The Last Day of Danny Brooks
Oct. 3rd, 2012 04:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hurinhouseTitle: The Last Day of Danny Brooks
Author: hurinhouse
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Neal, ofc
Summary: The beginning of many endings
Disclaimer: Entirely fiction
786 words
There's nothing smooth about the way the tires spew gravel across the lane, about the slam of the truck door. Something's wrong. He's too early. She'd wanted to light some candles she'd picked up at the dollar store on her way.
She'd be worried it was Dad or Grandpa, that one of them had come up to the cottage for something she hadn't anticipated. But there's no mowing in March, no putting the dock in until at least late April. And there's no mistaking the sound of that clutch.
She almost doesn't recognize him. He comes to her, desperate lines in his face, and his arms wrap round to her back, pressing her to him like he can't breathe without her. It scares her a little, but she hangs on, sinking into it just to be a part of whatever he apparently needs, to find out what that is.
"Danny, what's wrong?"
He pushes away like she's cut him. She thinks he's about to break up with her. She'd hoped they'd stay together after school; it was why she'd selfishly praised the police academy instead of those far away art scholarships his aunt was steering him toward. "Who makes money at art anyway?"
The pacing makes him look like a madman, one of those tortured anti-heroes in the movies, a wild animal running a hand through his hair, needing to do something but not knowing what.
"Danny?"
His eyes are weighted to the floor. "Don’t call me that."
She wants to roll her eyes at the tired objection. "Dan, then. What?"
"Don’t call me that!"
The volume makes her heart skip but the pain in his eyes lessens the sting as he pivots to hide from her. She has to take a deep breath. "Please, tell me. We'll work it out."
"I can't."
"Did they have another fight?" He shakes his head, but she understands it's not in reply to her.
"Is your mom okay?" A little laugh escapes him, his head shaking again in disgust as he looks out the windows across the lake, at nothing in particular.
"Your aunt?"
"She's not..." He hesitates. She can see his face crumple from the side a bit before he pushes it away, lashes blinking rapidly, the muscle in his jaw clenching to hold himself in check. His voice sounds raw and bewildered somehow, like he's just realized something. "She's nothing to me."
His hands go to his temples, fingers tangling in his hair. "I don’t know what to do. God."
When she turns him around she sees damp tracks on his cheeks.
This is not how their first time was supposed to be. He'd told her weeks ago it would be special, whenever she was ready. Today seemed like the perfect occasion to surprise him. He'd made a point of refusing to buy condoms, or at least claimed he hadn't, not wanting to pressure her. She wasn't sure which brand was best so three different boxes sit on the table wrapped in birthday paper. None of that seems important now.
She pulls him to the loft. She's wanted this for so long. He loves her, she knows, but today he's not seeing her. This isn't about them, not like it should be. A part of her thinks to scrap her plan.
From the petting they've done in the past she knows he's done it before, knows he's good at this, "probably as good as a kid can be at his age," so assumed her much older cousin when she'd confided in her. But today he's clumsy and eager, drunk on whatever happened earlier. He murmurs his love to her as his soft hands roam her body. The feelings when he touches her are shocking... frightening and exhilarating. Different than she thought it'd be. Better and worse and she wants more either way.
She watches him sleep until he stirs. His smile is beautiful again and he cradles her - she is a priceless piece of glass.
She asks him if he wants help with his speech; graduation is only three months away and the valedictory should be the best of them all and...
He shakes his head absently and she rambles on, knowing it's all falling apart when he rises.
"I don’t want to think about any of that right now."
He tells her he loves her as he dresses. Tells her he'll be back someday while her tears catch at the corner of her mouth. She knows it's a lie. He probably doesn't.
The tires don’t spit gravel like they did earlier. They dig in slowly like a zipper, careful and deliberate. There's no hurry as he leaves. She knows they'll be no hurry coming back.
Author: hurinhouse
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Neal, ofc
Summary: The beginning of many endings
Disclaimer: Entirely fiction
786 words
There's nothing smooth about the way the tires spew gravel across the lane, about the slam of the truck door. Something's wrong. He's too early. She'd wanted to light some candles she'd picked up at the dollar store on her way.
She'd be worried it was Dad or Grandpa, that one of them had come up to the cottage for something she hadn't anticipated. But there's no mowing in March, no putting the dock in until at least late April. And there's no mistaking the sound of that clutch.
She almost doesn't recognize him. He comes to her, desperate lines in his face, and his arms wrap round to her back, pressing her to him like he can't breathe without her. It scares her a little, but she hangs on, sinking into it just to be a part of whatever he apparently needs, to find out what that is.
"Danny, what's wrong?"
He pushes away like she's cut him. She thinks he's about to break up with her. She'd hoped they'd stay together after school; it was why she'd selfishly praised the police academy instead of those far away art scholarships his aunt was steering him toward. "Who makes money at art anyway?"
The pacing makes him look like a madman, one of those tortured anti-heroes in the movies, a wild animal running a hand through his hair, needing to do something but not knowing what.
"Danny?"
His eyes are weighted to the floor. "Don’t call me that."
She wants to roll her eyes at the tired objection. "Dan, then. What?"
"Don’t call me that!"
The volume makes her heart skip but the pain in his eyes lessens the sting as he pivots to hide from her. She has to take a deep breath. "Please, tell me. We'll work it out."
"I can't."
"Did they have another fight?" He shakes his head, but she understands it's not in reply to her.
"Is your mom okay?" A little laugh escapes him, his head shaking again in disgust as he looks out the windows across the lake, at nothing in particular.
"Your aunt?"
"She's not..." He hesitates. She can see his face crumple from the side a bit before he pushes it away, lashes blinking rapidly, the muscle in his jaw clenching to hold himself in check. His voice sounds raw and bewildered somehow, like he's just realized something. "She's nothing to me."
His hands go to his temples, fingers tangling in his hair. "I don’t know what to do. God."
When she turns him around she sees damp tracks on his cheeks.
This is not how their first time was supposed to be. He'd told her weeks ago it would be special, whenever she was ready. Today seemed like the perfect occasion to surprise him. He'd made a point of refusing to buy condoms, or at least claimed he hadn't, not wanting to pressure her. She wasn't sure which brand was best so three different boxes sit on the table wrapped in birthday paper. None of that seems important now.
She pulls him to the loft. She's wanted this for so long. He loves her, she knows, but today he's not seeing her. This isn't about them, not like it should be. A part of her thinks to scrap her plan.
From the petting they've done in the past she knows he's done it before, knows he's good at this, "probably as good as a kid can be at his age," so assumed her much older cousin when she'd confided in her. But today he's clumsy and eager, drunk on whatever happened earlier. He murmurs his love to her as his soft hands roam her body. The feelings when he touches her are shocking... frightening and exhilarating. Different than she thought it'd be. Better and worse and she wants more either way.
She watches him sleep until he stirs. His smile is beautiful again and he cradles her - she is a priceless piece of glass.
She asks him if he wants help with his speech; graduation is only three months away and the valedictory should be the best of them all and...
He shakes his head absently and she rambles on, knowing it's all falling apart when he rises.
"I don’t want to think about any of that right now."
He tells her he loves her as he dresses. Tells her he'll be back someday while her tears catch at the corner of her mouth. She knows it's a lie. He probably doesn't.
The tires don’t spit gravel like they did earlier. They dig in slowly like a zipper, careful and deliberate. There's no hurry as he leaves. She knows they'll be no hurry coming back.
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no subject
Date: 2012-10-04 12:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-04 12:35 am (UTC)thank you!