excerpt
I'm not done with this. It's really rough and isn't finished and needs a good grooming, but I want to include it in my word count for the year, so I'm posting what I have so far.
It takes place in the AU where Danny's a reporter and Alan consults for the network and has a baby daughter. The Reporter AU, as I call it. Anyway, this is Danny being a moody, fickle ass, which he is for the first three or so years of this AU.
***
It's been almost two months and Alan still isn't exactly sure what he and Danny are doing. No, that's not exactly right. No one can say he doesn't know his way around the bedroom, and his professional life is thriving, and Danny is a huge part of both of those things. But that's part of the problem--there's Daniel Stevens, intrepid reporter and Danny, who buys his daughter presents and tells him he's amazing in the quiet hours of the morning, whispering it into his hair as they drift off into sleep. There's another Danny, too, and this one Alan hasn't quite but his finger on. The third Danny is distant and aloof. He's brusque and disappears for days at a time, leaving Alan uneven and unsure when he shows up, not quite able to figure out what he's supposed to be doing.
Not that he's ever sure what they're supposed to be doing. They're not really dating in that they don't ever go on real dates, but what they have seems to be more than that at the same time. Danny dotes on his daughter, tells her how much he loves her, showers them both with affection. They go home together more often than not, and spend their downtime during the day in Danny's office. But they don't go out, and Alan understands that, but when people ask him if he's seeing someone, he's still not sure what to say. If there's a protocol to what they're doing, he's never learned it, especially when Danny gets into these moods, when Danny number three comes out of the woodwork and Alan thinks it would be easier to rid himself of Danny Stevens all together.
(He knows he's fooling himself thinking that. He's known Danny for nearly seven months now and they've spent the past two being whatever they are, and even now he knows that Danny is more than just some guy he's seeing on the side, that Danny is different and that getting rid of Danny would be easier said than done.)
Alan hasn't actually seen Danny since his return from California, but he already knows that it's Danny number three who's holed up in the apartment on the upper east side. He knows because Danny changed his flight without telling Alan, took a cab from the airport instead of calling for a ride, sent him only a terse e-mail saying he was home early and wanted to cancel dinner plans for the night. He can tell that this is the Danny he's still a little scared of, but he finds himself in a cab uptown and then smiling thankfully at Russ, Danny's doorman, when he lets him into the building and tells him Danny's been home a few hours.
Alan has a key to Danny's apartment, and despite his fear, he doesn't hesitate to use it. He doesn't know what he'll find inside, but he doesn't think that Danny will yell at him and his concern outweighs his reservations. He wants Danny in one piece, and more than that, he wants to be overthinking this. He wants to step inside to find Danny passed out on the couch from jet lag, or curled up in bed trying to catch up on work, happy to see Alan, happy to be home. To be honest, he's not sure he's up to dealing with Danny tonight. He's tired, he's stressed out, and he's spent the last five days sleeping alone. The baby's been acting out, he had a fight with Cynthia, a segment he was really proud of was bumped from the show three days in a row, and he's reaching the end of his rope. He was looking forward to spending a night with Danny, and he's not sure he wants to spend the night taking care of him.
He makes as much noise opening the door as he can, but Danny still doesn't look over at him when he enters the apartment. The place is a mess, despite the fact that Danny's been gone for almost a week. Danny's in jeans and a torn white undershirt, sitting in front of his open laptop. There are open Chinese food cartons on the table and Danny's bags are in the middle of the floor, his coat hanging off the edge of the couch.
Alan swallows past the lump in his throat and crosses his arms, leaning against the wall and waiting for Danny to acknowledge him.
"Hey, Doc," Danny says, though he doesn't move.
"Hi," Alan says, wincing at how quiet he sounds, how lost. He needs to be stronger than that, even if he feels like he's too tired to go through another round of endless questions and one word answers with Danny.
"Where's the baby?"
"At my dad's," Alan says, sounding more like his normal self. "We were supposed to go out to dinner tonight."
"I sent you an e-mail," Danny says, like that makes up for... for this. It makes something hot and angry flash through Alan, and suddenly it's not so hard to keep from sounding sad and lost.
"I noticed. How thoughtful of you," he says. "I also noticed you got back early."
"Caught an earlier flight," Danny says. He's still looking at the computer screen, though his fingers aren't even resting on the keyboard anymore.
"Did you have a good time in California?" Alan asks.
Danny doesn't say anything, but he does laugh, if Alan can call it that. It's a sharp, almost painful noise. There's derision in it, though Alan doesn't think it's directed at him, and desperation. Alan was sure it was a routine meeting, a few days of planning for a big special on American poverty that Danny was doing with Stuart Walton and Alice Rose. He wonders now if that was a front. He wonders if Danny still has a job. He wonders what possibly could have happened at this meeting that he wouldn't have heard about from someone in the office by now.
"What's wrong?" he asks, before he can think better of it, and Danny makes that noise again, that sad, desperate, out of control laugh, and covers his face his his hands.
"Have I ever told you about my family?" Danny asks. He looks at Alan, finally, and Alan can see the deep purple circles under his eyes, the way the side of his mouth is drooping downwards, the stubble on his cheeks.
"No," Alan says quietly. "I mean, not in detail. Just that... that you don't get along and that you haven't spoken to them in years. Nothing specific."
"Good," Danny says. "The less breath wasted on them the better. They live out in LA. Did I ever tell you that?" Alan shakes his head and wraps his hand around his bicep to keep from reaching out and smoothing Danny's unruly hair away from his face. "I hate California, Alan. I fucking hate it. I hate everything about it, everything that it is. I hate everything that it reminds me that I am."
"And what is it that California thinks you are?" Alan asks. He's regained some of his composure, at least. He still feels like he's going to be sick, but he sounds more level headed, calm and just slightly irritated. Normal.
"A joke," Danny says, and lets out a long breath. He doesn't elaborate. Instead, he turns back to his computer. "I can't write for shit," he says, scrubbing his face with his hands. "And that's never more apparent than when I have a good idea."
Alan hugs himself more tightly and debates whether or not he should approach Danny. He wants to touch him, to cup the nape of his neck and rub his shoulders and kiss his forehead, but he doesn't think that's what Danny needs right now. He doesn't know if it will help or just make things worse. He doesn't know if he wants it because he thinks it will help Danny or because he knows it will help himself. The muscles in his shoulders tense further as he tries to puzzle out a response.
"I think you're a great writer," he says. "I mean, I only know what you write for the show and the magazine, but you're better than a lot of people, myself included."
Danny snorts and leans back on two legs in his chair, just about as far he can go without toppling over. "That's nothing," he says. "That's peanuts. That's not real. I'm not real. I'm just this non-threatening, attractive facade. You're just asking for trouble by getting involved with me, Doc."
"I don't think that's true," Alan says. He crosses the room tentatively, tiny steps across the hardwood floor, heading for the sofa. He sits on the arm, his own still tightly crossed, guarding his chest from what might come next, for the inevitable You're too weird or You're too plain or You're too complicated. He's been dumped before. He doesn't think that's what this is, but it wouldn't surprise him. He knows Danny's on an entirely different playing field, that incredibly attractive, quasi-famous guys don't pick up science nerds with baby daughters, even though Danny's felt more like family to him in the seven months they've known each other than some people have felt like over the course of entire relationships.
But he can't jump the gun. Not yet, even though his stomach is churning. He says, "You're amazing, Danny. You're more than a facade. You feel these things and you care about them. You may have been hired on as their inoffensive, pretty face, but you're more than that. I know it."
"I'm really not," Danny insists. He's looking at Alan again, but, though he still looks exhausted, the emotion is gone. His features are carefully schooled to blankness. "I'm not because I'm a coward. Because I'm afraid to step out of what they want me to be. You should be with someone else, Alan. Someone who's not afraid of what people think and can be a parent to your child. Someone who can devote themselves to your family. You deserve someone who'll go to Back to School Night with you and won't hop all over the globe for weeks at a time. You deserve better than me."
Another lump is forming in Alan's throat, but this one is for another reason entirely. "Well," he finally manages to say, going for glib and knowing he'll never make it, "Keerthi's only thirteen months, so Back to School Night is a while off yet."
"You know what I mean," Danny says flatly. "You need someone who will be seen with you in public."
"I think..." Alan takes a deep breath. He's been thinking about this frequently, wondering when would be a good time to bring it up. It's not his place, and when he started this with Danny, he made it clear that he didn't care for the time being, but... "Danny... why not just be yourself? Come out. How bad can it be? What can they do to you once it's done? Why don't you just do it if it's what you want?"
Danny closes his eyes and sighs, a ghost of a sad smile spreading across his face. He seems, in that instant, a million miles away.
"You're very young, Alan."
Alan's angry again, something bright and hot behind his eyes. He's not young, not that young, he's accomplished and qualified and he has a child, for christ's sake, and no idea where Danny gets off acting like he knows everything, like he knows Alan, just because he's less than a decade older than Alan is and has known him for less than a year. He wants to snap dozens of things back at Danny, wants to defend himself or seethe or just say, "Fuck you" and go back home, but something in Danny's face keeps him quiet, though he's sure his hurt can be read plain as day on his face.
It takes place in the AU where Danny's a reporter and Alan consults for the network and has a baby daughter. The Reporter AU, as I call it. Anyway, this is Danny being a moody, fickle ass, which he is for the first three or so years of this AU.
***
It's been almost two months and Alan still isn't exactly sure what he and Danny are doing. No, that's not exactly right. No one can say he doesn't know his way around the bedroom, and his professional life is thriving, and Danny is a huge part of both of those things. But that's part of the problem--there's Daniel Stevens, intrepid reporter and Danny, who buys his daughter presents and tells him he's amazing in the quiet hours of the morning, whispering it into his hair as they drift off into sleep. There's another Danny, too, and this one Alan hasn't quite but his finger on. The third Danny is distant and aloof. He's brusque and disappears for days at a time, leaving Alan uneven and unsure when he shows up, not quite able to figure out what he's supposed to be doing.
Not that he's ever sure what they're supposed to be doing. They're not really dating in that they don't ever go on real dates, but what they have seems to be more than that at the same time. Danny dotes on his daughter, tells her how much he loves her, showers them both with affection. They go home together more often than not, and spend their downtime during the day in Danny's office. But they don't go out, and Alan understands that, but when people ask him if he's seeing someone, he's still not sure what to say. If there's a protocol to what they're doing, he's never learned it, especially when Danny gets into these moods, when Danny number three comes out of the woodwork and Alan thinks it would be easier to rid himself of Danny Stevens all together.
(He knows he's fooling himself thinking that. He's known Danny for nearly seven months now and they've spent the past two being whatever they are, and even now he knows that Danny is more than just some guy he's seeing on the side, that Danny is different and that getting rid of Danny would be easier said than done.)
Alan hasn't actually seen Danny since his return from California, but he already knows that it's Danny number three who's holed up in the apartment on the upper east side. He knows because Danny changed his flight without telling Alan, took a cab from the airport instead of calling for a ride, sent him only a terse e-mail saying he was home early and wanted to cancel dinner plans for the night. He can tell that this is the Danny he's still a little scared of, but he finds himself in a cab uptown and then smiling thankfully at Russ, Danny's doorman, when he lets him into the building and tells him Danny's been home a few hours.
Alan has a key to Danny's apartment, and despite his fear, he doesn't hesitate to use it. He doesn't know what he'll find inside, but he doesn't think that Danny will yell at him and his concern outweighs his reservations. He wants Danny in one piece, and more than that, he wants to be overthinking this. He wants to step inside to find Danny passed out on the couch from jet lag, or curled up in bed trying to catch up on work, happy to see Alan, happy to be home. To be honest, he's not sure he's up to dealing with Danny tonight. He's tired, he's stressed out, and he's spent the last five days sleeping alone. The baby's been acting out, he had a fight with Cynthia, a segment he was really proud of was bumped from the show three days in a row, and he's reaching the end of his rope. He was looking forward to spending a night with Danny, and he's not sure he wants to spend the night taking care of him.
He makes as much noise opening the door as he can, but Danny still doesn't look over at him when he enters the apartment. The place is a mess, despite the fact that Danny's been gone for almost a week. Danny's in jeans and a torn white undershirt, sitting in front of his open laptop. There are open Chinese food cartons on the table and Danny's bags are in the middle of the floor, his coat hanging off the edge of the couch.
Alan swallows past the lump in his throat and crosses his arms, leaning against the wall and waiting for Danny to acknowledge him.
"Hey, Doc," Danny says, though he doesn't move.
"Hi," Alan says, wincing at how quiet he sounds, how lost. He needs to be stronger than that, even if he feels like he's too tired to go through another round of endless questions and one word answers with Danny.
"Where's the baby?"
"At my dad's," Alan says, sounding more like his normal self. "We were supposed to go out to dinner tonight."
"I sent you an e-mail," Danny says, like that makes up for... for this. It makes something hot and angry flash through Alan, and suddenly it's not so hard to keep from sounding sad and lost.
"I noticed. How thoughtful of you," he says. "I also noticed you got back early."
"Caught an earlier flight," Danny says. He's still looking at the computer screen, though his fingers aren't even resting on the keyboard anymore.
"Did you have a good time in California?" Alan asks.
Danny doesn't say anything, but he does laugh, if Alan can call it that. It's a sharp, almost painful noise. There's derision in it, though Alan doesn't think it's directed at him, and desperation. Alan was sure it was a routine meeting, a few days of planning for a big special on American poverty that Danny was doing with Stuart Walton and Alice Rose. He wonders now if that was a front. He wonders if Danny still has a job. He wonders what possibly could have happened at this meeting that he wouldn't have heard about from someone in the office by now.
"What's wrong?" he asks, before he can think better of it, and Danny makes that noise again, that sad, desperate, out of control laugh, and covers his face his his hands.
"Have I ever told you about my family?" Danny asks. He looks at Alan, finally, and Alan can see the deep purple circles under his eyes, the way the side of his mouth is drooping downwards, the stubble on his cheeks.
"No," Alan says quietly. "I mean, not in detail. Just that... that you don't get along and that you haven't spoken to them in years. Nothing specific."
"Good," Danny says. "The less breath wasted on them the better. They live out in LA. Did I ever tell you that?" Alan shakes his head and wraps his hand around his bicep to keep from reaching out and smoothing Danny's unruly hair away from his face. "I hate California, Alan. I fucking hate it. I hate everything about it, everything that it is. I hate everything that it reminds me that I am."
"And what is it that California thinks you are?" Alan asks. He's regained some of his composure, at least. He still feels like he's going to be sick, but he sounds more level headed, calm and just slightly irritated. Normal.
"A joke," Danny says, and lets out a long breath. He doesn't elaborate. Instead, he turns back to his computer. "I can't write for shit," he says, scrubbing his face with his hands. "And that's never more apparent than when I have a good idea."
Alan hugs himself more tightly and debates whether or not he should approach Danny. He wants to touch him, to cup the nape of his neck and rub his shoulders and kiss his forehead, but he doesn't think that's what Danny needs right now. He doesn't know if it will help or just make things worse. He doesn't know if he wants it because he thinks it will help Danny or because he knows it will help himself. The muscles in his shoulders tense further as he tries to puzzle out a response.
"I think you're a great writer," he says. "I mean, I only know what you write for the show and the magazine, but you're better than a lot of people, myself included."
Danny snorts and leans back on two legs in his chair, just about as far he can go without toppling over. "That's nothing," he says. "That's peanuts. That's not real. I'm not real. I'm just this non-threatening, attractive facade. You're just asking for trouble by getting involved with me, Doc."
"I don't think that's true," Alan says. He crosses the room tentatively, tiny steps across the hardwood floor, heading for the sofa. He sits on the arm, his own still tightly crossed, guarding his chest from what might come next, for the inevitable You're too weird or You're too plain or You're too complicated. He's been dumped before. He doesn't think that's what this is, but it wouldn't surprise him. He knows Danny's on an entirely different playing field, that incredibly attractive, quasi-famous guys don't pick up science nerds with baby daughters, even though Danny's felt more like family to him in the seven months they've known each other than some people have felt like over the course of entire relationships.
But he can't jump the gun. Not yet, even though his stomach is churning. He says, "You're amazing, Danny. You're more than a facade. You feel these things and you care about them. You may have been hired on as their inoffensive, pretty face, but you're more than that. I know it."
"I'm really not," Danny insists. He's looking at Alan again, but, though he still looks exhausted, the emotion is gone. His features are carefully schooled to blankness. "I'm not because I'm a coward. Because I'm afraid to step out of what they want me to be. You should be with someone else, Alan. Someone who's not afraid of what people think and can be a parent to your child. Someone who can devote themselves to your family. You deserve someone who'll go to Back to School Night with you and won't hop all over the globe for weeks at a time. You deserve better than me."
Another lump is forming in Alan's throat, but this one is for another reason entirely. "Well," he finally manages to say, going for glib and knowing he'll never make it, "Keerthi's only thirteen months, so Back to School Night is a while off yet."
"You know what I mean," Danny says flatly. "You need someone who will be seen with you in public."
"I think..." Alan takes a deep breath. He's been thinking about this frequently, wondering when would be a good time to bring it up. It's not his place, and when he started this with Danny, he made it clear that he didn't care for the time being, but... "Danny... why not just be yourself? Come out. How bad can it be? What can they do to you once it's done? Why don't you just do it if it's what you want?"
Danny closes his eyes and sighs, a ghost of a sad smile spreading across his face. He seems, in that instant, a million miles away.
"You're very young, Alan."
Alan's angry again, something bright and hot behind his eyes. He's not young, not that young, he's accomplished and qualified and he has a child, for christ's sake, and no idea where Danny gets off acting like he knows everything, like he knows Alan, just because he's less than a decade older than Alan is and has known him for less than a year. He wants to snap dozens of things back at Danny, wants to defend himself or seethe or just say, "Fuck you" and go back home, but something in Danny's face keeps him quiet, though he's sure his hurt can be read plain as day on his face.