Spoiler Alert: Spoilers for Seasons 2 & 3, up to and including "Silent Night".
A/N: As requested, some Stella/Flack action. I don't know what it is with me and the ringing of a phone – some deeply rooted issues, I'm sure!
Disclaimer: No infringement of copyright is intended. All characters originated with CSI:NY; all song lyrics are from The Beatles.
It's A Long Journey Home
Chapter 41: Don't Let Me Down
I'm in love for the first time
Don't you know it's going to last
It's a love that lasts forever
It's a love that has no past
Don't let me down
He was drowning. He was dreaming. He was holding Stella in his arms and he was kissing her. Dazed and a little bewildered by how swiftly she had taken charge, he hardly knew how to react.
His body was having no trouble with the concept, though. In fact, the heat was rising a little too quickly for comfort, especially with Stella curled in his lap, a place which was swiftly running out of room for her. His hands came up and cupped her face, slowing the kiss until he could break away and rest his forehead on hers.
"Stella," his voice rasped as he struggled to gain control over himself at least, if not the situation.
She moved closer to him, and kissed him again. He gave in to her a moment, then tried again. "Stella, talk to me." He had to clear his throat to get his voice to work at all.
"I really don't want to talk," she said, sulkily.
He looked at her mouth, with her lower lip pouting, just begging for a kiss, and with a strangled groan he sank back into her, nipping her lip with his teeth, then soothing the sting with his tongue. "Talk to me," he whispered again.
"You said you wanted to …" she stopped and a flush washed over her face. "Don, I'm sorry. I thought …" She struggled to get out his arms, turning her face away in chagrin.
He locked his arms around her and captured her mouth with his again, exploring her with lips and tongue until he felt her relax.
"Does this feel like I don't want to?" He pulled her even closer. "But I meant it when I said I was willing to go slow. Are we in some kinda rush here?" He swept one finger down her throat, across her collarbone, then down her arm until his hand was entwined with hers, bringing it up to his lips to kiss it.
Stella looked at him, her breathing a little fast, the flush receding to just her cheeks. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, and Don began to worry about stopping her. He brushed his free hand across her cheek, and kissed first one eye, then the other, tasting the salt of her tears on his lips.
"Stella, talk to me." He was one breath from begging on his knees, although he wasn't sure whether he was begging for talk or sex.
"I haven't been … touched, held, since Frankie …" her voice was so low he could hardly hear it.
"I know," he said quietly, moving slightly so that she was tucked up against him more comfortably. Talking was good, he tried to tell the over-sexed adolescent presently inhabiting parts of his body. He wanted more, much more, than a quick tumble and a lifetime of questions and regret. Talking was the mature route to go.
But, God, he burned for her.
"Except by you." She looked at him, a tear running down her cheek. Gently, he wiped it away. "Remember? We were in the hospital room, and you hugged me. And kissed me on the cheek."
Her hand, still linked with his, rose to her cheek, as if she could still feel the kiss on it. "I wanted you to know I was there for you." He said it softly.
"You were the only one who touched me. Everyone else held back. Like they were afraid that I would break if they touched me. And for a long time, I didn't really want anyone to touch me, or come too close."
She sat up a little, and wrapped her hands around his face as she came very close and whispered, "Except you. I think I wanted you to touch me, Don." She rubbed her lips over his, as if enjoying the texture. Her hands moved into his hair, and her mouth was on his again. He lost his sight along with his breath; all he could see was stars.
"Stay," she breathed into his mouth. "Stay with me."
Don gave up the struggle. His hands sought out warm, firm flesh. She gasped when his mouth closed on her throat, sucking and licking his way down to the swell of her breasts. She arched into his kisses, her head falling back to allow him better access.
Slowly, tantalizingly, he explored her, one hand easing under her t-shirt to stretch over her slender ribs, marveling at how much of her his hand covered. The other hand tangled in her hair, loosening it from the ponytail she had pulled it into quickly earlier that evening when Hawkes had called. Don wrapped the loose strands around his hand and pulled her head back to feast again on her throat, his tongue tickling the pulse beating wildly under her jaw.
Moaning as the heat rose, Stella pulled away from him, smiling into his face as a hint of dismay flashed over it. With one move, she pulled off her t-shirt. She slid her hands under the NYPD sweatshirt Don had showed up at the station in, and slowly pushed it over his head until they were skin to skin.
With an appreciative murmur, he unclasped her bra, filling his hands with her breasts, rubbing his thumbs over her erect nipples, then dipping his head to run his tongue over first one then the other. She shuddered as he blew a stream of warm breath over her, then pulled his mouth back to hers.
"Oh God, Stella," he whispered against her mouth, "Do you have any idea what you are doing to me?"
"Show me," she breathed back, with a wicked laugh, and let her fingers wander up his thigh, shifting her body slightly as she did to evaluate the evidence.
He grinned, sliding a hand up between her thighs as her eyes widened. "Let me show you."
They both froze as a phone ringtone broke the tension, sending them scrambling for their phones, attached as usual to their waistbands. Entangled as they were, it was easier to grab each other's than their own.
"Not yours," Don groaned as he looked Stella's phone.
"I'm sorry," she whispered as she handed him his.
"I'm on call." He flipped open his phone and hit the callback button as Stella slid off his lap and pulled her t-shirt back over her head. He watched her with suppressed agony as she turned away from him, running a hand through her hair and looking suddenly embarrassed. He reached a hand out for her and pulled her back down onto the couch beside him as he bit out a few questions, then sighed. "Be there in," he checked his watch and calculated times, "thirty minutes. Call in CSI and Traffic Control."
He put his arms around her and just held her tight, his face burrowing in her neck, breathing heavily. "I'm sorry. Accident on the freeway – ten car pile up; everyone in."
Stella nodded. "Do you need me?"
He groaned a little, then laughed, "Desperately, but not at the scene. You are off this shift."
She smacked him on the shoulder, then kissed the sting away. "I didn't mean that."
"I know, but I did. Stay here, Stella. Have a bath, watch a movie, sleep, go shopping. You need a day off." He smoothed her hair back from her face, tugging it gently until she looked at him. "You need to think. I'll be back, if you want me to be."
"Come back," she murmured as she ran her hands over his shoulders and down his chest, causing him to catch his breath and groan again. "Come back soon."
He grabbed her hands and turned them up to his mouth, kissing first one palm, then the other. "I'll be back as soon as I can. I'll bring food and we'll talk, okay?"
She leaned close and said in his ear, "There's really only one thing I want to hear you say."
He closed his eyes, and croaked out, "What?"
He nearly lost it then and there when she whispered in his ear, "I'm coming!" with the appropriate catch in her breathing.
"You are very wicked, Stella Bonasera." He grinned and caught her mouth with his, teasing her with his tongue until her eyes were cloudy and unfocused.
"I think I like that about you," he whispered into her mouth.
By the time he got to the scene, he was under control, as long as he did not let his thoughts drift to Stella in any way. The scene was a particularly horrific one, and no one thought twice about the bite in Don's voice as he took control of the situation, organizing rescue teams to get the injured out of cars, dealing with confused and angry witnesses with his usual brusque efficiency.
He was moving towards the final car, which had flipped and was precariously rocking on its side, when he heard a scream. "Help me! Help me!" He sprinted towards the car and saw a woman in the driver's seat, tangled in the seat belt, bleeding from a head wound and thrashing around, panic-stricken.
"Ma'am? Ma'am! You have to stay still. You're going to make the car roll. I'm here – we'll get you out." Even yelling to get over the noises of the accident, Don's voice was confident and soothing, and the woman stopped struggling immediately.
"Not me. The baby. Find the baby!" She gasped out.
"Both of you. We'll take care of both of you, I promise! Hey, over here!" Don motioned to the nearest team, and told them to secure the car. A quick glance in the car had shown no evidence of a baby, not even a car seat. Still talking patiently to the woman trapped in the car, he started to search the area around the car, getting closer to the hill on the side of the split level freeway, hoping to find something before he got there. Nothing.
The woman's voice was getting more and more frantic, but there was a full team dealing with her, so Don concentrated on finding the baby. There was only one more place to look, and he went over the verge without any more doubt that what he was looking for, if it existed, was down a 20 foot embankment. He scrambled down, sliding on his hands, knees and sometimes rear, searching as he went, stopping every few minutes to listen in the hopes that the baby was still able to cry. Above him, he could hear the sirens and bustle of a major rescue operation. Below him, he could hear the sounds of traffic; the freeway split into two levels through this section, cars streaming in one direction in two lanes.
He made it to the bottom of the incline, and started scanning the side of the road, still hoping to hear a baby's cry over the much louder traffic noise down this close to the road. He looked back up, trying to gauge how close he was to the original accident; he had gone slightly off track in trying to get down the hill. He turned and walked back, facing the cars, all senses on the alert for a car seat with a baby.
Suddenly, he heard the squealing of brakes, and looked up in horror to see a toddler walking into the middle of the road. Before he could consciously decide what to do, Don's feet were off and running, with the rest of him trying to catch up. He snatched the child inches, it seemed, in front of a car, and spun to run back towards the safety of the side of the road. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the horrified face of a woman whose day had gone swiftly to shit, and sprinted, child in his arms, straight off the road into the ditch, rolling onto his back to protect him.
He lay there, panting, eyes closed, arms wrapped around the tiny warm body. He felt a hand patting his cheek, and opened his eyes to stare straight into the grinning face of a two-year-old boy whose eyes were alight with mischief.
"Do it again! Fly again!"
A/N: Okay, I usually research things pretty carefully, but in this case, I needed the freeway into NYC to be a split level for the plot, so I arbitrarily made it that way. Apologies to any readers who believe in authenticity!