SUMMARY: This wasn't exactly the pillow talk Lindsay had in mind.
SPOILERS: 4x08 "Buzzkill"
RATING: T. Not quite so bad, but still not suitable for children.
DISCLAIMER: I still don't own them. If I did, a lot of episodes would never have happened.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: A short little post-ep to satisfy my muse, which totally caught the opportunity for a D/L scene that TPTB seemed content to let pass.
Unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own.
As always, I remind you that I am spoiler-free.
ETA: When I say that B is the rarest blood allele, I don't mean that it's the rarest blood type. Blood allele and blood type are not the same thing.
Midnight Medical Histories
Lindsay was on the edge of sleep, having been lulled into a peaceful drowse by the hypnotic motion of Danny's hand idly stroke the damp skin of her bare back. She lay half across his chest, riding the rise and fall of his breathing and listening to his heart beat with the slow and powerful rhythm that follows a climax. She could not have wiped the smile from her face if her life depended on it, and she was content to think of nothing other than how good Danny's touch felt on her back when he spoke.
"Can I ask you something?"
"For the last time," she murmured, half-conscious, "I'm not wearing the bunny ears again. I had to return them with the rest of the costume."
"No, that isn't what I was going to ask. Although, I still think you should have kept that corset."
She was slightly more alert now, if only because the timber of Danny's voice suggested that he was actually intending on having a conversation. "Okay, then. What did you want to know?"
"Are you allergic to any medications?"
Had she the strength to turn to him, she would have given him a look that suggested he was crazy for bringing up such a topic in bed, especially so soon after their usual nighttime activity. She almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the question. That was not exactly the kind of pillow talk Lindsay had expected. She burrowed her face into his chest and mumbled, "Why?"
She could feel him shrug beneath her. "I'm allergic to amoxicillin."
Lindsay said nothing, only murmured a, "Hmmm," as Danny's fingers continued their trek up and down her back. Her hand set out on an exploration of its own, tracing around his belly button and following the line of hair that ran down to his pelvic bone. He shivered at her touch, but he didn't stop his story.
"They only found out because I got mono my sophomore year of high school."
She giggled, her eyes riveted on her hand and the reaction of Danny's body to it. "The kissing disease, huh? I bet you were a regular heartbreaker back then."
Danny snorted, and if it were possible for a snort to sound strangled, his did. His fingers became more determined in their actions. "Actually, I got it from baseball. When you're a kid, you don't think much about hygiene and stuff like that. You're dirty, you're tired, you're hot, and you grab the first water bottle you find. The whole team ended up with mono by the end of the year. Not a good season for us."
"I'll bet," Lindsay smiled, twirling one of the hairs on his chest around her finger. She couldn't help but notice that he hadn't exactly denied her allegation of being a heartbreaker.
"The doctors gave me amoxicillin, and I had a really bad reaction to it. I had trouble breathing, my entire body hurt, and I broke out in the worst case of hives you've ever seen. My stomach was covered in these red blotches for weeks, even after they took me off the meds."
Danny cleared his throat. "Anyway, I was just curious if you had a story like that, is all."
Something in his tone gave her pause, and she knew that he had asked out of more than idle curiosity. She stopped her caress and raised herself slightly so that she was able to turn and look at him. "And you thought now was a good time to ask?"
He gazed back at her, nonplussed, and shrugged again. "Yeah."
She narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing him. She could tell that something was bothering him. Danny was a lot of things, but subtle he was not. "Danny," she whispered, reaching out a hand to lightly touch his chin, "what's the matter?"
He frowned, his brow furrowed. "Okay, it's just that… When I still thought Paul was Brandy's boyfriend, before I found out he was a lying bastard, the doctor asked him if she was allergic to any medications, and he didn't know. And I started thinking…" He trailed off and tightened his grip around her, bringing her closer to him. She went willingly, snuggling against his side, fitting her body to his. "I started thinking, what if that were you? What if something happened to you, and I didn't know any of the important answers?"
She opened her mouth to respond, but he continued. "And I don't like thinking about something happening to you, but every time I work a case with a distraught boyfriend or husband, I keep flashing back to finding you in the smoke after the flash bomb, or finding out that you were bitten by a cobra. I mean, in our line of work, something is bound to happen, and I want to be prepared when it does. Christ, Linds, we've been together for nine months, and I don't even know your blood type."
She gave him a small smile, and she wondered how long this had been bothering him. He had sent her a couple of text messages earlier that day, which she hadn't returned because their case of the murdered model in Times Square kept reopening, but he hadn't given any indication of something like this. The texts consisted of the usual – What time are you getting off? Your place or mine? He now sounded genuinely worried, and not without reason. They were each other's 'in case of emergency' contact, and Danny was right – their line of work practically demanded that they would eventually wind up in the hospital. It had already happened to both of them. What would happen if Danny were shot on duty, and the hospital called her with questions that she couldn't answer? She shuddered to think about something like that happening, but considering Danny's track record for doing completely brainless things in order to collar a suspect, it wasn't entirely outside the realm of possibility.
"It's B+," she said, pressing a kiss to his collarbone.
His eyes brightened a bit. "Really? Mine, too."
She sat up, not even bothering to gather the sheet around her, and rested against the headboard. "Did you know that B is the rarest blood allele in the entire world? Only something like sixteen percent of the population carries it."
He sat up as well, twining their fingers together. "What are the odds of us having the same blood type?"
She shook her head, not even attempting to those calculations in her head. "I don't acquire the ability to do math until it's daylight and there's at least one cup of coffee in my system."
He smiled and glanced down at their joined hands. "So, are you allergic to anything?"
"That must have sucked, growing up on a farm."
She rolled her eyes playfully. "Ranch. Not farm." He was always messing that up.
"What's the difference?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows.
"Nothing, obviously, to a city boy like you."
"Linds?" His voice was quiet and soft. It didn't often get that way, and she had learned to pay attention when it did.
He met her gaze, his eyes burning, even in the dimness. "I love you."
He had said it before, but she was always taken aback when he announced it in that manner – so sure of himself and his words. She squeezed his hand. "I love you, too."
They sat in companionable silence for a while, just staring at each other, until Lindsay said, "There isn't much in my medical history. We Monroes are a hardy bunch. What about you?"
His face reddened, and he averted his eyes. "Mostly just, ah, baldness."
She found it incredibly funny that he did not get embarrassed when telling her that he loved her, but he blushed crimson upon admitting that baldness ran in his family. She ran her fingers through his hair, stopping at the small bald patch on the back of his head. "Yeah. I knew that already."
He gave a low growl, and before she had time to react, he had pounced on her, pinning her to the bed. "Oh, that's how you want to play, is it?" He dropped a kiss to the hollow at the base of her throat, and she moaned before she could stop herself.
Determined not to let him get the upper hand, she cocked an eyebrow at him. "Tell me, Messer, does being ticklish run in your family?" And with that, she reached out and grabbed him where the love handles would be – if Danny had love handles, which he didn't. He yelped and jumped, and she used the opportunity to roll him over.
"Now then," she said, "I do believe the only way I can be fully satisfied that we've covered all the important aspects is to conduct a thorough examination." She shifted her hips a bit.
Danny's eyes darkened to that smoky cobalt color that always signaled trouble. He licked his lips. "You do what you've got to do."
She lowered her head to meet his waiting lips. There was very little talk after that.