Understanding by InSilva
Disclaimer: Danny and Rusty and Saul: not mine.
Summary: "Body and Soul" verse one-shot beginning almost immediately after Danny and Rusty meet and continuing to some months past that point.
They'd taken the mark as Danny had planned to do before Rusty had even come into his life and almost at once they'd talked about what they were going to do next. Scott had mentioned in passing a project in Wilmington that Danny had thought about and knocked back because although he had immediately had an overall idea, he couldn't see it in its entirety. And the exhibition was only in town for a month and this was nearly the end of that month and he had mentioned it in passing to Rusty as a half-hearted opportunity. Rusty had listened and thought and then wanted to see plans.
Plans in hand, they'd found a way in through air vents and they'd found an exit via the basement and Danny had suggested a wild diversion involving fireworks, and Rusty had grinned and knew how to make it work. And it did. And it was quick and it was painless and it was risky and it was enjoyable. Even as the rockets flared their way through the sky, there was the usual buzz but even more so and it was because they were together.
Together meant a lot of things. They were starting to learn each other's faces and moods and mannerisms and they were beginning to see each other's thoughts and answers before they were fully formed. The partnership sprang up with an almost unsaid "You want to-" "-yeah. You?" "Yeah". And leading from that – leading from the first night they'd met, in fact - was immediate trust and immediate loyalty and immediate security. And both felt the depth and intensity they were offering each other and neither could quite believe the offer they were being made in return.
They were living out of Danny's apartment in the city. They hadn't even noticed that Rusty had moved in. It was just that they needed to talk often and they needed to see the other one's reaction and they needed to hear the other one's voice and they needed to know the other one's agreement even when it was unspoken. Living together seemed the best way because otherwise there was impatience and delay.
Gradually, more of Rusty's clothes and belongings arrived and his time with Saul and Annie grew less and then he realised one day as he was fetching yet another box that he had a new home.
He looked uncertainly up at Annie who was coming down the stairs and she smiled at him.
"I…Annie, I…"
"It's OK, Rusty, dear. It's always OK."
And he'd nodded and she'd suggested lunch and he'd brought Danny to meet her. There had been roast chicken and apple crumble and Annie and Danny had hit it off as Rusty knew – knew - they would. There was genuine and there was laughter on both sides and Rusty couldn't stop the perpetual half-grin he seemed to be wearing.
After lunch, Saul had engaged Danny in a hand or two of cards and Rusty had helped Annie with the dishes.
"Danny seems very nice," Annie said. "Very charming."
"Yeah," Rusty agreed, drying a plate. "He is."
Annie concentrated on the soap suds.
"He makes you happy," she said and it was a statement.
"Yes," Rusty nodded. "He does."
Annie looked at him and Rusty was hard-pushed to define her expression. It was curious and anxious and loving and non-judgmental.
"How does he make you feel?" she asked softly.
And Rusty suddenly got it and laughed. Loudly.
"It's not like that, Annie. We're just…he's just…" he paused, impossibly trying to think of a definition. "We just seem to click. As…people." He thought about it for a moment. "He makes me smile inside."
She hugged him out of nowhere and he hugged her back, only partly understanding everything that was in the hug.
Later…
"Saul seemed to think that we…" With delicate amusement.
A grin. "Annie did too."
"We're…"
"We are…"
"We're not…"
"We aren't…"
"We're just…"
"…absolutely."
And that was that.
Later still…
"He seems like a nice young man."
"He is a nice young man."
Pause.
"Do you think…?"
"…I don't know."
Pause.
"Does it matter…?"
"I guess not…"
And that was that.
The discussion came a fortnight after the meal.
Though they couldn't exactly remember why – something about a desire for Chinese food and a "how hard could it be" - they were cooking. Rusty was slicing carrots very, very finely and Danny was heating oil and offering advice on the vegetable preparation.
"Thinner, I think."
"You want to-"
"-no, no. You're doing fine."
There was comfortable silence and then there was something...
"What?"
"Nothing."
"What?" Sharper. Because there needed to be honesty; there always needed to be honesty.
A pause.
"The beach."
"Uh-huh." Non-committal.
"What he said…"
"Yeah." Concentrating on the carrots. Slicing the carrots as if there was nothing else to do in the world.
"What he said."
Another pause.
"Yes."
A sigh. "I told you it was noth-"
"It was true." And his hands never stopped chopping. "For about a year. About four years ago."
The sound of the knife at work filled the air. Then Danny's hand gently closed over the hand holding the knife and Rusty stopped and stared at the piles of thin, orange vegetable sticks.
"Rusty…"
He saw him waiting. Waiting for reaction, for judgment, for dismissal.
"Rusty…" There was pain in his voice that Rusty could even imagine that.
Rusty heard the pain, he could tell. And then Rusty breathed in and out and started to say what in Danny's eyes was possibly the most foolish thing he could.
"It doesn't ma-"
"It does!" Danny span him round to face him. "You do!"
And Danny didn't know what he could say or do to make Rusty understand that.
Rusty looked at him levelly.
"It's in the past. It's four years ago. And there's nothing you can do to change it. It happened. It…" His shoulders sagged a little and he went on with a tone that spoke of fate and choices that weren't choices, "It happened."
And it shouldn't have.
There was incoherence and anger pulsing hotly through Danny because the thought of Rusty being… of Rusty having to… of Rusty… Danny swallowed and closed his eyes. If he'd been there…if they'd known each other...if things had been different… It wouldn't have happened. He wouldn't have let it happen.
Rusty laid a hand on his shoulder. "Hey."
Danny opened his eyes and saw Rusty looking at him, slightly curious and then he saw Rusty's eyes widen at what he read in Danny. He didn't care. It was how he felt. And Rusty had to know.
"Hey…" Softer and hesitant.
The impotence and the rage started to fade – not disappear, but fade - and then Danny sighed and Rusty nodded and they continued to try and make sense of the recipe.
Some months later…
They'd pulled into the little motel in the back of beyond some time after midnight. The place was shabby and timewarped and was never going to win any stars from any travel guides but they'd been on the road since forever and even travelling between jobs took its toll.
"It'll do," Danny said.
"If Norman Bates comes to the reception desk, you're on your own," Rusty warned.
"I don't mind Norman," Danny assured him. "It's his mother I'll be running from."
The inside of the motel lobby reinforced the outside. It was early seventies and faded posters and a stuffed owl which Rusty studied and then stared meaningfully at Danny.
"Only a movie, Rus."
The clerk eventually arrived and monosyllabically dispensed room keys. It all seemed too much effort.
Heading to the room, they walked past their car and Danny tried not to notice the fact that theirs was the only car there. It was-
"-only a movie." Rusty nodded. "Right."
The door opened with a suitably menacing creak that they both chose to ignore and when Rusty flicked the light switch and nothing happened, they both resisted the urge to turn tail and run. Because there was instinct and care and then there was just being stupid. They could make the beds out by the light from the window and they shrugged at each other. They didn't actually need light. They needed sleep. And five minutes after entering the room, they'd kicked off their shoes and both fell fully-clothed in bed and were out for the count.
Danny woke first and blinked groggily around the room. They hadn't missed much. Orange seemed to be the prevailing choice for walls and bed linen and the brown carpet must have been chosen to hide a multitude of sins. The ceiling was firmly out of fashion and the curtains were patterned and tired as the rest of it. And the lamp! It was a joke, surely. The small TV in the corner looked as though it was little more than a gesture and Danny was willing to bet that the remote was long since lost.
He glanced over at the other bed. Rusty was still fast asleep. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Danny ran his tongue round his mouth and decided to investigate what there was by way of breakfast. Because he was almost certain that would be top of Rusty's agenda.
When he eventually managed to raise the motel clerk, the answer to the question was worryingly little.
"'S a diner down the road," the clerk suggested, his voice containing as much enthusiasm and life as the dead flies on the counter.
"Do you recommend it?" Danny asked pleasantly, not that interested in the answer but slightly hypnotised by the man's hands which seemed disconnected to the rest of him.
"Not really," the man shrugged, his hands busy.
Danny almost spoke again, wondering if the man would continue scratching himself throughout the rest of the conversation. Because surely there was a point when decency would prevail. Then he realised Rusty wasn't actually witnessing it and it would need explaining and really, you had to be there.
"Thanks." He got out while he could.
Danny opened the door to the room and saw that Rusty was awake and words of greeting died on his lips because Rusty was sitting bolt upright in bed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. Fixed on it like an interior designer or a decorator or… Hideous, isn't it? was what Danny wanted to say and he could see the amusement and hear the line about busted lightbulbs having their uses. But instead he saw the unblinking and the paleness and the stillness and there was something more, something much more going on here.
Rusty's gaze dropped down to the ugly lamp with the green tassels and the tension leaking from him was frightening. Then his eyes moved back up to the ceiling and somewhere in Rusty's head, Danny knew, there were memories being played out.
He creaked the door again and this time, the noise made Rusty start and come to. Danny didn't hesitate. He grabbed Rusty's shoes and he grabbed Rusty and dragged him out of the room.
They stood outside in the morning sun: Rusty looked at Danny and for the briefest of seconds, Danny saw the hints of another time and another place and then it was all locked down and pushed away and Rusty was Rusty.
Rus…?
"Did you find breakfast?" Rusty wanted to know. "And if you tell me breakfast is us then we've moved out of Hitchcock and into-"
"Hammer."
And Rusty was back and busying himself with his shoes and the moment for Danny to ask had passed.
The diner was as nondescript as they might have expected but it didn't stop either of them ordering large platefuls of food.
Danny watched Rusty dispose systematically of everything on his plate and wondered yet again what deal Rusty had struck that enabled him to eat whatever and still-
Rusty caught him looking.
"It's not my fault."
"I know. It's just bewildering."
Rusty shrugged. "It just is."
"Maybe when you're thirty, things will catch up with you."
Things?
"Then you'll have to worry like the rest of the world."
Rusty picked up the milkshake and slurped it noisily.
"Now, you're just being annoying."
You started it.
The day took them into the outskirts of their destination city and as evening fell, they found a smart, little hotel that was a million miles away from the motel of the previous night. The receptionist was smiling and friendly and showed no inclination to soothe any bodily itch. She was also good at masking the curiosity when they asked for one room.
"Twin beds," Danny specified and the knowingness in her "Certainly, sir" was almost well-hidden.
Danny flicked the light switch on in their room and tried to tell himself that Rusty's eyes didn't immediately look upwards. As casually as he could, Danny took in the ceiling too. Smooth, white, serene. He relaxed.
He wasn't sure what had woken him. It was nowhere near morning, he was certain: there was still moonlight flooding through and lighting the room. Then, as he lay blinking in the half-sleep, he heard it. A little choking gasp as if someone was trying their damnedest not to make a sound.
Suddenly, he was wide awake. He looked over at Rusty's bed. Rusty seemed to be asleep but then there was the noise again and Danny moved. He stared down at Rusty, curled into a rigid ball, protecting himself…and then again he made the sound and Danny's insides knotted.
"Hey. Rusty. Wake up."
Nothing.
"Rus?" Danny shook his shoulder gently, wincing at the tension in Rusty's body.
There was an almost-whimper this time and all Danny knew was that something was hurting him, hurting him, hurting them and he needed to act. Instinct took over and he climbed into Rusty's bed and wrapped his arms round him, offering comfort, holding him tightly, stroking his hair softly and whispering that it was alright, it would be alright, that he was there, that there was nothing to worry about, that he was safe…
He heard the little half-sob as Rusty awoke and he felt the startled confusion in Rusty and part of him suddenly realised what he was doing and then Rusty relaxed. Completely. And hung on to Danny as if he never wanted to let go.
"It's OK, Rus, it's OK…" Danny pressed Rusty's face to him and just let Rusty take what reassurance he needed.
After a while, he felt certain that just as earlier in the day, Rusty was back to being Rusty. Danny pulled out of the embrace but still lay there, his arm around Rusty's shoulders companionably. He didn't want to think too much about the nightmare, about where Rusty had been and what had been happening. He just wanted Rusty to know that he would always be there every time he could be. It was important that Rusty-
Danny froze. Rusty's mouth was suddenly pressed into his neck, pushing little kisses into his collarbone. Danny swallowed. This wasn't what he wanted. (Was it?). This wasn't…Rusty's lips moved further down his chest, heading south purposefully. Rusty's fingers were already on his hips, already slipping under the waistband of his boxers, already…
No. This wasn't what he wanted. But this was what Rusty thought he wanted. His hands were on Rusty's arms immediately, pulling him up till they were face to face in the half-light.
Rusty looked at him with a hint of confusion.
"I don't mind," Rusty insisted. "Honestly. I- I want to-"
"No." And it was said with a vehemence that made Rusty sit up and back.
"No," Danny went on, his voice softer as he imagined the sudden flush in Rusty and realised the reason. He wasn't revolted, he wasn't horrified…it was what Rusty thought he had to offer and Danny's heart twisted that Rusty had been conditioned this way.
He pulled Rusty close.
"Listen to me," and his voice was full of emotions that he was trying to contain; fury and ache and tenderness.
"Is this what you want? No," he said, seeing Rusty about to answer the wrong question, "not is this what you want to do to please me. Is this what you want?"
Rusty blinked.
"I don't know," he confessed.
"I don't know either. And I think before we do this, we probably ought to know the answer to that question, don't you?"
Rusty looked at him and Danny waited, encouraging and…Rusty nodded.
"That seems like a plan."
"That's what I'm good at."
Rusty settled back down into the bed.
Danny considered for a minute and then, because he had to know, had to be sure for future reference, "Artexed ceilings?"
"Yeah."
"And lamps-"
"-with green tassels."
"Right." Not again. Not if he could help it.
"Danny…?"
"Yeah." This had better not be thanks.
"You-you could stay. If you wanted to, I mean."
And Danny heard the thanks unspoken in the need to keep the nightmare away.
"You'd better not kick or anything," he warned, turning on to his side.
Rusty smiled. "I'll try to keep to just the drooling."
They slept, dream-free, till morning.
A/N: I know I mention the beach. I know I've mentioned the beach before. The beach will feature as the last chapter of "Body and Soul": probably seven years hence. :)