Danny can't even remember the first time he had to say, "you're not my type," to Jackson. Somewhere along the line it just became something he had to remind his best friend every once in a little while.
The thing that sometimes drives Danny crazy, it's the way Jackson says, "I'm everyone's type" as if he's somehow daring Danny, as if everyone has to fall at his feet, as if not even his best friend can be immune to his charms. It usually makes Danny roll his eyes but sometimes it just irritates him how much of an egocentric jerk Jackson can be.
But Jackson is also his best friend and there aren't many people that can claim that Jackson cares about them and somehow, Danny is one of those selected few, and he's grateful, honestly.
Then, one day, at yet another one of Jackson's implications that Danny should really be into him, Danny decides to show him just how much he's wrong.
He uses his body to push Jackson against the wall of the locker room and kisses him just to prove that kissing Jackson Whittermore has absolutely no effect whatsoever on Danny.
Except that when Jackson doesn't do anything besides kissing back, something shifts. Danny feels a shiver running down his spine and when Jackson grabs Danny's head between his hands, Danny almost lets out a growl. He pushes away because he's not about to let Jackson win this argument. He pulls back and says, "I didn't feel a thing."
But Jackson grins as if saying, "Whatever lets you sleep at night," then turns around, picks up his stuff and leaves.
A week later they're avoiding what happened. Danny is pretty sure Jackson has filed that kiss under yet another reason why everyone should find him irresistible, and it's irritating so Danny tries his best to pretend that nothing ever happened. Jackson still isn't his type, honestly.
Things change while they're studying for chemistry one afternoon over at Jackson's place.
"Chemistry is a funny thing," Jackson says, and Danny doesn't know whether he's imagining the flirtatious tone or not.
"Really?" he simply comments, his eyes still glued to his book.
Jackson leans forward, puts his hand over the page so Danny has to look up. "You don't understand it, until you do."
It doesn't make sense and Danny has to stop himself from laughing. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"When you kissed me, I felt it." He grins in that boyish/devilish way of his and leans even closer. "You liked it." He pulls back a moment later, slouching against the chair. "It's okay. I liked it too."
Danny really wants to reach out and slap him but he stops himself and tries to ignore it.
"So, what are we going to do?"
"What do you mean?"
"I was thinking, we could kiss again, to find out for sure whether I'm really not your type." He's smirking satisfied and Danny would love to pretend Jackson doesn't exists, but his eyes dart to the bed before he can stop himself and then Jackson is getting up from his chair and walking towards it.
Perhaps, having a type is bullshit. At least when it comes down to them.