![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
glorious_spoonTitle: Apologies
Pairing: Danny/Lindsay
Warnings: none
Summary: Coda to 4.19: Personal Foul. Short and sweet.
Danny's staring at a stain on his kitchen table and contemplating getting up for another beer when the doorbell rings. He's halfway across the room before he even thinks about it. It could be Flack or one of the guys from across the hall, but he knows it's not.
She looks like a drowned rat when he opens the door, standing on the welcome mat, soft-edged and soaking wet, shifting her weight like she still hasn't quite made up her mind not to bolt.
"Hey," he says. His voice doesn't come out right--all low and tight, and there's too much showing. There always is, with her. He clears his throat and tries again. "Lindsay. Montana. Look, I just wanted to say--"
"Okay," she interrupts, "no talking." Before he can get another word out, she puts her hands on his shoulders and pushes him back into the apartment, kicking the door closed behind her.
Danny feels his lips twitch."No talking?"
"No talking," Lindsay confirms. She closes the distance between them and slips her cool, damp hands under his shirt, pressing her palms flat against his back.
He sighs and rests his cheek against the top of her head. "I'm sorry."
She smells like clean water and shampoo, her small, sturdy body warm against him despite being soaked through, her breath a bare whisper against his shirt when she speaks. "I know."
Pairing: Danny/Lindsay
Warnings: none
Summary: Coda to 4.19: Personal Foul. Short and sweet.
Danny's staring at a stain on his kitchen table and contemplating getting up for another beer when the doorbell rings. He's halfway across the room before he even thinks about it. It could be Flack or one of the guys from across the hall, but he knows it's not.
She looks like a drowned rat when he opens the door, standing on the welcome mat, soft-edged and soaking wet, shifting her weight like she still hasn't quite made up her mind not to bolt.
"Hey," he says. His voice doesn't come out right--all low and tight, and there's too much showing. There always is, with her. He clears his throat and tries again. "Lindsay. Montana. Look, I just wanted to say--"
"Okay," she interrupts, "no talking." Before he can get another word out, she puts her hands on his shoulders and pushes him back into the apartment, kicking the door closed behind her.
Danny feels his lips twitch."No talking?"
"No talking," Lindsay confirms. She closes the distance between them and slips her cool, damp hands under his shirt, pressing her palms flat against his back.
He sighs and rests his cheek against the top of her head. "I'm sorry."
She smells like clean water and shampoo, her small, sturdy body warm against him despite being soaked through, her breath a bare whisper against his shirt when she speaks. "I know."
