DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THE SHOW ARE PROPERTY OF CBS. I AM ONLY BORROWING THEM FOR A BIT. I ONLY OWN SAMANTHA FLACK.
I ALSO DON'T OWN THE CHAPTER TITLE. THAT BELONGS TO LIFEHOUSE.
You and Me
"And I don't try to hide my tears
The secrets, all my deepest fears
Through it all nobody gets me like you do
And you know everything about me
You say that you can't live without me
I'm only up when you're not down
Don't wanna fly if you're still on the ground
It's like no matter what I do
Well, you drive me crazy half the time
The other half I'm only trying
To let you know that what I feel is true
And I'm only me when I'm with you."
-I'm Only Me When I'm With You, Taylor Swift
"I was wondering when you were finally going to say something," Sam said, as Flack broke out of the embrace, his eyes narrowed as he regarded her. A sign of both confusion and annoyance.
"How did you know?" he asked.
"Your dad was down at O'Toole's earlier today to tip back a few and a couple of the older times he walked the beat with were in there," his wife explained. "Apparently they have eyes and ears within the department still. And they couldn't wait to pass the news on."
"And he couldn't wait to pass the news on to you," Flack stated, and shook his head in disbelief. "Why in the hell would he do that? Why would he just take it upon himself to tell you that? He didn't think maybe I should be the one telling you? Or did he…"
"Donnie…" she gave a sigh, and gently removing his sunglasses from his face, folded them neatly before hooking one of the arms on the neck of his t-shirt. Taking his cheeks in her tiny, delicate hands, she pressed a kiss to his lips. "Your dad was upset that the department was screwing you over like that after everything you've done for them. And he came to the house to rant and rave about it to me because we're the two people in this world that love you most. That worry about you and have your best interests at heart."
"He shouldn't have told you, Sam. You're my wife. It should have been up to me to tell you."
"He was upset," she defended her father in law. "He needed someone to vent to. Someone that loves and supports you. He just reacted when he heard the news and instead of going to you about it…well I guess he thought he'd come to the person that's closest to you."
"It was up to me to tell you," Flack said. "Not him. And I was going to tell you first thing tonight when you came over, but when I got home, there you were, walking around in a t-shirt and undies and I got a little…distracted."
"That's one way of putting it," she laughed.
"And then you told me about what was wrong with you and I just…telling you about my transfer became the last thing on my mind."
"Baby…you don't have to explain. I understand. I dropped a huge bomb on you. And I guess you could say that before that, I did somewhat seduce you."
"Somewhat?" he grinned.
"I am not the only guilty party," she said, as the pad of her thumb traced the outline of his top lips. "But with all that went on after you got home…well it's no wonder that you didn't say anything about work."
Flack cocked his head to the side as he studied her through narrowed, quizzical eyes. A smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"What?" she asked.
"Isn't this where you're supposed to get seriously passed at me for not saying anything? For keeping it from you? 'Cause the old you would have freaked out by now."
"Well…" the tips of her index fingers travelled slowly down his cheeks and her hands came to rest on his broad shoulders. "The old me was irrational, selfish, immature and petty. And the new me is making a genuine effort to never be that like again."
"I think you underestimate and pick on the old you way too much," Flack told her.
"There were a lot of things I needed to change," she said, as her fingers toyed with the collar of his shirt. "To work on…I've tried for so long to be perfect."
"I never expected you to be perfect," Flack told her. "I just expected you to be Sammie."
A soft smile crossed her face and she pressed a tender kiss to his lips. "So…your transfer…" her tone quickly brightened, and running her hands down his chest and up again and across his shoulders, she turned and commenced walking along the edge of the fountain once again.
"I start in two weeks," Flack told her. The mere thought causing his blood to boil. "Vice and drugs."
"Hmmm…" she gave a small nod. "And you're not happy about that obviously."
"That's the understatement of the year," he grumbled. "I'm a homicide detective. I've done a handful of raids in my entire career. Last drug raid I went on was the Wilder Gang. A decade ago. And the only reason the department let me head that was because it was my CI that tipped them off. Before that, it was the Lamont Johnson raid. You know, when Dean Truby decided to skim from the stash."
"That was entirely beyond your control," Sam said. "You couldn't have known what went down when you were in another room. You believed what your guys told you. How could you have…"
"I was in charge. I should have kept a better eye on my guys. I should have been watching over their shoulders. Checking out every little move they made. If I can't keep an eye on a handful of cops in a dingy little apartment like that, how am I going to keep control of a bigger group of guys? On raids two times, three times as big?"
"You're doubting yourself," Sam said. "You never doubt yourself. In the entire eight years I've known you, you've never once questioned any action or any choice you made. So why…?"
"That whole Truby thing did a number on me, Sammie. You know that. We've talked about it a million times since we've been together. And you heard all the rumours. The talk."
"Which is why I went to you personally and asked you about it. We weren't even together yet, remember? And I came to you and asked you about what happened. Because I didn't believe what some of those old crotchety, bitter old bastards were saying. I didn't buy into the whole 'rat cop' stuff did I?"
Flack shook his head.
"Donnie…you did what you had to do. Dean Truby was a murderer. He stole drugs from a raid you were in charge of. He was selling them on the street. And I know that you wouldn't have been able to live with yourself if he'd been allowed to walk around as a free man. You did the right thing. And I know those words probably sound hallow coming from me. I wasn't around when you went through the hell the other cops put you through for giving Mac that log book and helping lock Truby up. I didn't see it first hand and I only know what you told me. But what I do know is that you're a good person and you're strong and determined. You don't back down from anyone. Or anything. And honestly? To me, what you did by helping Mac? That was the single most courageous thing you've ever done."
Flack glanced over at her.
"That took a lot of guts Don," she continued. "It took a lot of courage to do what you did. Knowing that you'd catch hell from the other guys about it. But you know what? You were the bigger person. You came out with your head held high and your morals and your self respect and your respect for the job still in tact. I don't think I could have done it. I don't think I could have been that brave."
Flack didn't respond. In eight years, it was the most honest she'd been regarding his job and the way he which he conducted himself while on the clock. Sam had always been his biggest supporter. The one he went to when he needed a confidence boost or someone to rant and rave to. The one person who didn't judge him or question the decisions he made or lock down on him for making a mistake. Who, through a smile or a soft, simple touch or by curling her arms around his torso and burying her face in his chest, showed him that she had his back. No matter what.
But she'd never been that open -verbally- before. And he was taken back not only by her words, but in the sincerity that encased them.
"It wasn't easy on you," Sam said. "And I know that it still bugs you to think about. That you're still carrying some animosity for Mac. For him dragging you into everything…"
"There's a little bit of bitterness there still," Flack admitted.
"…but don't let that hold you back from doing the job, Donnie. Don't let Dean Truby hold what he did over your head like that. He forced you into making the choice that you did. And you're letting him bring you down. Even all these years later. The Donald Flack Junior that I know? The one that I fell in love with and the one that I married? He's confident and strong and determined. He doesn't let anyone bully him. He's not scared of anyone and he stands up for what he believes in and protects himself and the people he loves at all costs. And he's an amazing cop who wears the badge with respect and never crosses the line. He never doubts himself or second guesses any decision he's ever made."
"He's not perfect either," Flack added.
"No one is. I've never expected you to be. Maybe sometimes it might have seemed like I wasn't happy with the way you were…but I never wanted you to be anything more, or less, than yourself. I don't know what happened to us. I think somewhere along the line making other people happy instead of each other became the most important thing to us and we just fell off track."
"Maybe," he gave a shrug. "Or maybe we needed a serious wake up call to realize what we had right in front of us. A kick in the ass. I'm just surprised you're as calm about this is you are. That you're just accepting it."
"Well I won't lie and say I'm happy with it or that I agree with the department's decision," she said. "I mean, I've kind of gotten used to seeing you at a crime scene and popping off your sarcastic comments right and left. But work…work isn't the only thing we have, Donnie. It's not like we're never going to see each other because we don't work together anymore. The job isn't the only thing we have in common. Maybe eight years ago it was."
"The job is what brought us together," he pointed out.
"But it's not what holds us together," she told him.
He grinned. "Eight years later and I still don't get the last word. Ever."
"Look.." she jumped down off of the ledge of the fountain, grabbing a hold of his bicep to steady herself as her balance threatened to fail her. "I can understand that you're nervous about it making such a big career move. And I know that vice and drugs isn't really your thing and that it's tearing you up inside having to leave homicide after spending so many years there. But at the same time…at the same time maybe it's the change that you need. The one you were hoping for when we had decided to move to New Jersey. I know it's still in the NYPD, but maybe even the slightest change in scenery is a good thing."
"I think I'd be taking it a lot better if it was to a different department. Major crime, ESU, K-9 even. I'd even be willing to go back out onto the street as a uniform again. But drugs and vice? I've seen drugs and vice mess up a lot of good cops Sammie. Great men that had wives and kids who got sucked into the lifestyle they infiltrated for the sake of doing the job. I've seen guys who barely touched alcohol a day in their life get swallowed up by undercover and come out of it addicts in the end. They lost everything. And for what? For collars? That's just not worth it."
"So it's the undercover that you're worried about," she said, as he took her hand in his.
He nodded. "I worry about being away from my family. Especially when we're just rebuilding everything again. And especially now that you're not well and we don't know what's going on. If you're sick, Sammie…if you're sick the girls and Dawson are going to need me. You're going to need me. And I can't risk being sent undercover. No contact with my family? Sometimes for months? At a time like this? I can't take that chance."
"So what are you going to do?"
"Honestly? I don't know. Talk to Sinclair I guess. Tell him everything's that going on with you. Just lay it out on the line and tell him that vice/drugs is not the place for me. Especially at a time like this. He must have at least an ounce of compassion in him, right?"
Sam gave a shrug.
"What do you think I should do?" he asked. "You've always been the one to hand me the best advice. You're the only person in the world whose opinion actually matters to me. 'Cause I know whatever you say is only because you're concerned about me. You're the only one I trust to not hand me a line of shit."
"I think that you should do what you feel is best," Sam replied diplomatically.
"Come on…" he couldn't help but laugh. "Don't take the easy way out on me here. You think me going to vice/drugs is a good idea?"
"No," she admitted. "I personally think it's a terrible idea. Not because I don't think you can do it. Because I know you can. You always excel at whatever you put your mind to. I just…" she sighed.
"Sammie…just say whatever you feel okay? This is me and you talking. As husband and wife. Not as colleagues."
"I worry about you doing that job day after day," she said. "Because we're at a vulnerable spot in our lives. And I worry that…I worry that if I am sick, if it is something serious…"
He waited patiently for her to get her thoughts together.
"I worry that being mixed up in that kind of work while things are so tough at home…I worry that you'll get dragged under Donnie. I worry that people will take advantage of you at a weak point and that you'll get mixed up with something that's beyond your control and that you'll…" she shook her head, and stepping in front of him, took his other hand in hers. "Don…I worry that you'll get so far in that I'll never be able to get you back out."
"Sammie…"
"And maybe I'm thinking selfishly. Maybe I'm thinking about how this is the one time that I need you the most and that I don't think I can get through this myself. And maybe I'm thinking about the girls and Dawson. How if they lose me…they need their father and I worry that if you do this…that if you do this they'll lose you too."
"That's not selfish, Sammie."
"It feels that way. And it sounds that way. To me at least. But you asked me to be honest with you and that's what I'm being. I love you and I'm worried that if you ever have to go undercover that you'll come back a completely different person. That I won't even know you anymore. And I can't…I can't let that happen to you. And I'm not saying that you're weak and that you'll let someone just drag you into something. It's just that you already said yourself that you've seen really good men destroyed because of this and I don't want it to be you. I don't want you to be a statistic. I don't want it to be my man that ends up that way. And I just want you to…"
He leaned down and covered her lips with his in a slow, soft kiss. Effectively silencing her. "You always did ramble a lot," he said with a wink when he finally pulled away, and dropping one of her hands, laid his hand gently along her face.
"I just don't want anything happening to you," Sam said. "You've always been the one to protect me. And for once…for once I wish there was something I could do to protect you."
"You're my safe place," he told her. "You always have been. I always joke around about how you're my ultimate weakness. But you're also my ultimate strength. And if you want me to talk to Sinclair and tell him…"
"I want you to talk to Sinclair," she said. "I want you to tell him everything that's going on and I want you to find a way out of this. There must be something else you can do, right? Somewhere else you can go? Even if it's in another borough? A completely different department? There must be something else out there. The NYPD is huge. There must be another department that needs you and would kill to have you."
"If I have to, I'll go back into a uniform," he told her. "That's the worst case scenario, right?"
"The worst case scenario is you being unemployed altogether," she said.
"Hey, with my resume I'm sure I can get a job as a rent-a-cop at the Statue of Liberty or Empire State Building," he joked.
She frowned.
"It won't turn out that bad and you know it. You actually think Sinclair will fire me? He'll just be glad I'm not handing in my resignation again. I'm not asking him to part the Red Sea or anything. I'm just asking him to show a little compassion and find me something else somewhere."
"Compassion and Chief Brigham Sinclair don't belong in the same sentence," Sam muttered.
"Things will work out," Flack promised, giving her hand a squeeze. "Somehow, things will be alright. We've faced this kind of thing before, right? Where we were at some crossroads or thought for sure that all was doomed? And we worked it all out, didn't we?" he stroked her cheek softly. "Didn't we?"
She nodded and attempted a confident smile.
"Come on, let's not talk about this anymore, okay?" Flack urged. "We're having a good night. A really good night. You realize we marked a milestone tonight, right?"
"We did?" she asked, as he pulled her to his side and wrapped his arm around her slender shoulders as they started walking once again.
"Yeah…I kept something from you and you didn't even lose it on me. That's a huge deal. I think we should go and get totally shit faced in celebration."
"Smart ass," she laughed, and curling her arm around his waist, hooked her finger in one of his belt loops.
"I'm just kidding," he dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "Well, maybe not about the getting totally shit faced part."
"Let's go to that liquor store by your apartment and buy a huge ass bottle of tequila, some vodka and then grab some lemonade at the bodega on the corner," she suggested. "I could used a good drunk before letting that tool of a doctor saw my skull open and fiddle around with my brain."
"You know…there is such a thing as a second opinion," Flack told her. "Maybe we should tell him we want someone else to look at you. Because I honestly can't believe he'd miss something like. I mean, he's been looking after you for the better part of a year. And he didn't see that?"
"People make mistakes," she said. "And my second opinion…well I always went to Sheldon for stuff like that and he isn't here anymore and I.."
He squeezed her upper arm softly as her voice cracked.
"I miss him," she admitted. "It hasn't been the same at work. Since Sheldon died things have been completely different around there. Employee morale just sucks and it's not even fun to go into work anymore. We've all changed so much since then and I wonder if we'll ever be the same again. If Danny and I will ever go back to the way we used to joke around and tease each other. If Adam will ever go back to dancing and singing around trace while listening to his Ipod. We lost a huge part of ourselves and now you're leaving and it's like…it's like Sheldon was the beginning of the end. Like Scagnetti was right. About things coming in threes. First Sheldon, then you. Now this thing with me."
"That's just an old wives tale," Flack said. "About things coming in threes. This is more like major run of bad luck or a serious fork in the road. What happened to Hawkes…what happened to Hawkes was horrible and it never should have happened. But what's happening to you and what's happening to me? None of that is permanent, babe. You're not going anywhere. I'm not going anywhere. It's just a change of venue. That's all."
"You have any clue what Danny is going to be like? When he finds out you're leaving? He's going to be damn near inconsolable. He's going to walk around that place like a lost little puppy dog. He loves you, Donnie. He's honestly going to be devastated."
"Messer's a big boy. He'll be alright. It just means he has to find someone else to come to his rescue all the time. And it's not like I'm moving to another state. Or another country. I'm just in another department. You know what I think?"
She looked up at him, waiting for him to tell her.
"I think you're going to take it worse 'cause you know you won't be able to check out my ass every time I bend over at a crime scene," he teased, then laughed as she playfully shoved him away from her. "Don't deny it, Sammie. Don't deny you've never done it. Before we got together I know for a fact you were always checking me out."
"Please! I never once was attracted to you 'cause of your ass. Your eyes and your smile. But never your ass."
He stared at her pointedly.
"Okay fine!" she admitted, giggling as he snagged her by the wrists and pulled her into him.
It felt so good to laugh despite all the turmoil surrounding them. To be there alone with him and see the way his eyes sparkled when he looked at her. There was a time when she could tell how he was feeling simply by the way he smiled at her or regarded her. And then those moments had passed and she'd worried she'd never see him look at her that way again. Yet there it was. That unconditional love and adoration that he possessed for her and that she was unsure she even deserved.
"Fine I admit it!" she laughed. "I'm a sucker for beautiful blue eyes and an amazing ass! Are you happy? Are you happy that I've admitted it after so long?"
"You were never fooling anyone Freckles," he chuckled.
She rested her forearms against his chest as his arms circled her waist and beamed up at him. "I missed hearing you call me that," she said. "I missed all those little nicknames you have for me. Even if I did bitch and moan about them all the time."
"I missed them too. I missed your freckles," he pecked the tip of her nose, then her left shoulder. "All of them," he said, and pressed his lips to the right shoulder as well. "Can't exactly call you Rapunzel now though," he complained as he released one arm from around her and combed his fingers through his hair. "I can still call you Freckles and Tinks, but I need to come up with a new nickname for you."
"Hmm…nothing too corny I hope…nothing like snuggle bunny or sweet cheeks or anything like that…"
"Naw…I was thinking something more along the lines of pee-wee. Or shrimp. Or bubbles."
"Bubbles?" she laughed at that. "Why bubbles?"
"I don't know? 'Cause you're cute and bubbly?"
"Yeah? Well you know what you are? A sappy, corny bastard."
"But you love me," Flack said. "And that's all that matters."
She smiled, her body melting into his as he tangled his fingers in her hair and captured her mouth in a long, sensuous, promising kiss. "Okay…" she said, speaking in between kisses to her lips and her cheeks and her neck. "I…think…you…and…I…need…to…get…out…of…here…"
"I think that's a good idea," he agreed, and grinned as she let out a small squeal as his teeth nipped gently at the side of her neck.
"You can take me home and violate me," she told him, giving him a wink as she wriggled out of his grasp.
"Yeah? How long's it been since we played cops and robbers, Tinks? Too long if you ask me. I think we should go home and make use of the handcuffs. A blast from the past. You know, long before we had kids and we were still in that whole honeymoon stage."
"Honeymoon stage? Our honeymoon stage lasted nearly two years," she said.
"Hey…is it my fault you're totally hot? And that you're into things that are…different?"
"Tell you what. I'll revert back to the old Sammie for a little while," she told him, and standing in front of him, laid her hands on his sides and walked backwards. "But on one condition."
"One condition huh? And what would that be?"
She gave a devilish grin and slid one hand over his stomach and toyed with his belt buckle. "I get to play the cop first," she said.
He bit his lip and shook his head as she quickly and easily undid his belt, then spinning around on her heel, bounced away happily.
"Are you coming or not?" she called over her shoulder. "Don't make me get there first and start without you."
Flack smirked. Ignoring curious onlookers, he did his belt back up and hurried after her.
The obnoxious, shrill ring of a cell phone cut through the silence that enveloped the darkened bedroom. Lying on his back, Flack's eyes snapped open immediatately and instinctively zeroed in on the bedside clock as one hand shot out and snatched the offending object off of the night stand. It was ten after three in the morning and sleep blurred every sense. The room was hot and sticky despite the open window and the faint breeze that stirred the night air. His naked body was coated in a thin sheen of sweat and the patches of short hair above his ears and at the back of his neck were damp. Both from the sweltering summer weather and the activities that had found him passing out from sheer exhaustion just two hours before.
Flack scooped up his phone, his movements slow and careful, not wishing to disturb the sleeping figure that was cuddled up to him. Fast asleep on her stomach with her face buried under his arm and one of her tiny hands resting on his stomach.
He outwardly groaned as dispatch's number registered on his call display. He had been hoping that he would get through one night -and especially this night- without any interruptions. But with three detectives off on holidays, he knew that a night without the phone ringing was nothing more than wishful thinking. Flipping open his phone, he sighed heavily, his thumb lingering on the talk button as he weighed the chances of what kind of hell he'd catch if he didn't answer and simply turned his phone off and went back to sleep.
"Donnie…" Sam grumbled against him, her hand rubbing his stomach softly. "Answer the phone…"
"What do you think will happen to me if I feign ignorance and just turn the phone off?" he asked. "You think there will be hell to pay or…"
She propped herself up on one of her elbows and leaned down to kiss him chastely. "Answer the phone," she said, and placed her lips against his ear.
"Don't make me regret this," he said, and running a hand over her hair, laid it on the back of her neck and brought her head down to rest on his shoulder. Pressing the talk button on the cell, he placed the phone against his ear. "Yeah…" he greeted sleepily. "This is Flack…"
Sam pressed a kiss to the side of his neck and lifted her head to watch his face, straining to listen to the voice on the other end of the phone while her husband offered up the usual questions. When, where and how.
"Alright.." he gave a heavy sigh. "I'll be there as soon as I can."
Disconnecting the call, Flack tossed his cell back onto the nightstand. Placing a forearm over his eyes, he lay silence and motionless. Willing away the cobwebs that had taken up residence in his brain and silently ordering his body to get its shit together.
"Let me guess," Sam stroked his stomach softly. "You have to go."
He nodded, and removing his forearm from his eyes, looked at her and grinned. "Déjà vu, huh? Different apartment and all of that, but doesn't this remind you of eight years ago? Waking up in the dead of the night and having to see me off on a call? Long before marriage and kids and everything else that comes with real life?"
"Like a time warp," she agreed, then giggled as she found herself pushed over onto her back. "Is it a bad call?" she asked, as he covered her petite body with his own much larger, stronger one. Holding his weight on his forearms as be bent down to kiss her forehead.
"Bad enough," he told her. "Someone went nuts on the 5B bus in Flatbush. Apparently a passenger snapped and took a meat cleaver to the driver and two other riders. Two DB's. Driver's been sent to Mercy and the perp's in the wind."
"A meat cleaver…lovely…must be a full moon…"
"Must be…" Flack said, and kissed her softly. "Worst part of this is that he apparently defiled one of the bodies."
"Okay…by?"
"Cut off someone's ear and then decided to go all Hannibal Lector."
Sam grimaced.
"This city is full of wack-adoos babe. You should know that by now."
"Oh you remind me every day," she said, and curling her arms around his neck, lifted her head to press a kiss to his lips. "You know…you really don't have time for this…" she weakly protested as his warm, moist lips found the side of her neck.
"I just told them I'd be there as soon as I could. I didn't give them an actual time frame."
"Well, I don't think they are expecting you to waste time by getting lucky first."
"Hey…" he drew back and looked down at her. "Getting lucky is hardly a waste of time. Consider this your wake up call to me. A wake up, booty call."
"A wake up, booty call," she laughed. "How about we call this a 'time for you to hit the shower and time for me to make you a coffee' wake up call?"
"How about you just not talk anymore and you just lie there and let me do my thing. And then I'll…" his words were cut off as he found himself shoved over onto his back. "You just have to go and ruin everything, don't you?" he asked, propping himself on his elbows and watching as she climbed out of bed and flicked on the bedside light.
"I am just a big party pooper," she agreed, as she dug through the mound of clothes by the side of the bed, and finding his t-shirt, yanked it over her head.
"You look damn good in my shirt," he observed. "I've always had this thing about you wearing my clothes. There's something so unbelievably sexy about it."
She smiled. "And there's something so unbelievably sexy about you totally naked and…standing at attention," she grabbed his boxers and tossed them at him.
He grinned and caught the shorts. "Hey…consider it the ultimate compliment. That you have that kind of effect on me."
"You're just very easy to please," Sam told him. "Any naked woman can get a rise out of you."
"Not true," he shook his head as he slipped out of bed and climbed into his boxers. "It's all you babe. All you and all those kinky little tricks you know."
"Well it's a good thing you wear a long sleeved shirt to work," she said. "Because I'd hate for your buddies to get a look at those bruises on your wrists."
"You're vicious for a tiny thing," Flack remarked, as he journeyed around the bed and laying his hands on her sides, kissed her softly. "It's the little ones you have to watch out for. Eight years later and I still totally underestimate you."
"Small but deadly," Sam mused, then smiled against his lips as he kissed her again. "Shower…" she ordered, pushing him away as he attempted to deepen the kiss. "I'll go and make you some coffee and then you can…"
"Forget the coffee," he said, and yanked her towards him by the hips. "How about you come in the shower with me? I'll even let you scrub my back."
"Because the two of us in the shower is always a recipe for disaster," she argued, attempting to wriggle away.
"Disaster wasn't exactly the word that came to mind," he said.
"Okay…so it will turn into a dirty, perverted moment that you do not have time for," she corrected herself.
He gave a dramatic pout.
Sam laughed. "Don't be giving me that sad little boy face. That stopped working on me a long time ago."
"How about if I get down on my hands and knees and beg?" he teased. "You always like it when I get on my knees and…"
"Shower!" she ordered once more, pointing towards the bathroom.
"Alright…alright…" he held his hands up in surrender and headed for the room in question. "Don't be going all…" he paused in the doorway and turned to look at her as her own cell phone, sitting on the dresser, began to ring.
"Wonderful…" Sam muttered and hurried to answer it. "You jinxed me!" she scolded her husband. "You're bad luck!"
"Mac?" he asked curiously.
She nodded and gave a heavy sigh and flipped her phone open to answer it. Barely getting a word in edge wise as her boss gave her the specifics of the crime scene he was requesting her presence at. Location, nature of the crime, who she'd be working with.
"I'll be there ASAP," she assured him and hung up.
"Let me guess," Flack said, as she set her phone back down on the dress. "Transit bus, Flatbush, two DB's."
"You cursed me!" she huffed, and stalked towards him.
"Well let's look on the bright side," he chirped happily, as she squeezed her body between his and the door frame on her way into the bathroom.
"And that would be?" she asked curiously.
He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and leaned down to kiss her.
"Shower for two after all," he replied.
I want to send out my huge thanks and appreciation to all of the readers who are reading, reviewing and even just plain working! I can not express enough thanks to all of you who have sent me such amazing words of support and encouragement! It definitely helped to restore my confidence and inspire the muse to continue on!
Special thanks to:
Hope4sall
CSINYMinute
Afrozenheart412
Soccer-bitch
SydneytheDoucheBagSlayer
HighQueenReicheru
Madison Bellows
Monoxide lullaby
Hardylover7477
Wolfeylady
Delko's Girl 88
xSamiliciousx
Forest Angel
