This wrote itself; I had the idea from the promo for next week so yea I suppose it's a bit spoiler-ish. This little drabble has nothing to do with my previous story(ies) it's a stand alone and written in a weird POV; it's been so long since I've taken a English class so if anyone know what POV this is let me know. This story is dedicated to everyone over at the Danny/Lindsay thread at TalkCSI; it's a thread #12 warming gift; enjoy. I own nothing and please review.

"Make yourself necessary to someone."

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

Into you

"Hey," her voice is small and scared; foreign to your ear and that's what worries you most. "Let me in?" she doesn't demand it, or order but ask as if there is a chance in hell you'll say no. You've never said no to her before and you'll be damned if you're going to start now- you pull open the door.

She stands in front of you like an angel, glowing and soft but broken and sad with rain drenched hair and her jacket pulled tightly around her. And you take your lead from her jacket and gather her close to pull yourself tightly around her; she nuzzles like a kitten into you. Its deep calming breaths as you stumble back, taking her along with you until you've moved in far enough to close the door but you don't let her go- not on your live; never on hers.

"Safer here," you hear her mumble and you nod your head- never since you've met her do you feel she's safe unless she within your sphere; you try to pull her closer. You can feel her shaking, know that only because she's lost is she letting you pull her down the hall towards your bedroom instead of into the living room where you usually sit, talk, be together; the living room in harmless, the bedroom isn't.

For the first time she passes the frame of your bedroom, and you know it's wrong to think about her lying under you moaning and withering in passion but it's the first thing that pops into your head- you push it away; she needs a friend. Between the doorway and the walk to your bedroom she's snaked her hands around your middle, neatly filed nails scrapping gently on your back, small warm body angling itself to yours; you are a stronger man then you ever thought you could be.

You slid her jacket off her body, noting a thin white wife beater and a pair of jeans underneath and you curse God for the cruel joke he'd decided to play; her shirt it white, it's soaked and it's see through. You deserve a medal- you look away.

"Let's get you out of these clothes, you're going to catch a cold." She shivers against you, testing your restraints further then before but she nods in agreement.

"Okay," She steps back, popping open the button of her jeans, causing you to lick your lips, and pulls down the zipper- you jump into stop her; damn mother and her raising a gentleman.

"I'll grab you a shirt," you turn and rummage around in your drawer, pulling out one of your favorite black tee-shirts before turning back to her. You hand her the shirt and leave the room; she's too good for you and you won't have her this way. It's only moments before she's calling you back, her voice having found some of the strength you remember and you all but run to her.

You're mouth goes dry because never in you life have you seen anything as beautiful as her, standing in your room in your shirt with rain bathed hair and stunning bare legs. But then you look into her eyes and there is the lost little country girl starring back at you and you think that this Sunday, for the first time since you were a kid you might go to confession. This time she moves to close the distance, she isn't thinking and you know this because you know her when she thinks and she's never done something so unplanned before.

Her lips are warm and wet and against yours as you wrap your hands around her, she moans when you push her body into yours. She wraps her arms around your neck and stands on tiptoes and that, well that drives you mad. She going to kill you in the good way and all she's done is kiss you- you smiles when you realize that your unsure if you can take anything more then kissing her. She's something special and you want her, you know and she knows it now too and you wonder if you can be that guy that takes advantage of her, of a girl who needs a friend? Damn mother and her raising a gentleman- you pull away from her.

"We can't do this," her eyes search yours, panic and embarrassment blazing as she turns away to find her clothes.

"Oh; oh my, I'm sorry." And you find for the first time that yes, time does stop sometimes because before you can blink she's pulled on her jeans and is heading for the door- running again. You shake your head and growl because how can she not understand that she's got it all wrong? If you wanted her anymore it would be considered unhealthy- you chase her but she'd quicker, smaller like a bullet- and that thought bring your mind crashing back to the smoke and bodies and unbelievable fear and you're falling back to a couple hours earlier.

A couple hours earlier she could have been dead instead of in front of you all but throwing herself at you. Dead like Aiden your mind screams and you know one thing and one thing for sure- there is no way in hell you'll go through the rest of this life or any other without holding her and tasting her and having her. You slam the door closed and she jumps in surprise, fumbling back into your chest and your head bends to kiss her shoulder.

"Danny," she warns, because she knows just as well as you do that all she has to do is walk out and you can both forget her momentary lapse but if you push this further then it will be what it is in the morning light. Neither one of you know if you can handle that but you're not so much thinking as you are feeling.

Rough hands dance their way across her stomach until they rest on her hips and you turn her over- lips trailing kisses from her shoulder down her collar bone up her neck where you take to sucking. She is sweeter then anything you've tasted before and the sugar rush is instant, she urges you on with moans and hair tugging. You want her jeans off again and you fumble with the button until she takes pity and does it for you. You step back to watch her step out of them as they pool at your front door before she's stepping up to you again and peppering kisses along your bare chest. You let out a low groan; yup she's going to kill you in the good way.

Compared to you she is tiny, compared to most she is tiny, and when you step up to circle you arms around her waist you understand just how much more she had to put in to pretending to be strong. Your hands run down, cupping her ass, pulling her up to wrap her legs around your middle and her lips move up along with her to kiss your shoulder.

"Be sure," you tell her, because you love her more then you want her and you want her more as a part your life then you do in your bed for a night.

"Never been surer of anything in my life," she whispers, laying her head on your shoulder and looking at you.

"Okay, then we take this slowly," you tell her moving back to your bedroom- you want to torture her slowly, make her beg and savoir every inch of her- you won't rush this, don't want to miss a thing. You lay her on your bed, unmade and cool and take her in. She smiles back and you vow that you'll live up to her, be worthy of her one day and as you crawl over her you promise to make church part of your week- give thanks you mother always use to say; you understand it now.

It's much later when you roll over to find her missing that you panic, knowing from the scratch marks that sting on your back that it wasn't a dream but you relax when the bathroom door opens and she stands in the doorway looking at you.

"Hey," her voice is steady though scratchy from screaming and moaning and you find it endearing that she's wrapped herself in your shirt again; you beckon her back to bed.

"For a second I thought maybe you used me Miss Monroe." You reach out and tug a curl, pulling her mouth down to yours.

"For a second I entertained the idea," and your mouth gaps open before you pull her onto her back and roll on top; she gives a little yelp. For a moment your hands feel they know her body better then anyone in the world and at the same time they can't stop exploring and learning more and more. She helps you help her out of your shirt, women like her should never be in clothing then you catch yourself- there are no women like her.

Wild kisses turn soft and gentle and for the first time you're content just holding a woman. She draws patterns against your chest, kissing it ever so often and you're convinced you're lost your mind when all you want to do is ask her to marry you. You, the 'I'm never getting married guy', but you keep quiet because that would scare her and you can't risk losing her. You opt for a different question and you mumble it into her hair with a chuckle.

"What are you doing Sunday?" she knits her eyebrows but shrugs.

"Why?"

"You wanna go to church with me on Sunday?" she laughs with you.

"I can do church this Sunday" And you have this weird feeling that she'll be doing church with you every Sunday from here on out; the thought makes you smile.

-Girlygirl