Disclaimer: Meh… not mine.

A/N: My offering to the DL authors. This drabble is not chronological and is not set around a particular time period in the canon universe. Un-betaed, so mistakes that you will find are mine. Since I've no patience to write full-fledged stories, here are moments from my own version of the DL universe. Enjoy.

She wasn't much of a coffee drinker back in Montana.

But New York never sleeps, and criminal knows no holiday, and she learns to accept the cup of coffee, with a hint of vanilla for her still virgin taste buds, from him. The caffeine still feels foreign in her blood, not uncomfortable, but a reminder that she's not yet addicted to the beverage.

Danny said it'd be another year till she is drinking hers black.

The next day, a large Styrofoam cup sat on his desk at the start of his shift.

She may not be a coffee drinker yet, but she knows how to appreciate the gesture that he knows how she likes her caffeine.

He was running. After a suspect with a gun.

Lindsay sighed. Here we go. She hates it when they run. Messer was already sprinting and she didn't doubt for a second that he was a New Yorker through and through. To be able to dodge traffic and seeming to know at exactly what angle to lean to make his turn faster was a city boy at his best.

And like all those cop shows, the suspect leads them to a dead-end alley, with the barrel of the gun pointed at Messer's head, and Lindsay was torn between feeling scared and pissed off that this was happening. Again.

He was a mama's boy.

The phone has been shrilling for the past thirty minutes and was thinning Lindsay's resolve of minding her own business. Danny is still in Mac's office. Both men had their heads bent over a file, arms tense and jaws tight. Lindsay cast another glance at her half-written report then back towards Mac's transparent glass walls. Nipping her bottom lip, she expelled a breath before picking up the receiver.

And was greeted by a string of Italian phrases, all of them delivered in precise and reprimand tone.

Uh-oh. Mama Messer.

When Lindsay heard the woman on the other end took a pause to breathe, she quickly interject and said, "Approvazione, gli dirò quello."

There was another intake of breath from the other line, sharper and more distinct this time, and Lindsay imagined the surprise look upon Mrs. Messer's face. And as expected, the older woman began to profusely apologize in both English and Italian.

When Danny Messer walked in two minutes later, he raised his head from the DNA result folder and halted at the threshold of his shared office. Because the other holder of the said shared office is currently sharing his landline. And talking in Italian. And before his brain question to how Lindsay Monroe, a country girl from the quiet state of Montana, knew Italian, he thought, shit that's mama on the other line.

He likes his beer cold. And Marty always provide one after days like today, where it wasn't the New York's pollution only that's trying to suffocate him, but the sick and twisted knowledge that human's gift of imagination and large brain could be seen as a playground for some of the deaths he had processed.

He emptied half of the bottle, letting condensation to seep onto his skin.

He chugged back the rest when she slid to the stool next to him at the bar and ordered a beer. He had pegged her for more of the fruity drinks, but she's from Montana, where it's normal for girls to carry blade sharp enough to cut frozen meat. And after working the same case today, he let the bubbling comment in his mouth sizzled, and sat next to her in silence as Marty brought a new cold one for him, and one for her.

He was comforted that they both like cold beer after a day like this.

She would like to think that they've undress each other before his hand touched her bare back.

She is no mynx. But she is a woman with a healthy heart and a certain appreciation for details. And for many of her New York moments, she had definitely appreciated the details of one Danny Messer. Being in the forensic department also enhance her ability to uncover what's hidden. So she, among with many other female occupants of the lab, had partake in uncovering a bit of the allusive and alluring Danny Messer as the machine swirls behind her in search for an answer.

She found that his sweat-drenched body on top of hers was a more than a satisfied answer.

A/N part dos: As always, please review.