Fic: Advent Calendar (December 12): Can't Remember a Worse December
Title: Advent Calendar (December 12): Can't Remember a Worse December
Author: stellaluna_
Fandom: CSI:NY
Rating: PG for language
Summary: Adam really does not do well in the cold. Adam/Danny
Disclaimer: None of these are mine. Characters are the property of Anthony Zuiker, Jerry Bruckheimer Television, CBS, and Alliance Atlantis.
Notes: This is my attempt at a fic version of an Advent calendar. There will be 25 of these.
Adam just sits where he is after he parks the car, letting the warm air from the heater blow onto his face for another minute before he has to step out into the cold. It feels cozy and good, nap-inducing after he ended up staying awake the night before to play Halo, and he thinks of his bed with fleeting regret. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but reality had come crashing back in when he'd noticed daylight beginning to creep around the edges of the blinds in his living room; an eight-hour shift would wait for no man. Not even if he'd been up all night, and not when the temperature is below the freezing point.
He studies the hard-packed snow on the ground outside, and then, with a sigh, begins to pull his gloves on. The moment of truth is delayed a little longer while he checks his kit, which gives him an excuse to keep running the heater, but he can see Danny standing at the scene and waving his arms, trying to get his attention. Adam waves back and nods, then takes a little longer to count his evidence envelopes before he finally steels himself to take the plunge. Danny is shouting something when he finally grits his teeth and shuts off the engine, then steps out into the frozen afternoon.
The cold hits him like a wall, like a living thing, and he shivers. He can feel his feet trying to slide out from under him as he makes his way down the alley to where Danny is waiting, and his toes go numb almost at once, in spite of his boots and two layers of socks he's got on underneath. Of all days for Mac to decide it was time for him to get more practice in the field. He's grateful for the opportunity, of course; he just wishes it could have kept until spring.
"Hey, Adam," Danny says. "Wasn't sure for a minute if you were awake over there."
"I'm awake," he says. "I was just checking my kit."
"Right," Danny says. "If you're through being Mr. Organization, let's go."
It's a pretty straightforward shooting, and as they set up, Adam allows himself to hope that they can finish up before his body goes completely numb. He can already feel the cold seeping into his bones, and even though he knows he's not getting frostbite, he sure as hell feels like he is. He tries to think of warm things: his bed and down comforter. A hot, steamy shower. Hawaii. A fresh mug of coffee.
"By the way," Danny says as he starts to photograph the body, "nice hat."
If the word cupcake comes out of Danny's mouth, Adam isn't going to be responsible for his actions. He pulls his knit cap down over his ears. "Not all of us have polar bear blood," he says. "Seriously, what are you, the Heat Miser or something?" Danny is wearing a light wool coat, and that's it. No hat, no gloves.
"Oh, give me a break," Danny says. "I keep telling you, real New Yorkers don't wear hats."
"Are you telling me I'm not a real New Yorker yet?"
"Not as long as you keep dressing up like the Michelin Man, you're not."
"I happen to like this coat," Adam says. Michelin Man is better than cupcake, at least, he thinks. Not by much, but it's still better. He sets up evidence markers and thinks about saunas and radiators.
"Hey, you're free to make your own choices," Danny says. "Long as it makes you happy, it's all good. I'm just saying, you know..." He edges closer to Adam and whispers into his ear, like he's telling him a secret. "You still got a little of that cactus aura clinging to you, you know what I'm saying?"
"You saying people can tell I'm from Arizona?" Adam asks.
"I'm saying they can tell you're from somewhere else," Danny says. "You make it pretty obvious."
"So what if I am?" Adam pauses in what he's doing to rub his hands together and stamp his feet a few times. "It's not like I try to hide it. Besides, you want to know the truth? I hate Arizona. Except for the part where it's thirty degrees warmer there right now than it is here and there's no snow on the ground, I'd be very happy never to go back there again."
"Hey, hey." Danny holds up his hands. "You don't have to defend that to me. Believe me, I know all about not wanting to be anywhere near your old neighborhood or the block where you grew up. I'm not ranking on you for that. Just saying your blood should have thickened by now."
Hot toddies, Adam thinks. Roaring fireplaces. "Maybe next year," he says.
"Maybe so," Danny says. He shifts his camera to one hand and claps Adam on the shoulder. "Tell you what, Raising Arizona. How 'bout you and me knock off after shift and I'll buy you some hot chocolate? I know a place where they make it with melted chocolate bars, the real good dark stuff from Germany or some place like that."
"I don't know," Adam says.
"What?" Danny says. "Come on. I swear to you, this is a totally sincere offer. I mean, I may tease you a little every now and then -- "
"More like every day, you bastard."
"Okay, fine. But I do it out of sheer affection." Danny presses one hand to his heart and grins at Adam. "And this is good stuff. You'll love it."
Adam folds his arms. "Maybe."
"You know you want to. We could even go to the comic book store afterwards. Either Midtown or St. Mark's, your choice."
"All right," Adam says at last. "That doesn't sound so bad."
"Great." Danny pounds him on the back. "We'll go get warm and we'll talk about methods for how you can get through the winter without freezing to death."
"Because you're the expert on that, of course," Adam says.
"Sure I am." Danny smiles at him again, and this time, although he'll never admit it, the smile makes Adam's stomach give a funny little leap. "I hear shared body heat is a good one, you know."
Maybe, Adam thinks, winter has its advantages after all.
Feedback is always appreciated.
Author: stellaluna_
Fandom: CSI:NY
Rating: PG for language
Summary: Adam really does not do well in the cold. Adam/Danny
Disclaimer: None of these are mine. Characters are the property of Anthony Zuiker, Jerry Bruckheimer Television, CBS, and Alliance Atlantis.
Notes: This is my attempt at a fic version of an Advent calendar. There will be 25 of these.
Adam just sits where he is after he parks the car, letting the warm air from the heater blow onto his face for another minute before he has to step out into the cold. It feels cozy and good, nap-inducing after he ended up staying awake the night before to play Halo, and he thinks of his bed with fleeting regret. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but reality had come crashing back in when he'd noticed daylight beginning to creep around the edges of the blinds in his living room; an eight-hour shift would wait for no man. Not even if he'd been up all night, and not when the temperature is below the freezing point.
He studies the hard-packed snow on the ground outside, and then, with a sigh, begins to pull his gloves on. The moment of truth is delayed a little longer while he checks his kit, which gives him an excuse to keep running the heater, but he can see Danny standing at the scene and waving his arms, trying to get his attention. Adam waves back and nods, then takes a little longer to count his evidence envelopes before he finally steels himself to take the plunge. Danny is shouting something when he finally grits his teeth and shuts off the engine, then steps out into the frozen afternoon.
The cold hits him like a wall, like a living thing, and he shivers. He can feel his feet trying to slide out from under him as he makes his way down the alley to where Danny is waiting, and his toes go numb almost at once, in spite of his boots and two layers of socks he's got on underneath. Of all days for Mac to decide it was time for him to get more practice in the field. He's grateful for the opportunity, of course; he just wishes it could have kept until spring.
"Hey, Adam," Danny says. "Wasn't sure for a minute if you were awake over there."
"I'm awake," he says. "I was just checking my kit."
"Right," Danny says. "If you're through being Mr. Organization, let's go."
It's a pretty straightforward shooting, and as they set up, Adam allows himself to hope that they can finish up before his body goes completely numb. He can already feel the cold seeping into his bones, and even though he knows he's not getting frostbite, he sure as hell feels like he is. He tries to think of warm things: his bed and down comforter. A hot, steamy shower. Hawaii. A fresh mug of coffee.
"By the way," Danny says as he starts to photograph the body, "nice hat."
If the word cupcake comes out of Danny's mouth, Adam isn't going to be responsible for his actions. He pulls his knit cap down over his ears. "Not all of us have polar bear blood," he says. "Seriously, what are you, the Heat Miser or something?" Danny is wearing a light wool coat, and that's it. No hat, no gloves.
"Oh, give me a break," Danny says. "I keep telling you, real New Yorkers don't wear hats."
"Are you telling me I'm not a real New Yorker yet?"
"Not as long as you keep dressing up like the Michelin Man, you're not."
"I happen to like this coat," Adam says. Michelin Man is better than cupcake, at least, he thinks. Not by much, but it's still better. He sets up evidence markers and thinks about saunas and radiators.
"Hey, you're free to make your own choices," Danny says. "Long as it makes you happy, it's all good. I'm just saying, you know..." He edges closer to Adam and whispers into his ear, like he's telling him a secret. "You still got a little of that cactus aura clinging to you, you know what I'm saying?"
"You saying people can tell I'm from Arizona?" Adam asks.
"I'm saying they can tell you're from somewhere else," Danny says. "You make it pretty obvious."
"So what if I am?" Adam pauses in what he's doing to rub his hands together and stamp his feet a few times. "It's not like I try to hide it. Besides, you want to know the truth? I hate Arizona. Except for the part where it's thirty degrees warmer there right now than it is here and there's no snow on the ground, I'd be very happy never to go back there again."
"Hey, hey." Danny holds up his hands. "You don't have to defend that to me. Believe me, I know all about not wanting to be anywhere near your old neighborhood or the block where you grew up. I'm not ranking on you for that. Just saying your blood should have thickened by now."
Hot toddies, Adam thinks. Roaring fireplaces. "Maybe next year," he says.
"Maybe so," Danny says. He shifts his camera to one hand and claps Adam on the shoulder. "Tell you what, Raising Arizona. How 'bout you and me knock off after shift and I'll buy you some hot chocolate? I know a place where they make it with melted chocolate bars, the real good dark stuff from Germany or some place like that."
"I don't know," Adam says.
"What?" Danny says. "Come on. I swear to you, this is a totally sincere offer. I mean, I may tease you a little every now and then -- "
"More like every day, you bastard."
"Okay, fine. But I do it out of sheer affection." Danny presses one hand to his heart and grins at Adam. "And this is good stuff. You'll love it."
Adam folds his arms. "Maybe."
"You know you want to. We could even go to the comic book store afterwards. Either Midtown or St. Mark's, your choice."
"All right," Adam says at last. "That doesn't sound so bad."
"Great." Danny pounds him on the back. "We'll go get warm and we'll talk about methods for how you can get through the winter without freezing to death."
"Because you're the expert on that, of course," Adam says.
"Sure I am." Danny smiles at him again, and this time, although he'll never admit it, the smile makes Adam's stomach give a funny little leap. "I hear shared body heat is a good one, you know."
Maybe, Adam thinks, winter has its advantages after all.
Feedback is always appreciated.