Man! I Feel Like a Woman!
More girl!Danny
When Danny first meets Harry she thinks it must be some kind of joke. Or there was a mix-up. Something. Because no way in hell is she going to put up with some flashy, pretty-boy, rich-kid. He can’t write, can’t sing, all he does is bang around on his drums. And Danny has as much respect and love for drummers as the next girl - they’re a necessary part of any decent band and she appreciates that, she does - but this is pushing it.
She says as much to Tom when he tells her Harry’s ‘it.’ “He’s an arse,” she adds, “a stuck up, public school twat.”
“Danny,” Tom sighs, but Danny’s not finished.
“He thinks he’s better than everyone because his family’s got money, posh bastard. Grew up swanning around his bloody country estate. Plus, he’s a fucking chauvinist.” That’s right, she said it. Knows what it means, too.
Tom blinks at her. “He doesn’t give a fuck you’re a girl, Dan.”
“I saw the way he looked at me,” she snaps back. “Like I was just there for a fucking decoration. You’d never know I had a face.”
Tom sighs again, and he’s really good at that ‘I am so put-upon’ thing. “Then tell him you’ve got a face, Dan, ‘cause he’s it. He’s our drummer.”
“Fuck that,” Danny says with feeling, but she knows it won’t do any good.
+
Their first official practice as a band, and Danny hasn’t changed her opinion in the slightest. Harry’s still an admittedly good drummer, but he’s also still a fucking wanker.
“Knock it off,” she finally snaps at him, halfway through a break.
“Excuse me?” his words are smooth and precise, and it’s not really a question, but it’s not an apology either. Danny wants to punch him in his stupid swanky mouth.
“Could you look at my face when you’re talking to me?” she asks, fingers clenched tight on her guitar to keep from clicking in front of his stupid aristocratic nose. Tom’s giving her warning looks and Dougie has somehow managed to fade into the background - she barely knows the kid, but it’s already clear he’s going to be good at that.
“What do you mean?” Harry asks, and his eyes are still fixed several inches below hers.
Danny grits her teeth for a minute, trying to find patience, then gives up. “I don’t stare at your cock when I’m talking to you, so don’t stare at my tits.”
“I - what?” his gaze jerks up to her face.
“Better,” she tells him, but she’d still like to smash him a facer. “Ogle my boobs like that again, and I’ll knock you on your pervy arse. Got it?”
Tom groans audibly as Harry blinks rapidly at her, clearly a little stunned. He recovers quickly though, and smirks at her. “Come on, do you really think you could take me?”
Tom makes some kind of strangled noise, but Danny’s ignoring him. She really, really wants to wipe that stupid smug expression off Harry’s face. She stalks closer until the only thing between them is her guitar and about an inch of air, then leans even farther in so they’re practically nose to nose. She’s pleased to note she’s not much more than an inch shorter than he is - she won’t think about how she’s mostly done growing and he’s probably got another couple inches to go. “Don’t push me, Judd,” she hisses, letting her voice drop lower, and feels extremely gratified when he steps back. Even if it is just an automatic response to someone invading his space.
Tom moves in closer, then, pushing between them with an exasperated frown. “Just leave it, you two,” he says, nudging Danny back towards her mic stand and giving Harry a bit of a shove towards the drum kit. “Harry will remember you are a human being, Danny, cleavage and all, and Danny will try not to be offended when Harry cannot contain his innate maleness.”
“I do not have cleavage!” Danny snaps, waving vaguely at her over-sized tee-shirt, right as Harry protests, “I can so contain it!” and they both glare at each other.
“Then contain it,” Tom tells Harry shortly. “And Danny, hard as it is to believe, you are a girl with big boobs no matter what kind of shirts you wear. Get used to it.” He holds up a hand with a warning look when they both open their mouths. “I don’t want to hear it. You’re wasting time, and you’re both being right pains. So shut up unless you have something useful to say about the music.”
Danny shuts her mouth, but turns to scowl once last time at Harry. He returns it, but Tom is already beckoning Dougie back over, and, yeah, they are wasting time. She flicks her fingers over her guitar strings out of habit, making sure they’re still in tune. She can totally wait until after practice to knock some sense into their drummer. Not like he’s going anywhere.
She nods at Tom to let him know she’s ready. He nods back and gestures for Harry to start. As they launch into 5 Colours, Danny feels her lips turn up in a bit of a grin. It’s been a while since she’s been in any kind of real fight, and she kind of misses it. The end of practice should be fun.
When Danny first meets Harry she thinks it must be some kind of joke. Or there was a mix-up. Something. Because no way in hell is she going to put up with some flashy, pretty-boy, rich-kid. He can’t write, can’t sing, all he does is bang around on his drums. And Danny has as much respect and love for drummers as the next girl - they’re a necessary part of any decent band and she appreciates that, she does - but this is pushing it.
She says as much to Tom when he tells her Harry’s ‘it.’ “He’s an arse,” she adds, “a stuck up, public school twat.”
“Danny,” Tom sighs, but Danny’s not finished.
“He thinks he’s better than everyone because his family’s got money, posh bastard. Grew up swanning around his bloody country estate. Plus, he’s a fucking chauvinist.” That’s right, she said it. Knows what it means, too.
Tom blinks at her. “He doesn’t give a fuck you’re a girl, Dan.”
“I saw the way he looked at me,” she snaps back. “Like I was just there for a fucking decoration. You’d never know I had a face.”
Tom sighs again, and he’s really good at that ‘I am so put-upon’ thing. “Then tell him you’ve got a face, Dan, ‘cause he’s it. He’s our drummer.”
“Fuck that,” Danny says with feeling, but she knows it won’t do any good.
+
Their first official practice as a band, and Danny hasn’t changed her opinion in the slightest. Harry’s still an admittedly good drummer, but he’s also still a fucking wanker.
“Knock it off,” she finally snaps at him, halfway through a break.
“Excuse me?” his words are smooth and precise, and it’s not really a question, but it’s not an apology either. Danny wants to punch him in his stupid swanky mouth.
“Could you look at my face when you’re talking to me?” she asks, fingers clenched tight on her guitar to keep from clicking in front of his stupid aristocratic nose. Tom’s giving her warning looks and Dougie has somehow managed to fade into the background - she barely knows the kid, but it’s already clear he’s going to be good at that.
“What do you mean?” Harry asks, and his eyes are still fixed several inches below hers.
Danny grits her teeth for a minute, trying to find patience, then gives up. “I don’t stare at your cock when I’m talking to you, so don’t stare at my tits.”
“I - what?” his gaze jerks up to her face.
“Better,” she tells him, but she’d still like to smash him a facer. “Ogle my boobs like that again, and I’ll knock you on your pervy arse. Got it?”
Tom groans audibly as Harry blinks rapidly at her, clearly a little stunned. He recovers quickly though, and smirks at her. “Come on, do you really think you could take me?”
Tom makes some kind of strangled noise, but Danny’s ignoring him. She really, really wants to wipe that stupid smug expression off Harry’s face. She stalks closer until the only thing between them is her guitar and about an inch of air, then leans even farther in so they’re practically nose to nose. She’s pleased to note she’s not much more than an inch shorter than he is - she won’t think about how she’s mostly done growing and he’s probably got another couple inches to go. “Don’t push me, Judd,” she hisses, letting her voice drop lower, and feels extremely gratified when he steps back. Even if it is just an automatic response to someone invading his space.
Tom moves in closer, then, pushing between them with an exasperated frown. “Just leave it, you two,” he says, nudging Danny back towards her mic stand and giving Harry a bit of a shove towards the drum kit. “Harry will remember you are a human being, Danny, cleavage and all, and Danny will try not to be offended when Harry cannot contain his innate maleness.”
“I do not have cleavage!” Danny snaps, waving vaguely at her over-sized tee-shirt, right as Harry protests, “I can so contain it!” and they both glare at each other.
“Then contain it,” Tom tells Harry shortly. “And Danny, hard as it is to believe, you are a girl with big boobs no matter what kind of shirts you wear. Get used to it.” He holds up a hand with a warning look when they both open their mouths. “I don’t want to hear it. You’re wasting time, and you’re both being right pains. So shut up unless you have something useful to say about the music.”
Danny shuts her mouth, but turns to scowl once last time at Harry. He returns it, but Tom is already beckoning Dougie back over, and, yeah, they are wasting time. She flicks her fingers over her guitar strings out of habit, making sure they’re still in tune. She can totally wait until after practice to knock some sense into their drummer. Not like he’s going anywhere.
She nods at Tom to let him know she’s ready. He nods back and gestures for Harry to start. As they launch into 5 Colours, Danny feels her lips turn up in a bit of a grin. It’s been a while since she’s been in any kind of real fight, and she kind of misses it. The end of practice should be fun.