Sweet Love

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRAO (Were you expecting anything else?)

Pairing: Danny/Flack

Content Warning: Ehm, first time fic. Flack in leather. Yup.

Spoilers: Nah, but just to be safe, post-Season 2.

Summary: It was sweet love for Danny from the moment he laid eyes on a very handsome homicide detective over five years ago. Unfortunately for the CSI, it seems that he'll never have a chance with Flack. Flack isn't interested in men … or is he?

Disclaimer: Danny's staked his claim on Flack. Guess they belong to each other now. Heh.

( Oooo …... oooO )

Author's Notes: Yep, it's one of them first-time stories. I think the only other story I've written so far where they weren't already in an established relationship was To DD or Not to DD. There's just something about writing how these two get together for the first time that's intriguing, something different from writing them as a long-time couple. The story title, and the titles for each section of the fic, are taken from a really hot and beautiful song of the same name, sung by Anita Baker. This is the first of three installments. Enjoy!

( Oooo …... oooO )

i. "With all my heart, I love you baby …"

No way.

There was no way he heard what he just did.

" … Mark?" Danny asked in a small, husky voice.

Flack glanced up from the lab report he'd been skimming through, his handsome features set in a poker face.

"Yeah. Mark."

"Mark." The CSI blinked twice. His blue eyes were wide in shock. "You were once with a guy called Mark."

"Uh huh." The homicide detective had returned to reading through one of Danny's reports, holding the light brown folder in his large hands.

The two men were the only occupants of one of CSI headquarters' laboratories, where Danny was seated in front of a computer awaiting a fingerprint match via AFIS, while Flack stood next to the table. The tall man was dressed in one of his fine suits, a dark grey one today, with lighter grey pin stripes. For once, his dress shirt was a plain white one that matched nicely with the rest of his ensemble.

The dark orange silk of Flack's tie kept drawing Danny's attention. That was a good thing. It stopped him from blatantly staring at his best friend's face, which would have given him away quicker than rain. He certainly wasn't keen on finding out what one of Flack's fists in his face felt like.

Well. Maybe Flack wouldn't actually hit him, if he was hearing things right.

"A guy. Called Mark."

"Yeah, we studied at the academy together."

Danny blinked again. Oh. So that's what Flack meant. They were just friends who hung out together at the police academy. Guess he must have mistaken what the guy said. His shoulders slumped slightly.

Ah, well. He knew it was too good to be true.

Danny sighed.

What were the chances that Flack, a gorgeous, magnificent specimen of a man, would even consider a relationship with another man anyway?

Much less, with him.

A science geek who had no life, was as unstable as a live volcano and was clearly ordinary-looking compared to the eye-catching, tall detective.

Danny's shoulders hunched even more.

"He used to drive me nuts all the time," Flack said with a chuckle, closing the folder and setting it down on the table in front of him. "I mean … he'd always leave his used towels all over the place, and I always had to pick 'em up. It was disgustin'."

Danny cackled faintly. The image of Flack being a housemaid cleaning up a dorm room was pretty hilarious. Especially if he was also wearing some British butler costume with a feather duster while he was at it.

Of course, that only happened in Danny's fantasies.

"At least he had one hell of a great bed. I shoulda asked him where he bought it when I had the chance."

The word bed made Danny perk straight up once more.

Bed? A great bed?

Sharing a room was one thing. But sharing a bed?

There was no way at all he could misunderstand that as anything else.

"A great … bed."

"Oh, yeah." Flack smirked. He leaned against the table, gazing down at Danny with half-lidded eyes. "Damn sturdy too. Amazed me how it actually withstood our playin' on it."

Danny blinked once. Twice. Three times.

Nope, Flack was really there. Flack really said that. It wasn't a dream -

"Ya know, playin' video games and such."

The zest within Danny deflated like a leaking balloon.

"Oh … oh, yeah, of course. Video games." The CSI laughed nervously. His gaze flitted here and there in a manic fashion.

Oh crap, he almost outed himself right then and there. He'd been this close to confessing to Flack that he had played on both sides of the field too. In his case, though, the furthest he had ever gone with another man was a near kiss. Wasn't a real kiss because he deflected his face to one side at the last possible moment. And the guy was drunk. And Danny had been merely fifteen years old and somewhere he shouldn't have been.

Danny rubbed absent-mindedly at his arms. Man, was he a stupid kid in the past or what. He promised himself he'd never be so naïve ever again.

"No match yet?" Flack asked casually.

"Uh." Danny glanced at the computer screen. "No, still lookin'."

AFIS was continuing its search through its database, the fingerprint on the right side of the screen incessantly changing as it did so. The flashes of a variety of green fingerprints entranced Danny sometimes, even lulled him into a semi-stupor on rare occasions when he stared at the screen long enough.

However, at the moment, he had something much, much better to mesmerize him.

Flack was half-sitting on the table now, adjusting the cuffs of his dress shirt. The homicide detective was looking downwards at his hands, and Danny grabbed the opportunity to intensely study the other man.

The CSI smiled to himself. Damn, did Flack look tasty. As sizzling as the guy appeared in his formal suits, personally, Danny missed the black leather jacket. He missed Flack wearing it. There was something about seeing Flack in leather that got his blood boiling hotter than lava. Should the man ever decide to wear an entire get-up of black leather, Danny would literally explode with ecstasy.

"Rick was the one with the best rhythm, though."

If Danny had been drinking tea then, it would have shot straight out of his nose.

"What?"

"Mark had the best bed. Rick had the best rhythm."

"R-Rick?"

"Yeah, Rick," Flack said nonchalantly. "He's another friend a' mine, moved to Paris a long time ago. He's a professional dancer now … but I always knew he'd end up bein' one, even back then."

"B-back then?"

"Yeah. When he was still my boyfriend."

Danny swore his lower jaw was stuck on the ground. A whole colony of insects could probably fly into his gaping mouth right now.

Holy SHIT.

Flack admitted that he used to have a BOYFRIEND.

The shorter man was finding it difficult to breathe properly. If Flack once had a boyfriend, that meant … that meant -

Suddenly, the homicide detective's mobile phone, which was in the man's jacket pocket, rang with a bouncy song about hips that didn't lie. Flack answered it on the third ring.

"Flack … Yeah … Yeah, okay, I'll be there."

Flack flipped his phone close.

"Sorry, pal, but I gotta go back to the precinct. Looks like a potential witness wants to give her testimony 'bout the Collins case."

Danny needed a couple of tries to speak properly again. "S-Sure, Don. Gonna be here all day anyway."

Flack smiled at him. Simply seeing that sun-bright beam made Danny's heart beat ten times faster. One of these days, he was going to keel over from an overload of Flack grins.

"'Kay, I'll see ya later then."

It was so weird. Flack was behaving as if he hadn't just told Danny he had boyfriends before. Or as if their conversation never took place. Danny couldn't make up his mind which one it was.

Was the guy just messing with him or what?

The tall man was already at the lab's open door when Danny leapt to his feet.

"Don!"

Flack swiftly turned at the fervor in Danny's voice. One thick eyebrow lifted in query.

"I, uh …" Danny discovered his mind was completely blank.

"Dan, what is it?" Flack was smirking in amusement.

That smirk was what helped the CSI to gather his thoughts back. "My, uhm, my TV's broken."

Flack's other eyebrow shot up.

"Yeah, it's broken, so - so can I go over to yer place tonight to watch a late game?"

Flack stared at Danny with a mysterious expression on his visage, and then grinned.

"'Course ya can! Geez, ya had to ask? Ya never come over to my place, so it's 'bout damn time."

It took all of Danny's willpower to not jump in the air and whoop like a hounddog. "Cool. Great. I'll bring nachos."

Flack chuckled. "Right, I'll see ya tonight. Gimme a call when you're comin' over."

"Okay."

It also took all of Danny's willpower to not blush when Flack waved one of his hands at him in farewell. Danny gave the man a quick wave in return, then hurriedly sat down and turned to face the computer. Damnit, he could feel the heat coming off his face.

Receding footsteps indicated to the CSI that Flack had left. Danny waited for a minute or two. After that, he rushed to the door to close it. He leaned back on it, grinning like a lunatic.

Oh man. Ohmanohmanohman.

He was going to stay for the night at Flack's apartment.

Surrounded by all the man's things.

If he was lucky, he might even get to see Flack in nothing but a t-shirt and underwear.

Or less.

Danny made a noise that, in any circumstances, would have been considered quite girly.

Oh, it was going to be so good.

A few minutes passed before Danny finally pushed himself away from the door and returned to his seat. The instant he sat down, a sharp sound from the computer told him a match had been found for the previously unidentified fingerprint. Yes! Danny hummed happily to himself while he noted down all the details that popped up in a box on the monitor.

He'd gotten a break for his current case.

And tonight, he was going to dig up another break.

Tonight, he was going to find out for sure whether everything Flack revealed to him this afternoon was the truth or not.

( Oooo …... oooO )

ii. "Stay with me and you will see …"

Danny didn't get to see Flack in a t-shirt and boxers after all.

"S'okay, Danny, ya probably got the dates wrong for the game or somethin'. I'm sure ESPN will show it again."

The CSI stared at Flack with huge, round eyes.

Nope, he didn't get to see Flack in a t-shirt and boxers.

He got to see the man wearing nothing but a towel.

Flack was sitting next to him on the black leather sofa, with a brand-spanking white towel wrapped low around his waist. It was the only piece of clothing the guy had on, since he came out of the shower a few minutes ago. He was so fresh out, his pale and rosy skin was still glistening under the light.

Danny desired so badly to run his hands down Flack's sinewy arms. Or across Flack's broad, fuzzy chest. Or Flack's flat and firm belly. The defined muscles there undulated as the homicide detective wriggled on the cushion to make himself more comfortable.

"Ya sure there was a game tonight?"

Danny coughed softly. Ah, geez. He could never lie directly into Flack's face. He tore his gaze away, scratching at the side of his head. Pushed his glasses higher up his nose.

"I dunno. Maybe you're right, maybe I got the dates jumbled up."

"Ah, well. It's fine. Yer TV's outta commission anyway." Flack playfully ruffled Danny's spiked hair. "Got some TV show a friend lent me."

The smaller man couldn't help closing his eyes, and unconsciously leaned into the brief touch. It felt nice. Usually, he disliked people touching him, even people he knew. Then again, Flack was special. Even the slightest touch or caress or smacks from Flack felt nice. Danny bit his lower lip. Flack had large, strong hands. They'd be perfect for spanking.

Flack pressed a button on his DVD player's remote control. "I have no idea what it's 'bout … my friend says ya can't find it on TV, or video, even. S'pposed to be slapstick comedy."

Danny smirked widely. "Slapstick comedy? Didn't know you were into that."

"Heh, I'm not. Just happens it's somethin' I haven't watched yet." Flack glanced at him, his blue eyes warm. "'Less ya wanna watch somethin' else? Ya can take a look at my DVD collection."

"No, it's fine, really." Danny couldn't stop smiling like an idiot. "I'm up for anythin'."

The moment those words left his mouth, the CSI's mien turned beet red. Oh shit, did he just say that!

Fortunately for him, Flack didn't seem to realize the sexual innuendo in Danny's words at all.

"A'right. But if ya don't like it, just lemme know and we'll watch somethin' else."

"'Kay," Danny replied almost inaudibly. He was too busy staring at Flack's profile. Or rather, he was too busy forcing himself to not stare at Flack's crotch.

A towel. That was all that was between Danny's sight or touch … and Flack's -

"Oh, man. Look at those three goofballs."

"Huh?" Danny blinked, then swiveled his head to look at the television screen.

Oh. The show was starting.

His face heated, Danny hastily folded his legs up on the couch in front of him, wrapping his arms tight over his shins. He rested his goateed chin on his knees. At least this way, the other man wouldn't be able to take a close look at his groin, and see his hard-on. Sure, he had grey track pants on, plus a black tank top pulled over the waistband of said track pants, but he was a paranoid nut.

Flack would totally freak out if he saw it, for sure. Maybe.

The two men stared at the television for some time.

"Hah, did ya see that, Danny? That parrot, it got him right between the legs!"

Danny smiled sideways. Man, slapstick comedy was the TV series' appropriate genre, alright. What other kind of show had some poor guy stumbling around an apartment, clutching his abused crotch while a rabid parrot attacked him? It somewhat weirded Danny out how much the actor resembled him too. The only difference was that the guy on screen appeared younger, had a lousy hairdo and didn't wear spectacles.

"Geez." Flack guffawed again. "I wonder how much he got paid to go through that. Must have been pretty desperate for work."

Danny nibbled on his lip. Even as the real guy sat close by, munching on some nachos he brought over, he could hear Flack's deep voice saying boyfriend over and over again.

Boyfriend.

It was unbelievable.

Too good to be true.

Danny peered at the taller man from the corners of his eyes. Flack was avidly watching the television, grinning once in a while at something funny going on in the show.

"What the hell? He's naked now!" Flack burst out laughing. "Haaah, now that's funny! Look at the placement of the banana and the other fruits!"

The towel-clad man slapped him on the upper arm in lightheartedness.

Danny gazed at the television. Okay, he was officially spooked. That actor even had such a similar body to his, right down to the buttocks. And the man was naked.

"Talk 'bout bein' subtle, ah?" Flack said.

The shorter detective surreptitiously scrutinized his best friend. There Flack was, slouching on the cushions with his legs spread, with nothing on but a freaking towel. While sitting next to another guy. Without realizing at all what it was doing to said guy. Not only that, he was laughing at the sight of a nude guy on screen.

Danny's blue eyes narrowed. Nah. Flack was just pulling his leg this afternoon. The man never had a boyfriend called Mark or Rick or whatever. Probably never even held hands with a guy.

Right?

The CSI shifted his legs closer to his lean body. He was staring at Flack again. He knew he had to stop it before Flack got suspicious or something, and he couldn't. The guy was seriously easy on the eyes. It shocked Danny every time to remember Flack didn't have a current girlfriend.

Or boyfriend.

"Want some nachos?"

"Hnn?"

The homicide detective chuckled good-naturedly, his eyes crinkled in amusement. "Danny, whassamatter with ya tonight? It's like you're floatin' 'round somewhere else."

Danny ran a hand over his lower face. Shit, he knew it. He overdid it this time.

"Sorry." The CSI smiled apologetically. "S'nothin'. Just tired, that's all."

"Well, why didn't ya say so?" Flack immediately stopped the DVD player. "The show's kinda stupid anyway."

Danny sniggered. "Yeah."

"Whoa, it's already one in the morning? Where the heck did the time go?" Flack was gazing at a round clock with humongous numbers hanging on the wall nearby.

"Hey, we were at Sullivan's with the others, remember?"

"Yeah." Flack suddenly released a yawn, stretching his body on the sofa. "Ya gotta hand it to Stella to treat us all to a few rounds a' beer, huh?"

Danny didn't reply. He barely heard the other man's question. His eyes were most likely half the size of his face by now. Wow. He had totally no clue at all why the guy would want to conceal such a hot body under all those suits, or why Flack would even think for a second that he was plain. What Danny's eyes laid on at that very minute was possibly the most toned and stunning body he'd ever seen.

Okay, perhaps he was biased because it was Flack's body. He didn't give a shit.

Danny didn't realize he was smiling his head off. Nor did he realize Flack was studying him from where the man was sprawled on the couch, an enigmatic smile on those fine-looking features.

"What are ya smilin' 'bout, Danny?" Flack asked gently.

The question, as quietly as it was uttered, still succeeded in making Danny jump.

"Huh? Oh, n-nothin'. Just … thinkin'."

Flack's blue eyes were tender. To Danny, they looked like it anyway. "Thinkin' 'bout what? Must be somethin' real good to make ya smile that."

The CSI's tongue flitted out. Fuck, Flack could really make his voice sexy and low when he wanted to. He drew his legs even closer to himself. His hard-on was even more, well … hard, now.

"What, a guy can't think 'bout good stuff anymore?"

Flack's smile transformed into an impish smirk. "I doubt what you were thinkin' was anythin' good, Messer."

Danny's face felt searing hot. He ardently hoped the semi-darkness of the living area hid it from the taller detective's sharp eyes.

"Well." Flack lithely got to his feet. "Think I'll crash for the night. I'll go get a pillow and blanket for ya."

The shorter man didn't dare to say anything. His heart was beating at a frenzied pace. Did Flack see him blushing? He was mortified that Flack might have. His friend would never know how right he was about Danny's thoughts not being good in that way.

Particularly the bit where Flack was the man pounding into him, instead of him doing the deed with a woman.

"Ya want one or two pillows?" Flack's voice sounded muffled. He'd already gone to his bedroom.

"One's fine, thanks," Danny said loudly. His cheeks didn't feel so warm anymore. Not that it mattered, what with the other detective being in another part of the apartment.

"Fat one or a flat one?"

Danny made a face. What? Fat or flat?

"Just gimme the one that's comfy, a'right!"

"Okay!"

The CSI heard Flack rummaging around, opening and closing his cupboard. There was a rustling sound, like Flack was flapping open a blanket. Danny desired to go inside the man's bedroom to see what was like in there. What it was like to lie on Flack's bed. What it was like to lie on Flack.

Danny shuddered from head to toe. Shit, he could feel a small, wet spot dampening the crotch of his track pants. His fantasizing was getting out of his control. As well as his body. He tipped backwards, going limp on the sofa, legs still curled up against his body. The hard ache between his legs wasn't going to abate any time soon.

"Here ya go."

Flack was standing in front of him again, still in nothing but his towel. Grasping a thick, woolen blanket and a … bright pink pillow covered with pictures of white, downy bunnies.

"What is that?"

"What is what?"

"That." Danny pointed at the pillow. "What is that doin' in yer possession?"

The homicide detective laughed. "Danny, it's just a pillow. I promise the rabbits aren't gonna bite ya, 'kay?"

"I ain't worried 'bout bunnies bitin' me. I'm worried that's gonna suck my manhood dry."

There was a deep silence in the living room.

Danny covered half his face with one hand, humiliated beyond belief by what he blurted out. Oh God, that was terrible. Flack was bound to either laugh his ass off at him, or kick him out of the apar-

"Nah, don't worry 'bout yer manhood. I'm sure it's fluffy bunny-proof." Flack winked at him.

A whimper escaped Danny's clamped up lips. What the fuck? It was impossible. Twice, he'd unintentionally blabbed out sexually charged comments. And both times, Flack didn't sink his teeth into either one. It was … not like his friend at all.

"So ya want another pillow?"

"No! No, it's - it's fine, thanks."

Flack smiled faintly. "Okay."

Right then and there, Flack's towel started to loosen from around the man's waist.

"Anyways, I'm gonna go brush my teeth -"

Danny's eyes grew unbelievably enormous.

Oh, fuck, didn't the guy realize his towel was slipping? It was sliding down Flack's abdomen, and holy crap, Danny wanted to touch that treasure trail -

"Lemme know if ya need another pillow -"

The towel slipped lower, exposing Flack's right flank and hip. Danny swallowed visibly. His gaze followed the path of the traveling cloth. OhGodohGodohGod, he could see the dark curls of Flack's -

"Oh, shit!"

The homicide detective grabbed at his towel just before it fell wholly away.

Danny suddenly ached to laugh and cry at the same time.

Why was life so cruel to him?

Flack let out an embarrassed laugh. "Whoops, that was close, huh, Danny?"

The inwardly frustrated CSI took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. He laughed mellifluously too, but he was laughing for a very dissimilar reason. He really didn't expect a single night at Flack's place to be such torture.

If the towel slid down a second time, Danny was going to burst there and then. And it wouldn't be pretty.

"Ah, well. S'not like ya dunno what I got down there anyway."

Danny's hands clenched into fists. He didn't know. Which was exactly why he wanted to see.

Fuck!

"Night, buddy." Flack was already sauntering to his bathroom. "Talk with ya in the mornin'."

"Night, Don," Danny rasped.

The CSI sat motionless on the sofa, staring at the switched off television set for eons, his mouth partially open. Heard water running, some brushing and gurgling. The light switch being flicked, leaving the bathroom in darkness. Footsteps as Flack walked to his bedroom. The creak of the door moving. And … no click of it closing.

Danny crawled to the end of the couch and took a peek in the direction of Flack's bedroom.

Huh. The man had left a small gap. What, Flack didn't trust having him around?

Danny frowned. He flopped back onto the cushions, fluffing his pillow then pulling the blanket over himself. Extended a hand to leave his spectacles on the side table next to the couch.

Soon enough, Flack's muted snores floated to his ears.

The shorter detective laughed at himself. Geez, talk about being overly paranoid. This was Flack. The guy who always stood by him, no matter how bad things seemed to become. Danny would never have gotten invited over to stay at Flack's apartment if the man didn't trust him in the first place. Flack probably left the door partly open to be … sociable … or something.

Danny left the one lamp on the side table switched on. He burrowed into the couch, nestling his face in the pink pillow. He was so going to get Flack for making him sleep on a horrendously cute pillow like this one. And somehow, he doubted very much that he was going to sleep a wink.

Not with the throbbing erection he still had.

He groaned into the pillow.

It was going to be a long night.

Oo ... oO

Danny was extremely careful about staying quiet. It wouldn't be good for him should Flack wake up and discover him doing what he was doing. He bit his lower lip hard, endeavoring his best to halt the audible sound threatening to spout from his mouth.

Stared at the brightly colored DVD cover with tear-filled eyes, one hand compressed over his mouth. His shoulders shook uncontrollably.

What the hell? Flack watched … My Little Ponies!

A noisy snigger leaked from between his fingers.

Wow, this was the best blackmail material in the world! Flack would never, ever live it down. Danny's stomach began to hurt just thinking of Stella teasing Flack about running around with little, multi-colored, talking ponies. He opened up the DVD cover, to see if the disc inside really was of the children's cartoon series.

"My Little Ponies … oh, man -" He broke into a fit of giggles, eyes scrunched up from laughing so much. He clutched at his sides. Ahh, he was never going to see Flack the same way ever again!

After a minute or two, Danny made himself quieten down. He pushed his glasses up to his forehead and quickly rubbed at his eyes to clear them.

Okay, okay, Messer, remember what you're supposed to be doing here.

He took a deep breath, hiccupped once.

Right. Back to searching for proof of Flack's previous boyfriends.

The CSI rearranged his spectacles on his face, then resumed browsing through his best friend's DVD collection. Damn, he should have taken up Flack's offer to look through the guy's choice of movies and selected shows earlier that evening. He could have teased his friend big time about watching My Little Ponies then. Danny grinned. Yeah, that's it. He'd buy Flack one of them pony dolls or something. Seeing the man's reaction would be absolutely worth walking into a toy store to purchase it.

Danny replaced the cartoon DVD case where it belonged on the shelf, and picked up the next one. He looked at it with lowered brows.

Hnn. Black Hawk Down. A war movie. Had a lot of cute guys in it, but that was hardly evidence Flack had boyfriends before. In fact, he actually knew women who loved the movie too, as violent and gory as it was.

Danny put that back and took out the next DVD. His lips curved up in an amused smile.

For the Love of the Game. Huh. A baseball movie. That figures. Flack loved baseball as much as he did. Danny ignored the pang in his heart, the twinge he felt whenever baseball was brought to the forefront of his thoughts. Once upon a time, baseball was his life's dream. Now, all it could be was a sad reminder that not everyone was lucky enough to have their dream come true.

He placed the plastic case back, plucked up the next DVD. This one also made him smile. Another war movie. Not just a war movie, but a submarine war movie. He didn't realize Flack was a fan of war films. Danny made a mental note of that. He knew at last what kind of shows to rent the next time Flack crashed at his place.

Hmmmm. Danny puckered his lips as a sudden, intriguing thought popped up in his mind. There was something those movies had in common. They mostly had an all-male cast. Well, perhaps not the baseball one, but still. A coincidence? Probably.

He huffed in frustration. Sat back on his heels on the floor and tugged the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

This wasn't going anywhere. He wasn't going to find the proof he wanted through Flack's DVDs. His friend surely wasn't foolish enough to leave any pornographic stuff lying around for anyone to see either. Which pretty much meant the chances of Danny finding a gay porn video in Flack's collection was zero.

Okay. He needed a change of plan.

Danny glanced around the semi-dark living area, drumming his fingers on his knees as he ruminated over his next step. There was nothing discriminating on the lofty shelf next to the television set. Just some photographs of a younger Flack in a variety of places and clothes, and Flack with his mother, who happened to be a really beautiful woman. Now he knew from whom the homicide detective had inherited his big, blue eyes and coloring. Now, he knew as well how exceptionally hot Flack appeared in a patrol uniform. The dark blue of the attire made Flack look taller and thinner, and caused his blue eyes to stand out. It was remarkable how intense the man's stare was sometimes. Danny was very tempted to sneak that particular picture away with him.

The CSI thought it was worthy of note Flack had no pictures of his father anywhere. The man was literally a legend in the NYPD. Even Mac spoke of the guy with veneration. But Flack never did talk about his dad much to Danny, or to anyone else. Danny was well aware the senior Flack was a touchy subject of conversation with his best friend. Flack's glum expression the one time Danny brought it up said everything. Maybe one day, Flack would confide in him what had occurred to make the taller detective dislike his father so much.

Danny sighed lightly.

He already leafed through the other large shelf in the room too, the one that stored all of Flack's books and magazines. Nothing revealing there, apart from Danny learning that his best friend was no average police officer. He didn't know a lot of cops who owned three-inch thick books on Irish history. Or possessed a vast compilation of the works of more than ten eminent poets, some of whom Danny recognized. Or subscribed to science journals. Or, judging from the many dog ears and the worn cover, had read War and Peace from front to back.

For someone who claimed to merely have a high school diploma, Don Flack, Jr. was one erudite man. An intelligent, intellectual mind hiding behind a cute face and sarcastic wit.

Danny smiled softly. Wow. And he actually believed he couldn't fall any deeper in love with the handsome homicide detective.

A minute of silence ticked by.

Danny sighed more heavily.

The frustration was starting to mount once more within him. He was no closer to finding out the truth about Flack's claims now than he was over ten minutes ago. He'd looked everywhere in the living area, and he hadn't found anything at all that showed the smallest intimation Flack had relationships with men in the past. It looked as if Flack kept the scandalous stuff in his bedroom.

Damnit. Mission unaccomplished.

Danny creeped soundlessly on all fours back to the couch, feeling acutely disappointed. Ah, he should have known. He never got what he wanted anyhow, and even though he did get it once in a blue moon, it never lasted. Ought to be used to disappointment by now.

He reached out for the lamp on the side table he'd left on for the night, intending to switch it off.

That was when he took a thoroughly close look at the so-called side table beside the sofa.

"What the …"

He went on his hands and knees on the floor again, squinting at the deceivingly simple-looking piece of furniture. At first glance, it was simply a bulky and rectangular wooden block. No designs on it, no brand name, no nothing. Upon closer inspection, Danny realized one side of the block, the side facing the television, looked different from the other three vertical sides. There was an … outline, in the shape of a rectangle, carved into it.

Like there was a piece of wood, cut to fit flawlessly there.

Like a secret door.

His excitement back in full force, Danny groped with his fingers across the four-sided contour. If it was a door of some sorts, it had to open up somewhere.

His left thumb felt what seemed like a thin string sticking out from the upper left corner.

Danny yanked on it.

And the wooden panel came off with a sharp sound into his lap.

He quickly looked towards Flack's bedroom, expecting the door to open and to see an irritated Flack demanding to know what the hell he was doing in the middle of the night.

Nothing happened.

A familiar sound emanated through the tiny gap in Flack's bedroom door. The guy was still snoring happily away.

The CSI returned his gaze to the treasure before him, his face split into an elated grin. There they were, right there in a secret compartment. Photo albums! Lots of them too! He'd hit the jackpot this time.

"Whoo!"

Danny carefully took one out, a red one with gold, filigree patterns on the cover. It was thick but light. The corners of the album covers were tatty with use. Flack must have looked through this specific album frequently. The bespectacled man opened it with hands tingling with anticipation.

The first picture his gaze fell upon was not what he imagined. It was of Flack, a much younger, smiling Flack with longer, slightly wavy hair, with an arm around another guy's shoulders. The image was shot upclose, from the chest up, so Danny couldn't quite tell where it was taken. Certainly taken during the day. There was sunshine lighting the two men from behind.

Nope, this photo didn't confirm anything. Danny had taken many similar pictures with lots of guy friends, and they were all nothing more than that. Friends.

Danny placed the photo album under the illumination of the lamp to better view the other pictures. Now, he noticed there were handwritten notes beneath each photograph. Under the one he just saw, someone had written, "Me and Mark, Police Academy, 1996."

He gasped.

Mark.

At the Police Academy.

There was a Mark in Flack's past, a Mark who'd been with the man at the academy. Flack had been telling the truth.

Blue eyes wide in wonder, he flipped to the next page.

"Oh, man."

Danny stared at the full-page, color photo of Flack with the same man called Mark. This time, there was no doubt whatsoever whether the homicide detective had been more than buddies with this Mark or not. No regular male friend would shove their tongue down another man's throat like the guy was doing to Flack in the picture. If that wasn't enough, it was clear as day to Danny that Mark had one hand inside Flack's pants, fondling Flack's bottom.

For the second time in the last twenty-four hours, the CSI's jaw was on the floor.

It was true.

Flack truly did have relationships with men.

Whoa.

WhoawhoaWHOA.

Danny sunk his teeth into a fisted hand.

He had a chance.

After all the years of waiting and hoping … he had a chance with Flack after all.

He almost screamed in happiness, and barely managed to stop himself. Danny settled for pumping his arms up and down and murmuring an ardent, "Yes!" over and over. Finally, finally, things were going his way -

His movements slowed to a standstill.

Wait.

What if … what if … he wasn't Flack's type?

Danny pouted. Shit. He never thought about that.

He gazed at the photograph again. Mark looked nothing like him. In fact, Mark had a full head of dark, curly hair and brown eyes and olive skin. Not to mention a muscular, swimmer's body. Mark looked like some supermodel or something.

And he … all he had going was a receding hairline, dull brown hair, squinty blue eyes and a regular, slim body.

Danny's shoulders drooped downwards, along with his brows and lips. His hands moved to his cropped, short hair. He knew he should have left it as it was. Yeah, he could still spike it up, although it appeared thicker before he got a haircut. He huffed, then glanced at his arms. At least those were well-built. All that time at the Y sure as hell wasn't going to waste.

Out of the blue, the name Rick popped into his head.

Danny jerked violently, the woolen blanket around his shoulders almost sliding off at the motion. Rick! The dancer who moved to Paris! Yeah, maybe this Mark was simply one of a kind. Maybe this Rick might resemble him more. The CSI frantically flicked through the photo album, becoming more and more morose with each turn of the page. Apparently, Mark and Rick were scarcely Flack's only former boyfriends.

There was some skinny, peroxide blonde guy called Harmon, who was as opposite of Danny as they came. There was a long-haired, green-eyed man with an athlete's body named Andrew. Then there was an utterly bald one called Tyrone, who was a head taller than Flack, and looked very similar to Hawkes. Danny had to blink twice at that one.

By the time he came upon Rick's pictures, he virtually felt like crap. None of the homicide detective's ex-boyfriends looked anything like Danny. In any way. Every single one of them could show up on the cover of GQ magazine, and people would be going gaga over them. He showed up on GQ magazine, and people would most likely incite a riot to take the four-eyed geek off or something.

And Rick was different. He stood out from all the rest.

Danny made a dismayed noise through his prominent nose. He hated to admit it, he really did, but even he had to agree Rick was one stunning example of a man. Large, blue eyes. Full head of dirty blonde hair. A wide, brilliant smile, and of course, the unsurprisingly fit, well-built body and limbs. Danny raised an eyebrow while he stared at one picture of Flack whispering intimately into Rick's ear.

Huh. Rick wore glasses.

And coincidentally enough, in the photo Danny was looking at, the guy also had a trimmed goatee and beard shadow.

Just like him.

There was an odd clogged sensation in the bespectacled man's throat. Danny felt like coughing. Or throwing up. The last time he felt like this, it was when he saw the crush of his pre-teenage years walking down the school hallway with the jerk who made junior high school a living hell for him. He was so fucking jealous of this Rick. The man got to do all the things with Flack that Danny could merely dream of. Thus, he was damn glad Rick was now far, far away in another country, where the dancer couldn't touch Flack anymore.

Danny swiftly closed the photo album, running a hand through his tousled hair. He scowled. An immense part of him was wishing he never saw those photographs of Flack's ex-boyfriends. He was going to be seeing them in his head for ages. Imagining them kissing the handsome homicide detective, caressing him, making him moa-

Stop it, Messer!

His frown intensified. Most times, his mind was a churning chaos. Once in a while, it calmed down enough to give him helpful advice. This was one of those times. He whipped off his spectacles. The lenses were all blurry anyhow.

There was a rustle of cloth, coming from Flack's bedroom.

Danny sucked in a harsh breath, frozen to the spot.

A soft thump, as if somebody had stepped onto the floor and stood up.

Oh, shit! Flack was awake!

Danny frenetically tossed the photo album back inside the secret compartment in the side table, jostled the wooden panel back in place, and leapt onto the couch to lie on his side in record time. He shut his eyes. Forced his breaths to slow down and even out.

Flack's bedroom door creaked sharply. Heavy, dawdling footsteps journeyed from the bedroom to the kitchen. The taller man had to walk past the sofa to get to the kitchen, so his footsteps became louder and louder in Danny's ears as he did so.

Okay, okay, he could tell Flack was standing directly behind the couch now. Stopping there. Looking at him. Danny's insides were trembling. On the outside, he was motionless as a statue.

Did Flack know he wasn't asleep?

Flack stood where he was for nearly a minute, as far as Danny could guess. For some reason, Danny could sense his friend was gazing at him with … warmth. He just knew Flack had that expression on his visage right now. The same one Flack always had whenever Danny glanced up from whatever he was doing to discover himself staring into those forceful, blue eyes.

Danny risked moving his body. He wriggled slightly onto his back, his eyes staying closed. Whoops, his glasses were still in his grasp. And his blanket was bunched up over his legs.

He heard Flack take a step back. Then the homicide detective was ambling away, towards the kitchen. Danny remained in his position, maintaining slow and steady breaths. He was apprehensive about opening his eyes, although it didn't feel like Flack was looking in his direction.

Huh. Wait a minute. He could take a peek first. If his friend saw him with his eyes open, he could use Flack toddling around as an excuse for waking up. Yeah.

Danny opened his eyes to slits. Flack had switched on the kitchen lights. In view of the couch being arranged perpendicular to the kitchen entrance, all he had to do was lift up his head to see what Flack was up to. He opened his eyes some more, then cautiously raised his head, gazing past his feet into the kitchen.

Oh. My. God.

The CSI's blue eyes became so wide the whites around the irises were visible.

Flack … was …

Danny's mouth fell open into an gigantic 'O' shape.

BUCK NAKED.

A strange, squeaky noise emitted from his throat.

He had to be dreaming. That was it, he was dreaming. Juuust dreaming that the homicide detective was sauntering around nude in the kitchen while he got a cup of water.

Danny slowly shifted his arms and pushed himself up on his elbows, keeping his eyes trained on the other man. Flack had his back turned towards Danny. Which suggested the guy had no idea Danny was awake. Or that Danny was ogling him with his tongue hanging out.

"Oh, your heart has called me closer to you …"

Flack was crooning a song under his breath. His hair was disheveled and standing out in tufts, and as for the rest of him -

The CSI speedily put on his spectacles. Instantaneously, his gaze was drawn to the man's swaying hips. Danny's tongue ran across his dry lower lip. Those were a pair of very lovely buttocks. Not as round and ample as his, but they were indeed lovely. It was such a shame Flack constantly hid them in those suits of his.

The throbbing ache between Danny's legs was back. He glanced down at his groin, lips twisted into a smirk. Why, hello again, Mr. Hard-On, he thought. Geez, he hadn't been this horny since he was sixteen years old. He yanked the blanket up to his waist. Reoccupied himself with Flack eyeballing once more.

The homicide detective's build was … just right. He had the broad shoulders and the height, and he wasn't too muscular nor was he too thin. Smooth, pale skin all around, with dark curls in all the right places. At least, Danny hoped so. Flack was facing away from him all the while. The bespectacled man had yet to see Flack in the buff from the front. Danny chewed on his lower lip.

It was okay. Flack was mighty fine from the back too.

There was the sound of running water. Clinking of glass against aluminium. Flack had cleaned his cup, and was leaving it beside the sink to dry.

Danny stopped breathing. Crap, Flack was turning around -

He collapsed onto the sofa, back in his original pose of lying on his back. Hastily removed his glasses and rested his arms at his sides. Shut his eyes.

The living area became darker. Flack had switched off the kitchen lights.

Footsteps approached him for the second time.

Danny, still pretending to be asleep, slowly rolled onto his side, facing the television opposite the couch. Turning his back on the homicide detective, who seemed to be standing behind the sofa, as he did earlier. The shorter man drew his legs up closer to his body. He hoped with all his heart Flack couldn't see his track pants tented at the crotch.

Now, he could hear Flack's soft and deep breaths. It was utter agony for Danny to act as if he wasn't aware there was a naked Flack merely an arm's length away. Flack. Naked. So close. And he couldn't even open his eyes to look at the other man in all his glory.

Again, Flack's heavy footsteps resonated in the living room.

Danny involuntarily tensed up.

Oh, shit. Flack wasn't walking away, he was walking around to the front of the couch!

The CSI sustained his easy and slow breathing, staying as still as possible. Don't panic, Messer, don't panic …

Flack was so close, Danny could sense the heat coming off his friend's body. He waited in consternation, not knowing what the taller man was going to do.

Ten seconds ticked by like ten centuries.

Then, Danny felt Flack's fingers touch his. Opening up his hand. Taking away his glasses and placing them on the side table. He sensed Flack moving further down the couch. A gentle tug of the blanket enveloping his legs, carefully pulling the warm cloth up to his shoulders. A large hand tenderly smoothing out the blanket.

A delicate, almost tentative, touch to the side of his face.

An eternity later, Flack stepped away.

There was a click, and the living room was plunged into darkness.

Danny kept his eyes closed even then, listening to the homicide detective's receding footsteps. It was only when Flack's low snores drifted to his ears that his blue eyes snapped open.

Wow. Flack tucked him in. In the nude.

And best of all, he knew it. He'd forever remember the moment.

Danny smiled broadly, eyes crinkled. Wow. That was even better than having seen Flack naked from the back. Hell, that was so good, he didn't care about getting off or fantasizing overtime about what Flack appeared exposed from the front. Not only did he get to view evidence upfront of Flack's boyfriend allegations, he got to find out, just for an instant, what it might be like to be the one to receive Flack's affections.

He had a diminutive taste of a marvelous prospect of a future. And he wholly intended to transform it into a reality. Someday.

Soon.

Danny fell asleep, with a soft smile on his lips that Flack relentlessly teased him about later in the day.