Title: Flack a Day Keeps the Doctor Away
Author: Kimmychu
Fandom: CSI: NY
Rating: AO
Pairing: Danny/Flack
Content Warning: Flu symptoms. Major schmoop. Established relationship. Ah-choo!
Spoilers: Meh, but to be safe, post Season 2.
Summary: Poor Danny has the flu. Luckily for him, Nurse Flack is in the house.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, only the flu belongs to me. Naughty little thing. Oh, and the story.

***

Flack swore that the sneeze that whooshed out of the CSI's reddened nose was louder than the crack of a shotgun.

"Geez, buddy, what have ya got hidden up yer schnozz? A cannon?"

Danny sniffled noisily, wiped at his sore nose and watery eyes then muttered, "Fuggyuh."

Flack smirked, lips twitching. "Hey now, is that any way to talk to yer nurse?"

The flu-weakened man merely snuffled, wrinkling his nose snidely at Flack.

The homicide detective snickered. Only Danny could appear so majestically haughty with a nasty cold. While wrapped in an equally nasty-looking plaid blanket. And wearing bright yellow, furry bed slippers that were shaped like that adorable, chubby creature from that Japanese cartoon show.

Flack dipped a spoon into the steaming bowl of chicken soup he held. What was the name of that yellow thing again? A Pikachu? Yeah, that was it. A Pikachu from some silly cartoon called Pokemon. God knew where the heck Danny got those slippers from.

He took a sip of the broth. Mmm. It was just right.

"Luuuuuunch tiiiiiiiiime."

"Don' wanna eat."

"Daaaaanny. You haven't eaten anythin' since last night."

Danny sniffled again. "Don' wanna."

Flack sighed. The stubborn little brat. The guy had been behaving like this long before he fell sick after getting soaked in the rain yesterday evening. Well, okay, Danny was a brat all the time, but he was especially bratty yesterday morning.

Because, Flack just had to open up his big mouth and tease the other man by saying that Danny was like a six-year-old little beast who never listened to him.

"Daaaaanny." Flack was kneeling in front of Danny on the couch now, waving the spoon about. "If ya don't eat somethin', you're gonna stay sick for a lot loooooonger."

"Not hungry." The sniffing man tugged the blanket around himself, hiding his nose and mouth behind a large fold of the cloth.

Flack sighed once more.

The only respite he got from Danny's childish behavior yesterday was when the two of them went out to bring in their main perp of the day, some scary body builder who loved what he did a little too much. Flack actually got the heebie-jeebies merely standing in front of the steroid-pumped, muscled … organism while Danny lay the smack down on the guy's crime CSI-style.

Apparently, the steroids the perp was taking didn't help pump up his brain along with the rest of him. The instant Mr. Muscled Man took a threatening step towards Danny, Flack zipped into place between Danny and the guy, looming like a tower over the five-foot-tall bodybuilder.

"Ooo, geek boy needs his booooyfriend to protect him." Mr. Muscled Man growled menacingly at Flack, hunching his shoulders to show off his near-grotesque physique. "What are ya gonna do, sissy boy? Slap me like a girl?"

Flack's lanky leg shot straight up.

Between the perp's legs.

Danny had been right about one thing. There was always something new to learn every day. Like the fact even steroid freaks who looked like walking meat monsters could sing soprano after being kicked real hard in the balls.

"Difference between you and me, pal?" Flack said casually as he and Danny rolled the groaning, curled up perp onto his stomach and handcuffed him. "I'm tough down there too."

What happened afterwards was somewhat blurry to Flack. Mac had let Danny out early for the day, which was incredibly rare and highly appreciated by the clandestine lovers. Flack, against all the odds, also got to retire early, and even had a day off tomorrow. All he remembered was being dragged by Danny to a bar that wasn't Sullivan's. It wasn't anything special, just a bar like most bars in New York city.

But it had a special place somewhere in his heart now. Wasn't every day that he ended up being literally mauled by an extremely lusty Danny in public. Flack had forced himself to play down his reactions to Danny's initial fondling and kisses, as thrilled as he was by his lover's enthusiastic initiative. Until he realized that nobody was giving a damn Danny was doing all those things to him. And that all the other patrons of the bar were men.

"Danny … you brought us to a gay bar?"

The CSI's lips were on his again in seconds, molding themselves against his, cool and moist from the cold beer they were drinking.

"Sometimes …" - Danny suckled on the taller man's lower lip - "A guy's gotta …" - thrust of tongue into Flack's open mouth - "Find a place to show off what he's got, ya know?"

Danny's blue eyes were blazing behind his silver-framed spectacles.

Flack grinned broadly, a rogue's grin. "Oh yeah? So what happens if somebody makes a move on your turf, hahn?"

Danny's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Not gonna happen." He licked his lips slowly, from one end to the other. "You're mine."

Something inside Flack clenched hard at Danny's vehement affirmation. It was a really good feeling. The homicide detective gazed at the other man with half-lidded eyes.

"So what happens if you go make a move on somebody else's turf?"

Danny was quiet for a moment. Even so, Flack could hear his partner's breaths above the blaring background music that many of the bar's patrons were dancing to.

"I already got the best of the best." Danny cast a brilliant smile his way, teeth gleaming under the blue, ambient lighting. "Like I give a fuck 'bout the rest."

The next thing Flack knew, he had grabbed Danny by the arms and was kissing the gorgeous, fuckable man for all he was worth. He couldn't care less that the man's glasses were jabbing his face. Danny tasted so damn good.

Danny took pity on the homicide detective's handsome visage and quickly pulled away, whipping off his spectacles, chucking them onto the table. The shorter man was breathing unevenly.

"Eat you alive."

Danny's mouth was on his once more before he could reply, hot and soft and sinuous and stealing his breath away. Flack wrapped his arms tight around Danny's torso, crushing his lover to his own body. Shoved his hands beneath Danny's jacket and Henley shirt, roaming across smooth, warm skin. It was like being in the direct presence of the sun. As if he was being seared alive from the inside out, but he couldn't exist without it. Flack groaned inaudibly at Danny sliding onto his lap, grinding on his groin. Damn, he hoped the bar's stools were made of sturdy material.

The CSI had wound his fingers into Flack's thick, dark hair, keeping Flack's head still while he devoured the taller detective's parted lips. Danny was making those whimpering noises that turned Flack on instantaneously, like a switch. The same whimpers and moans he let out whenever they -

"Mmmmm … fuck me, Don."

A certain part of Flack's anatomy jumped to attention the moment those rasped words left Danny's wet lips.

Flack's large hands gripped Danny's hips firmly.

He felt Danny's hands traveling downwards to the zipper of his trousers.

His hands moved on their own accord behind Danny, slithering beneath the waistband of Danny's jeans and BVDs, cupping the round globes that were possibly the man's finest assets.

Danny moaned softly into his mouth.

And somebody coughed distinctly, in a I'd-like-your-attention-please way.

Flack reluctantly leaned backwards to break their kissing marathon, holding Danny at bay when the other man attempted to resume things. The homicide detective had to smirk at his lover's confused frown. With his spiky hair even more mussed, face flushed and his lips all moist and swollen from their kissing, he was sex personified.

Flack smirked much more widely at Danny redirecting his glower towards the man who had deliberately cleared his throat to gain their attention. It was always better when somebody else was the target of Danny's outraged gaze. Flack turned his head to look at the guy.

Oh. It was one of the bartenders. A six-foot-tall surfer dude with peroxide blonde dreadlocks called Hugo.

"As much as we're all enjoying the … free show," Hugo said with an immense grin, hands on hips, "I'm sorry to say, if you two get any more steamy, you're gonna have to take it elsewhere." The bartender's brown eyes shifted onto Danny. "Boy, am I sorry."

It was Flack's turn to taper his blue eyes in a possessive scowl.

The bartender cleared his throat again. Flack's eyes narrowed even more. Oh, that guy was not going to try it, oohh no, he wasn't -

"So, uh … if you don't me asking," Hugo asked, smiling at Danny. "Are you guys in an … open relationship?"

Danny was smiling impishly, peering in amusement at Flack from the corner of his crinkled eyes.

Flack stared meaningfully at the other detective, calculatingly licking his lower lip at the exact moment Danny's gaze fell onto his mouth.

The CSI's tongue flitted out too, running across the center of his upper lip. He was still straddled on Flack's lap. And he happily reminded the homicide detective of that with a lithe pivot of his hips.

Flack growled low in his throat.

He coiled the fingers of his left hand into Danny's tousled hair in a dominant, fisted grip, yanking Danny's head back. Saw the shorter man's eyes widen perceptibly. A sharp gasp and a body jerk told Flack that his lover liked that a lot. He grinned wickedly.

Oh yeah, Danny knew what was coming.

Time for Don Flack, Jr. to show off what he got.

He sunk his teeth into the bared skin of Danny's arched neck, just enough that Danny evidently felt it and it didn't break skin. With his mouth still fastened, Flack licked right over the spot where he could sense the thundering pulse of Danny's heart. This time, the other man practically convulsed, shuddering hard in Flack's embrace. It was fucking good Danny was the type of guy who didn't like random people touching him. It was the main reason he was one of the very few people to ever discover how sensitive Danny's neck was to pleasurable stimuli.

And he was the only person who ever made Danny orgasm from merely nibbling and biting and licking the man's neck.

The homicide detective ended the shorter detective's torment when Danny began to moan loudly and writhe against his body. Flack smirked, stroking the red face of a swaying, pleasure-fuddled CSI. Some things were for Flack's eyes and ears alone.

"Sorry, Hugo," Flack said with a genteel smile. He felt Danny lean into him, nuzzling cheek against cheek. "We're exclusive."

It was pretty obvious the bartender had thoroughly enjoyed the second free show, based on how the guy was fidgeting where he stood, and had the biggest smile splitting his face. Hugo threw his hands up in acquiescence.

"That's a damn shame." Hugo looked pointedly at Flack. "Well, if you guys ever decide to … try something different, feel free to look me up." He winked at Danny. "Anytime."

Flack couldn't help making a sardonic face at the back of the bartender walking away, twiddling some fingers in a silly farewell wave. "Bye bye now, Hugo."

Danny's amused cackle drew his attention back to his partner.

"Oooh, is it just me, or does the guy have somethin' fer me, ah, Don?" Danny planted a kiss on Flack's lips, then wrinkled his nose in a mischievous manner.

Flack stared hard at the other man, trying his best to maintain a deadpan expression. The little shit. Acting all naïve like he didn't know a line like that was going to rile Flack up good.

"You. Are. Mine."

Danny's smile broadened at Flack's declaration, his baby fangs showing.

"Yeah?" The CSI's pink tongue darted out between parted lips once more. "I saw the lookhe gave ya. So what happens if ya go take him up on his offer, ah?"

Oh, Danny was sounding all cool and unconcerned, but Flack knew better. The guy was jealous. The homicide detective allowed himself to smile at last.

Heh. He was totally prepared for a query like that. His lover was so predictable sometimes.

"I already got the best." Flack puckered his lips, gazing at Danny with sultry eyes. "Why should I give a fuck 'bout the rest?"

His lover's jubilant laughter caused heads to turn in their direction. Flack ended up laughing along with a very happy Danny, except he was laughing for a slightly different reason. Well, well, Hugo certainly hadn't been kidding when he said the other customers got a thrill out of their making out. And most of them were staring with blatant envy in their eyes too.

Heck, yeah. He was King of the freaking Universe.

Flack grinned like a loon as Danny slid off his lap to stand on his feet. He pondered whether Danny would beat the crap out of him for calling the man the Queenof the freaking Universe. After all, a king needed a queen, didn't he?

"C'mon, my place is closer." Danny whispered into his ear, having drawn his head down for another kiss once he got to his feet too.

Maybe it was something in the beer, or something about having nabbed a perp on the job that day. Maybe it was because they got off early. Or perhaps they were simply glad to be alive. Flack probably broke a couple of traffic laws on their drive back to the CSI's apartment. Danny probably broke some laws himself, the way he was groaning and whimpering and twisting under Flack's skillful hand. A damn good thing Flack was ambidextrous. Never knew when it came in handy. A damn good thing that Flack kept a small towel in his car at all times too. Never knew when that came in handy.

Luck wasn't quite on their side that night in regards to free parking spaces near Danny's apartment building. Flack had to park his car over three blocks down, which turned out to be a bad thing. Particularly when it started to rain the minute Flack locked the car doors. And they had no umbrella. And there were three frigging blocks of unsheltered distance to sprint across.

It was one of those freak storms that came out of nowhere and drenched everything in sight, including the two detectives who ran all the way to their destination. Tackling each other in the breezy downpour. Racing each other down the pavement. Laughing like little boys. Leaping impulsively into the moment to relive innocent playtimes of their childhood years.

The rain lasted for a mere five minutes. By that time, Danny and Flack were inside the apartment building's lobby, stripping off their sopping jackets and coat, catching their breaths. There was no one else there apart from them.

"Oh man … Don … you shoulda seen the look on yer face -"

Danny cackled, stumbling around and then leaning heavily against Flack, who sent him a mock glower. The homicide detective's lips twitched.

"Oh, haha, ya think you're so funny, don'tcha, Messer?"

The shorter man released a sound that almost sounded like a giggle, enfolding arms around Flack's wet body. Danny was behaving as if he was drunk or something. It couldn't possibly be the beer. They barely drank more than a pint each. Flack chuckled, returning the hug by wrapping his own arms over the other man's lower back, touching noses. Heh, Danny would definitely beat the shit out of him if he said aloud that Danny was drunk on love.

An enormous part of Flack secretly hoped Danny really was.

"Little, old laaaaadies checkin' out yer aaaass -"

Flack immediately spanked him on his aforementioned body part, the slapping sounds drowned out by more of Danny's surprised sniggering.

Just minutes before, the little firebrand had flipped up his coat. And managed to squeeze Flack's butt with both his hands. Outside the building. Right at the point two elderly ladies in coats and prim, little hats and umbrellas ambled past them on the sidewalk. Flack wasn't as embarrassed at Danny so unashamedly molesting him in public like that, as he was at the high-pitched squeal he let out.

When he had two elderly ladies tittering their heads off and then obviously ogling his bottom, Flack was of the opinion it was perfectly fine to blush deep red in mortification.

The homicide detective planted feathery kisses all over Danny's lips and lower jaw. "Don't make me strip ya buck naked and throw ya out there for those ladies to look at."

"And the punishment in that is?" Danny smirked and stuck out his tongue.

Flack made a muted, deadly sound in his throat, which merely served to make Danny laugh in amusement.

The plastic lenses of the shorter man's spectacles were dotted with water droplets. Danny's white Henley shirt was completely saturated with water, and the wetness made the clothing stick to Danny's lean torso in very … aesthetically pleasing ways. Flack's gaze trailed down to the unbuttoned collar of the Henley shirt. A patch of Danny's chest hair was exposed to his sight, just enough to cause the blood to rush in his veins. Somehow, seeing those few dark curls above the collar of any shirt Danny wore made Flack feel all kinds of tingly and hot.

As well as Danny's tongue. And his tiny fangs. And that magnificent bottom. And those fierce blue eyes that were so much like his own.

Hell, everything about Danny turned him on big time.

"Ya know … you're right. You're a bad, bad boy." Flack grabbed Danny's damp hair and wrenched the man's head back in a playfully aggressive fashion. "Maybe I oughta just strip you and fuck you into the wall right here."

Danny was still smiling, grinning like an unruly cat, in fact. There was no way in hell the CSI would ever permit any other human being to manhandle him the way Flack was at the moment. But Flack was special. Flack knew his limits and his needs and desires. Flack knew precisely how far he was willing to go. Flack was somebody he could trust implicitly.

Flack belonged to Danny.

And Danny belonged to Flack.

"Hmmm? You'd like that, wouldn't ya?" The homicide detective slammed his lover up against the nearest wall, joining them together from chest to knees. "Tell me."

Danny moaned and squirmed, rubbing vigorously against the length of Flack's lanky, wet body. Grinding their hips, the hardness between their legs, together. Flack groaned, running his hands down Danny's flanks.

The shorter detective's lips parted silently.

"C'mon, Danny. Tell me."

Danny sneezed.

Very hard and audibly.

Directly onto Flack's sodden tie and neck.

Flack swiftly tilted his upper body backwards, grimacing. Eww, he sure hoped the moistness on his neck wasn't what he thought it was.

The CSI's spectacles were half-hanging off his flushed face from one ear. Danny rearranged them back onto his ears and nose, and abruptly sneezed a second time. He sniffled moistly, glancing at Flack with a foreboding look.

"Uh oh."

Flack stared at Danny with a straight face for a couple of seconds or so, then broke into a soft snicker, rubbing his forehead affectionately against the shorter man's. "Okay, we oughta get dry. And just 'cos ya sneezed twice doesn't mean you're gonna get a cold."

Too bad Danny's nose was as much a rebel as its owner was.

Not even twelve hours after they rode the elevator up to Danny's apartment, got out of their soggy clothes, washed up and went to bed, Flack had woken up early that morning of his day off to discover a very sniffly, achy-nosed Danny next to him. The taller man had taken one glance at Danny huddled under the blanket, stuffing his running nose with tissue paper, and called Mac to inform the older detective that Danny wasn't coming in to work today.

And now, some hours afterwards, the thirty-two-year-old brat was being a … brat.

Again.

"Danny." Flack was transforming into an irritated mother hen, pursed lips, puffed cheeks, narrow-eyed glare and all. "Ya need to eat somethin' so you can take the flu medicine and get better!"

Danny pulled down the blanket to below his chin, exposing his face. He sniffled raucously. Yanked out two tissue papers from the cupboard box on his lap and slapped them over his nose and mouth barely in time to catch the next sneeze.

Flack bit his lower lip, the muscles in his lower face spasming. Whoa, that was possibly the best impression of a horny, bellowing bull elephant he ever heard. He wisely kept the thought to himself.

"I caen' taesh or shmell a thingh." Danny blew his inflamed nose on another tissue paper. "Don' need medishenh, or chichken shoup. Be fine."

Flack gazed quietly at his ill partner for a minute or two, pokerfaced.

A metaphorical light bulb lit up above his head.

Hoh. He knew just how to make Danny drink the soup.

"Okay." Flack carefully placed the bowl of hot chicken soup on the short coffee table in front of the couch, next to where he knelt. He hopped to his feet, all springy and energized. "Guess I'll be off then."

That got Danny the Red-Nosed Italian to slouch there on the sofa with a very child-like expression of total bemusement.

" … huh?"

The homicide detective strode over to the apartment front door, where he hung his leather jacket earlier after going to the grocery store to get some canned chowder. He had kept it in Danny's cupboard, since he decided to wear formal suits to work, along with a spare set of clothes. In case he needed to change when he was there or something. Or to be more accurate, once he had to finally leave the haven of Danny's apartment. He never did stay clothed for long whenever he was there.

"Well, ya said you're gonna be fine and all that, so I'm gonna go out and do stuff." Flack put on the dark jacket over the black t-shirt he wore. Man, he missed wearing his sexy leather jacket.

" … huh?"

Flack plucked his car keys from the kitchen counter. Quickly turned his back on Danny. His lips curved upwards into a humongous, mischievous grin. Dang, that was close. If Danny figured out he was just joking around, he'd never hear the end of the guy's whining. Had to make this look real.

He swiveled back to face the sniffling man, straight-faced once more. "It's my day off, ya know. Got errands to do. People to see, fun to have."

Danny stuck out his lower lip in a babyish sulk.

Flack was grinning inwardly. Ohh, Danny still wanted to be a brat, did he? Fiiine.

"Soooo, since you're a big boy and you can take care of yerself … I'll be on my merry way." Flack whistled as he swaggered to the front door again, acting unconcerned and trying his hardest to not burst out laughing at Danny's bewildered expression. Danny had shifted around on the couch so that he faced the apartment front door now, peering over the edge of the back of the sofa with glowering, watery eyes.

Flack opened the door with a dramatic flair, then waved his hand at the other man. "Byyyeeeeeee, Danny."

He strolled out and shut the door behind him. Started a short countdown in his head, sniggering to himself.

Three … two … one -

"Doooooooon!"

Flack's snickers grew louder. He clammed up, sucking his lower lip into his mouth. Oh no, he was getting somewhere now. Had to keep up the act juuuust a little more.

He waited for a few seconds. Opened up the door and took a step back inside.

"Yeeeeees?"

Hot damn, he was the master of poker faces. Somebody ought to give him an Academy award for this.

Danny was leaning his chin on top of the back of the sofa, his hands clutching the cushion on either side. He had the ridiculous plaid blanket draped over his head. And he was using his patented, giant puppy eyes and endearing lip pout too.

"I'm siiiiiiick."

Oh crap, Danny was using the big guns now.

"Yer point being?" Flack asked, rocking on his heels.

The CSI thrust his lower lip out even more. "Doooooooooooooon."

Flack puckered his lips in soundless contemplation. Rocked coolly on his heels for a minute more.

Danny hid his lower face behind the couch.

"I'm sorry."

Flack's thick eyebrows shot up. Huh, now he didn't anticipate that.

"Whaaat was that?" The taller man placed a cupped hand beside his ear, a comical, open-mouthed smile on his mien.

Danny's head popped up again.

"I'm. Sorry. For being a brat."

Ah, Danny the Temperamental, Spoiled Kitten was back.

The homicide detective tsked. His blue eyes narrowed in consideration. Hmmm. Should he let Danny off the hook this time?

"Does this mean you'll have the chicken soup for lunch?"

Danny's own eyes tapered in defiance, but he said in a croaky voice, "Yesh."

Flack tsked a second time.

"Does this mean you'll do whatever I tell ya to, and obey my every whim and command?"

The shorter man on the sofa rolled his eyes and made a disgusted noise through his stuffed nose.

"Okay," Flack replied in a blasé tone.

He spun about and started to saunter out through the open doorway once more.

"DOOOOOOOOOON."

Flack merely stuck his head around the side of the door, cool as a cucumber.

His lover was employing the big, puppy eyes with the doe-like blinking tactic again. It was remarkably effective thanks to the watery, glistening appearance of those baby blues.

No worries, he had all the cards in his hands -

"Stay with me. Please."

Or maybe he didn't.

"I need ya." Danny blinked multiple times. And then whined softly.

Flack stood behind the semi-closed front door of the apartment, head bent forward and shaking from side to side, smiling to himself. Geez, all it took was one puppy-eyed look from Danny to bring his defenses crashing down. He was so pathetic. He laughed quietly to himself.

Danny had him by the balls the moment they looked into each others' eyes for the first time, over five years ago. And for some reason, his brain was telling him he had confused himself regarding the specific organ of his body that Danny owned.

That, in truth, it was the one much higher up. In the left side of his broad chest.

" … Don?"

The lanky man reentered the apartment without a word, closed and locked the door, removed his jacket and hung it up on the door's hook. Ambled over to the couch, towering over Danny who'd returned to his original sitting position on the couch.

"Move over, ya lazyass." Flack waved at him with one hand to shift to one side of the sofa.

For a second, Danny nearly smiled, but he speedily schooled his flushed features into his childish pout. The flu-ridden man pulled the blanket around his shoulders more snugly, wiping at his dripping nose with more tissue paper.

Flack cast a mock reprimanding look at his partner. Naughty imp. He saw that smile the guy tried to conceal.

He picked up the bowl of chicken soup from the short coffee table and sat down heavily next to the other man. Okay, good, it was still hot. He could sense the heat emanating through the plastic.

"Say, 'aaaaahhhh.'" Flack aimed a spoonful of chicken broth at Danny's closed mouth. "C'mon, 'aaaahhh.'"

Danny's pout intensified. Now it was certainly a genuine one.

"Ya know, you can't eat anythin' if ya keep yer mouth shut," Flack said drolly, imitating a doting mother speaking to her little baby. "You have to oooopen it." He moved the spoon around in circles, like it was a mini-airplane. "Ooooooopen wiiiiiiiide."

The CSI's lips twitched visibly.

Flack made humorous airplane noises.

Danny finally grinned, cackling at Flack's antics. It wasn't quite as distinct a sound as it usually was thanks to his cold.

"Yuuuuuum."

The round edge of the stainless steel spoon touched Danny's lower lip, and the small quantity of soup went into Danny's gaping mouth. Not a single drop spilled out.

"Theeeeeeeere we go." Flack dipped into the bowl for another spoonful. "See? Isn't it easy to open yer mouth wide?"

The shorter detective leered at him.

"And unlike a certain pervert sittin' on the couch with me, all I was thinkin' of was drinkin' soup."

Danny barked an amused laugh, sticking out his tongue at Flack.

Flack gazed pointedly at his lover.

"When you've finished your soup and taken yer medicine … I'll show you how big I can open my mouth, hmm?"

Danny grabbed the bowl from him and drank it all down in one go.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Hmmm. He was sure he watched this movie before.

Flack increased the volume a little, but not too loud. He didn't want to awaken Danny, who was sleeping peacefully against his shoulder and chest. Only minutes after the ill man had consumed his lunch meal and gulped down his flu medication, he'd fallen asleep. Just like that.

Ah, well. Flack smirked to himself. He could make good on his promise later.

The slumbering man had his head tucked under Flack's chin, the plaid blanket swathed cozily around his body from neck to shins. Danny's legs were lying over Flack's thighs, so his Pikachu-slippered feet rested on the cushions of the couch.

The taller man's eyes were continuously drawn to those bright yellow slippers. It was sort of weird to see two pairs of round, black eyes staring back at him. Even weirder that the slippers had a pair of brown-tipped ears each, plus red circles on what were supposed to be the cheeks. Cheeks on slippers? When Danny recovered, he was going to bury the creepy things somewhere the guy would never find them. And he'd get Danny a real pair of bedroom slippers.

Flack angled his head to one side and glanced downwards at Danny's visage. His partner looked like such a little, innocent boy when he was asleep. The brows, frequently lowered in a semi-frown while Danny was awake, were relaxed and smoothed out. His eyelashes were more noticeable with his eyes shut, not too thick and just the right length. Right now, there were dark circles around said eyes as well. Flack didn't care. Danny was gorgeous to him even if the man spent a week in the sewers and reemerged in nothing but a potato sack.

Danny was snoring lightly through slightly parted lips. The poor guy probably couldn't breathe through his stuffy nose. Flack delicately tapped the tip of the reddened nose with his forefinger. Oh boy, he could see the skin around the nostrils peeling already. It was going to feel mighty sore. He made a mental note to get some cream or ointment for it later.

He then softly scratched Danny's chin, the pad of his finger tickled by the coarse hair there. Danny didn't shave this morning. One day of no shaving, and the man was already getting scruffy all around his lower jaw. Flack's lips arched up in a diminutive smile. Heh, just another thing they had in common.

He looked back at the television screen.

Oh, he remembered this part. It was the part where some of the soldiers were chatting about … camel debt, before they headed out to Mogadishu to execute their mission.

"' … that's a lotta fuckin' camel debt.'"

Flack smirked. There it was.

Yeah, it wasn't the first time he'd seen this film. He once mentioned to Danny one of the soldiers who talked about the camel debt thing was pretty hot. As a matter of fact, the very one who just spoke up in the movie. Naturally, Danny had sulked a bit until Flack explained that the guy looked so much like him, they might have been twins separated at birth or something.

Flack kept his eyes on that particular soldier. Speculated on how Danny would look with a buzz, Mohawk-like haircut like that. He nibbled on his lower lip. Man, it'd be hot. Throw in the army attire, and maybe some edible war paint, and he and Danny were going to spend some major quality time having mind-blowing roleplay sex.

With him as Danny's commander, of course.

The sleeping CSI stirred, inhaling deeply through his mouth. Danny mumbled something unintelligible under his breath.

"Dan?"

Danny's eyes remained closed. The shorter man nuzzled his face deeper into his neck and shoulder, releasing a single whimper. Then he settled down once more, going limp.

When Flack figured Danny wasn't going to wake up yet, he wrapped his arm more tightly around the shorter man's blanketed body, patting Danny's hip at intermittent times. It was okay. Flack didn't mind sitting lounging there on the couch watching a war movie while Danny was cuddled on his lap and napped. It was actually really nice to spend an off-day this way. Serene, quiet days like these were so rare in the kind of lives they led.

The homicide detective slumped some more on the sofa, sighing. Ah, it was the scene where Josh Hartnett's character was briefing his team. If Flack recalled correctly, the movie was nearly two and a half hours long. It was hardly half an hour into the film. Maybe he should have brought some junk food to the couch to munch on.

Danny stirred again. Mumbled more inaudible words.

His interest piqued, Flack decreased the television sound volume with the remote, listening intently to whatever Danny was murmuring in his sleep. Danny wasn't just mumbling, he was rubbing his face against Flack's neck and shoulder like a cat would rub itself against its owner or something. It was odd and amusing and sweet at the same time.

The slumbering man sniffled. Rubbed his face another time against Flack's shoulder.

Danny's lips moved.

The taller man bowed his head to better hear what his lover had to say.

"Happy."

Danny appeared to be smiling softly, causing his face to seem even more youthful in sleep. Flack wasn't sure whether he was simply seeing things or not. It was difficult to tell with his vision becoming so blurry all of a sudden. And his throat was somewhat congested. Was he coming down with the flu too?

Flack buried his nose in Danny's mussed, velvety hair, breathing in its clean scent. It smelled like the herbal shampoo Danny favored, fresh and mild.

The slumbering man whispered the same word a second time, going lax in Flack's embrace.

There was an extreme amount of artillery carnage on the television now, the strident noise of missiles and guns firing grating to hear even with the low volume. Flack switched off the television. The calm silence was much better. He already had more than enough violence to deal with on the job anyway.

He pressed a tender kiss to Danny's warm forehead. Laid his head on top of the other man's. His eyelids fluttered close over moist eyes, and he reveled in the comforting sensation of holding his significant other, safe in his arms.

Happy.

It was amazing what a single, simple word could do to the heart of a man in love.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"Don … I'm hot."

Danny was sprawled on his belly on the bed, using his toes to sluggishly tug down the cotton pants of his beige-colored pajamas. The waistband was already down to the man's knees, revealing a very appealing view of Danny's buttocks encased in the usual black BVDs.

Flack's blue eyes followed every wiggle and shake of that splendid portion of his partner's body.

"That ya are, babe, that ya are."

In any other situation, Flack would have received at least one pillow in the face for a comment like that. The fact that he hadn't was pretty good proof Danny wasn't quite recuperated from his nasty flu yet.

The homicide detective sat down heavily on the side of the bed and pulled the pants off the rest of Danny's legs. He folded the pants in half, then flung it onto the back of the dressing table's chair nearby. Now all the CSI had on was his underwear and his unbuttoned, long-sleeved pajama top.

"Hooot." Danny whined faintly.

Flack placed his palm against Danny's forehead, frowning. Hmm. Danny did feel warmer than normal.

"Think ya oughta see a doctor."

Danny opened bleary eyes. "No … gimme aspirin."

Flack huffed. Right, Danny never liked going to a doctor or to hospitals. But the guy wasn't looking too good. Didn't sound too good either. The Godfather should be making a run for his money any minute now.

"Ya sure? I think you've got a slight fever."

The shorter man shut his eyes again, nestling his flushed face into the pillow beneath his head. "Gimme aspirin."

"Okay, Danny." Flack ran a hand over the back of Danny's head and down the back of his neck to his lower back in one firm stroke. It seemed to calm the restless man down. "Hold on, I'll go get it."

The bottle of aspirin was in the bathroom cabinet where Danny usually kept it. Flack shook out two pills onto his palm. That should be enough. He remembered the medicine being awfully acidic, and Danny hadn't eaten any food since lunch. He headed to the kitchen next, checking the cupboards for any dry foods that didn't require cooking. Found a packet of wheat crackers, which ought to do fine. He filled a glass with warm water, and strided back to the bedroom.

"C'mon, buddy. Ya gotta eat somethin' 'fore ya take the aspirin."

Danny virtually had to struggle to a sitting position. Before lunch, Danny could still stomp around and complain about everything under the sun, even though it was in a nasal, funny voice. At this moment, Flack had to support the weakened man with an arm behind Danny. And Danny was swaying where he sat. It worried him.

The sick man knew precisely what was going through Flack's thoughts.

"Stop worryin'. Take some aspirin … be a'right in a while," Danny rasped, clinging onto the empty glass with one hand, and Flack's hand with the other.

Flack cast a smile tinged with concern at his lover. He hoped Danny was right. Or he was going to haul the guy directly to the doctor. Even if it meant tying Danny up with ropes and chains and locks Houdini himself couldn't escape from. He took the glass from Danny, leaving it on the bedside table.

Danny wouldn't let his hand go.

"I'm not goin' anywhere," Flack said consolately.

Danny was beginning to shiver too. His hand was trembling.

"Ya wanna wear yer pants back -"

The CSI tugged on Flack's hand, towards himself.

"Okay … okay."

The homicide detective scrambled onto the bed, grasping folds of the rumpled blanket at the foot of the bed and spreading it out over them with one big flap. Thank goodness this one was a plain, dark blue color. The horrific plaid one was still on the couch. Another item of Danny's that Flack planned to bury in an undisclosed location along with those scary Pikachu bedroom slippers. Perhaps he should also dispose those horrid plaid fedora hats while he was at it. They were even more scream-inducing that the slippers.

Danny had rolled onto his side, his back facing Flack. Flack didn't need any other indication to know what the other man wanted him to do. He lay down on his side too, enveloping his arms around Danny's torso from behind. Spooning this way was one of their favorite sleeping positions.

As well as one of their favored sex positions.

Flack pulled the blanket up to their shoulders. Intertwined his hands and legs with Danny's. Waited for some time to pass before he said what was on his mind.

"Ya know. I hear sex cures everythin'."

The shorter man seemed to not have heard him.

Then a hand shot up in the air and smacked him hard on the side of his face.

Flack grimaced. Okay, he deserved that.

Danny slowly turned over in his embrace to face him on the bed. Uh oh, that was an authentic Danny look of daggers if he ever saw one.

"You suck."

"Whaaaat? Can't blame me fer tryin'." Flack eyeballed him from head to chest where the blanket didn't cover. "You're fuckin' hot even when you're sick."

Danny's lips twitched perceptibly.

"Was that s'pposed to be a compliment?"

Flack made a face. "Hey, ya know me. Would I ever lie to ya?"

Danny sent him a sarcastic sneer.

The taller man glanced here and there, all shifty-eyed.

And the CSI closed his eyes and huffed out a silent laugh.

"So … ya wanna try it?"

Danny's eyes opened halfway.

"If sex cures everythin', Don ... hippies would be rulin' the world by now."

"How do ya know they don't? I think I also read somewhere that they have some super secret organization called the Hippinati … ya know, with their symbol of this big butt and boobs sittin' on top of some pyramid or somethin'."

Danny gave him yet another cynical look, smirking in mild amusement.

"Yeah. And I bet you're the leader, right?"

Flack put on a mock expression of shock. "How did ya find out! Now I'll have to kill ya with ..." His eyes widened his eyes comically. "La petite morte!"

Danny covered his mouth with a hand and pretended to yawn. "Yeahyeah, whatever, Don."

The taller man growled. Oh, Danny thought he was joking, did he?

Flack wriggled closer to his lover, sliding his hands under Danny's unbuttoned pajama top. Wow, Danny was hot. In all senses of the word. His hands glided down the sinewy abdomen, tracing the treasure trail from the navel to -

Flack's eyebrows lifted.

Well, well. Danny was already hard.

The CSI's visage was even more crimson now.

Flack grinned.

Then, he felt the other man's hand enfolding around his wrist under the blanket.

Danny shifted his head forward until their noses were nearly touching.

"You. Suck."

Flack became still, puzzled. Huh? What did that -

"Don't think I've forgotten what ya promised earlier today."

Flack's handsome face gradually broke into a roguish smile once more. He licked his lips.

Ohh, that.

Wordlessly, he tenderly pushed Danny onto his back. Moved away the blanket so Danny had a first-class view of his … expertise.

Danny's tongue flitted out in anticipation.

And Flack scuttled down the other man's wiry body to show just how big his mouth really could go.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Danny was sweating.

His face and body was coated in a sheen of moisture, making his skin glisten where the light of the setting sun cascaded onto him through the windows of the bedroom. Danny tossed his head once on the pillows he lay on, from side to side. Let out a high-pitched moan at the next languid thrust.

Flack took a deep breath, slowing to a stop, buried deep inside his partner. Danny's lower legs were on his shoulders, the man's feet pointed forward beyond his head, and pillows had been propped under the shorter man's hips. Danny's opened, pajama top had slipped off his shoulders, bunched around his upper arms and behind him, exposing his heaving chest.

"Nice … and slow."

Danny's eyes fluttered open at the whispered statement.

The homicide detective breathed audibly, barely able to withstand the intense pleasure of being connected to his lover this way. How ironic, that he was the one who was being blissfully killed with the little death first.

"Am I … am I hurtin' ya?"

Danny gazed at him with glazed eyes, then shook his head diminutively in a negative.

Flack smiled softly, leaning down to touch foreheads and look Danny in the eye.

"Feelin' good?"

"Mmhmmm." Danny cupped Flack's face with his hands, smiling dreamily.

Flack continued to gaze into the other man's half-lidded, blue eyes, thrusting in and out of Danny's warm body at a snail's pace. He watched Danny's eyelids flicker erratically. He couldn't kiss the man. Danny wouldn't let him. Flack wasn't certain whether he could do it at the moment without chuckling anyhow.

He honestly hadn't intended for things to go this far. Just give Danny a blowjob to bring pleasure to ill man, and, if it was possible, speed his recovery. And he would have succeeded in the first part of his plan, except that Danny suddenly made him stop and towed him up by the hair to ask the most ridiculous question he'd heard yet.

"Don! Can … can somebody catch a cold by blowin' a guy who's got it?"

Whatever ingredients that flu medication had, it wasn't light stuff to be fooled around with. Boy, Danny sure was out of it.

Flack stared down at Danny's flushed, attractive features. He looked like he was still way out of it, but, this time, in the best way ever.

"Mmmmmmm …"

Danny's breaths became faster. Flack felt a shudder travel through the shorter detective's sweaty body. He glanced downwards and saw Danny's engorged erection curved against the man's flat stomach, deep red and leaking pre-come onto smooth skin. Danny was close, really close.

The taller man increased the speed of his thrusts little by little, resting his hands on both sides of Danny's head. He was very close to the edge himself, holding back the tide by sheer will. This round, it was all about Danny. He keenly studied every nuance of pleasure that flitted across the other man's mien. Memorized every whimper and harsh breath and heartfelt moan. Every murmur of his name.

Those blue eyes snapped open wide.

"Uhhh … Don … I -"

Flack shifted the angle of his hips, and shoved in to the hilt, striking that concentrated spot of pleasure deep inside unswervingly.

Danny tightened almost excruciatingly around him.

A fervent groan tore out from between the CSI's moist lips.

It took Flack a moment to realize Danny was forcing himself to keep his eyes open. Gazing profoundly into Flack's wide eyes as he came. The taller detective felt wetness splatter against his belly. Stayed motionless while Danny quaked under him from the force of his orgasm, his mouth agape in something akin to awe.

Wow. That was possibly the sexiest and most intimate thing anyone had ever done for him, period.

And it was Danny who did so. The man he was freaking head over heels in love with.

It was perfect.

After a few more seconds, Danny's entire body went completely limp beneath him, arms spread out on the sheets. Flack let the lean legs on his shoulders slide off to the sides onto the bed. His own body was starting to shudder uncontrollably, his straightened arms shaking visibly.

All of a sudden, he was hit by the phenomenal urge to add his own seed to the white splash on Danny's belly.

He cautiously pulled out, then stripped off the condom.

"Don?"

Danny stared at him in curiosity, eyes bright and gleaming.

Flack stroked himself firmly, staring back into his partner's eyes, wanting to give Danny the same gift he'd been bestowed mere moments ago.

Another hand wrapped around his own around his hard erection.

"Yeah, that's it," Danny rasped in delight, pumping his hand up and down with Flack's.

Flack panted. Oh fuck, he was nearly there, almost -

"Come for me."

His orgasm hit him with the intensity of a nuclear explosion. No sound emitted from his gaping mouth as his body convulsed above Danny's, his large eyes wide open.

Staring ardently at the features that made up the face he'd come to adore so much.

Drowning in the infinite love he clearly saw in those blue depths.

Flack's world abruptly blanked out.

When he regained consciousness minutes later, he was lying on top of Danny, his face in the pillow, head beside his lover's. He attempted to roll off, and found that he couldn't. Danny had his arms locked tight around his torso, one hand playing with the tufts of his thick, shorn hair. He relaxed, basking in the afterglow of one of the most astounding orgasms he ever experienced. The stickiness between their abdomens didn't even bother him.

Eventually, he raised his head, and got up onto his elbows to lessen the brunt of weight on Danny. He also yanked away the pillows under Danny's hips so they could lie down flat on the bed.

"Oh man." Danny looked like a cat that had its cream exactly the way it liked it. Ten times over. "That was really somethin'."

Flack chuckled softly, ruffling Danny's disheveled hair. "Babe, was it ever."

The CSI still felt rather warm. But he seemed a lot better, if the man's humongous, crinkly smile and easy, deep breaths were any positive sign.

"So." Flack smirked. "Did the sex cure you of yer cold?"

Danny made a face at him.

The shorter man opened his mouth to reply.

And sneezed right into his face.

Flack scrunched his eyes shut, grimacing. He could feel globs of … something all over his cheeks and nose. Okay, eww. Now that was kind of icky.

A moment or two later, he opened one eye to a slit.

Danny was covering his mouth with one hand, looking at him with a mortified smile.

"Whoops," Danny said in a muffled voice.

Flack stared at him quietly with one eye. His lips were puckered in a semi-amused expression. He drummed his fingers on the bed.

"I think it's safe to say … sex doesn't cure everythin'."

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"Zahara? Hey, it's Danny Messer here … Yeah, that's right. How ya doin'? … I'm doin' good … Yeah? When? … Wow, congratulations, I'm sure she'll grow up pretty like her mommy."

Danny wrapped his hand around the lower end of his mobile phone and turned towards Flack, whispering, "Hey, Zahara had a baby girl! Why didn't ya tell me this before?"

Flack made a non-committal sound and shrugged his shoulders listlessly.

Danny made a face at him. "Oh, I forgot. You're not the type to talk 'bout yer co-workers' personal lives."

Flack snuffled loudly, a funny sound that made Danny snigger.

"Yeah, I'm callin' in on Flack's behalf." The CSI was back on the phone. "He's definitely not well 'nough to come in to work today …" Danny chuckled faintly. "Yeah … yeah, I know 'xactly what ya mean." He glanced at Flack and shot him a narrowed-eyed, pointed look.

Flack sulked. Oh, great. Danny was gossiping with his peers at his precinct now. It was only going to be a matter of time before Danny got all chummy with the whole place and told them everything about Flack, from how big and long he was to -

The homicide detective perked up, appearing incredibly ludicrous with two twirled up tissue papers stuck up his nostrils. Hey now, maybe it wasn't so bad after all -

"Could ya do that for me? … That'd be great, I 'ppreciate it … Thanks, Zahara …" Danny laughed once more. "You have a good day."

Flack pulled his woolen blanket more snugly around himself. Man, did he feel crappy or what.

Danny was sitting next to him on his bed again, arms crossed over his chest.

"Where's my lunch?" Flack asked with a pout and big, puppy eyes.

The corners of Danny's lips curled up.

"Lunch? What do I look like, yer mommy?"

Flack's pout intensified. He removed the damp tissue papers from his nose, sniffing and twitching his nose.

"But I'm siiiiiiick."

"But you're a biiiiig boy, and I'm sure you can take care of yerself," Danny said drolly, pinching one of Flack's flushed cheeks in a teasing manner.

"But -"

His lover was up on his feet now, brushing at his jacket and faded jeans.

"Unlike a certain homicide detective who's gotten the flu, I gotta go to work."

'But -"

Danny was already out of his bedroom, moving around in the living room. Probably gathering his stuff up to head out.

"Eat yer medicine and get some sleep!" Danny hollered from somewhere in the apartment. "I'll see ya later."

"Daaaanny -"

"Byyyyyyyeeeeeeeeee!"

Flack heard the subdued sound of his apartment front door closing.

"Daaaaaaaannnnnnnnny …"

He waited for a few seconds, then called out his partner's name again.

Nothing.

He yelled for Danny one last time.

Waited for a minute.

Nope. The guy was really gone.

Flack flopped backwards onto his bed, feeling worse than ever. Alone in his bedroom, he whined to himself, trying not to think too much about how those frightening, furry Pikachu bed slippers ended up on his feet.

A chain of violent sneezes took him by surprise, causing him to leap to his feet to grab the tissue papers from their carton on the bedside table.

Okay. He wasn't quite alone. If he could count the flu as a presence of sorts.

He collapsed onto his bed, squirming under his blanket and settling himself onto his pillows. Wiped at his leaking nose with more tissue paper. Geez, it was like a running water tap.

"Little brat."

Flack stared up at his ceiling with groggy eyes. Damnit, he was Don Flack, Jr. He wasn't about to be defeated by a stupid virus or bacteria or whatever. Danny was right. He was a big boy. He could take care of himself just fine.

"Little brat." This time, he said it with a great deal more affection, and some glumness.

It would have been nice if Danny was around to baby him.

He fell asleep ruminating over why it saddened him so that Danny didn't stay to take care of him like he did for his lover.

Flack had no idea whatsoever how long he'd been dozing when he unexpectedly woke up to sounds stemming from his kitchen. He blinked numerous times, wondering if he was still sleeping and dreaming the whole thing.

Then he smelt the flavorsome scent of hot cream of mushroom soup.

He waited a few more minutes.

He heard footsteps approaching him.

Now, somebody stood at his bedroom door, with a large bowl with steam coming off from the top.

Flack pushed himself up against the bed's headboard.

" … Dan?"

The smirking CSI ambled over to the bed, sitting on the edge of the bed, near his waist. Indeed, it was cream of mushroom soup in the bowl Danny held.

"Thought you were at work," Flack rasped hoarsely. Shit, his sore throat had worsened.

Danny stirred the soup with a spoon, silent for a little while. When he stopped stirring and looked up, he had a smirk on his face.

"Yeah, well, Mac kicked me outta the lab."

Flack's watery eyes bugged out. Huh? Did he hear that correctly?

"Said I needed to use up my off days." Danny wrinkled his nose. "'Cos, as he put it, it's crazy fer a guy to not take a day off for three years straight."

The sick homicide detective sighed in relief. Oh geez, the little shit just loved giving him mini heart attacks.

"Yeah, so if it wasn't for Mac, I'd be workin', instead of being stuck here with you as yer nurse or somethin'," Danny said.

The words might have been more convincing if he hadn't uttered them with such fondness in those blue eyes.

Flack gazed at the other man with a deadpan expression. Inside, he was smiling like a nutcase. Heh. Sure, Danny could use Mac as an excuse. Flack knew the truth though. Mac couldn't have given Danny the day off.

Not unless Danny requested for it in the first place.

"What are ya thinkin', hahn?" Danny tweaked his nose.

Flack screwed up his face in a semi-wince. Ouch. That kinda hurt.

Danny must have noticed it, because the man stroked his face in apology and said, "Sorry."

"S'okay. I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself."

That made Danny snicker.

"Here." The shorter detective had scooped a spoonful of the broth. "Made some soup for ya."

"I noticed," Flack replied with a small smile.

Wow, his nose had stopped dripping. Maybe Danny was some sort of timed miracle cure or something.

"Oooooopen uuuuuup."

Flack would never admit it, but he absolutely enjoyed being spoonfed by Danny. Not so much that he was being fed by somebody. It was more about finding out just how long the highly strung CSI was willing to go with the act.

And it turned out that it wasn't an act with Danny at all.

That was what brought a contented smile to Flack's visage as he and Danny lay together on his bed under the blanket, cuddled close together. In a rare change of positions, Flack was the one who had his head rested in the curvature of Danny's neck and shoulder, his partner's arm around his shoulders. It was a nice feeling.

He could sense Danny's steady heartbeat under his palm. Slow and constant. Comforting. Feeling it with his hand made his own heart gradually beat slower. Calmer. It was intriguing and soothing all at once. That here he was, with someone whose mere company had the power to bring peace and faith to a heart he once believed could never feel anything ever again.

Much less that emotion, that tingly, startling emotion all those preposterous romance novels talked about.

Flack sniffed once, smiled to himself. Those books had nothing on the real deal.

Danny's chest rose on a deep inhalation.

Flack decided he was getting too sentimental for his own good, and rectified it with a question.

"Ya went to Mac and asked for a day off, didn't ya?"

The homicide detective felt two fingers pinching his cheek.

"Don't push it."

Flack's shoulders shook in silent laughter. Danny was laughing quietly too.

He stared out his bedroom windows with half-closed eyes, listening to his lover humming a soothing, slow song, watching white clouds unfurl in the exceptionally sunny and blue, spring sky. Reflected on that one tiny but momentous word Danny murmured when the man had been in his current ill state.

Flack's eyes fluttered shut.

Happy.

It felt good to finally be able to put that word at the top of his life's vocabulary.

And live it.

Fin.