FIC: Four times Flack almost kissed Angell (CSI:NY, Flack/Angell, T)
Title: Four times Flack almost kissed Angell
Author: Zelda Ophelia (zeldaophelia)
Fandom/Character: CSI:NY; Flack/Angell
General info: Not mine; T
Notes: Requested by afteriwake back in, um, January. Thanks to eternal_sadist for the beta!
Words: 2,877
Summary: Four times Flack almost kissed Angell and one time he did.
That time during the stakeout
It wasn't like he hadn't noticed her. Every male cop (and a few female) in homicide sat up and took notice when Jessica Angell was promoted to their ranks. But appreciating the new scenery was one thing. Starting something with a colleague? That was an entirely different matter. Knowing that she'd been transferred in to help cover the workload while he was recovering from the bombing didn't help matters. He'd discovered that knowing someone was there just in case you died did put a damper on getting to know them better. He'd worked enough scenes with her back when she was still in uniform to know she was a good cop and a good addition to the precinct. And, unlike Vicaro, he didn't think that her recent transfer was an invitation to try to get in her pants. But he never saw any reason to move past the occasional small talk in the break room.
So, when the Lieutenant told him to "grab Angell" for the Stanton stakeout, he just figured that, at worst, they'd spend the entire time discussing the case--bring each other up to date on their respective ends, that sort of thing. At best they'd find something else to talk about that wasn't rehashing stuff they already knew.
He hadn't expected to end up flirting with her. He hadn't expected her to call him on it, the tone of her voice and look in her eye suggesting the she wasn't exactly opposed to the idea.
To tell the truth, he wasn't either.
He was shaking his head, half embarrassed at being called out and half wondering just what she would do if he did reach across the seat, cupping his hand behind her head and kissing her the way he wanted to.
He never found out. The back door opened and Amber Stanton let herself in, letting them know they'd been spotted and giving them her itinerary for the day. This time he was embarrassed as hell, and not just a little bit annoyed. He told Jess, as he poked around in the backseat looking for a miracle, that he wanted to be able to put her in handcuffs next time he saw her. He didn't say a word about what she potentially interrupted.
Neither did she.
::
That time after the thing with Rikki
Don was still at his desk when Jess returned from booking, figuring that since he was at the precinct he might as well get some paperwork done. He could tell his words hadn't gone over well with Danny, that his friend was too deep in his grief to realize how close he'd come to throwing away his career.
"I know Sullivan's has good Irish coffee," she said as Don looked up. "But I get the feeling you're more interested in somewhere with fewer cops and more anonymity."
He almost sighed in relief. Sullivan's was the last place he wanted to go to discuss what had happened with Danny and Rikki. Too likely that someone else from the precinct would be there and overhear something they didn't need to. But she deserved the truth: it was her signature on the booking forms, and she was the one covering both his and Danny's asses on this.
"And you have somewhere in mind?" he asked as he stood, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair.
"Yeah, there's a little hole in the wall near my place; great Irish coffee. It's a bit of a walk." She paused, looking at him as she tugged on her lip with her teeth, uncertain. "But you also look like a walk would do you some good."
She was right. They were barely three blocks from the precinct when he started telling her what had happened, how Monroe had asked him to check on Danny, finding his holster empty and Ollie's parole information up on his computer, tracking him down to find that Rikki had stolen his gun, helping him find her instead of reporting it, barely finding Rikki in time to prevent her killing Ollie. To his surprise, she just listened--no critiquing his actions or judgment, no offering of unneeded or unwanted advice. She just let him vent, nodding in agreement in a few places, chuckling in a few others (okay, so maybe he called Danny a "complete idiot" a time or two).
He'd needed this, being able to talk out his day without it turning into talking shop. Don looked over at her as their steps slowed to a stop outside a thick wooden door. She glanced up, about to say something, and for a moment he wondered what it'd be like to kiss her, wondered if her lips were as soft as they looked. He stepped closer, about to lean in and find out when the door opened, nearly crashing into them.
They both jumped back, startled, and she gave him a small, indecipherable smile before she grabbed his hand and pulled him inside.
Neither said anything about what nearly happened for the rest of the night.
::
That time she got all dressed up
Don had always had a thing for Marilyn Monroe. He was fairly certain nearly every red-blooded male had a thing for Marilyn Monroe, and, judging by the buzz in the precinct, those who hadn't certainly had one now after seeing Jess returning in that get-up. Most of them hadn't been there at the scene. They hadn't had to watching their partner sitting out in the open, wearing a dress far too revealing to hide a vest underneath. They hadn't insisted on being out in the open with her in those awful park maintenance coveralls, close enough to help if needed. They just ogled her in that dress when she returned.
She'd just finished getting dressed after her shower when he found her in the locker room, pulling her still-wet hair back into a ponytail. The blue dress sat folded up on the bench next to her, looking completely harmless, nothing like the amazingly dangerous dress she'd been wearing in the park.
He grinned at her as he opened his locker. "You looked good in that dress."
"I did, did I?" she said, turning to look at him. She smirked, quirking an eyebrow as she continued, "As good as in a vest?"
Don laughed, turning to lean his shoulder against his locker as he watched her. He'd meant it when he'd said that the other night, that she looked good in a vest. And he definitely hadn't cared if it was a line--he'd meant what he'd left unspoken as well. "Different. But definitely good."
"Is that so?" she asked, mimicking his position. "I didn't realize you were such a connoisseur of high fashion."
"I don't think I'd call either high fashion," he said stepping towards her. She didn't move, just watching as he moved into her personal space. When he was standing close to her, so close they were almost touching, he continued, "But I have become a bit of a connoisseur of your fashion."
Her lips twisted from a smirk into a wide grin. Jess leaned forward, about to say something when they heard the locker room door open.
"Hey, Flack. You in here?" Thacker called into the room.
They stepped apart quickly, Jess turned back to her locker while he returned to his. "Yeah, I'm just getting changed."
"Taylor wants to talk to you when you finish primping," Thacker said. "Something about the paperwork on Suspect X."
"Got it," Don called back as he unzipped the coveralls he'd worn to the park. The door clicked shut as Thacker left. Glancing over at Jess, he could see she was putting her jacket on. He raised a brow in question, to which she responded with a half-shrug.
"Have fun with the paperwork," she said as she clipped on her gun and shield.
"Yeah, thanks," He said as she left, sitting heavily on the bench behind him.
That had not gone the way he wanted it to.
::
That time after she saved his life
He was actually a little bit surprised that his suit wasn't ruined, Don thought as he fidgeted in his chair, trying to find a comfortable position. There was a nice mess of bruises on his side and down his back. He'd checked in the locker room after things had calmed down at the precinct, and he was fairly certain he could count each one of them now by the way they were hurting. And he was certain that he wasn't the only one.
He looked up when he heard Marks saying Jess' name up by the front desk. She'd gone out with Scagnetti to check on a lead on the Baines case - the murderers in the city didn't stop just because there was a serial killer in town; if anything they upped their game - and it sounded like the two detectives were back.
Don could see she was moving slowly as she returned to her desk. He wasn't surprised; she'd probably taken the worst of it, thanks to him landing on her when they fell--or rather, when she pulled his ass over the back of the car and out of harm's way. He hadn't really had the chance to thank her for that, as they'd both been whisked back into the taxi killer case. Don glanced back over at her desk, just in time to see Jess flinch as she tried to stretch. She pushed back from her desk with a sigh, rubbing the arm she'd landed on as she headed back to the locker room.
He looked back to the front of the squad room. It was mostly empty, and he probably wouldn't be missed, so he stood and followed her, entering the locker room just as she pulled her green t-shirt off. Her back was to him, and what wasn't hidden by her hair was covered in bruises stretching from her right shoulder across her back.
"How bad is it?" She asked without turning to face him.
"Bad. Hurts?" he asked, moving closer.
"Yeah." She curled her shoulders to try to stretch the sore tissue, hissing when it stung. Her locker was open, and he could see into it--the change of clothes she, like all of them, kept on hand, the make-up bag, some over-the-counter medications, and other odds and ends that accumulated.
"Is that arnica?" he asked, reaching past her to pull out the tube of arnica gel.
She glanced over her shoulder at him. "I'm impressed you know what arnica is, Wilson didn't."
"Hey, I might be a cop, but I'm not a dumb cop. We went through tubs of this stuff when we were kids." He held the tube up and nodded towards her back. "Need help?"
Jess paused, as if gauging his offer, before nodding. "Sure. I doubt I'll be able to reach it all myself. It won't help with the soreness much-"
"But the bruises will heal faster," Don finished for her.
Reaching up, he brushed her hair over her shoulder and out of the way. The bruising was even more impressive when viewed unobstructed. Jess hissed again, her shoulders tensing, when he dabbed some of the cool cream onto the worst of the marks. But she relaxed as he began to gently massage the ointment over the bruise. She was quickly leaning into his touch as he worked his way across her skin.
"There," he said when he was finished. She pulled her shirt back on, turning to him as she tugged it down.
"Thanks," Jess said as she put the gel away.
"No problem." He shrugged. "I figured I kind of owe you."
She blushed, looking down at her hands. "You would have done the same. Scagnetti, too."
"Yeah, but Scagnetti isn't as pretty as you," Don joked lightly.
She looked up at him and rolled her eyes. "You've been checking him out in his vest, too?"
He wrinkled his nose at the thought. "It doesn't look nearly as good on him as on you."
Jess laughed, closing her eyes and shaking her head. He was about to step closer, to slip his hand through her hair and finally kiss her like he'd been wanting to - needing to - for so long, when her phone rang. She gave him an apologetic look as she answered, mouthing "Mac" at him as she closed her locker and grabbed her jacket to leave.
He watched the locker room door swing shut behind her with a sense of déjà vu, and for a moment, he seriously considered banging his head against his locker in frustration.
::
That time they finally hooked up
Jess was sitting at her desk when Don returned from the train station. He let one of the uniforms take Joe back to booking, instead stopping by her desk and dropping into the spare chair she kept nearby.
"Nice shirt," she said, her eyes dancing as she looked him over.
"You like it?" He looked down at the t-shirt he'd worn to the station. "I'm not certain it's my style."
"The pink looks good on you."
"You think so?" He looked back over at her and grinned. "I didn't realize you were such a connoisseur of high fashion."
She chuckled as she slipped the paperwork she'd finished into a file folder and dropped it into a drawer. "More like I've become a connoisseur of your fashion."
"Is that so?" He watched as she stood and slipped her jacket on. "You heading out?"
"It's that time. You?"
He glanced down at his watch. He'd practically been on overtime even before they went to the train station. "Yeah. You have plans?"
"I was thinking of stopping for some Irish coffee."
Don grinned at the thought as he stood. "That bar over by your place?"
"It'll be less crowded than Sullivan's after a day like this. You want to come?"
"Sure."
The walk seemed to go more quickly this time. There was some talking shop - he brought her up to speed on the bank case, and she filled him in on the case she'd been working - but they had a change in plans once they reached the bar. The front door was propped open, and they could hear the sounds of a live band over the noise from the masses of people waiting to get inside.
"Or maybe not," she said, looking over the crowd.
"Maybe some other night," Don said with a sigh as he ran his hand through his hair in frustration. He was getting used to the idea of some other night. It seemed to be the story of his life when it came to her.
"I don't know." She looked up at him. "I'm just around the corner," she said with a shrug as she continued, "I've got a coffee maker. And some whiskey."
"Irish coffee at your place?"
"Why not? You interested?"
"I think that's an even better idea."
Her place was a third floor walk-up about a block away. Her front door opened into a small dining room, but the kitchen was even tinier, barely fitting the both of them as Jess tried to open cupboards without knocking him in the head. They were both laughing by the time she got the coffee started, his arms wrapping around her as they leaned together. He threaded his fingers through her hair and finally leaned down to kiss her. He could feel her grin as her arms wrapped around him, tightening as he deepened the kiss.
"It's about time," she muttered against his lips when they finally broke for air.
He chuckled, leaning in to kiss her again. She began to back out of the kitchen, pulling him with her. They broke apart just long enough for him to ask, "What about the coffee?"
"Forget about the coffee."
Author: Zelda Ophelia (zeldaophelia)
Fandom/Character: CSI:NY; Flack/Angell
General info: Not mine; T
Notes: Requested by afteriwake back in, um, January. Thanks to eternal_sadist for the beta!
Words: 2,877
Summary: Four times Flack almost kissed Angell and one time he did.
That time during the stakeout
It wasn't like he hadn't noticed her. Every male cop (and a few female) in homicide sat up and took notice when Jessica Angell was promoted to their ranks. But appreciating the new scenery was one thing. Starting something with a colleague? That was an entirely different matter. Knowing that she'd been transferred in to help cover the workload while he was recovering from the bombing didn't help matters. He'd discovered that knowing someone was there just in case you died did put a damper on getting to know them better. He'd worked enough scenes with her back when she was still in uniform to know she was a good cop and a good addition to the precinct. And, unlike Vicaro, he didn't think that her recent transfer was an invitation to try to get in her pants. But he never saw any reason to move past the occasional small talk in the break room.
So, when the Lieutenant told him to "grab Angell" for the Stanton stakeout, he just figured that, at worst, they'd spend the entire time discussing the case--bring each other up to date on their respective ends, that sort of thing. At best they'd find something else to talk about that wasn't rehashing stuff they already knew.
He hadn't expected to end up flirting with her. He hadn't expected her to call him on it, the tone of her voice and look in her eye suggesting the she wasn't exactly opposed to the idea.
To tell the truth, he wasn't either.
He was shaking his head, half embarrassed at being called out and half wondering just what she would do if he did reach across the seat, cupping his hand behind her head and kissing her the way he wanted to.
He never found out. The back door opened and Amber Stanton let herself in, letting them know they'd been spotted and giving them her itinerary for the day. This time he was embarrassed as hell, and not just a little bit annoyed. He told Jess, as he poked around in the backseat looking for a miracle, that he wanted to be able to put her in handcuffs next time he saw her. He didn't say a word about what she potentially interrupted.
Neither did she.
::
That time after the thing with Rikki
Don was still at his desk when Jess returned from booking, figuring that since he was at the precinct he might as well get some paperwork done. He could tell his words hadn't gone over well with Danny, that his friend was too deep in his grief to realize how close he'd come to throwing away his career.
"I know Sullivan's has good Irish coffee," she said as Don looked up. "But I get the feeling you're more interested in somewhere with fewer cops and more anonymity."
He almost sighed in relief. Sullivan's was the last place he wanted to go to discuss what had happened with Danny and Rikki. Too likely that someone else from the precinct would be there and overhear something they didn't need to. But she deserved the truth: it was her signature on the booking forms, and she was the one covering both his and Danny's asses on this.
"And you have somewhere in mind?" he asked as he stood, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair.
"Yeah, there's a little hole in the wall near my place; great Irish coffee. It's a bit of a walk." She paused, looking at him as she tugged on her lip with her teeth, uncertain. "But you also look like a walk would do you some good."
She was right. They were barely three blocks from the precinct when he started telling her what had happened, how Monroe had asked him to check on Danny, finding his holster empty and Ollie's parole information up on his computer, tracking him down to find that Rikki had stolen his gun, helping him find her instead of reporting it, barely finding Rikki in time to prevent her killing Ollie. To his surprise, she just listened--no critiquing his actions or judgment, no offering of unneeded or unwanted advice. She just let him vent, nodding in agreement in a few places, chuckling in a few others (okay, so maybe he called Danny a "complete idiot" a time or two).
He'd needed this, being able to talk out his day without it turning into talking shop. Don looked over at her as their steps slowed to a stop outside a thick wooden door. She glanced up, about to say something, and for a moment he wondered what it'd be like to kiss her, wondered if her lips were as soft as they looked. He stepped closer, about to lean in and find out when the door opened, nearly crashing into them.
They both jumped back, startled, and she gave him a small, indecipherable smile before she grabbed his hand and pulled him inside.
Neither said anything about what nearly happened for the rest of the night.
::
That time she got all dressed up
Don had always had a thing for Marilyn Monroe. He was fairly certain nearly every red-blooded male had a thing for Marilyn Monroe, and, judging by the buzz in the precinct, those who hadn't certainly had one now after seeing Jess returning in that get-up. Most of them hadn't been there at the scene. They hadn't had to watching their partner sitting out in the open, wearing a dress far too revealing to hide a vest underneath. They hadn't insisted on being out in the open with her in those awful park maintenance coveralls, close enough to help if needed. They just ogled her in that dress when she returned.
She'd just finished getting dressed after her shower when he found her in the locker room, pulling her still-wet hair back into a ponytail. The blue dress sat folded up on the bench next to her, looking completely harmless, nothing like the amazingly dangerous dress she'd been wearing in the park.
He grinned at her as he opened his locker. "You looked good in that dress."
"I did, did I?" she said, turning to look at him. She smirked, quirking an eyebrow as she continued, "As good as in a vest?"
Don laughed, turning to lean his shoulder against his locker as he watched her. He'd meant it when he'd said that the other night, that she looked good in a vest. And he definitely hadn't cared if it was a line--he'd meant what he'd left unspoken as well. "Different. But definitely good."
"Is that so?" she asked, mimicking his position. "I didn't realize you were such a connoisseur of high fashion."
"I don't think I'd call either high fashion," he said stepping towards her. She didn't move, just watching as he moved into her personal space. When he was standing close to her, so close they were almost touching, he continued, "But I have become a bit of a connoisseur of your fashion."
Her lips twisted from a smirk into a wide grin. Jess leaned forward, about to say something when they heard the locker room door open.
"Hey, Flack. You in here?" Thacker called into the room.
They stepped apart quickly, Jess turned back to her locker while he returned to his. "Yeah, I'm just getting changed."
"Taylor wants to talk to you when you finish primping," Thacker said. "Something about the paperwork on Suspect X."
"Got it," Don called back as he unzipped the coveralls he'd worn to the park. The door clicked shut as Thacker left. Glancing over at Jess, he could see she was putting her jacket on. He raised a brow in question, to which she responded with a half-shrug.
"Have fun with the paperwork," she said as she clipped on her gun and shield.
"Yeah, thanks," He said as she left, sitting heavily on the bench behind him.
That had not gone the way he wanted it to.
::
That time after she saved his life
He was actually a little bit surprised that his suit wasn't ruined, Don thought as he fidgeted in his chair, trying to find a comfortable position. There was a nice mess of bruises on his side and down his back. He'd checked in the locker room after things had calmed down at the precinct, and he was fairly certain he could count each one of them now by the way they were hurting. And he was certain that he wasn't the only one.
He looked up when he heard Marks saying Jess' name up by the front desk. She'd gone out with Scagnetti to check on a lead on the Baines case - the murderers in the city didn't stop just because there was a serial killer in town; if anything they upped their game - and it sounded like the two detectives were back.
Don could see she was moving slowly as she returned to her desk. He wasn't surprised; she'd probably taken the worst of it, thanks to him landing on her when they fell--or rather, when she pulled his ass over the back of the car and out of harm's way. He hadn't really had the chance to thank her for that, as they'd both been whisked back into the taxi killer case. Don glanced back over at her desk, just in time to see Jess flinch as she tried to stretch. She pushed back from her desk with a sigh, rubbing the arm she'd landed on as she headed back to the locker room.
He looked back to the front of the squad room. It was mostly empty, and he probably wouldn't be missed, so he stood and followed her, entering the locker room just as she pulled her green t-shirt off. Her back was to him, and what wasn't hidden by her hair was covered in bruises stretching from her right shoulder across her back.
"How bad is it?" She asked without turning to face him.
"Bad. Hurts?" he asked, moving closer.
"Yeah." She curled her shoulders to try to stretch the sore tissue, hissing when it stung. Her locker was open, and he could see into it--the change of clothes she, like all of them, kept on hand, the make-up bag, some over-the-counter medications, and other odds and ends that accumulated.
"Is that arnica?" he asked, reaching past her to pull out the tube of arnica gel.
She glanced over her shoulder at him. "I'm impressed you know what arnica is, Wilson didn't."
"Hey, I might be a cop, but I'm not a dumb cop. We went through tubs of this stuff when we were kids." He held the tube up and nodded towards her back. "Need help?"
Jess paused, as if gauging his offer, before nodding. "Sure. I doubt I'll be able to reach it all myself. It won't help with the soreness much-"
"But the bruises will heal faster," Don finished for her.
Reaching up, he brushed her hair over her shoulder and out of the way. The bruising was even more impressive when viewed unobstructed. Jess hissed again, her shoulders tensing, when he dabbed some of the cool cream onto the worst of the marks. But she relaxed as he began to gently massage the ointment over the bruise. She was quickly leaning into his touch as he worked his way across her skin.
"There," he said when he was finished. She pulled her shirt back on, turning to him as she tugged it down.
"Thanks," Jess said as she put the gel away.
"No problem." He shrugged. "I figured I kind of owe you."
She blushed, looking down at her hands. "You would have done the same. Scagnetti, too."
"Yeah, but Scagnetti isn't as pretty as you," Don joked lightly.
She looked up at him and rolled her eyes. "You've been checking him out in his vest, too?"
He wrinkled his nose at the thought. "It doesn't look nearly as good on him as on you."
Jess laughed, closing her eyes and shaking her head. He was about to step closer, to slip his hand through her hair and finally kiss her like he'd been wanting to - needing to - for so long, when her phone rang. She gave him an apologetic look as she answered, mouthing "Mac" at him as she closed her locker and grabbed her jacket to leave.
He watched the locker room door swing shut behind her with a sense of déjà vu, and for a moment, he seriously considered banging his head against his locker in frustration.
::
That time they finally hooked up
Jess was sitting at her desk when Don returned from the train station. He let one of the uniforms take Joe back to booking, instead stopping by her desk and dropping into the spare chair she kept nearby.
"Nice shirt," she said, her eyes dancing as she looked him over.
"You like it?" He looked down at the t-shirt he'd worn to the station. "I'm not certain it's my style."
"The pink looks good on you."
"You think so?" He looked back over at her and grinned. "I didn't realize you were such a connoisseur of high fashion."
She chuckled as she slipped the paperwork she'd finished into a file folder and dropped it into a drawer. "More like I've become a connoisseur of your fashion."
"Is that so?" He watched as she stood and slipped her jacket on. "You heading out?"
"It's that time. You?"
He glanced down at his watch. He'd practically been on overtime even before they went to the train station. "Yeah. You have plans?"
"I was thinking of stopping for some Irish coffee."
Don grinned at the thought as he stood. "That bar over by your place?"
"It'll be less crowded than Sullivan's after a day like this. You want to come?"
"Sure."
The walk seemed to go more quickly this time. There was some talking shop - he brought her up to speed on the bank case, and she filled him in on the case she'd been working - but they had a change in plans once they reached the bar. The front door was propped open, and they could hear the sounds of a live band over the noise from the masses of people waiting to get inside.
"Or maybe not," she said, looking over the crowd.
"Maybe some other night," Don said with a sigh as he ran his hand through his hair in frustration. He was getting used to the idea of some other night. It seemed to be the story of his life when it came to her.
"I don't know." She looked up at him. "I'm just around the corner," she said with a shrug as she continued, "I've got a coffee maker. And some whiskey."
"Irish coffee at your place?"
"Why not? You interested?"
"I think that's an even better idea."
Her place was a third floor walk-up about a block away. Her front door opened into a small dining room, but the kitchen was even tinier, barely fitting the both of them as Jess tried to open cupboards without knocking him in the head. They were both laughing by the time she got the coffee started, his arms wrapping around her as they leaned together. He threaded his fingers through her hair and finally leaned down to kiss her. He could feel her grin as her arms wrapped around him, tightening as he deepened the kiss.
"It's about time," she muttered against his lips when they finally broke for air.
He chuckled, leaning in to kiss her again. She began to back out of the kitchen, pulling him with her. They broke apart just long enough for him to ask, "What about the coffee?"
"Forget about the coffee."