Alan Pratchett / Various 1 / 038; Touch
Title: Tender
Prompt Set: Various 1
Prompt: 038; Touch
Rating/Warnings: PG
Summary: Only when he gets back to his apartment does he allow himself to examine his wrist, to wince at the pink cuff that's going to blossom over night into yellow and purple bruises.
Notes: Takes place Feb/March-ish 2006. Comments welcomed and encouraged.
Danny's fingers could encircle Alan's wrist perfectly. His thumb just touched the tips of his first and second finger without crushing Alan's wrist or even putting any uncomfortable pressure on it. The first time Alan noticed was while rushing quickly through a crowded shopping mall. Danny grabbed his wrist to keep from getting lost in the crowd and it felt... solid. Secure.
He liked touching Danny and Danny was constantly touching him. Danny's fingers found their way around his wrist on a regular basis, whether it was to keep track of him (a firm grip as they squeeze through crowds at the airport), get his attention (a playful tug to distract him from the science journal currently mesmerizing him), or to restrain him (wrists pressed into the pillows, heat pooling in his stomach, back arched-shaking and needy-off the mattress). It was always with love and affection. It was always with the warmth that Alan saw in Danny's every movement. Danny treated his hands, his arms, the delicate bones of his wrist with as much reverence as he treated every other part of Alan's body. Danny's touches, Danny's fingers in a perfect circle around his wrist, were never anything but gentle.
These are the things running through Alan's mind as Dan Green grabs his wrist and tries to pull him back into the house. He knows that Dan doesn't mean to hurt him, but when he twists to pull away, Dan's fingers tighten and Alan hisses in pain. He manages to yank his arm away, to ignore the throbbing as he fishes his keys out of his pocket and gets into his car, peeling out of the driveway and down the street at about twice the recommended speed. Only when he gets back to his apartment does he allow himself to examine his wrist, to wince at the pink cuff that's going to blossom over night into yellow and purple bruises.
Dan didn't mean to hurt him. Dan has big hands, strong hands, and Alan is much smaller than he looks, awkward angles and frail bones hidden under baggy clothes and a somewhat overbearing attitude. When Dan finds out this has happened, he'll probably spend months agonizing over it.
Still, Alan can help but fixate. Tomorrow there will be a purple ring where, three years ago, Danny Stevens used to press breathy kisses, an ugly mark in the same place, in the same shape as Danny's steady grip.
This is useless.
"Danny Stevens doesn't love you," he says out loud. The words are too loud in the empty apartment. Not even the refrigerator is humming loud enough to break the silence. He flinches at the way everything seems to grind to a halt. He's sure he can feel the particles of dust stopping in their tracks, staring at him. Fleetingly, he thinks of Doug in the next apartment over. Doug would think he was crazy if he could see this. No. That's not right. Doug is probably one of the only people on the planet who wouldn't think that.
"Danny Stevens doesn't love you," he says again, with more confidence. "Danny Stevens had his chance. He blew it." He doesn't falter this time. He pushes past the lump in his throat. "It’s not fair to hold Dan Green to a precedent he could never have known about." It is unfair. He shouldn't let his thoughts linger on this. If Dan knew... if Dan realized what he was doing, he never, ever would have done it. Alan can't possibly hold this against him, can't hold him up to a standard set by a man who, in the end, valued his pride more than the person he loved.
He tries to embrace this. He decides he'll apologize to Dan first thing in the morning. He decides to hide the bruising from him, to do his best to keep him from feeling badly about something he couldn't help. He decides he'll do his best to put Danny Stevens firmly in the past and focus on the present.
He decides all these things, but he still crawls into bed wearing an NYU "Class of 1984" t-shirt that he digs out from the back of his dresser and tries to pretend that it only means that it's time to do laundry.
Prompt Set: Various 1
Prompt: 038; Touch
Rating/Warnings: PG
Summary: Only when he gets back to his apartment does he allow himself to examine his wrist, to wince at the pink cuff that's going to blossom over night into yellow and purple bruises.
Notes: Takes place Feb/March-ish 2006. Comments welcomed and encouraged.
Danny's fingers could encircle Alan's wrist perfectly. His thumb just touched the tips of his first and second finger without crushing Alan's wrist or even putting any uncomfortable pressure on it. The first time Alan noticed was while rushing quickly through a crowded shopping mall. Danny grabbed his wrist to keep from getting lost in the crowd and it felt... solid. Secure.
He liked touching Danny and Danny was constantly touching him. Danny's fingers found their way around his wrist on a regular basis, whether it was to keep track of him (a firm grip as they squeeze through crowds at the airport), get his attention (a playful tug to distract him from the science journal currently mesmerizing him), or to restrain him (wrists pressed into the pillows, heat pooling in his stomach, back arched-shaking and needy-off the mattress). It was always with love and affection. It was always with the warmth that Alan saw in Danny's every movement. Danny treated his hands, his arms, the delicate bones of his wrist with as much reverence as he treated every other part of Alan's body. Danny's touches, Danny's fingers in a perfect circle around his wrist, were never anything but gentle.
These are the things running through Alan's mind as Dan Green grabs his wrist and tries to pull him back into the house. He knows that Dan doesn't mean to hurt him, but when he twists to pull away, Dan's fingers tighten and Alan hisses in pain. He manages to yank his arm away, to ignore the throbbing as he fishes his keys out of his pocket and gets into his car, peeling out of the driveway and down the street at about twice the recommended speed. Only when he gets back to his apartment does he allow himself to examine his wrist, to wince at the pink cuff that's going to blossom over night into yellow and purple bruises.
Dan didn't mean to hurt him. Dan has big hands, strong hands, and Alan is much smaller than he looks, awkward angles and frail bones hidden under baggy clothes and a somewhat overbearing attitude. When Dan finds out this has happened, he'll probably spend months agonizing over it.
Still, Alan can help but fixate. Tomorrow there will be a purple ring where, three years ago, Danny Stevens used to press breathy kisses, an ugly mark in the same place, in the same shape as Danny's steady grip.
This is useless.
"Danny Stevens doesn't love you," he says out loud. The words are too loud in the empty apartment. Not even the refrigerator is humming loud enough to break the silence. He flinches at the way everything seems to grind to a halt. He's sure he can feel the particles of dust stopping in their tracks, staring at him. Fleetingly, he thinks of Doug in the next apartment over. Doug would think he was crazy if he could see this. No. That's not right. Doug is probably one of the only people on the planet who wouldn't think that.
"Danny Stevens doesn't love you," he says again, with more confidence. "Danny Stevens had his chance. He blew it." He doesn't falter this time. He pushes past the lump in his throat. "It’s not fair to hold Dan Green to a precedent he could never have known about." It is unfair. He shouldn't let his thoughts linger on this. If Dan knew... if Dan realized what he was doing, he never, ever would have done it. Alan can't possibly hold this against him, can't hold him up to a standard set by a man who, in the end, valued his pride more than the person he loved.
He tries to embrace this. He decides he'll apologize to Dan first thing in the morning. He decides to hide the bruising from him, to do his best to keep him from feeling badly about something he couldn't help. He decides he'll do his best to put Danny Stevens firmly in the past and focus on the present.
He decides all these things, but he still crawls into bed wearing an NYU "Class of 1984" t-shirt that he digs out from the back of his dresser and tries to pretend that it only means that it's time to do laundry.