DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. OR ANYONE OR ANYTHING RELATED TO THE CSI FRANCHISE IN GENERAL. I ONLY OWN SAM. AND LOVE HER OR HATE HER, I'M PROUD OF HER.

I WANT TO DEDICATE PORTIONS OF THIS CHAPTER TO MY DEAR FRIEND DORI (AFROZENHEART 412). YOUR IDEAS AND SUGGESTIONS AND YOUR SUPPORT AND FRIENDSHIP ARE SO GREATLY APPRECIATED

ALSO, A HUGE THANKS TO ALL OF MY SUPPORTERS WHO HELPED THIS STORY REACH 700 REVIEWS! ALREADY! I BOW TO ALL OF YOU!

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS THE THREE F'S. FLUFFY, FUZZY AND FUNNY. THREE THINGS I DON'T NORMALLY INDULGE IN. LOL. I AM BLAMING IT ON THE MIXTURE OF PAIN MEDS AND ANTIBIOTICS BEING PUMPED INTO ME WHILE COOPED UP IN THE HOSPITAL. NOT FUN ON YOUR BIRTHDAY LET ME TELL YA. THANK GOD FOR A PRIVATE ROOM, LAP TOP AND FREE WIRELESS INTERNET. AND OF COURSE, ALL OF MY AMAZING FRIENDS AND THEIR WELL WISHES!

ENJOY!


Fluffy and fuzzy in Sin City

"I never thought I'd... be in love like this
When I look at you my mind goes on a trip
And you came in... and knocked me on my face
Feels like in I'm a race
But I already won first place
I never thought I'd... fall for you as hard as I did
(As hard as I did, yeah)
You got me thinking' about our house and kids
Every morning I look at you and smile
'Cause boy you came around and you knocked me down... knocked me down

Sometimes love comes around
And it knocks you down
Just get back up
When it knocks you down

I never thought I'd
Hear myself say
Y'all go ahead
I think I'm gonna kick it with my girl today
I used to be commander and chief
On my pimp ship flyin' high
Til I met this pretty little missle that shot me out the sky
Until I crash it, I don't know how it happened
But I know it feels so damn good
Said if I could go back, and make it happen faster
Don't you know I would baby if I could."
-Knock You Down, Keri Hilson featuring Kanye West and Ne-Yo


Flack tapped his foot impatiently as he waited in the small foyer of his apartment. Surrounded by luggage -some of it a rather outrageous combination of purple and pink paisley prints, a set that his girlfriend had brought home the night before and he'd all but begged her to return for something a little less hideous- and grasping his house and car keys in one hand and two airline tickets in the other. Sighing heavily, he checked his watch for what seemed like the hundredth time in ten minutes and rolled his eyes and issued a heavy sigh.

"Sam!" he bellowed through the apartment. "Come on! Let's go! Flight leaves in two and a half hours babe!"

"I'm just checking to make sure that I didn't forget anything!" she called back from the bedroom.

"You've packed enough shit to last you a month in Vegas," he complained. "I doubt you forgot anything."

"Well I've got to make sure…" she insisted. "I want to know that I'm not going to need any extra clothes or shoes or…"

"Sammie! You packed ten different pairs of shoes! Three sandals, two pairs of runners, four different kinds of heels and a pair of hooker boots! Leave the rest of your footwear home, okay?!"

"Would you just keep your pants on Donald! I just want to be sure! What if I didn't pack enough clothes? Do you think I have enough jeans and shorts and tops? What about dresses? I packed two sun dresses and two somewhat trampy slash dressy ones. Not to mention the one I bought for the wedding. Do you think that's enough? Did I pack enough underwear and bras? And what about a swimsuit?"

"Listen to me…you've got enough clothes to live in Vegas for a few weeks. In fact, you've got enough shit that you could change three times a day and still have enough. And I told you about the swimsuit. You packed it already. Even if I don't think you're going to need it."

"I want to go swimming," she informed him. "And there's a hot tub in our room."

"Hey! If you think you're actually wearing a bathing suit in our own hot tub in the privacy of our own room, you're delusional. Would you please just come on. Why does it always take you so long to get ready every time we're going somewhere?"

"Because it just does!" she reasoned. "And why do we have to leave so early in the first place? You just said the flight was in two and a half hours. We only have to drive to JFK."

He sighed once more and fought the urge to bang his head off the wall in front of him. "Sammie…it's forty five minutes to JFK on a good traffic day. There's all kinds of construction going on in the city now that it's spring. We'll be lucky if it doesn't take us two hours to get to the airport. Then we've got to go through security and all that other shit. So would you please, please just cut me some slack, quit driving me nuts and come on already."

"Fine…fine…" she huffed. "It's too bad that we couldn't get on the same flight as Mark and Jess," she huffed and journeyed out of the bedroom, the heels of her bubble gum pink sling backs clicking on the hardwood as she headed down the hall and through the living room. Her ever present black and pink Kate Spade purse over one shoulder and a knapsack that matched her luggage over the other. "Although I wasn't exactly thrilled at the thought of having to catch a six thirty in the morning flight. I'm glad we got an eleven o'clock one. Makeup! Did I bring my makeup?"

"Yes, Sammie…every last piece of that Hello Kitty stuff you just bought. I swear to God woman, I'm never travelling with you ever again," he complained.

"I keep you young, Don. Do you think I look okay?" she asked, as she tugged at the hem of her dark denim skirt. It clung to her hips and ass and stopped two inches above her knees and showed off her well toned legs and drew attention to the seahorse tattoo on the back of her left calf. Finishing off her ensemble was a soft pink eyelet top with cap sleeves. Her hair was loose and tumbled down to the small of her back, and a white macramé skull style cap sat on the top of her head.

"Let's put it this way," he said, and leaned down to press a chaste kiss to her lips. "You're hot enough to make me want to drag you into the bathroom on the plane and anoint both of us as the newest members of the mile high club."

She frowned. "In your wildest and wettest," she said with a snort.

"Come on…you can't tell me you don't find the thought of that remotely exciting. It's kinky as all hell. Getting busy at thirty five thousand feet? That doesn't turn you on the in the least little bit?"

"It does…but it just isn't me."

"You know," Flack said, handing her the plane tickets as he unlocked the apartment door and yanked it open. "When I said after your appointment that we take a little sex break, I meant for just yesterday. I didn't mean for it to extend into today."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, holding the door for him as he began moving their luggage out into the hallway. "We had sex this morning."

"What? That was no sex. Oral is not sex."

"Okay Bill Clinton," she laughed as she tucked the tickets into her purse. "You got off didn't you? It's sex. Regardless of what you say."

"Let's just agree to disagree," he said. "You are going to put out in Vegas right?"

"Are we staying home if I say no?" she asked curiously.

"I never said that. I'm just asking here. I don't want to be just sleeping in our outrageously priced suite at the Bellagio."

"What are you going to do if I got all frigid on you? Spend your days and nights in the casino gambling all of our money away?" she asked, pulling a tube of lip gloss from the pocket of her skirt and uncapping it before gliding the glittery pink concoction over her lips.

"I'm going to find me some hot show girl that's into big bad New York City boys. I'll just flash my badge and wave the 'cuffs around and she'll be all over that like flies on shit."

"Yeah? And you know what will happen to you?" she asked with a sweet smile as she slipped the gloss back into her pocket and stepped out into the hallway. "What does the name Lorena Bobbit mean to you?"

He grimaced and locked the apartment door. Then handed her the keys to deposit in her purse. "It means I better either sleep with one eye open or make sure there's no knives or sharp instruments of any kind in our room."

"Exactly," she said, and pulling up the handles on her two wheelie suitcases, draped her purse and carry on over them.

"Mind you…" Flack gathered up the rest of the bags and followed her down the hall towards the elevator. "I could just save myself a whole lot of trouble and just 'cuff you to the bedpost once you fall asleep. But then again, you might like that too much. Considering you've got the love for the handcuffs and a raging cop fetish."

She blushed furiously. "Do you mind? Our neighbours do not need to hear stuff like that."

He laughed. "Are you kidding me? Do you honestly think that me talking about handcuffs and your cop fetish bothers them? Especially considering how many times they've banged on the walls because of all your noise when we're…"

"Do you mind?" she asked, glaring at him over her shoulder. "Must you talk like that?"

"Don't go all innocent virgin, Sammie. Imagine if mommy and daddy knew about our MSN moments when I'm working nights and you're home all alone and horny."

She shook her head and pressed the down button for the elevator. "You are unreal. Why do you talk like that? Why do you insist on pushing my buttons by talking like that in public?"

"Oh I'm sorry…" he said, and setting the bags on the ground, wrapped his arm around her slender waist and pulled her tightly against his side. "I keep forgetting you just like to reserve the nasty, dirty talk for the bedroom," he teased and pressing a kiss to her temple, ran his hand over her hip and around, letting it lightly graze her ass.

"What is wrong with you today?" she asked. "Talking like this? Feeling me up in public?"

"I always talk like this 'cause I know it does something for you. And I am not feeling you up. I'm touching your ass. There's a difference."

She arched an eyebrow.

"Okay…so maybe I had this really wild and perverted dream last night and even what you did this morning wasn't enough to…how should I put it?….Flush it out of my system."

"And what exactly happened in this wild and perverted dream?" she asked.

"Well, let's just say it involved chocolate sauce, ice cubes, champagne and our all time favourite, mint chocolate chip ice cream. Oh…and there may have been some slight bondage."

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"You tied to the bed with two of my ties, actually," he admitted.

"You are seriously disturbed," she laughed. She tapped the toe of her shoe on the tile flooring, silent for a moment as they heard the distinct rumbling of the elevator as it approached their floor. "I hope it wasn't the nice ties I bought you," she said. "I hope it was one of your many fugly ties."

"Fugly ties?" he asked curiously.

"Fucking ugly," she clarified. "And you've got a lot of them."

"You just made me throw out tons," he reminded her. "I hope you realize how I am going to look in front of all my guys if they ever find out you're picking out my clothes for me."

"I am simply the tie chooser," she said, then eyed him from head to toe. Nodding appreciatively at the way his blue, yellow and white Michael Jordan golf shirt fit tight around muscular biceps and the way his Tommy jeans fit loose in the legs but hugged his ass just perfectly. There was a small, frayed hole in the back pocket and she couldn't resist sticking her finger into it. "I have no complaints about your wardrobe," she assured him. Then frowned when she looked down and saw those hideous Adidas sandals on his feet. She gave a groan and a roll of her eyes. "Must you, Don? Like really. Must you?"

"You have your Kermit Crocs and I have my Adidas sandals. Deal with it."

"I will one day succeed in throwing those things out," she declared. "At least tell me you packed other shoes."

"Yes, dear. I did. Just to appease you. You didn't really think I'd subject myself to your constant bitching and moaning by not bringing other pairs?"

"Be nice to me!" she cried, and pinched his ass.

"And you complain about me feeling you up?" he laughed, wriggling away from her as her hand drifted over his butt.

"I'm sorry. I can't resist. You just have the most incredible ass I've ever seen on a guy. And apparently, I'm not the only woman that notices. Remember that old lady at the bodega down the street last week? How she caught me looking at your butt and tapped me on the shoulder? Then proceeded to tell me how, and I quote, 'he should charge for a view like that'?"

"What can I say? The ladies love me. You've got yourself some heavy competition."

"Oh yeah…" she giggled. "I'm just going to have to beat all the old ladies off with a stick."

The elevator finally shuddered to a stop and the doors slid open with a noisy squeak. Flack motioned for Sam to go ahead of him and she held the door as he loaded the luggage in before stepping on himself.

"You asked Danny to come over and check our mail?" Sam asked, pressing the button for the underground lot.

Flack nodded and yawned noisily. "He was kinda pissy with me though. I think he's got his undies in a twist that I'm making friends with someone else. He's got that clingy best friend vibe going on lately."

"I think he's just trying to hold on to you 'cause you're still single and his single days are quickly slipping away," Sam reasoned. "He's living vicariously through you."

"'Cause I just live such a wild and crazy care free life," Flack laughed. "I told him that if he was having second thoughts he should have bailed months ago. You know, when he was going through his, 'am I doing the right thing?' stage. I mean, it can't be a good sign when someone says they're not sure why they're marrying someone."

"It wasn't that he wasn't sure why he was marrying her," Sam said. "He was just…not sure if he was doing it for the right reasons."

"Love is always a right reason. But he couldn't even tell me if that was the reason why he wanted to get married."

"Don't be so cynical, Don. Of course he's marrying her for the right reason. He loves her and wants to spend the rest of his life with her. He's just…scared of surrendering his bachelor status. You'll be the same way if you ever get to the point in your life that he's at now."

"It's not if, Sammie. It's when," he corrected her. "And I'm at that point in my life. And you know what? I know why I want to marry you. There isn't going to be any hesitation or second guessing if someone asks me why."

"And why do you want to marry me?" she asked curiously.

"Because I love you more then I thought I could ever love another human being. 'Cause I'd take a bullet for you. 'Cause I want forever with you. The house in the suburbs with the white picket fence and two point five kids or whatever the hell it is. I want you. And only you. I want to be able to call you my wife and it actually be true. I want to go around bragging to everyone when we find out we're having a baby. I want to be that guy who keeps an ultrasound picture on my desk and who buys ball gloves and baseball caps and you're only a few months along. I want to go to all the scans and all the appointments and then nearly faint watching you give birth. You'd be a really sexy pregnant woman, you know that?"

She beamed up at him.

"I just want you, Sammie. A life with you. A future with you. Sure, we got love, but we got so much more then that. And all of it together will make our life together amazing. Being friends for an entire year and a half? I think it did wonders for us. We didn't just jump into something not knowing the other person. Being friends first…I don't know…I think we're stronger 'cause of that."

"I think so too," she agreed and rubbed his back affectionately as he leaned down to press a kiss to her lips.

"By the way," he said, and running a hand down her hair, allowed it to settle on the small of her back. "You look really pretty today."

"Yeah?" she asked, and snaking an arm around his waist, rubbed his hip softly. "You look pretty damn fine yourself. Well, save for them horrific excuses for shoes."

"Come on…you love them. Shows off my toes. Good for your foot fetish. And for the record, I'm at the point in my life where I want to get married. It's you that's dragging your heels."

"Don…" she sighed heavily. "Don't ruin our vacation by starting that again."

"I'm just saying…I'm the one whose ready. You're the one with the marriage paranoia."

"It's not a paranoia," she informed him. "It's a…I just think it's way too soon for us to be talking marriage."

"We live together, Sammie. That's like being married."

"I know…I just…"

"Would it be different if we got engaged and stayed that way for a year? Would it be okay then? I mean, that gives us an entire year to keep living together. Three hundred and sixty five days to get used to the idea of being husband and wife. To really get to know one another. Would that be okay?"

"Is that what you really want?" she asked.

"I want what you want. If you want to stay engaged for a year or two, that's fine with me. I just…I'm ready for that step and I want to know that you're ready to take it with me."

She smiled and gave a nod. "I think I'd be okay with that," she said. "Why? What little secret are you hiding from me?"

"No little secret," he assured her and kissed the top of her head.

At least not yet, he thought with a grin.


The Las Vegas strip wasn't much to look at during the day. A mixture of luxurious, monstrous and outrageously expensive all inclusive resorts, lower end hotels and casinos and high end boutiques and factory outlets, the strip's magic prevailed at night. Once the sun went down, it came to life. As day gave into night, the flashing and shimmering lights would blaze as thousands of tourists strolled the streets and the floors of the casinos were packed to bursting. During daylight, things appeared remarkably subdued. Scattered handfuls of small groups wandered the strip while others preferred quiet time at their hotels, Whether it be lounging by the pool or simply hanging out in their rooms or browsing the shops that the high end resorts boasted on their premises, there was always something to do.

Despite the fact that the strip appeared relatively boring at the moment, Samantha was in complete and utter awe of their surroundings. The moment Flack had drove their rental car off of the airport lot, she'd rolled down the window and got out her digital camera and snapped pictures of everything and anything on the forty five minute drive to their hotel.

As soon as their flight had taken off from JFK, she'd been like a little kid on Christmas morning. All wound up and talking a mile a minute, barely able to contain her excitement. The very second the go ahead had been given to the passengers to remove their seat belts, she'd hurriedly stripped herself of the belt and turned to Flack and tossed her arms around him and kissed him until he was breathless. Much to the chagrin of the of the passenger sitting on the other side of him.

"I can't believe we're going to Vegas!" she'd shrieked, bouncing happily in her seat. "I'm so exicted I'm going to pee my pants!"

Her childlike exuberance was charming, adorable and extremely contagious. Even if she had spent the entire three hour trip yapping his ear off about all of the things their hotel had to offer. He hadn't had the heart to tell her that she'd already told him all of it five times already, or remind her that he'd been the one to make the reservations and print off the information and the pictures that were clutched in her hands. The night before she'd snatched the papers off of the kitchen table and folded them and stuffed them into her purse. She didn't want to forget anything. And she couldn't seem to get enough of reading about the Bellagio. She went on and on about the beauty and extravagance of their room. About the hotel's many amenities. From the boutiques that sold everything from crazily expensive jewellery to designer clothes and home furnishing and accessories inspired by the Cirque de Soilel. She talked about the many restaurants and their twenty four room and concierge service. She raved about the botanical gardens and the art gallery on site and the Mediterranean inspired courtyards and pools.

But her favourite part? What she was looking forward to the most? The majestic beauty of Bellagio's world famous fountains. Which had become even more popular since the scene near the end of the movie Oceans Eleven. A film that Sam had seen -thanks to her self proclaimed George Clooney crush - at least two dozen times.

And as Flack had sat listening to her chatter on about their trip, he'd decided that the Bellagio's fountains were going to create one hell of a memory for her. One that existed outside of a favourite film.

The forty five minute car ride had turned into a nearly hour one thanks to her insistence that he pull over and let her out so she could take pictures of the New York, New York Hotel and Casino.

"You don't get enough of the real city?" he'd asked, feigning annoyance -it was hard to be genuinely irritated when she was just so damn exicted and happy- when she'd made him get out of the car and flag down someone to take their picture in front of the hotel. "I mean, we live in the real New York City, babe. Why do we need pictures of a replica one?"

"Because this is Vegas," she'd reasoned, tossing the tourist he'd corralled her camera and putting her arm around his waist and flashing a huge smile for their picture. "And besides," she'd added, after thanking and sending the tourist on his way. "It's a little easier to appreciate home when you're away from it. When you don't have it right in front of you eating your ass and kicking you while you're down. You know…like gang bangers and drug dealers and murderers. Crack whores, car jackers, home invaders…"

Now, as they continued their journey to their hotel, Sam was somewhat calm and relaxed as she sat in the pasenger seat of the black Chrysler Sebring, one ear phone to her Ipod in as she flipped through the assortment of photos on her camera. The seat was reclined back and she had her shoes kicked off and her barefeet were tapping out a rhythem on the dashboard as she sang along to her self proclaimed official 'theme song' and the breeze from the open window lightly tousling her hair.

"Love me, hate me, say what you want about me. But all of the boys and all of the girls are beggin' to, if You Seek Amy. Love me hate me, but can't you see what I see, all of the boys and all of the girls are beggin' to if You Seek Amy."

Flack grinned as her soft, if yet not slightly out of tune voice filled the car. She was young at heart, no doubt about it. From the piercings and the tattoos -the branding and the nose ring were slowly growing on him- , her penchant for cartoon inspired pyjamas and t-shirts and anything Hello Kitty, and her near obsession with her Ipod and the singing and dancing that accompanied it, Sam was living life to the fullest. She didn't let the darkness of the job haunt her once she was off the clock.

While memories of tough cases lingered just under the surface, she never dwelt on what she couldn't change or what she could have done better. She accepted the finality of death and her inability to bring departed loved ones back to their family members. She tried her hardest to give them closure, to capture justice, but knew the harsh reality that only twenty two percent of homicides were ever solved. Once she was out the exit, she became an entirely different Sam Ross. Fun loving, free spirited, and for the most part lovable and deceptively naïve and innocent.

He wondered, as he listened to her singing -a Kanye West song now- if her carefree, if not often childish tendencies, were a coping mechanism she'd designed to deal with the rigors of the job, or if they existed because she had never really had a childhood. If she was hanging on to a shred of youth because hers had been so cruelly ripped away from her.

"Don!!" she suddenly screeched, both tearing him out of his reverie and his eyes off of the road in front of him. He nearly hit the brakes, worried that he had, in his brief moment of internal debate either drifted into the opposite lane or actually run something or someone over.

"Sam…what the hell? You scared the shit out of me!" he scolded her, watching out of the corner of his eye as she bolted upright in her seat and unclasping her seat belt, turned right around to look out the back window.

"Did you see that, Donnie?!" she cried. "Did you? Did you see that?!"

"See what babe? What are you…?"

"Behind us! Walking down the street! Three people dressed as…stuffed animals!"

"Get outta here," he laughed. "You're seeing things."

"No! I'm not! I'm looking right at them! One of them is dressed as a kangaroo, the other is dressed as a Panda Bear and the other…well I can't quite make it out…it's either a sheep or a goat."

"Big difference between a sheep and a goat, Sammie…" he said.

"I know…but I never got a good look at him…what the hell is going on? Why would people be dressed as animals?"

"Some kind of mascot convention or something?" he suggested. "Are you sure you're not hallucinating or something? You did have that one cranberry and vodka on the plane. Maybe it's had some kind of adverse reaction on you 'cause of your meds."

"I am not hallucinating!" she argued, still looking through the back window "I am watching them walking down the street. It's three adults dressed as stuffies."

"You're mental, Sammie," he declared, and casting a glance through the rear view mirror, frowned at her. "I don't see a thing," he told her.

"They're right there! In front of the Flamingo! See them?"

"No," he lied and pulled to a stop at a red light.

"How can you not see a six foot kangaroo talking to a six foot Panda Bear?" she asked exasperatedly. "Especially when they're accompanied my a six foot sheep?"

"Maybe because there's no one in front of the Flamingo. Well, other then that guy in that massive Stetson and the shirt that reads, 'My ex got all my good clothes in the divorce'. What are you doing? Why are you talking a picture of that guy?"

"I am not talking a picture of him," she huffed. "I'm taking a picture of the kangaroo!"

"Sam! I swear to you, babe. You're imaging things. Your meds are acting up. There is no kangaroo or panda bear or sheep in front of The Flamingo."

"Yes there is!" she insisted, then leaned out the window. "Excuse me!" she called to an elderly couple walking hand in hand on the sidewalk. "Do you not see a kangaroo down the street?"

Flack shook his head vigorously. Then groaned inwardly, pissed that his joke was foiled when the woman looked down the street and nodded an affirmative.

"Thank you!" Sam chirped. Then slapped him on the arm. "I told you!" she exclaimed. "You've seriously got something wrong with your eyes!"

"Sammie…I saw them…I was just trying to convince you that you've gone nuts."

"You're mean!" she cried and punched his shoulder.

"Oww…" he grimaced and rubbed his arm. "You seriously punch like a man. Are you happy? Now that you've gone and embarrassed yourself in front of complete strangers over a bunch of wack-adoos dressed as…"

He stopped mid sentence, his eyes widening as a someone in a tiger costume passed by the front of the car on their way across the street.

"What in the hell…" he said.

"Oh my God!" Sam put her hand over her mouth and giggled. "What is going on? Is there something in the water? Is this an episode of The Twilight Zone? Are we being punked? Why are all these people dressed like animals?"

"This is some seriously fucked up shit right here," Flack declared, watching as the tiger met up with a pig, the two embracing warmly on the sidewalk.

"We're supposed to be used to strange and obscure!" Sam laughed hysterically, her body soon consumed by hiccups. "We're from New York City! We're supposed to be used to weird shit!"

"People do not walk around New York City dressed as stuffed animals," Flack said, leaning forward, chest against the steering wheel as he continued to watch the exchange at the corner. "I tell you, Sammie…anyone starts humping each other's legs and I'm calling animal control."

"Think it's some kind of kinky thing?" she asked, wiping tears off her cheeks as the light turned green and they cruised through the intersection. "I mean, do they do it for kicks or something?"

"I don't know. But you know what would happen to them if they walked through mid-town like that? Or went to Crown Heights? They wouldn't be walking out alive I'll tell you that much."

"There's got to be some explanation," she concluded, and grabbing a bottle of water from the cup holders between their seats, uncapped it and took a swig. "Got to be."

Flack snorted and shook his head.

"Maybe it's some cartoon character convention," she mused. "Hey…you could dress up as your favourite. Mighty Mouse."

"Tom and Jerry," he corrected her. "Hawkes was Mighty Mouse, remember? And what was your favourite? Betty Boop?"

"Strawberry Shortcake," she huffed. "You know this."

"Oh that's right…makes sense too…you're sweet like cake and practically a midget."

She frowned at him.

Flack winked at her playfully, then leaned across the seat and pecked her lips quickly before turning back to the road.

"You love me," he declared.

She smiled.

Unable to deny it.


Impressed didn't come close to what Flack was feeling as he stood in the Bellagio's Executive Lounge. Spending a ridiculous amount of money for a suite as opposed to a standard guest room had started paying off from the moment they'd stepped into the extravagant hotel and the clerks at the normal check in desk had informed them that the price of the Cypress Suite he'd reserved, located on the thirty-second floor, came with not only exclusive key card only access to rooms between the twenty-ninth floor and the thirty-sixth, but a private registration in the Lounge.

So while he stood at the registration desk, signing his life away while hotel bell boys were already on their way to the suite with their luggage, Flack took in his surroundings. The walls were covered in hand stitched leather and walnut trim and a picture window gave a stunning view of the hotel's lush botanical gardens.

I could definitely get used to this, he thought, as he accepted his MasterCard from the clerk and tucked it back into his wallet. I'm nearly bankrupt 'cause of a five day trip, but if I go seriously nuts at the blackjack table or poker, maybe I can win enough to actually stay longer.

"Here's a pamphlet listing all of our amenities," the young concierge said, as he laid a crisp sheet of cream coloured paper down on the marble counter in front of Flack. The hotel's name and address gracing the top right corner in raised gold ink.

Flack nodded and folded the piece of paper up, prepared to stuff it in his back pocket and walk away before a sudden thought hit him. "You guys got a jewellery store here, right? I thought I heard my girlfriend mention something like that."

"Tesorini," the concierge replied. "It's located on the Bellagio Lobby, one floor above us. Spectacular jewellery. Renowned houses such as Cartier, Rolex, Roberto Coin to just name a few."

"Engagement rings?" Flack asked curiously.

"A beautiful selection, sir. By Hearts on Fire. Exceptional pieces. If you would like, if you are considering making such a purchase, I could give you their card. You can call and arrange a one on one appointment with one of their certified diamond experts. Such a moment in ones life should not be taken lightly. They could help you pick the perfect ring."

Flack considered the suggestion, then nodded slowly. "You know what? I think I'll take you up on that."

"Very good, sir," the young man praised, and opening a drawer behind the counter, pulled out a business card bearing the same gold ink as the list of amenities. "Their business hours are listed, but you can make appointments to have one of their experts come to your suite with some of their wears."

"I'm trying to keep this a secret from my girlfriend," Flack said as he plucked the business card out of the younger man's hand. "I want it to be a huge surprise. So I think them coming to the room is out of the question," he held the card up as he walked away from the from the desk, elevator key and room card already securely tucked in his back pocket.

"You're very welcome, sir. Enjoy your stay here at the Bellagio. And good luck."

Flack waved his thanks and looked down at the card in his hand. A slow grin spreading across his face as he ran his thumb over the raised lettering.

Hopefully Lady Luck is on my side, he thought.

Or I'll be going home completely busted.


Stepping out of the executive lounge, Flack prepared to head in the direction of the public washrooms located just off of the main reception area. Every inch of the Bellagio was exquisite. From the imported Italian marble floors to the gilded gold fixtures, intricate sculptures that sat upon carved columns and expensive water colours that graced the walls to the antique furniture that decorated the massive lobby. He actually felt…out of place. He'd never been on a proper vacation before, let alone stay in a five star resort. He'd been to Ireland a few times to visit distant relatives of his father's in the old country, but he'd always stayed in their homes or inns where the rooms were no bigger then postage stamps. This place…this place was for the big boys. The high rollers. And it had an overall feel to it that quickly reminded him that he was definitely not in Kansas anymore.

He stopped in his tracks in the middle of the lobby, a smirk taking over his face as he caught sight of his girlfriend, at the entrance of the small hallway that led to the public restrooms, talking amicably to a complete stranger.

A six foot skunk to be exact.

He watched, both amused and somewhat concerned that she was socializing with someone crazy enough to dress themselves in costume months away from Halloween, as she and the skunk had a friendly conversation. That ended with him -or was it a her?- handing Sam a brochure and Sam letting out her musical giggle and squeezing the skunk lightly on the arm before walking away.

"Eyes off the prize!" Flack called out, as the skunk's eyes lingered a little too long -as far as he was concerned- on Sam's ass as she journeyed across the lobby. "I can't let you go anywhere alone," he teased his girlfriend. "I let you go and take a pee while I check in and when I come out you're making nice with some weirdo."

"I am telling you, Donnie…even though we saw those three furries earlier? I seriously wondered if I was tripping out on my meds when I walked out of the john and saw a skunk standing there. But then Pepe Le Pew started talking to me and I realized I wasn't going insane after all."

"So what did he want? Trying to convert you to the fluffy side? Make out with you like Pepe did to that poor cat in the cartoon?"

"He was just telling me about the convention that's in town," she said, holding out the brochure for him to see. "A furry convention apparently. I guess it's just all these people who get in touch with their fuzzy side. Who believe in acting on animal instinct."

Flack's eyebrows arched. "So basically it's just a whole bunch of wackjobs in one place."

"To each their own, Donnie. We should go and check this convention out. For shits and giggles."

He stared at her as if she'd grown another head.

"By the way," she chirped. "The skunk said I'd make a really good bunny."

"A bunny, huh? Sammie, there's only one bunny I'd kill to see you dressed up as. And that's a Playboy Bunny."

"Oh naturally," she said with a roll of her eyes. "I'll tell you what. You find a Playboy Bunny costume and I'll seriously consider wearing it. Just once. Just for you. Even though it will totally overshadow my slutty Tinkberbell outfit."

"You brought that along?" he asked curiously.

"Maybe," she replied, running the corner of the brochure down his chest and over his stomach. "I know how much you like it," she said, and tapped the corner of the pamphlet against his belt buckle. "And maybe I just felt the urge to be nice to you."

"For once," he teased and leaned in to kiss her softly. "You ready to head up?" he asked, laying his hand on the small of her back and turning her in the direction of the elevators.

"Yeah…I'm ready to see my playground," she answered, giving him a playful wink. "What's this?" she asked, snatching the business card out from between his fingers.

"Nothing," Flack quickly grabbed it back from her. "None of your business."

She frowned and attempted to take the card back. "Come on…I thought we agreed to an honesty is the best policy type of relationship?"

"We did," he said and held the card out of reach. "You just can't know about this."

"But I want to know," she told him, and standing on her tiptoes, reached vainly for the object he was coveting. "If deserve to know if you've got some number on you for an escort service or something."

"An escort service?" he laughed at that. "Far from it, babe. I've got you. And when we get up to that room, we're putting that Do Not Disturb sign on the door and we're spending the next couple of hours disturbing everyone around us. This is something for you. A surprise."

"I hate surprises," she complained.

"Well this one you'll love," he assured her, and tucked the card into his back pocket. "Trust me."

She pouted dramatically.

"Trust me," he repeated, and kissed her once more before leading her, his hand on the small of her back, through the lobby.

"Is it a good surprise?" she asked, curling an arm around his waist.

"It is," he assured her, and clamped his free hand over his pocket so she couldn't reach inside.

"How good?" she asked.

He just smiled and bent down to press a kiss to the top of her head.

Amazing and unforgettable, he mused silently, fighting hard to keep a massive grin from spreading across his face.

And life altering.


Thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing! I appreciate each and every one of you! Even all of the lurkers! I am having great fun with this story, and I hope that you're all having fun reading it! I decided to turn things humorous and fluffy for a while. Not that you guys mind, right?

Please R and R!

Special thanks to:

Hope4sall

Afrozenheart412

CSINYMinute

HighQueenReicheru

Madison Bellows

Delko's Girl 88

wolfeylady

SpankyMcDoogleFace

xsamiliciousx

Soccer-bitch