#actually after Kauri's surgery you guys probably would like some fluff huh

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Do You Trust Me? (Nate/Danny)

CW: FLUFF. Mild-to-moderate spice (like PG-13 level, still SFW), references to past noncon/violence but this is really just fluff and the leadup to the next Nate and Danny piece (which will be, ah, spicier)

Tagging the Danny crew: @bleeding-demon-teeth, @spiffythespook, @finder-of-rings, @whumpywhumper, @pumpkinthefangirl, @special-spicy-chicken, @whale-whumps

Nate had just undone the top button on Danny’s jeans and pulled down the zipper, his fingers closing around the waistband to shift them down over his hips, when Danny tensed up. He felt the sudden change in the air around them - the both of them could read the mood of a room in a breath or less, after years with Bram - and went still. 

His elbows were sinking just slightly into the mattress on either side of Danny, the other man’s legs underneath him, and he could feel the moment Danny’s body went from relaxed to muscles locked, the full-body shiver that gave Nate the information he needed to know what would come next.

Danny’s voice, when he spoke, was shaking. “I’m, I’m sorry, Nate, I… I can’t. I have to stop.” 

Nate pulled back from Danny’s stomach, his mouth still buzzing with the warmth and slight salt-taste of his skin, the hint of reddish hair trailing downwards when he’d pushed his shirt up, started exploring the slight rhythm of shadows along his ribs and licked and kissed his way down from collarbone to navel.

Just below that, the bandages that covered the word that had been carved into him, and Nate had carefully avoided that area, kissed around the sides, felt the slight roughness of the adhesive tape that held the gauze on against his lips. 

It wasn’t the first time he had kissed parts of Danny wrapped in gauze - just the first time he wasn’t in Canada when he did it. 

He’d been making his way further down, listening to the way Danny’s breathing sped up, feeling hands tangled in his thick black hair, the slightest shifting movements of stomach, hips, legs. All of it familiar, all of it what he’d been dreaming about since long before they’d ever been free. Just he and Danny, alone together.

Without the threat of Bram breathing down their necks, telling them what to do or when to move, with perfect total freedom in each other.

It had been so good, until that moment. Nate’s hand had slid over the rough denim on the inside of Danny’s thigh, running up the seam with featherlight fingertips, hearing the softest moan from Danny’s mouth as a kind of gift he could never earn, could never deserve. He’d settled his good hand over him and felt Danny stirring to life, rubbed his palm in a slow circle and felt hips jerk up to press harder into his touch. 

Nate’s mouth had gone dry - fuck, how he’d missed this, how he’d missed touching Danny. Kissing him more than the quick, light bits of affection that he meant - and he loved those, too - but he had missed this. Intensity, Danny’s tongue moving against his, pulling a little at the red hair until Danny groaned at the feeling, biting at his neck with just the barest graze of teeth, feeling the twist of Danny’s head until he could return the feeling.

It might be fucked up - Nate wondered, privately, if he was wrecked by Bram in ways he couldn’t come back from, that he still wanted Danny so badly even after everything he’d been made to do to him… and sometimes, in darker moments, what it said about Danny that Danny still wanted him.

But in this moment, together, all Nate had been thinking about was the hint of softness in his stomach where the new weight was coming back, the hips moving into his hand as he kissed his way down Danny’s stomach.

Then Danny froze, and when he did, so did Nate.

Those whispered words came out, thick with guilt and worry and fear. Nate moved back without a moment’s hesitation, even as his body ached at the sudden lack of contact, a heavy awareness between his legs of desires held off or denied. Not the first time. “Wh-what’s wrong?” He asked, but there wasn’t any question as to what was wrong, only exactly how wrong it was. 

“I c-can’t, can’t, um, can’t do any… can’t.” Danny’s voice went high and airless, his breathing going shallow. When he wriggled Nate shifted immediately over to the side to let him extricate himself, watching as Danny rolled right off the bed in one smooth motion, an expert by now at escaping.

Danny stood with his belt undone and the button on his jeans open, fabric hanging off skinny hips just starting to take on more of the natural well-fed shape they’d had before he was taken, a hint of shadow and skin showing how much he had loved Nate’s touch, until he didn’t. The wide blue eyes stared at nothing, but they were white-rimmed, and frightened.

Danny was breathing hard - too hard for what they’d been doing, lying on the bed just trying to move slow, push things a little further here and a little further there. If Nate put a hand to his chest now, he knew, Danny’s heart would be pounding hard enough to feel like it would burst right out, bleed fear all over himself, paint red over all the places Bram had made him believe were ruined.

Nate didn’t try to catch him or pull him back, only lifted himself up on one elbow and stayed right where he was lying on his side. It would be safer, to Danny, if he didn’t move, if Danny could do what he was doing now - stepping away from him, putting distance between them, keeping himself angled so he knew exactly where Nate was as he crossed the room.

It hurt Nate a little to watch it - hurt even more not to go to him to try and soothe the fears - but Danny needed the space.

Danny’s scarred hands worried at each other, the calloused fingers of his right hand tracing the lines Bram had cut over his left, grazing lightly over the small silver ring he wore on his left ring finger that said SURVIVOR, to remind him even when Danny didn’t believe it. Fingers found their way around the circle of scars that wrapped his wrist, traced back up until the thickest scar disappeared into his short-sleeved T-shirt. Danny pulled shirt back down to cover up his stomach, the old welts and scars there light pink and in the right light you could barely see them.

Nate hadn’t minded them in the woods, and he still didn’t. Evidence, in his mind, that Danny was stronger than anyone gave him credit for.

The line of red scarring around his mouth, nose, and jaw stood out in a face gone pale, blue eyes glittering with a sudden spike of fear. 

“Just b-b-breathe slow,” Nate said, still looking up at him from his place on the bed. His body throbbed, a little, anticipation frustrated - he’d been so hopeful, and he shifted uneasily to try and damp down the weight, the awareness of his own want. 

Danny nodded, a little too quickly, dragging a hand over his own face and jerking in a breath. “I-I’m sorry, Nate, I was fine-… and then I wasn’t, I…”

“It’s oh-okay,” Nate soothed, slowly sitting up, keeping himself at a pace that wouldn’t frighten Danny any further. “I said we’d d-do anything and eh, everything at your p-pace and we will. Do you w-w-want to talk about it?”

Danny swallowed. “I was fine,” He repeated, but in a soft half-whisper. “I was fine, and it felt really, really good, and then I, um, I remembered that’s it’s… that’s letting you-… it’s against the rules. I’m not allowed. B-Bad, um, Bad Red, bad dog… I just… then I couldn’t. I can’t. N-Not allowed. I’m n-not allowed except when it’s for, for someone else, I… not… not allowed.”

There was a rage inside of Nate that flared, just a little, whenever Danny talked like this. When he repeated Bram’s rules, when they still wound around him like the barbed wire Bram would twist around his wrists, his neck, make him wear like a crown of thorns all day long, Bram tightening and adjusting and playing until thin trails of blood ran down Danny’s gorgeous face.

He had to swallow back the rage, each time, because it wasn’t Danny he was angry at. It was harder, every time, to hide behind the placid mask that Danny needed, because when he was like this getting angry - even just in his general direction, even if not at him - would lead to Danny tearing himself apart trying to apologize, to do better, to be good. 

Nate would have sooner died than try to call Bram in his prison to yell at him for what he’d done, and so the rage had nowhere to go. Bram would only have enjoyed hearing about it, anyway - he had made it clear through his lawyer more than once that he would love to have his boys call or pop by for a visit now and then.

Nate would have gone for a visit, if he could have been promised ten minutes alone with Bram and a knife.

Finally, he pushed himself to seated and watched Danny’s long legs as he moved back and forth around his room, a half-circle of pacing around the bed and back, trailing fingers on top of his desk like he had to remind himself where he was, who he was - and maybe he did.

“S-So not th-th-that, yet,” Nate said, trying not to let his disappointment show. He’d wanted to do that for Danny ever since they’d first met - but in the woods it was against Danny’s rules, the rules that crowded all the rest of his thoughts out of his brain, replaced them with a single-minded focus on whatever you want, Abraham. 

“I’m sorry.” Danny stopped pacing, turning to look at him, earnest and worried. “I’m sorry, Nate. I want to, with you. I want to so badly, but I-… when I start to feel good, I… can’t. Not if it, not if…” 

Nate swallowed again, and nodded. He didn’t need the rest of the sentence he knew how it ended: not if it’s not for your pleasure, not mine.

They’d made so much progress, but three steps forward always came with two steps back, especially… especially in moments like this. 

“It’s okay, Danny,” Nate said softly. He pitched his voice deep and low, stayed where he was, but held out his hands, giving Danny the opportunity, the option. “We’ll j-j-just sit, oh-okay? Just sit t-together. Would you b-be able to s-sit with me?”

Never an order. Never a command. Always a request, an option, with the ability to say no a necessary weight in the air between them. Danny had worked so hard to relearn how to turn down something - anything - he didn’t want to do.

There was a pause, and then Danny nodded, moving hesitantly towards him and climbing up into the bed. He didn’t sit, though - instead he stretched his long body out on the bed, laid his head on Nate’s thigh, and slid his arms up and around his waist, holding him tightly. The soft red hair pressed back against Nate’s left hip and he took in a breath.

All he wanted was to show Danny, prove to him that it didn’t have to hurt. That he could help him relearn how to be together in ways that didn’t involve letting Abraham hurt him first, that he could teach him how to feel good all for himself without guilt, without panic. All he wanted was to be able to express how much he cared for Danny the way he should be able to, the way normal couples could do.

But they were anything but normal, weren’t they?

Nate ran his good hand absently through Danny’s hair, and felt the arms tighten just a little around him. 

“It’s okay if I don’t want to,” Danny whispered, but there was a hesitancy there, a shaking in his voice that Nate had heard a hundred times before. 

He leaned over, curving his back as he bent forwards enough to bend over Danny, laying one arm over his side, using his bad hand - just two fingers, barely an ache - to tilt his head back just a little.

Nate kissed his forehead. “It’s oh-okay if you d-d-don’t want to,” He confirmed, and felt some of the tension in Danny’s body relax. 

It’s okay, it’s always going to be okay, but God if you don’t drive me crazy sometimes wanting you and not being able to have you.

“I’m still good if I don’t want to.”

Nate sighed, shifting back to lay back down, on his back this time, pulling Danny close so the redhead laid on his side with his head on Nate’s shoulder, Nate’s arm around him. So he could just turn his head to kiss the red hair, the wavy bits that fell over his eyes when he was scared. Tilting Danny’s chin up again, he kissed at the scars over one cheekbone and then the other, tilted his head back down to press his lips gently to the little dip at the bridge of his nose. 

Danny’s eyes closed, slowly, copper eyelashes nearly faded against his skin and the scattering of freckles that had dominated his face before Bram had built the scars to make sure he could never go anywhere, ever again, without everyone knowing what you are.

“Y-you’re still good if y-y-you don’t want, want to,” Nate said softly, and kissed his forehead. “You’re st-still worthwhile if y-y-you never w-want to again,” and he kissed his cheeks again, one and then the other. “I st-st-still love y-you, and y-you’re still good.”

He kissed Danny’s lips this time, felt the hesitancy before Danny pressed back, moved against him so Danny was the one laying over him. 

“I love you, too.” Danny trailed fingertips over Nate’s chest, through the dark hair there, and for a moment everything was quiet. Nate focused on relaxing his overwrought body, the body that still wanted and wanted even though Danny wasn’t ready, yet - and they had gotten further, lately, than they had before. 

Danny was making progress, piece by piece, day by day. 

They’d get there, even if they hadn’t gotten there yet. Nate could - and would, and was willing to, was happy to - wait. 

“Wh-what if you only love me because of what Abraham did?” Danny said, his voice low, as if admitting to some terrible secret, asking some forbidden question. Nate sighed, letting green eyes drift to stare up at the ceiling, the slow lazy movements of Danny’s ceiling fan. 

“What if I d-d-do?” Nate asked back, and felt Danny tense up. “W-wait, let me f-f-finish. If w-we fell in l-love because of what happened to us, is that s-so different than p-people who meet during a n-national disaster? Danny… I w-w-want to get one day to where h-he can’t come between us any, anymore. I t-t-talk to Dr. Rosa about it a lot. But… he’s always g-g-going to be the thing that m-made us who we are.”

“Which version of me did you like better?” Danny said, and his voice was low, and small. There was a second question under the first, one Nate did not quite understand. But the worry and vulnerability in Danny’s voice nearly stopped his heart.

“Wh-what?”

“Did you like me better before, or now?”

Nate frowned, trying to wait a beat, to make it seem like he was thinking even though his answer was already there. He’d talked to Dr. Rosa about this, too. “Danny, there’s only one y-y-you. The you m-made of what y-y-you’ve lived through. There’s no “Before D-Danny” and “After Danny”. There’s no difference. You’re still th-the core of y-y-you, just the way you al, always were. Remember when w-we met? I th-thought you were b-b-beautiful then. I th-think you’re beautiful now. All of y-you. Inside and out.”

Danny nodded against him.

The quiet drew out between them, but it was more comfortable now, less weighted down by the things they said and did not say. Nate was a master at not saying things, after seven years at Bram’s side. Danny had learned the hard way, too, but he’d never learned to lie like Nate had. 

It was such a relief, Nate thought, not to live his entire life lying any longer.

“I’m sorry,” Danny said finally. “I want to, Nate. I want to so badly with you, but I just… I get so scared, I’m not in control, and, and… and I don’t know what to do, I panic.”

“I un, understand,” Nate said softly. Then he stilled, thinking. 

Danny noticed the sudden shift in his movements and pushed himself up slightly to look Nate in the eyes. “What?”

“Would…” Nate licked his lips, considering, letting his eyes linger over Danny’s face. “Would it help if y-y-you were in control?”

Danny tilted his head, and Nate could still see the cynical, sarcastic boy he’d once watched throw himself into mosh pits in a frenzy of anger he had to repress during his everyday life - he was still in there, living alongside the softer, nervous Danny that had come back out of the woods. It was all one person, the bits and pieces of his life wrapped around him to create a man. Danny couldn’t see it that way - Ryan and their awful parents didn’t seem to see it, either - but Nate did.

There had only ever been one Danny, made of a thousand beautiful, frustrating, irritating, infuriating, amazing little fragments glued together, pieces that survived every attempt to obliterate them, walked back out of the woods and started gluing themselves back together with gold.

Nate loved the fragments, and he loved the gold, too.

“Control? What… what do you, um, mean, Nate?”

Nate smiled, put a hand up to Danny’s face, felt him lean into the touch. “… Danny do you t-t-trust me?”