Disclaimer: I don't own a thing

Disclaimer: I don't own a thing. Not even the computer I'm writing this on. All you'd get out of me is a weird DVD collection.

AN: The plot bunnies running in my head are usually too fast to catch but this one was extremely stubborn. So I gave it a shot.

Second chances

It was a night out with the team. He had no idea who suggested it or why, but he gladly accepted. It was a way to postpone going back to his apartment and a way to see her smile again.

Lately it was such a rare occurrence and he missed it. He never realized how much he loved her smile. How it brought light into her chocolate eyes and brightened her whole face.

She used to smile like that every time she saw him but not anymore. Not since she laid her heart at his feet and he just sat there unable to say anything back through the guilt and the shock.

He never thought she would be the first to say the words. Somehow it was always him making the first step. And he didn't mind. She was cautious and he was impulsive. One of the many reasons they were a perfect match. He just forgot for a while. But he slowly began to remember again. And he was set on making her remember too.

So after downing his third beer and finally seeing her alone at the bar, he approached her.

"Feel like playing some pool with me, Montana?" the endearment rolling naturally from his mouth.

She met his eyes with a look of surprise and hurt and just stared at him. After a good thirty seconds she just shook her head in disbelief, turned around and made her way out of the bar.

She was already outside when he finally caught up with her.

"What is wrong with you?"

A bitter laugh escaped her that sent chills down his spine.

"Pool, Danny?" she asked as though he should understand her distress. Since it was obvious he didn't she continued. "How dare you to ask me to play pool with you? How dare you to remind me of one of the happiest moments of my whole life when you treated me like your personal doormat for weeks?! How can you act like nothing happened? Have it really meant so little that you can brush it aside so easily?"

And then it hit him. The morning waking up in her arms on his pool table, slightly stiff but incredibly happy. And all the other memories of being happy with her suddenly flooded his mind and the next thing he knew was her face in his hands and his lips glued to hers.

She gripped his waist to steady herself and responded hungrily. And he drank her strength, her love, her all.

He took all she had to give before lifting his head gasping for air. He only planned to get some oxygen to his lungs before kissing her again but she took a step back and jabbed a trembling finger into his chest.

"You have no right."

And before he could react she was gone. Her taste lingering on his lips and the memory of the pain in her glistering eyes fighting to be acknowledged. As he took a look at his hands he realized they were wet. And as he brought one hand to his lips he tasted salt.

She was right. He had no right. But he had already earned himself the right once and he would do anything to earn that right again. It would be much harder after all he did but she was worth it all. And then some more.

The next day she got a delivery – basket full of daisies. The card attached read simply:

I love you too

D.

An hour later her phone rang and before she could speak a word a voice with familiar accent asked:

"Would you have dinner with me?"

She believed in second chances and he knew how rare that was. He was determined not to blow this one. He knew it would be the last one he'll ever get.