To DD or Not to DD
Fandom: CSI:NY
Author: Kimmychu
Rating: FRM (it may go up later)
Pairing: Danny/Flack, Danny/Mac
Content Warning: Cracktasticness, odd body changes, language. Did I mention cracktasticness?
Spoilers: Set after 'Fair Game', so spoilers for any episode previous to that
Summary: After a freak laboratory accident at CSI headquarters, Danny is cursed (or blessed, depending on how you see things) with very unusual … add-ons. Inspired by a forum comment: "Danny is the show's DD breasts."
Disclaimer: Nope, none of the characters belong to me. What a shame. I would treat them oh so well. They have no idea what they're missing.
Chapter 2
Detective Stella Bonasera definitely wasn't what one would consider an average or timid woman. In fact, saying either of those to her face was something akin to searching for a death wish. Very much so if agony between the legs was part of the plan too. But, as a select few men who've survived her punch or kick of doom have attested (in oddly high-pitched voices), she was worth every second of pain.
Of course, Mac, who'd known her and been her partner for more years than most of her boyfriends combined, knew the difference between truth and exaggeration better than most people. It was part of his job to seek the truth within all the lies. However, as he silently watched her storming down the hospital hallway towards him, he could grasp why there were men who found her intimidating and even frightening.
"Has he awakened?" That was his Stella, straight to the point, green eyes flashing.
"No, he's still unconscious. But the doctor said he should wake up any moment now." Mac gestured to the semi-closed door next to him, bearing a number at head height. "Flack's in there with him now."
Stella pointedly stared at him for a moment, and he just about rolled his eyes.
"Yes, I've gone in to see him."
She sent him a brilliant smile before pushing past the door into the room. Mac remained outside, leaning slightly on the smooth wall behind him, listening to Stella greeting Flack softly. He envisioned Stella placing one hand on his shoulder, giving him an almost maternal smile while she asked the younger detective what had happened. The door muffled most of what Flack said in reply but the strain in his voice was obvious. Mac's eyebrows met together in a frown. He understood exactly how Flack felt, although he didn't show it as visibly.
Mac was in another section of the labs when he felt the massive tremors rolling through the very walls and floors all around him, followed milliseconds later by a thunderous boom. His first thought was that a bomb had exploded, that it was possibly a terrorist attack. The next few thoughts unwillingly shifted to his late wife, Claire, wondering if he was about to discover firsthand what she went through before she died when the Towers fell. The minute he realized everything was still intact around him (apart from some empty test tubes that fell off the tables and shattered on the floor), he rushed into the hallway towards the site of the explosion.
It was very fortunate there were much fewer technicians in attendance during that particular shift. Mac was certain Danny wouldn't have appreciated the entire lab seeing him sprawled on the charred floor, his clothes and most of his hair singed right off his body. The entire laboratory Danny worked in was nothing more than a chaotic wreck of broken tables and glass, smashed equipment and spilled chemicals. The outer windows had blown outwards with the blast, and Mac could only hope none of the falling shards injured anyone below at ground level.
For the first time since his Marine days, he had been at a loss what to do. Danny's back was facing him, his head turned away and tucked under an arm so Mac had no idea whether he was even alive. Tatters of his maroon shirt and khaki trousers still covered his back, hips and upper thighs, but where his clothes had burnt away, there were reddish, raw blisters. There were also splatters of some luminescent bluish substance on Danny's jaw, neck and shoulders where he could see. Mac feared touching Danny would further hurt the younger man.
Flack's heavy footsteps behind him jolted him out of his daze. It took all of his strength to grapple with Flack to stop him from grabbing Danny. Flack's lanky, slim build was very misleading of how tough the homicide detective really was; now he had the bruises to prove it. Flack's frenzy nearly convinced him to sock the blue-eyed detective in the face just to calm him down, and he was thankful to the male lab technician who helped subdue him.
He was even more thankful to the person who'd the mind to immediately call 911. The presence of the EMT at the scene seemed to calm Flack down somewhat, even if some of the ferocity remained in Flack's wide, glazed eyes. Mac was definitely going to have a talk with him later. As the paramedics deftly turned Danny over to see to his injuries, Mac saw more of the bright blue stuff plastering Danny's chest. He made a mental note to collect a sample of it himself later at the hospital, feeling a lot more like himself knowing Danny was still alive and would be cared for. He remembered it came from one of their current cases, concerning the brutal murder of an unidentified woman splashed with the stuff. If it was the cause of the explosion, whoever manufactured it was going to have a lot more than just a killing to answer for.
Everything that happened afterwards passed in a blur. Everyone who was at the scene was questioned, including Mac. Flack had the most to say, as he was the last person to talk with Danny and virtually heard the explosion via his mobile phone. The young detective was more calm, the only signs of distress revealed in the pursed thinness of his lips and the low set of his brows. Immediately after that, Mac and Flack hurried to the hospital where Danny'd been dispatched. It was a tense two hours in the waiting area, lessened a little by Stella showing up for awhile before needing to leave to deal with a suspect in one of her cases.
And over four hours later after a doctor approached them to break the news Danny was going to be fine, here he was, standing in wordless vigil before his favoured protégé's hospital room. Not that it's going to make a difference now, a small, vindictive voice in his mind said. It made him wince inwardly, because it was true.
He had such high hopes for Danny. When he first placed the young, recently graduated CSI on his hiring list years ago, he was surprised at the amount of opposition he got from his peers over it. His former partner on the force, a hulking giant of a man who always called him by his full first name, happened to be one of them.
"I'm telling' ya, Maclaren, that boy's bad news." Jon was munching loudly on a hamburger the size of Mac's head, waving it around as he rumbled. "I heard things 'bout him. He's got connections to the gangs, that one."
"'Things'. In other words, unsubstantiated rumours." Mac was smaller in stature compared to Jon, nearly a head shorter than him too. But Jon was no idiot. Mac Taylor was one tough bastard you didn't mess with.
"Yeah, but ya know how things are. People don't talk unless there's somethin' that wants to stay hidden, know what I mean?" Jon's heavy-lidded, hard eyes spoke of decades of experience on the streets of New York. "You oughta be careful about hiring this Messer. Sure, he came out top a' his class. Don't mean that automatically makes him a good cop."
Mac's eyes narrowed, mirthless smirk on the lips.
"Whatever happened to giving everyone a second chance, Jon?"
"All I'm gonna say 'bout that is, everybody makes mistakes. But some mistakes …" - Mac watched his friend finish the last of his meal - "Some mistakes, they'll cost ya more than you can pay up, Maclaren."
"They stay with you for life."
OooooooooooooooooooooooooO
Stella had seen a lot of things in her time as a leading CSI. Decapitated and dismembered bodies, bodies burnt to a crunchy crisp by fire, human remains that came right out of a full-grown tiger's belly. Spatula Man ranked at the top as one for squicking people out at dinners. An adult man squished into a gory, flat pancake by a ship's container wasn't something even somebody like her saw everyday. One aspect of her job she valued was that it built up her tolerance towards grisly sights and scenes. It helped her remember every murderer she hunted down had no justification whatsoever for their crimes. Her life was proof that being exposed to death, pain and violence everyday was no excuse for anyone to become a criminal or a killer.
There are some things in the world, however, that would never stop making her breath catch in her throat.
Stella slowly approached the bed where Danny rested. The sight of her younger co-worker and friend so still and quiet was unnerving, more so than the white bandages wrapped around his arms, hands and neck where the plain hospital gown and blanket didn't conceal. It was odd to see Danny's face without any facial hair; the smoothness made him look years younger. The redness all over his face made him appear to be blushing, which would have amused Stella in any other situation. She expected the clear ointment rubbed on his skin would ease the inflammation soon.
"He's gonna be so pissed off when he wakes up."
Flack sounded like he was talking to himself.
"Always gels his hair up like crazy every morning 'fore he gets to work. Drives me nuts sometimes 'cos he takes so long to make it look like he took a weed whacker to it anyway."
She gazed at Flack, noticing how rigid he was sitting in the chair next to Danny's bed. He was staring at a spot on the wall near Danny's head.
"Look at his hair now. It's all … tufts. Yeah, he's gonna be whining for weeks."
Stella stood beside him and squeezed a tense shoulder. When Flack didn't respond at all, she tenderly ran a hand over the back of his head. While she wasn't the kind to display affection openly very often, this was one of those moments where pride mattered jack.
"Hey. He's alive. He's going to be fine, okay?" Mac liked to call this her Mother Steel voice.
Flack continued to stare off into the distance, and Stella considered hauling him away to be treated for shock. All of a sudden, he jerked in his seat. She heard a rustling sound coming from the bed, and she glanced up.
Danny's eyes were open.
Flack was instantly hovering over Danny, bending over to put an ear close to Danny's moving lips.
"… where's my tea … you dumbass."
Flack's laughter was the best thing Stella heard all day.