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accomplished

Fic: "Dashboard Confessional" [Flack/Gavin]
Title: Dashboard Confessional
Author: stellaluna_
Fandom: CSI:NY
Rating: NC-17 for explicit sex and language
Summary: Trust and truth and the spaces in between. Flack/Gavin. No spoilers; this is set prior to the show, back in Flack's beat cop training days.
Disclaimer: None of these are mine. Characters are the property of Anthony Zuiker, Jerry Bruckheimer Television, CBS, and Alliance Atlantis.
Notes: Written for mentalhygiene, who asked very nicely for Flack/Gavin, for being a great person and a sane fan.



Flack sits in the front seat of the cruiser, tapping his fingers impatiently on the dashboard and half-listening to the scanner. He can see Gavin standing at the counter inside the Dunkin' Donuts, talking to the girl behind the counter as she fixes two cups of coffee for him. Gavin is smiling and seems perfectly relaxed, Flack can see even from here, and he wonders how Gavin can do that, how he can be so goddamned calm in the face of...of everything.

It's been three days since Flack sucked him off in the backseat of the cruiser, and not only has Gavin not said a word about it, he's not treating him any differently than he did before it happened. Flack has two possible hypotheses about why this is so: one, Gavin is waiting for Flack to bring it up first, which would be the ideal option, even though that's a hell of a lot of pressure on him; two, Gavin has decided to act as if it didn't happen, either because it didn't mean anything and has already slipped his mind, or because he's ashamed and disgusted, and doesn't want to give Flack the impression that a repeat performance would be in any way welcomed.

Okay, now that Flack is thinking about it, that's actually three options. While he's hoping it's choice number one, he's afraid that gonna turn out to be two or three, and he's not sure whether indifference or disgust would be worse. But if Gavin really felt sick over what they'd done (okay, over what Flack had done for him), would he really still be touching Flack all the time the same way he's always done? The little pats on the shoulder or the knee, whether for reassurance or praise, haven't stopped. Nor has the lingering hand on the arm whenever Gavin has a point to make and wants to be sure Flack is really listening to him. So there's that.

Christ, Flack thinks, what a fucking pussy he's turning into. This overanalyzing shit is for the detectives, not for beat cops like him.

The door of the Dunkin' Donuts swings open, and Gavin comes out with their mid-shift dinner. Flack clears his throat and sits up straight, and tries to paste an unconcerned expression on his face, tries to look like he hasn't just spent the last five minutes trying to puzzle out Gavin's recent behavior.

"Okay," Gavin says as he swings into the driver's seat. "I gotta regular coffee for you and a Boston creme doughnut, and a black coffee for me and a cruller. And Linda threw in some'a them little doughnut hole things for free, just 'cause she says we work so hard and I'm always so sweet to her." He grins and hands Flack the coffee cup and doughnut. "Here ya go, kid."

"Thanks," Flack says, not quite looking at him. He's looking down the street, he tells himself, keeping an eye on the three teenagers standing at the corner. "How much do I owe you?"

Even though he doesn't turn his head, he can see Gavin turn to him in surprise. "How much?" Gavin repeats. "You don't owe me nothin', Donny, you should know that by now."

"I shouldn't be lettin' you pick up the tab."

"So tomorrow, when it's your turn to buy, you can be the big spender," Gavin says. "Just like we always do, you know that."

"Yeah, okay," Flack says after a pause, and takes a sip of his coffee.

Gavin sets his coffee down in the cup holder and pulls into traffic. Flack keeps an eye out for the pack of teenagers as they pass by, but they're gone now, disappeared into a store or into one of the apartment buildings lining the street, or simply turned up another block. Either way, not their problem right now, not unless they get a call on the radio. And so far it's been a quiet night.

"Anything pop on the scanner while I was in the store?" Gavin asks when they're stopped at the light.

"Naw. Domestic dispute off the Parkway, but someone else grabbed it. That's all." Flack looks over at him, finally; Gavin is eating his doughnut and driving with one hand on the wheel. "I think I woulda said somethin' if there was anything goin' on, ya know?"

"I didn't say you wouldn't," Gavin says calmly.

"No, but you go askin' me about what was happening on the radio like there was maybe something I was leavin' out, so you must think I don't know enough to tell you if anything's goin' on. I think I know that by now." Even as he says the words, Flack is trying to will himself to keep his stupid mouth shut, but it doesn't seem to be working, and here he is picking a fight over some inconsequential thing.

"I was just askin', Donny," Gavin says, and Flack snorts and sinks lower in his seat. Gavin doesn't say a word, but at the next light he reaches out and, without warning, slaps Flack in the back of the head, hard enough to displace his hat.

"Ow, hey," Flack exclaims, and grabs for the hat. "What the fuck is your problem?"

"What the fuck is your problem?" Gavin asks. "If you wanna sit over there and sulk about God knows what, you go right ahead, but if you got a problem with me, you tell me, Donny. Long as we're ridin' the same squad car, that's the way it works."

"I don't have a problem, okay?"

"No, not okay. Not okay at all." Gavin shakes his head. "You been in a bad mood all night, and I want to know what the shit's eatin' you."

"Well, not you, that's for goddamn sure." Just like earlier, the words are out of his mouth before he can stop them, and he feels like pounding his fist into the window out of sheer frustration.

There's silence in the car for a few seconds, and then Gavin says, "Oh, so that's how it is," in a low voice.

"Yeah, that's how it is," Flack says. "I'm not stupid, you know. You don't bring something up, I notice shit like that."

"I was just waitin' on you, Donny."

Flack sits up straight again. "Just waitin' on me?" he asks. "For what? So you wouldn't have to bring up the uncomfortable subject? So's you could avoid the issue?"

"Will you ease up already?" Gavin says. "Jesus Christ." He pulls over into a parking space, and then turns to face Flack. "Look," he says, voice rising with irritation, "I waited for you to bring it up because I didn't know how you were feelin' about it. All right?"

He blinks at Gavin in surprise. This is what he was hoping to hear, more or less, and now that he's faced with it, he doesn't know what to do. Only now does he realize how little hope he was holding out for option number one, how much he was bracing himself to hear something else entirely. And he never expected for a second that Gavin might have any uncertainties about his reaction; he remembers his eagerness that night, how he shoved Gavin back against the seat and then went to town, Gavin's hands tugging gently at his hair and his soft curses as Flack ran his tongue over the head of his cock.

"Well, I, you know," he says. "I feel fine about it. Wasn't sure how you were feelin', that's all."

Gavin shrugs and looks away from him, and picks up his coffee again. "I felt fine about it. I just didn't know if you felt like...like I'd coerced you or anythin'. Since I'm your training officer and all."

"Coerced?" Flack has to laugh out loud. "Gav, if you remember, it was kinda my idea in the first place." (I got a smart mouth, he'd said to Gavin. A real smart mouth. Wanna see? This, after all the months of semi-flirtation and touches that were starting to linger a little too long to just be friendly, and Flack was pretty sure he was reading the signs right, but on the other hand, Gavin was police, just like him. And maybe, after all, he was the only guy in uniform who thought about shit like this. That was what he was thinking right up until he put a hand on Gavin's crotch and felt how hard he was, and Gavin kinda groaned and pushed up into his palm.)

"Yeah," Gavin says, and coughs. "I seem to recall something like that."

"Okay, then," Flack says.

"Kid, look," Gavin says, and it's his confiding voice now, the one he gets when he's about to tell Flack something that's really important. "You're my partner, all right? My real, honest-to-God partner. I ever do anything you don't like, you tell me, you got it? Don't let it fester."

"I will," Flack says seriously, and looks into Gavin's face. "You too, got it?"

"Kid, trust me, I ain't shy about telling you when you fuck up." Gavin grins at him, and Flack has to laugh.

"Yeah, okay," he says. "So, uh, we good?"

"Of course we're good, Donny." Gavin reaches for the doughnut bag and holds it out to him. "Here, have some."

They sit and eat and sip their coffee for awhile, Flack finally starting to feel calm, and then Gavin looks at his watch and points out that it's time they got back on patrol.

Two blocks further up, while they're stopped at a light, Flack decides to go for broke. "Come back to my place," he blurts out. "After shift, I mean."

There's another pause, long enough to make Flack feel sick to his stomach, and then Gavin says, "I could do that." He glances over across the front seat, and Flack is surprised to see the anxiety in his face. "Only if you're sure, though, that is."

"I'm sure," Flack says, and he's pleased to note that he sounds a lot more confident than he feels.

"Then that's what we'll do," Gavin says, and smiles, and for the first time in three days Flack feels like he's back on level ground.

-

-

-

Flack leans toward Gavin in the dark living room. Gavin's arms are around him, holding him close, and Flack is looking into his face, uncertain of what his next move should be.

Actually, he knows what it should be; he's just reluctant to act on it, because it's making him nervous as hell. Sometime in the last few minutes it occurred to him that, even though he'd sucked Gavin off the other night, nice as you please, he hadn't ever kissed him. They had never kissed each other. And even though he's kissed plenty of girls over the years, he's never exactly had an urge to kiss any of the guys whose cocks he's sucked. He's gone down on guys and had them return the favor, and fucked them up against walls and in the back rooms of dive bars, but it's never involved kissing. Kissing is something he saves for people he likes, or at least people who seem to expect it.

He doesn't know if Gavin expects it or not, but Christ, he certainly likes him; that's not even a question. What is a question, and this brings him back to his earlier annoyance at himself for being such a motherfucking little bitch whiner, is how he's supposed to go about doing that. Because maybe it's different, and maybe he's not such a great kisser. He fucks this up, and he's gonna feel green in front of Gavin all over again, and he doesn't want to let him down.

Yep, he thinks grimly, as he nudges his hips against Gavin's: he's a fucking wimp, that's all there is to it.

Determined that this isn't going to be the case for any longer than it absolutely has to be, he decides to take the bull by the horns. He cups his hand around Gavin's cheek, and tells himself that he can do this. Ain't no thing, and it's not like he's never kissed anyone before, not like he doesn't know how to do it. And Gavin is the last person in the world who would ever laugh at him if he fumbles. He slides his thumb over Gavin's jaw, stubble against skin, and instead of leaning in for the kiss that he's been psyching himself up for, he chickens at the last minute, and rubs his thumb over Gavin's lips instead. Tracing their shape and watching how Gavin's eyes get just a little wider, not so's anyone but him would ever notice, but there, and his mouth opens a little. Not like he planned it, Flack thinks. Just like it happened on its own.

Noticing that gives him the last little bit of courage he's been looking for, and he leans all the way in and presses his mouth against Gavin's, and it's just that easy after all. Gavin's lips move against his and his mouth opens all the way, and Flack slips his tongue inside. They kiss and it's good, and Gavin's hands move over him, and they're still kissing as he backs Gavin over to the couch and they sink down onto it.

He's on top of Gavin, still kissing him, and touching everywhere he can reach, while Gavin returns the kisses and mumbles soft curses as he caresses Flack's shoulders and back and ass. And even though Flack's always been good about maintaining control with everyone else he's ever slept with, something about this, something about Gavin and the way they still have their uniforms on, and how Gavin smiles at him in between kisses and pushes his hips into Flack's, letting their erections nudge against each other. It makes Flack groan and makes him incoherent when he tries to say something.

Stuttering his lust against Gavin's open mouth, and the stuttering just pisses him off the way the case of pussy nerves does, so he swallows hard and bites back a curse and silently orders himself to stop talking if he can't form words like a human, and reaches up, instead, and strokes Gavin's hair back from his forehead. Gavin draws in a sharp, quick breath at the touch of Flack's fingers, and Flack stares up at him in surprise. He did that, he realizes, made Gavin breathe like that just by touching his hair, and he wonders what else he can make him do, and how he can make him do it.

If Gavin gasped when he touched his hair, he outright moans when Flack unzips his uniform pants and slides a hand inside, and starts to rub his dick in slow strokes. Flack slicks his thumb over the head and Gavin whispers, "Jesus Christ," and then, "Move a little, Donny."

"What -- "

Gavin pushes him onto his side so that they're facing each other on the narrow couch, and then Flack feels him tugging at his zipper; a moment later it's his turn to moan when Gavin's hand wraps around his cock. "Don't stop," Gavin mutters, and they lie there like that, kissing while they jerk each other off. Flack moves his tongue lazily over Gavin's and in and out of his mouth, Gavin's free arm around him, holding him while he touches him. It's all nice and slow and at first Flack's in no hurry to finish it off, and then Gavin's hand slips lower and tugs at his balls before moving back up the shaft. After that it's pretty much the point of no return, and Flack is fucking Gavin's hand hard by the time they both come, within seconds of each other, gasping into each other's mouths.

They both sort of collapse, and it's silent in the apartment for awhile except for the sound of their breathing. Flack absently wipes his hand off on the arm of the couch, and then leans back into Gavin. "Hey," Gavin says eventually, and kisses him again, soft this time. Flack kisses him back.

"Hey," he says.

"That was...that was good," Gavin says. "You got a talent for this."

Flack smirks. "Yeah, you bet I do," he says. "Shoulda known that."

Gavin looks at him. "We still good here?" he asks, voice gone serious, and Flack nods without so much as a pause.

"We're good," he says, and he knows it's true. He kisses Gavin.

"Good." Gavin stretches as best he can without actually moving away from Flack, and then they're quiet again for another little while, until something occurs to Flack, something he's maybe been sort of vaguely wondering since Gavin accepted his invitation to come over.

"Hey, so you do this with all'a your rookies?" he asks.

"What, this?" Gavin says.

"Yeah, of course this."

"Nope." Gavin yawns. "Just you, kid. You're the first."

"Oh, yeah?" Flack says. He grins. "That's really somethin'."

"Yeah, it's somethin' all right."

"How come?"

"How come what? How come just you? Probably 'cause you're the first one who's ever felt like a real partner. Now shut up and lemme sleep. I got twenty minutes or so before I need to leave." He closes his eyes.

"No problem, Gav." Flack glances at his watch, then leans back himself and closes his eyes. Twenty minutes, he thinks. Just time enough for a decent nap. He settles himself more comfortably against Gavin, and smiles when Gavin wraps an arm around him.

They're good, he thinks just before he dozes off. They're very definitely good here.



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