{Fake TV} Fic: Hot Town
Oct. 17th, 2011 09:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
urbancateTitle: Hot Town
Original Show and Author: The Cartwright Dynasty, by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
askita
Character: Alex Cartwright
Summary: Summer in the city. Written for the "weather" drabble challenge at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
faketvnetwork
Author's Note: IDK, I'm a sucker for Joe Flanigan as a cop, so I had to play with him.
In the summer, the city boils. New York always runs to a different beat, but in the summer that beat pounds - the blood stomping through your veins.
Waves of heat off the pavement and the people and the cars, the relentless crush of sounds and smells, it can sap your energy - like the tourists, like sweat stains around a fanny pack - or it'll rev you right up - like a shot in your arm, an illegal high - and you're a junkie and your drug is a whole city.
Alex is in a car or on the pavement all day, baking in his jacket, chasing down the who's and the what's of the latest nasty case. He weaves and moves through the currents of people like he was born to it, and sometimes he thinks he was.
He likes to think of what Manhattan looks like from the air, from high up - an island of concrete rivers and glass-walled canyons, there's even an oasis or two. He bets The Park is packed today, everyone competing for the cooler green spaces.
Busy days like this, he doesn't have to think about anything but what's in front of him - the job, the cases, the people - there's no time for looking back, no time to notice the empty spaces.
There's a storm coming - humidity a brick weight in his lungs - brewing on a slow simmer 'til everyone's damn near praying for rain, for the break. The heat edges on painful, and Alex welcomes it; last night was bad, tossing in his empty bed in his empty apartment, his mind full of memories, echoes of touches and naked skin.
He's walking home - the long way, planning on stopping at the bar for a while - when he sees the first flash and reflection through the city canyons, feels as much as hears the answering boom and echo.
The sky breaks, flooding the rivers of Manhattan, washing the sweat and dirt from his neck. He stands in the rain for a moment, looking up at the darkened sky. He could almost think it and mean it: nothing feels better than a summer rain, but he knows it would be a lie. His mouth twists for a moment and then he decides. He turns left instead of right at the next corner.
He goes to her.
Original Show and Author: The Cartwright Dynasty, by
askitaCharacter: Alex Cartwright
Summary: Summer in the city. Written for the "weather" drabble challenge at
faketvnetworkAuthor's Note: IDK, I'm a sucker for Joe Flanigan as a cop, so I had to play with him.
In the summer, the city boils. New York always runs to a different beat, but in the summer that beat pounds - the blood stomping through your veins.
Waves of heat off the pavement and the people and the cars, the relentless crush of sounds and smells, it can sap your energy - like the tourists, like sweat stains around a fanny pack - or it'll rev you right up - like a shot in your arm, an illegal high - and you're a junkie and your drug is a whole city.
Alex is in a car or on the pavement all day, baking in his jacket, chasing down the who's and the what's of the latest nasty case. He weaves and moves through the currents of people like he was born to it, and sometimes he thinks he was.
He likes to think of what Manhattan looks like from the air, from high up - an island of concrete rivers and glass-walled canyons, there's even an oasis or two. He bets The Park is packed today, everyone competing for the cooler green spaces.
Busy days like this, he doesn't have to think about anything but what's in front of him - the job, the cases, the people - there's no time for looking back, no time to notice the empty spaces.
There's a storm coming - humidity a brick weight in his lungs - brewing on a slow simmer 'til everyone's damn near praying for rain, for the break. The heat edges on painful, and Alex welcomes it; last night was bad, tossing in his empty bed in his empty apartment, his mind full of memories, echoes of touches and naked skin.
He's walking home - the long way, planning on stopping at the bar for a while - when he sees the first flash and reflection through the city canyons, feels as much as hears the answering boom and echo.
The sky breaks, flooding the rivers of Manhattan, washing the sweat and dirt from his neck. He stands in the rain for a moment, looking up at the darkened sky. He could almost think it and mean it: nothing feels better than a summer rain, but he knows it would be a lie. His mouth twists for a moment and then he decides. He turns left instead of right at the next corner.
He goes to her.
