Author: Velvetine
Rating: T
Pairing: Danny/Flack
Content Warning: mild slash
Spoilers: none
Time Period: during relationship
Word Count: 476
Disclaimer: I own nothing. These two would be married by now if I did!
Rubber Gloves
"I'm not domesticated, Messer."
"Says the man who irons his own dress shirts!" Danny scoffed amusedly. "Anyway, it's your turn to do the dishes, so do them!"
Don cast a wary and irritated glare at the mountainous stack of table wear currently clogging up Danny's kitchen sink, before moaning exasperatedly. "Where did all of these dishes come from?" Don shook his head in disbelief.
"It's called procrastination, Don." Danny replied matter-of-factly. "That and an unsatiable appetite. Go get 'em tiger!" came a mocking cheer.
"Ugh!" The dark haired detective continued to moan and whine in an uncharacteristicly high pitched tone thick with repulsion. "Where's the soap?"
"Right next to the sponge."
"Where's the sponge?"
"Right in front of you!"
"Oh." There was a loud slapping noise followed by a squeezing noise as Don donned a pair of pink rubber gloves and put some soap onto the sponge.
A small, fleeting moment passed silently save for the occasional clatter coming from the kitchen sink.
"Y'know, if ya listened to me an' got a dishwasher...eww... then I, you, we wouldn't have ... what the hell IS that... have to wash ever these stinking dishes again!" Don breathed with trouble. Partly because of his clenched jaw, but also due to the disgust at the three day old crud embedded on the plates.
"They're not environmentally friendly, Don." Danny said curtly.
"Damn scientists," Don muttered under his breath. "What d'you mean?"
"They use way too much water and electricity!" Danny explained from the sitting rrom, where he could admire Flack's figure hunched over an overflowing sink. "And they're expensive!"
"Think of all the money you could save on buying...soap!"
"Dishwashers use soap..."
"Fine... sponges!"
"Sponges are cheap, Flack." Danny said amusedly. Boy, Flack really hated dishes. "Stop whining and actually start washing the dishes!" The CSI shot a mock glare in the detective's direction.
The taller man huffed and sulked but started filling the sink with steaming water and lemon scented soap. There was another momentary silence, broken only by the squeaking of the sponge on the plates, but as always, Don stayed true to his persistent nature.
"Gimme ONE good reason, other than your hippie environmental blab, why you shouldn't get a dishwasher."
Danny let out a sigh, hoisting himself up off the couch and sauntered into the kitchen, positioning himself right behind Don.
"Because," he whispered, leaning in closer so that his erection pressed lightly against the taller man's backside, "you look sexy in gloves." He finished, his hands playing with the hem of Don's boxers as he licked the ebony haired detective's ear.
Danny walked slowly back to the sofa, a smug look on his face.
"Um... Danny I wanna -"
"When the dishes are done and squeaky clean." Danny smirked, the amusement in his voice thick enough for Don to hear. "And keep those gloves on."
La Fin.
A/N: this was really fun to write. don whining in a high pitched tone is always to be exploited!
the next two i have already put up on BC, but thanks for reading. Oh, and do leave reviews... they make me happy!