A/N: A little preamble is in order, I suppose. Now, I know I'm pretty late to hop onto the 'Harper's Island oneshots' train, but this idea popped into my head one day to do 25 short pieces focusing on the 25 core characters. These all take place before the show, but of course, and I based most of them off pieces of dialogue said by the characters during the show. Granted, many of these require some conjecture and filling-in-blanks, but that's all in the fun of it. A big goal of mine is to give a bit of depth to the more two-dimensional characters on the show (let's face it, there were lots), so feedback is always appreciated.

Without further ado...here we go!

Never the Same

"You killed Booth for money, man... You killed him for money!"

Danny Brooks to Malcolm Ross, Episode 7.

There were some things Danny Brooks would never understand, the most irksome of which being why everyone treated him as a sounding board...for everything. What was it about him that made other people see him as so approachable?

Sure, he was a nice guy and everything, but he really wasn't the best at handing out advice. He wasn't some kind of therapist. But people confided in him and, despite how Danny might feel about it, he appreciated his friends thinking of him that way.

And here he was now, confused, and nervous, and apprehensive, and with nothing to say to himself.

The lights were turned down low, and the curtains drawn over the windows, muffling the sound of traffic in the street outside. Somewhere, a cat in heat was yowling, a plaintive, whiny sound.

A cat in heat, he thought, Hilarious.

Danny sat up on the side of the bed, his bare legs hanging off the too-narrow twin mattress. He was still trying to get control of his breathing, biting his lip so as to savor every second...every terrible, delightful, forbidden second of soreness that was gripping him. He didn't think it would have felt this good...and not just physically.

He felt a hand on his back, a warm, soft, oh-so-welcome hand.

"Danny?" Booth's voice was tentative, tremulous and uncertain. Danny wondered, not for the first time, why Booth always sounded so nervous, so afraid.

"Danny...are you okay?"

He pulled his gaze from Booth's extensive collection of Star Wars action figures on the dresser to regard his friend out the corner of his eye. Lying on his back, only half covered by periwinkle blue sheets, his lanky pale body glistening with sweat like a diamond under a heat lamp.

God, he was beautiful. He was so, so beautiful...and Danny felt terrible. How could he have picked on him all those years, how could he have stood by with Sully and Malcolm and Henry as they made Booth the designated group punching bag?

Sure, it was all in good fun, and Booth never complained... But maybe that just made it worse. That it had just been for fun, and it was all just one big joke.

"I'm good, man..." said Danny, putting his hand over Booth's, gripping it gently, as if he needed more proof that the last two hours weren't just some wild hallucination, "Really."

There were a few moments of continuous silence. The glow-in-the-dark Buffy the Vampire Slayer clock on the wall ticked on its eternal progress. Booth said, "I shouldn't have."

"What?" Danny turned around to face him, and saw Booth slowly turning back to the one they'd always known. The fidgety, self-conscious, self-deprecating, hypochondriac who hated himself more than anyone else ever could, "Booth, what do you..."

"I took advantage." he ran his fingers through his tangled brown hair, still rich and musky with the smell of sex, "You'd just told me, man, you'd just come out to me, and I took advantage of you, and I shouldn't have, Danny, I shouldn't have...it's just all this time we've been friends, and I always thought you were such a great guy, and then you just...you just told me and it was like..." he shook himself furiously, slamming his face into his hands, "I got carried away and I shouldn't have. So I'm sorry."

"Booth..." said Danny firmly, touching his shoulder again, feeling how warm it was, moist and warm and clammy and wonderful, "I'm not sorry, so you shouldn't be either."

"It was your first time, man." said Booth, mournfully, "It's supposed to be nice, your first time, especially when you're...especially when..." he lifted his head and Danny noticed tears swimming in his eyes, which looked so much smaller without his glasses, "Especially when you're like...when you're what we are."

Odd, wasn't it, that Danny had never really thought of this as his 'first time' until just this instant. Certainly it had been his first...gay time, but there'd been other times. 'Girl' times, if you wanted to call them that, and they'd been good times too. Nice girls, most of the time...but he'd never felt the way he had just now tonight. And he knew why now.

"I didn't really have a very good first time," said Booth, talking more to his lap than to Danny, "It was...it was in high school, and there was this guy, and I'd just figured out what...what I was, and he...he was so understanding, and he let me talk to him, and..." he shrugged and two tears escaped his eyes, dropping down to make dark splotches on the sheets, "It doesn't matter. I never saw him again anyway. It's...I didn't want to do to you what he did to me. But I did, because...because, oh fuck," the swear sounded so foreign on Booth's tongue, "I don't know... I'm sorry, Danny. I'm really sorry."

Danny felt his stomach knotting up, "Boot..." he shook himself, "Joel,"

It almost killed Danny, how long it took for Booth to recognize his own first name, and look up at him.

"Do you think I would have told you about me if I didn't trust you? I've never told anyone, not since I figured it out for myself...and I told you. And not because you're gay...hell, man, I didn't even know you were."

Which was true enough...Danny didn't think any of the guys had ever even suspected. But it explained so much. Why Booth would always blush beet red and hush up whenever Sully suggested pairing him up with someone, why he never partook when Malcolm hosted those silly 'makeout in the closet' drinking games at frat parties...why Danny would occasionally catch Booth looking at him in classes or at lunch or in the car, and why whenever Danny returned the gaze with a smile of recognition, Booth would blush again and turn away at once.

Dammit...he should have known. Well, he did now, and he was all the better for it.

"I told you because you're my friend. My best friend... And I trust you." he felt the words choking up in his throat, but he'd be damned if he started bawling now.

Booth didn't say anything for a while. The cats outside had ceased calling for mates, and the late night traffic was starting to ebb. The clock kept ticking, though, tick-tick-ticking.

When he did speak, it was with a heavy sniffle, as though his sinuses were completely closed off, "Friends..." he said at last, "Not really, not anymore, I mean..." he blinked again, hard, and hot tears came spilling out again, "It's not gonna be the same anymore, is it? Now that we've...now that we've been together."

Danny considered, "I guess you're right. It isn't ever gonna be the same. And there's nothing wrong with that."

And Danny kissed him, he kissed his friend, his lover, his...his Booth full on the lips. And Booth kissed back, letting out a laugh of relief, probably the most sincere laugh Danny had ever heard him make.

He had no idea if they'd ever be able to do this again... But they were doing it now, tonight, as that silly novelty clock kept ticking, and they were both so much better of for it.

So much better off.

A/N: That was one of the shorter ones, and therefore one of the more difficult to pin down. Danny was a difficult character to find a concept for in the first place, as he was basically just the 'nice guy' of the group. When he hears how Booth died and just freaks out like he did...well, a took it and ran with it.

Please let me know what you think, as always. I'll have the next one up eventually. :)