Nathan Barley fic: Memoria (3/3)
Title: Memoria (3/3)
Pairing: Dan/Jonatton, implied Dan/Jones
Summary: He’d come here to try and work things out, but it still wasn’t good enough and that thought made him angry, because damn it, he was trying. Continues a few hours after the last part left off. Dan tries to make amends.
Word Count: 1,834
Rating: PG
Warnings: None for this part, really
Disclaimer: They're not mine, blah blah. I wish they were, yadda yadda.
Author’s Notes: This is the final part, kids! Thanks for reading :D If you want to catch up, here’s part one and part two.
“Sorry, were you asleep?” It should’ve probably occurred to Dan before now that showing up on Jonatton’s doorstep at two in the morning might not exactly be welcome. He’d got so used to Jones’s schedule that he’d forgotten normal people weren’t eating a pot noodle at 2 am and blasting techno, like Jones had been doing when he’d left.
“I just didn’t want to leave things like we did,” Dan added, holding up the bottle of whisky he’d brought along, like an olive branch. “We should talk.”
“What if I don’t have anything to say?” Jonatton asked, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms. He’d clearly meant to look intimidating, or at the very least angry, but the effect was dimmed somewhat by his sleep tousled hair and sweatpants. He was wearing a faded Nirvana concert tee from years ago, and Dan could still remember the concert he’d got it at, they’d both got one, though Dan had no idea where his was now. It struck him then that he was probably the only person in the world to ever see Jonatton like this-casual, rumpled, normal.
“You’ve always got something to say,” Dan pointed out. “Even if it’s just giving me a bollocking.” Which he deserved, really. There were always so many things he wanted to say to Jonatton; he didn’t know why he couldn’t make himself actually get the words out.
Jonatton just smiled slightly at that and turned to walk back into his flat. It was as much of an invitation to come in as Dan was ever going to get. Dan shut the door behind him and followed Jonatton to the living room, taking a seat next to him on the sofa.
“So?” Jonatton asked, taking the bottle from Dan and opening it. He was clearly expecting more from Dan than just booze and fumbled apologies that really weren’t.
Dan searched for something else to say, watching Jonatton take a drink from the bottle, before giving it back to him. He took a rather large gulp of it himself and the phrase liquid courage came to mind. “I don’t know why things have always been like this,” he started. “But we’ve done okay for ourselves. I’ve known you longer than anyone.”
He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, “I’m not good with this shit. You know I’m not.” And Jonatton wasn’t saying anything at all. Normally he would’ve taken pity on Dan by now and rescued him by changing the subject. “Just…ask me something, I guess, and I’ll answer truthfully.”
Jonatton gave a bitter laugh at that. “That’s it? You’ve had hours to think this over, and your grand gesture is a game of truth or dare without any of the fun parts?” He reached for the whisky again.
Dan said nothing. He’d thought his grand gesture was coming here at all. He could’ve just left things as they were and pretended nothing at all had happened the next time he saw Jonatton, but he’d chosen not to. He’d came here to try and work things out, but it still wasn’t good enough and that thought made him angry, because damn it, he was trying.
“I’ve never been good enough,” he replied bitterly. “How’s that for the truth? You’ve never viewed me as good enough for you.”
Jonatton rolled his eyes, fingers drumming against the side of the bottle. “You’d rather just hate me, wouldn’t you?” he asked, no emotion showing through in his voice at all. “Do you want me to make it easy for you? I read your novel, you know. Years ago, right after you’d first written it. It was good; you could’ve got it published.”
Dan’s jaw flexed slightly in anger, though he said nothing. What was Jonatton trying to get out of this? They were never on the same page anymore. For once, he was willing to be honest, and now all Jonatton wanted to do was fight. It’d be so, so easy to fight back. “I could’ve,” he agreed. “But I didn’t.” It didn’t matter anymore, did it? Dan hadn’t written anything but stupid little magazine articles in a long time.
“I thought you’d leave me,” Jonatton admitted, and Dan realised he wasn’t just trying to fight after all, that this just wasn’t easy for him to say either. “If you were successful in your own right…” he trailed off, and forced a laugh, “This is shit. Why did I feel like we ought to be honest with each other again?”
“Because you like making both of us miserable,” Dan replied, though there was an understanding smile on his lips. “I wouldn’t have left, you prinkle. I can’t even leave you now.” Not properly, at least. Not even when something better for him came along, because maybe he really didn’t want anything better after all. Or maybe he wanted both. Truthfully, Dan didn’t know what he wanted. Had he ever?
Jonatton picked up the bottle again, taking another drink. “Probably,” he agreed. “We’re just as pathetic as each other. Cheers, Danbo.” He reached into Dan’s pocket for cigarettes and Dan pulled out his lighter as well, lighting one for him. It was always a little odd to see Jonatton smoke. Dan didn’t think he could ever remember Jonatton buying a pack of fags for himself; he only ever seemed to smoke when Dan did, as if he couldn’t stand Dan having something he didn’t.
“C’mere,” Dan pulled Jonatton into his arms, turning so his back rested against the arm of the sofa and Jonatton could easily slot into place, his back against Dan’s chest, as Dan draped his arms loosely over Jonatton’s waist. “I’m not stupid. I know what you want to hear from me.” The words were spoken softly against Jonatton’s ear, and they sounded almost like resignation.
All those years, everything between them; part of him always figured Jonatton would get him to say it eventually. It’d been on the tip of his tongue so many times, but what did it really change? He took the cigarette from Jonatton’s fingers and took a puff of it, turning his head to blow the smoke away from them, before handing it back.
“And do you?” Jonatton prompted, sitting up for a moment to tap the cigarette against an ashtray on his end table-something he’d always kept in his flat for Dan, so the other man wouldn’t start burning holes in all his furniture.
As Jonatton settled back against him again, Dan sighed and felt stupidly apprehensive. “I do,” he admitted. The world didn’t end at the vague agreement, so he paused and decided to try the real words out. “I love you.”
Jonatton didn’t say anything for a moment; just letting those words hang there in the air as he quietly finished his cigarette and then put it out. He rested his hands over Dan’s, intertwining their fingers. “Me too.”
Dan huffed out a laugh, “You twat. That’s all I get?” He’d always known how Jonatton felt, though. There’d never really been any question. It’d been there right from the beginning; from that New Years when Dan drunkenly kissed him and Jonatton started looking at him like Dan was his whole world. That sparkle in his eye had dimmed over the years, but it’d never gone away; not really.
“Oh Daniel, I love you too. Now we can run away together,” Jonatton replied in a mocking falsetto, turning his head to look at him and batting his eyelashes theatrically. After a moment, he dropped his head down to Dan’s shoulder again and let his eyes slip shut. When he spoke again, his voice was soft, honest, “I do love you.”
Dan’s arms tightened slightly around Jonatton, feeling a bit like he’d been broken open and unsure how to put himself back together again. “I’m not leaving Jones.”
“Didn’t think you would,” Jonatton replied, not bothering to open his eyes again. He sounded tired and only the very slightest bit tipsy.
Jonatton didn’t even sound upset by that. Was he really just content with hearing those words, even if neither of them did anything about them? “You make me crazy,” Dan grumbled. Jones wanted him, but didn’t particularly need him. Jonatton needed him, though they could barely be around each other half the time.
“It’s mutual,” Jonatton assured him, lifting his head to blink at Dan for a moment, before sitting up and pulling away from him. “Go home. I’m going back to bed.”
Dan sat up as well, realising he was still holding Jonatton’s hand. He gave it a squeeze, before pulling back. “You don’t want me to stay?”
Jonatton paused, seeming to think over the question, before shaking his head. “Not this time, no. I’ve got things to do tomorrow. I’ve got an interview with an appalling little gnat named Nathan Barley. You know, of trashback.co.uk fame? I think I’m going to make him in charge of Sugar Ape’s website.”
He looked thoughtful for a moment, and then added, “Might give him a column, too. Stupid people find him cool.”
“And smart people?” Dan asked, not sure he even wanted to know the answer. He knew vaguely of that Barley twat from hearing his name around the office and one time when Ned had cornered him into watching some collection of pranks off trashbat that were not only painfully unfunny, but seemed on the verge of actual harassment.
Jonatton looked smug, “Smart people,” he replied, “love to hate him. They’ll still read what he writes, though, just so they’ll have more things to hate.”
Dan shook his head; Jonatton was already back to being himself. Back to that fake little self he put on for attention that was every bit as real anymore as the person he’d been moments ago in Dan’s arms. “Well, I admire your dedication to hiring the absolute worst people you can find. You’d better make him work from home. I’m not looking at his smug little rat face every time I come into the office.”
That got a laugh from Jonatton. “I’ll put his desk right next to yours,” he teased. “I hear he’s a big fan of your column.”
“He should be,” Dan remarked dryly. “It’s dedicated to hating people like him.” He stood up, deciding to let Jonatton get some sleep. He needed a chance to get away and work the events of this evening through in his own mind anyway.
Jonatton walked him to the door, and Dan said his goodbyes, realising they’d never even discussed Jonatton’s father. Wasn’t that what he’d wanted to talk about in the beginning? Wasn’t that why he’d got so angry before?
Maybe it hadn’t been, though. Maybe Jonatton had just wanted to know he wasn’t completely alone now.
He got his answer in the form of a text from Jonatton, when he was walking home: Am I still invited for Christmas?
Dan didn’t even have to think before replying: Of course. You’re family.
End.
Pairing: Dan/Jonatton, implied Dan/Jones
Summary: He’d come here to try and work things out, but it still wasn’t good enough and that thought made him angry, because damn it, he was trying. Continues a few hours after the last part left off. Dan tries to make amends.
Word Count: 1,834
Rating: PG
Warnings: None for this part, really
Disclaimer: They're not mine, blah blah. I wish they were, yadda yadda.
Author’s Notes: This is the final part, kids! Thanks for reading :D If you want to catch up, here’s part one and part two.
“Sorry, were you asleep?” It should’ve probably occurred to Dan before now that showing up on Jonatton’s doorstep at two in the morning might not exactly be welcome. He’d got so used to Jones’s schedule that he’d forgotten normal people weren’t eating a pot noodle at 2 am and blasting techno, like Jones had been doing when he’d left.
“I just didn’t want to leave things like we did,” Dan added, holding up the bottle of whisky he’d brought along, like an olive branch. “We should talk.”
“What if I don’t have anything to say?” Jonatton asked, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms. He’d clearly meant to look intimidating, or at the very least angry, but the effect was dimmed somewhat by his sleep tousled hair and sweatpants. He was wearing a faded Nirvana concert tee from years ago, and Dan could still remember the concert he’d got it at, they’d both got one, though Dan had no idea where his was now. It struck him then that he was probably the only person in the world to ever see Jonatton like this-casual, rumpled, normal.
“You’ve always got something to say,” Dan pointed out. “Even if it’s just giving me a bollocking.” Which he deserved, really. There were always so many things he wanted to say to Jonatton; he didn’t know why he couldn’t make himself actually get the words out.
Jonatton just smiled slightly at that and turned to walk back into his flat. It was as much of an invitation to come in as Dan was ever going to get. Dan shut the door behind him and followed Jonatton to the living room, taking a seat next to him on the sofa.
“So?” Jonatton asked, taking the bottle from Dan and opening it. He was clearly expecting more from Dan than just booze and fumbled apologies that really weren’t.
Dan searched for something else to say, watching Jonatton take a drink from the bottle, before giving it back to him. He took a rather large gulp of it himself and the phrase liquid courage came to mind. “I don’t know why things have always been like this,” he started. “But we’ve done okay for ourselves. I’ve known you longer than anyone.”
He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, “I’m not good with this shit. You know I’m not.” And Jonatton wasn’t saying anything at all. Normally he would’ve taken pity on Dan by now and rescued him by changing the subject. “Just…ask me something, I guess, and I’ll answer truthfully.”
Jonatton gave a bitter laugh at that. “That’s it? You’ve had hours to think this over, and your grand gesture is a game of truth or dare without any of the fun parts?” He reached for the whisky again.
Dan said nothing. He’d thought his grand gesture was coming here at all. He could’ve just left things as they were and pretended nothing at all had happened the next time he saw Jonatton, but he’d chosen not to. He’d came here to try and work things out, but it still wasn’t good enough and that thought made him angry, because damn it, he was trying.
“I’ve never been good enough,” he replied bitterly. “How’s that for the truth? You’ve never viewed me as good enough for you.”
Jonatton rolled his eyes, fingers drumming against the side of the bottle. “You’d rather just hate me, wouldn’t you?” he asked, no emotion showing through in his voice at all. “Do you want me to make it easy for you? I read your novel, you know. Years ago, right after you’d first written it. It was good; you could’ve got it published.”
Dan’s jaw flexed slightly in anger, though he said nothing. What was Jonatton trying to get out of this? They were never on the same page anymore. For once, he was willing to be honest, and now all Jonatton wanted to do was fight. It’d be so, so easy to fight back. “I could’ve,” he agreed. “But I didn’t.” It didn’t matter anymore, did it? Dan hadn’t written anything but stupid little magazine articles in a long time.
“I thought you’d leave me,” Jonatton admitted, and Dan realised he wasn’t just trying to fight after all, that this just wasn’t easy for him to say either. “If you were successful in your own right…” he trailed off, and forced a laugh, “This is shit. Why did I feel like we ought to be honest with each other again?”
“Because you like making both of us miserable,” Dan replied, though there was an understanding smile on his lips. “I wouldn’t have left, you prinkle. I can’t even leave you now.” Not properly, at least. Not even when something better for him came along, because maybe he really didn’t want anything better after all. Or maybe he wanted both. Truthfully, Dan didn’t know what he wanted. Had he ever?
Jonatton picked up the bottle again, taking another drink. “Probably,” he agreed. “We’re just as pathetic as each other. Cheers, Danbo.” He reached into Dan’s pocket for cigarettes and Dan pulled out his lighter as well, lighting one for him. It was always a little odd to see Jonatton smoke. Dan didn’t think he could ever remember Jonatton buying a pack of fags for himself; he only ever seemed to smoke when Dan did, as if he couldn’t stand Dan having something he didn’t.
“C’mere,” Dan pulled Jonatton into his arms, turning so his back rested against the arm of the sofa and Jonatton could easily slot into place, his back against Dan’s chest, as Dan draped his arms loosely over Jonatton’s waist. “I’m not stupid. I know what you want to hear from me.” The words were spoken softly against Jonatton’s ear, and they sounded almost like resignation.
All those years, everything between them; part of him always figured Jonatton would get him to say it eventually. It’d been on the tip of his tongue so many times, but what did it really change? He took the cigarette from Jonatton’s fingers and took a puff of it, turning his head to blow the smoke away from them, before handing it back.
“And do you?” Jonatton prompted, sitting up for a moment to tap the cigarette against an ashtray on his end table-something he’d always kept in his flat for Dan, so the other man wouldn’t start burning holes in all his furniture.
As Jonatton settled back against him again, Dan sighed and felt stupidly apprehensive. “I do,” he admitted. The world didn’t end at the vague agreement, so he paused and decided to try the real words out. “I love you.”
Jonatton didn’t say anything for a moment; just letting those words hang there in the air as he quietly finished his cigarette and then put it out. He rested his hands over Dan’s, intertwining their fingers. “Me too.”
Dan huffed out a laugh, “You twat. That’s all I get?” He’d always known how Jonatton felt, though. There’d never really been any question. It’d been there right from the beginning; from that New Years when Dan drunkenly kissed him and Jonatton started looking at him like Dan was his whole world. That sparkle in his eye had dimmed over the years, but it’d never gone away; not really.
“Oh Daniel, I love you too. Now we can run away together,” Jonatton replied in a mocking falsetto, turning his head to look at him and batting his eyelashes theatrically. After a moment, he dropped his head down to Dan’s shoulder again and let his eyes slip shut. When he spoke again, his voice was soft, honest, “I do love you.”
Dan’s arms tightened slightly around Jonatton, feeling a bit like he’d been broken open and unsure how to put himself back together again. “I’m not leaving Jones.”
“Didn’t think you would,” Jonatton replied, not bothering to open his eyes again. He sounded tired and only the very slightest bit tipsy.
Jonatton didn’t even sound upset by that. Was he really just content with hearing those words, even if neither of them did anything about them? “You make me crazy,” Dan grumbled. Jones wanted him, but didn’t particularly need him. Jonatton needed him, though they could barely be around each other half the time.
“It’s mutual,” Jonatton assured him, lifting his head to blink at Dan for a moment, before sitting up and pulling away from him. “Go home. I’m going back to bed.”
Dan sat up as well, realising he was still holding Jonatton’s hand. He gave it a squeeze, before pulling back. “You don’t want me to stay?”
Jonatton paused, seeming to think over the question, before shaking his head. “Not this time, no. I’ve got things to do tomorrow. I’ve got an interview with an appalling little gnat named Nathan Barley. You know, of trashback.co.uk fame? I think I’m going to make him in charge of Sugar Ape’s website.”
He looked thoughtful for a moment, and then added, “Might give him a column, too. Stupid people find him cool.”
“And smart people?” Dan asked, not sure he even wanted to know the answer. He knew vaguely of that Barley twat from hearing his name around the office and one time when Ned had cornered him into watching some collection of pranks off trashbat that were not only painfully unfunny, but seemed on the verge of actual harassment.
Jonatton looked smug, “Smart people,” he replied, “love to hate him. They’ll still read what he writes, though, just so they’ll have more things to hate.”
Dan shook his head; Jonatton was already back to being himself. Back to that fake little self he put on for attention that was every bit as real anymore as the person he’d been moments ago in Dan’s arms. “Well, I admire your dedication to hiring the absolute worst people you can find. You’d better make him work from home. I’m not looking at his smug little rat face every time I come into the office.”
That got a laugh from Jonatton. “I’ll put his desk right next to yours,” he teased. “I hear he’s a big fan of your column.”
“He should be,” Dan remarked dryly. “It’s dedicated to hating people like him.” He stood up, deciding to let Jonatton get some sleep. He needed a chance to get away and work the events of this evening through in his own mind anyway.
Jonatton walked him to the door, and Dan said his goodbyes, realising they’d never even discussed Jonatton’s father. Wasn’t that what he’d wanted to talk about in the beginning? Wasn’t that why he’d got so angry before?
Maybe it hadn’t been, though. Maybe Jonatton had just wanted to know he wasn’t completely alone now.
He got his answer in the form of a text from Jonatton, when he was walking home: Am I still invited for Christmas?
Dan didn’t even have to think before replying: Of course. You’re family.
End.