Nine Months
Fandom: CSI:NY
Author: Kimmychu
Rating: FRAO (Most definito.)
Pairing: Danny/Flack
Content Warning: Uber-cracktasticness. And I mean, uber. Unless it's your thing, of course. I can't actually mention the exact form of crack in the story, but the title should give you a clue.
Spoilers: Nada. Except maybe a teeny one for Blood, Sweat & Tears. And Run Silent, Run Deep. And Fare Game.
Summary: Danny and Flack equals two. What do two tough New York detectives do when they end up experiencing something impossible to the male species, and up the equation to three?
Disclaimer: After this ... I'd be amazed if the TPTB even allow the characters to come within a hundred feet of me, bwahahahah!
( Oooo . oooO )
Author's Notes: Hey there! Here's my third CSI:NY story in the making. This'll be a short one, so it completes in only two more installments. If you've read To DD or Not to DD, then ya know I have a tendency to write cracktastic, humorous stuff. At least, I hope it's funny. I hope this story will make you laugh too. It's probably way more cracky than the DD story, so … if it's not your thing, I don't blame ya for being afraid of it, bwahahah. But! If you enjoy the story and get a good laugh from it, I'm happy with that.
( Oooo . oooO )
The beginning:
Danny's harsh pants became faster and faster with Flack's increasing strokes.
Flack groaned low in his throat, one hand gripping Danny's hip hard enough to leave slight bruises. He rammed his pelvis forward in a particularly deep thrust, feeling the tight muscles around him constrict even more. That pulled out another groan from the tall, dark-haired man. A high-pitched moan ripping out from Danny's mouth made him grin broadly.
"Aaaahh, fuck!" On his knees and elbows on the bed, Danny was barely supporting himself upright, arms trembling violently and body snapping forward and back from Flack's determined thrusts. "Uh, uhh … Uuhh … oh, fuckfuckfuck -"
Flack managed a shaky snicker. "Hell yeah, Messer … that's … what we're … doin' here." He corkscrewed his hips, burying himself inside Danny up to the hilt as he did. "Ya need a … refresher course on … fuckin', hahn?"
The smaller man threw back his head in a graceful arch. Danny's eyes was closed, mouth wide open and face flushed red. "Aahhh … oh, yeah … Don …"
Flack bowed over the CSI, nuzzling his face into the spiky, brown hair, both hands now on the bed on each side of Danny's midriff. He was very close. Flack could feel the oncoming rush like a building tsunami wave within him, causing him to plow into Danny even faster and harder than ever. Danny collapsed onto his chest, head turned sideways on the pillow, back arched sinuously and slim legs spread far apart.
Flack licked his lips. Danny's piercing cries with his every thrust were turning him on so badly. The homicide detective felt like he could go on like this with his best friend and lover for his entire existence. If they didn't have to eat, sleep or work, making love with Danny twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, three hundred and sixty five days of the year would be his life's mission. Of course, there was no way in hell he was going to use the words making love to Danny's face. He'd never live it down having used the L word for what they did on an almost daily basis.
Danny was biting the pillow beneath his head, trying futilely to curb his audible moans. The shorter man was one noisy lover, and Flack fucking loved that.
"Almost - almost … ah - ah - aaahhh …"
Maintaining his plunging rhythm, Flack reached under Danny and wrapped his large hand around his lover's erect and leaking cock, deftly stroking the familiar member. Danny's passionate reaction was instantaneous.
"AaaaaAAAAAHHHH!"
Danny's lithe body convulsed, inner muscles clamping so hard around Flack's erection it was nearly painful. After a few seconds, Danny went utterly limp, held up only by Flack's hands on his waist. Flack's orgasm hit him with the force of an atomic bomb. It blew his mind into a million shards, and in the distance, he heard himself bellow his pleasure.
When Flack came to, he was sprawled on top of a motionless Danny, head nestled on Danny's sweaty shoulder, still buried inside the man. The only indication Danny was conscious was his loud but slowing pants and the irregular flickering of his eyelids.
"Danny? You okay, buddy?" Flack got onto his elbows and planted a kiss on Danny's shoulder blade.
The CSI groaned softly. " … hope ya got the number plate … of the truck that ran over me."
Flack chuckled. He tenderly caressed a hand down Danny's back to the round globes connected to his groin. "I'm gonna pull out."
He slowly withdrew from Danny's body, careful to not hurt his lover. He hadn't forgotten Danny's pained whimper the one time he pulled out too fast. And Flack was no tiny weener, that was for sure.
Flack placed another kiss on the back of Danny's damp neck, then grabbed the small towel from the side table and wiped himself and Danny clean. He settled himself on the mattress once more, tugging a sleepy but tremendously satiated Danny into his arms and away from the wet spot. Danny moaned his appreciation, snuggling into Flack's warm neck and solid chest and snaking one arm around Flack's waist. They lay tangled together, a thin blanket over them.
"I had a weird dream last night," Danny mumbled after ten minutes of easy silence.
Flack ruffled Danny's hair. "Yeah?"
"Yeah, it was really weird. These two green-skinned, one-eyed aliens in space suits popped outta nowhere in front of my bed." Danny smacked Flack on the chest the moment the homicide detective started sniggering. "Lemme finish, a'right?"
Flack cleared his throat and put on a mock serious expression. "Sure. Go on."
After glowering at Flack, Danny continued, "So, they were standin' there, and one of them says to me, 'I come bearing a most magnificent gift of cosmic proportions from the ends of our universe!'" Danny spoke in a squeaky, oddly accented voice when it was the alien talking in his story. Flack thought it was quite adorable. "'You, fleshy one, have been chosen to be the recipient of this miracle of life!' And I'm just sittin' there on my bed goin', 'What the fuckin' hell is goin' on here?'"
Flack snickered. Danny maneuvered himself upright, forearms and upper body resting on Flack's chest so that the two men were nose to nose. "So the aliens toddle over on their stubbly legs to the side of the bed, and outta the blue, one of them shoves its hand right onto my belly. Then I'm feelin' this strange sensation in there, like somethin's changin' in there but I dunno what."
Danny suddenly blushed. "And it felt like somethin' was goin' up my ass too."
This time, Flack laughed out loud. He grunted at Danny's punch to his shoulder, but kept laughing anyway. Damn, Danny was freaking hot when he got riled up. "Ya know what that means, right, Danny?"
Danny's lips twitched. "What's it mean, huh?"
Flack grinned to the point both rows of teeth showed. "Means ya need more buttsex, that's what."
Danny sunk his teeth into the flesh between his neck and shoulder, and he yelped. Both of them laughed together, enjoying the play between them. Flack quickly rolled them over so Danny was trapped underneath him, molded together from chest to groin to thighs. The taller man gripped Danny's wrists and effectively immobilized the CSI's arms. However, Danny was the kind of guy who didn't give up without a fight. Danny lunged his head upwards and captured Flack's lips in an open-mouthed kiss, moaning into Flack's mouth.
Mmm, nothing sweeter than a good night kiss from Danny Messer.
Danny was the one who eventually broke it, enfolding his arms around Flack's torso and yawning until his eyes were scrunched up. Flack, now lying on his back, got the point loud and clear. He smiled affectionately at Danny reclined on his chest, the man's eyelids fluttering close and lips out in a drowsy pout. The smaller man looked just like a boy when he was falling asleep.
"Good night, Kinka-poodle," Flack whispered gently. He rearranged the blanket over their bodies.
The homicide detective felt Danny smile. "Told ya not to call me that."
Flack closed his own eyes, head lolling on the plush pillow. He rubbed a thumb over the smooth skin of Danny's upper arm. "Wha, ya gimme an openin' like 'Hey, Flack, we were lookin' up some small, hairy animal with a nice tail called a kinka-poodle!' and ya expect me not to bite?"
Danny's shoulders began to shake.
"It's like - like, puttin' a yummy biscuit on a dog's nose and expectin' the poor fella to not eat it!"
Danny's smile morphed into a toothy grin. "We'll go buy yer collar and leash tomorrow, 'kay?"
It was Flack's turn to do some slapping. Danny's bottom felt really good to spank. Flack bet he could bounce a quarter five feet into the air on it.
"Heyheyheeey, I'm the Jackhammer, remember? Seems to me like the one who needs a collar and leash here is the Kinka-poodle!"
Danny sniggered lightly. He was already half asleep. The CSI burrowed his face into Flack's neck, yawning one last time. "Whatever, man."
Flack gave Danny a loving peck on the head. "Night, babe."
"G'night, Donny."
( Oooo . oooO )
Month 1:
Danny flew through the air and bounced once on his back on the bed, laughing his head off.
"I'm gonna getcha, I'm gonna getcha so bad for that, ya little BRAT!"
Flack was on him swifter than a ravenous rottweiler on fresh meat. Danny's cackling got more shrill as Flack pinned his arms and legs and proceeded to tickle the living daylights out of him.
"Ya didn't hafta tell 'em 'bout that, ya know!" Flack laughed along with Danny while he continuously dug his fingers into Danny's sides and tummy, relishing the sight of an uninhibited, amused Danny. "Now Stella and Mac and everybody else know I tried out that stupid robo-spanker!"
Danny was laughing so hard his face was deep scarlet. "I'm sorry, Don!" The CSI ineffectually swatted at the homicide detective's hands. "I really am! I didn't mean to blurt it out!"
Flack tickled the man under him for a few more minutes. He never knew just how ticklish Danny was until he poked the guy in the side one day, while they were out on the road doing their witness interrogation thing. Danny's involuntary giggle surprised him. And things were never quite the same between them again.
"Who's yer daddy?" Flack sat on Danny's hips, scratching at the other man's flanks. Danny's head tossed from side to side. It was a good thing the guy wasn't wearing his spectacles. "Who's yer daddy, hah?" Flack stilled his hands, awaiting an answer.
Danny got his breathing under control, then said with a blank look, "The robo-spanker."
"Why, you little -"
Flack resumed inflicting his tickling torture on his lover, doing it twice as fast and as much by trailing his fingers all over Danny's body and even under the arms. Danny squealed and bucked wildly, trying to throw Flack off. The taller detective ended up toppling face first right on top of Danny, and the CSI wasted no time in grabbing Flack's face and devouring those dark pink lips.
Flack rolled them over so he was lying down on the bed with Danny on top instead. Danny was nibbling along his lower jaw up to his earlobe, making soft noises that got Flack hard in a matter of seconds. There was something about the sounds Danny made when he was hot and horny that got him turned on like nothing else could.
All of a sudden, Danny groaned. Flack blinked. Huh, that didn't sound like a happy, I-wanna-have-sex-with-you groan.
"Dan?"
Flack pushed himself up onto his elbows, then into an upright sitting position. Danny clung onto him, head resting on his shoulder and arms around his chest. Now the smaller man sat on Flack's lap, with legs bent on both sides of Flack's thighs.
"Danny?"
Danny groaned again, and raised his head to face his friend. The CSI was squinting, attractive face contorted into a scowl.
Flack tousled the other man's hair. He smiled affectionately. "Hey, whassamatter, buddy?"
"I got a freakin' awful migraine." Danny rubbed at his high forehead, lips pursed.
The homicide detective smirked. "Considerin' ya beat me up when I suggest us not to have sex, I'm guessin' you're not just makin' up an excuse to avoid dancin' the horizontal tango here."
That earned Flack a punch in the shoulder. Well, good to see the headache wasn't bad enough to stop Danny from being his usual violent self. Flack glanced downwards and noticed Danny was also unconsciously pressing a hand against his abdomen.
Flack covered Danny's hand with his. "Ya hurtin' here too?"
Danny attempted to smile. It was obvious the CSI was hurting. "Migraine's been there since this mornin'. The cramps started a while ago. At Sullivan's."
Flack frowned. "Cramps? Why didn't ya say anythin'?"
Danny shrugged. "We were havin' a good time with everybody. Didn't wanna spoil it."
The taller man huffed. Geez, as smart as he was, sometimes Danny needed a good spanking for the way he dealt with regular, everyday matters.
"Ya shoulda said somethin'." Flack prodded Danny into standing so he could get up himself. He yanked at Danny's white wifebeater. "C'mon, up and at 'em."
Danny quietly acquiesced and elevated his arms for Flack to remove his tank top. Then he wordlessly untied his belt and used his toes to pull down his faded jeans and slither out of them. He went commando most of the time after he and Flack became official. With a sex fiend like his lover, Danny saw no point in wasting dough buying underwear Flack was gonna rip off him anyway.
"'Kay, I'm gonna get some aspirin for ya. Get into bed."
A spark of worry ignited within Flack at Danny's lack of grumbling. The only time Danny became all silent was when he was in real pain. He quickly went into his bathroom and got a couple of aspirins from the cabinet, and a glass of water. When he returned to the bedroom, Danny was already in bed, curled on his side and huddled under the blanket.
The CSI sat up and gratefully took the pills and water from him. After stripping, Flack crawled into bed next to Danny, embracing the other man once Danny had downed the pills and left the empty glass on the side table.
"Feel better?"
Danny said nothing. He simply twisted around and hid his face in Flack's neck. Flack didn't say anything either. He drew them both down onto the bed, patting Danny's head in a repetitive motion.
That was when he felt the wetness on his shoulder and neck.
Alarmed, Flack shifted sideways so he could lie on his side and be face to face with Danny on the pillows. What the? He gaped.
Danny was crying.
The shorter man sniffled audibly and wiped his eyes, looking as taken aback as Flack was.
"Danny, wha -"
It was bizarre to see Danny weeping and laughing at the same time. "I - I dunno why I'm cryin'."
Flack squeezed the back of Danny's neck. "Wha, is the pain gettin' worse or somethin'?"
Danny stopped sobbing, and blinked a few times. He was calming down. "No … no, it's goin' away already. I just … I dunno why I started cryin'. Feel so stupid."
The homicide detective smiled tenderly. "It's okay, pal. Maybe the recent cases have been gettin' to ya, huh?"
"Yeah. That gang shooting one hit close to home." Danny sniffed.
"Well, yer brother Louie's okay now."
Danny's eyes were still moist, but he smiled. "Yeah." He slid over to cuddle with Flack once more.
The two men were silent for some time. Then Flack said, "Ya know, I'm really moved."
Danny's eyes opened. "Huh?"
"To think it'd upset ya so terribly that ya aren't gettin' any Jackhammer goodness tonight." Flack grinned.
The tall, dark-haired man's yell at Danny's bite to his shoulder was loud enough to wake his nextdoor neighbors.
( Oooo . oooO )
Month 2:
i.
"Okay. That's it. You're goin' to see a doctor."
Danny lifted his head at a snail's pace, stretching aching muscles in his arm to press down the toilet's flushing handle. The blue robe he wore was the sole thing keeping him warm in the chill of the bathroom.
"I … do not need," Danny wheezed, " … to see … a doctor."
Another surge of nausea struck the CSI, and he hurriedly shoved his face into the toilet bowl, retching nothing but clear liquid. Flack was grimacing. He stood at the bathroom doorway, watching helplessly as his friend spent the early morning throwing up.
"I told ya to stay away from those burritos."
Danny had enough strength to sit back on heels and pivot his head to glare with narrow, blue eyes at Flack. "I. Did not. Eat. Burritos. That's your kinda crap," he rasped.
The homicide detective made a face. "Okaaaaay, so, what the heck did ya eat?"
Danny groaned and pushed his head over the toilet bowl again. Flack couldn't help squeezing his eyes shut and averting his face. Ugh, vomiting was never a pretty event.
The toilet was flushed again.
Flack, his tie left untied around his neck and his dress shirt half unbuttoned, entered the bathroom and dampened a face cloth in the sink. Danny was sitting against the bath tub, rubbing his eyes.
"Danny. This is the fifth day in a row you've been pukin'." Flack handed the other man the wet cloth. "Every mornin', same time."
"Bad case of …" - Danny wiped his face - "Food poisoning."
Flack frowned deeply. "We've been eatin' the same food for the last one week. And I'm not sick."
Danny struggled to his feet, goosebumps rising all over his body from the coldness of the tiles beneath his bare soles. "Well, I don't have an iron stomach like you."
Flack smirked smugly. His friend had a point there.
The CSI sniffed, then drew the folds of his robes close together. Flack took the face cloth from him and rinsed it before hanging it back up on the wall next to the sink. For somebody who'd just spent nearly twenty minutes horking up the contents of his tummy, Danny actually looked pretty good. Flack hadn't been aware of how rosy and fresh the smaller man appeared lately.
"See? Nausea gone already. I don't need to see any doctor," Danny said after a few minutes. "My body's just takin' some time to get rid of toxins and stuff."
Flack was unappeased, but stayed hushed. Danny was extremely stubborn when it came to anything remotely related to visiting doctors and taking medication apart from aspirin. Everyone at CSI headquarters knew Danny's aversion to getting medical treatment, even the new girl.
"I'm gon -"
Danny abruptly swayed dangerously on his feet. The whole bathroom whirled madly around him, like a nightmarish carnival carousel. He covered his eyes with a hand, the other instinctively reaching out for Flack.
"Whoawhoawhoa -" Flack dexterously caught Danny in his arms and supported his lover who was on suddenly wobbly legs. The shorter man hung onto Flack, burying his face in the homicide detective's neck.
"I don't feel so good," Danny uttered in a small, muffled voice.
"Okay, that's it. You're not goin' to work today." Flack clutched Danny's torso tight, slipped his other arm under the CSI's knees and carried him to the bedroom. Danny protested this for a moment or two, then clammed up as a second dizzy spell attacked him.
Flack laid him on the bed, pulling the blanket over his lower body. Danny opened his eyes a while later.
"Hey, Mac? Just called in to inform ya Danny's gotta take sick leave today." Flack was speaking into his mobile phone. "Yeah … yeah, he's throwin' up again … Okay, I'll let him know. Thanks."
The tall, lanky man disconnected the call. "Guess what, pal? Ya got today and tomorrow off." Flack smiled.
Slumped on the bed, Danny made a weak pumping action with a fist. "Yay."
Flack threw his arms out and bent his body back as if he was being blasted by a huge wind. "Whoa, don't blow me away with that burst of energy there!"
Danny couldn't help giggling at Flack's slapstick act. Only Flack could do such goofy things and still be so alluring.
"Unlike a certain small, hairy animal with a nice tail, I have to go to work." Flack agilely evaded the pillow thrown in his direction. He snickered while he fastened his tie and buttoned up his shirt. Then his expression became somewhat solemn and concerned. "Ya sure you're gonna be alright on your own?"
Lying chest down on the bed and nuzzling his cheek into the other pillow, Danny observed his lover putting on a mauve jacket with a tiny smile. "Yeah. I'll be okay, mommy."
Flack leaned down by the bed and gave Danny a warning nip on his lower lip. He was about to kiss Danny, but the other man blocked him with a palm over his own mouth.
"I've got barf-breath," Danny explained, voice muted behind his hand.
The homicide detective snorted. He removed Danny's hand and promptly ravaged Danny's lips till they were wet and swollen. And the guy didn't have barf-breath.
Flack gave him one last peck on the lips, then headed for the bedroom door. "I'll give ya a call at lunch time, 'kay? Try and get back as early as I can."
Just as he was about to close the door, the mauve-suited man poked his head back in and said nonchalantly, "Between you and me, I think you'd be the mommy instead. What with your mornin' sickness and all -"
The second pillow rebounded off the wood of the slamming door. Danny's slumber for the next hour or so were filled with the sound of Flack's child-like, joyful laughter.
ii.
Danny was feeling much better in the hot shower.
It would have been perfect if Flack was there under the spray with him, but a guy couldn't get everything he wanted, now, could he?
He raised his head to let the water cascade over his face and into his open mouth. He spit out the water. He was glad he didn't take any aspirins today. They didn't help the last four days anyhow. Eyes still shut, he bent over to get some liquid soap from its container placed on the shower stall base.
It was really peculiar how the queasiness only afflicted him in the mornings. And the second he threw up, it was instantly gone, like he never had it. Weird. After some thought, he had to agree with Flack that it wasn't likely food poisoning was causing it. They shared most of their food for the last one week and beyond, and the nausea only manifested itself five days ago. Back then, they'd eaten at the usual pizza parlor for lunch and bought fresh vegetables and some Chinese noodles from the local grocery store near Danny's apartment for dinner. Usual food. Never made him sick like this before. He hadn't eaten anything remotely weird since that case with the exotic cuisine of insects and octopi and the likes.
Danny rubbed the pink liquid soap onto his arms and chest. He couldn't for the life of Flack's favorite monster, Godzilla, figure out why his friend would buy pink liquid soap, of all colors. He spread the soap all over his body and back, then down his legs and feet. He smirked and bit his lower lip. He always saved washing his genitals for last. He had Flack to thank for turning him into a shower-sex maniac. Now, every time he showered, he inevitably and constantly got horny simply from the sensation of water pouring over his lean body and the smell of this particular liquid soap.
Oh. So that's why Flack bought this brand all the time.
He suddenly became aware that his feet were submerged underwater. The basin of the shower stall had about five inches in height at the sides. However, the water level in it never rose above toe level due to it being pumped away via the drainage. Danny glanced down and saw the shower outlet was completely clogged.
With hair. Lots of it.
He stared with a baffled expression, wondering where all the hair came from.
Then he looked down at his ordinarily hairy chest and his arms. At least, they used to be.
Danny shrieked in horror, hopping up and down in the shower at the newly bare skin of his chest and arms. And legs too. Oh crap, he was … shedding!
He used the shower spray to frantically wash away what hair was left on his skin. Ohmanohmanohman, this was not normal. He looked over his chest, arms and legs, then hastily patted his head. Yeah, all the hair up here was still present. He gazed down at his groin with some nervousness. Yeah, all the hair down there was still present too. Weird.
Danny shut off the shower and clambered out. It took him a couple of minutes to get the nerve to shove his hand into the hair-infested water, collecting the hair blocking the drainage with a big grimace. It was his own hair, but it was still icky. The water was gradually pumped out, leaving clumps of soggy hair all over the shower stall base. Danny's grimace broadened. Yikes, he never figured he had that much hair on his body.
The trash bin in the bathroom became filled with sodden tissue papers and bunches of curly hair. He left it beside the open glass door of the shower stall. Danny was too busy staring at his smooth chest and arms in the mirror. Okay, he was initially freaked out big time, but now … wow, he kinda dug the new look. He ran a hand over one pectoral. He'd waxed his chest, arms and legs only once in his life, at the behest of an ex-girlfriend.
It was an experience he never, ever wanted to relive again.
He grinned. Whoa, instant hair removal! And there was no pain! His brain was yelling at him that this was not supposed to be a good thing and that it might be linked with his nausea problem.
Danny told his brain to shut up.
( Oooo . oooO )
Month 3:
"You know, this is reminding me of that case Mac and I worked on … you remember, Hawkes? Where we found this teenage body contortionist in a teeny wooden chest?"
Stella, Hawkes, Danny and Flack sat together in a semi-circle at one of the high, round tables in the CSI headquarters' breakroom, during lunch hour. Hawkes, who sat on one end, was eating out of a Chinese takeout carton, and Stella was munching on a tuna sandwich. Flack was gulping down a giant, homemade hotdog that Danny had fixed up that morning in his kitchen, while Danny was staring at the television set along with Stella and Hawkes. Danny's back was partially facing the others, so the other three only got a three-quarter profile view of the bespectacled man from behind.
"Yeah, Mac and I sure had fun unbending the corpse's stiffened limbs," Hawkes said with a sarcastic drawl.
Stella chuckled. "Well, the beach looked just like the one on TV right now."
Hawkes swallowed a mouthful of chow mien, then replied, "Coney Island beach, right? Maybe that's where they filmed it."
Stella nodded her head in agreement. "Hmm, maybe."
The two CSIs turned to Flack for his opinion, but the homicide detective was too engrossed in staring at Danny with a comical, bemused expression on his handsome face. Stella and Hawkes swiveled towards Danny who sat at the other end.
And stared with befuddled eyes, mouth agape.
Danny was literally bawling his eyes out at what was going on on the television screen.
"LOOK at that! That's so - that's so -" Danny sniffled moistly. His face was crumpled in a really hilarious way, immense tears trickling down his cheeks from scrunched up eyes. The CSI's lower lip quivered intensely. "That's so … SAAAAAAAAD!"
Danny broke into a series of deafening wails and sobs, looking and sounding like a little howling baby whose candy was taken away from him.
Stella, Hawkes and Flack stared in astonishment at Danny's incredibly atypical display of an emotional outburst. A string of noodle fell from Hawkes' gaping mouth into the white carton he held with a plop. Stella's tuna sandwich tumbled onto the table surface from her slack hands. Flack was the only one who held onto his food without dropping anything.
"Danny."
The CSI continued to shed tears, blubbering something about daddies and their little girls and how sweet it was for fathers to take their daughters for walks on the beach. Danny wiped his nose, oblivious to Flack calling his name.
'Danny." Flack put down his half-eaten hotdog and grabbed Danny by the shoulders to fully turn him around. The CSI took off his glasses and rubbed at one eye, breath still hitched by sobs.
"It's an insurance advertisement."
Danny went quiet for an instant. "I know that." Then his face crumpled once more. "But … the daddy … and his little baby girl … walkin' down the beach …" The bawling began anew.
"Danny!" Flack shook his friend hard. "It's an INSURANCE ADVERTISEMENT."
Flack's statement only served to make Danny howl even more.
The homicide detective anxiously peered around and realized Danny's crazy behavior was drawing attention from anyone who was walking past the breakroom. Namely, about a dozen lab technicians crowding behind the transparent glass walls, gawking with eyes wide as saucers. Alright, Danny did not need this. The poor guy would never come back to the labs ever again if news of this spread everywhere.
Flack hauled the sobbing, tearful man to his feet, holding Danny close so his lanky body blocked people from seeing Danny the way he was. He sensed Stella's and Hawkes' eyes following them as he led Danny out of the breakroom.
"I'm, uh, I'm gonna bring him to the men's room, 'kay?" He didn't wait for an answer.
Flack shielded Danny from view from the white-coated technicians swarming the entrance. He waved wildly at them, shooing them away. "Okay, nothin' ta see here, ladies and gentlemen, go back to yer labs, please!"
They cleared a path for the two detectives to pass through. Some of them sincerely asked Flack if Detective Messer was alright, and he smiled politely at them and told them yes as he went by them. He had to bodily drag Danny by the arms to the men's washroom nearby. The CSI could barely see his way to walk since his eyes were so full of tears. Flack could feel the sobs still racking the smaller man's body.
The homicide detective heaved a huge sigh of relief once they were in the privacy of the men's room. He swiftly locked the door so no one would intrude on them.
Boy, that was an awkward moment.
Pressed tight against his chest, Danny was no longer crying as much. Only the intermittent sob caused the shorter man's slim frame to shudder. The man's hot tears had created a damp patch on his shirt. In the privacy of the men's washroom, Flack could finally comfort his friend and lover the way he really wanted to.
"Heeeey, what's wrong, Danny? Hmm?" Flack rubbed his cheek on Danny's head. "You wanna talk to me, hmmm?"
Danny sniffed audibly, then stepped back. He rubbed his swollen eyes and wiped his cheeks dry. The weeping looked like it'd halted for good.
"I'm … I'm okay, Don." Danny sent Flack a tremulous smile. "I dunno what got into me."
Flack gazed at his lover with uneasy eyes. "What happened out there?"
Danny gestured madly with his hands when no words came out of his mouth, a sign Flack wasn't the sole one troubled by Danny's odd conduct earlier.
"I … I dunno. I really don't. One minute, I was watchin' that advertisement, and the next thing I know …" Danny hiccupped. "I couldn't stop myself. Was like my body was outta my control."
The CSI looked at him with big, glossy puppy eyes.
Flack stared back with anxious eyes for another minute, then he said, "C'mere."
Danny immediately ran into Flack's open arms.
"I'm sorry, Don," Danny said in a tiny voice.
Flack smiled lovingly. He rubbed one hand across his friend's back in a circular, reassuring motion. "Whatcha apologizin' for?"
"I've been all sortsa trouble for ya lately." Danny burrowed his face into Flack's chest, savoring the warmth emanating from the homicide detective's body. "Headaches, cramps. Pukin'. Then my body goes all whacked on me and makes me shed my body hair. And now this crap."
Flack chuckled softly. "Aww, Danny. It's not yer fault. I told ya you could go see a doctor 'bout all this. And anyway, the new smooth look, I like."
Danny snickered, and Flack grinned.
"Yeah, I thought you would." Danny's expression became somber. "I think I oughta go see my physician as soon as possible."
"Okay." The taller man affectionately mussed Danny's shorn hair. "You do that, then we'll see how things go, eh?"
Danny nodded.
"Oh, and the next time ya get all hormonal on me … give a guy some warnin', will ya?"
Flack laughed at Danny's dirty look.
The playful punch he received to his gut was the best thing he felt all day.