DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS.
A/N 1: LOTS OF COOKIES GOING OUT1 BUT THE WINNER OF LET'S NAME THAT EPI IS AFROZENHEART412. WHO ACTUALLY POINTED OUT FIVE DIFFERENT EPISODES I REFERENCED.
A/N 2: THIS IS THE LAST POSTING FOR A FEW DAYS. A WEEK AT THE MOST. LOTS OF RL STUFF GOING ON THAT NEEDS MY DIRE ATTENTION. AND HAS ANYONE HEARD ABOUT THE APPARENT COMING OF THIS CRAZY CONFICKER WORM? WTF IS THAT ALL ABOUT? I AM TOTALLY PARANOID. ANYWAY, UNTIL WE 'MEET' AGAIN, I HOPE YOU ALL KEEP WELL AND THAT YOU'LL RETURN WHEN I DO!
AND A HUGE THANKS TO ALL OF YOU WHO HELPED ME REACH 600 REVIEWS ALREADY! MY FANS ROCK, AND THE ROCK HARD! KISSES AND HUGS TO ALL OF YOU!
What's the issue?
"I don't wanna be the girl who laughs the loudest
Or the girl who never wants to be alone
I don't wanna be that call at 4 o'clock in the morning
'Cause I'm the only one you know in the world that won't be home
The sun is blinding
I stayed up again
Oh, I'm finding
That's not the way I want my story to end
I'm safe up high,
Nothing can touch me
Why do I feel this party's over?
No pain inside
You're my protection
But how do I feel this good sober?
I don't wanna be the girl that has to fill the silence..
The quiet scares me 'cause it screams the truth
Please don't tell me that we had that conversation
'Cause I won't remember, save your breath 'cause what's the use?
The night is calling
And it whispers to me softly, "come play"
I am falling
And if I let myself go, I'm the only one to blame."
-Sober, Pink
"So what exactly was it that the doctor said that's got you so upset?" Lindsay asked, needing clarification as to what had gotten her best friend's undies in such a twist.
"Okay…from the top," Sam replied, the heels of her tan leather boots clacking on cement as she climbed the stairs at the 65th street subway station. Aggravated both by the simple question, and the hordes of people nearly knocking each other over as they rushed in both directions past her.
Jackasses in a fired out hurry to catch the train that was sitting at the platform that very second instead of just waiting the six minutes it took for the next to come, and tools that were in rushing out into daylight as if one more moment underground was going to cause them to mysteriously self-combust. Businessmen and women alike, along with students and just your average run of the mill person out for a day on the town, all in a hurry to get nowhere fast.
"Apparently the doctor says that the meds I've been taking for my anxiety have rendered the hormones the patch has been leaking into my body completely and utterly useless. Nice, huh?" Sam snorted at the absurdity of it all and hiked her satchel style purse up higher onto her shoulder. "So technically, I've been practicing totally unsafe sex since the beginning of February."
"It's what they make condoms for," Lindsay pointed out. "I thought you and Don had agreed to be like Fort Knox when it came to the whole protection thing."
"Oh, we did. And then one time without a condom and the patch turned into two times without, and two became three and three became four and four became nearly every time. I guess I can thank my totally messed up uterus for not getting pregnant."
"Or just plain luck," her best friend said.
"Well whatever it was…why am I even talking about this with a pregnant woman? Why am I discussing birth control with someone who obviously forgot to use it themselves?"
"Because you need to rant," Lindsay concluded. "And who better to rant to then your best friend? Who, I may add, is paying dearly for the whole no contraception thing by paying homage to the porcelain God every morning for the past month and a half. You want to carry this baby for me? I'll gladly switch. You take the kid and I'll take up the messed up uterus?"
"Forget it. There is not enough cash in the world to convince me to carry the spawn of Danny Messer," Sam teased.
Lindsay laughed heartily. "And you think being pregnant with the spawn of Don Flack Junior would be any better?"
"Hey…by the grace of God, I'm not carrying anyone's spawn, okay? Don and I are in no place to even be considering pro-creating."
"Hmmm…."
"What's that suppose to mean?" Sam asked, as she paused in front of a bodega to fix the chocolate brown corduroy poor boy cap that had become askew on top of her head. "You only do that 'hmmm' thing when you don't agree with something I've said."
"Well…" Lindsay paused, choosing her words carefully. "Two weeks ago, we were sitting in your kitchen and you were crying to me over a triple layer chocolate cake and litre of milk about being jealous of me because I was having a baby. I distinctly remember asking you if you felt you were in the place in your relationship to have kids. And I also distinctly remember you telling me that you wanted a baby. Don's baby. Tout suite."
"What is it with you people and the French today?" Sam asked, tilted the cap slightly to the right hand side and flicking her hair over both of her shoulders.
The pig tails were long gone. Leaving behind thick luxurious waves that tumbled down to the small of her back. She stayed in front of the window long enough to size herself up. Never one for vanity, she frowned at the realization that the little dark denim jacket that she'd worn and just skimmed her navel, the clingy black knit sweater and a the low riding jeans were making her hips and her ass look monstrous.
"Don't tell me Flack made you say naughty things to him in a foreign language again," Lindsay sighed.
"I won't tell you than. But let's just say that I'm thinking of taking correspondence courses to become completely fluent in it. I just have to say au revoir and he's jumping all over me. Something about the French just totally gets him going. Is it just me or he is a total perv?"
"It's not just you," the other woman laughed. "And you're just as bad as he is so let's not start shelling out blame for anything. So like I was saying…"
"Okay…okay…" Sam sighed as she continued walking. "I did say at the time that I wanted to have a baby. His baby. And I am jealous. You've got the whole package. Soon to be husband, soon to be offspring. What's not to be jealous of?"
"And you've got an amazingly hot homicide detective who caters to your every whim and would lay down and die for you in a heartbeat," Lindsay told her. "If you ask me, we both lucked out. And as far as having a baby goes, if that's what you want…"
"We're not in a place to have a baby, Bumpkin. Let's face it. We're still technically getting to know each other."
"Jesus Christ, Sam. What more is there to know? You worked together for nearly a year and a half before finally hooking up. You live with him. Share a bed with him. There's not much deep, dark shit you can keep from each other living in a cramped apartment in lower Manhattan. I mean, if you can brush your teeth while the guy is in the same room taking a leak at the toilet or he can do the same with you on the throne, I'd say you and Flack are pretty damn comfortable with one another. That you know all the ins and outs."
Sam couldn't help but giggle. "Trust me, the ins and outs we're masters of," she quipped.
"Okay…let's keep the raunchy details of your sex life under wraps while I'm fighting to keep my lunch down," Lindsay grumbled. "Tell me what the hell you think you're going to find out from him six months from now that you don't already know?"
"I don't know…maybe he's got some weird ass fetish that he's keeping from me. Maybe six months from now I'm going to walk into the apartment and he's going to be walking around in lingerie I bought for myself at Victoria's Secret or prancing around in my naughty knickers from Frederick's," Sam said. "Maybe he's got a thing for women's clothes."
"That is just plain damn ridiculous," Lindsay informed her. "Don's the epitome of masculine."
"So then maybe I'm going to find out he's been hiding an addiction to internet porn. Or gambling. Maybe he was one of the site regulars on the native gambling web site our dead Chief was into."
"If you don't stop fucking around and start making sense, I'm hanging up," her best friend warned.
"Or maybe, I'm going to find out he's got a secret wife. Or a kid he's been hiding from me."
"You know what, Sam? If you ask me, you're scared. You're scared to move past the whole living in sin thing and making you and Flack into something permanent. You say you want forever with him. You want him as your husband, the father of your kid. And it doesn't matter if you've been together ten years or ten days. Your heart knows what it wants. And his heart is feeling the same thing. But every time things start getting a little more intense, you bail. Two weeks ago you're telling me you wanted a baby. Now you're telling me that.."
"Okay, so I'm scared," she admitted. "I'm scared to want all those things because it is so soon. I'm scared to find out that I'm pregnant and then have him look me like I'm insane when I announce it to him. I'm scared of hearing him tell me that he doesn't want it. Or me."
"You are being totally irrational," Lindsay told her.
"Sensible," Sam corrected. "And I didn't call to talk about this. I called to vent about my dumb ass doctor."
A heavy sigh came from the other end. "This isn't going to go away," Lindsay said. "If you're going to keep dragging your heels like this Sam, I think it's best you walk away now to avoid dicking him around."
She frowned. "Is that what you think I'm doing?" she asked.
"A little," her best friend admitted. "Because I see what it does to him when you pull away, Sam. I see what it does to him when he's putting so much out there and sometimes you're giving him so little. And I love you like a sister, you know that. But you're not being fair to Don. A time is going to come when the novelty of fantastic sex wears off and he seriously starts talking about a future with you. And I'm worried you're going to haul ass on him and he's going to get hurt."
"I am not going to hurt him," Sam informed her. "You know how I feel about him, Linds. You know how much I love him and adore him and how he's my entire world."
"I do know that. Because I'm the one that sees right through you when you go all skittish, high school virgin worrying about her boyfriend, the captain of the football team dumping her 'cause she's not slutty enough. I see right through that tough little Brooklyn girl crap. If you're scared, admit it to him Tell him. Instead of confusing the poor guy all the time. One minute you're hearts and flowers pledging forever and the next you're…I don't even have the words to describe it."
Sam sighed.
"Consider this a kick in the ass," Lindsay said. "Tough love."
"No shit," Sam muttered.
"I'm only saying all of this because I love you, Sammie. And because I love Don and I know the two of your are crazy about each other and I want you guys to have your forever. Your happily ever after."
"I know," she sighed. "And believe me, I want that too. I don't want to screw this up. And believe me, if anyone is capable of messing things up royally."
"Just be honest with him," Lindsay said. "Honesty is the best policy, right? Now tell me what your tool of a doctor said."
Sam was grateful for the change in subject. "Oh just that with my meds she doesn't think any 'traditional' form of birth control is going to work. Not the pill, not the patch, not that Nuvaring thing."
"So condoms, diaphgram or IUD," Lindsay concluded.
"Are you kidding? Those were the last on her list. Do you know what the crazy bitch wants to put me on? The Depo shot. Yeah. She tells me I should go on the shot and then tells me that it's not uncommon to gain weight from it. Gain weight? We're not talking a few pounds. Or even ten. I knew three girls back in Arizona that packed on the pounds once they went on it. Forty five pounds to be exact!"
"That's not too bad for three people combined," Lindsay said.
"Combined? Oh no…not combined. Each."
"Ouch…"
"No kidding. And considering my size ten's are starting to get a little snug around my ass, there's no damn way I am gping on the shot. So Don and I need to have a sit down and discuss this little predicament."
"I can gauruntee that condoms will not be on the top of his list," Lindsay laughed.
"I will never hear the end of it if things come down to that. Anyway, that's my day so far. Well that and a lovely conversation I had with my mother while I was on the subway. Which quickly escalated into me screaming obscenities into my cell phone and the other passengers looking at me like I was insane."
"I seriously don't know why you don't change all your numbers and just disown the bitch," Lindsay said in all honesty. "What was her issue now?"
"Just that she feels I'm ignoring her by not returning her calls in a timely fashion. Like does she not get that some of us in this world have to actually work? That we can't all be the perfect, clean freak Stepford wife such as herself? It's all she does, Linds. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. And she expects everyone to be just like her. And if you're not, you're a lazy piece of shit not worthy to walk the earth."
"Well tell her that you'll gladly hand over the badge and gun and you can stay home and do nothing but clean and make meals and she can chase pieces of crap all over the city. Seriously Sam. I don't know how you and Adam ever survived having her as your mother. I know your real bad was a sick, twisted bastard for what he did, but she's no better treating you guys the way she does."
"She's perfect didn't you know that? Everything she does is great and everything we do is crap. Who cares. Ignore me. I'm just bitching to you 'cause if I even tell Don about he'll go off on a tangent."
"He just wants to protect you," Lindsay reasoned. "He doesn't want to see you getting hurt. That's all."
"I guess…but I'll handle her on my own. She's just a nutter. Worst thing that could have ever happened was her coming here. Makes me want to skip town. Pack all my shit and just take off. Go somewhere far, far away."
"Don't even think about it," her best friend warned. "Running away won't solve a thing. Think of all the people who would miss you. Ignore her. Live your life the way you want to, Sammie. Your thirty-four years old. Don't let her treat you like your fourteen. Or four even. Don't let her abuse you all over again."
"Easier said than done," Sam sighed. "Now that I've bored you to tears and done nothing but whine for twenty minutes…"
"Hey, best friends are around for stuff like that. We all need time to bitch and moan and whine. We all deserve it. You listen to me when I get into one of my, 'the whole world and everyone in it sucks' moods. I'm here, Sammie. For whatever it is you need me for."
"Thanks, bumpkin. I appreciate it. I appreciate you sticking around even though I'm a whiny little nymphomaniac bitch who does nothing but argue with people."
Lindsay groaned audibly. "Remind me to bitch slap Kendall into the middle of next week for ever spreading that around the lab."
"Hey, at least someone got my personality right."
"Sammie…come on…don't be stupid. Are you PMS'ing or something? Are there some wacked out hormones surging through your body and making you do this up and down thing?"
"I'll blame it on my lack of caffeine," Sam laughed. "That's got to be it, right? I need caffeine. I think I'll stop by Paisley's work and grab myself the biggest caramel latte they have and watch my ass get bigger and bigger."
"You'll burn off all the calories shopping," the other woman said. "I know what kind of marathon spending sprees you go on. I certainly can't keep up."
"I'm actually on a budget. It's Don's bank card I'm packing. Apartment accessories shopping. Good thing I brought my Visa. I need some new clothes. And, I've decided to get something new done."
"What kind of something new? Like a hair cut? Dye job? Piercing? Tattoo?"
"Actually, I've decided to get a branding."
Lindsay coughed noisily. "Excuse me?"
"A branding. You know, like ranchers brand their cattle?"
"Why?" Lindsay asked.
"I don't know. Just something I feel like doing. A Hello Kitty to match the necklace Donnie bought me for Valentines Day. On the front of my right hip. For his eyes only, obviously."
"Sammie, I love you, but you're certifiably insane. He's going to kick your ass for doing something like that. This is a guy that hates you wearing makeup. What's he going to say when he finds out you had Hello Kitty burned into your skin?"
"Only time will tell. Now before I get you in serious shit for keeping you too long in a personal call while at work.."
"I'll see you tonight at Sullivan's," her best friend finished.
"You bet you're ass you will. And by the way…that bra and undies I bought last week? The Irish ones?"
"Yeah…"
"Worked like a freakin' charm. I landed him hook, line and sinker. He was damn putty in my hands."
Lindsay laughed.
"I managed to seize control," Sam said, and gave an evil laugh. "Total domination will soon to be mine!"
"You wish," Lindsay told her and disconnected the call.
Never underestimate us little ones, Sam thought with a grin. Pressing end on her cell phone, she snapped it closed and dropped it into her jacket pocket.
Bank card, credit cards, cash for food and beverages, she ticked each item off in her head.
I am definitely armed and dangerous.
The coffee shop was a hub of activity. The lively chatter of university students as they mingled at their tables of waited in line for snacks and beverages , mixed in with the screech of the espresso machine greeted Samantha as she stepped inside. Friday afternoons at the café were nothing short of insanity. Baristas, appearing calm and composed as they hurried behind the counter to prepare drinks and toast bagels and heat desserts and other small ticket food items. The sprinkling of 'regular' costumers appeared annoyed at both the wait, and the fact that the students, with more than half of the tables covered in lap tops, text books and other school supplies, seemed to be taking over the place. Dirty looks were being shot around and there were grumblings in the air about how long it was taking to get served.
It's coffee people, Sam thought, as she stepped up to the end of the line and pulled her cell from her purse to check for text or voice messages. If you're that addicted to coffee that the need for it causes you to treat peope like shit, then get another vice. Or take your crap somewhere else. There's only a Starbucks on every bloody block.
"Typical Friday afternoon crowd, huh?" a deep voice commented from behind her.
She startled slightly, then glanced over her shoulder. The man who'd spoken was tall and broad shouldered and appeared to be of mixed ethnicity. What actually, she couldn't quite put her finger on. His skin was exceptionally smooth and downright beautiful for a man. His recently shaved head did little to distract from his attractiveness. Soulful brown eyes, full lips and a strong jaw. But what really caught her eye -and the eye of any red blooded female in the place- was the man's body and how he showcased it in a simple white t-shirt. A wide, soild chest and massive, strong arms. And it was those arms and her hormonal desire to reach out and feel those muscles that caused her to flush from head to toe.
"I don't know why I bother coming here on a Saturday," he said. "This place is a zoo. And it isn't the students that burn my ass. They're alright. It's the regular schmucks who think they can treat people like crap 'cause they're shelling out three fifty for a latte. And then leaving a lousy tip."
"Or none at all," Sam added. "'Cause they feel that their presence alone is enough. That you should be grateful they even allowed you to serve them."
"Exactly," he agreed.
"You must work with the public to think that," Sam remarked.
He nodded. "I've seen all kinds of morons just like these fools. And I deal with bigger and badder, a lot bigger and badder, on a daily basis."
"You talk like a cop," she laughed.
"Maybe because I am," he said. "I can't believe you don't remember me, Detective Ross."
She arched a quizzical eyebrow.
"We've met before," he told her. "A couple times actually. And I've heard a lot about you."
"From?"
"Your boyfriend. Don Flack. I play on his department hockey team. He introduced us that time we met up in the parking lot at Willis Arena before the game. I play defence. Flack's the one that started everyone in on calling me Vin Diesel 'cause he thinks we could pass as twins."
"Right…right. Sorry. I'm not good with faces and I see a lot of those in the span of twenty four hours alone."
"Mark Powell," he said, and offered a large, strong hand. "I work vice out of the five-five."
"Samantha Ross," she shook it warmly. "Although you remembered my name."
"Naw…it was the pretty face I remember. Hard to forget one of those. You know, my girlfriend's been going on and on about calling you. Catching up with you. I guess she's hurting over the way things ended. I told her to just suck it up and give you a shout. The past is the past, right? You're both adults and have moved on."
"Okay…back up a second. Your girlfriend? I'm lost here. How does your girlfriend know me?"
"Flack dumped her to get with you. Guess you two had it out over it. She asked for a transfer, never spoke to you again."
"Jessica Angell is your girlfriend?" Sam asked. Now if this isn't an unhappy coincidence, she thought.
"Hooked up about a month ago now," Mark replied. "We met at the precinct. She'd brought in a bad ass perp to be processed. Laid him out when he got a little rough with her. One punch and he was on his behind crying for his mommy."
Sam laughed at that. "Yeah...Jess always could handle herself. She's never been afraid of anyone or anything."
He nodded, then was silent for a minute as he pondered what to say next. "Look, I don't know exactly how things ended between you two. I don't know all the details and let's face it, there's two sides to every story. I only know what she told me and it wasn't pleasant for either you or Flack…"
Sam sighed heavily.
"But that's your guys' business. I just know that she misses you. She's always going on and on about how tight the two of you were before he got in the middle of things. And she's gotten over him and gone on with her life, but she hasn't gotten over the fact that you and her are on the outs. I've been telling her to give you a call, that the two of you should just sit down and work things out. But you know what she's like…"
"Stubborn as hell," she finished for him.
"Pretty much. So if you ever get it in your mind to call her, she's still at the same number."
"I've still got the same cell phone," Sam said. "And Don's got his same land line number. I'm living there now so she can just call if she wants to talk. Just tell her…" she sighed. "Just tell her that it would be nice to hear from her. And that I hope we can be friends again. Somehow."
"I'll tell her. And trust me, she'll be relieved to hear it."
Sam smiled, but couldn't quell the uneasiness that knotted her stomach. A little something that was telling her that maybe trying to return to the past wasn't a good idea for the present.
Flack glanced up from the classified section of the New York Times resting on his knee as he heard the jingling of keys in the lock, followed by a dull click and the apartment door squeaking noisily as it opened. The television across the room was tuned into the Spike network, which was in the midst of a twenty four hour marathon of the new reality show DEA. Why in the hell he enjoyed watching members of the Drug Enforcement Agency chasing down scumbags was beyond him. He should have been satisfied with his own piece of action that he got day in and day out at work and not bothered with living vicariously through a tv show on top of it. But there was a part of him that was drawn to crime shows. The reality ones were his favourite. Episodes of The First 48 were like crack. He enjoyed watching other homicide detectives struggle with putting all the pieces together. And making his own 'educated' assumptions about who the perp would turn out to be based on the evidence, or lack thereof.
But his favourite 'past time' was watching the fake crime shows. Actors attempting to realistically portray those in law enforcement. And for the most part, doing a crap ass job at it. Sam had even relegated herself to fleeing to the bedroom if those shows were on because she couldn't handle him picking every little thing apart.
"I was about ready to send a search party for you," he called to his girlfriend, as he heard the closet door siding open and the rattling of a hanger as she hung up her coat.
"It's only five thirty," Sam informed him.
"You're right. My mistake. When you're out shopping, there's a damn good chance you won't be making it home until well after all the stores close."
"Well what can I say," she said with a sigh. "Shopping is a major vice for me."
"So do I need to file for bankruptcy anytime soon? Confiscate your credit cards and cut them up?" he teased, looking over his shoulder as she strolled into the living room where he sat on the couch, feet propped on the coffee table, legs bent at the knee. A bottle of beer tucked in between the cushions beside him.
She gave a small smile and held up the surprisingly small amount of bags she carried in both hands. Which all bore the names and logos of clothing and personal accessories stores.
"That's it?" Flack asked. "No apartment shit? No furniture?"
"I didn't see anything I like," she replied. "Here…" setting the bags on the couch beside him, she dug into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out his bankcard. "I didn't need it. I put my stuff on my Visa."
"What? You thought I'd get pissed if you used my cash to buy yourself clothes?" he inquired, taking the small plastic card from her and tossing it on the coffee table. "I already told you, babe. Whatever you need, just get it."
"I just thought buying it myself would cause less problems later on," she reasoned.
"What problems would it cause? I'm not your mother. I don't buy you stuff and then hold it over your head months down the road."
She cringed at the mention of her mother. Moving the shopping bags from the couch to the floor, she sat down beside him and laying a hand on his back, kissed his cheek softly. "You're nothing like her," she said, resting her chin on his shoulder. "I didn't mean for it to sound like you're like her in any way, shape or form. I just…I needed clothes and I didn't think you needed to pay for them. That's all."
"I'll pay for what I want to pay for, okay?"
She held up her hands in surrender. "You're looking for apartments?" she asked, nodding at the newspaper resting on his knees.
"There's a few places here that are in our price range. Decent areas too. I figure we can find time to get around and see them. Even if it's on a lunch hour or something. Sound good?"
She nodded.
He turned his face towards her and kissed her lips tenderly. "You alright?" he asked, concern in his blue eyes. "You seem a little…I don't know…not you."
"I'm fine," she replied and gave him a reassuring smile. "Why would there be something wrong?"
"I don't know. You tell me. Here I am expecting you to come home with tons of bags and you walk in with half a dozen. What's up with that? You usually go insane when you're out shopping."
"It's not as fun when you're doing it on your own," she said. "Usually Lindsay's with me. And on the rare occasion you come along for shits and giggles. Being by myself…" she shrugged. "I just wasn't into it. I tried getting into the spirit but it was futile. I didn't see anything I liked so I gave up and decided to buy clothes instead. I needed some new clothes."
"And what did the doctor say? Something go down there that's got you in a mood?"
"I'm not in a mood," she said.
Flack arched both eyebrows.
"Okay…so I'm in a mood. But it's just a tiny one. And it has nothing to do with the doctor. But you can get on your knees and bow to my fucked up uterus. Thank your lucky stars that my insides are so screwed. Apparently my anxiety meds have been messing with the patch and we've been having unprotected sex since Februray."
"So we're just extremely lucky in other words."
"I guess," she said, and giving a sigh, pulled off her hat and tossed it onto the coffee table. "But we don't know if it's a peramanent luck or a temporary one. She says we either just dodged a bullet or things might be so crazy inside of me that pregnancy is no longer a viable option."
Flack frowned and reaching for the remote, switched off the television in order to give her his full attention. "So what is she going to do about it?" he asked. "Is there a way she can find that out? I mean, you've been getting periods and all that. So things must be working properly, right?"
"She said that I can have an ultrasound done to see how 'normal' things are. She thinks maybe there's some scar tissue build up. Which can be cleared away surgically."
"Okay…so if we find out that's what it is, we take care of it. No huge deal. And you know what? We talked about this. About trying for a baby."
"Maybe," she corrected. "About maybe trying for a baby."
"Whatever. We talked about it and we agreed that if it happened, it happened. So who cares about birth control? We'll just make sure that you're healthy and things are okay and take care of them if they're not."
She nodded slowly, raked a hand through her hair before leaning forward and picking up one of the bags. "I bought you something," she said. "A few somethings actually."
"Which are?"
She plopped the bag into his lap. "Merry Christmas, baby," she chirped and pecked his cheek.
Smirking, he laid the newspaper aside and wiped his hands on the thighs of his sweats. Reaching into the bag, he pulled out several items wrapped tightly in white tissue paper. And sealed shut with a sticker bearing the Tommy Hilfiger label.
"They were having a sale," Sam announced. "And when I see a sale…I hope you like them."
He peeled away the sticker and opened the tissue. A grin spreading from ear to ear when he caught sight of the ties that she'd personally handpicked for him. Three paisley prints, three striped ones and two solids. One sky blue and the other a light green.
"I'm sorry," she giggled. "But I just could not deal with some of the ties you own, Donnie. There's no way a man as devastatingly handsome and sexy as you can have that bad of taste when it comes to clothes. So when I saw the Tommy ties, I just couldn't resist. Do you like them?"
He nodded and leaned sideways to kiss her softly. "Thank you," he said. "But this in no way means I'm throwing out any of my old ones."
"Yes you are!" she laughed. "No…correction. Yes, I am. I am going to go on your side of the closet and toss out all of this hideous abominations. My grandfater owned nicer ties than you. And we can't have you being upstaged by a dead ninety year old can we?"
"What am I going to tell the guys?" he asked. "When they ask me if you dress me?"
"You tell them yes, she does. Because unlike me, she can put an outfit together properly."
"You're mean to me," he declared. Then covered her lips with his own in a chaste kiss. "Thank you, baby. I love them. And I give you permission to go through the closet and play Queer Eye for the Straight Guy on me."
"I'm up for the challenge," she said, and cracked her knuckles. "I have another surprise for you," she told him, and stood up.
"Yeah?" he asked, then grinned as she lifted her sweater and began to undo her belt. "Now this is my kind of surprise. Getting naked in the middle of the living room."
"Mind out of the gutter," she scolded, and popped open the button on her jeans and slid down the zipper. "I think you'll like this surprise," she said, and dropped her pants.
"What did you do? Another tattoo?" he asked, as she began to slowly peel a small bandage off of a spot at the front of her right hip.
"Something even better," she replied, and gently removing the covering, showed off her branding.
Flack's eyes widened. Was it shock he felt? Horror even? He couldn't honestly believe that her pale, silky skin was now marred by a nasty looking burn. And was that seriously Hello Kitty?
"It's a branding!" she told him excitedly. "A Hello Kitty one to be exact. Do you like it?"
"A what?" he asked, completely dumbfounded.
"A branding. You know, like when ranchers brand their cattle. Stick the poker or whatever into the fire and hold it against their hip and…"
"I know what a branding is. Just…why the hell would you get that done?"
"I don't know," she shrugged. "I saw someone on television with one a couple of days ago and thought about how cool it was. So I figured, why not? I've never been conventional. So I looked up what tattoo and piercing places in New York City did brandings and I stopped in to have it done. It only cost me a hundred bucks."
"A hundred bucks?" he exclaimed. "A hundred bucks for someone to burn Hello Kitty into your skin?"
"Well I thought it would be cute if it matched my necklace you gave me," she reasoned.
"Sammie…" he sighed and briefly closed his eyes. "You paid a C-note to have someone burn something into you."
She nodded. Then frowned. "You don't like it?"
"Let me repeat myself. You paid a hundred bucks to be burned. A hundred bucks! To scar yourself! Are you mental?"
"I thought you'd like it," she said, and smoothing the bandage back on, yanked her pants back up.
"How can I like the idea of you actually purposefully burning an image of Hello Kitty into your skin?" he asked. "You actually thought I'd like it?"
"I thought you'd find it daring and sexy," she said, doing her zipper and button back up.
"I find the underwear you got on daring and sexy. I find some of the things you do in bed daring and sexy. I don't need you to brand yourself for me to find you daring and sexy. Why in the hell would you do something like that?"
She shrugged. "I just wanted to," she said. "I just thought it would be cool. Something different. I'm sorry if it grosses you out. If I gross you out."
"What?" he caught her by the wrist before she could walk away from the couch. "No…no…don't turn things around to make me look like a bad guy, babe. You do not gross me out. I happen to find you the most beautiful, sexiest woman on the planet. But the thought of you willingly doing something like that to yourself…"
"You don't have a problem with the tattoos," she pointed out.
"Tattooing yourself and burning something into your hip are two completely different things. I just…sometimes I wonder where your head is at, Sammie. I mean, you're thirty-four years old and you get into these moods and do these wild and crazy things to yourself and…"
"I didn't do it because I'm in a mood," she argued. "I did it because I wanted to."
"No one could possibly want to burn themselves. Come on. I see you freak out if you burn your finger taking something out of the oven. You go insane. How'd you sit through something like that?"
"I don't know…I just…I just did. It was over pretty quick. I mean, it's hurting like hell but it won't kill me. I'm sorry you don't like it. But I can't get it erased and if you don't want to be with me because of it…"
He frowned. "Now you're just talking a whole bunch of shit. What? You think I'd dump you because you did something stupid? How many times have I done or said something stupid since we've been together? You're still with me, right? You haven't dropped me on my ass yet. No matter how much of a tool I am. And if you think I'd dump you over something like this…" he shook his head. "Then that doesn't say much about how you view our relationship. Or me."
"I just thought you'd find it sexy," she said. "I didn't think you'd be offended by it."
"I'm not offended by it, babe. I'm just…a little weirded out that you'd inflict that kind of pain on yourself."
"Well you know how much I like a little pain," she joked.
He sighed heavily.
"I just did it, okay? I just felt the urge to do it. There's no reasoning behind it. I just did it."
"Because something pissed you off and that's how you deal with things. By wanting to do something wild and crazy. Or by changing your appearance. You get in these moods and start renovating yourself."
"Well be thankful it's just a branding. Because I was going to pull a Britney and shave my head. Then get big old tattoo on the back of my head. Eyeballs. Eyes in the back of my head."
"You're mental," Flack declared, and yanked her into his lap. "Do me a favour okay?" he asked, holding her tightly against him and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Before you run off getting anymore brandings or tattoos or anything of the sort, come to me and talk to me about what's bothering you. Can you do that?"
She nodded and curled her arms around his neck and nestled her head in the space between his neck and shoulder.
"Like right now would be the perfect opportunity to tell me what's bugging your ass," he said.
She sat up and gave him a smile. Then kissed him before slipping out of his embrace and standing up. "I'm going to go and order us some food for supper," she said, and headed for the kitchen.
"Sammie…come on…don't do that. Don't change the subject."
"What do you feel like?" she asked. "Chinese? Italian? Indian?"
"Samantha…"
"Thai? Let's have Thai. We haven't had Thai in forever."
Flack sighed exasperatedly. "Sounds good," he said, admitting to defeat.
For now at least.
Thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing! I appreciate each and every one of you! Even all the lurkers. Please R and R folks!
Special thanks to:
Laurzz
muchmadness
Afrozenheart412
Hope4sall
Laplandgurl
Soccer-bitch
GregRox
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Madison Bellows
