kathierif_fic (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
kathierif_fic) wrote2009-05-26 08:57 pm
kathierif_fic) wrote2009-05-26 08:57 pm
Fic: The One (Crossover New Amsterdam/CSI:NY, Don Flack/John Amsterdam, FRT)
Title: The One
Author: Kathie
Rating: FRT
Disclaimer: I don’t own CSINY and I don’t own New Amsterdam.
Pairing: John Amsterdam/Don Flack
Summary: It was Omar who had brought it up first. “What if it’s not a woman you’re looking for?”
Authors Notes: Thanks to Ginny and Dee for everything.
Written for the Rounds_of_Kink challenge, May 3rd:
Prompt: Doubts and fears
John Amsterdam/Danny Messer or John Amsterdam/Don Flack
New Amsterdam/CSI:NY
kink:
Seduction, courting
(prompted by silentflux)
~*~*~
“Bonnie and Clyde. What can you tell me about them?”
John Amsterdam looked up from the file on his desk. “Not a lot more than what you probably already know,” he answered with a small smile. “I don’t know them.”
Burnett raised an eyebrow. “You don’t?”
“No,” John replied and leaned back in his chair. “But I knew someone who spent a few months chasing them, if that helps.”
“Probably not,” she admitted and handed him a new casefile. “CSI got your results back. It seems like your murderer is connected to another old friend.”
She waited a few heartbeats, but John just looked at her expectantly, without offering a comment or suggestion, and so she continued. “To another murderer.”
John’s eyebrows rose. “That’s…uncommon,” he said softly.
“Extremely,” Eva supplied from where she was leaning against John’s desk. “Is that a coincidence?”
“Probably not,” Burnett shrugged. “It’s up to you to figure out the rest. And catch them.” She raised a finger. “Actually, you’re just responsible to catch Bonnie. Clyde has been someone else’s responsibility for a while now. I expect that you act like responsible adults and cooperate fully with him.”
“Really.” Eva sounded unimpressed. “Who?”
Burnett pushed her hair back over her shoulder. “Detective Flack.”
~*~*~
Of course he knew the name Don Flack. Andy had made sure that he was well aware of the legacy of one of the greatest legends NYPD had to offer, and was able to recognize him.
He also knew the rumors running around the precinct concerning the younger Flack. He was generally considered to be a good guy, a good cop who loved his job. But John had also heard less than glowing things about Flack – especially after what had been dubbed ‘The Truby Incident’ cops had talked about how Flack had rolled over a fellow cop and had handed him over to Taylor without second thought and without hesitation.
John thought he knew what he had to expect when meeting Flack, together with Detective Angell, but he wasn’t prepared for the sharp pain racing through his chest.
“John, you okay?” Eva asked when he stopped mid-step and instinct made him press a hand against his chest.
“Yeah,” he gasped. “I’ll be right back. You go on.”
He didn’t wait for her to confirm his words as he stumbled away. He knew, should he die there, in the middle of the precinct, he would have to disappear from the city he’d called home for almost four hundred years now. He would have to leave everything behind, including Omar, and he wasn’t quite ready for that.
It was the only thing that had kept him upright and going, until he’d ended up in the restroom, curled around a toilet.
Dying there was an entirely unpleasant experience, he thought afterwards, when he was staring at himself in the mirror. He didn’t know what had caused this second heart attack, but he knew he had to figure it out before he would suffer a third.
Sarah had done a complete check-up on him and had declared him a healthy, normal male human being, except his bloodwork, which she couldn’t quite explain, and John knew for sure that he’d met The One again.
He didn’t know yet who it was. He would find it out – he had to find it out. Until then, there was a murder he had to catch.
When he stepped back into the precinct, Eva, Flack and Angell were sitting at Eva’s desk, a box of donuts and paper cups of coffee between them. They were catching up with each other, and just by listening in for a few seconds, John realized that the three of them knew each other pretty well.
He wasn’t so sure about Angell, but he figured that it made sense, in a strange way. Both Flack and Eva were the offspring of famous cops, and they seemed to have a few things in common, including the quick sense of humor.
John almost expected the third heart attack right there, but to his great relief, it never came. It was as f his body had just needed to give him a kick in the ass to make him realize that The One was closer than he’d ever imagined.
“Amsterdam!” Eva called and waved at him with a file while still holding a half-eaten donut in her other hand. “You know detectives Flack and Angell?”
John shook his head and stepped up to her desk to give both detectives a firm handshake and then snag a donut from Eva’s desk. They had a pair of murderers to catch.
And he had to figure out who had caused this strong reaction deep in his chest.
Giving Angell a smile, he opened the case file, and they started working.
~*~*~
It had been Omar who had brought it up first, one night soon after the breakup with Sara, when John had been quietly sitting in one corner of his bar and moping over a glass of water.
“What if it’s not a woman?”
John had scoffed at that thought. Of course it had to be a woman. There had never been the trace of doubt in him about this. It was a woman. And so he had laughed at Omar, stood and left.
He liked women.
However, late that night, after the second heart attack, when he woke up with a start and without being able to determine why, he couldn’t help but desperately try to remember the Shaman’s exact words.
There simply was no way that she hadn’t meant a woman, he told himself firmly. He loved women. He’d never as much as looked at men. He’d been raised to believe that man and woman belonged together, and while, during his life, he’d seen a lot of things change, this knowledge, deeply instilled into him, had stayed with him, no matter how tolerant toward others he’d become.
He rolled around in his bed, pulled the pillow over his head and sighed deeply.
It had to be a woman.
Even if the Shaman had never explicitly told him so.
John sighed again and cursed his overactive imagination. It couldn’t be anything but a woman, he told himself firmly, for what it felt the hundredth time since Omar, curse him, had brought it up. He couldn’t even allow himself to think about how often he might have walked straight past The One, ignoring them just because they were male.
A cold sweat broke out all over his body. Now that the thought was there, it was stuck, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get rid of it.
He needed a distraction.
Damn Omar and his outrageous ideas. John didn’t know where his son had that from, but he really didn’t have time for that. He’d definitely felt something on that subway platform, and he now knew for sure that it hadn’t been Sara. He would have to keep searching for The One. There had been more women than just Sara in that train and he didn’t have a single clue where he should start his search.
Not to forget the men.
John sighed again. He didn’t even know if he could forget his personal sexual preferences for long enough to unite with his soul mate if it wasn’t a woman.
Only time would tell.
John grimaced at himself. If there was one thing he had right now, it was time.
He sighed and rolled out of bed. There was one thing he could do, and that was checking the security footage of the day he’d died at the subway platform. He could cross-reference people he recognized with people that had been at the precinct earlier, and if he was lucky, he would catch Detective Jennifer Angell on the tape and all would be good.
He switched on his computer and sighed tiredly.
The images of the footage started to blur before his eyes after a while, but he still caught the two detectives, at the edge of the screen. They both were obviously off the clock, he thought and rubbed his burning eyes. Flack was dressed in an obnoxiously bright yellow t-shirt and jeans, and the man next to him, Detective Danny Messer, was carrying a bag. Both were laughing, joking, and John caught, right before they stepped on the subway and disappeared, how Flack nudged Messer’s side playfully.
He sighed and turned off the computer. It was a coincidence, nothing more. He would go over the footage later again, when he was more awake.
~*~*~
By the time morning came, he’d convinced himself that it had just been the loneliness of his bed in the middle of the night that had made him believe in Omar’s words, and, after a cup of coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs and toast, he was ready to face another day at the precinct.
Bending down, he patted Thirty-Six on the head briefly before pulling on his coat and leaving the house. Omar would stop by later and make sure that Thirty-Six was okay, he knew, like he always did. John didn’t know if it was because Omar felt sorry for the dog or if there was another reason, and he’d never come around to ask.
His thoughts focused back on the case at hand, and by the time he reached the precinct, he didn’t think about it anymore – until he ran into Flack again.
Maybe he was The One, a small voice at the back of his brain whispered. Flack and Messer had been at the platform. Flack had been at the precinct. It would fit, like puzzle pieces falling into place, but John didn’t know yet if he liked the picture it showed him.
He sighed heavily. Even if he, at first, didn’t want to admit it, or even acknowledge the possibility, Flack was the only one who had been present for both his heart attacks. Nobody else had.
However, he was clueless about how he should go on from here. He knew how to talk to women, how to flirt with them, and signal them that he was interested in them; he knew how to seduce and court them. He’d always just been interested in women.
He didn’t have the slightest idea about how to approach a man.
A cop, on top of that.
He didn’t even know if Flack would be interested in him, of if John would find himself with his skull kicked in by his fellow policemen.
He sighed. He didn’t know what to do, but he would figure it out. He was sure of that.
~*~*~
The thought didn’t let go of him. John sighed at another night spent tossing and turning and not sleeping.
Quietly he got up and pulled on comfortable clothes. Maybe he could clear his thoughts with swimming. It had always worked in the past, and he needed it now to get his head straightened out again.
~*~*~
He didn’t bother getting out of the water. He just wiped a hand over his face to get rid of the wetness still clinging to his skin and sticking his hair to his skull, and glanced up at Flack.
“How’d you know how to find me?” he asked curiously while doing his best to ignore the slight flutter in his chest.
Flack shrugged. “I asked Eva,” he easily explained. “Her words about indecent exposure make a lot more sense now, you know.”
John just smiled. He’d grown up in a time when it was normal to be naked around other people, and it didn’t bother him in the slightest to be undressed.
“Want to join me? The water is nice,” he offered and splashed his hand into it.
Flack laughed, a short sound that quickly tapered off. The smile stayed on his face, and his eyes twinkled as he said, “I prefer water frozen, thank you very much.”
John laughed too and climbed out of the pool to retrieve a towel and wrap it around his waist. “So, if you don’t want to swim,” he started and grabbed a bottle of water, “and I seriously doubt that you’re here for me…what’s up, Detective Flack?”
Flack narrowed his eyes slightly at him. “Amsterdam, are you flirting with me?” he asked. John’s heart skipped a beat while he did his best to stop himself from blushing.
Flack cocked his head to the side curiously, an air of amused expectation hanging around him, and John coughed slightly. “No,” he belatedly answered.
“Okay,” Flack easily answered and pulled his memobook out of his coat pocket. “And, just for the record, I was actually looking for you.”
John’s eyes travelled over the length of Flack’s body. “Yeah? What for?” he asked and licked his lips slightly.
“New evidence,” Flack simply replied and opened his notepad. “We might be closing in on Bonnie and Clyde.”
“Good,” John nodded. “What did you find out?”
It didn’t occur him until much later that he had, in fact, flirted with Flack, and that he’d enjoyed it very much.
~*~*~
The case he was working almost became secondary while John tried to figure out a way to approach Don Flack again. He hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself at first, but he couldn’t deny that he was definitely feeling attracted to his fellow cop. It confused him and he tried to ignore his feelings, but when he’d caught himself the third time in the shower, his hand wrapped tightly around his swollen cock and his mind filled with images of Don’s blue eyes, he knew he had it bad.
Bad enough for Omar and Eva to notice that something was wrong, which only made matters so much worse. He tried distracting himself by focusing on the case, but working on that only brought his attention back to Don, and, in connection to that, to the problems he was still facing.
He didn’t know how to talk to Flack about this. He didn’t know if Flack was even interested, and he didn’t know how to find out. He’d tried his usual flirting, both subtle and pretty vehement, but Flack didn’t even seem to realize what he was doing. It was as if he was blind to John’s advances.
~*~*~
“What do you mean, Bonnie and Clyde both are male?” Flack frowned slightly. It had been almost two weeks, and they still hadn’t found out their murderers’ identities, and the name of ‘Bonnie and Clyde’ had stuck, despite the historical inaccuracies and the differences in their modus operandi from the original Bonnie and Clyde. “I thought the evidence was pretty conclusive – Bonnie is the girl.”
John shrugged. “New evidence,” he replied. “From an anonymous caller. We found what we think is Bonnie’s DNA. No ID yet, but it’s distinctively male.”
“Who would’ve thought that,” Flack muttered with a small shake of his head. “The gay version. And instead of death or freedom, they take both.” He snorted and shook his head again. “Both men,” he repeated, disbelief coloring his voice.
John felt his heart sink at these words. Doubts he’d had and that had plagued him ever since he’d met Don Flack for the first time came back full-force. How could he try to reveal his feelings to the other man if he was reacting like that?
Flack squinted at him. “What?” he asked. “What’s with that face, Amsterdam?”
“Nothing,” John replied, his voice sharper than he’d intended. Flack grew tense under his clothes at his words. “I’m just wondering what you’re trying to imply there.”
“Are you accusing me of being homophobic?” he asked coldly, and John almost shivered at the icy glare.
“No,” he said, only to clench his teeth and give Flack a challenging “Are you?”
Flack abruptly stood. “Fuck you, Amsterdam,” he hissed, gathering his file and stalking out of the room.
John slowly released the breath he had subconsciously been holding. “That went well,” he whispered to himself.
There went his chance to invite Flack to dinner and maybe try something else to make the other man more perceptive to John’s flirting…
~*~*~
“I’m sorry for what I said.”
Flack blinked at him sleepily. He was dressed in sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt, something that was a sharp contrast to his usually impeccable style. He didn’t wear shoes, John realized when he glanced down at the other man’s feet guiltily, and when he looked up again, he realized that Flack’s hair was sticking up slightly.
“Did you just wake me up in the middle of the night to tell me that?” Flack asked, his voice rough and slightly catching.
John nodded. “I guess,” he admitted. He hadn’t been able to sleep, once again, too worried that he’d managed to fuck this up and lose The One even before he’d even had him, just because of something ridiculous and irrelevant – a slight misunderstanding.
He’d been looking for The One for so long, in so many wrong places, he would not let him go now without putting up a hell of a fight.
Flack sighed and leaned his hip against the doorjamb. “Okay,” he said. “Apology accepted.”
John nodded quietly. “Thank you,” he murmured.
Flack sighed again and ran a hand through his hair. It made the hem of his shirt ride up slightly and exposed a thin stripe of pale stomach, crossed with scars. John had his own fair share of scars and marks, but none of them looked as bad as those on Don’s stomach, he thought with a hint of nausea turning his stomach.
“You okay?” Don asked softly and wrapped his arms around his chest protectively. “Amsterdam, you look like hell.”
John laughed briefly. “Thanks,” he replied dryly. “I’m good. And you don’t exactly look like you just came from a catwalk either.”
He nodded at Don’s attire, and Don looked down himself. “I didn’t meet you naked in a public place,” he pointed out dryly.
John’s smirk widened. “Too bad,” he said before his brain could catch up with his mouth. He blushed slightly and gave Flack a small shrug. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”
It probably wasn’t enough to cover his little slip-up, he thought, but maybe Flack thought that it had been just a joke. John hoped so.
“Bright and early,” Flack agreed with an easy smile.
“Good.” John gave him one of his own smiles. “Night, Don.”
“Night, John.”
~*~*~
“What are you doing, Amsterdam?”
Don could already hear Eva, even if he was still out of sight. He grinned slightly. John and Eva’s relationship was easy, filled with the occasional eyeroll on Eva’s side and a lot of weird stories from John. It was a comfortable relationship, and, having worked with Amsterdam for a few weeks now and experiencing some of the more quirky aspects of his character, Don could emphasize with the eyerolling.
He’d known Eva Marquez for a long time now, and they’d always gotten along well. Working with her was easy and uncomplicated, and he enjoyed it.
“I’m not doing anything,” John replied, amusement laced into his voice. “What are you talking about, Eva?”
“You’re flirting with Flack!”
The sentence made Don stop mid-step. For a moment, he thought he’d misunderstood, but then he realized that, last time he’d checked, he hadn’t suffered from hallucinations and this conversation had to be real.
He knew he should let them know that he was there, but his curiosity kept him glued to the spot, eager to hear more.
“I’m not!” Amsterdam sounded defensive, and the reply had come way too fast for Don to believe it. It sounded as if Amsterdam was either in denial or trying to scare Eva’s attention away from that particular path of thinking.
“Yes, you are, and you know it,” Eva said, matter-of-factly, and Don closed his eyes.
“He’s…nice,” John hesitantly admitted. Don imagined Eva giving him one of her patented looks of disbelief.
“But I don’t think he’s, you know. Interested.”
Eva snorted. “What do you mean? You don’t know if he’s interested in men? Or in you?”
Amsterdam grunted a non-committal reply, and Eva laughed.
“Donnie Flack…he’s head over heels for Messer, from the CSU. The guy on Taylor’s CSI team.”
“I know Messer,” Amsterdam replied. His voice sounded strangely muffled. “Flack and Messer?”
“You sound shocked.”
“Messer’s had something going on with Detective Monroe.”
“So?” Don imagined Eva shrugging. “Maybe now you stand a chance with Flack,” she said.
Before he could hear more, Detective Santori was pushing past him, and Don was abruptly pulled back into the present.
Santori gave him a suspicious glare, and Don chose to ignore him as he made his way to where Amsterdam and Eva were sitting together. Don swallowed, and his fingers tightened on the case file he was carrying. Amsterdam was interested in him, and Eva thought he was sleeping with Danny?
It was enough to send his mind spinning into directions he didn’t want to. Instead he plastered a smile on his face and waved the file with false cheer.
“CSI’s found out something about Bonnie,” he announced. “You’ve been right. She’s a man.”
Amsterdam raised his eyebrows. “Yes?” he asked and held out his hand for the file. Don handed it over with an almost perfectly straight face, but then the smile broke through. “Name’s Patrick Leopold, DNA is in the system for assault, manslaughter, and armed robbery. Spent a few years in jail, and, when he got released, he turned himself into a woman and called himself Victoria Leopold. Now get this.”
He was fully aware that their attention was focused entirely on him, and the smile on his face widened even more. “In jail, he met someone – Michael Peterson. After his release, they moved in together and eventually married.”
John nodded. “Bonnie and Clyde?” he suggested.
Don’s grin was answer enough.
“Do we have an address?” Eva asked, already reaching for her gun, and Don nodded. “We do,” he affirmed.
“Let’s go,” John said and grabbed his jacket. He turned around to Don and gave him a smile. “Good job, Detective.”
Don just shrugged. The job wasn’t done yet.
~*~*~
On the drive to the address Flack had given him, John couldn’t stop himself from glancing at Don again and again. He was ready to admit that the grace and strength Flack displayed when moving occupied more of his thoughts than it should, and that he was on the best way to fall in love.
Hearing from Eva that Flack was in a relationship with Messer had driven daggers through his heart, spikes of jealousy that were so strong that he was surprised himself, especially since he knew from Hawkes that Messer was with Monroe.
The truth, he realized as he glanced at the man in the passenger seat once more, was simple.
He wanted this man.
It both scared and calmed him down, at the same time.
They would get their killers, and then, he would tell Flack the truth, he told himself firmly. He was sure that Don was The One. He didn’t know yet how he was supposed to wed their souls, and he didn’t even know what Don thought about that.
He would stop being a coward and find out.
~*~*~
Don leaned back into the booth and smiled in satisfaction. They had managed to arrest Bonnie and Clyde, aka. Michael and Victoria Peterson, without problems, and in the aftermath, when John had reached out and squeezed his shoulder briefly, Don had to admit that the other man wasn’t so bad looking.
And he was an interesting character.
And yes, maybe he was a little bit attracted to him.
He lifted his glass to his lips to take a sip while letting his eyes wander around the bar again. Amsterdam had dragged them here, to celebrate, and neither Don nor Eva had put up much protest. John had introduced the owner of the bar, Omar York, to him and then had disappeared, promising them to be back within minutes.
Don loosened the tie and rolled up his sleeves while nodding occasionally, letting Eva know that he was still listening, up to the point where she tossed her dark hair over her shoulder and had asked him, “So…you noticed Amsterdam staring at you.”
Don grinned and took another sip of his drink. “I did,” he agreed. “First day, actually.”
It was a lie, and they both knew it, but Eva had been a good friend when they’d been younger, and she knew him well enough to let it slide.
“What do you think?” Eva asked. “You gonna give him a chance if he gets his head out of his ass and asks you out?”
Don shrugged. “Depends on how far up his ass his head is,” he admitted. “Maybe.” He grinned. “Why did you tell him Danny and I are a couple?”
Eva grinned. “To make him realize that he should go for it,” she answered. “You think it worked?”
“Yeah,” Don nodded, just as the wet nose of a dog touched his hand.
“Thirty Six!”
John reappeared, the top buttons of his shirt undone, an envelope in his hand, and slid into the booth next to Don.
“I’m going to get fresh drinks,” Eva announced and stood. “The same again?”
Both men nodded, and she walked off without even attempting to hide the triumphant smile on her face.
“So.”
John bowed his head slightly.
“So,” Don calmly agreed and relaxed further, his long limbs sprawled out comfortably.
“You know…” John smiled slightly and looked up at him again. “I remember when they built Madison Square Garden. The first one.” He grinned. “And I remember the first game of the Rangers. 1926.”
Don chuckled. “Eva warned me about you,” he said. “Your weird past lives thing.”
“It’s the truth,” John told him. “But, you know, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Yeah? Then what did you want to talk about?”
John pushed the envelope over the table, towards him. “I’m not that familiar with hockey,” he explained. “I know that it was invented in the Netherlands.” He didn’t add the little fact that he’d been born there. He would tell Don later about that, maybe.
“And I know someone,” he continued when Don picked up the envelope, and, with a quick glance at John, opened it. “A friend, who gave me those.”
Don pulled the tickets to a game out of the envelope with a slight frown. “And?”
John grinned. “I wanted to ask if you wanted to come,” he said, in a rush of words.
Don looked at him for a long moment. “Come with you? As a date?” he then asked, careful not to show any of his emotions yet.
John dropped his head again. “Yes,” he said. “As a date. A real one.”
Don grinned and slipped the tickets back into the envelope. “Why, Detective, are you flirting with me?” he asked.
John laughed quietly. “Why, Detective, yes, I think I am,” he replied. “What do you say?”
“It’s my pleasure,” Don said, and John grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently. “Thank you,” he said.
Don looked at him speculatively for a split second, then he leaned closer, into John. Their lips met in a gentle, soft kiss, a dry brush of skin on skin, and in that second, John realized something.
He didn’t know if Don was The One. He wasn’t willing to risk his life finding out if he could die. For the moment, he was happy, and his soul was feeling at rest. He would probably feel doubts for a while longer and make mistakes – looking back, he realized that his courtship had been weird and overshadowed by work, but it had worked, and that was the main thing.
Maybe it was the way it was meant to work, considering this was such an unfamiliar situation. Maybe the unusual approach had been the only one possible.
He smiled as he pulled the radio out of his coat pocket, confirmed the next case – he’d known he was on call, even before he’d dragged Don here for Omar to meet him, and that this could happen – and pushed himself up and away from the table.
“Duty calls,” he said, even if it was unnecessary. Don had grown up with this thing. He wouldn’t complain if John got called to a scene at three in the morning – at least he wouldn’t complain too much.
Don nodded and lifted his glass in a mixture of mock salute and wave, and John gave him a soft smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked, and Don nodded.
Eva already waited for him by the door, and John didn’t look back as he followed her out.
He didn’t need to. The future was bright ahead of him, and hopefully, he was right this time and Don was The One. And even if he wasn’t, they would figure things out.
He smiled as he stepped into the ever changing streets of New Amsterdam – New York.
It had been his home for almost four hundred years, and it had changed constantly.
It was time he changed too.
With Don.
End.
Author: Kathie
Rating: FRT
Disclaimer: I don’t own CSINY and I don’t own New Amsterdam.
Pairing: John Amsterdam/Don Flack
Summary: It was Omar who had brought it up first. “What if it’s not a woman you’re looking for?”
Authors Notes: Thanks to Ginny and Dee for everything.
Written for the Rounds_of_Kink challenge, May 3rd:
Prompt: Doubts and fears
John Amsterdam/Danny Messer or John Amsterdam/Don Flack
New Amsterdam/CSI:NY
kink:
Seduction, courting
(prompted by silentflux)
~*~*~
“Bonnie and Clyde. What can you tell me about them?”
John Amsterdam looked up from the file on his desk. “Not a lot more than what you probably already know,” he answered with a small smile. “I don’t know them.”
Burnett raised an eyebrow. “You don’t?”
“No,” John replied and leaned back in his chair. “But I knew someone who spent a few months chasing them, if that helps.”
“Probably not,” she admitted and handed him a new casefile. “CSI got your results back. It seems like your murderer is connected to another old friend.”
She waited a few heartbeats, but John just looked at her expectantly, without offering a comment or suggestion, and so she continued. “To another murderer.”
John’s eyebrows rose. “That’s…uncommon,” he said softly.
“Extremely,” Eva supplied from where she was leaning against John’s desk. “Is that a coincidence?”
“Probably not,” Burnett shrugged. “It’s up to you to figure out the rest. And catch them.” She raised a finger. “Actually, you’re just responsible to catch Bonnie. Clyde has been someone else’s responsibility for a while now. I expect that you act like responsible adults and cooperate fully with him.”
“Really.” Eva sounded unimpressed. “Who?”
Burnett pushed her hair back over her shoulder. “Detective Flack.”
~*~*~
Of course he knew the name Don Flack. Andy had made sure that he was well aware of the legacy of one of the greatest legends NYPD had to offer, and was able to recognize him.
He also knew the rumors running around the precinct concerning the younger Flack. He was generally considered to be a good guy, a good cop who loved his job. But John had also heard less than glowing things about Flack – especially after what had been dubbed ‘The Truby Incident’ cops had talked about how Flack had rolled over a fellow cop and had handed him over to Taylor without second thought and without hesitation.
John thought he knew what he had to expect when meeting Flack, together with Detective Angell, but he wasn’t prepared for the sharp pain racing through his chest.
“John, you okay?” Eva asked when he stopped mid-step and instinct made him press a hand against his chest.
“Yeah,” he gasped. “I’ll be right back. You go on.”
He didn’t wait for her to confirm his words as he stumbled away. He knew, should he die there, in the middle of the precinct, he would have to disappear from the city he’d called home for almost four hundred years now. He would have to leave everything behind, including Omar, and he wasn’t quite ready for that.
It was the only thing that had kept him upright and going, until he’d ended up in the restroom, curled around a toilet.
Dying there was an entirely unpleasant experience, he thought afterwards, when he was staring at himself in the mirror. He didn’t know what had caused this second heart attack, but he knew he had to figure it out before he would suffer a third.
Sarah had done a complete check-up on him and had declared him a healthy, normal male human being, except his bloodwork, which she couldn’t quite explain, and John knew for sure that he’d met The One again.
He didn’t know yet who it was. He would find it out – he had to find it out. Until then, there was a murder he had to catch.
When he stepped back into the precinct, Eva, Flack and Angell were sitting at Eva’s desk, a box of donuts and paper cups of coffee between them. They were catching up with each other, and just by listening in for a few seconds, John realized that the three of them knew each other pretty well.
He wasn’t so sure about Angell, but he figured that it made sense, in a strange way. Both Flack and Eva were the offspring of famous cops, and they seemed to have a few things in common, including the quick sense of humor.
John almost expected the third heart attack right there, but to his great relief, it never came. It was as f his body had just needed to give him a kick in the ass to make him realize that The One was closer than he’d ever imagined.
“Amsterdam!” Eva called and waved at him with a file while still holding a half-eaten donut in her other hand. “You know detectives Flack and Angell?”
John shook his head and stepped up to her desk to give both detectives a firm handshake and then snag a donut from Eva’s desk. They had a pair of murderers to catch.
And he had to figure out who had caused this strong reaction deep in his chest.
Giving Angell a smile, he opened the case file, and they started working.
~*~*~
It had been Omar who had brought it up first, one night soon after the breakup with Sara, when John had been quietly sitting in one corner of his bar and moping over a glass of water.
“What if it’s not a woman?”
John had scoffed at that thought. Of course it had to be a woman. There had never been the trace of doubt in him about this. It was a woman. And so he had laughed at Omar, stood and left.
He liked women.
However, late that night, after the second heart attack, when he woke up with a start and without being able to determine why, he couldn’t help but desperately try to remember the Shaman’s exact words.
There simply was no way that she hadn’t meant a woman, he told himself firmly. He loved women. He’d never as much as looked at men. He’d been raised to believe that man and woman belonged together, and while, during his life, he’d seen a lot of things change, this knowledge, deeply instilled into him, had stayed with him, no matter how tolerant toward others he’d become.
He rolled around in his bed, pulled the pillow over his head and sighed deeply.
It had to be a woman.
Even if the Shaman had never explicitly told him so.
John sighed again and cursed his overactive imagination. It couldn’t be anything but a woman, he told himself firmly, for what it felt the hundredth time since Omar, curse him, had brought it up. He couldn’t even allow himself to think about how often he might have walked straight past The One, ignoring them just because they were male.
A cold sweat broke out all over his body. Now that the thought was there, it was stuck, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get rid of it.
He needed a distraction.
Damn Omar and his outrageous ideas. John didn’t know where his son had that from, but he really didn’t have time for that. He’d definitely felt something on that subway platform, and he now knew for sure that it hadn’t been Sara. He would have to keep searching for The One. There had been more women than just Sara in that train and he didn’t have a single clue where he should start his search.
Not to forget the men.
John sighed again. He didn’t even know if he could forget his personal sexual preferences for long enough to unite with his soul mate if it wasn’t a woman.
Only time would tell.
John grimaced at himself. If there was one thing he had right now, it was time.
He sighed and rolled out of bed. There was one thing he could do, and that was checking the security footage of the day he’d died at the subway platform. He could cross-reference people he recognized with people that had been at the precinct earlier, and if he was lucky, he would catch Detective Jennifer Angell on the tape and all would be good.
He switched on his computer and sighed tiredly.
The images of the footage started to blur before his eyes after a while, but he still caught the two detectives, at the edge of the screen. They both were obviously off the clock, he thought and rubbed his burning eyes. Flack was dressed in an obnoxiously bright yellow t-shirt and jeans, and the man next to him, Detective Danny Messer, was carrying a bag. Both were laughing, joking, and John caught, right before they stepped on the subway and disappeared, how Flack nudged Messer’s side playfully.
He sighed and turned off the computer. It was a coincidence, nothing more. He would go over the footage later again, when he was more awake.
~*~*~
By the time morning came, he’d convinced himself that it had just been the loneliness of his bed in the middle of the night that had made him believe in Omar’s words, and, after a cup of coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs and toast, he was ready to face another day at the precinct.
Bending down, he patted Thirty-Six on the head briefly before pulling on his coat and leaving the house. Omar would stop by later and make sure that Thirty-Six was okay, he knew, like he always did. John didn’t know if it was because Omar felt sorry for the dog or if there was another reason, and he’d never come around to ask.
His thoughts focused back on the case at hand, and by the time he reached the precinct, he didn’t think about it anymore – until he ran into Flack again.
Maybe he was The One, a small voice at the back of his brain whispered. Flack and Messer had been at the platform. Flack had been at the precinct. It would fit, like puzzle pieces falling into place, but John didn’t know yet if he liked the picture it showed him.
He sighed heavily. Even if he, at first, didn’t want to admit it, or even acknowledge the possibility, Flack was the only one who had been present for both his heart attacks. Nobody else had.
However, he was clueless about how he should go on from here. He knew how to talk to women, how to flirt with them, and signal them that he was interested in them; he knew how to seduce and court them. He’d always just been interested in women.
He didn’t have the slightest idea about how to approach a man.
A cop, on top of that.
He didn’t even know if Flack would be interested in him, of if John would find himself with his skull kicked in by his fellow policemen.
He sighed. He didn’t know what to do, but he would figure it out. He was sure of that.
~*~*~
The thought didn’t let go of him. John sighed at another night spent tossing and turning and not sleeping.
Quietly he got up and pulled on comfortable clothes. Maybe he could clear his thoughts with swimming. It had always worked in the past, and he needed it now to get his head straightened out again.
~*~*~
He didn’t bother getting out of the water. He just wiped a hand over his face to get rid of the wetness still clinging to his skin and sticking his hair to his skull, and glanced up at Flack.
“How’d you know how to find me?” he asked curiously while doing his best to ignore the slight flutter in his chest.
Flack shrugged. “I asked Eva,” he easily explained. “Her words about indecent exposure make a lot more sense now, you know.”
John just smiled. He’d grown up in a time when it was normal to be naked around other people, and it didn’t bother him in the slightest to be undressed.
“Want to join me? The water is nice,” he offered and splashed his hand into it.
Flack laughed, a short sound that quickly tapered off. The smile stayed on his face, and his eyes twinkled as he said, “I prefer water frozen, thank you very much.”
John laughed too and climbed out of the pool to retrieve a towel and wrap it around his waist. “So, if you don’t want to swim,” he started and grabbed a bottle of water, “and I seriously doubt that you’re here for me…what’s up, Detective Flack?”
Flack narrowed his eyes slightly at him. “Amsterdam, are you flirting with me?” he asked. John’s heart skipped a beat while he did his best to stop himself from blushing.
Flack cocked his head to the side curiously, an air of amused expectation hanging around him, and John coughed slightly. “No,” he belatedly answered.
“Okay,” Flack easily answered and pulled his memobook out of his coat pocket. “And, just for the record, I was actually looking for you.”
John’s eyes travelled over the length of Flack’s body. “Yeah? What for?” he asked and licked his lips slightly.
“New evidence,” Flack simply replied and opened his notepad. “We might be closing in on Bonnie and Clyde.”
“Good,” John nodded. “What did you find out?”
It didn’t occur him until much later that he had, in fact, flirted with Flack, and that he’d enjoyed it very much.
~*~*~
The case he was working almost became secondary while John tried to figure out a way to approach Don Flack again. He hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself at first, but he couldn’t deny that he was definitely feeling attracted to his fellow cop. It confused him and he tried to ignore his feelings, but when he’d caught himself the third time in the shower, his hand wrapped tightly around his swollen cock and his mind filled with images of Don’s blue eyes, he knew he had it bad.
Bad enough for Omar and Eva to notice that something was wrong, which only made matters so much worse. He tried distracting himself by focusing on the case, but working on that only brought his attention back to Don, and, in connection to that, to the problems he was still facing.
He didn’t know how to talk to Flack about this. He didn’t know if Flack was even interested, and he didn’t know how to find out. He’d tried his usual flirting, both subtle and pretty vehement, but Flack didn’t even seem to realize what he was doing. It was as if he was blind to John’s advances.
~*~*~
“What do you mean, Bonnie and Clyde both are male?” Flack frowned slightly. It had been almost two weeks, and they still hadn’t found out their murderers’ identities, and the name of ‘Bonnie and Clyde’ had stuck, despite the historical inaccuracies and the differences in their modus operandi from the original Bonnie and Clyde. “I thought the evidence was pretty conclusive – Bonnie is the girl.”
John shrugged. “New evidence,” he replied. “From an anonymous caller. We found what we think is Bonnie’s DNA. No ID yet, but it’s distinctively male.”
“Who would’ve thought that,” Flack muttered with a small shake of his head. “The gay version. And instead of death or freedom, they take both.” He snorted and shook his head again. “Both men,” he repeated, disbelief coloring his voice.
John felt his heart sink at these words. Doubts he’d had and that had plagued him ever since he’d met Don Flack for the first time came back full-force. How could he try to reveal his feelings to the other man if he was reacting like that?
Flack squinted at him. “What?” he asked. “What’s with that face, Amsterdam?”
“Nothing,” John replied, his voice sharper than he’d intended. Flack grew tense under his clothes at his words. “I’m just wondering what you’re trying to imply there.”
“Are you accusing me of being homophobic?” he asked coldly, and John almost shivered at the icy glare.
“No,” he said, only to clench his teeth and give Flack a challenging “Are you?”
Flack abruptly stood. “Fuck you, Amsterdam,” he hissed, gathering his file and stalking out of the room.
John slowly released the breath he had subconsciously been holding. “That went well,” he whispered to himself.
There went his chance to invite Flack to dinner and maybe try something else to make the other man more perceptive to John’s flirting…
~*~*~
“I’m sorry for what I said.”
Flack blinked at him sleepily. He was dressed in sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt, something that was a sharp contrast to his usually impeccable style. He didn’t wear shoes, John realized when he glanced down at the other man’s feet guiltily, and when he looked up again, he realized that Flack’s hair was sticking up slightly.
“Did you just wake me up in the middle of the night to tell me that?” Flack asked, his voice rough and slightly catching.
John nodded. “I guess,” he admitted. He hadn’t been able to sleep, once again, too worried that he’d managed to fuck this up and lose The One even before he’d even had him, just because of something ridiculous and irrelevant – a slight misunderstanding.
He’d been looking for The One for so long, in so many wrong places, he would not let him go now without putting up a hell of a fight.
Flack sighed and leaned his hip against the doorjamb. “Okay,” he said. “Apology accepted.”
John nodded quietly. “Thank you,” he murmured.
Flack sighed again and ran a hand through his hair. It made the hem of his shirt ride up slightly and exposed a thin stripe of pale stomach, crossed with scars. John had his own fair share of scars and marks, but none of them looked as bad as those on Don’s stomach, he thought with a hint of nausea turning his stomach.
“You okay?” Don asked softly and wrapped his arms around his chest protectively. “Amsterdam, you look like hell.”
John laughed briefly. “Thanks,” he replied dryly. “I’m good. And you don’t exactly look like you just came from a catwalk either.”
He nodded at Don’s attire, and Don looked down himself. “I didn’t meet you naked in a public place,” he pointed out dryly.
John’s smirk widened. “Too bad,” he said before his brain could catch up with his mouth. He blushed slightly and gave Flack a small shrug. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”
It probably wasn’t enough to cover his little slip-up, he thought, but maybe Flack thought that it had been just a joke. John hoped so.
“Bright and early,” Flack agreed with an easy smile.
“Good.” John gave him one of his own smiles. “Night, Don.”
“Night, John.”
~*~*~
“What are you doing, Amsterdam?”
Don could already hear Eva, even if he was still out of sight. He grinned slightly. John and Eva’s relationship was easy, filled with the occasional eyeroll on Eva’s side and a lot of weird stories from John. It was a comfortable relationship, and, having worked with Amsterdam for a few weeks now and experiencing some of the more quirky aspects of his character, Don could emphasize with the eyerolling.
He’d known Eva Marquez for a long time now, and they’d always gotten along well. Working with her was easy and uncomplicated, and he enjoyed it.
“I’m not doing anything,” John replied, amusement laced into his voice. “What are you talking about, Eva?”
“You’re flirting with Flack!”
The sentence made Don stop mid-step. For a moment, he thought he’d misunderstood, but then he realized that, last time he’d checked, he hadn’t suffered from hallucinations and this conversation had to be real.
He knew he should let them know that he was there, but his curiosity kept him glued to the spot, eager to hear more.
“I’m not!” Amsterdam sounded defensive, and the reply had come way too fast for Don to believe it. It sounded as if Amsterdam was either in denial or trying to scare Eva’s attention away from that particular path of thinking.
“Yes, you are, and you know it,” Eva said, matter-of-factly, and Don closed his eyes.
“He’s…nice,” John hesitantly admitted. Don imagined Eva giving him one of her patented looks of disbelief.
“But I don’t think he’s, you know. Interested.”
Eva snorted. “What do you mean? You don’t know if he’s interested in men? Or in you?”
Amsterdam grunted a non-committal reply, and Eva laughed.
“Donnie Flack…he’s head over heels for Messer, from the CSU. The guy on Taylor’s CSI team.”
“I know Messer,” Amsterdam replied. His voice sounded strangely muffled. “Flack and Messer?”
“You sound shocked.”
“Messer’s had something going on with Detective Monroe.”
“So?” Don imagined Eva shrugging. “Maybe now you stand a chance with Flack,” she said.
Before he could hear more, Detective Santori was pushing past him, and Don was abruptly pulled back into the present.
Santori gave him a suspicious glare, and Don chose to ignore him as he made his way to where Amsterdam and Eva were sitting together. Don swallowed, and his fingers tightened on the case file he was carrying. Amsterdam was interested in him, and Eva thought he was sleeping with Danny?
It was enough to send his mind spinning into directions he didn’t want to. Instead he plastered a smile on his face and waved the file with false cheer.
“CSI’s found out something about Bonnie,” he announced. “You’ve been right. She’s a man.”
Amsterdam raised his eyebrows. “Yes?” he asked and held out his hand for the file. Don handed it over with an almost perfectly straight face, but then the smile broke through. “Name’s Patrick Leopold, DNA is in the system for assault, manslaughter, and armed robbery. Spent a few years in jail, and, when he got released, he turned himself into a woman and called himself Victoria Leopold. Now get this.”
He was fully aware that their attention was focused entirely on him, and the smile on his face widened even more. “In jail, he met someone – Michael Peterson. After his release, they moved in together and eventually married.”
John nodded. “Bonnie and Clyde?” he suggested.
Don’s grin was answer enough.
“Do we have an address?” Eva asked, already reaching for her gun, and Don nodded. “We do,” he affirmed.
“Let’s go,” John said and grabbed his jacket. He turned around to Don and gave him a smile. “Good job, Detective.”
Don just shrugged. The job wasn’t done yet.
~*~*~
On the drive to the address Flack had given him, John couldn’t stop himself from glancing at Don again and again. He was ready to admit that the grace and strength Flack displayed when moving occupied more of his thoughts than it should, and that he was on the best way to fall in love.
Hearing from Eva that Flack was in a relationship with Messer had driven daggers through his heart, spikes of jealousy that were so strong that he was surprised himself, especially since he knew from Hawkes that Messer was with Monroe.
The truth, he realized as he glanced at the man in the passenger seat once more, was simple.
He wanted this man.
It both scared and calmed him down, at the same time.
They would get their killers, and then, he would tell Flack the truth, he told himself firmly. He was sure that Don was The One. He didn’t know yet how he was supposed to wed their souls, and he didn’t even know what Don thought about that.
He would stop being a coward and find out.
~*~*~
Don leaned back into the booth and smiled in satisfaction. They had managed to arrest Bonnie and Clyde, aka. Michael and Victoria Peterson, without problems, and in the aftermath, when John had reached out and squeezed his shoulder briefly, Don had to admit that the other man wasn’t so bad looking.
And he was an interesting character.
And yes, maybe he was a little bit attracted to him.
He lifted his glass to his lips to take a sip while letting his eyes wander around the bar again. Amsterdam had dragged them here, to celebrate, and neither Don nor Eva had put up much protest. John had introduced the owner of the bar, Omar York, to him and then had disappeared, promising them to be back within minutes.
Don loosened the tie and rolled up his sleeves while nodding occasionally, letting Eva know that he was still listening, up to the point where she tossed her dark hair over her shoulder and had asked him, “So…you noticed Amsterdam staring at you.”
Don grinned and took another sip of his drink. “I did,” he agreed. “First day, actually.”
It was a lie, and they both knew it, but Eva had been a good friend when they’d been younger, and she knew him well enough to let it slide.
“What do you think?” Eva asked. “You gonna give him a chance if he gets his head out of his ass and asks you out?”
Don shrugged. “Depends on how far up his ass his head is,” he admitted. “Maybe.” He grinned. “Why did you tell him Danny and I are a couple?”
Eva grinned. “To make him realize that he should go for it,” she answered. “You think it worked?”
“Yeah,” Don nodded, just as the wet nose of a dog touched his hand.
“Thirty Six!”
John reappeared, the top buttons of his shirt undone, an envelope in his hand, and slid into the booth next to Don.
“I’m going to get fresh drinks,” Eva announced and stood. “The same again?”
Both men nodded, and she walked off without even attempting to hide the triumphant smile on her face.
“So.”
John bowed his head slightly.
“So,” Don calmly agreed and relaxed further, his long limbs sprawled out comfortably.
“You know…” John smiled slightly and looked up at him again. “I remember when they built Madison Square Garden. The first one.” He grinned. “And I remember the first game of the Rangers. 1926.”
Don chuckled. “Eva warned me about you,” he said. “Your weird past lives thing.”
“It’s the truth,” John told him. “But, you know, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Yeah? Then what did you want to talk about?”
John pushed the envelope over the table, towards him. “I’m not that familiar with hockey,” he explained. “I know that it was invented in the Netherlands.” He didn’t add the little fact that he’d been born there. He would tell Don later about that, maybe.
“And I know someone,” he continued when Don picked up the envelope, and, with a quick glance at John, opened it. “A friend, who gave me those.”
Don pulled the tickets to a game out of the envelope with a slight frown. “And?”
John grinned. “I wanted to ask if you wanted to come,” he said, in a rush of words.
Don looked at him for a long moment. “Come with you? As a date?” he then asked, careful not to show any of his emotions yet.
John dropped his head again. “Yes,” he said. “As a date. A real one.”
Don grinned and slipped the tickets back into the envelope. “Why, Detective, are you flirting with me?” he asked.
John laughed quietly. “Why, Detective, yes, I think I am,” he replied. “What do you say?”
“It’s my pleasure,” Don said, and John grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently. “Thank you,” he said.
Don looked at him speculatively for a split second, then he leaned closer, into John. Their lips met in a gentle, soft kiss, a dry brush of skin on skin, and in that second, John realized something.
He didn’t know if Don was The One. He wasn’t willing to risk his life finding out if he could die. For the moment, he was happy, and his soul was feeling at rest. He would probably feel doubts for a while longer and make mistakes – looking back, he realized that his courtship had been weird and overshadowed by work, but it had worked, and that was the main thing.
Maybe it was the way it was meant to work, considering this was such an unfamiliar situation. Maybe the unusual approach had been the only one possible.
He smiled as he pulled the radio out of his coat pocket, confirmed the next case – he’d known he was on call, even before he’d dragged Don here for Omar to meet him, and that this could happen – and pushed himself up and away from the table.
“Duty calls,” he said, even if it was unnecessary. Don had grown up with this thing. He wouldn’t complain if John got called to a scene at three in the morning – at least he wouldn’t complain too much.
Don nodded and lifted his glass in a mixture of mock salute and wave, and John gave him a soft smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked, and Don nodded.
Eva already waited for him by the door, and John didn’t look back as he followed her out.
He didn’t need to. The future was bright ahead of him, and hopefully, he was right this time and Don was The One. And even if he wasn’t, they would figure things out.
He smiled as he stepped into the ever changing streets of New Amsterdam – New York.
It had been his home for almost four hundred years, and it had changed constantly.
It was time he changed too.
With Don.
End.