Work Text:
"Why do you like me?"
"What?"
Chris looked over at where Dan was sitting next to him on the couch. Of all the things Dan could have asked him during an ad break, that was not a question Chris would have expected from him.
"Nothing." Dan averted eye-contact and crossed his arms, before adding, "I didn't say anything."
Chris frowned, "Yes, you did."
"No, I didn't."
"Yes, you did." Chris repeated stubbornly.
Dan finally snapped, "How many times do I have to say I didn't?!"
"Dan!"
That made Dan quiet. Freeze up. Look up at his friend with a mixture of shocked nerves. Vulnerability.
Chris wasn't the type to raise his voice. Be angry. Aggressive. Assert a demand beyond weak-willed complaints. It was always so easy to dismiss commands out of the mouth of someone lacking any sort of authority. That time, Chris sounded determined - with that ever-present, frustratingly insistent worry in his voice. "I can overlook a lot of things. Paying for your food, driving you around everywhere - even the unbridled rage. But I can't overlook a question like that, Dan." Chris almost looked hurt, "Why would you think I don't like you?"
"I didn't ask why you don't like me. I asked why you do.” Dan sounded incredulous, “Big difference. I want you to tell me all the great things about me that make you love me so much." He wore this smug expression, head tilted up pridefully as though it was the most obvious thing in the world that he would want Chris to worship the very ground he walked on.
Unfortunately, the way he'd asked that first question had been laced with a sense of insecurity and doubt that not even all the arrogance in the world could mask.
"We both know that's not true." Chris responded.
Dan scoffed, "And why wouldn't it be true?" He looked defensive again – something wild and desperate flashing through his eyes. He hopped off of the couch, gesturing as he spoke, "Stop trying to psychoanalyse me, Chris. You're not very good at it."
“I’m not trying to pscyhana—stop trying to change the subject!” Chris stood up as well, taking a tentative step towards Dan, who awkwardly shoved his hands in his pockets in response.
Chris thought he heard Dan mutter something like “Why can’t you just drop it?” under his breath, but whether or not Chris had imagined it wouldn’t have changed his mind. They were going to talk about it for once. Feelings. That Big Scary Thing Dan liked to pretend he didn’t experience – as if he wasn’t human.
“Just listen to me.” Chris paused for a moment, wanting to make sure Dan was paying attention before continuing. “I like you, alright?” He offered a small but reassuring smile, and for a second, he considered trying to grab one of Dan’s hands, but thought better of it. His friend’s closed body language made it clear there was a distinct chance of being attacked if he tried such a thing. “And nothing’s gonna change that. I know you. I have for years. Don’t you think I’d have left by now if I didn’t like you, even a little?”
This seemed to make something snap in Dan. “Why though?!” He stared up at Chris indignantly, accusingly.
“Dan—”
“You said it yourself! That you like me despite all the reasons you shouldn’t!” There was something there – either hurt or fear, or some kind of emotion that fell under vulnerability and definitely not anger, which was never good. Never easy to deal with. So, he slipped back to the default – hoping nothing more would show through. “If I’m such a ‘bad person’,” Dan did the air quotes with his fingers, “why even bother?” His tone shifted again, to something more defiant and guarded, “Why am I even wasting my time?”
There it was again – that attempt at covering up. Concealing. Locking away everything that pointed to ‘weakness’; as though even a sliver of doubt or insecurity or anxiety was definitive ammunition for being used or taken advantage of. It wasn’t that Chris couldn’t understand where it all came from – but he’d hoped after having twenty-six years to be able to navigate that whole ‘life’ thing, maybe Dan would have taken the opportunity to address some of his issues. Yet there they were; mid-twenties, and Chris still couldn’t be entirely sure of when touching was and was not okay (as if the odds of a ‘no’ were supposed to be 50/50 for someone you were dating).
"I like to think there's some good in you. Maybe. Even a little." The confession slipped out before Chris could think better of it, and suddenly it felt as though he couldn’t keep it to himself anymore. "It's why I stick around. I keep hoping you'll get better - maybe take my advice and see a therapist. Try to get help for your anger.” It was dangerous territory; he knew that much. But he didn’t want to lie. Avoid confrontation. Be afraid of someone he loved – and weren’t you supposed to trust the people you loved? It felt pointless to keep going on with the pretense that everything was fine when nothing seemed to get resolved between two of them. He exhaled, tired, “I hope if I steer you in the right direction and help you find better things to do with your time than embark on pointless revenge schemes, maybe things could get better."
That was it: the truth. The Very Thing he’d been avoiding for God knows how long. Because it was easier. Less terrifying. Less risk of losing a limb or losing Dan altogether – but if Dan cared about him at all, wouldn’t he at least try to meet him halfway?
An array of emotions flitted over Dan’s face – surprise, hurt, rage, fear – some kind of amalgam of concepts that ultimately boiled down to insecurity. This led to denial; shutting off. Giving away nothing more than scepticism and an expression that couldn’t be described as anything other than guarded. "I keep hearing all this talk of 'help' and 'fix' and 'get better'.” Once more, the words were accompanied with air quotes. He pointedly looked in any other direction that wasn’t Chris – like the wall behind his friend or the grubby floor beneath them. “If you don't like me the way I am now, you don't have to be here." He finished, deadpan.
Chris had two conflicting instincts – to console and comfort, and to prod and seek the truth. He hated it, that there was such strong resistance to anything that resembled vulnerability and warmth. He hated that showing concern or asking questions or talking about feelings had to be somewhere between incredibly difficult and nearly impossible. He wanted to try. See if he could get Dan to be honest with him for once in his life, even if it meant pushing aside that fear of conflict. "You don't like the way you are now."
“Wh—"
"Why else would you even ask me something like that?” Chris hoped he looked assertive.
For a moment, Dan appeared to be at a loss for words – maybe even considering a response that wasn’t an anger reflex.
That was just wishful-thinking, though.
“Get out.”
Chris blinked, took a cautious step backwards. “What?”
Dan looked up at him, expression furious but eyes too bright to be angry, “I said GET OUT.”
“Dan, wait—”
Dan shoved him towards the door. “I don’t wanna hear it. You’re not going to stand there and insult me in my own home!” He shoved him again for good measure, harder. Enough to make him stumble back one or two steps.
Chris felt familiar irritation bubble up inside. Dan said things to him all the time; things much worse than Chris saying he wanted to think Dan had some good in him, and yet asking for honesty was crossing a line? “Fine!” Chris snapped, pushing Dan’s hands off of him, “I’m going.” He took another step back with his hands up in a sign of compliance; only moving one arm to get the door behind him.
The last thing Dan saw before his front door was slammed shut, was an unimpressed and disappointed expression on Chris’s face – the kind that read being with you is a mistake.
A few second later, Dan could hear the sound of Chris’s car driving away. After that, silence.
That felt final in a way: an end. Had he just fucked things up?
He stood there for a minute, staring at the door angrily. Eventually, the quiet became too loud. “Fine!” He yelled at the unassuming door, “I don’t need you anyway!” Maybe it would have been easier if he actually believed that. Instead, he added another thing – person – to The List; pen and paper at the ready as he wrote down a name that he never thought would go back on the revenge list. “Try to tell me what I think.” He muttered under his breath, as if someone could actually hear him.
.
.
.
The reality of the situation hit Dan later that night.
After two hours of frustrated, stubborn tossing and turning, he’d finally been able to fall asleep. That hadn’t lasted for more than an hour.
The nightmare he’d been having entered his consciousness in fragments – snippets of sounds, voices, movements. Feelings. Glimpses of memories of events distorted by the sleeping mind’s lens. He shot up, out of breath, glancing around the room to make sense of reality. It was dark. It took him a second to realise he was in his apartment.
“Fuck.” He breathed out, running a hand through his hair. “Goddamnit, I’m twenty-six. I shouldn’t still be getting nightmares.”
The silence was suffocating. It screamed whispers of all your fault and you fucked up you fucked up he’s gone he’s—
He felt his lip tremble, unsure if he wanted to snarl at the nothingness of his apartment. “No, shut up.” He muttered to the empty room – rubbing a tired hand over his face. “I didn’t push him away.” He was trying to convince himself more than the imaginary accusatory voices, “I didn’t. I don’t. I fucking don’t I—”
That’s when it hit him. I really fucked up.
“Shit.”
That fucking look of being with you is a mistake.
He rubbed his palms over his eyes – something to stop the stinging. Too much was running through his head on repeat. Too loud. He had to get out of there. See Chris. Make things right. Something.
Without a second thought, he threw off the covers, staggering through his apartment and to his front door – only sparing a passing thought to chuck on shoes and grab his keys. Soon enough, he was in his car and speeding down the road.
The drive over went by in a blur. Dan couldn’t think of much else beyond have to talk to Chris.
It didn’t take long to get to Chris’s house. As soon as he was parked out the front, he unbuckled his seatbelt, flung the car door open, raced up to the front of the house and started banging on the door. “Chris!”
No answer.
He knocked again, louder. The sound echoed down the desolate street. “CHRIS, OPEN UP!”
Still no answer.
“Fuck!” He hissed to himself, glaring at the closed door as if it’d personally offended him. He hoped maybe it’d burn under the heat of his gaze. It didn’t.
“Damnit.” He turned around, leaned his back against the door and slid until he was on the ground – knees somewhat drawn to his chest. I have to make it right.
He checked the time on his phone. 4:13AM. It was a wonder not even Elise had heard him banging on the door. Maybe she knew not to answer. Maybe Chris had told her he was done – because that damn look said so many words that Chris had failed to – about how tired he was of Dan’s avoidance, how frustrating it was having to deal with someone so unpredictable.
Still, part of Dan felt justified. He didn’t need to explain a damn thing to Chris. He didn’t have to talk about feelings or secrets or anything Chris thought he was ‘burying deep down’. It wasn’t his business, and if Chris had such an issue with the way that Dan was, then he could just leave – but that’s exactly what he did; otherwise, Dan wouldn’t be at his front door in the too early hours of the morning.
Then there was this other part of Dan; the part that told him that Chris was right. There was this persistent, niggling part of part of him that told him that Chris was justified to leave. Sure, Dan thought of himself as great, but maybe he could be rude, and brash, and violent and stand-offish and unappreciative. Maybe he did have some qualities that made him hard to love. Maybe Chris had reasons to not stick around – and maybe Dan spent a little too much of his spare time thinking of the inevitable day that Chris would realise he wasn’t worth the time or energy, and maybe that had begun happening more ever since they’d started dating.
Chris had Elise, after all. He had a home and a life and so many good things happening for him that weren’t Dan. He had nothing to lose, while Dan had everything to lose.
.
.
.
Dan wasn’t sure how much time passed. The warm early morning air and the slowly brightening sky served as some kind of distraction from the mess of white noise that existed to remind him that he’d fucked up. All he knew was that he’d wait right where he was until he could talk to Chris, no matter how long it took.
The longer the quiet stretched on, the less motivated he felt to stick it out and try and talk to Chris. The idea wasn’t too appealing in the first place, and a persistent, nagging part of him starting trying to tell him avoidance is easier and if Chris really cared about you, he wouldn’t make you talk to him like this. There was a question of what the hell am I even doing here anyway? Because when was Dan ever at the beck and call of Chris? It was the other way round. Dan was the one who called the shots. The one who made the decisions. The one who was okay with being alone because people were fucking stupid anyway. Why was he wasting his time over something so trivial? It wouldn’t be so bad if Chris wasn’t around anymore—
Well, that was a lie. However, the truth wasn’t much better either.
Dan was pulled out of his stupor by the front door swinging out from behind him. He landed on his back, staring up in a confused daze to see Elise standing over him with an unimpressed expression. “Wha?” He asked, disoriented.
“Dan, what are you doing here?” She questioned tiredly. The morning sunlight bouncing off her figure made him realise that at least a few hours had gone by without him even realising. Damn.
He sat up abruptly, turning around to face her and scrambling to his feet; remembering why he’d been waiting around in the first place. The matter of his pride and self-preservation took a back-burner to the idea of I can fix things now. “I need to talk to Chris.” Dan demanded.
Elise looked like she was stifling a laugh – bringing a hand up to her face to stop her smile from widening. “Pfft. Sure you do.”
“I do!” Dan insisted. The words came out more desperate than he’d liked, but he was too tired and in his own head for trying to pretend like he didn’t have to talk to Chris right then and there, anyway. He took a purposeful step forward.
Elise put herself in the way of the front entrance, and crossed her arms defiantly. Chris had told her about the argument he’d had with Dan – how he’d tried and tried to make things work, and how much of a wasted effort he’d felt the whole ordeal was. She’d never really liked Dan in the first place, but that morning she had what she believed to be a more than fair reason to keep him away from her husband. “He doesn’t want to talk to you right now.” She warned.
“I don’t care!” Dan shouted, throwing his arms up in frustration, before suddenly remembering that he did care and that he needed to show that if he was going to have any chance of talking to his friend. However, before he could try and take back his words – maybe even change his demeanour and sound more remorseful – Elise moved to close the door.
“That makes two of us then.” She stated, beginning to shut the door.
“Wait—” Dan called out hurriedly.
Just before she could close the door completely, Dan gripped on the edge of door and pulled back. The sudden resistance made her peer through small gap in the doorway, annoyed. To her surprise, the expression she was greeted with from Dan that was much more frantic and less confident than she was used to seeing on him. She still didn’t budge.
He leaned in further to talk again. “Just let me talk to him.” He asked desperately.
“And why would I do that?!” She snapped, aggressively trying to tug the door shut once more. Dan didn’t budge, and yanked the door back in turn.
The impromptu tug of war game didn’t last too long before a familiar voice piped in from further inside the house. “Elise?”
It was Chris. He walked over to where his wife was positioned by the front entrance until he was standing just behind her. “What’s going on?” He peered his head over her shoulder, his expression shifting from mild concern to perplexment. “Dan?”
“Chris!” Dan exclaimed. He gripped the door tighter, hoping to pry it further open. His efforts did little to make it budge. “I need to talk to you.”
Chris still looked puzzled. He hadn’t expected his morning to start with a frazzled-looking Dan trying to break into his house— then again, it wasn’t as though that was such an uncommon occurrence. After their fight, though. Part of him hoped maybe he’d receive an apology. After all, Dan didn’t usually go out of his way to talk to Chris when he was angry at him, or when he felt like Chris had wronged him in some way. “I—” He took a second to consider, before answering, “Sure. Okay.”
Before Chris could make it more than two steps closer to the door, Elise placed a firm hand on his chest to stop him. “Honey,” She leaned in close to him, with that kind of smile that read my next words aren’t a suggestion, “maybe you shouldn’t talk to Dan right now?”
He glanced between his wife and his best friend. Elise looked apprehensive.
Chris felt conflicted. He knew that she was just looking out for him; Dan had caused him all kinds of trouble more times than he could count, and she had witnessed all of it in some capacity time and time again. Elise only ever wanted what was best for him, which was one of many reasons he loved her – even if it meant she tried to make him eat healthy and exercise.
However, there was also Dan, who for once didn’t look to be some variant of angry – as if, somehow, something Chris said had finally reached him. Chris didn’t think it’d hurt to just talk to him. Maybe it would help him figure out where they were meant to go from there. See if Dan was capable of talking to his partner like a rational adult (or maybe like an adult at the very least). He levelled Elise with a compassionate look. “I can at least hear him out, Elise.”
Elise knew it was a losing situation when it came to anyone Chris cared about, even if that was only really two people. Sometimes he was too nice for his own good, and she both loved and hated that part of him at different times. In this case, it was definitely less of a ‘love’ feeling.
Knowing it was useless to try and argue further – and not wanting to be late for work – she resigned, rolling her eyes. “Fine. Whatever.” Despite her annoyance, she gave Chris a kiss on the cheek; she was much more upset with Dan than her overly passive husband, anyway. While she was in close proximity to Chris, she cautioned, “If he causes you any trouble, I won’t go easy on him.”
“I heard that!” Dan retorted sharply.
“Good.” She gave Dan a cold look, before letting go of the front door and making her way to her car. “I’ll be back later tonight. Don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone!” She called back to Chris.
“I won’t!” He answered her brightly.
Soon enough, she was in the car and down the road. The neighbourhood felt overly quiet once the sound of her engine was out of earshot; the silence reminiscent of the one that reminded Dan of all the ways he might have messed up.
“I guess you should come in then.” Chris said apathetically, holding the door open. It didn’t sound like a very enthusiastic invitation, but Dan wasn’t about to comment on it. Clearly Chris still wasn’t happy with him, so he’d have to be some form of nice if he wanted his friend to hear him out.
Dan followed Chris into the kitchen. Eventually, the two of them sitting at opposite ends of the kitchen table. To Dan, it weirdly felt like some kind of interview or interrogation. It didn’t make the notion of needing to talk about their argument any easier for him.
It was quiet for a minute or so, with Dan having his hands folded on the table in front of him, and Chris looking at his friend with a perplexed expression – trying to figure out if Dan was going to say anything. The longer the silence went on, the clearer it became that Chris was going to have to prod for conversation. Again, he thought bitterly. “So,” He started, tone aloof, “What did you want to talk to me about?”
Here it comes. Dan fidgeted in his seat uncomfortably, as if he was struggling to find the connection between his brain and his words. Eventually, he let out a frustrated sigh, glancing at Chris before looking away again. “I was maybe very, very,” He emphasised that last word as much as possible, “slightly was out of line yesterday.”
Chris was stunned. Whatever he’d been expecting Dan to say, it certainly hadn’t been that: an admittance that (maybe) he’d been wrong about something. That territory in and of itself was new. Chris fixed him with an expression between sceptical and surprised, “...Go on.”
Dan let out an exasperated sound and slapped his hands on the table. “Chris, you know me. I don't do feelings.”
Of course, the honesty had been short-lived. Chris folded his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair, determined not to give in. They couldn’t keep the same patterns going; he knew that, and Dan needed to know it too. “Well, you're gonna have to if you want this relationship to work.” He stated in a tone he hoped was assertive.
“Why do you think I'm here you jerk?!” Dan shouted, before thinking better of going down that route again. “Right. Right. Feelings.” He muttered to himself. He took in a breath to try and calm down, and attempted to remember every reason why he was there in the first place. The nightmare. Loneliness. That look of utter disappointment. All the other underlying feelings of care and concern and other things that were even harder to think about than insecurity. He stared down at the table, pressing his hands together nervously – as though putting enough pressure into them would stop his leg from shaking. “Chris,” his tone was more level, sombre, “I don't want to lose you.” He finally made eye-contact with his friend, “But are you really only sticking around because you think there might be some good in me?” Something akin to hurt was in his eyes, but he never would have admitted it, had Chris asked.
Chris’s expression softened. When they’d been talking the previous day, he had not meant those words to come out like that. He hadn’t meant it to sound like he was only hanging around on a hypothetical, as if he didn’t enjoy Dan’s company at all. “Look, Dan,” His tone was gentle, “we may have our differences, but I like spending time with you.” He smiled softly, “I like you. And you do show you care... in your own way.” His expression changed again – more conflicted, “But I don't want to risk losing a limb every time I need to ask you a question, or - I don't know - if I wanted to kiss you.”
Dan’s face reddened at those last words – eyes wide and expression flustered in a way Chris found endearing. “You want to kiss me?” He asked hesitantly, as if such a thing wasn’t even possible.
“Well, we are dating.” Chris laughed a little, smiling in a shyly affectionate way.
There was silence for a brief moment as Dan tried to take in those words. Dating. He knew that, but he still only ever described Chris as his ‘friend’. All that had really changed since changing the label from ‘friends’ to ‘partners’ was hugging a little more and suddenly being expected to do this whole open communication thing. The first part was nice. The second part, though, was a struggle.
But years – it had been years of secretly pining, secretly wanting but never having. Of course things were going to change if their relationship changed. It wasn’t particularly surprising, but part of Dan had hoped things didn’t have to change, because that was rarely a good thing in his experience.
Still, Chris was there. Sitting across from him, giving him the chance to be open so that they could have a shot at something that would last. That was what Dan wanted: to make things last. “I… may reciprocate the feeling. You know. Wanting to do, that.” He awkwardly scratched at the side of his head, hoping his face was less red.
Hearing that made Chris’s heart swell with affection. Still, he had to stay on topic – getting Dan to answer the question he’d been avoiding since the previous day. “Well— you still gotta tell me why you think I wouldn't like you.” Chris played with his thumbs nervously, hoping he wasn’t making the situation hostile again.
Dan slammed his head on the table in frustration. “You already know the answer to that Chris!” An angered response, as predicted. Dan looked back up at him, eyes ablaze with indignation – determined to at least get the words out if he was going to lose Chris anyway, “Did you want to start with my impulsiveness? How about that rage problem you're always going on about?” He sat back up, arms moving around in a wildly animatic way, “Oh, let’s not forget my hygiene. Or the fact that I can’t even say the ‘L’ word without having an aneurism.” He turned his attention back to his friend, “You said it yourself, Chris. I bury shit down because—” He stopped for a minute, as if he was searching for the words he wanted to say, or maybe just the courage to actually say them. There was this thought of ‘fuck it’ before he banged his fist on the table. “Because I'm afraid you won't like what you find, okay?!”
That was the most Chris had heard Dan talk about anything more meaningful than revenge or an overly gory horror movie. Sure, he knew his friend suppressed things, avoided anything that resembled vulnerability, and would lie to everyone including himself about caring about anything that wasn’t his cat. However, Chris hadn’t imagined that Dan actually cared that much what Chris thought of him. “Dan...”
“Just—" Dan stood from his chair, raising his hands in defeat. He was convinced Chris wouldn’t want anything to do with him after that. Why had he been so insistent on talking about emotions? Didn’t Chris know that Dan was just damaged goods? Why would he even want to deal with any of that? I fucked up. There were reasons why he kept things buried deep down – because people couldn’t handle the truth. Chris wasn’t going to be an exception, no matter how convinced he seemed to be that he could handle it. “I'll see myself out.” Dan blurted out. He began making his way to the living room – not ready to deal with whatever confrontation was sure to come from being vulnerable. It had never led to anything good in the past.
“Wait—" Chris abruptly rose from his seat, almost tipping his chair over in the process. He ran over to Dan, catching his wrist and turning him around just enough that they faced each other. Nothing but warmth and fondness showed through Chris’s expression – vastly different from the judgement and detest that Dan had anticipated to see there. “Dan, that was all I wanted.” Chris said warmly, “For you to just talk to me.”
That response hadn’t been expected. Part of Dan was asking where’s the hostility? The hatred? The judgement? But when he looked in Chris’s eyes, there was nothing short of adoration and what could even be described as love there – as if Dan was something worthwhile.
Chris continued speaking, catching the hint that Dan wasn’t about to say anything. “That wasn't so hard, was it?”
Dan furrowed his brows. “..Kinda, yeah.” He grumbled.
Chris smiled fondly at him, “Well, I'm proud of you.” He enveloped Dan in a hug – knowing that, at least, that much affection shouldn’t be rebuffed or rejected.
The sudden contact caused Dan to freeze in surprise, taking a few seconds to comprehend what was happening. His face was enveloped in Chris’s chest. Firm arms were around his back, and the warmth of someone pressed against him was the most prominent sensation. After a moment, Dan returned the hug – enjoying the closeness, even if he was still in the process of getting used to any sort of display of affection.
Of course, Chris had to ruin it. “Now, if only you'd see a therapist...”
“Don't push it, Chris.”
It was a start, at least.