losttheright | I, I wanna get myself back

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j. daniel atlas

I, I wanna get myself back

It isn't, strictly speaking, that Molly is nervous. There's no reason for her to be. With as many times as she's done this sort of thing in the past, it's second-nature, even now. Maybe especially now, with as long as she had to wait to be able to do this in the first place, weeks of having to take such care of the injuries done to her face and being too self-conscious to want to do much of anything at all. Now, though, finally given the clear and told her nose is healed, she's more than fucking ready to start getting things back to normal again. She hasn't felt like herself since the attack. It's about damn time she got a chance to.

Of course, she'll never be entirely free of it. There are and always will be a few scars from the nails she was shot with, a fainter one along the bottom of her lower lip. She can look at herself in the mirror, though, without cringing at what she sees, and the bruising's faded from her face and around her neck, and it's enough. Hell, it's the most she can fucking ask for, and she's alright with that. At least she's still here at all. Besides, Daniel isn't some stranger. All of those would know who she is now anyway, and would probably make it more than a little awkward. Daniel, though, is a friend, she thinks, and he's someone she's slept with before, and he's seen her when she looked just about her worst. It's her best possible option. Besides, experience tells her that it will definitely be worth it. God knows when she's had to wait this long, she'd hate to settle for someone who didn't really know what they were doing.

That he's agreed to her very straightforward invitation just makes her all the more convinced that this is the right call. Even so, as she waits for him to arrive, she can't help but notice that her heart is beating just a little harder than it ought to. After all this time, though, that isn't exactly a surprise, so she doesn't dwell on it, even brightens when she hears someone buzz her apartment, going over to the intercom. "Yeah?"

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"Molly, hey, it's Daniel." He wants to just say It's me, but he knows he isn't the only guy she sees. He wouldn't want to be either. Molly's a great girl, but neither of them are looking for something that serious, let alone from each other, which is part of why he didn't have to think twice about coming over. It's not like he has anything else in the way of plans for the night, and even he'll admit his practicing can wait until tomorrow.

Though it's entirely unsurprising when there's no one else she's expecting to show up, Molly grins anyway, pleased it's not just someone trying to deliver something or some shit, or someone else stopping by unexpectedly. (She doesn't think about the last time she did that.) Impatience isn't something she's usually particularly given to, but tonight, she can already feel herself skirting the edge of it, part of that same not quite nervousness. "Hey," she says warmly. "One sec, I'll buzz you up."

"Thanks." Daniel leans back, waiting patiently for the click of the lock turning to head on in. It's a short ride up to her floor, and in no time at all, he's knocking at her door, his hand falling gently against the wood. "It's me."

He's not always the most sensitive guy, he knows that, and though he doesn't often admit it, he knows he can overlook a lot that other people notice, that his attention to detail is saved almost exclusively for the coins, the cards, the crowd. Social cues are harder for him to care about. Henley called him on that too many times for him not to know it, even if he always denied it. But with Molly, he knows enough to want to be careful now, to be quiet and patient and make himself known, because even if she's feeling a hell of a lot better, he knows he'd be jumping at shadows in her shoes.

It's been a slow-going thing, working her confidence back up, managing not to look over her shoulder with every step she takes. Molly would admit to that much, even knowing how illogical it is given the circumstances of what happened to her, because she knows it's reasonable, too. Right now, though, she feels like herself, and it's a fucking relief. She looks like herself, too, mouth already pulling into a crooked, pleased smile as she tugs the door open. Just the fact of not having to worry about the pull of stitches or the scab initially left in their wake does a lot for her well-being. It won't do half as much, though, as this, as actually getting her life back on track again, doing what only injuries have prevented her from losing herself in up until now.

"Hey," she says, stepping aside to leave the doorway open. She's half-tempted to kiss him now, not to bother with pleasantries when they both know what this is about, but it seems too much like the greeting of people actually in a relationship, and that's the last impression she wants to give. "Come on in."

"Thanks." Daniel slips through the door, looking over at her with a grin. "You look good." Not that she didn't before, of course, but they both know she's been worse for wear for a while now. This is good, it's good, to see her getting back on her feet, so to speak. She must be feeling better, too. It's been a while since she's called him over like this, and he's understood that completely. He likes her well enough to be friendly regardless of any sexual arrangement they have, but he's still looking forward to getting back to that part of their friendship. It's worked out so well for both of them, after all.

"Thanks," Molly echoes, smile widening slightly as she closes the door and locks it behind them. Most of the time, she knows that. Hell, even now, she does. When she's spent so long distinctly aware of how fucking awful she's looked, though, the healing process a slow, frustrating one, hearing it means more than it ordinarily would. She doesn't think he'd just be saying that, anyway. Disingenuous consolation doesn't strike her as being very much his style, especially when she's already made her intentions clear in inviting him over. "Believe it or not, I actually feel pretty good, too. How are you?"

"Not bad," Daniel says. "Glad you called." He honestly likes spending his evenings alone practicing, but not so much that he'd turn down sex, especially with a hot woman who knows what she's doing and doesn't expect — or want — a relationship. In that way, he thinks, she's pretty much perfect for him. They both know exactly what they want and expect nothing else. "I believe it. It's good to see you looking... happier." It isn't exactly the right word, but the sentiment is genuine.

"Yeah," Molly says, a huff of a laugh accompanied by a crooked smile. It's not entirely what he means, she's sure, but she wouldn't know how else to put it herself, and either way, she's pretty fucking grateful for it herself. Just the sense of being in her own skin again, of not jumping at every sudden noise, the return of a confidence she'd all but forgotten she could have, goes far past reassuring. No longer bearing most of the physical reminders of what was done to her shouldn't have such a significant effect, she thinks, but hell, she'll take it. It's with that in mind that she heads a little closer, though she doesn't quite yet reach for him. "I'm glad you made it."

"Are you kidding?" Daniel asks, grinning. "I wouldn't miss this." She's been off the table for a while, and he completely understands that, but it's nice for that no longer to be the case (for her sake more than his, but definitely also his). It's actually something of an honor, in light of that, if also somewhat daunting. He's usually pretty damn confident in his ability in bed, used to taking the lead, but tonight, he intends to leave her to call the shots, just to be safe. Even so, he leans in to kiss her, hands moving to rest at her waist. Taking it slow doesn't mean he has to move at a glacial pace.

Though she's never really been someone who was anything less than confident in the bedroom, and though she doesn't intend for that to be any different now, when she's still just finding her footing again, as it were, Molly is admittedly a little grateful for his making the first real move. Besides, she's felt uncomfortably fragile for weeks now. The last thing she wants is to be seen or treated that way. Of course, that she doesn't think he would is part of why she invited him over in the first place, but even so, having confirmation of that is nice. Arms lifting to drape around his neck as she kisses him, slow but sure, she doesn't let her breath catch, and doesn't let herself think about anything but this.

Danny grins briefly against her mouth, taking that as encouragement and feeling kind of dumb for expecting anything else. Whatever's happened, she's been doing alright, and she called him over here for a reason. Holding back like things have changed drastically would be pretty ridiculous, and he can trust her to speak up if she needs to. He slides a hand to the small of her back, the other moving down to her ass, drawing her close against him. "In here?" he asks. "Or the bed?"

Nice is not a word that Molly has ever especially wanted to have anything to do with her sex life. It's pretty fucking useless, for one, neither interesting nor all that descriptive. Even if that weren't the case, it would hardly be what comes to mind when she thinks of Daniel, anyway. Not that he hasn't been, but it's not what she likes about him and doesn't really seem all that applicable. Having his hands on her, though, being touched like this, even though it's not much of anything, it's the first thing she thinks, that it's nice. It's been entirely too long, and when she's felt so unlike herself, the reminder that she could still be wanted would be comforting if it weren't kind of hot. "Bed," she says, without stopping to think much about it, leaning in to kiss him again briefly. "More room."

"Bed it is," Daniel says, grinning. He's not one to give away too much of himself, but here in Darrow, being around Molly is about as relaxed as he gets with other people. There's no need for formalities or feeling beyond appreciation and friendship, a kind of vague affection. She asks for nothing more, she wants nothing more, and it makes everything so simple and fun. There are plenty of girls he can get that from for a night, but not many who'll react that way to repeat performances. A hand sliding up to cup her jaw, he kisses her harder before he pulls back enough to nudge her back toward her room.

A laugh rises up in Molly's throat and gets caught there as he nudges her backwards, a hand lifting to curl in the front of his shirt as she moves towards the bedroom, sure enough of her footing to not need to look yet. She's hardly overeager, and, for that matter, not so caught up in the moment that she couldn't bear to put any distance between them, but that's no reason not to keep him close. This is, and it's going to be, the most she's enjoyed herself in weeks, and it would defeat the purpose entirely to fall back on formality, to make this something clinical, too planned. Mouth curved in a smile, still close to his, she says, "God, I'm glad you could make it."

"Well, I'm happy to be of service," Danny says lightly, a hand sliding into her hair as he grins at her. "Anything for a friend." He's not that selfless, of course, but she knows that, and it's not like he's wholly selfish either. They may not have what it takes nor want to be anything more serious than what they are, but she is a friend, and there's plenty he'd do for her, within reason. That this happens to be damn satisfying for him, too, is just a lucky coincidence.

If it nearly makes her breath catch, his hand going into her hair, Molly doesn't let herself think about why, for the split second she's remotely conscious of it at all. She just grins in turn against his mouth, the look almost sweet, what would be innocent if it weren't too much so to be believable. "I knew I liked you for a reason," she says, teasing. "Such a good idea of friendship."

Danny's well aware that he's not actually all that good at being a friend. He cares about people, he does, but not in the way that seems to be socially accepted, and not as easily as most people seem to. He's just not very good at being social, is all. This, though, this he can do, and gladly. He kisses her again, drawing back only when they get to the room, so he can reach for the door. "Just for my friendship?" he asks. "And here I thought you were using me for sex."

"Well," Molly says, and shrugs, exhaling on a quick laugh, "I guess I'm doing that, too." It's not really how she'd have chosen to describe it, but either way, it's clear enough that he doesn't have a problem with it, or else he wouldn't have come over when she asked him to. This works because they both know exactly what's going on here, and she really does care about him as a friend, too. That's just entirely separate from sleeping with him, except that he wouldn't be here right now if she didn't trust him. Slipping a hand under his shirt, she kisses him again. "But you don't mind that, right?"

Danny smiles, kissing her again in reply, his hands coming up to cup her face. He'd have to be out of his mind to have a problem with that. "I'm in a completely different world from the concept of minding that," he says wryly. She's smart, beautiful, good in bed, about as far from clingy or needy as it's possible to get. As far as someone he doesn't want to be in a relationship with goes, she's essentially perfect for him.

Molly could tell him that she's glad to hear it, but she isn't sure there would be a point. They've essentially been over it already, and for all that she likes that this is light, relaxed, that he's someone she can joke around with, they aren't far from the bed, and she did bring him here for a reason. Leaning into the kiss, she draws him back with her, tugging his shirt up as she does. Just because she doesn't want to rush doesn't mean they need to just stand around.

It's not always easy to follow Molly's lead, though she's damn good at what she does. That, though, makes her all the more irresistible, and holding back when he wants something isn't really Danny's way. Right now, though, he's restraining himself, letting her call the shots. It just seems like the smart thing to do. Once his shirt's off, he reaches for hers in turn, hands skimming over her waist, breaking away from kissing her only when he has to.

For just a fleeting instant, Molly almost freezes when he starts pulling her shirt up. It's not that she's worried, that she doesn't trust him — she does, at least inasmuch as she has to — but rather that she's self-conscious in a way she's never had to be before. Even healed, she doesn't look quite the way she used to with her shirt off, bearing several faint scars from the nail gun used on her. The whole point, though, is not to let that stop her. He knows what happened to her, the entire fucking city does, and it's not as if it's enough to get in the way. She lets go of him just long enough to cast her shirt aside, not especially concerned with where it lands, eager to have his hands on more than just her waist.

It's not like Danny's looking closely anyway, not yet, more intent on kissing her, his hand splayed across her ribs as he stops in her doorway. He unfastens her bra easily enough, hand sliding up to cup her breast as he backs her towards the doorframe. He'd been a little worried on his way over, his usual confidence just a little bit dimmed in the face of what he knows. He cares about her, he honestly does, and the last thing he wants is to fuck this up. It's not even about the sex. There are other women in Darrow, and though Molly's good and a sure thing, both definite checks in her favor, he'd get on fine if they weren't sleeping together. With what she's already been through, though, he doesn't want to hurt her, and it isn't something he's used to having to think about.

His hand feels good against her skin, warm and gentle, her heart beating hard underneath it. Though Molly hates the idea of being thought of as fragile, someone a person would need to be careful with, she knows what she needs from this, and there's no sense in ignoring it. Anything past this, rushing forward or more insistence, she knows has every chance of not going well, no matter how wholeheartedly she throws herself into it. The point is to feel normal, anyway, and after so long, she really wants to enjoy herself. Dropping her bra to the floor, she lets him guide her back, what might be more of a show of trust than her inviting him here in the first place, still kissing him all the while.

His hands wander indiscriminately as they move, rediscovering the curves and flats of her body, the way her waist dips beneath his fingertips. It's been a while, and though Danny doesn't really have to worry about whether or not he's going to get laid if he wants it, it's still nice to be back with Molly. There aren't many women in his life who've been more than one night stands, and there's something pleasant about the familiarity they have. When he draws back, it's to kiss her shoulder, then her neck.

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