#Danny: I’m about to drop another bomb on y’all

[thunderdog73]

Oh Danny Boy

The birth of Daniel Charles Hernalsteen

On Friday, January 18th, contractions began that evening with consistency through the night about every 15-20 minutes. The pain wasn’t horrible yet, but enough of a discomfort to keep me awake through the night. I let Brian sleep as long as possible before alerting him of our upcoming day. THIS was the final countdown! At around 5:00am, I woke him and calmly said, “Honey, I think it’s time to have our baby today” to which he said, “Ok! Let’s do this” and immediately went into busy daddy preparation mode. I asked him to make breakfast, but he said he couldn’t spend his time cooking when there was much to be done. Who am I to argue with an Eagle Scout? He knew how to prepare, so I let him. We both took showers, he packed the car and we headed to the hospital.

We checked in around 8:00am at which point they checked my progress and I was only dilated to a 2. The L&D nurse, Jessika (I’ll get to her in a minute), said we could either leave and go home, since it could be a while before I’m ready, or stay there and wait it out. Of course choosing the latter would mean I’d be denied food, because hospitals. And unfortunately, my doctor wasn’t on shift that day so I had another doctor (I’ll also get to her in a second) see me and say that I should probably stay since this was my second child and things could progress quickly. Um, I get that, but if I stayed I wouldn’t have been fed and I knew I needed the strength. So we signed an AMA (against medical advice) and left to go get some breakfast tacos. Because y’all, priorities. Rosa’s to the rescue!

We drive to Rosa’s, order our food, and proceeded to sit in the car and shove tacos in my face for energy I knew I would need. After all, who knew how long I’d have to push and work to get this boy out. It hurt like hell by the way, pausing between bites to grit my teeth and drop a few F-bombs while contracting, but I knew I needed food so damnit, I got those tacos down! Then we decided to just drive around for a bit and see how I progressed. Big fat nope! 10 minutes later I was hating everything and told him to take me back to the hospital. I wanted ALL THE DRUGS.

When we returned just an hour later, Jessika said, “wow that was fast!” I told her I felt like things were progressing quickly and sure enough, she checked and said I was now at a 6 and 90% effaced. She smiled and said, “Guess those tacos did the trick!” She wasn’t wrong. By this point I was in a lot of pain and since I had done the drug free thing with Olivia, I reeeallly wanted to get an epidural this time around. You know, for research. So I did right away. However, it only worked on the left side of my body at first so it was strange to continue feeling contractions only on one side. You’d think it would cut the pain in “half”, but hell no. Still hurt like a bitch and I wanted to punch all the things. It was equally as weird to be numb from the waist down and not being able to move my legs. It was oddly foreign, like it was someone else’s legs in the bed with me. Eventually my right side caught up and once it completely numbed me, I closed my eyes and took a much needed 90 minute nap. Heaven.

When Jessika woke me to check me again, I was 100% effaced, dilated to a 9 and when they looked, he was already crowning. They paged the doctor and told us it was time to have our son! As they put one of my legs up, a nurse said, “Don’t put her other leg up yet or the baby will fall out”.... as the doctor was still putting on her gloves and getting prepared. Once she was ready, Dr. Spurdon lifted my other leg and asked me to push. I basically gave one push with the force of a cough and he slipped right out. Just like that, at 3:18 pm, he was born, a mere 6 minutes after waking from a nap, placed on my chest and absolutely perfect. It was love at first sight.

We were well taken care of for the next 24 hours by a team of amazing nurses. Jessika, my labor & delivery nurse, was absolutely amazing. She was kind and tentative and explained everything really well. And my on-call doctor who delivered? Her name was Dr. Spurdon and she so happened to be an OBGYN legend as the first female doctor to work at HEB hospital and has so for over 30 years. She was amazing and a little eccentric, and I’m lucky to have had her.

Once we were transferred to a postpartum room, we had a few other amazing nurses that also took great care of us and kept me in a steady supply of Ibuprofen and Pepsi. My only complaint was how often they woke us during the night. Goodness, I understand monitoring me and baby is important but I feel like there should be a slight emphasis on sleep....it’s so precious and we got very little of it. Luckily, Daniel got a nice 4 hour stretch!

When we were checking out to leave the next afternoon, the staff was impressed that he wasn’t crying or upset about being in the car seat. Apparently most babies hate it. Danny loves car rides which will come in super handy for those trips around the block when he won’t stop crying. Our first night home was equally just as awesome. We have truly loved every moment of this new world with him. When we take shifts between sleeping and being on baby duty, we each end up saying to the other, “How’s our boy? I missed him so much while I was sleeping! Did he do anything new?!” Not even joking. He’s been such a good baby, really only crying when he needs something specific and not just to hear himself scream. He’s still acclimating to the difference between night and day, but we’re getting there. Last night he slept for 3 hours in one stretch, fed, then went back to sleep for another 4 hours. He gets it from his daddy.

Eleven days later, I’m feeling great. I’ve already lost 27 lbs and wearing my pre-pregnancy jeans! Thanks breastfeeding! Which by the way, I just have to honestly say what a giant bitch of a painful hot mess breastfeeding can be. What a joyous, frustrating, rewarding, complicated, perseverance testing, ultimate bonding thing that has the capabilities of completely breaking you. It’s been tough and we’ve had to work really hard, me feeding him the first week every 2 hours around the clock. He’s a very sleepy nurser and it would take us 45 minutes to complete a feeding. Talk about exhausting! But now, we’re getting on a better schedule and if I get him naked (which he hates) and annoy him awake enough, he’ll eat. Anyway, breastfeeding is not all glitter rainbows and heart eye emojis but I’m loving figuring it out with my little guy who never gives up.

Brian was the epitome of supportive during the entire process. Not that I expected anything less, but he has stepped up in ways I couldn’t have anticipated and I’m so thankful. He is an equally amazing father who has surprised me in a hundred ways as to his devotion and true love towards our son. It’s enchanting to watch and I’ve loved every moment we’ve had alone as a family. Olivia has also acclimated well and is very smitten with Danny. They’re going to be best friends one day and I’m super grateful to be their mom. We are a very lucky little mixed family :)

[artificialqueens]

Baby, New York City: Chapter Five (Biadore) - Boleyn

AN: HELLO WORLD. I HAVE RETURNED. I’m so sorry this took me over a month to get to y'all!! Life got super hectic and I felt so absolutely overwhelmed and unmotivated but I’m here and here is the next chapter! Thank you so much to everyone that’s been keeping this little story in their thoughts. Y'all pushed me to keep going! I hope you enjoy!!

Chapter Five: Workplace Distractions and Stage Time Together

Roy sat around the large oak table trading bored glances with Shane the vocal coach. It was the monthly staff round table and why the hell they held them on Monday mornings was a mystery Roy had never figured out. He looked over to where University President RuPaul Charles was droning on about rising costs necessitating less extravagant freshman and sophomore productions. Roy rolled his eyes. He didn’t know why he needed to be present for this discussion. I coach comedy. Most of the kids I work with end up standing in front of a microphone and telling jokes. They don’t need production. They barely need lighting. Some of them would benefit from less lighting. No lighting even.

Shane sniggered from across the table at Roy’s antics. Roy looked at him and hammed up his performance, crossing his eyes as he leaned back in his chair.

Willam, a dramatics professor, began to spar with President Charles over attacking the theatrical department disproportionately and Roy animatedly sighed. Great. He knew that if Willam got started, there was no way that this meeting would end before his 10 am lecture. Shane sensed the direction the situation was going and extended an arm, gently pulling Willam back down. He smiled at Willam. “I’m sure this is something we can discuss with President Charles? The vocal department is also being effected by this and I would love to partake in this discussion. Dr. Charles, is there any way concerned faculty can address the budget deficit and proposed solution with you at a more appropriate time?

God fucking bless you, Shane. Yes. Let’s get the fuck out of here. He snuck a look at his phone and noticed a text notification from Danny. He felt the corners of his mouth pull up, wishing he trusted himself enough to open the text now and not grin like a fucking idiot. He tried to school his features before looking up again, immediately making eye contact with Shane who was staring him down quizzically.

“Of course we can discuss it, but remember that the final decision is mine to make,” Dr. Charles announced, closing his leather portfolio and looking across the room. His eyes mildly reprimanded Roy. Guess subtlety will never be my strong suit. “That’s all. Make your way to your lectures.”

Everyone waited until RuPaul had exited the conference room before stirring and making small talk with those around them. Roy barely had time to stand before Shane was practically on top of him.

“Okay,” the lithe Australian chided him. “What’s going on with you? You’re all happy and smiley. Where’s my reliable cynic?”

Roy rolled his eyes. “What, cunt? I’m not allowed to be happy every once in a while?”

“No, actually you’re not. Not unless I get to know what’s got you that way. Did someone you hate die?”

Roy loudly sighed. “No, Shane. Someone did not die. I’m happy not fucking ecstatic.”

Willam burst out laughing as he dragged the new dance coach over with him. “Bitch, it would take a fucking miracle to get you jolly.”

Roy rolled his eyes. “Okay cunts. I don’t need your fucking shade. It’s too early for this shit.”

“Y’all I need to get me some go-go juice. Where the hell can a lady get a Red Bull up in this gig?” the new dance coach interrupted in a lilting southern drawl.

“I need caffeine if I’m going to be around you two all day,” Roy agreed turning to the big-haired woman beside him. “I’m Roy Haylock. I teach comedy and scene study.” He extended his hand to the tall, slender woman, using the moment to take in her entire presence. She had hair up to high heaven, piled over onto one side, and a shoulder padded, dark green, brocade blazer and pencil skirt combination on. She had sleek black pumps on that were an inch or two taller than perhaps professionally appropriate, but certainly accentuated her toned calves.

“My name is Miss Alyssa Edwards and it’s a pleasure to meet you, sweetie.” She daintily placed her hand in his and smiled toward him. She seemed larger than life itself.

Roy smiled back at her, retracting his hand and turning to face Willam and Shane. “You assholes coming on a coffee run?” He deadpanned at the two fuckers he called friends. He heard Alyssa give a small, scandalized gasp.

Shane laughed, intertwining his arm with Roy’s. “I’m not going anywhere until you’ve told me what’s going on.”

Roy rolled his eyes. “Willam?”

“I’m not doing shit until my 1 o’clock,” he quipped.

The group of four meandered their way to an on campus Starbucks taking turns reading one another along the way. Alyssa could hardly keep up with the three. She knew she liked them but she couldn’t imagine spending every moment with your friends on your toes, waiting for the next bomb to drop. The topic of discussion was blessedly never her, so she used her time with them to observe the odd trio of professors that she now worked with. They stepped through the doorway into the Starbucks. The place was littered with students, all flamboyantly dressed, with scripts or instruments or lyric sheets spread around them. Alyssa smiled. She missed Texas like hell, but she was also grateful to be in an environment that fostered creativity in all its forms and expressions.

Roy made a particularly devilish comment about Courtney’s choice in bed partner and Willam nearly doubled over laughing.

Alyssa’s head snapped over to him and her eyebrows flew up to her hairline of their own accord. “Girl, your laugh sounds like a fucking asthmatic seal.”

All three of the men turned to look at her, eyes wide. Alyssa began to panic. Maybe she wasn’t allowed to join in their mockery yet? Maybe there was some sort of right of passage she needed to complete first?

Suddenly Roy burst out into a gigantic grin and laughed. “That was good bitch! That was good!” He clapped as the group got into the Starbucks line.

Alyssa felt relief was over her. She was definitely in.

Roy walked up to the counter and frowned. He hadn’t been able to go to the Steampot this morning before work. He was surprised by how much he missed it. The barista smiled widely at him.

“Hey Dr. Haylock! What can I get started for ya?” It took Roy a moment to realize who the younger man was.

“Oh my gosh! Tyler! I barely recognized you! You must be in your, what? Senior year now?” Roy smiled, remembering Tyler the busted, annoying freshman from his costuming course three years ago.

“Yep. Last year and then out to the real world,” he said with far too much enthusiasm.

“You’ve got a storm coming kid,” Roy laughed, not managing to appreciate Tyler’s sickening optimism near as much as Danny’s enthralled him.

“I’ll miss this place. Not my professors though. Just you. You were always my favorite. Funny, nice, charming. Always happy to stay after and help me when I couldn’t get something right,” Tyler smiled sweetly at him.

What the fuck? Roy looked back at him quizzically.“Umm, I’ll take a black coffee, double shot,” he stated, uncomfortable under Tyler’s oogling.

“Someone likes theirs strong, Prof.” Roy handed Tyler a few bills and immediately retreated away from him to the opposite end of the counter.

Roy watched as Shane placed his order, paid, and made his way over to Roy. He grinned fanatically at him. “Someone likes you.”

“Disgusting.” He returned Shane’s gaze, face devoid of humor.

“Oh come on you old grump! He’s cute, not in any of your classes, and he’d be an easy shag. He practically screams bottom!”

“You should know, bitch. Takes one to know one.”

Shane enjoyed watching his friend squirm. Very few things were able to throw Roy quite like students’ misplaced affections were. “Then you won’t mind if I went ahead and gave it a go?”

“Shane, that’s inappropriate.”

“What? He’s never been in any of my courses, I’m younger than you are and he’s a senior. And I’m practically a regular top now. I’ve done it twice this month!”

“The age thing doesn’t matter. He’s a student here and you’re a professor.

“The age thing doesn’t matter? Roy, you dog! He’s got to be like ten years younger than me. I’ve never known you to be one to ignore something like that.”

“Listen age is just a thing. Sometimes it doesn’t matter how many years are between two people if everything else just clicks, you know?”

Shane looked at him intriguingly before his entire face lit up in understanding. “Roy Haylock. I’ve figured it out. You are involved with a younger man.”

Roy’s phone chose that moment to vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw a text message notification from non other than Danny. Roy involuntarily smiled.

“And his name is Danny,” Shane observed, quickly peeking at Roy’s phone screen.

“Shane, for fuck’s sake, keep your voice down!” Roy hissed, noting that Willam had a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Roy’s got a man?” Willam excitedly chirped, grin still obnoxiously plastered across his face. Roy felt flashes of irritation pulsate through him.

“It ain’t none of your damn business what body I got in the trunk of my car, queen,” he threw back, eyes challenging Willam to continue.

Willam either decided to ignore the glint in Roy’s eyes or the look went over his head as he barged on, “bitch, you wouldn’t be this defensive if the body was dead. You found yourself some dick!”

Roy’s gaze turned witheringly cold, burning into Willam. Alyssa felt the weight of Roy’s stare and stepped back a few feet, overwhelmed by the intensity. Willam appeared to be oblivious, grinning idiotically at the other man.

“If you all must know, I met someone but it’s very new. Happy now?” Roy stressed his ending question, daring someone to continue.

“Oh c’mon Roy! You can’t leave us with just that!” Shane whined, grabbing his and Roy’s drinks off the counter. “You’re not getting this,” he teased, shaking Roy’s beverage, “until you spill some T.”

Roy practically growled. “I don’t know why I’m friends with you fucks. Okay, his name is Danny. He works at a coffee shop that I go to. We’ve only been on one date. It’s not even a real thing!” I want it to be. It could be.

Shane narrowed his eyes and Roy squirmed under his scrutiny. He was relieved that his tanned skin hid the blush he felt creeping up his neck.

“Have you fucked him yet?” Willam asked loudly drawing the attention of the other patrons to them.

Alyssa gasped. “I … I am shocked. What the hell kind of question is that? He just said they’ve only been out once!”

Willam looked at her as if she’d grown a second head. “Yeah, so you get dicked?”

“Oh, honey. No, not my gay ass. I was raised a good Christian woman. I don’t live in sin baby.”

Roy and Shane started laughing as Willam took time to process the information being presented to him. “No, no I’d rather fuck now and go to hell later. Bet there’s amazing dick down there.”

Alyssa gasped and pointedly turned away from Willam. “Baby, sweetie, you need Jesus. Now Roy,” she quipped, attention fixed fully on him. “When we gon have a good ‘ole church wedding?”

The three men cackled in laughter as they walked out the store back toward the Performance Arts buildings. Alyssa followed them, warmth settling in her heart at having made three fast friends among the faculty her first day here.

–

Danny’s phone rang again. He cringed when he saw the Caller ID display Michelle Visage. Fuck. Ugh, might as well just fucking deal with it man. He took a deep breath and tapped his phone screen.

“Hey,” he more or less whispered, subconsciously hoping that his manager would think he hadn’t answered if he were quiet enough.

“Daniel. I’m guessing you’re either in a hospital or a prison. I can’t come up with any other explanation for why you didn’t show up to our meeting yesterday. Without notice, I might add,” the stern, older woman barked into the phone, her Jersey accent more pronounced in her anger.

“Yeah, sorry. I kind of lost track of time. I was totally vibed out and writing and feeling and shit. I had to go to that space and, like, do whatever I had to for the music, you know? I’m a Libra.”

“Mmmm.”

“But I got a shit ton done, man! Wanna hear some? I promise it’s fucking cool.”

“Go on.” Danny winced at the lack of emotion in her voice. He was sensitive to her energy and the negative aura was killing his enthusiasm. Her opinion mattered more to him than anyone else’s. She was his manager, she had believed in him and trusted him before anyone else. He hated the thought that he might disappoint her.

Danny nervously walked over to his keyboard and put his phone to speaker as he sat down. He flipped his notebook a few pages back and cleared his throat. “Okay, so it’s called Constellations and it’s not done yet but I’ve got, like, almost all of it in my head already.”

He ran his fingers gently over the keys once before beginning to play them, beating out a soft tune. He took a deep breath and silently prayed that Michelle would like it.

“It’s the weekend, anything can happen

Anything can happen tonight.”

Danny smiled as he thought back to taking small peeks at Roy over the top of the sketchbooks, watching him quickly turn away, trying not to be caught also staring.

“Feel the space with cosmic revelation

Let our bodies go on and fly.”

Danny’s mind flashed back to Roy’s lips pressed against his, his heart beating against Roy’s, the world slipping away save for everything that was them.

“And just surrender

Live forever

It’s all ours tonight.”

Danny closed his eyes and briefly allowed himself to picture a future where he was worldwide superstar rocking out on stage every night but with Roy waiting to hold him at the end of the night, traveling the world with him, supporting him, saying sweet, validating things to him.

“A million stars light up the night

The constellations give me life

And heaven’s boulevard it’s shining.”

Danny opened his eyes and it was suddenly last night. He and Roy were walking hand in hand down the street, the dark sky illuminated with specks of light.

“I’m givin’ in, and letting go

The constellations fill my soul

Our heart beats are on zero gravity.”

He raised a hand to his chest where his heart was frantically hammering. He looked around himself and it was his room again. A small smile graced his lips. He felt strangely nostalgic and novel at the same time.

“Okay, I’m impressed. That’s one of the best things you’ve ever written.”

Danny flushed with pride. Yeah motherfucka yeah. I wrote that shit. “And that’s not the whole thing. I’ve got more of it done. The only thing I need to still figure out is the sound cuz it’s not, like, the same as my other stuff. I don’t want it to be, like, some party, dance track, cuz this is, like, some real shit to me.”

“Really? Talk to me, girl. What’s going on?”

Roy.

“Nothing, man. I just don’t want to, like, only have club songs. Like, I want to have some real life shit too.”

“I’m not buying it. Something’s going on. I think we both know that I’m not patient so you can tell me or I can force it out of you.”

Danny laughed. His manager was one of the greatest people he knew, but also stubborn, hot-tempered, and one of his most reliable critics. She was never shy to voice her opinion. Danny knew better than to keep her in suspense, especially when he was trying to redeem himself for skipping his meeting the previous evening.

“Okay, so I guess I like might have met someone,” he chewed his bottom lip as he waited for Michelle’s reply.

“Daniel Anthony Noriega,” she gasped. “It’s about time, girl! Spill, sweetie.”

“We met at the coffee shop. He’s so cute and so smart, like, he’s a professor at Juilliard. He’s been so nice and understanding and shit. Like, Gregg showed up to one of my shows this weekend and-.”

“Hold up. Who the fuck stopped by?” Michelle practically growled into the phone.

“Yeah. I don’t know how he found out where I was but, like, yeah he was there. But Roy was too and he made sure I was okay and he got me out of there. He took me to get pizza which was really fucking cool of him. And then he walked me home and we went out the next day so yesterday. And we went to this really fucking cool place where people like make sketches and leave them there. And so he drew me and then we got tacos and then he walked me home again. I know it kinda doesn’t sound like a lot but it feels like a lot and he’s so great.”

He heard Michelle laugh lightly and smiled himself.

“I’m glad you’re happy, baby. Just promise me something,” she said softly, Danny already knowing where this was going. “You promise me that this one treats you right or I get involved, okay? You deserve the best, Danny. Promise me you won’t let yourself settle for any less?”

Danny smiled sadly. He understood that Michelle was concerned for him, and he had given her every reason to be, the way he had stayed in his last relationship and hidden from view how bad it was. But he didn’t want Roy compared to that. Roy was a different person. Hell, Danny was a different person now.

“This isn’t anything like Gregg. He isn’t anything like Gregg,” Danny quietly answered.

“That’s what I like to hear. Now, no more ditching your responsibilities. I’m not going to manage you if you can’t even show up to a damn meeting. You got that?” Michelle barked. Danny tried to keep himself from laughing. Michelle could only stay sentimental for so long before retreating back behind her wall of sarcasm and cynicism.

“Yes ma’am Mama Michelle. I’ll be a good boy.”

He heard her laugh. “Bye Daniel.”

“Bye Michelle!”

He smiled as he tapped the End Call button thinking about Roy.

He pulled open a new message to Roy and began typing.

Danny N: I missed you this morning.

Danny N: You know you have to be around to be a tease…

–

Roy finally managed to get rid of the three idiots. He smiled as he walked into his 10 am lecture room and realized hardly anyone was there yet. He pulled out his phone and hit the home button. The screen lit up and Roy’s eyes were automatically drawn to the text notification. He glimpsed at the clock, noting that he had at least ten minutes to indulge himself by trading texts with his adorable barista.

Danny N: I missed you this morning.

Danny N: You know you have to be around to be a tease…

Roy smirked.

Roy H: I’d say it was pretty successful considering you missed me and felt the need to text me to let me know about it *nail polish emoji*

Danny N: Okay, I take it back then.

Danny N: I missed the awesome fucking tip you always leave me.

Danny N: I may have to starve tonight without it. *crying emoji*

Roy had to keep himself from laughing at his phone screen. He was not going to be that crazy professor who had a mental breakdown before class. He was happy to let Dr. DuJour have that title.

Roy H: I knew you were only after me for the money …

Danny N: That and you’re amazing ass *tongue out emoji*

Roy looked up to ensure none of his students were close enough to catch a glimpse at his phone.

Roy H: Daniel! I am at work. A little subtlety please?

Danny N: K babe. Just know that the money isn’t your only asset I’m interested in. I’m all about the fucking package that comes with it …

Roy bit the inside of his lip discreetly as he flushed with warmth. He said babe. Is that just like a casual babe? Or is it like a babe-babe? Fuck Roy. Calm down, you’re reading too much into this. Play it cool.

Roy hesitated answering. After a couple minutes of trying to figure out what to say, his screen lit up with another text from Danny.

Danny N: And I mean the fucking package. *tongue emoji* *water drops emoji*

Roy glanced at the clock. 9:58. Great. I have two minutes to text Danny back, calm down, get my shit together, and remember what the fuck I was going to lecture on today. Fuck.

Roy H: And here I thought you liked my personality, whore.

Roy H: I need to start my lecture. QUIT DISTRACTING ME

Roy reluctantly turned his phone upside down onto the podium and got up to begin class. How he was going to focus on comedic timing in silent films was beyond him when all his mind would come back to was Danny and what it would be like to indulge in his package.

–

Danny nervously reordered his portfolio for the sixth or seventh time since he sat down outside his thesis professor’s office. Dr. Michaels had a reputation in the Creative Writing program. He was known to be supportive of his students’ exploration of their talents, but also super realistic about things. If your work wasn’t good enough or if you were running with an idea that wasn’t going to get you anywhere, Dr. Michaels would say so. He didn’t want to go in there with a month’s worth of research and written pieces just to be told that it was all for naught.

The door clicked open next to him and another student he recognized from his graduate courses walked out. She turned to look at him.

“You meeting with Michaels?” she asked, his voice monotone and dejected. What the fuck is her accent?

“Umm, yeah?” Danny replied, closing his folder deciding whatever order the pieces had fallen in was where fate wanted them.

“He’s ready for you.”

Danny stood up. “Party,” he responded automatically. His nerves were far more frayed than his go to word let on.

“Good luck. Nothing like having something you’re proud of torn to shreds to start the week, am I right?”

Danny had to remind himself to breathe. “Oh.”

The grey haired girl moved out of the doorway gesturing for Danny to go in.

Danny stepped into Dr. Michaels’ office, noting the pile of papers covered with red notes on his desktop.

“Hey there, Daniel. Take a seat. Let’s see what you’ve been working on.”

Danny smiled sheepishly and handed his folder over. Dr. Michaels took all the pieces out and spread them on the stretch of open desktop in front of him.

I spent all that fucking energy getting that folder together and this guy just dumps all of it out?! Danny internally groaned. Mental note: Dr. Michaels doesn’t give a shit what order shit’s in. He’s just going to throw it all around anyway.

Dr. Michaels silently thumbed through the pieces, moving from one onto the next without so much as glancing up at him. After he’d worked through the third piece, he finally made eye contact with Danny.

“Daniel, I don’t do this kind of thing often, I pride myself on being a professional. I’ve been at this university a lot of years and I’ve only come across this situation a handful of times before.” Dr. Michaels looked him straight in the eye as he spoke, never once wavering. Danny felt his breathe escape him and his lungs collapse.

Oh my god. I’m fucking awful. He’s telling me I’m not good enough. He’s telling me to leave. I can’t do this. Why did I ever tell myself I could? Why the fuck did I try? I knew I wouldn’t be anything! I’m just some no name kid from California who told himself he had a fucking shot. Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuckkk.

Danny reached out to retrieve the papers he had worked so diligently on, the pieces of his soul he’d been so proud to share. He was desperate to get the offending words out of Dr. Michaels’s sight as soon as possible. “I’m so sorry Dr. Michaels. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m so fucking sorry. Fuck. I’m sorry for saying that. I shouldn’t’ve come here. I’m sorry you had to read -.” Danny rambled, his face burning crimson, as he clumsily tried to grab his work back, managing to only shuffle them further over the open desk space.

A gentle grip settled on one of his wrists and Dr. Michaels laughed softly. Fuck, great. He’s fucking laughing at me for even thinking he should waste his fucking time reading my shit. Oh god. Fuck.

“Danny, no,” he said, his voice soft and reassuring. “I love it. Both your thesis work and this,” he explained as he pulled the piece Danny was holding in a vice grip, easing it from his hold. “This, your work, your writing, is amazing. I haven’t read something so uniquely stylized since …. Gosh I don’t even know, kid. This is special, you are special.”

The hot prickle of shame dissipated from his extremities and gave way to wonder. Dr. Michaels was … complimenting?! … Him? What???

Danny lifted his head up, his eyes gilded with unadulterated reverence. “What?” he barely managed to breathe out.

“Kid! I like your stuff!” he exclaimed in exasperation. He knew he had a reputation for being a hardass but was it really this shocking to get praise?

“You like it? Like seriously? Like, no disrespect or whatever, but like you’re not just shitting me?” Danny couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea that the Chad Michaels actually thought his writing, the writing inspired by his darkest thoughts, was dope. What the actual fuck man?

“No, Daniel. I’m being honest. You’ve got something good here,” he replied, fishing one of Danny’s short stories out of the disaster Danny had made on his desk. “This,” he said, gently shaking the haphazardly paper clipped together bundle of sheets, “is genuinely one of the best things any student has written in this program, especially a first year. Your voice is reminiscent of Faulkner’s stream-of-conciousness. I’d like to work with you to polish it up some and submit it to a few lit magazines, see if we can get it published. Is that something you’d be interested in?”

Danny could feel his mouth hanging open and mentally forced himself to shut it. “Yes, Dr. Michaels. Yes, that’d definitely be something I’d want to do. Thank you so much!”

“Alright kid. Let’s talk about your poetry,” Dr. Michaels smiled as he walked through several of the pieces Danny had brought with him. Many of the works ended up riddled with red marks, but each mark made was thoroughly explained. By the end of the meeting, Danny had pieces that were praised, pieces that were torn to shreds, but none in a way that made him feel incompetent or not good enough. Dr. Michaels had a way of critiquing him that felt entirely nurturing and empowering. Danny wanted to write, he practically felt new ideas buzzing within his soul. Holy fuck! This is so fucking goom.

Dr. Michaels held back another two of Danny’s pieces along with the initial one to read through more carefully before returning. Danny couldn’t believe it. THE Dr. Michaels, notorious for being the gatekeeper to success, loved his stuff! He nearly squealed with delight as he walked out of the professor’s office, thanking whatever diety (that may or may not exist) that he managed to contain it.

The thing that surprised Danny most was that he immediately wanted to tell Roy. Before he even thought of telling Jay or texting G about it, he was fixated on what Roy would think about it. Deciding not to second guess his gut, the same gut that had told him that New York was where he belonged, he pulled out his phone and began to type out a message.

Danny N: Oh my fucking god. I’m literally still shaking and I’m not even in the room anymore.

Roy H: Wtf?? What’s going on????

Danny N: I had my first dissertation check in with my thesis prof.

Danny N: It was actually terrifying.

Danny N: Like I don’t even know if I was breathing while it was happening.

Roy H: You’re a fucking asshole. I thought you were dying.

Danny N: I literally could’ve.

Roy H: But you made it through! What happened?

Danny N: He liked my stuff! Like the short fiction especially and that’s the shit I was the most proud of Roy! Like I actually cannot believe that this is real. I’m freaking out for all the best reasons but I’m so

Danny N: I don’t even know just like

Danny N: Ugh this is so goom I’m dead. *skull emoji* *skull emoji*

Roy laughed. He was changing in his office from his slightly less formal daywear into a slightly more formal evening suit and currently stood with his shirt unbuttoned and a bow tie draped over his shoulders. He had decided against running all the way downtown just to change. He couldn’t imagine how much it would have confused his two pups for him to rush into the apartment just to leave it again. No. It was better to fumble with his tie and suit jacket inside his cramped office.

Danny’s frantic texts were a more than welcome distraction. He’s been distracting me all day. Roy had barely managed to push Danny to the back of his mind the entire day. He had thought about him during his two lectures, one of which had focused on comedic timing in romantic dramas. How fucking convenient that had been. How could Roy not have fixated on his adorably disarming barista while discussing the role of physical humor in relationship storytelling.

Danny’s so fucking physical. I wonder what it would be like to lick up his-. No. No. Roy was not twelve. He could damn well contain his hormonal urges. He was an adult. A professor. A damn seamstress. Not some giddy youth only just discovering lust. No he was better than that.

Roy H: What the fuck is a ‘goom’?

Danny N: If you don’t know goom maybe you don’t know me…

Roy H: I don’t have a fucking clue what that means but I definitely know that I want to get to know you. All of you.

Danny N: I thought we weren’t supposed to send suggestive texts PROFESSOR.

Roy H: And what about that message was suggestive? I was just saying that I want to know more about you.

Danny N: Mhmm.

Danny N: so I guess that means you’re only interested in knowing me better with my clothes all on?

Danny N: *tongue out face*

Roy H: I’m open to the idea of spending time with you and your clothes ….

Roy H: ON THE FLOOR.

Roy H: And very much off of your body.

Danny N: I’m ready when you are babe.

Roy had to slow down. Since when did he send suggestive text messages? He had an important dinner to go to tonight. One where he would potentially be accepting an award. No, he could not just jet off to eat out Danny’s ass. He needed to be a fucking professional and spend a night with a bunch of old, washed up theatre nerds who had nothing better to do than finance the younger generation of art kids.

Pull it together Haylock.

Roy had lowered his threshold of maturity since meeting Danny. Not because Danny was younger than him, but because Danny managed to make HIM feel young. He felt like he was having his first crush all over again. Danny made Roy’s faculties desert him, his maturity vanish from grasp, and his physical reactivity escape control. Danny was so different from anyone Roy had previously known and it was equal parts exhilarating and absolutely terrifying.

Roy H: Regardless of what I want to do, I can’t tonight.

Danny frowned at his phone. So Roy wanted to sleep with him. That would be great, if he were coming over here to sleep with him. But he isn’t, because he “can’t tonight”. What the fuck does “I can’t tonight” fucking mean?! Danny groaned as he walked down the steps of the English department building.

Danny N: Life’s short old man. Gotta make the most of what you got left.

He felt a twinge of regret after having sent the text. It came off a little sharper than he wanted it to, but he was anxious. Don’t be fucking vague, man. I don’t need that shit.

Roy cackled as he read Danny’s message. He had managed to perch his phone on his desk at just the right angle so that he could read his texts while also looking into the mirror to arrange his tie and jacket pins. I don’t feel all that old around you kid. Roy smiled as he pondered what to write back.

Roy H: I’ll have even less life to live if I don’t show face at the Arts Education Banquet tonight. I’m pretty sure it’s mandatory for people being recognized.

Danny N: Who’s getting recognized? *eyes emoji*

Roy half sighed, half laughed in exasperation.

Roy H: You’re quick aren’t ya kid? What’d you get on your SATs? KETCHUP?!

Danny N: Fuck you! I got more than that bitch!

Roy H: Mustard too?

Danny N: Fuck all the way off. Why do I even like you?

Roy H: I’m still asking myself that question *kissing emoji*

Danny N: Maybe it’s because you’re kind, understanding, accepting, brave, handsome, YOUR INCREDIBLE ASS, and because you’re insanely smart. Congrats on the award baby. Whatever it’s for, you deserve it and so much more.

Roy blushed. He felt his heart surge. He didn’t deserve someone so pure and kind. He didn’t want to go without seeing him. He couldn’t skip the banquet but arriving fashionably late wouldn’t be the worst thing he could do.

Roy H: Are you still at NYU?

Danny N: Yep! I was going to try to get some more writing done while here.

Roy thought back to NYU’s layout and cringed when he realized the English Department was right by a park. Almost instinctually Roy knew Danny would be going there.

Roy H: Please tell me you’re not actually going to Washington Park to write.

Danny N: And what if I am?

Roy H: You could not be more cliché.

Danny N: I vibe with nature man. It helps me open my mind.

Roy H: I’ve become very aware that you “vibe” with nature. I don’t know how I made it out of your room alive. It’s a fucking gas chamber!

Danny N: I’m from Cali. It’s my lifestyle.

Roy H: I have to be at NYU later tonight for this banquet, but I could be there in like half an hour and we could spend some time together?

Danny N: Fuck yeah! I’ll be at the park feeling my oats *nail painting emoji*

Roy smiled the whole cab ride uptown. Even the crawling traffic wasn’t able to dampen his excitement. He had been expecting a painful evening and, even though he would still have to go through the pomp and fare of a high society dinner, he now was going to have a bright spot to hold him over. He was going to get to see his adorable writer.

He practically jumped out of the cab as it pulled up to Washington Park. He quickly scanned the area around the fountain, guessing that would be where Danny would set up shop. Once again, he was right. On a small stretch of grass he saw the man he had been thinking about all day.

He looked like something out of some ridiculous pretentious indie fantasy. He was leaning back against a slender tree trunk with his legs propped up in front of him. A laptop was cradled in the angle formed by his stomach and thighs. He had dark wash skinny jeans, combat boots, a loose black tank top on with a red and black checked flannel tied around his hips bunched between him and the tree. He was intensely focused on what he was typing. A chocker encircled his neck deliciously.

What? Roy seriously needed to work on this damn control thing.

He strolled easily over to him, allowing himself some time to really just take in the vision before him. “Hey babe,” he said softly as he bent down to sit next to him.

“Roy! Hey!” Danny’s face lit up and Roy’s followed in response. He leaned forward to peck Roy’s lips chastely before shutting his laptop and throwing it into his bag. Once he had everything put away, his hand found its way to Roy’s, molding perfectly together. They sat there for a minute not speaking, just running their fingers over each other’s skin, enjoying the feel of the other.

“Want to go somewhere a little less public?” Roy suggested, smirking at the way Danny practically leaped up.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked, suggestively raising one of his eyebrows.

“Somewhere dark, quiet, where I can have you to myself,” he nearly growled, capturing Danny’s lips again quickly before he grabbed his hand and began dragging him out of the park.

“I’m down,” Danny breathed into his ear, dipping down to press a delicate kiss to his neck.

Roy felt every part of him respond to the younger man. Roy needed to get Danny alone. Now.

He led Danny down E 4th to the performing arts center, dragging him through the doorway and down the hall.

“Are we even allowed to be back here?” Danny laughed, amused at the way Roy was walking through the halls as though he owned them.

“Wimping out, kid? I thought you were ‘punk’?” Roy tossed over his shoulder, cackling.

Danny smiled, happy to follow Roy wherever.

Roy turned one final corner before excitedly spinning around to face Danny. “This was one of the most important places to me when I went here. I made some of my best memories in this room.”

Danny smiled encouragingly at him as Roy pushed open the heavy metal door and lead him in.

“Before you read me for having taken the stage in this tacky, polyester-seating hall let me remind you that you sing in bars that have puns for names,” Roy said as he walked over to the stage edge and sat down.

Danny looked at Roy adoringly. “Nice try, bitch. At least I can order a beer while I work.” He moved over to where Roy was and stretched out next to him.

“Doesn’t matter if you bring your own.” Roy’s smile practically split his face in two.

“Whoa Roy. I’m not sure I can be with someone so hardcore,” Danny teased as he leaned in to capture Roy’s lips, the kiss quickly growing heated.

Roy leaned into the kiss, moving them so that Danny was pinned beneath him on the stage floor. He positioned one knee between Danny’s legs and caged him in with his arms. Danny raked his fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck, earning a small moan from his man. He smiled slightly at receiving physical validation that Roy was just as affected by his touch as he was.

Roy’s hands began to wander, running down Danny’s sides and toying with the hem of his shirt. Danny felt Roy’s fingertips ghost along his skin and dragged his nails through Roy’s stubble in response, breaking away from the kiss to suck his lower lip.

Roy’s hands stayed at the junction between Danny’s shirt and belt, drawing figures along the exposed skin there. Every sliver of skin Roy managed to get to seared electricity through Danny.

Danny abandoned Roy’s lip and worked his way up his jawline to his ear. “More.”

Roy pulled slightly away from Danny to look in his eyes. “More?” He replied, searching his features to ensure that this was what he wanted.

Danny used the space to ruck up his shirt, roughly pulling it over his head and dropping it beside them. He returned his hands to Roy’s neck, fiddling with the exposed skin by his collar.

Roy’s eyes raked down Danny’s torso, following the small trail of hair leading out of site. He slowly returned his heated gaze to Danny’s eyes. “You sure?” He managed to breathe out.

“Yes,” Danny replied softly, moving one of his hands to guide Roy’s to his exposed torso. “Touch me.”

Roy responded with fervor, diving down to reclaim Danny’s lips in a bruising kiss, his hands exploring Danny. Learning, memorizing every part of him.

Danny felt on fire. His body covered in delicious burning heat wherever Roy had touched. He felt amazing. Roy somehow balanced passion with care. He was intense and consuming but intimate and gentle. Everything around him was Roy and he was drowning but felt incredibly alive.

Just as Danny’s hands had worked their way to Roy’s hips, grabbing handfuls of ass on their way there, Roy’s phone blared.

Roy broke away and groaned. Danny laughed as he recognized the song.

“You do not have Rocky Horror as your ringtone,” he giggled.

Roy shot him a dazzling grin as he answered his phone.

Danny felt his heart flutter with affection for his theater nerd. He watched as Roy’s eyes widened and he moved away from Danny, offering him a hand to pull him up.

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry traffic was awful. Yes. I’ll be there soon. Tell them I’m on my damn way. Yeah. Okay. See you soon.” Roy rolled his eyes as he ended the call and looked apologetically at Danny. “We may have gotten a little carried away and I’m late to the dinner. I have to go.”

Danny frowned. “I’ll miss you, baby.”

Roy laughed. “I’m going to a dinner, I’m not going to China, bitch! You’ll live!” He pecked a kiss to Danny’s lips before leaning down to scoop his shirt up and hand it back to him.

Danny grabbed his shirt, using it as leverage to draw Roy back in, kissing him meaningfully. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll still miss you.”

They exited the theater and made their way out of the building, holding hands, Roy rubbing his thumb across Danny’s knuckles. Once outside, they stood still, neither one wanting to leave the other.

Roy smiled warmly. “I really have to go babe. I’m sorry. I’ll be thinking about you.” He grabbed Danny’s hand, pecking a kiss to it.

“Text me how it goes,” Danny urged, pushing Roy away from him gently.

“Let me know when you get home?” Roy called, shuffling backwards away from him, holding his gaze.

“Go!” Danny laughed.

Roy smiled goofily back at him. “Bye.”

“ROY! GO!”

“Okay, okay, I’m gone. Bye!” Roy laughed, turning around and walking away.

Danny stared after him for a bit before turning in the other direction to head toward the subway platform.

His phone buzzed and he fished it out of his pocket.

Roy H: I miss you already.

Danny flushed with warmth. He really liked this man.

Danny N: I miss you too.

[jerryhinnen]

Why the hell I care about Huddersfield Town

Ultimately, it’s John Thorrington’s fault. Or his agent’s.

Thorrington’s a familiar name for MLS fans. The current LAFC general manager, he played eight injury-hampered years in the league between 2005 and 2013, spending time with the Fire, Whitecaps and DC United. But long-in-the-tooth USMNT fans will also remember him as one of the US’s most promising young players in the late-’90s -- a youth player for Manchester United and Bayer Leverkusen, a key member of the U23 squad that qualified for Sydney 2000, a lock for that Olympic roster before suffering a poorly-timed hamstring injury. He elected to stay in Europe after failing to break through with Leverkusen, signing in 2001 with a third-tier English side named Huddersfield Town. 

A born-and-raised Alabamian who’d yet to establish permanent residence outside the state (and wouldn’t move further afield than Atlanta for another five years), I had never heard of Huddersfield Town. But like any American playing in Europe in the early Aughts, Thorrington’s exploits were watched closely by us Internet-dwelling USMNT diehards. Which is why someone on SoccerAmerica’s primordial message board posted a link to this “cartoon match report” featuring Thorrington, from a site called “HTFC-World.” Which is where I saw it. Which is how I wound spending hours upon hours upon hours of my grad school tenure reading and re-reading the HTFC-World archives. Which is how I almost perished from laughter on occasion. 

Three years of HTFC-World exposure is how I wound up spending a lazy Monday morning in May 2004 listening to a BBC radio stream of Huddersfield taking on Mansfield Town in the League Two playoff final. That’s how I heard the Terriers win promotion back to the third tier in a penalty shootout, and more importantly, how I realized I wanted Huddersfield to promotion back to the third tier, wanted it in a way I’d never wanted something for any soccer team other the USMNT. They felt like my club -- or as close to “my club” as a club I’d never seen playing in a league I couldn’t watch for a city I’d never visited could be. 

The attachment shouldn’t have stuck. I don’t have a logical explanation for why it stuck. But through hundreds of weekend checks of League One scoreboards, a precious handful of FA Cup appearances on US TV, the treasured Christmas gift of a Toffs Huddersfield throwback, stuck it did.

Unfortunately, an attachment to a team I could actually watch play once every three years could only feel so strong. There have been moments in the “NBC shows every Premier League game every week” era where I’ve let myself be envious of American soccer fans who -- as any normal, rational person would -- have chosen steady top-tier clubs to support. But promotion to the Championship helped. (Here’s my first-ever tweet acknowledging my HTFC support, on the day they beat Sheffield United in penalties for promotion from League One. Good times!) BeIn Sports helped sometimes. Paying for the club’s radio stream has helped even more. And now, finally, a Premier League promotion push -- meaning that just as I’m enjoying greater access to Huddersfield’s games than ever before, the stakes are higher than ever before. I’d rather have not had to download Silverlight (!!!) for Internet Explorer (!!!) to watch the stream of the Terriers’ playoff survival at Sheffield Wednesday 11 days ago, but I doubt I’d have pounded my desk any harder at Town’s goal or screamed any louder at Danny Ward’s saves if I’d been watching on TV.

The irony here is that for a long, long while, I dreamed of Huddersfield playing in the Premier League not just because I wanted Huddersfield to play in the Premier League, but because Huddersfield playing in the Premier League meant at least one season of being a normal soccer fan who has a club and watches his or club play every week. I grew up hundreds and hundreds of miles from the nearest MLS team, then fell in love with an English team that spent 11 years in the third tier (or worse). Normal Soccer Fan Who Has a Club is not an experience I’ve ever had, and for years, I thought Town would have to make the PL for me to have it. So it was quite the pleasant surprise to have the Football League announce earlier this month that I’ll be able to replace my radio with a video stream next season. In that sense, Town’s playoff final against Reading on Monday isn’t as do-or-die as I’d have expected it to be only a couple of months ago.

But in the sense of “I’ve completely lost my mind for this team over the past 10 months,” it’s more do-or-die than the Jerry listening to the Mansfield final 13 years ago could have imagined. I’ve watched clip after clip after clip of Aaron Mooy wrecking an opposition move and starting one for Town .3 seconds later. I’ve heard Paul Ogden lose his voice over half-a-dozen late goals. I watched Harry Bunn score at the Etihad. I’ve listened as Michael Hefele scored to beat L**ds, then dropped an f-bomb on live radio I later discovered came only moments after he’d also dropped an f-bomb on live TV. What a f---ing legend.

I’ve watched Collin Quaner become a season-saving substitution, Nakhi Wells celebrate the biggest goal of his life he didn’t score, Danny Ward sprint the length of the field after stoning Fernando Forestieri. 

I’m ready, y’all. Forget the years of looking up scores hours after the fact, forget following play-by-play through Twitter, forget their only television appearances coming in lost causes against Chelsea and Arsenal. This is my team. I want them to smash Reading. I want to watch Huddersfield Town win promotion to the Premier League. I want it as much as I’ve wanted anything from this sport, the literal ocean between myself and Wembley be damned.

Up The Town!