wiseass senses of humor came from her side of the family, that nobody had made her laugh as hard as Vanni used to until we came along. She told me I laugh just like him."
"You've got a pretty good laugh," Lindsay admitted quietly and then felt herself blush at his clearly thrilled smile.
"Anyway, he was real gun ho about joining up I guess. The family wasn't crazy about it, but he said he had to, that even if fucking kids outside the neighborhood called him a wop he was an American and that meant somethin' to him. Long story short, these tags were all they ever saw of him again."
"How'd they wind up with you?" she inquired softly.
"When I went into the Academy I got a lot of shit from Louie, my cousins, even the old man; Actin' like I was some kind of traitor or something. But I knew it was what I wanted, what I felt like I should do. Ma pulled me aside after graduation and gave me these, told me that he would be proud, that I reminded her so much of him. She said 'he believed in something, even if it was stupid and his family hated that he was doing it and it got him killed he chose to stand for something and that's what your doing and I'm proud of you.'"
"That's nice," Lindsay acknowledged, "Nice that you always have him with you. Even if you never got to meet him, he's always there."
There was a long moment of silence as he stared down at the dog tags, toying with them. The window across the room was open just the tiniest bit and a faint whisper of sirens and traffic below complimented their breathing.
He turned to her, a serious expression on his face. She knew his different expressions, his different smiles, when he was frustrated or hurt or slam a suspect against a wall angry. Now he was contemplative, curious, maybe a little bit scared of the very real relationship developing between them.
"You know in all the years I been wearin' these things nobody's ever asked about em'. I don't know if anybody's ever even noticed that I wear em'."
Lindsay shrugged gently. A breeze drifted in through the cracked window and a chill danced up her bare back. She shivered and he placed a large palm between her shoulder blades and negotiated her body closer to his until they were pressed together, her head finding a comfortable position against his shoulder as he pulled the sheet further up over her.
"Maybe people don't look close enough at you to see what's really there," she whispered against his throat.
Danny glanced down at her, his blue orbs intense.
"You do," he recognized, his voice quiet and husky, half confused and half awed, "you see me Montana. Sometimes I think you're the only person that sees me for who I really am, at least for who I'd like to be."
She said nothing, simply wrapped herself around his familiar body and closed her eyes. The dog tags were cool between their bodies.