A New Type of Romantic
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Category: CSI: NY - Ship Ahoy!
> Danny Messer/Lindsay Monroe
Characters: Danny Messer
, Lindsay Monroe
Genres: Established Relationship
It doesn't have to be all flowers and kisses to be romantic.
No spoilers, but it is set before "Child's Play".
"One day, I think you'll just change your mind and whisk me off my feet," Lindsay said as she dried a plate and put it into the cupboard.
"Hey," Danny said as he wiped a bit of splashed dishwater from his face. "I believe, for a fact, that I have literally carried you on several occasions."
They were in Lindsay's cramped studio apartment. It still boggled Danny's mind that she chose to live in there – it had cracked paint, bad plumbing, and smelled like curry. But, it was on the island of Manhattan, and that was what was most important to Lindsay.
He passed her a cup that he had just cleaned and then reached down into the sink to release the water. "Son of a bitch," he swore as he rose a bloodied hand. The cut ran along the length of his right palm, from where he had grabbed the knife instead of the drain.
"Oh my God, Danny," Lindsay said as she took his hand into her own and held it up. "That looks deep."
"Damn bread knife. I totally forgot that it was in there."
Lindsay moved quickly to wrap his hand with a clean dishtowel. "Come, sit." She gestured to the open chair at her tiny kitchen table, which was just inches from both her stove and her bed. "I don't think that you cut it bad enough to need stitches, but we do need to stop the bleeding."
"You got a first aid kit here?"
"Now is not the time to make cracks about my apartment, Messer. Of course I have a first aid kit." She maneuvered carefully around the queen-sized bed that served as both her living room and bedroom sitting area. The small bathroom contained precarious shelving units that held what few products she did have, and getting the first aid kit meant bending to get under the sink, of course without knocking any of the shelves over. It was a failed attempt, and her hair dryer smashed against the floor.
"Don't hurt yourself, Montana!" Danny held the towel tight around his cut hand. "And watch out for the shoes that I left on that side of the bed."
Lindsay grinned to herself. "See, that really is romantic," she called back to him as he retrieved the kit and did her best to pick up the broken dryer. "You're bleeding all over the place, and you're worried that I'm going to trip over your shoes."
Leaving the bathroom, she managed to avoid all the obstacles and take the one seat across the way from him. She opened the first aid kit and started to treat it like she would upon arriving at a crime scene. Each item was carefully laid out, in the order that it would be used. Then the secondary items that she might need, such as butterfly closures and a hand immobilizer, if it turned out to be more serious than she thought.
"You're making me nervous, there, Montana. I mean, this isn't a crime scene. It's a bloody hand."
"I'm being careful," she said as she snapped on the latex gloves.
"Just throw some damn alcohol on it and tape it up!"
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Yeah, so that for the next week you can bitch and moan, and try to get out of doing your work because you have a boo-boo. Not so much, Messer. We're doing this the right way, and that's final." She looked at it again. "OK, I don't think there is anything to clean out, because you cut it in a sink full of water, but come here."
She led him to the sink and washed his hand under cool clean water, and then re-wrapped it in a clean towel. "Back to the table." She placed a sterile pad on the wound and then taped it in place, making sure to carefully wind it fully around his hand so that it wouldn't come off. "We'll need to change the bandage and clean it, maybe put some ointment on it as well."
Danny looked at it and frowned. "Well, this sucks. That's my good hand."
"Well, maybe next time, you'll listen to me and not put the big knives in the sink. You city boys don't know anything."
Danny was about to respond when there was a thump, followed by glass breaking and screeching through the walls.
"Damn cats." Lindsay sighed heavily. She was pretty sure that the cats next door were feral, but there really wasn't anything that she could do about it. Mostly because the super didn't care.
"Now I remember why we always go to my place, aside from the space factor." Lindsay had taken up staying at Danny's about four times a week. "Remind again about why we're here and not there."
She shrugged. "Because we're always going to your place. I thought it would be nice to do something over here."
There was a bang from upstairs. "So, Manhattan's not all it's cracked up to be, is it Montana? Brooklyn's looking pretty nice, isn't it?"
Lindsay flopped onto her bed as the banging got louder. "OK," she started as she stared up at the ceiling, "but you're a big city boy, so you're never going to be able to understand what it's like to dream about living in Manhattan your whole life."
Danny got up and walked the short space between the table and her bed to lie down beside her. "Your dream happen to include living in a shoebox on top of an Indian restaurant?"
She looked over at him, her short hair fanning her face as she reached for his hand. "No, in my dream I lived a very charmed life. Subway hopping in heels, nights spent at the opera, dressed to the nines. All of that."
Danny reached over and bopped her on the nose. "OK, well, any New York woman with sense is going to tell you that you keep those heels in your bag, and you take the subway in your sneakers. And you go to the opera."
"Yeah, like twice," she said as she fitfully kicked at the bedding. "And you won't take me, even though you said that you would."
He sighed and repositioned himself on the bed, laying his injured hand on his chest. He had promised that they would go, but everything just kept coming up.
He was reaching for his Blackberry to set a real date to actually go when the radiator kicked on and the couple upstairs began their nightly screaming match. He looked over at her.
"I'll pack my bag."
Danny brushed his teeth as Lindsay changed into her nightgown. Over the weeks, more and more of her stuff had made its way over. So much so, that the bag she had to pack, generally just included clothes for work the next day. He didn't even realize it until it was all said and done that he had made room for her in his dresser, closet and bathroom.
As he spit and rinsed, and idea occurred to him. "Hey, Linds," he said as he reentered the bedroom.
"When's your lease up?"
"In a few months," she replied as she rubbed her favorite lotion on her arms. She had left a bottle on Danny's nightstand two weeks ago, and was beginning to suspect that he used it when she wasn't looking. "Why?"
"You're here so much, I was just thinking that maybe in a few months, you might want to just move in."
"That's romantic, Messer. You're just the king of tact, aren't you?" She put the lotion down and studied him for a moment. Then she laughed. "Wow, that really was your version of a good way to ask, wasn't it?"
"Hey," Danny said as he put his arms up. "I was just thinking that maybe you just wanted to move the rest of your stuff in here, since it seems like half of it already is. Plus, you know, you can pay half the rent and utilities here now."
She threw a pillow at him. "You really are just so sweet aren't you? None of that 'I can't wait to see your face in the morning stuff'. Just, 'hey, wanna share the rent'?"
"This is New York. Some might say that that is one of the most romantic gestures in the world." He sat down beside her. "OK, think of it like this. I just asked you to give up your apartment, and you know how hard it is to get one of those here. And I asked you to move into mine. Which means, if something happened to us, I would probably have to give up this apartment. With it's perfect rent and nice location. In New York, it's like sacred to share what limited space you have, unless you're serious about it."
She ran her hand along the side of his face. "OK, that really is romantic."