Fic: Leaving Normal (for scarletts_awry)
Title: Leaving Normal
Author: stellaluna_
Fandom: CSI:NY
Rating: R for sex and language
Summary: Flack is still beginning to understand the situation. Part of the BSI 'verse AU. Flack/Danny
Disclaimer: None of these are mine. Characters are the property of Anthony Zuiker, Jerry Bruckheimer Television, CBS, and Alliance Atlantis.
Notes: Written for scarletts_awry, a partner in crime, who deserves to have porn written for her.
"Tonight I get to pick the bar," Flack says.
"No, you don't." Danny doesn't even look at him.
"Why not?"
Danny keeps arranging rune stones on the table in front of him. "Because the last time I let you pick the bar, I ended up singing 'Rhinestone Cowboy' in front of everyone and then puking up teriyaki noodles all over Avenue A. Forget it."
"It's not my fault you can't hold your sake," Flack says. "But you're right: you're not a 'Rhinestone Cowboy' kinda guy. 'Werewolves of London,' maybe."
"Very funny. You ever think about doing stand-up?" Danny shifts two of the runes and makes a note. "Seriously, you want to come drinking, you're welcome, but we're going to Machen's with everyone else, same as always."
"No karaoke, I swear." Flack gets up and leans on the table. "I just..." He takes a deep breath. "I just want to get away from the hardcore crowd for one night, you get me?"
Danny finally looks up. "Then why do you want to hang out with me?"
"Messer, believe it or not, you're the most normal one here."
"I thought you said that was Stella."
"Yeah, but there was that whole...you know." Flack lowers his voice; he still can't say the words without blushing. "Body-swap thing."
"Oh, that." Danny's tone is bland, too much so.
"And she's just...she's into this shit a little too deep. All of this." Flack thinks of the scars he'd found when he was in her body, and the way she'd been after the thing in Central Park a couple of weeks ago. "It's gotta be you."
"No karaoke," Danny says after a moment. "No funny theme bars."
Flack holds up his hands. "None. I swear. I'll take you to a good old cop bar. Christmas lights all year and a pool table in back."
Danny nods, and Flack thinks he can see the beginning of a smile on his face now. "Okay, then," he says. "Since you think I'm the normal one and all."
"Yeah, I do," Flack says. "Hell if I can figure out how an ordinary schmuck like you got mixed up in this fucked-up gig."
He means it to be a light remark. It's not like he's expecting Danny's life story or anything. But Danny's face shuts down, eyes going cold and remote, and he drops his gaze back to the runes. "Oh, you know," he says. "I saw Ghostbusters one too many times when I was a kid."
"Right." Flack stands up straight. "I should -- "
"You should probably get back to your precinct," Danny says. "Unless Mac or someone needs you for anything."
"No," Flack says. "They don't."
He's almost out the door when Danny says, "See you for drinks later," and Flack nods without looking back, without trusting himself to speak.
-
-
-
At Sullivan's that night, Danny is light and funny and charming, so much so that Flack almost might have imagined his earlier coldness. Might have. But he's seen this kind of bonhomie before, and he knows it's just another method of keeping people at arm's length. He takes the hint, and they talk about all kinds of impersonal things over beer and three games of pool: the Yankees and John Woo's Hong Kong movies, and Steve Earle.
Sometime around midnight, they switch to whiskey shots, and sometime after that, the distance between the pool cue and the eight ball seems to grow and shrink at will. "I'm no fucking good at spatial relations when I'm drunk," Danny says, and collapses heavily into a booth.
Flack sits down across from him. "Yeah, I feel you," he says. "Six or seven shots and my ability to parallel park goes all to shit."
Danny laughs. "Big deal," he says. "You ever try to draw a protective circle when you can't even tell north from south?"
Flack downs another shot. "Can't say I have, psychic boy."
Danny rolls his eyes. "I'm not psychic. We get tested for all that shit."
"Do you, now."
"Oh, yeah." Danny waves his hand. "Whole big work-up. Precognition, telekinesis, you name it. They do Gansfield and a bunch of the Duke tests with us, too. The whole magilla." He gives Flack a lazy smile. "You impressed yet?"
"Only that you can still pronounce all those words without slurring."
Danny's smile grows wider. "I got a good tongue."
"Is that so?" Flack leans into his space.
"Yeah."
"But you're not psychic."
"Nope. I know how to do basic spells, all the elementary magic shit they taught us at Quantico, but I'm not a natural talent."
"So then you didn't get recruited for the job," Flack says.
"Nah." Danny shakes his head. "Joined up on my own."
"Seems like an interesting career choice." Flack takes another shot, but he keeps his gaze focused on Danny's face.
"I used to play baseball," Danny says. "Then I broke my wrist, and boom, that was the end of that." He does two shots in a row, head tilted back.
"And you went from that to this?" Flack asks. "What, did a werewolf snap your wrist or something?"
He expects a laugh for that, or at least a snide retort, but Danny just shakes his head again, staring down at his empty glass.
"I was gonna have to come back to New York after that either way," he says after a pause. "And I didn't want to go into the family business. I mean, I really did not want to go into the family business. So I figured I'd take the exact opposite route instead."
"Wait." Flack frowns. He thinks he's beginning to see what shape these puzzle pieces form, but his head is spinning, and he has to struggle to find the words. "Your family's involved in...in the cabals?"
"Close." Danny raises his head. "Not that exactly, but nothing legit, either. My pop, he just dabbled, ran errands and shit when he wasn't collecting unemployment. But my brother..."
"You have a brother?" Flack asks, feeling stupid the second he voices the question.
"Technically." Danny tips his shot glass upside-down and begins to turn it in a careful circle. Flack watches whiskey fall in drops onto the coaster. "Don't know if he'd say the same about me, but...he's into it deep."
"Into what deep?"
"Nothing you need to know about." The glass is spinning faster now, and Flack thinks he can almost see a pattern in the spilled drops of whiskey. "Do what I do and stay out of it. It's safer for everyone that way."
Danny lifts the glass suddenly, and for a split second, Flack sees what's there, sees as much as Danny wants him to see -- and then there's a flash of blue light, and when he opens his eyes again, the coaster and the whiskey are both gone, and the glass is sitting upright in the middle of the table, bone-dry.
"It's none of your business anyway," Danny says, and smiles at Flack. Flack stares into Danny's cold eyes, at that mirthless rigor mortis grin, and he doesn't try to argue. Right now, he doesn't even know how he could have thought Danny was too human, never mind too normal, for BSI.
"Besides," Danny says, and leans back in the booth, spreading his arms and legs and smiling again, "I'd much rather talk about you, Detective." The smile looks real this time, or at least amused, and Flack feels Danny's foot nudge his under the table.
Flack gets to his feet, unsure if he's dizzy from standing up too fast or from this latest quicksilver change in Danny's mood. "I'm going to go get more drinks," he says.
He's pretty sure that Danny watches him the whole time he's at the bar.
Later, in the alley behind the bar, Flack grabs Danny by the shoulder when he starts to sink to his knees and backs him into the wall. "No," he says into Danny's ear, and catches him by the wrists when he tries to fight, leaning his whole body into it until Danny is pinioned and Flack can feel his erection throbbing between them. He lets go of one of Danny's wrists and slides his hand down his belly, rubbing and feeling the way Danny's muscles tighten as he breathes in and out.
Flack has almost forgotten the blue light and the smile on Danny's face back in the bar, or he tells himself he has, but he's not sure that means Danny gets to take charge of this encounter. It hasn't exactly come as a surprise, not after Danny's foot rubbing against his or a dozen other little moments that have passed secretly between them in the last month or so, but that it's not a surprise also means that Flack knows why it would be a bad idea to let Danny get the upper hand this early on. Let him be the one to lean back, instead, let him be the one to enjoy it while Flack gets to watch his face and see how his mouth twists. Let Danny be the one to lose control first, not Flack.
Danny is hot and hard against him, and he whimpers when Flack undoes his belt buckle and then shoves a hand down the front of his pants. Danny has resisted kissing him, but that's all right, too; if Flack plays this right, he can have Danny begging for that before the night is out, can have him pleading for mouth on mouth by the time the sun rises. Flack thinks of what it will be like, of what Danny's mouth and tongue will feel like tangled up with his own, and a little shiver of desire runs through his body. He controls that shiver for the moment, breathes through it, and wraps his fingers around Danny's cock as he starts to jerk him off slowly. Danny moans again and arches up into his hand, and Flack lets go of his other wrist. Danny's hands drop down and he begins to stroke Flack's back and ass.
Flack looks into Danny's face as he pushes against him, watches his eyes widen behind his glasses and his mouth go slack as he keeps on jerking him off and as Danny writhes against him. He's close, very close, and Flack strokes him harder, squeezing the head of his cock between his fingers until Danny curses and bucks hard against him, then comes in a rush, moaning, "Oh Jesus, oh Jesus fuck." Flack holds him until he stills, concentrating on the little puffs of hot air that tickle his face as Danny gasps for breath and on the cool stickiness and sweat now trickling over his fingers.
Flack wonders again if he'll ever be able to think of Danny as normal, if that was true or just a very bad mistake on his part. Maybe anyone who does this job just isn't, or at least their normal, everyday humanity is something they lose fast if they end up being successful at this the way Danny is, the way all the rest of them are. Flack wonders, and wonders if being human is something these people are even capable of anymore, or if it's something they've left behind at some point along the way.
But he doesn't have time to think about that now, because Danny grabs his face between both of his hands and kisses him, and even though Flack was determined to resist this earlier, he can't help kissing back the moment Danny's lips touch his. They kiss and he slips his hand out of Danny's pants so that he can hold him close, and he realizes that Danny is shivering worse than ever now, fingers trembling as he tangles his hands in Flack's hair and nips at the corner of his mouth.
How long before he's caught up in this just as badly as the rest of them, Flack wonders; how long until he looks in the mirror and sees a stranger staring back at him?
Danny's human heart beats rabbit-quick against Flack's chest, and his mouth is warm and yielding as they kiss.
Feedback is always appreciated.
Author: stellaluna_
Fandom: CSI:NY
Rating: R for sex and language
Summary: Flack is still beginning to understand the situation. Part of the BSI 'verse AU. Flack/Danny
Disclaimer: None of these are mine. Characters are the property of Anthony Zuiker, Jerry Bruckheimer Television, CBS, and Alliance Atlantis.
Notes: Written for scarletts_awry, a partner in crime, who deserves to have porn written for her.
"Tonight I get to pick the bar," Flack says.
"No, you don't." Danny doesn't even look at him.
"Why not?"
Danny keeps arranging rune stones on the table in front of him. "Because the last time I let you pick the bar, I ended up singing 'Rhinestone Cowboy' in front of everyone and then puking up teriyaki noodles all over Avenue A. Forget it."
"It's not my fault you can't hold your sake," Flack says. "But you're right: you're not a 'Rhinestone Cowboy' kinda guy. 'Werewolves of London,' maybe."
"Very funny. You ever think about doing stand-up?" Danny shifts two of the runes and makes a note. "Seriously, you want to come drinking, you're welcome, but we're going to Machen's with everyone else, same as always."
"No karaoke, I swear." Flack gets up and leans on the table. "I just..." He takes a deep breath. "I just want to get away from the hardcore crowd for one night, you get me?"
Danny finally looks up. "Then why do you want to hang out with me?"
"Messer, believe it or not, you're the most normal one here."
"I thought you said that was Stella."
"Yeah, but there was that whole...you know." Flack lowers his voice; he still can't say the words without blushing. "Body-swap thing."
"Oh, that." Danny's tone is bland, too much so.
"And she's just...she's into this shit a little too deep. All of this." Flack thinks of the scars he'd found when he was in her body, and the way she'd been after the thing in Central Park a couple of weeks ago. "It's gotta be you."
"No karaoke," Danny says after a moment. "No funny theme bars."
Flack holds up his hands. "None. I swear. I'll take you to a good old cop bar. Christmas lights all year and a pool table in back."
Danny nods, and Flack thinks he can see the beginning of a smile on his face now. "Okay, then," he says. "Since you think I'm the normal one and all."
"Yeah, I do," Flack says. "Hell if I can figure out how an ordinary schmuck like you got mixed up in this fucked-up gig."
He means it to be a light remark. It's not like he's expecting Danny's life story or anything. But Danny's face shuts down, eyes going cold and remote, and he drops his gaze back to the runes. "Oh, you know," he says. "I saw Ghostbusters one too many times when I was a kid."
"Right." Flack stands up straight. "I should -- "
"You should probably get back to your precinct," Danny says. "Unless Mac or someone needs you for anything."
"No," Flack says. "They don't."
He's almost out the door when Danny says, "See you for drinks later," and Flack nods without looking back, without trusting himself to speak.
-
-
-
At Sullivan's that night, Danny is light and funny and charming, so much so that Flack almost might have imagined his earlier coldness. Might have. But he's seen this kind of bonhomie before, and he knows it's just another method of keeping people at arm's length. He takes the hint, and they talk about all kinds of impersonal things over beer and three games of pool: the Yankees and John Woo's Hong Kong movies, and Steve Earle.
Sometime around midnight, they switch to whiskey shots, and sometime after that, the distance between the pool cue and the eight ball seems to grow and shrink at will. "I'm no fucking good at spatial relations when I'm drunk," Danny says, and collapses heavily into a booth.
Flack sits down across from him. "Yeah, I feel you," he says. "Six or seven shots and my ability to parallel park goes all to shit."
Danny laughs. "Big deal," he says. "You ever try to draw a protective circle when you can't even tell north from south?"
Flack downs another shot. "Can't say I have, psychic boy."
Danny rolls his eyes. "I'm not psychic. We get tested for all that shit."
"Do you, now."
"Oh, yeah." Danny waves his hand. "Whole big work-up. Precognition, telekinesis, you name it. They do Gansfield and a bunch of the Duke tests with us, too. The whole magilla." He gives Flack a lazy smile. "You impressed yet?"
"Only that you can still pronounce all those words without slurring."
Danny's smile grows wider. "I got a good tongue."
"Is that so?" Flack leans into his space.
"Yeah."
"But you're not psychic."
"Nope. I know how to do basic spells, all the elementary magic shit they taught us at Quantico, but I'm not a natural talent."
"So then you didn't get recruited for the job," Flack says.
"Nah." Danny shakes his head. "Joined up on my own."
"Seems like an interesting career choice." Flack takes another shot, but he keeps his gaze focused on Danny's face.
"I used to play baseball," Danny says. "Then I broke my wrist, and boom, that was the end of that." He does two shots in a row, head tilted back.
"And you went from that to this?" Flack asks. "What, did a werewolf snap your wrist or something?"
He expects a laugh for that, or at least a snide retort, but Danny just shakes his head again, staring down at his empty glass.
"I was gonna have to come back to New York after that either way," he says after a pause. "And I didn't want to go into the family business. I mean, I really did not want to go into the family business. So I figured I'd take the exact opposite route instead."
"Wait." Flack frowns. He thinks he's beginning to see what shape these puzzle pieces form, but his head is spinning, and he has to struggle to find the words. "Your family's involved in...in the cabals?"
"Close." Danny raises his head. "Not that exactly, but nothing legit, either. My pop, he just dabbled, ran errands and shit when he wasn't collecting unemployment. But my brother..."
"You have a brother?" Flack asks, feeling stupid the second he voices the question.
"Technically." Danny tips his shot glass upside-down and begins to turn it in a careful circle. Flack watches whiskey fall in drops onto the coaster. "Don't know if he'd say the same about me, but...he's into it deep."
"Into what deep?"
"Nothing you need to know about." The glass is spinning faster now, and Flack thinks he can almost see a pattern in the spilled drops of whiskey. "Do what I do and stay out of it. It's safer for everyone that way."
Danny lifts the glass suddenly, and for a split second, Flack sees what's there, sees as much as Danny wants him to see -- and then there's a flash of blue light, and when he opens his eyes again, the coaster and the whiskey are both gone, and the glass is sitting upright in the middle of the table, bone-dry.
"It's none of your business anyway," Danny says, and smiles at Flack. Flack stares into Danny's cold eyes, at that mirthless rigor mortis grin, and he doesn't try to argue. Right now, he doesn't even know how he could have thought Danny was too human, never mind too normal, for BSI.
"Besides," Danny says, and leans back in the booth, spreading his arms and legs and smiling again, "I'd much rather talk about you, Detective." The smile looks real this time, or at least amused, and Flack feels Danny's foot nudge his under the table.
Flack gets to his feet, unsure if he's dizzy from standing up too fast or from this latest quicksilver change in Danny's mood. "I'm going to go get more drinks," he says.
He's pretty sure that Danny watches him the whole time he's at the bar.
Later, in the alley behind the bar, Flack grabs Danny by the shoulder when he starts to sink to his knees and backs him into the wall. "No," he says into Danny's ear, and catches him by the wrists when he tries to fight, leaning his whole body into it until Danny is pinioned and Flack can feel his erection throbbing between them. He lets go of one of Danny's wrists and slides his hand down his belly, rubbing and feeling the way Danny's muscles tighten as he breathes in and out.
Flack has almost forgotten the blue light and the smile on Danny's face back in the bar, or he tells himself he has, but he's not sure that means Danny gets to take charge of this encounter. It hasn't exactly come as a surprise, not after Danny's foot rubbing against his or a dozen other little moments that have passed secretly between them in the last month or so, but that it's not a surprise also means that Flack knows why it would be a bad idea to let Danny get the upper hand this early on. Let him be the one to lean back, instead, let him be the one to enjoy it while Flack gets to watch his face and see how his mouth twists. Let Danny be the one to lose control first, not Flack.
Danny is hot and hard against him, and he whimpers when Flack undoes his belt buckle and then shoves a hand down the front of his pants. Danny has resisted kissing him, but that's all right, too; if Flack plays this right, he can have Danny begging for that before the night is out, can have him pleading for mouth on mouth by the time the sun rises. Flack thinks of what it will be like, of what Danny's mouth and tongue will feel like tangled up with his own, and a little shiver of desire runs through his body. He controls that shiver for the moment, breathes through it, and wraps his fingers around Danny's cock as he starts to jerk him off slowly. Danny moans again and arches up into his hand, and Flack lets go of his other wrist. Danny's hands drop down and he begins to stroke Flack's back and ass.
Flack looks into Danny's face as he pushes against him, watches his eyes widen behind his glasses and his mouth go slack as he keeps on jerking him off and as Danny writhes against him. He's close, very close, and Flack strokes him harder, squeezing the head of his cock between his fingers until Danny curses and bucks hard against him, then comes in a rush, moaning, "Oh Jesus, oh Jesus fuck." Flack holds him until he stills, concentrating on the little puffs of hot air that tickle his face as Danny gasps for breath and on the cool stickiness and sweat now trickling over his fingers.
Flack wonders again if he'll ever be able to think of Danny as normal, if that was true or just a very bad mistake on his part. Maybe anyone who does this job just isn't, or at least their normal, everyday humanity is something they lose fast if they end up being successful at this the way Danny is, the way all the rest of them are. Flack wonders, and wonders if being human is something these people are even capable of anymore, or if it's something they've left behind at some point along the way.
But he doesn't have time to think about that now, because Danny grabs his face between both of his hands and kisses him, and even though Flack was determined to resist this earlier, he can't help kissing back the moment Danny's lips touch his. They kiss and he slips his hand out of Danny's pants so that he can hold him close, and he realizes that Danny is shivering worse than ever now, fingers trembling as he tangles his hands in Flack's hair and nips at the corner of his mouth.
How long before he's caught up in this just as badly as the rest of them, Flack wonders; how long until he looks in the mirror and sees a stranger staring back at him?
Danny's human heart beats rabbit-quick against Flack's chest, and his mouth is warm and yielding as they kiss.
Feedback is always appreciated.