Title: Nine Months
Author: Kimmychu
Fandom: CSI: NY
Rating: AO
Pairing: Danny/Flack
Content Warning: Uber-cracktasticness. And I mean, uber. Unless it's your thing, of course. I can't actually mention the exact form of crack in the story, but the title should give you a clue.
Spoilers: Nada. Except maybe a teeny one for Blood, Sweat & Tears. And Run Silent, Run Deep. And Fare Game.
Summary: Danny and Flack equals two. What do two tough New York detectives do when they end up experiencing something impossible to the male species, and up the equation to three?
Disclaimer: After this ... I'd be amazed if the TPTB even allow the characters to come within a hundred feet of me, bwahahahah!

***

The beginning:

Danny's harsh pants became faster and faster with Flack's increasing strokes.

Flack groaned low in his throat, one hand gripping Danny's hip hard enough to leave slight bruises. He rammed his pelvis forward in a particularly deep thrust, feeling the tight muscles around him constrict even more. That pulled out another groan from the tall, dark-haired man. A high-pitched moan ripping out from Danny's mouth made him grin broadly.

"Aaaahh, fuck!" On his knees and elbows on the bed, Danny was barely supporting himself upright, arms trembling violently and body snapping forward and back from Flack's determined thrusts. "Uh, uhh - Uuhh - oh, fuckfuckfuck -"

Flack managed a shaky snicker. "Hell yeah, Messer - that's - what we're - doin' here." He corkscrewed his hips, burying himself inside Danny up to the hilt as he did. "Ya need a - refresher course on - fuckin', hahn?"

The smaller man threw back his head in a graceful arch. Danny's eyes was closed, mouth wide open and face flushed red. "Aahhh - oh, yeah - Don -"

Flack bowed over the CSI, nuzzling his face into the spiky, brown hair, both hands now on the bed on each side of Danny's midriff. He was very close. Flack could feel the oncoming rush like a building tsunami wave within him, causing him to plow into Danny even faster and harder than ever. Danny collapsed onto his chest, head turned sideways on the pillow, back arched sinuously and slim legs spread far apart.

Flack licked his lips. Danny's piercing cries with his every thrust were turning him on so badly. The homicide detective felt like he could go on like this with his best friend and lover for his entire existence. If they didn't have to eat, sleep or work, making love with Danny twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, three hundred and sixty five days of the year would be his life's mission. Of course, there was no way in hell he was going to use the words making love to Danny's face. He'd never live it down having used the L word for what they did on an almost daily basis.

Danny was biting the pillow beneath his head, trying futilely to curb his audible moans. The shorter man was one noisy lover, and Flack fucking loved that.

"Almost - almost - ah - ah - aaahhh -"

Maintaining his plunging rhythm, Flack reached under Danny and wrapped his large hand around his lover's erect and leaking cock, deftly stroking the familiar member. Danny's passionate reaction was instantaneous.

"AaaaaAAAAAHHHH!"

Danny's lithe body convulsed, inner muscles clamping so hard around Flack's erection it was nearly painful. After a few seconds, Danny went utterly limp, held up only by Flack's hands on his waist. Flack's orgasm hit him with the force of an atomic bomb. It blew his mind into a million shards, and in the distance, he heard himself bellow his pleasure.

When Flack came to, he was sprawled on top of a motionless Danny, head nestled on Danny's sweaty shoulder, still buried inside the man. The only indication Danny was conscious was his loud but slowing pants and the irregular flickering of his eyelids.

"Danny? You okay, buddy?" Flack got onto his elbows and planted a kiss on Danny's shoulder blade.

The CSI groaned softly. " - hope ya got the number plate - of the truck that ran over me."

Flack chuckled. He tenderly caressed a hand down Danny's back to the round globes connected to his groin. "I'm gonna pull out."

He slowly withdrew from Danny's body, careful to not hurt his lover. He hadn't forgotten Danny's pained whimper the one time he pulled out too fast. And Flack was no tiny weener, that was for sure.

Flack placed another kiss on the back of Danny's damp neck, then grabbed the small towel from the side table and wiped himself and Danny clean. He settled himself on the mattress once more, tugging a sleepy but tremendously satiated Danny into his arms and away from the wet spot. Danny moaned his appreciation, snuggling into Flack's warm neck and solid chest and snaking one arm around Flack's waist. They lay tangled together, a thin blanket over them.

"I had a weird dream last night," Danny mumbled after ten minutes of easy silence.

Flack ruffled Danny's hair. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, it was really weird. These two green-skinned, one-eyed aliens in space suits popped outta nowhere in front of my bed." Danny smacked Flack on the chest the moment the homicide detective started sniggering. "Lemme finish, a'right?"

Flack cleared his throat and put on a mock serious expression. "Sure. Go on."

After glowering at Flack, Danny continued, "So, they were standin' there, and one of them says to me, 'I come bearing a most magnificent gift of cosmic proportions from the ends of our universe!'" Danny spoke in a squeaky, oddly accented voice when it was the alien talking in his story. Flack thought it was quite adorable. "'You, fleshy one, have been chosen to be the recipient of this miracle of life!' And I'm just sittin' there on my bed goin', 'What the fuckin' hell is goin' on here?'"

Flack snickered. Danny maneuvered himself upright, forearms and upper body resting on Flack's chest so that the two men were nose to nose. "So the aliens toddle over on their stubbly legs to the side of the bed, and outta the blue, one of them shoves its hand right onto my belly. Then I'm feelin' this strange sensation in there, like somethin's changin' in there but I dunno what."

Danny suddenly blushed. "And it felt like somethin' was goin' up my ass too."

This time, Flack laughed out loud. He grunted at Danny's punch to his shoulder, but kept laughing anyway. Damn, Danny was freaking hot when he got riled up. "Ya know what that means, right, Danny?"

Danny's lips twitched. "What's it mean, huh?"

Flack grinned to the point both rows of teeth showed. "Means ya need more buttsex, that's what."

Danny sunk his teeth into the flesh between his neck and shoulder, and he yelped. Both of them laughed together, enjoying the play between them. Flack quickly rolled them over so Danny was trapped underneath him, molded together from chest to groin to thighs. The taller man gripped Danny's wrists and effectively immobilized the CSI's arms. However, Danny was the kind of guy who didn't give up without a fight. Danny lunged his head upwards and captured Flack's lips in an open-mouthed kiss, moaning into Flack's mouth.

Mmm, nothing sweeter than a good night kiss from Danny Messer.

Danny was the one who eventually broke it, enfolding his arms around Flack's torso and yawning until his eyes were scrunched up. Flack, now lying on his back, got the point loud and clear. He smiled affectionately at Danny reclined on his chest, the man's eyelids fluttering close and lips out in a drowsy pout. The smaller man looked just like a boy when he was falling asleep.

"Good night, Kinka-poodle," Flack whispered gently. He rearranged the blanket over their bodies.

The homicide detective felt Danny smile. "Told ya not to call me that."

Flack closed his own eyes, head lolling on the plush pillow. He rubbed a thumb over the smooth skin of Danny's upper arm. "Wha, ya gimme an openin' like 'Hey, Flack, we were lookin' up some small, hairy animal with a nice tail called a kinka-poodle!' and ya expect me not to bite?"

Danny's shoulders began to shake.

"It's like - like, puttin' a yummy biscuit on a dog's nose and expectin' the poor fella to not eat it!"

Danny's smile morphed into a toothy grin. "We'll go buy yer collar and leash tomorrow, 'kay?"

It was Flack's turn to do some slapping. Danny's bottom felt really good to spank. Flack bet he could bounce a quarter five feet into the air on it.

"Heyheyheeey, I'm the Jackhammer, remember? Seems to me like the one who needs a collar and leash here is the Kinka-poodle!"

Danny sniggered lightly. He was already half asleep. The CSI burrowed his face into Flack's neck, yawning one last time. "Whatever, man."

Flack gave Danny a loving peck on the head. "Night, babe."

"G'night, Donny."

( Oooo . oooO )

Month 1:

Danny flew through the air and bounced once on his back on the bed, laughing his head off.

"I'm gonna getcha, I'm gonna getcha so bad for that, ya little BRAT!"

Flack was on him swifter than a ravenous rottweiler on fresh meat. Danny's cackling got more shrill as Flack pinned his arms and legs and proceeded to tickle the living daylights out of him.

"Ya didn't hafta tell 'em 'bout that, ya know!" Flack laughed along with Danny while he continuously dug his fingers into Danny's sides and tummy, relishing the sight of an uninhibited, amused Danny. "Now Stella and Mac and everybody else know I tried out that stupid robo-spanker!"

Danny was laughing so hard his face was deep scarlet. "I'm sorry, Don!" The CSI ineffectually swatted at the homicide detective's hands. "I really am! I didn't mean to blurt it out!"

Flack tickled the man under him for a few more minutes. He never knew just how ticklish Danny was until he poked the guy in the side one day, while they were out on the road doing their witness interrogation thing. Danny's involuntary giggle surprised him. And things were never quite the same between them again.

"Who's yer daddy?" Flack sat on Danny's hips, scratching at the other man's flanks. Danny's head tossed from side to side. It was a good thing the guy wasn't wearing his spectacles. "Who's yer daddy, hah?" Flack stilled his hands, awaiting an answer.

Danny got his breathing under control, then said with a blank look, "The robo-spanker."

"Why, you little -"

Flack resumed inflicting his tickling torture on his lover, doing it twice as fast and as much by trailing his fingers all over Danny's body and even under the arms. Danny squealed and bucked wildly, trying to throw Flack off. The taller detective ended up toppling face first right on top of Danny, and the CSI wasted no time in grabbing Flack's face and devouring those dark pink lips.

Flack rolled them over so he was lying down on the bed with Danny on top instead. Danny was nibbling along his lower jaw up to his earlobe, making soft noises that got Flack hard in a matter of seconds. There was something about the sounds Danny made when he was hot and horny that got him turned on like nothing else could.

All of a sudden, Danny groaned. Flack blinked. Huh, that didn't sound like a happy, I-wanna-have-sex-with-you groan.

"Dan?"

Flack pushed himself up onto his elbows, then into an upright sitting position. Danny clung onto him, head resting on his shoulder and arms around his chest. Now the smaller man sat on Flack's lap, with legs bent on both sides of Flack's thighs.

"Danny?"

Danny groaned again, and raised his head to face his friend. The CSI was squinting, attractive face contorted into a scowl.

Flack tousled the other man's hair. He smiled affectionately. "Hey, whassamatter, buddy?"

"I got a freakin' awful migraine." Danny rubbed at his high forehead, lips pursed.

The homicide detective smirked. "Considerin' ya beat me up when I suggest us not to have sex, I'm guessin' you're not just makin' up an excuse to avoid dancin' the horizontal tango here."

That earned Flack a punch in the shoulder. Well, good to see the headache wasn't bad enough to stop Danny from being his usual violent self. Flack glanced downwards and noticed Danny was also unconsciously pressing a hand against his abdomen.

Flack covered Danny's hand with his. "Ya hurtin' here too?"

Danny attempted to smile. It was obvious the CSI was hurting. "Migraine's been there since this mornin'. The cramps started a while ago. At Sullivan's."

Flack frowned. "Cramps? Why didn't ya say anythin'?"

Danny shrugged. "We were havin' a good time with everybody. Didn't wanna spoil it."

The taller man huffed. Geez, as smart as he was, sometimes Danny needed a good spanking for the way he dealt with regular, everyday matters.

"Ya shoulda said somethin'." Flack prodded Danny into standing so he could get up himself. He yanked at Danny's white wifebeater. "C'mon, up and at 'em."

Danny quietly acquiesced and elevated his arms for Flack to remove his tank top. Then he wordlessly untied his belt and used his toes to pull down his faded jeans and slither out of them. He went commando most of the time after he and Flack became official. With a sex fiend like his lover, Danny saw no point in wasting dough buying underwear Flack was gonna rip off him anyway.

"'Kay, I'm gonna get some aspirin for ya. Get into bed."

A spark of worry ignited within Flack at Danny's lack of grumbling. The only time Danny became all silent was when he was in real pain. He quickly went into his bathroom and got a couple of aspirins from the cabinet, and a glass of water. When he returned to the bedroom, Danny was already in bed, curled on his side and huddled under the blanket.

The CSI sat up and gratefully took the pills and water from him. After stripping, Flack crawled into bed next to Danny, embracing the other man once Danny had downed the pills and left the empty glass on the side table.

"Feel better?"

Danny said nothing. He simply twisted around and hid his face in Flack's neck. Flack didn't say anything either. He drew them both down onto the bed, patting Danny's head in a repetitive motion.

That was when he felt the wetness on his shoulder and neck.

Alarmed, Flack shifted sideways so he could lie on his side and be face to face with Danny on the pillows. What the? He gaped.

Danny was crying.

The shorter man sniffled audibly and wiped his eyes, looking as taken aback as Flack was.

"Danny, wha -"

It was bizarre to see Danny weeping and laughing at the same time. "I - I dunno why I'm cryin'."

Flack squeezed the back of Danny's neck. "Wha, is the pain gettin' worse or somethin'?"

Danny stopped sobbing, and blinked a few times. He was calming down. "No - no, it's goin' away already. I just - I dunno why I started cryin'. Feel so stupid."

The homicide detective smiled tenderly. "It's okay, pal. Maybe the recent cases have been gettin' to ya, huh?"

"Yeah. That gang shooting one hit close to home." Danny sniffed.

"Well, yer brother Louie's okay now."

Danny's eyes were still moist, but he smiled. "Yeah." He slid over to cuddle with Flack once more.

The two men were silent for some time. Then Flack said, "Ya know, I'm really moved."

Danny's eyes opened. "Huh?"

"To think it'd upset ya so terribly that ya aren't gettin' any Jackhammer goodness tonight." Flack grinned.

The tall, dark-haired man's yell at Danny's bite to his shoulder was loud enough to wake his nextdoor neighbors.

( Oooo . oooO )

Month 2:

i.

"Okay. That's it. You're goin' to see a doctor."

Danny lifted his head at a snail's pace, stretching aching muscles in his arm to press down the toilet's flushing handle. The blue robe he wore was the sole thing keeping him warm in the chill of the bathroom.

"I - do not need," Danny wheezed, " - to see - a doctor."

Another surge of nausea struck the CSI, and he hurriedly shoved his face into the toilet bowl, retching nothing but clear liquid. Flack was grimacing. He stood at the bathroom doorway, watching helplessly as his friend spent the early morning throwing up.

"I told ya to stay away from those burritos."

Danny had enough strength to sit back on heels and pivot his head to glare with narrow, blue eyes at Flack. "I. Did not. Eat. Burritos. That's your kinda crap," he rasped.

The homicide detective made a face. "Okaaaaay, so, what the heck did ya eat?"

Danny groaned and pushed his head over the toilet bowl again. Flack couldn't help squeezing his eyes shut and averting his face. Ugh, vomiting was never a pretty event.

The toilet was flushed again.

Flack, his tie left untied around his neck and his dress shirt half unbuttoned, entered the bathroom and dampened a face cloth in the sink. Danny was sitting against the bath tub, rubbing his eyes.

"Danny. This is the fifth day in a row you've been pukin'." Flack handed the other man the wet cloth. "Every mornin', same time."

"Bad case of -" - Danny wiped his face - "Food poisoning."

Flack frowned deeply. "We've been eatin' the same food for the last one week. And I'm not sick."

Danny struggled to his feet, goosebumps rising all over his body from the coldness of the tiles beneath his bare soles. "Well, I don't have an iron stomach like you."

Flack smirked smugly. His friend had a point there.

The CSI sniffed, then drew the folds of his robes close together. Flack took the face cloth from him and rinsed it before hanging it back up on the wall next to the sink. For somebody who'd just spent nearly twenty minutes horking up the contents of his tummy, Danny actually looked pretty good. Flack hadn't been aware of how rosy and fresh the smaller man appeared lately.

"See? Nausea gone already. I don't need to see any doctor," Danny said after a few minutes. "My body's just takin' some time to get rid of toxins and stuff."

Flack was unappeased, but stayed hushed. Danny was extremely stubborn when it came to anything remotely related to visiting doctors and taking medication apart from aspirin. Everyone at CSI headquarters knew Danny's aversion to getting medical treatment, even the new girl.

"I'm gon -"

Danny abruptly swayed dangerously on his feet. The whole bathroom whirled madly around him, like a nightmarish carnival carousel. He covered his eyes with a hand, the other instinctively reaching out for Flack.

"Whoawhoawhoa -" Flack dexterously caught Danny in his arms and supported his lover who was on suddenly wobbly legs. The shorter man hung onto Flack, burying his face in the homicide detective's neck.

"I don't feel so good," Danny uttered in a small, muffled voice.

"Okay, that's it. You're not goin' to work today." Flack clutched Danny's torso tight, slipped his other arm under the CSI's knees and carried him to the bedroom. Danny protested this for a moment or two, then clammed up as a second dizzy spell attacked him.

Flack laid him on the bed, pulling the blanket over his lower body. Danny opened his eyes a while later.

"Hey, Mac? Just called in to inform ya Danny's gotta take sick leave today." Flack was speaking into his mobile phone. "Yeah - yeah, he's throwin' up again - Okay, I'll let him know. Thanks."

The tall, lanky man disconnected the call. "Guess what, pal? Ya got today and tomorrow off." Flack smiled.

Slumped on the bed, Danny made a weak pumping action with a fist. "Yay."

Flack threw his arms out and bent his body back as if he was being blasted by a huge wind. "Whoa, don't blow me away with that burst of energy there!"

Danny couldn't help giggling at Flack's slapstick act. Only Flack could do such goofy things and still be so alluring.

"Unlike a certain small, hairy animal with a nice tail, I have to go to work." Flack agilely evaded the pillow thrown in his direction. He snickered while he fastened his tie and buttoned up his shirt. Then his expression became somewhat solemn and concerned. "Ya sure you're gonna be alright on your own?"

Lying chest down on the bed and nuzzling his cheek into the other pillow, Danny observed his lover putting on a mauve jacket with a tiny smile. "Yeah. I'll be okay, mommy."

Flack leaned down by the bed and gave Danny a warning nip on his lower lip. He was about to kiss Danny, but the other man blocked him with a palm over his own mouth.

"I've got barf-breath," Danny explained, voice muted behind his hand.

The homicide detective snorted. He removed Danny's hand and promptly ravaged Danny's lips till they were wet and swollen. And the guy didn't have barf-breath.

Flack gave him one last peck on the lips, then headed for the bedroom door. "I'll give ya a call at lunch time, 'kay? Try and get back as early as I can."

Just as he was about to close the door, the mauve-suited man poked his head back in and said nonchalantly, "Between you and me, I think you'd be the mommy instead. What with your mornin' sickness and all -"

The second pillow rebounded off the wood of the slamming door. Danny's slumber for the next hour or so were filled with the sound of Flack's child-like, joyful laughter.

ii.

Danny was feeling much better in the hot shower.

It would have been perfect if Flack was there under the spray with him, but a guy couldn't get everything he wanted, now, could he?

He raised his head to let the water cascade over his face and into his open mouth. He spit out the water. He was glad he didn't take any aspirins today. They didn't help the last four days anyhow. Eyes still shut, he bent over to get some liquid soap from its container placed on the shower stall base.

It was really peculiar how the queasiness only afflicted him in the mornings. And the second he threw up, it was instantly gone, like he never had it. Weird. After some thought, he had to agree with Flack that it wasn't likely food poisoning was causing it. They shared most of their food for the last one week and beyond, and the nausea only manifested itself five days ago. Back then, they'd eaten at the usual pizza parlor for lunch and bought fresh vegetables and some Chinese noodles from the local grocery store near Danny's apartment for dinner. Usual food. Never made him sick like this before. He hadn't eaten anything remotely weird since that case with the exotic cuisine of insects and octopi and the likes.

Danny rubbed the pink liquid soap onto his arms and chest. He couldn't for the life of Flack's favorite monster, Godzilla, figure out why his friend would buy pink liquid soap, of all colors. He spread the soap all over his body and back, then down his legs and feet. He smirked and bit his lower lip. He always saved washing his genitals for last. He had Flack to thank for turning him into a shower-sex maniac. Now, every time he showered, he inevitably and constantly got horny simply from the sensation of water pouring over his lean body and the smell of this particular liquid soap.

Oh. So that's why Flack bought this brand all the time.

He suddenly became aware that his feet were submerged underwater. The basin of the shower stall had about five inches in height at the sides. However, the water level in it never rose above toe level due to it being pumped away via the drainage. Danny glanced down and saw the shower outlet was completely clogged.

With hair. Lots of it.

He stared with a baffled expression, wondering where all the hair came from.

Then he looked down at his ordinarily hairy chest and his arms. At least, they used to be.

Danny shrieked in horror, hopping up and down in the shower at the newly bare skin of his chest and arms. And legs too. Oh crap, he was - shedding!

He used the shower spray to frantically wash away what hair was left on his skin. Ohmanohmanohman, this was not normal. He looked over his chest, arms and legs, then hastily patted his head. Yeah, all the hair up here was still present. He gazed down at his groin with some nervousness. Yeah, all the hair down there was still present too. Weird.

Danny shut off the shower and clambered out. It took him a couple of minutes to get the nerve to shove his hand into the hair-infested water, collecting the hair blocking the drainage with a big grimace. It was his own hair, but it was still icky. The water was gradually pumped out, leaving clumps of soggy hair all over the shower stall base. Danny's grimace broadened. Yikes, he never figured he had that much hair on his body.

The trash bin in the bathroom became filled with sodden tissue papers and bunches of curly hair. He left it beside the open glass door of the shower stall. Danny was too busy staring at his smooth chest and arms in the mirror. Okay, he was initially freaked out big time, but now - wow, he kinda dug the new look. He ran a hand over one pectoral. He'd waxed his chest, arms and legs only once in his life, at the behest of an ex-girlfriend.

It was an experience he never, ever wanted to relive again.

He grinned. Whoa, instant hair removal! And there was no pain! His brain was yelling at him that this was not supposed to be a good thing and that it might be linked with his nausea problem.

Danny told his brain to shut up.

( Oooo . oooO )

Month 3:

"You know, this is reminding me of that case Mac and I worked on - you remember, Hawkes? Where we found this teenage body contortionist in a teeny wooden chest?"

Stella, Hawkes, Danny and Flack sat together in a semi-circle at one of the high, round tables in the CSI headquarters' breakroom, during lunch hour. Hawkes, who sat on one end, was eating out of a Chinese takeout carton, and Stella was munching on a tuna sandwich. Flack was gulping down a giant, homemade hotdog that Danny had fixed up that morning in his kitchen, while Danny was staring at the television set along with Stella and Hawkes. Danny's back was partially facing the others, so the other three only got a three-quarter profile view of the bespectacled man from behind.

"Yeah, Mac and I sure had fun unbending the corpse's stiffened limbs," Hawkes said with a sarcastic drawl.

Stella chuckled. "Well, the beach looked just like the one on TV right now."

Hawkes swallowed a mouthful of chow mien, then replied, "Coney Island beach, right? Maybe that's where they filmed it."

Stella nodded her head in agreement. "Hmm, maybe."

The two CSIs turned to Flack for his opinion, but the homicide detective was too engrossed in staring at Danny with a comical, bemused expression on his handsome face. Stella and Hawkes swiveled towards Danny who sat at the other end.

And stared with befuddled eyes, mouth agape.

Danny was literally bawling his eyes out at what was going on on the television screen.

"LOOK at that! That's so - that's so -" Danny sniffled moistly. His face was crumpled in a really hilarious way, immense tears trickling down his cheeks from scrunched up eyes. The CSI's lower lip quivered intensely. "That's so - SAAAAAAAAD!"

Danny broke into a series of deafening wails and sobs, looking and sounding like a little howling baby whose candy was taken away from him.

Stella, Hawkes and Flack stared in astonishment at Danny's incredibly atypical display of an emotional outburst. A string of noodle fell from Hawkes' gaping mouth into the white carton he held with a plop. Stella's tuna sandwich tumbled onto the table surface from her slack hands. Flack was the only one who held onto his food without dropping anything.

"Danny."

The CSI continued to shed tears, blubbering something about daddies and their little girls and how sweet it was for fathers to take their daughters for walks on the beach. Danny wiped his nose, oblivious to Flack calling his name.

'Danny." Flack put down his half-eaten hotdog and grabbed Danny by the shoulders to fully turn him around. The CSI took off his glasses and rubbed at one eye, breath still hitched by sobs.

"It's an insurance advertisement."

Danny went quiet for an instant. "I know that." Then his face crumpled once more. "But - the daddy - and his little baby girl - walkin' down the beach -" The bawling began anew.

"Danny!" Flack shook his friend hard. "It's an INSURANCE ADVERTISEMENT."

Flack's statement only served to make Danny howl even more.

The homicide detective anxiously peered around and realized Danny's crazy behavior was drawing attention from anyone who was walking past the breakroom. Namely, about a dozen lab technicians crowding behind the transparent glass walls, gawking with eyes wide as saucers. Alright, Danny did not need this. The poor guy would never come back to the labs ever again if news of this spread everywhere.

Flack hauled the sobbing, tearful man to his feet, holding Danny close so his lanky body blocked people from seeing Danny the way he was. He sensed Stella's and Hawkes' eyes following them as he led Danny out of the breakroom.

"I'm, uh, I'm gonna bring him to the men's room, 'kay?" He didn't wait for an answer.

Flack shielded Danny from view from the white-coated technicians swarming the entrance. He waved wildly at them, shooing them away. "Okay, nothin' ta see here, ladies and gentlemen, go back to yer labs, please!"

They cleared a path for the two detectives to pass through. Some of them sincerely asked Flack if Detective Messer was alright, and he smiled politely at them and told them yes as he went by them. He had to bodily drag Danny by the arms to the men's washroom nearby. The CSI could barely see his way to walk since his eyes were so full of tears. Flack could feel the sobs still racking the smaller man's body.

The homicide detective heaved a huge sigh of relief once they were in the privacy of the men's room. He swiftly locked the door so no one would intrude on them.

Boy, that was an awkward moment.

Pressed tight against his chest, Danny was no longer crying as much. Only the intermittent sob caused the shorter man's slim frame to shudder. The man's hot tears had created a damp patch on his shirt. In the privacy of the men's washroom, Flack could finally comfort his friend and lover the way he really wanted to.

"Heeeey, what's wrong, Danny? Hmm?" Flack rubbed his cheek on Danny's head. "You wanna talk to me, hmmm?"

Danny sniffed audibly, then stepped back. He rubbed his swollen eyes and wiped his cheeks dry. The weeping looked like it'd halted for good.

"I'm - I'm okay, Don." Danny sent Flack a tremulous smile. "I dunno what got into me."

Flack gazed at his lover with uneasy eyes. "What happened out there?"

Danny gestured madly with his hands when no words came out of his mouth, a sign Flack wasn't the sole one troubled by Danny's odd conduct earlier.

"I - I dunno. I really don't. One minute, I was watchin' that advertisement, and the next thing I know -" Danny hiccupped. "I couldn't stop myself. Was like my body was outta my control."

The CSI looked at him with big, glossy puppy eyes.

Flack stared back with anxious eyes for another minute, then he said, "C'mere."

Danny immediately ran into Flack's open arms.

"I'm sorry, Don," Danny said in a tiny voice.

Flack smiled lovingly. He rubbed one hand across his friend's back in a circular, reassuring motion. "Whatcha apologizin' for?"

"I've been all sortsa trouble for ya lately." Danny burrowed his face into Flack's chest, savoring the warmth emanating from the homicide detective's body. "Headaches, cramps. Pukin'. Then my body goes all whacked on me and makes me shed my body hair. And now this crap."

Flack chuckled softly. "Aww, Danny. It's not yer fault. I told ya you could go see a doctor 'bout all this. And anyway, the new smooth look, I like."

Danny snickered, and Flack grinned.

"Yeah, I thought you would." Danny's expression became somber. "I think I oughta go see my physician as soon as possible."

"Okay." The taller man affectionately mussed Danny's shorn hair. "You do that, then we'll see how things go, eh?"

Danny nodded.

"Oh, and the next time ya get all hormonal on me - give a guy some warnin', will ya?"

Flack laughed at Danny's dirty look.

The playful punch he received to his gut was the best thing he felt all day.

***

Month 4:

i.

Danny swore that his belly was no longer flat as it used to be.

"Don?"

"Yeah?" Flack froze in mid-action of getting into his undershirt, half his head peeking out over the neckline. "What is it?"

Danny looked up from his stomach with a discontented expression. "I think we oughta lay off pizza for a while."

Flack jerked the white undershirt down and tucked the edges into his dark grey trousers. "Huh? Whaddaya mean?"

Danny went back to inspecting his abdomen. He fervently hoped he was simply seeing things, because it certainly appeared like his rippled abs were transforming into a strange, round bulge. He stroked a hand over his midriff. Sure felt like it too.

"Man, you are so paranoid." Flack snickered. "You look fiiiiine."

Danny wasn't convinced. He flaunted his well-developed arms to his lover. "I mean - look! Look at my arms! And my legs!" He stretched out his body for Flack's view, to the taller man's delight. "They're toned and all that, and my belly's - like - protrudin'."

Flack made a frustrated face. "It is nooooot. You look just fine to me, and I'm not kiddin'." He sat beside the nude CSI on the bed.

The homicide detective sighed. Danny could be such a drama queen. A really cute one. And seriously, the CSI had been looking very fine lately. Danny's skin was smoother. It literally shone with an even, vibrant tone. Perhaps it was all just in Flack's head, but Danny's dark brown hair seemed to be more luxuriant and softer too. The guy was always complaining about going bald, so more hair, good thing. Those heavy-lidded, blue eyes sparkled more brightly as well. Even the minor wrinkles and diminutive crow's feet around the eyes looked like they disappeared, leaving Danny's face younger. Man, it was as if the guy was being rejuvenated from the inside out.

Danny was pouting. He kept on rubbing his tummy. "I dunno," he muttered.

Flack huffed. "Okay, tell me again. What did yer doctor say?"

The shorter man nibbled on his lip, gazing at Flack from under his eyelids. "She said I'd never been in better health."

Flack threw his hands up in conclusiveness. "Weeeell, there ya go! Nothin' to worry 'bout."

"Yeah, but I went to see my physician last month."

"Annnnnnnd?"

Danny shrugged, a tentative expression on his mien. "And - maybe - somethin' - came up since then?"

The taller detective bent his head forward, shoulders slumped. He itched so much to laugh like a madman and throttle Danny at the same time. Oh geez, Danny was worse than a woman sometimes.

"See, last month, you were bawlin' yer eyes out like a baby at every single advertisement on TV. Even those stupid tissue paper ones with that Labrador puppy! And the month 'fore that, you were upchuckin' yer insides every mornin' for a week, and yer hair on yer body started fallin' off." Flack pointed at a finger on his right hand with his left forefinger for each point the made. "And the month 'fore that, you were sufferin' from migraines and cramps."

Flack crossed his arms over his chest and glanced at Danny with a candid look.

"So, how ya feelin' now?"

Danny stuck out his lower lip, eyes flitting around in deep thought.

"I feel - really good."

"No pukin', no migraines, no cramps, no cryin' jags, no weird stuff fer the last few weeks and since yer doctor's appointment, right?" The homicide detective threw up his hands again. "So there." Before Danny could reply, he added, "And yer doc told ya you're doin' great too!"

The CSI began to relax. It was true. After going through the regular check up, his physician, a Dr. Ziegler in her late forties, was very pleased to announce he was a perfectly fit young man who had blood pressure readings most men his age would kill for. Not to mention they'd kill for a figure like his too, she adjoined with a wink.

She was only worried by the prompt falling out of his body hair. She attributed it to fluctuating hormone levels. Possibly something to do with his thyroid gland. But, he wasn't taking any medication, and didn't have any recent illnesses apart from the temporary nausea. He took good care of his hair. Dr. Ziegler was perplexed by the fact that, though his body hair was mostly gone, the hair on Danny's head was thicker. It didn't quite add up with the thyroid gland problem, as he should be losing hair on his head too, if that was the case.

Danny's physician also took into account a condition called alopecia universalis, characterized by total loss of body hair. However, Danny still had a full head of hair, his eyebrows and even his facial hair. Which ruled that out instantly. Since he hadn't presented with any other unusual physical symptoms whatsoever in the past two months, Dr. Ziegler was at a loss for her final diagnosis. She encouraged him to have his blood tested. He declined, reassuring her he'd get a test done later on. He was really uneasy about getting poked by anything resembling a long, sharp needle unless it was absolutely necessary.

Well. Except for a certain part of Flack's anatomy. And while it was long, that part couldn't quite be considered sharp. More like, blunt. In a roundish, yummy way.

"I think I oughta lay off the pizza anyway." Danny smirked.

Flack rolled his eyes, then smirked too. "Fiiinnne. But don't complain to me when I don't give ya any." He got to his feet to wear his dress shirt, tie and jacket. "Now I gotta head off for work. You enjoy yer day off."

Danny grabbed Flack's hand, staring at the homicide detective with big, puppy eyes. "Why don'tcha take a day off today? We can spend it together." Danny's tongue flicked out.

Flack flashed a huge grin. "Ya horndog. Not that I'm complainin' or anythin'." He tilted downwards to kiss the seated CSI on the bed. "But I gotta go down to the precinct today. Paperwork and crap."

The shorter man pouted.

"Awww, I'll be back in the evenin'. I'll get some Chinese takeout on the way, how 'bout that?"

"'Kay," Danny replied petulantly.

Flack pinched his friend on his goateed chin and said, "Ya know, I'll still love ya even if ya blow up as big as a pregnant lady -"

The fat pillow glided through the air to successfully wallop the taller detective right in the face.

Third time's the charm.

ii.

Danny sat on the lid of the closed toilet seat. In one hand, he held a thin strip with blue-green bars and words on it. One of his feet tapped maniacally on the bathroom floor. He was chewing on his lower lip, brewing panic in his wide eyes.

Nononononono, this wasn't possible.

He glanced at the strip in hand once more.

Two stripes.

There were two freaking stripes.

He looked away, then looked back at it, then away again. A high-pitched whine escaped his gritted teeth.

Okay, calm down, Messer, his brain said to him in a very Flack-like voice. It's juuuust an invalid pregnancy test trip. That's all.

His foot drummed twice as rapid on the beige tiles. This was crazy. This was insane. What the fuck was he doing taking a home pregnancy test? He clenched his hands into fists and smacked them against his prominent forehead. Yeah, okay. Okay, he'll use another one and see the results for that one.

He cackled almost hysterically as he took out a white and purple plastic stick with a cap on one end from a package with the name EPT inscribed on it. He couldn't believe it. Of all the frigging screwy things to do, he actually went to his local grocery store and bought himself four home pregnancy tests.

All because it hit him his physical ailments in the three previous months were tremendously similar to that of a - pregnant woman.

But he was a man. Men didn't produce enough human chorionic gonadotropin to make a pregnancy test turn out positive. Even people who weren't top CSI graduates knew that. Only women who were pregnant created that much of the chemical. So if he was a normal, regular guy who wasn't supposed to have hCG, why was the first home pregnancy test positive?

His hand shook while he took of the plastic cap and stuck the tip into a cup with his urine in it. Then he replaced the cap and laid the test stick flat on the rim of the sink nearby. Now both his feet were tapping the floor. He rubbed his upper arms with his hands, feeling the goosebumps all over. He fidgeted restlessly with his black tank top and the edges of his dark red boxers for the next three, long minutes.

Oh yeah, Flack was so going to laugh his head off over this. Danny thanked God the homicide detective was busy with work tonight. Danny could see it right now. The man would probably be rolling on the floor until he had the side stitches. Like the old lady at the counter at the grocery store. Except she was laughing because she was so excited and happy for him and his wife. If only she knew the person who was going to take those tests was him.

Danny picked up the test stick with a great deal of hesitance. Right. Just an invalid test. That's all. Nothing to worry about, Messer.

Danny looked at it.

Oh, nononononononono -

He clamped a hand over his mouth. The appalled yell got through anyhow.

The damn thing had two stripes too. Two fucking stripes.

He was hyperventilating. He forced himself to quiet down, deliberately slowing his breaths. His brain had apparently packed its bags and gone on a long ass vacation to an alternate universe where his doppelganger wasn't. Freaking. PREGNANT.

Danny threw it into the sink in a fright. Okay. Deep breath. Okay, another breath. He shuddered. This one must be defunct too. Yeah, that's it. Juuuuuust another invalid test. The next one will test negative like it should. He was a man of science, and crazy shit like this didn't happen, period. Yeah, he had to keep himself focused and calm. He'd been rattled by worse, wackier problems than this. Yeah.

He opened up yet another home pregnancy test kit, a different brand that was all pink and cutesy. He did the same actions like he did with the previous tests. The next five minutes felt like five centuries. Oh God, this was nuts. This was beyond lunacy. He must be in a nightmare or something, and any minute now, Flack was going to wake him up and tell him everything was okay.

He picked up the test kit with trembling hands.

Stared at it.

Danny's shrill scream enticed every cat and dog in his neighborhood to yowl and bark for the next hour or so into the night.

( Oooo . oooO )

Month 5:

i.

Huh. Something was up with Danny. Flack knew it. His Danny-angst radar was pinging like mad.

The homicide detective quietly observed the preoccupied CSI working in one of the labs viewable from the breakroom. It was extremely hard for Flack to accept the thought it'd been nearly three weeks since he last spent more than a few minutes alone with his friend and lover. Three whole weeks. By Flack's standards, being away from Danny for longer than a day was like being away from the guy for a year.

It hurt like a bitch. Something was going on and Danny was hiding it from him. His gut feeling told him that much.

Danny moved back from the microscope he was looking into, and then, all of a sudden, his spectacled gaze zoomed itself on Flack. Like he knew Flack was there looking at him too. Flack startled inwardly at the guilt and anguish in his friend's blue eyes. Whoa. The only time Danny ever had that look in his eyes was when the man felt he'd done something really bad.

Flack's teeth ground together. He'd had enough of this crap. If he and Danny really had something good going on between them, he could handle whatever trouble his lover threw his way. He was Don Flack, Jr. Nothing shook him. Not anymore.

The tall detective stomped out of the breakroom and headed straight for Danny's lab. The CSI's sad blue eyes got bigger and bigger as Flack advanced on him. The fear he saw in them made Flack want to weep. Was he the one who was putting that fear in there? And why? Flack couldn't recall having done anything to Danny to deserve being the center of that heartrending gaze.

Flack waited until the only other lab technician in the room left, then said in a low voice, "We need to talk, Danny."

Up close, the pain in Danny's baby blues was killing him. Danny truly appeared like he had seriously bad news to break to him. When Danny stayed silent, Flack bit his lip and allowed the unhappiness to show in his own blue eyes.

"I miss you."

Danny's eyes were misted over. He sent Flack a wavering smile. "I miss ya too," he whispered hoarsely.

The floodgates within Flack burst open. "So - so why are ya doin' this to me? To us? Just three weeks ago, the whole freakin' world couldn't tear us apart, and now -" The tall man ran long fingers through his short hair in agitation. "You - you won't answer my calls, you avoid me all the time and ya talk to me only when it's strictly necessary. Tell me what I did wrong, and I'll do everythin' I can to make it up to ya, Danny."

The CSI ducked his head. The muscles in his lower face were quavering in the way Flack knew that meant Danny was undeniably upset and close to tears. Flack hated that look. It was the one that compelled him to beat the crap out of unruly perps because he couldn't beat up whatever was hurting the one he loved.

"It's not you."

Danny's reply was so soft and small, for a moment, Flack thought he'd heard incorrectly.

"So, tell me what's wrong." The tall detective couldn't even hold his friend's hand or anything else because they were easily seen by anyone walking past the lab, and that made his frustration rise. He willed Danny to look him in the eye again.

Without glancing at Flack, Danny shuffled dejectedly for the lab doorway. Flack followed wordlessly, knowing exactly where they were headed.

The men's toilets were empty. Once they were both inside, Flack locked the main door. Anyone dumb enough to complain about that was going to get a face full of enraged Flack. He leaned back against the black door, hands in trouser pockets and staring at a hyperactive Danny with patient eyes.

Danny paced to and fro the length of the room five times before forcibly bringing himself to a halt in front of Flack. The shorter detective hugged himself as if he was really cold, eventhough he was wearing his white lab coat on top of a grey Henley shirt and long khakis. Flack observed that the Henley shirt was particularly loose, and wasn't tucked in at the waist. Danny was absent-mindedly stroking his belly.

Those blue eyes were definitely filled to the brim with tears. Danny attempted to voice his thoughts, lips moving but no noise emanated from between them. After a couple of seconds, the CSI gave up and started pacing here and there once more, sniffling. Five minutes passed. Flack remained cool and motionless. He understood Danny on a level no one else did. When the bespectacled man was as distressed as this, it was always best to let him burn off the excess energy running rampant in his body before approaching him.

At last, Danny slowed to a standstill on the opposite side of the chamber. With his back turned to Flack, he said in a husky voice, "Ya don't have to take any responsibility, 'kay?"

The homicide detective frowned. Huh? What the heck was that supposed to mean?

Danny swiveled around. There were tear tracks down his flushed cheeks. "I - I won't blame ya if ya hate me or anythin' after this. I mean, you couldn't possibly have known somethin' like this would happen."

Flack felt an iceberg crushing his insides. "What are ya talkin' 'bout, Danny? You're not makin' any sense."

Danny sluggishly ambled back to Flack, stopping about three feet away in front of the other man. New tears trailed down from those piercing, sorrowful eyes.

"I just wanna tell you that I love you. And that won't change. Even after we leave this place."

Flack's breath hitched. Holy crap. He and Danny had been together for over a year by now, and he'd only said those three words to the smaller man once, after their first date together as they stood under the moonlight and shining stars, alone and surrounded by the verdant green of Central Park. Flack had longed to hear the same three words from Danny for so long. He just never imagined he'd finally hear them only for Danny to break it to him they were - over.

Danny delved into his trouser pocket and pulled out a thin, plastic object. He handed it to Flack, who stared at it with a puzzled frown.

"Danny. This is a home pregnancy test - thingy." The taller detective noted the two stripes on the stick that indicated a positive result.

"I know." Danny cleared his throat, staring at the tiles on the floor. "It's mine."

Flack gaped at the other man with humongous eyes, then erupted into uproarious laughter. "Oh man, oh maaaaan, for a second there, I thought you were serious and everythin'!"

Danny's head snapped up at that. "But -"

"Wow, this must be the best prank you've ever pulled off yet, Messer! So that's what the whole avoidin' thing was 'bout. Build up of tension, eh? Make me think somethin' major was goin' on, hah?" Flack rubbed his eyes, still guffawing. "Man, ya got me good. Who'd ya get to pee on the thing?"

"Don." Danny looked him straight in the eye. There was absolutely no pretense in the cerulean orbs. "It's not a joke. That really is the test kit I took."

Flack's chuckles dwindled to silence. "Danny. Men don't get pregnant."

Danny tried to smile. His lower lip quivered. "I know, Don. That's why I took three different ones." His giggle bordered on frantic. "And they all came back positive."

Flack stared blankly at his friend.

"Here. I'll show ya." Danny took out a small box from the other pocket and yanked out one of those pregnancy test kits. Snapping off the plastic cap, the CSI stalked to an urinal, unzipped his pants and virtually peed on the dang thing. Of course, Flack wasn't bothered by Danny peeing in front of him. They'd done everything together. Flack knew the guy inside and out. But Danny peeing on a home pregnancy test stick? Now that was one for the books.

Danny zipped up and recapped the kit. The guy had a resigned expression on his face. Three minutes of silence and more Danny marching passed. Then, Danny glanced at the kit. Closed his eyes and sighed heavily.

"Take a look for yerself." Danny thrust the plastic kit at his face.

The two red stripes were clear as day on the damn thing.

Two powerful muscle spasms made Flack's cheek and forehead twitch uncontrollably.

"Don?"

Flack's big blue eyes rolled up into his head, and the homicide detective toppled over like an oak tree.

ii.

"The blood test results are back. I - don't know whether to say I'm sorry," Stella said, "Or -" Her full lips curved into a humongous smile.

"Congratulations, you're a MOMMY!"

Danny buried his face in his hands and wailed. Flack, sitting on an identical laboratory stool next to Danny and pressing an ice pack to the back of his head, grimaced at Stella's ecstatic statement.

"Uhm, Stella." Hawkes, standing beside the strangely overjoyed CSI, looked at her with a poorly concealed amazed expression. "Are you sure you didn't make a mistake somewhere with - the -" The former ME's words withered away at her glower. Hawkes coughed. "Point taken."

The four detectives were on their own in one of the windowless, white laboratories. Stella and Hawkes were standing, while Danny and Flack sat leaning back against a table with a computer monitor and keyboard behind them. The only reason Stella and Hawkes were there was due to the two CSIs kicking down the men's room door after Flack fell over in a dead faint. And after they heard Danny's echoing shout of alarm. Stella had taken one look at the home pregnancy test kit in Danny's hand and Flack spread out on the floor unconscious, and demanded to know what the hell was going on.

Flack wrapped an arm around a forlorn Danny. The homicide detective didn't know what else to do but pat him on the arm while Danny shook his head, still obscuring his face from view. Wow, telling the boyfriend that you want to break up was one thing. Telling the boyfriend that you're pregnant when you're a man and proved it was something else totally out of this world.

Flack was even now trying to figure out if he should be jumping with bliss or screaming his head off in terror and running away as far as possible. On one hand, he and Danny now had something unbelievably special together. How often was it that two guys actually succeeded in making a baby that was from their DNA alone? Their baby was going to look like either one of them, or both. And just them. On the other hand, if Danny was really having a baby, it was going to change both their lives forever, not automatically in the good way either. Unless he left. And he'd rather cut his own throat than abandon Danny.

Danny's odd alien dream popped into recollection. Hey now, was it just a dream? Or did it really happen? A muscle tic appeared in Flack's forehead at the thought of little green men molesting his Danny. Ohh, he was gonna kick some alien ass to kingdom come if they were idiotic enough to revisit his lover.

"I hate to burst the happy bubble here," Hawkes said gravely. "There are other possible reasons for the high levels of hCG in Danny's blood." Hawkes winced slightly. "It might indicate a cancerous or no non-cancerous tumor in the testicles -"

Danny's second wail increased dramatically in volume.

Even Stella winced at the information.

"It might also indicate some types of cancer, such as cancer of the stomach, pancreas, large intestine, liver or lung," Hawkes concluded with an apologetic expression.

"Danny, you said you went to see your doctor over a month ago, right? And she cleared you via a regular medical check up?" Stella asked.

Danny sat upright and nodded.

"But you didn't do a blood test then?" Hawkes said.

Danny shook his head.

"Hawkes, the hCG levels in Danny's blood is 245,000 international units per liter. If it's testicular cancer causing it, Danny wouldn't be sitting here with us right now." Stella lifted an eyebrow.

Hawkes was too stunned by the number Stella cited to make a coherent reply.

"Well, Danny, have you been feeling swellings or lumps in either of your balls? Enlarging testicles? Pain in either one of them? Ache in the lower stomach? Pain anywhere?"

Flack's lower jaw dropped. Danny sputtered.

"NO!"

Stella looked back towards Hawkes and waited for a response from the medical examiner.

Hawkes seemed to be struggling very hard to not laugh. "Okay, look, I have a way to know for sure whose theory is accurate." He rushed to the closed lab door, opened it and said, "I'll be right back," before running off somewhere.

Stella pulled up a tall, steel stool and sat on it, facing Danny and Flack. She folded her arms across her chest, smirking.

"So. How long have you two been having sex?"

There was a shocked silence. Then, the homicide detective let out a hysterical laugh. "Wha-what are ya talkin' 'bout, Stel!"

Stella gave him an amused, no-nonsense look.

"Since the case where the beauty queen's buddy got stabbed in her apartment. By that grocer boy." Danny was astoundingly composed.

Flack's neck audibly cracked as his head rotated on it. He gawked at Danny with a comical, aghast expression. Flack's jaw felt like it was touching the floor.

Now it was Stella's jaw that sagged. "That long?" She suddenly grinned like a cat. "Ohh, Hawkes owes me four hundred bucks now!"

Flack went back to gaping at Stella. Danny was, curiously enough, cool and unaffected by the fact his co-workers had actually bet on when he and Flack started sleeping together. Ah well, being a man and discovering you're pregnant had its way of making everything else seem mundane.

The lab door opened again and Hawkes entered, bearing an unusual-looking object in his hand. It looked like a very narrow cup or vase with a flaring top, a tapering, funnel shape and a flat, round base.

"This is known as a Pinard fetal stethoscope," Hawkes informed them. Nobody questioned how Hawkes would have such an item. Hawkes had all kinds of bizarre knowledge and things. "It's for listening to a fetus' heart beat. According to what you two gentlemen have told me, Danny presented with nausea akin to morning sickness over three months ago. Now, if Danny is pregnant, he should be about - four or five months along. And if there is a baby in there, there'll be another heartbeat." Hawkes knelt down before Danny, and smiled positively. "You'll, uhm, you'll have to lift up your shirt."

The first person Danny glanced at was Flack, blue eyes wide with anxiety. The homicide detective shrugged, ice pack left on the table behind them. "Might as well find out now than later, right?"

Danny sighed audibly, then reluctantly tugged up his Henley shirt until his belly showed. He closed his eyes and averted his face.

The other three people in the room gasped in unison.

There was an unquestionable bulge of Danny's abdomen, but not so obvious that it could be written off as plumpness of sorts. That is, if somebody were to merely take a momentary glimpse. As far as Hawkes could see, Danny appeared his usual, rugged self everywhere else except for his stomach. It wasn't fat, the former ME ascertained, placing his hand there. Certainly distension with a focal growth site.

Hawkes' eyebrows shot up. Fascinating.

"Danny, I'm going to hold the stethoscope against your abdomen, okay?"

Danny gave a jerky nod, still facing away. His hands were trembling.

Hawkes positioned the flat base against his ear, and the other end against Danny's belly, and listened intently.

A whole minute passed by.

Flack spoke up. "Uh, Doc? What's the verdict?"

Hawkes slowly raised his head, keeping the stethoscope attached to Danny. There was a giant grin on the fresh CSI detective's face.

"There's a second heartbeat."

Flack instantaneously clambered down on his knees next to Hawkes. "Lemme listen, lemme listen!"

Chuckling, Hawkes moved to one side to let Flack hear the heartbeat via the listening apparatus. This was the first time he'd ever seen the homicide detective so excited and buoyant.

The tall, dark-haired man had his ear pressed to the stethoscope for a few minutes. An awed smile began to spread across Flack's handsome visage. One of his hands unconsciously went to pat the smooth skin of Danny's tummy. Danny was now gazing down at Flack with a flabbergasted but hopeful expression.

Flack peered up at Danny with a brilliant beam. "Wow. We're gonna have a baby."

Hawkes turned to Stella in shock at Flack's admission, and she motioned him to go out of the laboratory with her.

"We can talk outside," she said to her fellow CSI. "Leave the two lovebirds alone. And anyway, you owe me a lot of money." She winked at a spluttering Hawkes.

Hawkes was still stammering out random words in his disbelief that he'd lost the bet as they quietly crept out, closing the door behind them to give the two men some solitude.

The moment Danny and Flack were alone, Flack chucked the stethoscope onto the table straight away and yanked Danny into a crushing hug, nestling his face into the CSI's neck. Danny's arms around his shoulders were equally tight.

"Oh man. OhmanohmanohMAN." Flack laughed aloud, face crinkled up.

Danny smiled shyly. "I know. I'm scared, Don."

Flack smiled tenderly at the sitting man. "Hey." He stroked Danny's cheek. "It's gonna be okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And I got somethin' else to say too."

Danny's blue eyes glittered in the afternoon sunlight. "What's that?"

"I just wanna tell you that I love you. And that won't change. Even after we leave this place."

The two men embraced each other once more and simply cherished each other's presence for a long time.

( Oooo . oooO )

Month 6:

i.

The moving golden image on the forty-inch computer monitor was the most mind-blowing thing Flack had ever seen in his life.

"Oh my God. That's a baby."

Stella smiled and placed an arm across Flack's broad shoulders, leaning her head against his as they watched the screen. "Yeah. I think she's got your nose, Flack."

"Yep." Hawkes grinned. "It's a girl!"

The homicide detective had no idea at all how the heck Hawkes managed to get them a private room at a gynecologist's clinic, much less the freedom to use a 3D-4D ultrasound machine that probably cost in the hundreds of thousands of dollars. Something about being very good friends with the owner of the clinic, the Doc had revealed with an ambiguous smile. Flack wasn't quite sure how the guy knew the way to use the appliance either. Heh, must be thanks to his gynecologist friend too.

Flack slanted forward to look closer at the shifting sonogram of the baby. Wow. No wonder they called the bulky invention a 3D-4D ultrasound machine. The real-time 4D imaging made the moving picture so vivid, it was like there was a video camera taping the baby second by second inside Danny's abdomen.

That was their baby he was staring at there. His baby.

The tall detective poked his own face to check if his wide grin hadn't split it in two.

"Danny. You gotta see this." Flack gently shook the reclining CSI's leg.

In the last month, Danny's belly had expanded. Still, not enough to easily arouse suspicion. On a pregnant woman, the baby bump would only signify she was, perhaps, over four months along. Hawkes had been concerned by how minor the swelling was, and that the baby might not be developing normally. That persuaded Danny to agonize over whether his baby was remotely normal to begin with. Flack wanted to thwack Hawkes on the head for instigating two whole weeks of him consoling a weepy and freaked out Danny.

Because the CSI believed he was carrying a baby that was a tentacly, green-skinned alien with one eye.

Flack didn't dare to verbally admit it, but he had been anxious about that precise issue too. Nobody had any logical explanation for how Danny became the world's first pregnant man, and the sole clue Flack had was Danny's weird alien dream months ago. Gee, guess it wasn't quite a dream after all. The evidence was right there moving in some golden dream on the computer monitor.

"C'mon, Danny. Just take a look."

Danny lay on the angled bed, long-sleeved sweater rucked up to below his chest. He was hiding his face behind his hands. Danny shook his head once from side to side.

"Just - just tell me how many tenta - tentacles she's got, and I'll let my imagination do the rest, 'kay?"

Flack huffed and shook his lover's leg harder. "C'mooooooon, look. She's got no tentacles."

One anxious blue eye peeked out from between slender fingers.

"She's perfect. Seriously." The homicide detective smiled in reassurance and tugged away Danny's hands. "Look."

The brown-haired CSI stared at Flack in a terrified manner before he glimpsed at the hefty monitor screen from the corner of his eyes. Danny's expression transformed into one of wonder as he turned his head to gaze directly at the moving, real-time picture. Flack skipped over to the opposite side of the bed to lean over a dumbstruck Danny, and rested his chin on the CSI's head, one arm on top of the bed's headrest.

"She's suckin' her thumb," Danny whispered. His blue eyes were moist.

"Yeah."

Hawkes moved the scanner across Danny's tummy, permitting a clearer view of the baby's face to be displayed. Her eyes were closed in slumber. She had a pert, little nose and chubby, rounded cheeks. One teeny thumb was stuck between her lips. Their corners curled up in what Flack could only describe as the sweetest smile in the world. She appeared utterly at peace, floating in her liquid haven. The homicide detective angled his head. Huh, her nose did look like his nose.

"Can you - print the picture out?" Danny inquired with anticipation.

Flack smiled down at Danny, and ruffled the reclined man's dense hair. Stella and Hawkes were also smiling.

"Of course, Danny! In fact, this machine can even create CD or DVD copies of a video of the baby moving. Would you like those too?"

Danny immediately lifted his head to make eye contact with Flack. The taller detective was immensely pleased by the way Danny now intuitively looked to him to share the role of making decisions regarding their baby. Damn happy he was getting through Danny's thick skull that he wanted to be part of everything to do with the CSI for as long as possible, at long last. They gazed into each other's blue eyes.

"Sure thing, Hawkes." Flack had a smug and contented grin. "Give us ten DVD copies, will ya? I've got an old man to shock."

ii.

Danny couldn't stop replaying the DVD on his laptop. It had to be the ten thousandth time he watched his baby sleeping and suckling her thumb. He smiled, softly touching the laptop's LCD screen where the baby's cheek showed. He rubbed his abdomen gently. In all honesty, he should be scared shitless by the whole situation. But he wasn't. What he felt now was something similar to a natural high all the drugs in the world combined could barely create.

Wow, so that was what expectant mothers felt like.

"Hey, ya want me to pop in a music CD or somethin'?"

Danny was lounging on his side on the bed, a pillow tucked under his head and a cream-colored afghan wrap over his lower body. The laptop computer was open next to his head. Flack was squatting in front of Danny's stereo set, browsing through his CDs stacked beside it. All the homicide detective had on was a pair of checkered boxers.

"Yeah, put in my favorite Pixies CD." Danny pulled at his white tank top. Damnit, it kept riding up his stomach.

Flack turned around and made a dismayed face. "I said music, Messer."

Danny seized the pillow beneath his head and made threatening gestures at his lover with it. "Don't make me throw this at ya. I'm gettin' reaaaal good at hittin' ya."

Flack scrambled to his feet and spread his arms, pointing at his robust chest. "Go 'head, make my day."

The pillow whacked him in the face instead.

The CSI on the bed cackled good-naturedly. Flack stood there with an unflappable expression, although his eyes were narrowed from just being smacked with a fat, plushy object seconds ago. The taller man casually waved his hands about.

"I didn't feel a thing."

Danny sat up and snatched the granite paperweight holding down some photograph prints from the side table. He played with it in his hands, like a baseball pitcher would.

"Oh yeah? Then maybe I oughta try this, hah?" Danny endeavored to smother the grin threatening to break loose.

With a whoop, Flack hurdled onto the bed and on top of Danny, laughing and grabbing the hard item out of Danny's loose grip. He was careful to stay on his hands and knees and not put any needless weight on Danny's tummy. Danny was laughing too, so evidently the guy on top in this round of playful squabbling.

The homicide detective put away the paperweight and made Danny lie down flat on his back on the bed, pushing the second pillow under Danny's head. Their bed had five pillows. Danny liked to slip a few around them while they slept. The CSI glanced questioningly at Flack as the taller detective pushed up his white tank top to expose his belly bump.

"Wanna listen to the baby." His reply made Danny smile. "You wanna leave the afghan wrap on?"

"Yeah. All I'm wearin' down there are my black BVDs."

Flack made a face. "You and yer BVDs."

Danny made an identical face. "You and yer checkered boxers."

They snickered. Then, the taller man bounced on his side on the bed facing Danny and laid his head on Danny's swollen stomach. They remained that way for fifteen minutes, just relaxing and enjoying the evening tranquility so rare in the lives they led. Outside Danny's bedroom, regular city life went by while pedestrians sauntered past on the pavement and honking cars whizzed to their destinations elsewhere.

Suddenly, Flack felt a powerful movement under his cheek. Danny had gone tense and rigid.

" - ow."

Flack jostled onto his elbows, startled. "What was that?"

Danny couldn't answer. His face was twisted into a pained grimace.

Flack crawled up so he lay spooned against his friend, his thick eyebrows lowered in a distraught frown. "Danny, say somethin' to me, buddy."

Danny turned his head on the pillow to glower at him.

"Your baby just kicked me."

The taller man quickly pressed his hand against the other man's tummy. Whoa. There it was again! Flack grinned from ear to ear.

"Did ya feel that, Danny? That was amazin'!"

Danny was still wincing. "Oh fuck, she kicks hard." His blue eyes opened. "Wait. Kickin'. That's a good thing, right?"

"Yeah." Flack chuckled. "Means she's active and, uh, kickin'."

"I'm gonna have a baby." The CSI looked dazed. "I'm gonna have a baby." Danny stared at the ceiling with wide, glazed eyes.

Flack pulled up the cozy afghan wrap over their bodies, and he snuggled closely with the shorter man, lying on his side while Danny was still on his back. Danny's hands were cold in his.

"It's gonna be okay. I ain't goin' anywhere."

Danny shifted his head so their cheeks touched. "I dunno, Don. This is - we're on our own in this, ya know? There's so much to think 'bout. Not just us." He chewed on his lower lip. "I mean, I dunno whether my current pay can even support the baby and me."

Flack frowned. He lightly slapped Danny on the arm under the afghan wrap. "Hey now, didn't we discuss this already? 'Course I'm pitchin' in. The baby's mine too."

Danny smiled softly. "Sorry." His smile diminished. "Well, even with both our pay - will it be enough for her education? And her - and her clothes and toys and food and - and - We gotta pick a pretty and secure baby cot for her."

Danny had no clue Flack was smiling his head off at all the rambling.

"Yeah, a nice blue one, with dangly yellow duckies she can play with when she's in there. Pink is so overrated."

Flack made an agreeing noise. He was thoroughly enjoying this infrequent, optimistic side of his friend and lover.

"And we can get her a tiny guitar too, definitely a traditional, wooden one." The CSI flashed his patented Cheshire cat grin. "I can teach her how to play Pixies and Henry Rollins songs!"

The homicide detective buried his face into the pillow and groaned.

"And - and we gotta clear the second room in this apartment to make way for the cot and her toys. Uhm, wait, do you want the baby room here or at your apartment instead? You've got two rooms too. And wait." Danny ruminated about things for a moment. "Shouldn't we move in together? That way we can save on payin' rent too."

Flack peeked at Danny with one eye.

"Yeah, we could move in together. Save on petrol for travel, and we can have more time together in private. Baby deserves to have two parents." The smaller man fell silent.

"Only one of us can be her legal father." Danny gazed anxiously at Flack. "We can't both be her legal parents. What will happen to her if somethin' happens to both of us? We're cops, we face danger everyday on the streets - Are we - are we goin' to even be allowed to keep her?"

Uh oh. Danny was plunging down from his high. Flack had gotten used to the other man's amplified mood swings by now.

"Don, what if our baby's taken away 'cause people think we're unfit to be her parents? What are we gonna tell her when she grows up and wonders why she's got two daddies and no mommy?" Danny's breathing was escalating. "What if - what if she hates me because our family will be different from other families -"

Flack got onto his elbows and partly shifted over Danny's chest, using his hands to maneuver the shorter man's head so they made eye contact. "Danny -"

"What if I don't even make it past her birth?" Danny murmured hoarsely.

A deathly silence loomed in the bedroom. Flack felt like someone had gutted him merely from imagining life without Danny Messer.

"Don't. Ever. Say that. Again."

Danny stared up at him with wide, upset eyes. Flack felt something wet running down the side of his nose. One of Danny's hands came up to wipe it away. Flack wanted to say something more, but his mouth didn't appear to be working. The homicide detective sensed Danny drawing his head down onto the other man's shoulder.

"I say such stupid things sometimes," Danny whispered, stroking the back of his head. "I dunno why. I'm sorry."

Muffled by the pillow and the CSI's shoulder and neck, Flack replied, "S'okay. Just don't say that ever again."

They both understood it simply wasn't the right time to talk about these things, but they were eventually going to do so. Life was never merciful on those living in denial for long.

Danny whimpered inaudibly. Flack raised his head.

"Baby kicking again?"

The smaller man nodded. He was only grimacing faintly. Huh, maybe he was getting used to it.

Flack sniggered. "Now ya know how I feel, don'tcha? She's inherited your violent tendencies."

Unintentionally proving the taller detective's point, Danny punched Flack in the shoulder.

"I don't think she was kickin'. I think she was punchin'." Danny smirked. "Heh. Strong legs. Strong arm. Maybe she'll grow up to be a professional pitcher or batter in the big leagues, eh? Play for the Mets."

Flack was inwardly thankful his emotional flare-up was so short-lived. Man, those baby books sure weren't kidding about parents sharing symptoms and the likes while one of them was pregnant. "No way. She'll play for the Rangers."

Danny made a horror-struck face. "Rangers suck!"

"Do not!"

"Do too! My baby is gonna play for the Mets!"

"Well, she's my baby too!"

They had a staring showdown that lasted approximately eight seconds. Danny was the one who lost, thanks to Flack sneakily tickling him in the side.

"You cheated!"

Flack shrugged. "Never set any rules, Messer."

The CSI rolled his eyes. "Whatever." Out of the blue, Danny's mouth stretched in an enormous yawn.

The taller man smirked, turning around to shut off the one bedside lamp still lit. The bedroom plummeted into semi-darkness. In the city, it was never fully dark. And New York city was the city that never slept.

Flack wriggled until he found a comfy position on the bed, arms around Danny and legs intertwined with the other man's. The afghan wrap was rearranged over their bodies up to their shoulders. It was too hot to use their regular blanket. Danny was already asleep, long eyelashes casting semi-circular shadows on glowing cheeks.

Or so Flack thought until Danny muttered under his breath, "I am not violent."

Danny's final statement for the night cracked Flack up so bad he would have suffocated to death from laughing if it wasn't for the CSI frenetically slapping his back.

***

Month 7:

i.

"I wanna eat cement."

Flack strained to open bleary eyes. " - whu?"

"Don, I wanna eat cement."

The homicide detective sighed strongly and rolled as slow as a snail to the bedside table to switch on the lamp on it. He glanced at the digital clock. Then he rolled back just as slowly, struggled to his elbows and stared at Danny with half-closed, fuzzy eyes. His short, dark hair was standing up in spiky tufts all over his head.

"Danny ... It's freakin' three in the mornin'."

Danny was wide awake, blue eyes wide with what Flack would dub as extreme craving. His teeth were sunk into his lower lip, and his hands were fisted in the blanket under his chin. It somehow made him appear very endearing. The CSI paid no heed to Flack's comment. Or rather, he was so immersed in fantasizing about cement he didn't hear it.

"Cement - delicious cement. I bet it's crunchy and brittle." Danny noisily licked his lips. "Salty. Like Doritos. Mmmmm, cement."

Flack dragged a hand wearily over his face. Ohhh boy, Danny was having one of his peculiar food hankerings again.

"I wanna eat cemeeeeent," Danny whined. He revolved his head to aim a pleading gaze at his lover. "You can get some for me, right?"

Flack sighed again. "Danny. You can't eat cement. Remember what happened last week when ya tried to chew Mac's SUV wheels?"

Danny pouted. He blinked big, puppy eyes at the taller man. "But I waaaaaanna."

Flack collapsed face first into his pillow and groaned.

The food yearnings started a couple of weeks ago. At the outset, it was the usual things. Pepperoni pizza. Lots of it. And lasagna. And even those little, chocolate-slathered Jaffa cakes all the way from the United Kingdom. Flack could handle that. Miraculously, Danny didn't balloon up from all that food, except maybe his tummy expanded some more. Still easily concealed with a thick jacket or coat. Guess it all went to their baby growing inside him.

Then, it got really weird.

The first odd food hankering was clay, the kind used to manufacture pots and the likes. Flack didn't even know about it until he caught Danny nibbling on a medium-sized vase in Flack's living room that was made of the stuff. Flack spent five days physically holding Danny down whenever they passed a ceramic shop chock full of pots and vases and similar objects. Flack had to hide away all the ceramic items in both his and Danny's apartment too for the CSI's sake. He thanked God the clay hankering only got really bad when Danny was out of the labs. After that, it vanished as quickly as it came.

Then, the next one arrived with a bang. More accurately, it hit Danny while the two men were at a coffee shop near Flack's precinct during lunch. A middle-aged woman was sitting at the table next to theirs, carrying a gigantic bunch of red roses in one arm and chatting animatedly with a lady pal. Danny was staring at the flowers like nothing else existed. Flack assumed Danny wanted to be gifted with roses, so he made a mental note to buy some later. However, the homicide detective literally choked on his coffee when Danny began plucking the red petals and gulped them down as if they were mouthwatering candy. Flack had to use all his charm and handsome looks to placate the owner of what was now merely a bunch of green, thorny stalks.

An entire week of restraining Danny, every time they walked by a flower shop selling roses, crawled past way too slowly for Flack's liking. Flack had heard of pregnant women having crazy food cravings, but this was ridiculous. Like the first one, this particular food yearning disappeared in a flash too. For a few days, life was uncomplicated.

And then, last week, the worst one struck. Flack deemed it the worst, because Danny suddenly desired, more than anything else, to eat car tyres. Car tyres. In New York city. Mac had gotten awfully suspicious about why Flack insisted on being partnered up with Danny for every case, and decided to assign the two men to work with him on a homicide case.

At a freaking junk yard full of condemned cars. And tyres.

Oh, dealing with a tyre-crazy, pregnant Danny there was the most challenging experience the homicide detective ever lived through, even more so than his cadet training. Every single time Danny strayed from the murder area and stalked towards a pile of tyres, Flack was there to haul the whining bespectacled man away before he did some critical damage to himself and the baby. It was even more difficult due to Mac's presence, and the older CSI's astute, eagle eyes watching them. Flack had to give credit to Danny for controlling himself as much as he did, and let Danny out of his sight just for an instant, once the evidence collection was done and the body was taken away.

It was a big mistake. Returning from a short interview with a witness, Flack discovered the CSI kneeling before one of the front wheels of Mac's SUV. Danny's mouth was wide open and lunging straight for the dark grey, grimy tyre. With a frantic yell, Flack grabbed his lover's shoulders in time and forcibly dragged the bawling man away. It was damn good timing too, because Mac materialized next to them out of nowhere and frightened forty years off Flack's life. The homicide detective was forced to concoct possibly the lamest excuse for Danny's crying, that the smell of tyres was making Danny all teared up and sick.

Which made Mac glower at them in an exceedingly skeptical and unconvinced manner. Which, in turn, made Danny blubber twice as loud. Which, subsequently, induced Mac into a private guilt trip, and he ordered Flack to drive Danny home and out of the junk yard immediately. It must have been so traumatizing that Flack's brain had somehow blocked his memories of how he got through the last six days after that incident without strangling Danny.

And now, here they were with Danny's fourth food hankering. Officially, Flack decided, the worst yet. Car tyres, they could avoid if there were no cars in sight. But, cement. The stuff was EVERYWHERE.

"Don, pleeeeeeeaaaaaaaase?" the CSI begged, shaking Flack's arm. "I'm hungry."

Flack frowned and attempted to appear conciliating simultaneously. "No, Danny! You can't eat cement. End of discussion!"

Danny's pout intensified. Flack shifted his eyes, determined to be unswayed.

"No."

"Pleaaase?"

"No."

"Pleaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaseeeeee?"

"NO."

The smaller man shot to an upright position, blanket slipping from his shoulders to expose his upper body in a black tank top. The pout morphed into a sulky expression. Danny glared at Flack.

Then his lower lip trembled.

"You think I'm a big, fat cow, don'tcha?"

Flack heard glass crack inside his brain. What the? How the heck did they go from eating cement to Danny being a big, fat cow?

" - huhbuh?"

Danny's hair was all tousled from sleep too. His lips were downturned. "You don't want me to eat 'cos ya think I'm a big, FAT COW!"

Flack got up onto his knees. A muscle in the taller man's cheek began twitching intermittently.

"Yeah, ya DO! I KNOW IT!" Danny sobbed, eyes wet. "Ya never touch me anymore, and ya never call me beautiful or gorgeous or anythin' anymore!" The shorter man's blue eyes suddenly widened in panic. "You're seein' somebody else on the side, aren't ya! Who is he! Is he better lookin' than me? HUH?"

Obviously, Flack's brain was still in neutral mode.

"I've never called ya beautiful."

Danny stared at him with eyes big enough that the whites showed around the cerulean irises. The CSI's attractive face crumpled.

Uh oh.

Flack shook his head madly and waved his hands in a mollifying way, already figuratively bashing himself on the head with a sledgehammer for his idiotic remark. It didn't work.

"Nononononono, wait! I didn't mea -"

Danny sniffed once. Twice. His clenched hands went to his tearful eyes, and the brown-haired man began wailing like a banshee, eyes scrunched closed.

The homicide detective slapped himself in the face with both hands. Way to gooooo, Flack.

"Danny, no, that's not what I meant!" Flack clasped the other man's wrists, trying to move Danny's hands away so he could look Danny in the eye. "You're a guy, so I always call ya, uh - handsome! And gorgeous! And a hunk! Yeah, and you're always hot to me, babe. You're my Italian stallion, remember?"

Danny's sobs lessened a great deal. The smaller gazed somewhat hesitantly at his lover. At least he wasn't bawling anymore.

Unfortunately, Flack's mouth was also in overdrive mode.

"I mean, sure, you've gotten way bigger in the tummy and you're more whiney and bitchy -"

Danny's face screwed up and the noisy weeping resumed ten times louder than before.

Flack huffed. Okay, he needed to do some damage control here. Time to be the pants in the relationship.

"Danny." The taller man shook Danny fast by the shoulders. "Listen to me. Yeah, we gotta face up to the fact you've changed a lot in the past few months, but ya know what? It really doesn't matter to me what size ya come in. And I don't care if ya drive me crazy at different times of the day and night. And ya know why?"

The CSI had stopped crying once more. Danny stared at Flack with large, damp eyes, mouth in a pout.

"Because I love you. In all ways. Even when ya wake me up at three in the mornin' to ask me to get ya cement. I LOVE YOU, get it?" " Flack shook Danny a second time. "And one, I am not seein' anybody on the side. Why should I, when I've got the hottest person right here with me? And two, you have no idea how much I'm dyin' to pounce on ya, but I don't wanna hurt the baby." The homicide detective sighed. "And c'mon, who's gonna tolerate my fashion sense like ya do, huh?"

That got Danny to smile minutely.

"Who's gonna help me pick out my ties and my shirts? Who's gonna eat pizza with me at one in the mornin' after a whole day of lookin' at dead people? Who's gonna laugh at my silly jokes? And who's gonna bicker with me when I'm in a bad mood and in need of somebody to keep me in line?"

Flack smiled tenderly at Danny, stroking one wet cheek. "Who's gonna be there in my arms, tellin' me it's gonna be a'right at the end of the night, huh? Who's the only person in the world who makes me feel like the luckiest sonofabitch alive? You, that's who."

Flack playfully pinched Danny's drying cheek. "Get it yet?"

Danny stared at the other man some more, then dived forward to enfold his arms around Flack's torso, nuzzling his face into the taller man's bare chest.

The homicide detective chuckled softly, embracing the other man affectionately. "Ya still wanna eat cement?"

The CSI shook his head.

"There're some chocolaaate triiiiifllllllllles in the frrriiiiidge," Flack said in a singsong tone. "The ones ya like with milk chocolate candy, caramel, marshmellows and Irish Cream flaaaavoriiiiiiiiin'."

Though Danny's face was hidden, Flack felt him smile. "Only Irish flavorin' I want is right here."

Flack snickered. "As much as I'd love to give ya some, it's really late. We got a long day tomorrow."

Danny sat up. "S'okay. I wanna sleep anyway."

The taller detective sent the other man a mock glower. "No cement?"

Danny shook his head in a negative, smiling gently.

Flack smirked puckishly, climbing back under the blanket to lie down on the bed. "Good. And ya better stay sleepin' till the mornin' too, 'cos I ain't wakin' up to get ya cement, period."

The smaller man tugged the blanket over his shoulder and snuggled up to his friend. Then Danny murmured, "How 'bout a plate of carbonara pasta?"

The CSI promptly received a spank to his BVD-encased bottom.

ii.

The nervous cough woke Flack up.

He growled low in his throat, peeling one eye open. That one eye swiveled to the side to glance at the clock on the side table.

Three in the morning! Again?

Flack growled again, clambering to a sitting position. Okay, tonight was not a good night to annoy Don Flack, Jr. He had a dreadfully long, unpleasant day separated from his other half thanks to being assigned different cases by Mac. He was not going to be happy even if it was Danny who'd woken him up so early in the morning.

And - it wasn't.

The homicide detective blinked. Danny was slumbering soundly on his side next to him, all swathed in their dark red blanket and utterly oblivious to the world. Flack blinked again. Heeeey, wait a minute. He was certain he heard somebody cough.

This time, the sound of someone clearing their throat rang clear in the bedroom.

Flack squinted in the dark, then swiftly turned on the lamp on the bedside table next to him.

Holy crap. There were two humanoid-shaped creatures, about three feet tall, standing at the foot of the bed. They looked just like the aliens Danny described in his dream so many months ago. Green-skinned. One-eyed. Wearing white, disco-ball-shiny spacesuits. Huge heads. And they had no nose. Merely a big mouth with buck teeth. And eight wriggling tentacles with hands at the ends. And boy, were their legs stumpy.

Flack was torn between wanting to scream his head off and getting out of bed to shake their multiple hands in this historic event. Or do the Star Trek Spock fingers thing.

One of the creatures, the one with a purple iris, coughed once more, then announced in a squeaky, accented voice, "Greetings, fleshy one of the Third Planet of the Teeaaggaaakkkkt solar system! We are the Deeediifriicks, from the Toookseeeaas-Ai galaxy!"

Flack craned his head at a forty-five degree angle. Huh. Danny never mentioned the little green men spoke with a British accent.

"We have come to repossess an object of greaaaaaaat significance to our race, a gift of cosmic proportions and -"

"Oh, for the love of Geeeemehyrbuuty." The other alien, who owned an eye with a gold iris, rolled its single eye and smacked his pal on the see-through, glass helmet he wore around his big head. "Stop with the pretentious words and just talk normally with the fleshy thing!"

While Purple-Eye rubbed at its helmet and moped, Gold-Eye coolly approached Flack by waddling to his side of the bed, all eight arms up in a diplomatic sign.

"My apologies for my companion's behavior. He has a tendency to be the ultimate drama queen."

"I am not!"

Seated on the bed, Flack crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged nonchalantly. "I can relate."

"As he was saying, we're here to - take back something that was given by mistake to your companion."

Right on cue, Danny moaned and rolled onto his back, rubbing at his eyes as he woke up. "Don? What's goin' on?" Danny sat up and looked around with sleepy, nearly closed eyes.

Then his gaze fell on the one-eyed, green-skinned alien in a spacesuit beside the bed.

"AaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!" The CSI virtually leapt onto Flack and clung onto his lover like an octopus. "OHMYGOD, IT'S THE ALIENS FROM MY DREAAAAAAAM!"

Danny's terrified scream provoked the two aliens into screaming in terror as well, their squeaky voices climbing so high Flack winced at the pitch. Their screaming made Danny scream even more, crushing Flack's lungs in the ferocity of his panicked squeeze. The cacophony of screeching from both human and Deeediifriicks went on for half a minute until Flack threw up his hands, inhaled deeply and bellowed, "ENNOOOOOOOOUGH!"

Everyone clammed up their mouths. A profound silence befell the occupants of the bedroom.

Danny was the first to break it.

"Don - what are they doin' here?" Danny whispered worriedly into his ear.

Gold-Eye cleared its throat, even placing one of its hands in front of its large mouth as it did so. "My, that was an awkward moment, wasn't it?" The alien chortled nervously and rotated on its short legs to face Danny. "Ah, I see you remember us from our previous meeting. That was quite an intriguing experience, I must say -"

Flack began growling menacingly, teeth bared.

"Uhm, we, uh -" Gold-Eye surreptitiously tiptoed away from Flack to a safer distance with his purple-eyed companion, still addressing Danny. "We appear to have made an error in our - shipment and installation of the Uubbbrbbyymmkeer."

"The what?" Danny asked, mien contorted in a bewildered expression.

"The -" Purple-Eye leaned over and said something in an indecipherable language to Gold-Eye, who said, "Ah, in your Third Planet language, it is called the Uber-Baby-Maker."

The homicide detective immediately moved his body in front of Danny, shielding the other man from the aliens. "Ooohh no, you're not takin' away our baby."

The two Deeediifriicks glanced at each other. "By Toooutaaathish, they've already made a baby with it!"

Purple-Eye was agitated, if the lowered brow over its one eye was any indication. "Look, we need to take back the Uubbbrbbyymmkeer, it's supposed to belong to someone else, who is, I might add, a very important person in our galaxy -"

"Not my problem," Flack interjected.

"But -" Gold-Eye waved its eight arms about. "We can remove the apparatus and whatever it created out of your companion in mere seconds! And it'll be as if you never made a baby with it in th -"

Flack had his gun drawn. He cocked it.

The two, space-suited aliens gawked at the weapon with large eyes, and screamed to the point the water glass on the side table on Danny's side shattered. The next moment, a strange sparkly, pink shower flowed over the two green-skinned creatures.

And they were gone.

The next instant after that, the bedroom was filled with a blinding light from outside the window. Flack charged out of bed and ran to it, seeing upclose a metallic, round spaceship lifting off and heading for the night skies. He flung open the window. The homicide detective was so pissed off he had half the mind to shoot it down with his gun just to see it crash and burn.

"GO BACK TO ROSWELL, YA GREEN FREAAAKS! WE DON'T NEED YA HERE IN NEW YORK CITY!"

Before Flack could properly aim his gun, the spaceship zoomed off into space in a blazing trail of glittery, pink light. Glaring at the spot in the sky where the spacecraft disappeared, Flack grunted and slammed down the window. He stomped back to bed, where a disorientated and shocked Danny sat. The CSI continued to stare at the window as Flack settled himself into bed.

When Danny remained in the same position for over five minutes, Flack pulled him down onto the bed and tucked the blanket around his shoulders. The smaller man's blue eyes were still wide as the space saucer that left moments ago.

"Don?"

"Hmmm." Flack enveloped his arms around Danny's shoulders, nestling his face against the other man's.

"Did we just get visited by - aliens?"

"Uh huh." Flack closed his eyes, burrowing into the pillow.

"And - did you just try to shoot at an extraterrestrial spaceship?"

"Uh huh."

There was no verbal adjoinder from Danny, so Flack presumed the guy had fallen asleep. The firmness of the body in his arms said otherwise. The taller detective wriggled his legs around Danny's.

And his thigh brushed against something quite unmistakable.

"Don ... I am so turned on right now."

Flack's handsome face split into a broad grin, his large hand sneaking down to the other man's groin.

Yep. Don Flack, Jr. still had it.

( Oooo . oooO )

Month 8:

i.

Mac furtively observed Danny working before a computer set in one of the laboratories, one that was close to his office and in plain sight from his desk. Danny was attired in a loose, black Henley top and dark blue jeans with a white lab coat on top, buttoned up to the sternum. He typed something via the black keyboard, blue eyes alit with eagerness while he gazed at the monitor.

The CSI supervisor smiled to himself. It'd been a long time since he saw the younger detective as serene and sanguine as he was now. After what happened to Danny's older brother Louie, Mac had been inwardly anxious about his protégé's wellbeing for some time, especially when Louie's condition suddenly turned for the worst two weeks after his severe beating. But, against all the odds, the older Messer brother fought hard, and eventually awoke and recovered from his injuries. Danny's vivacity revived along with Louie's recuperation.

Mac angled his head, hazel eyes studying the younger CSI who was unaware of his boss' scrutiny. There was something different about Danny lately. Mac couldn't quite put his finger on it. It wasn't just the way Danny had calmed down lately, or that he was more amenable with the others. It was - something. Something right there in front of his eyes. New haircut? No, it was the same. Maybe the hair was thicker. Change in weight? No, he didn't see any acute changes in Danny's size and form. Then again, the lab coat and loose clothes Danny wore often these days was making it difficult to deduce that. He simply couldn't see it yet. Mac was sure there was a good reason for the positive improvements in Danny's character.

Stella appeared at the open glass door to Danny's laboratory, rapping her knuckles on it and smiling brilliantly. She held a big plastic container in one arm. Mac's own smile broadened at Danny's cat-like grin. It'd been even longer since he saw the younger detective smile like that. Stella sauntered into the lab and closed the door behind her. Hmm. Mac silently wondered what his Greek partner wanted to chat about with Danny. They weren't paired up for any cases this week. Mac tapped the blunt end of the pencil in hand on his table, curious to see what unfolded between his two CSIs.

Danny swiveled his chair around on its wheels to face Stella, still grinning and saying something to her. Probably the usual greeting. She walked up next to him and wrapped an arm around Danny's shoulders in a semi-hug, mouth moving in reply. Her sculpted eyebrows shot up in excitement, and she handed him the plastic container. Stella said something else that made Danny's rosy face brighten up tremendously. Immediately, the bespectacled CSI yanked open the red cover of the container and looked inside. The open-mouthed grin on the young man's visage made Mac perk up in his seat.

Hmmm. This was interesting.

Stella playfully ruffled Danny's spiky hair while he reached inside and took out what appeared to be a rectangular piece of - food. Mac unconsciously leaned forward over his table, squinting at the tidbit in Danny's fingers. Wait. He knew what that was. It was that sweet dessert made of nuts, spices, and phyllo, topped with honey syrup. Baklava. Stella's specialty. He clearly recalled the taste of the last batch Stella made for him a while back. They were delicious. Mac's eyebrows shot up. He never expected Stella to make such a whopping big batch of baklava for Danny. Was there some special occasion Mac was forgetting?

Danny chucked the morsel of food into his gaping mouth, chomping happily on it. Stella appeared to be waiting for a verdict on how her baklava tasted. The bespectacled CSI's grin at her and his hand already digging into the container for more was obviously the answer she expected. They laughed together, chatting animatedly for a while. Danny closed the container and left it on his lap, hands gesticulating in the air as he described something dramatic to her. It must have been something thrilling, since Stella's jaw dropped a few times, and she even slapped a hand over her mouth once.

Then, Stella made a motion that caught Mac's whole attention. She reached down and gently stroked her hand over Danny's abdomen. Mac's eyebrows had to be at his hairline by now. Now that was odd. It wasn't sexual in the least, but - something was off about it. Mac was even more surprised by lack of any flinching on Danny's side. The younger man never liked being touched, even by people he was familiar with. In fact, it seemed to Mac as if Danny totally expected Stella to do that. And in fact, Danny was doing it himself now, rubbing his hands over his stomach.

Alright. Mac had to find out what the two CSIs were talking about.

He quietly stood up and slowly walked out of his office, heading for the laboratory where Stella and Danny were. The direction he took permitted him to sneak up on them from behind. Luck was with him, for their backs were facing the door. He pushed at the door bit by bit until there was a small gap, letting the conversation within leak out to his ears.

"Have you been taking the prenatal vitamins I bought?" Stella asked Danny.

Danny shifted his head in such a way that told Mac he was rolling his eyes. "Yes, mommy."

A muscle in Mac's temple began spasming. Prenatal vitamins?

Stella smacked Danny on the thigh. "I'm serious, Danny! They're good for you and the baby."

Now the muscle twitching was accompanied by an oncoming headache. BABY?

Danny shrugged. "I know that, Stel. But Don doesn't like 'em." The younger man cackled affably. "Says his mother never took any while she had him, so he kinda thinks our baby doesn't need 'em either."

What? DANNY is having a BABY? With FLACK?

Mac's brain broke.

The lab door opened with a thud. Stella and Danny jumped at the sound. The plastic container on Danny's lap almost fell off. Both of them gaped at Mac at the doorway with gigantic eyes.

"Hey, Mac! What's up?" Stella flashed a toothy grin at him. It was the one she displayed whenever she was up to no good. Or had something big to hide from him. Either option was bound to give him a migraine.

Danny merely stared at him with nervous, pursed lips. The younger detective had also unconsciously pulled his coat closer around his body.

" - what is this about prenatal vitamins and - a baby?"

Stella glanced at Danny with a mock oblivious expression. "Danny! What is Mac talking about?" When Danny kept quiet, she added, "See? Danny has no idea what you're talking about either."

Mac glowered at Stella until she curled up one edge of her lips in a contrite smirk. He entered the lab and shut the door, turning his intense gaze onto his protégé.

"Lift up your shirt."

Stella gasped. Danny stared at him for a couple more seconds, then unperturbedly spread his lab coat and clasped the hem of his Henley shirt.

The black cloth rose up.

Mac abruptly felt lightheaded. The protruding, smooth belly made Danny look like - he - was -

"Oh shit, Stella! Catch 'im!"

There was a heavy thump. The last thing Mac saw was the fluorescent lighting on the ceiling and Stella's beautiful, concerned mien.

ii.

Mac had never been this tongue-tied in his existence.

He moved a quavering hand across the warm skin of Danny's round belly, overwhelmed by the enormity of the phenomenon that was under his touch.

"So, let me get this straight," Mac said. "Two one-eyed, green-skinned aliens in spacesuits paid you a visit at your apartment about eight months ago, and did something to you that - enabled you to get -" Mac swallowed visibly. "Pregnant."

Danny nodded, face crimson. He gazed at his supervisor with apprehensive, cerulean eyes.

"And the father of this baby - is Flack."

Danny nodded again, chewing on his lower lip. The bespectacled detective glanced imploringly at Stella, who sat next to him on another lab chair. She could only grimace and shrug her shoulders.

Mac had jolted awake from his black out mere seconds after he fell over like log, scaring the daylights out of Stella who was still kneeling over him. The instant he got to his feet, he ordered the other two detectives to follow him to a more private laboratory to - talk. The more appropriate word Mac might have used was interrogation.

"May I ask how Flack came to be the baby's father?"

Stella stayed silent, tapping one foot on the floor. Danny, with his hands holding up the edge of his shirt above his abdomen, sighed heavily, shoulders slumped.

"We've been together for over a year."

Mac pinched his temple with his thumb and forefinger. Oh, that migraine was thundering in full force now.

"Mac, this isn't a joke like you think," Stella said. "I thought it was one too when I first found out - but I've seen the proof for myself. It's for real."

The ex-Marine, seated next to Danny, moved his hand the opposite way over the swell. Heh, the other two CSIs were scared stiff he was pissed off over the whole situation, especially Danny. But, he wasn't. Truth be told, he'd always suspected there was something going on between Danny and that homicide detective. C'mon, waving hands at each other and staring at one another like nothing else was present? People would have to be blind to not suspect something was up. And how trivial a same-sex relationship in his office was compared to one of his male employees and friend being pregnant.

"I'm not angry that you're with Flack, or that you're - well, with child."

Danny's mouth was in an 'O' shape. So was Stella's.

"I'm angry you kept on working in the field for this long when you could be endangering your baby. And that you hid this from me all this time."

The younger male detective ducked his head in penitence. "I didn't know how to break it to ya - I mean, how do ya tell yer boss you got pregnant with your co-worker's baby thanks to aliens?"

Mac struggled not to laugh.

"Alright, you're forgiven. I'm glad you requested for full-time desk duty last month. Shocked me, but at least I understand now why you did." Mac let his hand drop away. "Effective immediately, you're on paid leave for the next two months."

"Wha, two months? What am I gonna do for two months?"

Mac rubbed a hand over his hazel eyes and chortled. "Danny. You're eight months along. In a month's time, you'll be wishing you had even the smallest amount of free time to yourself."

Danny looked nervously at Stella, who had one hand over her mouth. She appeared to be trying not to smile.

"I never - I never thought about that." The blue-eyed man's breath quickened. "Oh my God, how's the baby gonna come out? And how am I gonna feed her? I don't have -"

Danny suddenly winced. "Ow." The CSI looked down at his belly, frowning. "Hey, stop that. It hurts, ya know."

"She's kicking?" Mac asked with an amazed smile.

"Yeah. I'm thinkin' she's gonna end up a soccer player instead of baseball." Danny's lips twisted. "Uh oh, I think she's gonna kick again. She doesn't like it when I get all melodramatic."

Mac's smile widened into an amused grin. "I like her already." His hand hovered over his protégé's bulging stomach. "May I?"

Danny motioned in consent with his head. He liked that Mac always asked for permission before touching him.

The moment Mac's palm connected to skin, the CSI supervisor felt the evident kick vibrating through. Danny hadn't been jesting about the baby having powerful legs.

"Incredible." Mac was dumbfounded for a few moments, then laughed cheerfully.

Danny had a tender, pleased smile on his face. "Yeah. That she is."

( Oooo . oooO )

Month 9:

i.

There were very few things in the world that made Stella more infuriated than a rabid pit bull.

One of them was seeing someone she cared about despondent and crying their eyes out.

Even worse, when that particular person was a pregnant man who ended up at her doorstep in the middle of the night, weeping because he caught his partner making out with some blonde bitch.

Danny was inconsolable.

"I don't - I dunno what - happened, Stel." Danny sobbed, rubbing at swollen and brimming eyes. His voice was all husky from so much crying. "I thought - I thought he - he came home alone - saw his car outside - and I - I thought - I could go down and - greet him."

The crying man wiped his nose with a tissue paper or two. "So - so I go downstairs - outside - a - and there's this blonde -" - Danny sniffled moistly - "Blonde bimbo all over him -"

Stella hugged him tightly, stroking his hair as he wailed. Oh, she was seriously pissed off at a certain homicide detective.

"And - and they were - kissin' - and they d - didn't see me -" Danny's following words were too garbled by his sobs.

"Sshhh, it's okay. Let me deal with him, okay?"

Stella and Danny sat huddled together on her couch in the living area of her apartment. She was wearing a silk nightgown and a thick robe. Danny was in a long-sleeved v-necked sweater, baggy khakis and a long coat.

She had been getting ready for an early night in bed and was washing up in her bathroom when her doorbell rang. As gregarious as she was, there weren't many people who knew where she lived. Her boyfriend definitely didn't. It was her unwritten rule that she never brought any home. Only her tremendously trusted friends knew her address. Which was, to be exact, her colleagues whom she spent nearly everyday with. She rinsed her mouth and went to her door.

And got a major shock at the sight of a bawling Danny standing before her, shivering with cold.

"How did you get here? By cab?" Stella looked over Danny's feet. They were curled up in a pair of purple flip-flops. From what she could see, the soles were soiled.

Danny wiped at his damp cheeks, breath hitched. " - I dunno." He sniffled. "Maybe I w-walked for a while. I dunno."

Stella scowled. Ohh, a certain six foot tall homicide detective was going to die. Very slowly.

"Then - I think I hailed a cab, I dunno - maybe it was just a regular car." Danny's sobs were diminishing. "Yeah, it was some nice old lady. She saw me walkin' alone by the road and cryin' - felt sorry for me and wanted to help - drove me here."

"You don't have your mobile phone with you? Your wallet?"

The blue-eyed man shrugged listlessly.

"Where are your glasses, hmm?" Stella asked gently, still stroking the younger man's head.

Danny shrugged again. "Dunno. Back at the apartment."

Stella's concern grew at Danny's sudden emotional shutdown. In any other circumstances, he'd be storming around the place, throwing things everywhere and yelling his head off. The lethargic resignation wafting off Danny was so unlike the guy. Stella was also worried for the baby. This unexpected quandary surely wasn't doing anything good for Danny or his unborn child. And the birth time was very soon.

The Greek woman tightened her hug, then said, "I'll go make some tea, okay? Something hot will be good for you."

Danny didn't respond.

She stood up.

Her doorbell rang.

Stella's green eyes narrowed perceptibly. Oh hoh, she knew precisely who was at her front door.

Danny did too. He grabbed hold of her hand, gazing at her with pleading, moist eyes. "Don't answer it, please, I don't wanna talk to him."

The doorbell rang a second time. The person pressing the button over and over was quite frenzied.

Stella soothed Danny with more pats to his head and face, telling him it was going to be alright. She sent him a reassuring smile, then stomped to the apartment front door, flinging it open.

Sure enough, Flack was there, panting slightly and looking disheveled.

Like he'd just made out with some disgusting blonde slut.

"You've ten seconds to explain yourself, bitch."

Stella audibly cracked the knuckles on one hand, glaring hard at the flustered homicide detective.

Flack instantaneously held his hands up in surrender. "Stella! Stel, I swear I didn't do anythin' wrong, you gotta believe me!"

Her face crinkled in a phony grin. "Ohhh, is that so?Gee, then I guess there must be another reason why Danny's crying his eyes out in my living room. After walking all the way here from Queens in FLIP-FLOPS."

Flack's big, blue eyes widened in unadulterated shock. "WHAT!"

"Yeah, Flack, he would have walked all the way here alone and nine months pregnant, with no cel phone, no money, no ID and no glasses, if it wasn't for a good Samaritan who picked him up and drove him here to my apartment building!" Stella's voice rose with each word.

She poked him severely in the chest with her finger. "All because YOU thought sucking face with some blonde BIMBO was some kind of fun on the side for you!"

Flack sputtered, hands wigwagging everywhere. "N-n-noooooo! That's NOT what happened!" He attempted to quiet down to properly elucidate things. "Look, you - you remember that blonde reporter who's always showin' up at our crime scenes? Ya know, short blonde hair with spectacles? Always askin' fer me to get the scoop on things?" He laughed nervously. "Yeah well, I just found out tonight that she's got some kinda crush on me or some shit like that!"

He sped up at Stella's renewed glare. "And - and, I swear, I was on my way home and I was lookin' forward to bein' with Danny again - and she - she just came outta nowhere and jumped on me!" Flack slapped at himself as if he was endeavoring to get rid of whatever he felt when the blonde woman did that. "And I swear to God, I tried to push her off and I didn't even let her get near my mouth, but she was like a fuckin' leech or somethin'!"

Stella simply continued to glower at him.

"Please, ya gotta believe me, Stella. Why would I cheat on Danny? I love him. I go fuckin' crazy without him." Flack smacked a palm on his temple, eyes closed. "Which is why she's probably gonna sue me for punchin' her in the face."

"You punched her in the face."

"Well, yeah! What, ya think I like havin' random women jump on me and molest me?"

Stella didn't smile, but her eyes were. "Get inside, you dumbass."

Flack huffed a sigh of relief, stumbling in after Stella stepped to one side. The homicide detective rushed to Danny's side the minute he laid eyes on his friend sitting on the couch.

"Danny! I was so worried 'bout y -"

Flack somewhat anticipated a violent reaction from his hot blooded lover. It still hurt inside and out when Danny forcefully shoved at his shoulders and sent him falling right on his ass.

"You lied to me." Danny's voice was rasping from too much crying.

"What? No, nooo, it's not what you think, honest!" Flack scrambled back onto his knees and scuttled on them towards Danny. "That blonde broad is nobody, a'right? Nobody. Just some reporter who's got a crush on me." He held Danny's hands, tightening his grip as the CSI tried to wrench them away. "And whatever ya saw, believe me, I did not want to a part of it at all. Ya know, I kinda get the chick thing 'bout havin' somebody takin' advantage of ya that way, 'cos I sure didn't feel guilty 'bout sockin' her one in the face."

Danny kept his tear-tracked face turned away. At least he wasn't recoiling anymore.

"I was so worried when I went up to our place and ya weren't there. I thought - I thought for a sec maybe you went to the local grocer's to stock up the fridge or somethin'. And then I saw your wallet and phone and spectacles on the coffee table, and - my mind went everywhere." Flack bit the inside of his cheek. "Hell, I thought those crazy aliens came back and abducted ya, so I went nuts and called up everybody. And Mac didn't see ya, Hawkes didn't see ya, Montana didn't see ya either - so I guessed you had to be at Stella's."

The homicide detective let out a shaky laugh. "Thank God I was right." Flack caressed one damp cheek. "C'mon, Danny, look at me, please?"

After some nudging on Flack's part, Danny finally pivoted his head to face the taller detective. Eventhough what occurred technically wasn't his fault, Flack wanted to beat himself on the head with his gun at the anguish in the blue eyes that stared into his.

Flack grunted at the sudden punch aimed at his shoulder. Then there was another, on his other shoulder. And another and another until there was a flurry of half-hearted punches raining down on his shoulders and chest. Flack didn't make an effort to block them. Danny was releasing the pent up frustration in the fastest way he knew, and Flack took every single one like the genuine tough guy he was.

The outburst ended as swiftly as it began. Flack crushed the smaller man in a snug embrace, his own blue eyes stinging. It was only starting to hit him how much danger Danny could have encountered on the city streets the entire time he was out there on his own, with nothing except the clothes he wore. The homicide detective would never forgive himself if something terrible had happened to his significant other. Or their baby.

"S'good thing I got muscles of steel, ah?" Flack joked in a husky tone.

Danny was too busy weeping silently into his neck and holding onto his shoulders.

"I'm sorry," Flack whispered into the other man's ear.

They stayed in their poses for some time, Flack on his knees between Danny's legs and Danny burrowed into Flack's sturdy chest. Stella was sitting on her bed, not far away from the living area. Her apartment was an open structure, so she could still hear the two men's conversation. She had a bittersweet smile on her lips. Sure, she was in a relationship right now, but the love in hers paled in comparison to what Flack and Danny had together. She fervently hope those two boys knew what they possessed.

On the couch, Danny suddenly called her name.

"Stel?"

From her position, she couldn't see Danny's face, but she could see Flack's. He had a curious frown on his handsome visage.

"Yeah?" She got up and ambled over to her sofa. Danny was sitting upright, an odd look on his face. Flack was still on his knees, hands on Danny's thighs.

"Uhm - is this couch - one of yer favorite furniture?"

Stella chuckled. "Well, I like it, but no, I won't feel sad if I have to change for a new one."

"Okay. That's good."

Danny gazed at the other two detectives with panicked, round eyes.

"I think my water just broke."

ii.

Flack bit back a yelp. Danny was squeezing his gloved hand so strongly his fingers were crackling audibly.

"Ow. OwowowowowOOOOWWWWW." Danny's pale was contorted into an agonized wince. His cerulean eyes were teary and scrunched up.

Flack enveloped Danny's bare hand with his other one, forming a two-handed fist around it. The homicide detective was becoming more and more distressed by Danny's groans and whimpers of pain. People had the general assumption Danny was the type who whined and complained non-stop whenever he was in pain They were right, to an extent. If he got a superficial wound, Danny's mouth was like a motor. It went on and on until somebody smacked him. If it was a moderate injury, he wasn't as noisy, but the bitchiness was still there. However, if Danny ended up in severe pain, he fell silent, the only sounds made soft moans or whimpers.

And if it got seriously bad, crying was thrown into the mix, along with a whole lot of limb and bone crushing.

In this case, Flack's right hand.

"Doc, can't ya do somethin' for the pain?" Flack asked Hawkes in trepidation.

"Don't worry, Flack, Ibiza and I are on it right now."

Ibiza was Dr. Ibiza Adama, the same gynecologist friend of Hawkes' who'd been nice enough to lend them her 3D-4D ultrasound machine. She glanced up and sent Flack a supportive smile, and he smiled back. She was a very beautiful African woman.

Flack, Danny, Hawkes and his friend Ibiza were in an operating room at the gynecologist's clinic, robed in scrubs. She'd opened it in the middle of the night at Hawkes' request. Man, Flack and Danny owed the former ME big time. Stella had driven them straight to the place after she phoned Hawkes to tell him the news. Once Flack and Hawkes got a whimpering Danny out of her car, she headed immediately for Mac's after telling them she'd be back with their boss. She still hadn't returned as Hawkes and Dr. Adama prepped Danny for an urgent caesarean section. Most likely traffic jams on the roads.

Ibiza's reaction to operating on a pregnant man was momentous in itself. She had gotten into a temper at Hawkes as soon as she set eyes on Danny carried in Flack's arms, taking for granted it was all a joke Hawkes thought up. Then Danny screamed at a particularly intense contraction. She was all business after that. She was forced to inquire Flack about Danny's medical history instead, and was surprised at how much Flack knew about it. Of course, seconds later, seeing the way Flack held Danny's hand and comforted the suffering man, she figured out why.

Now, less than four hours since they departed from Stella's apartment, Danny was lying on his side in a semi-fetal position on the operating bed, hunched over his contracting belly. There were wires attached to his arm and fingers to beeping machines displaying numbers and moving lines. When he wasn't moaning or whimpering, the brown-haired man was panting through his mouth. His high forehead was beaded with sweat. The CSI had gotten progressively ashen since they first arrived at the clinic, and it upset Flack terribly.

Flack caressed Danny's forehead with his left hand. He wasn't sure if Danny even knew he was there anymore. "It's gonna be over soon, 'kay? Hawkes' gonna do somethin' 'bout the pain."

Danny's answer was a high-pitched whine through gritted teeth as another contraction hit. A tear trickled down his grimacing face.

Dr. Adama was brandishing a needle. The gynecologist moved behind Danny, gently pulling up Danny's scrub to bare the man's lower back. "Danny, I'm going to inject some local anesthetic in your lower back. It'll numb the region so you won't feel the next needle we'll need to use to inject the anesthetic medication, okay? Try and keep still."

The homicide detective instinctively wrapped his free hand over the back of Danny's neck, stroking his friend's cool cheek. He averted his eyes from what Dr. Adama was doing, keeping his gaze on Danny. He hated injections, whether it was getting one himself or watching someone else get one.

Less than a minute later, the muscles in Danny's face and body started to relax. Flack smiled in relief, elated to see his buddy wasn't suffering as much as before. After a couple more minutes, Hawkes came up next to Ibiza, wielding what Flack felt was one giant needle. The gynecologist took it from the former ME.

"Danny?" she said soothingly. "I'm going to insert the second needle into your spinal canal now, okay? Please, don't move."

Flack averted his eyes again. Danny was staring up at him with huge, glossy eyes. Flack smiled the best he could at the reclining man, tenderly running a hand through Danny's sweaty hair.

Five minutes passed.

By the sixth minute, the tension in Danny's body had eased significantly. The CSI had stopped wincing, his face slack. Flack literally felt the agony leave Danny under the hand still around Danny's neck. The smaller man's eyelids fluttered. His grip on Flack's hand loosened.

One of the machines' beeping noises decreased. Hawkes frowned as he glanced at it. "Blood pressure is dropping."

Flack felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

"I'll get an IV going."

Danny's eyes were closed.

Dr. Adama was frowning too as she examined the readings from the machines. "We need to operate now."

Flack suddenly felt like a lost, little boy trapped on a rock in the middle of a vast ocean.

"Flack." Hawkes was on the opposite side of the operating bed, touching his forearm. "Please help me turn Danny on his back."

Flack soundlessly complied, assisting the other CSI in the task. Flack was terrified by Danny's sudden lack of response and pallor. His consternation increased when Danny barely reacted to him rubbing the other man's neck and jaw. The blue eyes remained shut.

Ibiza inserted an intravenous line into one of Danny's arms, then pulled up surgical drapes over Danny, covering everything except his head and now exposed abdomen. Then, she washed the skin with some dark liquid that Flack guessed was an anti-bacterial solution. It was really surreal to see the two doctors progressing with the procedure like it was something that occurred every day. Well, sure, babies were born everyday, Flack ruminated. But his baby? Now that didn't happen everyday.

The silver scalpel in Dr. Adama's gloved hand glimmered sharply under the stark lights.

The homicide detective quickly turned his head away, directing his attention solely onto Danny's face. He might be used to seeing death and grisly murder victims, but there was something about seeing a blade cutting into live flesh that freaked him out on too many levels.

As the scalpel opened up an incision across the underside of the distended abdomen, Danny's eyelids flickered. Flack fervently prayed that Danny wasn't feeling any pain. He placed a hand on one side of Danny's face, maneuvering the CSI's head away so Danny was blocked from seeing the operation.

"My God, what is that?" Ibiza's accented voice was low in amazement.

"My guess is that's the womb," Hawkes said, sounding just as awed.

"It's - pink and purple - and glowing. It's - extraordinary. I can see the baby."

Silence. Then, a weird sound, like hands digging through a mass of watery, slick substance. Danny's eyes snapped open. Flack dredged up the courage to look at what Hawkes and Dr. Adama were doing.

Seeing the crying, kicking baby pulled out from the wide slit on Danny's abdomen was something the homicide detective was never, ever going to forget. Her potent howls reverberated in the chamber, drowning out Hawkes' pleased and delighted laugh. Flack's handsome visage broke into a huge smile. Wow, those were some powerful lungs his little girl had.

Flack's eyesight was suddenly distorted. Damnit, there was something in his eyes. He rubbed them, and blinked rapidly. Hawkes already had the cleaned baby and swaddled her in a cozy towel. He was also counting the newborn's fingers and toes and checking her over. The umbilical cord had been removed. Ibiza was probing Danny's insides, looking precisely like Hawkes when he was onto a breakthrough. She was most likely studying the implanted alien womb. Flack remotely wondered whether the gynecologist was going to remove it or leave it inside. He didn't even dare to mull over what the doctor might say or do when it was all over. He and Danny were going to be in deep trouble if she decided to blab to the world that she'd operated on a pregnant man and found some alien womb.

"Yes - all there!" Hawkes laughed joyously, then approached Flack with the bawling bundle in his arms. "Would you like to hold her, dad?" Hawkes grinned at him, holding out the infant.

Flack had eyes only for his pinkish, squealing baby girl. She was a million times more beautiful in reality than she was on a computer screen. The homicide detective cradled his daughter with care. The moment she was in her father's embrace, the baby's cries lessened. This time, Flack didn't bother to wipe his eyes dry.

"Hi, darlin' ... I'm yer daddy," Flack cooed. He traced the chubby cheeks and little nose with a shaky finger, chuckling moistly when she made happy, gurgly noises at the sound of his voice. Her big eyes were half-open, the light blue irises nearly translucent in the lights.

Flack meandered over to Danny, settling the bundled baby next to the other man's head. Danny had shifted the surgical drapes covering his shoulders down to his chest, freeing his arms. The reclined man still appeared dazed, but he gazed at their newborn infant with wet, overjoyed eyes. He nuzzled one small, round cheek and softly stroked her head. She was making more gurgly, faint sounds, peering at her surroundings with alert eyes.

The grinning homicide detective leaned forward, one hand behind Danny's head and the other caressing their daughter's cheek. "This is your daddy too - well, technically, he's your mommy, but same diff."

"Don't make me punch ya," Danny rasped with a tiny smirk.

"I forgot to mention yer mommy's very violent too. Hopefully you'll keep yer kicks and punches to boys who aren't good 'nough for ya." Flack received a weak punch to his shoulder. "See what I mean?"

The baby smiled.

"Wonder if she understands us," Flack murmured. He tore his eyes away from the baby to see what the two doctors were up to. He was just starting to realize how quiet it was.

" - Doc?"

Hawkes and Dr. Adama were - frozen. That was the only way Flack could describe it. Frozen in time. Hawkes was stuck in a posture of turning away from Flack and Danny, saying something to Ibiza who was standing not far away over a tray of surgical instruments. She was also stock-still, her lips parted in a freezed reply. The homicide detective stood up and cautiously walked around the operating bed to Hawkes, tentatively poking the CSI in the arm. Whoa. Hawkes didn't even budge an inch when Flack jostled him with both hands. It was as if some invisible force was holding the guy in place.

Danny's startled shout made him swivel around in alarm.

Oh fuck, those aliens were back!

"Now, now, my good man, no need to be frightened! We're not going to hurt you, fleshy one."

They were the same green-skinned, one-eyed extraterrestrials in their psychedelic spacesuits, except these appeared to be different from the ones who previously visited them. The one who spoke was bigger and taller, with a bright rainbow sash pinned around its waist. And sported a damn bushy Colonel Sanders moustache. The other was a lot more like the ones Flack and Danny met before, but also had a smaller rainbow sash tied around its short body.

The two aliens hovered in the air beside the operating bed, a dazzling pink halo surrounding them. Danny looked absolutely petrified, cuddling his baby close to his chest. She had begun wailing again. The CSI couldn't move because he was still numb from the chest down to his toes from the anesthesia.

"Get the hell away from my family, ya little green FREAKS!"

Flack charged at them - and found himself suspended in the air, thrashing his lanky limbs helplessly. He roared, face red from exertion.

"By George, Myydikishot and Aiimmztupik were serious about these fleshy ones being avid fans of screaming, weren't they?" Colonel-Sanders said to the other alien.

"Oh yes, sir, certainly, sir," Rainbow-Boy replied.

Colonel-Sanders patted a trembling Danny on the head with one of his eight gloved hands. "I'm not going to take your offspring away. Believe me, fleshy one, I have no interest in transforming my life into a living hell rearing up one of you." The alien stuck out its blue tongue in a grimace. "Blaaargh, the horror!"

The detectives' baby girl stopped crying, and actually burbled in amusement at the hilarious-looking alien's facial expression. Her daddy-mommy, however, was no less frightened and could merely stare at the aliens with wide blue eyes.

The mustached extraterrestrial and its attendant floated over to look at the incision on Danny's belly.

"Sir, it appears the Uubbbrbbyymmkeer has passed it test run with flying colors!" Rainbow-Boy said with a flourish.

"Indeed it has, old chap! Why, her Majesty will be extremely pleased. Finally, she'll have aaaaaaall the little royal Deeediifriicks she wants!"

Flack gave up struggling against the invisible force holding him prisoner up in the air and bellowed, "You did this to Danny on purpose!"

"Well, it's not like we were going to install such a complex invention into our queen without giving it a test run first!" Rainbow-Boy uttered haughtily.

"Now, now, Bootlehjiiffs, let's not be rude. We're far too civilized for that." Colonel-Sanders snapped the fingers of four of its hands.

The force lifting Flack up in mid-air abruptly vanished, and he plummeted to the floor face first with a painful thump. The homicide detective was on his feet instantaneously, his face in a furious rictus.

"You little shits! Then the least ya could do is change Danny back to his old self and heal him up! He never asked for any of this!"

The mustached alien waved its eight hands. "Weeeell, why didn't you just say so, my good man?"

Flack felt something probing his mind, like vines going into his brain. He shook his head to get rid of the feeling, but it merely became stronger. What the hell?

"Ah." Colonel-Sanders' one eye was narrowed. "Danny's apartment, is it? Righty-ho, then."

"Sir, perhaps a memory wipe for them all would be good measure."

"Hmmm." Flack felt more tendrils poking his mind. "Alright - but not for these two fleshy ones. They want to remember."

The lights in the operating room was becoming brighter and brighter. Flack squinted his eyes, shielding them with his hand. "Wha -"

"Don't worry, lad, I'll make sure you'll have a small scar left," The rainbow-sashed, mustached alien was speaking to Danny. "Sentimental creatures, aren't you?"

"Dan -"

The intensifying light was overpowering everything.

"And congratulations on this auspicious day! I do believe the next eighteen years of your life will never be boring."

A bizarre, humming sound filled Flack's ears.

"Toodle-oos, fleshy ones!"

Everything turned white.

iii.

Danny, Flack and Hawkes were side by side on Danny's battered, black sofa.

Flack was on the left, attired in a mauve-colored suit, his hair in a mess and his tie askew. Hawkes was on the right, wearing a white turtleneck and jeans. Danny was in the middle, a chubby baby girl wrapped in a blue cloth cuddled in his arms. He was in his original v-necked sweater and baggy trousers and purple flip-flops.

They sat there in a daze for a while, staring forward at the television set before them. It was showing a cartoon full of peculiar-looking babies crawling around and talking to each other in broken English.

Hawkes broke the reverie. The guy jolted with a shout and bounded to his feet, head swinging around in shock and stupefaction as he took in his environment.

"Okay. Where am I?" The former ME peered at the other two detectives on the couch with a suspicious expression.

Danny and Flack gazed at each other. They looked into each other's blue eyes and knew they remembered everything that happened that night. They turned to peer at Hawkes with carefully blasé expressions.

"This is my apartment," Danny said casually. The baby cooed. One of her tiny hands reached up towards his goateed chin.

"I - you - she - I was sure I was - somewhere. Stella called me up and -" He slapped one hand over his mouth. "I don't remember."

Hawkes stared at the baby in Danny's arms with humongous eyes.

"Wait - the last time I saw you, you were still - how did -" Hawkes' arms flailed about in bafflement. Then he said, "Okay. Somebody tell me what is going on. Right now."

The two detectives on the couch glanced at each other once more. Oh well, it couldn't hurt to see whether the aliens' memory wipe actually worked.

"We were at your friend Dr. Adama's clinic. You guys performed a c-section on Danny, and then those one-eyed, green-skinned aliens popped outta nowhere and healed Danny up and wiped your memory and took their magic womb thingy and then teleported us here." Flack reflected on the evening's events. "Oh, and Danny can't have anymore kids."

Flack got a glower from Danny for his final statement.

Hawkes' mien was blank. "What?"

"Yeah, that's the truth!"

"If aliens came along - I'd remember," Hawkes said, then frowned. "Wouldn't I?"

Flack shrugged. Well, Hawkes' memory of the night was definitely erased.

The baby began to cry, her plump face scrunched up and flushed. Danny tugged the folds of the towel around her, making comforting sounds and not knowing much of what else to do. There was no way he could feed the baby. Those aliens kept their word and changed his body back literally the way it was before the whole pregnancy fiasco started. They even gave him back his chest hair.

"Uh, Don? Is there any - milk?"

Flack looked at Danny's chest and grimaced. "I, uh, I'll go look in the fridge or somethin'. I don't think there's any though."

The homicide detective lurched into the kitchen. Hawkes returned to sit next to Danny on the couch, a smile spreading on his visage at the sight of Danny cuddling and cooing at a baby. It was quite surreal. In a really sweet, heart attack-inducing way.

"You know, I am not happy my memory got wiped. I think I would have loved to chat with those aliens. Do you know what would happen to the world if they found out aliens really existed?"

"Trust me, Doc, ya wouldn't. And no, I got no interest in turnin' into a freak show, thank you very much."

Hawkes chuckled.

The baby's sobs halted once Danny let her suckle on his forefinger. She was so small, but she already had a strong bite. Danny grinned when she gripped his hand with her tiny hands. She had strong hands too. Wow. She really was the most lovely thing he ever saw, all pink and smooth and chubby rolls. She had big, blue eyes just like Flack and himself. And she was his baby. And all he had to show for it was -

"Doc - do you mind liftin' up my sweater?"

After a moment's hesitation, Hawkes did. Danny twisted his upper body a little so Hawkes could get a clearer view of the bared skin.

"Do you - do you see a scar anywhere?"

Danny felt the other CSI peel down the waist of his trousers an inch or two, exposing one side of his abdomen down to the hips.

"Yeah - yeah, there's a three-inch scar on the left side. Above the groin and close to the hip." Hawkes touched the scar. "It's still a bit inflamed, but it's healing well. What Flack said - all that really happened - didn't it?"

"Heh, if that scar's not good enough proof to ya, Doc, maybe ya wanna hold this wriggling, hungry one instead," Danny said.

Hawkes' whole face lit up. "Really? You don't mind?"

"Nah. And hey, you were the first person to hold her, actually."

"I was?" Hawkes' expression fell. "Oh. I don't remember it."

Danny smiled empathetically and slowly handed the baby over to the other CSI. Danny's damp finger popped out of her mouth. She was already nearly asleep, eyelids with long, curved lashes fluttering. Hawkes felt a lump in his throat as he gingerly held the infant. She had Flack's coloring and nose, but Hawkes was certain she inherited her eyes and pixie smile from the man sitting beside him. She was quite active for a newborn, bigger than the normal one too. Then again, she was one of a kind, in all ways. Hawkes clucked at her, delighting in her muted gurgles and sleepy, toothless smiles. After a few minutes, the former ME passed the baby back to Danny.

"I've called Stella. She and Mac are on the way here. Believe it or not, they're still stuck on the roads. They're not far off though, so they oughta be here soon."

Flack was back with a warm bottle of milk in one hand, and a small, rectangular note in the other.

"Don. Where did you get the milk?" Bottles, they got those a while ago, but Danny was positive neither he or Flack had bought any infant formula milk yet.

Flack was smirking. He handed the bottle to Danny. "We got a special message from some folks who were nice enough to stock our fridge to the max with baby milk." The homicide detective cleared his throat, then read the note.

"It says - 'Good luck, fleshy ones. You'll need it.'"

Danny and Flack were still laughing when Stella and Mac arrived at Danny's doorstep.

( Oooo . oooO )

The beginning of another beginning:

Danny scrubbed his teeth with his usual red brush, the mint toothpaste bubbling into white foam around his lips. He filled his mouth with water and rinsed it twice. Brushed some more, and rinsed it another two times. Cleaned his toothbrush. Then he made his face towel wet, wrung it and wiped his face with it.

It was just another weeknight in the Messer-Flack residence, formerly Flack's apartment. Another long, rough day at work assuaged by the each other's presence, both at CSI headquarters and on the streets. And another peaceful, content evening spent together with their six-month-old baby girl, Danielle. Flack was in the bedroom playing with her on the bed at the moment. Danny could hear him talking baby talk with her, and her gurgling and making adorable sounds only a happy baby could.

"Who's yer daddy? Who's yer daddy? Can you say daaaaadddyyyy?"

Danielle giggled and burbled cute baby gibberish.

"Hmm, okay. Close enough."

Flack started blowing raspberries, probably onto her round tummy. It made her giggle even more.

Danny smiled to himself, hanging the face cloth next to Flack's. The CSI never imagined he would find true happiness like this, not with his past and some of the deeds he'd done. But life was funny that way. Just when he thought there was no way he'd get to homebase anymore and was about to give up for good, it threw him one hell of a fast curveball.

And got him that homerun.

Danielle squealed loudly. Ah, Flack was most likely nibbling on her teeny toes again. That always got her laughing and waving her arms about.

Danny wiped the sink and replaced his toothbrush and toothpaste where they belonged, in a plastic container on one side of the sink. He bit his lower lip in a rascally grin. He was already visualizing in his mind what he intended to do with Flack once they put Danielle to bed. The last six months were sorely deficient in proper nookie hours.

Or as Flack would put it, Jackhammer time.

"Uhm - Danny?"

Flack sounded kinda funny.

"Yeah, what is it?"

"Uhm - uh - could ya - could ya come out here for a sec?"

Wait. Flack sounded mortified.

Danny frowned slightly, yanking up the waist of his loose, grey track pants then tugging the hem of his black tank top over it. Okay, what mischief had those two imps stirred up this time?

The CSI sauntered into the bedroom, and promptly hollered in disbelief.

Flack was above the bed.

Levitating horizontally five feet into the air.

Below him, baby Danielle gazed up at him with innocent baby blues, gurgling gleefully and stretching out her cute, rotund arms and hands towards her floating daddy.

Danny blinked. Nope. His lover was still hovering in the air, arms spread out and quivering. He anxiously raked his eyes over the bedroom. The aliens weren't back again, were they? If Danny never saw them again for an eternity, it was too long.

"Dan? Can ya - take Danielle away from the bed? I - I dunno how long I'm gonna be - up here." Flack gulped.

Danny suddenly felt like laughing until his sides hurt. This was unbelievable. First, he got pregnant thanks to aliens, then he moved in with Flack to bring up their baby together and now this. He shook his head, smirking quietly.

"Hello? Danny? Anytime this century will be good."

The CSI approached the bed and adroitly picked up his baby girl, resting her against his chest and shoulder. She was dressed in a pink bodysuit dotted with little white and yellow flowers. Her thick, dark hair were spiked in tufts all over. Flack been in the mood to give their daughter a radical hairstyle.

Flack remained in the air, stuck there contrary to his will. He managed to turn his head in Danny's direction, brows lowered in a panicked face. "Those aliens - they're not - they're not back, are they?"

Danny's smirk grew bigger. Danielle flailed her chubby arms and giggled, smiling with a gaping mouth at her other daddy.

"What are ya smilin' 'bout? This isn't funny!"

The homicide detective in polka dots boxers struggled futilely, looking like he was attempting to swim in the air. Danny couldn't keep it in anymore and burst out laughing at the other man's antics.

"It's not aliens, Don."

The six-month-old baby in Danny's embrace winked both her eyes and squeezed her hands into fists twice.

"Then whaaaAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!" Flack was rotated upside down, now vertical in the air. He was, basically, standing upside down on the ceiling. "Okay, this is not funny anymore! I wanna get doooown!"

Danny laughed until he had tears in his eyes. Oh man, this was more entertaining than the Letterman show and the Conan O'Brien show put together.

Flack griped for about ten seconds, then steadied himself and said, "Heeey. This is kinda cool." He started tiptoeing on the beige, patterned ceiling like a circus star. "Look at daddy, darlin'! Daddy's walkin' on the ceilin'!"

Danielle winked both her eyes again and squeezed her hands into fists three times.

And Flack dropped like a stone straight onto the bed with a yell. Thank goodness it wasn't onto the hard floor.

Danny blew a raspberry on his baby girl's soft cheek. "Ya know, those one-eyed green Martians were right 'bout one thing."

Sprawled face down on the bed, Flack made an inquiring groan.

Danny kissed Danielle on her forehead and smiled tenderly at her.

"Life's never going to be boring with you around, sweetie."

Fin.

*** 

Next story in series - Nine Months: An Interlude.

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