original - touch
Note: February 2009: Just did two of these, not all four. Mostly fluff.
Part one of four: touch, light, summer, life
PS: This is June 2001.
***
i. touch
"We should have a summer party," Justine says. She and Alan are sitting at the kitchen table with a strong pot of coffee, piles of exams to be graded, and a warning glare ready to be turned on Danny at any minute if he attempts to bother them. Alan assumes that he's upstairs watching television or reading a book. Over the past few years, Danny has come to accept that he will always be widowed by the week of final exams, a week of staying up all night grading in order to finish marking every last question by eight am the next morning.
"A summer party?" Alan says blearily. He's so sick of looking at multiple choice he could scream. The school needs to buy a new scantron machine. This is apparently the sixth year in a row it's broken down the week before finals. He's tired of squinting at letters, at trying to figure out if something is supposed to be an 'a' or a 'd.' Justine's words don't even really register with him.
"Yeah," she says. "A part to celebrate the end of the school year. We can invite Linda and Sue Schwab and Harry. Danny can invite his friends, too."
"Why would Danny invite anyone?" he asks. He puts his pen down and flexes his fingers, which are sore and protest painfully at being moved.
"Because we would have it here," Justine says. There's only a hint of her usual humor in it, but Alan can tell even that much is an effort.
"Why here?" Alan asks. He pours himself another cup of coffee. The heat seems to calms the nerves in his fingers as he holds the mug tightly. He wants a hot shower and a long nap, preferably while wrapped in Danny's arms. The past two nights, Danny was asleep by the time Alan came to bed. He normally doesn't wake up for work until Alan's nearly ready to leave and the evenings are filled with grading the backlog of paperwork that needs to be finished by the time exam grades are put in. Alan misses his boyfriend acutely, an ache in his chest and his head, an ache that takes the form of a lump in his throat. He can't remember the last time he was this tired, this stressed out. It's worse than last year, worse than any other year he can remember. He wants Danny not sexually, but viscerally; he wants to get lost in something simpler than himself.
"Alan, are you even listening to me?" Justine says. Alan takes off his glasses and rubs at his eyes with his fist.
"No," he says. He blinks. "I'm sorry," he says.
"I was just saying we should have it here because you guys have that nice patio, and our backyard is all torn up because those guys are fixing the pool this week," Justine says. "But if you'd rather not..."
"No," Alan says. "No, it's probably a good idea. I'll talk to Danny about it later. I'm sure he'll like the idea. We're always saying that we never get a chance to socialize anymore." He fumbles to replace his glasses and finally is able to focus on Justine, who's frowning at him the same way she frowns at her baby daughter when she's looking sickly.
"Alan, you need to get some rest," she says. She reaches across the table and squeezes his hand. The pressure feels good after the strain of writing all night. "How much more do you have left to do?" Alan glances down and estimates that he has about three more exams left to grade and one late lab report.
"Not much," he says. "Maybe an hour's worth if I'm quick." Justine begins to pack up her papers and files.
"Go to sleep," she says. "I'll finish at home. Get some rest tonight and finish the rest in the morning. You look like death, Alan." He tries to smile, but he can tell by the look on her face that he doesn't quite make it. "Go see Danny. I'm sure he misses you." Alan nods without really understanding the words. He does start to tidy up the kitchen table, though, and stands up from his chair. Justine strokes the side of his face like a fretting mother. "I can clean up and get out myself, honey. Go to bed, okay?"
"Thanks," he says softly. "I don't know what's wrong with me lately." Justine kisses his cheek.
"Go see Danny," she says, and this time he listens. He waves goodbye and starts towards the stairs.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he says.
There are nine stairs between the first and second levels of the house, but it feels like twice or three times that as he tries to make it up to the bedroom. He can hear the television humming softly from behind the closed door and he hopes that means that Danny is still awake. Just the thought of going to sleep without Danny again is enough to make the ache grow sharper. He has to swallow twice before he can even push open the door to the bedroom.
Danny is awake and reading in bed with a Law and Order rerun on low in the background. He looks up once Alan pushes the door open and goes from looking pleased to looking concerned. He drops his book and fumbles to get out of bed, dropping his reading glasses haphazardly onto the mattress in his hurry to get to his feet.
"Oh, sweetheart, you look terrible," he says. He crosses the room, which is good, because Alan's not sure how much farther he can move. He's suddenly overcome by how exhausted he is, and the feeling doubles when Danny wraps his arms around him. He clings weakly to Danny's shoulders and closes his eyes.
"I'm so tired, Danny," he says. The idea of falling asleep on the spot is the most appealing thing that he can think of, but he lets Danny lead him towards the edge of the bed anyway. He'd let Danny lead him anywhere, at this point.
"You've got to at least get undressed," Danny murmurs, pushing him down so he's sitting on the corner of the mattress. He nods, but makes no move to undress himself, although he does distractedly kick off his shoes. Danny, who seems to be expecting this, wastes no time in pulling Alan's shirt over his head and tossing it towards the hamper. He thinks feeling like a child must be the reoccurring theme of the night, first in the kitchen with Justine and now in the bedroom as Danny undresses him for bed. He kneels in front of Alan to pull off his jeans and Alan cracks a ghost of a smile, even if he's too tired to make any of the jokes that are disjointedly floating around his head.
"I'm tired," he says again once Danny has removed his pants and socks. Danny reaches up and touches his cheek and the tenderness in his eyes makes the lump return to Alan's throat, though this time it's a good ache.
"I know you are," Danny says. He gets to his feet, frowning and feeling Alan's forehead for a temperature. "You're so pale. You're paler than usual but you don't have a fever."
"I'm not sick," Alan insists. "I'm just... I'm tired. I'm exhausted. And I miss you." Danny bites his lip, brushing Alan's hair off of his forehead. It feels nice. Danny's fingers always feel nice on his skin.
"Get into bed," Danny says after spending a long moment just staring at Alan. "I'll be right there, okay?" Alan nods mutely and fumbles to pull the edge of the comforter out from under his pillows. He slides under the sheets as Danny tosses his jeans and socks into the hamper and turns off the television, moving around the room to quickly perform other last-minute nighttime tasks. Every time he catches Alan's eye he smiles, as if to say, 'This will only take a second, I promise,' as if Alan can't see him plugging in his cell phone and setting his alarm clock. Finally he hits the switch for the lights and moves his book and glasses off of the bed before climbing under the covers himself.
Alan is in his arms immediately.
"I missed you," he says again. "You keep going to sleep before I come to bed and I'm just... I'm really tired and I missed you." Danny's arms are just what he's been craving, the warm and security, the strength that he can't seem to muster anymore. Being with Danny is easier than almost anything else he can think of. It's almost as natural as breathing at this point, the way they fit together, the way they compliment each other, the way they can move into each other's arms unconsciously, without even noticing it. Being with Danny is not something he has to think about or concentrate on. It just is. It's something that exists just by putting them in the same room together. Alan can feel himself beginning to relax. He's come to realize that being comfortable in his own skin is nothing compared to how comfortable he feels when Danny's skin is pressed up against his own.
"I missed you too," Danny says into his hair. "I missed this." His fingers move in concentric circles across Alan's back and neck, soothing away the stiffness that comes with sitting hunched over exams all day long. Alan makes a small noise of contentment from the place where his mouth is, pressed up against Danny's throat. "Go to sleep, sweetheart," Danny says. "You'll feel better in the morning."
Alan knows it's true, but it seems even truer when Danny says it.
"I love you," he mumbles, drifting off to sleep. He doesn't have to hear the reply to know that Danny feels the same way. He sees it in every movement, feels it in every touch, every brush of Danny's skin against his own.
"Love you too, Alan," Danny says, and even though Alan knows it already, it's nice to hear, and the perfect way to end the day.
Part one of four: touch, light, summer, life
PS: This is June 2001.
***
i. touch
"We should have a summer party," Justine says. She and Alan are sitting at the kitchen table with a strong pot of coffee, piles of exams to be graded, and a warning glare ready to be turned on Danny at any minute if he attempts to bother them. Alan assumes that he's upstairs watching television or reading a book. Over the past few years, Danny has come to accept that he will always be widowed by the week of final exams, a week of staying up all night grading in order to finish marking every last question by eight am the next morning.
"A summer party?" Alan says blearily. He's so sick of looking at multiple choice he could scream. The school needs to buy a new scantron machine. This is apparently the sixth year in a row it's broken down the week before finals. He's tired of squinting at letters, at trying to figure out if something is supposed to be an 'a' or a 'd.' Justine's words don't even really register with him.
"Yeah," she says. "A part to celebrate the end of the school year. We can invite Linda and Sue Schwab and Harry. Danny can invite his friends, too."
"Why would Danny invite anyone?" he asks. He puts his pen down and flexes his fingers, which are sore and protest painfully at being moved.
"Because we would have it here," Justine says. There's only a hint of her usual humor in it, but Alan can tell even that much is an effort.
"Why here?" Alan asks. He pours himself another cup of coffee. The heat seems to calms the nerves in his fingers as he holds the mug tightly. He wants a hot shower and a long nap, preferably while wrapped in Danny's arms. The past two nights, Danny was asleep by the time Alan came to bed. He normally doesn't wake up for work until Alan's nearly ready to leave and the evenings are filled with grading the backlog of paperwork that needs to be finished by the time exam grades are put in. Alan misses his boyfriend acutely, an ache in his chest and his head, an ache that takes the form of a lump in his throat. He can't remember the last time he was this tired, this stressed out. It's worse than last year, worse than any other year he can remember. He wants Danny not sexually, but viscerally; he wants to get lost in something simpler than himself.
"Alan, are you even listening to me?" Justine says. Alan takes off his glasses and rubs at his eyes with his fist.
"No," he says. He blinks. "I'm sorry," he says.
"I was just saying we should have it here because you guys have that nice patio, and our backyard is all torn up because those guys are fixing the pool this week," Justine says. "But if you'd rather not..."
"No," Alan says. "No, it's probably a good idea. I'll talk to Danny about it later. I'm sure he'll like the idea. We're always saying that we never get a chance to socialize anymore." He fumbles to replace his glasses and finally is able to focus on Justine, who's frowning at him the same way she frowns at her baby daughter when she's looking sickly.
"Alan, you need to get some rest," she says. She reaches across the table and squeezes his hand. The pressure feels good after the strain of writing all night. "How much more do you have left to do?" Alan glances down and estimates that he has about three more exams left to grade and one late lab report.
"Not much," he says. "Maybe an hour's worth if I'm quick." Justine begins to pack up her papers and files.
"Go to sleep," she says. "I'll finish at home. Get some rest tonight and finish the rest in the morning. You look like death, Alan." He tries to smile, but he can tell by the look on her face that he doesn't quite make it. "Go see Danny. I'm sure he misses you." Alan nods without really understanding the words. He does start to tidy up the kitchen table, though, and stands up from his chair. Justine strokes the side of his face like a fretting mother. "I can clean up and get out myself, honey. Go to bed, okay?"
"Thanks," he says softly. "I don't know what's wrong with me lately." Justine kisses his cheek.
"Go see Danny," she says, and this time he listens. He waves goodbye and starts towards the stairs.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he says.
There are nine stairs between the first and second levels of the house, but it feels like twice or three times that as he tries to make it up to the bedroom. He can hear the television humming softly from behind the closed door and he hopes that means that Danny is still awake. Just the thought of going to sleep without Danny again is enough to make the ache grow sharper. He has to swallow twice before he can even push open the door to the bedroom.
Danny is awake and reading in bed with a Law and Order rerun on low in the background. He looks up once Alan pushes the door open and goes from looking pleased to looking concerned. He drops his book and fumbles to get out of bed, dropping his reading glasses haphazardly onto the mattress in his hurry to get to his feet.
"Oh, sweetheart, you look terrible," he says. He crosses the room, which is good, because Alan's not sure how much farther he can move. He's suddenly overcome by how exhausted he is, and the feeling doubles when Danny wraps his arms around him. He clings weakly to Danny's shoulders and closes his eyes.
"I'm so tired, Danny," he says. The idea of falling asleep on the spot is the most appealing thing that he can think of, but he lets Danny lead him towards the edge of the bed anyway. He'd let Danny lead him anywhere, at this point.
"You've got to at least get undressed," Danny murmurs, pushing him down so he's sitting on the corner of the mattress. He nods, but makes no move to undress himself, although he does distractedly kick off his shoes. Danny, who seems to be expecting this, wastes no time in pulling Alan's shirt over his head and tossing it towards the hamper. He thinks feeling like a child must be the reoccurring theme of the night, first in the kitchen with Justine and now in the bedroom as Danny undresses him for bed. He kneels in front of Alan to pull off his jeans and Alan cracks a ghost of a smile, even if he's too tired to make any of the jokes that are disjointedly floating around his head.
"I'm tired," he says again once Danny has removed his pants and socks. Danny reaches up and touches his cheek and the tenderness in his eyes makes the lump return to Alan's throat, though this time it's a good ache.
"I know you are," Danny says. He gets to his feet, frowning and feeling Alan's forehead for a temperature. "You're so pale. You're paler than usual but you don't have a fever."
"I'm not sick," Alan insists. "I'm just... I'm tired. I'm exhausted. And I miss you." Danny bites his lip, brushing Alan's hair off of his forehead. It feels nice. Danny's fingers always feel nice on his skin.
"Get into bed," Danny says after spending a long moment just staring at Alan. "I'll be right there, okay?" Alan nods mutely and fumbles to pull the edge of the comforter out from under his pillows. He slides under the sheets as Danny tosses his jeans and socks into the hamper and turns off the television, moving around the room to quickly perform other last-minute nighttime tasks. Every time he catches Alan's eye he smiles, as if to say, 'This will only take a second, I promise,' as if Alan can't see him plugging in his cell phone and setting his alarm clock. Finally he hits the switch for the lights and moves his book and glasses off of the bed before climbing under the covers himself.
Alan is in his arms immediately.
"I missed you," he says again. "You keep going to sleep before I come to bed and I'm just... I'm really tired and I missed you." Danny's arms are just what he's been craving, the warm and security, the strength that he can't seem to muster anymore. Being with Danny is easier than almost anything else he can think of. It's almost as natural as breathing at this point, the way they fit together, the way they compliment each other, the way they can move into each other's arms unconsciously, without even noticing it. Being with Danny is not something he has to think about or concentrate on. It just is. It's something that exists just by putting them in the same room together. Alan can feel himself beginning to relax. He's come to realize that being comfortable in his own skin is nothing compared to how comfortable he feels when Danny's skin is pressed up against his own.
"I missed you too," Danny says into his hair. "I missed this." His fingers move in concentric circles across Alan's back and neck, soothing away the stiffness that comes with sitting hunched over exams all day long. Alan makes a small noise of contentment from the place where his mouth is, pressed up against Danny's throat. "Go to sleep, sweetheart," Danny says. "You'll feel better in the morning."
Alan knows it's true, but it seems even truer when Danny says it.
"I love you," he mumbles, drifting off to sleep. He doesn't have to hear the reply to know that Danny feels the same way. He sees it in every movement, feels it in every touch, every brush of Danny's skin against his own.
"Love you too, Alan," Danny says, and even though Alan knows it already, it's nice to hear, and the perfect way to end the day.