Characters: Danny Messer/Multiple partners
Warnings/Notes: Spoilers from Season four up through Taxi. Thanks to michelleann68 for the look-over. Typos and other issues are all my fault.
Summary: What is Danny looking for?
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What did that guy say, some famous politician? Something about “I don’t make many mistakes, but when I do, it’s a beaut?
Danny’s lost count of how many mistakes. Right now his life feels like one giant fuck-up. At least it’s not the job, not this time, but you’d never know it from the way Mac’s been looking at him lately. Or not looking at him, which is what really hurts.
He understands. Mac’s got a lot on his plate trying to keep the whole crazy gang together when it feels like the whole City’s out to get them, especially those bastards in the Mayor’s office. If that wasn’t enough he’s also worried about Stella and his kind of step-son Reed. Frankly, Danny thinks Mac’s a little too worried about the kid. Not like he’s jealous of the attention or anything.
Ricki. How big a mistake was that? Since the kid died, he wasn’t thinking straight and whatever he was thinking with led him right into the one bed he should have stayed far away from. Danny’s never been good at saying “no,” especially when there’s a pretty woman and a lot of pain involved. Who’s he kidding? If it hadn’t been Ricki, it would have been somebody else.
Like right now, he’s out, walking the street, looking for god knows what, with the shadows of Louie and Mac and Ricki and Lindsay walking beside him.
Lindsay. How the hell did he manage to screw that up? What kind of stupid-ass, mother-fucker gets involved with his co-worker and ends up breaking her heart?
This kind apparently, and the more he thinks of her, the more he misses her, the more he hates himself for the dreams he let them both dream, and he knows exactly where he’s going.
He remembers the old Time Square from when he was a kid. You couldn’t get within two blocks of 42nd Street without seeing peepshows and dirty book-stores. He’d never gone then. Too scared. Too sure he wasn’t the kind of guy who needed to.
Now you have to go looking. Walking away from the bright lights and stuffed Lion Kings, toward the darkness of 9th and 10th Avenue and the side streets where even a man with a gun isn’t safe, but he’s already been an idiot in too many ways to count and going down an alley into a store that stinks of deodorizers and bodily fluids is just one more.
His kit would probably light up like a Christmas tree with the various traces of DNA in the booth. This place is a crime just waiting to happen and here he is to commit his own public indecency. It’s wrong and dangerous and fits perfectly with how he feels right now. Mac’s disappointed in him for hurting Lindsay? Well just imagine how he’d feel if he saw him feeding in the coins, bringing up a cinematic masterpiece called “Ocean’s 69.”
Sometimes a man is just a man and there ain’t noting he can do about. Soon there’s some hot action going on the small, dingy screen, and even if the guy sure as hell don’t look like George Clooney, the girl’s moans, and the sight of a big ol’ cock going in and out in extreme close-up is enough to bring him up to speed. He can hear the guy in the next booth going at it as well, and that final touch of sleaziness is the trigger. He opens his jeans and pushes them down, followed by his boxes.
He’s got some KY in a tube they sold with the tokens. It takes a second of frustration to twist it open and then he’s got a handful of lube followed by a handful of dick. How can something so wrong feel quite so good?
Should have asked himself that before he fucked Ricki, or got Mac so pissed, he’ll never give him another chance, not that way; before he left Lindsay crying on someone else’s shoulder. So he might as well go for it. The couple in the movie have changed positions (or it’s a different couple, he’s not sure) and he’s fucking her from behind, making her titties bounce up and down with every thrust. There’s a close-up of her expression and he remembers how hot Lindsay looked when he talked her into doing it front of a mirror and how safe he’d felt in Mac’s arms and the stupid, crazy, high insanity of fucking Ricki up against the door of her apartment that first time.
The soundtrack is nothing but static and heavy breathing, or maybe that’s the guy next door and it doesn’t matter because he’s squeezing his eyes shut tightly, trying not to think of any of them and ending up thinking of all of them; and finally letting go and coming so hard it nearly makes him scream, but he’s not going to because even in public he never gives the game away.
It takes a few ragged breaths to get himself together and he’s definitely not crying or anything, just carried away by what he’s done, and in a hurry to get away and pretend it hasn’t happened.
Not-Clooney and Not-Pitt are playing strip-poker with some slutty looking girls. Danny has a pretty good idea what’s going to happen next, but he won’t be there to see it, because he’s heading back out onto the street, back to the borderline between being a good guy and being a bastard.
He’s made another mistake, and this one’s a beaut.