two of two
Title: Enough (2 of 2)
Author: scarletts_awry
Rating: R -ish? (sadly, no sex)
Pairing: Flack/Danny
Summary: post-ep scenelet, general spoilers for 2.11 “Trapped”
Word Count: 840
Disclaimer: I don't own them, and it's a good thing too because they'd be too busy with the sex to have time for the crimefighting.
Crossposted: csi_ny_fic, csi_slash, _messerandflack and fanfic100
For: the fanfic100 prompt 04) Insides. (ooh, pretty grids)
It’s stifled and hot. So hot he can hardly breathe, pulse ticking at the back of his skull. The covers catch around his legs when he kicks at them.
Danny sits up and his stomach keeps moving without him.
He makes it to the bathroom in time, barely, and heaves until bile burns the back of his throat. Shit. Hasn’t been this hungover in years. Better part of a decade. Clears his throat and spits once before flushing. Wipes his mouth with his hand and sits back. Bathtub side is cold against a strip of skin caught naked between his shirt and underwear. Dirty light filters through a high window. He stretches out a heavy leg and the ratty bathmat itches the underside of his knee.
And hey, that’s something. This isn’t his bathroom. Danny knows for a fact that his ratty bathmat is green. This one is blue. Can’t be absolutely sure-not in the halflight, not without his glasses-but this is Flack’s bathroom.
And Danny’s neither naked nor sticky. This would all probably be fascinating if shards weren’t splitting off his skull and stabbing into his brain.
The light flashes on and Danny shuts his eyes, presses the heel of a palm to the bridge of his nose.
“The light a little too much for you?” Flack’s got a grin on his face-Danny can’t see it but he can hear it in Flack’s voice. The light goes off and Danny risks opening his eyes.
“How’s the hangover?”
“What do you think.”
Flack hangs a new towel on the hook. “Take a shower.”
“What?”
“Shower.”
The loud word thuds the back of Danny’s head, and his back stiffens against another wave of nausea.
“I know you’re hungover Messer, but it’s not a difficult concept. You stink and it’ll make you feel better.” Flack’s voice is softer as he leans over Danny to turn the water on. “Clothes are on the bed. I’m gonna go start the coffee.”
It’s tempting to become a permanent fixture here between the toilet and the tub, but Danny drags himself up and into the shower because he can’t think of a reason not to. Other than Flack told him to.
He doesn’t wash particularly well, just lets the hot water scald him clean. Because he can hardly move. Hangs his head forward. The water beats on his upper back. Shuts his eyes and it’s all dark and hot and close. Can’t hear anything but the thrum of water and his own blood. Breath gets shorter. He opens his eyes and puts his hand out, flattens his palm against the slick tile.
Yesterday is no more than sharp fragments. Getting a beer with Louie is annoyingly clear, and he knows he kept drinking after Louie left. And maybe it was stupid to go see Louie after such a long and fucked up day, but it took that kind of day to wear him down into returning his brother’s call in the first place. He turns his face up into the spray and lets his mind blank.
He has no fucking idea how he ended up at Flack’s.
He shuts off the shower, careful how quick he moves. So long as he’s careful he can honestly say he feels a little better. Sort of.
Out in the kitchen the smell of coffee isn’t wholly disgusting, but Flack’s watching him out of the corner of his eye like he’s afraid Danny’s going to puke again.
Flack slides a glass of water over. “You have to drink all of this before you get any coffee.”
The glass is cool, and it’s nice to focus on something so simple. “What are you my mother?”
Flack snorts. He looks too amused.
“What’s that?” Nice to know he can manage hungover and suspicious at the same time.
“Nothing.” And there’s one of those bullshit innocent looks, mouth pursed and eyes perked. Flack’s got an endless supply of those looks. Yeah. Definitely more amused than Danny likes another person to be when he feels days dead himself.
Danny takes a sip of water and his stomach doesn’t immediately object. “Hadn’t been that drunk in years,” he mutters and leans heavily against the counter. Flack moves around the kitchen, much too awake and amused. And alive. Flack doesn’t look hungover at all actually. Shit. Slow breath. Shit. What the fuck did he do yesterday. Danny closes his eyes again, shuts out this rustling Flack. All he has of last night is slivers. Fuck. He should go sit down, but that requires moving.
“Want some breakfast?” Flack throws this shit-eating grin at him.
“Nah, I’m good.” Danny frowns.
“You sure? I was just gonna scramble myself some eggs.”
Oh, Flack is evil. The smell is gonna kill him. “I’ll pass.” And Flack’s trying to get rid of him.
No. No this is just good old torture.
“It’s no trouble.” Flack pulls out innocent look number four hundred and eighty six.
“I’m not hungry.” Still moving careful, Danny pushes away from the counter. “Thanks.”
............
Thanks for reading; feedback always appreciated
Author: scarletts_awry
Rating: R -ish? (sadly, no sex)
Pairing: Flack/Danny
Summary: post-ep scenelet, general spoilers for 2.11 “Trapped”
Word Count: 840
Disclaimer: I don't own them, and it's a good thing too because they'd be too busy with the sex to have time for the crimefighting.
Crossposted: csi_ny_fic, csi_slash, _messerandflack and fanfic100
For: the fanfic100 prompt 04) Insides. (ooh, pretty grids)
It’s stifled and hot. So hot he can hardly breathe, pulse ticking at the back of his skull. The covers catch around his legs when he kicks at them.
Danny sits up and his stomach keeps moving without him.
He makes it to the bathroom in time, barely, and heaves until bile burns the back of his throat. Shit. Hasn’t been this hungover in years. Better part of a decade. Clears his throat and spits once before flushing. Wipes his mouth with his hand and sits back. Bathtub side is cold against a strip of skin caught naked between his shirt and underwear. Dirty light filters through a high window. He stretches out a heavy leg and the ratty bathmat itches the underside of his knee.
And hey, that’s something. This isn’t his bathroom. Danny knows for a fact that his ratty bathmat is green. This one is blue. Can’t be absolutely sure-not in the halflight, not without his glasses-but this is Flack’s bathroom.
And Danny’s neither naked nor sticky. This would all probably be fascinating if shards weren’t splitting off his skull and stabbing into his brain.
The light flashes on and Danny shuts his eyes, presses the heel of a palm to the bridge of his nose.
“The light a little too much for you?” Flack’s got a grin on his face-Danny can’t see it but he can hear it in Flack’s voice. The light goes off and Danny risks opening his eyes.
“How’s the hangover?”
“What do you think.”
Flack hangs a new towel on the hook. “Take a shower.”
“What?”
“Shower.”
The loud word thuds the back of Danny’s head, and his back stiffens against another wave of nausea.
“I know you’re hungover Messer, but it’s not a difficult concept. You stink and it’ll make you feel better.” Flack’s voice is softer as he leans over Danny to turn the water on. “Clothes are on the bed. I’m gonna go start the coffee.”
It’s tempting to become a permanent fixture here between the toilet and the tub, but Danny drags himself up and into the shower because he can’t think of a reason not to. Other than Flack told him to.
He doesn’t wash particularly well, just lets the hot water scald him clean. Because he can hardly move. Hangs his head forward. The water beats on his upper back. Shuts his eyes and it’s all dark and hot and close. Can’t hear anything but the thrum of water and his own blood. Breath gets shorter. He opens his eyes and puts his hand out, flattens his palm against the slick tile.
Yesterday is no more than sharp fragments. Getting a beer with Louie is annoyingly clear, and he knows he kept drinking after Louie left. And maybe it was stupid to go see Louie after such a long and fucked up day, but it took that kind of day to wear him down into returning his brother’s call in the first place. He turns his face up into the spray and lets his mind blank.
He has no fucking idea how he ended up at Flack’s.
He shuts off the shower, careful how quick he moves. So long as he’s careful he can honestly say he feels a little better. Sort of.
Out in the kitchen the smell of coffee isn’t wholly disgusting, but Flack’s watching him out of the corner of his eye like he’s afraid Danny’s going to puke again.
Flack slides a glass of water over. “You have to drink all of this before you get any coffee.”
The glass is cool, and it’s nice to focus on something so simple. “What are you my mother?”
Flack snorts. He looks too amused.
“What’s that?” Nice to know he can manage hungover and suspicious at the same time.
“Nothing.” And there’s one of those bullshit innocent looks, mouth pursed and eyes perked. Flack’s got an endless supply of those looks. Yeah. Definitely more amused than Danny likes another person to be when he feels days dead himself.
Danny takes a sip of water and his stomach doesn’t immediately object. “Hadn’t been that drunk in years,” he mutters and leans heavily against the counter. Flack moves around the kitchen, much too awake and amused. And alive. Flack doesn’t look hungover at all actually. Shit. Slow breath. Shit. What the fuck did he do yesterday. Danny closes his eyes again, shuts out this rustling Flack. All he has of last night is slivers. Fuck. He should go sit down, but that requires moving.
“Want some breakfast?” Flack throws this shit-eating grin at him.
“Nah, I’m good.” Danny frowns.
“You sure? I was just gonna scramble myself some eggs.”
Oh, Flack is evil. The smell is gonna kill him. “I’ll pass.” And Flack’s trying to get rid of him.
No. No this is just good old torture.
“It’s no trouble.” Flack pulls out innocent look number four hundred and eighty six.
“I’m not hungry.” Still moving careful, Danny pushes away from the counter. “Thanks.”
............
Thanks for reading; feedback always appreciated