haolehothead | (no subject)

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- game: tabula rasa

(no subject)

After the morning he's had, Danny's not exactly looking to go out into the world very soon. He's put on a pair of Steve's Navy sweats (with the word so helpfully plastered across his ass) and has been ambling around the house with just a tank top. He's waiting to head out to the diamond and give some baseball lessons, but that's still hours away.

For now, he's just trying to keep Zulu in his sights, Steve in the other room, and his mouth closed. It's not that he's said anything too incriminating (except, god, the thing about liking to be picked up), but he doesn't want to push his luck. He's cleaning up the main room and crouching down to pat Zulu every once in a while, checking the books they've managed to accumulate. Anything he doesn't want goes on the porch for the next haul back.

He's in the midst of bringing another five or six out when he sees Rachel. "Hey," he greets, lifting a hand to wave at her. "Where're you going?"

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"Are you fucking normal?" she immediately demands. She's a mess. Hair askew, wearing the first things she picked up off the floor. She's pretty sure this t-shirt is actually Raylan's. Oh God, Raylan. She's going to need to fine a chastity belt or something.

"There's shit going on again. Are you normal?"

Danny's brow furrows as she approaches looking like she's practically about to start smacking him or something. "Okay, first of all, what shit is going on? And I'm as normal as I can be. I mean, maybe a little free with words around Steve, but, honestly? I blame external factors," he dryly deadpans. "What the fuck is with you, you look like you got in the middle of a stampede."

"Fuck," she breathes, reading between the lines pretty quickly. Of course with Danny, there might not actually be a difference. "It's a thing. People can't shut the fuck up or lie or something. People are saying whatever is on their mind. Even dumb, crazy shit that apparently they've been thinking for a while and now are telling their girlfriends against their will!"

Danny arches his brows up now and tries to hold back a laugh. "C'mon, come here," he says with a gesture of his fingers, coaxing her into the hut. "What'd he say?"

"Is Steve here?" she asks in a low voice, deflating pretty quickly when it's apparent that Danny is still Danny. Even with the mojo. "I don't...he probably doesn't want to have my shit heaped on him."

"Steve's in the bedroom, yeah, but he's just catching up on his rest. He's out," Danny promises with a reassuring smile as he reaches forward to grab her hand. "Seriously, we'll go to the spare room, you can cry on me, and I'll hand you the dog so you can either blow your nose into some fuzzy fur or just let him stare balefully at you."

"You're like my sexy dad sometimes," she grouses, even though she secretly likes him taking care of her like this. Secretly. She lets him pull her into the spare room and sits, worrying a loose thread on the hot pink shorts she apparently puled on.

"Raylan's got the...whatever. And seriously I thought everything was fine. We were good and he was happy and everything was fine and then he wakes up and he..."

She trails off, trying to gather her thoughts because the whole thing is so insane.

"Well, at least I'm sexy," he says as he brings her into Steve's old room, letting Zulu jump up onto the bed before he sits down with Rachel, sliding an arm around her shoulders to give her a little helpful support. "Okay, babe, I want you to take a deep breath for me," he coaxes, treating her like a scarred witness. "What can you remember?"

"He wants to have a fucking baby," she just blurts out. Instead of like, whatever he was suggesting. "He wants kids. And I guess I'm like the available uterus or whatever. Because he wanted them with the ex, too. And now he's stuck with me."

And that's the worst of it. He's stuck with her.

"Okay, we're gonna deal with both of those completely untrue things," he says, giving her a roll of his eyes. "First of all, he is not stuck with you. Every guy has a choice when it comes to who he dates and who he loves. I chose Steve even though he drove me nuts. Raylan chose you," Danny informs her. "He is not stuck with you, he could leave anytime he wanted because there are other women and other uteri here, if that's your concern."

"Second," he continues, "He does not want you for your uterus. He just wants kids, too."

"It's not fair," she mutters darkly. "It's not fair to anyone. I can't give him what he wants and I shouldn't have to have my relationship fucked up. Now we've got this fucking thing between us. What am I supposed to do with this?"

Danny shifts and stretches out his leg. "Hey, Rach," he says, tipping his head to one side as he studies her carefully. "Why can't you give him what he wants?"

"Are you kidding?" she flails, not able to look him in the eye. "Okay, so first, we just got to the I love you's. Okay, we're like still in the toddler stage in the relationship world. I am a stripper and a like it and everything would be fucked up for me. I'd have to quit my job and get fat and I couldn't drink which I seriously don't think I could do and then I'm stuck with the thing when he inevitably disappears. I'm selfish, Danny. I am seriously selfish. I can't be someone's mom."

"Okay, you're about to hear me get ridiculously pro-life and very baby-happy," he warns, just so she knows. "Rachel, we're talking about a human life that you and Raylan would create. And it's not the human soul thing, I'm talking about a kid with your hair and his eyes that you love more than you love anything in the world because it's a part of you and it's got parts of you. That baby might love to dance and Rachel," he goes on, "I know you don't want this, but if your reasons are those? It's nine goddamn months. And then you go back to what you want. If you want to still dance, you still dance, no one's gonna stop you. But don't use that as an excuse, not with me, not with me when my kid is god knows how many miles away. Did he tell you he wants a kid with you now? Cuz there goes your first argument if he didn't."

Fucking Danny. And his fucking logic.

"But what if I never want them?" she whispers, angrily swiping away a few stupid tears. "He should have what he wants and I just...he deserves so much better."

She knows he's going to get mad about that, but it's the truth. "Danny I ruin everything. I'm not a good person."

"You are not a bad person," Danny sighs out as he wraps his arm a little tighter around her shoulder and hauls her in for a tight hug, close as he can get her. "Hey," he whispers. "Hey, come on, like I just said. If he really wanted something else, he'd have left. He wants you. You're his something better. You're what he thinks he deserves. Think about that."

"Ugh, Christ," she groans, sniffling as she smashes her face against his neck for a moment. This is all easier if she can't see him. "I'm afraid you're all going to find out what I'm really like. What I did back home. There's no way any of you would have been my friends."

"Let's see. You said you did drugs, you're a stripper, and I'm guessing you were into some bad shit," Danny gives his best estimation of the situation. "Rachel, I'm a detective, I used to be a cop on the streets. You don't think I've worked vice? You don't think I've seen the clubs? Heroin, blow, coke, I'm sure that you've probably seen and touched most of it. But I haven't seen you do it here, so I have a lot of respect and trust," he says. "And I think if you can kick those things, then you can kick a couple more for nine months if, if you do decide that you want to see what your life looks like with someone in it that loves you unconditionally because you're their Mommy."

"There's more," she whispers against his neck, picturing Jimmy Edwards' face. The limo. Cooper in the hospital. "There's some stuff I can't blame on the drugs. People got hurt because of me. Kids shouldn't be around people like that."

Danny takes a deep breath and scrubs his fingers through his hair. "Steve killed people. I don't ask where or when or who anymore, because he won't tell me, but I know he did. He's killed them and he's so fucked up, Rachel. I mean, Steve is supremely screwed up under that puppy-dog exterior." And yes, Danny is aware that Steve can hear them right then. "But I let him around Grace. It's not about what you did, it's about who you are, now. So tell me. Who are you, now?"

"I don't know," she says, letting out a shuddering breath, a few tears sliding down her face, settling against his shoulder. "I hate this. I don't want people to think I'm something I'm not. I feel like I'm going to let everyone down if I can't keep it up."

"I think that's bullshit. I think you'd have already let it all fall down," Danny says with a shrug of his shoulders. "It's hard being someone you're not and it's hard pretending. Rachel, for god's sake, what is so wrong with admitting that you're not a horrible person anymore?"

"Because it's still in me," she insists, pulling away a little. "And it can all be taken away and I'm back on that fucking beach overdosing by myself. And what if I have a kid and it goes back with me, huh? I can't want too much because either I'm going to ruin it or it's going to get taken away."

"I can't talk to you if you're just gonna keep giving me this," Danny admits, looking (and sounding) lost. He settles back on the bed with his back against the wall and his arms draped around his bent knees. "You're making excuses because you're scared, I get it. I just don't see where you're getting your proof from, because your behavior here is decent."

"I don't need proof," she argues weakly as she slowly deflates. He's right. What he says makes sense. But it doesn't make her feel any better about this.

"I just don't want to disappoint you guys. I don't want you to go away."