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 ¼ 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.
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Author's Notes: Hi there! Thank you for reading my story. I appreciate the kind reviews. I know this isn't the usual fanfare, but as Robert Frost once said, it's always more wonderful to take the road less travelled. If I've traumatized anyone with this story, I didn't intend to. Really!
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Chapter 9
Mac knew his off day was going to be cut short the minute his mobile phone rang that early in the morning. He paused, his red mug of coffee nearly touching his lips. The only person he could think of who'd call him at this time was Stella.
And only if it was an emergency.
Mac answered the call after the ring tone played for three seconds.
"Taylor."
Silence.
"Hello? Who is this?"
More silence. Mac was certain there was someone at the other end of the line.
"The cobra is invading the eagle's nest." The voice was distorted into a robotic, indistinct one, so Mac could hardly tell whether it was a man or woman. Before he said anything in reply, the line disengaged. Mac frowned.
What the hell kind of game was Jon playing at?
He could merely surmise it had been Jon, but his gut instinct told him he was most likely right. That cryptic statement was another code he and his former fellow Marine used during their stint in the service. Hearing it had caused the hair on his neck to stand on end.
Mac reminisced of the one time Jon'd said that to him. They were assigned as part of a team to protect an undercover mole who'd been exposed in Iraq. It had started out like any other day, except it ended with an exploding car bomb, over thirty-four people wounded and one very dead informant with three-quarters of his head crushed to bloody pulp. The simple reason the whole fiasco never got into the news was because their assignment had been top secret. And the mole's mission had been to infiltrate the Al-Qaeda sect to gather information on possible future terrorist attacks on American soil.
If that car bomb hadn't gone off at that moment and killed that informant, would they have eventually learnt about the September 11th terrorist strike?
Would his beloved Claire still be alive today?
A part of Mac deep inside ached like it was crushed in a vice-like grip. It didn't matter if he took off his wedding ring or not. There would always be one around his heart as long as he could feel and remember her voice, her touch, her whispers as she told him she loved him. The way she kissed him goodbye on the morning of the last day he saw her alive. If he'd known the fate awaiting her, he would have done everything in his power to make her stay. If he ...
If. The cruellest word in the dictionary of Man's tenuous existence.
His cold coffee was left forgotten on his kitchen table as he called his most trustworthy partner since Jon Turgis left the NYPD to join the Feds.
"Mac?" He heard the rustle of sheets. "Is everything alright?" Stella sounded like she'd just woken up, and just the slightest bit annoyed. He didn't blame her; today was her first break in weeks of continuous investigation in various homicide cases, as well as the explosion at the labs.
"Stella, have you heard from Danny at all in the last few days?" Acute and sudden urgency made him brisk.
"No, I haven't." Stella was wide awake now. "But Flack's been updating me on his condition. Last time he called was a couple of days ago, after he brought Danny back to his apartment. He was fine." When Mac didn't answer, she said, "Mac, what's wrong?"
"I received a call a few minutes ago ... I think Danny's in trouble."
"What?" Mac heard Stella throwing off her blankets and getting out of bed. "What do you mean? What did the caller say?"
"You'll just have to trust me. I have to get to Danny's now."
More noises reached Mac's ear through the connection; Stella was opening her cupboard and changing clothes. "You mean we."
Mac couldn't help but smile. "Of course, we."
"Okay, I'll meet you there."
Mac concurred, then dialled Danny's mobile phone number for his next call. His stomach was turning more and more sour with every droning beep on the line. After the tenth beep, he disconnected the call and phoned the next guy he knew who'd know what was going on with his protégé.
"Flack."
"Flack, are you there with Danny now?" Mac donned his coat and picked up his car keys.
"Yeah, I'm here with him." There was an almost hostile quality to Flack's voice, thickening the young detective's accent. Something disconcerting had occurred prior to his call. Mac was pretty damn sure now the message was about Danny. He was only somewhat reassured that Flack was there with him. What if the threat hadn't surfaced yet?
"Good. Stay with him. I'm coming over right now." Mac didn't wait for a reply.
He was going to get his answers in person, even if it meant driving like a mad man on the streets of New York on a quiet Sunday morning.
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Stella was the first to arrive at Danny's apartment.
She rapped her knuckles on the black door twice. From inside, heavy footsteps gradually grew louder until they halted behind the door. A moment later, the door opened to reveal Flack, dressed in a sleeveless black jersey and dark orange track pants with white stripes on the sides. His feet were bare, and his hair was tousled. Looks like she wasn't the only one who got woken up too early on a Sunday morning.
"Hey." Stella smiled at him, noticing how his brows were lowered in a slight scowl. "Is everything okay? Where's Danny?"
"Stella." Flack looked surprised for a minute, then it dawned on him. "Mac called ya, right?"
Stella raised an eyebrow as Flack stuck his head out and checked both sides of the hallway before looking back at her.
"Did you see any Feds around on your way up here?"
Stella's green eyes widened at the question. "Feds? They were here?"
Flack took her wrist and carted her inside the apartment, hurriedly closing the door behind them.
"Yeah, two a' them. They came lookin' for Danny." Flack spoke softly, putting one finger to his puckered lips in a, "Shh!" when Stella began to say something in her usual volume. "Sorry. Danny's sleepin' again."
"Again?" Stella whispered. "What do you mean? And what did the FBI want with Danny?"
Flack led her to the kitchen, where a half-full mug of coffee and an empty giant, white cup were left in the sink. Flack gestured at her with a clean mug from the cupboard, and she said, "Coffee, please, if there's any left." Flack smirked and poured her some from a medium stainless steel kettle. She nodded in thanks, closing her eyes as the hot coffee flowed down her throat. It was good.
"The Feds claimed they wanted to ask Danny some questions 'bout the explosion, but I could tell it was bullshit. I think they were here to check Danny out in person."
Stella thought back to the day before when the FBI paid a visit to the CSI headquarters. They had something big to hide, alright. "Flack, the FBI came to the labs on Friday. They took everything on the explosion and our homicide case. Everything."
Flack's expression was indescribable. "What the fuck do you mean they took everything!"His hands flailed in the air; Stella was secretly grateful Flack'd put down the kettle. "What, the evidence? The-the body -"
"Yeah. Everything." Stella bit her lip.
Flack stood like a statue in the middle of the tiny kitchen, face utterly vacant. "Excuse me." He shuffled out towards the bathroom opposite the kitchen, and shut himself in. There was dead silence.
"MOTHERFUCKER SONSOFBITCHEEEEEEESSSS!"
Stella jumped at the enraged scream and the subsequent curses from inside the bathroom. A loud crash, followed by the sounds of something wooden being punched or kicked really hard. Then a big thump like something heavy sinking down. A grand mal like this was something she expected from Danny, not Flack. After nearly five minutes, he came out and ambled back calmly to the kitchen. Flack's face was as blank as ever, and the only clue Stella had of what he'd done was from the swelling contusions on his knuckles. They were going to hurt a lot.
"This is bad. This is really bad." Flack was behaving like he was back at the hospital right after Danny was released from the ER into the ward. "Danny's gonna go ballistic. This is bad."
Stella gripped his upper arms and shook him enough to almost jerk him off his feet. "Flack, snap out of it." She grabbed his face and forced him to look at her. "It's going to be okay. Tell me what's bad."
Flack stared uncomprehendingly at her. "Danny. You guys need the evidence and your CSI research and stuff to help him."
Stella felt a cold stone settle in the pit of her belly. "What do you mean? What's happened to Danny?"
" ... You-you gotta see it for yourself."
They headed for the bedroom, its door slightly ajar. She gazed questioningly at Flack when she set eyes on the rubbish bin filled with the broken glass shards, but he just sucked in his lips and said nothing.
"Look, just ... just promise me you won't scream, okay?" Flack looked ... terrified.
"Believe me, I've been a CSI for a long time. There's nothing that can scare me. Really." She attempted to sound soothing.
Flack's giggle had a hysterical edge to it. "Oh man ... ohh, thiiiis is somethin' different. I screamed my head off when I saw them for the first time."
Them?
"Okay, just ... let me see Danny."
Flack huffed, blinked then stretched an arm towards the door. "Okayokay. Okay. If he's awake, don't-don't say boob job, a'right?"
Stella was still trying to understand what the significance of the phrase 'boob job' was in their current situation as the bedroom door was pushed open.
Then she saw Danny dozing on the bed on his side, facing the door.
And her scream was so shrill it woke up everyone on the same floor.
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Mac arrived at Danny's apartment about a half hour after Stella.
He was doing his best to keep himself from thundering up the staircases and kicking down Danny's door. He'd never been the kind of guy who lost it and took it out on whatever was around him, not even whenever things went downhill during his Marine and early NYPD years. That nearly changed when he hired on one rebellious young CSI into his fold. Danny was probably the only human being in the world who could stir him up into a hissy fit within minutes.
At that thought, he was also doing his best to deny that he actually enjoyed it to a certain extent whenever Danny stood his ground and defied him. Maybe his old friend Jon was right. Maybe he really did have some dominant-submissive kink he didn't realize he had. So why didn't that concept scare him as much as it should?
Mac shoved these contemplations into a box in his mind, putting them away for another time. Right now, he had a more imperative matter to confront.
As he advanced towards Danny's apartment door, he noticed the apartment door next to it was open. An old lady in a white nightgown and pink robe was peeking out, looking anxious and fiddling with her cane.
"Ma'am, is everything alright?" He took out his golden badge and showed it to her.
She immediately relaxed. "Ohh, you must be one of Daniel's associates!"
Mac gave her a courteous smile. "Yes, I'm his ... boss."
"Ahh." She toddled unsteadily on her cane up to him. "I was sleeping soundly until I heard a loud scream coming from Daniel's apartment. It sounded like a woman."
Mac was instantaneously on alert. "Don't worry, ma'am, I'll check it out."
"Thank you so much. I do hope Daniel is alright, I haven't seen him for so long. But Donny is here with him, so I'm not so worried. You're very sweet, just like them both." She went back into her apartment, babbling on about thin walls and chocolate cookies.
It took a moment or two for Mac to realize the Donny she was referring to was Flack. Then the next realization was that the woman who screamed was probably Stella.
He clutched the handle of his gun hanging from his waist, closing his other hand on the knob of Danny's apartment door. His grip on the weapon tightened when the unlocked door opened with a creak. He cautiously stepped in, pulling out his gun and scanning the entire place. When he moved into the vicinity of the living area, Mac felt all the tension leave his body at the sight of Flack and Stella sitting quietly side by side on the couch.
"Stella?" Mac returned the gun to its holster.
It was Flack who turned to look at him. "Hey, Mac."
Something just felt off to Mac.
"Where's Danny? Is he okay?" Mac went to stand before the two detectives, and saw what remained of the coffee table there. "What happened to that?"
"Danny, uhm. Danny smashed it. With his fist." Flack looked like a child who'd gotten caught doing something bad. Stella, on the other hand, looked like someone just socked her in the face and was still reeling from the impact.
Mac gaped at them.
"I wrapped his hand up and all that. He's okay." Flack suddenly sniggered nervously. "He's ... okay. As okay as somebody in his condition could be."
"Stella, Danny's elderly neighbour next door said she heard a woman scream. Was that you?"
Stella sat stock still, her eyes wide and glassy. "Yeah."
Okay, Mac was wrong. Danny wasn't the only one who could get him into a hissy fit in minutes.
"Will somebody tell me what the hell is going on here?"
Both Flack and Stella merely stared at him like little children being scolded by their daddy. Then Flack said, "Like I told Stella ... ya just gotta see it for yourself."
And Stella added, "It's not fair. They're bigger than mine."
That did it. Whatever shell-shocked his two detectives was something he was going to have to deal with himself. He stormed up to Danny's bedroom, ignoring the thwacking sounds of Flack leaping off the couch and chasing after him.
"Wait, Mac! Wait!"
Mac slammed open the door, prepared for the worst.
He certainly wasn't expecting to see a short-haired woman curled up in a semi-fetal position on Danny's bed, in a deep sleep. Her legs, hips and waist were under the dark blue blanket. Her face was partly hidden under a forearm, but the voluptuous breasts under her black tank top told Mac more than enough about the gender of the person.
He faced Flack, who was standing behind him and fidgeting agitatedly with his hands, a funny expression on his pink face. "Who is she? And where's Danny?"
Flack tried to smile, and ended up looking like he was about to be strapped into a straightjacket and thrown into the back of one of those transport vans with bars on the windows. "That ... t-that is Danny."
"Flack. That's a woman."
"No. That's Danny."
Mac stared at the younger detective. "Flack, you do realize Danny isn't a woman and doesn't have breasts, don't you?"
Flack made another crumpled face. "Y-yeah, but that's Danny. With breasts."
Mac stared some more at Flack.
Crap. He wasn't kidding.
Mac quietly drew near the bed, his heartbeat increasing with each footstep. This was impossible. Illogical. Men didn't grow DD-sized breasts period. Mac touched the person lying down on the shoulder. If this was some April Fool's joke at his expense, he was going to kill all three of them. Very slowly.
The person moaned softly, and shifted on the bed. The forearm moved away.
" ... Mac?"
Mac stared into familiar lidded, blue eyes. It wasn't a woman. It was really Danny. With the hottest damn boobs he'd ever laid eyes on in his entire existence. And they were genuine.
Mac's brain experienced total shutdown.
"Mac?"
Danny saying his name was the last thing he heard right before he toppled backwards and fainted dead away.