A/N: Just a little drabble about Danny and his state of mind the night before the infamous morning after scene in "Right Next Door". This is not a Danny bashing fic, in fact it is almost sympathetic, so if you don't want to read it go back now. Please don't read and then leave a harsh review as you have been forewarned of the content.
I am a Danny/Lindsay fan, but this story has been rolling around in my head for a few days and refused to go away, so here it is. In no way do I agree with Danny's actions nor do I think what he did is acceptable. Should you want to leave a review, please no flames or anti-Danny/Lindsay/Rikki messages. Flames can hurt me.
Disclaimer: I do not own the show or the characters, I just borrow them from time to time to play out the stories that my mind creates for them.
Nothing about this felt right. The skin beneath his hands was soft, but not silky soft. The body beneath his was angular, no gentle curves that begged for his hands to run over them. The hair was too long, not the sassy bob that he loved to run his hands through, tangling his fingers in the silken strands. Even the smell was wrong, it was too musky. He preferred a natural scent with the faintest hint of floral, a scent that made his brain turn off when he caught the slightest whiff of it. The lips beneath his weren't soft and compliant, instead they fought for dominance. The body beneath his moved wrong, too. It also fought his for dominance, not sliding into the familiar give and take rhythm he was used to. This wasn't making love, it wasn't two bodies coming together to express a deeper emotion that was felt but left unspoken. This was just sex. Pure, raw sex.
But the void that filled his heart, that consumed his life since he learned Ruben never made it home, was finally filled. For just a few brief moments the guilt wasn't there in his mind, nagging at him constantly, tainting everything with its ugliness. And somehow, that made everything that was wrong, seem right.