Emily (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2008-11-26 05:03 pm
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2008-11-26 05:03 pm
Flack/Stella - Death by Rum
Fandom: CSI:NY
Title: Death by Rum
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
iluvroadrunner6
Rating: FRT
Characters: Don Flack/Stella Bonasera
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
10_whores Prompt: 7. Disoriented
Content Warning: N/A
Summary: Stella has to baby-sit a drunk Flack.
Author's Note: Written fordefy_n_gravity. Just a bit of fluff, set at no particular point. And God, it’s been a while since I wrote Flack/Stella.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of CSI:NY. They're owned by CBS.
“Stell, I told you—I’m fine,” Flack sighed, collapsing back on Stella’s couch. Things were a little hazy around the edges, but he could tell enough to know that he wasn’t at his place—he and Stella didn’t exactly have the same decorating tastes. That much was obvious. Why they had wound up here after the annual office Christmas party as oppose to her dropping him off at his, he didn’t quite understand. “Why are we at your place?”
“In case you haven’t noticed?” she smirked, giving him a look over her shoulder. “You’ve got a good four inches on me. You really think we were making it all the way up the stairs to your place?”
“We wouldn’t have to make anything,” Flack mumbled, starting to push himself to his feet. He stood on wobbly legs for a few minutes, before he collapsed back into Stella’s couch again, arms spread out clumsily to catch himself on the back, so that he could lower himself back into the safety of the cushions. He then looked up at Stella with innocent eyes. “I really didn’t have that much.”
“Face it, Flack—you’re not going to win this one,” Stella smirked, before sitting down on the couch next to him, legs tucked under herself as she did. “You are another unfortunate victim of Lindsay’s Death-by-Rum egg nog.”
“That stuff should be illegal,” Flack said, pointing a lazy finger in her direction as he did. Stella laughed slightly. “I didn’t even have that much.”
“Oh no?” she said, arching an eyebrow slightly. “Why don’t I believe that?”
“It’s true,” Flack said with a nod a vehement nod. “I had one glass—maybe two.” Stella gave him a skeptical look, and he had a feeling that he should be insulted by that. “You don’t believe me? Give me a breathalyzer.”
“You think I have a breathalyzer just lying around the house, Flack?”
“Fine—kiss me, then.” How his mind had gone from a piece of scientific equipment to something that was slightly more intimate he wasn’t really sure, and it was probably a testament to how much rum he really had had. Because he usually wasn’t that forward, and Stella knew it. He could see it in the double take she gave him, and the very startled look on her face.
“What?”
“Kiss me,” he repeated. He had already made the comment, so it was either take it back or sell it. And since she hadn’t slapped him yet, so the liquid courage flowing through his veins was yelling at him to sell it. So sell it he did. Besides—this might have also been the rum, but he was relatively sure that she had been flirting with him all evening. He was willing to take what he could get.
He watched her face carefully, waited for her to straighten a bit, before leaning in toward him, a smirk on her face. “Fair enough. Guess I’ll just have to make due with what I’ve got.”
She leaned in, brushing her lips against his lightly, and he leaned in to the kiss, moving one hand up to brace her neck lightly. He could taste the faintest trace of egg nog, nutmeg and rum on her lips and knew that she had probably had a bit of the same poison he had. Less, obviously, but she still had some. There was also something else there that was very distinctly Stella, and he would have been disappointed if there hadn’t been. Stella was something else all on her own, and kissing her should provide the same experience. She pulled back after a moment, not completely, but enough so that they could both take the opportunity to breathe.
“You still had too much,” she murmured.
“Is that a problem?” he asked, looking back at her. Stella just smirked, before pulling away completely, getting up to head back to her room, leaving him where he was.
“Only if you have a problem with sleeping on the couch.”
Title: Death by Rum
Author:
iluvroadrunner6Rating: FRT
Characters: Don Flack/Stella Bonasera
10_whores Prompt: 7. DisorientedContent Warning: N/A
Summary: Stella has to baby-sit a drunk Flack.
Author's Note: Written for
defy_n_gravity. Just a bit of fluff, set at no particular point. And God, it’s been a while since I wrote Flack/Stella.Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of CSI:NY. They're owned by CBS.
“Stell, I told you—I’m fine,” Flack sighed, collapsing back on Stella’s couch. Things were a little hazy around the edges, but he could tell enough to know that he wasn’t at his place—he and Stella didn’t exactly have the same decorating tastes. That much was obvious. Why they had wound up here after the annual office Christmas party as oppose to her dropping him off at his, he didn’t quite understand. “Why are we at your place?”
“In case you haven’t noticed?” she smirked, giving him a look over her shoulder. “You’ve got a good four inches on me. You really think we were making it all the way up the stairs to your place?”
“We wouldn’t have to make anything,” Flack mumbled, starting to push himself to his feet. He stood on wobbly legs for a few minutes, before he collapsed back into Stella’s couch again, arms spread out clumsily to catch himself on the back, so that he could lower himself back into the safety of the cushions. He then looked up at Stella with innocent eyes. “I really didn’t have that much.”
“Face it, Flack—you’re not going to win this one,” Stella smirked, before sitting down on the couch next to him, legs tucked under herself as she did. “You are another unfortunate victim of Lindsay’s Death-by-Rum egg nog.”
“That stuff should be illegal,” Flack said, pointing a lazy finger in her direction as he did. Stella laughed slightly. “I didn’t even have that much.”
“Oh no?” she said, arching an eyebrow slightly. “Why don’t I believe that?”
“It’s true,” Flack said with a nod a vehement nod. “I had one glass—maybe two.” Stella gave him a skeptical look, and he had a feeling that he should be insulted by that. “You don’t believe me? Give me a breathalyzer.”
“You think I have a breathalyzer just lying around the house, Flack?”
“Fine—kiss me, then.” How his mind had gone from a piece of scientific equipment to something that was slightly more intimate he wasn’t really sure, and it was probably a testament to how much rum he really had had. Because he usually wasn’t that forward, and Stella knew it. He could see it in the double take she gave him, and the very startled look on her face.
“What?”
“Kiss me,” he repeated. He had already made the comment, so it was either take it back or sell it. And since she hadn’t slapped him yet, so the liquid courage flowing through his veins was yelling at him to sell it. So sell it he did. Besides—this might have also been the rum, but he was relatively sure that she had been flirting with him all evening. He was willing to take what he could get.
He watched her face carefully, waited for her to straighten a bit, before leaning in toward him, a smirk on her face. “Fair enough. Guess I’ll just have to make due with what I’ve got.”
She leaned in, brushing her lips against his lightly, and he leaned in to the kiss, moving one hand up to brace her neck lightly. He could taste the faintest trace of egg nog, nutmeg and rum on her lips and knew that she had probably had a bit of the same poison he had. Less, obviously, but she still had some. There was also something else there that was very distinctly Stella, and he would have been disappointed if there hadn’t been. Stella was something else all on her own, and kissing her should provide the same experience. She pulled back after a moment, not completely, but enough so that they could both take the opportunity to breathe.
“You still had too much,” she murmured.
“Is that a problem?” he asked, looking back at her. Stella just smirked, before pulling away completely, getting up to head back to her room, leaving him where he was.
“Only if you have a problem with sleeping on the couch.”
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I'm glad you liked it.
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Great job!
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