Danny Ketch (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} heavensfool) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} wariscoming,@ 2011-02-24 21:05:00 |
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When: Today! After Felicia clubbed ‘em over the head with the truth.
Where: A motel in Providence. No, no Deep Ones.
What: A talk about emotions! They both do this so well!
Rating: PG-13 to be on the safe side.
Danny wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to say to this. Felicia’s post certainly did make things awkward. It didn’t help that Danny had been sitting across from Jess when they’d both seen it. That had brought down tension so thick he was pretty sure that if he squinted he could actually see it. He really wasn’t happy with Felicia right now. There were good damn reasons Danny hadn’t brought up his feelings. Even if he had been talked into believing it was possible, now was so obviously not the time for this. He could’ve done it in his own time, when it was a good time, rather than just putting it out there when neither of them were expecting it. Even if the picture in the post was real, this wasn’t the way to go about it.
Danny glanced up at Jess without moving his head. He started to open his mouth, snapped it shut, and then went back to staring at his phone. The problem was, now that Felicia had put it out there, it was sort of impossible for them to talk about anything else. The elephant in the room was so huge that there was really no way to get around it without ratcheting up the tension each time. Maybe that would’ve been okay for some people, but this wasn’t what Danny did. He didn’t talk about things. Once upon a time he would have, but the last eleven years he’d had increasingly few people to talk to and he’d gotten very good at internalizing. How the hell was he supposed to talk about it now?
The answer was simple. He wasn’t. With a sound that was halfway between a grunt and a sigh, he rose from the chair he’d been sitting on and started moving toward the door, his phone clutched in a white-knuckled grip. He knew where he was going, and was so used to just going when he decided to go that he almost forgot he needed to mention anything at all. When the realization hit, he turned to look back at Jess, finally letting his phone drop back into his pocket. “I’m going to the, uh, store. For Pop-Tarts. The one,” he paused here as he realized he had no idea whether there was a store nearby. Turning sharply, he started searching out the windows for some indication of the direction of a store. Any store would do, considering the utility of Pop-Tarts. Even a gas station would suffice, but because Danny’s luck was pretty routinely bad, there were no such signs. Wincing, he turned back around and jerked his thumb in a random direction. “The one down the street. With the Pop-Tarts.”
The truth? The truth was that he was weak. Demons, monsters, slimeballs, those he could deal with. Renegade angels, ghosts, evil sorcerers, and the occasional alien? Sure. But emotions, relationships, life, he couldn’t handle. The truth was that he was taking a running start with every intention of leaping off the wagon and right onto a barstool. He could climb back on after some of the awkwardness had faded. He’d seen a bar coming in, the kind of place that reeked of alcohol, blared the music loud enough to drown out thoughts, and had air so thick with smoke you needed a shower after five minutes. It was exactly the kind of place Danny liked to go when he drank, the kind of place where you could go for one drink and leave in handcuffs with blood on your knuckles. Hopefully Jess wouldn’t be able to crack his stunningly inept code.