drabblish things round two
"Mac/Danny, something happy in the rain" for monkeyfun1
you won’t melt
When Danny leaves Sullivan’s it isn’t raining yet, and when he finds Mac lingering on a corner their luck is still holding, but before they can go a block the sky rips open.
“Aw, fuck.” Danny flips his collar up and quickens his pace. Neither of them have an umbrella.
Mac laughs, and when Danny turns around Mac has stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. His hair is already plastered to his head, and he tilts his face up to the sky for a moment.
“Mac, are you drunk?”
“Not really.” Mac smiles at him.
“C’mon, I don’t want to get soaked.”
“You’re already soaked,” Mac points out. “You’re not going to melt.”
Danny hunches his shoulders against the fat raindrops rolling down the back of his neck. “You almost sound happy to get caught in a frickin downpour.”
Mac shrugs. “I don’t see what’s so bad about it.”
“But-but think of all the evidence that’s getting ruined by this rain.”
Shaking his head, Mac starts to walk again. “That was a cheap shot.”
Danny keeps pace and takes off his glasses because they aren’t doing much good. “Sorry,” he says, though he doesn’t sound it at all.
They walk in silence for a bit, then Mac grabs Danny’s arm, and pushes him against the wall, kissing him hard, and Danny tastes beer and rainwater.
…
Danny/Flack "But me I’m not a gamble you can count on me to split/The love I sell you in the evening, by the morning won’t exist" for twincy (lyrics from Bright Eyes "Lua")
you'll never recognize yourself
They’re both hammered, Flack thinks.
They’re both hammered and they’re both still wearing the bruises from a couple nights ago, but tonight Danny’s in a good mood, singing Tom Waits off-key as they walk down the sidewalk.
But maybe they’re not that hammered because Flack can still think, which is a shame. Maybe he’s been hanging out with the nerd squad too much. His brain hears Danny singing “Rain Dogs” (for the sixth fucking time in a row) but it calculates how long this happy-go-lucky charm is likely to last. Gives it another twelve hours. Maybe fourteen.
Danny segues into “Heartattack and Vine” and Flack stops walking. Next to a trash can ants crawl over a chemically red smear.
After the second verse, Danny turns around and asks you coming? before launching into the third.
Flack shrugs.
Still singing, and still off-key, Danny backtracks with a swagger in his hips. He grabs Flack by the lapels and hauls him over to the wall. what you say you meet me down on heartattack and vine. Danny hums against Flack’s neck.
Something in Flack’s brain finally clicks off, and Danny arches against him, a low noise in the back of his throat.
you won’t melt
When Danny leaves Sullivan’s it isn’t raining yet, and when he finds Mac lingering on a corner their luck is still holding, but before they can go a block the sky rips open.
“Aw, fuck.” Danny flips his collar up and quickens his pace. Neither of them have an umbrella.
Mac laughs, and when Danny turns around Mac has stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. His hair is already plastered to his head, and he tilts his face up to the sky for a moment.
“Mac, are you drunk?”
“Not really.” Mac smiles at him.
“C’mon, I don’t want to get soaked.”
“You’re already soaked,” Mac points out. “You’re not going to melt.”
Danny hunches his shoulders against the fat raindrops rolling down the back of his neck. “You almost sound happy to get caught in a frickin downpour.”
Mac shrugs. “I don’t see what’s so bad about it.”
“But-but think of all the evidence that’s getting ruined by this rain.”
Shaking his head, Mac starts to walk again. “That was a cheap shot.”
Danny keeps pace and takes off his glasses because they aren’t doing much good. “Sorry,” he says, though he doesn’t sound it at all.
They walk in silence for a bit, then Mac grabs Danny’s arm, and pushes him against the wall, kissing him hard, and Danny tastes beer and rainwater.
…
Danny/Flack "But me I’m not a gamble you can count on me to split/The love I sell you in the evening, by the morning won’t exist" for twincy (lyrics from Bright Eyes "Lua")
you'll never recognize yourself
They’re both hammered, Flack thinks.
They’re both hammered and they’re both still wearing the bruises from a couple nights ago, but tonight Danny’s in a good mood, singing Tom Waits off-key as they walk down the sidewalk.
But maybe they’re not that hammered because Flack can still think, which is a shame. Maybe he’s been hanging out with the nerd squad too much. His brain hears Danny singing “Rain Dogs” (for the sixth fucking time in a row) but it calculates how long this happy-go-lucky charm is likely to last. Gives it another twelve hours. Maybe fourteen.
Danny segues into “Heartattack and Vine” and Flack stops walking. Next to a trash can ants crawl over a chemically red smear.
After the second verse, Danny turns around and asks you coming? before launching into the third.
Flack shrugs.
Still singing, and still off-key, Danny backtracks with a swagger in his hips. He grabs Flack by the lapels and hauls him over to the wall. what you say you meet me down on heartattack and vine. Danny hums against Flack’s neck.
Something in Flack’s brain finally clicks off, and Danny arches against him, a low noise in the back of his throat.