beautifulandnew | (no subject)

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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 know what to say," Danny replies softly, and right now that's as honest as he can be when asked what is it that he wants.

"I know I don't want, to not be able to do this," he says, rubbing Hedwig's foot. "And I don't want to not be able to do this," he strokes his hand along Hedwig's forearm before it moves up to his shoulder via his chest. "Or this," he continues, leaning forward on his knee to wrap both arms around him in a hug, one that lacks any kind of hesitation.

And we're back here again, hugging until it feels better. It worked so well the first time.

I hug him back, because it's apparently what he needs. I think I hugged my own mother a whole three times in my life and two of those were more accidents really.

"Do you plan on telling me when you figure it out?"

Danny drops a kiss onto Hedwig's shoulder in lieu of a verbal response and keeps rubbing his back. He hadn't been sure whether touching him like this now would be welcome or rejected but he's relieved it's the former.

"Instead of worrying about what next," he says, pulling back but keeping his face close to Hedwig's, "can't we focus on what now?" Danny presses a kiss to Hedwig's lips, mouth closed. The heated intensity of before has been replaced with a deep sense of caring. "Is this OK? Are you gonna stay this time?"

"Reversing the words and saying them in a lower, gravely tone doesn't change the meaning. That's what I asked and your answer was praying." That was even more useless than the hugging.

"I don't... know if staying is the best idea," I admit. Do I want to? Maybe. I'm not sure I can tell right now. It probably won't hit me until I'm on the other side of the door. Either way, whether I want to or not has nothing to do with it being a good idea.

"This is exactly what I was afraid of, things becoming awkward between us. I don't want that," Danny sighs, sitting back and tossing his t-shirt on the bed. "I should've finished praying," he grumbles, like it would have made a difference.

"What would that have solved?!" If anything had been awkward, it was the praying. Seriously, who does that? While naked. "Stop whining. It's not awkward. You're looking for issues that don't exist."

"So then stay," Danny argues, shoulders lifting and arms spreading like he's literally laying out the solution in front of Hedwig. "If it's not awkward, then I, I think you should stay." He lets out a rush of air, struggling to find the right words. "I want you to stay."

"You don't know what you want until I make a decision on something. Then what you want is conveniently the opposite of that." It's selfish and manipulative, even if he isn't consciously aware of what he's doing. If he is aware, it's even worse.

"No more praying."

"Sorry, I'm sorry," Danny is quick to reply, giving Hedwig's upper arms a squeeze and then holding his face for just a second. It doesn't seem to matter what he says, it's the wrong thing. "I'm overthinking everything. Stay but only if you want to. No praying, promise."

He gets up, hands on his waist, wondering if he should keep talking. He thinks better of it and turns to finish picking up their discarded clothes.

"Stop apologizing. It means less every time you do it. And stop overthinking." I would tell him to stop cleaning, but if he stopped for it in the heat of the moment then there's probably nothing that will keep him from it now that the moment has come and gone.

Climbing off the bed, I locate my shorts before tossing the pillow aside. Sliding back into them, I flop back down on the bed in order to do them up. For a quiet moment I just stare at the ceiling, considering what to say next. I don't want to make things worse or 'awkward', since that's clearly something he has strong feelings about. Our threshold for that sort of thing clearly doesn't match up.

"I do want to stay," I eventually remind him. I told him earlier that I didn't leave because I wanted to the last time I was here. I felt like I needed to, mostly for my own sake, and that feeling isn't gone.

Danny folds his jeans over his arm, a smile ghosting his face before he looks back at the bed.

"If you want to sleep in anything softer, there's plenty of clean clothes in the drawers over there," he offers, then chucks a thumb over his shoulder. "D'you fancy some frozen kefir? It's really good. It's like frozen yogurt but with more gut bacteria."

"We can't all fit into a boys' size ten-twelve," I tease. Wearing denim to bed would probably be as comfortable as Danny's miniature clothes when I'm used to sleeping in nothing at all.

"I think I'm allergic." It's a good thing he doesn't write the descriptions on food packaging for a living, because 'with more gut bacteria' isn't the sort of thing that would draw a lot of people in. "Or on a diet. One of the two. You pick."

"It's perfect for people on a diet," Danny calls out on his way to the kitchen. He spends a few moments tidying up the leftovers from dinner and stacks the dishes. He wouldn't usually leave them until the morning but for once he has something better to be doing with his time.

Grabbing a bowl, he dollops out a large portion of the frozen dessert and takes two spoons, just in case Hedwig changes his mind. Danny prefers to eat his plain, but in hoping his friend would come over, he'd swung by the nearest movie theater on the way home and filled a stripey paper bag with an assortment of pick 'n mix.

He climbs back onto the bed, popping the bag in the middle of the mattress and shifting up to the head.

"For you. I don't know exactly what's in there, I just scooped all the colorful candies that looked like they'd give you overnight cavities."

Rolling over onto my stomach, I peer down into the bag and smile. "You spent money candy that isn't going on a gingerbread house?" That's a craft I can get behind. Definitely a much better use of his time than making a miniature of a miniature out of sticks.

"Thank you," I say, pushing myself up and joining him at the head of the bed. I looking over at his sad excuse for a frozen dessert. Freeing him of one of the spoons, I scoop up a small amount and give it a sniff. "I married the last man who plied me with candy." Things might look different down there if Luther had tried his luck with this stuff.

"I nearly had to mortgage this place to get them," Danny gripes but good-naturedly after he catches Hedwig's smile. That said, the candy he uses for his gingerbread constructions are usually far more expensive and more often than not, imported too.

"You're welcome," he mutters, taking a spoonful of the ice cream substitute. It catches in his throat at Hedwig's married comment and he coughs, holding the back of his wrist to his mouth.

"See?! Even your body is rejecting it." I shake what's on the spoon back down into the bowl, using it instead to fish around in the bag of candy. Luckily, sugar clings to the moisture left behind to help mask any residual flavor, a gummy cherry sitting in the center of it. I pop it into my mouth, making a show of slowly pulling it back out again as I look over at him.

The tart and tangy ice cream pains the sides of Danny's jaw but at least the sourness distracts him from the comment. He can't overreact if he can't open his mouth.

Ache slowly fading, he digs in for a second helping, but another distraction is suddenly less than a foot away. Danny can't help but stare at Hedwig, his lips parted to accept a spoonful of ice cream that hasn't made it to his mouth yet. It hovers over his chest, hand stilled, and drips slowly off the spoon.

Chewing at the candy, I glance at his spoon then back at him, brow arched and smirking. "You're dripping," I say, using the spoon to point at the small mess he's making. "And on your way to catching flies."

Danny looks down, grumbling at the picture before him, and sticks his spoon in his mouth to free a hand. He swipes the drops of ice cream off his skin with a thumb and then dilly-dallies about how to clean it off with the spoon in the way.

Danny hates Hedwig's underground job but he hates even more that he's let his own mind wander there recently. It makes him feel like a jerk.

Reaching for his hand, I wrap my fingers around his wrist and draw it towards me. I don't ask permission or offer a warning, just take his thumb into my mouth, tongue circling to lick it clean and pullling it out slowly. That done, I lean over, licking at the spot on his chest where his sad dessert had originally fallen.

Sitting upright again, I reach back into the bag, pulling out a licorice pinwheel this time. "Not bad, I guess. Nothing a little chocolate sauce couldn't improve." Honestly, all I could really taste was the salt on Danny's skin. My last statement still stands though.

"Aw c'mon, what're you tryin' to do to me," Danny mutters, head resting back. He'd barely overcome the thumb job and now there's chest licking? He moves the cold bowl to his lap to cool things down.

Rolling his head to look at Hedwig, he lets his gaze drop for a moment, then reaches for the licorice wheel. He clamps one end between his teeth and unravels the rest, pressing the other end into Hedwig's mouth. Then Danny starts eating.

Lady and the Tramping licorice with Danny is just one more thing to add to the ever growing list of things I hadn't pictured myself doing this evening. And yet.

After eating my way along, inching in closer, I smile against his lips when we meet, biting the candy and kissing him gently. It was a nice move, I have to admit. Does Danny secretly 'have game' as the young people would say? At least, I assume they still say that. I haven't been one of them for a while.

The kiss is almost as sweet as the candy. Combined, it's enough to give Danny a sugar rush. Maybe this can be their 'what's next', he thinks. When they're alone. And while God is busy dealing with Iraq.

He returns the kiss, pulling away a little to swallow the rest of the licorice.

"I'm really glad you found me again," he says, barely above a whisper.

When we first met in Darrow there was no way of knowing that Danny would become my best friend, but he had. I didn't realize how true that was until he was gone. I should have known, I guess. I don't think it's possible to get as angry as I did with someone I didn't care about, whose opinion wasn't important. It would have been easier to shrug it off if I hadn't wanted and expected more from someone I considered my friend; I've been doing it my whole life. Genuine friendship was new though, or at least had to be relearned after Tommy.

"Me too," I reply sincerly. While I won't be forgetting about tonight anytime soon, finding him again and having him remember who I am would have been enough.

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