DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER OWN SAMANTHA ROSS.

Howdy to all my regular, amazing readers and those of you who have never heard of me or my work, or what is affectionately known as the SamFlackie franchise. This is not a take off from Memories of Brooklyn and Views from Brooklyn. It is simply just something I wanted to do for fun. To take them and 'play' with their relationship. No marriage, no kids. Just two people starting out on that wonderful yet often painful journey called love.

This story will contain a DL established relationship and some M rated chapters. And use of profanity. I don't know where it will take me, or Sam and Flack, but I encourage you to stick around for the ride!

While reviews are welcome, negativity, pettiness and spite are not. This is just for fun. A chance to use imagination and what is known as creative licence. If you don't have anything nice to say, please, don't say anything at all. It's a great motto to live by.

Thanks a bunch, and enjoy!

BEG 75

P.S.: Huge thanks to laurzz for supporting my decision to write this, and to hope4sall and laplandgurl for being awesome friends and having my back in a crisis.

Cold November Rain

"Has it ever crossed your mind
When we're hanging, spending time girl, are we just friends?
Is there more, is there more?
See it's a chance we've gotta take
'Cause I believe that we can make this into something that will last
Last forever, forever

Do you ever think when you're all alone
All that we can be, where this thing can go?
Am I crazy or falling in love?
Is it real or just another crush?
Do you catch a breath when I look at you?
Are you holding back like the way I do?
'Cause I'm trying and trying to walk away
But I know this crush ain't goin' away

Why do I keep running from the truth?
All I ever think about is you
You got me hypnotized, so mesmerized
And I've just got to know."
-Crush, David Archuleta

She had had better first dates.

Not that Samantha Ross could stake claim to numerous ex-boyfriends or a trail of broken hearts she'd left behind in the past thirty odd years of her life. Relationship wise, she'd lived a pretty quiet existence. Two serious, long term boyfriends and a small spat of dates here and there. The second of the long terms had come close to marriage. Shockingly close, as a matter of fact. She'd dumped his sorry ass the night before the wedding when she'd found out he'd been fooling around behind her back for months. That, mixed with the fact she had had enough of being his personal punching bag and doormat for five years, had been enough to send her heading for the hills. She'd wiped out their joint account and booked a one way flight to New York City and that was that.

That was over a year ago now. In that time she'd managed to secure a transfer from the Phoenix Crime Lab to the New York City one. She'd rode her brother's couch for nearly five months before finally having both the courage, and the proper cash, to get her own place and furniture and odds and ends to go in it. She had made friendships to last a lifetime, helped solve major cases, and had fallen in love with a man that didn't know she even existed.

Scratch that. He did know she existed. But not in the way she wanted him too. She was strictly like a little sister to him. A best friend even. And although it had hurt like a bitch to see him get a girlfriend - first some rich, airhead socialite that got off on the fact she was robbed by James Bond wannabes, and than someone she considered a close friend- she had sucked it up and put on a brave, happy face. Truth was, she would rather have him in her life as an 'older brother' than not have him in it at all.

But man, did it hurt like a bitch to hang out with Jess and hear all about their dates and their sexual encounters. It was hard not to feel your heart break each and every time she gushed about what an amazing, warm hearted and caring person he was outside of that gruff, sarcastic and off hand exterior he displayed at work. Sam saw the love in her friend's eyes. Heard it in her voice.

And while she was happy for her friend for finding that one true love she had admittedly searched her whole life for, Sam couldn't help but be insanely jealous. Because she wanted it to be her. She was certain that that man was bound to her one and only true love. And the thought of him being with someone else, holding them, kissing them, making love to them, was truly driving her insane.

Which was why she had agreed to the date. Not because she was searching for a happily ever after. But because she wanted to be with someone that found her attractive and appealing. Who found her intelligent and irresistible.

Someone who wasn't taken who could help her take her mind off of the fact that she was disgustingly miserable and tired of being alone.

Unfortunately, her expectations for the date had obviously been way too high. While she loved being wined and dined at Tavern on the Green and taken for a carriage ride through Central Park, that lifestyle was just not her. She was more down to earth and unassuming. More comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt, sitting in the stands at a Yankees or a Rangers game, sipping beer and eating hot dogs and Cracker Jacks and than hitting a bar afterwards for a game of pool and some nachos and wings and some JD shooters. Sure, champagne and oysters on the half shell were adored and relished by some. But not by her. Once in a blue moon was just fine with her.

She wanted someone that was unassuming and boyishly charming. Someone that was strong and confidant yet not conceited. Who knew what they wanted and how to get it an didn't let anything, or anyone, stand in their way. Who would go through hell and back and to the ends of the earth and to the stars and beyond for the sake of love. Money and social status didn't make a lick of difference to her. It didn't matter if someone was drop dead gorgeous or astonishingly sexy. As long as there was something appealing about them that attracted her to them, it was all good. Freddie Krueger need not apply. As long as there was that spark. That certain something that held her captive.

And Dale Thompson, despite his devastatingly handsome good looks and his Ivy league education, just didn't have that certain something. Sure, he was a damn pretty picture to look at with his tall, muscular build and his tousled blond hair and emerald green eyes and perfectly straight, white teeth. And he was fiercely intelligent and well spoken. But the man was dull. Mind boggling, horrifically dull. He tried way too hard to make a good impression. Ordering the most expensive bottle of champagne on the premises and telling her to pick whatever her little heart desired on the menu. Dropping outrageously sized tips at any member of the wait staff that so as much came his way. In the end, it had only achieved one thing. Cementing Samantha's hatred for the rich. And her utter disdain for defence attorneys.

She had to admit, she had been somewhat surprised when she'd walked into the office she shared with Danny Messer three mornings ago and had found an elaborate, colourful arrangement of several different coloured roses sitting on her desk in a finely etched crystal vase and accompanied by both Dale's business card and another one that simply read: Dinner? She had verbally spared on the stand with him on several occasions and had heard him mutter bitch under his breath in the courtroom once following a rather passionate cross examination.

She had accepted the invitation, but the choice to do so had met relative disgust within the crime lab. Her brother Adam had stared at her in absolute horror when she told him she had a date and who it was with. Sam guessed it was more because Adam couldn't stand the thought of his older sister dating than because of what the date did for a living. Lindsay Monroe, her best friend and Danny's fiancee had looked at her as if she was completely insane and said: "Well if that's what you want."

Other reactions ranged from "Well that's interesting." to "Are you out of your tree?" But it had been Danny's reaction that had stood out the most. She had returned to the office to find him standing over the flowers and reading the cards, a grimace on his face.

"You sleeping with the enemy, Brooklyn?" he'd asked, holding aloft the business card.

"I am not sleeping with anyone!" she'd snapped in response and yanked the card from his hand. "It's a date. And you know what? Sometimes you just have to settle for whatever you can get when the guy you really want doesn't even know you're alive!"

Two hours later, said guy came strolling into her office as she sat on the computer and calmly closed the door behind. Parking his ass on the edge of her desk, looking fantastically handsome and bearing Godlike beauty in a simple black suit and light blue shirt that showed off his eyes and a blue and grey patterned tie, he'd had the nerve to ask what in the hell she was thinking going out with such a scum sucking bottom feeder.

"What the hell does it matter to you?" she'd inquired, sounding a little more defensive than she'd intended to.

Flack had shrugged. "Maybe I just like watching out for you," he'd responded.

She had offered up a snort at that and went back to her work. "Screw off, Don," she'd said. "I'm a big girl. And don't let the door hit your ass on the way out."

Things had been somewhat strained between them after that. Her 'big brother' was acting like a whiny, spoiled little brat. Or, more accurately, like a jealous would be suitor that couldn't stand the thought of the girl he was after spending time with anyone other than him. That evening, as they'd met up at the elevator on the thirty-fifth floor, him on the way back downstairs to his desk, and her in a simple scarlet red wrap dress and her hair in a loose sweep and smoky evening makeup, he'd given her a small smile and a sideways glance.

"You don't look half bad," he'd said. And that was the last either of them had spoken.

But he had never left her mind.

The date would have been a whole lot better had she been able to get a word in edge wise. All night she'd been bored to near tears listening to the history of law in the United States and the flaws in the justice system and the number of guilty people Dale had set free - and was outwardly proud of- and the unreliability of forensic science. She'd done little more than pick at her shrimp and scallop alfredo and inwardly groan and stiffel a few yawns. It wouldn't be the first time someone bad mouthed her choice of profession and couldn't be the last. But than Dale Thompson, lawyer extraordinaire, had put the last nail in his coffin.

"And those damn homicide detectives," he'd muttered. "The bane of my bloody existence. Especially that one that testified before you last week. I've had him on the stand a few times now and he always thinks his shit does not stink."

"His name is Detective Don Flack," Sam had informed him. "And he's damn good at his job."

Not to mention completely and utterly hot, she'd thought, as she dug into a serving of Crème Brule.

The carriage ride underneath the stars had been a complete bust when Dale had taken a call from a client. When he hadn't hung up after fifteen minutes, Sam had asked the driver to stop, climbed up into the seat beside him and told him to continue on with the trip. That last fifteen minutes, carrying on a lively, laughter filled conversation with the carriage driver had been the highlight of her night.

That and being dropped off at home just before midnight. A sudden torrential downpour assailing the city that never sleeps. And when the scum sucking bottom feeder had had the nerve to suggest coming up for a nightcap, she'd come up with an elaborate excuse that she lived with her mother, who was a huge cat lady that waited up all night for a chance to meet her dates and than criticize them once they leave.

He'd than been bold enough to suggest going back to his place. Going as far as to give her a wink and telling her that he made great eggs Benedict and French toast. That was enough for Sam. She'd politely smiled and said thanks but no thanks and climbed out of the car. Not even glancing over her shoulder as he called out to her asking her to call him sometime.

As if, she now thought, as she headed up the front stairs and breezed through the main entrance of the four storey walk up building she'd called home for half a year now. Once in the vestibule, she dug her keys out of her small black beaded evening bag and let herself in through the front door. Her head down as she flicked through the keys, searching for the one that would open the her mail box on the wall across from stairwell. The five glasses of champagne were definitely starting to hit her. She felt slightly light headed and knew for a fact that she couldn't walk a straight line if her life depended on it. All she wanted to do now was go upstairs, take a long, steamy bath and throw herself in the middle of her bed and pass out.

After several attempts, she finally got the key into her mailbox and opened it and pulled out the stack of bills before shutting and locking the box once again. She turned towards the stairs, thumbing through what appeared to be nothing but bills.

"How was your date?" a deep, familiar voice asked.

Sam jumped, so lost in her own world that she hadn't even been aware that there'd been someone sitting on the stairs. The letters she was carrying fluttering to the ground.

"Wonderful," she muttered as she hunched down to gather everything up. "Just fucking wonderful…"

"Such foul language from such a tiny, pretty woman," Flack commented, as he stood up and headed down the stairs and bent down to assist her.

"Please," she snorted. "That's nothing compared to what comes out of my mouth when I'm really pissed off."

"Very, very true," he said with a grin as he gathered up envelopes. "You even make me blush when you really get going."

"Don Flack blushes?" she teased. "Mr Sarcasm? That I find hard to believe."

"Miracles never cease to exist," he said with a small chuckle.

He stacked the letters neatly and held them out to her. She noticed how large and strong his hands were. She had witnessed the way that those hands could physical handle a suspect, and she briefly wondered how capable they were of turning that corner from hard and rough to soft and tender during more intimate moments.

Get a damn grip! Sam scolded herself, forcing her eyes, and thoughts, away from such things. Just say thank you and stand up and walk upstairs and take a long, cold shower. Because you are not entertaining such thoughts about the love of your friend's life.

It was easy to say, but not easy to do. Especially when she could feel his breath on her face and breathe in his incredible, manly scent which, on it's own, was enough to give her enough fodder for personal intimate satisfaction for many, many lonely nights.

"On that happy thought," she said aloud, than wanted to kick herself for it.

"What?" Flack asked, eyes narrowing as he looked at her.

"What, what?" she inquired innocently.

"You just said on that happy thought…"

"No I didn't," she said.

"Yeah, you did," he argued.

"You're imagining things," Sam told him and rose to a stand, swaying slightly.

"I know what I heard," Flack said and stood as well. "And you said…"

"What are you doing here?" she asked, cutting him off mid sentence.

He held out the stack of mail in his hand.

"Thank you," she said sincerely, taking her belongings from him, and trying hard to ignore that current of electricity that seemed to pass between them as their fingertips touched all to briefly. She wondered if he felt it too. Or if any idea of a mutual attraction was nothing more than wishful thinking on her part.

And why in the hell did he have to look so damn hot? It should be illegal to be that attractive.

She was nearly ready to throw all inhibitions out the window and just grab him and pin him up against a wall and have her way with him. His white dress shirt was wrinkled and untucked and his hair messed. A black trench coat resting on the stairs behind him.

Cold shower…cold shower…cold shower…be strong, Sammie….cold shower.

"You okay?" Flack asked, eyeing her with concern. "You're acting a little weird."

"Weird?" she shook his head vigorously to clear any sexual thought from her brain. "What do you mean weird? It's probably the champagne I had to drink. Which I have to admit, was the only thing I actually enjoyed about the date. It sucked. Totally. You know all he did was talk about himself and his job all night? He actually took a business call during a carriage ride? Can you believe that? It should have been about me and there he was taking a damn fucking phone call! What the hell is that about?"

"I told you that that guy was a prick two weeks ago after that trial," Flack told her.

"Well I thought I'd give him the benefit of the doubt. Everyone deserves a chance right? Did you know that he thinks forensic science is a joke and totally unreliable and that homicide cops are the bane of existence? He told me he couldn't stand you because you thought your shit didn't stink. I stuck up for you by the way, told him how amazing you are."

Flack's eyes widened.

"At your job," she added quickly. "Not at anything else. I mean, I don't know if you are amazing at anything else. I bet you are and I'd like to find out. But I meant at your job."

He fought back a bemused smirk as he nodded slowly.

"Anyway, you were right. When you told me he was bottom sucking, scum feeder."

"Bottom feeding, scum sucker," Flack corrected.

"Whatever," she waved it off. "You know what else he did? He ate off my plate! Asked me if I was finished and even though I said not yet, he reached over and ate off my plate! In Tavern on the Green! What the hell is wrong with men these days?!"

"Well we're not all assholes," he assured her.

"All the ones who aren't are either gay or taken. It's a fact of life. So I had a shitty time. Does it make you happy to hear that?"

"Actually," he said. "It does."

She frowned. "That's it. Revel in my misery. Nice, Donnie. I'm going upstairs and…"

He caught her by the arm as she turned towards the stairs and pulled her back to him. "I never answered your question," he said, his hand tightly gripping her just below the elbow. "About what I'm doing here."

"I asked that?" her eyes narrowed as she tried to remember the moment. "Yeah…I guess I did. So tell me. What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you.," he told her. "I needed to see you. I wanted to see you."

"It's a little late to be talking about cases. And to be honest, after all that champagne, I probably wouldn't be the best business conversationalist. So can it wait until tomorrow? We're on nights and I'll be sober by than."

"It can't wait," Flack said. "I wouldn't be here if it could. And this isn't about work. This is something…I don't know….something personal."

"Does Jess know you're here?" she asked.

"What the hell does that matter?"

"Last time I checked she was your girlfriend and I don't think she'd take too kindly to…"

"We broke up," he interrupted her. "I dumped her about three hours ago now."

"I never realized there was trouble in paradise," Sam said.

"You don't seem to upset for hearing your friend and her boyfriend broke up," Flack stated. "No 'I'm sorry' or anything?"

"Maybe I'm not sorry," Sam bravely admitted.

"We broke up because I told her that I wasn't in love with her. I thought I was. But that I'd just been fooling her, and myself, all this time. I told her that I'd been having feelings for someone for a long time and that it was killing me to just sit back and not take a chance with her."

"Well that's between you and Jess and whoever this girl is," Sam informed him. "Doesn't tell me why you're here. Sitting on the steps in my apartment building."

He sighed heavily and briefly closed his eyes. "Listen," he said, opening his eyes and looking down at her. "I was really, really pissed off and hurt that you went out with the guy. He's a complete prick and I knew he'd treat you like shit and that.."

She held up a hand to silence him. "Spare me you're protective older brother crap, Donnie. Do me a favour and go and use that on your real sister. Because the last time I saw her down in lock up at the precinct, she really looked like she could use your help."

"Has it ever occurred to you that I am the way I am with you because there's a little more to how I feel about you?" he asked angrily. "That maybe I'm not just seeing you as a friend or a little sister? Have you ever thought that may be why I was as jealous as I was and why it made me so damn happy to realize you had such a shitty time tonight?"

"I just thought maybe you get off on seeing other people miserable," Sam said snidely.

Flack snorted and shook his head. Releasing her arm, he held up his hands in surrender. "You know what, Sammie? I obviously made a huge mistake coming here tonight. I thought that maybe you and I could talk about some things. That maybe you and I could…"

"Could what, Don?" she asked challengingly. "Hook up? Do the nasty? Sorry, babe. I'm no one's booty call."

He gave a dry laugh and backed away from her. "Tell you what, Samantha. When you sober up a bit, give me a call and than we can talk. In the meantime, why don't you take your ass upstairs, little girl."

"You don't dismiss me!" she snapped. "This is my apartment! You came to my home! So don't you dare dismiss me, Detective Flack! Go home and kiss and make up to your girlfriend and quit entertaining thoughts about using me as a revenge fuck. Come back when it's just a pure and simple fuck, no hidden agendas, no bullshit."

He shook his head, and started to walk away. Than turned back and grabbed her face roughly in both hands and covered her lips with his in an aggressive, demanding kiss. He met resistance at first, than revelled in the feel of her mouth opening against the pressure of his, allowing his tongue to seek out hers.

She laid her hands on his chest, gave her all into that one kiss. Than just as quickly realized how wrong it was to be embroiled in a make out session with her friend's ex-boyfriend. Even if she had lusted after him for over a year, the moment was entirely inappropriate and disrespectful towards all involved. She managed to turn her face away, breaking the smouldering contact between them, and pushed him away from her.

"Go home, Don!" she pleaded. "Just go home! This isn't right and you know it!"

"How can it not be right, Samantha? Don't tell me you didn't feel what just went down between us! How can something that feels that goddamn good not be right?"

"Because it's not!" she cried. "Jesus Christ…" she raked her fingers of one hand through her hand. "Just… please, Don…just leave…just go home and leave me alone for tonight."

"Samantha…" he reached for her.

"Please!" she begged, backing away from him. "I need some time. I need some time to process all of this and you being here and kissing me like that…you kissing me like that is only going to lead to other things that neither of us are ready for. Just give me some time to sort this all out."

"How long is that going to take?" he asked, his voice quiet.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I just don't. Maybe a day, maybe two. Maybe a week or a month. Maybe never. I just don't know, Donnie."

He sighed heavily. "Fine," he said. Backing up towards the door. "But I want you to know that I came here for you. To let you know how I will. I took that chance, Samantha. And I think you need to stop being so worried about what other people will think and worry about making yourself happy for a change."

"And you think that you're what will make me happy?"

"I know I am," he responded confidently.

"Go home, Don," she said, and turned her back on him.

"I don't take no for an answer," he told her. "We work together. I'm going to come for you sooner or later. Have a think on that."

She closed her eyes in an attempt to compose herself. She heard the loud click off the door opening and than it shutting again. A softer noise as he headed through the exit that led out onto the front stoop and than the sound of his dress shoes on the wet payment as he hurried down the stairs.

She opened her eyes and looked towards the stairs. Where his trench coat still sat. She hurried over and scooped it up and rummaged through the pockets.

Moron, she muttered, finding both his home keys and his cell phone. He'd been taking the subway to work for a week since his car had gone into the shop. She quickly folded the coat over her forearm and turned and rushed out after him.

On the stoop, she looked left and than right. Catching sight of his departing back as he headed west down Jefferson. Overhead, thunder rumbled and lightening cracked the sky. Rain hammered down. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She knew what she had to do. She had to follow her heart. Her destiny. She couldn't just let him walk away.

She kicked off her heels and rushed down the steps in her bare feet. The cold pavement stinging her skin. She cursed herself for not having half a brain to wear nylons in the middle of November.

"Don!" she called out to him over the rumbling in the sky. "Don! Wait!"

He didn't hear her. He continued towards the subway station two blocks away. Hands shoved in his pockets, his shoulders slumped.

"Don!" she yelled again. "Stop! You have to stop!"

A good hearted pedestrian, just passing Flack on his way towards the soaking wet girl in her bare feet, doubled back and grabbed a hold of the detective's arm and spoke rapidly to him and than pointed in Sam's direction.

"Thank you!" she breathed to the stranger, when she managed to finally catch up to where her object of affection had finally halted in the middle of the sidewalk.

The man nodded at her and than slapped Flack on the shoulder. "Good luck," he said, than hurried along his way.

"What the hell are you doing?" Flack asked the tiny brunette in front of him. "Running down a New York City street in the middle of November in your bare feet? In the rain nonetheless?"

She held the coat out to him. "You forgot this," she said.

"You ran all the way down the street, in the rain, in your bare feet to give me this?" he asked, taking the garment from her.

"That's not the only reason," she replied. "I want to know why you came here tonight. After breaking up with your girlfriend, why here? Why to me?"

"Because I did it for you, Samantha. I did it for us. Or for what I was hoping could be the start to us."

She blinked. Both in surprise and because of the rain dripping into her eyes.

"I wouldn't have come here if it wasn't what I really wanted and felt that I needed to take a chance on. I wouldn't have sat there for three hours on those goddamn stairs if I wasn't certain that this was what I wanted. If you were what I wanted."

"Three hours?" she couldn't help but laugh. "You were sitting there for three hours waiting for me?"

He nodded.

"Why in the hell didn't you call me?" she asked. "If you had have called me I would have come right home to see you."

"I did call you. Thirteen times. I left just as many messages."

She frowned. "How could you of…" she snapped open the evening bag and plucked her phone out. Blushing furiously when she realized that it had been turned onto silent mode and that her call display clearly stated she had thirteen missed calls. She looked up at him sheepishly. "Ooops," she said. "My bad. Well you certainly are persistent. I'll give you that much."

"I needed to see you. Or at least talk to you," he reasoned. "This has gone on for an entire year, Samantha. These things that I feel for you. I don't if you feel the same way about me, but I needed to come here and see you and take that chance. And I know it's a big chance because we've got that great friendship thing going on and going for anything else could fuck that all up, but life is too goddamn short not to at least try."

"It's a lot to risk, Don," she said. "A work relationship, a friendship, that whole big brother shtick you got going on."

"Shtick?" he laughed. "You sounded so Brooklyn just than."

"Well that is where I'm from. Phoenix couldn't take the New York City out of me. But it's true. We stand to loose a lot if things go really, really bad."

"We stand to lose a hell of a lot more if we don't try," he told her. "And I couldn't live the rest of my life wondering what if. Wondering how different things would have been for me if I had have just told you and took that chance on us. I mean, it doesn't change anything really. We'd still be working together and have that same good cop, bad cop thing going on. You being the bad cop that is."

She smiled at that.

"That doesn't change, Samantha. And it doesn't have to. And we can still be friends. Don't all couples have some sort of friendship thing to fall back on?"

"But when things go wrong, and trust me, Don, things always go wrong when I'm involved, think about how difficult it would be for both of us to be around each other."

"We're both grown ups," he reminded her. "I think we're mature enough to handle ourselves like adults if that happens."

"When," she corrected. "When it happens."

"Don't be so negative," he said. "You're dooming us before we even get off the ground."

"I'm a hard person to love, Donnie," Sam told him. "And you'll find that out sooner or later and decide that you don't need that crap in your life."

Flack shook his head. "I'm stronger than that, Samantha. Don't underestimate me."

"I'm not. I know how strong you are. You're probably the strongest person I've ever met. But I break people. I know that sounds strange and highly unlikely. But it's true. Emotionally I break people."

"Well maybe I'm that one person you won't do that to," he reasoned. "Maybe I'm that one person that will break you."

She sighed heavily. "That's what I'm scared of," she said. "I don't want to get hurt. Physically or emotionally."

"I'd never hurt you," he vowed. "That's not who I am. Why would I hurt the one thing that I treasure most in my life? And that whole older brother thing? I can still be protective and all that. I'd just be the protective, scary boyfriend."

"I don't know," she shook her head slowly. "I just don't know."

"What is there to know?" he shouted above the thunder and the pounding of the rain. "Why are you analyzing this so much? What do you want me to say? You want me to shout it from the rooftops? Take out a billboard down in Times Square? A full page ad in the Times? What more do you want from me?"

She stared at him with no response.

" I'm falling in love with you!" he bellowed. " I'm not quite there yet but I think I could fall more in love with you every day. And I think that you and I could have something fucking amazing, Samantha! And holding back on going after that just doesn't make any sense. What are you so scared of?"

"I'm not scared!" she yelled back. "But Jess is my friend and…"

"Fuck Jess!" he snapped. "This is about me and you! Fuck her! She has no bearing on this! Or on us!"

"I think that you need to go home and think about this, Donnie. I think you need to go home and I need to go home and we both need to think about what we're doing."

"I know what I'm doing," he said. "Something I should have done a year ago and was too scared to. All because I didn't want you laughing in my face and telling me to get a life. I never took that chance. Who knows where we'd be now. Married with kids probably."

"Jesus, don't have me bare foot and pregnant already," she laughed.

"The point is that I wasted too much time. And I can't do that anymore," Flack told her.

"I think you need to go home and think, Donnie. I think that you're hurt from Jess and you're talking a lot of bullshit and…"

He reached out and laid a hand on the back of her neck and yanked her into a fierce, passionate kiss. And there they stood, in the driving rain and the thunder and lightning crashing over head, her hands tightly gripping the front of his wrinkled, soaked set, as if they were the only two people in the world that existed.

He broke away from the kiss when the need for air became overwhelming. He pressed his lips to her temple, than the top of her head, as she laid her forehead against his chest.

"Did that seem like bullshit?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"I know you're scared, Samantha. Shit, I'm scared too. But how are we ever going to know how great we could be together and how amazing we could make each other feel if we don't at least try."

"I just…" she raised her head to look after him. "An entire year, Don. An entire year I waited for a moment like this. I waited for the day to come when you would realize that it was me that you wanted. I swallowed my tears and my hurt time and time again. I put up with seeing you with Devon, than with Angell. And all that time you had no idea that you were breaking my heart. How can I be sure you won't break it all over again?"

"I'll never hurt you, Samantha. Just trust in me. Trust in us. I didn't know you felt like that. You just went along with the whole friendship thing. Let me treat you like a sister. Why didn't you ever tell me that you felt something completely different?"

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" she asked.

He smirked. "Okay…good point. So where do we go from here?" he asked. "Where do we start?"

Sam shrugged. "I'm not sure. But I think getting out of the rain might be a good place to begin. Before we both end up deathly sick. And I think a nice warm bath and warm pyjamas and some hot chocolate would hit the spot nicely too."

He smiled and kissed her once more. Long and soft. And promising. "I'll call you when I get home," he said. "We can talk about things better. Or we could wait until tomorrow."

"But I…"

He pecked her lips once more, than placed a kiss on her forehead. "You want me to walk you back and take you upstairs?"

She nodded. "And than I want you to come inside and dry off and stay for the night," she told him. "And I want you to kiss me like that again. A lot."

"Like this you mean?" he teased, kissing her mouth chastely.

"Well that's nice too," she said. "But I mean the other way."

He smiled and covered her lips with his in yet another toe curling, mind boggling display of both passion and tenderness.

"Mmm…" she said when it ended, her eyes closed. "Yep…that's the way I meant."

"Why don't we get out of here," he suggested, taking on of her tiny, delicate hands in one of his large, strong one and entwining his fingers with hers. "Out of this goddamn shitty rain."

"I like that idea," she said, as they turned and started back towards her building hand in hand. "You know," her golden eyes sparkled as she looked up at him. "I am a sucker for rain scenes. They get me every time. The one in that movie The Notebook? That was fantastic. Did you ever see that?"

"I don't do chick flicks," Flack responded.

"Oh, you will now," she laughed. "There was this rain scene, between the two main characters. I melted. Just about died. And now, I've got my own rain scene to relive over and over and over again. And brag about to my friends, of course. I never realized you were such a romantic, Detective Flack."

"I'm not. And you chased after me, remember? You're a nut case. Running after me in your bare feet."

"Don't ruin my moment," she pouted dramatically.

He dropped her hand and wrapped his arm around her slender shoulders and pulled her tight to his side and dropped a kiss to the top of her head. "Remember how I told you earlier that you didn't look half bad?"

Sam nodded.

"Well I lied. You look beautiful. Amazingly beautiful."

"Even with my clothes and my hair soaking wet and my makeup no doubt running down my face?"

He smiled and with his free hand, used a gentle thumb to clear away a river of eyeliner trailing down her cheek. "Even than," he said.

"You're a man after my own heart, Donald Flack Jr," she sighed, as they mounted the stairs outside of her own building.

"You know what's going to happen once I have it?" he asked, opening the door and motioning for her to step inside.

"What's that?"

"You're never going to get it back."

She beamed up at him as he cornered her into the far corner of the vestibule and kissed her softly.

"There are far worse fates," she said with a sigh and handed him the key for the front door.

He unlocked the heavy glass door and pulled it up. "Are you ready?" he asked, pausing before following behind her.

"I've never been more ready," she replied confidently and grabbed his hand and pulled him along behind her.

He smiled. Finally sure of something in his life. Aware of how perfect her hand seemed to fit inside of his. And of how incredible her warm, inviting mouth had felt against his.

And that as he walked with her up those stairs, he was quite possibly heading towards forever.

And that was more than fine with him.

Hope that was an okay start! Reviews and positivity welcome!