All the Wide Ocean to Cross

Author's Notes: Thanks to the lovely people who read, commented and/or rated my first chapter. In response to a question left in the first review fluffy or angsty? I think fluffy with a touch of possible angst/drams to spice it up. I'm planning on a happy ending for sure, though.

2

The room that Tom offered Danny was very girlish in that it seemed to have once, maybe five years ago judging by the posters, belonged to a teenage girl- a teenage girl who really liked both Britney Spears's music and Leonardo DiCaprio's movies. Also, it was really, really purple. Danny didn't mind the décor- it was only temporary anyway, plus Leo is hot- there's no denying that. He got his pack from the passenger seat of his pick-up and unpacked a little, taking the chance to hang up some of his things that had gotten really wrinkled on the trip. He'd expected to have to cram his stuff between a bunch of girl's dresses, but the closet and the dresser were both empty. Danny wondered who this girl was and what she was to Tom, but he figured he shouldn't ask since Tom hadn't volunteered any information.

"So, you about ready to start getting your hands dirty?" Danny turned around from considering the color of Leo's eyes to see Tom leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed waiting for a reply all smiling and squinty again.

"Uh- sure- of course, just point me at what you want done."

"This way, Rose," Tom teased and led the way downstairs and out to a tool shed around the side of the house.

The house wasn't really the type Danny would have expected to have its own private beach- it was not one of those 3 million dollar ones all the powerful and famous people out here in California were supposed to live in. The neighbors on either side looked like that, but not Tom's house. Tom's house was more of a, a bungalow or something- small but cozy. The shed had a large array of power tools inside, most of which Danny wouldn't have the slightest idea what to do with. He hoped that Tom hadn't been too serious about Danny being good with his hands because he really wasn't. Danny was good with numbers and a little bit with cars, but the cars was more out of necessity because he had had to do his own maintenance on his truck or he didn't get to go anywhere- and there had been plenty of time not going anywhere while he figured out through trial and error how to keep the damn thing running.

"Need to rebuild the railing on the balcony." Tom pointed out the standing open door of the shed to the side of the house where a balcony made of weathered wood jutted out from the second story. Danny hadn't seen a door out to it in the brief time he'd been upstairs, so he figured it must be off the master bedroom- Tom's room. "First thing's first, I need to get some measurements." Tom pulled open several drawers before finding the measuring thingy- yes Danny didn't know the name of it, but he had a feeling that particular fault was going to change. If he was going to earn enough money to get a start in San Francisco, he was going to learn anything Tom needed him to.

After searching through a couple more drawers and gathering a pencil and paper, Tom set Danny to work, "While I get a handle on the measurements, would you sort through the scrap wood over there." He pointed to a large jumble of lumber. "Just sort for size right now, since I don't really know what I'll need yet." Then he went into the house, appearing a few minutes later on the balcony. Half and hour and six or seven splinters later, Tom came back and they really got started.

As they worked, Tom kept up a running commentary of what they were doing and why they were doing each part of it they exact way they were- apparently Tom fancied himself a pretty good amateur carpenter and by lunch time, Danny had half an idea of how to cut wood. It was a lot harder than he had expected and he'd messed up the first three times he tried it himself because somehow no matter how carefully he marked the length, he managed to end up with a plank that was two to three inches too short. Eventually, he managed to cut one just right and Tom slapped him heartily on the shoulder to show he had noticed.

***

Tom had to keep pulling his attention back to the work in front of him- his eyes seemed to really want to settle on Daniel- Danny he'd said to call him. It was especially difficult not to watch when the kid leaned over in concentration- trying not to cut another board too short because they would eventually run short on lumber if he didn't get better at it. When he leaned over like that, some of his shoulder length hair would swing across his cheek catching the sunlight on its shiny black strands. A moment later Danny would inevitably slide a hand across his cheek and tuck the errant hairs behind his ear with one of his thick fingers revealing the line of his neck and the play of the muscles in his jaw as he moved his head and whispered the measurements over to himself to avoid forgetting them as he worked.

Tom pulled his attention back to the work of sanding and pre-drilling holes in the already cut boards because the last thing he needed to do was let himself get entangled with this kid- giving him a place to stay and a chance to make a little money was one thing- it was just a friendly leg up, sleeping with him was another thing- the wrong thing. So, Tom did his best to not wonder about how that black hair would feel clutched in his fist as he kissed Danny, and to not linger on the question of what those thick, un-calloused fingers would feel like on his skin as Danny worked the buttons of Tom's shirt open, and to really not imagine the warm skin on Danny's neck as Tom sucked the sensitive juncture of neck and shoulder and pushed him down and got on top of him.

"How about some lunch?" Tom said just after he'd given in to the impulse to touch Danny using the excuse of congratulating him for not screwing up yet another cut. It was bad when he was using the same excuse he'd used in seventh grade shop class to get a hand on Jeff Brody the hottest thing at San De Mateo Jr. High- Tom had to pull back. Hell, he was old enough to be Danny's father- in fact, Becky was two years older than Danny was. And that officially made Tom a Dirty Old Man.

Tom made sandwiches and fresh strawberries for lunch and despite his vow to the contrary, he found himself staring at Danny the whole time. He covered by rabbiting on about lumber and which types of wood were better for which types of construction and hoping that Danny wouldn't notice that he was focused on the quirky way he moved his fingers as he picked up his sandwich or a piece of fruit and brought his hand so gingerly to his mouth.

A flash of familiarity to the way Danny did that brought a sudden insight and Tom put down the last bite of his sandwich to reach over and pull one of Danny's hands into his and bring it up close to his face.

"Uh- Tom what are you doing?" Danny asked as Tom confirmed his suspicion- there were several deep splinters in his palm and a nasty worn spot that must have been a blister that had formed and then popped as he'd worked. Damn kid didn't have the sense to stop and tell Tom he'd been hurting. And, stupid Tom hadn't even thought to offer him gloves.

"Jesus. Why didn't you tell me your hands were torn up?" Tom finished inspecting the first hand and reach for the other- it was just as bad- fewer splinters, but more popped blisters.

"It's not that bad. I can keep working," Danny answered, but he followed his statement with a tight wince as Tom poked gently at one of the splinters to try and see how deep it was.

"Because having infected hands is a good thing in your opinion? Don't move- just wait here."

Tom got the first aid kit and spent a good half an hour cleaning out Danny's hands.