Playing With Fire || d.h

57. Its always shady in Philadelphia

A/N: English pet names sound cliché to me a lot of the time, so I'm just using Italian ones(I'm not Italian, I just speak it). It also helps with the plot so let's just pretend Dan knows a little Italian too(Bella means beautiful).

Seven days. One week. What the actual fuck.

It's Saturday, eleven in the morning, and Dan is freaking out. As I sit curled in a ball, leaning against his headboard, he paces around the room, yelling into his phone.

"I told you, I can't wear white everyday unless you want my man-tits to be visible to the entire continent!" He yells into the phone. "I don't fucking care about my rebrand! Everyone wears black, and I don't see why I'm not allowed to!"

I know in one of these stressful moments, as his girlfriend, I should be doing something to calm him down, whether it's rub his back or make him a drink. However, I know from experience, when a guy is angry, I should just stay out of the way.

I instantly realize that's probably because every guy in my life until this point had been a violent, abusive asshole, but I still don't want to make it worse.

"How about gray, then? Or just monochrome in general? Is that fine? Okay, great." Dan hangs up the phone a little too violently, placing his forehead against the wall and sighing heavily. He then turns to me, and I raise my eyebrows at him.

"Sorry about having to listen to that," he says, walking toward me and sitting in the edge of the bed. "It's just...everything's just a little stressful right now. Don't get me wrong, I love it, but..." he trails off, staring into space.

"It's not your fault, dude," I give a half-hearted laugh, scooting up to him and rubbing his shoulders. He tenses his muscles for a second before going completely slack, letting out a sigh of relief.

"It's all gonna be okay, Danny," I breathe into his ear. "Like you said, you love it, and by the end of it, I'm sure you're gonna want to do it all over again."

"Yeah, I know, but...sometimes it just seems like too much. And before I know it, I'm not gonna be here anymore, and you're..." he stops and sighs, before continuing, "and you're not gonna be there."

I smile sadly, placing my forehead on his shoulder. "You'll be fine, trust me. The month'll go by fast, and before you know it, you'll be back home, and hopefully here to stay awhile."

"Yeah..." he replies, but I can tell by his tone I haven't convinced him of anything.

~~~~

The next three days, I barely see Dan. Wednesday is the first morning I wake up, and Dan is still in bed with me. I had fallen asleep before he got home, but he had texted me that he didn't have to leave until two in the afternoon today.

It's only seven thirty, and I creep out of bed as silently as I can, not wanting to wake him up. I walk to the kitchen, and start pulling things out of the cupboard as fast as I can, wanting to be done before he wakes up(however, I'm extra careful with the flour). I hum Super Bass by Nicki Minaj to myself as I work, even though I haven't heard that song in years. I start mixing batter, then pour mounting spoonfuls over the pan, making the pancakes each the size of the entire bottom of the pan.

Due to me making a surmountable amount of batter, After a half hour or so, I'm left with about fifteen pancakes. I lie five of them on a plate, buttering each layer before putting on the next. I knew Dan always sets his alarm for eight fifteen, and the clock above the stove reads eight thirty. As if on cue, I hear steps coming down the hall, and Dan stumbles into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.

"Merry Christmas," I greet him, holding out the pancakes with a cheery smile on my face.

His eyebrows narrow, like he has no idea what's going on, before he comes closer to me. "Oh, my God, I think I love you," he says, unable to take his eyes off the pancakes.