beautifulandnew | (no subject)

(no subject)

Part of me thought there might have been a possibility that 'takeout and crafts' had taken on a new meaning. Perhaps it was code now, a less hip version of 'Netflix and chill'. Much, much less hip, considering the source.

Once inside Danny's apartment, however, it quickly became pretty clear that there was no hidden meaning. There was takeout and there was crafting paraphernalia.

It's been a week and I'm no less confused now than I was then. Maybe even a bit more so right now, sitting here, neither of us having actually acknowledged what had happened. Is he expecting me to play along? Eat and drink and cut construction paper and never speak of it? Is that what he plans to do? Or has he blocked it out? Did he have more to drink that night than I realized? Because there's a whole movement and hashtag now that I would potentially have to answer to.

Maybe agreeing to come was a bad idea. I'm not sure I'm prepared to pretend to deal with takeout and crafts if all it really is is takeout and crafts. I'm not sure I'm prepared to deal with the alternative either.

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"I don't remember you having any difficulty overcoming the height difference a week ago," I remind him, followed by a pointed sip of beer and not bothering to take a seat either.

"And I've had sex with your Priest. That probably puts me closer to God than you've ever been."

"Ah ah ah, did I say I'd yielded the floor?" Danny gripes, arms outstretched before he slaps his hands over his ears when Hedwig reminds him about his Priest back in Darrow.

"La la la! Six, you don't take direction well!" He continues pointedly, eyes screwed shut and a pained expression on his face.

"That's not what your Priest said," I mumble behind the neck of the bottle before sliding it onto the counter.

"Seven? How many more are there exactly?"

"There's so many," Danny groans, dragging his hands down his cheeks in a show of long-suffering despair.

"It's strange how all the reasons why this," I say, mirroring his earlier gesture, "won't work are about what's wrong with me." Stranger still is how none of those things seemed to matter last week. And that one of what I would consider the most obvious reasons didn't even make the top three. He's either being polite or his sense of self-preservation is very high right now.

"Your beer tastes like a Bath and Body Works candle."

It's a childish jab, but I don't feel like being polite.

There's a familiar flare of outrage when Hedwig disrespects his beer, but something occurs to Danny a moment later which causes his stomach to flip flop. It bumps down yelling about the insult a notch or two in priority.

His hands drop into his lap and he gives his knees a short, somewhat anxious, rub. Even so, the corner of his mouth starts to curl into a smile that is first directed at said knees before it grows a little more and he lifts his head slightly, turning it on Hedwig. It's a smile of surprise, sincerity and a bit of shyness.

"That's your only reason?" Danny asks quietly. Because as far as cons go, that can be fixed pretty easily once Hedwig has refined his taste buds.

"Put that away," I demand, pointing at his face and that stupid lopsided smile. It's endearing, normally, but I don't want to be endeared right now.

"Those weren't reasons, that was an airing of grievances. So, no, that wouldn't be my only grievance but there are only so many hours in a day."

"Put what away?" Danny asks, feigning ignorance, the smile going nowhere fast. He can't say he didn't enjoy Hedwig's reaction just then.

"You're not nearly as charming as you think you are," I warn him, drumming my fingers on the countertop.

"Or as charming as you think I think you are." That absolutely made sense.

A small huff of laughter escapes him. Shoulders slouching, he drops his gaze back down to his hands, smile naturally fading. "Alright," he breathes, rubbing a thumb in the centre of his palm.

He can think of so many reasons why it's a bad idea, his mind has been running through them practically 24/7 the last few days. Danny's found it kind of exhausting, actually.

"D'you wanna just try and forget about it?" He asks bluntly, hopping down from the counter. "Good friends are hard to come by."

"Maybe for middle age shut-ins who spend their nights at home watching crab fishing and playing with matchsticks." Danny hadn't run into me on a night like that back in Darrow. And social media isn't even an option, so becoming good friends with someone through the power of the internet, in the comfort of his own home, isn't even an option.

"If I say no we won't be good friends?"

"If you say no is that all you're gonna want to be?" Danny throws back. He rests his hands on his waist, drawing in a fortifying breath and letting it out again in a rush.

"Nothing has to change." Friends with benefits isn't a new concept. We're adults... mostly. In theory, we can compartmentalize. "It's sex, Danny, no one is forcing you into a Facebook relationship status update."

Thanks to Mindy, Danny knows exactly what one of those is and the mere thought of that happening is enough to tempt the sweat back.

"So you're saying...“ His eyes wander coyly. "We could do this sometimes and nobody would have to know?" His gaze snaps instantly back to Hedwig. "Nobody knows, right?"

"Are you... asking me if I've told anyone?" Who would believe me? If I were able to travel back in time and tell a past version of myself a conversation like this was even happening with Danny, I wouldn't believe me. Not even necessarily from that far back in the past. Yesterday was probably far enough.

"No. And unless you're planning on inviting a third, it can stay that way." I shrug.

Danny expected to feel a rush of relief but it's barely a drop in the ocean. The only Guy that really matters not only knows but had a bird's eye view. The things He must have seen. At least he prayed afterwards.

And a little bit during.

"How many "cuddle buddies" have you had in the past that you're still friends with now?" Danny asks, air quoting the phrase. He's had casual relationships before but not with anyone he cared about as much as he does Hedwig.

Ones that don't pay...?

"One." I'm not sure 'friend' is the right word. Groupie makes it sound pretentious, but I did meet him after a performance. And then again at four more following that before anything happened. The first time, he paid. Anything after that was pity sex. Nearly forty-five, married with two kids and closeted. Someone has to take pity on him.

"Oh." Danny lowers his head, feeling kind of sheepish. So it is possible for friendships to withstand casual relations. Or it is for Hedwig, anyway.

Danny's never achieved it before; one of them always ended up getting hurt and it wasn't usually him. None of the women made much effort to stay 'friends' with Danny after, but then again, neither did he.

"He must be a pretty special guy if he's the only pal to survive, huh." Danny purses his lips as if to hold back the question, eyes on the blanket around Hedwig's shoulders. "Are you, I mean, is he, are you FBFs with him too?"

"No. It's different. I think I'm just cheaper than therapy would be," I explain, realizing how that sounds, but it's true enough.

"What with the health care system being the way it is... Why are we talking about him? He's not here."

"Ahh I didn't need to hear that," Danny gripes under his breath. Hedwig's choice of self-employment is numbers 10 through 25 on the list of reasons why they should nip this in the bud now.

Does he even pay taxes?

"Executive decision, okay," he says, rubbing his forehead. "We're gonna hug it out, okay, like," he closes the distance between them tentatively and wraps his arms around Hedwig in a loose embrace, "like this, hug it out like this." He pats Hedwig's back and shoulder gently. "Until, yeah..."

"Hug what out?" What is happening? Whatever this is, it's much weirder than the sex had been "Until what?" I ask, standing still.

Danny begins to settle, his hold starting to tighten into a proper hug. If it takes him a few moments longer than a normal person, that's only because showcases of physical affection from Danny are few and far between. His brother and his Ma are the usual recipients.

"Until we feel better," he says in a gruff voice, sucking in a long deep breath through his nose.

Apparently Danny's best coping skill comes all the was from elementary school. This is the kind of thing they force kids who have been fighting in the schoolyard to do. It's a hug, not a magic wand.

"...all I feel is how damp your shirt is."

Danny finds Hedwig's lack of reciprocation strange. It had taken him a long time to realize Hedwig had a crush on him back in Darrow and since being back in New York, they've hung out tons. After last week, Danny was sort of expecting to be pounced on.

"Quit your complaining or I'll take it off."

"What is wrong with you?" I ask, twisting to pull myself out of his hold, balling up the blanket and tossing that at him if he still needs something to squeeze to make him feel better.

"You sit there and lay out a list of why this doesn't work because of what's wrong with me and then that?" It goes well beyond mixed signals. Even if it was a joke, how does now feel like the appropriate time? "You can look, but you can't have." Which is nothing new, least of all with regards to Danny, but that was before I had.