Danny (
london_spy) wrote2020-06-06 06:05 pm
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John - Post Asylum
He'd woken up in his own bed. Alone. Safe. Normal. Danny didn't understand why or what that meant. His first instinct was to call Greg, but his phone wasn't working at all. the screen was shattered and when he plugged it in there was no sign of life.
He supposed he'd have to go get a new one.
Coffee in hand he found himself just walking, past the hospital where Greg should be checking in for his shift, past the flat Hex shared with Flynn and the others, then past the hotel where John had been staying. He could have gone into any off those places, but he just wasn't brave enough to see who was there and who remembered him.
He stared at John's hotel a beat longer, then began to walk again.
He supposed he'd have to go get a new one.
Coffee in hand he found himself just walking, past the hospital where Greg should be checking in for his shift, past the flat Hex shared with Flynn and the others, then past the hotel where John had been staying. He could have gone into any off those places, but he just wasn't brave enough to see who was there and who remembered him.
He stared at John's hotel a beat longer, then began to walk again.
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Danny smiled, leaning in to kiss John again. He didn't even really mean to do it, it just sort of happened.
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Maybe he should have had that wank.
John closed his eyes and kissed him back, taking it for what it was and not pushing for more. Danny had said no. There was no reason to fight that.
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Danny let the kiss linger, then reluctantly drew away.
"Goodnight, John," he said softly.
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"Sleep well, Danny," he replied. He settled into his pillow and closed his eyes. Safe, warm, and pressed against a beautiful man, John easily and quickly drifted off. John would always choose sleep over thinking through his problems. Too much introspection gave him indigestion.
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When John finally woke the sun was just barely breaking the horizon. He had one arm curled around Danny, the other behind his head. It took him a moment to get his bearings, to recall where he'd fallen asleep, then he looked at the mop of dark hair curled close.
"Bollocks," he sighed. there was no untangling himself without waking Danny up.
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Danny stirred a little, his hold on John tightening a bit as he rolled even closer. He didn't quite wake though, even as he nuzzled at John's shoulder.
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He held Danny, light but secure. He could hear the slow breathing and basked in the calm of the dawn.
This was utter bullshit. What was he even doing here? He wasn't getting laid, but he wasn't playing house, either. John knew he ought to take the small pleasure, this innocent comfort, and just appreciate it. He knew he should. But he couldn't. Too many ghosts of the past, past lovers and friends, they clouded his memories.
John laid there and dwelled on the dead for a bit, then slowly, carefully, pulled himself free so he could get up, have a piss, and then a much needed cigarette.
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John came back from the bathroom to find his trousers and saw Danny awake.
"Shit, mate. Sorry, I was trying to be quiet," he said.
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"You slipping off?" Danny asked quietly, ducking his head. "Right no, you- I mean I didn't want to fuck last night, so it's kind of amazing you stayed at all."
He didn't want to admit he was hurt, and he looked away.
"I'm going to take a shower, I'm sure you can find your way out."
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"I can live with not getting laid, Danny," John replied kindly. He took up his shirt and turned the sleeves the right way out.
"I stayed because I wanted do." Not the smartest idea, but he was known for less than stellar ideas. "...What do you want? Out of...whatever's going on."
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"I don't know. ...I have no idea. I just like being with you. But- I don't know. It's complicated," Danny sighed.
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"That's the truth," he agreed with a nod. He pulled on the shirt and put his tie on but didn't draw it up.
"You want to talk about it over breakfast?" John offered then, too stupid to walk away when given an easy out.
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"You want to have breakfast?" Danny asked, visibly surprised by the suggestion.
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"What? Don't you eat in the morning?" he teased. "Get up and get ready. I'll wait."
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Danny still seemed surprised, but nodded his agreement before getting up to wash up and get dressed, leaving John to roam the house.
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John went to the kitchen and poured himself the dregs of last night's pot. A quick pop into the microwave and John was completely unsurprised to find it disgusting.
He drank it anyway.
He could hear the shower running and thought he'd have at least enough time for a cigarette. He slipped on his coat and went to the porch. He was fishing for his pack when the door clicked closed behind him. John froze. Turned. Tried the knob.
And banged his head once on the door.
"Fuck my life," he sighed. Then lit up since he was stuck.
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Danny emerged a few minutes later, having pulled on one of his nicer outfits- The sort of thing he'd worn when he was out on the pull. The house wasn't very big, and he walked from room to room, wondering where John had wandered off to.
A small part of him feared the other man had left, but a peek outside revealed just how far he'd actually made it.
"You know where you want to go?" he asked.
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John sighed so hard his shoulders showed it.
"Watch the door!" he said, reaching for it. "I've been locked out here for...this is my third cigarette."
He did look appropriately ashamed about it, too.
"What's close? Better, what can we get takeaway?"
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"If you want to eat here, I know how to make pancakes," Danny offered, thinking about how he and Alex used to have them once a week.
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"You'd...cook for me?" he asked, strangely charmed.
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"No, I was just going to cook for me and make you watch me eat," Danny teased.
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"Interesting kink," he quipped dryly. John smiled at him and swallowed hard. He should politely decline. He should leave Danny alone.
Oh, but this was nice. It felt good. John was not such a good man he'd deny himself a little happiness, even when he knew what was going to happen.
You're such an asshole, John. Leave him alone. Oh, yes. Just what he needed was Chas's voice ringing in his head.
"Pancakes sound good."
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Danny laughed, heading back inside, leaving the door open for the other man.
He'd made pancakes often enough that he didn't even need the recipe, and he pulled out a bowl as he started to make the batter. He thought about Alex then, how methodical he was, how it had always driven him a little mad the way Danny eyeballed everything rather than measured it out.
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