applesaucedream | Blessed are the vagrant, lonely are the static ones [closed]

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Blessed are the vagrant, lonely are the static ones [closed]

Loose change can only take one so far in terms of public transport and it's well past noon and Daniel hasn't even eaten today, so he elects to walk even if it is, as his luck would have it, raining very heavily. The present downpour is a great deal more copious than is fair considering the streak of abysmal events that have led him along to this unremarkable moment in his life.

In an effort to avoid the downpour he ducks into the closest establishment he can find, a cramped-looking café or deli sort of place that probably doesn't appreciate him dripping all over the faded blue tile floors and maneuvering awkwardly around the tables so he can get to the farthest, most out-of-the-way corner booth he can find. Shaking wet hair from his eyes, he shoves his two bags beneath it with less care than is really warranted. Both bags are already battered and falling apart at the corners enough, and they hold every possession Daniel has left in the world.

The sole barista at the counter doesn't look happy to (a) be maintaining an almost empty establishment on a spectacularly rainy late afternoon or (b) have to deal with the colony of puddles steadily collecting beneath Daniel's table as he hunches his shoulders and tries to count out his change to see if he has enough to avoid being thrown out for loitering. It's not looking optimistic. He wilts a little at the realization and shoots a nervous glance at the barista who has ceased her mechanical wiping of the countertop to level a simmering glower at him, fingers drumming, silently daring Daniel to think of a reason for why he should be the least bit welcome here. At the present moment, he's coming up empty. He swallows hard and returns to recounting his change in the blind hope that he's miscalculated.

Five minutes and seven recounts later, Daniel deposits the change onto the booth table with a shower of wet clinks and stares at the little pile of coins miserably. Ladies and gentlemen, we present to the board Dr. Daniel Jackson, thirty-one and already the archaeological hack of the decade, homeless and in debt and probably about to get thrown back out into the rain very soon on account of him being unable to afford even a cup of coffee to alleviate the pounding headache drilling itself into the center of his forehead.

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It's impressive what a good business deal can do for your mood. Seth is still feeling particularly cheery from last night's success, and he had planned to spend today treating himself to a shopping trip, go looking for more music, maybe get himself a new leather jacket - this one is starting to look a bit rougher than he'd like. But then it had started raining, and Seth had ducked into this place and bought himself a late lunch.

He's on his third cup now - his first had been coffee but then he'd switched to tea since it looked like he'd be there a while, and there's a limit to how caffeinated you want to be - which he's been drinking very slowly, but tipping well to make up for it. Then again, it's not like the place is cramped and they'd want to shuffle him out to make room for new people. He's just been feeling particularly giving at the moment.

The door chimes and Seth looks up at the man stepping inside, a bit older than him, and looking a little like he swam here. It's not an unattractive look for him actually, though perhaps a little woeful. Seth watches curiously, noting the bags, and then the increasing desperation with which the man counts his change, then the following despair. He weirdly reminds Seth of an over-sized lost puppy.

Seth drains his cup and gets to his feet, strolling casually over to the man, and slipping into the booth across from him. "What're ya having?" he asks, leaned forward with his hands folded on the table in front of him, and with a smile that is perhaps a bit more cocky than it has any right being.

He's content to sit and watch the water pool in his booth and over his bags and on the table a little, mentally preparing himself to get hauled back onto his feet and thrust unceremoniously back into the deluge, when one of the place's few customers saunters right over and sits across from him without so much as a excuse me, is this seat taken? Apparently he doesn't find the obviously sopping wet hair and waterlogged clothing and pitiful little stack of coins to be too off-putting. Or maybe he does. Maybe the barista didn't want to leave the counter, so she asked this man to throw him out instead. Except he's smiling, not altogether unfriendly. So that's good?

Daniel looks at him through the rivulets still running down his glasses and squints, trying to determine the nature of the question. Is that meant to be sarcastic? It doesn't sound very sarcastic.

Daniel sneezes.

"Um," he says.

One hand creeps over to the pile of change to self-consciously slide if off the table and into his hands.

"Nothing, it looks like," he mumbles, transferring his stare to the floor.

God, look at this poor guy. He looks so defeated it's impossible not to feel for him. And the way he looks at his lamentably small stack of change feels a little too familiar to Seth. He's definitely been there, well, for the majority of his life, really. Not a fun place to be.

"I'm buying you lunch," he clarifies, his voice softening a little. "Or an early supper, probably. Come on, what're you having? Tea, coffee, cocoa?" he suggests. He definitely looks like he needs something warm, that's for sure. He glances over at the menu. They don't seem to have a wide selection of meals, but there's a few options. "Maybe a sandwich, or some eggs and sausages?"

"Uh." Apparently he looks pathetic enough for some random stranger to take pity on him which is...great. Gosh, remember when Daniel had dreams and aspirations? He's going to be a great explorer one day, mom.

So now he's...this.

"Coffee," he says slowly, looking at the other guy with a mild paranoia, halfway expecting this to be some sort of elaborate prank, "would be, uh, would be great. Thanks?"

Well, part of it may be taking pity, but a not unsignificant part is related to Daniel's broad shoulders and strong jaw and soft-looking lips. These things were definitely part of the consideration when he decided to walk over.

He waves the barista over and orders a coffee for the guy, and another tea for himself, and tipping to make up for the way the guy's dripping all over their furniture. If he turns out to be interesting in addition to attractive, Seth will probably insist on feeding him too.

"What's with the cases?" he asks curiously.

So, not a prank then. Or not - well, Daniel is assuming this is in good spirit. Though he still doesn't understand why this man's attention is suddenly being directed at him. Short of being a nuisance for the employees, he's not exactly much to look at. Really, he's pretty much the equivalent of a wet stray dog - academically, metaphorically, and only a rearrangement of skeletal structure away from that being literally as well.

He'll accept the coffee. Assuming it's, well, in good spirit.

"Oh, uh." Daniel rubs at his nose nervously as he glances down at his bags, offering a tiny attempt at smile to the floor. It comes out as a pained, self-deprecating little wince. "Got kicked out. Couldn't keep with the rent."

God, he can just feel himself sinking into his seat as he says it. Triple PhD., and the world should be his to discover. The success stories seem to neglect any mention of what happens when no one likes your theories, when being friends with the landlord doesn't save you from becoming the problem tenant, when you don't even have a parent's house to fall back on due to early childhood tragedy. He's technically an archaeologist, even if by now it's only in title and no longer in practice - he should have legal rights to allowing the earth to swallow him up when the situation badly calls for it.

"Been there," he answers with a nod, a simple way to say he's sympathetic but not judging.

He knows he would've hated for anyone to pity him in that situation, and God knows he's familiar enough with being looked down upon for being poor. Which is also how he knows a little kindness goes a long way in keeping spirits up. It's not nearly enough for actually getting by, of course, but there's only so much most people feel okay accepting. Especially from a total stranger.

"I'm Seth, by the way," he adds, leaning back as their drinks are brought to them, trying to rectify the 'total strangers' part a bit.

"Daniel Jackson." He deliberately leaves off the title of "doctor" because well, not anymore, not really. But the way...Seth, okay...says "been there" implies a sense of camaraderie, significantly reducing the chance of this being an unfriendly exchange.

He brightens a little when the drinks come their way and has to reign back the urge to drain the paper cup on impulse. Almost immediately he pops off the lid, takes a gulp of the decidedly revolting contents, and wraps his hands around it for warmth. Daniel doesn't care if the stuff is basically akin to superheated plasma in both temperature and taste or how it makes his esophagus feel like it's shriveling a bit - he hasn't eaten today and the caffeine withdrawal has been playing a horrible cacophony in his head for the past twelve hours. His faint shivering dies a little, and Daniel's second attempt at a smile succeeds even if it happens to be a little weary.

"Thanks."

Seth wonders if Daniel has anywhere to stay, whether perhaps he spent his last money on a hotel room for the night, but he somehow finds it unlikely. And if he's lugging around suitcases in this weather, chances are he's not staying with a friend. He might be on his way there, of course, but Seth wouldn't assume so. He almost wants to offer Daniel a space on his couch right then and there (or his bed, if he's so inclined), but that's definitely too forward. Even if he strangely feels like he knows Daniel somehow.

"No problem," he answers with a smile, taking a much more relaxed approach with his own drink. "I came into some money last night, so I was supposed to go on a spending spree. Instead I've mostly been spending it on drinks here, thanks to the weather. Might as well share it, eh?"

He's always a little wary of letting people know he's got money, since the people looking to relieve you of it seem to come out of the woodwork, but Daniel hardly looks like the type to do something like that. Like he's the sort of bloke you just automatically trust.

"Thank you," he says again, because it really does bear repeating. "I wasn't really desperate to get back out there."

He takes another eager gulp of his terrible coffee, not even caring that it's terrible, because it's the first fluids his body has had in hours besides rain and the occasional puddle thrown up by a passing car.

"So you're uh," Daniel scrambles to think of something remotely clever, just to prove Seth isn't wasting his money, "bit of a poor man's philanthropist?"

Yes, hello, Earth? Daniel would like you to swallow him up now and disappear him from the face of everything, please and thank you.

"Can't think why," he answers, glancing behind himself to look out the windows, where it's still coming down heavily. Not the most tempting, no.

At Daniel's question he grins a little, shaking his head. "I wouldn't say that. You're unlikely to find me at the soup kitchens. Guess I just liked the look of ya." He's not regretting coming over, so he's trying to make that clear. Daniel's obvious awkwardness and suppressed embarrassment is only making Seth more fond of him. Perhaps because he sees himself so easily in it, and it makes him feel weirdly relaxed, like he doesn't need to pretend too much in front of him.

The...look of him.

Daniel frowns, mouth parting a little in puzzlement. Sure, he supposes he stands out by virtue of the water streaming liberally from his rain-saturated hair and jacket, but otherwise...

"Oh," is all he says, and he promptly feels extremely dumb. Which, after stumping around in the streets for two hours following his latest humiliating failure in erudition, is saying kind of a lot. "Um. Okay."

Okay. Daniel has no idea what that's supposed to mean.

Daniel's confusion only makes Seth smile more, though he tries to suppress it a little - he doesn't want to seem like he's laughing at him. He's not entirely sure if Daniel's uncomfortable with being complimented by a guy, or if he's just outright confused, but it does seem more like the latter.

"You can tell me if you're not interested, I'm not extorting conversation in return for caffeine here," he says mildly.

"No no no, it's fine, it's, um," he hastens to correct himself. This guy went out of his way to buy him coffee and the least he can do is give him a mildly engaging conversation. He waves one hand at himself illustratively and immediately stops when the movement sends small droplets skittering across the table. "I'm just. Dripping."

Eloquent. Truly.

"Sorry," mumbles Daniel, trying to sip at his coffee at a more acceptable rate. "I've been, uh. It's been a bad day. Bad year. Bad...everything."

Seth frowns sympathetically, watching Daniel for a moment. The guy's pretty much soaked to the bone, and even during this decently mild weather, he's not unlikely to catch his death if he walks around like this. And if he's not got anywhere to stay, nowhere to dry off...

"D'you wanna.." he starts, though he's not sure how to phrase it. He did literally just meet the guy, and knows next to nothing about him. He knows his name, and that he's found himself homeless. Still...

"I live right around the corner," he continues finally. "I bet you have some slightly drier clothes in one of those bags. You can borrow my bathroom to change."

"What? I mean -" Woah, did that come out of nowhere? Daniel's at least ninety percent sure it did. He looks up at Seth in a startled, vaguely terrified sort of way that quite clearly spells out that he had definitely not been expecting this. Then he realizes his behavior is probably not coming off as very friendly or sociable at all, and races to correct it. "I mean, I - sorry. I'm just not really used to, um."

He cringes. Where's that expressive verbosity that so impressed Dr. Jordan and landed him a scholarship? Did he lose that along with any trace of his academic ambition?

Evidently yes.

"Sure," he says finally, a tad desperate to salvage the offer before Seth decides he's too much of a bother. It would be right in line with the sort of luck he's been having, after all. "Sure. Thank you. That'd be great."

See, this is how Seth knows Daniel absolutely wasn't fishing for any help. You just can't fake looking that completely taken aback. How surprised he is at just being offered a little friendly help. Given his situation, it's probably been a while...

He smiles and nods, pleased when Daniel accepts the offer. "Well," he says, looking back out the window. "It's let up a little bit. Don't think it's likely to stop raining completely for ages, so we should probably just go while it's not as heavy. Not like you can get much wetter."

He looks down at himself, every inch waterlogged, and back up again.

"Fair enough." He really can't get much wetter, and if there's any more ensuing soaking to be done, Daniel would really like to get it over with now. Once more unto the breach and all.

After a moment's deliberation, he drains the remainder of his coffee without much regard for the still-scalding temperature then gets semi-unsteadily to his feet, tripping a little over the bags when he stoops to drag them back out. There's not much he can do to hide how small and shabby they both are, so Daniel just opts to try to get out of the building as quickly as possible to avoid further exposure to the animosity still radiating from behind the countertop.

Seth gets to his feet as well, abandoning the tea he's barely taken a sip of. It wasn't that good anyway, he's got better at home. Or perhaps he'll put on coffee to get this guy a second cup. He still looks like he needs it. He doesn't look like he needs help with his bags though, with how huge he is and how small the bags are.

Seth pulls up his hood, which is unfortunately part of the cloth hoodie, not the leather jacket, so it won't do a terribly good job at keeping out the rain, but it'll have to do. He can change too when he gets back.

"Ready?" he asks with a smile back at Daniel, then leads the way outside and down the street, shoulders hunched up against the rain.

He nods wordlessly and follows, though not before having a kinematically clumsy moment where he has to hold the door open with his shoulder while he tries to keep one of his bags from getting caught in the doorway but manages to peel away from the establishment with minimal damage to the cases or his person.

The icy torrential is a shock to Daniel's nervous system even though he braced himself before stepping out beforehand, his unhelpfully pre-drenched clothing doing very little in terms of warmth or protection from the downpour. He just hopes Seth wasn't lying about living right around the corner, because it's been less than five minutes and Daniel is already shivering again.

The streaks of rainwater streaming down his lenses are making his already weather-obscured vision even worse. Dimly, he hopes he doesn't trod on Seth's feet by accident. That wouldn't be the best in terms of first impressions for the first charitable person he's stumbled across in years.

"It's just up here," he says through the rain, and turns into a side alley. It's a little more shielded from the rain here, the buildings on each side and stuff overhead blocking out a lot of it, but unfortunately also shielded from the view of the general public.

Which is probably the exact thoughts of the guy who'd been skulking around there, and as they pass, suddenly shoves Seth into Daniel, then takes advantage of them being unbalanced to snatch one of Daniel's cases right from his hands and take off down the street.

It probably says something about how used to this kind of stuff Seth is that he has the instincts to immadiately push himself upright and bolt down after the guy. In normal circumstances Seth night not have been able to catch up so easily, but that bag must be pretty inconvenient to run with, so even with him having a late start, it's only a short intense sprint before Seth manages to grab the back of the guy's jacket and pull him to a sort of stop.

He throws a punch that doesn't quite connect, but is still enough to make the mugger reconsider and drop the bag, before wrenching himself free and running away. At this point Seth is more concerned about Daniel's possessions than he is about giving the guy a solid banging, so he stops for a moment to catch his breath, then stoops to pick up the bag and heads back to return it to its proper owner.

Daniel generally does his best to avoid dark alleyways that look like they might be unpleasant, but as of late he hasn't had the luxury of getting to steer clear from them so much. And Seth seems earnest enough so he trails after him, trusting that they're going the right way and that they won't be unexpectedly shoved by someone lurking just off to the side and toppled to the ground so one of Daniel's bags containing everything he has left to his name can be dragged off, which of course is exactly what happens.

It takes him a moment to regain his coordination after Seth gets pushed into him and sends Daniel smacking into the alley wall and sliding halfway to the ground, and he's hardly in the best physical shape to go dashing after the guy or fighting back. But Seth takes off after him instead to his surprise, leaving Daniel to claw at the wall in the effort to get back to his feet. He should be pelting after the thief, fighting tooth and nail to retrieve what belongs to him, but right now the string of horrible karma has all but crushed any pretense of resolve, so Daniel simply sags against the wall in abject defeat. For all he knows Seth could have set this up and conspired with the second guy, and Daniel being the obviously homeless, totally alone, and extremely physically nonthreatening guy that he is, of course he'd been the perfect target.

Of course.

So his mouth drops open a little in shock when Seth comes back, holding the lost bag no less, and his mouth works a little for a moment before he can come up with something adequate in response.

"Um. Thanks," Daniel says breathlessly, fumbling to rearrange the glasses that were knocked askew in the struggle. "You didn't have to - thanks."

Poor Daniel still hasn't recovered by the time Seth returns, and in fact looks pretty surprised to see him. Which, Seth has enough self-awareness and familiarity with how these guys operate to guess what Daniel might've been thinking, and it's a little disheartening to see how Daniel hasn't even tried to fight back. It's like he's given up.

"I hate people who think it's okay to steal from those who've got just as little as them," Seth says, walking over and offering him a hand to get up. "Sorry about that. This is a shortcut, and I figured no one would be trying shit like that in this weather." Guy must've been pretty desperate. Of course, with that delay, Seth's getting about as extra soaked as he would've been if they hadn't taken the shortcut, but what can you do. Nothing got successfully taken, and Daniel doesn't seem hurt.

"Thank you," Daniel mutters again, touched by the other man's compassion, taking pity on him and then going out of his way to help more than once. He accepts the hand and then the bag, shoulders hunching in mild humiliation at having to twice now be rescued.

"Look, I'd understand if you didn't want to, um. It's okay if you just want to, well, you know." He waves the re-appropriated bag vaguely at the direction they just came from, before they were beset by the would-be mugger. "You've done enough is, is what I'm saying."

Edited 2014-11-12 21:43 (UTC)

Seth has to smile a little and shake his head in disbelief. Daniel seems properly grateful at the help, and he's also given Seth the impression of being a generally good-natured if someone downtrodden guy, not wanting to be a burden - and not out of pride either, but just out of concern for the person he'd be a burden on. The idea that Seth could just ditch him right here is completely ludicrous. He might not be able to help much with Daniel's general situation, but at the very least he's going to fulfill his offer.

"Come on, it's just through here," he says, giving Daniel's back a pat and leading the way again. Daniel's suggestion is so inconceivable and easily dismissed out of hand that Seth doesn't even think it merits a response.

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