Disclaimer: They are not mine. The End.

Spoilers: Loosely follows the series.

A/N: Now, as much as I love Dantana (and I do, I swear) I am of the tiny school of thought that Danny and Lindsay wouldn't have stayed together had Lucy not happened. I also think everyone's lives are fraught with way too much drama, and as such, I wanted to give my favorite CSI a little joy. Enter Adam. That's right.

We were lovin' blind - borderline reckless
We were livin' for the minute we were spinnin' in
Maybe we were a lot of things
But we weren't crazy


"Adam, this was a bad idea," Lindsay muttered looking up from the instruction booklet she was holding. "I think you killed it."

"I'll fix it."

"I don't have a soldering iron, so no, I don't think you will."

"I'll jerry-rig it."

"You'll jerry-rig my entire sound system?"

"I can try."

"Man, the things we get into trying to watch Star Wars in surround sound."

"Dolby digital."

She sighed and picked at the button that was coming off her shirt.

"I'm going to go make popcorn."

"It's gonna get cold before we get the movie started."

"Yeah, I'm getting the popcorn for the entertainment that is you trying to fix this mess."

He scowled at her retreating back, then turned his attention back to the sound system. He had messed it up 7 miles east of totally screwed, but he wasn't going to let her know that.

"How come you didn't tell me you brought candy?" came her accusatory voice from the kitchen.

"Because you'd pounce on that like a sunburn on an Irish guy."

"I don't know if I want to know the connection between candy and an Irish guy, nor do I need to speculate on the connotations of there not being any left for you."

"And now I can only picture Conan O'Brien eating jelly beans in his boxers. Thanks, Linds."

She nearly hit her head on the counter as she doubled over with laughter.

"You just wait. I am going to bring that up someday when you least expect it. It's going to be great."

"Yeah, I can feel the love."

She giggled and put a bag of popcorn into the microwave, giving it an extra thirty seconds because Adam liked it just to the point of almost burnt. She hopped up onto the counter and sighed, looking down at the dishes that filled her sink. She hated dishes with a passion, and always put them off until she was eating cereal out of a mug or rummaging around in the drawers looking for chopsticks to eat spaghetti with.

"Hey Adam, do you love me?"

"'Course."

"Wanna do my dishes?"

"'Course not."

"Half of them are yours."

"Then I'd be doing it out of guilt, not love."

"You have a point."

"I usually do."

The microwave beeped and she pulled the popcorn out, wrinkling her nose at the slightly charred odor. They would definitely not be sharing this bag.

"I think I fixed it," he reported, coming into the room.

"Was there duct tape used in the fixing of this sound system?"

"Yes, but no ducks were harmed."

"I appreciate that. I don't want to be haunted by sad quacking at night."

They chuckled and he opened the popcorn bag.

"Mmm, perfection."

"I do not understand this facet of your character," she commented as he ate a handful of the almost black kernels.

"Well something has to remain a mystery. Like why you have 15 different tubes of toothpaste."

"Shuddup."

He chuckled and leaned in for a quick kiss.

"You taste like burnt popcorn," she said, wrinkling her nose again.

"You taste like toothpaste," he countered.

She smiled and her fingers dragged across his scalp lazily. They'd been such good friends for long enough that slipping into dating had been relatively easy. It had only been a month, but they were having fun, making sure to go slow and keep the pressure off. So far it was working. She had laughed more in the last few weeks than she had laughed in the last few years. Keeping it a secret from everyone else had been the hardest part of the whole thing, but it seemed that no one knew.

"Give me thirty seconds and I'll help you with the dishes," he said finally, heading back into the other room. "It'll be epic."

"Epic, huh?"

"Yep."

Suddenly the apartment was filled with orchestral music and she slid off the counter, rolling her eyes, but agreeing that doing the dishes to Star Wars music was pretty epic. She turned the water on in one side of the sink and battled the plates and bowls to plug it before squirting soap in.

She felt his hands on her hips and she smiled as his chin came to rest on her shoulder.

"You're pretty," he said softly.

"I'm dusty and sweaty from moving all that stuff and-"

"You're pretty," he repeated. He was so certain of what he was saying that she didn't dare argue.

"You're not bad yourself."

"My abs need work."

"They do not. Now start scrubbing that pot."

"Yes ma'am," he said, moving to the other side of the sink. They scrubbed, washed and rinsed in near silence, save for the giggles as they purposefully ran into each other. He moved to put the frying pan back on the stove, then turned around to find Lindsay with butter knives between her fingers.

"Look, I'm Wolverine," she said with a smile. He rolled his eyes and pulled the knives from her hand.

"Clearly we've been spending too much time together."

"You like me, admit it."

"Yeah, I guess so. Come on, prune fingers."

He grabbed her hand as the sink drained and gurgled behind them, leading her out to the other room. She settled into the couch as he put the DVD in the player then found the remote.

"Hey Linds?"

"Yeah?"

He slid his arm around her shoulders and tipped her chin up so she was looking him in the eye.

"I'm pretty sure that I'm really, really lucky."

Her smile was bright and went all the way to her eyes.

"I'm pretty sure that I'm really, really lucky too," she agreed, lacing her fingers through his. He pressed a kiss to her hair and smiled as she leaned against him. Lucky was an understatement.