Author: Ceindreadh
Fandom(s): CSI-New York Genre (general, hetero or slash) : Slash
Pairing/Characters: Flack/Mac Rating: NC-17
Summary: Mac gives Don a crash course in forensics
Warnings: Smut and slash and sex, oh my! Little bit of angst as well.
Disclaimer. I don't own the CSI-NY characters, I'm only borrowing them, and I promise to return them in minty fresh condition when I'm finished.
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"The first rule in collecting evidence," said Mac. "Is to examine your evidence visually, before touching it."
"Wait a minute," said Don. "You didn't say there wasn't gonna be any touching!" He sat up on the bed and pouted. "That don't sound like fun."
"It's only the first step, Don. Trust me, there'll be plenty of 'hands on' work when we get to later steps."
"Yeah right, whatever," said Don, lying back down on the bed and stretching out.
"Well, you're the one who said you wanted to learn more about I do," said Mac.
"Okay, okay, just hurry up and get to the hand's on bit!"
"Well if you'd stop interrupting me, maybe I could finish my visual analysis." Mac cleared his throat. "I'm looking at a Caucasian male. Estimated height at six foot..."
"That's six foot two!"
"...with a mouth that never stops moving!"
"'cept when it's kissing you," grinned Don. "So, you finished looking yet?"
Mac cocked his head to one side as he scanned Don from head to toe. "Mmm, don't think I'll ever get tired of looking." He collected himself as he continued, "Okay, after I've done a thorough visual examination of the area in question, the next step is to photograph it." He moved over to the side of the room and picked up a small camera. "And of course it's no use taking pictures if you don't have something in the picture to give an accurate scale. Most C.S.I. kits will have a standard scale ruler in them, but in a pinch, you can use a dollar bill or a credit card. Just so long as you know its exact dimensions."
Don wrapped one hand around his cock and started stroking gently, "Well I'm sure you know just exactly what 'dimension' this is by now! Oh yeah!"
Mac almost dropped the camera as he laughed, "It'll be no good for scale if it keeps growing like that!"
"Screw the scale, I've got a much better use for it!"
"Don, if we're not going to do this properly..."
"Okay, okay," said Don, in a tone of mock annoyance. "But talking of doin stuff properly. I don't see many C.S.I.'s covering crime scenes buck naked."
Mac looked down at his bare skin and shrugged, "Well it would be one way of minimizing potential cross contamination of fibers."
"Hmm, and maybe if I shaved you all over, then you wouldn't have to worry about hairs neither!"
"Just lie still and I'll take a few shots."
Don propped himself up on his elbows and posed seductively as Mac raised the camera to his face. He blinked slightly as the flash went off. "You know, youze had better make sure you develop these yourself," he said. "Don't want you brought up on some sort of obscenity charge." He leered at the camera, but Mac didn't respond. Don frowned as he saw Mac's knuckles whiten as he clutched at the camera. "Mac?"
For a second, the flash of the camera had drained all the color from Don's skin. The twisted scar on the left of his abdomen was thrown into sharp relief. Mac could hear the words echoing in his head, "I'm gonna get you through this, Don." He was back there in the recovery room, Don supine on the bed in front of him. Burned and battered and bruised, his wounds open for all to see. Mac had hated himself for having to do this...hated the fact that it was necessary...that his Don was now a crime scene...a source of evidence, pictures to be stored in a file for all the lab to see. He hated it, but he had insisted on being the one to do it. If Don's privacy had to be invaded then the least Mac could do was be there to do what was necessary. Mac could almost hear the machines beeping, smell the hospital around him. "I'm gonna get you through this Don," he said again.
And then he felt a pair of hands cupping his face and an insistent voice calling him, "Mac, stay with me, Mac. C'mon Mac, don't fade out on me again."
Mac took a deep breath, realizing as he did so that all he could smell was Don. He blinked and focused on the man in front of him...the man with a seriously worried expression on his face. "Don?"
"I'm here, Mac," said Don softly, as he gently rubbed Mac's cheeks with his thumbs, "You're okay, you're here. I'm here. We're not at the hospital any more." Don couldn't hide the relief in his voice as he saw Mac come back to the present. "Everything's okay, man." He let his hands slide down Mac and wrap themselves around him, pulling him close. "You did it, Mac, you got me through it."
Don knew that while he had taken the worst of the damage physically, it was Mac who had borne the brunt of the emotional trauma of the bombing. Hell, Don had practically slept through the entire incident...at least as far as his memories of it went. Traumatic retro-something amnesia the doc's had called it. Whatever, thought Don. All it meant to him was that the last thing he remembered before the explosion was walking through some block party, and then it was all a blank until he woke up in hospital a few days later. He wasn't really bothered about losing those few days, it wasn't as if there'd been anything interesting going on for him.
But Mac had had to live through the whole thing. The bombing, the aftermath, the whole watching his lover's guts spill out onto the floor, the sitting and waiting and not knowing whether Don was gonna be okay or not. Don knew that if the positions had been reversed, he'd have gone totally out of his mind from worry. So maybe it was a good thing that he'd been out of it until the worst was over. Don had been told that he'd slipped in and out of consciousness during those first few days, and he could only imagine how freaked out Mac must have been, not knowing if he was gonna live or die.
Don didn't remember anything of those periods. His first clear memory following the blast was opening his eyes in the hospital and hearing Danny flirt unsuccessfully with one of the nurses. Danny had complained to him good-naturedly about his terrible timing, "I swear to you, Flack, another minute and I'd have had her phone number for sure. But then you have to cut your sleeping beauty routine and bat those baby blues of yours and I never stood a chance!" But he'd been relived to see that Don was back in the land of the living again, as was everybody...Mac especially.
Mac had been there for Don throughout everything, the blast, the aftermath...the long slow weeks of his recovery. He'd kept Don sane through his convalescence, making sure he didn't push himself too hard with his physical therapy, getting him back on his feet and back to work as soon as the Doctor's allowed. And Don had vowed to himself to be there for Mac, to get him through the emotional trauma that was just as damaging as any physical injury.
Mac slowly relaxed in Don's strong embrace. He could feel the tension in his body draining away as Don held him and whispered in his ear. "You saved me Mac, you kept your promise. I wouldn't a made it if I hadn't had you there for me. Come on Mac, you're okay, I'm okay, everything's okay."
"I'm okay, Don," said Mac, finally. He looked up into Don's face, the blue eyes so worried looking back at him. "I just...the camera flash...reminded me of the hospital."
"Maybe we shouldn't a started this game," said Don, a worried expression on his face. "Not if it's gonna send you to a bad place. We can do something else." He raised one hand and stroked the side of Mac's face.
"I can't keep avoiding things just because they trigger bad memories," said Mac, with a sigh. "I do that, it'll only get worse. Facing my demons is the only way to defeat them...I learned that the hard way."
Don leaned in and kissed him, "Well just remember...you don't have to face them alone. Long as there's breath in my body, I'm gonna have your back, okay?"
"Okay." Mac returned the kiss and let Don hold him for just a little while longer before pushing him away. "I believe we were in the middle of an important lesson in forensics..."
Don was soon posed on the bed again and asking, "So, observation, pictures...what next?"
"Next, we dust the 'evidence' for prints."
Don looked at Mac suspiciously as he approached him with a brush in one hand and a jar in the other. "Yeah, I'm not too sure about this part, Mac. You know how hard it is to get that powder washed off when it touches skin."
"Don't worry, Don," said Mac as he settled himself astride Don. "I've managed to procure a substitute. It might not be quite as effective...but it should get the job done. Trust me...and lie still..."
"That tickles!" giggled Don, as Mac started brushing the powder all over his chest. He sniffed the air as the brush moved up his body. "Wait a minute...that sort of smells like..."
"Honey dust," said Mac as he lightly brushed the tip of Don's nose, leaving a fine golden sheen behind. "Leaves the skin soft and sensual and smelling of honey. And it has another major advantage over fingerprint powder."
"Oh yeah, and what's that?"
"It tastes a hell of a lot better." Mac bent his head to Don's chest and sucked gently at a nipple, making Don groan with pleasure. "Class dismissed!"
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The End