Danny hates it when his parents fight.
He guesses that's kind of standard. No kid – at least, not any Danny likes to think about, for the sake of sleeping at night – wants to spend the night hearing their parents shout at each other, pointing out all sorts of character flaws and shortcomings that a person can only learn about from years of marriage. Everything's a below-the-belt shot; at least it is for his parents. They play dirty, and Danny hates it, not just because they point out things about each other he doesn't like to think about, but because in pointing those horrible things out just for the sake of hurting each other, they show him some sides of themselves a kid would just as soon pretend his parents don't have.
They've been at it for hours. It started with just little picking things, little comments here and there that sound innocent enough, but Danny wasn't born yesterday. By the end of dinner, it's evolved into a shouting match in the kitchen, and Danny wishes he could say he was surprised.
Normally, he'd go to Kalea's room. They'd pop in the same movie – The Princess Bride – and pretend they couldn't hear anything over the cheesy dialogue and over-the-top background music.
Kalea's not here, though. She's at a friend's house for the night, which Danny is actually always grateful for. The big brother in him's glad she doesn't have to hear their parents being anything but their hectic, busy, but generally happy parents; the teenage boy in him's glad that means he can guiltlessly slip out of the house and bike over to Jackson's to wait it out.
Except…he can't do that. Jackson's spending the beginning of his summer on the east coast, and even though Danny wants to know if he thinks he'll find whatever it is he's looking for in the Atlantic Ocean over the Pacific, he respects what he's doing. He really does. He hopes it makes him happy.
He just really misses those nights in his best friend's room right about now, unleashing hungry teenage hell on a pepperoni pizza and watching lacrosse videos. He guesses he could go out or something…or not. The general public just doesn't seem like it's worth the trouble.
Eventually, he winds up out on his roof. He's not really sure exactly what the time is, but he knows it's late, because it's dark out. It's a little chilly, too, and Danny kind of regrets just coming out in his old JV lacrosse t-shirt and running pants, but he can't be bothered to go back inside to grab something warmer.
The sound of the front door closing – not slamming, which Danny takes as a good sign – makes him look out over the edge of the roof. He can't see anything at first, but then he hears a car door open and close and an engine start, and a few seconds later, he sees his mom's Lexus pull out of the driveway.
And so it begins, he thinks with a sigh. His mom's probably going to go spend the night with some girlfriends, maybe have a glass of wine and a good rant, and his dad's probably going to bury himself in his work and not emerge until sometime tomorrow afternoon. They'll probably avoid each other until dinner, which will be super awkward for about the first ten, fifteen minutes, until someone says something completely and utterly meaningless about the weather or traffic, and then things'll go back to normal.
Part of Danny just wishes they'd suck it up and apologize. They love each other; he knows they do. Is it really so hard to say you're sorry to someone you love?
He sighs, wrapping his arms around his knees and telling himself it's just because he's cold. The wind's definitely blowing harder, now. Colder. And his t-shirt's not doing a whole heck of a lot to keep the chill out.
And then it starts to rain.
Because that's just his life right now.
It's his own fault, he guesses. It's not like he can't go back inside or anything. The fighting's stopped; the coast is clear. He just…can't work up the hutzpah to do it, even as the rain starts to soak through his shirt and hair. It's stupid, and he'll probably catch the flu or something – you can't catch the flu from the rain, Lydia's voice echoes in his head – but he doesn't really care. Honestly, he doesn't even mind the rain that much, doesn't mind the storm.
It reminds him of Isaac.
Which is, like, Twilight level of crazy-obsessive, not to mention a teensy bit fatalistic, but that doesn't make it any less true. Storms make him think of his boyfriend, not just of the way he smells, but just the way he is. There's this…tumultuousness to him, this barely-restrained energy that makes Danny's skin tingle whenever he's around.
At the same time, though, he's kind of…peaceful. He's got this way of putting Danny at ease without even seeming to try, the way rain pattering steadily on the window lulls him to sleep. He can't describe it. Not really. Not well. And definitely not without sounding like a crazy person. Isaac's—
Danny's startled out of his thoughts by something settling over his shoulders, and he jumps and turns his head so fast, it's probably a miracle he doesn't break his neck. He guesses it would probably go really well with the minor heart attack, and it might save him the embarrassment of gaping like an idiot when he figures it out.
Isaac's…standing right behind him.
The weight Danny felt on his shoulders…yeah, that's his jacket. His well-worn, slightly-too-big leather jacket which, on top of smelling like him, also still holds some of that warmth he produces like a freaking space heater. It seeps in through Danny's soggy t-shirt, through his goose-pimpled skin, and straight to his bones, until he can barely even remember what it feels like to be cold.
Except, then it occurs to him that, now that he's wearing Isaac's worn, warm, wonderful jacket…Isaac is not. He's standing out here, on the roof, in nothing but a threadbare long-sleeve t-shirt and jeans, already soaked from just the few seconds he's gone without, curly hair even curlier and dripping onto his face.
And he doesn't even seem to notice.
While Danny's still trying to remember how words work, Isaac sits down next to him on the roof like it's totally normal for Danny to be up here on his roof in the pouring rain, and like it's perfectly normal for Isaac to be there with him.
"Hey," he says.
Thankfully, Danny's brain catches up enough for him to manage a, "Hey," back. Once it gets going again, though, it seems to get a handle on things again. "Thanks for the jacket."
Isaac just gives a one-sided 'don't mention it' sort of shrug. He doesn't say anything, and Danny gets the feeling that's intentional. Isaac doesn't press; he doesn't pry. He's kind of like Danny in that regard, only Danny does it because he wants people to trust him enough to tell him. He thinks Isaac does it because he hates it when people expect that trust and refuses to be part of the vicious cycle.
In a way, they're kind of perfect for each other.
Danny quickly shakes his head. Like, his actual head. Because seriously, it's gotten really bad about getting ahead of itself. He realizes, though, when it flings a bunch of water droplets at Isaac, that he should probably keep that to a minimal.
"Sorry," he says. He hopes against hope that it's dark enough that Isaac can't see him blushing.
Isaac just smiles, though, that crooked half-smile of his, and very deliberately shakes his own hair out. And there's just something so…right about his response, that Danny actually lets out a laugh.
Everything that happened tonight, it's taken Isaac all of about two minutes to get him to smile and laugh again. That, he thinks, should probably tell him all he needs to know.
"So," Danny says, if only because there's this weird pressure in his chest, and he feels like he has to let it air out a little, "not that I'm not happy to see you, but what brings you to my humble rooftop."
"I was in the neighborhood," Isaac replies. That smile's still there, though, and Danny knows there's more to it than what he's volunteering.
He snorts despite himself. "Let me guess: your Spidey Senses were tingling?" And this is probably completely unrelated, but Isaac's nose does this little twitch that is freaking adorable.
Isaac chuckles softly. "Something like that," he says, and then his warm, deceptively strong arm curls around Danny's shoulders, and Isaac pulls him close. "You're gonna freeze out here."
Actually, Danny thinks he's good, now. Isaac's, like, freakishly warm. In a good way.
Freakish in a good way.
Besides, "Considering you just gave me your jacket, maybe I should be worried about you."
Another chuckle, and Christ, even just the sound of it makes him feel a little bit warmer. "I'm not the one sitting out on the roof in the middle of a thunderstorm."
Danny turns to give Isaac a funny look, and Isaac rewards it with a huff that, strangely, reminds Danny of when his dog Kekipu gets annoyed with him. And okay, comparing his boyfriend to his dog is probably bad etiquette or something, but in his defense, he has been sitting out on this roof for God only knows how long. He's not exactly making great judgment calls right now.
"Smartass," he says, but Isaac can see the fondness in his eyes, even as he averts them to stare out the streetlight across the street. That and his bedroom light are the only ones out, with the clouds blocking out the moon and the stars, but even if it's just artificial light, Isaac still looks beautiful in it. Sitting out there with him on the roof, rain dripping down his face and soaking through his clothes…and all for Danny.
He's suddenly glad it's raining. Although Isaac might notice anyway, because Danny feels his arm tighten around his shoulders, and he turns away from the streetlamp to press a kiss to Danny's head.
"I'm sorry." The words are soft, barely more than a whisper, but Isaac's lips are so close to Danny's ear that he can feel the breath from them. And he knows it's not just a platitude. Isaac's not just saying it, because Isaac doesn't just say anything.
If anything, it sounds like a confession. Like he's guilty of something, like it's his fault Danny's out on the roof throwing his pity party for two. Which Danny wants to tell him is ridiculous, by the way, because none of this is his fault; he's not the reason Danny's parents just get on each others' nerves sometimes. He wants to tell him thanks, too. For knowing, somehow, that Danny needed this. Needed him. And for coming with no expectations, no questions, just a warm jacket and a shoulder to cry on. He wants to tell him all of that…except there's this lump in his throat, and the words just won't come.
So instead, he leans his head on Isaac's shoulder, slips his fingers through Isaac's on his arm, and stares out at the streetlight.