Silly little one-shot. No specific spoilers, but set sometime after Season 4.
Wrong Address
"So, whatcha got on the victim?" Danny asked Adam, squinting at the warped notepad they'd pulled from a woman found floating in the Hudson River.
"Well," Adam said, "It looks like she was shot in the back of the head, execution style. And this notepad here," he held it up to Danny, "Has her address. It's the third one down."
Danny snapped a glove onto his hand and took the notebook, looking at the smudged numbers and letters on the pad. There seemed to be about twelve or so, some with check marks next to them. Two spaces were left blank, one was the victim's, and the other…
"Now I checked the other addresses, and the ones with check marks are all addresses of people who've been killed in the same way in the past few weeks. A man found in his home two weeks ago, an old woman killed while walking her dog, the list goes on."
Danny ignored him, his eyes zoning in on the smudged, scribbled address near the bottom of the list. The name above it had a check mark, as did the one after it, but this address was glaringly devoid of a note of any kind. Danny glared at the address, wondering why it looked so familiar, why it struck a certain chord in him …
"Fuck. I gotta go," he said hurriedly. He dropped the notepad on the desk with no sort of delicacy and walked out of the room. His heart was beating heavily, pounding so loudly that he could barely think.
As he walked, he sped up, his legs moving faster and faster until he was racing through the crime lab. He swiped his helmet from his office, took the elevator to the parking garage, and ran to his bike. He slammed the helmet on his head and kick started his bike, the pounding roar in tune with the blind panic in his head.
He sped through traffic, cursing the red lights, weaving around cars and zooming around curves. He pulled up in front of the building, in front of the address on the notepad, and turned off his bike. A sudden fear struck in him, because he knew that, if he found what he thought he was about to find, then he would not want to be alive any longer. The prospect of a world so lonely and cold terrified him.
Taking a deep breath, he ran into the building, sped up the steps and –
She was standing at the door, or kneeling in front of it, rather, picking up her dropped keys. A brown paper bag of groceries was in one arm, the crinkle of a packaged salad bag in the air, the green tips of carrots visible over the edge of the bag.
Danny breathed out, a loud, whoosh of air that expelled worry and fear from his body.
Lindsay turned at the sound and frowned. She stood, her eyes taking in the sight of a haggard, leather jacketed Danny, his motorcycle helmet hanging off one of his hands.
"What?" she asked, straightening, "Another drunken apology? It's seven at night, isn't it a little too early to be begging for forgiveness?" Her voice was bitter, yet tired, and almost pleading.
He gave no response. Instead, he let the helmet drop to the floor with a loud 'thunk' and walked briskly over to her. He slid one hand around her waist swiftly, used the hand to wrap around her neck and pull her towards him.
The kiss began as no more than an intake of breath on both their parts, a gasp on hers and a hopeful plea on his.
The grocery bag dropped to the floor as Lindsay wrapped her arms around him. Her hate faded, replaced by a fierce, heavy passion that she'd presumed to be lost. Danny backed her up against the door, tilting her head to angle the kiss deeper, lowering one hand to bring her hips to his.
Her knees buckled abruptly. The two slipped down the door as Danny found himself too flooded with relief to bother holding her up. They fell to their knees on the floor, tongues exploring, hands wandering, and after a while, Lindsay found herself lying completely on her back in the hallway of her apartment building. Danny's helmet lay by her head; an apple rolled from her overturned grocery bag as Danny shifted on top of her, scooting her legs beneath his.
Danny hadn't intended for the kiss to go so far, though he wasn't complaining. Truth be told, he'd expected a slap in the face, well worth a kiss from her. He wasn't about to take something from her she wasn't willing to give, but he'd needed that kiss so badly that he hadn't been able to resist.
"Ahem," someone said from above them. Lindsay tilted her vision to look up at the protruding beer belly of her next-door neighbor, Finnian McArthur.
"Hi," she breathed uncomfortably.
Danny slowly got to his knees, straddling her. "Somethin' we can help you with?" he grunted, deeply disturbed that someone had interrupted his first kiss with Lindsay in nearly four months.
Lindsay looked down her body at Danny, his hands on his knees, his waist pressed to hers. She stifled a laugh.
"You're blocking my way," Finnian said disgustedly.
"Walk. Around." Danny said dangerously, gesturing dramatically with his arm to the narrow path littered with assorted vegetables, fruits, and tin cans of food.
As Finnian picked his way through the obstacle course that was the hallway, he gave a quick glance at the couple that had returned to passionately making out on the floor. He sincerely hoped they weren't back together again. The past few months had provided him with a relatively serene, quiet sleep, as opposed to the loud, uninhibited noises that plagued him on a regular basis. "Like rabbits," Finnian grunted, kicking in his door.
"You say somethin', buddy?" Danny growled from down the hall.
Finnian ignored him, but quickly headed into his apartment and shut the door. And locked it. That boyfriend of hers scared the hell out of him. At least he'd stop hearing crying from the room next door.
"Wait," Lindsay whispered in the hallway, softly, reluctantly pushing Danny away, "We should stop."
"Why?" Danny breathed, pressing a long, soft kiss to her neck.
"Your phone's ringing," she said.
Danny groaned and propped himself onto one elbow. He put the phone to his ear. "Yeah?" he growled.
"Hey, Danny, it's Adam. Listen, I got the results on the other name on the notepad. I have the address here if you want to go check it out. I sent Flack there with a team."
"Huh," Danny replied, kissing his way down to Lindsay's collarbone.
"The apartment is registered to a Veronica Nguyen. She's apartment 4C at 3442 West –"
"Who?" Danny grunted.
"Veronica Nguyen."
Danny muffled the phone with his shirt. "Does some chick named Veronica Nguyen live in this building? Apartment 4C?"
Lindsay shook her head. "I'm 4C. You know that."
"Adam? I gotta go," Danny said into the phone.
"But I told Flack –"
Danny snapped the phone shut and returned to kissing Lindsay.
"What did he say?" Lindsay asked.
Danny shrugged and smiled into her mouth.