All of My Love (1/7) -- Pones
Title: All of My Love
Author: sevenphalanges
Part: 1/7
Pairing: Pones
Rating: 16
Warnings: Large dustbunnies. (Nothing really in this chapter)
Summary: Who knew three little words could cause such a big problem?
Word Count: 1,186
Notes: --
Disclaimer: This is all true; I saw it. And by true, I mean false. And by saw it, I mean imagined it.
I wanted nothing more than for him to be mine; completely and utterly mine. The territorial monster that harbored deep within me lashed out at the sight , or even at the feeble mentioning, of someone else's arms around him, of someone else's lips against his skin. The sound of his name riding on another person's breath drove me wild and I had no way to stop it. My jealousy and envy for the teenage girls in criminally short skirts and barely there tops grew and grew every day, forming a tightly-coiled ball of hatred in my chest. The way they reached out for him through the gaps in the security fence, the way they screamed his name at the top of their juvenile lungs: it was pathetic. Disgusting, even. They knew nothing about him, but they were all so quick to call out their undying love for him, sticking their phone numbers in his pockets and asking him if he'd take their hand in holy matrimony. I always wondered how desperate one, simple human could be. Now I know how desperate sixty-two million and four simple human beings can be.
I suppose I wasn't nearly as qualified as the other people that fancied Danny. I mean, for one instance, I was too severely ill-equipped to be considered a girl, and I knew Danny liked girls. He'd talk endlessly about how good they felt, inside and out. He'd always say they were like a gift from the heavens, and nothing was better than a pretty dame between his legs. Oh, I knew Danny Jones liked girls, and I knew I was far from one. For a long time, I decided I didn't care about the Mary Sue's and Sally Jane's that he brought home to our house on the hill almost nightly. I simply ignored them, looking the other way when I sensed their putrid scent waft through the front door. They always smelled cheap and lousy, but Danny liked them. God knows why.
There has to be something wrong with me, I thought. There just has to be. What did those high-strung broads have that I didn't beside tits and what may have been herpes? It couldn't have been personality, because let's face it: dead people six feet under the dirt ground had more personality than any of those women. After a while, I just settled on the reasoning that we were best mates. That's why Danny didn't send me that adoring look that he sent to those girls, and that's why he never would. We'd be best mates forever, until the end of days, and nothing else. For years, I set out on coping with this unreasonable disposition, and had almost accomplished this seemingly impossible task, until a single phrase uttered by that stupid boy had to go and ruin all my progress.
It was a late Sunday morning and I could smell Tom preparing our breakfast downstairs. At the end of every weekend, Tom demanded with everything his sweet little heart had that we have a morning meal as a family. His vision of "as a family" being, of course, seated around table with nice dinnerware and proper table manners. To the rest of us, "as a family" simply meant lounging in front of the telly as we stuffed our faces, but we all cared about Tom's feelings to much to deny him what he wanted. After all, it was just one little meal a week.
I stumbled out of bed, preferring to get up on my own terms rather than to wait for Harry to come pounce on me, screaming his bloody head off, and found myself some reasonable clothes without paying much attention. I didn't throw much thought into anything anyway, but that morning, I was overly un-attached. I wished I could just crawl back into bed, forget that the day even started, and drift back into a nice, dreamless sleep. Of course, that wasn't going to happen, not by a long shot, so with a deep sigh, I opened my bedroom door and faced the challenge in front of me.
As I neared Danny's bedroom door, my heart fell into my stomach and I could feel it burning from the acid. Even though I'd tried exceedingly hard to keep him out of my mind, he still ventured into it from time to time, and by from time to time, I mean he never left. Ever. It was sort of sickening, in a way, that I could find myself so loyally attached to a single person, but what was I to do? Forget about him? That wasn't going to happen, even if I tried, because the last time I checked, forgetting about someone that lived just down the hall was like forgetting to breathe: you can't do it unless you're a total airhead. I hoped excessively that I would be permitted to simply pass his door without confrontation. I avoided speaking, acknowledging, and even looking at him at all costs. Why stop now? But of course, luck is never on my side, and just as I stepped in front of that cursed door, it swung open, and there stood the object of my fixation.
At first, I didn't say anything, and I didn't plan to. I looked at his feet easily, and held back the urge to tell him his socks were mismatched. I could feel the blush on my cheeks, and I mentally cursed at myself, bidding the wretched blood to rush to some other, less controversial part of my body like my fingers or my feet. When it didn't, I heard a chuckle from beside me, and I looked up to see Danny smiling at me as he leaned in the doorway. He stared at me for what felt like forever. I don't think he even blinked in the forty years we spent in the hallway before breakfast. The hot pool of awkward was slowly and painfully drowning me, and I wished that he'd say something. I didn't care at that point if it was something as rude as, "Move, Poynter." I just wanted to hear him say something so I didn't feel like such a monkey's ass.
Another chuckle drifted out of his lips as his eyes continued to analyze me, up and down. His smile seemed so soft, his lips so tender. I suddenly had the overwhelming urge to touch them, just once. I hate to say that I probably would have, had his voice not tore me out of my own obsessed thoughts.
"Good morning, Dougie."
He slowly sauntered past me, and began making his way to the stairs, not bothering to look back at me, which was probably a good thing, considering I looked about as white as a sheet. That was it. Three little words, and my heart ballooned to the size of a cantaloupe in my chest. Three little words and I felt like I couldn't breathe. Three stupid little words and the band-aid covering my unnatural obsession was tore off, leaving me with a new, but familiar problem. I was falling in love with Danny Jones, and I had no way to stop it.