#though idk how you’d feel about my Matt 😂🤔

[cas-backwards-tie]

Hi honey! I love requesting from you, as you know. So maybe, “I fucking love you.” “Hang up and tell me this when you’re sober.”

For my baby Matty or Danny, your choice 🖤

Daniel Jones x Reader

Words: 904

Warnings: Angst, Drinking, Cursing, Drunk!Dan, Heartbreak.

It’s the loud ringing that wakes you with a sudden jolt. Heart pounding, you reach over toward the nightstand and grab ahold of your cellphone. It’s gotta be at least three in the morning. Who’s calling you at this hour? With the ‘Do Not Disturb’ setting programmed into your cell, the only way it’d ring like this is if someone called you three times within five minutes repeatedly. For emergencies only; in case anyone needed you desperately. Answering the call, you don’t look as you press the device to your ear without looking at it. Immediately the voice registers in your mind: it’s Daniel... Dan... on rare occasions Danny.

“I- I know this is the third time I’ve done this, so I don’t know if you’ll get this voicemail, but I have to do it. I can’t keep recording message over message again. I’ve... I’ve just gotta say it. I know that what happened between us wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right, and fuck- I’m an idiot. My work’s important. Like, save the world, important. You’ll be a hero, Dan. But I can’t hold it in anymore. I can’t stop thinking about you... I fucking love you. I fucking love you and I’ll- I’ll be damned if I don’t tell you that again. I’m sittin’ here in my car just crying like an idiot because I fucking miss you and your cuddles, the way you’d always care about everyone, and damn... you looked at me like I was some sort of Saint... and, I- I just...” 

His voice is cut off as you register a sniffle through the receiver, then another, and you can tell two things from his voice: one, he’s been crying, and two... he’s drunk. Clearly, he thinks he’s leaving a voicemail, and while you wish you could let him ramble on and pretend it is... the sigh you release prevents it. Your heart aches, chest tight as you shift in bed, tongue wetting your dry lips in thoughts. The thing is, you’d dated Dan for nine months. That might not seem like a long time to some, but it felt like forever between the two of you. The first four had been blissful; lots of dates on the weekend, a genuine connection sparked between you and him. However, he’d been tasked with a new project as of recent, and the past five months had been nothing but silence. Time spent together was filled with fights and stress, and while you truly believe you’d fallen for him... Dan seemed all too consumed with his work. 

Work is important, and you know what Dan is doing for the government is crucial... but the secrecy... the absence of explanation, there becomes a point when it’s just too much. Worse came to worse and eventually you couldn’t take it, you had to cut him off. His partners were open about the work-life balancing struggle, how they’d missed their kid’s birthdays, and some holidays. You’d accepted their reassurances for months. Eventually, you felt that time was passing you by. Almost half a year with barely any time spent together, any dates... nothing. Now, a week after your breakup, Dan’s calling you at who knows what time in the morning.

“Dan,” your voice comes out hoarse, a hint of grogginess clueing him in on your state.

“Did I wake you? I didn’t mean to- I- I’m sorry,” he interjects, another sniffle heard.

“You know why we...” the words die on your tongue. It hurts. The image of Dan sitting in his car outside some bar in Alexandria crying because of how much he misses you. “It’s not fair. You can’t call me at-” you pull back your phone to try and look at the screen, the bright light blinding you.

“-two fifty-six,” he answers for you.

“-two fifty-six in the morning,” you place it back against your ear and sigh, “and just tell me that you love me.” The now-familiar feeling of your heart welling up in your chest threatens to raise tears.

“But I do... I fucking love you, and letting you go was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” he argues, words not as slurred as earlier. Chewing on your lip, you mentally debate your options. Sleep curls around the edge of your mind and makes this more of a struggle.

“Even if that’s true,”

“-it is.”

“-if you’re serious... I want you to hang up, Dan. I need you to hang up and tell me this when you’re sober,” you respond, eyes shut as you hope and pray that this isn’t a fluke. For once, just once... let things go right. There’s shuffling on the other end of the line, the sound of fabric shifting, and a grumble in thought. A few moments pass in silence. The tension builds in your chest at the hope and prospect of either feeling relieved or having your heart crushed a second time. Dan finally hums in affirmation and there’s the familiar click of the line going dead. Releasing the breath you’d been holding, you let yourself breathe freely and clutch the phone to your chest. 

There’s a chance he’ll feel differently in the morning, that possibly, he’ll regret even having this conversation with you (if he remembers it). Yet... you’re hopeful for some reason; hopeful that Dan’s changed his ways, he’s willing to try harder this time. Maybe there is a future for you both... just maybe.

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taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic