It was smooth and methodical, just like everything she did. Lined it up and, two cracks later, the eight ball rolled smoothly from its stationary position into the corner pocket.
He whistled as she stood straight and turned towards him, and unknown glint in her eye.
They had been dating, quietly, since their joint return from Montana. Everything he had said he had wanted: dinner, drinks, and a few laughs – and then some...
But whatever they had done, it was nothing like they were doing now. This was the first time they were completely alone and private. The first time to just spend time at one of their apartments. The first time they had let themselves just go with whatever happened.
But not the first time she had looked at him like that...
"You owe me a hundred bucks."
"Um.. sorry, but you're going to have to wait 'til payday..."
"No. Now, unless you can think of something better..."
Kissing wasn't anything knew either. Nor the tell-tale passion behind it. But tonight was the night for first...
And the private hope for more to come.
As he lowered her onto the table, he uncovered another fist.
It was the first time the pool table had seen this kind of action.
A first for him.
D/L
It was hours later, when they next saw each other. When he had left her sleeping on the pool table, to cover her shift, he had hoped to catch a meal (or two) with her – but, damn it, if fate didn't have other ideas.
So here he was sitting in the ER, getting patched up and discussing treatments. Not a first for him. By any stretch of the imagination. He listened as he was told what the extent of his injuries were and what that meant for work and life. Still nothing really new.
Vast bruising. That needed to heal on its own.
Various lacerations. Some required stitches and others not.
Bruised ribs and back. He had worse from bad pitches.
Slight acid burn on his left hand. He smirked at little as the Doc told him, but knew the other guy was worse.
Concussion. Shocker.
Extensive damage to his right hand. And it hadn't helped that was the hand that had ended his baseball career. A college bar fight that time. A goon's boot this. But the damage wasn't completely irreversible, actually it might help him regain full mobility.
That was new.
He listened to the doctor explain the orthopedic surgery that was needed for his hand. He paid close attention to the amount of time it would take. The treatments he would have to endure.
It was promising. It was something a little different – and it sounded good.
"Do you have someone that could stay with you for awhile, Detective Messer? I understand if this feels imposing, but with today's events... I think it would be good for someone to keep tabs."
He paused and considered his doctor's advice. It was good advice and he knew he probably should, considering.
"Detective Messer?"
"Yeah, I'll get someone..."
"If you don't mind, I would rather get their information. Should their be any problems..."
"Right. Whatever." He sighed. "I'll let you know." The doctor nodded.
"Okay, I'll just get the paperwork ready." The physician left and he heaved another sigh.
Gingerly, he lowered himself from examination table and stood on his own. The door opened again and he expected to see a nurse entering, but it wasn't and he had to smile.
"You look like crap," she whispered, while trying to smile.
"The thanks a guy gets for letting a girl sleep in," he teased and received her coveted smile.
"I suppose thanks are in order," she grinned.
"I think I've been thanked enough for one day," he joked, gesturing to his face. The smile slid off her face and he instantly regretted it.
"Danny, I'm..."
"Don't Montana. Don't you dare."
He approached her and traced her arm with his "good" hand. She looked down, but wasn't fast enough to hide her tears from him. He lifted her face and brushed them aside and smiled at her. She smiled back and looked him up and down.
She stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and wrapped her arms around his bare upper body. He held her and thanked God that this was possible that a month ago seemed impossible.
Him, Daniel Messer, resident lab play-boy, holding her, Lindsay Monroe, resident country girl, and neither one shrinking away.
A first, a good first. Great even.
Just like the emotion bouncing in his chest. A first.
"Even though it shouldn't have been you, in a way I'm very glad it was," she mumbled into his shoulder. He pulled his head back and looked at the crown of her head.
"Whys that?"
"I don't think I could have kept Adam sane and a cool head to think with it. He's in awe of you," she looked at him, "And so am I. I'm really proud of you, Danny."
They smiled together and he gave into the urge to kiss her. They were joined for a few seconds, before gently separating and smiling at one another again.
He shivered lightly. And it wasn't just because of her. And worse yet, she knew it.
"C'mon lets get you out of here."
She helped him slip into a clean shirt and jeans, with minimal blushing from both of them. Once she had gotten his tennis shoes on him, she put her hands on her knees and looked up at him from her crouched position.
He smiled at her and gestured for her to "come closer" with a wiggle of his fingers. She did and they wasted a few more seconds to bliss, before again breaking it and finally wondering towards the door.
"Hey! I got away you can really thank me," he said as they exited.
It wasn't his first time in the hospital...
But it was the first time he had someone he really wanted to, to go home with.