Author's Notes:

1) Doing bloke chat, when you're a girl, is hard - apologies!

2) Doing American bloke chat, when you're a British chippy predominately surrounded by blokes of the ex-pat variety, is extra hard - double apologies!

3) Shopping in Yankee Candle on a boyfriend's credit card is really wrong, even if they owe you $50...

There's a girl that you might know

She's a friend at least I tell you so

But it might surprise you to find

There's something going on behind the door

The Ditty Bops - There's A Girl

They'd been drinking morning lattes when the call came in.

Curled up in an oversized armchair with the mug precariously balanced on her knee, she'd been deeply engrossed in a Marie-Claire article about the Eastern European sex trade. Confused, he'd asked earlier why she bothered with magazine articles on crime when she could read a couple of case files but she'd just chuckled, cutely crinkled her nose and gone back to reading.

"Messer has a spare ticket for the game tonight..." he'd hissed, hand clamped over the cell.

Peering over the magazine, she'd looked blankly for a few moments before patting his thigh, "Cool". Using a fingertip to lower the magazine he'd hissed again, "A ticket...for the game tonight..." As realization crept in she'd blushed, exclaiming "Don, you don't need to ask me!"

He'd frowned, weighing up her words. With previous girlfriends, he might have taken it to be a test; choosing his friends and sport or choosing them. With Jess however, he took it at face value.

Surreptitiously, she'd listened as he'd made plans, beer and pizza at his place before the game; then watched as he'd finished the call and gone back to the browsing film reviews. Leaning over, she'd gently laid a palm on his cheek "Vous etes...", before pausing, as if unsure of the word. He'd raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth to question her but she'd kissed him, grinning; sweetly but with depth and soul.

o-o-o

Danny went from zero to sixty the moment he walked through the door; raving about the game, bemoaning that his relationship with Lindsay was still on exceedingly rocky ground, bitching that the subway was intolerable and noting, a little smugly, that Flack had been conspicuous in his recent absence.

"So what gives Flack? You missed hoops last week, you've not been in O'Sheas much...have you got a girl on the go?"

He shrugged, occupying himself with scrutinizing take-out menus although there was no real question in what they'd order, "Just busy I guess".

Danny continued with his whirlwind, regaling a tale of a lab phenomenon and flicking through the sports pages of the newspaper. Pulling two beers from the fridge he turned to hand one across the counter, "Boom!" Danny appeared at his side, peering into the fridge, "Organic fat free milk; that's chick crap. There is a girl!"

"Maybe I just care about what I eat; antibiotics and hormones and stuff?"

Scoffing, Danny rolled his eyes "Nuh-uh. Firstly, guys only buy organic crap if there's a woman involved. They're pre-set to buy into that whole 'It's cost a buck more but tastes exactly the same' scam. And secondly, guys only know about 'antibiotics and hormones and stuff' if there's a woman involved. Trust me; it's the crap Montana likes so it's in my fridge".

The tips of his ears pinked a little and his brow furrowed, "Don't know what you're talking about Messer".

He watched as Danny poked around the apartment; reading the backs of DVDs and books, examining the photographs on the high bookshelf and rummaging in the low bowl on the coffee table full of change, keys and receipts. As he picked up the phone to call in the pizza order, Danny grinned and disappeared from sight.

"Messer" he shouted, warningly, before being distracted by the answer from Pizza Di Marco. As he finished placing the order, Danny sauntered back into the living room looking dangerously pleased and dangling trophy items from his fingertips.

"Look what I found!" Danny crowed holding up a necklace. "I'm sure I recognize this actually...someone I've seen recently".

"Danny, quit poking around and put it back where you found it". He lunged, but despite the height advantage over the second man, missed.

Grinning, Danny set the piece of jewelry on the table and moved onto the second object, a small coin purse. He gingerly unzipped the purse, as if it were an official piece of evidence in the lab. Extracting a fold of bills, he counted through them, efficiently noting "Thirty two bucks".

"Can't believe you're doing this Dan", he sighed, a little irritated that he couldn't think of a good comeback.

Danny hooted with laughter, pulling out the next item. "A MasterCard in the name of," he waggled his eyebrows, "Donald J Flack". Shaking his head in disgust, he glowered "Man, you're letting this chick have your credit card? Big mistake...you've got to stop that now! Before you know it there'll be shit like 'Yankee Candle' appearing on the statement".

He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, "Just put it back Dan".

Smirking at the enjoyment of torturing a friend, Danny pulled out the final contents. "Movie tickets to Made of Honor", he grimaced as he said the words, "from this afternoon". He frowned, "Don, I'm sorry buddy. For a night at the game, you had to suffer a chick flick?"

As Danny shook his head in sympathy, he grabbed the purse, shoving it deep into his jeans pocket. "Jeez Danny, it's like being back in middle school sometimes".

Snorting, Danny held up his hand in mock apology, "Bit touchy there Flack, aren't you?! Ha-ha, with the way things are with Linds right now I need to do my vicarious living through someone else. You're getting laid, you get to go the game without much hassle..."

Grateful for the sound of the buzzer he grumbled, "Well, I wish you'd do your vicarious living through someone else's love life".

Although already halfway to the door Danny paused, retraced his steps and peered intently at his friend. Clapping him on the shoulder he chuckled, "Your 'love life' Flack? Telling. Very telling".