In Which Danny Gets a Little...Frisky

When Sam had arrived back at the house only an hour after her strange meeting with Tucker, Danny still wasn't home.

She'd knocked on his door again just to be sure, but had been met with no response.

It wasn't until she'd set about finishing up the large master bedroom that she'd heard footsteps on the stairs.

Which was a little strange, as she hadn't heard the door open or close, but she didn't think much of it at the time.

She'd been a little preoccupied with Danny's sudden presence at her new bedroom door.

"Hey." His voice was soft, almost imperceptible despite the looming silence.

Sam nodded her acknowledgment, pausing in her fervent stain removing to glance up. "Hey."

He scratched at the back of his neck, the hoodie he was wearing shifting at the movement. "I felt like we should talk."

"Yeah," She absently wondered if he ever wore anything else, though he looked good in the baggy fabric.

Objectively good. Just objectively.

The quiet seemed to drag on, the space between them yawning cavernously. Sam felt like if she didn't say something, they'd be stuck here at an impasse until the end of time.

"Sorry." She blurted, at the exact same time Danny did.

They both stared at each other, mouths still slightly open, and then suddenly they were laughing.

There wasn't anything particularly amusing about speaking simultaneously, but the abrupt release in tension was such a relief that Sam simply had to laugh.

He let out one last chuckle before rubbing at the side of his face with the heel of his hand, "I guess we're more alike than I thought."

She returned his grin, the sensation oddly natural in his presence. "I guess."

"So, we're good?" The man gestured at the space between them, "You're not going to kick me out or anything?"

"What? No." Sam shook her head adamantly, though she figured the gesture alone wouldn't be enough to convince him. "Look, I get that this is probably pretty weird, me buying your house and all, but I want us to have a…a partnership, if that makes sense."

He cocked his head at her, a silent request for her to continue.

"I'm not your landlord." She re-iterated, "Even though the house is technically under my name, I still want you to think of it as ours." Sam quickly realized the possible implication behind her words. "Yours. Whatever."

When she nervously glanced up at him again, a little apprehensive over his reaction to her impromptu speech, his expression nearly took her breath away.

He was smiling at her, mouth stretched as wide as it could go while still looking natural.

She'd never really understood the term beaming until that very moment; he looked ecstatic, eyes crinkled at the corners and sparsely freckled cheeks dimpled.

He looked….beautiful.

Without warning, he was moving across the floor towards her and panic awoke in the depths of her stomach.

Last time someone had moved so fast in her direction, they're touch had not been welcome. Their presence feared. Whenever they moved, it meant danger.

Sam seemed underwater, drugged, as she tried to step away from his oncoming approach.

Her legs hit the back of the bed and her retreat was cut off, heart in her throat as he was in front of her. Next would be pain, pain, pai—

Soft arms encircled her middle, gentle in their embrace as a familiar sweater was pressed up against her.

A foreign smell filled her senses, not anything like the sharp, romanticized scents described in her favoured YA novels. It just smelled like…Danny.

He was taller than her by quite a lot, but not like Chris. Chris had dwarfed her in all aspects, made her feel small. Weak.

This was different; had he wanted, he could've rested his chin perfectly on the top of her head.

She found herself wishing he would.

"Thanks, Sammy," His breath tickled her ear, a few stray black hairs caressing her face.

And then he pulled away, her brain short-circuiting.

Had she been in her right mind, she would've killed him for the use of the nickname. As it were, she didn't really mind it.

His heart stopping grin was still in place, deep blue eyes staring into her own and making whatever was left inside her cranium turn to mush.

He seemed oblivious to her wrecked plight, stepping back and instantly filling the air with words. "Seriously, I mean it. Thanks. I was kind of worried that you were going to be oober mad and kick me out of the house and then I'd have to live in a cardboard box under a bridge somewhere. Not that there's anything wrong with that, just not really my thing." His laugh was more of a relieved huff.

Had he actually just used the word 'oober' in a sentence?

Sam was only able to nod, not sure what she was supposed to do with her arms. Should she sit on the bed? Run? Curl up and die?

That last one might've been a teensy bit overdramatic but it felt like a perfectly viable option, given the circumstances.

Danny finally seemed to clue into her silence, his smile dropping its brilliant wattage.

In her bleary state, she half wished it would come back.

"Oh," He took another step back, eyes wide. "I'm really sorry. I don't usually—that is, I'm not—uh, sorry." He indulged in his nervous tick again, rubbing at the back of his neck.

The awkward demeanor finally managed to snap her out of her strange daze, violet eyes widening. "No, it's…okay" She tried to put together the whirlwind that'd suddenly become her mind. "It's okay."

"Sorry," He repeated, lowering his arm. "My family were really big huggers and, well, I guess I just forget sometimes that not everyone else is."

That sounded like the polar opposite of the Manson clan. They were cold, absent, and probably would've fallen ill at the mere thought of such open affection.

If it weren't for her grandma Ida, Sam would be even more emotionally stunted than she already was.

She went for a casual smile, waving a hand at his explanation. "It's fine, really, just took me by surprise."

"That's good," He seemed to deflate a little, a remainder of that stunning smile creeping back onto his face. "How was Mack this morning?"

…Mack? What had happened this morning?

"School!" Sam barked, taking both of them by surprise. She pressed a finger to her temple, "Right, right. I'd forgot."

Pride unfurled in her stomach as she recalled her daughter's bravery. "She was so good. I couldn't believe how brave she was being."

"That's good," He shuffled to his other foot.

"Yeah," A sly grin twisted her lips when she looked back at him. "But her teacher was really something else."

"Who was it? Not Mr. Lancer, right?"

"Mr. who?"

Danny shook his head quickly, "Never mind."

"It was this total whack job, a real nutcase." Sam struggled to keep the grin of her face. "Tucker Foley."

The dark-haired man literally choked, doubling over as his entire frame was wracked with coughs. Once he was done wheezing, he glanced back up at her with wide eyes, "Really?" His voice cracked on the single word.

How had Danny kept a secret for so long? He was a truly horrible liar.

"Yeah," Sam carried on with the charade, fixing a look of faux horror on her face. "I'm not sure he should be teaching, he seemed dangerous."

"Well—" He cut himself off, a thin layer of sweat beading his upper lip. "That is, the school probably wouldn't hire someone dang—"

She dissolved into giggles, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth as she tried to keep it soundless.

He looked confused, thick brows drawn low over his eyes. "And now you're laughing. Why are you laughing?"

"You are such a bad liar." Sam plopped down onto the bed with a thump. "Seriously, how'd you keep your secret for so long?"

Danny ignored her question, instead shooting her an incredulous stare. "You played me. You seriously just played me."

"Mhmm," She arched a brow at him. "You say that like it was hard."

His mouth actually plopped open at her comment, and then he was moving towards her again.

Surprisingly, she felt no panic at his abrupt approach.

That is, until he was picking her up.

"Hey!" She didn't—repeat—didn't squeal. "Put me down!"

It was like she weighed nothing in his arms, even with her thrashing about like a landed fish.

He adjusted her, pressing her tighter against his sweatered torso. "Stop wiggling!"

She could feel his chest vibrating with laughter, feel it moving just beneath the fabric of his sweater.

Then she was falling, his arms still around her as she collided with the mattress.

The air in her lungs left in a breathy exhale and she lay there, a little stunned.

Danny was above her, the fringe that usually shadowed his forehead flopping downwards.

He stared at her, still grinning ear to ear, and then seemed to realize something about their position. If Sam didn't know better, she would've said he flushed.

Then he was moving to the side, sitting on the edge of the bed as if he hadn't just tossed a grown woman like she was a sack of potatoes.

She lay there for a moment longer, still winded. "You…" Sucking in a breath, she tried again. "You…"

Evidently he'd recovered over whatever'd just run through his head, an insufferable smirk on his face. "Take your time."

"You threw me!"

He scratched at his head, as if having trouble recalling the past few minutes. "Did I?"

Sam pressed her face into the crook of her elbow, hiding her burning cheeks from view. "You're horrible."

She felt so much as heard him shrug, "I try."

"Jerk." She spat, though there wasn't any real venom behind it.

Danny just laughed, the bed dipping as he pushed himself off of it. "If I remember correctly, you were the one antagonizing me."

Sam wasn't sure how to answer that, since it was technically the truth. "Touché."

"In all seriousness though, how was Tuck? He didn't do anything stupid, right?" There was genuine worry in his eyes as he watched her, likely gauging her reaction.

"He was fine," Sam said honestly. "A little unique, but there's nothing wrong with that."

"Unique doesn't even begin to describe him."

She smiled, nodding. "He didn't have much to say about you, though."

"Good. Wait, oh no," Danny turned to her suddenly, eyes wide. "He didn't invite you to join the DSS, right?"

Sam glanced at him nervously, "He did."

The man groaned, "That's so embarrassing. He's been talking about that dumb acronym for years."

Sam laughed. "Does that mean I'm a member?"

He didn't answer, instead clearing his throat and prompting her to look at him. "Only if you want to be."

An outstretched hand lurked at the edges of her peripheral vision, and she surprised herself by taking it.

"Friends?" He grinned at her, teeth gleaming.

She nodded, returning the expression. "Friends."

Then Danny turned, bounding out the door and down the stairs. "You hungry? I'm going to eat!"

It wasn't until he was out of sight, the sound of cupboards opening downstairs echoing up to her, that she realized she'd completely forgot to ask where he'd been that morning.

Pushing the thought aside, she followed after him.

That conversation could wait for another day. They had plenty of time, after all.

(A/N:) Hoo boy, that was a lot of dialogue. This chapter...wasn't even supposed to exist, and definitely wasn't in my original plot schematic. Where did it come from?!

Thanks for reviewing: Phoenixdellaverita, I can cry you a river, darkangeloflove15, sibunasiren10, ShadowDragon357, T-surv, Cyber-Geist, Guest 1, Guest 2, Guest 3, Guest 4, and ELIZABETH! There's over ninety reviews on this story, folks. Mind=BLOWN :O

Y'all are amazing! I can not thank you enough, you've all encouraged me to keep writing this so much 3

Stay cool, beans!

~ASL