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Sometimes, Danny thinks it would be okay. It's not like people don't know, haven't guessed. Sam knew after they'd been working together for only two or three weeks. Danny had come in and made some comment about a hot date the night before and Sam had countered with tips about how to hide hickeys.

So that was how Sam found out, and subsequently met David, then Sean, then heard about Steve and the guy from the city records office and the one night stand with that hot librarian; and the two always took coffee breaks out of the office, when they could, to flirt with Adam, the cashier.

Viv? He isn't sure if she knows, really, because it's not like he'd ever told her or that she'd ever asked him. But she likes him and rolls her eyes when he flirts with her, and even though everyone thinks of her as the mother of the group, Danny knows that she'd be okay with it not because of some sappy belief that he was "one of hers" but because she was pragmatic enough to not care as long as he didn't bring it into the office. Like Jack. Like others he could name just as easily.

He wishes it could easy, a grand announcement that could be put forth and then simply understood, uncomplicated. Danny Taylor is gay. He likes men. The hardest part would actually be saying it, putting the words in his mouth and out, because he's never been big on labels. After that, it would be easy. But it's not easy, not like he's expecting life to be easy, it never has been and he's realized it never will be, but sometimes. He thinks it'd be nice if it were.

He remembers the speeches from when he joined the FBI about loyalty and watching each others back and all that crap and knows that it's true; they're some weird kind of fractured, complicated family. Families are there for you, no matter what. Love you, though Danny has a hard time believing that, past history and all.

Still. There are days when Danny wishes, thinks, believes that it would be fine, accepted, whatever, that it wouldn't matter to Jack that one of his agents had a man in his bed and his life, that he wouldn't care, that it would not matter. That he'd be happy. Happy for a good agent and friend. Happy for two friends, actually.

But then he's back in the interrogation room, while Jack tells Tina Hodges he sympathizes, that he understands why she killed Luke Horton, and it's not just the words to force the confession but the look in Jack's eyes as he says them.

Danny flips to the news one night and there's footage from the city's pride parade that past weekend. People crowding 5th Avenue, waving flags and cheering while NYPD and NYFD march next to the fire trucks and ambulances, smiling for the crowd. He tries to picture Jack among them. He can't.

Sometimes, Danny thinks it would be okay, to tell Jack, finally, after all the years they've worked together. But, as he steps through the front door of his apartment and pulls Martin in for a kiss, he knows that, most likely, it wouldn't be.

The fear keeps them from saying anything, still, but the next morning Danny wears his pink dress shirt with a sense of secret, satisfying irony and flirts mercilessly with Sam all the way until lunch.