A/N Thanks to all the reviewers of my two previous stories – "Messed Up" and "Another Fine Mess"- especially to Chocobetty for her questions, which alway make me think about what I am doing.

This story is Stella/Flack centred, but with still lots of Danny/Lindsay, and continues on from the Messer wedding.

The definition of a comedy is a story which ends with a wedding, while a tragedy is the same story ending in a funeral. I prefer comedies.

Off-canon details of ages, backgrounds etc. are true for the actors who portray the characters, which belong to CBS, the producers, writers, and creators of CSI:NY.

Like everyone else, I thrive on reviews. Thanks for leaving a comment.

Koumbaros and Koufettas

Chapter 1

"It was magic, wasn't it?" Stella Bonasera sighed, a little drunk and a lot exhausted, burrowing her head into Don Flack's shoulder as they walked through the dark New York streets to their apartment.

It had been a pretty intense three months since Lindsay Monroe and Danny Messer had finally admitted their feelings, fallen into bed, and gotten engaged, all in a twenty-four hour period.

It was the same night Don had asked Stella to move in with him. It had seemed too quick; they had only been seeing each other for a month. But she had known when she looked in his eyes that it was the right thing to do. Now she thought, "Perhaps when you live with death all the time, you just don't want to take things slow. When every day could be the last ... " she shivered and moved even closer to Don. It was true for everyone, she knew that: no one knew whether they would live or die that day. But for the people she worked with, death was a constant and often intrusive companion.

Don had moved into the apartment he had helped her move into just months before. After Frankie's attack and death, she had not been able to go back to her old apartment. Don had been the one who helped her look, checked out the security and the neighbourhood of each place she had thought a possibility, and then had helped her move in, dragooning all their friends to help out as well. In many ways, it had been as much his apartment as hers from the beginning.

Stella hadn't been exactly surprised when everyone showed up again to help Don move in, but she had been overwhelmed at how happy they all seemed to be about the situation. She had thought, perhaps, that there would be questions about their being together, but Danny and Sheldon had cheerfully muscled furniture around, Mac had moved dozens of boxes, and even Peyton had helped Lindsay clean out Don's bathroom and kitchen, claiming she had all kinds of tricks from the morgue to help her do it more efficiently. Moving had never seemed so easy before.

Even before that was over, Stella began helping Lindsay plan the wedding, standing in for all the female relatives Lindsay didn't have: mother, sister, maid of honour all rolled into one. They had met in the staffroom during shift breaks, eking out a few moments between dumpster-diving and analysing assorted bodily fluids to argue about flowers, colour schemes, and venues.

Stella smiled at the memory: Lindsay had been so determined to keep everything small and understated, while Stella, with her Greek background, had rather grander notions. Compromise had sometimes been hard won. In the end, Lindsay got the simplicity she wanted, while Stella got just enough drama to feel it had all been worth it.

"If you wanted small and tacky, you know, you and Danny could always hop a shuttle to Vegas and do it up in gold lame and Elvis impersonators!" Stella had huffed at one point.

Lindsay had nearly cried with laughter, imagining Danny dressed up as Elvis. When she jokingly said, "That sounds sort of promising... " Stella threatened to go for her throat.

Still, it had all been worth it for that moment when Danny had looked Lindsay in the eyes and promised "to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, until death do us part." Everyone in the room was in tears at that point, including the bride and groom. Danny had come through so much, and everything that happened - his brother's near-fatal beating, Aiden's death, the traumas nearly every member of the team had suffered over the past year - had only made him stronger and more sure of himself and of his feelings for Lindsay. No one had ever expected Danny to be the first of the group married, least of all Danny himself.

And Lindsay. Stella sighed happily: she had been everything a bride should be. She had walked down the aisle on Mac Taylor's arm, kissing him on the cheek when they stopped in front of the priest and Danny reached for her hand. Her radiant smile had rivaled the sun pouring in through the stained glass windows. The simple gown Stella had convinced her to buy - a plain linen sheath with a low back in soft white covered with a lace jacket - had fallen to just above her ankles: something new. Stella had loaned her a lace fingertip veil which draped over her head, off her face - the only thing Stella had from her mother's family: something borrowed. It matched the pearls Lindsay wore which had been her grandmother's: something old. For something blue, she carried a small bouquet of hydrangea and columbine, colours which were echoed throughout the church.

"You okay?" Don asked her quietly. She had hardly spoken since they left the reception at Murphy's, which was unusual enough for his Stella that he felt the need to check.

"Yeah, just thinking," she smiled up at him mistily.

"You can't possibly cry anymore, Stel," he said teasingly. "I thought you were going to float away at one point."

"Weddings do that to me," she said dreamily, hardly thinking about what she was saying. "Such a beautiful promise to make, isn't it?"

Don looked down at her. He had a promise of his own to keep, and this seemed as good a time as any.

"Come here a minute," he walked over to a bench and sat down, inviting her to join him.

She sat close to him, her body suddenly tense. She knew that Don and Danny had been hatching something all week, and she was pretty sure she knew what it was. She was a trained investigator, after all, and neither man was particularly subtle.

Don cleared his throat, suddenly nervous. When he had asked Stella to move in with him (although in the end, he had moved in with her) he had done it on the spur of the moment. This was a lot harder.

"Stella, you know I love you, right?"

She turned to face him. "Yes," she answered simply.

"I love living with you. I love waking up in the morning and having you in my arms. I love going to sleep at night knowing that you are beside me. I don't ever want to lose that, you know?"

Yes, she knew. And it scared her nearly to death.

He could see that fear in her eyes, but he had promised Danny that he wouldn't chicken out this time. He'd had the ring for nearly two weeks, but there just had never seemed a good time to have this conversation. He pulled the ring out of his pocket and took Stella's hand in his.

"I want more, Stella." He grinned a little. "I always seem to want more around you. I want to marry you, to make that promise to have and hold 'til death do us part. I want to have children with you, and grow old with you, and ... " his voice died off as Stella turned her head away.

"Don't turn away from me, Stel. Turn me down if you have to, but at least tell me what's going on in your head. Don't just shut me down."

She looked down at her hand, at the ring he had placed on her finger while he was talking. It fit perfectly, a beautiful solitaire cut emerald which matched her eyes. She looked up at him and smiled a little tremulously. "It's beautiful, Don."

"So are you," he said, not sure whether to be relieved or worried.

"And I do love you."

"But...?"

"I don't need to be married to prove I love you. I don't need the ceremony and the priest and the piece of paper to tell everyone that we love each other. Isn't it enough just to be together?"

Don was shaking his head even before she'd finished. He and Danny had practiced this part (with a lot of help from Lindsay). "No," he said firmly.

"No? Why not? What does all that mean, anyway?" She was beginning to get angry.

Don could feel her anger simmering, but he would not be dissuaded. "It means a lot. I don't want to tell people you're my girlfriend, or partner, or significant other. I want you to be my wife, the mother of my children."

He felt her stiffen up again, but he kept trying, "It means everything, Stella. If it didn't, why did you spend three months making sure Lindsay and Danny had everything they could possibly want for this one special day? Why did you just spend five hours crying your eyes out?"

Stella choked on a laughing sob. "Well, you got me there." She turned away from him and wiped her eyes.

He moved off the bench and crouched down in front of her. "I'm not on my knees yet, Stella, but if that's what it takes ... "

"Don't," she said automatically. "You'll ruin your new suit."

This time he laughed, "As if I care." He took both her hands in his and leaned forward. "Make an honest man of me, Stella Bonasera. Marry me."

She bent towards him and rested her forehead on his with a sigh. "I love you, Don. But marriage - kids - it's not a good idea."

"Why not?"

She looked him deep in the eyes and said firmly, "I'm too old for you."