Rated M ... finally.
Lindsay touched the tip of the top branch of the little tree Danny had brought over the night before, after taking Celia out to dinner. Lindsay had thought the idea was ridiculous - who takes a five-month-old out to dinner? All Celia ate was breast milk and a few bites of Gerber baby food. But after seeing the look on Celia's face as Danny brought her home, hearing her laugh as Danny tickled her and kissed her toes, she'd realized that all Danny had wanted was a little one-on-one time with his daughter.
She'd decorated the tree with the small box of Christmas ornaments her mother had sent her. Since she'd moved to New York, she hadn't had time to set up a tree. She hadn't had her own tree in nearly four years. Danny, upon finding out that particular fact, had dragged her and Celia out to buy a tree. The result was a tiny fir tree, twinkling and glowing in the corner of Lindsay's apartment.
She sat Celia onto her lap as she sat on the couch and picked the warm bottle off of the counter where she'd placed it. She held it to Celia's lips just as the door clicked open.
"Did you forget to lock your door?" Danny asked, shaking snow from his jacket. "That's dangerous, Linds, you gotta lock it." He kicked off his shoes and sat down on the couch next to Lindsay. "She not hungry or something?"
"I don't know," Lindsay sighed, "Doctor still says she needs to eat more." She pressed the tip of the bottle to Celia's mouth.
"Doesn't she like breastfeeding better?" Danny asked.
"Sometimes," Lindsay admitted.
"Well, try that," Danny suggested, tickling Celia's cheek with his finger.
Lindsay frowned at him. He looked up at her and chuckled at her glare. "What?" he asked.
"I just pumped. And I'm really … sore right now, OK?" She sighed and glanced down at Celia, who was resisting the bottle. "OK. Just…" she frowned and started to unbutton her shirt.
Danny, noticing her discomfort with his presence, stood up and headed into the kitchen. He started making something for dinner, smiling at Lindsay's recent habit of piling plates up in the sink. "What have you been eating – is that half a plate of unfinished food? Why didn't you eat the whole thing?" he called out.
"What are you talking about?" Lindsay yelled back.
"You barely ate anything on these plates, Montana," Danny scolded, cleaning up the plates and dropping them into the dishwasher. "How does pasta sound?"
"Good," she yelled back, "Oh, can you make that sauce you made that one time? The time before we went out to see that movie?"
"What movie?"
"The one by the guy from Knocked Up …"
"Superbad?"
"Yes! That was it."
"The pesto sauce?"
"Yes, please!"
"Gotcha," Danny laughed and searched her fridge for the right ingredients. "Hey at least you got more stuff in your fridge than last time. I mean Jesus. You had practically nothing."
"Well, my personal shopper was kind of awful at his job," Lindsay retorted.
"Maybe your personal shopper needed to be told when and what to shop for, you ever think of that?" Danny responded, taking out the cheese grater and grating the cheese into a bowl.
Lindsay came into the kitchen a few minutes later, a content Celia in her arms. She put the baby down onto the tiny play gym sitting in a corner of the kitchen and got out two cups from the cupboard and filled them with water. She handed one to Danny, who took a sip.
"So, I was thinking," Danny said, "Why don't we take her down to Rockefeller Center and show her the tree?"
"Tonight? Christmas Eve?" Lindsay asked dubiously, "Doesn't it get really crowded?"
"Yeah, but whatever. She should see it." Danny glanced up at her with a slight pout. "Please?" he asked.
Lindsay laughed and agreed. "But we can't stay out too late – she has a bedtime," she said. She glanced over at Celia, who was reaching up for the plush star shape that hung from the top of her play gym. She kicked her feet and laughed, the sound bubbling through the room. Lindsay glanced over at Danny, whose smile widened as he heard the sound.
"She's got a good laugh," he said, washing basil in the sink.
"She gets that from you," Lindsay commented, getting out the food processor for him.
"Oh, yeah?" Danny said, grinning at her.
"Yeah," Lindsay laughed. They cooked together at the counter, their hips and elbows occasionally bumping, sometimes by accident, sometimes on purpose.
He used to cook for her now and again when she was pregnant. There were times, after a later shift when she could barely walk out of sleepiness, that he would take her home and make her a meal. He'd make sure she ate it – Sheldon was always complaining to her how she had never gained enough weight – and then help her get into bed. She'd often be so tired that she'd doubt, in the morning, that it had actually happened. It was a remnant of their previous relationship, something that neither could really let go of. The hardest part for Danny was always leaving – seeing Lindsay curled up under the covers with that rounded stomach pushing the blankets up into a smooth half-circle. More than a few times, he'd debated sliding in with her just to see what would happen. But he would leave, always, because it wasn't his house and he'd lost his chance for that life, and he'd go out and get drunk. He was often at a bar during her pregnancy, contemplating the things that he'd loved and lost. He'd been at a bar the night she gave birth – or, about to go into one.
He'd been talking to her outside of the crime lab – or yelling, rather. A discussion about the evidence in a case had turned into an all out screaming match, and then he'd given a frustrated gasp and turned away from her, heading towards the bar two blocks down.
And then he'd heard her soft, hissing groan, and he'd turned so fast that his head spun. Lindsay had murmured a quiet, "Oh, God," and had placed her hand on her back, gritting her teeth in pain.
Danny had taken a squad car, not entirely legally, and he'd practically carried her into the passenger seat and raced off to the hospital, lights flashing. He'd been suspended for a week after taking that car, which was the single reason he was able to stay in the hospital while Lindsay recovered.
Sometimes he wondered if that was the turning point. That quiet, fearful, "Oh, God," from Lindsay marked the end of one life and the start of a new. He'd been horrifically frightened, those first two hours of his new life, as he held Lindsay in his arms while she'd writhed in pain, clutching at his hands, his sins forgotten, as she begged and pleaded with him to make the labor pains stop. But feeling Lindsay's small hands in his (even if she was squeezing his hands so hard that he was sure they would break) and seeing Celia's red, wrinkled little face, he knew that he would never, ever want to turn back. Even if, after the birth, Stella had angrily shoved him out of the room with a quiet, "You don't deserve this."
"Is it done?" Lindsay asked, watching Danny absentmindedly stir the pasta in the boiling water.
Danny broke out of his reverie and looked over at her. She was sitting on the floor next to Celia, watching the baby play with the play gym.
"Yeah, it's done," he smiled, and fixed Lindsay a plate of pasta. "You wanna eat at the table or on the couch?"
"How about the couch? We can feed Celia some of the baby food, see if she'll take it," Lindsay suggested.
"Sure," Danny said, putting the plates down on the counter before helping Lindsay up. He bent down and picked up Celia, setting her on his hip.
"Wow," Lindsay said, bursting into the apartment, her cheeks pink and snowflakes melting in her brown hair. "That was beautiful!" she sighed, the image of the immense, twinkling tree surrounded by flurries of dancing snowflakes permanently burned in her memory. They'd stood under the tree for a good hour, Danny holding a bundled Celia in one arm, pointing up at the lights and sharing a hot chocolate with Lindsay.
"I told ya it'd be a good idea," Danny grinned. He walked into the room with her and shut the door behind him, locking it. He carefully supported Celia's sleeping body, tucked into the baby sling against his chest, and smiled down at her. "You think she liked seeing the tree?" he asked, rubbing Celia's back.
"I think so," Lindsay giggled, "I mean, sometimes it's hard to tell. She can't really voice her opinions that well." She leaned down into the baby sling against Danny's chest. Danny took a deep inhalation, breathing in the scent of Lindsay's orange and vanilla shampoo. Lindsay touched Celia's cheek softly. "But she was laughing a lot, especially at the lights."
"Good," Danny said quietly, smiling down at his girls. "Look, I'm gonna put her in the crib," he said. He extracted Celia from the baby sling and walked carefully into the nursery. He gently laid Celia down on the crib mattress, bending down to kiss her forehead.
"Night, gorgeous," Danny whispered to her, carefully adjusting her baby sleeper, "I love you."
Lindsay peeked her head in the room. "Do you want something to drink? Tea or something?" she whispered, mindful of Celia.
"Yeah, sure," Danny said, walking carefully out of the room. He closed the door until it was only open a fraction of an inch, and walked out into the kitchen after Lindsay.
She was pouring water into a teapot as he came into the room. She looked up and smiled at him. "Thank you for taking her. And thanks for the tree," she smiled, gesturing towards the tiny, decorated tree in the living room.
"No problem," he smiled.
Lindsay smiled back at him. "Oh, will you grab the tea bags from the top shelf? I can't really reach," she admitted.
"Yeah," he grinned, and opened the top shelf of the cupboard and pulled out the small basket of tea bags. As he tugged it out, what looked like a ragged leaf cluster tumbled to the floor. He set the tea on the counter and bent down to pick it up.
"Oh," Lindsay whispered, her face flushing pink as she bent down to snatch it off of the floor.
Danny was quicker, though, and picked it up before she could take it. "Is that … mistletoe?"
"Stella got it for me," Lindsay mumbled. She glanced up, suddenly acutely aware of how close his face really was to hers.
"Why?" he said, smirking.
"I don't know," she shrugged, her eyes locking with his.
"She have someone in mind for you?" Danny half-joked.
"She might have," Lindsay replied softly. She found, suddenly, that she could not tear her gaze away. She knew what he was going to do before he did it, the tension nearly cutting her into two parts. She had the choice. It was hers. He was waiting, watching her with his piercing blue eyes, because he knew it was ultimately up to her.
And then everything seemed to fit. The reflection of the lights of the tiny Christmas tree Danny had fixed for her glowed gently on his face, the kitchen was warm and soothing, and there was the sharp scent of the spicy chai tea bags radiating from the tea basket in Danny's hand. Celia's breathing sounded from the baby monitor on the counter, and Lindsay felt warm and happy. This was her home, and this was her family. Her eyes softened, and she scooted closer to Danny.
Danny bent in close to her, his mouth no more than a centimeter away from hers. She closed her eyes, feeling his breath on her lips. He gently rubbed his lips on hers, a soft touch on her mouth, and then rested there. The kiss was different than all their others before. There was no more pretending, no more happy illusion of a life they did not have. It was a kiss that assumed nothing, that spoke only to an uncertain future.
Lindsay breathed in softly, which was all Danny needed to move forwards. He bent forwards, Lindsay leaned back, and Danny gently helped her lie down on the floor of the kitchen, his hand behind her head. He opened her mouth with his, and, for the first time in too long, let his tongue slip into her mouth. They fell into their old rhythm quickly, tongues easing into the soft back and forth dance.
Lindsay sighed into Danny's mouth. Danny carefully broke the kiss, pushing himself up onto his forearms above her. He watched her eyes slowly flutter open, and match his with a soft, loving gaze.
"Why'd you stop?" she asked hoarsely, her voice gone since the moment his lips had touched hers.
"I wanted to look at you," he murmured, running his hand down the side of her face tenderly.
"Haven't you looked enough?" she asked, somewhat irritated that he had stopped kissing her.
Danny grinned and shook his head before he bent in again, softly kissing her mouth. But Lindsay had had enough of that. She wrapped her arms around him and rolled him over, forcing him onto his back. She straddled him, pulling her knees up to lie on either side of his waist, and bent down, kissing him passionately.
Danny's eyelids fluttered momentarily, before he sat himself up and tugged Lindsay tight to his body. She wrapped her legs around his waist, grinding herself into his lap as they kissed.
"Hmm," Lindsay sighed against his mouth.
Danny drew back, his eyes half-lidded, a wide smile stretching across his face. "What?" he asked.
Lindsay shrugged. "I don't know," she said, her voice breathy after the recent, passionate kiss, "I just … didn't think I'd be making out on my kitchen floor on Christmas Eve." She meant, of course, that the present was more than she ever could have imagined, and regretted saying anything as she suddenly missed his lips against hers.
Danny frowned. "You're right," he sighed. He started to move Lindsay off of his lap, sliding her legs off of his waist, "This is bad. We shouldn't be doing this."
Lindsay froze. Her hand involuntarily tightened on Danny's shoulder, and a look of a mixture of fear and sadness set across her face. "Oh," she said softly. Her voice was so defeated that Danny mistook it for a pained whimper. He looked up at her.
Danny raised his hand and cupped her cheek. He smoothed her skin with his thumb, committing the feel of her to memory again. "Do you want this?" he asked.
She nodded and leaned in to kiss him again. He pecked her lips and drew back and said, "I mean this isn't right for you. I should ask you out, not jump you on the floor of your kitchen –"
Lindsay giggled. "You mean a date? You want to take me on a date?"
Danny grinned widely, "Yeah, I do. Before the other stuff."
"What other stuff?" she asked teasingly, and kissed him softly. He smirked and kissed her hard, deepening the kiss and pressing her body to his. He wrapped his arms around her lower waist and pulled her in towards him.
He slid his hand gently up her soft white blouse, but the second it hit the underwire of her bra, the phone rang.
"No," Lindsay moaned against his mouth.
Celia immediately started to cry through the baby monitor, her shrieking sobs resonating with the harsh ring of Lindsay's landline. "Damn," Danny groaned. He helped Lindsay off of his waist, then stood. "I'll get Celia, you get the phone, OK?"
"Sure," Lindsay smiled. She watched him walk away as he adjusted his shirt and re-buttoned one of the buttons, which had mysteriously come undone.
Lindsay picked up the phone and pressed talk. "Hello?" she asked quietly.
"Lindsay, this is your mother."
"Oh," Lindsay said, "Hi."
"Since you decided not to come and see us this year, I saw it fit to call you."
"Thank you," Lindsay said without emotion.
"What are you doing right now? What did you do for Christmas Eve?"
"Um …" Lindsay said, glancing over at the baby monitor, which was issuing the soft sound of Danny's voice soothing Celia into sleep again. "Celia and I went to Rockefeller Center and saw the tree," she said. It wasn't entirely a lie.
"And how is my granddaughter?"
"She's … well, she's fine," Lindsay said, looking up as Danny came out holding Celia against his chest. He headed to the fridge and pulled out a bottle and a pan. He filled it with water and put it on the stove. He grinned at Lindsay, as though they shared a secret, and continued warming up the milk.
She hungry? Lindsay mouthed.
Danny nodded.
"And what are you doing for Christmas, since you are not going to be home?"
Lindsay winced. "I'll probably hang around with Danny or something," she said absentmindedly. She knew she was in for it as soon as she said it. Danny looked up from the warming milk bottle, his eyes crinkling as he smiled.
Her mother cleared her throat loudly on the phone. "Lindsay." She said firmly, "That is not a good idea. That man is not good for you."
"Mom, please don't –"
"He's bad for you, Lindsay, why can't you see that?! He doesn't care about you or the baby; he's a self-serving boy who doesn't want a family, and you're only going to get hurt by him –"
"Mom, I asked you not to say things like that," she sighed. She looked over at Danny, who was calmly pouring the hot water into a jar to put the bottle in. He jiggled the softly crying Celia on his hip with one hand while he dropped the bottle into the hot water. "I'll talk to you later, mom, it's late," she said.
A grumbling sigh came from the phone. "Fine. Goodnight."
"I love you," Lindsay said, but heard a click before she said it. She put the phone down on the countertop, her lips pursed.
Danny looked over at Lindsay. "What happened?" he asked, "What'd she say?"
"Nothing important," Lindsay smiled. She reached out for Celia. Danny handed the baby over, carefully putting her in Lindsay's arms. Danny tested the milk on his wrist to see if it was too hot, deemed it appropriate, and carefully pressed it to Celia's lips. Her tiny hands came up to weakly hold the bottle, and Danny smiled.
"Do you want to … put her in bed again?" Lindsay asked, the edge of her mouth tugging up in a suggestive grin.
Danny looked up from Celia. It took a moment before he realized what she was implying, but then a slow smirk spread across his face. "Yeah," he said. He carefully took the bottle and placed it on the counter, leaning forwards and brushing his lips against Lindsay's forehead.
He turned around and walked into Celia's room. He carefully put her onto the bed and patted her little round stomach. "Please, please go to sleep," he whispered, "Daddy really, really needs this."
"Slow," Lindsay whispered against his mouth nearly an hour later, hugging his neck.
"That's a pretty tall order," he whispered back, lifting her up with a soft grunt. He softly pressed her against the wall, sitting her on the edge of the short dresser, holding her thighs with his hands. His fingers softly pressed into her soft skin, into those thighs he had dreamed so long about for so long. She whimpered lightly as he licked the spot behind her ear, her hands tightening reflexively on his shoulders. He could feel her breasts pushing into his chest, and just thinking, even for a moment, that she was naked and he was holding her body against a wall turned him on even more.
He slid his hand up her thigh, running his hand back and forth, higher and higher, until he reached the corner where her hip met her leg, and slid his hand around to touch her intimately.
"No," she whispered, pushing back on his shoulders and shoving her upper body back flush against the wall, "No, I can't."
His hands stilled, and his body froze. "What?" he asked, his voice raspy.
She blushed furiously. "I can't … I'm not … I haven't …"
He bent in and softly kissed the thought away from her mouth, slipping his tongue in and caressing hers. He broke away, slightly breathless, and smiled at her encouragingly. "I know you're scared, but it's just me, Lindsay," he whispered, "It's just me, and I'm not gonna hurt you."
She looked at him nervously, and carefully stopped pushing on his shoulders, easing herself back onto his body, resting it against his hard chest.
"It's been a long time for me," she whispered fearfully, hugging his neck.
"I know, baby," he said, and softly sucked on the skin of her shoulder. "I'll leave my boxers on, we won't do anything below the belt, if you don't want."
She snorted against his neck. "I'm a little bit past that," she said, and he glanced down at her naked body.
"You want to put your clothes back on? Make you more comfortable?" he asked worriedly, his hands suddenly strangers on her skin. He gently slid his hands around to her waist – a gentle, platonic gesture.
She looked at him nervously. "No," she said, and leaned up to kiss him.
With that, his passion returned, and he pressed her to the wall again, his hands gliding up and down her body, trying to get a grasp on her skin. His hand slid down to the spot between her legs, and gently rubbed her clit with his thumb. She took in a deep breath and broke the kiss, leaning back against the wall. She watched him with glazed eyes.
He loved how her eyes widened each time he stroked particularly hard. He saw a bit of tension rise in her, so he leaned in and kissed her temple. "It's just me," he whispered. "You're so beautiful, Montana. You're gorgeous."
She gasped and clutched at his neck, her words gone. She scrabbled for his shoulders, her eyes wide. "Oh," she murmured, and rested her head on his shoulder as her orgasm shuddered through her body.
Danny smiled as he heard her quick breathing slowly fade back to normal. She straightened once she could breathe and softly pushed him backwards so she could slide off of the dresser. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him again, shuffling her feet forwards, nudging him towards the bed.
He wrapped his arms leisurely around her waist, until the backs of his legs hit the bed. He sat down, bringing her with him. They paused at the edge of the bed, Lindsay sitting naked in Danny's lap, he in his boxers and watching her.
"Just do whatever you're comfortable with," he said, bringing his hand up to run through her hair.
She bent down and kissed him softly. He drew her further into his chest, and carefully laid himself down on the bed, dropping one hand to his side to keep himself stable. When he was flat on his back, Lindsay stretched herself on top of him, aligning her hips with his. She felt the bulge in his boxers, and smiled as she kissed his mouth. She slid down his body, leaving soft, loving kisses as she went, then slipped the tips of her fingers into the elastic waistband of his boxers.
"Wait," he said hoarsely, and grabbed her wrists, "You have to be sure. Don't just do this to do this. Do this because you want it."
"Danny …" she whispered questioningly.
"You have to want it. Everything. Everything that comes with it. I don't want to lose you again."
"I want it," she whispered, and tugged his boxers down his legs, then nestled herself in between his legs. She matched his gaze as she slowly took him in her mouth, her hands holding tightly to his hips.
With a strangled groan, he stopped her and bent forwards. He pulled her up by her arms and held her over his body before kissing her softly. "I don't want to do it that way," he sighed, and carefully rolled her over on the bed.
She watched him with her big, brown eyes, her heart beating quickly in her chest. She whimpered as he lazily drifted his hand down her side. "Are you … protected?" he asked, nuzzling the side of her neck.
She shook her head, wishing she'd asked her doctor if she could go back on the pill. She hadn't thought about it – probably because the prospect of sex had seemed so impossible to her at the time. "Do you have any condoms?" he asked.
She glanced over to her bedside table and nodded. He took the hint and reached over and tugged open the drawer, pulling out a package. He tore it open and slid it onto himself before looking at her, waiting for her signal.
She looked up at him nervously, biting her lip.
"Don't," he whispered, kissing the tension from the center of her forehead, "Don't worry. It's just me, Lindsay, and you can stop me whenever you want." He stilled above her, waiting for when the worry was gone from her face. He'd wait forever if he had to.
She took a deep breath and looked up at him, her eyes soft. "What if I'm bad at it?" she whispered.
"You won't be," he assured her, "You aren't. Nothing has changed, Montana, not about this." He gently kissed her, his tongue reaching into her mouth and probing gently. He broke away and pressed his nose to hers. "The other stuff in our lives mighta changed a little, but this – we'll always be good at this. We always have. We love each other too much not to be."
At that, her face softened. The worry faded, and she wrapped one arm around his neck and slid one hand down to guide him into her.
The first thrust was gentler than she'd remembered – a soft push into her that stretched but soothed her at the same time. He paused there, resting his head on the pillow beside her head. "Are you OK?" he asked, a little breathlessly.
She nodded. She tried to move but he was still. He was watching her, his breathing ragged. He bent and pressed his lips softly to hers. Lindsay moaned softly, the tension killing her. Danny held her to the bed with his body before ghosting his fingers along her skin. He ran his right hand up and down the side of her body, stopping to circle a nipple, then along the line where her back met the sheets. He drifted his fingers over her hip, zig-zagging back and forth.
Lindsay's eyes were wide, matching his. He wouldn't tear his eyes away for the world. Their faces were an inch apart, and Lindsay could feel his breath on her mouth. She thought she would die of suspense as his fingers slowly meandered to where she and Danny were joined. Danny showed no signs of lingering. He drew a tiny, gentle circle on her clit, causing Lindsay to suck in a deep breath, but his fingers trailed around again, up her body, to her cheek. He traced her ear with his fingertip. Her mouth. Her eyes. The tip of her chin.
"Please," she whimpered.
He smiled and kissed her softly. He slid his fingers down her body again, the tips trailing against her flesh, following the same route. This time, though, he lingered a little longer at her clit, drawing a few more circles until she let out another whimper, and he trailed his fingers up again.
He followed the same path three, impossibly teasing and torturous times, each time lingering a little more where she wanted and needed him. Near the end, Lindsay was on edge, barely able to breathe. It was knowing where his hand would go that killed her, made her skin tingle and thrum with energy.
Finally, the fourth time, when Danny got to her clitoris, he pressed his thumb hard into the little bundle of nerves, and started to pump in and out of her. Lindsay came almost immediately, out of surprise and satisfaction. Danny didn't slow his rough pace through her orgasm, drawing it out with the rhythm of his thrusts.
"God, I missed you," Danny whispered, rubbing his lips on hers.
"I missed you, too," she whispered back, as a second orgasm began building. Tears started in her eyes. Memories began rushing at her, drowning her, as she thought of the times she'd been sitting alone with only her round belly to comfort her, sitting on her bed and wondering when this would happen, or the times when she had sat beside him on the couch, Celia in her baby carrier between them, wishing she could touch him. There was a world of this, this connection with him, that had been lost, and she hoped that, somehow, they could bring it back.
"Am I hurting you?" Danny asked, slowing in his thrusts. His words were only pants now, harsh breaths of words that had to be said.
She shook her head and kissed him passionately, willing him to continue with a thrust of her own hips.
She stopped mourning the loss of the past year, and succumbed instead to the moment, and his fingers, which had found their way to her clit again and had gently begun tracing patterns and apologies as he smoothly thrust into her warm body.
She came for the third time with a soft moan, and he followed moments later, rolling her quickly so that she came to rest on his chest, and not crushed underneath him. They stared up at the ceiling, their minds soothed and blank.
He sat up and pulled off the condom, knotting it and heading into the bathroom to throw it away, his walk a little stumbling and tired.
He crawled into bed again, and wrapped his arms tightly around Lindsay's nude form, as he had longed to do for so, so long. He buried his face in her hair and breathed in. As he breathed out, the words slipped softly from his lips, "I love you."
She smiled and brought him closer, holding his hands tightly to her chest and wiggling into the warm skin of his torso. "I know," she whispered, and kissed his fingers.
"Do you love me?" he asked, nuzzling his nose into the back of her neck, and knowing the answer.
"Yes," she breathed happily, finally, and closed her tired eyes.