Disclaimer: I don't own Don Flack, although it would be nice but that's another thought. I do own Becca.

Finally home, Don thought as he threw his keys on the kitchen counter. A three-day long case had finally ended today with the arrest of two people.

He walked slowly to his bedroom. He kicked his shoes against the wall, threw his jacket on the bed, and then took off the other pieces of his suit. He grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts and threw them on.

He walked again slowly out to the kitchen. There was leftover Chinese in the refrigerator, but he had no appetite; all he wanted to do was sleep.

He turned on some music, but kept it low. Don lay on the couch with his arm across his eyes. He breathed heavy. Finally, he was in a comfortable position. He hadn't slept in close to twenty-four hours.

There was a knock at his door. Don cursed under his breath. He strongly contemplated ignoring it, but finally forced himself up from the couch and made his way to the door.

The person on the other side of the door was someone he would never expect. It was the girl next door. He didn't really know her, but he had seen her go in and out of the apartment.

Don didn't say anything. "I'm really sorry to bother you. I locked myself out of my apartment. I stepped out to get my dry cleaning," she held up the dress covered in plastic, "from the delivery kid, and I must've had the lock on the handle and when I turned around it was locked. Is there any possible way I can use your phone to call my sister? She has a key."

The last thing Don wanted was some strange girl in his apartment, when he was trying so hard to relax. "Sure, come on in," was his reply. She walked past him into the apartment. He grabbed the cordless phone from its charger and handed it to her. "Here."

She accepted the phone and he walked back to the living room and sat on the couch. He could hear her talking and watched as she leaned against the counter. She was wearing a blue t-shirt and a pair of cropped sweatpants with "pink" written across the back. Don found himself staring at the word, when she quickly turned around.

"She said she'll be here in a little bit," she handed the phone back to him. "Thanks. I'm just gonna go sit out in the hallway or something."

He jumped up and said, "no, you don't have to do that. You can wait here if you want. I'm probably not great company, but it's better than the hallway."

"Ok, if you insist." She flashed a smile. "I'm Becca, by the way," she held out her hand.

"I'm Don." He accepted her hand. "Well, there's not much to do. I guess we could watch TV, or…I don't know."

"I like the music, actually." Don felt like he was having an awkward teenage conversation. "Uh, do you have anything to eat? Sorry, I'm not trying to be rude, but I had just made myself dinner and I'm starving."

"Yeah, I think I can find something," she followed him to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and stared at what was there. "Uh, there's leftover Chinese and…not much else. At least no real food."

"Chinese is fine." Becca replied.

Don took out the white boxes and placed them on the counter. She walked over and grabbed one then hoisted herself up on the counter. He looked at her.

"Oh, sorry," she said and jumped back down. "I guess that's kind of making myself too much at home."

"No, it's ok. I was just gonna ask if you wanted a plate, or some kind of utensils."

She started to laugh. "You must think I'm the most barbaric person. I'm just really hungry."

"Really it's ok." He handed her a fork and leaned against the counter with his food in hand.

Becca jumped back up where she had been on the counter. "So, Don, what do you do for work?"

"I'm a detective. You?"

"I'm kind of in between jobs, which translates to unemployed I know. I'm going to school right now. I get odd jobs to keep some money coming in."

"Do you go to NYU?"

"Yeah."

"What's your major?"

"Business management for right now."

Don got a beer out of the refrigerator and handed her one. "So, what's the dress for?" he asked.

She turned and looked at it lying on the back of a chair. "A wedding. My cousin's getting married. I really don't want to go because now I'm the last one that's single. I have two sisters, and four girl cousins and out of all of us I'm the youngest. They're all married and most have kids."

"So, you get some pressure?"

"Oh, you have no idea."

But Don did; he was the only one out of his cousins that wasn't married or at least engaged. "So, seven girls on one side of the family. What about the other side?"

She smiled. "All boys and again I'm the youngest. Most of them aren't married, though, so there's less pressure I guess. I'm kind of closer to them anyway because I've always been a bit of a 'tom boy'."

"I've got two older sisters and two older girl cousins. I was the first boy, so they would always dress me up and make me play 'tea party' or whatever. I was really little, by the way."

"Yeah, right, it was last week." They both laughed.

Don was infatuated by her smile and her lips. He wasn't normally one to think of a girl in this way, but all he could think of was kissing her lips. And when she got up to throw away her box he again stared at the word across her pants. Her hair was up in a ponytail, but he let his imagination wonder to thinking about how it would look down: dark locks flowing down her back and around the base of her neck. The t-shirt she had one was slightly form-fitting. He couldn't help reading the writing across her breasts. What was wrong with him? He didn't normally do this with girls, unless the girl was wearing something that merited such thoughts.

She was talking. What was she saying? "I saw you looking at my shirt."

"Huh?" he shook his head to get out of his trance.

"Are you still with me?" she waved her hand in front of his eyes. "My shirt," she smiled knowing why he had "read it." "it's from Martha's Vineyard. Have you ever been there?"

"Oh, yeah, when I was little my parents took us there. It's pretty." Good recover, he thought.

"Do you mind if I go sit down?"

"No, that's fine." He leaned over the kitchen sink with his back to her. "Snap out of it," he said under his breath then joined her.

She was sitting on the couch with her left leg under the right. She had picked up the book he had sitting on the coffee table. It was "1,000 Places to See Before You Die."

"This is pretty cool," she declared.

He sat across from her on the recliner. "Yeah, my mom bought it for me. I think she's trying to tell me I need to take more vacations."

"Pick a page number." She ordered.

"What?"

"Pick a page, and that's where you'll go."

"Ok, 159."

She flipped to the page, and began to read. "The Berlin Philharmonic." She began to read the description. "Sounds kind of boring, pick again."

"884."

"Ooh, big number." She turned to the page. "Vieques, Puerto Rico. Oh this is nice. I wanna go here."

"Sounds pretty nice," Don said after she finished the description. "Ok, your turn. Let me see it." He got up and reached for the book.

"No, this is your vacation." She said pulling it away from his reach. He reached for it, but she continued to move it away from him. She reached back behind her head and they came face to face as he tried to reach for it. They were mere inches apart. He stared into her eyes then he looked down at his position over her; his left leg was in between hers and his body was almost on top of hers.

Finally, the sexual tension got too much for Becca to resist and she kissed him. He pressed him lips firmly to hers and she dropped the book behind the couch and wrapped her arms around his neck. He had put his hands down on either side of her on the couch. Somehow she managed to push him down on the couch and he laid on top of him as they continued to kiss, now with more passion and lust. Don's hand was on her back and hers were strategically on his head and in his hair.

She picked her head up and started shaking it. "I'm sorry," she said. "That was wrong I'm sorry, I…uh…" their eyes were locked, "oh, what the hell." Her lips met his with some force behind them.