Title: The Way to a Man's Heart
Author: Kimmychu
Fandom: CSI: NY
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Danny/Flack
Content Warning: Flack in his birthday suit. Oh, and some fluff.
Spoilers: Only one about Flack that you'll know if you've watched episode 4x04, but it's so minor it doesn't matter.
Summary: Danny finds the answer to the age-old question: Just where exactly is the way to a man's heart? A Danny/Flack story.
Disclaimer: I own their clones. They're very cute and cuddly. It's just too bad I can't fit them in my briefcase.

***

Flack was the heaviest sleeper Danny ever knew.

The guy could sleep through anything. The very first time Danny tried to wake Flack up, five minutes passed before Flack opened bleary eyes, stared up at him and asked him what the hell he was doing bouncing on his lap with their clothes still on. The last time Danny attempted the same, which was yesterday, it took Danny twenty whole minutes for him to achieve his goal. And that was only after he yanked off the blanket, banged two frying pans together, threw some ice cubes all over Flack's sprawled body and then dragged the man by the ankles off the bed.

It was unbelievable. In just five months of them being together, Flack had already increased immunity towards Danny's efforts to awaken him on time for work by fifteen minutes. The way things were going, by next month, Flack could probably sleep through the apocalypse and wake up afterwards none the wiser and wondering what fun he'd missed out.

However, it seemed Lady Luck was in a generous mood and decided to give Danny a break in a very unexpected albeit oh so apt way this particular morning.

This morning, Danny conceded defeat in the battle to wake Flack after a minute of shaking the guy by the shoulders. Holding Flack's wide, firm shoulders just tempted him to let his hands roam down to his lover's equally broad chest with its soft, sparse hair and if he gave in to more temptation and allowed his hands to rove lower … yeah, neither of them were getting out of bed.

After giving a lightly snoring Flack a kiss on the cheek, Danny donned a robe and ambled into the kitchen, hankering for a hot, yummy breakfast with orange juice and milk. He took out dining utensils, a frying pan, some cooking oil then went to the fridge and took a look inside.

Hmm, Flack had no sausages or bacon, but there was a plate with a humongous hunk of red meat on it. Looked like something Flack would love to eat, alright, that meat freak. Danny smiled fondly to himself and plucked a few precut slices to fry them.

A mouth-watering aroma began to fill the air. The meat slices were sizzling on the frying pan and boy, did they smell delicious or what.

Danny licked his lower lip.

Oooh, Don's gonna regret being such a sleepyhead, Danny thought to himself, snickering under his breath.

Danny had a sip of orange juice before he started flipping over the meat portions.

Then, he heard the unmistakable noise of hasty, strong footsteps approaching the kitchen.

A second later, Flack leapt into sight at the kitchen entrance, buck naked with his head tilted back, sniffing the air like a bloodhound on the trail of a fantastic hunt.

Flack sniffed two more times, gazed at Danny with comically wide and very alert eyes and proclaimed in a dramatic voice, "I smell … CORN BEEF!"

Then Flack licked noisily at his lips, and dashed to the stove to see whether the beef was cooked and ready for consumption.

Danny was damn grateful he'd put down his glass of orange juice and that he'd already swallowed. He was laughing so hard, he would have spit everywhere and dropped the cup straight onto the floor or something. Flack never ceased to surprise him each and every day, be it with a magnificent smile or a humorous face or, in this case, hopping like a hyperactive rabbit with his beautiful blue eyes so big and happy that the guy looked like a three-year-old waiting to open his Christmas presents.

"Geez, Don," Danny said later with an amused smile. "You weren't kiddin' 'bout lovin' corn beef, were ya?"

They sat side by side at the kitchen counter, Danny facing Flack while Flack faced the counter, busy gobbling down the corn beef together with some toast and a cup of piping hot coffee. It was a good thing it was the summer and not winter. Flack would be shivering in his birthday suit right now, heating switched on or not.

Flack's mouth was so full that his reply of, "Corn beef," came out more like, "Kwoan Peeve."

Danny's shoulders shook with mirth. Oh man, Flack looked like he was seriously high. If kryptonite was Superman's weakness, then Flack's had to be corn beef, no doubt about it.

Danny leaned his head on the palm of one hand, gazing at the other man with very warm eyes.

"You're not even aware I'm here, are ya?"

Flack chewed on another huge mouthful of bread and meat, his eyes half-lidded with gastronomical bliss.

"Corn beef."

This time, Danny's chuckle was audible.

He fell silent, and whispered, "I love you."

For a couple of seconds, Flack merely continued to munch on his corn beef, appearing to not have heard Danny's hushed declaration. Just when Danny was certain Flack had missed it, Flack swiveled his head and kissed him out of the blue.

"Love you, Danno," Flack whispered back into his lips, and Danny didn't care about the grease on both their lips now because it was more than worth it to hear Flack say those words to him again and again.

Danny couldn't help feeling rather proud of himself at seeing Flack reeling on his chair once their kissing marathon was over. Yeah, he was right up there with corn beef in Flack's book of the finest pleasures in the universe. He watched Flack pick up the final piece of corn beef with a fork and stare at it with dreamy eyes.

"Love you too, corn beef," Flack murmured.

And with one gulp, the man's beloved meat had gone to join its digested comrades in Flack's belly.

"You'resilly," Danny said, and he broke into another round of laughter at Flack crossing his eyes and sticking his tongue out at him.

Yep, Danny thought as Flack leaned forward to kiss him once more, the way to a man's heart truly is through his stomach.

Fin.