“You’re beautiful,” Danny tells you, his eyes heavy and his words slurred as you help him stumble down the street. Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to say, but he meant it. You did look beautiful, the light from the street lamps hitting you just right. You were all cleaned up, too, from your date.

Even the thought left a bitter taste in his mouth(or maybe it’s the Amaro, but still). A date, but not with him. He wishes it was him. He wouldn’t have left you miserable at the end of the night like your date did. He would have told you how amazing you looked, and he’d let you go on about yourself and not interrupt you every 5 seconds like your date did, he would have driven you home instead of making you walk in the summer heat. Maybe he’d ask you for a kiss at your doorstep, but he brushes the idea away. He didn’t deserve that, not when he’d let himself get shitfaced and now you have to drag him home like some kind of idiot.

Danny's never been one to shy away from the occasional sip while dishing out drinks at the bar, but he really let himself go tonight. He's stumbling and tripping over his own feet, clinging to you while you selflessly attempt to drag him home at his boss' plea. It'll be a miracle if he still has a job tomorrow. There goes another reason why he doesn't deserve you.

There’s nothing he can give you. He’s not strong or brave like his brother. Danny can’t protect you. He doesn’t have the most money or influential connections, no future he can promise you. Hell, the only real friends he has are the local greasers. Mainly because they keep his work day busy at the bar and because they keep talking to him even after they find out about his upbringing.

Raised in foster care, treated like servants by their foster mother and “letting her” beat them into submission instead of stepping up like “real men”, running away from home and immediately getting into trouble. To the good folk of Dove’s Head, Danny and Bruce were misfits, outsiders. No matter how they cleaned up or how hard they worked, people still treated them like a ticking time bomb, as if one day they’ll magically go back to the scared, desperate teenagers they once were.

He knew how you would be treated if you were his, the looks of pity or the looks that said “really? Him?” No, Danny doesn’t think he could live with himself.

So instead, he let you vent to him about your horrible date over moonshine. He isn’t sure if you’re as drunk as he is. The fact that you had been on a date at all had him down enough to just keep filling his glass.

God, did you think he was some kind of drunk now? He isn’t usually this pathetic.

His back hits the mattress as you deposit him onto his bed. He doesn’t remember getting to his house, but he recalls his brother’s exasperated look, so he must have let the two of you in.

“I’m sorry.” Danny hiccupped, his head rolling on the pillow as he looked up at you. He wanted to reach up, cradle your face in his hands or feel your hair between his fingers and see if you’re as soft as he’d imagined. “You… you should have gone home. I shouldn’t have kept you.”

He can’t, no matter how much he wants to. And no matter how much it’ll break, he can’t help giving you his heart.