DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER OWN SAMANTHA ROSS.
THANKS TO EVERYONE ADDING ME TO ALERTS AND FAVS!
THIS CHAPTER BRINGS US BACK TO THE PRESENT…
The love of two good men
"So if you're mad get mad
Don't hold it all inside
Come on and talk to me now
Hey, what you got to hide
I get angry too
Well I'm a lot like you
When you're standing at the crossroads
And don't know which path to choose
Let me come along
'Cause even if you're wrong
I'll stand by you
I'll stand by you
Won't let nobody hurt you
I'll stand by you
Take me in into you darkest hour
And I'll never desert you
I'll stand by you."
-I'll Stand by You, The Pretenders
Samantha woke to the sound of a snowplow directly underneath her bedroom window. City workers had been clearing the streets since nine the night before, after a nasty winter storm had begun it's descent. Forecasters had predicted over ten inches of the white stuff, along with excessive winds, and the chance of ice showers. The department of public health had issued yet another extreme cold alert and had turned school gymnasiums and cafeterias into emergency shelters for the homeless. School boards had begun cancelling classes yesterday afternoon in anticipation of the storm that had been on the radar for days now. Companies had issued emails and bulletins informing all non-essential personnel to take the day off. To not risk their personal safety by attempting to make it into work.
Unfortunately, the NYPD didn't employ non essential personnel it seemed. Save for janitors and cleaning staff, everyone was expected to be on the clock exactly when they were scheduled to be. No ifs, ands or buts. No excuses about the subways and buses running behind for the weather. Transportation and bad road conditions? Leave two hours early if you had to. Just make sure that your ass was where it was supposed to be at the time it was supposed to be.
That was easier said than done when all you wanted to do was lie in bed all day. Underneath mounds of covers where it was exceptionally warm and cozy, curled up to an equally as warm and cozy body. After all, body heat was the best heat there was. She knew, as soon as she so as much put on leg outside of those blankets, the harsh reality of winter was going to bite her in the ass. She'd never been a cold weather girl. Despite growing up in Brooklyn, both she and Adam had been the New York City kids that complained about the temperatures as soon as autumn hit. They were constantly cold and bitched and moaned endlessly the second the first hint of snow dusted the ground.
Arizona had turned them both into complete and utter wimps. And the thought of having to get out of her bed and start her day in an apartment that was nearly as cold as the outdoors -an exaggeration of course, but for the amount of money she paid in rent, the place should have been a lot damn warmer - was enough to consider calling in sick and burying herself in her blankets all day long.
She rolled over onto her back and scooped up the man's watch that was lying on the nightstand on her side of the bed. In the dim winter morning light that was beginning to peek through the curtains, she was able to make out the time. Ten minutes to eight. Forty more minutes before the alarm clock was going to sound and bring a start to the day. Then it would be time to slip out of a toasty bed and set foot on a freezing cold floor. Time to nearly freeze your ass off the second you dropped your clothes to step into the shower. There'd be no hot water in the pipes and you'd stand under the bitterly cold water, cursing and howling your displeasure, pissed off when the water finally heated up just as you finished rinsing your hair and were ready to step out of the shower
Then there was the bundling up in boots and layers of clothes and hats and mitts and scarves just to make the small walk to the car parked a block away. And possible outdoor crime scenes to be investigated and running the risk of your eyelashes freezing and icicles hanging from your perpetually runny nose.
Sometimes it was fun to be a whiny bitch, she thought, as she laid the watch back down on the bedside table and turned over onto her opposite side. She burrowed herself under the layers of blankets and cuddled in close to her boyfriend's sleeping form. Out like a light on his back, his face turned towards her and his thick, long, dark eyelashes falling on his pale skin. His cheeks bearing the hint of dark stubble. Very sexy and very dangerous looking, as far as she was concerned. And as his chest rose and fall with each steady breath he took, she pressed a kiss to the pulse point on the left side of his neck and trailed her hand down his strong, broad chest. She let it rest over the jagged scar on his abdomen as she nuzzled her nose against his ear.
She placed a tender kiss to his temple before pulling back to look at him. Content to watch him sleep as she softly trailed her finger tips of one hand across his stomach, skimming the waistband of his boxers while she lightly ran a finger on her other hand over ever inch of his face. Tracing the outside each of his ear, the line of his jaw, over his chin and all the way down to his Adam's apple. Then following the same path in reverse before pressing a kiss to the inside of his ear. Giggling as she felt him tense slightly and reach up to gently push her away.
"Faker," she said, and bit down lightly on his earlobe.
"Do you mind?" Flack asked, his eyes still closed, his voice groggy.
"No," she replied and trailed her lips down his neck. "Do you mind?" she inquired, slipping a finger under the waist of his boxers.
"Just a little," he told her, and laid a hand over hers, stilling it.
Sam pouted dramatically. "Usually you're all raring to go, standing at attention first thing in the morning."
"Oh trust me I am, " he said and moved her hand to the front of his boxers to show her the proof.
"So then what's the problem?" she asked, licking and suckling at his neck.
"I'm tired, babe," he replied, giving a sigh that was both one of reluctance and one of arousal. "I didn't get in until after two in the morning. Remember?"
"And you have to get up in about half an hour," she told him, sliding down the bed and placing kisses across his chest.
"Which is exactly why I need that extra thirty minutes sleep," he said, and yawning noisily, brought a hand up to stroke her hair. "I'm beat, babe."
"Hmmm…you're lucky I'm buying your excuse of exhaustion," she said. "Or I'd be worried that you're lack of interest in sex means you're think I'm hideously disgusting or something."
"Now that is the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Flack declared. "Believe me, Sammie. It's not that I'm not interested in sex. When am I not? It's just that my body, save for below the waist, is wiped out."
"You're luck you have proof to back up your claim," she said with a grin, and grazed her hand over his erection. "But you so owe me after the costume party. Do you think it will still be on? Or do you think it will be cancelled with the weather?"
"I doubt they'll cancel something like that. Call the hotel afterwards and see if it's all systems go."
"I still think you should have come with me," she said, tucking her head into the crook of his neck.
"Not my scene. You couldn't pay me enough to get me into a costume. And honestly? I'll be lucky if I'm still not working long after the party is over."
"Did you at least get your case done last night?" she asked, tracing a circle around his navel with a fingernail.
He nodded. "All my paper work is finished, too. Sitting on the Inspector's desk waiting for her to sign off on them."
"Very impressive," Sam praised. "You're becoming quite the workaholic lately, baby."
"Just trying to keep the dragon lady at bay. Remember all those times I complained about Gerrard?"
Sam nodded.
"This bitch is a thousand time worse. She's been on my ass since the day she started."
"Maybe she's a cougar," Sam reasoned. "Wishes she could ride something else."
Flack frowned. "That is just plain disturbing," he declared.
"What?" Sam asked, running her hand along his chest. "You don't have a Mrs Robinson fantasy?"
"Hell no. Older women do nothing for me. Creeps me right out to be honest."
She drew back to look at him, a frown on her face.
"What?" Flack asked, combing his fingers through her long, dark tresses.
"I'm older than you are," she reminded him.
"By three years. Big deal. I don't exactly consider that a big age difference, babe."
"Well, when you consider how much slower a man matures compared to a woman mentally, technically, I'm almost thirty-four and you're about…thirteen."
"Thirteen my ass," he snorted. "No thirteen year old knows the things I know and how to do those things to you."
"Maybe you've just watched a lot of porn," she reasoned.
Frowning, he wrapped an arm around her slender body and pulled her on top of him. "Why do you always have to be such a damn smart ass?" he asked, rubbing her back and shoulders through the flannel of her pyjama top as she curled her arms around his torso and nestled her face into the space between his neck and shoulder.
"I was born that way," she replied.
"Must be a Ross characteristic, huh? That and that annoying, incessant rambling both you and Adam do."
"Do you spend a lot of time in bed with my brother?" she teased. "Does he do that ramble thing during pillow talk?"
"I am going to pretend that you never said that," Flack told her. "Because that is enough to give me nightmares. Speaking of nightmares. I don't know what the hell you were dreaming about last night, but when I came to bed, you were yapping on and on in your sleep."
"About what?" she asked.
"Couldn't understand a damn word. You just kept going on and on and on and then all of a sudden you were completely quiet."
"I did have a pretty strange dream last night," she said.
"About?"
"Being on the subway with you, Stella, Lindsay and Hawkes that day when that crazy asshole Drew Bedford decided to be a fuck head."
"You weren't even there when that happened. You called in sick that day."
"Doesn't mean I can't have a minor freak out over things, right? And to be honest, I wasn't exactly sick that day."
"Just playing hooky?"
"I had a date," she said. "We went to Atlantic City for the day."
"A date? With who?"
"Get the jealous tone out of your voice," she said. "I did have a life before we hooked up, you know. And what does it matter now? It's me and you in this bed."
"What kind of date was it?"
"I just said. We went to Atlantic City."
"Why AC?"
"How should I know? That's where he wanted to take me."
"Was it a cop?"
Sam nodded.
"Someone I know?"
"Donald…"
"Turning the jealous, possessive side of me off now," he assured her. "I'm just curious who it was is all. Was it someone I work with?"
She shook her head, her hair tickling his bare chest.
"Detective? Uniform? Undercover?"
"Bomb squad, actually," she told him.
"Bomb squad? How in the hell did you ever meet someone in the bomb squad?"
"It was a series of strange events," she said. "The same day you were investigating the dead groom thing. I guess you could say that Drew Bedford started the whole ball rolling by leaving that puzzle on the hood of Stella's Avalanche. And then I went down with Lindsay to see what was going on and, well, as the saying goes the rest was history."
"And you just so happened to flash your smile and bat your long eyelashes at some bomb squad guy?"
"I was just very friendly. And he wasn't just some bomb squad guy. He was the bomb squad guy. The one that determined there was no bomb to begin with. And in all fairness, he was kind of hot."
"Why didn't you flirt with me and ask me to take you to Atlantic City?" Flack asked. "I woulda jumped on that, and you, in a heart beat."
"Oh and break up the beautiful relationship between you and Devon? Weren't you two still dating then?"
"I told you we were still dating."
"Why did you lie?"
"I don't know. I guess I didn't want you to think I was some pathetic loser that sat at home all by myself and lonely on the weekend."
"Oh poor baby," she sat up and looked down at him, pouting dramatically. "I guess you could have just made all of it much easier on yourself by actually asking me out."
"I like torturing myself," he reasoned. "Driving myself crazy thinking about all these guys you were dating."
"And there was so many!" she laughed. "Please. Two guys in a year and a bit does not make me a serial dater. Seriously though. Why didn't you just ask me out. I still can't get a decent reason out of you."
"I was afraid you were going to shoot me down. Tell me to get a life. I wasn't in the mood to be humiliated, okay? And I sort of, kinda asked you out. That night I asked you to meet me at Sullivan's."
"That was not a date," she informed him. "We had a pitcher of beer and some tequila shooters and played pool."
"I paid, remember?"
"That doesn't make it a date. I thought you were just being a gentleman."
"I was."
"It would have been a date if we'd had sex on the pool table," she laughed.
"I never should have told you about that," Flack sighed. "Danny would kill me if he knew I told you about that."
"It's our little secret," Sam vowed, and leaning over, her hair falling around him, covered his mouth in a long, slow kiss. Her tongue pushing its way into his warm, moist mouth, seeking out his.
"Where'd you learn to be such an amazing kisser?" he asked, when the need for air forced them apart.
She gave a devilish grin. "My bomb squad boyfriend taught me," she replied.
Flack frowned.
"Kidding," she said, placing a kiss to his chest before resting her head on his shoulder. "He was a perfect gentleman."
"Never tried to put the moves on you?"
Sam shook her head.
"What? Was he gay?"
"No. He was a perfect gentleman. Just like I said."
"Please. Any guy that goes out with you but doesn't try and put the moves on you, must have something wrong with him. Even I put the moves on you in my car that night when I drove you home. After giving you some of that chocolate."
"And then you try denying it," she snorted. "And I quote, 'No, there wasn't anything in the chocolate, I don't know what you're talking about'."
"I wanted you to think it was charming personality and my boyish good looks that made you all hot and bothered."
She laughed. "If I was being completely honest right now, I'd admit to you that I was hot and bothered long before I ate that chocolate. For about, I don't know, six months before that."
"See? You should have just come right out and told me that night at the mayor's thing when I kissed you that you liked it. But no, you accused me taking advantage of you at a weak moment. What weak moment? I still don't get what weak moment you were talking about."
"Seeing you in a tuxedo," she told him. "You picked me up at my place and I nearly fainted. Took all the will power I had not to throw myself at you or drag you into my apartment and take advantage of you. And then you go and kiss me like that…"
"You liked it," he said cockily. "You didn't exactly tell me to stop or push me away."
"I never said I didn't like it. I happened to like it very much. It was just…I don't know. A very weird time for that all to be happening. I mean Devon was in the next room, we were suppose to be keeping an eye out for secret agents."
"Hey, even James Bond got to mix business with pleasure sometimes," Flack told her.
"There were two things I learned that night," Sam said, sitting up and pushing her hair out of her face.
"What were those?" he asked, his hands drifting down her back and over her hips and resting on her thighs.
"One, you were a better kisser then I ever imagined. And two, you looked goddamn hot in a tuxedo."
"You know what I learned that night?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"I learned that that the tongue inside of your smart mouth was amazingly talented. And that underneath all those conservative work clothes and that lab coat, you had one smoking body."
She smiled and leaned over to kiss him. Then giggled as she found herself tossed onto her back.
"And now," he said, as he covered her body with his, bearing his weight on one arm as he kissed her. "That body is all mine."
"All yours, huh?" she asked, as she circled his neck with her arms.
"All mine," he declared.
"You sound like a corny Valentines Day card," she laughed. "And speaking of which…you do remember that's tomorrow, right?"
"Why would I forget? I'm the one that made the reservations and booked the hotel."
Her eyes narrowed. "What hotel?" she asked.
He bit his bottom lip and hung his head.
"You are so busted! You are totally incapable of keeping a secret! You're putting us up in a hotel tomorrow night?"
Flack nodded.
"Baby, that's so romantic. I thought you said you didn't do romance?"
"I don't. Well not usually, anyway. I just thought it would be nice. So I called the St Regis and…"
"We're staying at the St Regis?" she asked excitedly.
"We've got the romance package. Jacuzzi suite, complimentary wet bar and concierge service. The whole nine. It was suppose to be a surprise, but…"
"I can't believe you'd do all of that for me. A fancy restaurant, an even fancier hotel…"
"It's our first Valentine's Day," he reasoned. "I wanted to make it special for you."
"Wait until I tell everyone just how sappy and romantic you actually are," she teased, and planted a long, sizzling kiss on his lips.
He returned the kiss eagerly and demandingly. His hand slipping in between them, his fingers setting to work on unbuttoning her pyjama top.
"I thought your body wasn't in the mood," she teased, when the kiss was over and had left her breathless.
"It changed it's mind," he told her, finishing with the top and laying it open. His hand sliding up her smooth side and around to the front of her to cup her breast as his lips descended onto her slender neck. "Lucky for you, huh?"
She sighed, quickly and easily aroused by the touch of his hand and the feel of his lips. She buried her fingers in his hair, shivering as his warm, moist mouth began teasing her body. "I'm the luckiest woman in the world," she declared.
And she meant every word.
Driving to work had been sheer and utter hell. While the snow had finally halted, the drifts from the high winds were causing near white out conditions. Mixed with the plows unable to keep up with clearing and salting the streets and the build up of ice on the roads, a usually fifteen minute drive turned into an hour long one.
By the time she arrived at the lab, Sam's nerves were almost completely shot from the nerve wracking, hair raising ride. Her hands shaking so bad she could barely carry the caramel latte she purchased in the main floor café let alone attempt to pull change from her pocket and hold it out to the cashier. In between her boyfriend's white knuckle driving -he was Mario Andretti even in the bad weather- and the stupidity of other drivers on the road, she had spent the majority of the ride with her eyes closed and her hands gripping the door handle so hard she left nail impressions in the vinyl.
With her heart still pounding and her stomach still in her throat, she took the crowded elevator to the thirty-fifth floor and made her first pit stop the unisex locker room. In Phoenix, it was strictly men in one room, women in another way down at the end of the hall. The bosses there weren't about to take any chances that employees would take advantage of a situation such as a unisex room and use it for 'extracurricular activities'. The last thing the complaint ridden Phoenix crime lab needed, was sexual harassment suits.
And it was no wonder the such complaints hadn't plagued the NYC lab yet. While Sam didn't mind sharing a change room with men -most were good about stripping down in a stall and the actual showers and toilets were separate- she had seen enough activities in the locker room to write an x-rated book. In a year alone she'd walked in on several couples -both male and female and same sex- engaged in a little workplace action, and arrogant, conceited men walking naked around the place as if they were God's gift. While seeing things like that didn't embarrass her, it made her want to do two things. One, critique the performances, and two, laugh in the guy's face and ask, "Is that it?"
This morning the changing area was empty as she made her way to her locker, sipping her latte as her eyes skimmed the apartment rentals in the folded classified section of the Times in her left hand. There were several possibilities in the lower Manhattan, both east and west side, and a couple in midtown that were in their price range. The hard part was going to be actually finding joint time to actually go and see the places. So far, the plan was to meet up during lunch and dinner breaks and attempt to weed the crappy places from the good ones.
She set the newspaper and her latte down on the bank of benches that separated a row of lockers from the ones across from them and began extracting herself from the layers of winter clothing she'd worn to work. Flack constantly teased her about being about thirty pounds heavier from all of her apparel, and didn't understand why she felt the need to bundle up so much when she was in the car. There were to simple explanations. One, she wanted to be prepared if they ever became stranded on the side of the road somewhere. Two, she hated being cold. It was as plain as simple as that. He'd simply just nodded and looked at her as if she was insane and said, "Okay, now…"
She toed off of her boots and unzipped her coat and dropped it onto the benches. Unbutton her snowboarding pants, she let them fall to her ankles before kicking them off and scooping them up off the floor. Turning to her locker, she punched in the security code on the panel mounted on the door and waited for a dull click before opening it.
The inside of the door was plastered with photographs. Held up for the world to see with sticky tack. Pictures of her and Adam when they children and teenagers, candid shots of various members of the team she'd taken with her digital camera when she'd first started, others at last summer's NYPD picnic and softball tournament. Just small mementos and reminders that they had lives outside of the job. That they could still could laugh and have a good time. Hang out just like regular people without having the stresses of the job plague them day in and day out. Her favourite picture, by far, was of Danny and Lindsay. Taken shortly before Danny took to the field as a short stop for their team. They wore matching blue t-shirts with NYPD written on the left chest in white letters and backwards NYPD ball caps. His arms were wrapped around his petite girlfriend from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder. They both looked so happy and so in love.
It was the first time that Sam had seen Danny truly happy since Ruben Sandoval's death.
It seemed like a lifetime ago. Standing beside Mac as they watched Sid begin the autopsy on the little boy that Sam had met on several occasions on her various visits to Danny's place. Ruben had been a friendly, adorable, hyper little thing with the most beautiful brown eyes she'd ever seen and a smile and laugh that just warmed her heart. From short talks with his mother, Sam had found that Rikki was warm and personable. A hard working single mom whose life revolved around her boy. And it had been thoughts of Rikki and how she'd handle the news of her son's death that had raced through Sam's mind as she stood beside Mac with tears slipping down her cheeks. Lindsay had long gone off to find and attempt to console a distraught Danny, leaving the new girl and the boss alone, lost in their own thoughts.
Sam had opened her mouth to beg and plead with Mac not to put her own Ruben's shooting. She knew she just wasn't capable of handling something like that. But before she could get a word out, he'd laid a comforting hand on her shoulder and told her to go home. And if she didn't want to do that, to find Stella and see what work needed to be done on her case. It was the first time Mac had ever shown in front of her that he had a heart. And it was a moment she'd never forget.
The next time Sam had seen Rikki Sandoval was at Ruben's funeral. She'd been at a loss for words as she attempted to reach out to the distraught woman. And any words that had come had seem horribly inadequate. She'd never talked to or seen Rikki after that, although there'd been many times she had wanted to stop by the apartment building or simply pick up the phone. Their last meeting had been a brief one. Standing in front of Flack's desk. She'd been in the precinct finishing up some last minute paper work, and had been surprised to see him at his desk when he'd been off hours before. He'd told her that something had come up with Danny, but had been uncomfortable and reluctant to say any more than that and had suggest he tell her all about it. Over an Irish coffee. Only she wasn't an idiot, and she knew that was actually a euphemism for something else. And, through her short friendship with Angell, that he'd actually used that line on her as well.
Before she could talk him up on the offer -even if it did lead to something else in the grand scheme of things- Danny had wandered into the precinct with a terrified looking Rikki. Sam didn't know what had gone down and didn't know if she wanted any details. By the look on Danny and Flack's faces, whatever had happened had not been pleasant. And it was something that needed to be sorted out between them with no outside interference.
So she'd shown Rikki to an interrogation room like Flack had asked and she'd left for the night. She wasn't about to get involved and it had been quite clear, by Rikki's indifference towards her when Sam had offered to stick around for support, that she wasn't welcome.
She never did get to go out for Irish coffee. Shortly after that, Flack had hooked up with Angell and Sam had been on the sidelines once again. Wondering when, and if, it was ever going to be her time. But not having the courage to make it happen.
That all seemed like a lifetime ago now. Danny and Lindsay had gotten past their trust and infidelity issues and were happier then ever. The wedding was just months away and both were excited to begin their quest for a family as soon as possible. Sam was ecstatic for them. She knew that they'd battled through a lot of issues on both sides of the coin to get where they were now. And if anyone deserved a happy ever after, it was them.
She placed her winter boots on the bottom shelf of her locker and grabbed a pair of black leather flats from a plastic bag hanging on the back hook. Shoving her coat and purse into the small, cramped space, she grabbed a brush from the top shelve and pulled the elastic from her pony tail and brushed out her waist length tresses. Tossing the brush back onto the shelve, she put her hair up once again and reached for her holster and badge and clipped them both to the waist of her charcoal grey dress pants before shutting the locker door.
"Boo!" a male voice cried out.
Sam shrieked and gave a startled jump. Her heart pounding in her chest and her eyes narrowed at the sight of her younger brother doubled over with laughter. Apparently amused by the reaction he was able to illicit from his sister.
"You bastard Adam!" she scolded, and shoved him angrily.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he managed in between his fit of laughter. "I didn't mean it! Well I did mean it or obviously I wouldn't have done it. I just didn't think that you'd react like that. Making you pee your pants was not on my agenda for today."
"Shit head!" she huffed, and slugged him hard in the right shoulder.
"Ow!" he cried. "You punch like a man!"
"I always was the tough one," she reminded him. "I can't believe you'd sneak up on me like that. You're lucky I didn't punch you in the face or knee you in the balls. What's wrong with you?"
"I like terrorizing you?" Adam reasoned.
"You've always been a pesky little brother, do you know that?"
"Of course. From the day I came into the world kicking and screaming. I even put that on my resume. Pesky little brother extraordinaire. In case some other poor soul requires my services in that department."
"Are you just getting here?" Sam asked.
"Do I look like I'm attired for the winter?" Adam inquired.
"Okay, smart ass. How long have you been here for?"
"A couple of hours now. Which is remarkable considering how hung over I actually am. It's weird, but I drank nearly a gallon of beer and an unknown amount of tequila last night yet I feel perfectly fine. Bright eyed and bushy tail to be exact. No sleep, yet I am just on the ball today."
"How much coffee have you had?" Sam asked, gathering her latte and newspaper.
"I've lost count," Adam admitted. "Lets just put it this way? That massive tin of Folgers Stella brought in for all us two days ago?"
Sam nodded as they headed for the door.
"It's three quarters empty. And it was three quarters full when I got here."
"What are you?" Sam asked. "A camel?"
"Not quite. I won't even go into how many bathroom breaks I've had to take already. Not to mention how hyper I am."
"Mac's going to think you're tweaking on something," Sam said, as her brother pulled open the locker room door and motioned for her to go ahead of him. "How come you never called me last night? You leave me this cryptic message about needing to talk to me about something dire and then you don't bother to return my message. What's up with that?"
"I got into the beer and tequila before you called me back," Adam told her. "And by that time, I was nowhere near in appropriate shape to carry on a conversation. So when I saw you get off the elevator and saw you head into the locker room…"
"You thought you'd ambush me," she finished.
"I personally thought it was funny. I only wish I'd caught your reaction on my camera phone so I could make copies of it and paste them up all over the lab. Show everyone that Little Brooklyn isn't as hard core as she likes to let on. Knock your reputation down a peg or two."
Sam frowned and made a fist and drew it back.
Adam winced and laid a hand over his shoulder and jumped away.
"Two for flinching," she laughed, a lightly punched him twice in his upper left arm. "Do you remember where that's from Peanut?" she asked, curling an arm around his waist.
"Stand by Me," he answered quickly. "How could I ever forget that? How many times did we sneak into the theatre down on Jefferson?"
"Thirteen," she said. "But whose counting? You would have thought that theatre would have caught on to the fact their rear doors didn't close properly. Can you imagine how much money they lost out on because of little shits like us?"
"They're loss was our gain," Adam concluded. "And I figure with all the beats we got, God will no doubt forgive us for sneaking into some movies."
"So?" Sam asked, rubbing his back. "What was it you wanted to talk to me about?"
"Mom and dad," Adam replied.
His sister rolled her eyes.
"I know. Not the most pleasant of conversation first thing in the morning. Certainly not how you wanted to start your day. But when I got home from work yesterday, there was a very interesting message on my answering machine. From mom."
"They're moving to Antarctica?" Sam asked hopefully.
"As much as I wish I could say that's it, I'd be lying. And I don't think you're going to like what I'm about to tell you."
"If it's about mom, you're right."
"Mom and dad are moving," Adam said.
"Please tell me it's on the opposite side of the world or they're moving to Canada. Like way up north in Canada."
Adam shook his head. "Sorry…"
"Please do not tell me that…"
"They're moving to New York City," he reluctantly told his sister.
"Way to ruin my day, Peanut."
"I'm sorry. And as much as I want to tell you that I'm just pulling your leg, I can't. It's unfortunately true. Dad got a transfer with the airlines. Into higher management. He's going to be working out of La Guardia."
"He couldn't just move here on his own? He had to bring the wicked witch with him?"
"I was telling him that he could always conveniently lose her somewhere."
"Yeah…like drop her out of the plane at thirty four thousand feet," Sam sighed. "So when is this going down? How long do we have to come up with an escape plan?"
"Two weeks," Adam told her.
Sam stopped walking and glared at him.
"Don't shoot the messenger," he pleaded, hands up in surrender. "I just pass along the news."
"Where are they going to live?" Sam asked.
"Apparently they think they're going to be staying with one of us."
Sam blanched. "They can't stay with me. No way in hell. First off, they don't even know I have a boyfriend. Second, they don't know that I'm planning to move in with him. Can you imagine mom and dad sharing my apartment with me when Don and I are in the next room…"
"Spare me the details of your sex life with Flack, okay? Knowing the two of you don't abstain is enough to give me horrific nightmares. And as for mom and dad not knowing about Flack…well I may have kinda, sorta… I don't know…spilled the beans."
Sam frowned.
"I didn't mean it," Adam quickly defended himself. "It just slipped out. Mom was going on and on about how expensive it is to live here and how you had a two bedroom apartment and that she didn't think you'd mind her and dad staying there. And I told her that you might, considering you need your privacy. Especially now. And she asked what do you mean especially now? And I said that you'd met a guy and you two were pretty serious and that neither of you would feel too comfortable with her and dad around," he took a breath. "I'm sorry. It just came out."
"You're a dink," Sam huffed and began walking once more.
"It just happened," Adam vowed, quickly falling in step beside her. "It wasn't intentional."
"What did mom say to that?"
"She wanted to know details about this mystery guy."
"And what did you tell her?"
"All I said was that he was a homicide detective and a great guy. That he was treating you right. And that if she wanted to know more, to call you personally."
"You said that about Don?"
Adam nodded. "Well he is a great guy. And he does treat you right," he said. Then paused before asking, "He does, right? Treat you good?"
Sam smiled. "You're worried that he doesn't?" she asked, sipping her latte.
"A little," her brother admitted. "I mean, I know what Flack is like at work. I know that he's loyal and a great guy to have around and that he's the one you want having your back if things go south, but I don't know what he's like personally. And I want to know that the personal Flack is just as reliable and trustworthy as the work Flack so that when he's with you, I can relax knowing you're in good hands and that I'm not going to get some tear filled phone call from you in the middle of the night saying…"
Sam laid a hand gently over her brother's mouth. "Adam," she said, her voice and eyes filled with seriousness. "Don isn't Zack. He's not going to hurt me. I trust him with my life. And you should, too."
"I just don't want you getting hurt," he mumbled against her palm.
"He's not going to hurt me," she insisted. "Don's an amazing guy with a huge heart and he's not out to screw me over. He's not going to call me names and smack me around. He's in this relationship with the best of intentions. And so am I. And I appreciate you being so worried about me. But you need to give him a chance. Okay?"
Adam nodded and she removed her hand. "You love him?" he asked.
"More then I ever thought I could love somebody," Sam admitted. "And I can tell when he looks at me, that he loves me back. Please just give him a chance. Let us be happy. Can you do that?"
"You promise that if he ever hurts you…"
"That I will come and find you," Sam finished. "I promise."
Adam smiled and pressed a kiss to his sister's cheek. "I just want you to be happy," he said.
"I am happy," she insisted, and curling her arm around his waist, began their journey down the hallway once again. "And I'd be even happier if mom and dad would just stay as far away from me as possible. I mean of all places to get transferred to. It just had to be New York City?"
"Apparently, it came down to three places. Mom chose New York City."
"Naturally. Because she likes to make our lives a living hell. Imagine what joy she'll get showing up here or at our apartments for surprise visits."
Adam shuddered at the thought of having their mother so close at hand. "How goes the hunt for apartments?" he asked, nodding down at the paper in her hand.
"Slowly and not too surely. I've circled a whole bunch that fit into our budget. Now we just have to find the time to go and look at them."
"Well I hope you find one sooner, rather then later. Because I have the most awesome idea."
"Okay…spill."
"I was thinking that you could let mom and dad take over your lease," Adam told her. "That way, they're not camping out on either of our sofas or interruption your new found sex life."
Sam stopped walking and turned and stared at her brother.
Adam winced at the look on her face. "Bad idea?" he asked.
"Adam Gregory Ross," she began in a stern voice. A smile slowly spread across her face. "You are a goddamn genius!"
"Oh…okay, " he chuckled as she gave an excited shriek and tossed her arms tightly around his neck. "…well it's good to know that someone appreciates me for the size of my brain pan."
"Don't you realize how fabulous that idea is?" she asked, holding him out at arms length. "It's perfect! This will make mom happy and Don happy all at the same time!"
"Alright…how?"
"Because if they take over my lease, I can move in with him right away. Then we don't have to bust our asses too much to find something else! It eases the burden a little! You're goddamn brilliant!"
Kissing her brother's cheek noisily, Sam gave him a final hug for releasing him and bouncing off down the hallway towards her office.
"Glad I could help!" Adam called after her. "Hook me up later. Maybe we can do lunch!"
She gave a wave, acknowledging she'd heard him.
Adam gave a deep, pleased sigh, and shoving his hands in his pockets, turned and headed for the AV lab. His usual domain.
"God it's hard being smarter than everyone else," he said.
A/N: Just a small note, if anyone is confused...when Adam refers to dad, he means their step-father that has been featured in MOB and VFB and briefly mentioned in this story in a previous chapter.
Thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing! I appreciate each and every one of you! Even all the lurkers! Please, please R and R folks!
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