LJ Prompts: 060 Drink (Fanfic100) and '"Look, you promised me drinks for this, but I think I'm going to need some dinner too." "I'm not going to give you anything if you don't get going. Make tracks, cowboy."' (messermontana)
Rating: K+/PG
Summary: Lindsay calls Danny for a favor, and the evening continues from there
Author's Notes: takes place during 2x16 Cool Hunter. Betaed by Meagan (who also helped with a plot problem) and Taylor.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, save Jack and Emmie.
Brrrrt, brrrrt
Absently, Danny reached to the left for his phone. Flipping it open, he cradled it against his shoulder and continued comparing his glove prints to the ones on the vic's shirt.
"Messer"
"Hi Danny, it's Lindsay." Her voice sent a shiver down his spine, and Danny barely registered the way the tech jumped when he stood up suddenly at the sound.
"What's up," he asked, the photographs forgotten.
"I need a favor. When does your shift end?" Glancing across the table, Danny saw that the tech had disappeared and it was quarter to five.
"I was technically off at four, what d'ya need?"
"Help with a reconstruction: the water tower vic?" Right, Flack had told him about that one, with the druggie doctor. Blowing out a breath, Danny looked around at the evidence strewn over the layout table. Not much else he was gonna get done here tonight anyway.
"I'll buy you drinks?"
He laughed silently at her misinterpretation of his sigh, but seized the opportunity anyway. "Sounds good. What's the address…see ya in a few, Montana."
"Bye, Danny."
Quickly, Danny collected up the variety of objects and photos he had strewn across the glass tabletop and then headed out the door, tossing his lab coat to laundry as he went. A brief stop at the locker room, and he was headed out the door.
He barely noticed the buildings he passed and turns he made on the way to Lindsay's scene. It wasn't far from his own apartment, which meant three things: 1) that he knew the way pretty much by heart, 2) that he wouldn't have to fight rush hour again to get home after this adventure, and 3) that he knew of at least three nice Italian places nearby where they could go for drinks (and maybe more, but he wasn't admitting that yet).
Parking was a bit of a nightmare, but he managed to get onto the rooftop before five-twenty. Standing at the door between the stairwell and the rooftop, he took in the scene. The water tower was open, and a small collection of forensics gear perched on the border of a flower bed. All in all, nothing unlikeable about the place; if Danny didn't know about the case already, the place could pass for one of a hundred rooftops in the city, including his own. He couldn't see Lindsay anywhere, though.
"You're almost done, Jack. I just need you to stick around a little longer until Danny gets here," her voice drifted across the wood and soil of the roof as she came around the water tower accompanied by a tall man in a windbreaker. They walked towards the field cases, and Danny saw the CSI emblem across the back of the man's jacket.
"When is he supposed to be here?" Jack asked, a note of petulance barely invading his tone. At that, Danny pushed himself off the door frame and started across the rooftop.
"Any minute now," Lindsay answered calmly as she turned towards the stairwell. "Danny!" she exclaimed happily when she saw him coming over. Turning back to the other man, she told him: "just five minutes more, Jack, then you can go." Nodding, Jack resumed walking to the equipment, leaving Lindsay by Danny.
"So, Montana, gonna fill me in?" She smiled, motioning him over to a square of dirt beside the water tower. Bending down, she picked up a pair of dress shoes and forensics booties.
"Put these on," she said, handing them over. He pulled off his own shoes and slipped his feet into the booties, then the dress shoes. Leaning over, he started to tie them when Lindsay spoke again.
"You know the basics on the case, right?" Danny nodded. "Okay. We're pretty sure that Dr. Zimmer carried the victim to the water tower, but we can't prove it."
"So what exactly am I doin'?" he asked, squishing a rather interesting and way-too-hopeful thought from his mind.
"You're carrying me across the garden," Lindsay said, turning away from him and pointing down. "I found footprints in the dirt, but I need you in Dr. Zimmer's shoes because the plaster casts I got from the suspect's footprints were about half an inch deeper in the heel than they were in the toe, which is odd."
Lindsay stepped up next to him, bringing her arm up to his shoulder. Bending down, Danny slipped one arm under her legs, and the other around her back. He caught her as she jumped into his hold completely, and prayed to whatever God was out there that she couldn't feel his pulse going a mile a minute when her hands wrapped around his neck.
Danny looked over at Lindsay, and she was looking at the ground again. "I weigh about the same as the victim, you weigh about the same as Dr. Zimmer," their eyes met for an instant before Lindsay looked over to Jack (damn, the man was still there?) and reached one hand for a dumbell he held. "Extra weight makes it exact."
The 'extra weight' wasn't much at all, really, but he couldn't resist the opportunity fate seemed to have given him.
"Look, you promised me drinks for this, but I think I'm gonna need a little dinner too." Please, please…he chanced a glance at the woman in his arms.
She wasn't buying it at all; he could feel the little laugh that went through her body. "I'm not gonna give you anything if you don't get going." Well, she didn't shoot him down completely. "Make tracks, cowboy."
Letting out a little laugh of his own, Danny stepped up and over the wood edge. He made his steps slow and deliberate, logically because that would give Lindsay the best casts, but deep down he knew he didn't want to give up her closeness too fast. As it was, they were over the other barrier all too soon, and Danny bent to let Lindsay slide out of his arms. She caught the weight, and walked it over to Jack.
"Alright, you're done. Take your gear and the samples back to the lab, clean your kit, and then you can clock out," she told the man. He nodded, grabbing his kit and all but running from the roof.
"So, who's he?" Danny asked when the rooftop was theirs. Lindsay sighed.
"Rookie. Mac asked me to let him help out today, but I'm not sure this is his calling."
Danny chuckled. "Didn't like 'im, didya?"
"Not my first choice for a partner," she admitted, meeting Danny's eyes for a second. Looking away, she cleared her throat. "I've got to finish up," she murmured, walking back to her equipment.
"Want me to stick around? I want my dinner on you tonight," Danny grinned at Lindsay, who rolled her eyes.
"I promised you drinks, not dinner," her tone was final, but not dismissive, so Danny settled himself against a wall not affected by the investigation. The sky began to color slightly behind Lindsay as she worked, and he found himself wishing for a camera. She worked efficiently at photographing and casting the footprints they'd made together. The beauty and grace in her body captivated his eyes, and lead his mind into a territory he generally kept it out of.
Untold minutes later, a warm body settled down next to his. Momentarily startled, he looked across the roof to see that Lindsay's equipment was packed and waiting. "Ready to go, Montana?"
"Mmmm, in a minute," she whispered, resting her head lightly on his shoulder. Feeling his heartbeat quicken, Danny looked down at her.
"I'm almost afraid to ask, but since we're just sittin' here, how'd ya know how much I weigh?" A faint blush colored Lindsay's cheeks and she squirmed the tiniest bit.
"I called Stella and had her check your file before I called you."
"Ya couldn't just ask?"
"Would you have helped me if the first thing I said to you over the phone was 'hey Danny, how much do you weigh'?"
"Hey, I'll do anything if a woman promises me dinner."
"I didn't promise you dinner!" She said indignantly, half-heartedly punching his side, but continuing to lean on him
"Tell ya what. You come have dinner with me, but you won't have to pay. That fair payment for my help?" She nodded against him. "C'mon then, you can relax while I cook." He wrapped one arm around Lindsay, lifting her to her feet.
"You cook?"
He laughed. "I'm Italian!" They walked across the roof together before separating to carry the cases down to Danny's car; Jack had apparently taken the SUV back to the lab.
The short ride to Danny's apartment building was spent in silence; Lindsay rested lightly against the window and Danny was quite content to let her. The silence continued into the lobby, whereby a sign on the elevator doors caused him to let out a groan. "Emmie!" he called.
An older woman came through a door to their left. "What is it Danny?" Her voice was heavily accented, with Italy and affection.
Danny pointed to the elevator. "It's busted again?"
Emmie rolled her eyes and huffed out into the lobby. "Those idiot American men, they cannot even take a sign down after they work," she snatched the paper from the doors. "There you go!" Turning, she seemed to notice Lindsay for the first time. She passed an appraising look across the couple and nodded. "Have a good night, Danny." With a knowing smile, she waltzed back into her office, where Danny could hear muted strains of an Italian love song from the old soprano after she closed the door.
"Your landlady's nice," Lindsay said, laughing a bit as they stepped into the elevator.
Danny hit 6. "Yea, Emmie's like a ma to me out here, makes sure I eat good Italian food, stay out of trouble," he laughed. The elevator rumbled to a stop on his floor, and Danny led Lindsay out and into the apartment.
"Home sweet home," he announced grandly. Personally, he didn't think his apartment was bad at all. A smallish front living room led into the main room (it was probably intended as a dining room, but he had a pool table there instead), which had doorways into the kitchen and his bedroom as well. Turning, he found Lindsay standing right behind him.
She smiled: "So what're you cooking?"
Thankfully his Ma saw fit to send her son home every Sunday with enough ready-to-make food for half an army. It was only Wednesday, so he had plenty to choose from for their dinner. How to go…basic was probably best if she was already nervous. Grabbing what he needed, Danny settled into the rhythm of cooking refined by years of working alongside his mother and sister.
Lindsay sat down on the bench under his window, and tucked her feet under her. Danny could feel her watching him, but was content to let the only sounds in the kitchen be the muted sounds of his cooking. After a few minutes of watching him, Lindsay did break the silence. "Can I help?"
"Nah, I'm doin' alright."
"What? Think I can't cook?" she said proudly, and Danny turned around.
"Can you?"
"Yes."
"You're gonna have to prove that sometime," her eyes sparked at the challenge and he held up a finger, "but not tonight."
Lindsay settled back, and Danny felt her eyes on him again as he turned back to the stove. After a minute or two, she asked: "So who taught you to cook?"
"My Ma. I wasn't allowed to move out until I could successfully cook at least half the family recipes by heart." Okay, he was exaggerating a little bit, but Lindsay laughed. He was gonna have to get her to do that more often. "What about you?"
"Same: my Mom. Only I got to use the recipe box." Danny laughed this time. "I have three brothers. Them plus my Dad meant it took both of us to make dinner most nights."
"Can your brothers cook?" Louie had been required to learn the culinary arts as well, but for whatever reason, Danny was the primary receiver of the lessons. Maybe his Ma just figured if she could make one of her boys enjoy cooking, that was success enough.
"Well enough to survive on their own, but I think all of them should probably stick to restaurants for dates," she laughed. Danny fumbled the wooden spoon he was using, nearly dropping it completely into the pot of meat sauce.
Recovering quickly, and doing his best to ignore the skip in his heartbeat at Lindsay's phrasing, he asked "how bad do they cook?"
"Well, depends on which one," Lindsay said. "Jason's the oldest, about ten years older than me, and I can still remember eating burnt food for about a month before Dad finally got fed up. Mom would still try to get him to try every once in a while, though." Danny brought plates and glasses down from his cabinet, setting them on the counter before pulling one pot from the stove.
"Scott was pretty good," Lindsay continued. "He's almost exactly seven years older than me; our birthdays are one week apart. Every time I see him and his wife, she talks about whatever latest recipe he's made for her."
After taking the other pot from the stove, Danny put the food in bowls and started setting his small table. "So, one of your brothers can cook, then," he said.
"I guess I shouldn't have lumped them all together like that," she agreed. "But Andrew…he nearly gave us all food poisoning three days into his lessons and even Mom wouldn't let him near the kitchen after that one."
"How old's Andrew?" Danny asked.
"Twenty-nine."
"You the baby in your family?" Lindsay's eyes narrowed a bit when he glanced at her.
"Afraid of my brothers, Messer?"
Finishing the table, Danny turned to face her completely. "Is there a reason I should be?"
Lindsay didn't answer, so Danny walked over and held out his hand. "Ready for the best dinner you've ever tasted?" he asked.
"We'll see," Lindsay smiled and stood on her own, but she did allow Danny to pull out her chair.
Despite how basic the meal was, Danny was rather proud of his cooking. "Messer family recipe," he announced proudly.
"Don't mean to bust your bubble, Danny, but spaghetti and meatballs are not that uncommon."
"And don't knock this stuff 'til you've tried it, Montana. Everything made from scratch; ya can't buy food this good."
"You know how to make pasta?" Lindsay asked as he placed the spaghetti on her plate, followed by the meatballs and sauce.
"Yea, only this is my Ma's. I don't exactly have time myself usually." As he spoke, Danny served himself and then poured them both a glass of wine.
"No kidding," they both laughed and started to eat. Hungry from the day's work, neither said much through the meal. What conversation did come up was light and inconsequential, small talk about the lab and the city.
"So what fantastic Messer dish do you have for desert?" Lindsay asked when they finally set down their forks.
Danny grinned wryly. "Good ol' fashioned Ben & Jerry's," he said. "But I gotta clean up in here first. You can make yourself comfortable on the couch, if ya want, while I do that."
As he picked the plates up from the table, Lindsay said "alright" and left the kitchen. He worked as quickly as he could, stacking dishware in the sink and packing leftovers into empty takeout containers.
"What flavor Ice Cream d'ya want, Montana?" Danny called.
"Anything chocolate; what do you have?" she yelled back.
Opening the fridge and removing the containers, he read off, "I got Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, Chocolate Fudge Brownie, and Mint Chocolate Chip."
"Big bowl of Cookie Dough sounds really good." Danny scooped the ice cream out for Lindsay and put the other two flavors into his own bowl. After sticking spoons in each, he carried the bowls out to the living room. There he found Lindsay seated on the floor, examining the DVDs on the shelves below his TV.
"Would you like to watch a movie?" Lindsay didn't look up immediately at his voice, instead choosing to grab one of the plastic cases and hold it up.
"I cannot believe you own the Princess Bride," she mocked, but her eyes sparkled in the dim light.
"It's a good movie," he said defensively. "Sword fighting, pirates, poison-"
"Romance," Lindsay teased.
"What's wrong with a little romance?" Danny asked, and held up the bowls still in his hands. "D'ya want this ice cream or not."
Rising, Lindsay quirked her eyebrow as she traded the DVD for the ice cream. Danny got the movie ready while she seated herself on the couch. As the opening credits rolled, he snatched his bowl from the coffee table where Lindsay had left it and settled next to her.
Almost two hours later, Danny looked down to see that Lindsay had fallen completely asleep against his chest. Soon after they had scraped their bowls clean of ice cream, he had snuck his arm around her shoulders, and been rewarded by her head resting on his shoulder. Somehow, during the course of the movie, he'd ended up with his back against the couch arm with his legs stretched out and Lindsay snuggled up in his lap.
Danny maneuvered his arms around the sleeping woman so that he could pick her up, in a fashion not dissimilar to her experiment that afternoon. Carefully, he walked through the apartment to his bedroom, laying Lindsay down on the bed and pulling a blanket up over her. Her voice reached his ears, muffled by the pillow, as he turned to go.
"Is the movie over?"
"Yea. Just go back to sleep, Montana, I'll wake ya up in time for your shift tomorrow," Danny said, heading out the door for his couch.
"Where are you going?" He turned back to see Lindsay peering at him through the gloom. "Come back."
"You sure?" When she nodded her head sleepily back and forth, he walked back and slid into the bed behind her. Wrapping his arm around her, he lightly kissed her hair. "'Night, Montana," he whispered.
"'Night Danny."
A/N: this is the longest fic I have ever written. I'd love feedback, whether you love it or hate it, but try to make it con-crit even (especially) if it's the latter.