Nine Months

by Kimmychu

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? DannyFlack, of course!

2. Trimester 2

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: The second installment of the story! The next one will be the last. Please take note … don't take this story seriously, okay? The whole point is, it's just for laughs. As in, "Ahahahahha!", not, "This can't happen in real life! It's not even canon!" Well, duh. And man, what are the chances of seeing something like this on the show itself? That's my point. Thanks for the reviews! I appreciate it.

( Oooo . oooO )

Month 4:

i.

Danny swore that his belly was no longer flat as it used to be.

"Don?"

"Yeah?" Flack froze in mid-action of getting into his undershirt, half his head peeking out over the neckline. "What is it?"

Danny looked up from his stomach with a discontented expression. "I think we oughta lay off pizza for a while."

Flack jerked the white undershirt down and tucked the edges into his dark grey trousers. "Huh? Whaddaya mean?"

Danny went back to inspecting his abdomen. He fervently hoped he was simply seeing things, because it certainly appeared like his rippled abs were transforming into a strange, round bulge. He stroked a hand over his midriff. Sure felt like it too.

"Man, you are so paranoid." Flack snickered. "You look fiiiiine."

Danny wasn't convinced. He flaunted his well-developed arms to his lover. "I mean … look! Look at my arms! And my legs!" He stretched out his body for Flack's view, to the taller man's delight. "They're toned and all that, and my belly's … like … protrudin'."

Flack made a frustrated face. "It is nooooot. You look just fine to me, and I'm not kiddin'." He sat beside the nude CSI on the bed.

The homicide detective sighed. Danny could be such a drama queen. A really cute one. And seriously, the CSI had been looking very fine lately. Danny's skin was smoother. It literally shone with an even, vibrant tone. Perhaps it was all just in Flack's head, but Danny's dark brown hair seemed to be more luxuriant and softer too. The guy was always complaining about going bald, so more hair, good thing. Those heavy-lidded, blue eyes sparkled more brightly as well. Even the minor wrinkles and diminutive crow's feet around the eyes looked like they disappeared, leaving Danny's face younger. Man, it was as if the guy was being rejuvenated from the inside out.

Danny was pouting. He kept on rubbing his tummy. "I dunno," he muttered.

Flack huffed. "Okay, tell me again. What did yer doctor say?"

The shorter man nibbled on his lip, gazing at Flack from under his eyelids. "She said I'd never been in better health."

Flack threw his hands up in conclusiveness. "Weeeell, there ya go! Nothin' to worry 'bout."

"Yeah, but I went to see my physician last month."

"Annnnnnnd?"

Danny shrugged, a tentative expression on his mien. "And … maybe … somethin' … came up since then?"

The taller detective bent his head forward, shoulders slumped. He itched so much to laugh like a madman and throttle Danny at the same time. Oh geez, Danny was worse than a woman sometimes.

"See, last month, you were bawlin' yer eyes out like a baby at every single advertisement on TV. Even those stupid tissue paper ones with that Labrador puppy! And the month 'fore that, you were upchuckin' yer insides every mornin' for a week, and yer hair on yer body started fallin' off." Flack pointed at a finger on his right hand with his left forefinger for each point the made. "And the month 'fore that, you were sufferin' from migraines and cramps."

Flack crossed his arms over his chest and glanced at Danny with a candid look.

"So, how ya feelin' now?"

Danny stuck out his lower lip, eyes flitting around in deep thought.

"I feel … really good."

"No pukin', no migraines, no cramps, no cryin' jags, no weird stuff fer the last few weeks and since yer doctor's appointment, right?" The homicide detective threw up his hands again. "So there." Before Danny could reply, he added, "And yer doc told ya you're doin' great too!"

The CSI began to relax. It was true. After going through the regular check up, his physician, a Dr. Ziegler in her late forties, was very pleased to announce he was a perfectly fit young man who had blood pressure readings most men his age would kill for. Not to mention they'd kill for a figure like his too, she adjoined with a wink.

She was only worried by the prompt falling out of his body hair. She attributed it to fluctuating hormone levels. Possibly something to do with his thyroid gland. But, he wasn't taking any medication, and didn't have any recent illnesses apart from the temporary nausea. He took good care of his hair. Dr. Ziegler was perplexed by the fact that, though his body hair was mostly gone, the hair on Danny's head was thicker. It didn't quite add up with the thyroid gland problem, as he should be losing hair on his head too, if that was the case.

Danny's physician also took into account a condition called alopecia universalis, characterized by total loss of body hair. However, Danny still had a full head of hair, his eyebrows and even his facial hair. Which ruled that out instantly. Since he hadn't presented with any other unusual physical symptoms whatsoever in the past two months, Dr. Ziegler was at a loss for her final diagnosis. She encouraged him to have his blood tested. He declined, reassuring her he'd get a test done later on. He was really uneasy about getting poked by anything resembling a long, sharp needle unless it was absolutely necessary.

Well. Except for a certain part of Flack's anatomy. And while it was long, that part couldn't quite be considered sharp. More like, blunt. In a roundish, yummy way.

"I think I oughta lay off the pizza anyway." Danny smirked.

Flack rolled his eyes, then smirked too. "Fiiinnne. But don't complain to me when I don't give ya any." He got to his feet to wear his dress shirt, tie and jacket. "Now I gotta head off for work. You enjoy yer day off."

Danny grabbed Flack's hand, staring at the homicide detective with big, puppy eyes. "Why don'tcha take a day off today? We can spend it together." Danny's tongue flicked out.

Flack flashed a huge grin. "Ya horndog. Not that I'm complainin' or anythin'." He tilted downwards to kiss the seated CSI on the bed. "But I gotta go down to the precinct today. Paperwork and crap."

The shorter man pouted.

"Awww, I'll be back in the evenin'. I'll get some Chinese takeout on the way, how 'bout that?"

"'Kay," Danny replied petulantly.

Flack pinched his friend on his goateed chin and said, "Ya know, I'll still love ya even if ya blow up as big as a pregnant lady -"

The fat pillow glided through the air to successfully wallop the taller detective right in the face.

Third time's the charm.

ii.

Danny sat on the lid of the closed toilet seat. In one hand, he held a thin strip with blue-green bars and words on it. One of his feet tapped maniacally on the bathroom floor. He was chewing on his lower lip, brewing panic in his wide eyes.

Nononononono, this wasn't possible.

He glanced at the strip in hand once more.

Two stripes.

There were two freaking stripes.

He looked away, then looked back at it, then away again. A high-pitched whine escaped his gritted teeth.

Okay, calm down, Messer, his brain said to him in a very Flack-like voice. It's juuuust an invalid pregnancy test trip. That's all.

His foot drummed twice as rapid on the beige tiles. This was crazy. This was insane. What the fuck was he doing taking a home pregnancy test? He clenched his hands into fists and smacked them against his prominent forehead. Yeah, okay. Okay, he'll use another one and see the results for that one.

He cackled almost hysterically as he took out a white and purple plastic stick with a cap on one end from a package with the name EPT inscribed on it. He couldn't believe it. Of all the frigging screwy things to do, he actually went to his local grocery store and bought himself four home pregnancy tests.

All because it hit him his physical ailments in the three previous months were tremendously similar to that of a … pregnant woman.

But he was a man. Men didn't produce enough human chorionic gonadotropin to make a pregnancy test turn out positive. Even people who weren't top CSI graduates knew that. Only women who were pregnant created that much of the chemical. So if he was a normal, regular guy who wasn't supposed to have hCG, why was the first home pregnancy test positive?

His hand shook while he took of the plastic cap and stuck the tip into a cup with his urine in it. Then he replaced the cap and laid the test stick flat on the rim of the sink nearby. Now both his feet were tapping the floor. He rubbed his upper arms with his hands, feeling the goosebumps all over. He fidgeted restlessly with his black tank top and the edges of his dark red boxers for the next three, long minutes.

Oh yeah, Flack was so going to laugh his head off over this. Danny thanked God the homicide detective was busy with work tonight. Danny could see it right now. The man would probably be rolling on the floor until he had the side stitches. Like the old lady at the counter at the grocery store. Except she was laughing because she was so excited and happy for him and his wife. If only she knew the person who was going to take those tests was him.

Danny picked up the test stick with a great deal of hesitance. Right. Just an invalid test. That's all. Nothing to worry about, Messer.

Danny looked at it.

Oh, nononononononono …

He clamped a hand over his mouth. The appalled yell got through anyhow.

The damn thing had two stripes too. Two fucking stripes.

He was hyperventilating. He forced himself to quiet down, deliberately slowing his breaths. His brain had apparently packed its bags and gone on a long ass vacation to an alternate universe where his doppelganger wasn't. Freaking. PREGNANT.

Danny threw it into the sink in a fright. Okay. Deep breath. Okay, another breath. He shuddered. This one must be defunct too. Yeah, that's it. Juuuuuust another invalid test. The next one will test negative like it should. He was a man of science, and crazy shit like this didn't happen, period. Yeah, he had to keep himself focused and calm. He'd been rattled by worse, wackier problems than this. Yeah.

He opened up yet another home pregnancy test kit, a different brand that was all pink and cutesy. He did the same actions like he did with the previous tests. The next five minutes felt like five centuries. Oh God, this was nuts. This was beyond lunacy. He must be in a nightmare or something, and any minute now, Flack was going to wake him up and tell him everything was okay.

He picked up the test kit with trembling hands.

Stared at it.

Danny's shrill scream enticed every cat and dog in his neighborhood to yowl and bark for the next hour or so into the night.

( Oooo . oooO )

Month 5:

i.

Huh. Something was up with Danny. Flack knew it. His Danny-angst radar was pinging like mad.

The homicide detective quietly observed the preoccupied CSI working in one of the labs viewable from the breakroom. It was extremely hard for Flack to accept the thought it'd been nearly three weeks since he last spent more than a few minutes alone with his friend and lover. Three whole weeks. By Flack's standards, being away from Danny for longer than a day was like being away from the guy for a year.

It hurt like a bitch. Something was going on and Danny was hiding it from him. His gut feeling told him that much.

Danny moved back from the microscope he was looking into, and then, all of a sudden, his spectacled gaze zoomed itself on Flack. Like he knew Flack was there looking at him too. Flack startled inwardly at the guilt and anguish in his friend's blue eyes. Whoa. The only time Danny ever had that look in his eyes was when the man felt he'd done something really bad.

Flack's teeth ground together. He'd had enough of this crap. If he and Danny really had something good going on between them, he could handle whatever trouble his lover threw his way. He was Don Flack, Jr. Nothing shook him. Not anymore.

The tall detective stomped out of the breakroom and headed straight for Danny's lab. The CSI's sad blue eyes got bigger and bigger as Flack advanced on him. The fear he saw in them made Flack want to weep. Was he the one who was putting that fear in there? And why? Flack couldn't recall having done anything to Danny to deserve being the center of that heartrending gaze.

Flack waited until the only other lab technician in the room left, then said in a low voice, "We need to talk, Danny."

Up close, the pain in Danny's baby blues was killing him. Danny truly appeared like he had seriously bad news to break to him. When Danny stayed silent, Flack bit his lip and allowed the unhappiness to show in his own blue eyes.

"I miss you."

Danny's eyes were misted over. He sent Flack a wavering smile. "I miss ya too," he whispered hoarsely.

The floodgates within Flack burst open. "So - so why are ya doin' this to me? To us? Just three weeks ago, the whole freakin' world couldn't tear us apart, and now …" The tall man ran long fingers through his short hair in agitation. "You - you won't answer my calls, you avoid me all the time and ya talk to me only when it's strictly necessary. Tell me what I did wrong, and I'll do everythin' I can to make it up to ya, Danny."

The CSI ducked his head. The muscles in his lower face were quavering in the way Flack knew that meant Danny was undeniably upset and close to tears. Flack hated that look. It was the one that compelled him to beat the crap out of unruly perps because he couldn't beat up whatever was hurting the one he loved.

"It's not you."

Danny's reply was so soft and small, for a moment, Flack thought he'd heard incorrectly.

"So, tell me what's wrong." The tall detective couldn't even hold his friend's hand or anything else because they were easily seen by anyone walking past the lab, and that made his frustration rise. He willed Danny to look him in the eye again.

Without glancing at Flack, Danny shuffled dejectedly for the lab doorway. Flack followed wordlessly, knowing exactly where they were headed.

The men's toilets were empty. Once they were both inside, Flack locked the main door. Anyone dumb enough to complain about that was going to get a face full of enraged Flack. He leaned back against the black door, hands in trouser pockets and staring at a hyperactive Danny with patient eyes.

Danny paced to and fro the length of the room five times before forcibly bringing himself to a halt in front of Flack. The shorter detective hugged himself as if he was really cold, eventhough he was wearing his white lab coat on top of a grey Henley shirt and long khakis. Flack observed that the Henley shirt was particularly loose, and wasn't tucked in at the waist. Danny was absent-mindedly stroking his belly.

Those blue eyes were definitely filled to the brim with tears. Danny attempted to voice his thoughts, lips moving but no noise emanated from between them. After a couple of seconds, the CSI gave up and started pacing here and there once more, sniffling. Five minutes passed. Flack remained cool and motionless. He understood Danny on a level no one else did. When the bespectacled man was as distressed as this, it was always best to let him burn off the excess energy running rampant in his body before approaching him.

At last, Danny slowed to a standstill on the opposite side of the chamber. With his back turned to Flack, he said in a husky voice, "Ya don't have to take any responsibility, 'kay?"

The homicide detective frowned. Huh? What the heck was that supposed to mean?

Danny swiveled around. There were tear tracks down his flushed cheeks. "I - I won't blame ya if ya hate me or anythin' after this. I mean, you couldn't possibly have known somethin' like this would happen."

Flack felt an iceberg crushing his insides. "What are ya talkin' 'bout, Danny? You're not makin' any sense."

Danny sluggishly ambled back to Flack, stopping about three feet away in front of the other man. New tears trailed down from those piercing, sorrowful eyes.

"I just wanna tell you that I love you. And that won't change. Even after we leave this place."

Flack's breath hitched. Holy crap. He and Danny had been together for over a year by now, and he'd only said those three words to the smaller man once, after their first date together as they stood under the moonlight and shining stars, alone and surrounded by the verdant green of Central Park. Flack had longed to hear the same three words from Danny for so long. He just never imagined he'd finally hear them only for Danny to break it to him they were … over.

Danny delved into his trouser pocket and pulled out a thin, plastic object. He handed it to Flack, who stared at it with a puzzled frown.

"Danny. This is a home pregnancy test … thingy." The taller detective noted the two stripes on the stick that indicated a positive result.

"I know." Danny cleared his throat, staring at the tiles on the floor. "It's mine."

Flack gaped at the other man with humongous eyes, then erupted into uproarious laughter. "Oh man, oh maaaaan, for a second there, I thought you were serious and everythin'!"

Danny's head snapped up at that. "But -"

"Wow, this must be the best prank you've ever pulled off yet, Messer! So that's what the whole avoidin' thing was 'bout. Build up of tension, eh? Make me think somethin' major was goin' on, hah?" Flack rubbed his eyes, still guffawing. "Man, ya got me good. Who'd ya get to pee on the thing?"

"Don." Danny looked him straight in the eye. There was absolutely no pretense in the cerulean orbs. "It's not a joke. That really is the test kit I took."

Flack's chuckles dwindled to silence. "Danny. Men don't get pregnant."

Danny tried to smile. His lower lip quivered. "I know, Don. That's why I took three different ones." His giggle bordered on frantic. "And they all came back positive."

Flack stared blankly at his friend.

"Here. I'll show ya." Danny took out a small box from the other pocket and yanked out one of those pregnancy test kits. Snapping off the plastic cap, the CSI stalked to an urinal, unzipped his pants and virtually peed on the dang thing. Of course, Flack wasn't bothered by Danny peeing in front of him. They'd done everything together. Flack knew the guy inside and out. But Danny peeing on a home pregnancy test stick? Now that was one for the books.

Danny zipped up and recapped the kit. The guy had a resigned expression on his face. Three minutes of silence and more Danny marching passed. Then, Danny glanced at the kit. Closed his eyes and sighed heavily.

"Take a look for yerself." Danny thrust the plastic kit at his face.

The two red stripes were clear as day on the damn thing.

Two powerful muscle spasms made Flack's cheek and forehead twitch uncontrollably.

"Don?"

Flack's big blue eyes rolled up into his head, and the homicide detective toppled over like an oak tree.

ii.

"The blood test results are back. I … don't know whether to say I'm sorry," Stella said, "Or …" Her full lips curved into a humongous smile.

"Congratulations, you're a MOMMY!"

Danny buried his face in his hands and wailed. Flack, sitting on an identical laboratory stool next to Danny and pressing an ice pack to the back of his head, grimaced at Stella's ecstatic statement.

"Uhm, Stella." Hawkes, standing beside the strangely overjoyed CSI, looked at her with a poorly concealed amazed expression. "Are you sure you didn't make a mistake somewhere with … the …" The former ME's words withered away at her glower. Hawkes coughed. "Point taken."

The four detectives were on their own in one of the windowless, white laboratories. Stella and Hawkes were standing, while Danny and Flack sat leaning back against a table with a computer monitor and keyboard behind them. The only reason Stella and Hawkes were there was due to the two CSIs kicking down the men's room door after Flack fell over in a dead faint. And after they heard Danny's echoing shout of alarm. Stella had taken one look at the home pregnancy test kit in Danny's hand and Flack spread out on the floor unconscious, and demanded to know what the hell was going on.

Flack wrapped an arm around a forlorn Danny. The homicide detective didn't know what else to do but pat him on the arm while Danny shook his head, still obscuring his face from view. Wow, telling the boyfriend that you want to break up was one thing. Telling the boyfriend that you're pregnant when you're a man and proved it was something else totally out of this world.

Flack was even now trying to figure out if he should be jumping with bliss or screaming his head off in terror and running away as far as possible. On one hand, he and Danny now had something unbelievably special together. How often was it that two guys actually succeeded in making a baby that was from their DNA alone? Their baby was going to look like either one of them, or both. And just them. On the other hand, if Danny was really having a baby, it was going to change both their lives forever, not automatically in the good way either. Unless he left. And he'd rather cut his own throat than abandon Danny.

Danny's odd alien dream popped into recollection. Hey now, was it just a dream? Or did it really happen? A muscle tic appeared in Flack's forehead at the thought of little green men molesting his Danny. Ohh, he was gonna kick some alien ass to kingdom come if they were idiotic enough to revisit his lover.

"I hate to burst the happy bubble here," Hawkes said gravely. "There are other possible reasons for the high levels of hCG in Danny's blood." Hawkes winced slightly. "It might indicate a cancerous or no non-cancerous tumor in the testicles -"

Danny's second wail increased dramatically in volume.

Even Stella winced at the information.

"It might also indicate some types of cancer, such as cancer of the stomach, pancreas, large intestine, liver or lung," Hawkes concluded with an apologetic expression.

"Danny, you said you went to see your doctor over a month ago, right? And she cleared you via a regular medical check up?" Stella asked.

Danny sat upright and nodded.

"But you didn't do a blood test then?" Hawkes said.

Danny shook his head.

"Hawkes, the hCG levels in Danny's blood is 245,000 international units per liter. If it's testicular cancer causing it, Danny wouldn't be sitting here with us right now." Stella lifted an eyebrow.

Hawkes was too stunned by the number Stella cited to make a coherent reply.

"Well, Danny, have you been feeling swellings or lumps in either of your balls? Enlarging testicles? Pain in either one of them? Ache in the lower stomach? Pain anywhere?"

Flack's lower jaw dropped. Danny sputtered.

"NO!"

Stella looked back towards Hawkes and waited for a response from the medical examiner.

Hawkes seemed to be struggling very hard to not laugh. "Okay, look, I have a way to know for sure whose theory is accurate." He rushed to the closed lab door, opened it and said, "I'll be right back," before running off somewhere.

Stella pulled up a tall, steel stool and sat on it, facing Danny and Flack. She folded her arms across her chest, smirking.

"So. How long have you two been having sex?"

There was a shocked silence. Then, the homicide detective let out a hysterical laugh. "Wha-what are ya talkin' 'bout, Stel!"

Stella gave him an amused, no-nonsense look.

"Since the case where the beauty queen's buddy got stabbed in her apartment. By that grocer boy." Danny was astoundingly composed.

Flack's neck audibly cracked as his head rotated on it. He gawked at Danny with a comical, aghast expression. Flack's jaw felt like it was touching the floor.

Now it was Stella's jaw that sagged. "That long?" She suddenly grinned like a cat. "Ohh, Hawkes owes me four hundred bucks now!"

Flack went back to gaping at Stella. Danny was, curiously enough, cool and unaffected by the fact his co-workers had actually bet on when he and Flack started sleeping together. Ah well, being a man and discovering you're pregnant had its way of making everything else seem mundane.

The lab door opened again and Hawkes entered, bearing an unusual-looking object in his hand. It looked like a very narrow cup or vase with a flaring top, a tapering, funnel shape and a flat, round base.

"This is known as a Pinard fetal stethoscope," Hawkes informed them. Nobody questioned how Hawkes would have such an item. Hawkes had all kinds of bizarre knowledge and things. "It's for listening to a fetus' heart beat. According to what you two gentlemen have told me, Danny presented with nausea akin to morning sickness over three months ago. Now, if Danny is pregnant, he should be about … four or five months along. And if there is a baby in there, there'll be another heartbeat." Hawkes knelt down before Danny, and smiled positively. "You'll, uhm, you'll have to lift up your shirt."

The first person Danny glanced at was Flack, blue eyes wide with anxiety. The homicide detective shrugged, ice pack left on the table behind them. "Might as well find out now than later, right?"

Danny sighed audibly, then reluctantly tugged up his Henley shirt until his belly showed. He closed his eyes and averted his face.

The other three people in the room gasped in unison.

There was an unquestionable bulge of Danny's abdomen, but not so obvious that it could be written off as plumpness of sorts. That is, if somebody were to merely take a momentary glimpse. As far as Hawkes could see, Danny appeared his usual, rugged self everywhere else except for his stomach. It wasn't fat, the former ME ascertained, placing his hand there. Certainly distension with a focal growth site.

Hawkes' eyebrows shot up. Fascinating.

"Danny, I'm going to hold the stethoscope against your abdomen, okay?"

Danny gave a jerky nod, still facing away. His hands were trembling.

Hawkes positioned the flat base against his ear, and the other end against Danny's belly, and listened intently.

A whole minute passed by.

Flack spoke up. "Uh, Doc? What's the verdict?"

Hawkes slowly raised his head, keeping the stethoscope attached to Danny. There was a giant grin on the fresh CSI detective's face.

"There's a second heartbeat."

Flack instantaneously clambered down on his knees next to Hawkes. "Lemme listen, lemme listen!"

Chuckling, Hawkes moved to one side to let Flack hear the heartbeat via the listening apparatus. This was the first time he'd ever seen the homicide detective so excited and buoyant.

The tall, dark-haired man had his ear pressed to the stethoscope for a few minutes. An awed smile began to spread across Flack's handsome visage. One of his hands unconsciously went to pat the smooth skin of Danny's tummy. Danny was now gazing down at Flack with a flabbergasted but hopeful expression.

Flack peered up at Danny with a brilliant beam. "Wow. We're gonna have a baby."

Hawkes turned to Stella in shock at Flack's admission, and she motioned him to go out of the laboratory with her.

"We can talk outside," she said to her fellow CSI. "Leave the two lovebirds alone. And anyway, you owe me a lot of money." She winked at a spluttering Hawkes.

Hawkes was still stammering out random words in his disbelief that he'd lost the bet as they quietly crept out, closing the door behind them to give the two men some solitude.

The moment Danny and Flack were alone, Flack chucked the stethoscope onto the table straight away and yanked Danny into a crushing hug, nestling his face into the CSI's neck. Danny's arms around his shoulders were equally tight.

"Oh man. OhmanohmanohMAN." Flack laughed aloud, face crinkled up.

Danny smiled shyly. "I know. I'm scared, Don."

Flack smiled tenderly at the sitting man. "Hey." He stroked Danny's cheek. "It's gonna be okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And I got somethin' else to say too."

Danny's blue eyes glittered in the afternoon sunlight. "What's that?"

"I just wanna tell you that I love you. And that won't change. Even after we leave this place."

The two men embraced each other once more and simply cherished each other's presence for a long time.

( Oooo . oooO )

Month 6:

i.

The moving golden image on the forty-inch computer monitor was the most mind-blowing thing Flack had ever seen in his life.

"Oh my God. That's a baby."

Stella smiled and placed an arm across Flack's broad shoulders, leaning her head against his as they watched the screen. "Yeah. I think she's got your nose, Flack."

"Yep." Hawkes grinned. "It's a girl!"

The homicide detective had no idea at all how the heck Hawkes managed to get them a private room at a gynecologist's clinic, much less the freedom to use a 3D-4D ultrasound machine that probably cost in the hundreds of thousands of dollars. Something about being very good friends with the owner of the clinic, the Doc had revealed with an ambiguous smile. Flack wasn't quite sure how the guy knew the way to use the appliance either. Heh, must be thanks to his gynecologist friend too.

Flack slanted forward to look closer at the shifting sonogram of the baby. Wow. No wonder they called the bulky invention a 3D-4D ultrasound machine. The real-time 4D imaging made the moving picture so vivid, it was like there was a video camera taping the baby second by second inside Danny's abdomen.

That was their baby he was staring at there. His baby.

The tall detective poked his own face to check if his wide grin hadn't split it in two.

"Danny. You gotta see this." Flack gently shook the reclining CSI's leg.

In the last month, Danny's belly had expanded. Still, not enough to easily arouse suspicion. On a pregnant woman, the baby bump would only signify she was, perhaps, over four months along. Hawkes had been concerned by how minor the swelling was, and that the baby might not be developing normally. That persuaded Danny to agonize over whether his baby was remotely normal to begin with. Flack wanted to thwack Hawkes on the head for instigating two whole weeks of him consoling a weepy and freaked out Danny.

Because the CSI believed he was carrying a baby that was a tentacly, green-skinned alien with one eye.

Flack didn't dare to verbally admit it, but he had been anxious about that precise issue too. Nobody had any logical explanation for how Danny became the world's first pregnant man, and the sole clue Flack had was Danny's weird alien dream months ago. Gee, guess it wasn't quite a dream after all. The evidence was right there moving in some golden dream on the computer monitor.

"C'mon, Danny. Just take a look."

Danny lay on the angled bed, long-sleeved sweater rucked up to below his chest. He was hiding his face behind his hands. Danny shook his head once from side to side.

"Just - just tell me how many tenta … tentacles she's got, and I'll let my imagination do the rest, 'kay?"

Flack huffed and shook his lover's leg harder. "C'mooooooon, look. She's got no tentacles."

One anxious blue eye peeked out from between slender fingers.

"She's perfect. Seriously." The homicide detective smiled in reassurance and tugged away Danny's hands. "Look."

The brown-haired CSI stared at Flack in a terrified manner before he glimpsed at the hefty monitor screen from the corner of his eyes. Danny's expression transformed into one of wonder as he turned his head to gaze directly at the moving, real-time picture. Flack skipped over to the opposite side of the bed to lean over a dumbstruck Danny, and rested his chin on the CSI's head, one arm on top of the bed's headrest.

"She's suckin' her thumb," Danny whispered. His blue eyes were moist.

"Yeah."

Hawkes moved the scanner across Danny's tummy, permitting a clearer view of the baby's face to be displayed. Her eyes were closed in slumber. She had a pert, little nose and chubby, rounded cheeks. One teeny thumb was stuck between her lips. Their corners curled up in what Flack could only describe as the sweetest smile in the world. She appeared utterly at peace, floating in her liquid haven. The homicide detective angled his head. Huh, her nose did look like his nose.

"Can you … print the picture out?" Danny inquired with anticipation.

Flack smiled down at Danny, and ruffled the reclined man's dense hair. Stella and Hawkes were also smiling.

"Of course, Danny! In fact, this machine can even create CD or DVD copies of a video of the baby moving. Would you like those too?"

Danny immediately lifted his head to make eye contact with Flack. The taller detective was immensely pleased by the way Danny now intuitively looked to him to share the role of making decisions regarding their baby. Damn happy he was getting through Danny's thick skull that he wanted to be part of everything to do with the CSI for as long as possible, at long last. They gazed into each other's blue eyes.

"Sure thing, Hawkes." Flack had a smug and contented grin. "Give us ten DVD copies, will ya? I've got an old man to shock."

ii.

Danny couldn't stop replaying the DVD on his laptop. It had to be the ten thousandth time he watched his baby sleeping and suckling her thumb. He smiled, softly touching the laptop's LCD screen where the baby's cheek showed. He rubbed his abdomen gently. In all honesty, he should be scared shitless by the whole situation. But he wasn't. What he felt now was something similar to a natural high all the drugs in the world combined could barely create.

Wow, so that was what expectant mothers felt like.

"Hey, ya want me to pop in a music CD or somethin'?"

Danny was lounging on his side on the bed, a pillow tucked under his head and a cream-colored afghan wrap over his lower body. The laptop computer was open next to his head. Flack was squatting in front of Danny's stereo set, browsing through his CDs stacked beside it. All the homicide detective had on was a pair of checkered boxers.

"Yeah, put in my favorite Pixies CD." Danny pulled at his white tank top. Damnit, it kept riding up his stomach.

Flack turned around and made a dismayed face. "I said music, Messer."

Danny seized the pillow beneath his head and made threatening gestures at his lover with it. "Don't make me throw this at ya. I'm gettin' reaaaal good at hittin' ya."

Flack scrambled to his feet and spread his arms, pointing at his robust chest. "Go 'head, make my day."

The pillow whacked him in the face instead.

The CSI on the bed cackled good-naturedly. Flack stood there with an unflappable expression, although his eyes were narrowed from just being smacked with a fat, plushy object seconds ago. The taller man casually waved his hands about.

"I didn't feel a thing."

Danny sat up and snatched the granite paperweight holding down some photograph prints from the side table. He played with it in his hands, like a baseball pitcher would.

"Oh yeah? Then maybe I oughta try this, hah?" Danny endeavored to smother the grin threatening to break loose.

With a whoop, Flack hurdled onto the bed and on top of Danny, laughing and grabbing the hard item out of Danny's loose grip. He was careful to stay on his hands and knees and not put any needless weight on Danny's tummy. Danny was laughing too, so evidently the guy on top in this round of playful squabbling.

The homicide detective put away the paperweight and made Danny lie down flat on his back on the bed, pushing the second pillow under Danny's head. Their bed had five pillows. Danny liked to slip a few around them while they slept. The CSI glanced questioningly at Flack as the taller detective pushed up his white tank top to expose his belly bump.

"Wanna listen to the baby." His reply made Danny smile. "You wanna leave the afghan wrap on?"

"Yeah. All I'm wearin' down there are my black BVDs."

Flack made a face. "You and yer BVDs."

Danny made an identical face. "You and yer checkered boxers."

They snickered. Then, the taller man bounced on his side on the bed facing Danny and laid his head on Danny's swollen stomach. They remained that way for fifteen minutes, just relaxing and enjoying the evening tranquility so rare in the lives they led. Outside Danny's bedroom, regular city life went by while pedestrians sauntered past on the pavement and honking cars whizzed to their destinations elsewhere.

Suddenly, Flack felt a powerful movement under his cheek. Danny had gone tense and rigid.

" … ow."

Flack jostled onto his elbows, startled. "What was that?"

Danny couldn't answer. His face was twisted into a pained grimace.

Flack crawled up so he lay spooned against his friend, his thick eyebrows lowered in a distraught frown. "Danny, say somethin' to me, buddy."

Danny turned his head on the pillow to glower at him.

"Your baby just kicked me."

The taller man quickly pressed his hand against the other man's tummy. Whoa. There it was again! Flack grinned from ear to ear.

"Did ya feel that, Danny? That was amazin'!"

Danny was still wincing. "Oh fuck, she kicks hard." His blue eyes opened. "Wait. Kickin'. That's a good thing, right?"

"Yeah." Flack chuckled. "Means she's active and, uh, kickin'."

"I'm gonna have a baby." The CSI looked dazed. "I'm gonna have a baby." Danny stared at the ceiling with wide, glazed eyes.

Flack pulled up the cozy afghan wrap over their bodies, and he snuggled closely with the shorter man, lying on his side while Danny was still on his back. Danny's hands were cold in his.

"It's gonna be okay. I ain't goin' anywhere."

Danny shifted his head so their cheeks touched. "I dunno, Don. This is … we're on our own in this, ya know? There's so much to think 'bout. Not just us." He chewed on his lower lip. "I mean, I dunno whether my current pay can even support the baby and me."

Flack frowned. He lightly slapped Danny on the arm under the afghan wrap. "Hey now, didn't we discuss this already? 'Course I'm pitchin' in. The baby's mine too."

Danny smiled softly. "Sorry." His smile diminished. "Well, even with both our pay … will it be enough for her education? And her - and her clothes and toys and food and - and … We gotta pick a pretty and secure baby cot for her."

Danny had no clue Flack was smiling his head off at all the rambling.

"Yeah, a nice blue one, with dangly yellow duckies she can play with when she's in there. Pink is so overrated."

Flack made an agreeing noise. He was thoroughly enjoying this infrequent, optimistic side of his friend and lover.

"And we can get her a tiny guitar too, definitely a traditional, wooden one." The CSI flashed his patented Cheshire cat grin. "I can teach her how to play Pixies and Henry Rollins songs!"

The homicide detective buried his face into the pillow and groaned.

"And - and we gotta clear the second room in this apartment to make way for the cot and her toys. Uhm, wait, do you want the baby room here or at your apartment instead? You've got two rooms too. And wait." Danny ruminated about things for a moment. "Shouldn't we move in together? That way we can save on payin' rent too."

Flack peeked at Danny with one eye.

"Yeah, we could move in together. Save on petrol for travel, and we can have more time together in private. Baby deserves to have two parents." The smaller man fell silent.

"Only one of us can be her legal father." Danny gazed anxiously at Flack. "We can't both be her legal parents. What will happen to her if somethin' happens to both of us? We're cops, we face danger everyday on the streets … Are we - are we goin' to even be allowed to keep her?"

Uh oh. Danny was plunging down from his high. Flack had gotten used to the other man's amplified mood swings by now.

"Don, what if our baby's taken away 'cause people think we're unfit to be her parents? What are we gonna tell her when she grows up and wonders why she's got two daddies and no mommy?" Danny's breathing was escalating. "What if … what if she hates me because our family will be different from other families -"

Flack got onto his elbows and partly shifted over Danny's chest, using his hands to maneuver the shorter man's head so they made eye contact. "Danny -"

"What if I don't even make it past her birth?" Danny murmured hoarsely.

A deathly silence loomed in the bedroom. Flack felt like someone had gutted him merely from imagining life without Danny Messer.

"Don't. Ever. Say that. Again."

Danny stared up at him with wide, upset eyes. Flack felt something wet running down the side of his nose. One of Danny's hands came up to wipe it away. Flack wanted to say something more, but his mouth didn't appear to be working. The homicide detective sensed Danny drawing his head down onto the other man's shoulder.

"I say such stupid things sometimes," Danny whispered, stroking the back of his head. "I dunno why. I'm sorry."

Muffled by the pillow and the CSI's shoulder and neck, Flack replied, "S'okay. Just don't say that ever again."

They both understood it simply wasn't the right time to talk about these things, but they were eventually going to do so. Life was never merciful on those living in denial for long.

Danny whimpered inaudibly. Flack raised his head.

"Baby kicking again?"

The smaller man nodded. He was only grimacing faintly. Huh, maybe he was getting used to it.

Flack sniggered. "Now ya know how I feel, don'tcha? She's inherited your violent tendencies."

Unintentionally proving the taller detective's point, Danny punched Flack in the shoulder.

"I don't think she was kickin'. I think she was punchin'." Danny smirked. "Heh. Strong legs. Strong arm. Maybe she'll grow up to be a professional pitcher or batter in the big leagues, eh? Play for the Mets."

Flack was inwardly thankful his emotional flare-up was so short-lived. Man, those baby books sure weren't kidding about parents sharing symptoms and the likes while one of them was pregnant. "No way. She'll play for the Rangers."

Danny made a horror-struck face. "Rangers suck!"

"Do not!"

"Do too! My baby is gonna play for the Mets!"

"Well, she's my baby too!"

They had a staring showdown that lasted approximately eight seconds. Danny was the one who lost, thanks to Flack sneakily tickling him in the side.

"You cheated!"

Flack shrugged. "Never set any rules, Messer."

The CSI rolled his eyes. "Whatever." Out of the blue, Danny's mouth stretched in an enormous yawn.

The taller man smirked, turning around to shut off the one bedside lamp still lit. The bedroom plummeted into semi-darkness. In the city, it was never fully dark. And New York city was the city that never slept.

Flack wriggled until he found a comfy position on the bed, arms around Danny and legs intertwined with the other man's. The afghan wrap was rearranged over their bodies up to their shoulders. It was too hot to use their regular blanket. Danny was already asleep, long eyelashes casting semi-circular shadows on glowing cheeks.

Or so Flack thought until Danny muttered under his breath, "I am not violent."

Danny's final statement for the night cracked Flack up so bad he would have suffocated to death from laughing if it wasn't for the CSI frenetically slapping his back.