bluepenreader

Lost and Found 2: Berries and Beethoven

2007-01-21T21:18:06Z

Lost and Found 2: Berries and Beethoven
Bluepenreader
Fandom: CSI:NY
Rating: FRAO; slash
Disclaimer: I *so* do not own them – I own the DVDs and that’s the only connection I have to the show… damn it!
Warnings: language, lots of bad language; and smut! I wrote **smut**!!!!

Danny gently tugged on Mac’s arm, pulling the drowsing man over to lay his head on Danny’s shoulder. Danny smiled. Catholic Masses were notoriously long on religious holidays, and the one he and Mac had found that Christmas morning had not scrimped on the ritual … verbosity. His smile widened. Hell, call it what it was: that priest had been as longwinded as a politician and as boring as his high school physics teacher, and Danny had gotten one hell of a good nap out of it. Which was why he was sitting on the subway train wide awake and Mac was on the edge of snoring.

They had ended up at the back of the church seated on folding chairs. Danny had immediately leaned against the wall and dropped off, his only nod to prayer a quick hope that he didn’t snore or drool and embarrass himself and his boss. He woke only a little when he sensed movement around him when it came time to exchange the sign of peace, and he heard Mac whisper his excuses for Danny to their nosy and self-righteous neighbor. She huffed when Danny didn’t stir anymore, but backed off when Mac explained they were cops at the end of a hard double shift. Nice to know being a hardworking public servant hadn’t lost any of its cachet this time of year.

Danny heard that much of the conversation and no more until Mac shook him awake at the end of the Mass. He flattered himself that the lines of tension in Mac’s face seemed eased a little after the service. Or it could have been that he was still half asleep and not seeing, let alone thinking, clearly. Whatever. Mac had been smiling when he jostled Danny’s shoulder, and that’s all that counted.

They had found their way to the subway through streets that were quiet, quiet at least for the heart of New York City, and now Mac was taking his turn at sleep. The lines of tension on his face, diminished when he smiled, returned in his sleep, and whether from long practice in the Marines or from exhaustion, Mac didn’t stir through any of the bumps and shimmies of the train car. When the train lurched suddenly, Danny quickly wrapped an arm around Mac’s shoulder to keep him from tumbling off his seat. Mac roused a little at the feeling of warmth encircling him, but sank back when that warmth touched the back of his neck and Danny’s soft words, gentle puffs of peppermint candy scented breath, told him to rest.

Danny didn’t know who got more comfort from it, and really couldn’t have cared less. He held Mac close until they approached the stop closest to Danny’s apartment, stroking Mac’s arm with the gentle rhythm of the prayers Danny remembered from his youth but didn’t hear that morning. As the train slowed, he shook Mac awake.

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.” Danny patted Mac’s shoulder.

Mac came awake almost instantly. He realized just as quickly that Danny’s arm was draped around his shoulder and he pulled away, making an awkward show of straightening his coat collar. Hurt flashed in Danny’s eyes, and Mac also saw a brief glimpse of the sarcastic, hard look that Mac suddenly realized had become so much less a part of Danny lately.

Danny looked away and gathered his messenger bag onto his lap. When he looked at Mac again, his expression was still, his eyes a bit less bright. Shrugging, he stretched his arms above his head. “Don’t worry, Mac. Nobody else in the car to get the wrong idea.”

When Mac winced, he told himself that it was from the sound of vertebrae popping in Danny’s back.

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The walk to Danny’s apartment was short, but Danny filled it with a running monologue about the foibles of the neighborhood, and pointing out the places most likely to need a visit from the CSU at some point. He was determined to shake off his disappointment from the train and enjoy the morning, and he damned well was going to get Mac to enjoy it, too, even if it killed them both. He smiled at Mac’s dumbfounded expression. “It’s like living on the set of ‘Westside Story,’ ‘The Sopranos’ and a couple of cheap thrillers all at once.”

Mac frowned. “It’s not a good neighborhood, Danny.”

Danny shrugged, not put off in the least. “It’s not a bad neighborhood either, Mac. Guess that just leaves interesting, and that’s good enough.”

Mac shook his head and hurried a couple of steps to catch up. “I don’t understand you sometimes.”

Danny grinned widely and laughed. “It’s Christmas morning, Mac! Give yourself a present and stop trying.”

“Smart ass.” Mac chuckled in spite of himself.

A cocky grin split Danny’s face. “Always.”

He took a set of worn, uneven steps two at a time and held the door open with an exaggerated flourish. Mac, with an equally exaggerated sigh of resignation, played along, touching his index and middle finger to his forehead in a mock tipping of his hat. Danny led the way up a couple of flights of stairs, and then opened the door to his apartment with a bow.

“Your coffee pot awaits, sir.”

Mac rolled his eyes at the patently phony British accent, made even more ridiculous by the nasally intrusion of Danny’s hard core New York inflection. “Well then, Jeeves, fill the damned thing up already!”

Danny chuckled. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Caffeine coming up.” He gave the stereo system a light smack as he passed it on his way to the cramped kitchenette, and a moment later the bright, dancing sound of a jazzy version of “O, Tannenbaum” filled the apartment. Mac drifted over to the stereo and the disorganized collection of CDs beside it.

“Vince Guaraldi. I like your taste in Christmas music.”

Danny pulled ingredients for breakfast from cupboards that looked surprisingly more organized than his CD collection. “Most people would have called it music from ‘A Charlie Brown Christmas’ and called it good.”

Mac laughed, holding up another CD. “With ‘A Flower is a Lovesome Thing’ in your collection? I don’t think so.”

“Guess you wouldn’t, not with you being the jazz guru of the NYPD and all that.” Danny dove into the refrigerator and surfaced with a quart of milk and a couple of sealed containers with eggs precariously balanced on top, his breath held and his lower lip clenched between his teeth. He slid his burden onto the counter next to the stove and breathed again. “We’ve got blueberry waffles topped with amaretto-soaked strawberries and real whipped cream, none of that phony stuff. I know the amaretto is a little girlie-girl, but it…”

Mac was still standing by the stereo, his hand on top of the disc changer and his eyes were seeing things that weren’t anywhere near the apartment. Danny walked quietly over and placed a gentle hand on Mac’s shoulder. “You miss her today, don’t you?”

Mac huffed a parody of a laugh. “Yeah, I miss Claire, but I wasn’t thinking of her, oddly enough.”

Danny tightened his grip on Mac’s shoulder slightly, feeling the whipcord tension in the muscles, and let his hand fall. He leaned against the entertainment cabinet and waited for Mac to decide whether or not to talk.

Mac let “O, Tannenbaum” finish and “Skating” begin before he spoke. “I was thinking of Stan Whitney. I served with him in the Marines. He was a ‘Peanuts’ fan, and a jazz fan. He was the one who turned me on to Vince Guaraldi. He did this goofy imitation of Linus dancing….”

Danny cocked his head and leaned forward, encouraging Mac to continue. “Sounds like he’s a fun guy.”

Mac’s smile stretched thinly, coldly over his face. “He was. On the morning the barracks… when the bomber….” He drew a slow, deep breath, dragging the air in through a desert dry mouth. “He died in my arms that morning. It was a long time before I could listen to any kind of jazz again, let alone Guaraldi.”

“Ah… shit, Mac. I’m sorry.” Danny reached for the changer to put on another disc. “We can listen to something else.”

Mac grabbed Danny’s wrist. “Don’t.” He released Danny’s wrist self-consciously. “Someone told me earlier today that I can’t change the past.”

“Bastard of a moron, whoever said that,” Danny muttered.

Mac chuckled softly. “He might be that, but not for saying what he did.” His laughter died, choked off by a harsh band tightening around his chest. “You know, the funny thing is that Claire liked this, too….”

Danny quickly pulled Mac to his chest and wrapped his arms closely around Mac’s shoulders; Mac clutched Danny like a child, and the desperation behind the embrace surprised Danny. Under his caressing hands, Danny felt Mac’s rapid, shallow breathing gradually slow, but felt no tremors to indicate tears. Shit, the guy was as tightly put together as a concrete bunker, so Danny wasn’t surprised to see no traces of grief in Mac’s face when he finally pulled away, just an emptiness in his eyes that was a both scary and touching, and didn’t that just confuse the hell outta him. “Mac…”

Mac seemed to find something interesting on the far wall to stare at, and blinked several times rapidly. “I’m sorry, Danny. Maybe it would be best if I just went home.”

Nope. Not happening, not on Danny’s watch. He’d been there before – well, kinda there; different place, but just as dark and lonely – and Mac had been there for him. “Nuthin’ doin’, Mac. I promised you the best waffles you ever had, and you’ll get them. You did for me before. Nuthin’ says I can’t do for you.”

Mac pulled further away from Danny until the younger man’s hands dropped off his shoulders. “I’m your supervisor….”

Danny bit back hard on an inventive string of curses. It was bound to come out, but why the hell did it have to be this morning? He cut Mac off with a wave of his hand. “That doesn’t mean a thing, just like you leaning on me on the train or you holding me outside the hospital when Louie was attacked don’t have to mean a thing. It is what it is.” He turned back to the kitchenette, his back stiff, his head bent. “It might come as a surprise, Mac, but it isn’t a come on every time a faggot puts his arm around you. Do you want those waffles or not?” He kept his back to the living room as he gathered up the refrigerated ingredients that he was now sure would not be needed. The nice Christmas breakfast he had planned for himself suddenly didn’t seem appetizing any longer, what with all that bile kicking up in his stomach like the damned Rockettes. Happy fucking holidays!

He yanked open the refrigerator door, but it immediately was wrenched from his grip and slammed closed. Mac grabbed Danny’s elbow before the younger man could turn away.

“What the hell was that supposed to mean?” Mac’s voice was sharp and harsh.

“It meant do you still want breakfast or not.” Danny freed himself from Mac’s grasp. Turning back to the counter, he settled for shelving the dry ingredients since Mac had decided to plant himself in front of the refrigerator. He ignored the blazing glare from his supervisor, and wondered if he’d ever learn to stop putting asphalt down on that fucking road to hell he was so intent on paving. He had just wanted to shake Mac out of his Christmas funk – well, mostly that – and hadn’t it all gone to hell so easily.

“Danny… talk to me.”

Danny slammed the can of blueberries into the cupboard and shoved the door closed. “Don’t tell me you haven’t heard the rumors about me. Just about everybody else in the NYPD has.” He snatched up the waffle iron and stuffed it onto a small shelf over the stove with more force than necessary. He was so going to hear from his neighbors about that. “And just so you know, the rumors are only partially true. I’m bi, not gay, not that that’s a distinction that means anything.”

Danny grabbed up a spatula and was aiming it for the container about three feet away when Mac stopped his rampage with a firm hand on his wrist. Mac gently pulled the spatula free from Danny’s grip and laid it aside.

“I haven’t heard any rumors, and it wouldn’t matter to me if I had.”

Danny snorted. “Tell me another one, Mac, ‘cause I’m not buying that one.” He tried to pull his hand free, but Mac held it fast.

“I’m not selling anything. I thought you knew me better than that.”

Danny looked away, his mouth pressed in a tight, thin line. He tugged once more against Mac’s grasp, and this time Mac let his wrist go. “I thought so, too.”

Mac backed off, leaned against the refrigerator and watched Danny’s fingers play restlessly over the utensils that remained on the kitchenette’s countertop. Time for a strategy change. “You said that the distinction between bi and gay didn’t make a difference. I’m guessing you’re getting hassled at crime scenes because of these rumors I haven’t heard, aren’t you?”

Danny shrugged. “I’m not getting hassled.” He looked up from his fidgeting hands into Mac’s unyielding gaze. “Okay, almost never.” Mac cocked his head slightly, but his gaze remained obdurate. “Usually…. Okay, more often than not I don’t get bothered. And when I do get harassed, it’s just as often for being a mobster’s kid as for being a fag. Just let it go, Mac. This is one of those things that you can’t change, so don’t get your Jockey’s in a bunch about it.” Danny released the whisk he’d been manhandling. It had a few new bends in its tines.

Mac shook his head. “Oh, that’s where you’re wrong.”

Danny rounded on Mac. “Don’t. Don’t get involved, Mac. You do not want to get caught on the wrong side of the line - either of them - in the field, even you.”

“Too late. I’m already on the wrong side of the line.” Mac held up a hand, stopping Danny’s reply. “I want you to give me a Christmas present, Danny; I want you to promise me that the next time you get harassed at a scene you will tell me.” Mac saw Danny gathering himself to launch a counter argument; two short, quick steps and he was in Danny’s space. “No arguments, Danny. I want your word.”

A faint, wry smile touched Danny’s lips. “And here I thought that all you wanted for Christmas was your two front teeth.”

Mac chuckled dryly. “I did, a long time ago, and stop trying to change the subject.” He raised his hands to Danny’s shoulders, his fingers ghosting over the soft texture of Danny’s sweater. Danny shuddered at the contact. Mac smiled. “When I said I was already on the other side of the line, I meant it.” He gripped Danny’s shoulders, just this side of too tightly, then slid his hands to the back of the trembling man’s neck and watched Danny’s eyes widen in shocked understanding.

“Mac…”

“Did you mean it when you said holding me on the train, or here a few moments ago, didn’t mean anything?”

Danny’s eyes remained riveted to Mac’s, and his mouth opened slightly as he gasped lightly, raggedly for breath. He shook his head, and let it drop forward to rest on Mac’s shoulder. “If this is about you playing queen for a day, Mac, we gotta stop this now. I couldn’t handle that.”

He felt Mac’s broad, calloused hands take hold of his face with the same delicacy with which they handled precious, fragile evidence. But the look he saw in Mac’s eyes when the older man tilted his head up was not evaluative or calculating or grim. It was open. It was warm. And, damn the sonuvabitch, there was even the hint of humor glimmering in those green eyes. Yeah, and Danny would have bet a week’s pay that he saw the edges of Mac’s mouth twitch! “What the hell are you laughing at?”

The twitch turned into a full-out grin. “Queen for a day?”

Danny’s lips quirked in a brief answering smile. “Yeah, well… I gotta be me, you know.”

“I know.” Mac brushed his thumb along Danny’s jawline. “Good thing for me you do.”

Danny pulled Mac’s hands away from his face and his smile thinned. “You pulled away from me twice. Why?”

“Because I’m your supervisor; because I have eyes and my hormones still work; because I hadn’t heard the rumors and wouldn’t have known if you’d be interested even if I had.” Mac turned his hands over in Danny’s grip and twined their fingers together. He gazed at Danny steadily, but Danny’s eyes had dropped. “It’s still not a good idea. You’d be smart just to forget this ever happened; you’re more at risk than I am.”

Danny tore his fascinated gaze from their joined hands, a brilliant smile lighting his eyes. “Screw being smart. It’s time to play dumb.” He gripped Mac’s fingers snuggly between his own and brought their hands behind his back. Mac was solid against his chest, and both doubt and desire darkened his eyes as Danny pushed his hips forward. Leaning in slowly, Danny brushed his lips lightly against Mac’s, holding his breath while he did to listen to the hitch in Mac’s breathing and to feel the soft exhale of Mac’s stuttering sigh against his mouth. He grinned, nipped lightly at Mac’s lip, and breathed in Mac’s gasp of capitulation. “Dumb is good.” Danny loosed one of Mac’s hands and held the back of his head. “Dumb can be very good.”

He kissed Mac fully, enthusiastically, and felt Mac join in without reservation. Mac pulled Danny’s hips flush against his own, and returned the nip to Danny’s lips with interest. Danny opened his mouth with a sharp intake of breath and suddenly felt Mac’s tongue sweeping through it. He thrust his tongue against Mac’s in a breathless duel. Taut, electric sensation burned him where his hips met Mac’s and he rubbed himself against Mac, seeking both relief from the delicious tension and more of the ineffable friction. One last brush of his tongue against Danny’s and Mac drew back.

“Danny…”

Silencing his boss, Danny covered Mac’s lips with his fingertips, softly tracing the pale edges and smiling when they parted once more under his caress. “Bedroom’s that way,” he said with a jerk of his head.

Another kiss, short and hard, and then Mac nodded. He wrapped an arm around Danny’s waist and slid his hand beneath the belt, his fingers seeking the bottom edge of Danny’s shirt as he started to guide them down the short hallway to the bedroom.

Danny’s head fell against Mac’s shoulder, but popped back up immediately. He pulled away from Mac’s grasp and scampered back to the kitchenette. “Hold on a sec.” After a momentary rattling sound, he returned with two containers, two spoons and a wide grin. “Guess we’re gonna have that breakfast after all.” He grinned impudently and ignored Mac’s curious and bemused expression. Dashing into the bedroom, he set his cargo carefully on a bedside table.

Mac followed more slowly, unbuttoning his shirt along the way. Danny came around the corner of the bed and grabbed Mac’s hands. “Mine.” Placing a kiss in the palm of each hand, he pushed them down, reaching around to cup Mac’s ass in his hands. He buried his face in the crook of Mac’s neck and smiled when Mac turned his face to Danny’s hair.

Danny was actually a little surprised that Mac hadn’t bolted for the front door when he went ahead to the bedroom. The man was interested, no doubt about it – Mac was sporting more wood than the Christmas tree in Rockafeller Center - and a merry Christmas was going to be had by all if Danny had anything to say about it. But he was still surprised, and maybe just a bit worried that Mac would change his mind if given the chance. So Danny didn’t give him the chance. Pressing his lips to Mac’s throat, he nibbled gently while massaging and squeezing Mac’s ass and pressing his own throbbing crotch against Mac’s hip. When he felt Mac shudder, he thrust his groin against Mac’s leg once more and chuckled huskily. Nope, not going anywhere now.

He swatted back the hands Mac raised to try to touch his hair. “Relax, Mac. Let this be about you right now.” He peppered light kisses from the notch of Mac’s collarbone downward as his nimble fingers undid the remaining buttons of Mac’s shirt. Trailing his tongue from Mac’s breastbone, he kissed the other man’s left nipple, then sucked as much of it into his mouth as he could, backing Mac up all the while, guiding with firm hands on hips until the backs of Mac’s legs hit the end of the bed. Danny suckled the nipple a moment longer, then pushed Mac back onto the bed, releasing Mac’s nipple with a light bite as he fell. Mac hissed at the double sensations of cold air after Danny’s hot mouth, and the wispy pleasure/pain of the bite. Straddling Mac’s hips, Danny pushed the shirt off Mac’s shoulders.

“Last chance to say no, Mac.” Danny watched his own fingers as they ghosted across Mac’s chest, unable to bring himself to look into Mac’s eyes.

Mac grabbed Danny’s hand and brought it to his lips. He kissed each of the fingers before pulling the middle three into his mouth and sucking them. Danny’s mouth dropped open and his back arched, pressing his chest into Mac’s and rubbing their growing, constrained erections together. Mac dragged Danny’s wet fingers from his mouth and moved them to his chest, laid them on a nipple and guided them in slow circles on it.

Danny forced his eyes open and looked into Mac’s, glittering darkly in the dimly lit bedroom. He panted. “I’ll take it that means go on.”

“Shut up and do something.” Mac brought Danny’s head down for an electric kiss, and their joined hands were pressed together between their chests.

Danny tried to grin, but settled for biting his lip and nodding. He stood up, his knees pressed into the end of the bed, Mac’s legs between them, and he leaned over to undo the belt buckle on Mac’s pants. Slipping his hands beneath Mac’s underwear, he eased the garments off the other man’s hips. “Scoot up a bit.”

Mac obeyed, levering himself up on his elbows to watch, and pulling himself up the bed until his legs were fully on it. He lifted his hips and Danny slid both pants and underwear down.

Danny kissed the newly exposed skin. He avoided Mac’s cock when it sprang free, hard, leaking, and throbbing. He dragged his lips through the wiry curls around it, inhaling deeply the heady, musky scent. Mac cursed and fisted a sheet.

Danny smiled, and flicked his tongue along the crevice between Mac’s thigh and body, sucking delicately at the space just below the erect cock and laying kisses on the velvety balls. He took each in his mouth in turn and pressed the flat of his tongue against them, feeling the subtle shifting of the soft, sensitive skin beneath it. Mac’s eloquent curses turned into a low moan. Danny continued to pull the pants slowly down Mac’s legs, and kissed and laved the inside of Mac’s thighs. When the pants were down to Mac’s ankles, Danny yanked off Mac’s shoes and socks, and pulled the pants completely off. He pushed Mac’s knees up, placing Mac’s feet flat on the bed. His gaze was fixed on the bounty spread before him as he quickly shed his own clothes.

Mac’s breath was coming in short, ragged gasps, and beads of perspiration had appeared on his brow. He licked his lips and held out his hand to Danny. Danny kneeled between his legs, twined their fingers together and kissed the back of Mac’s hand. He grinned.

“Time for breakfast.” He stretched and reached one of the bowls he had set on the bedside table. “Hope you like strawberries, Mac.” He stirred the thick concoction of berries and amaretto liqueur, raising the spoon above the bowl and letting the berries and syrup drip back into it.

Mac pushed himself up on his elbows, watching as Danny ladled some of the mixture onto his groin and returned the bowl to the stand. He hissed as the confection met his cock, cool liquid against rock hard heat. His back arched as his head fell back. It was too much effort, too much brain work to hold it up. He moaned as Danny pressed a slice of berry against his shaft with his tongue and rubbed it up and down the rigid length. Mac sank back onto the bed, his arms trembling too much to hold him up.

Danny chuckled deep in his throat. “Like that, do you? Maybe I should taste test this, whaddaya say?” He picked the squashed berry off Mac’s cock with a light scrape of his teeth, backing off a little when Mac bucked under the sensation. He laughed quietly as he leaned in again, pressing his lips to the flesh around the twitching cock as he sucked up the berries and lapped the liqueur. Some of the almond flavored mixture had seeped down onto Mac’s balls and Danny slurped them once more into his mouth, his tongue swirling around them to clean them thoroughly.

Mac’s moans turned to a keening cry when Danny finally took his cock into his mouth and he writhed as Danny’s tongue rasped against his shaft, sending strawberries slithering across it. Sparkling sensations of pleasure shot up his spine and down his legs as Danny cleaned his cock, noisily sucking up the berries, tonguing up the liquid and swallowing both with unbridled enthusiasm. Mac felt his balls tighten and tried to warn Danny of his impending orgasm, but couldn’t form the words to do it. He grabbed Danny’s hair and yanked it, trying again to give warning, but Danny grabbed his hand and held it against his head and renewed his attack. Danny’s tongue darted out one last time, capturing the last bit of berry caught in the curling hair around Mac’s shaft, and slowly dragged it up the underside of the cock. When he sucked it down his throat, he also drank in Mac’s release as Mac suddenly arched up, nearly dislodging him. Danny relaxed his throat and allowed Mac to thrust his way through his pleasure. Releasing Mac’s spent organ, he tightened his arms around Mac’s hips and felt his lover tremble through the aftershocks beneath his cheek.

Danny shimmied up Mac’s body to share an abundantly flavored kiss. He smirked when Mac glared at him.

“You look entirely too pleased with yourself.” Mac turned the languid caress of Danny’s cheek to a mock slap that only caused Danny’s grin to broaden. “Entirely too pleased.”

“Don’t know about that. You look like the one who got pleased to me.” He reached down to his own aching cock and began stroking himself. Mac smacked his hand away and rolled Danny over on his back.

“Yeah, well now it’s my turn to do some pleasing,” he said as he wrapped his hand around Danny’s cock, “and this is mine.” He gave the hot shaft a long, slow stroke that was just short of too rough, swiping his thumb over the top and skimming his nail over the slit. Danny inhaled sharply and thrust into the hand that surrounded him. Mac gave Danny’s balls a quick tug to draw him back from the edge; Danny groaned his frustration.

Mac reached to the bedside stand for the other bowl and ran his finger through the whipped cream. He licked his finger clean slowly, suppressing a laugh when Danny began squirming beneath him. “Just warming up, Danny. You’re next.”

Danny snagged Mac’s hand and wrapped his lips around the cream-coated finger, sucking it clean quickly. He released the wet finger from his mouth. “I damned well better be.”

Mac bit back a moan and grabbed the spoon from the bowl, dropping frothy mounds of cream on Danny’s cock and balls. He replaced the bowl on the stand and leaned over to meet Danny as he rose on his elbows for a sloppy kiss. He swept his tongue over Danny’s lips, cleaning the cream from them. He ended the kiss with a nip of Danny’s lips and sat back on his heels.

Ignoring the cock that stood at attention, Mac flicked his tongue over Danny’s balls, first one then the other, scooping little trails to the lightly furred skin beneath the cream. Danny moaned, pinching and pulling at his own nipples and arching into the sensations. When Mac finally sucked the balls, each in its turn, into his mouth for a final cleansing swipe, Danny clenched his hands in the sheet and bit his lip.

Releasing the last ball with a wet plop, Mac turned his attention to the cock that stood quivering before him. The cream at the tip had been thinned by pre-ejaculate. Mac swept his tongue over the tip, and scraped his teeth lightly over the slit. Danny tried to grasp Mac’s head to guide his mouth down the aching member, but Mac gently batted the hands away.

“Patience, Danny.”

Danny groaned. Patience wasn’t high on the list of things he could do at the moment. What he could do was breathe heavily; the muscles needed for breathing fought for energy with the frissons of delight coiling in his gut. He could entwine his fingers with Mac’s and grip them with an intensity that caused Mac to pull back his hand and stroke Danny’s palm, a touch that both soothed and enflamed. He could gasp as Mac deep throated him, but he couldn’t cry out. His breath was trapped by the building pleasure, and he trembled.

His back bowed off the bed when Mac began to hum around his cock, and damn if the man wasn’t humming some melody; its familiarity danced at the edge of his mind. But Mac continued to hum, teasing his avid cock with both tone and tongue, and in moments the only music Danny heard was the percussion of blood pounding in his ears, through the veins and arteries in his neck, and the thrumming chords of nerves vibrating in the crescendo of his orgasm. His cry of release was the final harmony, trailing off to ragged, sated gasps.

When Danny recovered enough that he had two brain cells to rub together, he lifted his head. Mac lay between his bent legs and was happily – smugly, even! – licking his lips clean of a creamy substance that wasn’t whipped cream. Danny groaned, both turned on anew and frustratingly spent, and let his head fall back, still breathing heavily. He felt fingertips lightly tracing the crease between his groin and thigh; he reached down and tangled his fingers with Mac’s.

What was that thought that had been wiped from his mind…? Yeah, the music Mac was humming. He had heard it that morning as they left the church; it was the recessional hymn. He knew it; it was tickling the fringes of the memory that Mac’s caresses threatened still. Yeah, yeah … Ninth symphony, fourth movement….

He laughed breathlessly. “’Ode to Joy’?” He wiped his hand across his sweaty brow and up to his hair, almost giggling at the absurdity of it all. “You blew me to Beethoven’s ‘Ode to Joy’?” He looked up as Mac crawled up to hover above him. “Mac, that is seriously, seriously weird!”

A grin, wide and uninhibited, broke across Mac’s face. “Wait until the Fourth of July. I’ll show what I can do with the ‘1812 Overture.’” He waggled his eyebrows comically, and Danny laughed with him, a rolling, hearty sound that continued from both men as Mac rained soft kisses and gentle bites along Danny’s collarbone and shoulders.

“Tchaikovsky.” Danny felt a coil of tension in his gut that he hadn’t known was there loosen, break apart, and fall away. This wasn’t a one night – one morning, rather – stand for Mac. Danny got what he wanted for Christmas, and he didn’t even know he had been wishing for it. This had started with his simple desire to chase, at least for a short time, the vacant and pained expression from his boss’ eyes, and he had accomplished more, so much more. A Merry Christmas really was being had by all, at least all in this bed. He laughed again, and he felt more honestly happy than he had since before this last disastrous spring. “I can do Tchaikovsky.” He wrapped his arms around Mac’s back and pulled the older man to his chest. Tangling his hand in Mac’s hair, he pressed his lips to Mac’s ear, nibbling gently at the lobe. “And I’ll show you what I can do with John Phillips Sousa.”

Lost and Found

2007-01-21T21:14:09Z

This was a Secret Santa fic for Cap'n Jack:

Title: Lost and Found
bluepenreader
rating: frt
disclaimer: not mine, never will be, making zip off this
warning: some discussion of religion that may annoy some readers.

Some people are born to the Christmas spirit; some people have the Christmas spirit thrust upon them. Some people couldn’t find it if it bit them in the ass… and for good reason:

If he had his choice of ways in which to spend Christmas Eve, this way would not have been it. The body of a little boy lay sprawled in a pool of blood, his and that of his seriously wounded mother, beside a thinly decorated Christmas tree. Straw blond hair, dyed an ugly red, dangled softly to the wet floor. High velocity blood spatter splashed across the tree and the few presents beneath it like obscene holiday ornaments, shiny balls of crimson amidst the green needles and the newspaper gift wrapping. Mac squeezed his eyes closed. He had seen this kind of scene before. That sure as hell didn’t make dealing with it any easier.

“I hate these scenes.” Danny eased into the apartment, trailing cold air and the scent of cookies being baked in the apartment down the hall behind him. “This shouldn’t happen on Christmas Eve, not to a kid.”

“This shouldn’t happen to anyone at any time, but it does.” Mac pulled a pair of latex gloves from his equipment box and pulled them on with a snap.

“I know, Mac. It’s just that….” Danny set his own box on the floor and crouched beside the tiny body. “He can’t be more than… what, four?”

Mac sighed. “The father is in custody, and he’s already confessed. But we get everything we can, Danny, everything.” He pulled out the camera and carefully focused on a clump of mousy brown hair – probably from the mother, he thought – and snapped a photo of it. “The bastard doesn’t get a chance to go back on his confession, he doesn’t get to question any of our evidence, and he doesn’t walk on this. We clear?”

Danny nodded grimly. “As crystal, Mac.”

They were still gathering evidence when word came that the mother had died en route to the hospital.

Three small candles sat on the edge of Danny’s desk, secure in a small metal tray liberated from the lab. The candles – puny little tea lights, really – were also lab escapees, leftovers from an experiment in an arson/homicide a few months earlier. Danny had carefully trimmed the wicks and lit them after he had cleared a space large enough that Mac wouldn’t bitch about stray sparks setting the lab on fire. He stared at the dancing flames momentarily before returning his attention to his computer screen.

As he pounded out the initial report on the double homicide, the flames still held part of his attention. Three flames, each a prayer to a god he stopped believing in about the time he stopped believing in Santa Claus. Still, ‘tis the season and all that – it couldn’t hurt. Just lighting the candles seemed to help.

“You’re going to include a BPA with that report, aren’t you?”

Danny flinched, startled by Mac’s appearance in the door to his cramped office. “We got the prints from the gun, Mac, and we got the ballistics matching the bullet from the kid to the gun with the father’s prints, and we have the statements of the neighbors placing the gun in the guy’s hands as he walked out of the apartment just after the shots were heard. And we got the guy’s confession to top that off.” He ticked off his points with his fingers and shrugged, hands spread open. “Why do we need to do a bloodstain pattern analysis when we got all that?”

Mac’s eyes narrowed, flashing in anger. “Just do it, Danny. This case will be airtight by the time the DA’s office goes to arraignment.” He turned on his heel and marched away from the door. “And lose those candles,” he called out as he turned the corner.

Danny lurched from his seat and started to follow Mac, but stopped at the door. He punched his fist into the door jamb, then promptly cursed his foolishness for taking on a metal doorframe with his knuckles. Mac was in a mood, and there would be no talking sense to him.

Danny saved his work on the report and put his computer to sleep as he sucked on his throbbing knuckles. Mac wanted a BPA? Mac would get his fucking BPA, the best damned BPA ever produced by the New York City crime lab, the bastard.

The candle flames guttered as he stormed past them, then resumed their steady glow.

The bright and clear winter day had given way to an unseasonably warm evening, which in turn had given way to a gray-tinged dawn by the time Danny appended the last diagram to his report. He had paid obsessive attention to the details of the drawings; he wasn’t going to give Mac a chance to send the report back to him. He grinned wearily as he signed the report and slid it into a folder. The candles remained on the corner of his desk, close to exhaustion, but still defiantly lit.

He strode into Mac’s office, folder held high above his head. “Report with insanely detailed BPA. Prosecution’s case, hermetically sealed.” He dropped the folder in front of Mac, on top of the paperwork Mac was filling out, scattering some of the documents. Danny couldn’t bring himself to care about the consequences of his melodramatic display of insolence. He was pissed, and Mac was going to know it. “The Pope couldn’t wiggle outta this one. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m getting the hell outta here before my double shift gets stretched further into a triple.” He headed toward the door, waving lethargically. “Merry… whatever, Mac.”

He was already back in his office by the time he realized that Mac was calling to him, had actually followed him trying to get his attention. He rubbed his eyes. This wasn’t going to be pretty. He collapsed into the chair and started shutting down his computer.

“Danny, I just wanted to….” Mac hovered in the doorway of the small office, hands stuffed in his pockets.

Danny cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Don’t, Mac. Just don’t go there. You wanted the bastard, and you wanted justice for the kid and his mom. I get that. Believe me, I know what it’s like to go overboard going after justice for the dead.”

Mac’s lips pressed together in a tight line. “The silver man case wasn’t….”

“No, it wasn’t.” Danny gathered the pages of the second copy of the report together and tapped them sharply into line on his desk. Mac flinched. “Anything else, ‘cause I really want to get outta here this year.”

Mac glanced to the corner of the desk. One candle had gone out, and a second was guttering fitfully. “You didn’t put them out.” He looked back at Danny. The second flame died.

Danny shrugged. “Write me up for it.”

Mac stepped up to the desk and held one hand over the weakening flame of the remaining candle. “What were they for, Danny? What did they represent?”

Danny smiled thinly. Of course Mac would figure it out. “Memories.” He shrugged. “Seemed to be a good time to remember some things.”

Mac nodded. “One of them was for the child yesterday, wasn’t it?”

Danny didn’t see any sense in denying it. He nodded briefly and slipped the papers into another file folder.

“It was my first Christmas in the CSU.” Mac jammed his hands back in his pocket and stared at the fading flame of the candle. “I didn’t mind working the overnight shift because Claire was on a business trip in Europe.” He watched Danny drop the file folder in a drawer. “The girl was just five years old. Her father killed her and her mother, then tried to turn the gun on himself because he lost his job.” Mac squared his shoulders and looked Danny in the eye. “I pushed hard on this case because I have memories, too.”

“And somehow the guy skated, right? Screwed up evidence or screwed up confession, one or the other, am I right?” If Mac had been hoping for compassion or understanding here, Danny was going to make sure he knew what was what. “Got news for you, Mac. I don’t screw up every crime scene I work, and you can’t make up for the past by being a hard-ass now.” He grabbed his coat off its peg and yanked it on. “We had enough evidence without the BPA, more than enough. But I spent hours on that analysis, hours that I could have spent on other cases and other vics that deserve justice, too. Convicting this bastard isn’t going to be any easier because we know he shot his wife from four and a half feet away, and that he shot his kid….” He stopped and rubbed his hand through his hair. “I gotta go, Mac.” He grabbed the strap of his messenger bag and looped it over his shoulder as he fled the office.

Mac wet his thumb and pressed it against the wick bearing the last sputtering flame. The candle went out.

Mac caught up with Danny at the elevators. “That conversation didn’t go quite as planned.” He grabbed Danny’s elbow when the doors opened, and felt Danny stiffen beneath his fingers. He was a little surprised that Danny didn’t pull away from his grip and board the elevator anyway. “Can we go somewhere for breakfast? Or did you want to go to church this morning?” Mac loosed his grip on Danny when he felt the younger man relax a bit.

“Church?” Danny laughed. “Nah, I don’t do Mass anymore. Haven’t seen the inside of a church that wasn’t a crime scene in years. It’s been a long day, Mac…” His voice trailed off uncertainly. Mac didn’t invite other lab rats out; they did the inviting, and Mac either showed or he didn’t. Usually didn’t. Danny regarded Mac for a long moment, then shrugged a shoulder. “I could do with a coffee that doesn’t taste like thioacetamide.”

Mac grimaced eloquently. “Yeah, I think that might be good. Let me grab my coat.”

Danny leaned against the wall by the elevator doors and watched Mac hurry back to his office. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into his boss, and he was too tired to spend much time trying to figure it out. He’d roll with it, though. ‘Tis the season, right?

A few minutes later, they were seated at a diner near the station with coffee mugs in front of them. The coffee was strong enough to crumble asphalt, the food was fast and cheap, and the place never closed. Cops loved it, but it was nearly deserted that Christmas morning.

Danny brought his cup to his nose and inhaled the steam coming off the coffee. “Strong enough that the fumes alone will keep you awake for a week.” He stretched one leg out along the bench of the booth and settled back. He’d wait for Mac to set the pace.

Mac ran a finger around the rim of his mug and stared out the window. “You said you don’t go to church anymore. Mind if I ask why?”

Danny took a sip of his coffee. Not the question he’d been expecting. “Next thing you’ll be asking my views on politics.” He grinned and waved away the apology he could see coming. “Don’t worry about it. You just surprised me is all.” He took another sip of the steaming brew while he considered his words. “Growing up where I did, it kinda struck me as… wrong… for guys to be going to the house of god one day and then going to another guy’s house to beat the crap out of him the next day. It didn’t add up to me, and I was just a kid.” He chuckled. “My brother, Louie… he took First Communion with a kid who I knew was running errands for a bookie up the street. I took instruction for First Confession with Sonny Sassone’s cousin. Far as I know, that kid was mobbed up before he hit high school, and got his first felony conviction when other guys were getting their first cars.” He leaned forward, settling his elbows on the table. “I figured out early on that any god worshipped by liars, thieves, hypocrites and thugs was probably a liar, thief, hypocrite and a thug.”

Mac’s eyebrows rose. “I can see where you’d go sour on religion early.”

Danny shrugged. “My ma tried to tell me that god watched over me all the time. ‘Cept I didn’t see him watching my back on my way home from school. Found an iron pipe with a nice bend at the end for that. That worked a hell of a lot better than a prayer, I can tell you.”

Mac smiled with Danny, then looked away. “If you’re not the religious type, then what was with the candles?”

Now there was the question Danny had been expecting. “Didn’t say I wasn’t religious. Just said I didn’t go to church anymore.” He waited for the waitress to leave after she had refilled their coffee. “There’s something out there a hell of a lot more enduring than fingerprints, DNA evidence or the penal code, Mac. I mean, we got electrophoresis, Andy Pettitt in a Yankees uniform and pizza with extra cheese… there’s got to be something, right? I just hope….”

He paused and stared at his coffee. “One of the candles was for Aiden, the one I lost. The other one was for the ones I coulda lost – Stella, Flack, you, Louie. Actually, I’m still not sure whether Louie is a ‘lost’ or a ‘coulda lost’….”

Mac laid a hand on Danny’s arm, silencing the rambling speech. “You thought of me when you lit one of those candles?”

Danny quirked a tight smile. “Yeah.”

“Thank you.” Mac leaned back again and stared out the window. “I owe you an apology. You were right; there was enough evidence to go to arraignment and a bloodstain pattern analysis wasn’t necessary. Pushing you that way was wrong. I…”

‘… see the face of another child lost on Christmas Eve, see the man who killed her walk away because the car I was driving was hit by another car and the evidence in the trunk was destroyed. Not my fault, but still my fault and my nightmare. I see the faces of others for whom I cannot get justice: faces from Beirut, from the WTC, from that stack of unsolved case files that will always be on the edge of my desk. I…’

“… I’m sorry, Danny.”

Danny tapped the window with his knuckle and pointed at the lightening sky. “Look at the sky, Mac. Really look at it, and not at the inside of your own skull.” He watched Mac blink slowly and focus on the sky. “You can’t see it because, hey! We’re in New York City. But the sun is coming up. It would come up whether we got the guy or not. All our victories are bittersweet; more bitter on a day like today, but we still scored a victory. Let’s take it and move on, Mac. We don’t always win.”

Mac shrugged and drank more of his coffee. “Can we really call them victories with a straight face? I can’t.”

Danny leaned forward and rapped his knuckles on the table in front of Mac. “News flash, Mac. You can’t solve all the crimes, and you can’t carry the world’s problems on your shoulders.” He leaned back with cocky grin. “Someone else already claimed that gig. Isn’t that what today is all about?”

Mac’s hands tightened around his coffee cup. “Some people would call that blasphemous, Danny.”

Danny lifted a shoulder in a lazy shrug. “Yeah, and they’d probably be right. Doesn’t change the fact that you can’t solve the world’s problems, no matter how hard you try.” He pried Mac’s fingers away from the cup and lifted it out of the older man’s grasp. “C’mon, Mac. Let’s go find us a Mass. Maybe that will help your perspective.”

Mac snatched the coffee cup back from Danny and raised his hand to the waitress for another refill. “Like you, I quit believing in god a long time ago.” He nodded his thanks to the waitress as she topped off his mug. “I went to church for Claire’s sake, not my own.”

Danny snorted, waving off a refill of his own mug. “You believe. You’re just pissed off at him.” He chuckled at Mac’s arched eyebrow. “I’ve seen that scar on your shoulder, and I know at least some of your service record. Doesn’t take much to put two and two together. You were in Beirut when the barracks were blown up.” When Mac scowled, Danny cut off his response with a sharp gesture. “You have every right to be pissed, Mac, but you also need to lay off some of that burden you take on. Maybe if you went back, you could find a way to do that.”

“And what would a nonbeliever such as yourself do during this Mass if I agreed to go?”

“Contemplate the inside of my eyelids.” Danny smiled widely. “Nap, just like a quarter of the congregation will be doing at this hour.” He drained the remainder of his coffee. “I might not believe in the god of the church, but I do believe in a higher power, Mac. That power created cell structures that allow oak trees to bend and human bones to take a lot of stress before breaking. It created a few proteins that all life shares. It created the atmosphere that allows us to breathe and makes stars glitter at night. Our jobs have us seeing the wonder when it’s been buried under a pile of shit. Today would be a good day to look at the wonder again.”

Mac regarded Danny for a long, silent moment. “You surprise me.”

Danny laughed. “I always aim to keep your life interesting.”

“That you do, Danny. That you do.” Mac took another quick sip of his coffee and set the mug down with a hefty tip for the waitress. “Let’s find that Mass, Danny.”

Danny grinned. “Good plan.” He slid out of the booth and dragged his coat on. Mac picked up his messenger bag and slid it over Danny’s shoulder. “Afterward, wanna come back to my place for breakfast? I’ve got the makings for waffles that would make an atheist believe in god.”

Mac laughed out loud. “Yeah, Danny, I’d like that a lot.”

Danny held the diner door open for Mac. “If that higher power saw fit to keep Andy Pettitt with the Yankees, think a prayer to keep Tiki Barber in a Giants uniform will do any good?”

Mac chuckled again. He realized he hadn’t laughed like this in… too long. “Let’s go find out, Danny. All we can do is try.”

FIC: Wild Horses (CSI:NY) (SPOILERS for RSRD)

2006-04-29T21:43:13Z

Title: Wild Horses
author: bluepenreader
rating: frt
pairing: Mac/Danny
warnings: spoilers for "Run Silent Run Deep." A bit of rude language, too.
summary: Mac figures out how to deal with Danny after his brother's beating.

They were the little tells, the little observations that told the story to Detective Mac Taylor. The story he was reading was of an unhappy and troubled family.

He stood back from the ICU room entrance and watched as Danny Messer greeted two people at the door. He observed the small tightening of Danny’s shoulders as the younger man spoke to the older man who approached; saw the hint of an inward curving and slumping that spoke of nervousness and intimidation. Mac watched as the older man’s eyes grew dark and his mouth tightened with anger as Danny spoke, and glimpsed the curling of the man’s fingers that stopped just short of a fist.

Mac sighed to himself. It had taken more than an hour of gentle words and long silences to calm Danny after his tearful breakdown outside the hospital. Mac guessed that only Danny’s father could undo that work in mere seconds. He watched the man, short but broad and powerfully built, easily push past Danny into the ICU room where Danny’s brother lay in a coma. The woman, whose hair might once have been the color of Danny’s before it went to gray, touched fingertips lightly, briefly to Danny’s cheek before hurrying after the man. Danny stood at outside the door, his fists dug deeply into his pants’ pockets.

Mac walked quietly up behind Danny and laid a hand on the younger man’s shoulders, squeezing gently when Danny jumped in surprise. Danny’s eyes were wide and red-rimmed, the harsh fluorescent lighting giving his expression a manic edge. His shoulders bunched defensively and his body tensed. He ducked his head and dragged a hand over his face.

Mac once had spent some leave time with a Marine buddy whose family had just taken in a wild mustang stallion. The stallion had lost a battle for dominance in its herd, a brutal battle by look of its injuries, and the family took it in rather than euthanizing it when it wandered onto their property. Mac had watched his buddy draw near the wild, wounded animal - battered but still proud - the approach indirect and slow, the touches gentle and deliberate.

Mac now wished he had paid more attention to that bonding ritual.

He moved his hand in a slow circle across Danny’s shoulders, waiting for the trembling to calm once more. As Danny’s ragged breathing became more even, Mac leaned close to speak quietly to Danny, forcing Danny’s attention to his words.

“Are you going to be all right, Danny?” Mac’s voice was barely above a whisper, and Danny had to still his agitation to hear him. “Why don’t you sit down while I get you some water?” He guided Danny to a worn metal-framed couch in the waiting area. Danny didn’t resist when Mac pressed him down onto the seat.

Danny grabbed Mac’s wrist as he turned to get a bottle of water from the vending machine. “I don’t need any water, Mac. I’m fine.”
Mac could feel the slight tremor that still shook the hand that lay on his own. He placed his free hand over Danny’s. “I’ll just be a moment.” He strode to the vending machine and shoved change into it as quickly as he could, then returned to couch. He twisted the top off the bottle and handed it to Danny. “Drink.”

Danny opened his mouth to protest once more, but apparently thought better of it and took a sip from the bottle instead. Mac smiled encouragingly, and Danny drank again, not stopping until two thirds of the water was gone. Danny shrugged. “Guess I was thirstier than I thought.”

“Crying will do that to you.” Mac reached up to clasp the back of Danny’s neck, massaging gently. “Feeling better?”

Danny nodded, dropping his head forward as Mac’s fingers worked tight muscles. “You don’t have to stay here. It’s just a waiting game now.”

Mac remembered again his buddy and the long, calming strokes the man made over the stallion’s body. He didn’t stop working on Danny’s neck. “Not so long ago you said you needed a friend, not a boss. You still do. I’m here until you leave.”

Danny nodded toward the ICU room where his brother lay. “My parents are here.”

Mac snorted, but didn’t reply. He folded his overcoat into a pillow and placed it on his lap. He tugged at Danny’s shoulder. “Lie down and rest for a while. It’s been a long couple of days for you.”

Danny resisted only a moment before allowing Mac to draw him down. “And they haven’t been long for you?” He lay down, squirming slightly as he tucked his legs onto the short couch.

“Shut up and rest, Danny.” Mac rubbed unhurried circles on Danny’s shoulder, feeling the gradual relaxing that slid into the slow, measured rhythms of sleep. Mac continued his touches; he didn’t examine his reasons too closely. It was enough, for now, that Danny needed the touches and they did both men good.

Mac was drowsing himself when the sharp, purposeful sound of footsteps – not those from a nurse’s soft-soled shoes – roused him. He raised his hand quickly to slow Detective Don Flack’s approach. The detective glanced at the CSI asleep on the couch, grimaced in apology, and tiptoed slowly to the pair.

“Sorry,” Flack whispered. He crouched beside Danny and raised a hand to touch his friend’s shoulder, but let it drop. He smiled sadly. “He’s wiped out, isn’t he?”

Mac nodded and returned to gently rubbing Danny’s shoulder. “Did you bring them?” Mac paused as the sleeping man sighed and settled deeper into his lap, and then resumed his attentions.

Flack nodded and pulled a badge, a holstered gun and an ammo clip from his coat pocket. He handed the badge to Mac when the CSI gestured for it.

Mac placed the badge in Danny’s hand that rested on Mac’s knee, and closed the sleeping man’s fingers around it. Danny roused slightly, tucking the badge closer to his chest, but Mac leaned closer and whispered in his ear. “Relax, Danny. Sleep. Hush.” He waited for Danny to settle again, then sat back up to look at Flack. Flack grinned widely, his eyes sparkling with mirth and mischief.

“About damned time,” he said quietly. “Stella’s gonna love this. She wins the bet.” When Mac cocked an eyebrow at him, Flack’s smile grew wider. “Stell, Hawkes and I got a bet going after that panic room case about when the two of you would get together. Hawkes was out of it about a month ago, and I figured you to be a more stubborn bastard.” His smirk faded. “Funny how things can come up to bite you in the ass and make you do things you should have done a long time ago.”

Mac shook his head. “We aren’t together.” And Stella was going to hear a few choice words from him about betting on his private life.

“I never thought I’d use this word with you, Mac, but that’s stupid.” Flack glared at the other man, hissing his words to avoid waking Danny. “You need him as much as he needs you. You drink enough coffee, Mac. Wake up and smell it.”

When Mac could only stare blankly at him, Flack sighed and leaned back on his heels. “We’ve been looking for the rest of the Tanglewood troops since Sonny Sassone was busted, but they’ve gone to ground.” He passed the gun and clip to Mac. “Danny doesn’t need to be unarmed right now. I’m assigning a uniform each to you and Danny until we find the bastards. They might get it into their pea brains to try to get one or the both of you.”

Mac tucked the gun and clip beside him on the couch. “Danny’s going to be staying with me for a few days. You don’t need to assign a guard to me, and I’ll guard Danny.” The thought of protection for himself bothered Mac; he had served in a war zone and could take care of himself. But Danny….

Flack gave him a look that clearly said he didn’t buy any of Mac’s bull him not being together with Danny, but let that matter slide. “I know you’re not worried for yourself, Mac, but the fact that you used to be a Marine doesn’t make you bulletproof. The fact that Danny lived most of his life in Tanglewood territory doesn’t mean he’s safe, either. Just let a friend and a cop cover your asses for a while.” He nodded at Danny. “He doesn’t need to be worrying about a gang of punks with a vendetta right now; neither do you. Shut up and take the protection. Any objections, take them up with Stella.”

Mac quirked a small smile. “Stella’s already in trouble with me, I don’t think I need to worry about her.”

Flack snorted. “If it’s between you pissed off and Stella pissed off, my money’s on Stella. And you aren’t refusing protection and putting me in the middle of that. No way!”

Danny opened his eyes and looked steadily at Flack. “He’ll take the guards.”

Flack wrapped his hands around the hand in which Danny clasped his badge, holding it tightly for a moment. “You’re going to be all right, Danny.” He pulled the badge from Danny’s fingers and slipped the clip on the back of the case over Danny’s belt. He straightened the badge, and patted it lightly in place. “Now you look like you’re dressed again.”

Danny smiled wanly, and clasped his friend’s hand. Flack tightened his grip briefly, eyes shining, then released Danny’s hand as he rose to his feet. “The uniforms will be here in a few minutes. I’ll wait for them in the hall.” He strode out of the waiting room.

Danny shifted his weight until he lay mostly on his back, looking up at Mac.

“How much of that conversation did you hear, Danny?”

Danny moved to sit up, but Mac’s hand on his shoulder held him in place. “Enough to know that Stella and Hawkes are going to be getting every dumpster diving case for the next year.” He tried to smile, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. He rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “Everything after you put the badge in my hand.”

Mac released his shoulder when Danny tried to sit up again. “Remind me to look more closely when you’re supposed to be asleep.”

Danny sat up and ran his hands over his hair, mussing the already spiky mass. “No need to worry about that.” He dropped his hands, but didn’t look at Mac. “I can’t believe they did that. Mac, I’m sorry about that.”

Mac almost laughed. “Apologize because our friends figured us out before we did? You have nothing to be sorry for.” He paused and the half smile faded from his lips. “Unless they aren’t the detectives I think them to be and they all got it wrong. Then it would be me who’s sorry for what they did. Did they, Danny? Get it wrong?” He reached out to Danny’s shoulder, but drew back his hand when he saw the younger man stiffen.

Danny shook his head. “No. No, they didn’t.” He sighed explosively and surged out of his seat. He went to the window and leaned his forehead against it, hands pressed to the glass on either side of his face. “My father says I’m responsible for what happened to Louie.” The words bounced off the glass with a hollow sound. “He said if Louie dies, I’m his murderer as sure as the pricks who beat him up.” He pushed away from the window, swaying restlessly as if trying to decide whether to run.

Mac left the couch and grabbed Danny’s shoulders, stopping the frenetic movements and forcing Danny to look at him.

“Mac, did I kill my brother?”

Mac could feel the trembling start once again beneath his fingers, and slowly, gently he began to knead them as he spoke. “Your father had no right to say that. Louie made a choice, and he chose to protect his brother. It was an act of love. It seems your father doesn’t recognize that.” He clung tighter when Danny tried to twist away. “When he sees that as something wrong, he diminishes that act, Danny. Don’t give in to him. Don’t take away from the choice Louie made.”

Danny twisted his shoulders again, but with less force. He settled slowly, still breathing hard from his efforts to escape Mac’s grasp. Ducking his head, he looked away from Mac for a long moment. Mac resumed rubbing his arms in a slow, hypnotic rhythm.

Danny looked back at Mac, his eyes bright and red-rimmed. “You taking my word about what went down at the stadium that night, what was that an act of?”

“It was an act of trust.”

Danny’s restlessness stilled, and he stood a little straighter when Mac released him. “I don’t need a babysitter, Mac. You don’t have to take me home and tuck me in bed. I can take care of myself.” His voice was rough, and his eyes still shone. He scuffed at an imaginary mark on the floor. “I can take care of myself.”

“You can, Danny, but you don’t have to.” Mac gripped Danny’s chin and tilted his face up. “Give yourself permission to be hurt, and tired and frightened. Give yourself permission to take what I’m offering – someone to lean on for a time.”

“About what Flack said, I’m not…. I want to….”

Mac shook his head, but didn’t release Danny. “You’re not ready, and this isn’t the right time. I understand.” He dropped his hand and a small smile escaped his control. “One step at a time, Danny, one day at a time.”

Danny looked at Mac for a long moment, and then nodded. “One step at a time.”

Mac expected to have to fight Danny to get him into the car for the ride home Flack offered, but the younger man acquiesced without a murmur. He and Flack had bundled Danny into the back seat; Danny had pulled Mac in after him and had promptly turned the former Marine into his personal pillow again. Mac smiled as he ran his fingers through Danny’s hair.

“Not together? Yeah, right.” Flack chuckled from the front seat.

“We aren’t together,” Mac answered. “Not yet, anyway.” Mac didn’t know what had begun between them that night, but he was a patient man and he enjoyed mysteries; he could wait to find out. And for now it was enough that Danny trusted him to pick Danny up when he fell. It would do for a start.

Mac sighed and leaned back into the seat. The stallion on his buddy’s ranch had been a long time in healing from his battle, and he never took to the saddle. But Mac recalled how much better the animal looked the next time he visited the ranch, how the stallion’s wild beauty was only enhanced by the scars it had endured. And he remembered the joy he felt in watching the stallion stretched out in an uninhibited gallop.

It would do for a start.