DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER OWN SAMANTHA FLACK AND BABY KIERAN
A/N: This is a past chap. My crazy muse is bugging me to write some past stuff, so here's the start of it. Hope you all enjoy!
Twenty sleeps
"I won't ask for much this Christmas
I won't even wish for snow
I'm just gonna keep on waiting
Underneath the mistletoe
I won't make a list and send it
To the North Pole for Saint Nick
I won't even stay awake to
Hear those magic reindeer click
'Cause I just want you here tonight
Holding on to me so tight
What more can I do
Baby all I want for Christmas is you
All the lights are shining
So brightly everywhere
And the sound of children's
Laughter fills the air
And everyone is singing
Santa won't you bring me
the one I really need -
won't you please bring my baby to me…"
-All I Want for Christmas Is You, Mariah Carey
A steady snow fell on New York City. Since the calendar had turned over to December 1st, the temperatures had failed to make it above freezing and the skies had opened up and showered the city with over four inches of the white stuff. Three days of on and off snow and even more on the long range forecast. City plows and salt trucks worked over time to keep the streets and sidewalks driver and pedestrian friendly. Kids were kept home from school for three days in a row and spent their mornings and afternoons tobogganing and causing havoc by pelting unsuspecting drivers with snow balls.
The bad weather did not hamper the Christams spirit, that besieged the city the minute the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade rolled out their last float. Brightly colored lights adorned trees and lamp posts and the department stores in Manhattan were just beginning to make preparations to set up their famed window displays. The Rockefeller tree would be lit up in a matter of a week in one of the most anticipated events. Every year it was made into a huge deal and thousands of people showed up to enjoy it and take in the light displays and do a little skating.
Flack had plans. It was his son's first Christmas and he was going to make sure that Kieran didn't miss out, whether he knew what was going on or not. Last week, he'd found hockey skates that fit the ten month old. As long as he stuffed a balled up face cloth in each of the toes and did them up really tight, those skates would stay on Kieran's feet. Flack had decided that as a family, they'd all attend the tree lighting ceremony and then he'd personally teach his son how to skate. That kid was going to be a hockey player if his determined father had anything to do about it. Sam had just shrugged her shoulders when he'd told her about their plans and showed her the skates and said 'Whatever floats your boat, Don.'
Apparently, what floated his boat and what floated hers were two entirely separate things. Because now, after managing a lousy two hours of sleep following a gruelling triple shift that saw him wandering into the house dead tired at five thirty in the afternoon, Flack now found himself searching for a parking spot in the crowded lot of the new Target store in Harlem. It sat right next to FDR Drive at East 119th and was a closer drive than the one they frequented in Marble Hill.
He'd made the mistake of promising his wife that he'd accompany her Christmas shopping. On one of the many pilgrimages to hell she had planned. She was ademant she couldn't get it all done in one night and at one store. Only highlight of this Target was that it sat on top of a Home Depot. Now if he could just convince her that the needed home renovation supplies for an apartment they didn't own….
Instead she had a list a half a page long of places she needed to go and people she needed to buy for. And at least a half dozen gift ideas for each person. And if that wasn't enough, she had over three dozen cards she planned on personally signing and mailing out. Flack had asked her why she didn't just send e-cards to everyone and she'd given him a look that clearly meant she thought he was insane for even suggesting such a thing. It wasn't Christmas she had said without sending cards in the mail. As if that was the most logical answer. He'd just held up his hands and surrender and told her whatever she wanted to do was fine with him.
She was taking him far more literally than he had hoped she would. Because no sooner did he settle down into a deep, peaceful sleep after tossing and turning for the first hour and half thanks to a kid in the next room that would just not calm down with the ear piercing, nerve grating shrieking, his wife was shaking him awake and dropping the baby on the bed beside him and announcing it was time to go.
Only love would see Don Flack out on a Friday night in the midst of snow and blustering winds and bone chilling temperatures. Love and a little bit of temporary insanity brought on by lack of sleep. A thirty minute drive into Marble Hill and another twenty minutes of circling the parking lot looking for a space that wasn't a mile away from the front doors. Eventually he gave up looking for something remotely close and dropped Sam and the baby off at the entrance before finding a spot in the farthest, darkest corner of the lot.
By the time Flack got into the store and managed to hunt his wife down in the sea of people, Sam had Kieran sitting and securely buckled in the front of the shopping cart. His hat and mitts and coat peeled off, leaving him in just his snow pants, boots and pyjamas. It took Flack a couple seconds to even realize that his son was in navy blue flannelet jammies boasting Lightning McQueen from the movie Cars. He shook his head at the sight and turned a curious, confused glance to his wife who was peeling off her own coat.
"Don't tell me you're in your pyjamas too," he said.
"Very funny," Sam scoffed, tossing her jacket into the cart. "I just figured if we're late getting out of here and he's asleep when we get home, all we'll have to do is peel off his snowsuit and boots and what not and drop him in bed. We won't have to worry about waking him up trying to get him in pyjamas."
"Makes sense," he said with a nod, unzipping his own coat. "So where do we go first?" he asked, looking around at the sheer madness that awaited them.
It was wall to wall people and unbelievable craziness. Loud Christmas carols were being piped into the store from large overhead speakers and every where you looked there were lights and decorations and employees walking around dressed as elves. Screaming kids with runny noses and parents scolding them for throwing temper tantrums for wanting toys and candy that they couldn't have come hell or high water. Flack gave it all of ten minutes before the start of a migraine afflicted him.
And maybe another ten before Kieran caught site of the in store McDonalds and pitched a fit over Chicken McNuggets. He may have been only ten months old, but the kid was damn smart and Flack was pretty sure, based on the wailing Kieran would do if they drove past a McDonalds and didn't stop, that he knew what the golden arches were. It's what happened when you introduced your child at way too early of an age to French fries dipped in sweet and sour sauce. And Flack only had himself to blame.
"You push and I'll lead," Sam said, pulling a list from the pocket of her jeans, and weaving her way through the sea of people.
"Women," Flack mumbled. Knowing full well that he'd be lucky to be leaving that store with only one cart full of whatever crap his wife deemed necessary for the holidays.
Kieran was in sensory overload. His blue eyes wide in both shock and interest at all the sights and sounds around him. Head turning left and right trying to get everything in. Shrieking and pointing to things that really caught his attention. Clapping his hands and babbling in sheer delight of it all. His new word as of late was 'dat'. He'd point or gesture to something and yell 'Dat!' at the top of his lungs. And wouldn't stop until you told him exactly what THAT was. No sooner did you get one thing out of your mouth, he was finding something else that sparked his interest.
Two feet into the Christmas decorations aisle and an employee dressed as Mrs Clause was carrying a huge red basket and handing out miniature candy canes. She passed Sam one and handed Flack two. He unwrapped his own and popped it into his mouth.
"Dat!" Kieran exclaimed, reaching out for the treat poking out of his father's mouth. "Dah-dee…dat!"
"Please don't give him a candy cane," Sam implored, turning in time to see her husband peeling the plastic off of the third treat.
"Why?" he asked. "It won't hurt him. I'm right here. Even if he does manage to bite a piece off, I won't let him choke."
"I'd just rather he didn't have it," she reasoned, and turned back to the display of Christmas stockings she was checking out.
Flack frowned. By this time, his ten month old son was bouncing up and down in the shopping cart and near tears as he begged for the candy. "Here," he said, just loud enough for Kieran to hear him. "Try some of this." He held his own candy cane to his son's lips. The baby licked it apprehensively a few times, then deciding he liked it, firmly latched his lips around it.
"It's all yours kid," Flack said, and helped himself to the third minty treat.
Kieran garbled a response and wrapped a small fist around the candy cane. Giggling as his father, leaning against the handle of the buggy, made funny faces at him.
"You listen well," Sam commented, as she tossed a stocking into the cart. It was large and made of light blue satin with dark blue velvet trim and what looked to Flack like a picture of a baby reindeer with the words Baby's First Christmas embroidered on it.
"It's a candy cane," he told her. "What will happen to him? Come on, you can't have Christmas without candy canes. Don't be such a damn scrooge."
"I was thinking more about how much sugar is in that thing and what it's going to do to his teeth if I can't get them brushed tonight."
"You're obsessed, Sam. He's ten months old. He doesn't need his teeth brushed five times a day. It's not going to kill him to not get them done tonight."
"I'll remember that when you're shelling out your co-pay to get his teeth cleaned and cavities drilled and filled up when he's six."
"You've got issues woman," he teased. "Watch it or I'll run you over with the cart and find somewhere to ditch your body."
"You would just love that," she said. "Now which one do you want?" she asked.
"Which one what?" he responded.
"Stocking. You need a stocking."
"Why?"
"Because it's Christmas," she said exasperatedly.
"We didn't get stockings last year," he reminded her.
"We didn't have time to really celebrate Christmas last year," she pointed out. "We were too busy spending Christmas Eve and Day at a hotel celebrating getting married."
"Best two days of my life," Flack declared. "Even if we didn't get to actually, you know, consummate the marriage."
"We had done enough consummating long before that. I was too pregnant for that, remember? And why are we even talking about this in the middle of Target?"
He shrugged. "You brought it up. And no stocking. I don't need one."
"Yes, you do," she insisted. "All three of us are having stockings. It's our first Christmas as a family. I want it to be perfect."
"And it will be," he assured her. "But a stocking? I don't need one. I haven't had one since I was a kid."
She sighed and snatched up a plain red satin stocking with white and green trim at the top and at the toe and heel. "Well now you have one," she said.
"Wait," he said, stopping her before she toss it into the basket. "I'd rather the plain blue one. Goes better with my eyes."
She smirked and replaced the red for the blue. And helped herself to a light pink number with purple and silver beading in the shape of a poinsettia on the front of it. She tossed both of them into the cart. "You know," she said. "You're lucky I love you."
"Yeah?" he bumped her playfully with the cart. "Ask me, you're the lucky one. Finding a guy to drag to Target and put up with all of this crazy ass bullshit when the Rangers are on."
She stuck her tongue out at him over her shoulder.
"Don't tease me," he said. "Don't show it if you're not planning on using it. I have told you that so many times."
"If you're a good boy, I just may use it," she told him. "Now help me pick stuff out."
He groaned inwardly. That was the worst thing she could have said. Because he just had no clue what looked nice when it came to stuff like that. He looked down at Kieran. Who was doing an admirable job creating a hell of a mess with his candy cane. His face and his hands coated in red and green sticky crap.
"Donnie?" Sam asked.
"Hmm?" his head snapped up to look at her.
"Did you hear me?"
"I heard something about helping you pick stuff out," he said, reaching into the cart for Kieran's knapsack.
Unzipping it, he found the Pampers Clean and Go wipes and tore two from the package and set to work attempting to pry the candy cane from his son's hands in order to clean him up. Kieran rebelled, shrieking in protest and tossing his head back and swinging it from side to side in a vain attempt to avoid the wipe headed straight for his face. Kid was small, but he put up a hell of a fight.
"What do you like?" Sam asked, watching the power struggle between father and son.
"Whatever you like," Flack replied.
She frowned.
"I'm a guy, Sam. Guys don't get into this stuff. All I ask is that there's not too much pink. Other than that, go to town. Get whatever you want. I'm not picky. You like it, that's good enough for me. Okay?"
"Okay," she agreed with a heavy sigh.
"I'm just here to pay for it and carry all the bags when we get home," Flack added, winning the battle of wits against his ten month old son and finally managing to get Kieran's face and hands clean. Much tears and one very snotty nose later, Kieran was not a happy camper. And showed his displeasure for his father by blowing a loud raspberry at him.
Sam giggled.
"He's learning all this from you, isn't he," Flack laughed. "All this bad stuff."
"Mom-ee," Kieran said, pointing at the familiar face next to the cart.
"See," Flack said to his wife. "He even ratted you out."
"You both love me," she declared, and went on with her shopping.
Flack watched her. The way her hair glistened in the lights and the way she furrowed her brow in concentration when she checked something out and the way she pursed her lips when attempting to make a decision between two separate products.
And standing there, in the midst of all the craziness and noise, their son in front him, he thought of how he'd never known what love really was until he met her. What it was like to find joy in the simple things. To laugh at their baby's antics and share their dreams and hopes for the future. Comfort each other during the darker, more trying times. Love each other in the middle of the night or the wee morning hours, revelling in the soft sighs and moans that escaped their lips. Losing themselves in each other.
Life hadn't existed until he met her. He'd been an empty shell of a man just making a living. Taking things day by day. She'd given him a future. A family.
And she would never know how grateful he was for that. Or how much he really did love her. Because there was simply no words that could come close to what he actually felt for her.
"I love you," he said, right there in the middle of the busy aisle. Not caring who heard it.
She turned and smiled. She didn't need to say it. It was all there in her eyes.
And that was good enough for him.
It wasn't exactly Home Depot, but Flack figured the electronics section was better than nothing. So while his wife grabbed her own shopping cart to fill to the brim with toys and clothes and whatever else she crossed paths with that she was certain Kieran could not go without, he and his son headed for the other side of the store with their own cart full of various Christmas items.
Kieran was immediately drawn to the massive display of DVDS featuring his two favourite programs in the world. Baby Einstein and some British show called In the Night Garden that featured bizarre characters whose names that Flack couldn't pronounce and a premise that he swore you needed to be tripping out on acid to even understand. Ten months old and the kid had a bigger DVD selection than most adults. Every Disney title imaginable, every Baby Einstein out on the market and now this new show that he couldn't get enough of.
And Kieran was determined that they were not going past that display without something for himself thrown in the cart. Flack tried explaining, patiently and calmly, as Kieran helped himself to several different titles, that he already had each one of them at home and he didn't need two of everything. But it was hard arguing with a ten month old that didn't understand what you were saying and only saw you as the meanest person on the face of the earth because you were saying no constantly. So to avoid his son having a massive temper tantrum in the middle of Target and to prevent himself from either being humiliated by strangers watching their arguing or losing his temper completely on the baby, Flack gave in and thankfully managed to find one Kieran hadn't seen yet.
The little boy clutched the yet to be purchased DVD to his chest as if it was the most treasured possession in the entire world. Until he started chewing on the corner of the plastic case in a vain attempt to relieve some of the aching in his gums brought on by the erupting of two molars just days before. Flack reached into the knapsack and got out the sippy cup of milk that Sam had thankfully remembered to pack before they left the house and replaced the DVD with the drink without too much complaint from his son.
Accepting his role as father was still sometimes a daily struggle. It was hard working the hours he did and finding both the time and the energy for his little family. Despite working a triple shift on little to almost no sleep, once midnight hit he was back on call again. Mixed in with the pressures of trying to get his wife pregnant and clock quality time with her and the baby, his nerves and patience were on short supply. And he hated the idea of taking out his frustrations by getting nasty with either of them.
Because Sam worked damn hard too. Taking care of Kieran was a full time job in itself and she was starting to bring in more and more hours all the time at the lab. His main desire was for her to stay home and be a full time mom. But the one and only time he'd expressed that idea to her, it nearly caused a nasty blow out. She accused him of trying to control her by keeping her all but locked up in the house with the baby, when really his only main concern was that he'd rather her with Kieran more than working and having him in day care or with his parents. Her argument was that they needed her money to survive as well, and if she managed to get pregnant, she needed to clock as many hours as possible to secure a decent amount of money for her maternity leave.
Money. It always came down to money and he hated that. Because she could have stayed off longer using the money she'd gotten from Zack's will and from the sale of the house in Arizona. And there was a large chunk of that cash collecting interest in a savings account that they planned on using when they were ready to buy a house. They'd also started another account for Kieran that they each put a hundred bucks per pay in on top of some money from the will that hopefully would help pay for some of their son's education when it came time to consider college. It was a long way off, but there'd be some serious Benjamins in there once he turned eighteen.
Flack guessed that it wasn't really a matter of money that prevented his wife from staying home. It was the fact that she just loved her job a little too much and wasn't ready to let go of that last bit of independence that working provided her with. And, as she always said, having a job was her only shred of a social life. The people there were her 'family' and she'd die if she didn't get to see them and talk to them on a regular basis. He'd gently reminded her that they were her friends regardless of whether she saw them or talked to them every day, but she'd said it wasn't the same thing and he just didn't understand.
Men never understood anything. It was another lesson he'd learned in the past year of being a married man. They never understood and they weren't sensitive or romantic enough. Her three main complaints. Married life certainly was an experience and a half. And he'd never once regretted his decision to give up his old single life for the one he had now.
Now if only there was some kind of magic potion that could create more hours in the day so he could get as much family time crammed in as possible.
He was checking out the iPods and MP3 players when out of the corner of his eye, he saw an elderly sidle up to the cart and start gushing over Kieran and how cute he was and what a sweetie he was to be sitting there so quietly like a good little girl…
Flack's head snapped to the side to fix her with a cold glare. A good little girl? What in the hell…
Sam had been saying for months now that Kieran needed a haircut. It was over his ears and nearly to the nape of his neck at the back and she'd been using scissors to trim his bangs to keep them out of his eyes. Flack had been adamant about not touching the kid's hair. It was silky and near black and damn amazing. It sounded arrogant to say, but the kid was just plain gorgeous with that hair and his blue eyes and porcelain skin.
"Your daughter is just beautiful," the woman told him.
"He's a boy," Flack snapped.
The elderly woman blinked. Looked at father, than at the son. "Well he's a very pretty little boy," she said, and walked away.
Crazy bitch, Flack thought and glanced at his son. None the wiser that he'd just been mortally insulted. His only concern was that cup of milk in one hand and playing with the straps on his snow pants with the other hand. How in the hell does he look like a girl? I mean, he's wearing Cars pyjamas. What girl wears Cars pyjamas?
He shook his head at the woman's stupidity. And decided that first thing in the morning, he was taking his kid for a hair cut.
He stopped at the very back of the department. Where the video games and systems were kept under lock in key. He figured, if his wife was off buying whatever her little heart desired, treating himself to something wasn't the end of the world. So he flagged down an employee and in ten minutes was heading to the cash register with a Nintendo Wii and a dozen games. He knew that such a risky move would probably have him sleeping on the couch for the next half century, but he figured he'd always have video games to keep him pacified on the cold, lonely nights. Either that, or is only saving grace would be the fact that his wife was desperate for a baby and she'd keep giving in until she got pregnant and than his services would no longer be required.
Those were risks he was willing to take as he signed that credit card slip handed to him by the cashier, who bagged up the Wii and the games and Kieran's movie and wished them a very Merry Christmas.
"Donnie? Donnie Flack?"
He hadn't gotten a foot out of the electronics department when a female voice was calling to him through the insanity of the store. He glanced over his shoulder in time to see a familiar face, albeit she was a little older and a tad bit heavier than the last time he'd seen her nearly eight years ago. But the sparkling green eyes were the same, as was the warm smile that greeted him as she hurried towards him. Pushing her way through the crowd, an overloaded shopping cart in front of her.
"Andrea?" he asked, finding himself embraced warmly and both his cheeks kissed by Gavin Moran's wife.
"I wasn't entirely sure it was you," she said, holding him at arms length with one hand while the other found his hair. "I didn't recognize you with short hair."
"Or all the grey," he added with a laugh. "What are you doing here? Doesn't the Bronx have their own Target?"
"They do. But we haven't lived there in a couple years. Gavin and I bought a brownstone on the lower west side of Manhattan about three years ago now. With the girls permanently out of the house and with families of their own, we didn't need something so big anymore. How are you? Are you keeping well?"
"Not bad. I had a bit of rough times a few years ago, but it's behind me."
She nodded knowingly. "The bombing...Gav and I wanted to come and see you in the hospital so many times but he was worried how you'd react to seeing him. You know, considering…"
Her voice trailed off and Flack didn't know what to say. Thankfully, Andrea changed the subject by stepping around him and going to the cheerful, babbling baby sitting in the cart drinking his sippy cup of milk.
"He's adorable," she gushed, smiling at the child and running a hand over the baby's fine nearly black hair. She took in the dimples in the cheeks and big blue eyes framed by impossibly long dark lashes. "One of your brother's little ones?" she asked. "I always thought they just had the two and stopped there. It's nice of you taking your nephew out. Especially to a crazy place like this."
"Actually," Flack said. "He's not my nephew. He's my son."
"Oh," Andrea's eyes widened in surprise and she looked from the baby to Flack and than back again.
"His name's Kieran," Flack said. "He'll be a year old at the end of January."
"Your son?" Andrea asked. "So is this someone you're with in a serious thing or was it something that just happened or.."
"I got married a year ago," Flack told her. "Well, almost a year ago."
"You what?" she asked in shock, than grabbed his left hand to look for proof in the way of a wedding band. Sure enough, there was one there. "I'm sorry, Donnie..it's just that…last time I saw you at my place you weren't exactly looking for Mrs Right. More like Mrs Right Now. And you were always telling me and Gav that there was no way in hell you were getting married or having kids. So I just assumed.."
"It's okay," he assured her, sensing her embarrassment. "Honestly, Andrea, getting married and having a family was a pretty huge shock for me, too. But I met someone and things happened really quick between us and well…here I am."
"Here you are," she said with a bright smile. "You happy? You look happy."
"Insanely, disgustingly happy," he told her. "It's not all sunshine and roses, but we work hard at it and we stick by one another a hundred percent. She's my entire world," he smiled at his son and pressed a kiss to Kieran's forehead. "They both are, actually."
Andrea smiled broadly and reached up to touch his face softly. "Always knew you had it in you to be a great father and husband, Donnie."
"I don't know about great," he said. "But I try damn hard."
"I'm sure your bride has no complaints or she wouldn't be with you. How did you meet?"
"She's a CSI. She came here to work from Arizona and we met at the lab. Month and a half into things we found out we were having the little guy and we were married by the end of last year."
Flack could only imagine how insane that sounded to people when he told them how Sam and him had met and how rapidly things had progressed. He saw the looks people got on their faces. Those doubting, disbelieving looks. Where you just knew that they were thinking there was no way in hell a marriage like that would last very long. He was tired of defending himself and his choices to everyone. And didn't care if they believed him when he said how much in love he had been right from the start. That was his business. But in Andrea, he saw understanding. And acceptance. Something he'd never gotten from even his own folks.
"Well judging by how absolutely gorgeous this little button is," Andrea gushed as she tickled Kieran's soft, rosy cheeks and his freckle splattered nose. "She must be something else. Can I meet her? Is she here?"
"She's here somewhere," Flack said. "Last I saw of her she was heading to the t-o-y section."
Andrea laughed. "Someone must go crazy in the t-o-y section."
"He wants everything and anything he can get his hands on. And he's little, but trust me, he doesn't take no for an answer. Gets that from his mother."
"I heard that," Sam said, as she came up from behind her husband and curled an arm around his waist. Smiling as he dropped a kiss on the top of her head.
"So you're the one that somehow managed to tame Donnie Flack," Andrea said with a bright smile.
"It's an ongoing process," Sam quipped.
"Andrea, this is my wife, Samantha," Flack introduced, the pride and love evident in his voice and in his eyes. "Sam, this is Andrea Moran. I've mentioned her before. She's married to Gavin Moran, by training officer."
"Donnie's mentioned the two of you many times," Sam said, as the two women shook hands warmly.
"All good I hope," Andrea said with a slight laugh.
"It was," Sam assured her.
Although he'd mostly shared stories about what a great cop Moran had been and a father figure to him when his own old man was such a bastard, Flack had also told her about the incident that had forced Moran into an early retirement. Sam had understood in a way why Gavin Moran had made the choices he had. That was his son, illegitimate or not, and blood was thicker than water. What irked her a little was that he had kept a secret life. A wife and two girls at home and someone else on the side. And that there were so many cops who did the same thing. And wives that just sat back and took it.
"I was just telling Donnie how beautiful your son is," Andrea said.
"Thank you," Sam beamed. "He was a bit of a surprise but he's the light of our lives."
"He's adorable," Andrea told her. "Looks just like his daddy. I remember you wearing your hair long like that, Donnie."
"That's a long time ago," Flack said. "Is Gavin here?"
"He stayed home with the grand kids."
Flack arched an eyebrow. "Grand kids, huh?"
"Six of them. Can you believe that? My girls have three each. No twins. Both of them got married right out of college to boys they met while they were there. Back living in New York. Diana works as a buyer for Bergdorf's and Vickie works for the Port Authority. Both their husbands are brokers. So they're doing alright for themselves."
"That's good," Flack said. "It's been a long time. I wondered where all of you had gotten to."
"Well we have been in the phone book, Donnie. Even after we moved."
He nodded. "I know. I just wasn't sure if I should call. You know, in light of how things went down…"
Andrea laid her hand on his arm. "It wasn't your fault than and it wasn't your fault now. Okay? No one ever hated you or blamed you for anything. I told Gavin to just get on the phone and give you a shout so many times."
"Sam said the same thing," Flack told her. "When we were getting married she said that I should call and see if you guys wanted to come. I mean, it was just a small thing with six other guests and a J.P. but…"
"We would have been there," Andrea said. "But that's water under the bridge now, isn't it."
He nodded.
"I should go. I have lots of things to get done and Gav will go nuts if he's left alone with the kiddies for too long. It was nice to meet you, Samantha."
"You too," the younger woman said and offered her hand again.
"Friends don't shake hands," Andrea told her, and gathered the petite brunette into a tight hug. "You take good care of this guy, okay? Keep him in line."
"I will," Sam said with a laugh. "So far he's behaving himself."
"Keep him scared of you and it will all run nice and smooth," Andrea teased and turned to Flack and hugged him as well. "It was nice seeing, you, Donnie. Take care of your lovely family. I'm so happy the way things turned out for you."
"Thanks," he said, returning the hug. "Tell Gavin I said hello."
"Like I said," Andrea walked backwards towards her buggy. "We're in the book. I mean, you have a phone, don't you?"
Flack nodded.
"Use it," she said with a wink and turned her back to them and walked away.
"She seems really nice," Sam commented, watching the older woman go before turning her attention to Kieran. And peering into the shopping cart.
She arched an eyebrow at the Target bag sitting on top of items that still needed to be purchased. Knowing that her husband must have bought something in the electronics section. It was the only department that made you buy items before going into another part of the store.
"She is," Flack said, and turned around in time to see his wife peeking into the bag.
"And who would this be for?" Sam inquired, a grin spreading across her face.
He smiled sheepishly. "Daddy's need to have some fun too," he reasoned.
"I agree. And you'll be having lots of it while you and your Wii are getting acquainted while you're sleeping on the couch."
"See, I knew you were going to say that. Because I know you so well, babe. And I got to thinking that you will never banish me to the couch."
"Really?" she asked, opening Kieran's knapsack and taking out a small package of animal crackers, popping one into her mouth before handing one to her son. "And what made you think that?"
"Because you want a baby. Badly. And you need my help to do it."
"Danny's always available," Sam said, catching the sippy cup before Kieran could send it flying in favour of eating a cookie. "I mean, I'm sure his sperm is just fine. And he's always willing and raring to go."
Flack frowned. "Over my dead body."
"That can be arranged," Sam said, helping herself to another animal cracker. "And the next time you leave the seat up and I fall in at two in the morning, so help me God, I will dismember your body and they will never find all the pieces."
"Be quiet," Flack told her, leaning over the shopping cart, Kieran pressed between them as he kissed her softly. "You love me."
"You wish. I merely tolerate you most days."
"Likewise," he said with a grin and kissed her longer this time. "Now can we go? Where's the buggy? Are you finished yet?"
"I had to leave it in another aisle that wasn't so busy. And I need to grab a couple more things."
He sighed and checked his watch. "Make it quick and I may be able to catch the whole third period."
She rolled her eyes. "Just for that, you are not getting laid tonight."
"Yes, I am," he declared confidently as she started off down the aisle. "You don't know how to say no."
"You just watch me," she said and disappeared into the crowd.
Kieran was turning this way and that, looking into the cart, in between his legs. Than turned a despondant, dejected face up at his father.
"She took the cookies didn't she," Flack said.
"Mom-ee," Kieran told him, and blew a noisy raspberry.
"There's something you need to know about women, kid," Flack said to his son, pushing the cart in the direction his wife had gone. "They're crazy and unpredictable. They get off on driving us insane and teasing us until we think we're going nuts and can't take it anymore. They take up too many shelves in the bathroom for all their girlie crap. They spray perfume on the bed sheets and paint their nails on the couch. They spend outrageous amounts of money on crap they don't need and bitch at us for not being romantic or sensitive enough. And you know what?"
Kieran stared up at his dad with big blue eyes. Listening intently.
"We love them and couldn't live without them."
It had been a long time since Sam could just sit in the tub with the lights dimmed and candles lit and a glass of wine. A little pampering suggestion Stella had offered up when Sam had said having a than six week old who breastfed ever two and a half to three hours and a new husband working unpredictable hours was beginning to drive her insane. Of course, back than the wine had to be substituted for decaf tea, but the premise was the same.
So it had been music to her ears when after peeling winter clothes off of a sleeping Kieran and depositing him successfully into his crib without waking him, her husband had told her to take off and take some time for herself while he put all the bags away and tidied up the supper dishes that were still sitting on the kitchen counter. And it was an even nicer surprise when he walked in the bathroom with a glass of wine and a sly smile as he took away the tea she had taken in there. Saying that there was enough milk in the fridge that he'd be able to feed the baby by bottle, if, by some fluke, he decided to wake up for something to drink in the middle of the night.
She stayed in there as long as she could. Taking out the plug and refilling the tub with hot water each time the temperature cooled down. Sipping the wine slowly and closing her mind off to thoughts of anything work related. All she wanted to do was relax and think happy thoughts for a change. Forget about the problems in the world and stop in her desire to fix everything.
An hour later, when her skin just couldn't take anymore, she called it a night and drained out the water and washed her hair. Tying it up in a towel, she dried herself off and smeared rose scented body lotion from head to toe and climbed into a warm pair of flannel pyjamas. The apartment was nice, but freezing as hell most nights.
The lights were off in the apartment save for the glow coming off of the television and the hundreds of miniature, multicoloured Christmas lights that sparkled on the faux Christmas tree that her husband had taken upon himself to assemble and put lights on while she was in the tub. Baby gates situated around the tree to keep Kieran away and out of trouble.
"You like?" Flack asked, from where he now sat on the couch, legs stretched out, feet propped on the coffee table.
"It's beautiful," she replied, leaning over the couch to kiss him, long and soft, before sitting down beside him. "You didn't have to, baby."
"I wanted to. It didn't take long and I know how you said the worst part was putting up all the lights. So I figured, take some time and get that done and than you and Kieran can decorate it whenever."
She smiled and tucked her feet up under her and snuggled into him. Laying her hand on his stomach and her head on his chest. "I take back all those times I said you weren't very romantic," she said.
"And insensitive," Flack told her, grabbing the remote and flicking off the television before wrapping his arm around her. "You call me that a lot, too."
"Okay," she said, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. "So you're not always an insensitve, unromantic bastard."
"Thanks," he chuckled. "Goes with you being a flighty, immature, selfish, spoiled rotten little bitch," he teased her.
She laughed and cuddled in closer to him, his hand resting just above her ass. "My mom used to call me that all the time," she said, voice quiet in the stillness of the room.
"What did she used to call you?" he asked, sensing the way the whole mood in the apartment suddenly changed.
"Lots of things," she replied, playing the button on his shirt.
"Bad things?" he asked.
She nodded.
"Like…?" he pressed.
"Things that are bad enough that they're the whole reason I am dreading her and Sarge coming here over Christmas."
"Then tell her they don't need to bother coming," Flack said. "'Cause the last thing I want or need is her coming here causing shit when there's already enough stress floating around."
"They want to see Kieran," Sam reasoned. "And I can understand that. Besides, when you're around she's always really nice."
"Probably because she knows I'll tell her to fuck off and give her detailed instructions on how to do it."
"Probably," Sam laughed.
He softly rubbed her side and her hip as they sat there, basking in the silence and the warm glow given off by the twinkling Christmas tree. He looked down at her, enthralled at how young and peaceful and innocent she looked, her damp hair loose and flowing, no make up on her face, and the lights sparkling in her golden eyes. And for the first time in a long time, he thought about how sad she looked.
"So these things that your mom said to you," he approached the subject carefully. "Just how bad are we talking? Are you going to tell me or…"
"Did the Rangers win tonight?" she asked. Abruptly changing the conversation. Letting him know that she wasn't going to talk about it. Not tonight. Probably not any night.
He decided his best course of action was to not push the subject. He'd learned quickly into their relationship that the more you pushed, the more she closed herself off. And that he didn't want.
"I don't want to talk about the Rangers," he responded in disgust.
"That bad? I thought they were playing Philly. Aren't they like the worst team in the league?"
"They are. And I don't want to talk about it."
"Okay," she said. "So what do we talk about?"
"How about you telling me why in one of those Target bags there's an expensive looking doll in it and little red velvet dress with white lace on it and tiny black leather shoes and these funny, itchy looking lace leggings. 'Cause the last time I changed Kieran's diaper, I'm pretty sure he was still a guy. I mean, we do have a son and not a daughter, right?"
"The doll is the 2010 Limited Edition Barbie Winter Gala Princess," Sam explained. "Tim's aunt called me and said she's starting a collection of all these dolls for Addie and that was the only one she couldn't find. And asked me to pick it up if I saw it."
"And what did we buy her?"
"What didn't we buy her is the better question. Don't worry, Donald. Your second baby is well taken care of."
"Good," he said and yawned noisily.
"However, the little clothes I bought for Kieran?"
He stared down at her. "Excuse me?"
"I thought that with his long dark hair he'd look ravishing in red velvet."
"What? You're fucking disturbed," Flack declared and went to stand up.
Sam laughed and grabbed him around the waist to keep him where he was. "It was all for Addie," she assured him. "I just thought that little outfit would look adorable on her and maybe she could wear it to the lab Christmas party."
"Jesus. You had me worried there for a second that you were going to try turning our son into a girl."
"Never," Sam said, turning her face up towards her husband. "I love the two boys in my life."
He smiled and ran a hand over her hair and kissed her softly.
"I'm talking to Reed Garrett next week," she reminded him, as she nestled her head into his chest.
Flack sighed. "I know. And you know how I feel about it."
"Donnie, I already told you that if you tell me not to do it than I won't."
"Samantha, you're a big girl. I'm not your boss. And if you feel it's the right thing to do and you think it's a smart decision, than it's your choice. I told you how I felt and what my fears are. I'm worried that Lessing will get a hold of this article and know your name and see your picture and develop some sick thing for you, I don't want him anywhere near you or Kieran. And so you know, Mac agrees with me."
She looked up at him. "You told Mac?"
"Reed told Mac he was going to be talking to you. Mac asked me how I felt about it. And I told him."
"And what did Mac say?"
"He said that he didn't think it was a good idea and that when he heard it, he had the same initial fears as me."
"He said that?"
Flack nodded.
"Hmm…" she said simply.
He knew he'd touched a small nerve in her somewhere. Because it was common knowledge how much she respected Mac and his opinions.
"I also told him that when you were pregnant with Kieran, you called him sexy."
She sat up and stared at him. Trying to figure out if he was serious or not. "You didn't."
"I did. I told him how much he turns you on when he goes all Marine Mac on people."
She laughed and slapped his stomach. "No you didn't."
"Oh yes, I did. And he said he was flattered. Then I told him that he'd have to kill me in order to steal you away from me."
"I don't think you'll ever have to worry about that," she told him.
"No?"
Sam shook her head and moved closer to him, so that she was nearly perched on his lap. "No one will ever steal me away," she vowed. "I am perfectly content where I am."
"Good," he said with a smile and kissed her. Long and soft. Then buried his face in her hair. "You smell really good," he told her.
"Good enough to eat?" she asked, fiddling with his belt buckle.
"Oh absolutely," he replied, kissing her once again, this time harder and longer and much more passionate.
She shrieked and than giggled when he caught her off guard by grabbing her by the hips and swinging her around. Flipping her onto her back on the couch.
He covered her body with his, propping himself up on one arm.
"In fact," Flack said, pressing kisses to her lips and her chin and her cheeks as he fingers began unfastening the buttons on her pyjama top. "I am in the mood for a late night snack this very moment."
He finished with the buttons and set to work undoing the tie at the waist of her pyjama pants. Slipping his hand down the front of them when they were loosened enough.
Her body arched underneath him and her eyes closed and her head tilted back in anticipation. Sighing as his lips found the hallow of her throat, than groaning as his finger tips grazed against her clit. She slid her hands up the back of his shirt, feeling the hard, toned muscles of his broad back. Loving the way how they moved and felt under her eager finger tips.
His lips drifted to the space between her breasts. Than lower and lower, until he was sitting on his heels and peeling the bottoms off of her. In awe at the way the lights played on her slender, flushed body. She gasped and burrowed her hands in his hair as his lips and his tongue teased her most sensitive spot.
And as of that moment, all troubled thoughts and the entire outside world ceased to exist.
WOW! Awesome response for that last chapter. A huge thank you to all of you that read and reviewed. And even to the lurkers. Just drop a review folks! It's nice to know whose out there!
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