Somethin' Country
Summary: Even New York City has one or two hillbillies...
A/N: Too much country music and my head a'sploded. This is the outcome.
Dedication: Laurzz for being a country fan in the UK -that takes guts girl, kudos.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, zoom in on my empty wallet.
Lindsay Monroe checked herself one more time in the mirror of her locker, reassuring herself she looked fine. She was clad in a low cut white tank top and an old holey pair of Wranglers, the toe of her brown leather cowboy boots peaked out from under the denim. Her hair was down and brushed her shoulders with loose curls. She added another coat of the shiney pink lip gloss and then kicked her locker shut.
"Damn, Montana, where ya goin' dressed like that?" Danny Messer came into the locker room. His hair was in it's usual state of unruliness, at some point in his life he had perfected the 'just-rolled-out-of-bed' look. Lindsay had to remind herself to breathe.
"To a bar." Lindsay stated and sat down on the bench, "How 'bout you, Cowboy?"
"Oh just another night of me and the love of my life -cold pizza." Danny grinned at her.
"You should come with me." Lindsay blurted out with far more enthusiasm than she had intended.
"You askin' me on a date, Monroe?" Danny cocked an eyebrow.
"Nooo." Lindsay stretched the word, "I'm merely saving a colleague from a night of boredom."
"Who said I was gonna be bored?"
"Well-"
He cut her off, "I'm kidding, Lindsay, I'd love to get drinks with you."
"Love how?" Lindsay grinned -turnabout was fair play.
"Don't be a wiseass, Montana." Danny opened his locker to grab his jacket.
"C'mon Cowboy, I know a place that has dollar beers and good music." Lindsay grinned at him.
"Lead the way, Montana."
They left the office in silence and took the subway to Lindsay's neighborhood. She lead the way like a true New Yorker; she weaved her way seamlessly through the crowds and didn't get confused on where she was going -Danny nearly beamed with pride. The crowds grew thicker as they approached the bar and Lindsay grabbed Danny's wrist so she wouldn't lose him.
"What is this place?" Danny heard the whine of a fiddle coming from the doors.
"A bar." Lindsay grinned and pointed to the cowboy boot made from neon lights, "The Rusty Spur."
"What?" Danny's jaw dropped and he started to turn, "No way, Montana."
"Oh you think you are such a city slicker." Lindsay rolled her eyes, "It's cheap beer and if you get buzzed enough, I doubt you'll even realize country music is playing."
"Fine." Danny huffed, "But purely because I don't want to leave a lady at a bar alone."
"What do ya know," Lindsay rocked on her boots, "chivalry ain't dead."
"Shut up." Danny said and rolled his eyes.
"But don't tell my heart, my achey-breaky heart, I just don't think he'd understand, and if you tell my heart, my achey-breaky heart, he might blow up and kill this man." Lindsay murmured along with the song and Danny snorted with laughter until Lindsay slugged him in the arm.
"Did you ever have a mullet?" Danny roared with laughter.
"Shut up." Lindsay shoved him, "And as a matter of fact, I didn't, but my big brothers did. I dare ya to make fun of it someday."
"I think I'll pass on that." Danny had never met the Monroe brothers, but he feared them.
"Wise man." Lindsay chuckled and reached into her pocket for the cover charge, but Danny grabbed her hand, "What?"
"I got it. You buy the first round?" Danny asked and pulled out his wallet.
"You got a deal." Lindsay grinned and hooked her thumbs through belt loops.
Danny paid the man and they entered the establishment. The wood floor was covered with peanut shells and crunched underfoot. The dance floor was crowded and dark, in the corner sat the DJ stand and a man in a white stetson and wranglers.
"I feel like I'm not even in New York." Danny whined.
"Shut up." Lindsay ordered and headed for the bar, pulling Danny along with her.
"What can I get ya?" A girl in a stomach baring shirt, low rise jeans and a pair of boots asked from behind the bar.
"Two Buds." Lindsay said and slapped down a few bills on the counter.
"Are my ears bleeding yet?" Danny whispered in Lindsay's ear as they waited.
"Not yet." Lindsay grabbed the glass bottles from the bartender and handed Danny one. There was a table in the back corner that was empty and they both took a seat.
"How often do you come here, Montana?" Danny asked and took a sip of his beer.
"Every once and awhile." Lindsay shrugged and took a swig, leaving a lip gloss ring on the bottle.
Danny nodded his head thoughtfully as the DJ changed songs and Neal McCoy's 'Wink' began to play. Lindsay tapped her fingers against the glass bottle to the rhythm. She swung her foot to the beat and sat anxiously, looking around.
"You wanna dance or something, Monroe?" Danny laughed, watching her grow impatient.
"Come on." Lindsay stood up and grabbed his hand, pulling him along.
"Hey, you dance. I'll watch." Danny stopped at the edge of the dance floor.
"Fine. Have fun being a wall flower, Cowboy." Lindsay joined a group of people dancing together.
Danny laughed as he watched Lindsay dance and the way she lost herself in the music. He never saw her smile that wide before and he liked it. He followed her feet across the floor, watching her boots slide and kick and the way her hips twisted to the beat. Every time the singer said 'wink', Lindsay's smile grew devilish and she locked eyes with him, winking. She was messing with his head and it was working.
"You're nuts, Messer." Danny mumbled to himself and made his way across the polished floor as the song changed. Taking a deep breath, he tapped Lindsay on the shoulder, "Can I have this dance?"
"That depends?" Lindsay grinned up at him, "You gonna step on my feet?"
Danny chuckled nervously and cleared his throat, "Just try to keep up."
Lindsay smirked and cocked her eyebrow as Danny took her hand and pulled her to a clear part of the floor. He stood awkwardly for a moment and Lindsay chuckled, "Need help?"
"No... yes." Danny admitted.
Lindsay took his right hand in hers and guided his left to her waist, "Quick, quick, slow."
"Right." Danny moved awkardly and Lindsay lead him more than vice versa. Deana Carter's 'How Do I Get There' played and Lindsay was glad that Danny couldn't see her blush in the smoke filled room -the song just struck a cord with her and her feelings about a fair haired CSI.
How do I
get there from here?
How do I make you see?
How do I tell you
what my heart's been telling me?
Danny spun her around and pulled her close, finally catching onto the Texas two-step. His hand slipped lower on her back and their chests brushed. The air grew thicker and Danny found it becoming increasingly hard to breathe when each breath filled him with the scent that was purely Lindsay.
"I need a shot." Lindsay said when the song ended. Beer wasn't going to cut it, she needed something to calm her racing nerves and maybe give her the guts to finally make something resembling a move on Danny Messer.
"Go sit. I'll get it." Danny told her, needing a moment to clear his mind.
Lindsay nodded and walked back to their booth. She slid in and rested her head against the wall, focusing on slowing her breathing. Her body was racing with adrenaline from the atmosphere and being that close to her partner.
"Here ya go, Sweetheart." Danny told her, placing the shot glass down in front of him.
Lindsay let the pet name slide. She took the shot and slammed the glass down on the wooden table and cleared her throat, "Still burns."
"It's supposed to." Danny said, following suit.
"Shut up." Lindsay chuckled, "I could drink you under the table any day."
"Really?" Danny raised an eyebrow, "I may have to take you up on that someday."
"Someday." Lindsay agreed.
"So, honestly Montana, where'd you learn to dance like that?" Danny asked and wiped the sweat off his brow.
"It's a country girl thing." Lindsay told him, putting on a fake drawl.
Danny let out a snort of laughter, "I do a better southern accent than that."
"Probably. Good thing I'm not southern." Lindsay chuckled, "There's not a lot of things to do on a Bozeman Friday night, so we all used to park in someone's field and blast the radio and start a fire."
"Ah." Danny nodded his head.
"I learned to dance in the bed of the neighbor boys truck." Lindsay chuckled at the memory.
"How delightfully redneck..."
Lindsay's cowboy boot came in contact with Danny's shin, "Country, Messer. If you can't define redneck, don't call me one."
"I take it I insulted you?" Danny raised an eyebrow.
"Just a little." Lindsay laughed, "But it just proves how much of a pretty little city boy ya are."
"I am not pretty."
"You spend more time on your hair than I do, Danny. You're pretty." Lindsay ribbed him.
"Shut up." His voice rose an octave.
"You could probably save the planet if you stopped using all that product." Lindsay stuck her tongue out.
"Didn't you come here to dance?"
"Let's go, City Boy." Lindsay stood up and grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the dance floor.
"Lead the way Cowgirl."
A slow Rascal Flatts song poured out of the speakers as they turned to face one another. Lindsay's hands snaked around Danny's neck and his hands found their place on her waist. Her head rested on his shoulder and his chin sat on top of her head. They moved in slow circles around the dance floor.
"Everytime I start drifting off course, you're my compass, you're my one true north."
Danny Messer never would've pegged himself as a country music fan -anything but, however he found himself enjoying the music and how it seemed to fit his relationship with the woman in his arms. He felt her shift and if possible step clsoer to him and he smiled, it was perfect. He never wanted to let her go.
They danced until the bartender hollered out 'Last call!' and they meandered slowly out of the bar and down the street to hail a cab. They were both a few beers worse for the wear and Lindsay had suggested that he simply crash on her couch for the night because it was closer. Who was he to disagree with that logic?
They stumbled through the door and Lindsay toed off her boots, flipping on a few lights. She lead the way through the apartment and Danny followed her like an obedient dog.
"I'll get you a few pillows and a couple blankets." Lindsay informed him.
"Alright." Danny agreed.
"Get comfortable." Lindsay gestured to her couch quietly.
Danny watched her leave the room for the hunt of bedding before ridding himself of non-essential clothing. He was reclined on the couch when she returned. He was clad in just a pair of jeans and his boxers -even drunk he had a sense of decency and knew that it'd be best for both parties if he kept his pants on.
They made his impromptu bed and Lindsay smiled down at him, "Thanks for going with me tonight."
"Thanks for inviting me." Danny removed his glasses and sitting them on the end table, "Country music isn't actually the bane of my existence."
"I'm glad to hear that." Lindsay smiled, sitting on the edge of the couch by his hip. She reached out and, as if on it's own accord, she ran her fingers through his dark blond hair. His breath caught his throat and her hand jerked away like his head was fire, "I'm sor-"
She was cut off as he pulled her down into a kiss. His hands wove into her light brown hair and pulled her close to him. They pulled away breathless and Lindsay whispered a line he assumed to be from a country song, "If I could make a livin' out of lovin' you, I'd be a millionare in a week or two."
--
Danny stood in the locker room the following evening, putting his things away and singing unconciously, "That I have seen the light of day, love is finally going my way, is it to good to be true, give me one more kiss, one more touch, baby I just can't get enough of you, this time, too good is true..."
"Messer?" Don Flack entered the crime scene locker room in search of his best friend. They had a case out in Bronxdale and needed to get moving.
"What?" Danny stopped singing and leaned around the corner of the locker bay.
"Was that you singing?" Flack asked, confused.
"Uh... yeah." Danny shrugged.
"You were singing a country song?" Flack asked.
"Yeah, so what?" Danny sighed. This morning, he woke up and Lindsay was gone, but on his chest was a c.d. with 'Tunes for a City Boy' scrawled in her handwriting across it.
"What exactly happened last night that you had to ditch me, beer, and our weekly game of pool?" Flack smirked.
"Somethin' country."
a/n: Well, Laura, I hope you like it, cause it took me a week or so to write. :) Okay, I'm exhausted and going to bed now, so reviews would be pleasant to wake up to. love.