Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter - and everyone who read it! It's nice to be getting so many hits!
This is the date chapter. It is irrelevant to the main plot. If it were a film it would be rated in Britain as a 15 (for people age 15 years and over.) It isn't what I would classify as an M rated chapter, so I'm not altering the rating, but don't read if you're easily offended.
Usual disclaimer applies.
Chapter Eleven – Open Up Your Eyes
The hotel was a good one, and Flack was aware that Danny had pulled some strings or favours from someone to get them here for the night. For a second he felt guilty at being so hard on his friend, then came to the conclusion that it was the best thing he could have done. He took a last look in the mirror, unbuttoning the top of his new shirt and checking that he hadn't left the labels on. He had taken some of the painkillers he'd been given by the doctor before leaving the hospital, not wishing bravado to spoil the evening. His head hurt, and he was getting some nasty bruises on his back, but on the whole the worst thing was unstrapping and restrapping the shoulder support. PN Holden was right; there was no way he would be putting any weight on his shoulder for a good few days.
The main stairs were busy with people coming and going; many were business men in suits; a handful looked like tourists. Flack felt filled with a nervous anticipation as he made his way to the restaurant. He figured that Angell would be waiting for him in the bar nearby. She was always early, whereas he was just on time.
He saw her from a distance as she stood out from the crowd of suits around her. She wore a simple dark blue dress that stopped at her knees and was held up with tiny straps. Her trademark boots had been replaced with strappy shoes that seemed to occur at the end of very long legs. He stopped before she saw him and watched her for a few seconds, enjoying the fact that she was waiting for him and no one else. Then she saw him and smiled, turning to the bar and holding up a bottle of beer and an orange juice, the latter clearly for him. He laughed out loud, causing people to stare at him.
"What's so funny, Flack?" Angell said as he joined her.
"You," he said, taking a sip of the orange. Alcohol was a no-no given the strength of the tablets he had just taken, and probably wasn't too good given the fact he had suffered a concussion.
"Why? Do I look better in trousers?"
He laughed again. "No, Jess. It's just how you're dressed – you look gorgeous – and then you're drinking beer from a bottle."
She laughed, leaning back against the bar. "I wasn't taught finesse," she said. "How are you feeling?"
He looked at her, aware that he couldn't stop smiling. But the thing was, she was smiling at him the same way. "Hurting," he admitted. "But don't tell anyone."
"Your head?"
"Feels like I've just spent an evening with Danny in a depressed mood," he said.
She laughed. "You look good too," she said, and he felt the flow of electricity between them that had been there all the time, but now it was almost palpable, he could almost touch it and he realised that if whoever it was came up behind him now and shot him, he would die a happy man, because whatever it was that made them touch without making contact was what it was all about.
"What time are we eating?" he said, knowing that he couldn't stand there and stare at her all night, at least not in front of other people.
"Is food all you think about, Flack?" Angell said.
He shook his head. "I needed to think of something else then to take my mind off…" he stopped, not knowing how much she wanted to hear. She was independent – as was he – and he wasn't sure how to put into words what he was beginning to comprehend.
"Take your mind off what, Don?" she said. She had never called him Don before. He focused on the other people around them, remembering where they were and that public displays of affection were not in his nature.
"You," he said simply.
She nodded. He expected a joke about knocks to the head, but none came. Instead she closed the gap between them and put an arm around his neck, lifting herself up to touch his lips with hers. The kiss was soft, and a promise, breaking quickly. "How many dates does this one count for, given all the times we've been out as friends?"
Flack remembered his words to Danny about knowing where things would lead to. "At least the tenth," he said. That was how it felt, or even more. After the first time they'd gone for coffee he'd found himself walking by her desk more, asking her opinion more, finding out more about her, but he'd never considered why. Yes, she was beautiful, all of the straight males in the precinct had noticed that, but he'd dated gorgeous girls before. Yet, something about her drew him toward her. He knew now it was the natural chemistry they had, the way that she could turn him into a klutz when he tried to flirt with her, the way she saw through his game, the way she could smile and make everything better even though his apartment was ruined along with most of his possessions.
"Feels more like double that," she said. His hands sat on her waist, their drinks abandoned by the bar. "Where do we go from here?"
"I don't know," he said. "I'm hoping the restaurant."
She laughed and pulled herself away, rescuing her beer from an eager barman. "Let's go get our table." She took his hand as they walked into the dining area. The lights were low and candles danced at the tables. A waitress led them to a table away from the windows, tucked away in one of the booths.
"Have you spoken to your father today?" he said, taking a menu.
"Briefly. I think he may come over with mom once this case is over," she said. "He said to say hi, and that he'll bring a new pacifier if you are that psychologically damaged."
"Tell me, Jessica. Did you get your sense of humour from him?" Flack said, looking at her from out of the corner of his eye.
She laughed. "I needed a sense of humour to survive in that house. With four brothers and a detective sergeant for a father! I'm surprised I turned out as well as I did!"
"So how did you survive?" he said, his eyes dancing.
"I got along well with them all, although they were protective. That's what made me the way I am, I guess. I didn't want them looking after me all the time as it cramped my style, so I learnt to look after myself," she said, eyeing him, trying to get a reaction.
He pulled on his best poker face. "So you hit errant boyfriends and broke their noses. What would you do to me?"
Her face grew serious. "I wouldn't need to do anything, Donald Flack Junior, because you wouldn't hurt me like that."
He put the menu down, a nearby waitress backing away. They seemed to be good at deterring wait-on staff. "You're right, I wouldn't," he said. "But…"
"How can I be so sure?" she said, shrugging, one of the slight straps of her dress falling off her shoulder. "Instinct. And I've never known you cheat on any of the girls you've been out with, so I guess that's proof. And I don't think you'd ever hurt me intentionally."
The thought made him ache, and he knew she was right. He finished off the orange juice and nodded at her. "The feeling's mutual," he said simply. "We should choose what we're eating."
Their talk revolved around work and Danny and Lindsay for a while, offering them a break from the intensity of what they were feeling. Flack found himself feeling better just by being in her presence; the small jokes she made, the witty replies she came back with.
"So tell me about your family. Why did you follow in your father's footsteps?" she said once the waitress had removed the plates from their main meal.
"I always wanted to do it," he said. "I liked the look of what my father did, putting away the bad guys. My grandfather was a cop too, so I suppose it's in the blood."
"What about your sister and brother?" she said, drinking from a gin and tonic that had just been brought to her.
"Sister's a dentist in Iowa and my brother's a doctor. I was the only one not to go to college – not including the academy. I think that disappointed my mom, but for my dad that was my one redeeming feature," he said. He didn't like to talk about his family, it was a closed book as far as most people were concerned, but Jess wasn't most people.
"Why don't you get along?" she said.
"Because we're so alike in many things. We clashed. I left home as soon as I was accepted into the police academy and never went back, except for holidays and my mother's corned beef," he said.
She held her head to one side. "There has to be food involved somewhere."
He laughed, her question taking the intensity away. "Why did you join the force?"
"I don't know. I went to college and majored in criminology. I think it's genetic. Two of my brothers are also officers. The other two are pharmacists which is the most bizarre career choice as my family are never ill, and they were never exposed to pharmacology of any kind," she said, making him laugh,
"How did your father react when you told him you wanted to join?" he said.
"He'd given up by that point in time. I was not going to be the conventional pretty daughter," she pushed her hair out of the way.
Flack smiled. "Were you a tomboy, by any chance?"
She laughed. "With four brothers? Of course. At least until I discovered boys!"
"Or they discovered you?" he said.
"You busting your game on me again?" she said, still laughing.
"I don't have a game, Jessica," he tried to stay serious.
"So 'you look good in a vest' wasn't a line," she said.
He took a drink of water. "You having dessert?"
She laughed, half in astonishment. "So you're not denying it?"
"I'd obviously be lying," he said, trying to hold in a smile while his eyes shone, a light in them caused by her. "Dessert?"
"Share one with me," she said. He nodded. "And I mean share, Flack, not eat it all yourself."
"You have the wrong opinion of me," he said, opening up the menu the waitress had left them.
"Me and the rest of NYPD."
"I'm a growing boy," he said, making her smile as he caught her eye. She moved her feet from his lap.
"Chocolate raspberry sundae," she said. "I challenge you to let me have half."
"What do I get if I let you?" he said.
She smiled.
-&-
"We should leave and let them clear up," Angell said. The restaurant was emptying, most people having already left. Their coffee cups were dry and it was getting late.
"Shall I walk you to your room, Detective Angell?" Flack said, standing. She could tell by the way he rose from his chair that he was feeling sore.
"If it's not too far out of your way, Detective Flack," she said. They walked side by side to the elevator, their constant conversation now dried up. She caught his eye once inside it and a force of electricity bolted through her. He didn't move, although she was expecting him to. Instead he stayed where he was, at the other side of the elevator and looked at her, his expression serious. She wondered what he was thinking, and itched to say something, but the atmosphere stopped her. She felt like he was touching her, even though he stood three feet away.
The elevator pinged and came to a stop. They walked out along the hallway toward their rooms - a good two minutes away. She stopped and took off her shoes, carrying them instead. He laughed at her, waiting, waiting to see her to her room, but she didn't want him to. Instead, she wanted him to stay with her, the desire hitting her like a night train, taking her breath away.
They reached the wall in between their doors and stopped walking. The whole hotel seemed to have fallen into silence. Flack's bright blue eyes burnt into hers and she felt the force of him as he moved her against the wall, his lips on hers, gently, then of urgency seeping through. She pushed back, trying to get closer to him, arms wrapping round his neck, one leg pushing him closer, her fingers at his shirt buttons.
He nodded. She bent down to pick up the purse she had dropped and fished for her keys. He hadn't asked her if she was sure, he hadn't undermined her independence of thought. She stood up and unlocked the door to her room and he followed her in, the one lamp giving a soft glow.
Angell kissed him, finishing off undoing the button and pulling off his shirt, the shoulder support still there, but arms toned. Her fingers touched the scar on his chest as his hands rested on her shoulders, travelling to the straps of her dress and pushing them off. She let the dress drop off and saw him take her in with his eyes briefly before moving her back onto the bed.
The electricity which had run between them before now enveloped them and she lost herself in it, any awareness of time or place gone. All that mattered was them, was the man she was with, anything else was oblivion.
A/N; Yes, I know. It was their first 'proper' date and they did the horizontal tango. If I were with Don Flack, I personally wouldn't have made it out of the elevator. They are grown adults, and know their own minds, and I couldn't see them stopping after a kiss.
However, things have only just begun...
Please review, let me know what you think, especially you lurkers... :)
