Emily (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2007-01-16 08:49 pm
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2007-01-16 08:49 pm
Flack/Sofia - Indifference
Fandom: CSI/CSI:NY
Title: Indifference
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
iluvroadrunner6
Rating: FRT
Characters: Don Flack/Sofia Curtis
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
coclaim100 Prompt: 006. Indifference
Content Warning: N/A
Summary: All she wants is her relationship with Flack to feel the way it should.
Author's Note: Written fordarkmagic_luvr in response to the Five Pairings Meme. I wrote her request for Sofia and her favorite was the pairing with Don Flack. This one kind of hit me like a brick wall. I'm not quite sure how I feel about it yet.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of CSI or CSI:NY. They are owned by CBS.
She really had never intended on seeing him again.
He was a one night stand who wouldn’t go away, as much as she wanted to, not because it was bad, but because she liked it more than she should have. One night stands were supposed to be awful and awkward, and this just—wasn’t. It was the easiest relationship she had ever walked away from in her life, and she just didn’t understand why.
He had been sitting at the bar in some casino, and the stool next to him was the only left in the place. He was extremely easy on the eyes, and the more alcohol she consumed, he only got easier if that was even possible. It was only a few drunken moments later that he had talked her into a cab and back to his hotel room, where it was one haze of a night with a cop from New York, who was going to be on a plane out of Vegas the next morning, and wanted to forget just as much as she did. She didn’t know what he was trying to forget, if it had had something to do with the blurry flashes of scars she had seen crisscrossing his abdomen or not, but she knew what she was forgetting. Forgetting everything that had happened to her and her co-workers recently. Nick, Brass, Catherine, Greg, everyone. They were all hurting, and she couldn’t fix it, but for a few precious hours, she could forget that they were.
The next morning they had gone their separate ways as if nothing had even happened, her going back home to get a better night’s sleep for her shift that night, and him to pack for his flight that afternoon, and she was gone without even so much as a goodbye, but what didn’t sit right with her wasn’t the fact that it happened, it was that it didn’t bother her. She wasn’t kicking herself for sleeping with him, but she wasn’t kicking herself for the way she treated him either. She was apathetic. Indifferent. She didn’t feel anything for him one way or another. And he seemed to feel the same for her.
After all, this was the first and last time they were going to encounter each other. So she thought.
Then came the cross-jurisdiction case, where she was forced to compare notes with him, and work with him. Instead of “Don the cop from the bar,” he became Detective Don Flack, NYPD homicide, and she had to shake his hand as though they were meeting for the first time, because in a sense they were. She was in New York for two weeks, working with him side by side, and she managed to pretend like there was nothing between them, like nothing had ever happened. Maintain the indifference she so desperately wanted to.
But that was before the witness she was supposed to be protecting was gunned down right in front of her by a sniper, and there hadn’t been anything she could do about it. That was before the guy got away from her again and she was feeling more helpless than she ever thought she could. Before it was her last night in New York, the case running cold and being transferred to the NYPD, and she just wanted to forget again.
This time was much more different than last though. This time she was sober. This time she wasn’t going to be left with hazy memories with almost no definite details. This time, she remembered every inch of him, and the way his hands felt as he touched her, and the way he just carried her away, a way that she thought only alcohol could do before. But a few things hadn’t changed.
It was his apartment and his bed. It was his arms she was running to. And when it was over, and she was sliding her legs over the side of the bed, she was still indifferent. She still didn’t care for him one way or another. He was a means to an end—a way to forget her pain and move on, or at least expedite the process. And now she needed to get back to her hotel room, pack for her flight back to Vegas, and hope that this time, she really never saw him again. She held the sheet to her body as she placed her feet on the floor, and reached for her clothes.
“Stay,” he protested, catching her arm as she went to get out of bed. She turned back to look at him, and caught a glimpse of something in his eyes. Something that told her that this—whatever it was called—between them, meant a little more than a means to an end. That he was starting to feel a little more than indifferent.
“Look, Don, you’re a nice guy, but—” she began, but stopped when he started shaking his head.
“Damnit, Sofia, don’t give me that speech, it sounds like you’re breaking up with me,” he stated evenly, before giving her a look, “I’m not asking you to marry me, for Christ’s sake, I just want you to stay the night.”
“I don’t think it’s—”
“No strings attatched,” Flack said, sitting up and looking at her, “Its pouring buckets outside, and I’m offering somewhere to sleep where you don’t have to get drenched first. What would you rather do?”
She stared at him for a second, before sliding between the sheets again, and he started to reach for her and she pulled back.
“No strings attached, right?”
“No strings he attached,” he nodded, feeling her settle back in next to him. That was when things changed.
That was when things got weird. That was when things got awkward. Because suddenly, the feelings weren’t equal. She wasn’t feeling for him the same way he was for her. It was suddenly feeling a little more normal, and at that moment, her relationship with Don Flack finally felt normal.
And finally let her let go.
Title: Indifference
Author:
iluvroadrunner6Rating: FRT
Characters: Don Flack/Sofia Curtis
coclaim100 Prompt: 006. IndifferenceContent Warning: N/A
Summary: All she wants is her relationship with Flack to feel the way it should.
Author's Note: Written for
darkmagic_luvr in response to the Five Pairings Meme. I wrote her request for Sofia and her favorite was the pairing with Don Flack. This one kind of hit me like a brick wall. I'm not quite sure how I feel about it yet.Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of CSI or CSI:NY. They are owned by CBS.
She really had never intended on seeing him again.
He was a one night stand who wouldn’t go away, as much as she wanted to, not because it was bad, but because she liked it more than she should have. One night stands were supposed to be awful and awkward, and this just—wasn’t. It was the easiest relationship she had ever walked away from in her life, and she just didn’t understand why.
He had been sitting at the bar in some casino, and the stool next to him was the only left in the place. He was extremely easy on the eyes, and the more alcohol she consumed, he only got easier if that was even possible. It was only a few drunken moments later that he had talked her into a cab and back to his hotel room, where it was one haze of a night with a cop from New York, who was going to be on a plane out of Vegas the next morning, and wanted to forget just as much as she did. She didn’t know what he was trying to forget, if it had had something to do with the blurry flashes of scars she had seen crisscrossing his abdomen or not, but she knew what she was forgetting. Forgetting everything that had happened to her and her co-workers recently. Nick, Brass, Catherine, Greg, everyone. They were all hurting, and she couldn’t fix it, but for a few precious hours, she could forget that they were.
The next morning they had gone their separate ways as if nothing had even happened, her going back home to get a better night’s sleep for her shift that night, and him to pack for his flight that afternoon, and she was gone without even so much as a goodbye, but what didn’t sit right with her wasn’t the fact that it happened, it was that it didn’t bother her. She wasn’t kicking herself for sleeping with him, but she wasn’t kicking herself for the way she treated him either. She was apathetic. Indifferent. She didn’t feel anything for him one way or another. And he seemed to feel the same for her.
After all, this was the first and last time they were going to encounter each other. So she thought.
Then came the cross-jurisdiction case, where she was forced to compare notes with him, and work with him. Instead of “Don the cop from the bar,” he became Detective Don Flack, NYPD homicide, and she had to shake his hand as though they were meeting for the first time, because in a sense they were. She was in New York for two weeks, working with him side by side, and she managed to pretend like there was nothing between them, like nothing had ever happened. Maintain the indifference she so desperately wanted to.
But that was before the witness she was supposed to be protecting was gunned down right in front of her by a sniper, and there hadn’t been anything she could do about it. That was before the guy got away from her again and she was feeling more helpless than she ever thought she could. Before it was her last night in New York, the case running cold and being transferred to the NYPD, and she just wanted to forget again.
This time was much more different than last though. This time she was sober. This time she wasn’t going to be left with hazy memories with almost no definite details. This time, she remembered every inch of him, and the way his hands felt as he touched her, and the way he just carried her away, a way that she thought only alcohol could do before. But a few things hadn’t changed.
It was his apartment and his bed. It was his arms she was running to. And when it was over, and she was sliding her legs over the side of the bed, she was still indifferent. She still didn’t care for him one way or another. He was a means to an end—a way to forget her pain and move on, or at least expedite the process. And now she needed to get back to her hotel room, pack for her flight back to Vegas, and hope that this time, she really never saw him again. She held the sheet to her body as she placed her feet on the floor, and reached for her clothes.
“Stay,” he protested, catching her arm as she went to get out of bed. She turned back to look at him, and caught a glimpse of something in his eyes. Something that told her that this—whatever it was called—between them, meant a little more than a means to an end. That he was starting to feel a little more than indifferent.
“Look, Don, you’re a nice guy, but—” she began, but stopped when he started shaking his head.
“Damnit, Sofia, don’t give me that speech, it sounds like you’re breaking up with me,” he stated evenly, before giving her a look, “I’m not asking you to marry me, for Christ’s sake, I just want you to stay the night.”
“I don’t think it’s—”
“No strings attatched,” Flack said, sitting up and looking at her, “Its pouring buckets outside, and I’m offering somewhere to sleep where you don’t have to get drenched first. What would you rather do?”
She stared at him for a second, before sliding between the sheets again, and he started to reach for her and she pulled back.
“No strings attached, right?”
“No strings he attached,” he nodded, feeling her settle back in next to him. That was when things changed.
That was when things got weird. That was when things got awkward. Because suddenly, the feelings weren’t equal. She wasn’t feeling for him the same way he was for her. It was suddenly feeling a little more normal, and at that moment, her relationship with Don Flack finally felt normal.
And finally let her let go.
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do i have to?
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