Author's Note: Written for justthefactsmam on Tumblr, who wanted anything to do with Danny/Lindsay.
"Lucy finally fell asleep." Lindsay sounded almost proud as she said it, as she crossed the bedroom to where Danny already lay in bed. As she laid her head on the pillow, she felt Danny spoon up behind her, his arms encircling her waist.
"What's the trick? So I know for next time I have to put her to sleep." His fingertips brushed faint caresses along the bottom of her hair.
"Four renditions of 'Fields of Gold,' with a little cooing mixed in between each verse," Lindsay replied. "I'm thinking we should just buy a copy of it, because sooner or later she's going to realize that her mom's not a good singer. And it'll just make her into a baby insomniac."
"Mmm, but I don't think that she thinks that."
"I'm waiting for the day when she says to me, 'Stop, Mama, your voice hurts.'"
"Our Lucy would never say that." He paused for a minute, letting the words sink in for Lindsay. "And if she did -"
"You don't have to fill in the blanks there." She curled in closer to him; her fingers draped over the top of his skin and she smiled up at him. "Let's just - be us, tonight? Danny and Lindsay? No Lucy? Just us, the way it used to be."
"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"
"If you mean are we going to have sex, the answer is in how you play the cards," she said, fluffing the ends of her hair and smiling at him. The ends of her lips curled up seductively, as if to say - "I want to forget that there's a child with a very potent set of lungs in the next room over."
"What child?" Danny asked - the innocence of his tone belied the truth. "I only see my sexy, gorgeous wife, who's laying in my bed next to me." He pulled his grasp tight around her back, crushing her to him just so; his lips crashed against hers, over and over again, tangling delicately in each other. He pulled back and rested his forehead against hers, and whispered, "And I don't want to wake up, in case this is a dream."
"Then you've been dreaming for a while now, buster," Lindsay said, shimmying her hips.
"So, I'm a buster now?"
"You better believe it - buster," she said with a laugh; her laugh sounded like a high pitched squeak of joy, as his hands dove under her sweatshirt and explored the sides of her torso, brushing against the swell of her breast. She squirmed forward into his touch, pushing for his hands to explore places they had found once before, long ago, but seemed to have nearly forgotten in times more recent. It felt so good for once, just to be the two of them once again.
As he pushed the sleeves of her sweatshirt off, it didn't matter so much that the clothes being discarded were old sweats instead of fancy silk lingerie. He treated them with the same touch he would have otherwise, treated her as if she was still the same woman she'd always been and always would be. If this was how she was going to go forward in life - this was how she wanted it to always be.
Safe, secure and loved and in his arms.