Alan Pratchett / Various 1 / 030; Death
Title: Six Years Yesterday
Prompt Set: Various 1
Prompt: 030; Death
Ratings/Warnings: PG. A little depressing.
Author's Notes: In which Alan misses two promotions, dinner, and his mother.
***
April 23, 1999
***
"So," Danny says, dropping with a sort of casual grace to sit on the roof. "I was at my office before, sitting around waiting for my boyfriend to come by so we could go to dinner." Danny's movements always seem fluid but effortless. Alan watches Danny out of the corner of his eye. He's loath to talk to anyone right now, least of all Danny, for some reason. He loves Danny, he needs Danny, but right this moment, as he watches Danny gracefully cross his legs, he's filled with an unshakable irritation and no desire to speak to him ever again. "We had five-thirty dinner reservations and he said he'd be there around five, so I waited. And then it was five-thirty and then it was six o'clock and I started to wonder what was wrong. I called his best friend to see if she had seen him and she told me his car was still in the parking lot. So I got to wondering, was he okay? Did his watch break? Did he get kidnapped on the way to the parking lot? Was this his subtle way of telling me that he really, really didn't like Mexican food?"
"I don't like Mexican food," Alan says after a short pause. He doesn't look at Danny, at first. He keeps his eyes trained on the trees across the street, on the sunset. He doesn't want to look at Danny right now. He doesn't want to deal with Danny's pity or impatience, but rather to continue his sulk in private, to not be found, to be alone for just a little while. The downside to living in a house with Danny, to living in what was basically Danny's house with Danny was that alone time was hard to come by. Time to himself was nearly non-existent.
He doesn't look at Danny at first, but it only takes a few seconds for his instincts to take over. There could be a hundred people in a room and Alan's eyes would still be drawn to Danny Stevens. It's something that doesn't change, something that will never change, no matter how angry he is at Danny, at the world, or at himself.
"You've never had a problem with it before," Danny says. Danny catches Alan's gaze, holds it, and reaches out to touch the bottom of his chin. To his credit, he doesn't get discouraged when Alan flinches away.
"I've always had a problem with it, I just never said anything about it," Alan mutters, returning his eyes to the tree line. "We only have it once in awhile and I know that you like it so I put up with it, but I've never actually enjoyed it."
"I was waiting for over an hour," Danny says. "Everyone thought I was crazy. Felicity thinks we're having a fight. Are we having a fight?" He slides closer, scraping against the loose gravel scattered across the rooftop. Alan does his best to ignore him.
"Not yet, but the night is young."
"Sweetheart..." Danny says. He touches Alan's arm in a way that probably isn't intended to be patronizing. Alan can't help but feel like it is anyway.
Alan grinds his teeth and holds up a hand. "Don't," he says. "Just... just don't, Danny. Not tonight." He watches Danny out of the corner of his eye. He can tell he's irritated. That's good. If Danny gets angry, Alan will have an excuse to lash out, an excuse to yell. He doesn't know why he needs an excuse, why he wants to yell, why he thinks yelling will make anything better, but it seems appealing just now. He wants to yell, and he knows Danny will let him yell once he's been provoked. He might even yell back.
"'Don't' what, Alan?" he asks, and Alan can hear the aggravation in his voice. "Don't use endearments? Don't talk to you? Don't come looking for you? Don't touch you? Don't worry about you when you don't call or show up for over an hour? You could have called, Alan! I would have cancelled the reservations!"
"It's not about the damn dinner reservation!" Alan says with a mixture of petulance and exhaustion. It's the latter which softens Danny's glare, makes him inch closer.
"I know," he admits. "Justine told me about the job." Alan sighs and wraps his arms around his knees. He didn't want any of this. He wanted to be alone, to sit here on the roof and watch the sunset, because the faster the sun set, the faster it would be night. The faster he could go to sleep and get this whole god forsaken day over with. The faster it would be tomorrow. Tomorrow would be better. It had to be.
"Did she tell you there were two jobs?" Alan asks. He closes his eyes for a moment and opens them, disappointed to see the world has stayed right where he left it. He's still on the roof of Centennial Middle School, Danny's still hovering next to his shoulder, and he's still been overlooked for two goddamned promotions in the same day. He feels Danny's hand settle on the small of his back and he doesn't even bother to shake it away.
"You should have called," Danny says again. He's quieter this time, gentle. "You should have told me. We could have cancelled the dinner reservation, and... I don't know. Stayed home. Watched a movie. Talked about this. Clearly you're not handling it very well."
"I was passed over for two promotions today, Danny," Alan mutters. "Of course I'm not handling it well. I know it doesn't mean anything to you and I know you think it's stupid but it matters to me, Danny! It's something I want and... it's not a well-paying office job and it might seem trivial but it means something! It's important and I don't care if you think I'm being immature about this but goddammit, it matters." He closes his eyes. His head is pounding and he just wants to curl up somewhere alone, even though Danny's hand on his back, stroking up and down soothingly, is comforting, inviting. He loves Danny. God, he loves Danny more than anything, he wants Danny, he wants to be with Danny, but tonight the urge to hide is just as strong as the urge to wrap his arms around the other man.
"Christ, Alan, do you really think that?" Danny finally says. "I would never say that. I would never think that! I have so much respect for what you do. Watching you teach, even if it's just the kids at the Planetarium... watching you teach is... it's incredible, Alan, it's inspiring. You're passionate and driven and so caught up in what you're saying because you know it and you believe in it. You ahve this whole other confident demeanor that... I just can't take my eyes off of you. I have more respect for what you do than I do for anyone in my office, and I would never, ever call it trivial. I just... I would never do that."
And god, as if Alan didn't already feel stupid enough.
His throat is thick with tears that want to escape. He slides his glasses off to rub at his eyes, even as Danny slowly closes the gap between them. Danny's made mention of his respect for Alan's job before, but he's always thought it was in jest. It never occurred to him that Danny meant it all, that Danny understood why he got out of bed in the morning.
Alan's stomach flutters with unshed tears as Danny finally hugs him close. He lets himself be held, but he doesn't respond, not at first. He rests his head against Danny's shoulder and lets Danny rock him back and forth in silence.
"My mom died six years ago yesterday," he finally says, wrapping his arms around Danny. "My mom died six years ago yesterday and I didn't even notice. I forgot. I forgot the anniversary of my mother's death and then today happens and... do you know what they said to me? They said I was too 'soft' for high school. They told me I was too gentle and folksy and forgiving to teach high school, that the sweet, personable, reasonable Mr. Pratchett was fine for eighth grade, but too soft for high school. They didn't promote me because they think I'm a pushover and they didn't make me department head because they think I don't care enough about the department because I don't fucking socialize with the rest of them!" He sits up abruptly and buries his face in his hands, pushing his glasses to the top of his head in the process. "I'm never going to get anywhere, Danny. I'm never going to get anywhere."
He wants to crawl into a hole and die. He loves teaching and he loves his students, but this was never his plan, teaching general science to eighth graders. He wants to teach chemistry, real chemistry, he wants to be able to do labs and experiments on a regular basis. Mostly, he wants to be successful in his chosen field, to prove to his father and his brother and his sister that he made the right choice, that his Ivy League education wasn't a waste. He doesn't want to be supported by his boyfriend, who is capable and hip and successful, while he's stuck teaching thirteen year olds how to use pH paper.
Danny's hands comb through his hair and rub his back, and when he doesn't pull away, Danny takes Alan's hands in his own.
"Don't say that," he says. He touches Alan's cheek and then slides his glasses back down over his eyes. "You're going to go great places, amazing places. What do they know about you? They don't know anything. They don't know who you are or what you can do and they don't care to learn." Alan's teeth sink into his lip. He's not going to cry, not over this. He won't let himself, not in front of Danny.
"I went to Cornell," he says in a near whisper. "I graduated with honors in two departments. I have a Master's degree. I'm tenured, my kids like me, I have friends here. But I'm not... I graduated with honors from Cornell, Danny! I should be... I don't know." He looks away, down at the loose gravel and then off towards the horizon. "This is all I'm ever going to be, Danny. I'm going to be stuck at this forever and you're going to... you've got a great job and if this isn't enough--" Before Alan can finish his sentence, Danny presses a hand over his mouth.
"Don't," he says firmly. "Don't say that, don't think that, don't even..." He drops his hand and Alan looks at him with wide eyes. The intensity of his gaze is frightening. "How could you even... Alan, I don't care! I think what you do is fabulous and even a little bit noble, but you could be bagging groceries and I would still be there with you. I love you! I don't care where you're teaching or how much money you're making, as long as you're happy, and when you don't get the promotion you want I only get upset because I know it hurts you."
"I'm just saying," Alan says, tearing his eyes away. "You deserve--" He chokes on his words, because Danny is suddenly kissing him fiercely, his hands fisted in the front of Alan's blue dress shirt. Wrapping his arms around Danny is an instinct more than a decision, but it does more for comforting him than an entire afternoon of sitting on the roof has done. It's like someone flipped a switch, the way the tension drains out of his body. Instead of pushing away, Alan finds he can't stop. He kisses back desperately, his grip on Danny tightens, and even when Danny finally pulls back, he doesn't let go.
"I don't," Danny whispers. Alan is still securely in his arms and Danny makes sure to look him straight in the eye. "I don't know what you think I deserve, but I don't. I want you and that's all that matters." Alan nods, solemnly, and swallows the sob that's welling up in his throat. "Justine told me the rest of it, too. She told me about her transfer and she told me about Teddy. Sweetheart, I'm not going anywhere."
Alan closes his eyes and kisses Danny again, just once. Another lump begins to form in his throat as he takes his glasses off, placing them securely in his pocket and wiping at his eyes. He doesn't think he can keep from breaking down for too much longer.
"I might be having some mild abandonment issues, yes," he says unsteadily, opening his eyes to give Danny a sheepish look. Danny touches his cheek, eyes tender, sliding his thumb over Alan's lips.
"I'm not going anywhere," he repeats. "And Justine will stay in touch. She's just working across the street, not across the country. You'll be over there, too, in no time. I have faith, baby, even if you don't."
"We'll never hear from Teddy anymore," Alan says. He shifts forward, closer to Danny even as he tries to poke holes in Danny's quick save of his sanity.
"I never liked Teddy very much anyway, to be honest," Danny says, stroking Alan's hair. "He annoys me." Alan laughs breathlessly and rests his head against Danny's shoulder.
"He's my friend, and he annoys me too," Alan admits.
"I know."
"I think I'm going to cry a little bit now," Alan says, his arms tightening compulsively around Danny. "Because I'm an idiot as you so brilliantly demonstrated right here, and my best friend got the transfer I've been hoping for since I was hired and I totally forgot yesterday was the sixth anniversary of my mother's death and I was a total bastard to you for no reason even though I love you very much and I made us miss dinner." He squeezes his eyes shut, even as Danny starts to shush him, rocking him back and forth and insisting that he's not an idiot, that everything will be all right. He trusts Danny and he knows that things aren't as bad as they feel, but he can't keep from crying over everything that he's lost and the things he feels he'll never have.
Prompt Set: Various 1
Prompt: 030; Death
Ratings/Warnings: PG. A little depressing.
Author's Notes: In which Alan misses two promotions, dinner, and his mother.
***
April 23, 1999
***
"So," Danny says, dropping with a sort of casual grace to sit on the roof. "I was at my office before, sitting around waiting for my boyfriend to come by so we could go to dinner." Danny's movements always seem fluid but effortless. Alan watches Danny out of the corner of his eye. He's loath to talk to anyone right now, least of all Danny, for some reason. He loves Danny, he needs Danny, but right this moment, as he watches Danny gracefully cross his legs, he's filled with an unshakable irritation and no desire to speak to him ever again. "We had five-thirty dinner reservations and he said he'd be there around five, so I waited. And then it was five-thirty and then it was six o'clock and I started to wonder what was wrong. I called his best friend to see if she had seen him and she told me his car was still in the parking lot. So I got to wondering, was he okay? Did his watch break? Did he get kidnapped on the way to the parking lot? Was this his subtle way of telling me that he really, really didn't like Mexican food?"
"I don't like Mexican food," Alan says after a short pause. He doesn't look at Danny, at first. He keeps his eyes trained on the trees across the street, on the sunset. He doesn't want to look at Danny right now. He doesn't want to deal with Danny's pity or impatience, but rather to continue his sulk in private, to not be found, to be alone for just a little while. The downside to living in a house with Danny, to living in what was basically Danny's house with Danny was that alone time was hard to come by. Time to himself was nearly non-existent.
He doesn't look at Danny at first, but it only takes a few seconds for his instincts to take over. There could be a hundred people in a room and Alan's eyes would still be drawn to Danny Stevens. It's something that doesn't change, something that will never change, no matter how angry he is at Danny, at the world, or at himself.
"You've never had a problem with it before," Danny says. Danny catches Alan's gaze, holds it, and reaches out to touch the bottom of his chin. To his credit, he doesn't get discouraged when Alan flinches away.
"I've always had a problem with it, I just never said anything about it," Alan mutters, returning his eyes to the tree line. "We only have it once in awhile and I know that you like it so I put up with it, but I've never actually enjoyed it."
"I was waiting for over an hour," Danny says. "Everyone thought I was crazy. Felicity thinks we're having a fight. Are we having a fight?" He slides closer, scraping against the loose gravel scattered across the rooftop. Alan does his best to ignore him.
"Not yet, but the night is young."
"Sweetheart..." Danny says. He touches Alan's arm in a way that probably isn't intended to be patronizing. Alan can't help but feel like it is anyway.
Alan grinds his teeth and holds up a hand. "Don't," he says. "Just... just don't, Danny. Not tonight." He watches Danny out of the corner of his eye. He can tell he's irritated. That's good. If Danny gets angry, Alan will have an excuse to lash out, an excuse to yell. He doesn't know why he needs an excuse, why he wants to yell, why he thinks yelling will make anything better, but it seems appealing just now. He wants to yell, and he knows Danny will let him yell once he's been provoked. He might even yell back.
"'Don't' what, Alan?" he asks, and Alan can hear the aggravation in his voice. "Don't use endearments? Don't talk to you? Don't come looking for you? Don't touch you? Don't worry about you when you don't call or show up for over an hour? You could have called, Alan! I would have cancelled the reservations!"
"It's not about the damn dinner reservation!" Alan says with a mixture of petulance and exhaustion. It's the latter which softens Danny's glare, makes him inch closer.
"I know," he admits. "Justine told me about the job." Alan sighs and wraps his arms around his knees. He didn't want any of this. He wanted to be alone, to sit here on the roof and watch the sunset, because the faster the sun set, the faster it would be night. The faster he could go to sleep and get this whole god forsaken day over with. The faster it would be tomorrow. Tomorrow would be better. It had to be.
"Did she tell you there were two jobs?" Alan asks. He closes his eyes for a moment and opens them, disappointed to see the world has stayed right where he left it. He's still on the roof of Centennial Middle School, Danny's still hovering next to his shoulder, and he's still been overlooked for two goddamned promotions in the same day. He feels Danny's hand settle on the small of his back and he doesn't even bother to shake it away.
"You should have called," Danny says again. He's quieter this time, gentle. "You should have told me. We could have cancelled the dinner reservation, and... I don't know. Stayed home. Watched a movie. Talked about this. Clearly you're not handling it very well."
"I was passed over for two promotions today, Danny," Alan mutters. "Of course I'm not handling it well. I know it doesn't mean anything to you and I know you think it's stupid but it matters to me, Danny! It's something I want and... it's not a well-paying office job and it might seem trivial but it means something! It's important and I don't care if you think I'm being immature about this but goddammit, it matters." He closes his eyes. His head is pounding and he just wants to curl up somewhere alone, even though Danny's hand on his back, stroking up and down soothingly, is comforting, inviting. He loves Danny. God, he loves Danny more than anything, he wants Danny, he wants to be with Danny, but tonight the urge to hide is just as strong as the urge to wrap his arms around the other man.
"Christ, Alan, do you really think that?" Danny finally says. "I would never say that. I would never think that! I have so much respect for what you do. Watching you teach, even if it's just the kids at the Planetarium... watching you teach is... it's incredible, Alan, it's inspiring. You're passionate and driven and so caught up in what you're saying because you know it and you believe in it. You ahve this whole other confident demeanor that... I just can't take my eyes off of you. I have more respect for what you do than I do for anyone in my office, and I would never, ever call it trivial. I just... I would never do that."
And god, as if Alan didn't already feel stupid enough.
His throat is thick with tears that want to escape. He slides his glasses off to rub at his eyes, even as Danny slowly closes the gap between them. Danny's made mention of his respect for Alan's job before, but he's always thought it was in jest. It never occurred to him that Danny meant it all, that Danny understood why he got out of bed in the morning.
Alan's stomach flutters with unshed tears as Danny finally hugs him close. He lets himself be held, but he doesn't respond, not at first. He rests his head against Danny's shoulder and lets Danny rock him back and forth in silence.
"My mom died six years ago yesterday," he finally says, wrapping his arms around Danny. "My mom died six years ago yesterday and I didn't even notice. I forgot. I forgot the anniversary of my mother's death and then today happens and... do you know what they said to me? They said I was too 'soft' for high school. They told me I was too gentle and folksy and forgiving to teach high school, that the sweet, personable, reasonable Mr. Pratchett was fine for eighth grade, but too soft for high school. They didn't promote me because they think I'm a pushover and they didn't make me department head because they think I don't care enough about the department because I don't fucking socialize with the rest of them!" He sits up abruptly and buries his face in his hands, pushing his glasses to the top of his head in the process. "I'm never going to get anywhere, Danny. I'm never going to get anywhere."
He wants to crawl into a hole and die. He loves teaching and he loves his students, but this was never his plan, teaching general science to eighth graders. He wants to teach chemistry, real chemistry, he wants to be able to do labs and experiments on a regular basis. Mostly, he wants to be successful in his chosen field, to prove to his father and his brother and his sister that he made the right choice, that his Ivy League education wasn't a waste. He doesn't want to be supported by his boyfriend, who is capable and hip and successful, while he's stuck teaching thirteen year olds how to use pH paper.
Danny's hands comb through his hair and rub his back, and when he doesn't pull away, Danny takes Alan's hands in his own.
"Don't say that," he says. He touches Alan's cheek and then slides his glasses back down over his eyes. "You're going to go great places, amazing places. What do they know about you? They don't know anything. They don't know who you are or what you can do and they don't care to learn." Alan's teeth sink into his lip. He's not going to cry, not over this. He won't let himself, not in front of Danny.
"I went to Cornell," he says in a near whisper. "I graduated with honors in two departments. I have a Master's degree. I'm tenured, my kids like me, I have friends here. But I'm not... I graduated with honors from Cornell, Danny! I should be... I don't know." He looks away, down at the loose gravel and then off towards the horizon. "This is all I'm ever going to be, Danny. I'm going to be stuck at this forever and you're going to... you've got a great job and if this isn't enough--" Before Alan can finish his sentence, Danny presses a hand over his mouth.
"Don't," he says firmly. "Don't say that, don't think that, don't even..." He drops his hand and Alan looks at him with wide eyes. The intensity of his gaze is frightening. "How could you even... Alan, I don't care! I think what you do is fabulous and even a little bit noble, but you could be bagging groceries and I would still be there with you. I love you! I don't care where you're teaching or how much money you're making, as long as you're happy, and when you don't get the promotion you want I only get upset because I know it hurts you."
"I'm just saying," Alan says, tearing his eyes away. "You deserve--" He chokes on his words, because Danny is suddenly kissing him fiercely, his hands fisted in the front of Alan's blue dress shirt. Wrapping his arms around Danny is an instinct more than a decision, but it does more for comforting him than an entire afternoon of sitting on the roof has done. It's like someone flipped a switch, the way the tension drains out of his body. Instead of pushing away, Alan finds he can't stop. He kisses back desperately, his grip on Danny tightens, and even when Danny finally pulls back, he doesn't let go.
"I don't," Danny whispers. Alan is still securely in his arms and Danny makes sure to look him straight in the eye. "I don't know what you think I deserve, but I don't. I want you and that's all that matters." Alan nods, solemnly, and swallows the sob that's welling up in his throat. "Justine told me the rest of it, too. She told me about her transfer and she told me about Teddy. Sweetheart, I'm not going anywhere."
Alan closes his eyes and kisses Danny again, just once. Another lump begins to form in his throat as he takes his glasses off, placing them securely in his pocket and wiping at his eyes. He doesn't think he can keep from breaking down for too much longer.
"I might be having some mild abandonment issues, yes," he says unsteadily, opening his eyes to give Danny a sheepish look. Danny touches his cheek, eyes tender, sliding his thumb over Alan's lips.
"I'm not going anywhere," he repeats. "And Justine will stay in touch. She's just working across the street, not across the country. You'll be over there, too, in no time. I have faith, baby, even if you don't."
"We'll never hear from Teddy anymore," Alan says. He shifts forward, closer to Danny even as he tries to poke holes in Danny's quick save of his sanity.
"I never liked Teddy very much anyway, to be honest," Danny says, stroking Alan's hair. "He annoys me." Alan laughs breathlessly and rests his head against Danny's shoulder.
"He's my friend, and he annoys me too," Alan admits.
"I know."
"I think I'm going to cry a little bit now," Alan says, his arms tightening compulsively around Danny. "Because I'm an idiot as you so brilliantly demonstrated right here, and my best friend got the transfer I've been hoping for since I was hired and I totally forgot yesterday was the sixth anniversary of my mother's death and I was a total bastard to you for no reason even though I love you very much and I made us miss dinner." He squeezes his eyes shut, even as Danny starts to shush him, rocking him back and forth and insisting that he's not an idiot, that everything will be all right. He trusts Danny and he knows that things aren't as bad as they feel, but he can't keep from crying over everything that he's lost and the things he feels he'll never have.