Title: Isn't Someone Missing Me?
Disclaimer: Angst, violence, slash, and language.
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Chapter Seven: Imaginary
He sat on the couch in his apartment, the only light on was the lamp beside him on the table. He had been sitting there for the better part of an hour deeply engrossed in his thoughts. He wasn't thinking about work. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out the silver ring. It felt cool to the touch. It was solid and wide. A typical man's ring. He'd been thinking about it nearly all day, letting his thoughts be consumed. He refused to believe that Flack had left it for him on his locker. Why would he be leaving a ring behind for him? If it was Flack who left it, perhaps he had put it on the wrong locker. The detective rarely went into that part of the lab, it would have been easy to mix things up. However, Lindsay had been in there too. Could she have left the ring? His brow furrowed. He didn't mind Montana but he didn't see her as more than a friend, and he barely saw her as that.
Curious, he slipped the ring on to find that it was a perfect fit to his left ring finger. Whoever left it knew his size, meaning that the ring was indeed meant for him. He wasn't sure how that little tidbit of knowledge made him feel. Someone had gone out of their way to purchase a ring for him that fit perfectly. The gesture was nice, if not a slight bit creepy. Yet he found himself liking the idea more and more that someone felt something more than friendship for him. And if it was Flack, what did it matter? The fact that he was bisexual had kept him from a lot of trouble; mainly the Tanglewood Boys. They didn't care for his kind.
Getting off the couch and stepping over the sleeping dog he made the short walk to his bedroom. He stopped in the doorway to look around. In the room somewhere was a box his mother had given him two Christmases ago. It contained knick-knacks left behind by his grandmother that his mother didn't want and figured he did. Walking over to the closet he opened the door. Upon the top shelf, buried behind a stack of old forensic magazines, was the box he was searching for. Setting it on his dress he opened it. The box was only the size of a shoebox and held more mementoes than it should have. There were pictures solely in black-and-white, old movie stubs, small trinkets, and even a lock of hair. Rooting around he found what he was looking for, a silver chain. Slipping the ring onto the chain he clasped it around his neck. He didn't feel right wearing the ring in public when he didn't really know who gave it to him. However, it was special to someone and special to him, he wanted to have it close.
There was a knock at the door just than, breaking the silence of his apartment. Putting the lid back on the box he stepped out into the living room. "Oh, don't even bother to budge," he remarked when he saw the dog still sleeping. "Some guard dog you'll make."
He opened the door to find Flack standing there, a bag in one hand and a smile on his face. "Evening, I'm not bothering you, am I? I thought about calling first but thought it would be more fun to surprise you."
"No, no, you're not bothering me," he said, feeling a touch of butterflies in his stomach. Where had they come from? He stepped outside to let Flack in. "What are you surprising me with?"
Flack held up the bag. "Greasy food and movies." He placed the bag on the coffee table and looked down at the dog, who regarded him with sleep dazed eyes. "So this is the pooch you saved, huh? He got a name yet?"
"Widget," he replied. "My mom picked it out. She still can't believe that I have a dog. I have a feeling she'll be over this holiday season just to see him."
"You make that sound like a bad thing," stated Flack, sitting down on the couch.
Danny used the excuse of getting them something to drink to get out of the room. He was feeling uncomfortable around his friend for the first time. He could feel the ring under his shirt. It was only his imagination but it felt like it was burning his skin, that it held a heat he never knew he had. Grabbing two cans of soda from the fridge he placed them on the counter. His head was spinning. Leaning back against the counter he closed his eyes. He couldn't get his thoughts straight. Why did he feel shaky? What was the feeling deep in the pit of his stomach? Ever since the accident life made little sense to him. When he opened his eyes he jumped. Flack was standing before him, head slightly titled, regarding him.
"Something bothering you, Danny-boy?" His blue eyes bore into Danny's, sending shivers racing down his spine.
"I…I was just thinking," he croaked, his throat suddenly dry. He could stop thinking about Flack in ways that he shouldn't. There were flashes in his mind of things he never thought would be there. He saw himself wrapped up in Flack. Kissing him. Running a tongue along the detective's neck.
"You don't look so good," remarked Flack. Danny had gone pale and was sweating. "Maybe I should leave and we can try this another time. You should go to bed."
Danny bit his tongue to keep from saying what was really on his mind. He wanted to invite Flack to stay, to go to bed with him. "That…..that's probably a good idea," he practically whispered.
As soon as he heard the door close he slid to the floor, his head in his hands. He was shaking, trembling like a leaf caught in the wind. Only hours ago things had been normal. Hours ago Flack had been nothing more than his friend. Then he received the ring. Now he had feelings growing inside that he didn't quite understand. And what made it worse was that he wasn't even sure Flack had given him the ring. What if he found himself falling for someone who didn't feel the same? He promised himself that he wouldn't let that happen again. Not after last time. But it had been so long since he'd given his heart away. So long since he'd felt loved. Was it so wrong to want to feel the warmth of someone else embracing him? He sat there, on the floor in the kitchen crying, wishing that Aidan was still alive. He could always run to her when he needed help. Where was he going to run now?
