A Little Less Conversation by InSilva

Summary: sometimes friends can be really sympathetic. Other times, less so. Occasionally, they're really, really not funny.

Disclaimer: no characters herein are mine. Heck, the title isn't even mine. ;-)

The doorbell rang. Danny opened the door on a breathless Livingston.

"How is he? I came as soon as I heard and I brought grapes. I brought cookies too," he pushed two bags at Danny. "I mean I thought of grapes first because that's kind of traditional but then I thought, no, he's more of a cookie person. And I figured we could always eat the grapes..."

Rusty appeared at Danny's shoulder. Disbelief flooded Livingston's face.

"You're not sick!" He looked accusingly at Danny. "He's not sick!"

Danny threw a half-glance at Rusty accompanied by a half-shrug. "Few loose morals, maybe, but..."

"I was told you were sick," Livingston grabbed the bags back from Danny's unresisting hands, clutched them to his chest and glared at Rusty as if he had committed some cardinal sin such as denying that Betamax video had had merit.

"Come in, Livingston, why don't you," Danny invited, standing back and letting Livingston into the apartment.

Reluctantly, still scowling at Rusty, Livingston entered and Danny shut the door.

"I'll have you know I dropped everything to come running. The least you could do is look ill."

Rusty opened his mouth and shut it again. He looked at Danny to explain. Danny nodded.

"Thing is, Livingston, he's not actually sick, sick. But-"

The doorbell went again. This time, the twins, Yen, Basher, Frank, Saul and Reuben stood there.

"Hi, Danny," Frank began then broke off looking at Rusty. "He's not ill! You're supposed to be ill!"

Yen said something that ended in "piece of shit". Rusty looked pained.

"Come on in, everyone, " Danny motioned them in to Rusty's apartment. "And enlighten us as to why you all think Rusty's seriously unwell."

"He made it sound like you were at death's door," Basher shook his head. "One step away from being brown bread."

"We drove all the way here from Carson City," Virgil added. "Man, you can't cry wolf on something like this."

Turk nodded, for once in complete agreement with his brother.

"Slow down," Danny said. "Who told you Rusty was on his death bed?"

Linus appeared in the doorway.

"Never mind, " Danny sighed.

Linus looked round at a sea of reaction. "What?" he asked and then, "Rusty? Should you be up and about?"

Everyone started talking at the same time and Danny held his hands up to still the hubbub. "Quiet! Quiet!"

When he had silence, he looked at Linus. "What led you to believe Rusty was so very ill that you felt the need to summon everyone?" He indicated the circle of friends.

"Well..." Linus licked his lips nervously. "I rang Rusty up and...he..." he broke off and waved a hand at Rusty.

Rusty rolled his eyes. "I said I'd had a bout of laryngitis, I'd lost my voice and now was not a good time to speak." At least that's what he tried to say. What emerged was a series of high-pitched noises and half-words as unlike Rusty as imaginable. And the words "not" and "good" were prominent. Everyone's eyes turned to him.

"What?" he squeaked again. "Haven't any of you ever lost your voice before? Oh, for..."

A ripple of laughter that might have started with Turk, possibly Basher, built until they were all laughing hard. Except Rusty. He looked stonily at Danny whose lips were twitching.

Don't. You. Dare.

"OK, OK," Danny called them back to order. "So Linus thought you were sick and phoned everyone. That I get. And you all decided to come running. That I get. But did no one think to call me to check?"

There was a silence as they all looked at each other. Most of them hung their heads.

"I did," Saul said with a hint of smugness.

"So did I," Reuben added, the smugness even more in evidence.

"So that's-" Danny broke off as a couple of phone conversations now made a lot more sense. "But you came anyway..."

"Of course," Saul said. "You think I'd pass up a chance to get out and visit? At my age, the invites don't come through that often."

Reuben produced a bottle of malt from the bag he was carrying. From the clinking sound, it did not appear to be unaccompanied. "Figured we'd either be having a wake or a party."

Danny looked at Rusty.

They mean well.

They can stay. But I warn you if they laugh too much, I'm having a major sense of humour failure.

Just learn to be less vocal, then.

Rusty rolled his eyes.

Later, much later.

"So, this less vocal thing..."

What about it?

"You think it could catch on?"

Rusty looked unamused. Positively sulking, in fact.

"Come on, they came because they cared."

They came because they cared but they stayed to mock.

There had been a lot of mocking, Danny had to admit. He himself had not been the most sympathetic when Rusty had first lost his voice though the novelty had worn off. The novelty was still there for the others though and they had been merciless. Virgil and Turk in particular had tried to get Rusty to speak in order to produce the desired combination of high-pitched yelps that made everyone disintegrate. They'd figured out early on that the best way was to pump Danny for reminiscences that Rusty just had to contribute to and correct. The resulting laughter had been loud and hearty. Danny had fought hard not to join in because Rusty's eyes promised death if he did.

Judging by the way Rusty was looking at him now, he must have lapsed.

Danny sighed. "I kept Livingston's cookies," he said, offering the olive branch.

Rusty prepared himself to forgive.