DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS.

A/N: TIME TO PLAY NAME THAT EPI AGAIN! THERE'S A COUPLE MENTIONED IN HERE. LET'S SEE WHO CAN GET THEM AND WIN MY HOMEMADE BROWNIES. AND THEY'RE GOOD, SPECIAL BROWNIES ;)

JUST KIDDING! ENJOY! THIS IS A JUST FOR FUN CHAPTER. 'CAUSE I WANTED SOME GUY TIME AND SOME FLUFF TIME AND…WELL DO I REALLY NEED A REASON FOR MY MADNESS? LOL


To protect AND serve

"I did my best to notice
When the call came down the line
Up to the platform of surrender
I was brought but I was kind
And sometimes I get nervous
When I see an open door
Close your eyes, clear your heart
Cut the cord

Are we human or are we dancers?
My sign is vital, my hands are cold
And I'm on my knees looking for the answer
Are we human or are we dancers?

Pay my respects to grace and virtue
Send my condolences to good
Give my regards to soul and romance
They always did the best they could
And so long to devotion
You taught me everything I know
Wave goodbye, wish me well
You've gotta let me go."
-Human, The Killers


Dropping his gym bag onto the cold cement, Flack yawned noisily and extending his arms over his head, stretched until both his shoulders and back cracked. Clad in a pair of navy blue athletic shorts that skimmed just below his knees, runners, a baggy NYPD sweatshirt over a t-shirt and a backwards Mets ball cap, he took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp morning air. That clock had yet to strike eight, yet he found himself in the middle of the concrete jungle in Harlem that was known as Rucker Park. His usual stomping ground for shooting hoops with the guys and his YMCA kids. The latter group he'd been seriously neglecting lately and his email and both home and cell phone voice mail stacked to the rafters with messages from both curious, and upset kids wondering if he'd dropped off of the face of the earth. He felt guilty, and knew he had to quickly get his head out of his ass and do something with the youngsters. Those kids deserved better then someone who was just a fleeting older brother figure in their lives.

Now if my life would only cooperate long enough to give me some extra time, then I'd be set, Flack thought, as he uncapped the bottle of water in his hand and took a swig of the ice cold beverage.

He realized he didn't have that much of an excuse as to why he hadn't arranged a get together with his 'kids'. Five days into his two week vacation and he'd done little more then sleep in until noon and turn off all of the ringers and every computer in the apartment and leave the television off and spend some much needed quality time with his girlfriend. Both sexual and non intimate. They had spent a lot of time on the couch, relaxing in the peacefulness of their apartment and abandoning all thoughts of work. And they talked. A lot. About anything and everything. About their equally as shitty childhoods -although Flack knew that his nowhere near matched the hell she'd been put through and would have gladly taken extra beats from his father to spare her the agony of being made her father's personal sex servant- and the more light-hearted, humorous and often embarrassing moments of their teenage years. He talked about his time in the academy and the early days of his career. About his training officer Gavin Moran and the massive fuck up he'd made by having a secret life with some woman he'd met while on the beat.

Sam had heard the stories. The precinct was a gossip mill and she'd only been a member of the team for two days when she began hearing about everyone's dirty laundry. From Danny 'shooting' Officer Minhaus, to Gavin Moran stealing a soda can that bore his illegitimate son's DNA from a crime scene and ultimately ending his career, to Stella's ex boyfriend Frankie and the amateur porn he'd made of them and posted on the internet and how he'd broken into her apartment and held her captive and had every intention of raping and killing her.

Until she put three bullets in his chest. Sam had never mentioned to Stella that she knew about it. Although she was pretty sure Stella knew she did. Stories like that had a life of their own and always mad their rounds when new people came along that had never heard them before. She also didn't know if she'd ever mention it to her friend that she both did know, and that she felt Stella deserved a goddamn award for ridding the world of that disgusting, pathetic piece of shit that had the nerve to call himself a man.

A silence had fallen at Sam's brutally honest assessment of Frankie. She and Flack had been sprawled out on the couch. He was on his back with one leg dangling over the edge while she lay on her side, an arm draped over his chest and her head on his shoulder as she listened to his heart beat while he stroked her hair softly.

She'd raised her head to look at him, slightly startled when he suddenly broke the silence with a hearty chuckle.

"We are one fucked up bunch," he'd declared. "The whole damn lot of us. There's not one person on that team that is normal."

"Oh what fun is normal?" she'd asked. "If we were normal, we'd be too damn boring. Look at me and you. Half the time we hate each other and are ready to kill one another. The other half of the time we're…"

"Having totally wild and kinky make up sex," he'd finished and laughed. "You know, I think you just like to pick massive fights with me just so you can get to the make up sex."

She'd snorted and pushed herself up into a sitting position. "Don't think so highly of yourself, Detective Flack," she'd said coolly.

There was something so unbelievably sexy watching her transform from giggly little girl in Smurf's pyjamas with pink plastic Hello Kitty barrettes holding her hair away from her face, into a bitchy, smart ass Brooklyn girl. What had attracted him to her right from the get go, and what had kept him going back for more, was the fact that she wasn't one dimensional. Or even two dimensional for that matter. She wasn't all girlie and angelic, yet she wasn't totally evil either. There were so many characteristics in between that drove him insane. And made it impossible to stay away.

"Come on now," he'd said, a smirk on his face as he reached out and traced a fingertip along her skin just underneath the neckline of her pyjamas. "Admit it…the whole reason you like us to fight is to get us to the making up part…don't be shy…"

She'd rolled her eyes and slung a leg over his body in an attempt to climb off of the couch. Only to have him firmly grab her by both hips and hold her tightly on top of him.

"Are you mad at me, Sammie?" he'd asked, an amused expression on his face. "Are you pissed off? Annoyed? Am I irritating you? Come on…get made at me and start a fight…freak out on me…slap me out…just so I can throw you down right here and get to some serious making up."

A smile had threatened to poke through her frown, and she'd leaned over and brushed her lips against his. "You are a pervert," she'd declared. Then kissed him in earnest, her lips seizing his aggressively and her tongue pushing its way into his mouth. The woman knew how to kiss. Her lips and her tongue were capable of bringing him to his knees and possessed talents all of their own. And he'd hissed in pain and his fingers had bit into her hips as he felt her teeth clamp down on his bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood. Then she'd pulled back and ever so slowly traced his lip with the tip of her tongue.

"Now whose in charge?" she'd asked in a sultry voice.

It was an epic battle of wills. Every moment of every intimate encounter was a test. She was desperate to capture control, he was desperate to hold onto it. And when he briefly handed it over, when he simply sat back and let her do what she wanted and how she wanted, it was only a matter of time before she became self conscious and unsure if she was actually doing the right thing. If what she was doing was in fact 'doing anything' for him. He didn't know how many times he had to tell her, or show her that she was incredible and what she was doing was incredible, but her shitty confidence soon got the upper hand and she was backing down and relinquishing all control once again.

While he liked having that kind of power, there was also a side to him that just wanted her to take chances. To just toss all of her hang ups aside and for once feel confident in herself and her abilities. That afternoon on the couch had ended just like many other. Her teasing him and driving him to the point of combusting before backing off and allowing him to take the lead. While he had been grateful that they were at least continuing, he had also been frustrated at her complete lack of confidence yet again. Maybe it stemmed from what had happened in her childhood. With having the one man she trusted wholly and completely doing things to her that she had no power to stop. Maybe it had to do with how Zack had been all about himself and hadn't care about her wants and her needs. How he'd made her feel unworthy and unloved. Whatever it was, he knew that he had to be the one to turn it around.

Now if only he could figure out how.


Maybe they make books on these things. Like a 'How to unleash the inner sex goddess in your woman for dummies. Or maybe that overpriced quack of a shrink we're going to see today has some answers for THAT', he thought, as he stood in the middle of the concrete jungle known as Rucker Park, sipping his bottle of water as his eyes lingered on the small, modest bronze plague attached to the chain link fence yards away that had been erected in memory of Chopper Tevis. It had been over three years ago and Flack could still remember taking his Y kids to see Chopper go one on one with NBA star Dante Hope. David had slain Goliath that day, and less then twenty four hours later, Flack had been back on that ball court standing over Chopper's dead body.

A loud groan next to him capture his attention. Looking down, he smirked as a weary Danny Messer laid down on his back on the crude metal bench and placed a forearm over his eyes.

"It is way too damn early for this shit," Danny declared.

"Eight in the morning is early?" Flack asked.

"On a day off it is," his best friend replied.

"How the hell are you ever going to function when the kid gets here? You are aware a baby doesn't have an on and off switch, right? That it's like a goddamn Energizer Bunny? That the second it arrives kicking and screaming in this world, you're life as you know it is over. That you won't be able to get your eight hours every night. You'll be lucky to get half of that. And if it's colicky, shit…."

"Shut up, Flack," Danny grumbled. "When did you become this authority on having kids? What do you know about taking care of a baby? You got a horde of bastard babies out there or something?"

"Sure…a few of them with that really cute cousin of yours that lives in Queens City. Tawny…" Flack shook his head and took a sip of his water. Flooded by memories of a night long ago when Danny's said cousin, after meeting up with her at a bar hours early, had walked out of his bathroom in nothing but her birthday suit and braids in the most unusual of places. Long, tanned, lean legs that seemed to go on forever. And a body that could stop traffic. That was one memory and one woman that would, for as long as he lived, bring a smile to his face whenever he thought about her. "That girl is all…"

"Don't even finish that sentence if you value your life, Flack," Danny warned. "You know she's like a sister to me. You say one wrong thing about her and I don't care how tight we are, I'm handing you your ass right here and now."

Flack grinned. Deciding to spare Danny the details of how dirty his precious cousin really was.

"So how goes the vacation?" Danny asked, putting his hands behind his head and staring up at the brilliant blue sky. "You've been off for five days and you don't bother calling me until last night? What's up with that?"

"I've been busy," Flack told him.

"Doing what? You probably haven't left the apartment in five days."

The detective grinned. "Which is exactly why I've said I've been busy."

"Come on…do not try and tell me that you and Brooklyn have been locked inside the bedroom for the past five days."

"We haven't been. We've been all over the apartment. Bedroom, bathroom sink ledge, bathroom floor, shower, couch, kitchen table…"

"Alright…alright. I'm sorry I asked. I don't want to be hearing about your wild sexual adventures. You better be careful or little Brooklyn's going to come to you in two months and tell you you're going to be a daddy."

"It's called birth control, Messer. Unlike some people I know, Sam and I actually know how to use the stuff. Her doctor got her fitted for a diaphragm, right? So we decide will alternate between that and condoms. So she's not constantly running to the john to put this thing in. So last night, she heads to the bathroom and she's in there for a good half hour. She comes out and oh my God, Dan-o, I nearly lose control right there and then. She's got this black lace corset thing on and a garter belt and stockings and black high heels. She's gone all pin up girl on me. Her hair's wavy, she's got ruby red lipstick on. She's just totally hot. So to make a long story short, we do our thing. And afterwards, and I mean immediately afterwards when I'm still catching my damn breath, she swears and shoves me off of her and I nearly land on the floor."

Danny's eyes widened.

"She hauls ass into the bathroom and I hear her rummaging around in the medicine cabinet. She comes back into the bedroom looking like someone just died and she's got the empty box that her diaphragm goes in, in her hand. Or I at least think it's empty. And you know what she says to me?"

Danny shook his head.

"She says, 'I forgot to put it in'. She forgot! How in the hell does someone forget something like that? Something that you have to put in your…well you know. How does she forget that? This is a woman with a masters degree from Dartmouth and you're telling me she can't remember to put in a goddamn diaphragm?"

"Her masters is in forensics," Danny reminded him. "Not common sense."

"Tell me about it. I love her…" he shook his head. "God I love her…to death…I would take a bullet for that girl and you know that. But sometimes…sometimes she drives me right mental. Remember my whole theory on the higher your education the lower your common sense?"

Danny nodded.

"Sam is proof that I know what I'm talking about," Flack concluded. "Anyway, after all is said and done, we find ourselves at a walk in clinic at six in the morning, five hours after we had sex, and we're getting her the morning after pill. And the doctor…the doctor starts telling her about how she needs to take a pregnancy test if she doesn't get her period when she's suppose to 'cause emergency contraception isn't always a hundred percent effective. And then…then he looks at her and says, you should get screened for STDs with your family doctor. He's thinking she's just some girl who had a one night hook up and didn't bother to use protection. I swear to you, I was ready to beat the shit out of that tool."

"Can't believe you guys got the morning after pill," Danny grumbled.

Flack frowned. "Why? What's the issue? Why'd you get this weird look on your face when you 'said morning after pill?' You're acting like I just told you I'd sold my first born on the black market."

"I just didn't think you guys would do something like that is all. I thought you'd agreed that if it happened it happened. The morning after pill is just like…."

"Like what? Don't say what I think you're going to say next, Messer. This was our choice. Both Sam and I made it. And we also decided that we weren't in any position to have a kid. We're not like you and Linds. We're not at that point in our relationship. And considering all the other shit we're dealing with? Us having a baby…well that would just plain fucking selfish."

"Should have thought about that and used protection," Danny said. "Or made sure she was safe."

"Oh that's rich coming from you," Flack snidely remarked. "Considering birth control completely slipped your mind about four months ago."

"All I'm saying is that…"

"Easy, ladies, easy," a familiar deep voice said from behind them. "It's way too early to be getting your panties in a twist."

"Where you been Scagnetti?" Flack teased his partner as he turned around to watch the big detective, accompanied by Adam, Rick Santucci and Marty Pino crossing the court. "I said eight a.m. You get caught up in the line at Crispy Cream or something?"

"Very funny, Flack. I'm surprised you're even here. What? Your girlfriend finally let you out of the house to play? Give you permission to breath fresh air and see sunlight?"

"Hey, just 'cause I'm getting laid on a regular basis and you're still shelling out the green for a helping hand, don't be getting all nasty on me," Flack shot back.

"Only way I'll be getting nasty on you is I high tail it out of here and haul ass to your place and show Little Brooklyn what a real man can do for her."

"In that case, I believe the job would be up to me," Pino remarked cockily.

"Give me a break," Danny snorted. "She'd pull a hockey fight on you. Yank that Giants jersey over your head and pummel your pretty little face. And aren't you married? Why are you even talking like this with a wife at home in the first place?"

"Because the wife knows it's all in good fun," Pino told him. "I'm coming home to her at the end of that day and that's all that matters."

"In the meantime he's spending the hours in between leaving the house and walking back in trying to score with anything that walks with a wiggle," Scagnetti piped up. "You better watch yourself, Flack. Last case I worked with your girl and him? I spotted him checking out her ass as she was leaving autopsy."

"Can I help it if I'm a man that can admire beautiful scenery?" the young ME asked.

"You'll be admiring that scenery with two black eyes," Flack threatened him.

Pino held up his hands in surrender. "You know I'm just joking with you, big man."

"You're only saying that 'cause you know he could snap you in half," Danny remarked dryly. "And what's up with you anyway, Pino? You seriously look like you've gone on a bender or something. Too many long hours playing the Xbox down in the morgue while working nights or what?"

"Too many nights getting acquainted with your sister," Pino chided him.

The group of men laughed.

"You're damn lucky I don't have a sister or I'd be whupping your ass all over this court," Danny declared.

"What the hell are we doing here so early anyway?" Santucci asked. "My one day off a week and I've got to get up early to shoot hoops?"

"That's 'cause Flack's got a busy social calender," Danny said, as he pushed himself up into a sitting position on the bench. "Him and his girl got plans."

"Do they include leaving the apartment?" Scagnetti teased his partner, nudging Flack with his elbow. "Come on Junior, don't be shy. Let us know what goes on behind closed doors. She really as meek and mild as she lets on sometime or does she take that usual bitchiness to bed with her and just punish you?"

"She punishes him," Danny said. "You should see the man's back and shoulders. Guy's got more war wounds from her then he does from the job."

"Uh…guys…" Adam spoke up. "Do we really have to talk about this? 'Cause that is my sister and well… I really don't want to be hearing that kind of stuff about my sister. So do you mind? Please?"

"Don't be such a cupcake," Scagnetti chided, and reached out to tousle the lab tech's hair. "Time to face the facts that your sister is a wild thing. A raging nympho. I bet if Flack would be honest for once, he'd admit she's schooling him."

Adam grimaced. "That I do not need to hear. And why are we all the way out here in Harlem just to play basketball when there's five courts in my neighbourhood alone?"

"'Cause this is Flack's hood," Danny declared, jumping to his feet and clapping his best friend on the back. "This is Rucker Park. He's the resident Larry Bird six years running now."

"If you're the resident Larry Bird I'm the resident Kareem Abdul Jabar," Scagnetti told his partner.

"Actually…" Flack reached out and patted his friend on the stomach. "You're more the resident William Refrigerator Perry."

"That's harsh, Junior," Scagnetti said. "Real harsh."

"He was nicer then I was going to be," Danny told him. "I was going to say the resident Pilsbury Doughboy."

The group laughed heartily once again.

"So we gonna stand here yapping like women and freezing our nuts off or are we actually gonna play?" Scagnetti asked. "'Cause if it's the two formers, I could be warm and snug in my bed with some pretty little brunette."

"Don't give us that, Tony," Flack said. "We all know the rub and tugs don't open until ten am."

"Actually I was going to have one of these guys distract you and head over to your place," the big man teased, then reached out quickly and wrapped Flack in a head lock. "Don't make me mess up your pretty face anymore then it already is, Junior. Don't want your lady not able to recognize you."

"Trust me, Tony," Flack laughed as he wriggled out of his partner's grasp. "She'll know it's me if I just drop my drawers."

"I so do not want to hear this," Adam declared.

"Oh relax Ross," Flack slung his arm across the younger man's shoulders as the group made their way out onto the group. "Your sister is well taken care of, trust me."

"I know…I just…I hate hearing stuff like that about her, you know? It's just…it's not right hearing that about your sister. Would you wanna hear that about your sister?"

Flack chuckled. "Oh…I've heard a lot worse about my sister," he said, then slowed his pace, allowing the others to get further ahead. "You left a message on my cell phone last night. What's up? Everything okay?"

"I don't know," Adam admitted. "Zack stopped by the lab last night."

Flack sighed heavily and immediately tensed up.

"I told him that Sam wasn't there and that she was on personal leave and I didn't know when she was going to be back. He was involved with some bust major crime made last night and he thought he'd kill two birds with one stone and pop by and see how she was."

"Is that what he said? That he wanted to see how she was?"

Adam nodded.

"What did you tell him?" Flack asked.

"I told him that she was fine. And that really, her well being wasn't any of his business anymore. That it hadn't been any of his business for a long, long time."

Flack grinned, feeling an immense surge of pride in Adam surging through his body.

"I'm tired of him thinking that he can just walk right in and take over her life again," the lab tech continued solemnly. "He's controlled her and manipulated her for years. And he thinks that he's going to be able to just talk her into taking him back. To give up the life she has now for the life that she gave up with him. And I guess I kinda…I don't know…I guess I kind of worried she's not strong enough to get away from him completely."

"Trust me, Adam, your sister is a lot stronger then any of us give her credit for," Flack told him. "She knows what she wants, how to get it, and how to keep it. She's not going to fall for his bullshit."

The lab tech nodded.

"And I mean come on. Think about it. Why would she? Why would she want that tool when she's got someone as incredibly handsome and fantastically charming as me?"

Adam smirked.

"Or should I say why she want to be with a prick like that when she has someone that is completely and utterly devoted to her? Who would do anything to protect her? And I mean anything, Adam. If Zack so as much breathes on her, I will end him. I would have thought that T…" Flack caught himself before Terrence Davis' name could escape his lips.

No one knew save for him, Sam and Davis himself. Even the guys who'd put Zack in the hospital didn't know who they were doing the deed for. And Adam was the last person Flack wanted to involve. Adam was, in all fairness, like a brother to him. And protecting Sam also meant keeping her brother out of the shit storm as well.

"I would have that after that beating he was handed he'd learn not to fuck with New Yorkers," Flack finally managed to finish his sentence. "Apparently not, huh? I guess he's just hurting for another ass kicking."

"Personally I hope he gets it," Adam said.

Personally I hope I'm the one that gives it to him, Flack thought. Then said no more as they joined the others on the basketball court.


The sight that greeted Flack three hours later as he stepped through his apartment door and into his kitchen brought a broad smile to his face. He had heard the music the moment he'd stepped off of the elevator, and easily recognized it as coming from his place. Unless one of his neighbours insisted on playing The Killers over and over again just like his girlfriend did. He had made the mistake of picking up the CD for her after she'd commented, after seeing some of the group's songs on You Tube that she really, really like the music. That had been a week ago. It had been playing on the stereo ever since. She knew all the words and they were slowly becoming embedded in his brain as well. And when he'd been putting the key in the door, he'd found himself muttering some of the words to the song Human.

But what greeted him, after he'd toed off his runners and dropped his bag by the door before locking it, was both amusing and adorable. His girlfriend, clad in one of his t-shirts and a pair of his athletic socks, her hair piled up on the top of her head in a sloppy bun and held together with plastic sticks, dancing around the kitchen, a piece of toast and peanut butter in her hand as she sang along to the music blaring from the stereo in the living room.

"I'm fine, but I hear those voices at night, sometime. The star maker says, 'It ain't so bad' The dream maker's gonna make you mad; The spaceman says, "Everybody look down! Its all in your mind!' The star maker says, 'It ain't so bad' The dream maker's gonna make you mad; The spaceman says, 'Everybody look down... It's all in my mind!'."

Grinning, Flack tossed his keys onto the top of the microwave. The loud clatter capturing Sam's attention. She blushed furiously and retreated to the counter near the sink.

"Don't stop on account of me," he said. "I was kind of enjoying the show. Would have been a little bit more interesting if you were dancing around in no clothes but beggars can't be choosers."

"I'll handcuff you to a chair later and put on my naughty Catholic school girl outfit and dance around to Britney's I'm a Slave For You," she told him, reaching for a massive New York Rangers mug sitting on the counter and taking a sip of the milk that was inside.

"Don't be making me promises like that," Flack said, leaning down and giving her a soft kiss.

"Why not?" she asked. "That's one promise I will definitely keep. Unless you're worried that all of your dirty little fetishes are going to make it out into public knowledge. Don't worry Donnie. I'm not keeping photos or a journal about you on some secret flash drive or anything."

"Good. Last thing I need is that pompous sonofabitch Dunbrook writing an article on the dark, kinky side of New York's finest."

"God…your tales alone would sell a million copies," she giggled. "And yeah…the guy's a major prick, but his son is kind of hot."

Flack stared at her, then snorted and shook his head.

"How did boy time go?" she asked curiously, biting into her toast, watching as he crossed the kitchen and went to the fridge. Admiring those long, strong legs and possibly the most incredible ass she'd ever seen on a man.

"Aside from being the brunt of Scagnetti's jokes about how whipped I am?" Flack asked, as he opened the fridge and peered inside.

"Those aren't jokes, Donnie. Those are truths."

He snorted and grabbed a small plastic bottle of orange juice. "I am not whipped," he informed her, as he cracked open the lid on the juice and taking a swig, leaned against the counter alongside of her.

She raised her eyebrows and stared pointedly at him.

"I'm not," he insisted.

"Whatever you say," she sing-songed. "What are you going to make me for breakfast?"

"I don't know…what do you want?"

"I don't know…pancakes? Banana pancakes?"

"We don't have any bananas," he pointed out.

"Well the bodega down the street has them," she said.

"I'll go down there after I finish my juice and get some, then and come back and make your pancakes," he told her.

She nodded. Then giggled.

He stared down at her.

"You are so whipped," she chided. "You just totally bowed to me just then! You were willing to go back out to the store just to cater to every little whim I have! If I wanted banana pancakes do you not think I'd call you on your cell phone and ask you to bring bananas home?"

"I don't know, Sammie…I don't know what goes through that twisted little mind of yours."

She laughed and wrapped her arm around his waist. "God…if people only knew how I actually wore the pants in this relationship."

"What?" he nearly choked on a mouthful of juice. "You wear the pants? Are you serious? You can't be serious. I'm in charge here. You know it. I know it. Don't be starting some feminist regime on me here."

"Oh don't worry, baby…" her eyes sparkled up at him as she rubbed his back. "I won't tell anyone your dirty little secret. How at work you're so bossy and assertive and at home…well at home I've got you wrapped around my baby finger. I promise that I will uphold your bad ass, man's man reputation."

He smirked and slinging his arm around her slender shoulders, pulled her into his side and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "You're feeling alright this morning?" he asked. "You seem like you're in an okay mood."

"It's definitely one of my better mornings," she said. "You know, considering our little…incident last night and the continuation this morning."

"It was an innocent fuck up," he told her, shrugging his shoulders. "Just promise me you'll put a post it note on the bathroom mirror reminding you to put that damn thing in. 'Cause we can't be running to the clinic every time you forget."

"I'll put a post it note up and tie a string around my finger," she vowed. "So your guy time was okay?" she asked.

He nodded. "It was alright. Adam, Santucci and I kicked Danny, Scagnetti and Pino's asses. And you know…there's something not quite right about that guy."

"Who?" she asked. "Pino?"

"Yeah…something just doesn't seem right about him. I can't quite put my finger on it, but it's like he's…I don't know…hiding something. Like he's got this big dark secret and the weight of the world on his shoulders."

"I think you need to turn that cop side of you off for a bit," Sam told him. "Especially when we're supposed to be on vacation."

"Come on…you can't tell me you haven't noticed something weird about him."

"I don't know…he's always been a little flirty and a little too touchy feely for my liking, but I've never considered him odd."

"It's just been recently. Like within the past couple of weeks. He's just…not himself."

Sam shrugged and popped the last bit of toast into her mouth. "I guess maybe he does seem a little rough around the edges lately. He looks like he needs about four days worth of sleep and he has been a little on the crabby side. Maybe he's having problems with his wife. I wouldn't doubt it the way he walks around work like he's the biggest man whore on earth."

"Guy's harmless. All talk and no action. And who knows? Maybe he is going through some shit at home. Domestic stress is the worst kind of all."

"Yeah? And how would you know about domestic stress, Detective Flack?" she asked, licking peanut butter off of her index finger. "I wouldn't exactly say you've got the most stressful home life."

"Are you kidding me? In case you haven't noticed, you're enough to drive someone to drink."

She frowned, and picking up her plate, turned around to rinse it in the sink.

"Don't be like that now," he said, reaching out to push a wayward tendril of hair behind her ear. "Don't be going all sulky little girl on me. I'm just kidding and you know it," he pressed a kiss to her ear. "You're right, you know. I don't have the most stressful home life. We have our issues, but they're not THAT bad. We're getting past them, right? Working on things?"

She nodded, and turning off the water, attempted to turn around and grab a dish towel to dry her hands, only to find herself held firmly in position when Flack stepped around behind her and leaning over her, placed his hands on the edge of the counter. Effectively trapping her between the cupboards and his large, strong body.

"I think we should work on a couple of things now," he said, his lips against her ear. "I think we should seriously concentrate on our social skills, don't you? How we…interact with each other?"

"You know what I think? I think you're a pervert," she said. "A pervert in desperate need of a shower. We have to be at the therapist's in a couple of hours and…"

"And what?" he asked, pressing kisses along the outer edge of her ear before travelling down to the side of her neck. "I've got lots of time to take a shower," he assured her, as his mouth continued a sizzling path towards the back of her neck. "We can even kill two birds with one stone and shower together. I know how much you love that kind of thing. What was that you liked so much the other morning? When we were showering together? Oh yeah…and I quote, 'When you bend me over and go all cop on me'."

She flushed furiously.

"Don't be shy, baby," his lips were hot and moist as they tickled the back of her neck. "I don't know why you go all virginal school girl on me sometimes. Why don't you ever just completely relax and stop thinking about what we're doing so much? Why analyze every little thing that we do in the bedroom? So what if some things seem really dirty or a little too kinky? Whose business is it but ours? There doesn't have to be a reason for why we like the things we do. As long as we're liking them together, that's all that matters."

"Sometimes it just seems a little…wrong," she admitted shyly.

"Why? Because maybe somewhere during your fucked up relationship with Zack he told you that if you enjoy something it's wrong? 'Cause all he cared about was himself? Trust me…" he licked and sucked gently at the nape of her neck. "Most important thing about anything we do? Is making sure you're enjoying it and you feel comfortable. That's the different being a pathetic excuse for a man, and one that actually loves you and cares about what you want. And trust me, the last thing I want is you thinking something I did or that we did is wrong. So how about from now on you tell me the things that you like and the things that you want. So that we avoid you thinking things like that after all is said and done. Think we can do that?"

She smiled and nodded.

"You know it's okay, right?" he asked. "To just completely lose control with me…with us…sometimes? That it's okay if you go all wild and crazy on me. I'm not going to complain about anything you want to do or anything you want to try. You know that, right?"

"I know," she said. "I just…I'm not like that. I want to be like that because I know that's what you want me to be like."

"No, Sam. Listen to me. You don't ever have to do something or become something because you know that's what I would like. You do it because it's what you want and you feel comfortable with it. You don't ask me to change who I am, right?"

"Well I wouldn't mind just a little more romance," she said wistfully.

"You know what I mean. You don't ask me to become this completely different person. And I'm never going to expect you to do anything just because you know I want it or I like it. I want you to be confident with us. And the only way you're going to do that is by being confident with yourself."

She smiled and managed to turn herself around to face him. "When did you suddenly become in possession of a psych degree?" she asked, her eyes sparkling playfully.

"I just know that sometimes you're not as comfortable with me…intimately…as you should. And I don't know if that's 'cause you're scared of yourself and you're reaction or if you're scared of me…"

She shook her head. "Never you," she assured him. "I'm never scared of you. I'm scared of…I'm scared of that out of control feeling…where I can't stop what I'm doing and if I don't stop what I'm doing I'm going to lose complete control. And I don't like that feeling 'cause the last time I gave up that last shred of control to someone…"

"Sammie, I'm not Zack. I'm nowhere near like him. I don't know what things we're like between closed doors with you two. Honestly, from the way you talk, I can pretty much guess the guy was a selfish ass. But that was then and this is now. I'm now. And I'm not going to take that control away from you and use it against you. You know that right?"

She nodded. "It's going to take some time," she said, almost sadly. "For me to be like that. I've fought so long and so hard to not be that way."

"That's fine. Take all the time you need. Time I've got lots of. I'm not going anywhere. Are you?"

She shook her head.

Laying a hand on the side of her face, he covered her lips with his in a tender kiss.

God can the man kiss, she thought, revelling in the feel of his lips and in the gentle way his tongue pushed its way between her teeth and sought out hers. Every kiss she'd ever shared with him had left her feeling weak in the knees. From the long, slow and patient kisses, to the aggressive and demanding ones and everything else in between. She was more then happy to just lose herself in him. In the way his mouth felt and in the way he smelled and the way his strong, rough hands so gently cupped her face.

He pulled back when the need to draw air into his lungs became a necessity. He ran his thumbs over her lips and simply looked at her. The way her long, dark lashes fell on her pale, silky cheeks. The way her skin was flushed. The way she tried so hard to keep her ragged breathing under control as her hands clung tightly to the front of his sweatshirt. Everything about her was beautiful. And what made her all the more alluring and intriguing, was the fact that she wasn't perfect. She was a real woman with real issues. She struggled valiantly with her demons and didn't hide her weaknesses. She asked for help when she needed it and fought so hard to trust anything, or anyone, completely. She admitted to her fears and her desire to feel loved and protected and wanted.

And most of all, she didn't expect him to perfect. She may have bitched and moaned about his quirks and all the little things that seemed to annoy her. She didn't like how mean he could be during a fight and didn't like how he could easily bring her to tears with a cutting, sarcastic remark. Yet she gave him time to work on those things. Time to learn to be more thoughtful and gentle with her.

She accepted that he wasn't the greatest man in the world. He wasn't the most romantic or the most kind or even the best looking. But she loved him. And that love was enough.

Enough to make him want to be a better man.

He pressed his lips to her forehead. "What do you say we go and get a shower and I take you out for breakfast?" he suggested.

She opened her eyes and smiled up at him. "I'd like that," she said. "Maybe we can talk…you know…about this whole therapist thing."

He nodded.

"I'm nervous," she admitted. "I know I've been to one before and I did okay with that. It's just that this time…this time you're with me and that makes me nervous."

"I don't have to go in with you, babe. If you feel more comfortable…"

"I want you there," she said. "I need you there. I just…I worry about how you're going to react. To certain things you hear. I don't want to start talking about my father and have you…"

He silenced her with a kiss. "You have me, Sammie. You have me and I'm not going anywhere. No matter how tough it is to hear some things. You need me there and I'll be there. Okay?"

She nodded.

"Whatever gets said today…whatever you say about your father…I have your back. I may not like what I hear and I may feel like killing someone…but I'm there for you and only you. You're doing good, Sammie. You're going to be okay."

She gave another nod. "I'm not going to be doing okay with your smell in a couple of minutes," she said with a grimace, effectively lightening the mood. "Almost as bad as your hockey bag."

"Nothing can be as bad as that," he chuckled, then reached for her hand. "Come on…let's go and hit the shower. I'll even let you scrub my back if you ask nicely enough."

She rolled her eyes and pushed his hand away as she stepped away from him and headed for the door. "You are so goddamn full of yourself," she declared and disappeared into the living room.

"Give me ten minutes and you'll be full of me too," he responded cockily.

She laughed at that. "Keep your dirty Irish to yourself, Detective!" she called back.

He grinned, and polishing off his orange juice, tossed the bottle into the recycling bin under the sink before heading after her.

We're going to be okay, he thought confidently. We're going to get past all of this and get on with our lives.

Our future.


The song Sam was singing along to in the kitchen was the amazing tune, Spaceman, by The Killers

Thanks to everyone who is reading and reviewing! I appreciate each and every one of you! Even all of my lurkers! Please feel free to R and R folks! However, nastiness need not apply!

Special thanks to:

Hope4sall

Laurzz

CrazyGirlCass

Afrozenheart412

muchmadness

SpankyMcDoogleFace

xSamiliciousx

wolfeylady

rebandmel

HighQueenReicheru

Madison Bellows

Bluehaven4220

Soccer-bitch