Payback and Redemption: Daniel's Fight

Daniel snored.

He was in the same position he'd been in for the last half hour, head propped on his fist with his eyes closed and a smug grin on his face. He was sleeping like the champion he thought he was; somewhere deep down he knew that some things would take more than just a fight to fix, but he was young and naive and happy, so he didn't care too much about that.

Micky LaConte sat next to him, leaning into his shoulder casually, as if they were both drunk or high and not at all worried about the world outside their little bubble of safety. Micky's gun was still in Daniel's back - it had never left since they took Daniel out of the ring - but neither of them had mentioned it since they started talking, almost two hours ago now.

Daniel opened his eyes slowly and yawned. "You know," he said, smiling lazily up at Micky, "I could really use a drink right now."

"How do you figure?" Micky replied, smiling right back. His eyes were soft behind those glasses: all Daniel could see were shades of green and brown, like a forest at dusk. "You won."

"And I'm still thirsty," Daniel said, stretching lazily. He didn't move from his position on the couch; he liked this feeling of safety. "I bet you don't even have water around here."

Micky laughed warmly and stood up, reaching for a bottle on one of his shelves. "I have beer," he explained as he poured something clear into a glass; it smelled strongly of alcohol but by the way Micky handled it it couldn't be anything strong enough to make Daniel blind after just one drink.

"That'll do fine," Daniel said with all the grace of a man who was used to being treated well in bars. He accepted the glass from Micky's hand with a smile and sat up properly on the couch, sipping cautiously from the glass to see if it tasted as good as it looked (it did).

Micky joined him again, sitting close enough that their thighs touched but nothing more intimate than that. They stayed like that for a while; time moved quickly in moments like these, when everything seemed perfect and no one wanted to ruin their mood by thinking about tomorrow or yesterday or any day before today. Micky didn't want to admit that part of him enjoyed the warmth of Daniel's body against his own - enjoyed it far more than he'd ever admit - but he didn't want anything to change either; this feeling of contentment was new to him and addictive in its own way. The only person who'd ever made him feel this way before - let alone stay with him like this without wanting anything in return - had been Andrew Hartnett and it wasn't what any sane man would call love or even friendship but it had been there nonetheless.

"I got your money," Daniel suddenly said after what felt like an eternity but had probably only been five minutes or so (Micky was bad at keeping track anymore). He reached into his pocket: Andrew's moneybag was still there; he tossed it carelessly onto the coffee table between them where it landed with a dull thunk. The sound echoed painfully through Micky's mind and heart; Andrew had used that sound too often in that exact tone of voice... He forced himself not to think about it: none of this was real; this was just another job for another client who needed someone killed or pressured - no different from all those other jobs when Andrew had thrown away whatever feelings they'd shared for sake of business or pride or whatever excuse he could find at the time... But this time felt different somehow; maybe because Daniel looked nothing like Andrew - light hair instead of dark hair and blue eyes instead of brown ones - or maybe because Daniel called him 'Mick' instead of 'Mr LaConte' - neither sounded particularly affectionate but somehow hearing Danny say 'Mick' made something inside him stir... Whatever it was though, neither of them wanted to lose this moment so neither talked about what came next once they'd collected Andy Hartnett's debt: they simply sat there together until night fell around them and darkness crept into their hearts as well as their minds.