Work Text
“Because I'm afraid of my own chemistry!” she screamed at him, her fists balled at her sides. Dan shook his head, running his hand through his curls, feeling them stand on end. “I can't fix the problem if you don't tell me what it is.” this argument had gone on for over an hour now, and he was starting to feel raw. She, however, was starting to look raw. Her hair had slipped out of the neat braid she usually twisted it into. Her eyes were wide and red, her cheeks pinked and stained with tears. Her lips were chewed, so chapped he cringed to look at her. Dan wanted to walk across the room, wrap his arms around her and bury her face in his chest. So very often that was all that she needed. She needed his touch to be grounded. She needed to feel his breathing, needed his soothing words to break her out of whatever spell she was under at the moment. His lips against her ears, his hands pressed against her back was usually what she needed. That, and a little bit to lie down, with or without him. A damp cloth draped over her eyes. Those things would always work. But this time... This time she refused his touch. She couldn't be comforted by his gentle voice, and he couldn't coax the problem out of her. She'd been out of sorts all day. All night, really, now that Dan thought about it. She'd tossed and turned and whimpered. Dan had woken up to try and cuddle her in, thinking that would soothe her, but she flicked him off in annoyance. When Dan had woken up, she was sitting on the kitchen counter, not drinking a cup of tea. She must have been up for hours, judging by the dampness in her hair and the fresh clothes. But she wouldn't talk about last night, and so Dan let it drop. She just needed time. She huffed when he asked her to slip off the counter so he could make toast, rolled her eyes when he offered her some. Must be a bad day, he'd thought with a frown. Everyone was entitled to them. It did sting when she took it out on him though. Dan refused to let to let it sour his day, anyway, and offered her a kiss before going to see Arin and do some work. “You're going to work?” she dumped the cold tea in the sink, crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah,” he blinked. “You just got off tour last week!” “I'm sorry, honey, but we're behind.” he smiled, somewhat sheepishly. It was true that he'd just gotten back, and he'd collapsed into bed and hadn't risen for a full day and a half. And then there was some work with Brian to do, and then... Well, retrospectively, perhaps he hadn't spent as much time with her as he had thought. Dan chewed his lip for a moment, contemplating the girl across the kitchen, swaddled in one of his old sweatshirts and a pair of shorts. Her feet were bare, and her toes curled against the cool tile. He wanted to offer her some socks. “You'll still be behind tomorrow.” but she didn't sound wistful, or playful, or hopeful. She sounded flat and petulant. “That's why I'm going in today.” he grabbed his jacket. “We'll hang out later, okay? I promise. We'll watch one of those movies you like that I can't stand.” he offered. “No, that's okay.” ice seemed to creep into her voice. “If hanging out with me and doing things I like is so hard, you don't have to do it.” she pushed herself off the sink and stalked off. Dan started to call for her, chase after her, let her know he hadn't meant that. But... not today, something told him. She wasn't willing to hear it today. It would be a waste of breath and amp her up more. Maybe she needed time to cool down, or a nap or something. She was off schedule at her job. Dan hesitated at the door, his hand on the knob. He wanted to call out a word or two of love, wish her a good day. But Dan didn't think she wanted to hear from him. And coming home had been worse. There were no sticky remains of a lunch on the stove. She was awful at cooking, but she tried. There wasn't the sound of one of her movies or television shows playing while she sat criss cross on the couch to crochet. There was only the unsettling silence and stillness, and the girl in the bedroom, laying in bed with the blanket over her head. “Are you awake?” Dan called softly in the doorway. “I guess,” she muttered. “Come and get up.” Dan smiled. She was always cranky after a nap. He could usually kiss a smile onto her face, tickle a giggle into her voice, tease a grin from her. He'd order them take out, let her pick a movie without a complaint. And maybe later, if she was feeling up to it, he could drag her back to this room, drop her onto the bed and peel off those little shorts to the treat hidden beneath. Wordlessly, she rose and dragged herself to the living room. “What's wrong today?” Dan asked, draping an arm around her shoulder. “Have I done something wrong?” “You're ignoring me.” she shoved him away with a motion just this side of harsh. “I'm right here talking to you!” frustration rose in his voice. “Explain to me how that's ignoring you.” “You ran right off to work this morning.” she snorted. “Had to run right off to Arin, more important than me.” “Baby,” he rubbed his eyes, aching from staring at screens all day. “I don't know what's wrong. I don't know what's bothering you. I can't fix anything if you don't tell me what the problem is.” “I told you!” she snarled. “You're ignoring me!” “I am not!” he rose to follow her as she headed for the kitchen, filling a glass with water. “I am sitting here, having this discussion with you when you've been in a rotten mood all day.” “You weren't home all day, so you wouldn't know.” “So you're only snotty when I'm home? Is that it? I bring it out in you? That's great.” “Shut up!” she was grinding her teeth. “It isn't all you, this isn't all about you.” “You just said it was.” where was this going? What was going on? Dan looked at her, caught between his own anger and concern. He just couldn't make heads or tails of this. “I'm having a bad day and I really wanted you to stay home with me, but of course you wouldn't. That's too much to ask. I sit here alone more often than not when you're off doing Game Grumps stuff, or you're off doing Ninja Sex Party stuff.” “I have to work, baby.” he looked at her, puzzled. She never said anything like this before. She worked too, and Dan had assumed she liked it. “Not like this you don't.” “Baby...” he groaned rubbing his forehead. “You could have just texted me. You could have just asked me to come home early, I would have.” “Oh, so then I can be the needy girl at home? The one who ruins your fun? I don't think so.” she snorted. “Then what do you want?” “I want you to look at me and know what I want!” she seemed to realize that she was being irrational, but the tears had started, and it made Dan's heartache. He wanted to cross the room and give her a cuddle, move her to bed and lay her down. “I can't do that.” “I never had to ask for your attention before. I never had to ask for your help before.” “My help?” he blinked, genuinely shocked. “What? What do you need help with?” the sweeping was done, the mopping, the dusting, the laundry, the groceries. What could she need? What was wrong? In response, she slid to the floor, sitting with her knees up to her chin. Dan sank down across from her, his back to the stove as he contemplated her. Her finger traced patterns into the tile. “When you're gone it's really hard.” her voice hitched, leaving a burning feeling in Dan's throat. “Because I know that there are a thousand girls out there that are looking at you and they're cute and they fawn over you and they're not broken.” “You're not broken.” Dan whispered. “Bullshit,” she spat, not lifting her eyes to meet his. “I take fucking pills because my own brain chemistry wants me dead.” “Hey,” his tone dropped, gentle but like steel. “What do you mean, wants you dead? If you're feeling like that, then we need to get you to the psychiatrist.” “No!” her tone was like a cold knife, sending a shudder down his spine. “I don't need a psychiatrist! I'm tired of pills and I'm tired of this.” “You have anxiety.” Dan scooted towards her, rising to his knees, one hand on her shoulder and the other catching her chin. “You have a mood disorder. One that millions of people have. You are doing so well.” he paused.
“Aren't you?” “Millions of people don't have you.” she swallowed hard, and he brushed away a tear with his thumb, cupping her cheek in his palm. She pressed into him, her eyelids closing briefly, as though exhausted. Dan felt the fragile hollowness of her cheek, the delicate skin under her eye. He thought about the faint freckles that dotted her face, the way a blush would rise and stain across her nose when she was flustered. He thought about how easy it was to hurt her. “What does that have to do with it?” “Because you could very easily find someone who doesn't need these pills, someone who doesn't have to check her purse for her keys a million times, someone who doesn't sit in traffic and think of all the ten thousand ways you could die while we're apart. You could do better than someone who is like me, and I know it. I knew it when I met you. And I don't want you to be trapped, and I don't want to pull you down.” “Baby,” he shook his head. There weren't words for this. “Dan, I'm sick of it. I wanted so hard to be right for you, to be normal. And I tried, I really really did. And yesterday was hard and last night was hard...” she trailed off. He'd asked her, before, to explain to him what it meant, but she found she lacked the words and could only shrug helplessly. “I was sick of it too.” fear rose in her eyes. “I used to be on meds, baby. I threw them away, I thought I didn't need them anymore. I thought...” he sighed. “I should have told you.” “But you're not broken.” she seemed thoughtful, both her hands coming to wrap around his wrist. Such small hands, Dan thought. Those hands that reached for him, that wrapped around parts of him that no one had ever found before. “You're going to find, babe, that everyone is broken in some way.” he smiled softly. “But more importantly, you don't pull me down. I wish you knew how much it hurts to watch you struggle.” he watched her for a moment.
“Why didn't you tell me?” “I wanted to be better for you.” Dan could not speak against the feeling of heartbreak. He gathered her to him, settling her in his lap there on the kitchen floor. How long? How long had she felt herself wobbling and kept silent in an attempt to please him? And why did she think she needed to? It was something better asked to her therapist, and he made a mental note to suggest a session together. “There is nothing better than you.” he said against her scalp as she buried her face in his shoulder. “Not matter how you are, there's nothing better than you.”