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But why does he have death, Daniel asks, if he turns everything around him alive? He sounds puzzled and Henley almost laughs at the look on his face.
Not everything, she says, just you.
.
Jack’s talented at making miniature replicas of things. He likes it too. Daniel stares in fascination as his deft finger make quick work of the Staples Center diorama, twisting and turning, long and slender.
Stop perving on my fingers, you creep Jack chides affectionately, but Daniel is mesmerized by the drag of the boy’s fingertips across the little figures, and his heart stutters in his chest as he imagines them dragging across the planes of his body.
.
Daniel would sleep with Jack. If Jack would let him. He asked – nicely too, after their first show, blood coursing wildly through his veins from the thrill of being arrested and staring that jackass Rhodes down. He’s jittery and filled with adrenaline, running his hands through his hair and smiling little half-smiles at everything, and when they get to the airport he snags Jack’s wrist before they go to wait for their plane.
He’d expected a lot of things, but all of them had started with Jack saying yes. Not Jack saying no, Danny, you don’t even know what you want - sadly, like he held the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Atlas, Daniel thinks to himself.
.
One night, when they’re traveling to California with Dylan for their next act, they check into a relatively decent motel with a bar near it, and they all head out because they’re young and free, why not? (Except for Dylan, who looks conflicted as he stares at the blonde receptionist at the front desk and mutters that he’s going to sleep.) The bar is pleasantly modern, with the lights dimmed so low Jack’s eyes shine more than usual as he disappears onto the dance floor. Merritt’s already ensconced himself in a shadowy booth, holding court over a few enthralled girls, playing up the act of older, refined gentleman, so it’s left to Daniel to accompany Henley as she demands shots.
Eight shots in and Daniel’s mouth tastes like blueberries and he feels warm and invincible. His eyes lock with Jack’s on the dance floor and Daniel lifts one eyebrow elegantly, challenging him. Jack, without breaking eye contact, reaches in front of him blindly and grabs the nearest girl, reeling her in to twist his body slowly, sinuously into her. Daniel watches the lean lines of Jack’s torso sway, and can’t stop watching and feeling like he’s a lamb being led to his own slaughter, falling inescapably and inexplicably.
Henley passes him a glass of beer, and as Daniel raises it to take a sip another man bumps into him and the beer drenches him. Daniel looks away from Jack to splutter uselessly as Henley laughs and the man apologizes, and as he tries vainly to stop his soaked shirt from becoming any more useless he feels someone looking at him.
He turns to see Jack staring at him desperately, like he’s drowning in misery, and Daniel absentmindedly passes his fingers over his stomach, noting the way the shirt clings to him and leaves little to the imagination. Jack abruptly disappears off the dance floor with the brown-haired girl he was dancing with, and Daniel turns back to the bar in a dark mood.
Give him some time Henley says, and Daniel knows she did the beer thing on purpose but he also knows she doesn’t realize that it’s Jack giving Daniel time he doesn’t need.
.
Jack looks so damn good in suspenders that it throws Daniel off his game. He misses a trick shot as he throws the queen of diamonds at the practice target on the wall.
Here Jack mutters, and he comes over and fits himself behind Daniel, his body slotting perfectly into the curve of Daniel’s back. Daniel stops breathing as Jack’s arms come up around his and grasp, adjusting his position, and Jack whispers instructions into the shell of Daniel’s ears.
It’s not fair, Daniel thinks dizzily, that he needs Jack so much and Jack doesn’t even want him. He twists in the half-embrace they’re in and stares at him, noting absently the hitch in Jack’s breath as well.
Daniel runs his finger over the line of Jack’s jaw, lightly, and stops at his bottom lip, tracing it. He feels like every inch of him is vibrating out of his skin, overcome with a heady desire to consume Jack.
Not now, not now Jack moans lowly and he turns and flees as Daniel screams soundlessly.
.
Hollywood is the kind of stifling poison that makes Daniel want to run far away and never come back. He never thought it’d be like this, because he likes New York and he even likes LA, but there’s something different about the salty sweetness of Los Angeles and the harsh glare of Hollywood. Like two different worlds.
They meet with somebody important – the names start to blur as his anxiety begins to set in more acutely and he excuses himself at one point to go to the restroom and scrabble uselessly at his tie. He thinks he’s choking. Or, well – he knows he’s choking, his lungs failing beneath his skin, but breathing is impossible, he knows from experience, and all he can do is wait and wait and wait for several eternities until it passes. His fingers curl and uncurl and he thinks he’s crying, he can’t tell.
Through the vague fog of anxiety that’s crushing him he feels cool fingertips sliding across the back of his neck and anchor him in place. For five, ten, fifteen minutes, as he takes shuddering breath after breath and his racing heart calms down, the hand stays there, firm and solid.
And when he feels normal again, when he can finally open his eyes again and the tension leaves his body in one trembling exhale, the fingers withdraw only for Jack to wind his arms around Daniel’s torso and bury his face in Daniel’s neck. Daniel sighs and tips his head back to rest against Jack’s and lets his hands come to rest on top of the other man’s, and they stay like that for a while, silent and content. He feels peaceful, like coming home.
He thinks he gets it now. He’s beginning to, at least.
.
Dylan takes them to Solvang, a touristy little Danish town sitting three hours north from Los Angeles. It’s ridiculous, with it’s cutesy vibe and overly cheerful stores, Daniel should hate it.
Daniel does not. Daniel is obsessed with the little sweet pancake balls they sell, with the crafts store, with the souvenir shops and the pastry shop. He walks up and down the main street as the others go to grab a beer and he watches happy families tugging their squealing toddlers around. For the first time in a long time, he sits on a bench, takes out his journal, and begins to sketch. Years of practice come back to him, and the rough, jagged lines are a far cry from what he used to be able to do but it’s a start. He hadn’t ever felt like drawing after Henley – his only real friend, back then – had left, and now, with the four Horsemen here and happy, it feels right again.
The sun begins to set so he heads back, his drawing tucked safely into his pocket, and goes out for dinner with the others where he presses his leg up against Jack’s and relishes in the warmth of the other man’s body all night. And later, in his hotel room, he brings out the drawing and smooths it out to see – to see that amongst the stores and the sidewalks, he’s drawn two men, one with curly hair and one with thick eyebrows and an easy grin swinging a small boy between them, all three laughing.
Oh he thinks, then shit, and he feels for his card that he carries around with him everywhere – The Lovers.
Why didn’t he see this before?
.
He waits for a week, watching Jack slowly. He thinks he must have fallen in love a long time ago, sometime between seeing him looking unfairly attractive on stage at the MGM and telling the world, in a trembling voice, that Jack Wilder was dead. He remembers the sharp pain of it, remembers that even though he knew it was false the thought of it hurt him like nothing else did.
Something wrong? Jack asks, grinning, when he catches Daniel staring at him as Jack practices releasing handcuffs with flair.
I love you Daniel says simply. He sticks his hands in his pockets and watches as Jack splutters uselessly and yanks against the handcuffs, his concentration gone. He won’t find the key. Daniel palmed it so that Jack can’t run away this time.
Danny….danny Jack says desperately, I’m afraid of that.
Daniel smiles at him and leans over to unlock the handcuffs, cupping Jack’s cheek as he does so.
So be afraid he says, unusually gentle. In so many ways, Jack is still younger than all of them and looks more haunted than they all do. He forgets, sometimes, that beyond all the cocky smiles and enthusiastic optimism Jack is still a scarred young man. Nothing good ever came easy.
Jack makes a broken noise and drags Daniel in, their lips meeting in a hot, messy kiss. Daniel groans into it, his hands coming up to grip Jack’s waist tightly, sure he’ll leave bruises.
Fuck, but you make me want everything Jack says breathlessly I wasn’t sure you’d ever see me as more than a good lay, y’know?
In lieu of a response, Daniel brings a hand up to carefully cradle the back of Jack’s head and he reels him in for a sweet, lingering kiss. His fingers trace circles along Jack’s side and he feels Jack smile under his lips as Jack pushes Daniel back onto the table.
One kiss turns into two, turns into three, turns into Jack frantically moaning as he preps Daniel and groaning out a litany of curses as he finally fucks Daniel. Daniel grips Jack’s shoulders as tight as he can and gasps out Jack’s name over and over, filthily drawling it into Jack’s ears and biting his neck, marking him. Jack comes with Daniel’s name on his lips, and afterwards he cleans them both up and leads a drowsy Daniel to bed.
Hey, Daniel mumbles fondly as he curls around Jack, think they gave me the right card after all?
That was more than three minutes, so yeah Jack grins.
Then, quieter, when Daniel is almost asleep, Jack whispers and so even death fell in the face of love.