A/N: Usual disclaimers apply. I forgot to mention that I will be alternating between Danny and Lindsay POV with this fic. This is a short chapter, I know, but it setting the stage for their relationship. Thank you for all of your support and comments thus far. :)
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Chapter 2
Danny: Watching Her Sleep
He never knew it was possible to become addicted to a person.
Danny loved watching Lindsay as she slept. It kept him awake at night, far longer than it should. Flack always teased him about the reason why he must not get enough sleep. A few yawns from Danny, and Flack could never resist an opportunity to make a quip about his probable "extracurricular activities" with Lindsay. Yet little did Flack know the truth. She was always strict about not allowing their desires to interfere with their need for sleep. Still, Danny would lie awake long after she had drifted off, unable to take his eyes off of her. Tonight was no different.
Even asleep, she could transfix him. There was something about the way the moonlight made her skin look like silvery-blue satin, something about the sheet draped just over the curve of her breasts. She was lying on her side, one arm slung across him, her fingers curled on his chest as if she were anchoring herself to him through her dreams. Her knees were partially bent, and if he watched closely, he would sometimes see one of her legs twitch involuntarily. Those big brown eyes were closed, a feathery curtain of lashes remained. Her hair was a tangled mess, spilling over the pillow like a chocolate fondue gone awry. The lips he had been kissing all evening were rosy and plump, parting slightly as each breath escaped.
Danny often wished he were an artist, so he could sketch her the way she looked there next to him each night. Then he would carry the drawing with him everywhere; allowing himself to slip back into this peaceful feeling wherever, whenever. However, he knew that a charcoal pencil would not be able to capture the more intimate details - her soft, even breathing, the goose bumps where the draft from the air conditioner reached her shoulders, the intoxicatingly sweet scent of her skin. And no medium could precisely match the silky texture of her curls, which he would sometimes stroke or twist around his finger. Then there was her very presence, taking up space next to him, the shifting of the mattress. No, no artist in history could have created a portrait quite like her.
He sometimes wondered if she ever just pretended to sleep, if she knew that he watched her, and if she knew how much satisfaction most innocent act of voyeurism brought him. It struck him as funny, because his past experiences in bed with women had left him itching to get up and leave - before any sense of intimacy made its way into his heart. Not only had it made a home there now, he had also welcomed it sincerely. His feelings for Lindsay did scare him, but no so much that he was willing to give her up. Since meeting her, he had seen New York - the city where he had grown up - through fresh eyes. Hell, he now saw the whole world through fresh eyes. Indeed, everyday colors looked richer than ever, the morning sky had never been so brilliant.
He had told Louie all about Lindsay. Sitting there at his brother's bedside several times a week, he hadn't known what to talk about. He was unsure if his voice even registered. Yet still, he talked. He talked about Lindsay. Louie, more than anyone else, had heard every detail of their relationship from its first official moment to present day. He tried to describe her to his brother - that big, goofy, toothy grin that she would flash if something was particularly funny, or the way her lip trembled when she was angry. Had his brother been awake, he would have reached over and cuffed Danny playfully across the head, and teased him for letting a girl get such a hold of his senses. But inside, Louie would have been happy for him. And he would have liked Lindsay, Danny thought. Louie would have loved the way Danny bent over backwards to please her, just as he would have loved her secret Montana barbecue sauce. It was looking at his brother in this condition one night, just five months ago, that made Danny realize the fragility of life. It was frightening exactly what could happen if someone's presence was taken for granted. He had gone home that night and called Lindsay. She was at his door in under an hour, and they never looked back.
And now, he treasured moments such as these; these nights of watching her, aching to touch her but not permitting himself. He wouldn't allow his hormonal turmoil to interrupt her sleep. She was enchanting. The moon would shift in phases, highlighting different areas of her body at different periods of time. It would settle on her head soon after she fell asleep, making her brunette mane more radiant than ever. Later it moved on to illuminate her midsection, the arc of her hips. When the light spilled across her calves, Danny knew night was quickly fading. Just ten more minutes, he'd tell himself. Ten would pass, as would ten more. He wondered if it was possible for a heart to explode with emotion. It was so amazing, in fact, that he often looked over his shoulder, waiting for Real Life to come and snatch away the happiness he had found, reclaim the time he had borrowed from harsh Reality. Because being this happy couldn't be real, and certainly couldn't last… or could it?
