Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The air reeked of smoke, concrete, dust, and something acrid that burned his lungs. Daniel’s leg throbbed with a sharp, unrelenting pain, a steady drumbeat that made him dizzy and nauseous. He tried to move, tried to shift even a fraction, but something heavy pinned him in place. His hand- no, his whole arm- left, he thinks- was trapped under a chunk of concrete. Every time he tried to move, a jolt of agony shot through him, teeth-gritting, breath-stopping.

He wanted to scream. Wanted to call out for help. But the words lodged in his throat, choked off by fear and shame. Why would anyone come for Him? This was his fault. Every shard of falling brick, every shattering beam- it all came from him. His mistake. His carelessness. And now people were hurt. 

The explosion had been sudden. A misstep, a single moment of hesitation, and then chaos. The building collapsed, and everyone had scattered. He’d tried to help, tried to warn with the stupid walkies Dylan had made them get, but it was too late. Far too late, and now he lay beneath the ruin, silent, listening to the faint groans and distant sirens outside, accompanied by the soft white noise of birds and wildlife.

Pain radiated from his chest where a beam had pinned him against the floor, pressing, pushing, crushing . Blood seeped from a cut above his eyebrow, from his mouth, mixing with the dust coating his face. Warm and sticky, pooling beneath him, soaking through his clothes. He could feel the slow drain of his strength as his heartbeat thudded weakly against his definitely cracked rib cage.

He thought about calling out again, about alerting someone. He imagined their voices, the frantic concern, the anger in their eyes. And he knew- he knew they would hate him. Or worse, pity him. I deserve this , he told himself, clenching his jaw against the scream rising in his chest. I deserve it. Let it end like this.

Time had no meaning here. Seconds stretched into minutes, minutes into hours. He tried to focus, tried to push away the ever present darkness at the edges of his vision. But the pain was relentless. Every breath rasped in his throat, each inhale a struggle against the weight of rubble and bone-deep agony.

He shifted again, trying to lessen the pressure on his leg. The rubble moved. A sharp pain exploded in his leg, and he groaned quietly, swallowing blood that tasted metallic and bitter. Every thought spun around the same word: fault . He replayed the moment over and over. The mistake, the hesitation, the exact instant the plan unraveled. The memory burned brighter than the fire around him.

He heard movement somewhere above—distant, muffled. Rescue, maybe. Or just another collapse of pillars. He forced himself to listen, straining his ears, willing for a voice. But no one came. The building was dead around him, silent but for the crackle of settling debris and his own struggled breathing.

Daniel’s vision blurred. Dust coated his eyes, the edges of his world smudging into gray. He thought about the others- if they had made it- if they were blaming him already- filtering through the eye catalogue for a new fourth horseman. The thought made his chest tighten, made him want to disappear entirely. He had no right to survive, no right to call for help. They’ll manage without me. I caused this.

Blood trickled down his side, soaking his clothes, sticky and warm and far too red , bright and loud like the diamonds in the deck carefully tucked in his back pocket. He could feel the weakening pull of shock, the tremor in his fingers as he tried to move them. Each attempt left him gasping, spent, more aware of how trapped he truly was. The darkness crept closer with every breath. He could feel the edges of consciousness fraying.

He closed his eyes for a moment, telling himself he deserved this pain, that it was fitting. The shouts from outside, the pounding of sirens- each sound was a reminder of life moving on without him, leaving him behind as punishment for his mistake. It was his fault, anyway. Why should he deserve a rescue team? 

Minutes passed- or maybe hours. He couldn’t tell. The taste of iron filled his mouth, the blood spreading beneath him. His thoughts slowed, fragmented, spiraling inward until the past, the explosion, the guilt- all blended into a single, crushing weight.

A distant sound- a cracking, a shift of stone, some yellling- made him flinch, pain shooting up his spine. He tried to move, tried to reach out, but his strength betrayed him. His limbs felt like lead, his body nothing but a vessel of ache and failure.

He tried to focus on breathing, shallow and ragged, telling himself it didn’t matter , that no one would come , that he deserved the silence. His eyelids felt impossibly heavy, fluttering against the pull of unconsciousness.

The last thought that ran through his mind, fragile and fleeting and all too optimistic, was a wish that he could undo it all, that he could step back and not make the mistake that had trapped him here. That he could keep the horsemen safe. 

The warmth was suddenly gone,  and cold wrapped him entirely. The world narrowed to the sound of his own heartbeat, slow and uneven, fading, until there was nothing but black.

If only I didn’t mess it all up. 

(I’m just adding this sentence because it was exactly 911 words..) 

Chapter Text

Jack woke up to sunlight stabbing his eyes through the blinds that he swears he closed last night. For a moment, he considered pulling the covers over his head and pretending the day didn’t exist. But then he remembered: it was his birthday. He had to call his mom and whatever, tell her about how nothing has changed from yesterday and the day before before and 4 years before that. He hated birthdays- they always felt like the world was reminding him of how much he hadn’t changed, how much he’d messed up. In a different universe, he’d be graduating college right about now, and that thought almost makes him nauseous. 

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and froze. His jacket. His favorite jacket. It wasn’t on the chair. Not on the bed. Not the floor. Gone. Great. 

“Where is it?” he muttered to himself, checking the closet for the third time. His fingers scraped over the hangers. Empty. Frustration started to curl in his stomach.

He grabbed a random hoodie he didn’t even know he had, pulling it over his head with a dejected sigh. Too small- probably Danny’s now that he thinks about it. He always mixes up their laundry. It smelled faintly of the laundry detergent he didn’t like, and it clung to him in all the wrong places. Perfect. His birthday was off to a flawless start.

Then came the deck. His favorite deck of cards, the one he used to unwind after missions, to focus when his head was too full of chaos- it was gone. He checked under the bed, in his drawers, even behind the door. Nothing.

By mid-morning, his phone vanished too. Not on the nightstand. Not in his pocket. Not even in the little drawer where he sometimes accidentally left it. He felt his frustration tipping into panic. Today was supposed to be.. nothing. Just a normal day. And hey look, hes 22 now. Instead, everything was conspiring against him.

He tried to breathe, tried to calm himself, but that only made the noise from the living room worse: arguing, the clatter of pans, someone dropping something heavy.

“Can you all… maybe not?” he called, voice tighter than he intended. A chorus of vague acknowledgements proceeded his ask, but the noise didn’t fade. 

He sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his face. Getting up with newfound motivation, he decided to take a walk. He went to grab his beat up converse- he really should replace those soon- when he realized that had apparently already been done for him. The spot under his bed was empty, and he was just about ready to square up with whatever higher deity is out there fucking with him for entertainment. 

After an hour of searching, muttering, and pacing, Jack decided he’d had enough. He stomped to the door, muttering curses, fully intending to yell at anyone who dared make a sound in the living room. But when he reached the doorknob and twisted-

Click. Nothing.

The lock didn’t budge.

“What the hell?” Jack muttered, twisting again. Locked.

For a moment he just stood there, staring, then rolled his eyes so hard it almost hurt. “Seriously?” he muttered. He crouched, pulled a pick from his hoodie pocket, and popped the lock in all of two seconds. Did this door even lock from the outside? Why?? 

The door swung open and- 

The living room was… a disaster. Flour dusted the floor like snow, a trail of frosting smeared across the counter, and various kitchen utensils lay strewn everywhere. Sprinkles clung to the backs of chairs, a toppled mixing bowl gurgled with chocolate, and in the middle of it all stood Henley, Danny, and the others, eyes wide, hands sticky. Merrit was leaning against the table, smug, as Danny was yelling at him about god knows what. Henley seemed to be the only one actually doing anything- but that doesn’t make her good at it. 

They froze mid-motion.

Jack blinked, the anger replaced with pure confusion. “What… what is happening?”

Danny turned to Henley and began to yell at her now. “Didn’t you lock him in?”

Henley groaned, dragging a frosting-smeared hand down her face. “Oh my god. We tried to trap you with a lock.” She looked at him, exasperated with herself. “Oh my fucking god. Danny. We used a lock .”

Merritt started laughing immediately, doubling over. “Oh my god, she’s right. We’re idiots. Why didn’t any of us think of that? Oh wait! I said that! I said to use a chair! And Danny boy over here said-“

“Yes yes whatever youre right you told me so now shut the fuck up, Merritt, and where are the oven mitts? Do we even have oven mitts?”

Jack just stared at them. His brain short-circuited between the mess, their words, and the sheer ridiculousness of the situation.

“You locked me in my room… so you could…” His eyes drifted to the counter.

There, amidst the half blown up balloons and HAPPY BIRTHDAY sign yet to be hung up, sat:

• His jacket, folded neatly, the holes carefully sewn back together with the red thread he knows Henley uses for her gloves.
• His favorite deck of cards, spilled across the counter in some deliberate pattern he couldn’t quite recognize, accompanied by another one of the same company, brand new, still in the package. 
• A small, burnt, lopsided cake, covered in way too many sprinkles in an effort to hide the almost black exterior of a previously vanilla cake.
  
  

The breath caught in his throat. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His chest squeezed.

Henley, still wiping frosting off her hands, winced. “Yeah, uh, happy birthday. It was supposed to be a big surprise reveal but, uh…” she gestured at the kitchen like it explained itself. “We’re not good at this. And we weren’t done yet. We needed your shoes and jacket for your size and the cards to get the brand name..”

Jack laughed. Or tried to. It came out as a choked, shaky sound- then cracked into sobs. His knees buckled, and suddenly he was on the floor, face buried in his hands, ugly crying in the middle of their living room.

The room went still.

“Oh,” Henley said softly, blinking. “Oh. Wait- Jack, are you…?” For a second she almost stepped forward, then stopped herself. She didn’t know what to do. He was just- sobbing. Surely the party couldn’t have been that bad..? 

Jack’s voice broke through, muffled and cracky. “I’ve never… I’ve never had a birthday before. Not like this. Not… ever.”

The silence that followed was heavy, but not uncomfortable- just weighty with understanding. (They got it, truly, no professional magician has a good childhood. Only the ones who didn’t get the magic when they needed it care enough about producing it when they no longer do.)

Henley knelt down beside him, wiping frosting absently off her sleeve. Her face softened. “Then it’s about damn time, huh?”

Jack laughed through tears, shaking his head. “You locked me in by locking the door.”

Henley smiled, embarrassed. “I know! I feel so stupid!”

Jack looked at all of them- these ridiculous, chaotic people, covered in flour and frosting, beaming at him- and let himself cry harder. Disbelief, joy, gratitude. It all tumbled out of him in one unstoppable wave.

When the sobs finally eased, he stood back up, looked at the crooked cake, at the jacket, the fancy deck, his brand new converse, and let out a shaky exhale. “Thank you. This is… amazing, guys. Really.”

And, to him at least, it really was .

Chapter Text

Jack Wilder wasn’t exactly eavesdropping. Not on purpose, at least.

He’d only meant to cut through the hall, grab a soda from the kitchen, and head back to his room to try the new card trick he’d been working on. But when he heard his name spoken in the living room, he froze, age old instincts telling him to hide and listen in.

Danny’s voice carried through the hall- sharp, clipped in that way it always did when he thought he was precise.

“-and half the time he’s just winging it. He doesn’t think things through.”

Jack’s stomach dropped.

Danny continued on with his rant, but Jack didn’t wait to hear more. He backed up quickly, heart hammering, and ducked into the shadows of the hall.

Doesn’t think things through. Just winging it.

That was what Danny thought of him. That he was reckless, a liability. That he didn’t belong.

By the time he made it back to his room, the soda long forgotten, the words were already etched into his head like scars.

The living room still buzzed with conversation, a now cold pizza and a laptop spread between the three. 

“He doesn’t think things through, he just does it. We can use that reflex in the escape by having him go first- which means we just leave this part of the plan.. blank. I guess.” Daniel cringed at the mere thought of intentionally leaving a hole in the plan, causing an eruption of laughter from the other two at the table. Hours passed in between coffee and arguments over the plans, Jack not coming out once. 

Dinner was usually the one time of day where they felt like something close to normal. A weird, dysfunctional family of magicians, but family nonetheless. Merritt made bad jokes, Daniel corrected him with biting sarcasm, Henley tried to keep order, and Jack chimed in with just enough quips to keep the table lively.

But tonight, Jack barely spoke. He pushed his food around, his shoulders tense and jaw tight.

Henley noticed first. “You okay, Jack?”

He forced a smile. “Fine.”

The dinner went by in tense silence interrupted by Merritt and Henley’s attempts to start conversation. Danny, of course, was entirely indifferent to whatever tense silence loomed over the table, but tried for conversation anyway. Danny said something about the steak being cooked well, and the words slipped out before Jack could stop them.

“Glad something meets your standards.”

Henley blinked. “What?”

“Nothing,” Jack muttered, stabbing at his food, eyes glued to the plate.

It only got worse.

When Danny outlined a tweak to their next performance, Jack cut in under his breath: “Yeah, because I never think things through, right?”

Danny’s brow furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jack shrugged, bitter. “Figures you wouldn’t get it.”

Merritt raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet, sensing the storm building.

The table went silent.

Danny set his fork down, slamming it against the plate, the clatter sharp enough to make the three flinch. His eyes locked on Jack’s, voice tight with frustration.

“Okay- look. I don’t know what the fuck I did to you, but you’ve been at my throat all damn night. So? Let’s hear it. What’s your problem, Wilder?”

Jack’s chest heaved. The words spilled out before he could take them back.

“I heard you.” His voice cracked. “Earlier. Talking to Merritt. You said I don’t think things through. That I’m just winging it. That I don’t belong here.”

Danny froze. “Christ.”

Henley’s eyes widened. Merritt muttered, “Ah, hell,” under his breath.

Danny pushed back his chair and stood, staring down at Jack like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “So thats the only part you heard? That’s what you think I meant?”

Jack shot back, voice raw, “That’s what you said.”

Danny dragged a hand through his hair, exasperated. “Yeah, I said you improvise. That you go with your gut. Half the time it terrifies me. But you know what? You get it right. More than I ever could.” His voice lowered, offense replacing his anger. “You think that was an insult? That was me admitting I envy you. And now you’re making me do it again. Fuck you, for one.”

Jack blinked, thrown. “You said-“

“You weren’t listening!” Danny snapped, pointing across the table at him. “Two, I don’t gamble with people who can’t pull their weight. I don’t have the luxury. You’re here because you’ve earned it- nothing more, nothing less. You screw up? Fine. We all do. But don’t you dare stand there and act like you’re some dead weight I’m dragging along.”

Jack opened his mouth, but Danny cut him off before he could even start, voice rising. “And you, what, don’t belong?? If you didn’t, Wilder, you wouldn’t fucking be here. You think I would risk everything- all of this- on someone I don’t trust? What do you take me for? An idiot? Good to know.”

Henley stilled, watching the interaction with a carefully neutral expression. Merritt raised his brows but, wisely, said nothing.

Danny leaned forward, bracing his hands on the table, fire still burning in his eyes. “So don’t twist my words. Don’t build yourself a pity party out of half a conversation. You belong here. You’re one of us. And that’s not up for debate. ”

Jack swallowed hard, throat tight. He’d wanted Danny to deny it, to laugh it off- but the anger, the sheer conviction in his voice, hit harder than softness ever could.

Jack’s throat closed, eyes stinging despite himself. “I felt like you were saying I was a mistake- It- I just misunderstood. That’s my fault.”

Henley finally chimed in, her voice soft. “You’re not a mistake. You never were.”

Silence stretched across the table.

Merritt raised his glass in a rare moment of seriousness. “She’s right. Even if I do like winding you up.”

Jack let out a shaky laugh, blinking fast. The knot in his chest loosened, just a little.

Danny sat back down, still watching him closely. “Next time you wanna doubt one of my decisions? You do it face to face so I can look you square in the eyes and tell you you’re wrong.”

Jack nodded, embarrassed but relieved. “Yeah. Okay.”

The conversation continued, flowing as if the altercation had never happened. It was back to the way it always was- and if this was the first time he had felt truely needed in the four horsemen, no one had to know. 

Chapter Text

The dull kitchen lights shone over the plan Dylan had scribbled messily onto the whiteboard in the kitchen, ranting endlessly about how important the mission is for their next heist. 

“We need two people watching the casino at all times, and what better way to do that than a couple?” Dylan had pointed at photos of ccv footage of the place, circling the numerous couples who came downtown to place bets in one of the largest casinos in the area, complete with an attached bar and club. 

Lula sighed, twirling a fake plastic thumb in her fingers. “Great. Awesome. Love to hear it. Guess I’ll go buy a dress- which one of you fuckers am I stuck with, anyway?”

Merritt chimed in from his spot on the table, looking equally uninterested. “Hey, you don’t know if you have to do it yet. Maybe it’s another Buffy situation.”

Dylan took a sip off his coffee before turning back to the board. “In fact it is. This casino is attached to a gay bar, where two of you will be keeping watch.” Lula grinned, always eager to get out of work, but Jack and Daniel seemed to have understood their fates at the same time. 

Merritt chuckled. “You put me in there with one of those kids as a ‘couple’ and we’re gonna have a whole other set of cops on our back. Guess you guys are goin’ together, huh? Try not to make out in front of the cameras. We don’t wanna watch.”

Jack could not believe what he was hearing. “You want us to… pretend to date?”

Dylan nodded with perfect seriousness. “Yes. It’s the best cover for an exclusive bar. They won’t look twice at a couple celebrating a special occasion.”

Jack groaned, turning to Daniel with not very well masked disgust (the idol thing gets a little old once they’re nagging you about household chores for a year). “So what, I have to hold your hand, laugh at your jokes, maybe even kiss you?”

Danny blinked, considered it, then said matter-of-factly, “Statistically, couples in casinos kiss about- I dont know- 100 percent more than friends do, so yes, it’s a possibility.”

Jack squinted. “…You measured that?”

“..You’re kidding.”

Later that night, Jack was fidgeting in his suit while Danny meticulously adjusted both their ties, eyes narrowed in judgement and concentration. 

“I can’t believe you don’t know how to tie a tie.”

“Why would I need to know that? My shirt works just fine.” Jack replied with a grin, loosening up the crimson tie Daniel had put on his neck moments before.

“You need to lean approximately three inches closer to me when we’re walking,” Danny said. “That’s the average space between romantic partners. Do not get any closer.”

Jack rubbed his face. “Normal people don’t think in inches, Danny. They just… lean.”

“Well I don’t exactly go on dates with you very often, wilder,” Danny said flatly, moving his own arm to test the angle against Jack’s shoulder. “There. That looks correct.”

Jack stared down at the arm now linked through his. “You’re killing me.”

The casino was overwhelming with its lights and noise, but Jack, ever the flirt, managed to play the part. Being able to bag someone came in handy when trying to bag their wallets, to be fair. Danny, however, looked like it was painful every time he tried to smile.

“Don’t grimace at me,” Jack muttered through his teeth. “You look like you hate me. Oh my god- are you homophobic?.”

Danny whispered back, “This is me smiling. I’m gonna beat your ass.”

“You look terrifying,” Jack said, kind of impressed. 

After waiting for their signal at the bar, they finally made their way to the blackjack table, where Danny launched into what he clearly thought was couple-banter. “Jack, your presence beside me statistically increases my chance of winning by a factor of- ”

Jack cut him off by laughing too loudly and draping an arm over his shoulder. With a glare to shut up Danny, he announced to the dealer: “It’s our anniversary tonight!”

Danny tensed, then nodded far too vigorously. “Yes. Second anniversary. We are committed to each other in an emotionally fulfilling partnership.”

The dealer gave them a look. Jack dug his nails into his palm to keep from groaning.

“All you need to do is win enough games to get to the VIP table,” Dylan said through an earpiece, watching them via the security cameras Merritt had kindly manipulated the janitor into giving them access to. “You know how to count cards, right?”

“Obviously,” Daniel replied for the both of them under his breath. “Who doesn’t?” 

Jack leaned into Daniel’s face, turning to look like a kiss, words spilling out of him before the latter could react. “I don’t even know how to play blackjack. I just scam people on the streets. This is my second time in a casino. Ever. You got this, tho!” Before Daniel could respond, the ‘kiss’ was over. Jack threw him a sheepish grin, which Daniel did not reciprocate. 

Before Daniel or Dylan could A. Yell at him, or B. Figure out a plan, they were already sitting at the table. 

Jack, as practiced, showed up smug and arrogant, secretly not sure what anything going on even means. 

Daniel grabbed him, forcing him almost halfway to the ground in what looked like a VERY aggressive kiss, leaving everyone else at the table violently uncomfortable. 

“Danny what the fuck-“

“I tap you twice you say ‘hit’. Once you say ‘fold’. Do not say anything else. All we have to do is win.”

He gets up first, ignoring the concerned and judgmental stares from others as they awkwardly pick up the game. Jack gets up from the ground moments after, throwing Danny a glare as he sits back down. 

Two taps. 

“Hit. Of course.” Jack smirked, confidence soaked in what feels like to him a random word, but judging by the looks of everyone at the table, seems to mean something along the lines of ‘I won.’

And that they did. When Daniel made a quiet ask about where the ‘good table’ is, he was redirected without another word to their target, surrounded by chips and equally intimidating looking guys. 

By the time they stumbled out of the casino, the intel was secured and their cover intact. Jack adjusted his jacket with a sigh of relief. “Well. Mission accomplished. Nobody saw through us. Wanna get some nachos? The drinks were awful. Well. Yours.”

Danny walked beside him, posture straight, voice calm. “Nobody saw through us except for the dealer who doubted my anniversary phrasing. I’ll refine it next time. And my drink was not awful. You’re just a child.”

Jack gave him a look. “First off, I’m like three years younger than you. And second, Danny, no one needs phrasing refinements. You sound like you swallowed a hallmark card. Can you just chill out next time.”

Danny tilted his head. “But isn’t that what couples sound like? I said stuff like this to Henley all the time.”

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. “And you wonder why she quit.” 

Danny shrugged, as unbothered as ever. “And yet the mission was successful. Which means, technically, I was right.”

Jack opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. He hated when Danny had a point.

They stopped by at some shitty mexican restaurant, Jack deciding Danny couldn’t end the night with whatever ‘dirt flavored’ drink he had gotten. (“What was it? Brooklyn?” “It’s a Manhattan,” Danny corrected with a pointed glare, scanning the menu as if he wasn’t going to get the same thing he gets every time.) Jack collapsed into the booth, exhausted. Danny sat cross-legged across from him, still frowning faintly.

“You carried the act,” Danny admitted. “I was underperforming. I’ll have to improve if we do this again. Though this would be something quite difficult to practice, considering the amount of unpredictable circumstances being the thing causing difficulty with the act- if only there was a way to replicate that unpredictability while practicing-”

“Please don’t practice. Please do not practice. You’re fine. It’s fine.” 

“So you’re calling me.. good at this?”

“No.”

Danny’s grin softens. “Then maybe we should try again sometime.”

Jack laughs nervously, heart thumping, but doesn’t deny the thought.