I Hate What You've Done With The Place

Fandom: CSI:NY

Pairings: Danny/Lindsay and Danny/Flack friendship, esp in first chapter

Genre: Drama, Suspense

Rating: T for strong language

AN: This story takes place in the summer between season 3 and season 4. Danny and Lindsay have been dating but still haven't revealed that information to any of their colleagues. This will be a multi-chapter fic and although it will start out fairly lighthearted, it will get creepy.

Disclaimer: I'm a part of the 99.99999% of writers on this site who neither own, nor have rights to shows and characters.

I Hate What You've Done with the Place

It was with a relived sigh that Danny threw down his pen and started to file the stack of newly-completed paperwork occupying his desk. Hopefully it would be his last lab-bound assignment and his physiotherapist would agree to clear him for field duty after their appointment later that afternoon. His hand felt better, not fantastic but he had a full range of movement and he was itching to get out of the office. Plus his physio was kind of a dick. If he never had to see that sadistic smirk again, well, it would be too soon.

The lab was quiet and it was evident that both Mac and Stella were out on a case. Danny hastily jotted down a reminder about his physio appointment on a post-it note and gathered up his things, slapping the note onto the door of his shared office in case anyone came looking for him. He had a little over an hour to make his appointment and so decided to walk. The clinic wasn't far from Flack's precinct and he could drop by on the way and maybe catch up with NYPD gossip over a Styrofoam cup of sludgy station java. Not exactly gourmet but it might give him the rush he needed to convince his physio of his good health.

Strolling in through the precinct's double doors, it took Danny a few moments to locate Flack through the bustle. The detective was leaning against the front desk and seemed to be dividing his time between delegating work to some of the greener rookies and subtly flirting with one of the pretty admin assistants behind the desk. Flack had the appearance of idleness down pat but Danny knew not to let that fool him. Flack worked damn hard from behind his laid back image. Still, when there was fun to be had...

"Yo Flack! Whatta they tell you about harassing the admin staff? Haven't you got better things to do than to hang around here and make a pest of yourself?"

Flack laughed and broke off his conversation with the assistant. "Firstly Messer, I'm on a break. And secondly, I think you're the one that needs some harassment training. I'm honestly surprised Monroe hasn't reported your skinny, be-spectacled ass yet."

"Well what can I say? I've got charm." muttered Danny whilst he helped himself to a cup of lukewarm coffee from the pot behind the desk. "Are you still coming round for the game later? I've got one of of my Ma's lasagnas ready to go and a fridge full of beers."

"How can I say no to Mama Messer's lasagna? Flack's stomach picked a fine moment to growl in confirmation. He carried on, ignoring his stomach. "You wanna give me your spare key in case I finish before you get back?"

"After what you did last time I gave you my spare? Nah man. Not gonna happen. Besides, I don't know where my spare is." Danny lied through his teeth. Flack would be insufferable if he found out that Lindsay was currently in possession of it.

Several hours later and Danny had made it back to the precinct and found Don already waiting for him outside. The subway ride to Danny's had been uneventful. Don had cracked some awful old jokes and had gone into great detail over an almost farcical bad date he'd had with a brunette veterinarian the evening before. Danny had let it all wash over him. The news from the physiotherapist had been exactly as he'd hoped which meant that he could be cleared for field work as soon as Mac allowed it. His injury was never expected to cause long-term damage but it had still been a relief to get the all clear. The physio was still a dick though.

By the time the two detectives made it to Danny's apartment building they were both in lively spirits. They were debating the merits and abilities of various ball players when Danny unlocked the door to his apartment and hurried into the kitchen to grab a much anticipated beer. In the next room he could hear Flack continue to reel off stats but didn't pay any attention to the other man until he heard Flack laugh and call out.

"Fuck Danny, I hate what you've done with the place!"

Curious as to what Flack could be talking about, Danny grabbed a couple of beer bottles and a bag of chips and headed out into his living room. Sprawled across his pool table was a grubby plastic mannequin dressed in a black lace bra and french knickers. It's plastic limbs and torso had been liberally spattered and smeared with red paint and on closer inspection the word 'Whore' had been viciously carved into the green baize of the table. The rest of the room looked to be undisturbed.

Danny rounded on the other detective, his face grimly set. " Fuck you Don! Fuck you and your bloody fucking stupid practical jokes! Is this why you wanted my spare key? How the hell did ya even get in?"

"Shit Dan. I swear I didn't do this. I thought you mighta been playing a joke on me. A little CSI humour. But I swear I didn't do it. I know how much you love that table." Flack finished weakly.

The two detectives stared at the scene in front of them for a few moments before Flack broke the silence. "Hey Danny, I'm no design expert but you might want to move that thing. It's a little Norman Bates for my liking".

AN: Please pass on your constructive criticism. BTW If anyone is interested, I'm looking for a beta who can help turn my English-isms into dyed-in-the-wool New York slang.