Chapter Twenty-Five: The First Sign of the Apocalypse

Danny walked into his office to finish the paperwork on the weather girl case. He was still obsessing about that faking comment Lindsay had made. There's no way that was fake. Chicks can't sound that into it and not mean it… can they? Nah. He bit his lip as he continued to ponder.

"Hey Messer, nice pull on the cameraman," Lindsay looked up from her own paperwork and complimented his arrest.

"Yeah, thanks," he answered distractedly. His brow furrowed in concentration as he thought back upon previous (and current!) love affairs and tried to determine if he'd ever noticed a woman fake her orgasm with him. He shook his head at the thought. No way. Never happen. Still, his eyes took on a slightly hunted look at the thought.

"You ok, there, Danny?" Usually, her partner was more loquacious. For three months, he hasn't shut up. Now, suddenly, he's quiet as a church mouse. I wonder what happened.

"There's just no way." None. Period.

"Uhhh.. ookay. There's no way." Lindsay agreed with him but couldn't resist her curiosity. "No way what?"

Danny looked up at her and coughed nervously. "Nothing. Not important."

She raised her eyebrows at his blush. Danny Messer can blush? Wow. This must be the first sign of the Apocalypse. "You sure? Doesn't seem like 'nothing' to me."

Tell her, and you'll never live it down. He shook his head and gave her a smirk. "You worried about me Montana?"

"Mostly I'm just worried about your ability to sketch out crime scenes. What exactly is this supposed to be, anyway?" she held out the note he'd left her the night before, pointing to the picture he'd signed it with.

"Whaddaya mean 'What is it?' It's perfectly obvious what it is!" His artistic sensibilities were offended by her inability to identify something so obviously well-drawn.

"And yet, I have no earthly clue as to what it might be. Therefore, one of us must be smoking crack, and I know it's not me."

"Who's doing what now?" Mac asked as he poked his head in the door on his way past.

"Danny's smoking crack," Lindsay calmly replied. I owed you that, after this morning.

"Mac! I am not!"

"I've told you before to do that on your own time, Danny. I don't want you bringing that stuff to work," Mac said with a completely straight face.

Lindsay tried to cover her laughter with a cough as she watched Danny's expression change from outrage to defeat. "And Lindsay?" Mac looked over to her, "No more soliciting sexual favours, alright? I don't want to have to explain to a judge why I'm bailing one of my CSI's out of jail."

She sat there, stunned, as Danny sniggered at her expense.

Mac turned to continue on his way. "Always remember, I hear everything."

………

Lindsay returned home to the sound of thumps and giggles coming from her roommate's bedroom. Sounds like Sheldon's trying out some walrus moves on her. One of the squeals turned into a small shriek of discomfort. I told them so.

She turned around and headed back out the door again. I wonder if I can interest Chris in some Discovery Channel…

………

Danny reflected on the sleeping form of Cindy lying beside him. There's no way in hell that a woman can fake that kinda reaction. There's just no way. If she could fake that well, she'd be a porn star by now. That was definitely the real deal.

His brow creased with concern again.

Definitely.

………

"I can't take it anymore!" Danny nearly shouted as he stormed into his shared office three days later.

Lindsay jumped and raised her eyebrows in surprise. What the…

"Can't take what, exactly?" she asked in a reasonable tone.

"You weren't serious about the faking thing, were you?" he asked, his voice tinged with desperation.

She wrinkled her brow and squinted, trying to put his question into context. "Faking thing…?" she whispered to herself. "What faking…" then the realization hit her. "Ohh! The faking thing!" She tried to cover her amusement and keep a straight face, "Why do you ask?" A little worried about your skills, there, Casanova?

"Just tell me you weren't serious!" Please, God, tell me you didn't really mean it, Montana!

"Do I still have to buy you dinner?"

"What?"

"If I tell you whether or not I was serious, do I still have to buy you dinner?"

Danny hesitated, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. On the one hand, he loved to piss her off, and having her buy him dinner would definitely do that. On the other hand, he really wanted to hear her say that she didn't mean what she'd said about the faked orgasm. Finally, he let out an explosive breath.

"Fine. No dinner. Just tell me!"

She stood up and walked over to him, looking him deep in the eyes and playing with the buttons on his shirt. "I meant every word."

"Whoa. Sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt!" Flack put up his hands and backed out of the door again.

"No need to apologize." Lindsay said, licking her lips and giving Danny one last smoldering glance. "We're done here." She turned on her heel and brushed past Flack on her way out. If that doesn't drive him nuts by the end of the day, nothing will.

Danny stood rooted to the spot, his heart hammering in his chest and his face a comical study in shock, disappointment, and helplessness. I can't believe she played me!

Flack just whistled in appreciation. "Man, she got you good with that one!"

Danny glared. "I wouldn't be feelin' so good right now, if I were you. You pissed her off the other mornin' more than I did. Ya think she's just gonna let that slide?" If I have to live through this hell, I'm bringing you with me.

The amusement drained off of Flack's face as the full reality of that statement hit him. "Oh shit."