Chapter 4 – Keeping him from the cold
A very big shout out to Tinks for this, first and foremost, cos if it wasn't for her half this story would be missing. And, gee, thanks, babe, for pimping me out. I think LOL.
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing, CBS/Alliance do…
I am also fully aware that some people are waiting for me to write Sammie, I really do. I just hope I do her justice!
And thanks to Madison Bellows, for spotting the obvious mistake between Chapters one and two – I did wonder if anyone would actually notice LOL!
The nominations forum for the 2009 CSI:NY Fan Fiction awards are now open. Take a click over to Shabbers The Corrupter's profile page, where you will be able to access her forum direct and nominate your favorite stories, authors, OCs and so many, many more! (Shabbers, will that do LOL?)
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Don Flack knew, before his key even turned in the lock of the door to their apartment that he was in trouble.
He knew he should have called Sammie, he knew it. He should have called her and told her what had happened, that he had just found out he had a sister he'd never known about. That he'd gone to find his Dad, the architect of all this hassle, a man Sammie got along with like a house on fire, instead finding and starting the process of getting to know his older sister over several drinks. Yeah, Don thought running his hand through his hair, he should have called her first.
Better yet, he should have come home straight away and spoken to her about the whole thing before heading straight out to Malloy's, like a bat outta hell.
He should have thought about how she would react too, wincing a little at what her reaction was going to be. Yeah, he had a pretty good idea of what was coming.
He turned the key in the lock and walked into the small, two bed apartment they shared in lower Manhattan.
"Baby?" he called.
Silence.
He walked through to their small living room, hearing the sound of the TV switched on.
There he found his tiny bride, all barely five foot of her, curled up in one of his oversized NYPD t-shirts, hair in little girl pigtails, her feet crossed under her. She wore no make-up, looking far younger than her 33 years, a dusting of freckles across her nose. She had a plate of frozen mini Goodfella's pizzas on one side of her and marshmallow and – yeah, there it was – caramel ice-cream syrup in one of those god-awful china double serving dishes one of his or her mother's friends had given them as a beautiful-but-useless wedding present. From the look of her, those golden eyes were focused on a rerun of Charmed, which was playing on CBS or another of the network channels. Don knew better. He stepped over to the couch, leaned down and kissed the top of her head.
And winced, when he saw that the frozen pizzas beside her, were in fact, still frozen. Sammie and her damn cravings, he thought.
"Adam called," she said, in a voice that was a little too high, "Said he needed to talk to you about Anna again."
Uh-oh, thought Don. Now he knew he had to explain this, but how the hell was he going to do this now his brother-in-law had inadvertently managed to let the cat out of the bag. And, knowing his little spit-fire Brooklyn girl that he did, she'd jumped to the wrong conclusion.
He crouched down in front of her and took her hands in his. She looked at him coolly, focusing those golden eyes on his blue ones.
"Baby," he said, "I got something I need to talk to you about, but it's hard and I don't know how to start."
She raised an eyebrow, not saying a word. Damn, thought Don, this was going to be harder than he thought.
"Say," he said, "Hypothetically, there was this guy who was married, with a kid on the way and he found out there was this other girl who he'd been seeing on the side and…"
He saw the anger flare in those golden eyes and knew he was in trouble.
"And," she bit out angrily, "Hypothetically, he'd decided he was fed up with the ball and shackle and wanted the girl instead?" she finished for him.
"Uh, no honey," he said, cursing Adam mentally for the ideas he'd given his sister, "It's not what you think?"
"Who is Anna?" asked Sam, in a very low, very quiet voice, glaring at Don, ripping her hands out of his.
Shit, thought Don, this was not going well at all.
"How long have you been seeing her," she said, her voice rising in anger, "And how the hell does my brother know all about her? Have you been discussing this with him? Your girlfriend? With my brother?"
Color had risen in her face. Oh Sammie was pissed, no doubt about it, he thought. He really, really should have come home or called her earlier, because, hormonal as she was and occasionally unstable at the best of times she had, typically, got the wrong end of the stick.
Those golden eyes glittered and then two tiny little hands pushed him, hard. Caught off balance, Don fell backwards into the coffee table. The next thing he knew, a cold hard round thing had hit him in the forehead, causing a tiny amount of pain. Then it landed, slightly melting sauce side down onto his striped shirt, leaving a trail of tomato pizza sauce as gravity took its toll and the thing slid towards his pants. Don gingerly picked the offensive item off his shirt, right before he spotted something flying through the air and…
He ducked. As the bowl that had formerly contained marshmallows and caramel syrup narrowly missed his head, instead hitting the wall behind him, shattering into a few pieces. An irate Sam was now on her feet, advancing towards him. Don had to admit it; he was slightly scared.
Actually, make that absolutely fucking terrified for his life. And quite possibly his manhood as well. Sammy was brandishing the remote control, shaking it like it was Luke Skywalker's light saber. Hair was escaping from her cute plaits, which swung from side to side and there were two spots of pink, making her look like a furious schoolgirl, coloring in her cheeks. The eyes blazed with fury.
"You brought Adam into it," she yelled, advancing with about as much grace as a penguin, due to her pregnancy, "Why couldn't you leave him out of your fucking around with his sister! Me! I mean," she sputtered, "Peanut!"
"I'm pregnant!" she continued to yell, "You knocked me up with your demon spawn, who doesn't give me a moment's piece from dawn till dusk and you're off polishing your service weapon with some floozy you picked up out drinking with Messer!"
Don was torn between laughing outright and shaking her – gently - till she saw sense. He managed to grab a cushion, which he held up in front of him to ward off his irate wife. Sam stopped in front of him in disgust and suddenly swooped. Don flinched, marginally relieved when he realized she'd only grabbed the cordless phone.
"I'm going to shred every single one of your damn ties!" she hissed, before stalking off to the bedroom as gracefully as she could waddle while being five months pregnant with the tall detective's son.
Momentarily stunned by her outburst, but not entirely surprised, given the sarcasm-laden emotional outbursts that had peppered their home since she'd gotten pregnant and turned into the raving, hormonal bitch from hell, it took Don a couple of minutes to stagger to his feet and head after his wife, down the narrow corridor to their bedroom.
Getting to the door too late to stop her from closing it in his face. And too slow to open it, as he heard from the click of the lock turning, shutting him out.
"Sammy," he said, trying the handle of the door to check if it was really locked, "Baby, open the door, I gotta talk to you."
Silence.
"Baby," he said more forcefully, "Don't make me kick the door down. I kind of think we're going to need that security deposit back when we move to a bigger place."
"Don't you dare!" came the outraged shout from behind the door, "Just leave me alone! Why don't you go back over to Anna's place for some more hot sex!"
Don muttered several profanities under his breath, eyes looking towards the ceiling.
"Baby," he said, in a softer tone, "Will you tell me what Adam said to you?"
Not, he thought, that he wasn't going to kill Adam the next time he saw him for getting him into this level of shit with Sammy.
The voice from behind the door, sounding really upset finally answered him.
"He asked if you were here. I said you weren't. He said you must have gone to speak to Anna and he told me to tell you to call him and tell him how it went."
Christ, he thought, that was one hell of a Ross trait – the whole going verbal postal whenever they were upset.
"Sweetheart," he said soothingly, his lips next to the keyhole, "It really isn't what you think."
For one second he thought he'd convinced her. Next thing he knew, he was wincing as a loud shout from the other side made him realize he hadn't.
"BULLSHIT!" she roared, in the manner of her step-father, The Sarge.
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Don sighed, sitting against the wall outside his bedroom. He knew the sensible thing to do would be to retreat to the couch, make himself comfortable for, oh the next century, grab a beer and watch the sports highlights and he had been about to do that when he'd heard the sound of Sam sobbing her heart out in their bedroom. So he'd sat outside and waited for her to calm down. And waited.
An hour later, he was still there, getting cramp in his legs from being hunched into a seriously uncomfortable position in the hall.
His cell rang. He bit off a sigh of relief as he realized it was Adam ringing him back after the half dozen or so messages he had left on his answer service. He bit off Adam's greeting with an,
"Adam, what the fuck did you say to your sister?" he said. Sam was always Adam's sister when she let the she-bitch out.
"Nothing!" said Adam defensively, "I just asked her to get you to call me, in case you wanted to talk or something. I mean, I know you were going to go find your Dad and I thought…"
"You thought what?" bit off Don, slightly savagely.
"That you might, I dunno, need some support or something," said Adam, "I mean, we're family and all and it was a pretty big freaking bomb that got dropped on you today, oh," he said, realizing what he had said, "Uh Don, err, I didn't mean it, I, uh…"
"Adam," said Don slowly, "That's a real nice thought, it is, but unfortunately I'm going to kill you when I find you and I'm going to get Messer to help me dispose of the body."
"Do you want me to come over? To explain to Sammy?" started Adam.
"Are you fucking insane?" said Don, "After the level of shit you've already got me into? Buddy I do not need to be any deeper into this grave you've already dug me. Got that?"
Adam affirmed and apologized again. Don sighed.
"It's OK," he said finally, "It's not your fault your sister's a she-bitch and you have this real bad tendency to just totally fuck things up when you open your mouth. I'll call ya if I need ya alright?"
Don ended the call and leaned his head back against the wall, sighing heavily.
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It was only about thirty seconds before his cell rang again. Don groaned inwardly as he spotted the name flash up on the screen.
"Hey Messer," he said.
Danny chuckled on the other end of the phone.
"What the hell did you do to Brooklyn?" he asked, "Cos I gotta tell you, Montana's pacing the room here, threatening you all manner of bodily harm for upsetting her home girl."
"Figures," said Don, sighing wearily, "What do you know?"
"Only that apparently you're about to leave your pregnant wife for some hottie and you've been asking Adam for advice about how to do the deed," laughed Danny, "Which is why, as soon as I heard that I knew this all had to be some mistake. What the fuck is going on?"
"Bub," replied Don, "It's really, really fucked up and I can't tell you about it yet, until I've spoken to my Dad. Seriously, though, do you really think I would cheat on Sammy?"
"No I don't," said Danny, "Seeing as she's the only woman who's ever put up with you long enough to get chained to the kitchen, barefoot, pregnant and all."
Don laughed.
"If you value your life Messer, do not let her hear you say that!" he said.
"Do you want us to come over?" Danny asked, "Seriously Flack, I mean I can't vouch that Linds won't try to do you an injury or something, but do you want her and me to come try and talk Sam outta this?"
Don considered this for a minute.
"No Danny," he said finally, "I need to try and sort this one out by myself. But thanks. I'll tell you what the hell's going on as soon as I can. Thanks Bub."
"A 'right," said Danny, "I'll speak to Linds, but call us if you need anything."
"I will, thanks," Don finished, ending the call.
He was still wondering how to get Sam to come out of the bedroom to talk to him when his cell rang again, some god-awful cheesy, tinny Irish ringtone that Mel had downloaded onto his phone last time they were all at their folks house for dinner.
Shit, he thought. Now his mother too.
"Hey Ma," he said, waiting for the full force of the storm to hit.
And was shocked as hell when she didn't let off with a mouthful of abuse about his father.
"Donnie," she said, "I take it you know?"
"Yeah Ma," he replied, "Long and boring story as to how, but I'm now dealing with the fall-out. You sound like you're dealing pretty good," he said cautiously.
Patricia Flack sighed.
"Well at first I did maybe lose my temper a little," she said, which was probably the understatement of the century, Don thought, hoping his father wasn't too badly injured.
"And I may have raised my voice a little," she continued, which meant she'd probably terrified the neighborhood and the cops had been called to the house, "But your father and I have had a good long talk about it. You can't change the past, she's here now and it's not her fault."
Who are you and what did you do with my mother, thought Don, speechless. Either age or impending grandparent-hood had really mellowed her.
"In fact," she said, "I told your father to invite her, Jimmy and his wife over so we can all get to know them properly. They're family now. She's your sister, Donnie."
"I know Ma," he said heavily, "I went looking for Dad and I met her. We had a few drinks and I got home a little late."
"Please tell me you called your wife and told her what was going on," said his mother.
Don didn't say anything.
"Donnie!" she reproached, "Is she very upset?"
"Well, Ma, she thinks, thanks to her brother calling and managing to totally fuck things up, that I'm having an affair and leaving her and the baby for her, so yeah, everything's great!"
"Wash that mouth out!" said Patricia Flack sharply, "Donnie, how long have you been sitting outside that locked door?"
"An hour," he admitted.
"You tried talking to her?" his mother asked.
"A lot," he agreed, "She won't talk to me."
"Donald Flack Junior," said his mother in the tone she used to use when he was a kid and in big trouble, "Aside from the fact you have some major foot kissing to do for being late home and not calling first, you are going to knock on that door, put Sammy on the phone and go wait on the couch."
Don started to say that this was not a good idea, but even he knew better than to argue with her, even if his mother was all the way over in Queens. He knocked on their bedroom door, told Sam his mother wanted to speak to her and then placed the cell on the floor, in the middle of the doorway. Then backed away, just like a good little mommy's boy.
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He heard the door open and then close again softly. He waited patiently, loosening the tie around his neck and shrugging off his suit jacket.
After about ten minutes, he looked up to see his wife standing in the doorway, face still tear-stained, but looking a bit sheepish. And not entirely unsexy, seeing as she appeared to be wearing little more than his faded t-shirt and her curves were accentuated by the growing life inside her. His son. The baby they'd made.
He stood up, walked over to her and pulled her into his arms, resting his head atop hers. She snaked her arms around his waist and snuggled into him. He picked her up, bodily, and carried her back to the couch, settling her into his lap, putting one big hand over the growing bump, making her skin warm under the shirt.
"Baby," he said, "I love you to distraction, even if you are the most unbelievably stubborn, unreasonable, crazy bitch imaginable. I will never leave you, baby or no baby. I'm having too much fun."
He kissed her softly. She took his face in her hands and regarded him thoughtfully.
"You can be an arrogant, insensitive asshole sometimes, Donnie, you know that?" she countered.
He sighed, resting his forehead against hers.
"I'm sorry I didn't call. I know I should have," he admitted, "I went looking for Dad at Malloy's after Adam showed me the DNA results. I met Anna and we got talking."
Sam said nothing.
"We have thirty years to catch up on Sammy, she's my big sister," he said, "Not that that excuses what I did. You come first babe, even if I don't always show it."
Sam snuggled into his chest, slightly mollified.
"Your mom told me," she said, "I guess Peanut was actually trying to be kind of supportive to you then," she finished, suddenly snickering at the idea of her baby brother actually trying to do that kind of thing for Flack.
"You're going to like Anna," said Flack. Sam looked at him, sarcasm in her eyes.
"You will," he said soothingly, "She's nothing like Mel, more like me and Dad, the perfect ones."
Sam snorted.
"Actually," he continued, "She was the one who reminded me that I had to come home to you, so if it wasn't for my new big sister kicking my ass, I'd still be drinking JD in Malloy's with her, so you should be thankful I'm home and hoping to make it up to you."
Sam pushed herself upright, met his blue eyes with hers and he watched the sly smile start to grow.
"Are you telling me you came home late on purpose to start a fight so we could make up?"
Flack grinned and pulled her closer, dropping a kiss onto her lips.
"But that's the best thing about fighting baby," he said, "The way you and me make up!"
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And, phew! Flack's life and manhood still intact! Lower Manhattan still standing! Adam still alive… just. It's taken me ages to write this.
Special shout outs to DelkosGirl88 (even if she beat me to nominating Tinks LOL), Madison Bellows, wolfeylady, all the usuals and every other newbie who has been kind enough to drop by and let me know what they think of this. I hope you think I'm doing Sam/Tinks justice here!
And Spanky, this chapter is also specially for you, I just couldn't resist – well Sam couldn't, it was so something that, literally, just came out of her mouth in the heat of the moment!
Please R&R! Thankees!