alphabet ficlets, round four

[stellaluna_]

For scarletts_awry:



Flack/Danny, A is for Awake

Flack presses a hand to his forehead and squeezes his eyes shut tight. When he opens them again, nothing has changed: the world is still strange and blurred around him, and the spike of pain sunk into the center of his head hasn't eased at all. He blinks hard, hoping his vision will clear, but the streetlights are hazy, haloed nimbuses of light all along the street, and the buildings are nothing but hulking, dark shadows. He can't even read the street sign less than a dozen yards up ahead.

Focus, he thinks, and turns on the radio, scanning through the stations until he finds a song with a good, solid beat, something that will maybe be enough to keep him awake. Beside him, in the passenger seat, Danny sighs a little in his sleep and turns, settling his forehead against the window. It's all right for him, Flack thinks; he probably got all the sleep he needs last night, and now he has no problem dropping off into another nap. He hasn't been up for hours and days on end. He hasn't been driving himself into an early grave with research and worry and fear.

Flack looks over at him. He's frowning in his sleep, his face lined with tension, and Flack thinks that maybe he isn't being fair. Danny may be able to sleep, but who knows how much good it's doing him? Sleep is no good if the demons all follow you down into nightmare territory; Flack knows that by now, and he's pretty sure Danny has known that for years. Flack reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder, briefly. Danny's skin is hot to the touch, like he's running a fever, and his muscles feel sharp and knotted. Flack lets go of him after a minute and turns his attention back to the road. His eyes feel heavy, but he won't let them shut. He has to stay awake, for both of them.

He wasn't even supposed to be here, but he can never say no to Danny.

For navy_cis:



Hawkes/Danny, C is for Crochet

"Doc. Please tell me that's research for a case."

Hawkes looks up, and then has to try hard not to laugh at the baffled expression on Danny's face.

"Sorry to burst your bubble, Danny," he says. "It's not."

"But..." Danny sits down and sets his beer on the table. "You're, like, knitting."

"I'm crocheting," Hawkes says. "There's a difference."

"Isn't that kind of...I mean, not to be a sexist pig or anything -- "

"Too late."

"But isn't that kinda girly?"

"Danny, you're behind the times," Hawkes says, and sets his material down. "Lots of men crochet or knit or sew. It's good for your hands. It's good for a surgeon's hands. Keeps them flexible. I also like it as a means of giving myself some quiet time to think."

Danny takes a sip of his beer. "I can see that, I guess," he says. "Sort of. But couldn't you just buy a Wii or something? Or go to the shooting range if you need to keep your hands supple?"

"I do that, too." Hawkes gets back to work.

"But you're making a doily."

"It's not a doily."

"Whatever."

"This from the man with the little rat dog."

"Daisy is not a -- I mean, that wasn't my dog."

"Her name is Daisy?"

Danny clears his throat, and Hawkes would swear he's blushing. "His name, actually. Don’t ask."

Hawkes laughs. "You know, I knit, too. I could make the two of you matching scarves for Christmas. If you ask nicely."

"Don't you start with me," Danny says, but he's smiling. Hawkes goes on with his project, and after a moment, Danny leans closer. "You know, I have to admit I think having flexible hands is a good thing."

"Good," Hawkes says, and nudges his foot under the table. "So do I."

(With apologies to scarletts_awry, who came up with the whole Daisy thing.)

For chelletoo:



Danny/Mac, E is for Evolution

After they've processed the scene, Danny finds Mac in one of the Fossil Halls, staring up at the Apatosaurus on display. "We used to come here all the time on field trips when I was a kid," Danny says, coming up behind him. "Think my favorite's still the big whale."

"I like the dinosaurs," Mac says. "I was always interested in the mystery of it. All these years, all the studies in evolutionary theory, and still no one knows for sure what killed them."

Danny leans on the railing and peers up at the underside of the skeleton. "Some kinda catastrophic event, right?"

Mac nods. "A comet, widespread disease, who knows?"

"Well, we might not know the specifics, but when you get right down to it, same thing killed them that kills anything that dies out."

"What's that?"

"They couldn't keep up," Danny says. "It's called survival of the fittest for a reason, Mac. These guys couldn't change, and they were finished. You give up on change, you die. End of story."

"Change isn't always that easy, Danny," Mac says.

"Doesn't mean you get to stop trying." Danny doesn't think they're talking about dinosaurs anymore, but he doesn't want to get into it. He stands up straight. "I'll meet you back at the car."

"Danny." Mac's voice is quiet enough to make him pause. "Maybe sometimes change takes more time than you'd expect."

"Maybe," Danny says, and turns away.

He doesn't think about that conversation again until later that night, when he reaches into his desk drawer for a penlight and comes up with a plastic dinosaur instead, a little Apatosaurus with a note taped to its foot.

Danny pockets the note after he reads it, trying to bite back his smile. He sits the dinosaur on his desk in between his phone and the keyboard, then goes to find Mac.

For bedlamsbard:



Stella/Adam, N is for Neurosis

"Hey, Stella." Adam stands in front of her desk, shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot.

She looks up from her computer. "Hey, Adam. What can I do for you?"

"Well, it's actually a question of what I can do for you." He pauses. "If I may be so bold."

"You may." She leans forward, propping her elbows on the desk, curious now. "Go ahead."

"I took the liberty of compiling a report for you. Several reports, actually. I've printed out a listing of the most popular movies playing in Manhattan, along with star ratings and sample reviews." He sets a stack of papers down in front of her. "Um, I've also put together a secondary listing of second-run movies playing, just in case you feel like going retro. There's some good stuff at the Quad and Film Forum, but then again, there usually is."

"I see." She flips through the papers, telling herself not to laugh.

"I was going to try to put together some restaurant suggestions, too, but I haven't really had the time, so -- "

"Adam."

He stops talking. "Yeah?"

"You know, this is really great," she says. "Really great, and I'm really happy that you took the time to put this together. But I promise you, you do not have to try this hard. You really don't."

"I just..." He shrugs and looks away from her, tugging at his watchband. "I just want you to have a nice time, that's all."

"I will," she says. "I promise."

"Right. Well...I should get back to work."

"Hey." She smiles at him. "I'll look over these, okay? This was a really good idea. I just want you to have a nice time, too. Got that?"

Something in his smile relaxes a little then. "Got it," he says. "I'll see you later."

Stella looks through the printouts after he leaves. She can't help worrying about him; none of this is necessary, and she hopes he'll realize that soon.

On the other hand, it's been a long time since anyone has put this much effort into her, and she can't, suddenly, feeling much more nervous about this date than she was previously, in a pleasant sort of way.

For goddess_loki:



Stella/Flack, O is for Offer

Flack sits down next to Stella and holds out a cup of coffee. "Thanks," she says, and takes it.

"Any time." They sit for awhile without saying anything. Stella stares out at the skyline, letting the quiet sink in around her and cradling the warm cup between her hands.

"You know," Flack says eventually, "that I'm always behind you all the way, right? I got your back one hundred percent, no matter what."

"I sense a 'but' coming here."

"But," he says, "I would like to remind you that it's a really bad idea to keep getting in a suspect's face like that after he's explicitly said he wants a lawyer."

"I pushed a little," she says. "That's all. Just like we do every day."

"I know," he says. "And I'm not telling you what to do. I'm just saying that, in my professional opinion, you should have backed down a few sentences sooner."

She keeps her eyes on the skyline and plays back the interrogation in her mind. "You may have a point," she says at last.

"But like I said, I'll still watch your back," he says. "Hell, I kinda have to. You just may be even meaner than I am."

She laughs. "Tell me again why I ever let you know about my secret hiding place at the lab."

He blinks at her. "Because I'm so cute and charming?"

"Whatever."

He leans closer. "Because I'm going to take you to Meskerem for doro wat tonight, and then I'm going to take you home and seduce you?"

Stella looks at him. "Is that an offer, Detective?"

"It's a promise." He stands up. "I gotta get back, but I'll see you later."

"Yes, you will." She watches him go, still cradling the coffee cup between her hands and smiling to herself.

For 1csimfan:



Flack/Danny, Q is for Question

"What the fuck is your problem?" Flack grabs Danny by his shirt collar and shoves him up against the wall, and any other time he would be disturbed by how satisfying he finds the sound of Danny's back slamming into the brick. Danny lets out a startled gasp and twists against him, trying to shove Flack away. Flack tightens his hold on the shirt and leans in close.

"You're not going anywhere until you answer my fucking question. What the fuck is your problem?"

"What the fuck is yours?" Danny struggles and shoves at him. "Let go of me."

Flack loosens his grip and backs off just enough so that Danny can catch his breath, but he doesn't back off. "You don't talk to me," he says. "That's fine. You don't want to hang out after work. That's fine, too. But you...You. Do. Not. Disrespect me in front of suspects or the rest of your little nerd team. You understand me?"

"I didn't -- "

"Shut the fuck up. You like to talk? Now it's my turn to talk. You talk to me like a fellow officer when we're in the field, not like I'm some little peon. When I need something from you? You either make it happen for me, or you explain like a grown-up why you can't. You want to know why the whole rest of the NYPD hates you guys? Take a look at what happened today. There's your first big clue."

Danny shoves him off, hard, and steps away from the wall, straightening his jacket without looking at Flack. "You're a fine one to talk about respect," he says, and his tone is so dismissive that Flack wants to hit him. Wants to grab him again and, this time, feel the bones breaking under his hand, see the blood spurting from Danny's nose or mouth.

"I'm not the one who did you wrong here, Danny," Flack says. "Stop acting like I am."

Danny still doesn't look at him. Flack wonders if Danny knows how much this hurts him, or if it would make any difference if he did.

For chelletoo:



Danny/Mac, Z is for Zip

Danny is leaning on the gas too hard, and Mac doesn't say a word to him until they're stopped for a red light.

"Danny..."

"Yeah." He doesn't take his eyes off the road.

Mac takes a deep breath. "About what we discussed last night -- "

"Seems to me like we've said all we need to on the subject."

"I wanted to see if you were doing all right." He tries to keep his voice calm.

Danny's hand tightens on the steering wheel. "Why shouldn't I be."

"So we're okay, then."

"We're fine. We're great."

"Good," Mac says. The light turns green, and Danny pulls forward a little too fast, setting off a fusillade of honks, then curses under his breath when he's forced to stop again. "I value my working relationship with you, Danny, you know that."

"Yeah, that's good," Danny says. He still hasn't looked at Mac, not once this whole time. "Because a working relationship is all we got now."

There's nothing he can say to that, and Mac turns to stare out the window as Danny leans on the horn. This traffic is never going to clear.

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