Title: W is for Wager
Author: stellaluna_
Rating: PG
Pairing: Danny/Don
Summary: Written for kinkapoodles.
Disclaimer: None of these are mine. Characters are the property of Anthony Zuiker, Jerry Bruckheimer Television, CBS, and Alliance Atlantis.

***

Flack decides, later, that what he'd thought would be an ordinary baseball wager with Danny has ended up being the greatest sucker bet he's ever placed in his life.

When the Mets get up to a seven-game lead, Danny spends days and days crowing about it, days and days telling Flack how this is it, how they're going to go all the way this year, that there's no way they can miss this time.

"We'll see," is all Flack says. He thinks, privately, that Danny just may be right, but like hell he would ever admit that out loud.

Then September comes and it all slowly starts to fall apart, and even though Flack knows it's mean, he can't help watching with glee as the Mets keep blowing game after game and Danny gets increasingly sullen and quiet every time the subject comes up.

The day after it's all over, Flack saunters into the break room at the lab and sits down, then starts to page through his newspaper like he hasn't seen it before. "Hey," he says, "wonder what's interesting in the world of sports today? Anyone know anything?"

Danny won't even look at him.

"I think I heard something about yesterday being the last day of the regular season, isn't that right?" Flack goes on in the same casual tone. "I wonder if that means somebody won the division title."

"Oh, knock it off already," Danny says. "You won, fine. Big fucking deal."

Flack smiles up at him. "Never seen a team waste a bigger lead so late in the season, Messer. That's what everyone keeps saying."

"Whatever. Get your ya-yas out now, because next year -- "

" -- Next year the Mets are gonna suck just exactly as much as they always do."

"Bullshit." Danny leans back against the counter and folds his arms. "So you want to collect on your winnings and get this over with?"

"Messer." Flack tries to frown at him. "I'm shocked at you. Not here. That wouldn't be appropriate behavior in the middle of the lab." He stands up, leaving his paper folded open to the sports section on the table, then walks over and gets real close to Danny.

"Later," he says right up against Danny's ear. "And let's hope you suck better than your little team does."

"Didn't think you'd lower yourself to fuck a Mets fan anyway," Danny mutters back at him.

"Only you, little buddy."

Flack claps him on the back, then strolls out, humming "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" under his breath.

***