nights like this
The whole up-and-down internet thing is getting on my nerves. I had this ready last night and couldn’t get it to post.
This story was supposed to fulfill my personal reaction to 3.03-Danny is confused and needs to be bent over the nearest convenient surface and have some sense fucked into him-but it took a few left turns along the way. However, if someone else would like to write that “Danny gets some sense fucked into him” post-ep, I will love you forever and ever. Seriously. Big cartoon hearts. Me & You. <3
title: Nights Like This
with: Flack/Danny
rated: NC-17
herein: post-ep for 3.03 “Love Run Cold”
disclaim: they own me, not the other way around
for: fanfic100 prompt 23) lovers; ( grids)
Flack gets a good look at Monroe’s face on her way out of the precinct, and he hopes that’s the end of that. Thank God she turned the crazy son of a bitch down. Flack never again wants to deal with this pissy, pigheaded act of theirs.
Both Danny and Monroe are fine to work with on their own, but together? Flack feels like a fucking chaperone. Not that they ever do anything unprofessional; it’s all in the way the air in a room can go dead without warning. Flack shuts his desk drawer a bit harder than he needs to.
He and Danny have a standard operating procedure for nights like this. If one of them needs to blow off steam, they go get hammered and then screw around at Flack’s place. It’s happened plenty of times. Yeah, he’s known Danny long enough that they have a standard operating procedure for nights like this-except now he’s known Danny long enough that procedure might no longer apply.
So Flack sits at his desk and dicks around with paperwork and tells himself he’s not waiting to see if Danny will come find him. Not wondering if Danny’s already ducked out without saying goodbye.
Danny started rebuilding those fucking walls around him after about a week of Louie growing pale and thin in a hospital bed. Next thing Flack knows, it’s two months and several whack jobs later, and they’re taking him off the good drugs. As soon as he could make sense of the world around him, he sees Danny’s sealed himself up airtight.
So, yeah, Flack is honestly surprised when Danny drags him to a bar, but he knows better than to show it. Fuck.
Danny knocks a few back pretty fast, talking shit about the case that keeps segueing into shit about Monroe, and he’s not making much sense-just burning through an edge of excess energy. Flack tunes it out, watching Danny’s eyes dart around.
Flack’s on his third beer when he decides he’s sick of listening to Danny’s white noise.
“I know it’s such a blow to your delicate ego, Messer.”
Danny’s mouth snaps shut mid-rant. “Oh, fuck you.”
Flack shrugs.
“Don’t give me that bullshit look.”
“Since when are you and her so fuckin close anyway?”
Danny doesn’t even try to answer. They aren’t close, and they don’t really want to be, and everyone knows it. Everyone but Hammerback, who’s just a dirty old yenta and probably lies in bed at night planning ways to hook people up-and Jesus Christ, Flack didn’t need that image in his head.
So Flack watches Danny toss back another and listens to Danny get a little louder. An hour later, they get a cab-or Flack gets the cab, drags Danny into the back, and gives the driver Danny’s address. Flack’s got a nice buzz, but Danny’s right on the verge of drunk. The trouble kind of drunk.
Danny lets them into his apartment without incident, then he stops and stares. “Fuck’re you dong here, Flack?”
So maybe Danny’s a little more drunk than Flack thought, because that sounded sincere. Flack doesn’t think he needs an answer, but he doesn’t have one either. On the one hand, they were barely fuck buddies, possibly past tense. On the other hand, they are friends, and if a friend needs something, and if you can give it to him, that’s what you do.
They stand there, stupid, for a long minute, Danny with his head bowed so Flack can’t see his face. It’s so quiet he can hear Danny breathe, and goddammit Flack knows what needs to be beaten into Danny’s skull. Danny just refuses to give anyone an opening.
“I didn’t die,” Flack says. Real smooth. But he can’t stop now. “Lindsay didn’t die. Mac didn’t die. Stella didn’t die. Aiden.” Flack feels like he’s choking on thin air, and he sort of wishes he would. “If Aiden had to die, she went out the way she would’ve wanted. I know you still think about her and I know that getting in the boyfriend’s face this afternoon, snagging his prints from the car-that was her move.” Danny hasn’t moved, hasn’t flinched or twitched, and that’s scary because Flack still can’t see his face. “Louie didn’t die but it’s the same as Aiden-if he had to end up like that, that’s how he would’ve wanted it to go down.”
Danny moves so fast Flack doesn’t even see it-but he’s shoved hard against the wall. Danny backs off quick, turns away, and Flack wishes that Danny had just punched him already. Get this over with and make Flack shut up because he’s babbling, which is not something he does, but he’s still talking because Danny needs to hear it.
“I’m not dead, I’m not going anywhere.” Flack bites his tongue-literally-and it doesn’t slow him down. “I’m not. My skin feels too small sometimes, but I’m not-” God knows if Danny’s going to catch on, if Danny’s going to make him shut up. It’s always the other way around. “And you’re not going anwhere, even if you’re not really here half the time-”
Danny kisses him, finally, grabs the back of Flack’s neck and kisses hard, and Flack’s still trying to mutter but the words fall apart against Danny’s mouth until they’re just kissing. Danny kisses rough and clever, like he always did, and that just pisses Flack off.
Flack’s already, immediately too hard because it’s been too, too long, and they can tease him about all the numbers he’s been getting and chicks dig scars, as long as they don’t find out he hasn’t called any of those girls. He doesn’t know why. Knows even less with Danny palming him through his pants and leaving sharp kisses along his jawline.
As close as Flack is, he’s not ready when Danny drops to his knees and opens Flack’s pants, pulling him out of his boxers. Danny’s mouth closes on him, and Flack lets go of a long ugly moan If he babbles now it’s not his fault. He hasn’t gotten a blowjob in five goddamn months, but he’s run out of words, can only manage obscene sounds that just make Danny move faster-so good it hurts.
“Wait, Danny.” Flack tugs at his shoulder. There’s no way he can hang on. “I can’t-”
And Danny doesn’t listen; Danny never listens. He hollows his cheeks, and Flack comes hard, knees buckling.
Danny stands up, and his mouth is swollen and sharp and smug all at once. He leans in for a kiss, and Flack bites his lip, which is really just payback for all the times Danny’s bitten him.
“Fuck,” Danny curses and breaks away. “Fuck was that for?”
Flack just grins as Danny wipes the blood from his lower lip, and Danny’s moving again-probably can’t stop moving, shifting his weight back and forth in a steady fidget. There are any number of things that can key Danny up like this, and Flack knows most of them. Tonight he wishes he didn’t.
He grabs Danny, turns them both, and pins Danny’s wrists to the wall. Danny closes his eyes and drops his head back, but his leg is still bouncing, heel tapping a mile a minute. Flack pulls his hands higher, and Danny doesn’t fight it.
“Can’t you stop moving?” Flack asks, voice even, and he’s suddenly grateful that Danny took the edge off. The bastard usually does know what he’s doing.
Danny leans forward and presses his mouth to Flack’s neck in something that’s not quite a kiss but hums against Flack’s skin anyway. Flack moves forward, sliding a leg between Danny’s, and Danny starts grinding against him. He pushes back against Flack’s hands, but doesn’t put much force into it.
“Ever let anyone tie you up before?” Flack asks, even though he’s pretty damn sure of the answer. Danny almost stills, a movement like cresting a hill. Flack nips the sensitive spot at the back of Danny’s jawline. “Won’t use the cuffs or anything. Just let me. It’ll be good,” Flack murmurs, and maybe he’s not completely through babbling. “I’ve done it before. I know it’ll be good. We can use my tie.” Flack snickers, because god, there’s an idea, but he doesn’t miss the faint click as Danny swallows.
“Yeah, okay.”
That’s all Flack needs. He manages to strip them both and drag Danny to the bedroom at the same time.
He pushes Danny back onto the bed, but holds on to one of Danny’s wrists, wrapping the tie around it. He loops the tie through a slat in the headboard and knots it around Danny’s other wrist. When Flack moves to grab the lube and a condom, he takes about five seconds to appreciate the view-Danny, who’s flushed and hard and vibrating like a live wire, with his arms stretched out above him and legs slightly spread.
“You gonna take a picture?” Danny doesn’t quite look at him, but Flack knows he’s blind without his glasses.
Neither one of them are all that good at patience, so Flack doesn’t waste any time. Danny groans at the second finger and pushes onto Flack’s hand, almost chanting “like that, like that.” It's good, and Flack lines up and thrusts in with a sharp snap of the hips that makes Danny shout. It’s good, they’re good, and Danny’s so tight. Flack takes him hard and fast because that’s how they do things, isn’t it. He shifts Danny’s legs so he can get more, fuck deep enough that Danny’s got to feel it in his throat, that Danny will feel it tomorrow and maybe even the next day.
Danny’s eyes slide shut, and he goes quiet. He’s not pulling at the restraint, but his knuckles are white and his body is rigid. Flack slows down immediately, rubbing Danny’s side.
“Danny?”
Danny doesn’t open his eyes. He’s trembling-and holding his breath.
“Shit.” Flack pulls out and moves up the bed, fumbling with the knots. “You bastard.”
As soon as he’s free, Danny runs his hands roughly up and down Flack’s spine and through his hair. His eyes slit open, and his thumbs trace over Flack’s face. Flack settles back between Danny’s legs and can feel Danny’s heart racing as they press chest to chest. He kisses Danny’s lower lip softly, the same place he bit earlier, and hopes that Danny understands the apology. He won’t stop touching Flack, fingertips pressing into every bit of skin he can reach. Danny’s hands shake a little. “Still want you to fuck me,” he murmurs into Flack’s neck.
They shift, and Flack slides in again, moving easy and slow now. Danny wraps an arm around Flack’s shoulders and won’t let him pull back enough to get a better angle. Flack can’t even prop himself up on one hand and reach between them to get Danny off-and Danny shows no sign of letting go of Flack so he can touch himself.
One long roll of the hips blurs into another. Danny’s still tight and warm and all around him. Flack starts to tremble with the effort of holding himself back.
“Let go, Don.” Danny wraps his legs high around Flack’s waist. “Let go. I want to feel it.”
Flack moans, and his pace falters, quickens. He’s so close.
“Yeah, come for me,” Danny murmurs, kissing Flack’s face, and Flack does. He comes, shaking, with Danny’s name on his lips and Danny’s lips on his forehead, and he whites out again.
When Flack comes back to himself, Danny’s still petting him all over and making nonsense sounds. He can feel Danny’s erection trapped between their stomachs, but Danny’s got a leg hooked around the small of his back and won’t let Flack move.
They lie there breathing together until Flack is soft, and Danny finally loosens his hold. Flack slides down until he can take Danny’s dick in his mouth, and Danny sighs, his stomach muscles fluttering beneath Flack’s hand. He cups Danny’s balls, then trails his hand lower and slips a finger inside. Soon Danny arches and comes, and Flack holds him until it’s over, stroking Danny’s hip with his free hand.
Flack crawls back up the bed, and they lie next to each other, not touching.
“Why’d you let me?” he finally asks. He’s way past his quota for talking. He doesn’t want an answer, but he needs one.
Danny sighs and rolls onto his side, facing Flack but not looking at him. “Didn’t think it would be that bad.”
Flack winces a little and hopes that Danny’s still not looking at him. He stares at the shadows across Danny’s ceiling.
“You weren’t the bad part.”
“So why’d you let me?” Flack asks again.
“Because,” Danny says slowly, like he’s spelling it out. “You weren’t the problem. Jesus Christ, Don.”
“That’s a shitty answer.”
“Well, it’s all I got.” Danny shifts a little closer but still doesn’t touch him. “Now shut up and go to sleep.”
Flack snorts and rolls on his side, facing away from Danny. “Still a shitty answer.”
“Actually, it’s not.” Danny takes a deep breath, and when he exhales Flack can feel it on the back of his neck. “And stop trying to make me throw you out.”
“What?”
Danny moves closer, spooning up behind Flack. “You’re pissed at me. Fine, I get it. I probably deserve it.” He wraps an arm around Flack’s waist, and they shouldn’t fit together so easily because they’ve never slept like this before. “Just quit thinking you can take my tricks and make them work on me. That passive aggressive bullshit doesn’t suit you.”
“I’m not pissed at you. Not really.” Flack covers Danny’s hand with his own and yawns. “I don’t know what I am.”
Danny makes a noise that might’ve been a laugh if he were more awake. “I know what you are, you hero cop dick.” He threads their fingers together. “Now, seriously, go to sleep.”
“Yeah,” Flack says, and leans back against Danny’s warmth.
Thanks for reading; feedback always appreciated.
This story was supposed to fulfill my personal reaction to 3.03-Danny is confused and needs to be bent over the nearest convenient surface and have some sense fucked into him-but it took a few left turns along the way. However, if someone else would like to write that “Danny gets some sense fucked into him” post-ep, I will love you forever and ever. Seriously. Big cartoon hearts. Me & You. <3
title: Nights Like This
with: Flack/Danny
rated: NC-17
herein: post-ep for 3.03 “Love Run Cold”
disclaim: they own me, not the other way around
for: fanfic100 prompt 23) lovers; ( grids)
Flack gets a good look at Monroe’s face on her way out of the precinct, and he hopes that’s the end of that. Thank God she turned the crazy son of a bitch down. Flack never again wants to deal with this pissy, pigheaded act of theirs.
Both Danny and Monroe are fine to work with on their own, but together? Flack feels like a fucking chaperone. Not that they ever do anything unprofessional; it’s all in the way the air in a room can go dead without warning. Flack shuts his desk drawer a bit harder than he needs to.
He and Danny have a standard operating procedure for nights like this. If one of them needs to blow off steam, they go get hammered and then screw around at Flack’s place. It’s happened plenty of times. Yeah, he’s known Danny long enough that they have a standard operating procedure for nights like this-except now he’s known Danny long enough that procedure might no longer apply.
So Flack sits at his desk and dicks around with paperwork and tells himself he’s not waiting to see if Danny will come find him. Not wondering if Danny’s already ducked out without saying goodbye.
Danny started rebuilding those fucking walls around him after about a week of Louie growing pale and thin in a hospital bed. Next thing Flack knows, it’s two months and several whack jobs later, and they’re taking him off the good drugs. As soon as he could make sense of the world around him, he sees Danny’s sealed himself up airtight.
So, yeah, Flack is honestly surprised when Danny drags him to a bar, but he knows better than to show it. Fuck.
Danny knocks a few back pretty fast, talking shit about the case that keeps segueing into shit about Monroe, and he’s not making much sense-just burning through an edge of excess energy. Flack tunes it out, watching Danny’s eyes dart around.
Flack’s on his third beer when he decides he’s sick of listening to Danny’s white noise.
“I know it’s such a blow to your delicate ego, Messer.”
Danny’s mouth snaps shut mid-rant. “Oh, fuck you.”
Flack shrugs.
“Don’t give me that bullshit look.”
“Since when are you and her so fuckin close anyway?”
Danny doesn’t even try to answer. They aren’t close, and they don’t really want to be, and everyone knows it. Everyone but Hammerback, who’s just a dirty old yenta and probably lies in bed at night planning ways to hook people up-and Jesus Christ, Flack didn’t need that image in his head.
So Flack watches Danny toss back another and listens to Danny get a little louder. An hour later, they get a cab-or Flack gets the cab, drags Danny into the back, and gives the driver Danny’s address. Flack’s got a nice buzz, but Danny’s right on the verge of drunk. The trouble kind of drunk.
Danny lets them into his apartment without incident, then he stops and stares. “Fuck’re you dong here, Flack?”
So maybe Danny’s a little more drunk than Flack thought, because that sounded sincere. Flack doesn’t think he needs an answer, but he doesn’t have one either. On the one hand, they were barely fuck buddies, possibly past tense. On the other hand, they are friends, and if a friend needs something, and if you can give it to him, that’s what you do.
They stand there, stupid, for a long minute, Danny with his head bowed so Flack can’t see his face. It’s so quiet he can hear Danny breathe, and goddammit Flack knows what needs to be beaten into Danny’s skull. Danny just refuses to give anyone an opening.
“I didn’t die,” Flack says. Real smooth. But he can’t stop now. “Lindsay didn’t die. Mac didn’t die. Stella didn’t die. Aiden.” Flack feels like he’s choking on thin air, and he sort of wishes he would. “If Aiden had to die, she went out the way she would’ve wanted. I know you still think about her and I know that getting in the boyfriend’s face this afternoon, snagging his prints from the car-that was her move.” Danny hasn’t moved, hasn’t flinched or twitched, and that’s scary because Flack still can’t see his face. “Louie didn’t die but it’s the same as Aiden-if he had to end up like that, that’s how he would’ve wanted it to go down.”
Danny moves so fast Flack doesn’t even see it-but he’s shoved hard against the wall. Danny backs off quick, turns away, and Flack wishes that Danny had just punched him already. Get this over with and make Flack shut up because he’s babbling, which is not something he does, but he’s still talking because Danny needs to hear it.
“I’m not dead, I’m not going anywhere.” Flack bites his tongue-literally-and it doesn’t slow him down. “I’m not. My skin feels too small sometimes, but I’m not-” God knows if Danny’s going to catch on, if Danny’s going to make him shut up. It’s always the other way around. “And you’re not going anwhere, even if you’re not really here half the time-”
Danny kisses him, finally, grabs the back of Flack’s neck and kisses hard, and Flack’s still trying to mutter but the words fall apart against Danny’s mouth until they’re just kissing. Danny kisses rough and clever, like he always did, and that just pisses Flack off.
Flack’s already, immediately too hard because it’s been too, too long, and they can tease him about all the numbers he’s been getting and chicks dig scars, as long as they don’t find out he hasn’t called any of those girls. He doesn’t know why. Knows even less with Danny palming him through his pants and leaving sharp kisses along his jawline.
As close as Flack is, he’s not ready when Danny drops to his knees and opens Flack’s pants, pulling him out of his boxers. Danny’s mouth closes on him, and Flack lets go of a long ugly moan If he babbles now it’s not his fault. He hasn’t gotten a blowjob in five goddamn months, but he’s run out of words, can only manage obscene sounds that just make Danny move faster-so good it hurts.
“Wait, Danny.” Flack tugs at his shoulder. There’s no way he can hang on. “I can’t-”
And Danny doesn’t listen; Danny never listens. He hollows his cheeks, and Flack comes hard, knees buckling.
Danny stands up, and his mouth is swollen and sharp and smug all at once. He leans in for a kiss, and Flack bites his lip, which is really just payback for all the times Danny’s bitten him.
“Fuck,” Danny curses and breaks away. “Fuck was that for?”
Flack just grins as Danny wipes the blood from his lower lip, and Danny’s moving again-probably can’t stop moving, shifting his weight back and forth in a steady fidget. There are any number of things that can key Danny up like this, and Flack knows most of them. Tonight he wishes he didn’t.
He grabs Danny, turns them both, and pins Danny’s wrists to the wall. Danny closes his eyes and drops his head back, but his leg is still bouncing, heel tapping a mile a minute. Flack pulls his hands higher, and Danny doesn’t fight it.
“Can’t you stop moving?” Flack asks, voice even, and he’s suddenly grateful that Danny took the edge off. The bastard usually does know what he’s doing.
Danny leans forward and presses his mouth to Flack’s neck in something that’s not quite a kiss but hums against Flack’s skin anyway. Flack moves forward, sliding a leg between Danny’s, and Danny starts grinding against him. He pushes back against Flack’s hands, but doesn’t put much force into it.
“Ever let anyone tie you up before?” Flack asks, even though he’s pretty damn sure of the answer. Danny almost stills, a movement like cresting a hill. Flack nips the sensitive spot at the back of Danny’s jawline. “Won’t use the cuffs or anything. Just let me. It’ll be good,” Flack murmurs, and maybe he’s not completely through babbling. “I’ve done it before. I know it’ll be good. We can use my tie.” Flack snickers, because god, there’s an idea, but he doesn’t miss the faint click as Danny swallows.
“Yeah, okay.”
That’s all Flack needs. He manages to strip them both and drag Danny to the bedroom at the same time.
He pushes Danny back onto the bed, but holds on to one of Danny’s wrists, wrapping the tie around it. He loops the tie through a slat in the headboard and knots it around Danny’s other wrist. When Flack moves to grab the lube and a condom, he takes about five seconds to appreciate the view-Danny, who’s flushed and hard and vibrating like a live wire, with his arms stretched out above him and legs slightly spread.
“You gonna take a picture?” Danny doesn’t quite look at him, but Flack knows he’s blind without his glasses.
Neither one of them are all that good at patience, so Flack doesn’t waste any time. Danny groans at the second finger and pushes onto Flack’s hand, almost chanting “like that, like that.” It's good, and Flack lines up and thrusts in with a sharp snap of the hips that makes Danny shout. It’s good, they’re good, and Danny’s so tight. Flack takes him hard and fast because that’s how they do things, isn’t it. He shifts Danny’s legs so he can get more, fuck deep enough that Danny’s got to feel it in his throat, that Danny will feel it tomorrow and maybe even the next day.
Danny’s eyes slide shut, and he goes quiet. He’s not pulling at the restraint, but his knuckles are white and his body is rigid. Flack slows down immediately, rubbing Danny’s side.
“Danny?”
Danny doesn’t open his eyes. He’s trembling-and holding his breath.
“Shit.” Flack pulls out and moves up the bed, fumbling with the knots. “You bastard.”
As soon as he’s free, Danny runs his hands roughly up and down Flack’s spine and through his hair. His eyes slit open, and his thumbs trace over Flack’s face. Flack settles back between Danny’s legs and can feel Danny’s heart racing as they press chest to chest. He kisses Danny’s lower lip softly, the same place he bit earlier, and hopes that Danny understands the apology. He won’t stop touching Flack, fingertips pressing into every bit of skin he can reach. Danny’s hands shake a little. “Still want you to fuck me,” he murmurs into Flack’s neck.
They shift, and Flack slides in again, moving easy and slow now. Danny wraps an arm around Flack’s shoulders and won’t let him pull back enough to get a better angle. Flack can’t even prop himself up on one hand and reach between them to get Danny off-and Danny shows no sign of letting go of Flack so he can touch himself.
One long roll of the hips blurs into another. Danny’s still tight and warm and all around him. Flack starts to tremble with the effort of holding himself back.
“Let go, Don.” Danny wraps his legs high around Flack’s waist. “Let go. I want to feel it.”
Flack moans, and his pace falters, quickens. He’s so close.
“Yeah, come for me,” Danny murmurs, kissing Flack’s face, and Flack does. He comes, shaking, with Danny’s name on his lips and Danny’s lips on his forehead, and he whites out again.
When Flack comes back to himself, Danny’s still petting him all over and making nonsense sounds. He can feel Danny’s erection trapped between their stomachs, but Danny’s got a leg hooked around the small of his back and won’t let Flack move.
They lie there breathing together until Flack is soft, and Danny finally loosens his hold. Flack slides down until he can take Danny’s dick in his mouth, and Danny sighs, his stomach muscles fluttering beneath Flack’s hand. He cups Danny’s balls, then trails his hand lower and slips a finger inside. Soon Danny arches and comes, and Flack holds him until it’s over, stroking Danny’s hip with his free hand.
Flack crawls back up the bed, and they lie next to each other, not touching.
“Why’d you let me?” he finally asks. He’s way past his quota for talking. He doesn’t want an answer, but he needs one.
Danny sighs and rolls onto his side, facing Flack but not looking at him. “Didn’t think it would be that bad.”
Flack winces a little and hopes that Danny’s still not looking at him. He stares at the shadows across Danny’s ceiling.
“You weren’t the bad part.”
“So why’d you let me?” Flack asks again.
“Because,” Danny says slowly, like he’s spelling it out. “You weren’t the problem. Jesus Christ, Don.”
“That’s a shitty answer.”
“Well, it’s all I got.” Danny shifts a little closer but still doesn’t touch him. “Now shut up and go to sleep.”
Flack snorts and rolls on his side, facing away from Danny. “Still a shitty answer.”
“Actually, it’s not.” Danny takes a deep breath, and when he exhales Flack can feel it on the back of his neck. “And stop trying to make me throw you out.”
“What?”
Danny moves closer, spooning up behind Flack. “You’re pissed at me. Fine, I get it. I probably deserve it.” He wraps an arm around Flack’s waist, and they shouldn’t fit together so easily because they’ve never slept like this before. “Just quit thinking you can take my tricks and make them work on me. That passive aggressive bullshit doesn’t suit you.”
“I’m not pissed at you. Not really.” Flack covers Danny’s hand with his own and yawns. “I don’t know what I am.”
Danny makes a noise that might’ve been a laugh if he were more awake. “I know what you are, you hero cop dick.” He threads their fingers together. “Now, seriously, go to sleep.”
“Yeah,” Flack says, and leans back against Danny’s warmth.
Thanks for reading; feedback always appreciated.