Knight in Mid-90s Saturn [Danny]

Danny was just coming back from the art supply store, whistling cheerfully to some horrible pop song on the radio. It was a good day. Actually, every day by Danny’s reckoning was a good day. He enjoyed the company of others, enjoyed his chores, enjoyed his home, and loved his partner. What was there to be WRONG with the situation? Although he did still have to tell Cobalt. But he was looking forward to that more than dismayed by it. He loved sharing good news with his friend. Periodically he even knew how to react to it well. In any case, his good mood had made him spend a little too much at the art store, but he didn’t feel too ashamed. He just hoped he wouldn’t be late for dinner.

He was rolling down the street in his older Saturn, looking like he would be early, when he realized he saw someone on the side of the road, sitting on the curb and looking distressed. And, well, Danny never could resist someone looking miserable. There was a spot by the man, so he pulled into it and hopped out of the car to stand by Ferris, offering him a friendly smile.

“Hello! You look like you could use some help. Car break down or…” He leaned over, spotting the bike. “Bicycle? I haven’t ridden one of those in forever.” He grinned. “Used to have one in college. It was the only way to get around. But I never really thought of riding one here. ”

Ferris did indeed smell clay. It was everywhere—on Danny’s jeans, in his hair, and under his blunt nails. It was hard to scrub out of things and most days Danny just didn’t try. There were certain things that were worth it, he said, and this just didn’t fall into them. It was a good thing Danny didn’t cook much. In addition, there was wood, paint and more clay in his car, giving Danny’s car the artsy smell and a good reason to leave the window open no matter what the weather was like.

Danny had lived in LA for most of his life, and so really shouldn’t have been stopping by the side of the road to help people, but one of the perks of living in a small town now was that he could do it. Therefore, he took every opportunity to help others out. When they looked like they were safe. He hadn’t lost all of his street smarts.

“Oh, definitely,” he agreed with a nod. “I always used to forget mine at home when I rode in college. Can’t tell you how many times I walked it back to my place. In San Francisco! It was awful.”

He took the other man’s hand even though he hadn’t offered a name to go with it and smiled. “Ah, new to town? I remember those days. Luckily, I had a few friends to count on. I’m Danny. Nice to meet you! And pliers…yes. Yes, I do have pliers. This way.” He went to his trunk to open it up, and it was full of…art supplies and models very carefully wrapped in bubble wrap. Danny regarded it all with a slight frown, then set the models carefully on the ground before leaning in to find his tool kit.

“So do you work for the school?” he asked, voice muffled.

“It was awful.” Danny laughed softly. “But I was definitely in good shape at the time. Besides, I tended to go up the hills on foot.” Not that it had been any more enjoyable, but he’d gotten used to it. And he had been in very good shape. That part he’d enjoyed. Now he could hardly run without puffing heavily, and a life with Riley, although enjoyable, hadn’t exactly helped the case.

He glanced up. “Hm? I don’t think so, no.” He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s not that bad, and these are fragile, so if I handle them I have no one else to blame but myself.” It was one of the few things that could make Danny upset, a damaged model. But he’d gotten good throughout the years at repairing things.

“Hammel,” Danny chirped. “But any school will do. My fiancé used to go there.” That word still made him absurdly happy. Fiancé. He wasn’t used to that. He’d never thought that he’d be the kind of guy who would end up getting married, not necessarily because he didn’t want to but because he hadn’t thought it was possible, and he’d never had that good of luck with men. “But do you work at one of the others?” he added. It was possible.

He glanced up. “Sometimes. Mostly I sculpt and make models. I enjoy throwing, though. Do you sculpt?”

It was into an hour and a half of waiting for Danny that Riley got a little antsy. Although, he did know Danny would easily lose himself when he went into town. Especially since the art store was readily open for him. With an affectionate shake of his head, Riley decided to walk to town to fetch his fiance.

Fiance...it was still making him giddy.

Passing by shops, Riley couldn't help but reminisce all the good things that have happened everywhere in this very town. There was the spot where he bumped into Angie. And there was the restaurant where he had an eventful dinner with Stephen. And then there was his fiance. With a wide smile, he approached the sculptor, who was talking to a younger man.

"Hey, Danny. I hope I'm not interrupting anything." He smiled apologetically at the stranger before turning to find Danny's car parked at the curb. Inside were a few familiar bags that brought another smile to Riley's face. "You took awhile." He teased Danny, brushing his hand against Danny's as he sidled up against him.

"...You mean San Francisco? Oh, no. But I've been to countries with comparable hills on a bike."

For a relatively small car, Danny pulled model after model out till the sidewalk looked a little like someone was moving.

“Oh, so you cook? But that’s wonderful! And I never mind being paid in baked goods. I love food and I’m always happy to eat.”

"I do! And I'm glad. Strawberry cream cheese. Hope that's okay."

Danny came up with the pliers, and Ferris smiled at him. "Thanks!"

“Yes, that’s what they are. I sell them. Used to make them for movies. I still sell a few for those purposes, but as they get blown up I prefer not to these days. Cooking is an art. Don’t ever think otherwise.”

"...Wow. Impressive. I consider cooking a little more like math, because you can get it wrong. Art... not so much." He laughed a little, thinking maybe Danny wasn't as good a cook as he was a modeler. For people who didn't cook, it could be as esoteric as theoretical physics, but Ferris thought that most of the trouble came of people just not paying attention. Though how a guy who could make models could lack the presence of mind to cook... he guessed everyone had different things they could be patient with.

About to skip back over to his bike, an extremely tall man appeared out of almost nowhere, which was a feat in itself. He went over to Danny, and from the kiss, Ferris could guess who it was. He grinned.

"Ferris, this is my fiancé, Riley. Riley, this is Ferris. His bike broke down and I thought I’d give him a hand."

Switching the pliers to the other hand, he held it out. "Nice to meet you, and congratulations to you both." Holding up a finger to say he'd be back in a second, he stepped over to his bike (careful of the models), unzipped his pack to remove the plastic-bag-lined paper one he kept the leftover danishes in, and popped back over. Holding it out, he said, "Please, help yourselves. On second thought, just take the bag."

The only thing in there that Ferris had not made himself was the cream cheese, and he used a good brand. The strawberries were sweet and a little tart, the pastry flaky and buttery and just sweet enough. There was a light, milky glaze of sugar drizzled over the tops, and Ferris had been generous with the filling. There was nothing worse than a stingy danish.

At his bike, he knelt and used the pliers to twist the brake adjuster barrel as he pushed on the brake cable till the levers worked again. While he had the pliers, he also checked the connections at the handlebars and the other wheel - all of Ferris's bikes had had dual brakes, one on each wheel rather than just one for the rear. Mounting, he tested. All good. Excellent.

Walking it closer to Danny's car so he could keep an eye on it, he held the pliers out. "Thank you so much! I could've walked it home, but..." he smiled "...it's been a very long day."

It sounded delicious, and Danny was prompt to say so even while rifling through his tools. It had been a while since he’d really had to fix a bike, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t willing to give it a shot. Besides, it wasn’t something that he forgot.

“At least you know you can’t get art wrong,” Danny said cheerfully. “I had a lot of friends who didn’t view it like that, but it is definitely a true statement that you can’t get art wrong. Everything is art, it just depends on the eye of the beholder.”

He realized that Ferris wanted to fix his own bike and promptly stopped, stepping back and smiling up at Riley. “You’re marvelous, my love.” He squeezed his hand gently, then took the danishes and glanced in, then over at Ferris. “There are a lot of these in here. Are you sure that you want to give them all away? I have another bag if you want to take a few. And do you want a ride?” He flashed a guilty smile at Riley. “I know I’m late already, Riley, but I have a bike rack on the top of my car and I don’t see why we couldn’t give this nice man a ride home. No harm, right? There’s enough room.” He took in the models and the clay and added, a little doubtfully, “I think.”