Mild spoilers for "Child's Play" and "All in the Family".

Disclaimer: All characters belong to CBS and their creators at CSI:NY.

A/N: This story follows Quick Follow Me, slightly shifting the focus for all my Fiesta friends.

Summary: Sticking is what friends do best, isn't it? And when Flack needs a friend, she's always been there.

Follow Your Bliss

"Flack? Flack!"

He woke with a start and a heavily beating heart, gasping as if he had been under water. When he opened his eyes, he was staring straight into hers through the window. She stood back, hands on hips, impatiently tapping a foot. She signaled him to unlock the door and strode around to the passenger side of the car.

He blinked and moved to hit the lock as she pulled the door open and collapsed onto the front seat. "You living in your car now? Where are you going to keep all your spiffy suits?"

Flack rolled his head back and forth, trying in vain to work out some of the kinks in his neck. "What are you doing here, Stel?"

"I got a call from Officer Davidos from the 19th Precinct, wondering why Detective Flack's car had been sitting all night outside of Detective Monroe's apartment?" Stella's voice was studiously cool.

"All night? What the fuck time is it?" Flack shot back his cuff to check the watch on his right wrist, and groaned when he saw 5:00 blinking at him. "Shit."

"So," Stella turned to face him, her eyes jade-hard in the dim streetlight, "What exactly are you doing here at 5 in the morning after pulling a full shift and working over time?" She could smell his breath and added, "And hitting at least one bar?"

Flack grimaced and then leaned over Stella, trying to see up to the fourth floor where Lindsay's apartment was.

"What are you doing?" Stella backed up, exasperation and confusion mingled in her expression.

"Trying to see if Linds' light is out." He said it as if it ought to be obvious.

Stella glanced up the building. "Yes. It's 5 AM, Flack. I'm sure Lindsay is asleep. The question is why are you sleeping in your car outside her building? You lose your apartment? Forget where it is?"

"I brought Danny over. Found him at the bar, and dragged his ass over to talk to her. Then I thought I better not just leave in case something went wrong, you know?" Flack scrubbed his hands over his face and wished desperately for a toothbrush. Idly he wondered why the Tooth Fairy brought money enough for candy, but didn't bring toothbrushes to take of the problem the candy left behind.

Stella's face softened a little. "So you've been sitting out here all night waiting for him? Or for her?"

Flack shot her a confused look, "Him. I mean, why would Lindsay need a ride home? She is home."

Stella sighed a little, then reached out and stroked a gentle hand over his gray face, feeling the rasp of dark stubble under her palm. "You, Don Flack Jr, are a starry-eyed romantic."

He blushed so hard she could feel the heat on her hand. "I am not," he said with disgust. "Jesus, Stella. Don't go around telling people that!"

She laughed, "Oh, you're safe, Don. Who would I tell?"

He slumped down in his seat, one hand over his eyes, "Anyone. Everyone." His eyes snapped open. "Just don't tell Danny. I promised him I'd go home. I don't want him to think I didn't trust him to fix this."

Stella leaned over, and before she analysed it too much, kissed him on the cheek. "A definite true-blue romantic."

"Jesus," he groaned again, the blush rising higher on his cheeks, where he could feel the touch of her lips burning. "You're killing me here."

"Your reputation is safe with me, Flack. I won't tell anyone." Stella moved back to a safe distance again. She could feel her heart beating a little faster than it needed to.

Flack half-turned in his seat, and captured her hand in his. It had taken his fuzzy brain a few minutes to process this event, but he was there now. "Stella? Why did you come?"

"I told you. Davidos called me – I was coming off-shift and she thought someone should check on you." Stella sat a bit further back in the shadows.

"Why not her? Or whoever is on patrol?" He leaned a little closer – it wasn't that big a car.

"Maybe she thought we were going to need a crime-scene processed," Stella said wryly.

Flack was already shaking his head, "Come on, Bonasera. Spill. Did you think I was making a move on Monroe?"

Stella shook her head a little too emphatically, "No. I didn't."

"Ah. You didn't. But Davidos did?"

"Actually, she lost the toss, so she was the one who called. I think there was a lot of discussion first."

Flack dropped his head back on the headrest. Cops gossip worse than old women, he thought in dismay. It wouldn't take six hours for this to hit Danny's radar. And no matter whether Messer had spent the whole night in front of Monroe's door, or behind it, he would not take kindly to this kind of rumour being added to the others that would surely be running by now.

He closed his eyes. He was surrounded by Stella's scent – light and sweet, probably from her hair, mixed with a richer scent that he thought of as just her. He could feel the heat from her body radiating beside him. If he kept his eyes closed, if she didn't speak, he might be able to muster up enough courage to drive away.

"Flack? Are you sleeping again?" Stella's voice was tinged with a little impatience; she had been called back into work after leaving Lindsay, then to deal with this situation, and she could feel the exhaustion creeping through her veins like slow-moving poison. "Can you drive me home? I left my car at the lab."

Flack opened his eyes and nodded. A perfect gentleman. That's what his mother brought him up to be. And that did nottranslate into – what had she called him? 'A true-blue, starry-eyed romantic.'

"Ah, to hell with it," he muttered, and reaching over, pulled Stella into his arms, so she was lying across his body, her luscious curves crushed against him. Without a word, he lowered his mouth to hers, and was immediately lost, drowning in sensation as her mouth opened under his, her body warmed and softened. After a second of shock, she responded with an eagerness that had him gasping and desperately wanting more.

It could have been minutes later. It could have been months. When he finally raised his head, she was staring at him with suspicion, although he could see the flush of arousal on her cheeks, the glitter of it in her eyes.

"What the hell was that for?" she sputtered.

"That was for the audience," he replied coolly. "But this one," he touched his lips briefly and sweetly to hers, "This one is just for us."

"Then maybe we should do a better job of it," she said, huskily, and took him under, the heat of her mouth burning through him.