Disclaimer: Not mine.

Summary: Mac wants what he can’t have. MacDanny MacDon

What you can’t have

He wakes up with a start, sitting up in bed, sheets pooling in his lap. Behind him, his bedmate stirs, and soon he can feel warm fingers tracing patterns on the back of his neck.

’Hey…’ he says, and kisses that spot between Mac’s shoulder blades that makes his toes twitch. ‘You dream something bad?’

Mac shakes his head; no, it wasn’t a bad dream. These days, he only dreams of Danny. Silently, he lets Don pull him back down on the bed and spoon him from behind. They are still nightmares, though. Nightmares that remind him of what he haven’t got.

He sleeps.

It’s summer in New York, the city is boiling, and the team is gathered on the rooftop of the CSI building on an improvised picnic in the late afternoon. Well, there are only three of them left by now. Stella’s there, Danny too and Mac, all three seated on a yellow blanket that Flack showed up with along with a bright smile and a basket of muffins, that Mac knows somehow should mean more than it does.

Stella sighs and stretches, squinting at the red sun hanging just above the horizon. ‘Think I better scurry on home, as well,’ she says and snatches the last muffin out of Danny’s hand. ‘See yah, boys.’ She ruffles his hair as she’s standing up, ‘don’t get lost on the way home.’

Then they are two. Nothing really happens until Danny leans across and kisses Mac on his lips.

He sits there paralysed, while Danny keeps up the gentle massage of lips on lips, not sure how to end it, not sure if he wants to. Danny smells like aftershave, crisp shirts and smiles, and Mac thinks he quite enjoys having the young man close like this. Danny’s face looks flushed, as if caught somewhere between embarrassed and aroused, and when Mac finally responds to the kiss, almost blissful.

When they break apart, Danny’s eyes are downcast, cheeks tinted in red. ‘Danny…’ Mac whispers, because his voice just won’t work properly right now, ‘Shit… You shouldn’t have done that…’ he says, watching Danny’s face fall from awkward to oh-god-what-have-I-done in two seconds. ‘Danny.’ He doesn’t like that face anywhere as much as the blissful one, and leans in for another kiss, hoping that it will take away the hurt.

Don is caring, much more so than Mac had initially thought. He’s also demanding, needy and depending, wanting, wanting so much that Mac doesn’t have in stock. He’s the best thing that have happened in a very long time, and when Mac dreams of another man in his bed, the guilt threatens to swallow him whole, because have sweet, beautiful Don deserved anything like this from anyone, no less from him? Mac knows that he is to Don what Don is to him – the best thing in years. Mac has fixed him. Mac can also tear him down.

He pushes Danny onto his back, the yellow blanket soft beneath them. A cool pair of hands is pushing up his shirt, touching every piece of skin available. Danny’s breath is hot in his ear, like nothing or no one he’s ever had. Mac’s own hands are fumbling with removing every single part of clothing from Danny’s body, eyes momentarily blinded by the reflection of the sun in a far away window. He kisses Danny again, thinking he doesn’t want to do anything but this ever again. ‘Please…’

Seeing Danny at work is torturous, especially since he’s had trouble separating reality from fantasy. He never knows if thing have happened, so the day he sees Danny giving Don the same smile he gives Mac in his dreams, he thinks that this is the real nightmare. He can’t loose what he haven’t got, and certainly not the only thing his. ‘So you wanna grab a drink after work?’ Danny asks.

‘No,’ Don looks over at Mac through the corner of his eye, chewing his lip absently, ‘I think I’ll just go home. Thanks anyway.’ He might just be able to keep him a little while longer.

Danny’s golden legs are wrapped tight around his waist, as he pushes into him, slowly. His chest is heaving, moans trapped inside, too breathless to let them out. ‘Danny, my Danny, mine…’ he mumbles, and Danny nods, pressing loving kisses to his jaw.

‘Yours,’ he says, but the voice isn’t Danny’s anymore, and when he looks down he sees Don sprawled out beneath him, eyes shining with love. ‘Yours,’ Don repeats.

Nightmares, indeed.

Author’s note: Inspired by a dream of Mac and Danny on a rooftop smoochin. Well, that was odd enough.