CSI:New York : Who Are You? (Don Flack/OFC fanfic)

This Thing Between Us

After Flack and Olivia left the Rockefeller Center and arrived at his apartment - and even though they were both hungry - food had been the last thing on their mind. They had spent the next hour in his bedroom, making love, before finally realising that their stomachs weren't going to hold out much longer.

As it turned out Flack's meatballs were pretty good. In fact the entire dinner had been delicious. It had consisted of herb ciabatta soaked in olive oil, Flack's very own homemade meatballs, which Olivia had decided were "out of this world" and well worth the wait, which he had served with linguini - according to Flack, "the true Italian way, not spaghetti" - and a bottle of Chianti. While they had eaten, quiet music added to the mood and the conversation had been easy-going with lots of laughter. There was no work talk and that suited them both fine.

Now they were relaxing on the sofa, Olivia nestled in the crook of Flack's arm, their feet up on the coffee table, ankles crossed. With her cheek against the curve of his shoulder it was tempting not to close her eyes, to fall asleep right there with his arms around her, her belly full and the warm feeling that was beginning to envelop her. She couldn't remember a time when she had felt this relaxed. This content. This safe. And just like that her stomach lurched and although this sated, happy feeling was the one thing she'd always run from, she was either too tired to argue with herself or she didn't want to ruin the mood of the evening. They'd had a great time, the skating, the food...and now this. Was this what normal couples did? Was this what it felt like? Was this the beginning of something? That once in a lifetime feeling that Evan insisted over and over that she needed and she insisted over and over she could live without? Was this what she wanted?

In truth Olivia wasn't sure what she wanted or needed anymore. She'd spent her whole life running, taking what she needed to satisfy her own ends at the time and never giving anything in return. Turning her back on love. It suited her fine that way. She'd lived like that for twelve years. If she didn't love, then she couldn't hurt. If she didn't love, then she had nothing and no one to lose.

But this thing with Flack had snuck up on her and with a sudden clarity it hit her and she realized that she could no longer deny that something was happening between them. She'd tried to tell herself over and over that he didn't mean anything to her. That it was just a good time, great sex, nothing more. But she was beginning to feel something for him. Question was, what? More to the point...what did she do about it?

Whatever it was, she surprised herself by not feeling as threatened by it. Maybe that was down to Flack. It was fair to say she had never met anyone like him. Where other men had walked on realizing she could never give them what they wanted, Flack had remained. That in itself was confusing.

All so new.

Since that night in her apartment they had reached a new understanding. He was happy to wait until she was ready to take that next step, knowing that she may never or even be capable. There was no pressure, just more of the same and in spite of knowing how he felt about her; she wasn't tempted to run away. He was sticking around. She didn't know how to process it because it had never happened before.

It could all be so perfect. He could be perfect for her. So why was the "he means nothing to me" thought still filtering through her head?

'You okay?' he asked, breaking into her reverie.

'Just a little sleepy.'

Lifting his hand from her shoulder, he began combing his fingers through her hair. 'You staying tonight?'

'I'd like that, Don,' she murmured.

At the sound of his first name on her lips Flack's heart stumbled. He shifted and sensing he was looking at her Olivia turned her face up to him.