Psychotically, irrationally, erotically codependent

[moosejuice]

AMBIGUOUS SIBLINGS There's nothing wrong about loving your brother or sister; in fact, a deep bond between siblings is healthy and ideal. But when does closeness stop being a wonderful thing and start being...off? Most people would say your and your brother or sister are just very, very close, perhaps a little co-dependent, yet that's understandable, perhaps, if the two of you have been through the wringer. Still, there a whispers that your relationship is more blurry than properly familial. Is that just a misunderstanding, because you've only had each other for for so long others wouldn't understand how you've lived, or is their some truth to their suspicion? Comment with your character, preferences, info, etc. Assumed relatives AU will probably work best for ease of use. Reply to others. Thread. The nature of relationships are up to you.

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[causing]

[ In that respect, she hasn't changed all that much from the little Meg he remembers. A little awkward, a little nervous, even though she's long outgrown the ugly duckling shadow that their sister had cast (or, well, maybe not). It endears her to him, stirring up the closest thing to sympathy he has in him despite the context.

Again, he takes his time in saying anything in return, hooded gaze slipping out of focus for a heartbeat before re-focusing. Sheepish, almost, in a way that seems at odds with how he's behaved during the conversation thus far. ]

Close, but no cigar, huh?

[ (He's never been above feigning vulnerability in order to get a reaction. That doesn't mean he's not actually capable of that soft kind of sentiment.) ]

I've missed seein' you around, sweetheart.

[exdelicto]

[ It's interesting now, when she looks at old family photos. There she is - the smallest, with glasses constantly slipping down the bridge of her nose because she had been deemed too young for contacts until she was practically in college.

She brushes a piece of hair back from her face and that same hand lands to rest on his knee, fingers curling in a barely perceptible squeeze. In that moment, however fleeting it may be, there's a sincerity in her voice, in her words. ]

I missed you too.

[causing]

[ There's an unhappy irony to Danny's long journey home. He's yearned, all this time, for a place in the family to call his own, for the love he doesn't remember ever having, but when confronted with even the faintest glimmer of it, he doesn't know what to do. It's too foreign (and arguably too late). The furrow in his brow suggests confusion or hurt — it makes him look young, for once, his grasp on things tenuous instead of weighed down.

In fairness, that doesn't mean he wants it any less. ]

Yeah?

[ It's not a prodding question, for once. His hand finds hers on his knee, over the rise of her knuckles. With his other, he reaches out, brushes a few loose strands of hair back from her face the way he'd used to, from time to time, when they'd been children. Careful, slow, making her the center of his attention in a way that their father had failed to (in a way he'd never been, either, save as an object of hatred).

The corners of his eyes wrinkle as he smiles. ]

Well, shame on me for worryin', then.

[exdelicto]

[ There's an uncertainty within the brief smile that follows, as she wonders if this perhaps is too little too late. There's the reminder of the will sitting on her computer, the cursor blinking next to a list of names. And there's also the tenderness in such a simple gesture, which fosters a feeling the likes of which she can't recall experiencing in a long time.

When was the last time any one of them reached out to each other in affection, even in seemingly insignificant ways? It's not that she's starved for touch - by her own initiative, she's been able to satisfy that unconscious need - but the emotions it's attached to have been lacking. At least for her.

Maybe it's easier for her to shut it all off. That way no one can get in and tear her apart.

She finds herself leaning into his hand before she completely realizes what she's doing - and then a sound from the back porch (Manny) makes her start. ]

Thanks - for the water. I should probably get back out there.

[causing]

Nah, nah, let me take care of it.

[ Danny's shaking his head even before he speaks, keeping her hand in his as he gets up. (The transformation is uncanny — open to closed off. All of them are too good at it; maybe that's why he underestimates John, later on. Why he ends up facedown in the water. Or maybe he hadn't underestimated his brother at all. What has he got to lose, after all?) ]

Let big brother take care of it. Go check on Mom, get some rest.

[ He keeps moving, keeps talking, to the point that he's too close too soon, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek. The moment stretches out in the second that it lasts, again a reflection of intimacy that they've never found easy to share and yet feels so innate. Blood, thicker than water.

And then, as quickly as he'd drawn close, he pulls back, sloping away towards the door, back towards the mess. He turns just once, the grin on his features close-lipped but obvious. ]

Later, mister.