Rum Raisin 4: Keys
Title: Keys
Main Story: In The Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: Rum raisin 4 (brother), fresh pineapple (The boys are back in town (the boys are back in town)).
Word Count: 1562
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Aaron meets Michael for the first time.
Notes: New flavor! Story sparked by the combination of today's pineapple and this picture of Michael Weatherly, aka Michael Sierbenski's PB. There's a Dresden Files reference in here for the fans.
"You have to keep moving or you'll stiffen up," Danny said, and held the door to her apartment building. "Take the stairs."
Aaron gave her a pathetic look. "No elevator?"
"Not a chance," she said, and nudged him with her foot. "Go on, stairs."
"I was just on the treadmill for thirty minutes..."
"Stairs," Danny said, firmly. "I will push you if I have to."
He whined, but went up the stairs. She'd promised him an icepack and reruns of Futurama if he worked out with her, and right now he'd climb the Empire State Building for that, even with his calves burning like they were. Danny's two flights of stairs were nothing.
Or that's what he told himself, anyway. Even huffing outside of Danny's apartment door.
"Suck it up, wimp," Danny said, unlocking her door. "You'd wash out of boot camp in an hour."
"I would die in an hour," Aaron said. "Why do you think I never signed up?"
She snorted, and shouldered the door open. "Wash out, die, same difference. Oh, hi."
The barefoot young man to whom this was addressed lifted a glass in the general direction of the door and called, "Your wine sucks!"
Aaron stared at him, then at Danny, then back at the young man, who was sitting on Danny's kitchen counter. No one bothered to answer the implicit question.
"That's because it's cheap," Danny called back, kicking her shoes off. She seemed utterly unsurprised to find a young man in tattered jeans swinging his legs off her counter. "Plebes like me can't afford decent wine."
"Uh-huh," the young man said. He took a sip, made a face, and set the glass down next to him. "You know that's just an excuse for your dependency on terrible wine."
Danny gave him a pleasant smile and suggested he do something anatomically improbable. "And while you're at it," she added, "get me a glass of that wine. Aaron, you want some?"
"No thanks," he said, automatically, then started thinking again. "Danny, who the hell is this?"
"I the hell am Michael," said the young man, and at Aaron's expression, added, "What, didn't she mention me? I'm cut to the quick."
"Shut up and get me some alcohol," Danny said.
"Now that sounds familiar," Michael murmured, and slid gingerly off the counter. "You want I should get you some chocolate while I'm at it? Maybe a pony?"
"The wine will do," Danny said, with immense dignity. "Oh, Michael, this is Aaron. He's Nathan's son."
Michael smiled at him. "Hi, how ya doin'."
"I'm fine," Aaron said, still bewildered. "How did you even get in here?"
The other man blinked, then shrugged, and got another glass-- without any apparent direction from Danny as to which cabinet, which was interesting. "I have a key."
"I thought you lived in Seattle," Aaron said. He felt like a runner, in third place and falling.
Michael shrugged again, mid-uncorking, which took some talent. "I do. I happened to be in town and thought I'd come see my sister."
"You can't talk," Danny said. "You do the same exact thing to Ivy. I know because she's told me."
"Yeah, but I don't have a key to her dorm room," Aaron said. "And I don't live in Seattle."
"Whatever," Michael said, and poured the wine.
"Whatever," Danny said, at approximately the same time and in precisely the same tone. "I'm going to shower and change. You boys play nice."
Aaron started to salute, decided it would be in poor taste, and wound up waving his hand vaguely in the area of his temple. Michael simply lifted the now-full wine glass and said, "The alcohol will pine for you."
"Shut up," Danny said, amiably, and went into her bedroom.
There was awkward silence for a few minutes. Or at least it was awkward for Aaron. Michael just hopped back up on the counter and stared into space, occasionally taking a sip of wine.
"So," Aaron said, at last, and dropped down on the couch. His calves stopped burning quite so badly. "Why do you have a key to Danny's apartment again?"
"Huh?" Michael started. "Oh. 'Cause she's got one to mine and fair is fair. Are you dating her?"
Aaron choked on air and spent the next thirty seconds coughing. "No," he said, finally. "God."
Michael narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, threateningly. "Are you suggesting that there's something wrong with my sister?"
"No!" he said. "No, Danny's great, it's just that--"
Michael laughed and leaned back again. "Kidding. I know she's crazy. I am too."
Aaron gave him a weird look. Or what felt like a weird look, anyway. "Uh, that's nice."
"Besides," he continued, without apparently having listened, "I break my fingers when I punch people. I dunno if you've ever broken your fingers but it sucks."
"Oh, right," Aaron said, temporarily distracted. "Brittle bones, right?"
Michael nodded and had another sip of wine. "Yup. Danny told you?"
"Yeah. I hope it's not... I mean, I hope you don't mind."
"Nah." He shrugged. "It's pretty obvious. I like to tell people up front and get it out of the way. Does kinda dampen my impact on the dating circuit, but sometimes you get sympathy sex."
Several responses came to mind, starting with "And you're okay with that?" and working up, but Aaron decided he wasn't even going to touch that one. "Seriously, I'm not dating Danny because she's like a sister to me. It would be weird. Intensely weird."
Also because he was asexual, but he wasn't feeling into the sharing right now. Besides, most people believed that brittle bones existed.
"Fair enough," Michael said. He drank the last of the wine, then began trying to balance his wine glass on one finger, his other hand hovering beneath to catch it when it fell. "She mentioned your dad basically adopted her. That's good. Our dad sucks."
"She mentioned," Aaron said, feeling suddenly very sober. "I'm sorry."
Michael looked at him, eyebrows arched in surprise. "For what? Our dad? Not your fault he's a douche."
Aaron shrugged, uncomfortably (literally; he'd been doing weights before the treadmill). "Still."
Michael studied him for another moment, then flipped his free hand sideways. "Fair enough," he said, again. "Look, it's okay. It sucked growing up, but we got out, and now we've got each other." He grinned, suddenly. "Which is why we have the keys, you know. So we've always got safe harbor. Danny thinks I haven't figured that out yet."
Aaron snorted. "She's protecting you?"
"Ingrained habit," Michael said. "She can't help it."
"Can't help what?" Danny asked, coming out of her room. She was toweling her hair vigorously.
"Buying cheap wine," Michael said. He made a face. "Seriously, have you even tasted this stuff?"
She rolled her eyes, threw the towel at Aaron (who failed to catch it due to sore muscles and wound up with a towel in his face), and reached for the full glass. "I notice you finished yours. Put that glass down before you break it and stick me with the cleanup."
"I would never," Michael said.
"Besides," she continued, between sips, "all my friends drink this stuff."
"Sure they do." Michael nodded at Aaron. "See, he's on my side. He's got enough sense not to drink your alcohol."
"He doesn't drink wine," Danny said. "That doesn't count. Buttface."
"It counts if I say it counts, stupidhead."
Aaron considered pulling the towel back over his head in the face of such determined siblinghood, but left it alone. God knew Danny had seen him do this with Ivy enough times. And it wasn't like they meant it.
Besides, Michael was sort of cool.
"Hey, Danny," he called, interrupting her mid-affectionate insult. "You should bring Michael next time the band has a gig, introduce him around. If you're still in town," he added, to Michael.
Michael lifted his eyebrows again. "Sure," he said. "I'm between assignments. I can crash here as long as you let me." He lifted his refilled glass to Danny, who also shrugged.
"Why not," she said. "You should meet my friends sometime."
"To approve of them, or to be approved of?" Michael wondered out loud.
"Either or," Danny said. "Both. Neither. Basically we're going to drink, tell bad jokes, and make fun of Aaron's playing. Maybe Lars's, too. Haven't decided yet."
"I'm in," Michael said. "For the bad jokes, anyway. No offense, Aaron, but I don't know you well enough to make fun of you."
Aaron flapped a hand at him. "Don't worry. My sister will be there. Any gaps in the insults caused by your presence will be swiftly filled."
"Know that feeling," Michael muttered, tilting his head in Danny's direction.
"What was that?" she demanded.
Yup. Sounded like home.
He liked Michael, Aaron decided, as the bickering rose again. Yeah. Oversharing and all. He and Ivy ought to get on like a house on fire. And maybe he'd be able to soften Esther the way he softened Danny-- Esther and Danny had a lot in common, after all, what with the anger issues and all.
Shame Michael didn't live in New York.
Then again, clearly he showed up here any time he felt like it.
Yeah. This would work.
Aaron slumped back against the cushions in a position that didn't make his muscles scream and turned the TV on.
Main Story: In The Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: Rum raisin 4 (brother), fresh pineapple (The boys are back in town (the boys are back in town)).
Word Count: 1562
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Aaron meets Michael for the first time.
Notes: New flavor! Story sparked by the combination of today's pineapple and this picture of Michael Weatherly, aka Michael Sierbenski's PB. There's a Dresden Files reference in here for the fans.
"You have to keep moving or you'll stiffen up," Danny said, and held the door to her apartment building. "Take the stairs."
Aaron gave her a pathetic look. "No elevator?"
"Not a chance," she said, and nudged him with her foot. "Go on, stairs."
"I was just on the treadmill for thirty minutes..."
"Stairs," Danny said, firmly. "I will push you if I have to."
He whined, but went up the stairs. She'd promised him an icepack and reruns of Futurama if he worked out with her, and right now he'd climb the Empire State Building for that, even with his calves burning like they were. Danny's two flights of stairs were nothing.
Or that's what he told himself, anyway. Even huffing outside of Danny's apartment door.
"Suck it up, wimp," Danny said, unlocking her door. "You'd wash out of boot camp in an hour."
"I would die in an hour," Aaron said. "Why do you think I never signed up?"
She snorted, and shouldered the door open. "Wash out, die, same difference. Oh, hi."
The barefoot young man to whom this was addressed lifted a glass in the general direction of the door and called, "Your wine sucks!"
Aaron stared at him, then at Danny, then back at the young man, who was sitting on Danny's kitchen counter. No one bothered to answer the implicit question.
"That's because it's cheap," Danny called back, kicking her shoes off. She seemed utterly unsurprised to find a young man in tattered jeans swinging his legs off her counter. "Plebes like me can't afford decent wine."
"Uh-huh," the young man said. He took a sip, made a face, and set the glass down next to him. "You know that's just an excuse for your dependency on terrible wine."
Danny gave him a pleasant smile and suggested he do something anatomically improbable. "And while you're at it," she added, "get me a glass of that wine. Aaron, you want some?"
"No thanks," he said, automatically, then started thinking again. "Danny, who the hell is this?"
"I the hell am Michael," said the young man, and at Aaron's expression, added, "What, didn't she mention me? I'm cut to the quick."
"Shut up and get me some alcohol," Danny said.
"Now that sounds familiar," Michael murmured, and slid gingerly off the counter. "You want I should get you some chocolate while I'm at it? Maybe a pony?"
"The wine will do," Danny said, with immense dignity. "Oh, Michael, this is Aaron. He's Nathan's son."
Michael smiled at him. "Hi, how ya doin'."
"I'm fine," Aaron said, still bewildered. "How did you even get in here?"
The other man blinked, then shrugged, and got another glass-- without any apparent direction from Danny as to which cabinet, which was interesting. "I have a key."
"I thought you lived in Seattle," Aaron said. He felt like a runner, in third place and falling.
Michael shrugged again, mid-uncorking, which took some talent. "I do. I happened to be in town and thought I'd come see my sister."
"You can't talk," Danny said. "You do the same exact thing to Ivy. I know because she's told me."
"Yeah, but I don't have a key to her dorm room," Aaron said. "And I don't live in Seattle."
"Whatever," Michael said, and poured the wine.
"Whatever," Danny said, at approximately the same time and in precisely the same tone. "I'm going to shower and change. You boys play nice."
Aaron started to salute, decided it would be in poor taste, and wound up waving his hand vaguely in the area of his temple. Michael simply lifted the now-full wine glass and said, "The alcohol will pine for you."
"Shut up," Danny said, amiably, and went into her bedroom.
There was awkward silence for a few minutes. Or at least it was awkward for Aaron. Michael just hopped back up on the counter and stared into space, occasionally taking a sip of wine.
"So," Aaron said, at last, and dropped down on the couch. His calves stopped burning quite so badly. "Why do you have a key to Danny's apartment again?"
"Huh?" Michael started. "Oh. 'Cause she's got one to mine and fair is fair. Are you dating her?"
Aaron choked on air and spent the next thirty seconds coughing. "No," he said, finally. "God."
Michael narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, threateningly. "Are you suggesting that there's something wrong with my sister?"
"No!" he said. "No, Danny's great, it's just that--"
Michael laughed and leaned back again. "Kidding. I know she's crazy. I am too."
Aaron gave him a weird look. Or what felt like a weird look, anyway. "Uh, that's nice."
"Besides," he continued, without apparently having listened, "I break my fingers when I punch people. I dunno if you've ever broken your fingers but it sucks."
"Oh, right," Aaron said, temporarily distracted. "Brittle bones, right?"
Michael nodded and had another sip of wine. "Yup. Danny told you?"
"Yeah. I hope it's not... I mean, I hope you don't mind."
"Nah." He shrugged. "It's pretty obvious. I like to tell people up front and get it out of the way. Does kinda dampen my impact on the dating circuit, but sometimes you get sympathy sex."
Several responses came to mind, starting with "And you're okay with that?" and working up, but Aaron decided he wasn't even going to touch that one. "Seriously, I'm not dating Danny because she's like a sister to me. It would be weird. Intensely weird."
Also because he was asexual, but he wasn't feeling into the sharing right now. Besides, most people believed that brittle bones existed.
"Fair enough," Michael said. He drank the last of the wine, then began trying to balance his wine glass on one finger, his other hand hovering beneath to catch it when it fell. "She mentioned your dad basically adopted her. That's good. Our dad sucks."
"She mentioned," Aaron said, feeling suddenly very sober. "I'm sorry."
Michael looked at him, eyebrows arched in surprise. "For what? Our dad? Not your fault he's a douche."
Aaron shrugged, uncomfortably (literally; he'd been doing weights before the treadmill). "Still."
Michael studied him for another moment, then flipped his free hand sideways. "Fair enough," he said, again. "Look, it's okay. It sucked growing up, but we got out, and now we've got each other." He grinned, suddenly. "Which is why we have the keys, you know. So we've always got safe harbor. Danny thinks I haven't figured that out yet."
Aaron snorted. "She's protecting you?"
"Ingrained habit," Michael said. "She can't help it."
"Can't help what?" Danny asked, coming out of her room. She was toweling her hair vigorously.
"Buying cheap wine," Michael said. He made a face. "Seriously, have you even tasted this stuff?"
She rolled her eyes, threw the towel at Aaron (who failed to catch it due to sore muscles and wound up with a towel in his face), and reached for the full glass. "I notice you finished yours. Put that glass down before you break it and stick me with the cleanup."
"I would never," Michael said.
"Besides," she continued, between sips, "all my friends drink this stuff."
"Sure they do." Michael nodded at Aaron. "See, he's on my side. He's got enough sense not to drink your alcohol."
"He doesn't drink wine," Danny said. "That doesn't count. Buttface."
"It counts if I say it counts, stupidhead."
Aaron considered pulling the towel back over his head in the face of such determined siblinghood, but left it alone. God knew Danny had seen him do this with Ivy enough times. And it wasn't like they meant it.
Besides, Michael was sort of cool.
"Hey, Danny," he called, interrupting her mid-affectionate insult. "You should bring Michael next time the band has a gig, introduce him around. If you're still in town," he added, to Michael.
Michael lifted his eyebrows again. "Sure," he said. "I'm between assignments. I can crash here as long as you let me." He lifted his refilled glass to Danny, who also shrugged.
"Why not," she said. "You should meet my friends sometime."
"To approve of them, or to be approved of?" Michael wondered out loud.
"Either or," Danny said. "Both. Neither. Basically we're going to drink, tell bad jokes, and make fun of Aaron's playing. Maybe Lars's, too. Haven't decided yet."
"I'm in," Michael said. "For the bad jokes, anyway. No offense, Aaron, but I don't know you well enough to make fun of you."
Aaron flapped a hand at him. "Don't worry. My sister will be there. Any gaps in the insults caused by your presence will be swiftly filled."
"Know that feeling," Michael muttered, tilting his head in Danny's direction.
"What was that?" she demanded.
Yup. Sounded like home.
He liked Michael, Aaron decided, as the bickering rose again. Yeah. Oversharing and all. He and Ivy ought to get on like a house on fire. And maybe he'd be able to soften Esther the way he softened Danny-- Esther and Danny had a lot in common, after all, what with the anger issues and all.
Shame Michael didn't live in New York.
Then again, clearly he showed up here any time he felt like it.
Yeah. This would work.
Aaron slumped back against the cushions in a position that didn't make his muscles scream and turned the TV on.