beautifulandnew | (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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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.