Wilby Wonderful fanfic: Lighthouse
Title: Lighthouse
Pairing: Duck/Dan
Rating: R
Length: 2036 words
For: spuffyduds in the c6d_universe 2010 fic exchange
When Dan was a kid, he used to visit his favorite uncle in St. John’s, Newfoundland every summer. It was the foggiest place that Dan had ever seen; he could remember nights that he could put his hand out in front of him and it would seem to disappear, as if his arm could disconnect and float away into the mist. Walking through fog like that was crazy; you could either stride ahead as if you could tell where you were going, hoping you wouldn’t crash and burn, or you could try to inch along uncertainly.
Wilby Island, with its beautiful weather, was rarely foggy. Sometimes Dan would wake up in the morning to see a light fog hanging over the town, but it usually burned off with the sunrise. In spite of this, he spent his first two years in Wilby feeling as if he was mired in a haze like the kind he remembered from St. John’s.
When Dan was finally able to think clearly, and really see, for the first time, what went on around Wilby, the kinds of things people said and the looks he got from some of the islanders, he realized the misconceptions that pervaded the island. It was easy for them to assume that he’d tried to kill himself because of the raid on the Watch. The more understanding residents of Wilby seemed to be slightly indignant on his behalf, blaming the gossip and the prying eyes. The less understanding residents had the idea that he was ashamed of who he was.
They were all wrong, to a point. Dan was ashamed of himself then and ashamed of himself now, but not because he was gay. The things he’d done on The Watch and getting caught had tipped the scales, but they weren’t enough on their own. It was really all about Val.
Val wasn’t a bad person. Val was, on the contrary, one of the most wonderful people he’d ever known. Dan wouldn’t have married her otherwise. Val was beautiful, elegant, kind, giving, and everything he could have wanted, if he hadn’t lied to himself about who he really was for his entire life.
It was easy to excuse what he went to the Watch for and what he did there. He loved Val, they were great friends, but they had never been lovers. Maybe he should have known that she would feel betrayed and embarrassed but he couldn’t have predicted the way she reacted when he had to tell her. It wasn’t the insults she threw at him that had hurt; she had said those things in the heat of anger. It was the look on her face that said she felt as if she was going to break in half that haunted him, making him feel as if he were twisted up inside.
He hoped someday that she’d forgive him.
******
Dan vaguely recalled hearing a song lyric once, in which a lilting female voice sang “as if the world were wearing black/and you were wearing white”. The words struck him as being overwrought, but they keep coming back to him these days whenever he looked at Duck MacDonald.
When he’d first moved to Wilby, Dan had found Duck fascinating. Everyone seemed to know who he was, and it wasn’t long before he knew Duck’s name (both his real name and the curious nickname that didn’t fit him at all, but, inexplicably, seemed right), that he had lived in Wilby most of his life, and who his parents had been when they were still alive. He seemed to be as much a fixture on the island as places like the Loyalist and the Catholic Church that had been built over one-hundred years ago. Duck came into the video store sometimes, did some work on the house occasionally. He had this way of being silent that was soothing instead of being unnerving like it was with some people. Dan liked him.
When Dan saw Duck at The Watch that first time, it was a bit of a shock. Dan had realized that he’d gotten this idea, stupid though it was, that Duck was somehow above such things. Dan would later realize that it wasn’t shame or even secrecy that ever Drew Duck to the Watch. Duck had no shame about him; he was comfortable in his own skin. Dan had a feeling that it was an acceptance that was hard-won.
After the first few days in the hospital Dan asked Duck to look for an apartment for him. He was too raw on the inside to start anything, in spite of that surety he’d felt when Duck had first come to visit him. He was terrified to ask for help, but Duck was the only one he knew he could count on. Duck didn’t seem surprised, however. He merely found Dan a good place, helped him move in and get settled. He backed off, but he didn’t disappear. He wasn’t ever-present, but Dan had the distinct impression that, if needed, Duck would be around.
It began to feel as if the fog was lifting.
******
Dan stood back from the storefront. He had always considered himself to be a good businessman and store-owner, conscientious. In his short time in Wilby, he had become too comfortable though, complacent. With a small but loyal clientele and no real competition to speak of, he had let some of the little things go in the appearance and overall decorum of the store. The paint was starting to peel on the outside. The inside was worse, looking worn down, needing a fresh coat of paint and new carpet. Dan squared his shoulders and took a deep breath.
It was not without trepidation that he drove over to Duck’s place. He didn’t know if he’d be disappointed or relieved if he found Duck at home. When he saw Duck’s pickup in the driveway, he felt a peculiar feeling in his stomach, and wondered if he would have the courage to knock on the door. As it turned out, he didn’t have to. Duck was leaving his house just as Dan was easing out of the car. Duck just looked at him and waited, as if it was no surprise to see Dan standing in his drive.
“Hi,” his own voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere else. “I, um, I was looking at reopening the store…” Dan cursed himself inwardly as he looked down his shoe scuffing the gravel. When he finally looked up again, Duck was just watching him quietly, patient as ever. “The place needs some work,” Dan found his voice. “Painting, re-carpeting, maybe new windows. If you’re not too busy…”
“Sure,” Duck answered. “Things are going to be kind of slow anyway until later this fall.”
******
It has been several years since Dan has worked, that is, since he has really done hard, physical labor. He had forgotten how difficult it was, but also how good it could feel to be so bone tired that you could sleep through the night and feel like new the next morning.
Of course, these days he’s a lot older, and there are new aches and pains that he wakes up with, but they make him feel aware, present.
He’s not the fastest worker, and he’s kind of clumsy. He feels as if he’s slowing Duck down, but Duck just shrugs and says “No hurry, no sense in rushing anything.” Dan gets a feeling that he’s not just talking about the painting and the installations.
Some nights Dan dreams about Duck, and they’re not the kind of dreams he’d anticipate having. Often they’re just sitting in a small boat, Duck leaning back lazily, letting a foot dangle over the edge, trailing in the water. Dan looks into those eyes and tries to find something, but he’s not sure what he’s looking for.
******
Dan finds himself talking to Duck while they’re working, at first just about the weather and the town, Sandra and Emily and the restaurant, Buddy, the upcoming election for a new mayor. Gradually Dan starts telling Duck other things, things about Val and what life was like growing up. It’s easy to talk to Duck while he’s rolling paint or tacking down carpet, not looking at him. Duck doesn’t say much or even make the “mmhmm” noises that people generally make to indicate that they’re listening, but Dan knows that Duck hears him, is taking it all in.
********
The day they finish Duck surprises him with a picnic basket. They drive out to the Watch. It’s the first time Dan has really seen this piece of the island. For once, it’s not the middle of the night; Dan’s focus isn’t on his shoes, his eyes aren’t darting nervously. The sun is setting over the island, and for once the place seems like home.
They throw down towels and eat quietly, not feeling the need to talk much. After a while Duck eases himself down, lacing his hands behind his head, looking up at the dusky sky. Dan follows suit and lets his gaze travel over to Duck. It occurs to him how little he still knows about this man, and how badly he wants to remedy this fact. Dan reaches a tentative hand over to Duck and brushes his fingers through his hair. Duck closes his eyes and leans into the touch. Dan fights to stay awake, but feels his lids getting heavy.
When Dan opens his eyes again it’s dark, but not overcast. The moon and the stars are bright enough to see easily. Dan looks around and it feels like he’s seeing everything for the first time after a very long and deep sleep, even though he knows he was only out for a little while.
It’s the first night that Dan goes home with Duck. They don’t have sex, just shrug out of their clothes and fall into bed, exhausted.
Dan wakes up the next morning with Duck’s arms kind of slung across him, as if it’s completely natural. The crazy thing is, he thinks with a small smirk, it actually feels that way.
He slips out of bed quietly and steps into the shower, standing under the spray and turning it so that it’s more warm than hot. He feels more awake than he has in a long time, as if his eyes are finally opening, all of his senses heightened, the water running over his skin a caress, the scents of the soap and shampoo that Duck uses a comfort.
When Duck steps into the shower behind him, he can smell sweat and sea salt, and a certain scent that must belong exclusively to Duck. He feels tense, and his stomach quavers a little, but Duck just takes some shampoo and squeezes it into his palm. He runs his fingers through Dan’s hair, massaging his scalp. Dan presses his palms against the shower wall and feels the water and soap running over his face and neck. Duck massages his back, sliding soapy fingers over his muscles, letting his hands travel to Dan’s chest and then down to grasp Dan’s hardening cock, sliding his fist up and down. Dan arches his back and gasps as he comes. He turns and pulls Duck to him, cradling the back of Duck’s neck in his hands, kissing him hard. He reaches down to cup Duck in his hand, but Duck just laughs and gives a playful shove. “Already did.” But he grins. Maybe later.
By the time they finish washing up, the hot water is gone. They towel off and find some clothes, and Dan can’t stop staring at Duck. There’s something different about the man’s stoic demeanor. A smile is ghosting at the corners of his mouth. There’s a light in his eyes. It occurs to Dan that he’s furiously thinking of ways to make that smile appear more often, and wider. His own grin is so wide that he’s trying to subdue it. If he goes into town looking like this, he thinks, everyone’s going to know what he’s been up to.
His grin just gets wider when he figures out that he doesn’t care.