Chapter Text
Don Flack sat on his couch, feet propped up on the table and TV remote in hand. "Oh, come on!" he shouted at the screen. "No way you send Nessa home and keep Ricky! No way his showstopper was better than hers!"
Mac Taylor appeared in the doorway from the kitchen. "Everything okay in here? Or am I going to have to put a parental lock on the TV to stop you getting over-excited?" His eyes twinkled with amusement.
Don pulled a face as he hit the pause button. "Sorry Mac, didn't mean to disturb you."
"Don't be sorry, Don. I'm just glad you sound like you’re feeling a bit better.”
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Three days earlier, Don had come down with a dose of the flu.
He’d been feeling a little iffy that morning but had thought he was just starting a cold. So, he’d popped a few Advil, made sure he had an ample supply of tissues in his car, and had headed on in to work.
But the tablets hadn’t worked and by the middle of the day, Don had been feeling so bad that he couldn’t even summon up any interest in deciding where to get lunch. He’d been sitting at his desk, trying to finish up a report and making very heavy weather of it. Next thing he knew, Lieutenant Sythe was bellowing in his ear and asking where the hell was the damned report which should have been on his desk an hour ago.
“Nearly finished, boss,” mumbled Don, stifling a cough as he tried to figure out how he’d managed to spell his own name incorrectly, twice. He looked up at Sythe with bleary eyes.
“Jesus, Flack,” said Sythe, “You look like crap!” His voice lowered as he asked, “You feeling okay?”
“I’m okay,” said Don, “It’s just a cold or something.”
“Or something,” said Sythe. “You’re no good to me or the department like this. Go home, that’s an order.”
It was a testament to Don’s debilitated condition that he didn’t even put up a token argument, just hit the keys to save his report and then stood, swaying slightly as he picked up his coat.
“And for the love of God take a cab,” ordered Sythe as Don made his way to the door, “The last thing we need is you getting into a wreck. The paperwork would be a nightmare!”
Don waved in response as he left. He found a taxi and somehow managed to give his address to the driver before slumping down in the back seat. The driver didn’t look too happy and Don had to flash his badge before he moved off. Through half closed eyes, Don could see the guy watching him in the mirror, probably hoping that his passenger wasn’t going to throw up on his seats before he got to his destination.
By the time the cabbie had dropped him off, Don was barely able to punch the button on the elevator to get him to his floor. He vaguely remembered the other occupants looking at him strangely as he leaned against the wall of the car. When it finally opened on his floor, it took a few seconds for Don to realize it and he barely made it out before the doors closed on him.
Once in his apartment, Don managed to remove his gun and shield and put them in their place. Closing the door to the closet, he looked down the corridor towards his bedroom. It felt like an awfully long way to go, especially when the couch was only a few feet away. “I’ll sit down for a few minutes,” he told himself as he collapsed on the couch. “Just to get my strength back.”
One second Don was sitting on the couch, trying to summon up the energy to move, the next thing he knew, he could have sworn he heard Mac’s voice calling his name, and when he forced his eyes open, he saw Mac’s face, looking at him at an odd angle.
“Mac?” Why…why are you sideways?” asked Don, his voice sounding a little hoarse to his ears.
“I’m not, but you are,” said Mac, a worried look on his face.
Don realized that he was sprawled on the couch, head pillowed on the armrest. He groaned as he tried to move, and Mac had to help him sit upright. He felt Mac’s hand on his forehead and tried to brush it away.
“Feels like you’re running a fever,” said Mac, concern evident in his voice. “What other symptoms do you have?”
“Tired…sore…” Don coughed and could hear the wheezing in his chest. By the look on Mac’s face, he’d heard it too.
“Come on, let’s get you more comfortable.” Mac pulled Don to his feet and carefully maneuvered him down the corridor to the bathroom where he helped him through his ablutions with as little loss of dignity as possible. A cursory toothbrushing later and Mac guided Don to the bedroom before helping him into his nightclothes.
“You should have gotten a flu jab,” said Mac, as he pushed Don down onto the bed.
Don shrugged, “Was booked in for next week. I’ll be fine…just…just tired is all…” he yawned, but it turned into a cough and then another one. The coughing refused to subside, and Don felt a wave of panic as he coughed and wheezed and tried desperately to force the air into his lungs. He felt a pair of arms encircle him, supporting him, a hand rubbing gently on his back.
“Easy there, Don.” Mac’s voice was a calming beacon to Don’s ears. “I’ve got you.”
Don’s throat felt raw by the time the fit of coughing had passed. He slumped against Mac’s chest, breathing heavily, too exhausted to move. He was barely aware of Mac lowering him to the mattress and pulling the covers over him. The touch of a cold cloth against his face a few seconds later, revived him somewhat and his eyelids flickered open.
“Thanks,” mumbled Don hoarsely.
“You rest up for a bit,” said Mac, “I’ll get you something to eat.”
Don grimaced, “Don’t…don’t think I could eat anything…”
“Now I know you’re really ill. But I’m guessing you’ve hardly eaten a thing all day.”
“..kay…” With an effort, Don reached out and grabbed Mac’s hand, holding it weakly. “Thanks…”
“Sleep,” ordered Mac, squeezing Don’s hand gently before tucking it back under the covers. Don was asleep before Mac had even left the room.
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Mac closed the door gently behind him, although he could tell from Don’s exhaustion that he could have slammed the door off its hinges, and it wouldn’t have disturbed him.
A few hours earlier Mac had finished up a report and decided to call it a night. To be more precise, Jo had seen him working away and had practically bundled him out of the office before another case could come in. “It’s my night on call anyway. I don’t need you looking over my shoulder,” she’d said. “Go and do something fun for a change.”
Mac had been amused by Jo’s solicitousness and had decided to take her advice. To that end, he had swung by the 12th Precinct hoping to catch Don at the end of his shift.
Mac had been having ‘fun’ with Don for a few months now. It was just a casual thing, more of a ‘friends with benefits’ deal than a serious relationship. Given their respective jobs and the long hours that they both put in on a regular basis, they didn’t have the opportunity to avail of those benefits all that often, but when they did, it was always worth the wait.
The change in their relationship, from friends to ‘friends with benefits’, had happened almost by chance. A suggestion of drinks after their shift, following a stressful day at work. A tentative proposition so carefully worded that it could easily have been ignored if the sentiment hadn’t been appreciated. An even more tentative response had ensued, followed by some careful verbal dancing around each other as they both tried to sound out the other party’s intentions without committing to their own. And finally, Don had gotten impatient and had said bluntly, “Mac, I plan on having an orgasm tonight. Now if you wants in on that, just say the word.” He stood and grabbed his coat, “Otherwise I’ll see youze tomorrow.”
Mac hadn’t even hesitated before grabbing his own coat and following Don out the door.
Don got his orgasm, Mac did too. The sex had been good for both of them, if a little clumsy as they both tried to adjust to this new partnership.
“I’ll be better next time,” Mac had said, as he’d pulled on his clothes afterwards.
“Second times are always better,” Don had commented as he’d stretched out lazily on his bed.
The second time had happened a week later after another eventful shift. This time it had been Mac who had made the first move, and Don who had recognized the need in him and had gladly fulfilled it.
And so it had continued. Not every night, not even every week, but a few times a month, one of them would find the other after their shifts had ended and they’d end up having sex. Somewhere along the way it had stopped being simply a means of release when the job had gotten to them.
For Mac at least, it had become something that he’d started to look forward to more and more. He’d hinted as much to Don, after the first few times, suggesting that maybe a less casual approach to their association might be the way to move forward. But Don had either not understood the hints or had deliberately ignored them, insisting that he liked the casual nature of things.
“I like having sex with you, Mac,” he’d said as he lay sprawled on Mac’s bed one evening. “I know I can trust you, and I know you know what it’s like, what we do. But I’m not interested in anything serious. So, if you want to stop all this and go find somebody who does want something a bit more serious, then that’s okay by me. You’re a good guy, you deserve a happy ever after if that’s what you’re looking for.”
Mac had weighed up his options and while he hadn’t specifically used the phrase ‘a bird in the hand’, even to himself, he had considered the fact that he hadn’t exactly had a lot of success in terms of finding a serious relationship over the past few years. So, he’d accepted that if he wanted to be with Don, then it was never going to be more than casual.
And initially, Mac had been satisfied with that. After all, his job was always his priority, and at least with Don, he knew that he was dealing with somebody who understood that. He never had to worry about breaking plans or missing dates with Don, because they never made plans or arranged dates.
As time had passed though, Mac had wished that he hadn’t been quite so eager to agree to Don’s limitations on their relationship. But he respected Don’s wishes and enjoyed their encounters for what they were, without seeking anything further.
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Mac had an involuntary smile on his face as he entered the precinct. A smile which faded slightly as he noticed Don’s empty desk. He looked around intently, hoping to catch a glimpse of Don or hear his voice.
“Detective Taylor.” Mac turned to see Lieutenant Sythe standing behind him. “Can I help you?”
Mac held up a report. “I was looking for Flack. Is he around?” The report was one of many which passed regularly between the Crime Labs and the precinct. While they generally were transported through the internal mails, it was not especially out of the ordinary for Mac to hand deliver reports that were important or time sensitive or simply necessary to provide a legitimate reason for Mac to show up at Don’s workplace.
Don had been amused at Mac’s subterfuge the first time he’d shown up with a report that could easily have waited until the next day, but he had appreciated Mac’s discretion. “I’m not embarrassed by this or nothing,” he’d told Mac in bed later that night, “But it’s nobody’s business but ours what we do in our free time, or who we do it with.”
“He was a bit under the weather. Looked like death warmed up so I sent him home,” said Sythe.
Mac kept a carefully neutral expression on his face, “I see. Well, I’ll leave this on his desk for when he gets back.”
“Yeah, you do that.”
There was something about the tone that made Mac look sharply at Sythe. “Is there a problem here, Lieutenant.”
“No problem here, Detective. Just appears to me that for somebody who’s the boss of the Crime Lab, you seem to spend an inordinate amount of time hand delivering reports that didn’t really need to be hand delivered. Especially ones pertaining to cases being worked on by a specific Detective who himself seems to spend more time at the Crime Lab than his cases sometimes warrant.”
“I run my Crime Lab as I see fit,” replied Mac, his voice even. “Its logistics aren’t your concern.”
“And I run my house as I see fit. And if I think something might cause a problem for one of my guys, then that *is* my concern.”
“What are you trying to say, Sythe?”
Sythe lowered his voice and leaned in closer to Mac, “I’m saying that you’ve rubbed plenty of people up the wrong way over the years. Powerful people. People who could have a detrimental effect on Flack’s career if they thought he was in your pocket, so to speak. Flack is a good detective, and I won’t have his progression through the ranks derailed because you’ve pissed off the wrong person.”
“You really think that I’d do anything to harm Flack’s career?” Mac was seething inwardly at Sythe’s rebuke, but a part of him knew that the other man might not be wrong.
“Not deliberately.” Sythe held Mac’s gaze for a few seconds before continuing in a louder voice. “You can leave the file on Flack’s desk. I doubt he’ll be back for a few days, but I’ll have somebody follow up on it…if necessary.”
“Thanks,” said Mac, his mind on other things as he left the station.
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Mac debated with himself long and hard as to whether or not to call in on Don that evening. Sythe’s warning had unsettled him, not least of all because Mac had thought that he and Don were being sufficiently discreet as to the change in their relationship. He tried to replay all his recent public interactions with Don, mentally checking them as intently as he would an evidentiary piece of security footage to see where he or Don had slipped up. Loathe though Mac was to admit it, Sythe had a point. Mac’s own position was secure, he had no desire to get involved in the necessary politics that would be required to seek further promotion from his current rank. But Don was a different matter. Maybe thought Mac, he should just go home, and work on keeping their relationship on a purely professional basis.
But then, Mac was having second, third and fourth thoughts. He and Don were friends and had been for many years before the sexual element had entered their relationship. Anybody who held a grudge against him would already know that a strike against Don Flack, either physical or political, would hurt Mac Taylor as well. Maybe all that was needed was to give Don a ‘heads-up’ and let him decide if it was a risk he wanted to take.
But that wasn’t something that needed to happen tonight, thought Mac, finally. If Don was sick enough to be sent home from work, then the last thing he needed was to have to figure out how to deal with police politics. With that in mind, Mac pulled his car out onto the street, and then changed his mind again and took the intersection that would bring him to Don’s home.
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Mac was still trying to justify his actions as he stood outside Don’s door. “I’ll just make sure he’s okay,” he told himself as he retrieved the key. He looked at it and hesitated slightly knowing that it had been years since he’d had cause to use it.
After Don’s emergency surgery at Trinity so many years ago, his belongings had been bagged up and sent to the Crime Lab for processing. Mac had separated out those of Don’s personal effects that hadn’t been pertinent to the investigation. He had taken it upon himself to restore as much of them as was possible, and to replace those items that were beyond repair. The keys had been cleaned of Don’s blood and Mac, with Don’s permission, had made and kept a spare set, in case of emergencies during his convalescence.
After Don had recovered fully and returned to work, Mac had intended to return the keys to him, but Don had demurred. “No harm to have a spare set out there in case I get locked out,” Don had said, “Besides, it’s not like you’d show up while I’m not there and clean me out or nothing!”
This though was the first time since the shift in their relationship that Mac had had cause to use the key. Even on the occasions when he’d let Don know he’d be dropping by, Mac had always respected Don’s boundaries and waited to be let in.
Mac knocked cautiously on the door. Loudly enough to be heard inside the apartment, but not so loud as to disturb Don if he was resting. Mac hadn’t really expected a response, knowing that if Don was sleeping then it would take more than a knock on the door to rouse him, so after a suitable interval, he unlocked the door, calling Don’s name as he entered.
As soon as Mac saw Don slumped on the couch, he knew he’d made the right call.
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Mac closed the door gently behind him, although he could tell from Don’s exhaustion that he could have slammed the door off its hinges, and it wouldn’t have disturbed him.
He made a quick survey of Don’s apartment, taking note of the sparsely stocked medicine cabinet and the somewhat better stocked kitchen. He methodically made a list of what would be needed to get Don through the next few days, and then he contacted Jo.
“Jo,” said Mac when the call had connected. “I need a favor. I know it’s short notice, but I’m taking a few days away from the lab, effective immediately.”
Mac heard the sudden intake of breath on the other end of the line, followed almost immediately by Jo asking, her voice filled with concern, “That’s not like you, Mac. Is everything all right?”
“I’m fine,” said Mac. He hesitated momentarily before continuing. “A…a friend of mine is ill, and I’m the best placed person to look after them until they’re feeling better.” If Mac had thought about it, he might have considered trying to imply that this was just a cover story for an intended romantic assignation. But he knew that that would be so out of character for him that it would immediately arouse Jo’s suspicions. Plus, there was the fact that he did not want to damage their mutual respect by lying to her unnecessarily. However, he had no intention of outing himself and Don to Jo or anybody in the department, until he’d had a chance to talk it through with Don first.
“It should only be for a few days,” he added.
“I see,” said Jo, “And how is Don feeling?”
Mac nearly dropped the phone in surprise. He moved a little further away from the bedroom, even though he know that Don was unlikely to be able to hear him, even had he been awake.
“I suppose it’s no use asking how you knew it was Don,” said Mac finally, a note of chagrin in his voice. He sighed before continuing, “I think it’s probably just a dose of the flu, but I’d be happier if he wasn’t on his own, at least until he’s past the worst of it.”
Jo nodded thoughtfully. She’d had her suspicions about Mac and Don for a while now. She’d seen the easy manner the pair had with each other. It wasn’t the same as the friendships that she’d observed between Don and other members of the team. No, there was a certain air of familiarity that was usually reserved for those people who had been intimate on every level. What had clinched it for her had been when she’d walked by Mac’s office one evening on her way home and had seen Don inside, sitting on the edge of Mac’s desk. She’d caught a glimpse of Don brushing something, maybe a crumb of food or a loose thread off Mac’s shirt and had seen the way Mac’s face had softened in response. “Have you been together long?” she asked.
“We’re not…at least…” Mac took a breath, “It’s complicated,” he said, finally.
Jo could tell that he wasn’t ready to discuss it further. “Well, I’ll run interference for you here, Mac,” she said. “You take as much time as you need. And give Don my best.”
“Thanks, Jo.”