Title: That's Amore
Author: Kimmychu
Fandom: CSI: NY
Rating: FRAO
Pairing: Danny/Flack
Content Warning: Fluffiness, mucho amore for ze Italian.
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: If he couldn't go to Napoli... it didn't mean Napoli couldn't come to him. A Danny/Flack romantic story.
Disclaimer: The two detectives don't belong to me. They belong to each other, yeeees.
Author's Notes: Yep, it's one of them sweet, happy DannyFlack stories with some smex thrown in. I was hoping to recreate a mood similar to that in Sweet Talk and Apple Pie, but I think this one is more along the veins of... well, something romantic and fluffy. I hope you enjoy it, and that it brings a smile to your face.

***

Danny felt as if his face was permanently etched in an irate frown.

He slammed the front door of the apartment harder than he liked, and grimaced at the loud bang and piercing creaks of its metal hinges. Whoops, Flack was sure to know he was back from work now. He locked the door and chained it.

"Don? You there?"

There was no reply.

Danny shrugged to himself. Fine, it was cool, the guy was probably in the bathroom or something. Wasn't like he expected Flack to greet him at the door and ask him how he was doing or anything after a horrible day filled with red tape and an edgy Mac and lousy paper work. His friend and lover had his own stuff to do and all that. Yeah.

He threw his bag down on the floor and tugged off his leather jacket, his frown deepening, redirecting his annoyance at himself. Damnit, Flack didn't deserve to be the brunt of his aggravation. Both of them had gotten stiffed out of their upcoming holiday to Italy thanks to a sudden work overload that swamped them at the last minute. They'd been so excited about it, and damnit, they had to shift it forward another four months. At least.

Stupid homicidal nuts.

Danny opened the narrow closet next to the front door to store his jacket. He cursed under his breath when he accidentally bumped his knuckles hard against the iron bar that held up the coat hangers. Sucked on the bruised skin.

Stupid hanger bar.

He slammed the closet door shut. It wasn't as satisfying as the apartment front door, but it did the job of lessening his frustration a teeny bit. If it hadn't been for the last case, he and Flack would still have made it to Naples in southern Italy for a nice, tranquil one-week vacation. Danny preferred to call the place by its Italian name, Napoli. It was the home of pizza, one of his favorite foods in the world, and the birthplace of the Pizza Margherita, made traditionally with mozzarella cheese, tomato and basil to represent the red, white and green of the Italian flag.

And he'd be eating the real thing right now, were it not for the last case. And freaking IAB getting on his case again for roughing up the apprehended perp. The abusive bastard deserved it. Nobody decent would ever hurt a little, helpless baby, much less their own.

Stupid dirtbag.

Stupid IAB chief dumbass Hillbourne rat basta-

Danny took a deep breath, closing his eyes and tilting his head back to ease the tension in his neck. Okay, calm down, Messer. Work stayed at work. Here at home, there were much, much better things to ruminate over.

Or drool over, if Flack was in one of his walk-around-the-apartment-naked moods.

Licking his lips and feeling better with that delicious image in his mind, he called out for the homicide detective once more.

"Don?"

His frown returned. Huh, this was weird. Flack should be in, what with the guy having called him earlier just to let him know he had the day off and was highly anticipating Danny's return.

"Don?"

Danny waited a few more seconds, picking at the cloth of his white tank top, and was met with more silence. He sighed heavily.

Then, something caught his eye. He pivoted his head and saw the handwritten note taped to the wall next to the coat cupboard. Squinting his blue eyes behind silver-rimmed spectacles, he inclined forward to read it:

Please leave your bag, jacket and gun at the front door. However, it is encouraged to take the weapon between your legs with you.

Danny straightened up, a wide grin brightening up his attractive features. Weapon between his legs. Heh. Considering his gun was already stowed away with his jacket in its holster, he was all set. He couldn't help feeling amused and baffled at the same time.

Hmm. What was that dork up to?

Curiosity peaked, the CSI left his bag where it was and ambled into the apartment, only noticing now how unusually dark and quiet it was.

He flipped on the switch to his right. The lights on the ceiling of the living area flickered to life.

"What the …"

Danny's lower jaw sagged.

His wide eyes bugged at the sight that lay before him. He must have walked into the twilight zone, because his furniture and other familiar objects that decorated his living room were gone.

In their place was a setting he never imagined in a lifetime to which he'd come home. A dozen feet away from him was a graceful, white garden archway entwined with green vines and iridescent flowers. Beyond that, in a cozy area enclosed by a short, white fence attached to the archway, was a single round table with a red-and-white checkered cloth draped over it, topped with a lit candle stand in the center. Two wooden, ornate chairs flanked the table, and in front of each seat was a large, white and empty plate as well as a variety of silver dining utensils. Beige-colored napkins were folded on each plate.

And surrounding all this were … wall props. Huge wall props that almost touched the ceiling and went all the way to the ground, illustrated with the splendid scenery of an European beach during a clear, multihued sunset. He had a hunch his furniture and such were hidden behind them, out of sight for this astonishing enactment.

He slowly approached the closest wall prop to his left, touching its canvas surface. Yep, it was a beach that wasn't close to home, alright. The Italian flag atop one of the buildings in the painted background was proof of that.

There was a soft click, like a button of a device being pressed down.

A few seconds later, the soothing sounds of waves lapping at the sand floated into Danny's ears.

He felt a presence behind him.

After a moment's hesitation and an incredible amount of excitement, he swiveled around.

Danny's mouth opened into a big 'O' shape before he could halt it.

"Buona sera … signore."

Flack was standing within the steel garden archway, leaning against one side with one leg crossed in front of the other in a sensual pose of utter decadence. The man's long legs were encased in black leather trousers, and his shins were delineated even more by the black, knee-high boots he wore. But it was the white, long-sleeved shirt, loose on Flack's lean, sinewy torso that made Danny's tongue flit out a great deal. Only one button was fastened, below his waist, which exposed Flack's broad, fuzzy chest and flat belly to Danny's delight.

"Welcome to Napoli, signore," Flack murmured in a baritone voice that was parodying a thick Italian accent. "You are hungry, si?"

Flack didn't just look like sex on legs, he sounded like sex on legs too.

Danny swore his smile was truly from ear to ear.

He couldn't believe this. This was … wonderful. It must have taken his lover so much time and effort to set all this up, and damn, Flack looked amazing and gorgeous beyond description.

And that accent.

How could he not play along?

"Yeah, I do feel pretty hungry," Danny replied, his face crinkled with glee. He rocked on his feet, pushing his hands into the side pockets of his jeans. He hoped to God his face wasn't as flushed as he thought it was.

"Ahh, you must be American, si?" Flack raised one thick eyebrow. "Perhaps … Los Angeles?"

Danny chuckled. "No, New York city, actually." He ducked his head. "Los Angeles' all the way on the other side of the United States, on the west coast."

"Ah, I am mistaken." Flack angled his head, scrutinizing Danny from head to toe like he was a stranger he'd never met before. "But you look like Hollywood star. Live in Beverly Hills in big house and swimming pool and pretty blonde woman?"

Danny's next chuckle was louder.

"I wish," Danny said with a mischievous smirk. "And I'm … single."

He gazed at the other man from beneath half-lidded eyes.

"Ahh." Flack's voice dropped even lower, and the man sent a meaningful look. "I, too, am single man. Coincidence, no?"

Danny bit his lower lip. Oh, so that's how they were going to play it, eh?

He was loving this more and more by the minute.

"What is your name, single man from America?"

Danny cleared his throat, pushing his shoulders back, standing with his legs slightly apart. "Danny."

"Daaannny." The CSI's name rolled off Flack's tongue like cream off the top of a cool ice cream cone. "Hmm, I like that."

Inside his boots, Danny's toes curled inwards. His jeans were suddenly feeling too tight. Holy shit, he'd never heard Flack say his name like that before.

"What's your name, Napoli stud?" Danny asked, fidgeting where he stood, like a school boy who was talking with the crush of his life for the first time.

Flack's handsome visage split into a roguish smile that made Danny's breath catch and his hands clench into fists.

"Napoli stud will do, signore."

That prompted Danny to let out a mirthful laugh. It just figured Flack would want to be called something like that.

"Per favore, signore." Flack took a couple of steps backwards and gestured in a dramatic fashion towards the round table. "Do come in, sate your appetite on Napoli's finest dish."

Danny swaggered under and through the archway up to Flack, lips puckered.

"Would that be you?"

Whoa, Flack somehow even succeeded to give his laugh an accent.

"You are very funny, Signore Danny. Are all American men from New York city funny like you?"

"Let's just say, I'm one of a kind."

Flack laughed a second time, his big, blue eyes twinkling. "Ahh, I thought so. I don't see many American men like you in Napoli." He walked to the table and stood behind one chair, pulling it backwards. "Please, take a seat."

Danny was all smiles as Flack sat him at the table, then going so far as to flap open the napkin that was on the plate with flair and spreading it across his lap. He couldn't seem to stop smiling any more than he could tell the sun to leave the sky. His face felt as if it was permanently set into a grin.

"You are comfortable, si?" Flack asked in a soft murmur against his ear.

Danny sunk pearly teeth into his lower lip. Although the man's face didn't reveal anything, Flack had deliberately brushed his hand against Danny's groin. Hard.

"Yeah … I'm good," Danny croaked after a minute. Oh, shit, his jeans were getting way too tight for his liking.

"Very good, signore."

Flack stood next to the table, a small smile on his lips. It wasn't one of his calculative ones, nor did it hint at anything other than politeness. Danny had to admit he was impressed at how skillful Flack was playing the part of an Italian … waiter?

The homicide detective turned Napoli stud had a small notebook in one hand and a black pen in the other.

Danny blinked. Where'd the guy get those? Flack's pants sure looked like there was hardly any space for his package, much less a notebook and pen.

"So, Signore Danny, what would you like to eat for dinner?"

The CSI was very tempted to give the taller man a smartass answer that included whipped cream and a particular portion of Flack's anatomy, but he decided to go the tamer route. For now.

"Hmmm." Danny sat back in the chair, tapping the fingers of his left hand on the clothed table top. "Ya got ravioli?"

"Spiacente, signore. No ravioli," Flack said in that humorous and yet sexy accent. He waved one hand around in a circular movement. "I'm afraid the ravioli lady … how do you say, run away with the soup man."

Danny took off his spectacles, left them next to the plate on the table and pinched the flesh between his eyes in pretense of disappointment. He applauded himself for maintaining a straight face.

"Okay." Danny lowered his hand and glanced at Flack. "How 'bout some beef balls?"

Flack made a show of flipping through his notebook, and then, with a saddened face, said, "Oh, spiacente, signore, we have no beef balls today either."

"What?" It actually took Danny quite an effort to lower his brows and purse his lips in a mild scowl. "Why's that?"

Between them, Flack was, hands down, the King of Deadpan.

"No beef balls today. Bull won't stay still long enough for chef to cutting his balls off."

Danny had to cover his mouth with his hand to keep his cackle from spouting out. He grinned so much, his eyes were scrunched shut. Geez, he should have known better than to entice Flack into a snark battle with something like beef balls.

Eventually, Danny coughed and tempered his features into a somewhat impassive face. "Okay, okay." He crossed his muscular arms over his chest. "Tell me whatcha got, then."

Flack's teeth gleamed under the ambient lighting. "Ahh, tonight, we have magnificent zingy lemon chicken pasta, cooked with elbow macaroni and four chicken breast halves … fantastic baked garlic bread with butter and parsley, and of course, our supreme specialty, the Pizza Margherita, with best tomato puree, mozzarella cheese and basil in all of Napoli!"

Danny displayed an impressed expression. Inside, his heart was close to bursting, in the really good way whenever he was very touched. In this case, it was Flack having ordered his favorite Italian meals. He was a sucker for every one of them. The thought that Flack remembered them and endeavored to buy or make them for him, even with their busy work schedule, was doing funny things to his eyes and throat.

"Ya know what?" He beamed at Flack. "I think I'll have all a' that."

"Eccellente, signore!" Flack jotted down the order.

Danny's gaze kept wandering to Flack's bare chest. He had never felt such a powerful urge to run his fingers through the sparse hair there than he did at that moment. Boy, did his lover look fuckable in his outfit or what. His gaze dropped to Flack's groin, and the ends of his lips curled up. Heheh, Flack wasn't as unaffected by the whole act as he thought.

"I'll be back in a few moments, signore."

The CSI didn't bother being furtive with his ogling of Flack's bottom while Flack sauntered through the archway and behind a wall prop to go to the kitchen. Wherever the heck Flack got those pants, he was going to demand Flack tell him its location. It wouldn't hurt to purchase four more. They'd have extras in case they got ripped in the … heat of things.

And fuck. Danny squirmed on the red cushion of his seat. Who'd have thought Flack speaking Italian would be so … bone-tingling.

Ten minutes passed in an easy semi-silence, the faint ocean sounds in the background helping Danny to unwind in his seat to the point he was sprawled in it, arms on the armrests and his legs stretched out under the table. His eyes became slits, and he let out a pleased moan. Mmmm, this was a nice chair. He had to ask Flack later where he got it, and whether they could keep the chairs or not.

The hot, appetizing smells of tomato and cheese soon assailed his nostrils. His eyes fluttered open, so loosened up was he that he nearly napped where he sat.

A large plate of the zingy lemon chicken pasta was already placed before him, a scrumptious dish of yellow-colored macaroni slathered in spicy lemon sauce with the mentioned chicken breast halves on top. Another plate contained five oval-shaped slices of garlic bread, arranged into a circular, flower petal pattern, cut and garnished with sprinkles of garlic just the way he liked them. Flack was setting down the pizza on the table, juggling two wine glasses in his other hand and clutching a bottle of red wine to his chest with the same arm.

Danny instinctively scrambled to his feet to give the other man some assistance, and was stopped by Flack's, "No, no, signore! I am fine."

The CSI sat down with some reluctance, though he had a tiny smile on his lips. Okay, he was the customer and Flack was the waiter serving him, he got that.

He surveyed the delicious dishes served out on the table, breathing in the mouth-watering scents with enjoyment. Mmmm, man, they smelled damn good. He licked at his lips, fingers drumming on the table top in his exhilaration.

"Cabernet Sauvignon, signore." Flack brandished the wine bottle with both hands towards Danny for his perusal. "Red wine straight from the Banfi winery in Tuscany. It has lovely ruby red color, deep and intense with aromas of plum jam and hints of cherries, blackberries and raspberries. Fantastico!"

The homicide detective drew two fingers to his puckered lips and planted a melodramatic kiss upon them.

Danny had to chuckle. Flack's vivacity in playing his role was contagious.

"Yeah, I'll have some a' that."

"Va bene, Signore Danny!" Flack said with a pleased grin. "You have good taste!"

Danny was surprised for a moment at how easily Flack pulled out the cork, then realized the man must have already yanked it out before he brought it around.

Once Flack had poured a quarter glass full, he set the bottle on the table next to the other empty wine glass and asked, "Would you like some company while you enjoy your meal?"

Danny leaned back in his seat, studying the taller man's face. Hmmm. The guy was as poker-faced as ever, disclosing nothing to Danny what reaction was expected. He wondered, merely for a second, what Flack would do should he say he wanted some female company. It would surprise Flack for sure. And disappoint him.

The reality was, Danny would never say that. He already had the best company he could ever hope to have.

No. Tonight was their night.

His tongue flitted out.

"What are yer options?" Danny said, allowing Flack to direct the course of their act.

"We have pretty blonde girls like in America," Flack replied nonchalantly, fingering the hem of his opened dress shirt. "Perhaps you like one to sit with you at the table?"

Danny blinked hard. Whoa, okay, he'd only thought of it. He didn't think Flack would really state it aloud -

"Or perhaps … you like company of another sort, signore?"

Oh, yeah, there it was, that naughty sparkle in those beloved blue eyes, Danny could see it plain as day.

"And if I do?" Danny's tongue flitted out again. He cast a sultry look at Flack.

"Ahh," Flack murmured. His long fingers had slithered down to play with the one button that fastened his shirt together, and it was right above his groin. "We have that option also. It includes … hand feeding. And nice, warm bath afterwards. You like that, signore?"

Flack's smile this time was, without a doubt, one of sensuous impishness.

"Yeah, I like." The CSI's fingers tightened on the edge of the table. "And if I want more … after that?"

Flack was quiet for a while. He bowed his head, fingers drawing invisible circles on the checkered cloth of the table, his cheeks rosy, appearing like a shy, young man.

"Sometimes … Napoli stud get lonely too, signore."

Danny shut his eyes. In his imagination, Flack was nude and on all fours and moaning his lungs out as Danny pushed his lubed fingers in and out -

"Sometimes, Napoli stud meet nice American un bell uomo, and maybe … there will be good time?"

His Italian might be rusty, but Danny had to thank his parents for drilling the basic phrases and words into his head from childhood. He never knew how hot it was to hear Flack calling him a handsome man in his parents' mother tongue until now. He always considered Flack to be the handsome one between them anyhow.

Without a word, he reached out and seized one of Flack's wrists. He felt the taller man's sinewy arm jerk within his grasp, and he glanced up and sent his lover a silent apology for startling the guy.

"We'll have a good time, I swear," Danny rasped, drawing Flack down to his knees beside his chair. "Now, what was that you were sayin' 'bout … handfeedin'?"

Flack's lower face was getting bristly, and Danny stroked his thumbs along the edge of the man's defined lower jaw. Flack's facial hair was similar to his in the sense they both had to shave every morning, or they'd look like Chewbacca from Star Wars before a week was up. Well, okay, that was an exaggeration. Nevertheless, Danny had no interest in seeing Flack with a hippie beard that grew all the way down to his belly button.

He dragged Flack's head closer to his, closing his blue eyes and angling his head in eagerness to feel Flack's firm lips on his. The tips of their noses touched, and then -

"In Napoli, we like to kiss after dinner," Flack whispered.

The homicide detective's fingers were effectively blocking their lips from contact.

One of the CSI's eyebrows lifted. Huh, he never heard of that before. He opened his eyes and reared back to evaluate Flack's expression. Smirked.

Heh. The guy was messing with him.

Danny released Flack's head and pinched the man's nose. Then, he resettled himself in his chair, sniffing once.

"You gonna feed me now, right?"

"Si, signore." Flack had that wicked smile on his lips again. "Would you like the pasta or the pizza first?"

"Mmm. The pasta."

With a nod, the homicide detective got to his feet and strutted to the other side of the table to carry the other chair over.

"Sit here next to me … so I can feed ya too," Danny said.

"Grazie, you are very kind."

Flack's fingertips grazed the top of his hand, like the touch of a feather, and Danny had no idea why the action turned him on so much more than their near kiss just now. Maybe it was the intense glimmer in the other man's beautiful, blue eyes, a glimmer that promised an exclusive dance-for-two in paradise later on.

Flack sat himself down on his chair and picked up a fork near Danny's plate.

"I feed pasta with fork, but pizza and bread with my hands, d'accordo?"

"D'accordo," Danny said, and winked.

Flack flashed a brilliant smile at him, which made Danny smile as well.

The next half hour ended up becoming what Danny would later entitle the Most Torturous, Horny Thirty Minutes of His Life that Involved Food and Flack's Fingers. They started off with some garlic bread, Flack fooling around by making the baked slices fly around in the air before putting them into Danny's gaping mouth. Danny gave him a playful smack on the thigh for doing that.

Then, Flack served him the lemon chicken pasta, even cutting up the chicken breasts with a knife. Flack handfed him the meat pieces, and every time Flack's fingers neared his lips, he would spend a little time sucking on them just to stir the guy up. It evidently worked, seeing as Flack slid one of his legs between Danny's, and rubbed his knee against the CSI's sensitive groin.

Eating the pizza next was a fun and messy activity. Danny finally joined in the fun, plucking up a yummy triangular slice of tomato, cheese and basil with his right hand and stuffing some of it into Flack's mouth. He couldn't refrain from laughing at his lover's cheeks ballooning up while Flack attempted to chew as much of the pizza as he could in one go. The guy really resembled a chipmunk.

Well. A really sexy chipmunk in black leather.

"Ya do this for all yer customers?" Danny asked with a raised eyebrow and smirk.

There was tomato puree and flecks of green all over and around Flack's lips. Danny wiped the other man's mouth with his fingers, and then inhaled sharply. Flack was sucking on his fingers, tongue darting out to lick at them from knuckle to tip. He gulped. The teasing bastard was most definitely turning the tables on him in the sexual frustration department.

"No, signore, special treatment only for … special customers."

The only warning Danny received was a heavy-lidded look before the taller man's warm tongue glided from the bottom of his palm to the first joint of his middle finger. He gasped and jolted in his seat, face flushed, goosebumps popping up all over his tense body. He could only stare into Flack's blue eyes as Flack gripped his wrist and continued to suck and lick at his fingers and hand.

It was crazy.

This was the man who knew every inch of his body, who'd seen him naked and in more positions that he could count, and here he was, sporting a total hard on in his jeans and reeling from his lover just sucking on his hand.

Danny let out a soft moan. The rate they were going, he was going to explode from the stimulation before they even left the table. He tore his gaze away and glanced at the few slices of Pizza Margherita left on the table. Okay, yeah, talk about the food and not look at Flack licking his fingers like it was his -

"I don't think I can't eat anymore," Danny quickly rasped. "Think I'll blow up into a million pieces if I eat another piece a' pizza."

The homicide detective gave him one last nibble on his thumb, then let go of his wrist and said in a deep tone, "So it is just pizza making you feel like blowing up?"

Danny grinned and bit his lower lip at the same time. The tease. Flack knew exactly what he was doing to him.

A metaphorical light bulb suddenly lit above his head.

Heheh, Flack wanted to be the ultimate Italian male boy toy, he'd find out just how Italian his lover was for the occasion. He leaned forward, gazing into Flack's eyes, and countered the man's rhetorical question with a whispered, "Voglio baciarti."

There was a moment of silence.

Danny kept his face blank, hiding any possible visual clues about what he said.

Another few seconds passed.

Flack slanted his head to one side. Slowly, his lips arched into a mischievous, close-lipped smile that caused him to appear so much younger. He gazed back from the corners of half-lidded eyes.

"Spiacente, signore ... not yet."

Danny folded his arms over his chest. So Flack did understand. And hey, dinner was over! Which meant that he ought to have what had been guaranteed to him right now!

"Ya know, where I come from, the customer always gets what he wants."

His lips twitched uncontrollably.

Flack's smile grew wider.

"I never said you would not have your kiss, Signore Danny. Only not yet."

Danny sniffed, wrinkling his nose in outward dissatisfaction. As long as Flack stayed in his role, he was going to play his part too. It was way too early to end the show.

"Ya know, where I come from, the customer always gets what he wants," Danny repeated. This time, he lowered his brows and thinned his lips into a line for good effect.

For a time, Flack seemed to wonder whether he'd accidentally pissed off Danny, eyes wide in doubt. Some time ticked by with them scrutinizing each other's faces, at an unexpected stalemate of sorts in their individual charades.

Then, Danny allowed his lips to curve up in a tiny smile, only for an instant.

The playful twinkle came back with a swiftness to the other man's large eyes.

"Oh, signore, I didn't mean to offend you!" Flack fell to his knees beside Danny's seat, sending him a contrite gaze and pouting. "I do not know the, how do you say, American culture … how can I make it up to you?"

Danny returned Flack's gaze, giving it everything he had to keep a deadpan expression. God, the man was doing his winning puppy-eyed expression, and it was the very one he could never deny for long.

And ohh, the answers he could give to that fiery question.

He traced the edges of Flack's lips with one forefinger. The man had planned something, he was sure of it. He could see it in those beautiful eyes.

"Okay. Show me what ya got."

An overjoyed smile crinkled Flack's handsome visage.

It was the right call, after all.

"Per favore, signore, please close your eyes?"

Danny's eyebrows shot up in curiosity.

"I promise it's nothing strange."

Danny smirked, and followed Flack's request. Now, he had to rely on his senses of hearing, smell and touch to figure out what was going to occur next.

His forehead wrinkled in a mild frown when he heard Flack stand up and stride away from the table, footsteps receding. He angled his head, obediently keeping his eyes closed, listening over the recorded sounds of the ocean to the homicide detective moving around somewhere into the apartment. The noises were too muted for him to distinguish what Flack was doing.

Some minutes later, he heard and felt Flack approaching the table, carrying something that was rather big and moderately heavy with him. The recognizable thud it emitted as it was placed on the floor made Danny smile.

Ah hah. He had a pretty solid idea of what his lover was about to do now.

There were some clicking sounds of clasps being opened. An object that was big but hollow and light being taken out and rested on thighs and held carefully in hands. He heard Flack shifting in his seat to get into a more comfortable position, fingers plucking at thin, long strings.

"You can open your eyes now, signore."

Danny's eyelids flickered.

The sight of Flack with his guitar never failed to make Danny beam. He had considered buying a second one for Flack to practice with. However, the homicide detective insisted that it wasn't necessary. According to Flack, listening to him play his guitar and sing was one of the man's favorite methods of relaxation. It was a compliment that stuck with him long after Flack had whispered it into his ear, in his bed with their legs tangled together so many months ago.

A melodious, lively strum filled the air.

Danny held his breath.

"In Napoliiiiiii, where love is Kiiiiing,

When boy meets boooooooy,

Here's what they saaaaay …"

The CSI grinned broadly, and chuckled in amusement at Flack having edited one particular word in the lyrics. Well, well, somebody had been practicing their guitar skills.

"When the moon hits your eye,

Like a big-a pizza pie,

That's amoreeeee …

When the world seems to shine

Like you've had too much wine,

That's amoreeeee …"

Flack waggling his thick eyebrows while he sang and strummed the guitar brought out more cackles out of Danny.

"Bells'll ring,

Ting-a-ling-a-ling,

Ting-a-ling-a-ling,

And you'll sing Viiita beeeeella …

Hearts'll play,

Tippi-tippi-tay,

Tippi-tippi-tay,

Like a gay taranteeeeeella …"

Danny ran his tongue across his lower lip, his eyes gleaming. From now on, he was going to make Flack sing as often as possible. Yes, he was the more experienced one with the guitar, but damn, where had Flack been concealing that singing voice of his all this time!

"When the stars make you drool

Joost-a like pasta fazool,

That's amoreeeee ...

When you dance down the street

With a cloud at your feet, you're in loooove …

When you walk in a dream

But you know you're not dreamin', signoooore …

'Scusami, but you see,

Back in old Napoli, that's amoooreee …"

Oh, Flack was sliding onto his knees before him -

"When the stars make you drool

Joost-a like pasta fazool,

That's amoreeeee ...

When you dance down the street

With a cloud at your feet, you're in loooove …"

There was a pause as Flack's agile fingers glided over the strings. The taller man stared into his eyes, all the love in the world shining from his own.

"When you waaaaalk in a dreaaaaam,

But you know … you're not dreaaamiiin', signoooore …"

Flack's voice dropped. The homicide detective's face was just inches away from his.

"'Scusami, but you see,

Back in old Napoli, that's amoooore …"

Oh God, their lips were touching at last -

"That's … amoooore."

There was a hollow, echoing noise as the guitar slipped out of Flack's grasp to land softly on the floor, wedged between his thighs and the chair leg.

It surprised Danny that their first kiss of the evening was gentle and unhurried. He kept his eyes half-opened, feeling light and free when he realized Flack also had his eyes partially open, gazing back at him while their lips moved together. Something inside his chest expanded at the thought that Flack wanted to remember the moment as much as he did.

In due course, he broke their kiss with much reluctance, cupping Flack's jaw with his palms. Felt his lover's fingers running through his shorn hair. Felt Flack rub their cheeks together, felt lips at his ear.

"We go for warm bath now, Signore Danny?"

Danny gently drew back, stroking the other man's cheek.

"We go for warm bath now, Napoli stud."

Danny groaned and arched his head back, his blue eyes closed, smiling to himself.

"You're really good at this."

"Si … I had good teachers," Flack whispered into his ear.

They were both naked in their apartment's bathroom, Danny sitting in the filled bathtub of hot water and fluffy soap suds, and Flack kneeling at his side, massaging his shoulders and neck with keen hands. There were lit red candles of varying lengths temporarily affixed to the edge of the opposite side of the bathtub, casting a restful glow on the two men.

"Give my thanks to them," Danny murmured, groaning again when the other man pressed his thumb into a stiff muscle above his shoulder blade. This was the first time Flack had ever given him a full massage and bath in one, and he had to admit it, he loved it.

After washing his hair, Flack had begun from his toes up, using a body loofah scrubber and liquid soap to sponge down his skin, then kneaded his legs till he was squirming in the water, moaning incessantly. By the time Flack reached his groin, his erection was rock hard, begging to be touched and fondled.

He should have known Flack would avoid touching that part of him, just to drive him crazy.

"You are very tense, signore," Flack said, his feigned Italian accent never once faltering. "You had bad day today?"

Danny's eyes fluttered open, and he looked at Flack, an amused smirk on his lips. "Ya know, I think we've gone far beyond the signore stage, don'tcha think?" He blatantly eyeballed Flack from knees to face.

That got Flack chuckling. "Si … Danny."

In the water, the CSI's toes curled. That did it, he was going to make his lover say his name that way whenever they were home.

"So … ya do this for all yer customers?"

"No." Flack's tongue flitted out. "Just … special ones."

"Like me, huh?" Danny said with a grin. He took one of Flack's large hands in his and planted a kiss on the palm.

"Si, like you."

Danny leaned back against the smooth inner surface of the bathtub, letting the taller man resume his massage treatment. Five minutes flew by in a cozy, intimate silence, interrupted only by the swishing sounds of the water in the bathtub whenever Danny shifted.

Then, Danny's reverie was broken by Flack's offhand comment of, "It is impossible you are single."

He glanced at the other man with wide, questioning eyes. Damn, Flack was all pokerfaced again. There was no way to ascertain if the guy was just joking around or not.

"Why do ya say that?" Danny asked in a tentative manner.

"You are too beautiful. Impossible to be alone." Flack's gaze was intense and paralyzing.

Danny blinked.

Ah. He got it. He got what Flack was fishing for.

In their relationship, he was usually the one who liked being reassured, especially when things got stormy. Flack was his faithful rock in the chaos, the one who was unbattered even by the most awful tempests. It was a little strange to have things switched around, but … it was proof Flack was just as human as he was, wasn't it?

He dipped his head, scooped up a handful of white suds at chest level and blew it off his hand. He was hushed, and then, he said, "Okay … I admit it. I have a boyfriend back in New York city."

Flack's visage remained blank.

"He's, uhm, he's a cop, see. A homicide detective. His name's Don."

Danny peered at the other man from the corners of his eyes. He detected the telltale sparkle in those baby blues, though Flack's expression hadn't changed at all.

"He's … he's really somethin'. He's one of the most handsome men I've ever met, and the amazin' thing is, he really doesn't have a clue how gorgeous he is. He turns heads everywhere he goes, and if he was that kinda guy, all he had to do was point a finger at anybody, and they'd be his in an instant. And of all the people he chose … he chose me."

Danny stared off into the distance, a loving smile warming his attractive features.

"He knows who I am, what I like, what I don't like … and sure, I know I make him mad often, but he knows I'm not perfect. Sometimes there's trouble in paradise, but that's the same for all relationships, right? It wouldn't be real anymore if there weren't any conflicts."

He trailed off into a contemplative silence, then said, "And even when things get bad and it seems like it's gonna be end, I know it won't be."

He returned his gaze to his lover's much-loved features.

"Because I know, no matter what happens … he loves me, still." Danny's smile grew wider. "And I hope he knows that I love him too."

Flack's eyes appeared to be glistening.

"This Don … he is very lucky man."

All of a sudden, Danny's vision was blurry. He intertwined his fingers with the other man's, over the left side of his chest.

"That's funny. I was gonna say the same thing 'bout me."

Flack's arms enveloped his shoulders, and then, he felt a heartfelt kiss on his temple. He slinked his arms around Flack's midriff, nuzzling his face into the taller man's long neck, sensing the steady pulse there that pulsated in tandem with his own heartbeat. This wasn't the Napoli stud hugging him now, it was the man he loved who was, his homicide detective.

And that was just the way he desired it to be.

"Want to stay in bath?"

Flack was still speaking in that Italian brogue.

Ah, the show wasn't quite over yet.

Danny straightened up, staying within Flack's embrace. "Nah, I'm startin' to get all wrinkly."

"Va bene."

Danny got out of the bathtub and stood motionless for Flack to dry him with a thick, maroon towel, biting his lip when the cloth rubbed at his wet lower body and between his legs. Oh boy, it didn't take much for his erection to make its springing comeback. Flack would have to be blind to not notice his state of arousal, so there was only one reason why the guy didn't linger at his groin, and why that impish smile was curling up those lips.

"There … done," Flack murmured to himself.

The damp towel slithered from the taller man's loosening grip to the tiled floor.

Danny watched Flack promenade to the open door of the bathroom, eyes inevitably falling to his lover's pert bottom. It wasn't as rounded as his own, more similar to those typically found on the marble and bronze Greek statues he marveled at the Metropolitan museum. Firm. Smooth. A perfect mass to be squeezed.

Most importantly, they belonged to him.

Flack stood in the doorway, then pivoted, just a little, to send him a very pointed stare.

Danny swallowed visibly.

Okay, he would have to be blind to not comprehend what Flack was asking him.

Flack noted his understanding with a toothy grin.

In a blink, the man had disappeared from sight.

Danny went to blow out the candles on the rim of the bathtub, and strode out the bathroom. Gasped at seeing Flack reclined face up on the bed, propped up on elbows, with one leg bent outwards on the sheets and the other half-hanging off the edge of the mattress. With the moonlight lighting him from behind, a nude, spread legged Flack was truly an exhibition to behold.

And Flack was hard.

"You said you wanted … more, si?"

Flack puckered his lips, subtly shifted his hips and legs.

Danny bit his lower lip. His hand wrapped around the base of his throbbing cock said more than a thousand words could.

Without a word, Flack rolled over and moved onto all fours, spreading his thighs wide and curving his back. He looked at Danny over his shoulder, eyes glittering in the dimness.

The invitation within them was impossible to refuse.

The CSI stood behind Flack. Felt the shudder travel through Flack's lanky body and heard the soft whimper when he abruptly spanked one side of the man's buttocks.

"I always wondered what it was like to ride an Italian stallion," Danny murmured, smirking at the lightheartedness on his lover's handsome mien.

"Napoli stud likes to ride." Flack's voice was croaky and higher than normal. "But … also knows … how to give good ride."

Danny's hands tightened on the supple mounds of Flack's bottom.

"Oh yeah? Ever had a New York stud give ya a real ride?"

Flack pushed his hips backwards, pushed into Danny's clasp.

"I hope tonight Napoli stud get, how you Americans say … lucky, si?"

"Mmhmmm." Danny slid a few fingers into the crease between the other man's buttocks, then realized Flack was already lubricated.

Those blue eyes were honed on him once more, causing a wave of hunger to rush through him.

"Napoli stud is always ready."

The homicide detective wriggled his hips in an evocative manner.

Danny thrust two fingers into Flack, just up to the first two digits. The presence of lube indicated to him that, chances were, the other man had also stretched himself adequately. Nonetheless, he had no intentions of hurting his lover.

Flack let out a sharp moan, and it was the very good kind.

"Aahh! Si, that's good … more …"

A mischievous, lusty grin crinkled the CSI's attractive face. Oh, he had a new game to play now, a game of how long he could torment Flack with sexual bliss until he lost his fake Italian accent.

He pushed his fingers inside to the knuckles. Twisted them around, seeking the sweet spot within his lover. It had been one of his most memorable experiences in their relationship for him to discover just how sensitive Flack was down there. If having his prostate gland touched transformed him into a groaning, squirming mess, doing the same thing to Flack drove the guy into a screaming, writhing frenzy with no inhibitions whatsoever.

Oh, babe, that was his most favorite side of Flack, period.

"Uhh, oh, oh, fuck -"

Danny's grin widened. Rubbed even harder on and around the gland.

"Per favore … ahh! Amore mio … mi fai … impazzire."

Damn, he was really impressed by Flack's tenacity in speaking Italian along with that accent, even under such an onslaught of pleasure. Never let it be said that Don Flack, Jr. wasn't a man of great endurance.

"I drive ya crazy, do I?" Danny spanked the wiggling man a second time. "Does it feel good, hahn? Tell me."

Flack jerked hard and threw his head back at Danny pulling his fingers and pushing in three instead to the hilt.

"Si … please, Danny -"

The CSI cackled. Oh yeah, the guy was beginning to lose it -

"Please …" Flack spread his thighs even more, gazing at him with wide, beseeching eyes. "Facciamo l'amore, Danny."

Something inside Danny snapped.

He wasn't sure what happened in the following couple of minutes. One moment, he was frozen to the spot, locked in place by the openness, the acquiescence, the love undeniable in those eyes so much like his. The next, he had a condom on and was deep inside Flack, buried to the root, forehead resting on Flack's upper back, his mouth gaping in a silent groan due to the pressure around his cock. Inner muscles were clamping hard around him, and it felt fucking mind-blowing.

His hips bucked on their own accord, back and forth in a relentless rhythm that rocked them and the bed they were on. Somebody was moaning audibly and mumbling nonsensical stuff in a hoarse voice, the phrases interspersed with choked whimpers whenever Danny thrust in very deep. Danny enclosed an arm around Flack's taut body, leaving butterfly kisses from one shoulder blade to the other, his pace never wavering.

"Oh, oh God … Danny … ngh, aahhhh!"

Flack suddenly collapsed onto his chest, unable to support himself on his arms anymore. His long legs buckled as well, straightening outwards in an inverted triangle.

"Fuck -"

Using every ounce of restraint he had in his sweaty, muscular body, Danny drove one last time into the other man, then went motionless.

For a few minutes, their harsh panting was all that reigned in their bedroom. Flack was trembling from head to toe, and Danny stroked his back with a gentle motion, a wordless question of concern.

It took some time for Flack to articulate a reply, but it made Danny smile.

"Dan … if ya don't move in the next three seconds, I'm gonna blow up."

Danny snickered. Aw, Flack finally lost the Italian accent. He corkscrewed his hips hard against Flack's buttocks, and said nothing.

"Danny … please."

He shut his eyes. There was something about the way Flack's voice becoming so mellifluous and sensual whenever he begged. Something he couldn't explain, something that wrenched at him and caused him to lose control of himself.

He slid his hand beneath Flack, closing it around Flack's dripping, hot cock, pumping his hand up and down.

The sharp intake of Flack's breath echoed in the room.

"Ohh, shit -"

Danny pulled out until only the head remained inside, then thrust back in to the hilt. Once. Twice. Three times.

The fourth time, Flack started to shudder uncontrollably, moaning nonstop.

"Oh, ohh … ah, I'm gonna come … Dan-"

Flack went rigid.

Something wet splattered Danny's hand.

The pressure around his aching erection became almost unbearable.

As Flack went limp, Danny removed his hand from underneath his lover's body, entwined their hands together and shoved himself in and out a few more times, his thrusts erratic. His orgasm struck him out of the blue, stealing his breath away, shaking his whole being with the force of a tremendous earthquake. From a distance, he could hear someone moaning, and someone rasping fervent, sweet nothings in a very beloved, familiar voice.

Millenias later, he was lying on top of a loosened up, sated Flack, head cradled in the crook between the homicide detective's neck and shoulder. He must have lost consciousness for a short while, because he didn't remember shifting up the bed or throwing the blanket over them, like he usually did after their lovemaking.

The two men basked in the afterglow, reveling in each other's presence, caressing each other with affectionate strokes and pats here and there.

When he mustered the energy, Danny said with a happy smile, "Thank you. That was the best vacation I ever had."

Flack's broad chest shook with mirth.

"Hey. I know how disappointed ya were when we had to cancel it. Seein' ya all mopey and sad … I wanted to see ya smile again."

Danny planted a kiss on Flack's collarbone, and thanked his lover a second time. God, he was the luckiest bastard of all time.

Later, he mumbled, "I gotta admit, Donnie, you make a pretty good Italian … hustler."

The taller man let out another amused cackle. "Yeah, I oughta just go to Hollywood and become a star, right?"

Danny raised himself up and propped his head on one arm, gazing down at Flack with demonstrative eyes. "Yeah, yeah, and I'll go to Hollywood too and become a Hollywood star myself." He sniffed and wrinkled his nose in thought. "Yeah, I can see it now … I'll have this reeeally big house, with lotsa decorated rooms and this nice-lookin' front door, and it'll have a pool behind it. Or maybe a pond … and maybe I'll have a nice motorbike, ya know, to go with my bad boy reputation."

Flack smiled at him.

"Not bad, Messer. As for me … think I'll just live in a nice, comfy house with a couple a' doggies."

Danny sniggered, making a scoffing face. "What? That's it? Don't ya want a mansion or somethin'?"

Flack shrugged. "Nah. It doesn't suit me. And anyway, just 'cause I'm in Hollywood, don't mean I gotta be Hollywood, ya know?"

Danny shook his head in fondness. It was so Flack, so like the man to stay true to himself no matter where he was and what his circumstances were. It was one of the many reasons Danny fell in love with him, after all.

"So, Hollywood star." Danny played with the sparse curls on Flack's chest. "We still gonna be together even when we're there, big stars and all?"

Flack didn't even hesitate.

"Of course we will. Nothin' will ever change that."

The CSI kissed him tenderly on the lips, then allowed Flack to continue.

"'Course, I know what Hollywood's like, so chances are …" Flack made a face. "I'd have a fake girlfriend."

That made Danny laugh out loud. "A fake girlfriend!"

"Yeah, ya know, a, whatcha call it? A beard. Just for show and all that."

Danny shook his head from side to side. "You're crazy, ya know that?"

"Yeah. Crazy in love," Flack murmured.

Danny lay back down on the bed beside the other man, nuzzling their cheeks together. Flack automatically placed his arm around the shorter detective's shoulders in a tight embrace.

"Tell me more."

Flack ruminated for a minute, then said, "What, our fantasy life in Hollywood?"

Danny nodded.

"Well, okay, we got our homes down, so there's … our jobs."

"We're actors."

"Yeah, but actors gotta have roles to play, right? So, okay, we're gonna be on this television show. It'll be 'bout … investigatin' crimes in NYC, and we'll be detectives! Yeah, that's good … I'll play a homicide detective, and you'll be a CSI, workin' with a team of CSIs like yerself. And on the show, we'll be great buddies who work great together, just like we do now."

Flack took a deep breath, eyes open and alert with enthusiasm.

"It's perfect, 'cause that way, we'll have work to do but we can spend lotsa time together, see? And it's great 'cause it's just a show, which means, at the end of the day, the moment the director says cut, we don't hafta worry 'bout dead or hurt people."

Danny smiled softly. Flack was cute when he was really passionate about something.

"So, we'll have more free time too … we can spend it goin' on holidays, or - or doin' stuff together."

"Ya know, people are gonna talk 'bout us if we spend too much time together," Danny pointed out, a twinkle in his eye.

"Who gives a shit, I don't care. S'long as I get to be with ya and we can play guitar together or, I dunno, go yoga or somethin'."

Danny laughed. "Yoga? That is not my thing, Don. Can ya imagine me ridin' up to a freakin' yoga class on my big bike?"

"Sure, why not?"

Danny nestled his face into Flack's neck to hide his laughter.

"Like I said, even if I became some big Hollywood star, my life's still mine."

"Yeah? So what 'bout the beard?"

The homicide detective scratched at his bristly chin. "Well … I'd be doin' that for you. I mean … knowin' how shitty the tabloids are, I wouldn't want ya to be under scrutiny or have them talk crap 'bout you and me. We got somethin' good goin' on, and I sure as hell ain't gonna let them tear us apart."

Danny stroked Flack's jaw, a small albeit adoring smile curving up the ends of his lips.

I love you, his heart whispered.

However, verbally, he said, "You get a fake girlfriend, and I get a cat. A big, fluffy cat."

"Heeeeeeeey, I'm allergic to cats!"

Danny gave the man a roguish grin. "I know."

A tickling battle ensued, with Flack leaping on top of Danny to stop him from escaping while he got poked and tickled in the sides and underarms, till he was laughing with tears down his flushed face. Then it changed into a kissing marathon, where they became molded into one, rolling all over the bed, caressing and touching one another as if they'd been apart forever.

"You'd be a great star, you with yer gorgeous face and personality," Danny murmured after some time, as they lay on their sides, facing each other. "All the women would swoon over ya and dream 'bout being with ya and rush to yer doorstep by the thousands to ask yer hand in marriage or somethin'."

"Well, they're gonna have a problem, aren't they?" Flack replied, eyes shining. "I'm already spoken for. Permanently."

Danny kissed the other man once more, and said, "I meant what I said in the bathroom, ya know. Sometimes I still wonder, why me? What did I do to deserve a man like Don Flack, Jr., and I wanna know, 'cause I wanna do whatever it is to make sure he'll always stay."

The homicide detective was silent. He didn't have to say a word, though. The expression on his mien already told Danny a great deal.

"What is it that brought us together, huh, Don?"

Slowly, a magnificent, brilliant smile spread across Flack's features.

And in the contented, peaceful shadows of their bedroom, beneath the cascade of diffused moonlight, Flack sang with a feeling greater than the universe into Danny's parted lips, "'Scusami, but you see, back in old Napoli … that's amoooore."

Fin.