Alan Pratchett / Various 1 / 046; King - 047; Heart - 048; Diamond - 050; Joker
Title: Linens and Things
Prompt Set: Various 1
Prompt: 046; King
Rating/Warnings: PG-ish. Nothing too awful except some vague references to sex.
Summary: In which shopping for bed linens is the gayest thing Alan has ever done.
Author's Notes: A personal challenge to write only dialogue. Part of an unrelated set of four (in that the prompts are related but the stories aren't).
December 5, 1998
"This is the most pointless thing I've ever done. It's also the gayest thing I've ever done."
"I wouldn't be so quick to say that. I can think of some pretty gay things you've done recently, and I'm not just talking about the three new pairs of shoes you just bought."
"Shut up. I like shoes, okay? Like you should talk, Mr. My-closets-are-so-full-of-clothes-my-boyfriend-is-living-out-of-boxes-a-month-after-moving-in."
"Actually, my friends just call me Danny."
"You're hysterical."
"Thank you, I'll be here all week. Don't forget to tip your waitresses."
"Hysterical and cliché and a clothes horse. What more could I ask for?"
"A salesperson, actually, would be good."
"I still think this is stupid. You have a perfectly nice bed. I have a perfectly nice bed. In your--our house, we have two perfectly nice beds. There is no earthly reason why we need to go out and buy another one."
"It's a gesture! It's a symbolic thing. We're starting a new chapter of our lives, Alan! We are beginning the first of what I hope will be many, many years together, and we should start completely fresh. Plus, I've always wanted a king-sized bed and this is the perfect excuse for it."
"You're crazy."
"Come on! Live in the moment! Be spontaneous!"
"I just don't see the point in wasting money on something we don't need. I'm sorry if I was brought up to be fiscally cautious."
"Alan. Seriously. Your father's like, a millionaire. You were brought up with a maid and a cook and ballroom dancing lessons at a country club."
"Let me rephrase that. Living practically below the poverty line as a public school teacher has led me to be fiscally cautious."
"Well now you don't have to be! It's a celebration of your good fortune."
"My good fortune of convincing someone who makes substantially more money than I do to sleep with me?"
"You forgot the part where I'm also very handsome."
"Moderately wealthy, handsome, and a lunatic. I guess you have to take the good with the bad..."
"Are you planning on making fun of me all night?"
"...Yes."
"Okay, can you do it while looking at bedspreads? What do you think about this?"
"The gayest thing I've ever done, Danny..."
"Picking out a bedspread?"
"Picking out a bedspread by comparing it to fabric swatches and paint samples, yes. The last one I just... bought."
"You didn't buy it to match your room?"
"I lived in a roach-infested apartment across the hall from a doddering old woman and above a family with three teenagers who liked to play their music at all hours of the night. I moved in, spent one sleepless night on the couch, went to the department store, and said, 'I really like blue,' and added another charge to my seemingly endless list of expenses."
"You poor thing."
"How is it that I'm the really queer one in this relationship? How does that even work? How is it that none of the people at your office even suspect that you're as gay as the day is long?"
"I'm a great actor. Now, tell me what you think about this. I think it goes really well with the drapes and the carpet. It doesn't really match the chair, but we can get a new slipcover for that if we need to."
"Okay."
"It's really rich, so it will set off the walls pretty well, too. The nice muted eggshell color will bring out some of the gold in the trim."
"Right."
"I think it will give a nice look to the furniture I already have. We can switch your dresser into the guest room and bring my other bureau back into our bedroom. The whole thing will look very classy."
"Sure."
"Plus, it's green, and there's something incredibly sexy about the way you look against something green. It sets off your eyes."
"...."
"Admit it, Alan. This can be enjoyable."
"If you keep saying things like that and looking at me like that and you don't get your hand off my ass, things are going to get a little too enjoyable."
"See?"
"It's still the gayest thing I've ever done."
"You say that now, but just wait until I get you home. I have some incredibly gay things planned for breaking in this new bed."
"I don't doubt that. In fact, it's possible I was counting on it."
"Well then, let's find a salesperson."
"Let's."
***
Title: Inability to Process
Prompt Set: Various 1
Prompt: 047; Heart
Rating/Warnings: PG-ish.
Summary: In which Alan tries to avoid being a schmoopy romantic, but doesn't quite get away with it.
Author's Notes: A personal challenge to write a story with no dialogue. I failed. This is... very mushy. I apologize.
Alan's not a romantic, not really. He never has been. He appreciates romance, and he's not opposed to it, but he's never been the one initiating the grand gestures. Sure, John Cusack standing outside the window blasting "In Your Eyes" was a sweet thought, but it would never occur to him to do something along those lines himself. Alan isn't looking for grand romance. He's not not looking for it, but he'd be more than happy to settle for love and happiness. Barring those things, he'd be more than happy to settle for dependability.
He knows from the first time he meets Danny Stevens that there's something special about him. He's gorgeous, yes, and funny and sweet, but there's a certain amount of chemistry between them, a certain tingling that overcomes him when they look at each other, like a hum right under his skin. He doesn't know what it is, but he's intrigued enough to want to learn more, much more, and as fast as he can.
Danny, it turns out, is a bull's-eye. Danny is everything that Alan has ever thought to look for. He's reliable, he's comfortable, he's dependable, and he makes Alan happy. After two weeks Alan confesses in a whisper to his sister Cynthia that it's entirely possible he's falling in love with Danny Stevens. They smile and laugh and talk about it for almost an hour even though they're both nearly thirty and well past the point where staying up late, talking on the phone about boys is acceptable. It doesn't matter, though, Alan never feels silly doing it because the hum under his skin hasn't gone away, and talking about Danny, thinking about Danny is like walking around on a twenty-four hour high.
It doesn't take Alan long to learn that Danny is also a romantic. Two days after their first date, Danny is waiting for him in the parking lot of the school, sitting on the hood of his car with flowers and a cup of coffee. It's the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for him, and Alan honestly doesn't know what to say. The sweetest thing anyone has ever done for him changes, though, almost daily, because Danny never stops. It takes them less than a week to be completely, one-hundred ensconced in a clearly serious and long-term relationship, but winning Alan over doesn't stop Danny from going out of his way to make sure Alan feels appreciated. Alan, who's a little too thin and a little too quiet to ever be the center of attention, is honestly not sure how to handle it. Something inside of him tightens every time Danny surprises him with lunch or a road trip or a present. He momentarily can't breathe. It's a good thing - it's definitely a good thing - but it's something he's never felt before and something he doesn't know how to explain.
Danny doesn't explain it either, though Alan isn't sure if it's because he doesn't know how or because he's afraid of being off-putting. For someone as calm and rational and logically-minded as Danny Stevens, it's almost strange to think of him as so intimately, over-the-top-in-love with someone he's known for only three months. Alan hears him talking, though, mostly to his assistant Felicity, his friend Marissa. He doesn't mean to eavesdrop, but by June he's practically living at Danny's house and it's hard not to hear. He hears Danny use words like "love" and "forever," hears him talk about the lump that forms in his throat when he looks at Alan, hears him whisper into the phone that things are moving so fast his head is spinning and he just wants it to spin faster with every day that goes by. He hears the rest from the corner of the stairs, where he sits with his head between his knees because he, too, is so overcome by emotion that he doesn't know how to process it all.
November means nine months. November means Alan moving into Danny's house permanently. November, and the hum under the surface of Alan's skin still hasn't gone away, the fascination with being able to touch Danny whenever he wants, the joy at having someone there with their arms around him every day and every night no matter what. When he thinks about it, it makes him dizzy, so he tries not to think about it too much. Life is fine without thinking about it. Life is perfect without thinking about it, even. He loves his job, he's finally reached a place where he's financially stable, and he's living with someone who loves him more than he knew he could be loved. He doesn't examine it too closely. He can't. He's never been one for overly romantic schmoop, for long-winded speeches about someone occupying that special place in your heart. He's learned to like romance, but drivel like that still makes him wince, and it's frustrating that he can't think of any other way to say it, any other way to put it to words.
"What are you thinking about?" Danny asks him one day in late December when he's lying on the living room couch. Christmas is just days away and they've already had their first snowfall. Danny lies down next to him, which is a feat that leaves them comfortably and snuggly pressed together, face-to-face.
"Mmm, nothing," Alan says. Danny kisses him slowly, gently. Danny kisses him with a level of comfort and familiarity that means more to him than any frantic lust ever could. Danny kisses him and pulls away, the same question lingering in his eyes as he brushes Alan's hair back. "Okay, I was thinking about you," Alan admits, casting his eyes downward. He's smiling, even as he feels his cheeks start to go pink from embarrassment.
"What about me?" Danny asks, and right in that moment, looking at Danny, feeling secure and happy and comfortable on Danny's couch and in Danny's arms, Alan feels the familiar lump start to rise in his throat. He closes his eyes and swallows.
"I don't know how to...god, this is so pathetic, but sometimes I think about you and I can't even... I don't know how to handle it all. My heart just... aches." He opens his eyes and winces apologetically. "It's not... it's a good thing. I think. But I'm so overwhelmed that I can't... I'm completely unable to find a way to put it into words. To tell you or to... explain it to myself. It's not, 'Oh, there's Danny Stevens, I love him.' It's this overwhelming... just this mind-blowing feeling that this is something so much bigger than I am that I can't..." He trails off. Danny looks at him for a long moment.
"I think that's the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me," he says finally. Alan covers his face with his hands. He can feel himself turning pink again.
"Shut up," he says. "I'm serious."
"So am I," Danny says. He gently pries Alan's hands away and kisses him again, this time leaving his hands cradling his face. "You don't have to name it, Alan. It's there. That's enough."
"It makes me feel... tiny," he says quietly. "It makes me feel tiny when I'm on my own."
"That's because you're not supposed to be on your own anymore," Danny says. "People say it was too much too fast, but there's a reason we've been inseparable since the day we met, sweetheart. I knew it that night. Or I felt it, at least. I didn't know what it was until later. You did too. Felt it, I mean. You told me."
"I told you I felt like I was suffocating when I thought about you," he says. "But in a good way."
"You did," Danny said. "From that very first night. You feel tiny on your own because you're not supposed to be on your own anymore, Alan. You haven't been for a long time."
And Danny's a romantic, yes, a truly sappy sucker for romance, but Alan has to admit that lying there with his arms around Danny, blinking back tears that he doesn't understand, he's never agreed with him more.
***
Title: Two Cigarettes and a Bottle of Scotch
Prompt Set: Various 1
Prompt: 048; Diamond
Rating/Warnings: PG13: drinking, swearing, and... thinking.
Summary: In which Cynthia is engaged, Richard is old, and Alan is loved.
Author's Notes: This was actually supposed to be about Cynthia, but Richard stole the show.
The party wasn't so much loud as it was filled with people. People Alan knew, people he didn't know, friends of Cynthia's from high school, friends from work he'd never met. All of that, plus their family and Evan's family and Evan's friends... there were maybe sixty people wandering through the rented party room and that was making it nearly impossible to find the one person Alan was looking for.
"Cynthia!" he called uselessly to his sister, who was standing about fifteen feet away, blocked by a table and a few guests that Alan didn't know. She glanced at him and motioned for the people she was talking with to hold on. Alan finally managed to get to the table, carefully trying not to spill the drinks in his hand. "Have you seen Danny?" he asked. "I went to get drinks and lost track of him."
"I don't know where he is," she said. "Last I saw, the two of you were talking to Trudy and her husband." They both glanced around the room, around the mingling guests, trying to spot Danny.
"Hey there." Alan was lucky he put the drinks down on the table, because when Danny's hands landed on his shoulders, he jumped a good two feet into the air. At least, that's what it felt like.
"Jesus Christ," Alan muttered, turning around. "If I had still been holding our drinks we'd both be covered from head to toe in diet soda right now."
"I made sure you put them down first," Danny said. He was smiling and his cheeks were just slightly pink. Alan frowned.
"Have you been drinking?" he asked. Danny kissed his cheek.
"It's possible your father and I have been passing a bottle of whiskey back and forth since you left, yes," he said. He put his arms around Alan's waist and kissed him again. Although Alan hadn't smelled it, he could definitely taste the liquor on Danny's breath. "I'm stealing your brother," Danny said to Cynthia. Alan glanced over his shoulder at Cynthia's mild amusement and rolled his eyes.
"You did that a long time ago, Danny," she said.
It was easy enough to slip away from a party filled with people they didn't know. Danny tucked his arm around Alan's waist, smiled charmingly at the people who stood between them and the door, and managed to lead them outside with half as much trouble as it took Alan to get the sodas that were now sitting, forgotten, on the table. It was pretty impressive.
"You're mad at me for drinking," Danny murmured as they dodged by the last of the party quests and made it successfully to the door.
"I'm not mad at you," Alan said. "It just would have been nice if when I said, 'are you thirsty?' and you said, 'yeah,' you had mentioned that you were planning on relieving your thirst by getting hammered in the parking lot with my dad. I would have liked to join you and it would have saved me a trip across the room."
"He wanted to talk to me," Danny explained. He held the door open for Alan and then followed him through it. It was amazing how much quieter the world became when the door was firmly closed behind them. "Well, he wanted to talk to someone... he wanted to drink with someone and I was there. His little girl is getting married. The last of the brood."
It was colder than Alan would have expected for March. The afternoon had been springy and warm, but now that the sun was going down he could actually feel the temperature dropping.
"Cynthia's been engaged for like...four months," he said, crossing his arms against the cold and glancing over at Danny. "He's had plenty of time to get used to it. Plus, she's not the last of the brood to get married. There's still the little loophole of the gay middle son."
"Yeah, but now she's got a ring, and there's a party and dress fittings," Danny said. He wrapped an arm around Alan's shoulders and angled him away from the breeze as they walked down the length of the building, towards the back entrance. "And he said... he told me that in his eyes you've been married for three years. He doesn't need a piece of paper to tell him that."
That was considerably helpful in warming Alan up.
"He's a good dad, isn't he?"
"The best," Danny agreed.
They found Richard sitting on the steps to the rear entrance, leaning against the railing. He looked older than Alan remembered seeing him look in a long time.
"I asked you to bum me a cigarette and you brought me my second born," he said to Danny, gesturing for the two of them to sit down. "How many times have I told you boys to think with your heads and not with your-"
"Dad," Alan said, cutting him off quickly. "I thought you quit smoking years ago," he added with just a touch of disapproval, once Danny had stopped snickering. The two of them sat down on the steps next to Richard, even as Danny pulled two cigarettes out of his pocket and handed them over. "You'd better not be smoking," Alan said, giving Danny a pointed look.
"Don't worry, Mom, I didn't let the other kids peer pressure me," Danny replied.
"I don't know what I find more disturbing about that," Richard said around the cigarette that was now hanging out of his mouth. "The fact that you called my son who you're sleeping with 'mom' or the fact that you referred to me as one of the kids."
For a few minutes they sat in relative silence. The bottle of scotch was passed back and forth wordlessly. Alan watched his father out of the corner of his eye. He looked old. He looked tired. He looked, for once, like he didn't quite have a handle on the situation. It wasn't as disturbing as Alan thought it should be, as it might have been years beforehand. For the first time, Alan realized that he didn't expect his father to have all the answers. That was impossible, even for someone as smart and sharp as Richard Pratchett. No, Alan was at the point where he had to start finding his own answers, or at least, looking for them himself.
No. That wasn't right. He wasn't by himself. He had Danny.
He shivered, although it was hard for him to tell if it was from that thought or the cold. He had hoped the liquor would warm him a little, but it didn't seem to be working the way he planned. Danny gave him a curious look as he swallowed, handing the bottle over Alan's lap back to Richard.
"Cold?" he asked. Alan shrugged. Danny moved to take off his jacket, but Alan quickly put his hand on Danny's arm.
"You're going to be cold if you give me that," he said. "You're going to deny it and claim you want to give it to me anyway, but you're going to sit there for however long we're out here with your teeth chattering and it's going to be all my fault." Danny rolled his eyes, but didn't argue. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Alan's chest and rubbed his shoulders vigorously.
"I'm going to go get your coat," he said, pressing a kiss to the side of Alan's head. "If you're not going to let me give you mine, it's the least I can do."
"Danny!" Alan said, but it was a weak protest. He was more opposed to the idea of Danny getting up and letting go of him than of the actual act of Danny retrieving his coat. "I can do that, really."
"No, no," Danny said. "My parents raised me to be chivalrous. I might hate them and everything they stand for, but they were right about that. Always be courteous to-"
"Poor defenseless women?" Alan suggested with a mock glare.
"-People you love," Danny finished. He let go of Alan and stood up. "Don't go anywhere." Alan nodded and watched as Danny headed back up the side of the building towards the entrance.
"He's a good man," Richard said after Danny was out of sight.
"Hm?" Alan had been about a million miles away thinking about Danny and marriage and what his father had said earlier. He glanced over in time to see his father drop his cigarette butt onto the concrete and grind it out with his heel.
"Danny," Richard clarified. "Danny's a good man. I don't know if I've ever told you that directly." He took another swig of scotch before pressing the bottle back into Alan's hands, his eyes focused on the horizon. "When you first told us all about him... this great new boyfriend who you'd known for about two weeks... none of us thought it was going to last. Cynthia did, maybe, but your brother and sister-in-law and I, we just laughed. We assumed that it was you being you, being down on yourself the way you are. We figured that this mildly interesting man you met at work had expressed interest and you jumped right on it because you hated being alone." Alan blushed and looked at his feet, holding the bottle to his lips without tipping it back. What his father said was true. For years that had been how he operated, a series of terrible blind dates with boring men who he stuck around with for a few weeks at a time because they actually seemed to like him. He felt he couldn't afford to be picky. He didn't really expect to find someone who matched up to what he was looking for.
"Yeah," he said quietly, taking a sip of scotch and wincing as it burned its way down his throat.
"But Danny... Danny's a good man. He's smart and he's funny and he's easy to get along with, and those are the only qualifications I've ever had for anyone that any of you kids ever dated. Well, aside from the obvious. They have to treat you right, and they have to love you. Alan, the man loves you more than I think I had ever realized. That's a terrible thing to say, because I accepted him into my family as my own and I honestly have never doubted his loyalty to you. But I don't think I really knew until today how much he cared. You can't let that get away."
Alan screwed the cap back on the bottle and placed it on the stair next to him. "Dad," he said. "You're really drunk." He and his father talked more than most gay sons with Republican fathers did. That was unfair, really. He and his father talked more than most sons and fathers did, period. He had idolized his father as a boy and relied on him heavily as a man. Alan was an insecure genius who started teaching high school three hours away from everything he knew. If it wasn't for his father's phone calls, he wasn't sure he would have made it. Still, hearing his father talk this candidly about his relationship with Danny... they had only had two conversations about it, really. The first the week after Danny and his father met for the first time, and the second after their first Christmas together. Other than that, Alan and Danny's relationship was treated with the same liberal dose of sarcasm that the Pratchetts used for nearly everything.
"That might be true," Richard finally said. His eyes were still focused on the horizon, though Alan had a feeling he wasn't really looking at anything in particular. "I probably am very drunk, come to think of it. But I just sat out here with Danny and I told him that I don't need anything official to know that the two of you are as good as married. Do you know what he said to me?"
"No," Alan said softly. "I don't."
"He said to me, 'I'm glad I have your blessing. I can't promise we'll always be happy and I can't promise that I'll always be able to support us and I can't promise that things will always be as easy as they've been so far, but I can promise you that I will love your son for as long as I'm alive.'"
Alan swallowed past the lump forming in his throat.
"He's... very good for me," he said once he was sure he could speak evenly.
"I never had that with your mother," Richard said. "I thought I did, but after a few years it became clear that we were growing apart. We never got along as flawlessly as she seemed to think we should have. I'd like to hope that she was happy with Andrew Schreiber in those last few years, but I guess I'll never know for sure. But I never felt that way about Maggie, and that's how I know that Danny is a stand-up young man. I know it. I don't need to see a diamond on your finger to prove it, and as I've learned, in the long run that doesn't always mean what it's supposed to mean, anyway."
Alan leaned against his father's shoulder, closing his eyes.
"Thanks, Dad."
It was another few minutes before Danny came back with Alan's coat on his arm and three cups of coffee balanced in his hands. He wordlessly handed one to both Richard and Alan and placed the third on the step so he could pass on Alan's coat. Once he sat down, Alan wasted no time in taking his hand.
"Hi," he said, tangling their fingers together.
"Hi there," Danny replied, a tiny smile quirking up the corner of his mouth.
"You know," Alan continued. "Sometimes I think that I say 'I love you' so much that it stops having any meaning at all. It just becomes something I say a lot."
"You're wrong," Danny said. "It doesn't lose its meaning. Not coming from you. Not when I know you mean it."
"Okay," Alan said. "Then... I love you, Danny. Very much." Alan heard the click of a lighter from behind them. He'd save the smoking lecture for another time. His father had earned this.
"Because I got you your coat?" Danny asked. He was clearly puzzled, and as much as Alan wanted to relay the entire conversation with his father, he thought better of it. It wasn't, after all, anything either of them didn't already know.
"For many, many reasons," Alan said. Danny laughed, but didn't press further, choosing instead to let go of Alan's hand in favor of wrapping his arm around his shoulders. Alan leaned into him, warm in his coat, pressed up against Danny, with a cup of coffee between his icy hands. He'd take Danny's embrace and a good cup of coffee over a diamond ring any day.
***
Title: Texas Hold 'Em
Prompt Set: Various 1
Prompt: 050; Joker
Rating/Warnings: PG13: swearing, drinking, gambling and two lame sex puns.
Summary: In which Danny plays poker with the Pratchetts and Alan's family realizes he's picked a winner. Metaphorically.
Author's Notes: This wasn't what I intended it to be and I'm not particularly happy with it. Oh well. Denise is awesome.
"It's three o'clock in the morning," Danny said. Alan, Richie, Richard, and Denise ignored him. "Seriously," he added.
"Shut up," Denise said. "And Rich, would you make a decision already?" Alan glanced up from his cards and shared a tiny smile with Danny, who he thought was being incredibly patient with the Pratchett family poker game. The last boyfriend he brought home for poker night was Matt from college and he had passed out around one-thirty, mostly from boredom. Danny, at least, was mostly holding his own, even if he was starting to look tired.
"This will probably be the last hand anyway," Richie said. "Alan's broke, you've just about had it, Denise is done, and the game's no fun if it's just me and Dad." He pushed some chips forward. "Raise fifty." There was a chorus of groans from around the table.
"Fold," muttered Alan.
"Thank god we share a bank account," Denise said as she threw down her cards. Richard just smirked and added his own chips to the pile. "Remember, Richard, this bet will directly effect your grandchildren's college education."
"Don't worry, honey, I've got this in the bag," Richie said. Denise rolled her eyes and turned to her father-in-law, giving him a pleading look.
"Really, Richard, don't you want them to have a future?"
Alan laughed softly and reached for Danny's hand, leaning against his shoulder.
"Did you have a good time?" he asked quietly. His brother, sister-in-law, and father were still arguing about bets, ignoring the fact that the best way to settle the score would probably be to just show their hands and get the damn thing over with.
"I did," Danny replied. "I am. I admit, it was much more relaxed and fun than I thought it would be." He dropped Alan's hand and slid an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer. "I like your family," he added, his lips close to Alan's ear. "I mean, I knew that I liked your father and sister, but seeing the whole family together... I really enjoy being around them. I feel very... accepted." Alan beamed at him - there was no other word for it - and kissed him.
"You taste like stale beer," Danny murmured once they'd pulled apart. He smiled affectionately and kissed Alan's cheek when the other man rolled his eyes.
"That's because it's all I've had to eat or drink in the past four hours," he said settling back with his arms around Danny's chest, his head on Danny's shoulder, to watch the rest of the argument.
With the final round of betting over, Richie and Richard revealed their hands to show a not altogether unsurprising win from Richard.
"Fuck!" Richie said. "I was so close!" Denise snorted and rolled her eyes.
"Yeah. Right. Next time I'm capping how much you're allowed to bet. You're such a bad card player."
"I'm a great card player," he insisted. "I'm just not as good as Dad."
"No, you really are pretty bad sometimes," Alan said. This earned him a thumbs-up from Denise and a scowl from Richie. "You get so arrogant, it never occurs to you that people could possibly have better hands than you."
"You're just saying that because you're a crappy poker player," Richie groused.
"I'm not crappy, I'm just not as good as you are sometimes. I can still beat you at pool." He let go of Danny and stood up, stretching. They'd been playing for almost six hours and he had definitely lost all of the cash he started with.
"That's because you're a pool shark," Richie said. He nudged Danny with his elbow. "Did you know your boyfriend's a pool shark?"
"I can't be a pool shark if you know I'm good at pool, Richie," Alan pointed out. "The whole point of being a pool shark is hiding your talent in order to win money. I've never done that. You're just bitter because it's simple physics and you're still terrible at it."
"My ego's already been crushed for the night," Richie muttered, watching Richard open the plastic box the money had been in and start to dole out everyone's winnings. "Don't you have better things to do than make fun of me more?"
"Actually, I do," Alan said with a smirk. "And he's been waiting very patiently for the past six hours, so I should probably get a move on." It took Danny a second to process that, and by the time he had figured it out, Alan was already halfway across the basement and towards the stairs. "I'll see you upstairs," he called over his shoulder.
Danny grabbed his eight dollars off the table and shoved it into his pocket. "It was very nice to play with you all," he said, fumbling to stand up. "And I'll see you tomorrow. And... hey! You'd better have a mint if you expect to be kissing me on the mouth!" he yelled as he rushed to catch up with Alan. The Pratchetts collectively rolled their eyes, but fondly so.
"Who'd of thought, after the way he played tonight, that Alan would get lucky?" Denise mused.
"That is the worst pun and the worst mental image I've had to deal with in a long time," Richie said. He winced for emphasis. "Come on. We should go to bed too. As the winner, you get the clean up our mess, Dad."
"Thirty years later and I'm still picking up your toys? I guess I shouldn't be surprised," Richard said, but he smiled as his oldest son and his wife left the basement. Picking up cards was a small price to pay for a happy family.
Prompt Set: Various 1
Prompt: 046; King
Rating/Warnings: PG-ish. Nothing too awful except some vague references to sex.
Summary: In which shopping for bed linens is the gayest thing Alan has ever done.
Author's Notes: A personal challenge to write only dialogue. Part of an unrelated set of four (in that the prompts are related but the stories aren't).
December 5, 1998
"This is the most pointless thing I've ever done. It's also the gayest thing I've ever done."
"I wouldn't be so quick to say that. I can think of some pretty gay things you've done recently, and I'm not just talking about the three new pairs of shoes you just bought."
"Shut up. I like shoes, okay? Like you should talk, Mr. My-closets-are-so-full-of-clothes-my-boyfriend-is-living-out-of-boxes-a-month-after-moving-in."
"Actually, my friends just call me Danny."
"You're hysterical."
"Thank you, I'll be here all week. Don't forget to tip your waitresses."
"Hysterical and cliché and a clothes horse. What more could I ask for?"
"A salesperson, actually, would be good."
"I still think this is stupid. You have a perfectly nice bed. I have a perfectly nice bed. In your--our house, we have two perfectly nice beds. There is no earthly reason why we need to go out and buy another one."
"It's a gesture! It's a symbolic thing. We're starting a new chapter of our lives, Alan! We are beginning the first of what I hope will be many, many years together, and we should start completely fresh. Plus, I've always wanted a king-sized bed and this is the perfect excuse for it."
"You're crazy."
"Come on! Live in the moment! Be spontaneous!"
"I just don't see the point in wasting money on something we don't need. I'm sorry if I was brought up to be fiscally cautious."
"Alan. Seriously. Your father's like, a millionaire. You were brought up with a maid and a cook and ballroom dancing lessons at a country club."
"Let me rephrase that. Living practically below the poverty line as a public school teacher has led me to be fiscally cautious."
"Well now you don't have to be! It's a celebration of your good fortune."
"My good fortune of convincing someone who makes substantially more money than I do to sleep with me?"
"You forgot the part where I'm also very handsome."
"Moderately wealthy, handsome, and a lunatic. I guess you have to take the good with the bad..."
"Are you planning on making fun of me all night?"
"...Yes."
"Okay, can you do it while looking at bedspreads? What do you think about this?"
"The gayest thing I've ever done, Danny..."
"Picking out a bedspread?"
"Picking out a bedspread by comparing it to fabric swatches and paint samples, yes. The last one I just... bought."
"You didn't buy it to match your room?"
"I lived in a roach-infested apartment across the hall from a doddering old woman and above a family with three teenagers who liked to play their music at all hours of the night. I moved in, spent one sleepless night on the couch, went to the department store, and said, 'I really like blue,' and added another charge to my seemingly endless list of expenses."
"You poor thing."
"How is it that I'm the really queer one in this relationship? How does that even work? How is it that none of the people at your office even suspect that you're as gay as the day is long?"
"I'm a great actor. Now, tell me what you think about this. I think it goes really well with the drapes and the carpet. It doesn't really match the chair, but we can get a new slipcover for that if we need to."
"Okay."
"It's really rich, so it will set off the walls pretty well, too. The nice muted eggshell color will bring out some of the gold in the trim."
"Right."
"I think it will give a nice look to the furniture I already have. We can switch your dresser into the guest room and bring my other bureau back into our bedroom. The whole thing will look very classy."
"Sure."
"Plus, it's green, and there's something incredibly sexy about the way you look against something green. It sets off your eyes."
"...."
"Admit it, Alan. This can be enjoyable."
"If you keep saying things like that and looking at me like that and you don't get your hand off my ass, things are going to get a little too enjoyable."
"See?"
"It's still the gayest thing I've ever done."
"You say that now, but just wait until I get you home. I have some incredibly gay things planned for breaking in this new bed."
"I don't doubt that. In fact, it's possible I was counting on it."
"Well then, let's find a salesperson."
"Let's."
***
Title: Inability to Process
Prompt Set: Various 1
Prompt: 047; Heart
Rating/Warnings: PG-ish.
Summary: In which Alan tries to avoid being a schmoopy romantic, but doesn't quite get away with it.
Author's Notes: A personal challenge to write a story with no dialogue. I failed. This is... very mushy. I apologize.
Alan's not a romantic, not really. He never has been. He appreciates romance, and he's not opposed to it, but he's never been the one initiating the grand gestures. Sure, John Cusack standing outside the window blasting "In Your Eyes" was a sweet thought, but it would never occur to him to do something along those lines himself. Alan isn't looking for grand romance. He's not not looking for it, but he'd be more than happy to settle for love and happiness. Barring those things, he'd be more than happy to settle for dependability.
He knows from the first time he meets Danny Stevens that there's something special about him. He's gorgeous, yes, and funny and sweet, but there's a certain amount of chemistry between them, a certain tingling that overcomes him when they look at each other, like a hum right under his skin. He doesn't know what it is, but he's intrigued enough to want to learn more, much more, and as fast as he can.
Danny, it turns out, is a bull's-eye. Danny is everything that Alan has ever thought to look for. He's reliable, he's comfortable, he's dependable, and he makes Alan happy. After two weeks Alan confesses in a whisper to his sister Cynthia that it's entirely possible he's falling in love with Danny Stevens. They smile and laugh and talk about it for almost an hour even though they're both nearly thirty and well past the point where staying up late, talking on the phone about boys is acceptable. It doesn't matter, though, Alan never feels silly doing it because the hum under his skin hasn't gone away, and talking about Danny, thinking about Danny is like walking around on a twenty-four hour high.
It doesn't take Alan long to learn that Danny is also a romantic. Two days after their first date, Danny is waiting for him in the parking lot of the school, sitting on the hood of his car with flowers and a cup of coffee. It's the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for him, and Alan honestly doesn't know what to say. The sweetest thing anyone has ever done for him changes, though, almost daily, because Danny never stops. It takes them less than a week to be completely, one-hundred ensconced in a clearly serious and long-term relationship, but winning Alan over doesn't stop Danny from going out of his way to make sure Alan feels appreciated. Alan, who's a little too thin and a little too quiet to ever be the center of attention, is honestly not sure how to handle it. Something inside of him tightens every time Danny surprises him with lunch or a road trip or a present. He momentarily can't breathe. It's a good thing - it's definitely a good thing - but it's something he's never felt before and something he doesn't know how to explain.
Danny doesn't explain it either, though Alan isn't sure if it's because he doesn't know how or because he's afraid of being off-putting. For someone as calm and rational and logically-minded as Danny Stevens, it's almost strange to think of him as so intimately, over-the-top-in-love with someone he's known for only three months. Alan hears him talking, though, mostly to his assistant Felicity, his friend Marissa. He doesn't mean to eavesdrop, but by June he's practically living at Danny's house and it's hard not to hear. He hears Danny use words like "love" and "forever," hears him talk about the lump that forms in his throat when he looks at Alan, hears him whisper into the phone that things are moving so fast his head is spinning and he just wants it to spin faster with every day that goes by. He hears the rest from the corner of the stairs, where he sits with his head between his knees because he, too, is so overcome by emotion that he doesn't know how to process it all.
November means nine months. November means Alan moving into Danny's house permanently. November, and the hum under the surface of Alan's skin still hasn't gone away, the fascination with being able to touch Danny whenever he wants, the joy at having someone there with their arms around him every day and every night no matter what. When he thinks about it, it makes him dizzy, so he tries not to think about it too much. Life is fine without thinking about it. Life is perfect without thinking about it, even. He loves his job, he's finally reached a place where he's financially stable, and he's living with someone who loves him more than he knew he could be loved. He doesn't examine it too closely. He can't. He's never been one for overly romantic schmoop, for long-winded speeches about someone occupying that special place in your heart. He's learned to like romance, but drivel like that still makes him wince, and it's frustrating that he can't think of any other way to say it, any other way to put it to words.
"What are you thinking about?" Danny asks him one day in late December when he's lying on the living room couch. Christmas is just days away and they've already had their first snowfall. Danny lies down next to him, which is a feat that leaves them comfortably and snuggly pressed together, face-to-face.
"Mmm, nothing," Alan says. Danny kisses him slowly, gently. Danny kisses him with a level of comfort and familiarity that means more to him than any frantic lust ever could. Danny kisses him and pulls away, the same question lingering in his eyes as he brushes Alan's hair back. "Okay, I was thinking about you," Alan admits, casting his eyes downward. He's smiling, even as he feels his cheeks start to go pink from embarrassment.
"What about me?" Danny asks, and right in that moment, looking at Danny, feeling secure and happy and comfortable on Danny's couch and in Danny's arms, Alan feels the familiar lump start to rise in his throat. He closes his eyes and swallows.
"I don't know how to...god, this is so pathetic, but sometimes I think about you and I can't even... I don't know how to handle it all. My heart just... aches." He opens his eyes and winces apologetically. "It's not... it's a good thing. I think. But I'm so overwhelmed that I can't... I'm completely unable to find a way to put it into words. To tell you or to... explain it to myself. It's not, 'Oh, there's Danny Stevens, I love him.' It's this overwhelming... just this mind-blowing feeling that this is something so much bigger than I am that I can't..." He trails off. Danny looks at him for a long moment.
"I think that's the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me," he says finally. Alan covers his face with his hands. He can feel himself turning pink again.
"Shut up," he says. "I'm serious."
"So am I," Danny says. He gently pries Alan's hands away and kisses him again, this time leaving his hands cradling his face. "You don't have to name it, Alan. It's there. That's enough."
"It makes me feel... tiny," he says quietly. "It makes me feel tiny when I'm on my own."
"That's because you're not supposed to be on your own anymore," Danny says. "People say it was too much too fast, but there's a reason we've been inseparable since the day we met, sweetheart. I knew it that night. Or I felt it, at least. I didn't know what it was until later. You did too. Felt it, I mean. You told me."
"I told you I felt like I was suffocating when I thought about you," he says. "But in a good way."
"You did," Danny said. "From that very first night. You feel tiny on your own because you're not supposed to be on your own anymore, Alan. You haven't been for a long time."
And Danny's a romantic, yes, a truly sappy sucker for romance, but Alan has to admit that lying there with his arms around Danny, blinking back tears that he doesn't understand, he's never agreed with him more.
***
Title: Two Cigarettes and a Bottle of Scotch
Prompt Set: Various 1
Prompt: 048; Diamond
Rating/Warnings: PG13: drinking, swearing, and... thinking.
Summary: In which Cynthia is engaged, Richard is old, and Alan is loved.
Author's Notes: This was actually supposed to be about Cynthia, but Richard stole the show.
The party wasn't so much loud as it was filled with people. People Alan knew, people he didn't know, friends of Cynthia's from high school, friends from work he'd never met. All of that, plus their family and Evan's family and Evan's friends... there were maybe sixty people wandering through the rented party room and that was making it nearly impossible to find the one person Alan was looking for.
"Cynthia!" he called uselessly to his sister, who was standing about fifteen feet away, blocked by a table and a few guests that Alan didn't know. She glanced at him and motioned for the people she was talking with to hold on. Alan finally managed to get to the table, carefully trying not to spill the drinks in his hand. "Have you seen Danny?" he asked. "I went to get drinks and lost track of him."
"I don't know where he is," she said. "Last I saw, the two of you were talking to Trudy and her husband." They both glanced around the room, around the mingling guests, trying to spot Danny.
"Hey there." Alan was lucky he put the drinks down on the table, because when Danny's hands landed on his shoulders, he jumped a good two feet into the air. At least, that's what it felt like.
"Jesus Christ," Alan muttered, turning around. "If I had still been holding our drinks we'd both be covered from head to toe in diet soda right now."
"I made sure you put them down first," Danny said. He was smiling and his cheeks were just slightly pink. Alan frowned.
"Have you been drinking?" he asked. Danny kissed his cheek.
"It's possible your father and I have been passing a bottle of whiskey back and forth since you left, yes," he said. He put his arms around Alan's waist and kissed him again. Although Alan hadn't smelled it, he could definitely taste the liquor on Danny's breath. "I'm stealing your brother," Danny said to Cynthia. Alan glanced over his shoulder at Cynthia's mild amusement and rolled his eyes.
"You did that a long time ago, Danny," she said.
It was easy enough to slip away from a party filled with people they didn't know. Danny tucked his arm around Alan's waist, smiled charmingly at the people who stood between them and the door, and managed to lead them outside with half as much trouble as it took Alan to get the sodas that were now sitting, forgotten, on the table. It was pretty impressive.
"You're mad at me for drinking," Danny murmured as they dodged by the last of the party quests and made it successfully to the door.
"I'm not mad at you," Alan said. "It just would have been nice if when I said, 'are you thirsty?' and you said, 'yeah,' you had mentioned that you were planning on relieving your thirst by getting hammered in the parking lot with my dad. I would have liked to join you and it would have saved me a trip across the room."
"He wanted to talk to me," Danny explained. He held the door open for Alan and then followed him through it. It was amazing how much quieter the world became when the door was firmly closed behind them. "Well, he wanted to talk to someone... he wanted to drink with someone and I was there. His little girl is getting married. The last of the brood."
It was colder than Alan would have expected for March. The afternoon had been springy and warm, but now that the sun was going down he could actually feel the temperature dropping.
"Cynthia's been engaged for like...four months," he said, crossing his arms against the cold and glancing over at Danny. "He's had plenty of time to get used to it. Plus, she's not the last of the brood to get married. There's still the little loophole of the gay middle son."
"Yeah, but now she's got a ring, and there's a party and dress fittings," Danny said. He wrapped an arm around Alan's shoulders and angled him away from the breeze as they walked down the length of the building, towards the back entrance. "And he said... he told me that in his eyes you've been married for three years. He doesn't need a piece of paper to tell him that."
That was considerably helpful in warming Alan up.
"He's a good dad, isn't he?"
"The best," Danny agreed.
They found Richard sitting on the steps to the rear entrance, leaning against the railing. He looked older than Alan remembered seeing him look in a long time.
"I asked you to bum me a cigarette and you brought me my second born," he said to Danny, gesturing for the two of them to sit down. "How many times have I told you boys to think with your heads and not with your-"
"Dad," Alan said, cutting him off quickly. "I thought you quit smoking years ago," he added with just a touch of disapproval, once Danny had stopped snickering. The two of them sat down on the steps next to Richard, even as Danny pulled two cigarettes out of his pocket and handed them over. "You'd better not be smoking," Alan said, giving Danny a pointed look.
"Don't worry, Mom, I didn't let the other kids peer pressure me," Danny replied.
"I don't know what I find more disturbing about that," Richard said around the cigarette that was now hanging out of his mouth. "The fact that you called my son who you're sleeping with 'mom' or the fact that you referred to me as one of the kids."
For a few minutes they sat in relative silence. The bottle of scotch was passed back and forth wordlessly. Alan watched his father out of the corner of his eye. He looked old. He looked tired. He looked, for once, like he didn't quite have a handle on the situation. It wasn't as disturbing as Alan thought it should be, as it might have been years beforehand. For the first time, Alan realized that he didn't expect his father to have all the answers. That was impossible, even for someone as smart and sharp as Richard Pratchett. No, Alan was at the point where he had to start finding his own answers, or at least, looking for them himself.
No. That wasn't right. He wasn't by himself. He had Danny.
He shivered, although it was hard for him to tell if it was from that thought or the cold. He had hoped the liquor would warm him a little, but it didn't seem to be working the way he planned. Danny gave him a curious look as he swallowed, handing the bottle over Alan's lap back to Richard.
"Cold?" he asked. Alan shrugged. Danny moved to take off his jacket, but Alan quickly put his hand on Danny's arm.
"You're going to be cold if you give me that," he said. "You're going to deny it and claim you want to give it to me anyway, but you're going to sit there for however long we're out here with your teeth chattering and it's going to be all my fault." Danny rolled his eyes, but didn't argue. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Alan's chest and rubbed his shoulders vigorously.
"I'm going to go get your coat," he said, pressing a kiss to the side of Alan's head. "If you're not going to let me give you mine, it's the least I can do."
"Danny!" Alan said, but it was a weak protest. He was more opposed to the idea of Danny getting up and letting go of him than of the actual act of Danny retrieving his coat. "I can do that, really."
"No, no," Danny said. "My parents raised me to be chivalrous. I might hate them and everything they stand for, but they were right about that. Always be courteous to-"
"Poor defenseless women?" Alan suggested with a mock glare.
"-People you love," Danny finished. He let go of Alan and stood up. "Don't go anywhere." Alan nodded and watched as Danny headed back up the side of the building towards the entrance.
"He's a good man," Richard said after Danny was out of sight.
"Hm?" Alan had been about a million miles away thinking about Danny and marriage and what his father had said earlier. He glanced over in time to see his father drop his cigarette butt onto the concrete and grind it out with his heel.
"Danny," Richard clarified. "Danny's a good man. I don't know if I've ever told you that directly." He took another swig of scotch before pressing the bottle back into Alan's hands, his eyes focused on the horizon. "When you first told us all about him... this great new boyfriend who you'd known for about two weeks... none of us thought it was going to last. Cynthia did, maybe, but your brother and sister-in-law and I, we just laughed. We assumed that it was you being you, being down on yourself the way you are. We figured that this mildly interesting man you met at work had expressed interest and you jumped right on it because you hated being alone." Alan blushed and looked at his feet, holding the bottle to his lips without tipping it back. What his father said was true. For years that had been how he operated, a series of terrible blind dates with boring men who he stuck around with for a few weeks at a time because they actually seemed to like him. He felt he couldn't afford to be picky. He didn't really expect to find someone who matched up to what he was looking for.
"Yeah," he said quietly, taking a sip of scotch and wincing as it burned its way down his throat.
"But Danny... Danny's a good man. He's smart and he's funny and he's easy to get along with, and those are the only qualifications I've ever had for anyone that any of you kids ever dated. Well, aside from the obvious. They have to treat you right, and they have to love you. Alan, the man loves you more than I think I had ever realized. That's a terrible thing to say, because I accepted him into my family as my own and I honestly have never doubted his loyalty to you. But I don't think I really knew until today how much he cared. You can't let that get away."
Alan screwed the cap back on the bottle and placed it on the stair next to him. "Dad," he said. "You're really drunk." He and his father talked more than most gay sons with Republican fathers did. That was unfair, really. He and his father talked more than most sons and fathers did, period. He had idolized his father as a boy and relied on him heavily as a man. Alan was an insecure genius who started teaching high school three hours away from everything he knew. If it wasn't for his father's phone calls, he wasn't sure he would have made it. Still, hearing his father talk this candidly about his relationship with Danny... they had only had two conversations about it, really. The first the week after Danny and his father met for the first time, and the second after their first Christmas together. Other than that, Alan and Danny's relationship was treated with the same liberal dose of sarcasm that the Pratchetts used for nearly everything.
"That might be true," Richard finally said. His eyes were still focused on the horizon, though Alan had a feeling he wasn't really looking at anything in particular. "I probably am very drunk, come to think of it. But I just sat out here with Danny and I told him that I don't need anything official to know that the two of you are as good as married. Do you know what he said to me?"
"No," Alan said softly. "I don't."
"He said to me, 'I'm glad I have your blessing. I can't promise we'll always be happy and I can't promise that I'll always be able to support us and I can't promise that things will always be as easy as they've been so far, but I can promise you that I will love your son for as long as I'm alive.'"
Alan swallowed past the lump forming in his throat.
"He's... very good for me," he said once he was sure he could speak evenly.
"I never had that with your mother," Richard said. "I thought I did, but after a few years it became clear that we were growing apart. We never got along as flawlessly as she seemed to think we should have. I'd like to hope that she was happy with Andrew Schreiber in those last few years, but I guess I'll never know for sure. But I never felt that way about Maggie, and that's how I know that Danny is a stand-up young man. I know it. I don't need to see a diamond on your finger to prove it, and as I've learned, in the long run that doesn't always mean what it's supposed to mean, anyway."
Alan leaned against his father's shoulder, closing his eyes.
"Thanks, Dad."
It was another few minutes before Danny came back with Alan's coat on his arm and three cups of coffee balanced in his hands. He wordlessly handed one to both Richard and Alan and placed the third on the step so he could pass on Alan's coat. Once he sat down, Alan wasted no time in taking his hand.
"Hi," he said, tangling their fingers together.
"Hi there," Danny replied, a tiny smile quirking up the corner of his mouth.
"You know," Alan continued. "Sometimes I think that I say 'I love you' so much that it stops having any meaning at all. It just becomes something I say a lot."
"You're wrong," Danny said. "It doesn't lose its meaning. Not coming from you. Not when I know you mean it."
"Okay," Alan said. "Then... I love you, Danny. Very much." Alan heard the click of a lighter from behind them. He'd save the smoking lecture for another time. His father had earned this.
"Because I got you your coat?" Danny asked. He was clearly puzzled, and as much as Alan wanted to relay the entire conversation with his father, he thought better of it. It wasn't, after all, anything either of them didn't already know.
"For many, many reasons," Alan said. Danny laughed, but didn't press further, choosing instead to let go of Alan's hand in favor of wrapping his arm around his shoulders. Alan leaned into him, warm in his coat, pressed up against Danny, with a cup of coffee between his icy hands. He'd take Danny's embrace and a good cup of coffee over a diamond ring any day.
***
Title: Texas Hold 'Em
Prompt Set: Various 1
Prompt: 050; Joker
Rating/Warnings: PG13: swearing, drinking, gambling and two lame sex puns.
Summary: In which Danny plays poker with the Pratchetts and Alan's family realizes he's picked a winner. Metaphorically.
Author's Notes: This wasn't what I intended it to be and I'm not particularly happy with it. Oh well. Denise is awesome.
"It's three o'clock in the morning," Danny said. Alan, Richie, Richard, and Denise ignored him. "Seriously," he added.
"Shut up," Denise said. "And Rich, would you make a decision already?" Alan glanced up from his cards and shared a tiny smile with Danny, who he thought was being incredibly patient with the Pratchett family poker game. The last boyfriend he brought home for poker night was Matt from college and he had passed out around one-thirty, mostly from boredom. Danny, at least, was mostly holding his own, even if he was starting to look tired.
"This will probably be the last hand anyway," Richie said. "Alan's broke, you've just about had it, Denise is done, and the game's no fun if it's just me and Dad." He pushed some chips forward. "Raise fifty." There was a chorus of groans from around the table.
"Fold," muttered Alan.
"Thank god we share a bank account," Denise said as she threw down her cards. Richard just smirked and added his own chips to the pile. "Remember, Richard, this bet will directly effect your grandchildren's college education."
"Don't worry, honey, I've got this in the bag," Richie said. Denise rolled her eyes and turned to her father-in-law, giving him a pleading look.
"Really, Richard, don't you want them to have a future?"
Alan laughed softly and reached for Danny's hand, leaning against his shoulder.
"Did you have a good time?" he asked quietly. His brother, sister-in-law, and father were still arguing about bets, ignoring the fact that the best way to settle the score would probably be to just show their hands and get the damn thing over with.
"I did," Danny replied. "I am. I admit, it was much more relaxed and fun than I thought it would be." He dropped Alan's hand and slid an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer. "I like your family," he added, his lips close to Alan's ear. "I mean, I knew that I liked your father and sister, but seeing the whole family together... I really enjoy being around them. I feel very... accepted." Alan beamed at him - there was no other word for it - and kissed him.
"You taste like stale beer," Danny murmured once they'd pulled apart. He smiled affectionately and kissed Alan's cheek when the other man rolled his eyes.
"That's because it's all I've had to eat or drink in the past four hours," he said settling back with his arms around Danny's chest, his head on Danny's shoulder, to watch the rest of the argument.
With the final round of betting over, Richie and Richard revealed their hands to show a not altogether unsurprising win from Richard.
"Fuck!" Richie said. "I was so close!" Denise snorted and rolled her eyes.
"Yeah. Right. Next time I'm capping how much you're allowed to bet. You're such a bad card player."
"I'm a great card player," he insisted. "I'm just not as good as Dad."
"No, you really are pretty bad sometimes," Alan said. This earned him a thumbs-up from Denise and a scowl from Richie. "You get so arrogant, it never occurs to you that people could possibly have better hands than you."
"You're just saying that because you're a crappy poker player," Richie groused.
"I'm not crappy, I'm just not as good as you are sometimes. I can still beat you at pool." He let go of Danny and stood up, stretching. They'd been playing for almost six hours and he had definitely lost all of the cash he started with.
"That's because you're a pool shark," Richie said. He nudged Danny with his elbow. "Did you know your boyfriend's a pool shark?"
"I can't be a pool shark if you know I'm good at pool, Richie," Alan pointed out. "The whole point of being a pool shark is hiding your talent in order to win money. I've never done that. You're just bitter because it's simple physics and you're still terrible at it."
"My ego's already been crushed for the night," Richie muttered, watching Richard open the plastic box the money had been in and start to dole out everyone's winnings. "Don't you have better things to do than make fun of me more?"
"Actually, I do," Alan said with a smirk. "And he's been waiting very patiently for the past six hours, so I should probably get a move on." It took Danny a second to process that, and by the time he had figured it out, Alan was already halfway across the basement and towards the stairs. "I'll see you upstairs," he called over his shoulder.
Danny grabbed his eight dollars off the table and shoved it into his pocket. "It was very nice to play with you all," he said, fumbling to stand up. "And I'll see you tomorrow. And... hey! You'd better have a mint if you expect to be kissing me on the mouth!" he yelled as he rushed to catch up with Alan. The Pratchetts collectively rolled their eyes, but fondly so.
"Who'd of thought, after the way he played tonight, that Alan would get lucky?" Denise mused.
"That is the worst pun and the worst mental image I've had to deal with in a long time," Richie said. He winced for emphasis. "Come on. We should go to bed too. As the winner, you get the clean up our mess, Dad."
"Thirty years later and I'm still picking up your toys? I guess I shouldn't be surprised," Richard said, but he smiled as his oldest son and his wife left the basement. Picking up cards was a small price to pay for a happy family.