Lost and found - CSI:Miami/NY - Speed/Danny - FRMT
Title: Lost and found
Pairing: Speed/Danny
Rating: FRMT
Fandom: CSI:Miami/NY
Summary: How exactly does one lose a 5' 9" CSI anyway?
Prompt: Lunch
Crossover 100 Chart
Tim sighed thankfully, leaning back on the sofa and putting his feet on the coffee table. He had a good book and a steaming mug of hot chocolate, he was happy. The best part was having the apartment to himself and peace and quiet once more.
Danny’s best friend and colleague, Don Flack was staying with them while his place was fumigated. Tim didn’t normally mind Don’s company but, having two constant chatterboxes in the house made him realise how much he missed peace and quiet.
To Tim’s relief, his lover and Don had decided to go out for a few beers after work; giving Tim at least an hour of silence and he had more than every intention in taking advantage of the quiet while it lasted.
A few hours later the brunette was on page 101, after getting up three times to put a fresh load of laundry in, when he heard the door open. "Dan?" Don called quietly, closing the door behind him.
Tim frowned and marked his page. "Flack?" he questioned, stepping into the hallway. "Aren’t you missing something? Well, someone."
Don flinched. "He ain’t back then?"
Tim folded his arms across his chest. "Why would he be back? You went out together."
The Homicide detective shifted nervously. "Yeah… about that…" He ran a hand through his hair. "I kinda… sorta… I lost him."
Speed paused in surprise. "You lost him?" he repeated slowly. "As in you can’t find him? Like you put him down and forgot where?"
"Something like that," Don muttered.
"How the Hell did you manage that?" Tim demanded. "He’s five-foot-nine. He can’t exactly fall down a grate!"
The blue eyed man blushed. "I went to the bathroom and when I came out I couldn’t find him. I swear, Speed I searched every inch of that place, he wasn’t there."
"When was this?"
"About…" he glanced at his watch, "two hours ago."
~
Tim was annoyed. His nice quiet evening had ended up being an evening of finding out where Don had left Danny, before heading out to find his wayward lover.
Lloyds was the place he and Danny had frequented during their childhood. They had always been able to sneak in undetected and wrangle a few beers out of the cute bar staff before being thrown out on their asses.
He sighed, partly with relief but mostly with annoyance when he spotted a familiar figure by the bar, clutching a bottle of beer.
"Danny…"
"Hey," the blonde grinned up at him. "You look like someone. Do I know you?"
"You’re drunk."
Danny shook his head indignantly. "I am not," he replied, trying not to slur his words. "See I can sit here without falling… Whoa!"
Tim managed to catch his lover before he fell onto the floor. "Danny, why are you still here?"
"Waiting for Don," he pointed in the direction of the ladies room. "He’s been in the bathroom for like… ever."
"Dan, how many fingers am I holding up?" He held his hand in front of Danny’s face, displaying all five digits.
"Stop moving them and I’ll tell you," Danny scowled, reaching for his bottle and knocking it over.
"I’m taking you home," Tim stated.
"No, you’re not!" the New York CSI pouted. "I’m perfectly… fine. Tell him I’m fine," he instructed the person next to him.
Tim rolled his eyes, grabbing hold of Danny’s arm. "That’s a lamp."
~
"Hey, you found him!" Don exclaimed. "Where was he?"
"At the bar… in Lloyds. Right where you left him. Apparently he was waiting for his friend Don to come out of the bathroom."
Tim shifted Danny, trying to support the other man’s weight; apparently halfway home Danny had decided he didn’t want to do something as strenuous as walk, thus turning Tim into a human crutch.
Danny winced and elbowed Tim in the ribs. "You don’t have to shout. We’re only here."
"Shut up," Tim glared. "You’ve already thrown up on me twice. You’re lucky I didn’t leave you in the park." He looked at Don. "Do you think you could help me? It’s like trying to shift dead weight."
Between the two of them they managed to get Danny lying on the bed. The instant his head hit the pillow, the blonde fell into an alcohol induced stupor.
"You can’t leave him like that," Don pointed out. "His clothes stink."
Tim sighed and Don laughed. "Don’t think I’m helping you undress him." He shuddered. "Oh and, I’d burn your clothes too," he added before leaving the room.
The other man looked down at his own clothes, retching at the smell of Danny’s vomit. "God, you’re lucky I love you," he muttered to his lover’s unconscious form as he began stripping him.
~
Danny groaned when he felt the sunlight coming through the window hit his eyes. His head felt like he had been hit with a frying pan, there was a jackhammer inside it and he was sure something had crawled into his mouth during the night and died.
His stomach turned at the smell coming from the kitchen. "What the hell are you cooking? Human flesh?" he croaked, stumbling into the room and falling into the chair opposite Don.
"Just some lunch," Tim shrugged. "Some bacon, sausage, a couple of eggs, some fried tomatoes."
"Lots of grease," Don added.
Danny gagged and covered his mouth before darting out of the room.
Tim laughed as the bathroom door slammed closed.
"That was mean," Don commented, sipping his coffee.
"I know," the brunette smirked. "That’s what he gets for ruining my favourite T-shirt."
Pairing: Speed/Danny
Rating: FRMT
Fandom: CSI:Miami/NY
Summary: How exactly does one lose a 5' 9" CSI anyway?
Prompt: Lunch
Crossover 100 Chart
Tim sighed thankfully, leaning back on the sofa and putting his feet on the coffee table. He had a good book and a steaming mug of hot chocolate, he was happy. The best part was having the apartment to himself and peace and quiet once more.
Danny’s best friend and colleague, Don Flack was staying with them while his place was fumigated. Tim didn’t normally mind Don’s company but, having two constant chatterboxes in the house made him realise how much he missed peace and quiet.
To Tim’s relief, his lover and Don had decided to go out for a few beers after work; giving Tim at least an hour of silence and he had more than every intention in taking advantage of the quiet while it lasted.
A few hours later the brunette was on page 101, after getting up three times to put a fresh load of laundry in, when he heard the door open. "Dan?" Don called quietly, closing the door behind him.
Tim frowned and marked his page. "Flack?" he questioned, stepping into the hallway. "Aren’t you missing something? Well, someone."
Don flinched. "He ain’t back then?"
Tim folded his arms across his chest. "Why would he be back? You went out together."
The Homicide detective shifted nervously. "Yeah… about that…" He ran a hand through his hair. "I kinda… sorta… I lost him."
Speed paused in surprise. "You lost him?" he repeated slowly. "As in you can’t find him? Like you put him down and forgot where?"
"Something like that," Don muttered.
"How the Hell did you manage that?" Tim demanded. "He’s five-foot-nine. He can’t exactly fall down a grate!"
The blue eyed man blushed. "I went to the bathroom and when I came out I couldn’t find him. I swear, Speed I searched every inch of that place, he wasn’t there."
"When was this?"
"About…" he glanced at his watch, "two hours ago."
~
Tim was annoyed. His nice quiet evening had ended up being an evening of finding out where Don had left Danny, before heading out to find his wayward lover.
Lloyds was the place he and Danny had frequented during their childhood. They had always been able to sneak in undetected and wrangle a few beers out of the cute bar staff before being thrown out on their asses.
He sighed, partly with relief but mostly with annoyance when he spotted a familiar figure by the bar, clutching a bottle of beer.
"Danny…"
"Hey," the blonde grinned up at him. "You look like someone. Do I know you?"
"You’re drunk."
Danny shook his head indignantly. "I am not," he replied, trying not to slur his words. "See I can sit here without falling… Whoa!"
Tim managed to catch his lover before he fell onto the floor. "Danny, why are you still here?"
"Waiting for Don," he pointed in the direction of the ladies room. "He’s been in the bathroom for like… ever."
"Dan, how many fingers am I holding up?" He held his hand in front of Danny’s face, displaying all five digits.
"Stop moving them and I’ll tell you," Danny scowled, reaching for his bottle and knocking it over.
"I’m taking you home," Tim stated.
"No, you’re not!" the New York CSI pouted. "I’m perfectly… fine. Tell him I’m fine," he instructed the person next to him.
Tim rolled his eyes, grabbing hold of Danny’s arm. "That’s a lamp."
~
"Hey, you found him!" Don exclaimed. "Where was he?"
"At the bar… in Lloyds. Right where you left him. Apparently he was waiting for his friend Don to come out of the bathroom."
Tim shifted Danny, trying to support the other man’s weight; apparently halfway home Danny had decided he didn’t want to do something as strenuous as walk, thus turning Tim into a human crutch.
Danny winced and elbowed Tim in the ribs. "You don’t have to shout. We’re only here."
"Shut up," Tim glared. "You’ve already thrown up on me twice. You’re lucky I didn’t leave you in the park." He looked at Don. "Do you think you could help me? It’s like trying to shift dead weight."
Between the two of them they managed to get Danny lying on the bed. The instant his head hit the pillow, the blonde fell into an alcohol induced stupor.
"You can’t leave him like that," Don pointed out. "His clothes stink."
Tim sighed and Don laughed. "Don’t think I’m helping you undress him." He shuddered. "Oh and, I’d burn your clothes too," he added before leaving the room.
The other man looked down at his own clothes, retching at the smell of Danny’s vomit. "God, you’re lucky I love you," he muttered to his lover’s unconscious form as he began stripping him.
~
Danny groaned when he felt the sunlight coming through the window hit his eyes. His head felt like he had been hit with a frying pan, there was a jackhammer inside it and he was sure something had crawled into his mouth during the night and died.
His stomach turned at the smell coming from the kitchen. "What the hell are you cooking? Human flesh?" he croaked, stumbling into the room and falling into the chair opposite Don.
"Just some lunch," Tim shrugged. "Some bacon, sausage, a couple of eggs, some fried tomatoes."
"Lots of grease," Don added.
Danny gagged and covered his mouth before darting out of the room.
Tim laughed as the bathroom door slammed closed.
"That was mean," Don commented, sipping his coffee.
"I know," the brunette smirked. "That’s what he gets for ruining my favourite T-shirt."