DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER OWN SAMANTHA FLACK AND KELLAN AND KALLISON FLACK. I ALSO DO NOT OWN SOUTH PARK, PARANORMAL STATE OR THE HOTTIE HOST RYAN BUELL. DOES ANYONE ELSE WATCH IT? ANYONE?

A/N: THIS IS A FUTURE CHAPTER FOLKS! AND IT WAS WRITTEN FOR NOTHING MORE THAN PURE SHITS AND GIGGLES

THANKS TO CASS FOR HER HELP! LUV YA GIRLIE!


Girls Only?

"All I can say is that my life is pretty plain
I like watchin' the puddles gather rain
And all I can do is just pour some tea for two and speak my point of view
But it's not sane,
It's not sane
I just want some one to say to me
I'll always be there when you wake
Ya know I'd like to keep my cheeks dry today
So stay with me and I'll have it made
And I don't understand why I sleep all day
And I start to complain that there's no rain
And all I can do is read a book to stay awake
And it rips my life away,
but it's a great escape escape...escape...escape…"
-No Rain, Blind Melon


Adam Ross couldn't sleep.

It wasn't that he didn't want to. Or that he wasn't utterly emotionally and physically exhausted. Or that the eight beers he'd consumed after dinner while playing video games with his brother in law, Mark and Reed hadn't made him light heated and his body in a seemingly permanent tingly state. He had, in fact, been in bed for over and hour now; the covers pulled over his head as he straddled the doorstep of sleep but found himself unable to fully cross over. Jarred awake each time he started to doze off by the incessant chatter and the occasional raucous giggling taking place in the kitchen directly below him. Where his sister, Jess Angell (she'd always be Angell to Adam, even when she had fifty years of marriage behind her) and Natalie Gerrard hung out at the kitchen table, sharing a bottle of wine, a key lime pie and fond memories of when they all lived in New York City -before marriages and the stresses of raising families- and sharing tales of their lives now. They laughed while telling stories of silly things their children had said or done. They gushed proudly about the kids' extra curricular activities and successes at school, and how now, they just couldn't imagine not being mothers. Their babies were the lights of their lives and their greatest achievements.

And naturally, the majority of the time they mercilessly made fun of their husbands. Making each other roar with laughter at the tales of the often moronic things that their not so better halves had done during the years of marital bliss.

"Did I ever tell you guys about what Donnie did last Christmas?" Adam had heard his sister, her speech slightly slurred, ask. "Would you believe he actually used a staple gun to attach Christmas lights around the bay window in the living room? I had bought these special clips with sticky tape on the back. And he was suppose to put them around the window frame. Only four beers and two whiny little girls later, I guess his patience just deserted him. And I'm upstairs in the bedroom putting laundry away and I hear this noise…this loud THUNK noise. I didn't think much of it. And then it happens again. And again. And again. So I go downstairs and there, right before my disbelieving eyes, is my wonderful, amazing yet impossibly brain dead husband with the staple gun in his hand and victorious grin on his face."

"Please tell me you had 911 on speed dial," Jess had implored.. "So that there was no time wasted when he electrocuted himself."

"Well thank God that didn't happen," Sam had said. "But can you honestly believe he'd do something like that? That he'd think it was a good idea? Like what in the hell was going through his head? What evil little voice was telling him to do that? You can't tell me that he thought it was a smart thing to do."

"He's a man, Sammie," Angell had laughed. "And he had beer in him. Male DNA, beer and a power tool of some kind? Never a good combination."

Adam had given a disgusted snort at that last comment. And it had been then, instead of just lying there and listening to their male bashing, that he'd yanked the covers over his head and tried his best to fall asleep. How the other occupants of the house had managed to get some z's was beyond him. The women were slightly tipsy and extremely obnoxious. When it became more than obvious that neither Reed or Natalie were in any shape to make the drive back to Mac and Kelli's, it had added to four more guests to the already overflowing Flack house. All the female children were gathered in Kallison's room. Flack had procured extra blankets and pillows to go along with the Dora the Explorer, Tinkerbell and Cinderella sleeping bags and had brought in the mattress off of Kellan's bed. In turn, Reed and Natalie had taken Kellan's room and were using an air mattress that Flack had dug out of the crawl space in the basement for them. Mark and Jess were inhabiting the basement, while their son Markus and Stanton Garrett took up residence on the couch and love seat in the living room.

How in the hell those kids managed to sleep through the racket going on in the kitchen was a total mystery to Adam. And he gave a loud, irritated sigh as, after a lull in conversation downstairs, the girls started up again. This time talking about the television shows they used to watch and the music they'd once listened to and the move stars they'd had crushes on. They talked as if two decades had passed and the world was a drastically different place. As if they were little old ladies gushing and giggling over the fan girl crushes they'd had back in the day.

"What was that show you used to watch, Sammie?" Angell asked. "The one where the group of college kids formed some kind of ghost busting group and went around investigating hauntings and possessions and all that shit."

"Paranormal State," Sam replied. "They were this group of students from Penn State. I loved that show. I used to scare the living shit out of myself and not be able to sleep for a couple of days. I would get so freaked out that I would make Don check under the bed and in the closet. To make sure nothing was hiding under there. And I would nearly piss myself when something went bump in the night. And if he was on nights? I used to call him all scared out of mind. I swear he was seriously thinking about committing me a couple of times. And then there was Ryan Buell…." she gave a large, content sigh. "Ryan was the main guy and I had this massive crush on him. And I used to bug Donnie by telling him that Ryan could hold my hand and cuddle me when the ghosts came out to play. Or that Ryan could at least help exorcise my demons."

Both Jess and Natalie giggled.

"Wasn't he really young?" Jess asked.

"At that time he was twenty five. And I was…well I was a beautiful, vibrant, free spirited, young thirty-three year old. With a perfectly healthy crush on a cute, younger man."

"Cradle snatcher," Jess teased. "And what are you now?" she asked curiously.

"Now I'm an old hag with a moronic husband who thinks it's a smart idea to hang Christmas lights with a staple gun," Sam replied. "But I did manage to fool him this morning with the whole plastic wrap over the toilet bowl trick. He went in there half asleep and dropped his pants and…well let's just say he got the good old golden shower. That'll teach him for leaving the seat up."

The girls roared with laughter.

"You would think that living in a house full of women for five years would re-wire his brain," Sam said. "That he'd actually remember the put the damn lid down after all this time he's spent with all girls in the house. I mean he still leaves the seat up, still drops his socks and boxers wherever the hell he feels like it, still forgets about his dry cleaning, still forgets to call his mother on Mother's Day. I swear to you, that man would fall apart without me."

"And you'd be completely miserable and inconsolable without him," Jess told her friend. "Admit it. You can sit here and bitch and moan all you want. But if something was to happen to Don, you'd go insane. You'd never be the same Sammie."

Silence descended on the kitchen. Then Sam gave a heavy, forlorn sigh.

"Honestly?" she'd ask. "Without him?…I don't even want to think about a life without him…"

Adam smiled at the tenderness in his sister's voice. Sure, her and Flack fought like cats and dogs at the best of times and had an epic love/hate relationship. They had had some really shitty times and they loved to ride each other's asses and neither liked to back down during an argument. Even when it was clear exactly who was right and who was wrong. But they adored each other and would defend each other to the death. Like Sam often said, "I can talk all the shit about him I want. But if someone else does it…well they're going to be extracting my fist from their face."

As the giggling and talking quieted down to a respectable level, Adam rolled over onto his left hand side, and curing his arms around his pillow, closed his eyes once more and prayed to God that the noise downstairs wouldn't get in the way of his much needed beauty sleep again.

The sound of his stomach growling erupted from underneath the covers.

Sighing heavily and accepting defeat, Adam flopped over onto his back and unearthed himself from the covers. He was hungry. Starving in fact. And he knew that he'd never be able to fall asleep while hunger pains were gnawing so persistently at him. Yet he also feared the idea of having to go down into his sister's kitchen where she and her friends were so engrossed in their red wine, late night dessert, and bashing of the male persuasion. He was worried that once he stepped foot in the kitchen, he'd never make it back out again alive.

His stomach rumbled again. He craved sustenance. He needed it. And he knew that the only thing standing between a plate of left over homemade lasagna and a slice of that key lime pie was three females getting drunker by the minute. The longer he waited, the more intense the battle would be. The closer that wine bottle got to the bottom, the less likely he'd be admitted entrance to the kitchen. Or he'd be fodder for all of the women's jokes and cheap shots.

As he tossed the covers off of his body and swung his legs over the edge of the pull out, Adam Ross knew what he had to do.

It was time to pull up his big boy pants and say a little prayer.


"So…" Jess began, as she dug her fork into her second slice of pie. "How goes things in Ridgewood, Queens? Save for you playing puppet master in your quest to embarrass the NYPD."

"I am not trying to embarrass them," Sam defended herself, and took a sip of wine from a neon pink plastic tumbler. Setting the cup down, she picked up a Dora the Explorer plate sitting on the table that held a fresh slice of caramel cheesecake. A cheesecake that her husband had, earlier in the day, driven all the way to Manhattan to purchase. All because she'd insisted that Weinstein's made desserts that were to die for and she'd be forever grateful, and forever busy 'repaying' him if he'd go and get her one.

Both Jess and Natalie raised their eyebrows and stared at her pointedly.

"I'm not," the tiny brunette insisted, as she placed her foot on the edge of her chair and balanced the plate on her knee. ""I am merely trying to get Hawkes was he deserves. And when Donnie and I went to see Mari last night…she's devastated that he died doing the work of a cop but won't be recognized for it. She's distraught and grieving and she…getting the funeral for Hawkes won't make the pain go away, but maybe it will numb it a bit. Or at least let her know that he didn't die in vain."

"Aren't you the least bit worried that it could be traced back t you?" Jess asked. "The department is going to have a shit fit when that story runs tomorrow."

"Reed made sure that nothing could lead back to anyone with the last name Flack," Sam replied, as she popped a chunk of cheesecake into her mouth. "And now that Donnie's not leaving the department, my only concern was that nothing tarnished him in any way, shape or form. I don't want anything getting in the way of his career. He's fast tracking big time and I made Reed promise me that no one would ever know that he had any part in getting the ball rolling."

"Wouldn't want the NYPD's golden boy getting a little speck of dirt on him," Jess teased. "You do realize he's going to be Chief one day, right? It's inevitable. He's been steadily climbing the ladder. It's bound to happen."

"Only time will tell," Sam said, a proud smile spreading from ear to ear. "But as for life here in Ridgewood, well you pretty much know all the details. I got fired, found a job working for Stella in New Jersey, we put the house on the market and started making preparations to move to Hackensack. And now…well now the house is off the market, I'm going back to work for Mac part time and the piece de resistance? I'm planning on legally adopting the son my husband fathered with his mistress. Now how surreal is that?"

"I personally would have just spared myself a whole world of hurt and just cut his dick off when I found out about the mistress," Jess remarked dryly. "You're obviously a bigger person than I am."

Sam just shrugged and chewed on her cheesecake. "Other than that," she said, avoiding all talk of Jordan Gates. "Things have been okay. Although Don did have a run in with someone very interesting a while back when he and the girls were out Christmas shopping in mid-town."

"Now that is what I find surreal," Angell laughed. "Flack out shopping. With two kids in tow."

"He's a study in contradiction," Sam grinned. "But yeah…he was out in mid-town with the twins Christmas shopping and who does he just happen to run into after eight years? Devon Maxford."

Angell snorted. "Lucky him."

Natalie looked quizzically between the two women.

"This rich, brain dead, bimbo that Don dated back in his man whore days," explained Sam. "He was at her place, slamming her into walls and getting ready to do the nasty when this James Bond-esque spy robbed the place."

"I remember that," Natalie said "They broke into Chief Sinclair's too."

Sam nodded. "Don met Anna Nicole Smith…oh I'm sorry…Devon, at a charity hockey game. Can't say I blame her for latching onto him. There's something immensely sex about him when he's in all that hockey gear and he's all drenched with sweat…" she sighed and snagging her wine, took a long sip. "Anyhow, he was with her for a few months after that whole break in thing but she dumped him when she got tired or parading him around like a trophy and using him as her sex slave."

"Funny how you've never gotten tired of using and abusing him," Jess chided.

"Well unlike Devon, I know a good thing when I've got him in my evil, possessive clutches. Anyhow, he hadn't seen Devon in years and he just steps out of the Rangers store when he…"

"The Rangers store?" Jess arched an eyebrow. "I thought you said he was Christmas shopping for you."

"His idea of Christmas shopping for me included a stop in the Rangers store to buy me this really cute and sexy boy short and cami set…pink with the Rangers logo on it in white…in one of his many failed attempts to turn me into a fan girl," Sam explained. "So he steps out of the store, our insanely beautiful twin girls in tow, I might add, and whose coming up the sidewalk? Devon."

"Oh I can just see the scene playing out in my head," Jess laughed. "Donnie!" she squealed in a high pitched voice as she mocked the socialite in question. "It's so good to see you! You look sooo hot! I've been thinking about you every waking moment for eight years! And now here you are! Stepping right out of my wildest and dirtiest fantasy! Won't you ditch the brats and take me home and cuff me and strip search me and do all kinds of kinky shit to me?"

Natalie and Sam both laughed.

"Pretty much," Sam said and helped herself to more of her cheesecake. "Devon asked him if, get this, the girls were his or if he was babysitting."

"Dumb ass," Jess snorted. "Of course they're his! Look at them! They look just like him!"

"Apparently she was very distressed and disappointed that he had children and a wife," Sam told her friends. "I think the wife part upset her the most. At least they parted ways without her pushing her number in his face."

"Well at least there's one skank that won't go after a married man," Jess remarked. "So what is Miss Maxford up to?"

"She's Mrs Fieldman now," Sam corrected.

"Fieldman? As in the Fieldman's who own only the biggest, most lucrative real estate firm in all of New York City?" Jess asked.

Sam nodded.

"She hooked up with the son? How'd she meet him? Mommy and daddy set them up?"

"You're half right," Sam said. "Mommy and daddy did set them up. But she's with Mr Fieldman Senior."

"Ewww!" Jess grimaced. "What is he? Like ninety?"

"Seventy eight," Sam giggled.

"That is just gross," Jess declared.

"She told Donnie that her amazing, loving husband left everything to her. Everything. A hundred and eighty million dollars US, a penthouse on Park Place, a Bentley. The list just went on and on and on. But here's the best, most disturbing part. A stipulation in their 'arrangement'? She had to consummate the marriage and has to put out regularly."

Jess and Natalie gagged.

"Don said he nearly threw up right there and then," Sam laughed.

"So is it her plan to kill him off by using great sex as a weapon?" asked Jess.

"I doubt it," Sam replied. "Considering Don told me that having sex with her was like fucking a couch."

Jess nearly spit her wine across the table as Natalie swallowed a piece of pie awkwardly and coughed and sputtered because of it.

"Well he did," Sam giggled. "Isn't my husband just so wonderful? Isn't he just the sweetest, most loveable thing ever? Doesn't he just have a way with words? He's such a charming bastard, huh? After that I asked him how would he know? Has he fucked a lot of couches or something?"

"Stop…" Natalie pleaded, tears pouring down her face. "God…please just stop…you're too much…way too much…"

"He'd have to know something like that to make that comment!" Sam reasoned. "Right? Then he got mad at me for insinuating he'd ever do something so perverted and desperate and informed me I was never getting laid ever again."

"Yeah, right…" Jess snorted. "You two not have sex? Hell will have to freeze over before that happens. You two are like goddamn rabbits. I honestly don't know how…" her voice trailed off and her eyes widened as a dishevelled Adam Ross wandered into the kitchen. His hair impossibly messy and his feet bare, wearing a pair of Batman boxer shorts -the insignia splashed across the ass actually glowed in the dark- and a baggy Columbia t-shirt that was faded and tattered and had holes in both arm pits.

"Peanut, you are such a sexy beast," Sam said, and made a growling noise.

He frowned and shot her a foul look and headed for the fridge.

"Did I say you could come into my kitchen?" his sister asked. "Did I say you could just help yourself to whatever you wanted?"

"Uh…yeah…" he replied. "You did. Well, actually…" he pulled the refrigerator door opened and peer inside. "Your husband told me to make myself at home."

"Well guess what? My husband isn't the boss around here. I am. And if he tells you differently, he's lying. I call the shots. I run him. Got it?"

"You wish…" Adam mumbled and removed a pyrex dish of cold lasagna from the fridge, and shutting the door, carried his late night snack to the island.

"What do you think you're doing?" Sam asked.

"I am getting something to eat," her brother replied, as he snagged himself a clean dish, fork and knife and a glass from the dishwasher.

"We are having some girl time here," Jess informed him. "And by girl time I mean females only. Men are not allowed in here. At all. You're suppose to ask our permission to enter before you even step foot into this kitchen."

Adam snorted and rolled his eyes and peeling the tin foil off of the lasagna, proceeded to cut himself a huge piece and drop it into the middle of his plate.

"In case you're hard of understanding, we want you to leave on your own free will before we're forced to boot your ass on out of here," Sam said, as she removed her foot from her chair and leaned forward to set her cup and her cheesecake on the table. "Don't make me come over there and Gibbs slap you," she warned, as she pushed her chair backwards and stood up.

"Don't make me go all medieval on your ass," Adam retorted, warily watching out of the corner of his eye as she walked past him. "Don't make me get to those thunder thighs of yours."

Sam frowned and raised her hand, making to slap him upside head. Then laughing as he visibly flinched and jumped out of the way.

"Why do you have to be so freaking evil?" he asked, keeping a close eye on her as she journeyed over to the drawer at the bottom of the microwave stand where she stored Kellan and Kallison's arts and craft supplies. Watching as she snagged a piece of bright yellow construction paper, a black magic marker and a spool of scotch tape.

"So freaking deliciously evil," Sam corrected. "Or so your brother in law keeps telling me all the time when I'm both torturing him and blowing his mind all at the same time."

Adam grimaced. "That I did not need to hear," he complained.

Sam shrugged, and dropping the piece of paper on the counter beside him, uncapped the magic marker and in huge, block letters, wrote: NO BOYS ALLOWED. Replacing the cap on the marker, she held the sign up for her brother to see and smiled sweetly.

"That includes you," she said. "So haul ass and get the hell out of here."

"Before we tie you to a chair and…" Jess began.

"And what?" Adam asked curiously. "Have you dirty little way with me? 'Cause if that's what you were going to say, I'll stick around and take my chances."

"I'm your sister you perv!" Sam scolded. "What is wrong with you?"

"I didn't mean you. I meant your hot friends," Adam told her, then licked his lips and gave Jess a wink.

"Out!" Sam hollered, pointing towards the door. "Get out! Now!"

"I am just…"

"I don't care! This is a drunken girls night and you are not a girl regardless of what Danny Messer says. So take your lasagna and your milk and get the hell out of my kitchen! And do not show your face again until well into tomorrow morning! Got it?"

"Tomorrow as in today as in Friday or tomorrow as in the next day as in Saturday?" Adam asked curiously.

"Don't make me hurt you Peanut!" Sam cried exasperatedly. "Don't make me Roshambo you in front of everyone."

"Rosham-what?" Jess asked.

"Roshambo," Sam replied. "It's from South Park. Cartman and Kyle were having this stupid ass contest or something that involved Roshambo'ing people. Kicking them in the nuts. Adam has every season of South Park on DVD. When I first moved here and lived with him, trust me, we watched a hell of a lot of South Park."

"And Paranormal State," Adam added.

"Ryan Buell…" Sam sighed dreamily. "That's the one boy that could violate my no guy policy. He could violate a lot more than that, actually."

Adam rolled his eyes. "Do your Cartman impersonation, Sammie. Do it. I haven't heard you do it in so long."

"Please tell me you do not have an Eric Cartman impersonation," Jess said.

"Only the best one I've ever heard," Adam praised. "Go on Sammie…do it…I know you want to…just do it for old times sakes."

"Fine…" she sighed, and taking a sip of Adam's milk, let out a huge belch. "Okay…I am only doing this once 'cause it drives Donnie insane. He can't stand me doing it. So here it goes…I'm going to entertain all of you with Kyle's Mom is a Big Fat Bitch. In D minor."

Jess and Natalie turned their chairs around to face her while Adam rubbed his hands together gleefully.

Sam cleared her throat, closed her eyes briefly and then promptly, in a perfect Cartman impersonation, belted out the song.

"Kyle's mom's a bitch, she's a big fat bitch, she's the biggest bitch in the whole wide world. She's a stupid bitch, if there ever was a bitch, she's a bitch to all the boys and Monday she's a bitch, on Tuesday she's a bitch, on Wednesday thru Saturday she's a bitch. Then on Sunday just to be different, she's a super king Kamehameha biotch!"

Adam doubled over, tears streaming down his face as he laughed hysterically. Although shocked at first when observing their friend's hidden talent, both Natalie and Jess soon burst into laughter themselves.

"Hey!" Flack's deep, authoritative voice thundered through the room, bringing an abrupt end to the hysteria in the kitchen. "It's two thirty in the goddamn morning! What the hell is wrong with you people?!"


The noise immediately ceased. Startled eyes and sheepish faces looked over at him as he stood in the kitchen doorway in a pair of NYPD sweatpants, plain grey t-shirt and his hair mussed. A hand planted firmly on either side of the door frame.

Jess clamped a hand over her mouth in hopes of staunching her laughter. And only found it caused her to snort loudly. Which only caused Sam to erupt into giggles all over again. She placed her forehead on Adam's back as he was bent over, hands on his knees, tears still coming as his body shook and no sound came out as he laughed.

"Sorry dad," Natalie piped up. "We got a little carried away with ourselves."

"We've got all kinds of guests trying to sleep around here," Flack informed the group. "Including all kinds of kids. And here the four of you are, making all kinds of goddamn noise. And you…" he glared at Sam. "What is wrong with you? Doing that stupid ass Cartman thing…"

"You're just sore they spoofed your beloved Star Wars," Sam informed him, wiping tears off of her cheeks. "You've never quite gotten over that."

"You're definitely a Ross," he grumbled. "All the geek DNA is starting to show."

"I am not a geek," she said. "I am one of the cool kids. And you wish you could be a cool kid. You were still playing cops and robbers with the little girls in the neighbourhood while us cool kids were playing with the Millenium Falcon."

"You complaining about my cops and robbers techniques Sammie? 'Cause this morning you weren't bitching about it. Or did you hide the cuff marks from your friends?"

"I think you're mistaking me for you," she said. "You're the one with the bruises on your wrists and the penchant for being shackled to the bed."

Flack frowned. "It's two thirty in the morning," he repeated. "We've got three kids of our own that need taken care of in less then six hours. Were you planning on coming to bed some time this century?"

"Lonely, Flack?" Jess asked. "Itching to get yourself some? Let your wife have a late night with the girls and go and take care of it yourself."

"Donnie can't sleep alone," Sam told her. "He needs his little security blanket and me in the bed with him if he's going to fall asleep."

Flack glared at her.

"It's the blankie his mommy brought him home from the hospital in," she continued, oblivious to his embarrassment. "Sleeps with it over his feet every night."

"You coming to bed or not?" Flack barked at her.

"Can you not read the sign?" she asked, her body swaying as she walked towards him, holding up her homemade sign for him to see. "No boys allowed. That includes you, honey."

"How much have you had to drink?" he inquired.

"Oh just a little bit…" she replied, holding her thumb and forefinger a millimetre apart.

"Yeah…right…" he said, and curled his fingers around her wrist. "Time for bed…let's go…"

"I don't want to go to bed," she whined, and dug her heels into the floor. "Don't boss me around, Donald."

"Sammie, it's late. Really, really late and you've got kids to take care of and…"

"They're you're kids too!" she argued. "Not just mine! I didn't impregnate myself with your demon sperm, you know!"

"Sam…I'm serious…it's time for bed, okay? It's really late, babe. And you need to…"

"I don't need to do anything," she pouted dramatically. "What are you going to do? Ground me? Take away my privileges?"

"Spank her ass, dad!" Jess cried. "Put her over your knee and spank her ass!"

"Preferably when you get upstairs," Adam added.

"Come on, Sammie…" Flack tugged her towards the door. "Let's go…do not make me throw you over my shoulder and carry you…"

"Only romance I'd get in the last seven and a half years," she muttered.

Flack smirked. "Sammie…you're pushing it…"

"You just want me to come to bed so you can get yourself some," she said. "So you can enjoy uninhibited Sam for once. Well guess what? No such luck on your part. I am not going to be and I'm not putting out and I'm not…"

He sighed heavily, looked skyward as if to beg for both help and patience, then leaning down, proceeded to scoop his wife clear off the floor.

"Donnie!" she squealed, as she found herself dangling over his left shoulder, his hand firmly on her ass as he carried her towards the door. "You're going to drop me!"

"You're fine," he assured her. "Say goodnight, Sammie."

"Good night Sammie!" she cried.

He shook his head. "Now be quiet," he told her. "There's kids sleeping and if you wake them up, I'm letting your drunk ass take care of them. So shut your gate until we get upstairs and in our room, okay?"

"Okay!" she exclaimed, then screeched when he pinched her ass.

"I said be quiet!" he hissed.

"Okay!" she whispered, and clamped a hand over her mouth. Waiting until they were half way up the stairs before she removed her hand to speak once more. "Donnie?" she asked in a tiny voice.

"What, baby?"

"I love you…"

"I love you, too, Sammie. I want to strangle you sometimes, but I do love you."

"You'd miss me if I was gone," she declared. "You'd die miserable and alone without me."

"Yes," he agreed. "I would. I'd still have my sanity but I'd definitely be miserable."

"I'd be really, really, really sad if something happened to you," she told him, then hiccupped noisily.

"I know you would. Who would be around to keep you line?"

"Not just that…" she said. "I'd just…I'd just really, really, really miss you if you weren't here anymore. I don't know what I'd do without you. You're my everything. You know that right?"

"Sammie…shhh…stop talking so much, babe."

"It's true!" she cried. "What would I do if something happened to you? You're the one that keeps everything under control around here. You're the one that takes care of me and the girls and Dawson. What would we do without you? What would I do without you?"

"Don't talk about stuff like that, okay? You've had too much to drink. Just be quiet."

"You know what I would do? If something happened to you? If you went before me? I'd go with you."

"Sammie, you're talking some crazy ass shit!" he angrily scolded her, as he used his foot to push open the bedroom door. "Don't fucking talk like that! That's stupid! You're drunk and you need to just lie down and get some goddamn sleep!"

"Well it's true!" she informed him. "I'd go with you! I'd find a way and I'd.."

"You'd do shit," he interjected, and dropping her unceremoniously into the middle of their bed, closed the door. "Now you just shut up and go to sleep, okay? It's really late and you're talking a bunch of crap. You've got four kids to think about and if I ever hear you talk like that ever again…"

"Okay…okay, boss man," she held her hands up in surrender and wriggled her way under the duvet. "I'm sorry…sheesh…"

"I hate when you go all fucking morbid on me," he told her, and flicking off the bedside lamp, lifted the comforter and slipped into bed beside her.

"You're just…" she suddenly sat up, and immediately clasped a hand to her head as the room spun around her. "Where the hell is our son?" she asked.

"He's sleeping in with Adam, remember? 'Cause Adam doesn't snore and you were complaining that my snoring was keeping him up. Chill out Sammie. Relax. Lie down and close your eyes, okay?"

She nodded and did as she was told. Rolling over onto her side, she placed her hand on his chest and tucking her head under his arm, snuggled her face into his side.

"Please let me know if you're going to be sick, okay?" he asked. "So I can both get you the trash can and avoid getting thrown up on."

"That only happened once," she reminded him.

"Once is enough. So just…just give me a warning, okay?"

She nodded and gave him a thumbs up sign. Inhaling deeply, he felt her smile against him. "Baby…" she whispered, her hand drifting over his chest and slowly down to his stomach. "You smell really, really, really yummy."

"Go to sleep, Samantha. Don't even think about…"

"I'm horny," she announced.

"No…you're drunk…those are two entirely different things…"

"Well I am drunk," she agreed, and sitting up, pushed herself up onto her knees. "But I'm horny too. I think I know when I'm horny, Don. You've only been having that effect on me every day for seven and half, almost eight years now."

"Sam…you can't be…" he sighed exasperatedly as she straddled his stomach.

"I can't be what?" she asked. "I can't be trying to seduce my husband?"

"Only if you're sober can you seduce me," he replied. "You know I won't do anything when you're tanked. So you just get off of me and lie down."

"Don't be so damn gentlemanly and noble," she said, and running her hands from his the waist of his sweats to his shoulders, leaned over and kissed him deeply.

"It's called respect," Flack informed her, turning his head in order to break the kiss. "And I have respect for you."

"Well how about for once not having any for me and just throwing me done and treating me like some of those girls you used to pick up in bars when you were single? Or like that dumb little bitch Devon? You even told me yourself she was all into you tossing her up against a wall and doing her like that. Maybe, just maybe, that's the Don Flack I'm looking for right now. The one that just says fuck it and…well and does fuck it."

"Samantha…" he couldn't help but laugh. "You're not like that and we both know it."

"Maybe I want to be like that," she told him. "Maybe just this once I want to be that way with you. We used to have that kind of sex a long time ago. Where we were both sore afterwards. What ever happened to that kind of sex?"

"We're married, Sam. We have three kids together. You're my wife and I…"

"I am your wife and your wife is telling you that she wants you to shit can your gentle, tender shit for one night."

"And maybe…" he said, laying his hands on her hips in order to move her off of him. "when you sober up and you come to me and tell me you want it I'll…"

All words were lost as she leaned over and began kissing and licking and nibbling at his neck. His fingers dug into her hips painfully, and he groaned loudly when he felt her bear down on him.

"What do I have to do to convince you?" she asked, as the tip of her tongue traced the outline of his ear.

"We can't be doing this, Sammie. We can't be doing this with all kinds of people in our house and…"

"Our house. Exactly. And if we want to have sex in our house, then fuck 'em. They can put up with you making all kinds of noise."

"Hey…you're the porn star, remember?" he teased, then grit his teeth as her tongue delved into his ear.

"Oh I remember very, very well…" she said, then bit down on his ear lobe.

"Jesus Christ!" he exclaimed. "Why you got to be so damn vicious? Why you got to…"

She clamped a hand over his mouth, and flashing him a wicked grin, sat up and used her free hand to reach for the ties on the waist band of his sweats. "I've got an even better idea," she said, her fingers working at the drawstring. "How about you just lie there like a good little boy and you let me do crazy shit to you?"

He mumbled something incoherent behind her hand.

"I'm in charge," she told him. "So you just be quiet and lie there, okay? I promise I won't hurt you, Donnie. Not much anyway." She frowned as she struggled to untie his pants. Seeing three knots instead of just one, she lifted her hand off of his mouth and concentrated solely on her task.

"It's not that hard, Sammie…" Flack said.

"It is when there's three of everything," she informed him. "Just give me a second and I'll…" a wide, victorious smile crossed her face as she finally defeated the knot and lifted the bottom of his shirt further, leaned down to trace a circle around her navel with the tip of her tongue.

"Jesus fucking Christ…" he muttered, his hands slipping up her sides and travelling all the way to her shoulders. He pushed down on them gently, encouraging her to go that extra distance.

She pulled down the front of his sweats, then licked along the edge of the waist band. Hearing his breath hitch and feeling his fingers digging into her shoulders. She knew what he wanted. She knew what she wanted to do for him.

"Good things come to those who wait," she told him, and running a hand underneath his shirt, continued her tongue's assault on his stomach.

"Sammie…I don't think I can wait…so would you just…"

She shook her head defiantly.

He smirked, and then sat up quickly and with his hands on her shoulders pushed her down onto her back.

"That's it baby," she giggled. "Go all big, bad police man on me. I've been a bad, bad girl. I need you to cuff me and treat me like the evil girl I've been."

"You are evil…" he told her. "But evil in a really, really good way."

"In a really, really good way that you like," she corrected.

He nodded, and smirking, pushed her own shirt up to her shoulders and proceeded to lavish the same attention on her body as she had been with his. He felt her shudder against him and tunnel her fingers in his hair as his tongue hit her sensitive navel.

"Just relax, baby…" he whispered, his breath hot against her skin as he slid down her body, his hands pulling down her pyjama bottoms. "Just relax and…"

"Mommy?" Kellan's voice suddenly piped up from the side of the bed. "Daddy?"

"Kellan!" Sam exclaimed, and shoved Flack off of her.

"Guess I forgot to lock the door," he muttered, as his wife glared at him.

"I had a bad dream," the five year old informed them, her eyes barely open, Holly Hobby tucked under her arm. Compltely oblivious to what had been transpiring right in front of her. "Can I come and sleep with you guys?"

Sam looked at Flack.

He raised his eyebrows. His chest heaving with exertion, his body still in an obvious state of arousal.

"You can come and sleep with us," Sam told their daughter. "Do you want a drink or…?"

"I'm thirsty," Kellan told her, laying her head on the bed.

"Daddy will get you a drink," Flack told her, and climbing off the bed, pulled his t-shirt down to cover the front of his sweats.

Sam giggled at him.

"You owe me," he mouthed over his shoulder, as he led Kellan by the hand to the ensuite bathroom.

"I know," she said. "I love you."

He grinned and gave her a wink before disappearing into the bathroom.

Sam smiled.

Sometimes no words were needed.


I want to send out a huge thanks to all of my faithful and religious reviewers, readers and fans. Words can not express how much I appreciate all of your support! And a thanks to the lurkers to! All of you guys keep this story, and my others going! Due to three crazy muses, postings may become a little less regular. I hope you'll all stick around!

Special thanks to:

Hope4sall

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