"No, you're not."

But even as he's denying his little brother's revelation, Danny thinks maybe he's known this for forever.

"I really think I am," Richie replies, his voice thick with annoyance.

"You think you are? Think. As in, maybe you're not." Danny gets up from the table to pace a short distance behind his abandoned chair. He feels the necessity to put some space between himself and his brother's inconvenient truth. Is this the kind of thing you can reason away? Probably not, but that doesn't stop Danny from trying.

"No. I definitely am." Richie sounds exhausted, which doesn't make sense since they've only just begun talking.

"Then why phrase it like that? Something must have made you hesitate." This moment is not happening. God please don't let it be happening, Danny silently begs. "See, you're not. You're just confused." Danny grasps the back of the kitchen chair and tries his best to sound authoritative.

"I'm not confused, Danny. I'm gay. As in, I like men. Gay."

Shit, shit, shit. Danny feels like the word is floating between them above the kitchen table. Gay. G-A-Y.

"Keep your voice down! Do you want everyone to hear you?" Some part of Danny has known for years that this conversation was coming. Danny's watched his little brother grow up from the day he was born, more observant than most siblings and even some parents. But he's been in denial for nearly as long and now that Richie's said the words, he impossibly wishes them unsaid.

"Everyone to hear me? Who's gonna hear me?" Again there is a tired frustration to Richie's reply for which Danny can't quite account.

"Mom for starters." Danny tries to imagine how his poor Ma, devotedly kneeling her Sundays away at the pews of St. Vincent's, will take this news. "It will break her heart, Richie."

"Mom knows."

This cuts Danny short. "She knows? How the hell does she know?" If she heard, or God forbid saw, something; well, Danny can't imagine the damage control.

"I told her."

"You told her?" As Danny's taking this information in, he is suddenly struck with the reality that Richie's revelation has very little to do with him. If Richie's gay, then Richie's gay, regardless of whether Danny approves or not.

"She's okay with it."

The stressed pronoun cuts home, just like Richie intended no doubt. But it hurts more that Richie went to their mother before coming to him. Shouldn't Danny be the obvious choice of confidant? "You told her? Before me? Why?"

"Because I knew this was how you'd react." Richie says it wearily, without bite, but it feels like a punch to the gut.

Shit, shit, shit. He's fucking this conversation up and worse Richie knew he would. Danny slumps back into the kitchen chair and pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. On those rare occasions when he'd dared to imagine this talk, this isn't how he'd hoped it would go down.

Richie must misinterpret his movements for anger because he begins somewhat desperately, "You're the first person I wanted to talk to. Believe me. But I was worried. I wasn't sure I could take your disappointment." Richie's voice sounds almost panicked as he pleads with his brother to understand him, to accept him. It breaks Danny's heart that Richie could even imagine that Danny could be disappointed in him.

All Danny's ever wanted for Richie was for him to be happy. But Danny knows firsthand that the world is full of people looking for any opportunity to put you down. He's wanted to so badly to keep him safe. He's realizing too late that in his efforts to protect Richie, he's become his very first bully. He vows right then and there to become his first ally. Or rather his second. Looks like their mom beat him to that one.

Danny gives his little brother, the man he all but raised, a small lopsided grin. "I'm not disappointed in you." Danny tells him sincerely, "A little in myself maybe, but I could never be disappointed in you, Richie."

Richie sends his brother a matching grin of his own. The small gesture from each brother serves to drain the last of the remaining tension from the room.

"So you're really, you know, gay?" Danny says relaxing back into his chair now. Richie nods. "And that whole speech about Natalie Wood having better legs than Rita Moreno…?" Danny trails off, teasing tone now in his voice.

"Sorry for the subterfuge but I just really wanted to watch West Side Story" Richie laughs. "Seriously though, I didn't want to keep any secrets from you."

Richie takes a nervous gulp from the water glass in front of him and adds "I don't want to keep any secrets from you." And then in response to Danny's wordless questioning, "I've met somebody. Somebody special."

"A guy," Danny adds, experimenting with the word. Richie nods.

"Great," Danny begins enthusiastic to show Richie just how supportive he can be. "Tell me about him. What's he do for a living?"

"About that. You're not gonna love it."

"What?" Danny replies in a hurt tone. "Just tell me. I know I can be a little judgmental, but didn't we just establish that I just want you to be happy? So out with it. What's he do?"

"He's in medicine, like you." Richie can't seem to make eye contact with his brother as he nervously pushes his glass back and forth across the table.

"Great! A man of science. Good taste." Really what's the worst it could be? Danny wonders to himself.

"Well, not exactly," Richie defers. "Ever heard of midwifery?"