Honey Drip // Danny Wagner

Epilogue

Looks like we made it, folks. I had a hell of a time bringing this series back–I started it last summer after falling madly in love and it was quite a fun and challenging experiment to revive it. Moving forward in time so much was really interesting, I'd never done that in any piece of writing ever, and I think the journey in Part II was a rough but ultimately fulfilling one. I hope, anyway! Thank you all for joining me, reading, reblogging, commenting...I love you all!

And of course I had to make a Honey Drip moodboard...looks better on tumblr, I had to resize it for wattpad! Moving on...

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I leaned over Danny's shoulder as he hunched over his own knees atop the bed, folding shirts and placing them into a suitcase. "Are you nervous?"

He chuckled a little and just barely turned his cheek to catch my glance for a second. "No. Should I be?"

I placed my hands on his shoulders and smoothed my fingers over his clavicles, then drew them back and dug my thumbs into the bits of tension I knew he was always carrying between his shoulder blades. "Do you ever get nervous?"

"Yeah," he said, a quicker confession than I was expecting. He paused and sat up straighter, still facing away from me, and sighed. "Nervous that–not that we'll be bad. We wouldn't be. But–I don't know. Nervous that we'll lose them somehow."

"Who?"

"You know. People. Fans."

"I don't think you could. Any of you." I drove my thumbs in a little harder and he arched his back and exhaled. "You're all so captivating."

"I get nervous that I'll break a finger. Or my wrist. Or Sam will fall on his ass," Danny went on, resuming his folding and packing. "But most of the time I'm not nervous. I was always just nervous when we were apart."

"For obvious reasons," I replied, it coming out as more of a grumble than intended, and Danny noticed.

He twisted around and then shifted, spinning and sitting cross-legged in front of me. "Are you nervous?"

I grabbed a shirt from his lap and started to fold it myself–a Hard Rock Cafe t-shirt, one that would only see the sun or the inside of a tour bus or a place, never the inside of a venue. "No. I like how things are."

He smiled a little. "I would hope so. You moved like, 600 miles to be here."

"You moved too," I reminded him, reaching beyond his form to place the shirt in the suitcase. It had all happened in slow motion and two-times speed simultaneously–we weren't even fully settled in to our new place. Well, I wasn't–Danny had gotten there before me. I had loose ends to tie up; he just had goodbyes to say. But it was our place, nearly 600 miles from home, though I knew that eventually I would start to associate "home" with "here" and not "there."

"I'd move the whole universe for you, babe," Danny declared with a smile. "The heavens and the earth."

"And my furniture," I added.

"And your furniture, yeah." He laid back on the bed and stretched. "I'm still paying for that."

I laid down next to him and placed my hand on his chest. "And now you have to go on tour? Poor baby."

"Heating pads. Hot showers," Danny remarked, resting his hand on top of mine. "Sometimes Sam or Josh will wring me out. My muscles, I mean."

"Uh-huh. What does that look like?"

"We watched a YouTube video–they massage my arms."

I laughed. "Okay, well, I'm glad you have your little helpers."