( there was a time, once, when danny would have made john follow him, but he hasn't done that since the night they first met. back then, one hundred years ago or it might as well have been, he'd refused to give him the courtesy of his name or even his back in full focus, retreating backward from the sex-stinking alleyway, all his trust issues and john's toga gone with him. today, one hundred and one years later: he follows at john's heels, too big to be a reprimanded dog so he must be a big cat, leggy and prowling, properly chastised, temporarily defanged — and stuffed full of locus petals, apparently.
the gathered crowd, servants and guests alike, part for them in uncomfortable silence. on their way out the door, danny thieves a mimosa from a servant's platter, slams it back, returns the empty glass, and snags a cigarette sticking out filter-end from the man's breast pocket with a thank you, for the nicotine, for the champagne.
they must make a sight: danny as this beautiful man's looming shadow, sulky little boy trailing behind his daddy, already inches taller and wider than him. they wind through the hallways, up a staircase and another staircase. danny smokes and stares at john's hand, his naked wrist. he wants to hold his hand, but he can't do it, won't do it, too old and too stubborn to hold his daddy's hand; instead he reaches out, timidly stroking his pinky down the heel of john's palm )
I wouldn't have cared, ( he tries not to sound insufferably pouty as he says it, but he does anyway. he hooks john's pinky in his pinky, almost hand-holding. ) We could've done it there.
no subject
the gathered crowd, servants and guests alike, part for them in uncomfortable silence. on their way out the door, danny thieves a mimosa from a servant's platter, slams it back, returns the empty glass, and snags a cigarette sticking out filter-end from the man's breast pocket with a thank you, for the nicotine, for the champagne.
they must make a sight: danny as this beautiful man's looming shadow, sulky little boy trailing behind his daddy, already inches taller and wider than him. they wind through the hallways, up a staircase and another staircase. danny smokes and stares at john's hand, his naked wrist. he wants to hold his hand, but he can't do it, won't do it, too old and too stubborn to hold his daddy's hand; instead he reaches out, timidly stroking his pinky down the heel of john's palm )
I wouldn't have cared, ( he tries not to sound insufferably pouty as he says it, but he does anyway. he hooks john's pinky in his pinky, almost hand-holding. ) We could've done it there.
( they've done worse in more public places. )