This is an experiment. Two hours ago, the idea hit me and I had to toss it around for a while until I reached a point where I had to write it down. It's darker and probably very OOC and I'm very, very unsure, because it might contradict everything I've written about for... ever. :D It's more like a "What if it wasn't all lovey-dovey"-sort of thing. My anti-DannyandRusty?!
Have fun.
Rated T for non-explicit themes and profanity.
… and I will tell you no lies
.
People never asked. They only saw things and imagined the rest and they called them DannyandRusty for lack of a better word and emotion.
Someone said it was all an act and then one of them smiled and the other one said Yes or No (did it matter?) and they exchanged glances that said a lot more than love or friendship.
Some described it as pureness and wholeness and innocence.
Danny laughed and Rusty poured himself another drink.
Late at night, bodies united, heavy breaths filled the air and fingernails dug deep into the skin, leaving trails and pain. Eyes met each other, brown holding on to blue, not letting him go, screaming for love and closeness and safety and only feeling coolness and an impervious guard.
And people would never ask.
They dealt cards and then their hands touched for the fraction of a second and people stared at their faces as their eyes, brown and blue, fixed on the other's lips and their friends around the table saw smiles and mouthed vows where there was only unspoken bewilderment.
When they first parted, Rusty's eyes didn't want to let go and Danny asked about life and plans and love and reality. And Rusty lied and looked away, knowing it would hurt and knowing he would return.
After three weeks, they met on Rusty's threshold and Danny explained that it had never been meant to be and through kisses Danny tried to say "Sorry" and Rusty only understood "Won't happen again" and they both knew it was a lie.
The second time, Rusty waited for him in the restrooms of the most expensive restaurant in New York. He talked about four months and a journalista. Danny could see blue eyes in the mirror and saw the guard crumble.
They both realised they didn't have to touch to hurt each other.
Danny returned after another month and Rusty, unprepared, let it happen. Later, he called him a fucking bastard and kissed his eyelids and disappeared behind his guard again.
The third time, Danny didn't return.
At the wedding, he introduced him to his "better half" and waited. Rusty only smiled.
Late at night, they met in the hallway and Rusty's hands pushed Danny against the wall with all the force he could muster, hits connected with his face and ribs. Pain and despair entered their minds while their bodies clung onto each other, lips met and tears stung.
When Rusty pulled away, Danny rubbed his cheek and said: "You can't let go."
Possession and lust, Rusty thought, it all came down to this.
And when Danny was gone, locked away, he sent cookies, covered in sugar icing, because he figured it was the only thing Danny would both hate and remember him by. He never wondered why it had to be something Danny hated.
After four years, late at night, at the poker table, he saw Danny's guard and he let him proceed.
Danny saw the quicker smile and quieter voice. Rusty hid from the tired, brown eyes.
And when Rusty found out about the real reason for the job, Danny noticed his own disappointment when he didn't snap, didn't hit him and kiss him and hold him as if his life depended on it.
People said, they needed each other. They labelled them partners and con men and lovers and DannyandRusty and tried to make sense of it.
Danny and Rusty didn't.