Danny helps him move a couple of weeks into the summer hiatus.
Danny shows up with two iced coffees, a bag with a couple of pastries from Danny’s favorite bakery and wearing the shortest shorts Donald’s ever seen outside of old school NBA players. On anyone else he knows they’d look ridiculous as hell, but it’s Danny. All Donald can focus on Danny’s goddamn dick, how the shorts leave nothing to his imagination and he really, really hates himself for checkin’ out his best friends package. Danny’s wearing a too tight t-shirt and Donald has to mentally shake himself. Donald blinks a few times takes a coffee from the tray in Danny’s hand and says, “Thanks for helping me move, dude.”
Danny salutes him and shoves a donut in mouth.
They finish eating and on a sugar high, pile their cars with as many boxes as it can fit. His packing skills are shit though, so half his stuff ends up on the floor of his car and Donald knows he’s gonna be picking up forks off his car floor for weeks. But they make a couple of trips and by the time they’re on their third trip, the rest of his buddies show up, hungover and looking pathetic. Danny grins at him over the top of his car and oh-so-helpfully suggests he help the girls move the rest of the boxes, leaving Donald with the lazy ass fuckers who got drunk without him because Donald was too busy packing.
“What’s with the fuckin’ visor?” Donald’s best buddy flicks the brim.
“Go fuck yourself, that’s what.” Donald gives him the finger. “You gonna help me move my couch or are you gonna make fun of me?”
“I can’t do both?”
Donald rolls his eyes and looks over at Danny again, who has suddenly become BFF with the two girls who came to help him move, talkin’ up a storm while he helps them carry boxes out to his car. Danny’s just like that, one suave mother who hits it off with anyone and everyone. Donald remembers the first time they met and Danny was like his best friend just like that.
Danny nods towards his car and Donald looks over his shoulder at his buddies. They’re fucking around with the couch, trying to get it into the back of the moving van. Donald makes a face and tosses his keys at Danny, who catches them in the air.
“We’ll get lunch ready,” Danny says, nodding towards the girls.
“Don’t fuck up my burger,” Donald warns, pulling his visor off and wiping his forehead. It’s hot as balls out, sweat rolling down his forehead and his back, and Donald feels fucking disgusting.
“I would never.” Danny grins and jogs back towards the car.
Donald watches him for a minute before turning back to his buddies, making sure they aren’t screwing up his furniture anymore than they already have.
He watches Danny all day, how he flirts with Donald’s girl friends, his ass in those fucking ridiculous shorts, his stomach when he wipes his forehead with the bottom of his shirt. Donald’s going crazy by the end of the day but he’s secretly happy when Danny stays behind long after everyone else peace's out for the day. Donald thanks his buddies, promising a kick ass party once he unpacks his shit, walks his girl friends to their cars and watches them drive off before heading back inside.
He likes this place more than his last piece of shit apartment. It kinda blew his mind, signing a check over for the deposit with money he’s making off his own fuckin’ T.V. show, like a boss. He always wanted this, daydreaming back in college about getting to use the shit he found funny to make money. Didn’t even think he’d get there, even back when he was writing for 30 Rock. And now he’s actually doing it and he fuckin’ loves it.
When he gets back into his place, Danny’s passed out on the floor like a starfish, arms and legs taking up most of the living room floor. Donald tip toes over him, laying down on the floor next to him. He lets his hand rest up against Danny for a minute before he glances over at him, seeing Danny trying to hide a smile. Donald inches closer and lets his hand slide up to Danny’s stomach, feeling it rise and fall.
It smells kinda rank, like boysweat and he can smell where Danny totally fucked up the burgers earlier and burned them on the grill (‘cause Danny knows how to roll and set up the grill first). But Donald could totally fall asleep right here, Danny passed out next to him. He’s done it on set too many times to count, sleeping on Danny’s shoulder and getting shit from Joel later.
“Thanks,” Donald says, sneaking a look at Danny.
Danny turns his head towards him and moves a little closer. Danny’s arm is flush against his and Donald lets his eyes flicker down at Danny’s mouth, feeling his face heat up. Danny’s always doing that, taking in Donald like he’s takin’ notes or writing a book on the best way to get Donald flustered. It always fuckin’ works too. Joel’s always messing around on set, Gillian tries to kiss him at least three times a day but Danny just has to look at him from across the table to make Donald lose his train of thought. He can’t figure it out.
He looks down at his hand on Danny’s stomach, watches him breath for a minute before he looks back up at Danny. He wonders why Danny lets him do this shit.
“You wanna crash?”
Danny snorts. “That couch is way too short.”
Donald swallows, thinks, go for it, you pussy and says, “Nah, bed’s big enough.”
Danny looks down at Donald’s mouth and Donald forces himself not to lick his lips, just watches Danny for any kind of reaction. He’s just about to tell Danny to forget it when Danny grins at him and says, “yeah, okay.”