feeling of audible cracks
Title: Feeling of Audible Cracks
Author: dramatic_sigh
Fandom: CSI: NY
Pairing: Flack/Angell
Words: 751
Rating/Warning: R. For sex and stuff. And very AU.
Summary: The world ends on a Sunday.
A/N: So, my first steps into the CSI: NY world. To be honest, I'm scared. Also this is very AU. Title from a little song by Manchester Orchestra - 'I Can Feel a Hot One'. Enjoy.
The world ends on a Sunday, her day off, and she thinks oh great.
It’s chaos, utter chaos, like any New York based apocalypse films and there’s fire and looting and screaming in the streets and people running for their lives and law and order was shot to hell about an hour ago.
Now it’s every man for himself.
She’s holed up in her apartment, doors dead-bolted, the power cut three hours ago with her iPod on repeat on some indie rock song she doesn’t remember the name of. She swears because she’s out of booze, but tucks into the good ice cream instead, candles lighting the room, curtains closed to the chaos and the pitch black sky.
She waits it out, no point in running; she’s made her peace with the world and said her goodbyes while they still meant something.
So this is what it’s come down to.
---
He’s at her door, bottle of whiskey in one hand, gun in the other and she ushers him in, locking the door behind him.
Surprised is the least of her concerns.
So this is it, his blue eyes dancing in the candle light, as she places the bottle and the gun on the table, feeling small, his shadow looming above her.
Looks like it.
He moves around her kitchen methodologically, opening and shutting doors until he pulls out two mugs.
Irish coffee? He grins tiredly.
No hot water. She answers, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
Better this way, he shrugs, pouring more than a nip into both mugs, downing his in one and going for a refill. She follows suit, handing him her mug, which he places beside his own.
Angell…
Why are you here?
Tears in her eyes, she looks up at him as he runs a thumb across her cheek.
Jess…
His voice cracks as he says her name; and for the first time it’s Jess and Don, no game, no vests, nothing. It’s honesty, pure and simple and his eyes scream it’s the end of the world and I want you.
She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him to her; lips meeting in a frenzied kiss, he pulls her tight against him, neither letting go.
(They’ve come a long way, baby.)
---
They slow it down.
His hands trail down her body, sending shivers down her spine. He kisses a path from her neck to her breasts, making her whimper. Moving lower, she arches her back, with a moan.
She kisses him passionately, hands pulling at hair, nails dragging down his back as she remembers to breathe; his name forever on her lips Don, Don, Don.
He’s slow and deliberate as he moves inside her; her head thrown back against the comforter and he trails kisses across her collarbone, blue eyes on fire.
She wants to scream, but she’s forgotten how; instead her voice comes out a whimper, almost unrecognisable to herself, whispers of oh god on both their lips.
After, he holds her in his arms; her head on his chest, his hand in her hair, speaking volumes with gestures and for a moment, things are perfect.
His shallow breathing drowns out the screams from outside and in his arms, she feels safe.
---
The world ends on a Sunday. It’s not fire and brimstone, apocalyptic plagues, nuclear bombs or even tidal waves. Judgement Day is nigh, and the preachers on the street corners say their final prayer with a resounding told you so.
The streets are silent now; people resigned to their fate as they do nothing but watch as the world collapses around them. This is the end, her mind registers; this is what it’s all boiled down to.
(It’s not nearly as dramatic as Hollywood predicted.)
A scream pierces the night and his arms automatically tighten around her. She looks into his eyes; determined and forceful as they declare to the world I’ll never let her go.
(He fights to the end, he does. Fights for her.)
There’s a loud rumble outside and the building shakes. Her iPod falls off the table with a crash and the music stops. There’s silence.
I love you, he whispers fiercely, I love you.
She kisses him and the world stops.
(This is it.)
---
Author: dramatic_sigh
Fandom: CSI: NY
Pairing: Flack/Angell
Words: 751
Rating/Warning: R. For sex and stuff. And very AU.
Summary: The world ends on a Sunday.
A/N: So, my first steps into the CSI: NY world. To be honest, I'm scared. Also this is very AU. Title from a little song by Manchester Orchestra - 'I Can Feel a Hot One'. Enjoy.
The world ends on a Sunday, her day off, and she thinks oh great.
It’s chaos, utter chaos, like any New York based apocalypse films and there’s fire and looting and screaming in the streets and people running for their lives and law and order was shot to hell about an hour ago.
Now it’s every man for himself.
She’s holed up in her apartment, doors dead-bolted, the power cut three hours ago with her iPod on repeat on some indie rock song she doesn’t remember the name of. She swears because she’s out of booze, but tucks into the good ice cream instead, candles lighting the room, curtains closed to the chaos and the pitch black sky.
She waits it out, no point in running; she’s made her peace with the world and said her goodbyes while they still meant something.
So this is what it’s come down to.
---
He’s at her door, bottle of whiskey in one hand, gun in the other and she ushers him in, locking the door behind him.
Surprised is the least of her concerns.
So this is it, his blue eyes dancing in the candle light, as she places the bottle and the gun on the table, feeling small, his shadow looming above her.
Looks like it.
He moves around her kitchen methodologically, opening and shutting doors until he pulls out two mugs.
Irish coffee? He grins tiredly.
No hot water. She answers, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
Better this way, he shrugs, pouring more than a nip into both mugs, downing his in one and going for a refill. She follows suit, handing him her mug, which he places beside his own.
Angell…
Why are you here?
Tears in her eyes, she looks up at him as he runs a thumb across her cheek.
Jess…
His voice cracks as he says her name; and for the first time it’s Jess and Don, no game, no vests, nothing. It’s honesty, pure and simple and his eyes scream it’s the end of the world and I want you.
She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him to her; lips meeting in a frenzied kiss, he pulls her tight against him, neither letting go.
(They’ve come a long way, baby.)
---
They slow it down.
His hands trail down her body, sending shivers down her spine. He kisses a path from her neck to her breasts, making her whimper. Moving lower, she arches her back, with a moan.
She kisses him passionately, hands pulling at hair, nails dragging down his back as she remembers to breathe; his name forever on her lips Don, Don, Don.
He’s slow and deliberate as he moves inside her; her head thrown back against the comforter and he trails kisses across her collarbone, blue eyes on fire.
She wants to scream, but she’s forgotten how; instead her voice comes out a whimper, almost unrecognisable to herself, whispers of oh god on both their lips.
After, he holds her in his arms; her head on his chest, his hand in her hair, speaking volumes with gestures and for a moment, things are perfect.
His shallow breathing drowns out the screams from outside and in his arms, she feels safe.
---
The world ends on a Sunday. It’s not fire and brimstone, apocalyptic plagues, nuclear bombs or even tidal waves. Judgement Day is nigh, and the preachers on the street corners say their final prayer with a resounding told you so.
The streets are silent now; people resigned to their fate as they do nothing but watch as the world collapses around them. This is the end, her mind registers; this is what it’s all boiled down to.
(It’s not nearly as dramatic as Hollywood predicted.)
A scream pierces the night and his arms automatically tighten around her. She looks into his eyes; determined and forceful as they declare to the world I’ll never let her go.
(He fights to the end, he does. Fights for her.)
There’s a loud rumble outside and the building shakes. Her iPod falls off the table with a crash and the music stops. There’s silence.
I love you, he whispers fiercely, I love you.
She kisses him and the world stops.
(This is it.)
---