A/N:
i) I was having a little read of some stories and I found this one by LacytheDemonicDuck: -
"Ok people, Lacy here and I have a challenge for you. I listen to all music, anything and everything. At this moment I happen to be listening to Backstreet Boys. Don't judge me. I've listened to them forever. The song I am listening to is Drowning. One of my favorites. My challenge for you is to write a CSI:NY fanfic for Don and Jess using this song. It doesn't have to be long and I'd like the rating to go no higher then 'T'. So have fun and no mocking me for my taste in music."
ii) I like challenges and I like being given a topic for writing about (I'm not very clever and struggle without a starting point). So, I decided to join in the game...I'm not sure whether this totally fits the criteria but it's the best I could do.
iii) I don't own CSI NY or anything else mentioned (but I buy them all, except Mars Bars...yuck.)
DROWNING
It's Saturday, and cold, and pouring with rain, and nearly midnight but I'm standing in a line at the grocery store. Curiously enough, all eight shoppers in the line are guys. When did guys start spending Saturday night in the grocery store?! Deciding that I'm in for a long wait, I set the basket onto the ground and begin browsing the magazine rack.
The celebrity stories of the week appear to center round Nick Carter and Paris Hilton. Personally, I don't care for either of them; Paris is an obnoxious brat and Carter played in that God awful band…and I only know that 'cause my kid sister was infatuated with him. But, since I know she has a couple of their crappy albums in her CD collection, I drop the Carter magazine into the basket and start thumbing through the Paris one. Jeez, what a lot of crap…
As the guy in front turns round, I can't help but watch him stare blankly at the magazine selection. And I can't help but snort as he makes the same choice I did; Carter in the basket and Paris for in-line entertainment. Looking from me, to my magazine, to my basket and back to me, the guy gives me one of those 'you do what you've got to do man' looks.
Staring down at the basket, I sigh, knowing he's right. Tonight my basket contains an ex-boy band member themed magazine, a bottle of cherry flavored TheraFlu, a box of Playtex Sport regular tampons, a two liter bottle of Coke Zero, two packets of Peanut Butter M&M's and a Mars Bar. I hope to God I don't need to point out that only the Mars Bar is mine.
Looking back up I nod, and sigh, and we both go back to reading about Paris.
:-:-:
I got home from the Precinct an hour ago to find Jess wheezing and running a fever, verging on tears and…well, let's just say, more than a little 'irritable'. After I calmed her down the best I could and promised to go to the store, I made three interesting discoveries.
Firstly: 'That time of the month' and the 'flu is a very frightening combination in a woman.
Secondly: The store closest to the apartment doesn't sell Peanut Butter M&M's.
Thirdly: You'll drive any distance, at any time, in any weather, and buy anything for the woman you love.
:-:-:
I can honestly say I didn't ever think I'd be one of 'those' guys; the kind who went shopping for his girlfriend's tampons and said 'I love you' a lot, but it turns out that I am.
When Jessica Angell walked into my Precinct, I thought she was hot. Let's get a grip…which guy in Precinct didn't think she was hot? Okay, Chase Hagan probably didn't but that's because he prefers hot boys to hot girls. Anyway, that first day I thought she was hot and I thought I could quite happily take her to bed; I didn't ever think I'd end up being hopelessly in love with her.
To tell you the truth, I'm beginning to doubt that I've actually loved any girl other than Jess. I've had strong feelings for girls before, I've been sad to see them go, I've done nice things for them and I've said the words, 'I love you', but now I'm dubious whether it really was 'love'.
With Jess though, everything is different.
:-:-:
She's got some kind power over me. It doesn't matter how lousy a day I've had, or how pissed off I am, or how tired I am; Jess flashes me one of her smiles and boom, I feel all funny inside and suddenly everything seems okay again. Jeez, see the power? The woman has me using phrases like 'I feel all funny inside'…
Confession and a bottle of Jameson used to be my life line. I still see Father Fitzgerald every few weeks and Jameson still probably plays way too active a role in my life, but now Jess is the one I seek out first. She cuddles me and rubs my back, and it fixes everything. Crap, there's the power again…'cuddles'?!
I actually looked up 'love' online once, just to see if there was some definitive diagnosis. Not only was it a complete waste of ten minutes, but I lost a little faith in Wikipedia. Usually it has all the answers but on the subject of love it surmised that it was '…unusually difficult to consistently define'.
It's not always smooth sailing with Jess. She's irritatingly stubborn and competitive. She thinks she knows best and won't be told otherwise. She's too brave for her own good, spends ages messing with her hair when she should just let it be all wavy, can be more sarcastic than me, doesn't every give up in a fight, drinks too much tequila at times, switches to French when we argue 'cause she knows it annoys me and has a temper quicker than I don't know what. The thing is, even though they drive me mad; I love all those things, which makes me love her all the more.
:-:-:
At first I fought the feelings, I tried to rise above them, but now…now I don't want to. She's a part of me; she's the air that I breathe and she flows through my veins. I need her to survive and can't imagine life without her. My lungs are filled with Jess Angell and it's like I'm drowning, and it's the best feeling I've ever had.
I nod dutifully when she wants to go dancing, and let her win at pool, and go to the store on a wet Saturday night when she's feeling lousy.
:-:-:
Hallelujah, the line's finally moved and the other Paris Hilton reader is paying for his…pint of Ben & Jerry's, Paris magazine and a pregnancy test. Christ! And I thought I had problems tonight.
It's a spotty kid at the cash desk and he laughs a little, "Dude! No way…" before nervously looking for the barcode on the tampon box. Shoving my hand into my pocket to find my wallet, I accidently-on-purpose flash my badge and weapon, along with a glare for good measure. I don't usually shop with my badge, well unless the coffee shop line happens to be really long in the morning, it just so happened that tonight I was thinking more about Jess than about what I was wearing. It has the desired effect though; the kid zips it and scans the remaining items in double quick time. I love being a cop.
:-:-:
By the time I make it home, for the second time, she's lying curled on the sofa watching some trashy chick-flick. Pouring a glassful of Coke, I set it down on the coffee table in front of her along with the TheraFlu and one packet of M&M's. Her hair's pulled back into messy ponytail and she's wearing a faded t-shirt along with crazily patterned pajama pants. Even though I know she feels lousy, she looks adorable.
Looking at the offerings on the table and then up at me, her bottom lips wavers a little. I hate when she looks like that, I can't bear when she's sad. Crouching down, I feel her burning forehead with my hand and drape the throw over her, before cuddling her and whispering "Hey J…I love you."
She pulls me closer and her breath is hot against my neck as she mumbles "Thanks Don, I love you too."
And with just those three words, I drown in her a little bit more.