Author's note: I don't own anything related to TNT or The Closer.
This is my first fic, so no flamers please. Constructive criticism is always welcome.
English is not my mother tongue, so you'll probably find mistakes.
I absolutely love the characters of Sharon Raydor and Andy Flynn and I think they would be fabulous together.
I hope you enjoy reading this.
Chapter 1 – Christmas 2010
Andy Flynn's Christmas was nothing like he had imagined it would be: instead of enjoying his kids's company and laughter, here he was discussing baseball with the one and only Captain Sharon Raydor, head of FID and ubber Wicked Witch of the LAPD.
He was actually enjoying himself listening to Raydor making her case in their minor dispute about the Dodger's latest game. He couldn't help a small smile taking root upon his face,
but immediately lived to regret it when she paused mid-rant and asked him in that slightly shilling way: "Am I boring you, Luitenant Flynn?"
"Of course not, Captain Raydor, just wondering why a woman such as yourself can be so passionate about baseball."
After assessing him for half a minute, with that gaze of her which could see right through him and made him feel like he was about to be dissected like a frog, she replied:
"My father is an avid baseball fan, I adore my father so I love a good game".
For one instant he could see sadness looming behind her murky green eyes, before she became again Captain Raydor, ice queen extraordinaire.
Suddenly her cell phone began to ring and with an "excuse me I have to take this", she got up and went somewhere more quiet, unconscious of Flynn's eyes tracking her behind until it disappeared around the corner.
The person, who did notice, decided immediate action was necessary. And thus Andy Flynn's musings were rudely interrupted by a load of green peas raining down on him. Broken out of his stupor, his eye was caught by the culprit who was looking at Flynn like he just committed a major crime and sold his soul to the devil herself. Flynn just shrugged and decided there and then he wouldn't mind negotiating her for his soul, regardless of all the peas Louie Provenza aimed at his head.
Continue or bind my hands together and never ever write a story again, what do you think?