This has been something I've been wanting to write for awhile--just a little scene that should have been in the show (according to me). It goes along with Buzzkill (season 4, episode 8) so it will obviously spoil the first half of the show for you if you haven't seen it. Danny was at the hospital all night and Lindsay's case was resolved--you got to think she swung by and shared a meal with him.

I don't own these characters, but if I did ... I would pay someone to write this better that I did--and show it off on television :p ...

Buzzed

The hospital seemed quiet, though the activity was still there, as the city that never slept began a new day. A doctor, on his morning rounds, stepped into the hall and replaced a chart. Two nurses were in the hall, one with her arms crossed; their faces serious enough that it must have been a patient they discussed.

She found Danny in the open waiting room pacing.

"Hey," she said and watched as he turned around. "Guess where I've been?"

"Obviously not in autopsy with Sid," he answered, then studied her, "and not home for a good night's sleep either."

"No—we just finished up the paperwork. Since you saw me last, I've been up on a cherry picker, hanging around in the middle of Time's Square and getting paid to do it."

"Quite a party."

Normally, he would have reveled in her excitement—or at the very least teased her a little bit. Instead he just forced a smile.

"You look tired."

He ran a hand through his short hair. "Still early yet."

She lifted the bag and cup carrier she'd brought with her. "Maybe this high-octane coffee will help."

"Or maybe just breakfast with my girl," as she walked over, he leaned in for a brief kiss and took the bag and carrier from her. "You off?"

"Yeah," she followed him to a small table and sat down beside him as he took out the to go boxes from the bag. "Guy was shooting tennis balls across New York Times square."

"Yeah—I caught it on the news—" he nodded toward the TV that flashed in the other room. "So, a tennis shooter?"

"He's a recovering alcoholic—sad really," she accepted the to go box he passed her, then reached over and snagged one of his sausage links. He shot her a smile, but it wasn't an easy smile. It was … troubled.

"How's your girl?"

"Sleeping," he opened his box, then, fork in hand, looked down at his eggs for a few moments. Just thinking. "They're looking to operate sometime this morning."

She nodded, her brow furrowed. Something else was wrong. He seemed so tired.

"It's troubling you.'

"Yeah. The boyfriend was in the ambulance with me. Came with her from the scene. He's pretty upset. Been wondering around all night, waiting for something. Some good news."

When he set his fork down and just leaned back, she took his hand, brought it to her chest and held it between both of her own. He felt things so deeply.

Danny looked over and her; then leaned in close, and carefully—almost reverently—took her lips with his. The kiss was slow, sweet, and so very gentle.

Lindsay smiled into it, and accepted his need for her in that moment. He was still on shift, but it didn't matter. She lifted a hand and held it to his cheek as he pulled back. His eyes studied hers. "You allergic to anything, any medications?"

"What?" he'd been kissing her was all she could think. "Are you sick?"

"What?"

"You kissed me and you want to know if I have medical allergies?"

Danny chuckled as he reached for his coffee. "I kissed you because I needed to. I asked because I want to know. He didn't."

"The boyfriend?"

"Yeah—and I realized I didn't," he took a long sip as he watched her. "And maybe I should."

"I'm not allergic to anything—not medically. You?"

"Huh? No—no. Ok—ah blood type?" he said, then frowned. "Maybe I should have your parent's phone numbers."

She stared at him—at the serious look in his eyes. "Danny—"

Then her phone went off. She pulled it out, frowned as she read the message. "Looks like the vic didn't die from electrocution. And breakfast is over for me."

Danny grabbed at her hand as she stood. "Lindsay—"

"I'll write it up when I get into the office and send it over to your email," she promised, squeezing his hand. "How's that?"

"That's fine," he tugged her hand until she leaned over for a quick kiss.

"You'll do the same for me?"

"Yeah."

She grabbed her to go box and coffee, and headed out … but knew as she walked away that he watched her leave.