The Debt of Guilt [BxB]

36: before

September
1989

They were having a big group dinner tonight, which was rare. They all had such conflicting schedules these days - Susie's night shifts, Peter's excessive studying, Danny's drama club, Jenifer's constant napping, and Scott's job at the bakery. They were rarely all under the same roof at the same time. So, Susie decided that it was time to call for a family dinner.

She hadn't done much cooking since the boys were kids, so was grateful when Danny offered to help, an enthusiastic glint in his eye. He was always ready to be of service in the Wicks' trailer; it was his way of feeding the guilt he felt for living there rent free.

Danny was peeling a batch of potatoes, humming along to a song that was playing on the radio, watching as Susie chopped up the vegetables, "You're a really good cook." He said, "Peter always raves about your roast potatoes."

Susie smiled kindly, "He's exaggerating."

"I doubt it." Danny grinned.

"I don't get to cook much these days. I never have the time. It's why you lot have to live off of scraps Scott brings back from the bakery most nights." She said guiltily.

Danny shrugged, "Well, you're cooking tonight."

"With your help." She squeezed his shoulder affectionately. "You've been helping out a lot recently. With Scott." She glanced over the counter, her gaze landing on her son who was napping on the sofa, cuddled up beneath a blanket Danny had draped over him. He was still bruised and injured, and Danny's chest still ached when he looked at him. But he was healing. He was slowly becoming himself again.

He shrugged, "He doesn't need much help. He's too proud."

She laughed, "That's true." She agreed, "But you've been making him lunch every day and making sure he takes his meds. It's sweet. He's lucky to have you."

He felt heat in his cheeks, and tried desperately to focus on the potatoes he was peeling, "Yeah, well, he's a good friend."

She put down the knife, turning to face him properly, "C'mon now, Danny." She smiled knowingly.

His blush deepened and he refused to meet her gaze, "I don't...I don't what you're...?"

"I'm not blind." She chuckled, "I see how you are with him. How he is with you." She finally continued chopping up vegetables, "I'm just glad he's happy. He's not had it easy recently, what with the attack and all that. If you make his life even just a little better, then thank God for that. That's all I want for him."

He relaxed, the tension in his shoulders draining away, "I'm trying." He said quietly, "To make his life a little better. I'm trying."

Later that evening, they all sat around the cramped little table, surrounded by food and music and cheap corner-shop wine. Susie sat at the head of the table, Peter and Jenifer to her left, and Scott and Danny to her right. There was chatter and laughter and loud recycled stories. Everyone was smiling and everything was filled with joy. This was just another one of those moments Danny wanted to bottle up and carry around with him. Because it was so sweet and so warm and so powerful.

"How about Jack, if it's a boy?" Peter was saying to Jenifer, pouring himself a glass of wine.

"No way." Danny interjected, "That's my Dad's name."

"Right." Peter waved it off, stabbing a roast potato with his fork, "God, Mum, these spuds are fucking divine."

"Danny helped." She smiled proudly.

"You gotta teach me how you make these." Jenifer said through a mouthful of roast potatoes, "They're bloody delicious."

"Yeah, please don't leave the family legacy with Danny." Peter snorted.