Improbable causes
Title: Glasshouse Rain, p.1
Rating: R/NC-17
Pairing: Mac/Danny (CSI:NY)
Warnings/Spoilers: More like depressing UST thoughts rather than an actual pairing. Angst and weird ramblings fueled by depression and alcohol.
(A/N: First CSI:NY outing, written under severe depression after watching a depressing IAAF 2005.)
Summary: Like a temptation he doesn't want to avoid.
---
1/
Mac sits in a corner, people-watching. Or Danny-watching, if he wants to be honest to himself. But in this case, Mac doesn't think that honesty is the best policy. Certainly not a colleague, and certainly not someone as complicated as Danny. Because Mac doesn't need any more complications in his life, and because Danny is an enigma, like a perfect murder. Danny is telling a joke to the bartender, and laughs at his own joke. Drinks procured and paid for, Danny walks back towards Mac only to be stopped by somebody Danny obviously knows -- medium-built, and with a slight limp in one leg, probably recovering from a wound or something similar.
Somebody sits next to him and Mac looks up to tell them that the seat is occupied. But the stranger beats him to the party line and smiles, "Mac Taylor, right?"
"Do I know you?" Mac feels that he is supposed to remember, because he is good at remembering. "Of course, Jake... Jake McMillan?" And Mac remembers the days digging latrines and defying master sergeants. He remembers when life used to be simple, doing what he was told and defying it with equal measure.
"Haven't seen you since... oh forever. Heard you're a CSI now," Jake still drinks triple scotch and pays attention like they're the only ones in the universe.
"Yeah." And Mac misses the days they went out together on tours and trainings, of sitting on foreign soil and watching the sunsets like blood dripping against fields of dead bodies.
"Interesting." Jake pats his shoulder clumsily and the hand stays longer than it should. "I still don't get why," Jake says as he smiles and Mac sees that one eye is glass. The warmest, bluest, and soulless glass eye.
"What brings you to New York?" Mac asks but receives nothing but a smile as an answer, because Danny steps into their private space and Jake yields the seat. And Mac wants to send Danny away but instead introduces them both. Jake offers a handshake which Danny takes.
"See you around," Jake says again, smiles and leaves. Danny sits in the chair and slides Mac's drink with a question evident on his face. But Mac offers no explanation and Danny makes noises about visiting the men's.
And Mac nods distractedly because Jake reminds him of the time Before. There are thousands of ways to die in a battlefield, in combat situations and as prisoners of war. Each one more brutal than the other, and each passing day demands one to trade their souls away, for one more sunrise and one more sunset and a plane ride home. Every bullet wound will burn, every nick of the knife will hurt, and every poke of a bayonette will leave a memory of what it feels like to hope for death.
There are thousand millions ways to die on the streets of New York, each one as violent as the next. And he lives in the days that don't ask him to trade his soul, but instead numbs him to the core and steels him from the need to feel. And as every sunrise and every sunset merge into one big puzzle, there will be a time to die without him noticing it.
But Danny is like an unholy war for Mac. This Danny, who is now sipping his beer and eyeing Mac like some sort of lab evidence. The romanticism of trying to conquer a territory and being conquered by lust-filled nights will drive him to the brink and will make him regret.
And Mac thinks of Jake, Claire, and a time when love was simple, straightforward, and uncomplicated. And Mac looks at Danny and sees a wanting so unlike others, sees himself descending into something he cannot begin to understand. And Mac looks at Danny who stares at him, worry evident on the face he wants to fuck. Mac studies Danny whose tension is evident on that body he wants to own, so completely and thoroughly.
Mac sees Stella, Aiden, Flack, and Hawkes walking their way, and smiles. Danny turns around and smiles too. And Mac tumbles a little bit more, and thank heavens for the arrival of others. Because being alone with Danny is like giving heroin to a junkie.
---
---
Rating: R/NC-17
Pairing: Mac/Danny (CSI:NY)
Warnings/Spoilers: More like depressing UST thoughts rather than an actual pairing. Angst and weird ramblings fueled by depression and alcohol.
(A/N: First CSI:NY outing, written under severe depression after watching a depressing IAAF 2005.)
Summary: Like a temptation he doesn't want to avoid.
---
1/
Mac sits in a corner, people-watching. Or Danny-watching, if he wants to be honest to himself. But in this case, Mac doesn't think that honesty is the best policy. Certainly not a colleague, and certainly not someone as complicated as Danny. Because Mac doesn't need any more complications in his life, and because Danny is an enigma, like a perfect murder. Danny is telling a joke to the bartender, and laughs at his own joke. Drinks procured and paid for, Danny walks back towards Mac only to be stopped by somebody Danny obviously knows -- medium-built, and with a slight limp in one leg, probably recovering from a wound or something similar.
Somebody sits next to him and Mac looks up to tell them that the seat is occupied. But the stranger beats him to the party line and smiles, "Mac Taylor, right?"
"Do I know you?" Mac feels that he is supposed to remember, because he is good at remembering. "Of course, Jake... Jake McMillan?" And Mac remembers the days digging latrines and defying master sergeants. He remembers when life used to be simple, doing what he was told and defying it with equal measure.
"Haven't seen you since... oh forever. Heard you're a CSI now," Jake still drinks triple scotch and pays attention like they're the only ones in the universe.
"Yeah." And Mac misses the days they went out together on tours and trainings, of sitting on foreign soil and watching the sunsets like blood dripping against fields of dead bodies.
"Interesting." Jake pats his shoulder clumsily and the hand stays longer than it should. "I still don't get why," Jake says as he smiles and Mac sees that one eye is glass. The warmest, bluest, and soulless glass eye.
"What brings you to New York?" Mac asks but receives nothing but a smile as an answer, because Danny steps into their private space and Jake yields the seat. And Mac wants to send Danny away but instead introduces them both. Jake offers a handshake which Danny takes.
"See you around," Jake says again, smiles and leaves. Danny sits in the chair and slides Mac's drink with a question evident on his face. But Mac offers no explanation and Danny makes noises about visiting the men's.
And Mac nods distractedly because Jake reminds him of the time Before. There are thousands of ways to die in a battlefield, in combat situations and as prisoners of war. Each one more brutal than the other, and each passing day demands one to trade their souls away, for one more sunrise and one more sunset and a plane ride home. Every bullet wound will burn, every nick of the knife will hurt, and every poke of a bayonette will leave a memory of what it feels like to hope for death.
There are thousand millions ways to die on the streets of New York, each one as violent as the next. And he lives in the days that don't ask him to trade his soul, but instead numbs him to the core and steels him from the need to feel. And as every sunrise and every sunset merge into one big puzzle, there will be a time to die without him noticing it.
But Danny is like an unholy war for Mac. This Danny, who is now sipping his beer and eyeing Mac like some sort of lab evidence. The romanticism of trying to conquer a territory and being conquered by lust-filled nights will drive him to the brink and will make him regret.
And Mac thinks of Jake, Claire, and a time when love was simple, straightforward, and uncomplicated. And Mac looks at Danny and sees a wanting so unlike others, sees himself descending into something he cannot begin to understand. And Mac looks at Danny who stares at him, worry evident on the face he wants to fuck. Mac studies Danny whose tension is evident on that body he wants to own, so completely and thoroughly.
Mac sees Stella, Aiden, Flack, and Hawkes walking their way, and smiles. Danny turns around and smiles too. And Mac tumbles a little bit more, and thank heavens for the arrival of others. Because being alone with Danny is like giving heroin to a junkie.
---
---