but when you and your partner are doin' the nasty [don't behave like you're at the ballet]
[trust_issue use with permission from her mun who made a request for Flack/Jordan. Actually, she gave me free reign, but this was easiest? And had more potential for fun. And my apologies if my Jordan!voice is off, I haven’t watched the show in a while.]
“The policy of being too cautious is the greatest risk of all.”
This was such a bad idea.
That was what the voice in his head was saying as his back hit the wall of Jordan’s hotel room. The voice in his head that was telling him this wasn’t saying it with any kind of urgency, however. It was more just a statement of fact, dampened by alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol. The fact that there was lots and lots of alcohol involved was probably an indication that this probably wasn’t the wisest choice in the world to be making. In fact, in all his years on the force, this wasn’t the brightest move he’d ever made, but then again, opportunities like this didn’t come by all that often. And by opportunities like this, he meant opportunities to sleep with a coroner from another town that he was just working with on a cross-jurisdictional case after a night of heavy celebratory drinking.
Then again, he wasn’t really sure why this was a bad idea. He realized that as he was struggling to get his arms out of his shirt sleeves, his left arm whipping out slightly as his right arm got free and his shirt went flying somewhere across the room. It was followed by them stumbling towards his couch, and he was turning over the second realization in his head. He really wasn’t going to see her all that much after this. She was in Boston. He didn’t go to Boston, really and she didn’t come to the city all that often. It’s not like Boston PD shared jurisdiction with the NYPD all that often. This could be fine. They could do this and there would never be any awkward moments or uncomfortable silences if it sucked, and who knows-they could actually have fun.
Might not remember it in the morning, but they could still have fun.
His back hit the couch and he was still turning this over in his head, and it was a few moments before Jordan pulled back from the kiss, smacking him on the chest lightly. He was drunk enough that it took a few minutes for the pain to register, and he frowned slightly, the smack pulling him out of his thoughts.
“Ow,” he grumbled. “I didn’t know you were a hitter.” He didn’t know that people were hitters. Usually there were other things involved when it came to stuff like that-biting, nails, all that other stuff-he’d thought he seen it all, but apparently not. Jordan looked over at him and rolled her eyes slightly.
“Stop it.”
Now Flack was just confused, and he took his hands off her hips with a sigh. “Okay, okay, all you had to do was say so.”
“No, not that,” Jordan groaned, rolling her eyes. “You’re rationalizing. Stop it.”
“What?” he frowned.
“Don’t think,” she said, shifting so that she was settling into his lap more. “Just do. We’re too drunk to be thinking.”
He considered that for a moment. “You have a point.”
“Good,” Jordan replied, before leaning back over him again. “Can we do this now?”
“Uh-huh,” Flack nodded, before pulling her back in for a kiss again, letting his hands slide over her back and pull her in closer, deepening the kiss, albeit somewhat sloppily, and starting to roll them over. What he did forget was that they were on the couch however, and a few seconds later they were tumbling over onto the floor.
Ouch.
***
When Flack woke up the next morning-he was surprised to find himself in an actual bed. His clothes were nowhere to be found, he was sore in places he didn’t know he could be sore, and he had a hangover to end all hangovers, but he was in a bed at least. It made him at least somewhat comfortable.
He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes slightly to try and get them to clear so that he could see where he was and, well, who he was with. Because that was a little hazy. But he was pretty sure it was good. He usually wouldn’t hurt like that otherwise. He sighed slightly as he leaned back, and then looked over. At least he recognized her, knew her name. All in all, this was looking pretty good. It could have been worse.
“Jordan,” he said softly, reaching over and shaking her shoulder lightly. “How’re you feeling?”
Jordan groaned slightly, before rolling over to look at him, and raising an eyebrow. “Oh, God. Not you.”
Ouch. Okay, maybe this was a bad idea.
757 words
“The policy of being too cautious is the greatest risk of all.”
This was such a bad idea.
That was what the voice in his head was saying as his back hit the wall of Jordan’s hotel room. The voice in his head that was telling him this wasn’t saying it with any kind of urgency, however. It was more just a statement of fact, dampened by alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol. The fact that there was lots and lots of alcohol involved was probably an indication that this probably wasn’t the wisest choice in the world to be making. In fact, in all his years on the force, this wasn’t the brightest move he’d ever made, but then again, opportunities like this didn’t come by all that often. And by opportunities like this, he meant opportunities to sleep with a coroner from another town that he was just working with on a cross-jurisdictional case after a night of heavy celebratory drinking.
Then again, he wasn’t really sure why this was a bad idea. He realized that as he was struggling to get his arms out of his shirt sleeves, his left arm whipping out slightly as his right arm got free and his shirt went flying somewhere across the room. It was followed by them stumbling towards his couch, and he was turning over the second realization in his head. He really wasn’t going to see her all that much after this. She was in Boston. He didn’t go to Boston, really and she didn’t come to the city all that often. It’s not like Boston PD shared jurisdiction with the NYPD all that often. This could be fine. They could do this and there would never be any awkward moments or uncomfortable silences if it sucked, and who knows-they could actually have fun.
Might not remember it in the morning, but they could still have fun.
His back hit the couch and he was still turning this over in his head, and it was a few moments before Jordan pulled back from the kiss, smacking him on the chest lightly. He was drunk enough that it took a few minutes for the pain to register, and he frowned slightly, the smack pulling him out of his thoughts.
“Ow,” he grumbled. “I didn’t know you were a hitter.” He didn’t know that people were hitters. Usually there were other things involved when it came to stuff like that-biting, nails, all that other stuff-he’d thought he seen it all, but apparently not. Jordan looked over at him and rolled her eyes slightly.
“Stop it.”
Now Flack was just confused, and he took his hands off her hips with a sigh. “Okay, okay, all you had to do was say so.”
“No, not that,” Jordan groaned, rolling her eyes. “You’re rationalizing. Stop it.”
“What?” he frowned.
“Don’t think,” she said, shifting so that she was settling into his lap more. “Just do. We’re too drunk to be thinking.”
He considered that for a moment. “You have a point.”
“Good,” Jordan replied, before leaning back over him again. “Can we do this now?”
“Uh-huh,” Flack nodded, before pulling her back in for a kiss again, letting his hands slide over her back and pull her in closer, deepening the kiss, albeit somewhat sloppily, and starting to roll them over. What he did forget was that they were on the couch however, and a few seconds later they were tumbling over onto the floor.
Ouch.
***
When Flack woke up the next morning-he was surprised to find himself in an actual bed. His clothes were nowhere to be found, he was sore in places he didn’t know he could be sore, and he had a hangover to end all hangovers, but he was in a bed at least. It made him at least somewhat comfortable.
He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes slightly to try and get them to clear so that he could see where he was and, well, who he was with. Because that was a little hazy. But he was pretty sure it was good. He usually wouldn’t hurt like that otherwise. He sighed slightly as he leaned back, and then looked over. At least he recognized her, knew her name. All in all, this was looking pretty good. It could have been worse.
“Jordan,” he said softly, reaching over and shaking her shoulder lightly. “How’re you feeling?”
Jordan groaned slightly, before rolling over to look at him, and raising an eyebrow. “Oh, God. Not you.”
Ouch. Okay, maybe this was a bad idea.
757 words