ceindreadh (ceindreadh) wrote in ceindreadh_fic,

[fic] - Carpe Donum 1/2

Title: Carpe Donum
Author: Ceindreadh
Characters/Pairing: Mac, Don, Mac/Don
Rating: M
Summary: A pair of tight jeans makes Mac see Don in a whole new light. But will he seize the opportunity that’s presented itself.
Notes: Set roughly early season 8 timewise, but no specific spoilers.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the CSI NY characters, I'm only borrowing them, and I promise to return them in minty fresh condition when I'm finished.


Mac Taylor looked at his watch again. He’d been sitting at Don Flack’s desk in the station for almost twenty minutes now, waiting for Don to show up.

Mac had shown up at the station with a final report on a case that he and Don had worked together, only to find that Don wasn’t there. One of Don’s colleagues had told Mac that the Lieutenant had needed a bunch of plainclothes bodies in a hurry. “Except he meant not just plain, but very casual,” Detective Perry had said with a smirk, “And Flack foolishly mentioned he had an old pair of jeans in his locker, so he promptly got ‘volunteered’.” Perry had told Mac that Don and the other officers were due back ‘soon’, so Mac had decided to wait. But ‘soon’ appeared to be a relative concept and Mac had been twiddling his thumbs for the last twenty minutes.

Mac considered just leaving the file on Don’s desk with an explanatory note and going home. It wasn’t as if there was any great urgency with it. The case had been resolved, and Mac’s assessment had been that there had been no crime to answer for. Don’s side of the investigation had brought him to the same conclusion, and now all that remained was to hand over their findings to the Lieutenant and have him sign off on the file. But that could wait until the next day.
On the other hand, and Mac checked his watch again, it wasn’t as if he had any pressing engagements. His shift had nominally ended two hours earlier and if it hadn’t been for this file, he would likely have still been at his desk. But he’d seen the file sitting there, ready to be delivered to Don and on a whim had decided to take it in person. It was an impulse that he was half regretting, but he decided to give Don another ten minutes before calling it quits.

Nine minutes and thirty seconds later Mac heard Don before he saw him. “Yeah, and you tell Cutter the next time he wants ‘more bodies’, I’ll be washing my hair!” The tone indicated humor rather than malice and indeed when Don pushed his way through the doors, he was wearing a smile on his face.

But as well as the smile, Don was wearing what had to be the tightest pair of jeans that Mac had ever seen him in. They looked as if they’d been painted on and coupled with the plain white t-shirt that clung to Don’s body like a second skin and the black hoodie flung over one shoulder, Mac wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Don looking quite so, well, sexy was really the only word for it thought Mac.
Mac had seen Don in a wide variety of outfits, ranging from suits to sweatpants. But Mac couldn’t in all honesty think of a time when Don had looked this stunning.

Mac had always considered that Don Flack was an extremely good-looking man. But his appreciation of Don in that way had been more akin to the way he’d appreciate a work of art. You could acknowledge the beauty of the Mona Lisa, without necessarily wanting to hang it on your wall. But now for the first time, Mac was looking at Don and wanting him not only up against his wall, but in his bed, and other places besides.

“Yo, Mac,” said Don, moving easily over to his desk. “You looking for me.”

“Yeah,” said Mac, pulling himself together and saying the first thing that came into his mind. “I see that your Lieutenant has relaxed the dress code, somewhat.”

Don laughed as he dropped the hoodie on the desk and removed his gun and badge from the pouch on the back of his belt. “Yeah, well they wanted ‘casual’, so I figured, give ‘em what they want!”
He struck a mock pose before relaxing and dropping into his chair.

“How do you even get into those jeans?” asked Mac without thinking.

“Buying me dinner is always a good start!” said Don, sliding open a drawer and putting his gun inside.

Mac couldn’t help but laugh as Don continued, “But I’m sure you didn’t come all the ways down here to compliment my fashion sense.” He looked up at Mac who held up the file. “The Sloan case?” he said as he took it from Mac.

“All the i’s dotted and the t’s crossed,” said Mac. “You just need to append it to your report.”
Don quickly skimmed through the file before closing it and adding it to a file on his desk. “One down,” he looked at the other files on his desk and grimaced, “Way too many to go. But they’ll have to keep until tomorrow.” He glanced at his watch, “My shift is officially over and once I fill out my report on the op, I am out of here.”

“Big plans?”

Don shook his head, “Nah, coupla beers, maybe some takeout.”

“How about I buy you dinner then.” The words were out of Mac’s mouth before he could stop them, and he could see Don looking at him with surprise on his face. Surprise, and maybe just a little interest. At least Mac hoped that was what it was.

“Well, I’m not gonna say no to a free meal,” said Don, holding Mac’s gaze. “Give me five minutes to finish this.”

Mac sat back down and watched as Don filled in the report on his computer. Every movement of his hands on the keyboard causing the material of his t-shirt to stretch against his biceps. Fortunately, it didn’t take Don long to complete the report and send it down the appropriate channels. As Don explained, “I went, I stood around for an hour waiting for a guy to show. He was a no-show, so we packed it in.” But for Mac, watching Don work, it seemed like an eternity before he finally clicked on the save button and signed off.

“All done,” said Don, as he stood. “I’ll just go and get changed.” He bent over and pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk.

“No need to change on my account,” said Mac, enjoying the view.
Don straightened up and grinned at Mac, “I kind of figured that, but if you’re buying me dinner, I may need some extra stretch in my waistband.” He tugged at his belt, “These don’t leave much extra room.”

Mac swallowed, hard. “I’ll wait here.” He watched as Don sauntered off – and really, there was no other word to describe it - towards the locker room. The tight jeans showed his body off to perfection, and Mac was sure by the way he walked, that Don was well aware of that fact.

Mac had time to think about things while Don was changing. The sensible part of his brain was reminding him that Don was a colleague and a good friend, and the fact that he had agreed to the dinner invitation was surely indicative of nothing more than that he was hungry and enjoyed Mac’s company. But the look on Don’s face and the way he’d practically posed for Mac’s attention, well that was a message that the much less sensible part of his brain was practically shouting at him to take notice of. Mac however, resolutely squashed the thoughts coming out of that part of his brain. This was going to be a simple meal between friends, he told himself. He was going to enjoy Don’s company, as he had on many occasions and he was certainly not going to make a fool of himself by misreading the situation.


Two hours later, Mac had almost convinced himself of that. They’d had a brief discussion of where to go to eat. Mac had suggested a few restaurants that he knew, most of which Don had shot down on the grounds that getting in without a reservation might be difficult, “Plus they take forever to serve youze and look down their noses at you when you order a beer instead of wine.”
They’d finally settled on a diner, not too far from Don’s apartment. Mac knew it well, having bought takeout there for Don on a number of occasions while he’d been convalescing at home from his injuries.

They’d taken seats in a booth rather than at the counter, which gave Mac the opportunity to watch Don as he ate. Don had attacked his meal with gusto, chomping down on his burgers and fries, in between holding forth on a wide range of subjects from the last hockey match he’d watched, to the first dead body he’d seen on the job.
Not that he’d monopolized the conversation, but for the most part, Mac was happy to sit and listen to Don as he spun a good yarn.

“You look like you haven’t eaten for a week,” teased Mac, as Don grabbed another handful of fries.

“Says the guy whose idea of a proper meal is a granola bar and a packet of trail mix!” retorted Don. “You know what it’s like. Ain’t every day I get the chance to sit down for a proper meal.” He nodded at Mac’s plate, “You better finish everything on your plate if you want a dessert.”

“Yes ‘Mom’,” said Mac. He smiled as Don stuck his tongue out at him and tried to push away any thoughts of what he’d like that tongue to do to him. Don was so close to him, just a small table width away, that Mac could have reached out and wiped away the small smear of ketchup that had ended up on his chin and was in danger of falling onto the white shirt that Don had changed into back at the station. “You’ve got a bit of ketchup…” Mac wished that he’d had the nerve to do more than just warn Don.

Don however seemed to have no such qualms. “Thanks,” he said, grabbing a napkin and cleaning his chin. “Looks like I’m not the only one,” he added, and before Mac could react, Don had reached out and brushed his thumb gently over Mac’s chin, almost touching his lips before removing his hand.

“I didn’t have any ketchup on my burger,” said Mac, looking Don straight in the eyes.

“I know.” Don held Mac’s gaze.

It was as clear a declaration of intent as Mac had ever come across, and now all he needed to do was to decide how to respond.

Mac’s thoughts were interrupted by the waitress who asked, “Can I get you fellas anything? A refill, or the dessert menu?”

“We’re good,” said Don, still looking at Mac.

“Actually, could we have the check, please,” said Mac. He noticed a brief flicker of emotion pass across Don’s face, before the mask came down.

Don put the last chunk of his burger into his mouth and started chewing on it, but the meal had lost all its taste. It was clear to him now that Mac wasn’t interested in taking things further and had asked for the check as a way to shut down the evening sooner rather than later. Don had known that he had been taking a risk with his actions, but he’d thought that maybe it had been worth a shot. In the close to ten years that he’d been working with Mac Taylor, they’d been through a lot together and Don considered the man to be one of his closest friends. There had of course been the occasional times that he’d had what his priest would have considered ‘impure thoughts’ about the guy. But he’d always assumed that Mac wouldn’t feel the same way, and it wasn’t like Don had been short of sexual partners, so he had had no intention of ruining their friendship by acting on his more carnal impulses.

But today, for the first time, Don had seen Mac looking at him, and he meant, really looking at him, and he had wondered if maybe, just maybe, Mac had been having some impure thoughts as well. So, he’d figured that he’d just play along a bit and show Mac that he was interested, but play it cool enough that Mac could choose to ignore the signs and just let things stay the way they had always been between them. Now it looked like he’d overstepped the mark and Don just hoped that he hadn’t ruined a friendship into the bargain.

Don wiped his hands on a clean napkin before tossing it onto his now empty plate. He watched in silence as Mac paid the bill before returning to their table. “You good to go?” he asked. Don nodded, and slid out of the booth, pulling on his hoodie as he headed for the door, not looking back to see whether Mac was following him.

Mac frowned as he watched Don walk towards the door. He wasn’t sure what had just happened. He’d felt Don’s hand on his face and all he could think about was having Don touch him again, all over his body. When the waitress had interrupted them, Mac had asked for the check, knowing that the sooner they got out of the diner, the sooner they could, hopefully, go somewhere a little more private and the sooner he could, even more hopefully, have Don touching him again. But it was like somebody had switched a light off in Don’s eyes and Mac wasn’t sure what to make of it.

A group of people entered the diner just as Don got to the door and Mac automatically stepped aside to let them get to the counter, losing sight of Don in the process. A waitress with a tray of food in her hands delayed his progress even further and by the time Mac made it outside, he couldn’t see him anywhere on the sidewalk.
Mac looked both ways up and down the street, but there was no sign of Don.
Tags: fic, fic:csi ny, flack, flack/mac, mac, slash

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