Exception // JJ Maybank

07 ; call me - blondie

Danny could feel the effects slowly winding down, and with it came such intense drowsiness, that he could hardly believe he was still standing. It was a good solution to his insomnia, but the cost of his delirium outweighed it all as a useful method.

Pope and John B sat around the kitchen table, huddled over the contents of the package, courtesy of Big John.

"John B," Danny said as he looked in the fridge, thoroughly disappointed. "I don't know why I keep giving you money if you spend it all on junk."

"Oh, come on," he replied. "Poptarts and Pringles aren't junk. They're very filling, and that's kinda the whole purpose of food. Unless you Kooks have a different definition."

Pope snorted in amusement and exaggeratedly bit into the S'mores Poptart.

Danny furrowed his eyebrows. He couldn't tell if John B was serious or not. "Do you hear yourself talk? Or is it just, like, you making pretty sounds and hoping that they make sense. They don't, just so you know."

JJ laughed and then he whined to further irritate the boy, "Dannyyy. I'm hungry. So hungry. About to wither away. Ugh." He clutched his stomach for show while trying to contain his laugh at Danny's annoyed pout.

"Shut your face."

Danny turned back to the cupboards and tried to find something worthwhile. He looked a JJ, who leaned his shoulder against the fridge. "You can have shitty cup-noodles, grilled cheese, or peanut butter and jelly."

JJ hummed in thought. "French toast."

"That literally wasn't an option."

"Oh, okay. Um . . . French toast."

Danny scowled while JJ smiled.

"That's going to take forever," Kie said. She traced a longitude line on the map spread out on the table.

"No it won't," JJ replied, still looking at Danny. "You know you want some too."

She shook her head. "We've got to look at this!"

Danny narrowed his eyes when JJ began to pout, his lower lip jutting out.

"Fine," he conceded and threw his hands up. "It's fuckin' whatever. I mean what's the difference between me being at the table and three steps away," he muttered to himself while he gathered the materials, ignoring JJ's praise.

"Wait, there's somethin' else in there," John B said and upended the package into his hand. A device fell out.

"What's that?" JJ asked.

Kie scoffed. "It's a tape recorder, dumbass."

John B pressed play. "Dear Bird."

"Who's Bird?" Danny asked from over his shoulder, mixing the ingredients in the bowl. 

John B stared in shock. He whispered, "That's what my dad called me."

"The fuck he say?"

"What his dad called him," Pope repeated louder.

"I hate to say, 'I told you so,' but I told you so,"  Big John said. "And you doubted your old man. I suspect at this moment, you're filled with guilt and self-loathing over our last fight, but don't kill yourself just yet, kid."

Danny chuckled and placed the bread on the pan to toast.

"I didn't expect to find the Merchant either. You were probably right to call me out. Wasn't exactly Father of the Decade. What can I say, kid? I could smell the barn."