Title: Cinderella and Prince Charming
Rating: M – for SEXUAL REFERENCES, VIOLENCE…and…SWEARING (which I do believe aren't as frequent as I first thought, but still, they're there)
(An it's in caps, so no one can say I didn't warn ya!)
Disclaimer: Yeah, none of this belongs to me – sad as it is I know! – Except the plot :D (which is kinda non-existent in most parts :blush: ) and a few of my own wee characters that I made up, the rest all belongs to the wonderful world that is CSI: NY an it's creators.
A/N: I occasionally use quotes from other places, like films and programmes an such, but I always credit them, so if you find a quote that I haven't credited please let me know, cos it wasn't intentional! :blush:
A/A/N: This is told in first person, but it will switch POV's depending on the part of the fic, and the chap, but hopefully it won't be too confusing, but I apologize in advance if it is!
A/A/A/N: This starts during S1 after 'Crime And Misdemeanour', and will take place after various episodes, while other parts are just random fun additions to the fic, that have no resemblance to any episodes.
A/A/A/A/N: I live in the UK, so please excuse different uses of grammar and spelling – also if I get stuff from the episodes wrong, feel free to correct me cos when I started this we were about 7 episodes behind, an it was just finishing in the US – but I'll try an be as accurate as possible when referring to parts from the show.
Summary: Cindy MacIntyre is bored one day, and the decision to 'renovate' her best friend's apartment without his permission could turn out to be one of the best she's ever made – especially when she enlists the help of Danny Messer.
"It could happen to you, you know." "What? Marriage?" "Love." "Don't even say stuff like that, Mac. It's not funny." – Sure, he thinks she's cute, she's fun, she's fit, she's... Flack's best friend.
Chapter One: Renovating Apartments
I put the key in the lock, and turned it, pushing open the door, and shutting it behind me. I heard the loud pounding in the background come to a stop, and silently thanked God for the intervention. Today had been a really bad day, and the last thing I needed was a throbbing headache to accompany it.
I leant against the door, exhaling, and closed my eyes – it had been a really bad day.
I had just closed up on the case, regarding a homeless guy being used as a human statue in place of its normal performer, only to have an argument with Mac about it. Needless to say, I left seriously pissed off after my boss chastised me like I was a First Grader.
Naturally then, when I met Flack on my way out and he suggested I go back to his for a beer, I welcomed the idea with open arms; the urge to blow off some of the steam surging powerfully through my veins. I considered changing my mind, however, when he handed me a key to his apartment and told me to go on without him because he still had some things to finish up before he left. Yet, despite my usual stubbornness, I was too tired to argue, especially when Flack seemed far more convincing than usual, and somehow won: successfully convincing me (once again) that "it'll be good for me" – but, that was most likely only because he had liveliness on his side, obviously.
"Don, that you?" a voice flittered through, closely followed by the figure stepping into view.
"Oh," she said, stopping as she caught sight of me. "Sorry, thought you were Don."
I straightened up, suddenly feeling oddly like I was intruding here – Damn, Flack, I could have killed him for not mentioning he had company.
She was quite small – I figured only about 5 4"-ish (if that) – and she was leaning moreover to the right, as she stood eyeing me with a smile, a hammer held loosely in her grasp by her opposite side. A few light blonde tendrils hung freely from her loose ponytail in which she had secured the rest of her hair, and her blue eyes sparkled as she smiled at me. She had on a pair of washed out denim cut-offs which complimented her lean lightly-tanned legs – or calves, since that was the only part of her legs that wasn't covered and of which I could see at the moment – and she was standing barefoot, wriggling her toes slightly, the nails of which were decorated in an assortment of bright colours. On her upper body, she wore a black t-shirt with the words, 'Do You Wanna?' embellished in bold white print, at an angle, across her chest.
I shifted in my position again, trying not to make it so obvious I was subtly checking her out – but the smile she sent me then, accompanied by the raised eyebrow in silent question asking, 'You like what you see?', told me she knew what I was all about.
But Damn, did she have a nice figure.
I decided to 'ignore' the look she sent me for the time being, and instead told her plainly, "He said he had some work to finish up before he came back. I'm Danny."
"Messer," she added smiling, and nodding her head.
I looked at her curiously; voicing this inner inquisitiveness of mine, " 'Scuse me?"
"Don's talked about you before. You're the cocky one, right? – Who always gets the girls?" she said with a smile.
I smirked then, my tiredness apparently having disappeared the moment I set eyes on this little blonde beauty.
And I couldn't seem to help myself, as I quipped, "So, Flack does talk 'bout me to other people."
She laughed, "Between you and me, I think he's just jealous 'cos he's still a virgin."
I choked slightly, recovering only enough to stammer, "What?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, did I say he's still a virgin, I meant 'cos he's still hurting – you know over the whole 'Danny's more popular with the ladies than me' thing."
She put on an accent for the last part, making me laugh a little but at the same time roll my eyes at her, while she flashed me a smile.
"I'm Cindy MacIntyre," she told me, still smiling.
"Wait, you're Cindy?" I asked, only a tad sceptical.
Sure, Flack had spoken of her before, but when I'd tried to put a face to the name for the sake of the conversations, I'd never thought that she'd look like… well, look like this, at any rate.
But then the bastard had never shown me any pictures – so I couldn't really be blamed for not thinking she was damn fine. That was probably why he never showed me the photos in the first place. Flack wasn't dumb, an if he thought I was gonna try it on with his best friend, then he sure as Hell wasn't gonna go out of his way to show me what she looked like, never mind introduce us. I laughed to myself – guess it couldn't last forever.
"Cindy?" I repeated; my eyebrow raised slightly as I spoke. "That's you?"
It was her turn to roll her eyes, "Oh God, please tell me Donnie's not been telling you all stories of how he saved me from a childhood of Hell as a 'foreigner', or something equally as annoying?"
I laughed then despite our 'strangerness', I sort of felt at ease at the moment – an Hell, after the time I'd had recently, I welcomed a bit of amusement, "Nah, he just mentions you from time to time. But what's this 'bout a childhood of Hell?"
I smirked at her then, the usual flirty side of me playing through – I wasn't complaining really, I welcomed the 'old me' to return as soon as possible, so I could go back to just being me – and she rolled her eyes once more, taking a breath as she muttered, "Stupid fucking Donnie."
Then plastering a large grin on her face she began, "As you can probably tell, I'm not originally from New York, I'm not even American. I was born in Scotland, but my mother grew up here and when I was about 6 her and my dad decided to move back. My dad was a police officer and got a job in the same division as Donnie's, and they became partners soon after. We ended up moving across the street from them too – completely coincidental I might add – and Donnie and I became friends; with him being my 'knight in shining armour' apparently."
And she rolled her eyes again, "According to him, he saved me from a childhood of ridicule and torture because of my accent and how I didn't have a clue about practically anything that went on over here – hence the 'foreigner' title. He never stops reminding me how I wouldn't have gotten anywhere without him, and that he was in fact 'the perfect gentleman' as he asked to assist me in the change."
She laughed, "Truth is, I fitted in fine, and no one thought of me as a 'foreigner' at all, but Donnie likes to tell me that that was because he 'had a word with them' beforehand."
I laughed then too, being able to imagine him doing exactly that, as I voiced, "Sounds like Flack."
Cindy smiled, nodding, "That it does. And now I've practically given you my life story condensed to fit into a credit card, I just wanna say… Thanks for this, Messer."
And she had her hands cupped as she moved them to and fro as she said the previous part, before closing her fingers over so they made small fists, as she added, "I really felt like we connected there."
I smirked at her then, as I commented, "Cute."
And she laughed, "You want a drink?"
My lips curved into a grin then, and she took that as answer enough as she simply smiled in return, turned round, and led me towards the kitchen without another word.
I stopped short as soon as I reached the threshold.
"Wow," I stated, on seeing the sight before me. "What's goin' on here?"
She smiled at me, half-shrugging, as she handed me my beer, "Oh, you know, figured his flat was a bit dull, needed a bit of renovating."
I just looked at her then, mulling over her words in my brain as I processed what she'd really said, before saying, "Wait a minute, wait a minute. You telling me, that Flack has no idea that you're doing this?"
She shook her head.
"None at all?" I asked again – just checking!
She grinned, shaking her head once more, in a way usually associated with a little kid, "Nope."
"Aw, he's gonna murder you," I told her, shaking my head slightly then also, as I laughed at the idea of Flack walking into his kitchen and seeing what his friend had done to it.
The reaction from him, of which I envisioned at the moment, would be priceless: just the look on his face when he caught sight of the huge gaping hole that she'd made in his wall, not to mention what he'd say when he saw her beside it (I've no doubt) with a grin on her face, holding the hammer up in one hand and the words 'Welcome Home' escaping her lips in a small child-like voice. Yup, it would certainly be a picturesque moment, one possibly even so worthy as to be part of a Mastercard commercial.
I laughed to myself, there was no way in Hell, I was gonna miss this.
She smiled, shrugging her shoulder, "Ah, he'll get over it – plus it'll look better this way. This way, the kitchen connects to the lounge better, so the host can interact with his guests."
And she sent me a quick grin at that before saying, "Opens the place up a bit – plus it needed a change. Donnie's been living here too long, and quite frankly the people who lived here before didn't exactly have that great taste in home décor."
"An you do?" I laughed a little then, as I turned back from 'surveying' the spectacle that was Flack's kitchen to face her.
"Well, you like it don't you?" she replied simply.
I glanced around again, and she smiled then as I met her eyes once more. Her hand was on her hip, her stance and the look on her face 'daring' me to say I disagreed – even though we both knew I'd be lying if I did.
When I didn't, she simply smiled once more, giving me her response in, "See, point made."
I rolled my eyes at her, and she added, "Besides, if Donnie doesn't like it, he can always just give the apartment to me."
I laughed then, shaking my head a little as I did so, before responding, "Sounds like a plan."
She grinned, "It is."
I laughed again, and when I faced her once more, she was standing in front of me, holding out a hammer with a smirk on her face, "So, you think you're up to pounding some shit out of your friend's kitchen wall?"
"Make you feel better," she added with a grin.
I eyed her, before asking, "And what makes you think I need to feel better?"
She seemed to already know that I did in fact need to feel better, since she simply rolled her eyes at me, but she didn't saying anything about it further – something I was innately thankful about – not that I told her that, though. She'd obviously been through this sort of thing with Flack before and had learned from it, as she decided to leave it be, and try a different 'tactic'.
She sighed dramatically, and told me then, "Fine, it'll piss Donnie off."
Well, when put like that, how could I really resist.
I smirked back at her, grabbing hold of the tool, and stated in the cockiest accent I could muster, "Well then, bring it on."
x
And that was how I first met Cindy MacIntyre. Pounding the shit out of my best friend's kitchen wall.
And let me tell you, she was right about it looking better than it had before. Although I'm not quite sure whether that was due to the alcohol we consumed or mere exhaustion – but I tell you, 'pounding the shit' out of a wall is more draining than you'd think, and that's not even counting the fact that she'd made a pretty damn big hole already.
Sadly for her, Flack didn't move out of it, so she didn't get the apartment after all – but she may as well have, she treated it practically like her own when she was there anyway. And according to Flack, she had far too much fun, for his liking, redecorating the place afterwards. He even went so far as to swear Cindy did it not just to piss him off, but just so she could spend the next two days painting. And just to make sure she did it the way she really wanted, she painted it five different colours, and tried out about seven different shades and patterns before finally deciding she liked the block turquoise on the walls the best – which was the first one she'd tried out. Needless to say Flack was a bundle of laughs during this time, as you could imagine.
TBC…
Thanks for reading, please let me know what you think - it'd be MUCH appreciated.
Also, this is my first CSI:NY fic I've posted, but not my first fanfic in general, so flame me all you want - but personally I'd find it a waste of energy on all our parts.
Constructive criticism and any other comments in general will all be warmly welcomed!
Steph
xxx
:D
