“Look, Pauly,” Danny continues, his voice gentler than the Jackass deserves (and great, now the nerve behind Steve’s eye is throbbing like a motherfucker. Fucking Danny and his goddamn nice guy shtick.) “You want out of your marriage, just go ahead and do it. But it’s got nothing to do with me.”
The Jackass scowls at him like Danny’s just spit at him, and says, “Fine, whatever,” in a tight, clipped tone that Steve hears loud and clear as, “Fuck you, asshole.”
Steve’s right on the verge of punching him when the cab pulls up, lights glaring. Steve gets to it first and slips the driver a fifty, quietly encouraging him to take the long way. The Jackass is obviously in a foul mood now, and his kids don’t deserve to take the brunt of that, especially not while the guy’s still wasted and out of control.
The Jackass manages to stumble over to the passenger door under his own steam, and when he gets in the cab he slams his door hard. Of course, because what they really need right now is for the guy to wake up Danny’s neighbors. Steve clenches his fists again, deeply sorry that he didn’t deck him at least once, and heads back to the house. He brushes by Danny, deciding to wait until they’re inside to start the next conversation because Steve’s pretty sure yelling will be involved at some point.
"Buddy, huh?" he says once Danny’s shut the door.
"OK, so I may have edited down a smidgen." Danny smoothes back his hair, and Steve braces himself for trouble. Danny always likes to get himself in order before he takes someone down, and he has that defiant set to his jaw that’s a prelude to a fight nine times out of ten.
Steve wants to bust his balls over his vocabulary – smidgen, seriously? – but he’s feeling kinda edgy himself. Definitely not generous enough to let this go and fall back into their usual back-and-forth; not just yet. He flashes Danny a Do not fuck with me smile and asks, “Why?”
“Because it wasn’t relevant. I haven’t thought about him like that in a long time.”
“How long?”
“Actually, now that you mention it, I’ve been sending him postcards every week, and having Skype sex with him when we get the time zones lined up. Years, OK? Twenty-six months. If you give me a minute I can work out how many days, and roughly how many hours. Would that make you feel better, you nut?”
Steve folds his arms tightly over his chest. “Twenty-six months is pretty specific for someone you say you don’t think about anymore.”
“I can’t help it. It ended right after Grace’s birthday.”
“Who ended it?” Steve can’t help but ask. This guy, this Jackass, is fixated on his Danny. Shit like that doesn’t usually just pop up out of nowhere.
“I did. Well, in a way I guess his wife did when she punched me in the face; that was kind of a moment of clarity for me.”
“Yeah, I know the feeling,” Steve says dryly, gesturing to his cheekbone.
Danny cocks his head and frowns slightly, the way he always does when he’s working through something. “Did I ever apologize for that?”
“For the right cross you gave me the first day we met? No, you never did.”
“Good, because I’m not sorry; you were being an asshole. Which, by the way, is a pretty common occurrence.”
“Oh, I’m the asshole?” Steve shifts his weight and stares at Danny, incredulous.
“I didn’t ask Pauly to show up here. I shut him down and I kicked him out of my apartment. So tell me, how are your insecurities in any way my fault?"
Steve draws a blank, which only pisses him off more. "Because!"
The Jackass 3/?
The Jackass scowls at him like Danny’s just spit at him, and says, “Fine, whatever,” in a tight, clipped tone that Steve hears loud and clear as, “Fuck you, asshole.”
Steve’s right on the verge of punching him when the cab pulls up, lights glaring. Steve gets to it first and slips the driver a fifty, quietly encouraging him to take the long way. The Jackass is obviously in a foul mood now, and his kids don’t deserve to take the brunt of that, especially not while the guy’s still wasted and out of control.
The Jackass manages to stumble over to the passenger door under his own steam, and when he gets in the cab he slams his door hard. Of course, because what they really need right now is for the guy to wake up Danny’s neighbors. Steve clenches his fists again, deeply sorry that he didn’t deck him at least once, and heads back to the house. He brushes by Danny, deciding to wait until they’re inside to start the next conversation because Steve’s pretty sure yelling will be involved at some point.
"Buddy, huh?" he says once Danny’s shut the door.
"OK, so I may have edited down a smidgen." Danny smoothes back his hair, and Steve braces himself for trouble. Danny always likes to get himself in order before he takes someone down, and he has that defiant set to his jaw that’s a prelude to a fight nine times out of ten.
Steve wants to bust his balls over his vocabulary – smidgen, seriously? – but he’s feeling kinda edgy himself. Definitely not generous enough to let this go and fall back into their usual back-and-forth; not just yet. He flashes Danny a Do not fuck with me smile and asks, “Why?”
“Because it wasn’t relevant. I haven’t thought about him like that in a long time.”
“How long?”
“Actually, now that you mention it, I’ve been sending him postcards every week, and having Skype sex with him when we get the time zones lined up. Years, OK? Twenty-six months. If you give me a minute I can work out how many days, and roughly how many hours. Would that make you feel better, you nut?”
Steve folds his arms tightly over his chest. “Twenty-six months is pretty specific for someone you say you don’t think about anymore.”
“I can’t help it. It ended right after Grace’s birthday.”
“Who ended it?” Steve can’t help but ask. This guy, this Jackass, is fixated on his Danny. Shit like that doesn’t usually just pop up out of nowhere.
“I did. Well, in a way I guess his wife did when she punched me in the face; that was kind of a moment of clarity for me.”
“Yeah, I know the feeling,” Steve says dryly, gesturing to his cheekbone.
Danny cocks his head and frowns slightly, the way he always does when he’s working through something. “Did I ever apologize for that?”
“For the right cross you gave me the first day we met? No, you never did.”
“Good, because I’m not sorry; you were being an asshole. Which, by the way, is a pretty common occurrence.”
“Oh, I’m the asshole?” Steve shifts his weight and stares at Danny, incredulous.
“I didn’t ask Pauly to show up here. I shut him down and I kicked him out of my apartment. So tell me, how are your insecurities in any way my fault?"
Steve draws a blank, which only pisses him off more. "Because!"