tophatdance (tophatdance) wrote,
tophatdance
tophatdance

"Night" [flack/messer]

Author: [info]tophatdance 
Title: Night
Pairing: Flack/Messer
Spoilers/Warnings: None
Notes: Written for prompt #30, night, from the csi50 prompt table.
Summmary: Danny and Don go for a night swim, and contemplate.


*       *        *

    
We didn't have to break into the Y, ya know, Don mused.

They hadn’t dared to switch on the lights and the ceiling’s steel rafters above the pool seemed as stoic and immovable as the very pillars of the sky he couldn’t see from here, and not for the first time Don wished that he could see stars in the city. He floated languidly on his back and closed his eyes and moved his long pale arms through the cool water. The YMCA was deserted – it was past midnight after all – and each quiet sound reverberated off of the glass walls, the lofty ridged ceiling. It was almost as if the world had been distilled into this hushed moment of perfection, and Don nearly laughed at his own simplicity. No one could afford any naivety, not in this city, and of all people he should be the first to know that.

Danny squatted by the edge of the pool and pried off his shoes, each landing with a quiet plop as they were discarded on the slick tile floor and he bent forward to pull his shirt up and over his head, nearly tangling his glasses along the way. His socks and then his worn jeans and then the hiss of his belt as it was snapped out and finally his boxers. He clambered slowly into the pool and the water stood at his chest, gentle and the smell of industrial strength chlorine swelled in the humid room as he surged forward towards Don.

     Jesus, how much chlorine d’ya think they put in here?

     Enough.

     Yeah, ya think, Don?

     Well, enough to kill all the germs from ‘em kids who pee in here.

     Oh that’s nice. Right after I got naked too.
Danny sniffed suspiciously at the water he was wading in.

     You better not go under then, Danno.

     Shit. And don’t you even dare think about it Flack. Stop it. Stop smirking ya bastard, you’re not dunkin’ me underwater.


Don was still floating along on his back with his eyes closed when Danny reached him and then the two of them were still and quiet and the stillness of the room was marked by something other than the ticking large clock on the far wall; their breathing, in-sync with each other, was slow and unhurried and after a while seemed to be the sound of pool water lapping against the tiled edges. There was something large and peaceful uncoiling in the night and from behind his closed eyes Don liked to think it was something larger than them. If he were still religious he would have called it God but it was a long time since he had stepped into a church or obediently clutched a rosary. He thought briefly of Danny who soothed away his terrors at night with a line of insistent kisses along his neckline and a warm thigh between his own and the heady scent of musk was more than enough to mask the scent of incense. Sins that were never really his own had been absolved. All it took was the scent of chlorine and Danny Messer grasping his hand underwater.

     What’re you smilin’ about, Don?

     Nothin', really.

     Nothin’?

      Yeah.
And Don turned his head and smiled at Danny, the soft, sweet smile that effused out of his eyes instead of curving his lips and in the thin darkness of the pool Danny thought they looked like stars falling.


- fin -

Tags: csi prompt table, fandom: csi: ny, fiction: original, pairing: flack/messer
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