Title: Sweet Love
Author: Kimmychu
Fandom: CSI: NY
Rating: AO
Pairing: Danny/Flack
Content Warning: Ehm, first time fic. Flack in leather. Yup.
Spoilers: Nah, but just to be safe, post-Season 2.
Summary: It was sweet love for Danny from the moment he laid eyes on a very handsome homicide detective over five years ago. Unfortunately for the CSI, it seems that he'll never have a chance with Flack. Flack isn't interested in men... or is he?
Disclaimer: Danny's staked his claim on Flack. Guess they belong to each other now. Heh.
Author's Notes: Yep, it's one of them first-time stories. There's just something about writing how these two get together for the first time that's intriguing, something different from writing them as a long-time couple. The story title, and the titles for each section of the fic, are taken from a really hot and beautiful song of the same name, sung by Anita Baker.

***

i. "With all my heart, I love you baby …"

No way.

There was no way he heard what he just did.

" … Mark?" Danny asked in a small, husky voice.

Flack glanced up from the lab report he'd been skimming through, his handsome features set in a poker face.

"Yeah. Mark."

"Mark." The CSI blinked twice. His blue eyes were wide in shock. "You were once with a guy called Mark."

"Uh huh." The homicide detective had returned to reading through one of Danny's reports, holding the light brown folder in his large hands.

The two men were the only occupants of one of CSI headquarters' laboratories, where Danny was seated in front of a computer awaiting a fingerprint match via AFIS, while Flack stood next to the table. The tall man was dressed in one of his fine suits, a dark grey one today, with lighter grey pin stripes. For once, his dress shirt was a plain white one that matched nicely with the rest of his ensemble.

The dark orange silk of Flack's tie kept drawing Danny's attention. That was a good thing. It stopped him from blatantly staring at his best friend's face, which would have given him away quicker than rain. He certainly wasn't keen on finding out what one of Flack's fists in his face felt like.

Well. Maybe Flack wouldn't actually hit him, if he was hearing things right.

"A guy. Called Mark."

"Yeah, we studied at the academy together."

Danny blinked again. Oh. So that's what Flack meant. They were just friends who hung out together at the police academy. Guess he must have mistaken what the guy said. His shoulders slumped slightly.

Ah, well. He knew it was too good to be true.

Danny sighed.

What were the chances that Flack, a gorgeous, magnificent specimen of a man, would even consider a relationship with another man anyway?

Much less, with him.

A science geek who had no life, was as unstable as a live volcano and was clearly ordinary-looking compared to the eye-catching, tall detective.

Danny's shoulders hunched even more.

"He used to drive me nuts all the time," Flack said with a chuckle, closing the folder and setting it down on the table in front of him. "I mean … he'd always leave his used towels all over the place, and I always had to pick 'em up. It was disgustin'."

Danny cackled faintly. The image of Flack being a housemaid cleaning up a dorm room was pretty hilarious. Especially if he was also wearing some British butler costume with a feather duster while he was at it.

Of course, that only happened in Danny's fantasies.

"At least he had one hell of a great bed. I shoulda asked him where he bought it when I had the chance."

The word bed made Danny perk straight up once more.

Bed? A great bed?

Sharing a room was one thing. But sharing a bed?

There was no way at all he could misunderstand that as anything else.

"A great … bed."

"Oh, yeah." Flack smirked. He leaned against the table, gazing down at Danny with half-lidded eyes. "Damn sturdy too. Amazed me how it actually withstood our playin' on it."

Danny blinked once. Twice. Three times.

Nope, Flack was really there. Flack really said that. It wasn't a dream -

"Ya know, playin' video games and such."

The zest within Danny deflated like a leaking balloon.

"Oh … oh, yeah, of course. Video games." The CSI laughed nervously. His gaze flitted here and there in a manic fashion.

Oh crap, he almost outed himself right then and there. He'd been this close to confessing to Flack that he had played on both sides of the field too. In his case, though, the furthest he had ever gone with another man was a near kiss. Wasn't a real kiss because he deflected his face to one side at the last possible moment. And the guy was drunk. And Danny had been merely fifteen years old and somewhere he shouldn't have been.

Danny rubbed absent-mindedly at his arms. Man, was he a stupid kid in the past or what. He promised himself he'd never be so naïve ever again.

"No match yet?" Flack asked casually.

"Uh." Danny glanced at the computer screen. "No, still lookin'."

AFIS was continuing its search through its database, the fingerprint on the right side of the screen incessantly changing as it did so. The flashes of a variety of green fingerprints entranced Danny sometimes, even lulled him into a semi-stupor on rare occasions when he stared at the screen long enough.

However, at the moment, he had something much, much better to mesmerize him.

Flack was half-sitting on the table now, adjusting the cuffs of his dress shirt. The homicide detective was looking downwards at his hands, and Danny grabbed the opportunity to intensely study the other man.

The CSI smiled to himself. Damn, did Flack look tasty. As sizzling as the guy appeared in his formal suits, personally, Danny missed the black leather jacket. He missed Flack wearing it. There was something about seeing Flack in leather that got his blood boiling hotter than lava. Should the man ever decide to wear an entire get-up of black leather, Danny would literally explode with ecstasy.

"Rick was the one with the best rhythm, though."

If Danny had been drinking tea then, it would have shot straight out of his nose.

"What?"

"Mark had the best bed. Rick had the best rhythm."

"R-Rick?"

"Yeah, Rick," Flack said nonchalantly. "He's another friend a' mine, moved to Paris a long time ago. He's a professional dancer now … but I always knew he'd end up bein' one, even back then."

"B-back then?"

"Yeah. When he was still my boyfriend."

Danny swore his lower jaw was stuck on the ground. A whole colony of insects could probably fly into his gaping mouth right now.

Holy SHIT.

Flack admitted that he used to have a BOYFRIEND.

The shorter man was finding it difficult to breathe properly. If Flack once had a boyfriend, that meant … that meant -

Suddenly, the homicide detective's mobile phone, which was in the man's jacket pocket, rang with a bouncy song about hips that didn't lie. Flack answered it on the third ring.

"Flack … Yeah … Yeah, okay, I'll be there."

Flack flipped his phone close.

"Sorry, pal, but I gotta go back to the precinct. Looks like a potential witness wants to give her testimony 'bout the Collins case."

Danny needed a couple of tries to speak properly again. "S-Sure, Don. Gonna be here all day anyway."

Flack smiled at him. Simply seeing that sun-bright beam made Danny's heart beat ten times faster. One of these days, he was going to keel over from an overload of Flack grins.

"'Kay, I'll see ya later then."

It was so weird. Flack was behaving as if he hadn't just told Danny he had boyfriends before. Or as if their conversation never took place. Danny couldn't make up his mind which one it was.

Was the guy just messing with him or what?

The tall man was already at the lab's open door when Danny leapt to his feet.

"Don!"

Flack swiftly turned at the fervor in Danny's voice. One thick eyebrow lifted in query.

"I, uh …" Danny discovered his mind was completely blank.

"Dan, what is it?" Flack was smirking in amusement.

That smirk was what helped the CSI to gather his thoughts back. "My, uhm, my TV's broken."

Flack's other eyebrow shot up.

"Yeah, it's broken, so - so can I go over to yer place tonight to watch a late game?"

Flack stared at Danny with a mysterious expression on his visage, and then grinned.

"'Course ya can! Geez, ya had to ask? Ya never come over to my place, so it's 'bout damn time."

It took all of Danny's willpower to not jump in the air and whoop like a hounddog. "Cool. Great. I'll bring nachos."

Flack chuckled. "Right, I'll see ya tonight. Gimme a call when you're comin' over."

"Okay."

It also took all of Danny's willpower to not blush when Flack waved one of his hands at him in farewell. Danny gave the man a quick wave in return, then hurriedly sat down and turned to face the computer. Damnit, he could feel the heat coming off his face.

Receding footsteps indicated to the CSI that Flack had left. Danny waited for a minute or two. After that, he rushed to the door to close it. He leaned back on it, grinning like a lunatic.

Oh man. Ohmanohmanohman.

He was going to stay for the night at Flack's apartment.

Surrounded by all the man's things.

If he was lucky, he might even get to see Flack in nothing but a t-shirt and underwear.

Or less.

Danny made a noise that, in any circumstances, would have been considered quite girly.

Oh, it was going to be so good.

A few minutes passed before Danny finally pushed himself away from the door and returned to his seat. The instant he sat down, a sharp sound from the computer told him a match had been found for the previously unidentified fingerprint. Yes! Danny hummed happily to himself while he noted down all the details that popped up in a box on the monitor.

He'd gotten a break for his current case.

And tonight, he was going to dig up another break.

Tonight, he was going to find out for sure whether everything Flack revealed to him this afternoon was the truth or not.

( Oooo …... oooO )

ii. "Stay with me and you will see …"

Danny didn't get to see Flack in a t-shirt and boxers after all.

"S'okay, Danny, ya probably got the dates wrong for the game or somethin'. I'm sure ESPN will show it again."

The CSI stared at Flack with huge, round eyes.

Nope, he didn't get to see Flack in a t-shirt and boxers.

He got to see the man wearing nothing but a towel.

Flack was sitting next to him on the black leather sofa, with a brand-spanking white towel wrapped low around his waist. It was the only piece of clothing the guy had on, since he came out of the shower a few minutes ago. He was so fresh out, his pale and rosy skin was still glistening under the light.

Danny desired so badly to run his hands down Flack's sinewy arms. Or across Flack's broad, fuzzy chest. Or Flack's flat and firm belly. The defined muscles there undulated as the homicide detective wriggled on the cushion to make himself more comfortable.

"Ya sure there was a game tonight?"

Danny coughed softly. Ah, geez. He could never lie directly into Flack's face. He tore his gaze away, scratching at the side of his head. Pushed his glasses higher up his nose.

"I dunno. Maybe you're right, maybe I got the dates jumbled up."

"Ah, well. It's fine. Yer TV's outta commission anyway." Flack playfully ruffled Danny's spiked hair. "Got some TV show a friend lent me."

The smaller man couldn't help closing his eyes, and unconsciously leaned into the brief touch. It felt nice. Usually, he disliked people touching him, even people he knew. Then again, Flack was special. Even the slightest touch or caress or smacks from Flack felt nice. Danny bit his lower lip. Flack had large, strong hands. They'd be perfect for spanking.

Flack pressed a button on his DVD player's remote control. "I have no idea what it's 'bout … my friend says ya can't find it on TV, or video, even. S'pposed to be slapstick comedy."

Danny smirked widely. "Slapstick comedy? Didn't know you were into that."

"Heh, I'm not. Just happens it's somethin' I haven't watched yet." Flack glanced at him, his blue eyes warm. "'Less ya wanna watch somethin' else? Ya can take a look at my DVD collection."

"No, it's fine, really." Danny couldn't stop smiling like an idiot. "I'm up for anythin'."

The moment those words left his mouth, the CSI's mien turned beet red. Oh shit, did he just say that!

Fortunately for him, Flack didn't seem to realize the sexual innuendo in Danny's words at all.

"A'right. But if ya don't like it, just lemme know and we'll watch somethin' else."

"'Kay," Danny replied almost inaudibly. He was too busy staring at Flack's profile. Or rather, he was too busy forcing himself to not stare at Flack's crotch.

A towel. That was all that was between Danny's sight or touch … and Flack's -

"Oh, man. Look at those three goofballs."

"Huh?" Danny blinked, then swiveled his head to look at the television screen.

Oh. The show was starting.

His face heated, Danny hastily folded his legs up on the couch in front of him, wrapping his arms tight over his shins. He rested his goateed chin on his knees. At least this way, the other man wouldn't be able to take a close look at his groin, and see his hard-on. Sure, he had grey track pants on, plus a black tank top pulled over the waistband of said track pants, but he was a paranoid nut.

Flack would totally freak out if he saw it, for sure. Maybe.

The two men stared at the television for some time.

"Hah, did ya see that, Danny? That parrot, it got him right between the legs!"

Danny smiled sideways. Man, slapstick comedy was the TV series' appropriate genre, alright. What other kind of show had some poor guy stumbling around an apartment, clutching his abused crotch while a rabid parrot attacked him? It somewhat weirded Danny out how much the actor resembled him too. The only difference was that the guy on screen appeared younger, had a lousy hairdo and didn't wear spectacles.

"Geez." Flack guffawed again. "I wonder how much he got paid to go through that. Must have been pretty desperate for work."

Danny nibbled on his lip. Even as the real guy sat close by, munching on some nachos he brought over, he could hear Flack's deep voice saying boyfriend over and over again.

Boyfriend.

It was unbelievable.

Too good to be true.

Danny peered at the taller man from the corners of his eyes. Flack was avidly watching the television, grinning once in a while at something funny going on in the show.

"What the hell? He's naked now!" Flack burst out laughing. "Haaah, now that's funny! Look at the placement of the banana and the other fruits!"

The towel-clad man slapped him on the upper arm in lightheartedness.

Danny gazed at the television. Okay, he was officially spooked. That actor even had such a similar body to his, right down to the buttocks. And the man was naked.

"Talk 'bout bein' subtle, ah?" Flack said.

The shorter detective surreptitiously scrutinized his best friend. There Flack was, slouching on the cushions with his legs spread, with nothing on but a freaking towel. While sitting next to another guy. Without realizing at all what it was doing to said guy. Not only that, he was laughing at the sight of a nude guy on screen.

Danny's blue eyes narrowed. Nah. Flack was just pulling his leg this afternoon. The man never had a boyfriend called Mark or Rick or whatever. Probably never even held hands with a guy.

Right?

The CSI shifted his legs closer to his lean body. He was staring at Flack again. He knew he had to stop it before Flack got suspicious or something, and he couldn't. The guy was seriously easy on the eyes. It shocked Danny every time to remember Flack didn't have a current girlfriend.

Or boyfriend.

"Want some nachos?"

"Hnn?"

The homicide detective chuckled good-naturedly, his eyes crinkled in amusement. "Danny, whassamatter with ya tonight? It's like you're floatin' 'round somewhere else."

Danny ran a hand over his lower face. Shit, he knew it. He overdid it this time.

"Sorry." The CSI smiled apologetically. "S'nothin'. Just tired, that's all."

"Well, why didn't ya say so?" Flack immediately stopped the DVD player. "The show's kinda stupid anyway."

Danny sniggered. "Yeah."

"Whoa, it's already one in the morning? Where the heck did the time go?" Flack was gazing at a round clock with humongous numbers hanging on the wall nearby.

"Hey, we were at Sullivan's with the others, remember?"

"Yeah." Flack suddenly released a yawn, stretching his body on the sofa. "Ya gotta hand it to Stella to treat us all to a few rounds a' beer, huh?"

Danny didn't reply. He barely heard the other man's question. His eyes were most likely half the size of his face by now. Wow. He had totally no clue at all why the guy would want to conceal such a hot body under all those suits, or why Flack would even think for a second that he was plain. What Danny's eyes laid on at that very minute was possibly the most toned and stunning body he'd ever seen.

Okay, perhaps he was biased because it was Flack's body. He didn't give a shit.

Danny didn't realize he was smiling his head off. Nor did he realize Flack was studying him from where the man was sprawled on the couch, an enigmatic smile on those fine-looking features.

"What are ya smilin' 'bout, Danny?" Flack asked gently.

The question, as quietly as it was uttered, still succeeded in making Danny jump.

"Huh? Oh, n-nothin'. Just … thinkin'."

Flack's blue eyes were tender. To Danny, they looked like it anyway. "Thinkin' 'bout what? Must be somethin' real good to make ya smile that."

The CSI's tongue flitted out. Fuck, Flack could really make his voice sexy and low when he wanted to. He drew his legs even closer to himself. His hard-on was even more, well … hard, now.

"What, a guy can't think 'bout good stuff anymore?"

Flack's smile transformed into an impish smirk. "I doubt what you were thinkin' was anythin' good, Messer."

Danny's face felt searing hot. He ardently hoped the semi-darkness of the living area hid it from the taller detective's sharp eyes.

"Well." Flack lithely got to his feet. "Think I'll crash for the night. I'll go get a pillow and blanket for ya."

The shorter man didn't dare to say anything. His heart was beating at a frenzied pace. Did Flack see him blushing? He was mortified that Flack might have. His friend would never know how right he was about Danny's thoughts not being good in that way.

Particularly the bit where Flack was the man pounding into him, instead of him doing the deed with a woman.

"Ya want one or two pillows?" Flack's voice sounded muffled. He'd already gone to his bedroom.

"One's fine, thanks," Danny said loudly. His cheeks didn't feel so warm anymore. Not that it mattered, what with the other detective being in another part of the apartment.

"Fat one or a flat one?"

Danny made a face. What? Fat or flat?

"Just gimme the one that's comfy, a'right!"

"Okay!"

The CSI heard Flack rummaging around, opening and closing his cupboard. There was a rustling sound, like Flack was flapping open a blanket. Danny desired to go inside the man's bedroom to see what was like in there. What it was like to lie on Flack's bed. What it was like to lie on Flack.

Danny shuddered from head to toe. Shit, he could feel a small, wet spot dampening the crotch of his track pants. His fantasizing was getting out of his control. As well as his body. He tipped backwards, going limp on the sofa, legs still curled up against his body. The hard ache between his legs wasn't going to abate any time soon.

"Here ya go."

Flack was standing in front of him again, still in nothing but his towel. Grasping a thick, woolen blanket and a … bright pink pillow covered with pictures of white, downy bunnies.

"What is that?"

"What is what?"

"That." Danny pointed at the pillow. "What is that doin' in yer possession?"

The homicide detective laughed. "Danny, it's just a pillow. I promise the rabbits aren't gonna bite ya, 'kay?"

"I ain't worried 'bout bunnies bitin' me. I'm worried that's gonna suck my manhood dry."

There was a deep silence in the living room.

Danny covered half his face with one hand, humiliated beyond belief by what he blurted out. Oh God, that was terrible. Flack was bound to either laugh his ass off at him, or kick him out of the apar-

"Nah, don't worry 'bout yer manhood. I'm sure it's fluffy bunny-proof." Flack winked at him.

A whimper escaped Danny's clamped up lips. What the fuck? It was impossible. Twice, he'd unintentionally blabbed out sexually charged comments. And both times, Flack didn't sink his teeth into either one. It was … not like his friend at all.

"So ya want another pillow?"

"No! No, it's - it's fine, thanks."

Flack smiled faintly. "Okay."

Right then and there, Flack's towel started to loosen from around the man's waist.

"Anyways, I'm gonna go brush my teeth -"

Danny's eyes grew unbelievably enormous.

Oh, fuck, didn't the guy realize his towel was slipping? It was sliding down Flack's abdomen, and holy crap, Danny wanted to touch that treasure trail -

"Lemme know if ya need another pillow -"

The towel slipped lower, exposing Flack's right flank and hip. Danny swallowed visibly. His gaze followed the path of the traveling cloth. OhGodohGodohGod, he could see the dark curls of Flack's -

"Oh, shit!"

The homicide detective grabbed at his towel just before it fell wholly away.

Danny suddenly ached to laugh and cry at the same time.

Why was life so cruel to him?

Flack let out an embarrassed laugh. "Whoops, that was close, huh, Danny?"

The inwardly frustrated CSI took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. He laughed mellifluously too, but he was laughing for a very dissimilar reason. He really didn't expect a single night at Flack's place to be such torture.

If the towel slid down a second time, Danny was going to burst there and then. And it wouldn't be pretty.

"Ah, well. S'not like ya dunno what I got down there anyway."

Danny's hands clenched into fists. He didn't know. Which was exactly why he wanted to see.

Fuck!

"Night, buddy." Flack was already sauntering to his bathroom. "Talk with ya in the mornin'."

"Night, Don," Danny rasped.

The CSI sat motionless on the sofa, staring at the switched off television set for eons, his mouth partially open. Heard water running, some brushing and gurgling. The light switch being flicked, leaving the bathroom in darkness. Footsteps as Flack walked to his bedroom. The creak of the door moving. And … no click of it closing.

Danny crawled to the end of the couch and took a peek in the direction of Flack's bedroom.

Huh. The man had left a small gap. What, Flack didn't trust having him around?

Danny frowned. He flopped back onto the cushions, fluffing his pillow then pulling the blanket over himself. Extended a hand to leave his spectacles on the side table next to the couch.

Soon enough, Flack's muted snores floated to his ears.

The shorter detective laughed at himself. Geez, talk about being overly paranoid. This was Flack. The guy who always stood by him, no matter how bad things seemed to become. Danny would never have gotten invited over to stay at Flack's apartment if the man didn't trust him in the first place. Flack probably left the door partly open to be … sociable … or something.

Danny left the one lamp on the side table switched on. He burrowed into the couch, nestling his face in the pink pillow. He was so going to get Flack for making him sleep on a horrendously cute pillow like this one. And somehow, he doubted very much that he was going to sleep a wink.

Not with the throbbing erection he still had.

He groaned into the pillow.

It was going to be a long night.

Oo ... oO

Danny was extremely careful about staying quiet. It wouldn't be good for him should Flack wake up and discover him doing what he was doing. He bit his lower lip hard, endeavoring his best to halt the audible sound threatening to spout from his mouth.

Stared at the brightly colored DVD cover with tear-filled eyes, one hand compressed over his mouth. His shoulders shook uncontrollably.

What the hell? Flack watched … My Little Ponies!

A noisy snigger leaked from between his fingers.

Wow, this was the best blackmail material in the world! Flack would never, ever live it down. Danny's stomach began to hurt just thinking of Stella teasing Flack about running around with little, multi-colored, talking ponies. He opened up the DVD cover, to see if the disc inside really was of the children's cartoon series.

"My Little Ponies … oh, man -" He broke into a fit of giggles, eyes scrunched up from laughing so much. He clutched at his sides. Ahh, he was never going to see Flack the same way ever again!

After a minute or two, Danny made himself quieten down. He pushed his glasses up to his forehead and quickly rubbed at his eyes to clear them.

Okay, okay, Messer, remember what you're supposed to be doing here.

He took a deep breath, hiccupped once.

Right. Back to searching for proof of Flack's previous boyfriends.

The CSI rearranged his spectacles on his face, then resumed browsing through his best friend's DVD collection. Damn, he should have taken up Flack's offer to look through the guy's choice of movies and selected shows earlier that evening. He could have teased his friend big time about watching My Little Ponies then. Danny grinned. Yeah, that's it. He'd buy Flack one of them pony dolls or something. Seeing the man's reaction would be absolutely worth walking into a toy store to purchase it.

Danny replaced the cartoon DVD case where it belonged on the shelf, and picked up the next one. He looked at it with lowered brows.

Hnn. Black Hawk Down. A war movie. Had a lot of cute guys in it, but that was hardly evidence Flack had boyfriends before. In fact, he actually knew women who loved the movie too, as violent and gory as it was.

Danny put that back and took out the next DVD. His lips curved up in an amused smile.

For the Love of the Game. Huh. A baseball movie. That figures. Flack loved baseball as much as he did. Danny ignored the pang in his heart, the twinge he felt whenever baseball was brought to the forefront of his thoughts. Once upon a time, baseball was his life's dream. Now, all it could be was a sad reminder that not everyone was lucky enough to have their dream come true.

He placed the plastic case back, plucked up the next DVD. This one also made him smile. Another war movie. Not just a war movie, but a submarine war movie. He didn't realize Flack was a fan of war films. Danny made a mental note of that. He knew at last what kind of shows to rent the next time Flack crashed at his place.

Hmmmm. Danny puckered his lips as a sudden, intriguing thought popped up in his mind. There was something those movies had in common. They mostly had an all-male cast. Well, perhaps not the baseball one, but still. A coincidence? Probably.

He huffed in frustration. Sat back on his heels on the floor and tugged the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

This wasn't going anywhere. He wasn't going to find the proof he wanted through Flack's DVDs. His friend surely wasn't foolish enough to leave any pornographic stuff lying around for anyone to see either. Which pretty much meant the chances of Danny finding a gay porn video in Flack's collection was zero.

Okay. He needed a change of plan.

Danny glanced around the semi-dark living area, drumming his fingers on his knees as he ruminated over his next step. There was nothing discriminating on the lofty shelf next to the television set. Just some photographs of a younger Flack in a variety of places and clothes, and Flack with his mother, who happened to be a really beautiful woman. Now he knew from whom the homicide detective had inherited his big, blue eyes and coloring. Now, he knew as well how exceptionally hot Flack appeared in a patrol uniform. The dark blue of the attire made Flack look taller and thinner, and caused his blue eyes to stand out. It was remarkable how intense the man's stare was sometimes. Danny was very tempted to sneak that particular picture away with him.

The CSI thought it was worthy of note Flack had no pictures of his father anywhere. The man was literally a legend in the NYPD. Even Mac spoke of the guy with veneration. But Flack never did talk about his dad much to Danny, or to anyone else. Danny was well aware the senior Flack was a touchy subject of conversation with his best friend. Flack's glum expression the one time Danny brought it up said everything. Maybe one day, Flack would confide in him what had occurred to make the taller detective dislike his father so much.

Danny sighed lightly.

He already leafed through the other large shelf in the room too, the one that stored all of Flack's books and magazines. Nothing revealing there, apart from Danny learning that his best friend was no average police officer. He didn't know a lot of cops who owned three-inch thick books on Irish history. Or possessed a vast compilation of the works of more than ten eminent poets, some of whom Danny recognized. Or subscribed to science journals. Or, judging from the many dog ears and the worn cover, had read War and Peace from front to back.

For someone who claimed to merely have a high school diploma, Don Flack, Jr. was one erudite man. An intelligent, intellectual mind hiding behind a cute face and sarcastic wit.

Danny smiled softly. Wow. And he actually believed he couldn't fall any deeper in love with the handsome homicide detective.

A minute of silence ticked by.

Danny sighed more heavily.

The frustration was starting to mount once more within him. He was no closer to finding out the truth about Flack's claims now than he was over ten minutes ago. He'd looked everywhere in the living area, and he hadn't found anything at all that showed the smallest intimation Flack had relationships with men in the past. It looked as if Flack kept the scandalous stuff in his bedroom.

Damnit. Mission unaccomplished.

Danny creeped soundlessly on all fours back to the couch, feeling acutely disappointed. Ah, he should have known. He never got what he wanted anyhow, and even though he did get it once in a blue moon, it never lasted. Ought to be used to disappointment by now.

He reached out for the lamp on the side table he'd left on for the night, intending to switch it off.

That was when he took a thoroughly close look at the so-called side table beside the sofa.

"What the …"

He went on his hands and knees on the floor again, squinting at the deceivingly simple-looking piece of furniture. At first glance, it was simply a bulky and rectangular wooden block. No designs on it, no brand name, no nothing. Upon closer inspection, Danny realized one side of the block, the side facing the television, looked different from the other three vertical sides. There was an … outline, in the shape of a rectangle, carved into it.

Like there was a piece of wood, cut to fit flawlessly there.

Like a secret door.

His excitement back in full force, Danny groped with his fingers across the four-sided contour. If it was a door of some sorts, it had to open up somewhere.

His left thumb felt what seemed like a thin string sticking out from the upper left corner.

Danny yanked on it.

And the wooden panel came off with a sharp sound into his lap.

He quickly looked towards Flack's bedroom, expecting the door to open and to see an irritated Flack demanding to know what the hell he was doing in the middle of the night.

Nothing happened.

A familiar sound emanated through the tiny gap in Flack's bedroom door. The guy was still snoring happily away.

The CSI returned his gaze to the treasure before him, his face split into an elated grin. There they were, right there in a secret compartment. Photo albums! Lots of them too! He'd hit the jackpot this time.

"Whoo!"

Danny carefully took one out, a red one with gold, filigree patterns on the cover. It was thick but light. The corners of the album covers were tatty with use. Flack must have looked through this specific album frequently. The bespectacled man opened it with hands tingling with anticipation.

The first picture his gaze fell upon was not what he imagined. It was of Flack, a much younger, smiling Flack with longer, slightly wavy hair, with an arm around another guy's shoulders. The image was shot upclose, from the chest up, so Danny couldn't quite tell where it was taken. Certainly taken during the day. There was sunshine lighting the two men from behind.

Nope, this photo didn't confirm anything. Danny had taken many similar pictures with lots of guy friends, and they were all nothing more than that. Friends.

Danny placed the photo album under the illumination of the lamp to better view the other pictures. Now, he noticed there were handwritten notes beneath each photograph. Under the one he just saw, someone had written, "Me and Mark, Police Academy, 1996."

He gasped.

Mark.

At the Police Academy.

There was a Mark in Flack's past, a Mark who'd been with the man at the academy. Flack had been telling the truth.

Blue eyes wide in wonder, he flipped to the next page.

"Oh, man."

Danny stared at the full-page, color photo of Flack with the same man called Mark. This time, there was no doubt whatsoever whether the homicide detective had been more than buddies with this Mark or not. No regular male friend would shove their tongue down another man's throat like the guy was doing to Flack in the picture. If that wasn't enough, it was clear as day to Danny that Mark had one hand inside Flack's pants, fondling Flack's bottom.

For the second time in the last twenty-four hours, the CSI's jaw was on the floor.

It was true.

Flack truly did have relationships with men.

Whoa.

WhoawhoaWHOA.

Danny sunk his teeth into a fisted hand.

He had a chance.

After all the years of waiting and hoping … he had a chance with Flack after all.

He almost screamed in happiness, and barely managed to stop himself. Danny settled for pumping his arms up and down and murmuring an ardent, "Yes!" over and over. Finally, finally, things were going his way -

His movements slowed to a standstill.

Wait.

What if … what if … he wasn't Flack's type?

Danny pouted. Shit. He never thought about that.

He gazed at the photograph again. Mark looked nothing like him. In fact, Mark had a full head of dark, curly hair and brown eyes and olive skin. Not to mention a muscular, swimmer's body. Mark looked like some supermodel or something.

And he … all he had going was a receding hairline, dull brown hair, squinty blue eyes and a regular, slim body.

Danny's shoulders drooped downwards, along with his brows and lips. His hands moved to his cropped, short hair. He knew he should have left it as it was. Yeah, he could still spike it up, although it appeared thicker before he got a haircut. He huffed, then glanced at his arms. At least those were well-built. All that time at the Y sure as hell wasn't going to waste.

Out of the blue, the name Rick popped into his head.

Danny jerked violently, the woolen blanket around his shoulders almost sliding off at the motion. Rick! The dancer who moved to Paris! Yeah, maybe this Mark was simply one of a kind. Maybe this Rick might resemble him more. The CSI frantically flicked through the photo album, becoming more and more morose with each turn of the page. Apparently, Mark and Rick were scarcely Flack's only former boyfriends.

There was some skinny, peroxide blonde guy called Harmon, who was as opposite of Danny as they came. There was a long-haired, green-eyed man with an athlete's body named Andrew. Then there was an utterly bald one called Tyrone, who was a head taller than Flack, and looked very similar to Hawkes. Danny had to blink twice at that one.

By the time he came upon Rick's pictures, he virtually felt like crap. None of the homicide detective's ex-boyfriends looked anything like Danny. In any way. Every single one of them could show up on the cover of GQ magazine, and people would be going gaga over them. He showed up on GQ magazine, and people would most likely incite a riot to take the four-eyed geek off or something.

And Rick was different. He stood out from all the rest.

Danny made a dismayed noise through his prominent nose. He hated to admit it, he really did, but even he had to agree Rick was one stunning example of a man. Large, blue eyes. Full head of dirty blonde hair. A wide, brilliant smile, and of course, the unsurprisingly fit, well-built body and limbs. Danny raised an eyebrow while he stared at one picture of Flack whispering intimately into Rick's ear.

Huh. Rick wore glasses.

And coincidentally enough, in the photo Danny was looking at, the guy also had a trimmed goatee and beard shadow.

Just like him.

There was an odd clogged sensation in the bespectacled man's throat. Danny felt like coughing. Or throwing up. The last time he felt like this, it was when he saw the crush of his pre-teenage years walking down the school hallway with the jerk who made junior high school a living hell for him. He was so fucking jealous of this Rick. The man got to do all the things with Flack that Danny could merely dream of. Thus, he was damn glad Rick was now far, far away in another country, where the dancer couldn't touch Flack anymore.

Danny swiftly closed the photo album, running a hand through his tousled hair. He scowled. An immense part of him was wishing he never saw those photographs of Flack's ex-boyfriends. He was going to be seeing them in his head for ages. Imagining them kissing the handsome homicide detective, caressing him, making him moa-

Stop it, Messer!

His frown intensified. Most times, his mind was a churning chaos. Once in a while, it calmed down enough to give him helpful advice. This was one of those times. He whipped off his spectacles. The lenses were all blurry anyhow.

There was a rustle of cloth, coming from Flack's bedroom.

Danny sucked in a harsh breath, frozen to the spot.

A soft thump, as if somebody had stepped onto the floor and stood up.

Oh, shit! Flack was awake!

Danny frenetically tossed the photo album back inside the secret compartment in the side table, jostled the wooden panel back in place, and leapt onto the couch to lie on his side in record time. He shut his eyes. Forced his breaths to slow down and even out.

Flack's bedroom door creaked sharply. Heavy, dawdling footsteps journeyed from the bedroom to the kitchen. The taller man had to walk past the sofa to get to the kitchen, so his footsteps became louder and louder in Danny's ears as he did so.

Okay, okay, he could tell Flack was standing directly behind the couch now. Stopping there. Looking at him. Danny's insides were trembling. On the outside, he was motionless as a statue.

Did Flack know he wasn't asleep?

Flack stood where he was for nearly a minute, as far as Danny could guess. For some reason, Danny could sense his friend was gazing at him with … warmth. He just knew Flack had that expression on his visage right now. The same one Flack always had whenever Danny glanced up from whatever he was doing to discover himself staring into those forceful, blue eyes.

Danny risked moving his body. He wriggled slightly onto his back, his eyes staying closed. Whoops, his glasses were still in his grasp. And his blanket was bunched up over his legs.

He heard Flack take a step back. Then the homicide detective was ambling away, towards the kitchen. Danny remained in his position, maintaining slow and steady breaths. He was apprehensive about opening his eyes, although it didn't feel like Flack was looking in his direction.

Huh. Wait a minute. He could take a peek first. If his friend saw him with his eyes open, he could use Flack toddling around as an excuse for waking up. Yeah.

Danny opened his eyes to slits. Flack had switched on the kitchen lights. In view of the couch being arranged perpendicular to the kitchen entrance, all he had to do was lift up his head to see what Flack was up to. He opened his eyes some more, then cautiously raised his head, gazing past his feet into the kitchen.

Oh. My. God.

The CSI's blue eyes became so wide the whites around the irises were visible.

Flack … was …

Danny's mouth fell open into an gigantic 'O' shape.

BUCK NAKED.

A strange, squeaky noise emitted from his throat.

He had to be dreaming. That was it, he was dreaming. Juuust dreaming that the homicide detective was sauntering around nude in the kitchen while he got a cup of water.

Danny slowly shifted his arms and pushed himself up on his elbows, keeping his eyes trained on the other man. Flack had his back turned towards Danny. Which suggested the guy had no idea Danny was awake. Or that Danny was ogling him with his tongue hanging out.

"Oh, your heart has called me closer to you …"

Flack was crooning a song under his breath. His hair was disheveled and standing out in tufts, and as for the rest of him -

The CSI speedily put on his spectacles. Instantaneously, his gaze was drawn to the man's swaying hips. Danny's tongue ran across his dry lower lip. Those were a pair of very lovely buttocks. Not as round and ample as his, but they were indeed lovely. It was such a shame Flack constantly hid them in those suits of his.

The throbbing ache between Danny's legs was back. He glanced down at his groin, lips twisted into a smirk. Why, hello again, Mr. Hard-On, he thought. Geez, he hadn't been this horny since he was sixteen years old. He yanked the blanket up to his waist. Reoccupied himself with Flack eyeballing once more.

The homicide detective's build was … just right. He had the broad shoulders and the height, and he wasn't too muscular nor was he too thin. Smooth, pale skin all around, with dark curls in all the right places. At least, Danny hoped so. Flack was facing away from him all the while. The bespectacled man had yet to see Flack in the buff from the front. Danny chewed on his lower lip.

It was okay. Flack was mighty fine from the back too.

There was the sound of running water. Clinking of glass against aluminium. Flack had cleaned his cup, and was leaving it beside the sink to dry.

Danny stopped breathing. Crap, Flack was turning around -

He collapsed onto the sofa, back in his original pose of lying on his back. Hastily removed his glasses and rested his arms at his sides. Shut his eyes.

The living area became darker. Flack had switched off the kitchen lights.

Footsteps approached him for the second time.

Danny, still pretending to be asleep, slowly rolled onto his side, facing the television opposite the couch. Turning his back on the homicide detective, who seemed to be standing behind the sofa, as he did earlier. The shorter man drew his legs up closer to his body. He hoped with all his heart Flack couldn't see his track pants tented at the crotch.

Now, he could hear Flack's soft and deep breaths. It was utter agony for Danny to act as if he wasn't aware there was a naked Flack merely an arm's length away. Flack. Naked. So close. And he couldn't even open his eyes to look at the other man in all his glory.

Again, Flack's heavy footsteps resonated in the living room.

Danny involuntarily tensed up.

Oh, shit. Flack wasn't walking away, he was walking around to the front of the couch!

The CSI sustained his easy and slow breathing, staying as still as possible. Don't panic, Messer, don't panic …

Flack was so close, Danny could sense the heat coming off his friend's body. He waited in consternation, not knowing what the taller man was going to do.

Ten seconds ticked by like ten centuries.

Then, Danny felt Flack's fingers touch his. Opening up his hand. Taking away his glasses and placing them on the side table. He sensed Flack moving further down the couch. A gentle tug of the blanket enveloping his legs, carefully pulling the warm cloth up to his shoulders. A large hand tenderly smoothing out the blanket.

A delicate, almost tentative, touch to the side of his face.

An eternity later, Flack stepped away.

There was a click, and the living room was plunged into darkness.

Danny kept his eyes closed even then, listening to the homicide detective's receding footsteps. It was only when Flack's low snores drifted to his ears that his blue eyes snapped open.

Wow. Flack tucked him in. In the nude.

And best of all, he knew it. He'd forever remember the moment.

Danny smiled broadly, eyes crinkled. Wow. That was even better than having seen Flack naked from the back. Hell, that was so good, he didn't care about getting off or fantasizing overtime about what Flack appeared exposed from the front. Not only did he get to view evidence upfront of Flack's boyfriend allegations, he got to find out, just for an instant, what it might be like to be the one to receive Flack's affections.

He had a diminutive taste of a marvelous prospect of a future. And he wholly intended to transform it into a reality. Someday.

Soon.

Danny fell asleep, with a soft smile on his lips that Flack relentlessly teased him about later in the day.

***

iii. "My arms will hold you, baby …"

"Stella … what does this look like to you?"

Stella straightened up from her inclined position over the lab table covered with crime scene photographs, glancing at Hawkes with a friendly smile. Her fellow CSI was holding up a piece of paper that had a simplistic doodle on it.

"Hmmm. It looks like …" Stella trailed off into silence. Examined the drawing for a moment. "Two … kidneys?"

Hawkes smiled, but said nothing.

"An … unwrinkled brain?"

That got a faint snicker out of the man.

"Two … random oval-like shapes?" Stella lifted one refined eyebrow and smirked. "Okay, I really don't know. What is it?"

Hawkes shrugged. "I have no idea."

Stella stared at her friend with a deadpan expression, then said, "Hawkes. If you're thinking of pursuing an artistic career, don't quit your day job."

Hawkes chuckled in amusement. "I didn't draw it. Danny did."

"Danny?" Stella's curiosity spiked dramatically. "Let me see that."

She took the paper from the former ME and looked closer at it. Both her eyebrows shot up. Huh. If she didn't know any better, those two oval shapes appeared a lot like … a certain voluptuous part of every human being's anatomy.

"Danny drew this?"

"Uh huh." Hawkes' brown eyes were crinkled due to his grin. "He's still doodling them, by the way, in the lab next door. He's so lost in his thoughts, he didn't even realize I'd taken this from his desk."

"Oh, I have to see this."

The two inquisitive CSIs quietly slinked their way to the laboratory's open door, then peered over the edge together until they could see into the lab next to theirs. Sure enough, Danny was inside, sitting alone at a table next to a computer, with a notepad in front of him and a black pen in hand. There was another technician in the room, but she was on the far side, with her back turned to Danny and the lab.

Stella felt a gentle nudge on her shoulder.

"See? He's doing it over and over," Hawkes whispered in her ear. "He's been like this for days."

She snickered under her breath, then moved closer to the open door of the other lab. Danny was looking downwards at the notepad he was scribbling on, wholly occupied with his newfound pastime. There were dozens of pieces of paper strewn all over the table, each with the same doodle Hawkes had shown her. He was resting his chin on one upturned palm. The cute, little smile he had on his mien made him look like a high school boy.

A high school boy who was madly in love with somebody.

Stella snickered again. Ooh, she was going to have some fun this morning. She glanced at Hawkes, who had one of his Uh-oh-Stella-has-that-evil-look-in-her-eyes-but-I'll-just-smile-anyway expressions.

"Come on, let's go see what he's up to!"

"Uhm, Stella -"

Without waiting for the rest of Hawkes' understated protest, she tiptoed into the quiet lab, straight up to Danny's table. She stood next to where he sat, an amused smirk on her lips. Wow, this was interesting. She'd never been able to creep up this close on the typically vigilant CSI before, not without being instantly noticed.

"Danny."

The black pen continued its journey around and around on the paper, darkening the suggestive outlines already drawn. It was only now that she realized Danny was humming softly too, a familiar love song with a title she couldn't recall at the moment.

"Danny," Stella said a second time.

All she received in return was the uninterrupted, repeated scraping of the pen across the paper.

Stella puckered her lips.

Then she bent forward, until her mouth was directly beside Danny's ear.

"Danny, that's a really nice pair of buttocks you're drawing there."

Stella wasn't quite prepared for Danny's unusually shrill yell of surprise. Or how intensely the blue-eyed detective reacted to her murmur by throwing up his arms high up, causing his notebook and all the paper to fly into the air and flutter everywhere. She veered backwards to avoid getting smacked in the face with the notebook, and it sailed past her head to land on the floor nearby. Danny's black pen ended up in a large, empty beaker on the table behind them.

Hawkes, who was now standing opposite them on the other side of the table, was laughing his head off. A piece of paper that flew up slapped him right in the face as it floated back down.

The other lab technician in the room stared at the three of them with a narrowed, befuddled gaze, wondering what the heck just happened.

Danny sat where he was on his chair, plastered with more paper on his head, body and lap, red-faced. The only part of his body that shifted were his wide eyes, glancing first at Hawkes and then at Stella in alarm. After a minute, he stuck out his lower lip to blow away the paper still stuck to his head.

And Stella crossed her arms over her chest, fighting very hard to not burst out laughing like Hawkes had.

"Hello, Danny. Is everything alright with you today?" Stella grinned widely.

The bespectacled detective twiddled his thumbs for a minute as he continued to look at his fellow CSIs, crimson as a tomato. Stella could virtually hear the cogs twirling like mad in Danny's brain. She figured Danny would go for the I-don't-know-why-you-crazy-people-are-laughing-at-me-for gameplay when he eventually schooled his face into a poker face and said calmly, "Yeah. I'm okay. Why are ya askin'?"

This time, Danny stuck out his upper lip instead to puff away the paper that landed on his chest.

"Well," Stella replied. She plucked up one of the scribbled papers from Danny's lap and studied it with a cheeky smirk. "It's been a while since I've caught you doodling butts over and over."

Danny pouted. "You have not!"

"So you're saying, you are doodling butts?" Hawkes was rubbing at his brown eyes moist from all his guffawing. There was a mischievous twinkle in them.

"What? NO!" Danny's blush intensified.

"I don't know, Sheldon," Stella said in an impish manner. "Doesn't it look just like a butt to you?"

Hawkes analyzed the drawing on the paper that had been on his face. "Hmmm, I don't know, Stella. I think I'm going to stick with my theory of this being a … nonfigurative representation of human sensuality. Uh hmm."

Stella raised her eyebrows at the seated, brown-haired CSI. "Yep. He thinks it's a butt too."

Danny's lower lip protruded in a sulk. He glowered at his peers, then crossed his arms on his chest.

"What, a guy can't express himself artistically 'round here anymore?"

"Tell you what, Danny, I promise I won't tell anybody about this new … hobby of yours, if!" Stella's face crinkled in a wicked grin. "You tell me who this butt belongs to."

Hawkes gasped. Stella wanted to snicker so much at his overly dramatic mock expression of shock. The man was such fun to tag team with to tease people.

Danny's response was to simply clam up and glare at something in the distance, pointedly ignoring them.

"C'mon, Danny, tell us!" Hawkes tilted forward on the table to get closer to Danny and Stella. He was smiling like a boy who was at the candy store. "Is it Cindy's?"

"No," Danny said through gritted teeth after a moment of quiet. "Broke up with her ages ago."

"Ooooh, you know what that means, right?" Stella said to Hawkes.

"Oh, yes, Stella, I do!" The former ME cupped his face with his hands and leaned his elbows on the table top. "So! What's her name?"

Danny merely glowered at Hawkes, pursing his lips.

"Or … what's his name?"

Danny's head snapped in Stella's direction so fast she clearly heard an audible, cracking sound.

"W-what?"

Stella was inwardly clapping her hands and doing a victory hopping dance. Oh hoh. So her suspicions all this time about Danny and a certain homicide detective … might not be so incredulous after all.

"You know. What's your boyfriend's name?"

Even Hawkes was genuinely gawking at her now.

"B-boyf …" Danny trailed off into a series of incoherent mutters, then suddenly erupted into an outraged cackle. "Boyfriend! What?"

"I mean, if we take a close look at this … piece of art -" - Stella held one drawing with both her hands and displayed it to the other two detectives - "It's quite obvious that it's a very … masculine, manly butt."

Hawkes' lips quivered in his efforts to maintain an outwardly serious expression. "Hmmm, yes, I see your point, Stella. The lack of roundness at the sides do indicate that the owner of said bottom is most likely a man." He nodded sagely.

Danny glowered at both CSIs one last time, and abruptly turned his back on them, bending over on his seat to pick up the paper scattered on the floor around him.

"That's it. I'm not talkin' to you two anymore."

"Awww, Daaaaanny." Stella wrapped an arm around the younger detective's shoulders when he was upright again, slanting her head against his. "I was just teasing you. You'll tell me who the person is, riiiight?"

"No."

Hawkes sniggered.

Stella bowed her head to look at Danny in the eye, and deliberately blinked doe-like eyes at him a few times. "Please?"

"No."

"But -"

"No."

"You -"

"No."

The bespectacled CSI gazed at the Greek CSI with a gleam in his blue eyes. "If you'd been nice to me, I might have. But ya lost yer chance. Too bad." He sent her a grin displaying both rows of pearly teeth.

It was Stella's turn to pout.

Hawkes laughed in amusement. "Stella, I think we should get back to examining those photos." He winked at Danny.

With a sigh, Stella reluctantly released Danny and allowed Hawkes to lead her towards the door. However, she was the kind of lady who always had the last word.

"I'm going to find ouuuuut, Danny. One way or another, I wiiiiiiill."

"Uh huh. Sure, Stella. I'll visit ya in yer padded room later."

Danny, not blushing so much anymore, wrinkled his nose at her in a snooty manner. He arranged all the paper in his grasp into a neat stack on the table, and went to working on the computer next to him. The big monitor effectively hid him from Stella's view as she was bodily carted out of the laboratory by Hawkes.

"Stella Bonasera, you are a very naughty woman," Hawkes said to her as soon as they were in the hallway and out of Danny's hearing. "Boyfriend?" He had an extremely amused smile spread across his face.

She shrugged. "Yeah, and?"

"What gave you that idea about Danny?"

Stella smiled enigmatically. "You've never seen the way he stares at Flack, have you?"

"Uhm, uh … well … no …" Hawkes was staring with wide eyes at something past her shoulder. "But I think I can understand why Danny would be staring at Flack … if the guy was dressed up like that."

"Huh?"

She turned around.

And almost keeled over from her heart stopping on the spot.

The homicide detective was sauntering down the hallway towards them, smiling and greeting lab technicians like he usually did as he passed them. There was a certain strut to his movements that drew all eyes to his body, and kept those gazes honed in on him. One female technician was apparently so enraptured by Flack that she crashed headlong into another technician, who, in turn, toppled backwards into another technician who was thankfully strong enough to catch them.

Stella's lower jaw sagged.

Whoa. She couldn't blame that lab technician one bit for reacting that way to the homicide detective today.

It was a truly rare and momentous experience to see Flack attired in nothing but a thin, black tank top and sleek, black leather from shoulders to toe. The silver studded and buckled jacket was different from the one he used to wear, much more like something a punk rocker would don instead. It appeared dashing on Flack anyway. Stella half-wondered if the tight leather pants Flack had on was cutting into the man's circulation. There was no way comfortably fitting trousers could delineate the muscles of his legs in such an … attention-grabbing way. And those biker boots would totally cause Danny's eyes to go green with envy.

"Hey Stell, Doc." Flack flashed a teethy grin at them, taking off his bad cop sunglasses and hooking them onto his jacket pocket. "How ya doin'?"

Both CSIs unashamedly eyeballed him from head to toe and back up once more.

"Who are you, and what have you done with Detective Don Flack, Jr.?" Stella asked with a straight face.

The lanky homicide detective cackled. "Wha, I can't even go out without my suits no more?"

"So … this is going to be your new work attire from now on?" Hawkes said with an disbelieving smirk.

Flack rolled in his eyes. "Noooooo, it's my day off today. This is …" He gesticulated wildly with his hands at himself. "This is me bein' casual!"

Stella and Hawkes stared at Flack with unconvinced eyes.

"Whaaaaaaat?"

"Don, if this is you casual, I can't wait to see what you wear when you're on the prowl," Stella said after a while, smiling broadly.

"Ya see me in my full glory, and you'll never be the same again." Flack winked both eyes at her.

Before Stella could reply, a sudden , piercing shout echoed throughout the corridor. Then a low thud as something flat and light landed on the floor.

Stella and Hawkes swiveled around to see Danny standing about a dozen feet behind them, paper fluttering in the air all around him. His rectangular notebook was on the floor in front of him, flapped open to reveal more random scribbles of suggestive, oval shapes. Shocked out of his mind was a real understatement to describe Danny's current expression. And was it possible for a guy's face to turn that dark a shade of red?

"Hey, Dan! Ya okay, buddy?"

Somehow, Flack had moved from standing in front of Stella and Hawkes to standing in front of Danny at lightning speed. Stella blinked, then smiled to herself while she furtively ogled Flack from behind. Ooh, baby, the homicide detective sure deserved more off days if he was going to dress up like this every time. She couldn't help staring at Flack's posterior as the man bent down to help a flustered Danny gather all the paper on the floor.

Huh. Now that she had firsthand visual aid for comparison's sake, Danny's drawings really did resemble Flack's -

"What's this?" Flack had one of the doodles in one hand, angling his head and staring at it.

"Uh, it's, uhm, it's -" Danny was rubbing his hands together in a hyperactive fashion that reminded Stella of, strangely enough, a hamster scurrying on its teeny feet inside one of those running wheels.

"Heeeey, I know what this looks like!" Flack said exuberantly. "See, if ya draw little circles inside them … they'd be cartoon eyes! Right, right?"

Danny evidently didn't expect that answer. "Uhm … yeah." The CSI sent Flack a grin that looked a lot more like a relieved grimace. "Yeah! That's it. Cartoon eyes."

One end of Stella's lips curved up in an amused smirk. How ironic that the homicide detective, who was so intuitive and sharp, would be oblivious to the most obvious. After all this time, and the guy still didn't know how much Danny was crushing on him? If something didn't happen soon, Stella was going to personally step in and smack their heads a few times or ten.

"Come on," Stella whispered to Hawkes. She quickly dragged the dazed CSI back into their laboratory close by, standing against the open door so she could peek over the edge and spy on the two detectives. She shushed the man with a finger to her lips when Hawkes started to say something.

"Sshh, I want to listen."

"Stella, didn't your mommy tell you it's rude to eavesdrop?" Hawkes asked with a smile and a slight shake of his head.

Stella simply smiled back, and then resumed her surreptitious observation. Concealed where she was, she was able to see both Danny and Flack's faces and their expressions, and hear what they were saying without them realizing she was there. Perfect.

Flack was standing closer to Danny now, a half arm's breadth away.

"I didn't know ya like drawin'." The taller detective returned the paper he'd collected to Danny, who hastily stuffed them beneath the cover of his notebook.

"Well, yeah, I draw and paint sometimes." Danny kept glancing everywhere except Flack's face. His own visage was still flushed. "Abstract stuff, ya know."

"Really? Ya gotta show me the next time I crash at yer apartment. Or maybe when ya come over to mine."

One of Stella's contoured eyebrows shot up. They stayed overnight at each other's apartments? How … interesting.

"Sure." The bespectacled CSI appeared very pleased with Flack's sincere curiosity in his art.

There was a comfortable silence between the two men. It never occurred to Stella just how much Flack openly stared at Danny. The guy hadn't looked away once since he gave back those doodles to the shorter detective. And as for Danny, he wasn't doing a good job of hiding his ogling of the homicide detective, at least not to Stella.

Flack continued to gaze at the other man with warm eyes. Danny looked Flack from head to toe another time, then seemed to catch himself, then audibly cleared his throat.

The CSI's tongue flitted out.

A soft smile grew on Flack's handsome visage.

Danny's tongue slowly made its journey across his lower lip.

They stared into each other's blue eyes, unaware of the rest of the world.

"Come on, do something!" Stella murmured to herself.

Danny began to lean forward.

Flack's lips parted.

And then Danny jerked violently, taking a step backwards. He coughed. Glanced away for a second. Flack remained where he stood, his large eyes as tender as ever.

"So, uh …" Danny gestured at Flack's outfit. "You goin' on a date later or somethin'?"

Flack appeared puzzled for a moment. "Huh?" He looked down at himself. "Oh, this?" He made a face. "Naah, just thought it'd be nice to have a change a' wardrobe for once."

The homicide detective's hands went to the lapels of his leather jacket. He spread open his jacket, uncovering the steel-studded belt low on his hips. Stella's green eyes widened at the sight of the brass knuckles hanging dead center on the belt. Wow. She was never quite going to see Flack the same way ever again.

"Ya like it?" Flack said in a deep voice.

Danny's tongue darted out again. It stayed between his lips, like he was sucking on it. His blue eyes were undoubtedly zoned in on a precise area of Flack's lower body.

"Yeeeah."

The CSI suddenly jolted, and turned tomato red. He loudly cleared his throat, scratched at the side of his head then acted as if he hadn't done anything wayward.

Stella chuckled under her breath. Technically, Danny didn't. Unless somebody was watching him intently and knew what to look for.

"I mean, that -" Danny pushed his spectacles up his nose. "That kinda looks like somethin' I'd wear. Yeah."

The homicide detective's face crinkled in a delighted grin. "Yeah, I know. Got the inspiration from ya."

Stella thought it was exceedingly cute that Danny displayed such a precious, boy-like smile whenever he received a heartfelt compliment. Especially if it was from Flack. The rosy cheeks made his smile even more endearing.

"I see ya got the boots too," Danny said softly.

"Oh, yeah, I was lucky. Got these at a great price." Flack raised one leg to let Danny inspect one boot. "We're 'bout the same size, right? Ya can borrow these from me any time, if ya wanna."

All of a sudden, Flack glanced at his watch on his left wrist. "Ah, geez, I'm gonna be late for my hair cut."

Danny smirked. It was the kind of smirk that was half authentic and half suspicious of something. "Hair cut?"

"Yeah, I'm thinkin' a' gettin' a trim 'fore hittin' that new club. Ya know, the one that's all the rave in the last few days -"

"Oh yeah, I know -"

"So ya wanna join me tonight?"

Danny just about dropped his notebook and doodles all over again. He stuttered inarticulately for a few seconds, then sucked on his lower lip.

"You … want me to go … clubbin' with ya?"

"Sure, of course I do!" Flack chuckled. "It'd be fun. C'mon, Messer, all work and no play makes Danny a dull boy."

"Well -"

"C'mooon, just say yes."

After a minute of rumination, Danny smiled at Flack and said, "Okay."

"Good!" Flack slapped his hands together. "You can bring yer date with ya too, I don't mind. I'm bringin' someone along."

Stella frowned. She released a low, annoyed sound from between pursed lips. No, wait a minute … This wasn't how things were supposed to go!

Flack glanced away from Danny's face to the enormous windows next to them to check out the weather outside. It was merely a second.

And in that one second, Stella saw how crestfallen the CSI was at Flack's nonchalant statement.

"So I'll see ya tonight at the club, 'kay?" Flack said, utterly unaware of Danny's dejection. "Ya know where it is?"

Stella had to hand it to the younger CSI. He was a really good actor, if she ever saw one.

By the time Flack was gazing at Danny once more, Danny's face was deceptively impassive. "Yeah. I know where it is." The subdued tone of his voice was even more misleading.

"Okay, great." The leather-clad homicide detective was already swaggering down the corridor, away from her laboratory. With Danny's back now turned towards her, she wasn't so hesitant about sticking out her whole head over the frame of the doorway.

"I'll talk with ya later!" Flack raised a hand in farewell as he slipped on his sunglasses.

"Yeah. Sure."

It wasn't necessary for the Stella to see Danny's face to know how he felt. The disappointment in his voice was as plain as the day. She had to restrain herself from going after him, and instead, settled for watching Danny shuffle back to his lab down the hallway. She'd talk with him later -

Out of the blue, she heard someone deliberately clearing his throat behind her.

"Stella, is there a reason why you're clinging to the door like a squirrel and spying on Danny?"

Whoops. It was Mac, with his arms crossed on his chest and his naturally solemn countenance. Fortunately, there was a bright sparkle of amusement in those hazel eyes of his.

"Uhm. No, I was actually … testing the …" Stella faltered for an instant under Mac's intense gaze. "I was testing the …" She grabbed the edge of the laboratory door and sent Mac a toothy smile. "The sturdiness of this door!"

The ex-Marine's lips twitched visibly.

Stella shot him an innocent look.

Mac sighed heavily.

"Stella, I've told you before, leave Danny and Flack be," Mac said smoothly.

"But I didn't do anything!"

Mac's eyebrows lifted high. "Ah, and I suppose it's very normal behavior to hide behind a door while eavesdropping on your peers' personal conversation, hmmm?"

She held her hands up. "Hey, they were standing in the hallway within ear shot of anyone close by. Not my fault if I could hear everything."

Hawkes, who'd been doing his work and examining those crime scene photographs on the lab table all this time, sniggered heartily.

Mac pinched his forehead and then shook his head in incredulity.

"I tried, Mac, I really did." Hawkes flashed a lustrous grin.

"I'm telling you, there's something going on between Danny and Flack!" Stella said firmly.

Mac's features finally broke into an entertained and somewhat frustrated smile.

Hawkes' chuckle became a full blown laugh.

"Steeeeella, not this again!" Mac covered his eyes with a hand.

"Look! I'm just telling you what I see!"

"Okay, fine." Mac removed his hand. His eyes were crinkled. "If they've … something going on, it's their business."

Stella stared blankly at her CSI partner. "What? It doesn't bother you?"

"No, why would it? As long as they do their work well and keep their lives private, no, I have no problem with it."

She nibbled on her lower lip.

Held her breath.

It was now or never.

"So … you wouldn't mind if I asked you out for dinner tonight?"

It was extremely silent in the room.

Hawkes was gaping at them both, his brown eyes made even larger by the lenses of his glasses.

Mac was staring at her too. His mouth was partially open. If it wasn't for the fact she'd just asked what was possibly one of the most important questions of her life, she would have laughed at the pure astonishment on Mac's mien.

"I …" Slowly, the ends of Mac's lips began to curl up. "I don't mind at all."

"About damn time."

The two CSIs turned their heads to stare at Hawkes.

Hawkes grimaced. "I said that out loud, didn't I?"

Stella and Mac returned to gazing at each other, and then, they broke into mellifluous laughter together. After a short while, Mac said, "Alright, let's get back to work."

She felt a hand wrapping itself around her wrist. And a thumb stroking the back of her hand for a mere moment.

"Hope you like Greek, Mac."

Mac smirked puckishly. "I always have."

iv. "Never leave, 'cause I believe …"

Danny fidgeted on his seat for the twentieth time. He leaned his bare forearms on the table top, tremendously conscious of other patrons of the club staring at him. It couldn't be because of his white tank top, or his low-cut, rugged jeans. They were terribly tame compared to what most of the other club goers were wearing.

Damnit. He knew he shouldn't have put on all that eyeliner and mascara.

The CSI unconsciously sucked in his lips and pressed them together.

Damnit. He shouldn't have put on so much lip gloss either. People could probably see their own reflections on his lips or something.

He frowned slightly to himself. He couldn't stop recalling Flack's last words to him this afternoon. His friend was bringing along a date for the night.

And he hadn't.

Danny sighed inwardly, bowing his head. It was going to be so awkward, him on his own and Flack caught up with some woman. Or, as the man's photo album had attested, possibly some guy.

His frowned deepened. He couldn't make up his mind which was worse. It was going to literally kill him to see Flack with anyone else but h-

"Ahh!"

He nearly jumped off his seat when he felt a hand blatantly caress his lower back. Twisted around to come face to face with someone who was either a really tall, big-sized woman, or a man who appeared remarkably fine for a transvestite, Marilyn Monroe lookalike.

"Sorry, sweetums." The unknown club patron giggled loudly, and winked at Danny. "My hand must have slipped."

Before Danny could retort, the person had disappeared into the bustling throng of dancers on the club dance floor close to his table. He snorted, blue eyes narrowed dangerously. The next person who touched him without his permission was going to get the living crap kic-

He felt another hand brushing over his lower back. This one was even so daring as to slide downwards to cup one side of his bottom.

"What the fu-"

Danny leapt off the stool he was perched on. His fisted hand was already in mid-air -

"Hey, Danny, sorry I was late."

The CSI blinked hard, feeling somewhat foolish with one fist up in the air. He blinked some more as soon as he realized he was quite literally nose to nose with his best friend, who was smiling at him. And smelt so fucking good. And was so deliciously warm.

"Don?"

Danny didn't dare to look down. He had the funniest, tingly feeling all that was between him and Flack's bare chest was his tank top.

Flack smirked. "Yeah, who were ya expectin'?"

"I - nothin', it's nothin'," Danny replied, lowering his arm and smiling in return. He was bewildered, but he endeavored his best to not let it show on his face. Okay, it had to be somebody else who molested his ass right before Flack arrived -

"Hey, thought you were gonna bring a date."

Danny blinked once more. There were so many people milling in the club around them, they were being pushed together till their chests rubbed against each other. Danny had to tilt backwards a bit to look Flack in the eye. If he didn't, he'd end up resting against the taller man's chest and shoulder instead.

He wasn't sure if Flack would appreciate him poking the man with something other than a roll of quarters if that happened.

"Nah. I … I had a change a' plans."

"Oh, okay."

The CSI stared into his friend's big, warm eyes. Weird. For some reason, Flack looked like he was happy Danny was there on his own.

"What 'bout you? Ya said you were bringin' somebody along tonight."

"Nah. I had a change a' plans." Flack's smile broadened.

So did Danny's.

There was an odd glint in the taller detective's eyes. It sent tremors rushing up and down Danny's spine. He carefully shifted back, separating their bodies by inches. If Flack discovered firsthand the physical effect the guy had on him, Danny was certain it would all be over. He couldn't afford to lose Flack's friendship.

It was agony simply imagining his life without the handsome, dark-haired man.

"C'mon, let's go get some drinks and find a less crowded spot," Flack said into his ear over the background music.

Over twenty minutes later, the two men were sitting close together in a cozy, customized cubicle out of a dozen lined up along one wall of the club. The cubicle was egg-shaped, and its entry was draped close by sheer curtains that afforded some measure of privacy. Danny sat with his legs folded up against his chest, squirming on the cushions piled up on the floor, gripping his mug tightly with both hands. Flack, on the other hand, was sprawled on said cushions like a rag doll, making himself right at home. His mug was already empty, left at the entry to be collected by one of the waiters.

The chill from his iced mug of beer wasn't the only thing causing Danny to tremble.

"This place ain't so bad, huh, Danny?" Flack murmured.

Lying down as he was, the homicide detective was a feast for the eyes. His freshly shorn hair looked thick and velvety. He was dressed in the same pair of leather pants and boots he had on earlier in the day, but his top …

"Don. Where did ya get that … thing you're wearin'?"

Flack peeled one eye open. "Thing?"

Danny was damn sure his friend had put on eyeliner and mascara too. Or were Flack's eyelashes always that dense and dark?

"Yeah." Danny motioned with his head at the leather that covered Flack's arms, neck and shoulders. "What is that, some kinda BDSM costume or what?" He smirked.

Outwardly, the CSI feigned mild distaste, but inwardly, he thought Flack's leather top was the hottest thing he'd ever seen on his friend. It might have been a normal leather jacket once, but it'd been cut to reveal Flack's whole torso while still covering his arms to the wrists. The silver buckles at the neck from under the jaw to collarbones ensured the modified jacket remained on like a second skin.

Danny licked his lips. He was so freaking grateful the ambient lighting was dim. His face felt searing hot.

Flack cackled softly. "Nope, just an old jacket I changed into somethin' … different." He opened both eyes and grinned.

"Ya wear that out to clubs with all yer friends?" Danny took a sip of his beer. He couldn't stop himself from raking his eyes over the other man's bare upper body.

"No." Flack rolled onto his side. "Just a select few I really trust." He glanced at his fingers. "Special people."

"Huh." Danny puckered his lips in curiosity. "And how many times have ya worn it out, countin' this time?"

Flack took a moment to respond. He gazed meaningfully at Danny.

"Once."

Danny suddenly found it difficult to breathe properly. His quarter-filled mug became very heavy. Goosebumps popped up all over his body. A specific part of his anatomy hardened up fast at Flack's baritone tenor. He shivered.

The homicide detective was staring intensely at him, silent and astute. There was a slight curve to Flack's lips that made his toes curl in his boots.

Right then and there, one side of the curtain was pulled aside.

"Hi there! How are you boys doing tonight?" It was one of the waitresses of the club, clad in a skimpy, PVC corset and mini skirt along with thigh-high, heeled boots. She smiled widely, particularly at Flack.

"We're doin' just fine, sweetheart." Flack looked at her from beneath his eyelids. "How are you doin'?"

The waitress giggled, twirling her black tresses around one forefinger and brazenly eyeballing Flack from head to toe. "Oh, my night's just gotten much better." She winked at Flack, then said, "Would you like more drinks?" She glanced at Danny, aiming a smile at him too. "A refill for you?"

Danny opened his mouth to reply. However, Flack got to it first.

"Nah, s'okay. We're leavin' soon. But thanks for askin'." The homicide detective sent her another roguish grin.

"Awww, well, you two have a good night then." She giggled again. "Have fuuuun." She wriggled her fingers in a cute goodbye wave, and promptly vanished with the swishing close of the curtain over the cubicle entrance.

"Ya don't wanna stay and … dance, or somethin'?" Danny asked.

"Not really." Flack sat up and stretched his arms into the air like a majestic cat. "Got a headache, so I thought I'd crash for the night." He gazed at Danny with a little smile. "Ya don't hafta leave 'cause of me, buddy. If ya wanna dance, I'm sure there're lotsa ladies on the dance floor who're more than willin' to."

"I wanna be with you."

Danny became as rigid as a wooden board the instant the words left his mouth.

Oh crap. Did Flack hear that?

Flack angled his head to one side. He was still smiling.

"What was that, Danny? Couldn't hear ya over the music."

The CSI sighed inwardly in vast relief. Thank you, deafening club music.

"Just said it's no fun without friends." Danny smirked, and reinforced his statement with, "Anyway, I'd totally get a kick outta stealin' yer dance partner."

Flack had that strange glimmer in his blue eyes again. "Guess that depends on who my dance partner is, hmmm?"

"I -"

The homicide detective abruptly clambered onto his knees.

"C'mon, Dan. Let's go back to my place, whaddaya say?"

Danny finished his beer, and cheerfully said, "Sure, I don't mind."

"I got another movie."

Danny cackled. "It's not like that stupid show, is it?"

Flack cast a mysterious smile on him. "No … but I'm pretty sure you're gonna love this one."

( Oooo …... oooO )

Danny was fidgeting once more. Only this time, it was on Flack's black couch, while he observed his lanky friend inserting a DVD into the player. He smirked to himself. Perhaps now was a good time to tease Flack about his My Little Pony DVD -

"I'm gonna go take a shower."

Danny blinked. Huh? Wasn't Flack going to join him in watching the movie?

The homicide detective seemed to read Danny's mind.

Flack gestured at his body. "Just feelin' kinda sticky. And anyway, leather's hell to take off."

The CSI let out an amused snicker.

"Geez, ya shoulda seen me gettin' into these pants in the first place." Flack started to remove his belt from around his hips. "I was like … Squeaky McSqueak or somethin'."

Danny swallowed visibly. He was too busy staring at the lean musculature of the other man's broad chest and abdomen to utter a rational comment. Fuck, why did Flack have to be so damn gorgeous? And unattainable?

"Anyways …" Flack pressed the play button on the DVD player. "This oughta keep yer attention till I'm done."

Danny cleared his throat and said, "What's the movie 'bout?"

Flack was poker-faced. "Trust me, you'll like it, 'kay? Just watch it." He ambled towards his bathroom. "Ya can shower after me, if ya like."

"I'd rather shower with you instead," Danny mumbled under his breath.

"What was that?"

"I said, it's okay." Danny coughed shortly. "Just, uh, didn't bring along an extra set a' clothes."

"Okay."

The black screen of the television flickered to life. Alone in the living room, Danny permitted himself to extend his legs at long last. His right hand crept downwards between his legs. He moaned softly, rubbing at his erection after unzipping his jeans.

"You're gonna be the death a' me, Don," Danny whispered.

He was half paying attention to all the sounds coming from the shower, and half watching the television. His hand moved on its own accord, the stimuli sending streaks of pleasure coursing through his body. He took a deep breath, eyelids fluttering.

Had to stay in control, he had to stay in control and listen out for Flack getting ready to come out -

The movie began.

Danny's hand gradually stilled. His brows lowered in a mystified frown.

There was nothing but a black sofa on screen, one that looked eerily similar to the one he sat on right now.

"What the …"

A few seconds passed. Then, a man came into sight from the right side of the scene.

Danny gasped audibly.

Holy shit. The guy looked so much like him. Blue eyes, brown spiky hair, the goatee, right down to the tank top and jeans. The actor even had a pair of glasses on. It was unbelievable.

The CSI's eyes widened.

The man on screen went to sit on the sofa. He was barefoot. He seemed to be waiting for something, stroking at his arms in an almost nervous way. All of a sudden, the man turned his head to look at something or someone off screen.

Danny straightened up, his hands on thighs, jeans still unzipped.

Another man showed up, coming into the scene from the left. This guy was taller than the other actor, with short, dark hair, dressed in a plain black t-shirt and jeans as well. And he had blue eyes.

Danny's mouth opened into a small 'O' shape.

No way.

The guy looked just like … Flack.

Danny inhaled sharply.

Oh fuck, there was something about this video that was giving him such a sense of déjà vu -

The taller man was sitting next to the other guy now, so close their bodies touched. He gently took off the other man's spectacles, leaving them on the couch. Then, in a flash, they were plastered up against each other, kissing and groping each other madly. Their grunts and moans filled Danny's ears.

"Fuck me."

The man in the white tank top had an accent that definitely wasn't a New York accent.

It was what stopped Danny from exploding in his pants right then and there.

He couldn't stop watching the scene that unfolded on the television screen. The taller guy was stripping his partner of his tank top, licking and nibbling down a sinewy chest and stomach. The jeans were the next to go.

Danny's fingers dug into his thighs. His lower lip trembled.

The two men in the now obviously pornographic movie were no longer two strangers. In Danny's mind, they were now Flack and himself, and Flack was between legs, head bobbing up and down in a very familiar fashion as he writhed and moaned -

He suddenly felt a large hand stroking his back, slithering down to squeeze his bottom.

He cried out, and would have leapt off the couch if it wasn't for the strong arm that enveloped itself around his midriff.

Danny quivered violently. It was impossible, that was the same hand that molested him at the club -

"Enjoyin' yerself?"

Ohfuckohfuckohfuck, he had to be dreaming, he had to be dreaming -

He felt that hand turn his head to the side, tenderly take off his glasses. He didn't realize he'd shut his eyes until he felt moist, firm lips move against his.

"You smell so fuckin' good."

Danny's eyes snapped open.

Flack's big blue ones stared back into his, glittering under the living room lights. The homicide detective was nude, sitting next to him on the sofa, his arm tight around his torso. Flack's other hand had crept up beneath his white tank top, caressing his back and flank, then gliding down to his groin.

Danny's lips parted in shock.

Flack was fondling him. Flack, his best friend, the man he'd been head over heels for years, was fondling him just like in his wildest fantasies.

"I've always wondered what ya look like naked on my couch, Messer."

The taller detective smiled broadly at him.

Flack leaned forward and pressed his lips against Danny's for the second time.

Danny's eyes fluttered close.

He moaned loudly, arching up into the other man's skilled caresses. He felt Flack's chuckle reverberate through his entire being.

The homicide detective's hand moved lower down between his legs.

And the world fell away from below him.

 

***

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