A/N: OK, so this is my first proper FA fic… which means you all have to be really nice to me! I don't mind constructive criticism, but that's the extent of it… Basically Don and Jess's thoughts in the run up to and following their epic first kiss! Credit to falling into heaven for encouraging/blackmailing me into posting! I'd love to know what everyone thinks…

Lyrics are from 'Fearless' by Taylor Swift.

DISCLAIMER: I've said it before and I'll say it again- I obviously don't own CSI:NY, otherwise Jess would definitely not be dead! Damn writers…

Kisses,

Ciara

Well, you stood there with me in the doorway

My hands shake, I'm not usually this way

But you pull me in and I'm a little more brave

It's the first kiss, it's flawless, really somethin'

It's fearless

"Jess?" Don called, stopping in his tracks and turning back towards her. Jessica Angell stood still, looking up at him with a slightly surprised expression decorating her pretty features.

"Yeah?"

She was just standing there. No pushing. No nagging. No cajoling him into talking to her. Just letting him be. She understood. She got that this was his problem; his and Sam's, and nobody else's. She was concerned, but she knew him well enough to keep her nose out of his business until he asked for her help. She was standing there, strong and perfect and patient, her expression caught somewhere between worry and relief as he said her name.

Her name. Jess. It sent a shiver down his spine.

He needed her.

Don was moving towards her, a strange expression crossing his face. His brilliant blue eyes burned with some unidentifiable emotion, sparkling like clear water on a sunny day. He looked beautiful, but it was a broken kind of beauty, one that Jess hated to see. He was Don Flack, detective extraordinaire. For as long as she'd been his partner, Jess had thought of him as a pillar of strength, the one constant in her turbulent world. The one thing she could rely on that would always stay the same in the midst of the craziness that was law enforcement.

And now here he was walking towards her, a man on fire.

And she knew it was cruel of her, but it made her hate Samantha Flack. It made her hate her more than she'd ever hated anybody, even though a small voice in the back of her mind was pointing out that Sam wasn't doing this on purpose, that she had a problem that was beyond her control. But all she could think about was what this was doing to her partner, how it was ripping him to shreds before her very eyes. And it made her angry.

But there was something else, lurking almost unnoticed beneath the anger. Something strange that was twisting her stomach and causing goose bumps to ripple across her skin and turning her mouth to sandpaper. She didn't know what it was, and it freaked her out. Her hands were shaking, her palms sweaty, and the closer he got the more intense it all was. And she could see every furrow of his brow, every laughter line around the burning eyes, every tear sticking to his feathery lashes…

And suddenly, without warning, he grabbed her. The breath caught in her chest as he tilted her head back and she knew what was happening a split second before it happened, and she didn't know whether or not she should stop him.

But then his lips were on hers. And she couldn't remember anything else.

And she didn't want to.

It was heaven, feeling her lips pressed to his own. He could die from her kiss, from the tiny 'Oh' of astonishment that plucked itself from her lips as he pulled her in close to him. He drank her in, the faint musky scent of her perfume, the feeling of running his hands through her hair, the deliciously brave chocolate eyes that stayed locked on his throughout the entire exchange, as though daring him to pull away first……….

He tasted good. He tasted like coffee, like that irresistible aroma that makes you want to wake up in the morning. And she could smell the crisp, clean scent of his aftershave, mixed in with a scent she could only identify as him. A scent that, though she could not determine what it was, made her feel warm and suddenly safer.

A tiny moan slipped between her teeth, and she felt a smile tug at his lips, pulling at her own too. The two of them were smiling through the kiss, even as tears danced in the depths of his crystalline eyes. Even as she stared up at him and wondered how the hell she could do something like this. Even as Samantha Flack screwed up her life and her brother's.

They still smiled, and it was like fireworks exploding in her stomach.

And then he pulled back and murmured, "Thanks."

And he moved away, and she nodded and got into her car as if it were the most mundane thing in the world to be suddenly and passionately kissed by your co-worker. As though it were the right thing to do.

And the weird thing was, it felt like it was.

Don knew that something had changed.

He knew because he was sitting in Sullivan's with Danny watching a game like he did every Tuesday night and he didn't know the score. He didn't even know which teams were playing. Or even what sport it was.

He knew because his family was in tatters; his sister was going off the rails, his father had wasted his hands of her and he was left to pick up the pieces again. He knew he should be thinking about that, because it was a complete disaster, one that he mightn't be able to fix by waving his badge around and chewing Sam out. He knew all this, but all he could think about was-

"Alright buddy, what the hell is wrong with you?"

Don jolted out of his reverie to see Danny's bespectacled face inches from his own, a perplexed grimace marring his chiselled features. He realised that his pint of Guinness still sat on the bar in front of him, untouched after almost an hour. He winced.

"I'm fine, Danno. Just spaced out for a minute there…."

"Sure, and I'm Mother Teresa," Danny quipped, nudging him and swallowing a chuckle. "You've been on another planet, is everything OK?"

"Everything's fine, Messer," sighed Don. It was true. Everything was fine, because everything was now a certain female detective who was the closest thing to perfect he had ever seen…

"You sure?" Danny persisted, shooting Don a look of concern over the top of his wire-rimmed glasses. Immediately, Don felt guilty. He knew that rumours were beginning to circulate in the squad room about his sister, and know doubt they had been passed to the crime lab. Danny was bound to have heard some of it, and although many of the stories were completely ridiculous, Don knew that his best friend was smart enough to know that some of it was true. He was worried about him.

Don smiled and downed a healthy gulp of the black stuff, clapping Danny on the arm. "Really Danno, it's alright. Sam and I, we're Flacks. We can get through this. You don't need to worry about us, and you can tell Lindsay the same, and Stella, and everyone else who's been pestering you to see how I'm coping with a delinquent little sister and a father who doesn't give a damn. But thanks for asking."

"That's what best friends are for," shrugged Danny, relief washing over his face. Don smirked. "You had me worried there for a minute, buddy. I was afraid we were going to have to have one of those gooey heart-to-hearts Montana's so obsessed with. I don't think I could cope with that."

"Me neither," Don agreed, shuddering at the very thought of such a thing. He swallowed another gulp of Guinness and swung himself off the bar stool. "Look, I am pretty exhausted, so I think I'll call it a night if you don't mind."

"Oh," Danny said, surprised. "Oh yeah, sure. Hope things work out with your sister and… Well, if you ever need anyone to talk to… Montana's great at that sort of thing. Don't be a stranger, alright?"

"Sure thing."

Don paid the bartender and grabbed his jacket, waved to Danny and headed out the door. He hailed a cab and jumped in, fishing his phone from his pocket as he directed the driver to his apartment. He scrolled down through his contacts, stopping when he reached her name.

His finger hovered over the 'Call' button uncertainly. He wanted to hear her voice again, to prove to himself that kissing Jessica Angell had not been some perfect dream and that tomorrow they wouldn't go back to just being partners. But it was late; she was probably out with friends, or asleep in bed. He should leave her be. There was always tomorrow.

Jess drifted into her apartment block on autopilot, waving dazedly to Bill the doorman as she rummaged for her keys in the bottom of her dark leather handbag. She got into the elevator, which for once was empty apart from herself. Pressing the button for the fifth floor, she glanced at her reflection in the mirrored back wall. For a moment, she didn't recognise the person she saw there.

The woman in the mirror had dark brown eyes that were brimming with energy she hadn't possessed in a long time. Her cheeks were flushed and her normally sleek hair was tousled and sticking up every which way. Her breathing was jagged and excited and she looked… happy. Hopeful.

It was only as the elevator doors opened that Jess realised that the figure in the mirror was her.

Minutes later, after ducking in her front door and pulling the chain across, Jess was sitting cross-legged on her navy blue sofa in grey sweat pants, an oversized NYPD sweater and pink hockey socks. A steaming mug of coffee was cupped between her small hands and she breathed in the rich, sensuous aroma gratefully. It made her think of Don.

Automatically, she jumped to her feet and clambered up onto a chair to reach the brown leather photo album stored on the top shelf of her cupboard. She hurried back to the sofa and flipped the album open, smiling to herself as she remembered the scenes before her. It was the Christmas party in the crime lab last year, which she and Don had been invited to as 'honorary lab rats' at the request of Messer and Monroe. The room resembled an explosion in a tinsel factory, courtesy of Stella's festive exuberance, and the whole team was gathered, dressed for the occasion in Santa hats and reindeer ears. Danny and Lindsay, of course, were wrapped around each other, oblivious to the chaos around them. Adam was poking Kendall, Sid and Hawkes were beaming and Stella had one arm around Mac, who had managed to crack a smile for the holidays.

She remembered it so clearly it could have been yesterday. She had been more than a little surprised when Danny Messer stormed into the precinct and demanded her attendance at the party; the CSIs were Don's friends, not hers. They only knew her by association. But they were all nice enough, and she would have felt guilty if she'd refused. Particularly with Messer standing there looking like some sort of Italian-American puppy dog. So she said yes.

And it had been awkward; they were like a family, and she was the distant cousin who people had forgotten about. She didn't know what they were talking about half of the time, even though they made a real effort to include her. She ended up on the fringe of the group, smiling politely and nibbling on the canapés that Lindsay and Stella had so lovingly prepared, but she was only biding her time until she could leave without feeling rude.

And then Don had appeared out of nowhere, swooping down on her and dragging her back into the group with effortless ease. It was like he had some sort of magic touch; suddenly she was laughing and joking with the others as though she'd been doing it for years. Don never left her side, and she was bursting with gratitude, though she didn't tell him. He made her shine, instead of fading into the background, and it didn't end at the Christmas party; now she was firm friends with Stella and Lindsay, teasing Danny and chatting to the rest of the team without even thinking about it. All thanks to him.

She stroked the glossy photo wistfully. There they were, she at one end of the line, with Don wedged between her and Danny. She was wearing a red-and-green paper hat, courtesy of her cracker-pulling victory over Adam, the shy lab tech, and Don was resplendent in a cheesy flashing tie. He had an arm thrown casually around her shoulders, and the two of them were grinning at each other instead of the camera.

A shudder of delight caressed her slim body. She couldn't believe it; if someone had told her yesterday that in twenty-four hours she would have kissed Don Flack, she would probably have flattened them with a right-hook. But now… now she was floating. She debated briefly about calling him- she needed to assure herself that she hadn't been suffering from some strange hallucination as a result of severe sleep deprivation- but then she looked at the clock and remembered that Don usually spent Tuesday nights in Sullivan's with Danny. She shouldn't bother him, not tonight. There was always tomorrow.

Hope everyone liked that… Me, I'm not so sure… But if you liked it, hated it, are completely indifferent or have any ideas, please review and TELL ME!!! My next idea is Don and Jess's first talk until dawn… But I need to know if anyone's interested first, so if you are please go ahead and press that lovely green button. You know you want to……