TITLE: Night Musing
Rating: K+
Disclaimer: Characters belong to CBS though I wish Don flack is mine ;)
Id like to say thank you to my beta, SallyJetson, for helping me out with this one, as she did wth my other fics :D Thanks a mill, hun!
WARNING: I'd consider this fic extremely cheesy, so get your bucket ready!
All mistakes are mine and no one else's.
He lays on his side, elbows propped up to support his weight; her back plastered against his chest. He savours the sound of her even breathing, the soft rise and fall of her back against his heart. With the back of his fingers, he traces the smooth skin of her shoulder, peeking under the dark brown blanket she likes to cocoon herself in on a chilly night. Just like tonight.
"I just like the feel of it around me," she had told him one night when he jokingly asked her if his body was not hot enough for her.
Well, as long as it is his blanket that is wrapped around her…
A surge of possessiveness runs through his body. Just the thought of her with another man…he buries his face in her hair, to remind himself that she's with him now, and he's planning to keep it that way.
He inhales the sweet, flowery smell of her hair; strawberry, jasmine, he doesn't know. All he knows that this must be how heaven smells like. Because God knows, she's his heaven.
He still remembers the day she showed up at his door for a "surprise date, and it's on me, Danny." He couldn't take his eyes off of her; eyes wide, eyebrows raised, mouth hung open. She had let out a nervous laugh as her fingers fiddled with her sleek, short, chin-length hair.
"What do you think?" she asked, with a trace of nervousness in her voice.
Still, hadn't formed nor been able to form a single word in reply her as his eyes raked over her new look; faded, hip-hugging, dark blue jeans, cap-sleeved turquoise coloured top with the word "Shake It Like A Salt Shaker" emblazoned across her chest in some silver, sparkly, thingy. He noticed she had traded her usual black pumps for a pair of slinky, strappy "sex me up" two and a half-inch heels, which turned him on even more than it should. He had never had a shoe fetish but then again, with Lindsay, he discovered a lot of new things he didn't know about himself; like his undying devotion to Batman and his Batmobile..
After a full minute, maybe two, of gawking at this siren in front of him, he finally managed to croak, "You look fine, Linds."
To say that that statement was an understatement of the year was the understatement of the year.
As the small smile left her lips, he cursed himself for his idiocy and pulled her in so roughly that she almost stumbled on her feet, except that his strong grip on her wrist kept her upright. He slammed her against the door as he locked it behind her. Caging her in, he plastered his forehead against hers, rubbing their noses together, torturing himself with the feel of her warm, fragrant breath against his lips.
"You're beautiful. You glow, Montana, always; long hair, short hair, no hair," he whispered before capturing her lips with his. She smiled as she returned his kisses with equal fervor and needless to say, the surprise date never took place.
He chuckles into her hair softly at the sweet memory. Life is never dull with her around.
"I don't understand how you would stand up the woman you wanted to spend the rest of your life with."
He had said those words to Johnny aka Don Juan 2-3 while interrogating him today. The intensity and the conviction in his voice as he said it surprised him more than the fact that he had said it in the first place.
Isn't he the one who, three years ago, had scoffed at Mac's words about him finding love?
And today, he had sat in front of a dying man and basically told him that his cowardice action was just that -cowardice action. He ignored the stunned look Stella gave him as soon as the words had left his mouth. They both know that the old Danny would have probably reached over the table, patted the guy on the shoulder, said, "You did the right thing, my friend," and held up his palm for a high five, then continue with the questioning.
But not this Danny. This Danny does not condone such behavior.
This Danny loves to take a lazy stroll in the park. With Montana.
This Danny loves to cook dinner for two. For Montana.
This Danny loves to stay in and cuddle on a couch, munching mini chocolate chip cookies while watching Friends on DVD. With Montana.
This Danny loves being in a relationship. With Montana.
And this Danny is not afraid to dream about the future; white picket fences, two kids; a boy and a girl, a dog, and an SUV. With Montana.
Just her and only her.
"…the woman you wanted to spend the rest of your life with."
He traces the contour of her face with his index finger; the shape of her eyebrow, her soft, rosy cheek, the corner of her beautiful lips which, when curved up into a smile; makes his heart soar brighter than a sunbeam, the delicate cleft on her chin, her cute-but-stubborn nose; which he loves to poke and tweak every now and then.
Sometimes being with her scares the hell out of him. She puts him so high up on a pedestal that he's scared if and when he falls down, he'll break. Shattered. Into a million pieces.
And she deserves better than a broken man with a tainted past.
But the thought of living a day without her by his side scares him even more. Living, breathing, without her is not an option.
He pulls her closer to his chest, not an inch separates them, as his mind goes back to poor Johnny, at how devastated he was when Stella showed him the test result that confirmed the Jane Doe was indeed, Cheryl. He had broke down and Danny's heart had gone out to him.
At the sight before him, he makes a vow to God, to himself ; to always protect and shield Lindsay from any harm and danger, to always keep her safe.
He knows the rhythm of her heartbeat against his face, his palm, his chest, his heart, and that strong, staccato beat is like music to his soul. He loves that music. He will make sure that that music will stick around for a very, very long time.
"…the woman you wanted to spend the rest of your life with."
Reaching over her shoulder, he clasps her left hand, which she tucks under her chin, with his. With his thumb, he gently rubs the knuckle of her fourth finger in circle. He trails gentle kisses on her shoulder before he buries his forehead against her temple and sighs.
Maybe he'll ask her one day.
Hopefully she'll say yes.
If she doesn't, well, he'll just have to pester her everyday until she gorws so sick of him asking, she marry him anyway.