Title: Not Ever
Category: CSI: NY
Rating: T
Genre: Romance/Angst
Pairing: Lindsay/Don, Danny
Summary: He won't admit it.
Not Ever
1/1
The first time he sees them together, he tells himself it's from a lack of sleep. He just finished a double and he hadn't had much sleep before he started it. So when he sees a couple that looks just like Montana and Flack, he's sure it's his head playing tricks on him. He stares anyway. They're dressed down and he remembered briefly that it was both of their days off. But no way; couldn't be them. These two just look like them.
This non-Flack/Montana couple have similar smiles and the same hair and yeah, he's close enough to hear the laughter that is so much like theirs, that he almost considers it. But the non-Flack is leaning down to the non-Montana, whispering something against her hair, a grin cracking his face and some lovey-dovey shit in his eyes. And the non-Montana's hands are on his sides, beneath the very end of his t-shirt, thumbs stroking his skin. She smiles, big doe-eyes staring downward, a light brush to her cheeks.
They're standing too close, getting on too intimate to be his ex and his best friend though. There's no way. This is Montana - Lindsay Monroe - and his buddy Don Flack - a guy who destined to be a forever bachelor, just like him. So there was no way this couple was them; no fucking way. He rubs a hand over his face, pushed his glasses up his nose and squints his eyes at them. But they've turned around, are walking down the street now, arms around each other's waists and he shakes his head, laughed to himself.
He was just seeing things, is all. He goes home, pushed the idea right out of his head and got some much needed sleep.
OoO
The second time he sees them, he brushes it off as two friends that are just really close. He doesn't know when they got close but it's obvious now. Hell, they're partners, they work together on some really fucked up shit; this shouldn't surprise him. And yeah, maybe she's flirting with Flack and okay it's obvious Don is flirting back, but that doesn't mean nothing! They're in the break room, standing closer than friends usually did, smiling at each other like they had some secret with each other.
"You think you got it in you, Linds?" Don asked her, tipping his head slightly, a smirk tugging at his mouth.
"Oh, I know I do," she replied confidently, but her cheeks were flushed anyway.
And Danny doesn't know what it is they're talking about but he never really finds out, because he kicks a chair accidentally and they both turn, spotting him. The grins are gone, the flush nothing but a distant memory, and they're saying hi like everything was normal. So he brushes it off again. Just friends, that's all. Really close friends.
OoO
By the third time, he starts questioning things. He wants to say that there's an excuse for this one but there really isn't. He noticed the little things before and told himself it was his eyes playing tricks on him. Sometimes, it looked like Flack and Montana were holding hands, just briefly, barely two seconds, but he thought he saw it. It was gone a flash later, so he figured it was just the angle. Then he noticed that Flack had this thing, he was always pushing her hair of her cheek and behind her ear. And he assured himself that it was just Flack being Flack. Maybe he forgot that Lindsay was a co-worker for a second and was treating her like those women he charms so easily. The secret smiles kept happening and there was no way his eyes were so out of focus that he didn't notice how close they stood together, on and off scenes. But this... This was more obvious than all of that, this was unmistakable.
He'd walked into the locker room quietly, not making a sound and not bothering to really check if anybody else was around. He'd never been self-conscious and he really didn't care who saw him changing before he headed home. He was beat and sick of lookin' at dead people. He came to a sudden stop when he realized he wasn't the only one in the room though, because these two weren't just anybody.
Montana was up against the lockers, Flack pressed up tight against her, standing between the part of her legs. His head was ducked, lips pressing kisses along the exposed flesh where the buttons of her blouse were undone. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted, her hands reaching out, fingers looped in Flack's belt, where his shirt had been tugged free. Flack's hands are running up her chest, drawing her shirt further apart, running over her bare shoulders before falling back down to part a couple more buttons, leaving her white lace bra exposed. His head fell lower, mouth kissing along the curve of her breasts. She whimpers, one of her hands reaching up, wrapping around Don's hair and tugging it.
"Don," she whispers needily.
And Flack nips her breast playfully before lifting his head and kissing her puffy pink lips. He presses closer, their bodies seeming to almost mold right into the lockers and Danny shakes his head, turns on his heel and walks right out. He'll get a shower at home, wash all those thoughts right outta his head. Because he's not going to admit it. He won't. He's not going to admit to himself or anybody that he lost Montana to his best friend. That the girl he tried so hard to get, that he finally did get once, had been lost long ago. And it was his fault; all his. So he can't blame them, not really. He should be happy that she's happy. He should be glad that his buddy finally found somebody to make him want more. But he can't, because he won't admit they're together. Not ever.