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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Daniel doesn't laugh so much as he just exhales sharply, a bitter huff of air full of concentrated resentment and irony and frustration and not the slightest ounce of humor.

"Hah, yeah," he mutters, now giving his coffee an intense look of concentration that its inaction hasn't fully warranted. "Lots of degrees and lots of debt and absolutely no fallback because you don't even have parents to -"

He breaks the sentence off, biting his lip. He is - not going to think about that. He really does not need to think about that. That is the last thing he needs right now. Daniel lets his head drop to his chest, giving into the weight of gravity and his numbing mental exhaustion and the sum of his failures, academic and otherwise, and breathes a weary, defeated sigh and hopes that they can just leave it at that.

Seth kind of feels like he's put his foot in it, but he doesn't even have time to be embarrassed, because he's too busy with feeling the sharp jab of sympathy for Daniel.

Even with his mam always working, he's always known she'd be there someone who'd be there if things got too bad. Just some small sense of security. Hell, his dad's still alive, Seth knows how to find him even if they haven't really spoken in years. If things were that desperate, he could've surely guilted something out of him.

He doesn't know what to say, because even if Seth is familiar with what it's like to be broke and homeless and with no prospects, he doesn't think he's ever had it that bad, to be so alone. There's just no way to offer proper sympathies for that, and Daniel doesn't exactly look like he'd be comfortable talking about it to a near stranger.

"Stay here tonight," he says suddenly, saying fuck it to the idea of finding a way to work that in smoothly. "You can have the couch. I'll order in some food. And I won't take no for an answer."

He doesn't mind the protracted silence; he welcomes the time to organize his thoughts, shuffle the blinding early childhood memories and the frustration aimed at academic institutions in general quietly under the proverbial table, reorder everything so he can just be grateful for the quiet and the coffee and the company of a guy who didn't have to be this generous and share his own space but did regardless.

When Seth speaks again, making less of a proposal so much as a firm declaration, Daniel jolts up to look at him, startled. For a moment he has trouble responding to that - how does he respond to that exactly, when it came so completely out of nowhere?

"Er - thanks," he manages after a few failed, inaudible attempts to protest, because he'd frankly be an idiot to refuse. Okay, so he is an idiot according to some of the more prominent archaeological minds and even the less prominent ones, himself included -

Daniel is getting off track. It'd be rude to refuse the hospitality when it's being so willingly given, and Seth seems genuinely determined for him to stay the night regardless. Daniel isn't about to go up against that sort of resolve when he's so tired and choiceless, especially when it's so obviously an offer in good faith.

Then his shoulders drop a little.

"I can't - pay you," he begins haltingly. Back to staring at the coffee. Coffee doesn't feel disappointment. Coffee just is. "Er, I can't, I don't know how to repay you, I mean. I wish - you don't have to do any of this."

"But I want to," he answers immediately, honestly. That should be reason enough, shouldn't it? Seth avoids doing anything he doesn't want to, he's not the sort to let himself be bullied into anything. If he helps someone out, it's because he genuinely feels like they deserve it, that it's worth his time. And he definitely feels that with Daniel. He wishes that Daniel wouldn't have to feel like he's putting Seth out, like he somehow has to earn his stay or that he's undeserving or just having someone do him a favour.

But Seth can't really do anything about that, so all he can do is insist on letting Daniel help him, and that will have to be enough. Seth doesn't have that much to give, but when you've got nothing, a little goes a long way.

"Which reminds me, I'm getting hungry," he powers on, setting down the mug and leaning over to a side table to fish out a small stack of menus of nearby places that deliver. "Do you like Thai?"

"Um. Sure." Seth is being insistent, so Daniel swallows all of his remaining objections with the rest of his coffee and smiles faintly at the empty mug. "Thai's fine."

Thai is more than fine. He's warm and dry and caffeinated and, all right, he'll admit it - he feels safe. It's not a feeling Daniel has any great familiarity with, but he finds he doesn't mind it. He'd be content with just this but now Seth is offering food on top of it, and he hasn't eaten in something like twelve hours though he's long since lost track, and if this is the universe finally giving him a break then Daniel is going to be intensely grateful and hold onto this break for as long as he can.

Seth grabs his phone and calls up one of the local places, ordering them both some food. He gets Daniel some basic, unintimidating chicken curry in case he's not used to that kind of food, giving him a look to make sure that sounds alright, before hanging up again.

"Food's on its way," he says, perhaps unnecessarily. Even if he already feels pretty familiar and comfortable with Daniel, he doesn't really know what to talk about. He could ask more about his past, about his work, about what kind of ridiculous theories it is he's been having, but he doesn't want to dig into anything painful.

He nods, unwilling to relinquish the mug due to it being the only object he has to occupy his hands. So he sits and stares at it, thumb running absently up and down the curved handle, studying the material of the mug's design without much interest in defining what it happens to be comprised of.

Were Daniel in a state of more self-confidence in his oratory abilities he's certain he would be a fantastic conversationalist, but as it is he currently has very little faith in his capability to maintain a discussion that won't inevitably steer itself to one of two polarities, the first being yet another "thank you," words he's certain Seth is tired of hearing, and the second being, bizarrely, "sorry about all this". Also the previous, oh, dozen or so attempts he's made in engaging in excitable scholarly discourse resulted in him being glared out of the room, or everyone else leaving the room, or him being asked to leave the room in case the glaring was too subtle, and his hands have really tightened around this mug, haven't they?

Daniel hastily forces himself to relax his grip with a small start. Well. Whoops. What a wonderful, talkative guest he is.

"So," he says, a desperate attempt to put effort into words and talking as is polite and socially expected from most people, a reciprocation of discussion about one's personal life, sure, let's go with that since that seems to be the people's choice of popular topic today. "Um, what about you? In terms of, um, you know? Personal life?"

Oh, for want of a halfway decent segue. Spectacular, truly. Didn't he take a class, several classes even, on oral communications?

Seth slowly starts to worry about the mug in Daniel's hands, but then Daniel seems to realise what he's doing. He also seems to realise that some of the burden of conversation has fallen to him, since Seth is worried about saying the wrong thing. And then when he's asked about himself, Seth still isn't sure what to say.

"I dunno," he answers, giving a half shrug. "Not much to say. Live here. Workin at the supermarket. No degrees, that's for sure, no A-levels neither." He doesn't quite manage to be unashamed of this, but he does a decent job pretending to be. There are certain things he refuses to let anyone judge him for. What else is there to say?

"Go out with mates sometimes, or we go see a concert. No girlfriend," he continues, and only hesitates for second or two before finishes with, "or boyfriend." He sounds and looks casual, but he's gauging Daniel's reaction intently.

He nods, relieved that the question seems to have gone over well enough. But the response just makes him laugh a little, shaky and self-critical, and he keeps staring at his mug because he's quite frankly scared to look anywhere else.

"Well, you're a step ahead of me, then," mutters Daniel, realizing too late that he hadn't particularly intended to say any of that aloud at all, "all those degrees and I don't...I mean, social recluse, gotta failed ex-relationship, pretty well universally despised, oh yeah, education is a guaranteed success story."

Voicing it just makes him feel more awful. He drops his shoulders.

"Sorry. Didn't, uh. We probably shouldn't make this the pity parade on my account." He cringes at his obvious efforts to salvage the conversation into something less along the lines of 'let's wallow in our mutual misfortune'. "Just, you know. Bad day. That's all."

Well, that could've gone a lot worse, but it also could've gone better. Complete lack of notice probably means Daniel doesn't consider it noteworthy. Which, sure, is great if Seth's only looking to be accepted and open about it, but not as helpful in determining whether Daniel has any interest of his own. Seth feels like he would've at least acknowledged it with a lot or something had that been the case. Then again, Daniel seems to have a lot on his mind, understandably so. And given his current complete lack of self-esteem as far as Seth can tell, perhaps he doesn't consider anything like that relevant or even a remote possibility.

Seth's not interested in a pity parade either, not because he doesn't have sympathy for Daniel - because he does, in buckets. But he'd much rather see him smile. Distract him from even needing the pity.

He lets his arm that's on the back of the couch fall over to put a hand gently on Daniel's shoulder, to get him to look up at him. "I don't despise you," he says with a small smile.

The light touch to his shoulder almost makes him jump as he looks up, caught off guard, but as soon as he understands its nature Daniel relaxes. He hadn't anticipated that at all but the physical contact is welcome, the subtle reminder that he's still here, still human, still a person that someone out there gives a damn about. It's the most he's gotten in a while.

"Well that's, um." The corner of his mouth twitches in the early stages of a feeble smile. "That's a, uh, hundred percent increase in people who don't despise me since a minute ago so. So that's good."

Somewhere in that mess was a clever statement about how grateful Daniel is to hear that, how badly he needed it from someone, but he really mangled that one up beyond repair. Hopefully the sentiment still stands.

Seth's smile widens a little upon having it returned, and since Daniel seemed to react positively to the touch once he'd gotten over the surprise, Seth just leaves his hand lying there for now. He has a feeling Daniel doesn't get a lot of friendly touches, if he can barely get any reasonably friendly conversation.

"I mean, I know I only just met you," he continues quietly, his smile getting a joking quality, but kindly so, almost affectionately. "But I think I would even go as far as to say I like you."

"Ooh, careful there," answers Daniel, now playing along, "unsupported conclusions are no one's friend."

The smile is definitely working its way out, even if it happens to be arriving at a snail's pace. And there's something to be said about the spirit of reciprocity, so Daniel goes ahead and lets one of his hands drift up to rest over the hand on his shoulder. Just - a physical confirmation of how grateful he is for all of this.

"Well," Seth answers, his smile becoming an actual grin by now. "I mean, it's only a theory. I'd have to do some research to confirm it."

Is he being obvious? He's pretty sure he's being obvious, but Daniel is reciprocating, Daniel's got his hand on Seth's, and it's warm now, not cold like when Seth helped him to his feet. And he is looking at him with those ridiculously blue eyes and smiling, finally actually smiling, and his still somewhat damp hair falling slightly in front of his face. It's very difficult to focus on anything else at the moment.

Daniel wishes he could come up with something minimally clever to keep with the witty repartee they have going here, but he thinks he only manages a couple vowel-sounding noises that once upon a time had every intention of becoming words someday if they worked very hard and ate all their vegetables.

This is...new. It's new. Seth is really, really looking at him and smiling and Daniel swallows hard because ohhhh god he has had exactly one relationship and it ended after two months on account of Daniel's inability to pay attention to anything besides his work. Is that where this is even going? He could very easily be reading this all wrong. His judge of character does not have a perfect, spotless track record and he doesn't fully trust his perception of these events. Except there is this, there is this with the - staring and the smiling and the hands which, when gauged individually could mean any number of things but when examined as the sum of their parts happen to be maybe possibly leading to a very definitive road except Daniel doesn't actually know, he could be getting this all wrong.

Oh god but they are, for all intents and purposes, holding hands. They are holding hands, and maybe at this point he makes a faintly surprised noise in the back of his throat.

Daniel isn't saying anything - well, Daniel isn't saying any words, and Seth is a little bit worried, just a little worry mixed in with the smiling and the thrill and the beating of his heart which has suddenly gotten a lot louder without him noticing until just now.

And Daniel swallows, and Seth's eyes are drawn to the way his Adam's apple bobs in his throat, and he feels hyper-aware of everything, the feeling on Daniel's hand on his, his soft hands obviously primarily used for sifting through books and papers.

The lashes of Daniel's currently wide eyes.

The softness of his lips currently slightly parted in confusion and surprise.

And Seth is worried that he's pushing too quickly, that Daniel's surprise is not positive and that his advances are unwanted, that the gears are still working in his mind, except they're just staring at each other by now, and Daniel is still holding onto his hand, he could've let go at any time, and then he makes that noise, and.

And Seth leans over.

Not too quickly. Just. Closing the distance. His eyes jumping between Daniel's eyes and his mouth, making his intentions clear, giving Daniel plenty of time to pull away, plenty of time to make it clear if this isn't what he wants, and God it is taking forever, his heart is beating so loudly and it is taking aeons, it is taking forever before Seth can finally kiss him.

It happens very slowly.

It happens very slowly but Seth is coming closer, Daniel can definitely see the intent there and he doesn't know what he should do about it, caught in his own deer-in-headlights indecision, his instincts were right and Seth is taking his time, hesitant, probably out of respect for the spirit of reciprocity, Daniel can't sort out of he's pleased or hesitant or petrified or all of the freaking above, and he - he lets it happen.

He very definitely lets it happen.

Daniel has kissed a total of one (1) individuals in his life with romantic intent, and that is not nearly enough practice to know all the...technicalities. But he knows enough to know that, yes, the other hand goes here, behind the neck, there's a bit someone does with the jaw or no, okay, both parties with the jaw, he is fine with that. He can adapt. It's new territory, sure, but Seth doesn't seem to mind Daniel fumbling around with it a little. His eyes are closed because that feels appropriate, but it also seems right to simply feel his way through it, in every sense of the term.

He doesn't have the best frame of reference for how kisses are supposed to go but Daniel thinks it is going quite well and it - it feels very right, very very okay, god wow, this is new and different and he cannot fully categorize emotional output right now but enjoyment is definitely up there, definitely one for the plus column.

Seth doesn't realise just how tense and tightly wound he was until their mouths finally connect, and Daniel is kissing back, Daniel is most definitely kissing back and Seth can just feel all the worry and the tension drain out from his shoulders and his neck, especially his neck because Daniel has just put his hand there.

He rests his own free hand on Daniel's chest, and he's so excited he has to make himself take it slow, to take his time and enjoy it, because he can actually tell Daniel is inexperienced and unsure about this, and Seth doesn't want to overwhelm him, Seth wants to make sure he is along for the ride. And Daniel definitely is, he seems to be, because he may fumble a bit but it's sincere, it's so obvious now that they're both enjoying it, and Seth is so relieved and so excited.

And Seth was right, Daniel's lips are very soft, like they were made to be kissed, and how on earth could Daniel be inexperienced, why hasn't anyone else taken the chance to do this. He pulls apart just a little bit, having to remind himself to breathe, and he realises he's smiling, and he opens his eyes a little as he leans his forehead against Daniel's for a moment, making his glasses askew because they haven't gotten far enough to take them off, and Seth reaches up behind Daniel's head to weave his fingers lightly into his damp hair.

Oh. Oh wow.

Well.

That was definitely a thing.

They've broken apart, both breathing a little heavier than is justified - no, scratch that, that is entirely justified - and Seth is threading his fingers through Daniel's hair with a not unpleasant tickle to the back of his neck.

Vocalization is still on the rocks so Daniel can just blink owlishly through his crooked glasses and gulp and nod a little to himself, yep, that was a thing, they just kissed and that definitely happened, no big deal. Seth is smiling. That means it's not a big deal. That's good. That's good? That's good.

He breathes out a vague "huh"-sounding thing and that's really about all his poor vocal cords can manage currently. The back of Seth's neck is the perfect anchor for all this so he is just going to keep holding onto it, very sturdy and there, maybe running his thumb absently up and down in parallel to the thing Seth's hand is doing to the back of his own neck because, you know, the spirit of reciprocity. It's a general theme. Daniel is very big on that general theme. It only seems fair.

They are very close together.

"S-so um," he pants out finally, loathe to break the little bubble they've got going here with hands on backs of necks and jaws and things. "So. You. Um. Yeah."

Yeah.

"Yeah," Seth echoes, no idea what that even means, but he doesn't overly care, and he suspects Daniel doesn't know nor care either. It doesn't seem important. Nothing outside the confines of this couch seems important at the moment.

Seth leans back a little, only a little bit so he can look at Daniel, and he smiles a little self-consciously. He lifts his hand - the hand that's been on Daniel's shoulder this entire time, their first point of contact, of comfort and reciprocation - and reaches up to adjust his glasses a little, before it comes to a rest against Daniel's cheek, and Seth is just smiling and looking at him again, because he can't seem to stop that.

And then his heart decides to jump into his throat.

The shrill sound of the doorbell, very loud and very intruding and currently very unwanted rings through the little room, and Seth feels as if he jumped about mile even if all he did was jerk back a little.

"The food," he realises out loud, and his voice sounds suddenly strange and foreign, and he doesn't want to, but with a nervous smile he gets to his feet to go answer the door.

Yeah.

Daniel is perfectly content just to exist here for a little bit, completely without thought of the misery of this morning. Seth's hand has moved to his face and is adjusting his glasses, not that he minds - at all, really - and, and, and this is something he thinks he can get used to, just this with the hands and the smiling and the not-really-knowing-how-to-verbalize and the fucking doorbell just

Thank god Seth still has possession of all his faculties and can get to the door.

"Uh-huh," says Daniel, feeling tachycardic. His mouth has gone a tad dry in the aftermath now that they've both been jarred out of their pleasurable mutual happy-bubble. He might be a mild state of shock. Just a little.

"I'll be right back," he says, unnecessarily because where would he go, and gets as far as halfway out the door to the staircase before he realises he changed his jeans earlier, so he has to go back inside and into his bedroom to find his wallet before he can head back to the stairs, and every time Daniel is even in his peripheral vision, Seth can feel the corners of his mouth tugging upwards of their own volition.

He hurries down the stairs in a daze, and it's probably a miracle he doesn't trip and get himself killed by falling down them, but he manages to make it down in one piece and still upright. He doesn't check if they got their order right, he can barely count out the approximately right amount of money, and he's pretty sure he accidentally either gave a ridiculous large tip or possibly no tip at all. He perhaps could've told which one by the look of the delivery guy's face, but right now he's not even sure if it even was a guy, because bloody loud alarm bells are going off in his head and blocking out everything else.

What is he doing?

He just took in a homeless guy, which yeah, fine, no big deal, Daniel has proved to be right harmless so far. But then Seth decided to kiss this homeless guy, perfectly aware of the fact that this homeless guy was both broke and lacking a home, you know, after Seth had offered him a place to spend the night.

What kind of position is that to put someone in?

Maybe his hesitation had absolutely nothing to do with being inexperienced, maybe he didn't want to do this except what was he supposed to say? For all Daniel knows, Seth could've tossed him out on the streets if Daniel had resisted him. Seth has all the power in this situation, and he didn't even stop to really make sure this was something Daniel was interested in, didn't pause to reassure him that this was only something they should be doing if Daniel really wanted to and that it would have absolutely no bearing on Seth's decision to let him stay.

Seth had thought it was amazing, because yeah it was, it had been bloody wonderful, and he had thought that Daniel had been really into it, but he'd been wrapped up in his own attraction, his own desire to kiss him. He doesn't really know if Daniel wanted the same thing. He didn't really know.

Seth realises suddenly that he's made it to the top of the stairs again, bag of food held tight in hand, the other hand gripping the railings.

He takes a shaky breath and pushes open the door, stepping inside and looking at Daniel with sincere regret and apology. "God, I -- I'm so sorry," he stammers.

He nods breathlessly, lets Seth take care of that, that will be fine. Daniel needs a minute anyway. He just needs to. Well. Sort through it.

Right now sorting through it entails Daniel flopping back against Seth's couch and hunching up his shoulders as he releases a long, unsteady whoosh of breath. He doesn't know why his heart is hammering the way it is or why he's still so incredibly nervous except that this is all relatively new material for him. A single relationship that lasted for two months hardly qualifies Daniel for "experienced" in that realm.

Except - god, maybe he's reading this all wrong. He's miserable at interpreting subtleties in these types of situations, he really is. But one kiss on a couch of a guy he only just met isn't statistically likely to lead to "relationship." That's not typically how these things are approached. Daniel knows enough about relationships, or lack thereof, to know that. And, well. He bites his lip, fiddles with the threadbare hem of his shirt, and wonders if Seth is looking to go past physical and into, well, more intensively physical. Daniel's not particularly averse to that but he's not very enthused about the possibility either, and he knows that he is simply not very good at it. That's been made very obvious in the past and he has no particular care for it but that doesn't mean Seth doesn't.

Hence the dilemma. Well, one dilemma of many.

And yes, Daniel had reciprocated for reasons he can't fully explain to himself even though he'd had no idea what he was doing and he's certain that came across quite clearly. But why? He can't say that he kissed Seth back simply because it seemed like the thing to do, can he? Except that it had. And he had. So. Dilemma Number Two. And the list goes on.

For the sake of the material integrity his shirt, Daniel stops himself before he can go through each individual bullet point on the mental list that's rapidly unfurling. It's not like he has a lot of shirts.

The reopening of the door thankfully disrupts that train of thought but the confusion only doubles when Seth makes that utter non sequitur of a pronouncement, bizarrely apologetic.

"Uh," says Daniel, scrambling to recollect himself and work out what, exactly, it is that Seth is sorry for. "You're forgiven. For, um. Whatever it is you did?"

"For -- for doing that," he says as the door closes behind him, and he's just kind of standing there awkwardly.

"I mean, I, I offer ya a place to sleep, and then, then, knowing bloody well that you have no other option I go ahead and do that, before makin sure that was somethin you were even remotely interested in, just, just cos I wanted to," he rambles, the words tumbling out a little haphazardly, his accent growing thicker with his worry and the rate of his sentences.

"So I'm, I'm sorry, I like ya, so I," he continues, reaching up to run a hand through his hair, not remotely sure where he's even going with this. "I mean, don' worry abao it, you can still stay and I won' try anythin or nowt."

He takes a breath.

"I'm a right prick," he finishes awkwardly, still standing there by the door, holding onto the bag of food a bit too tightly.

The eyebrows bring themselves down into a little frown as Seth goes off on a great tumbling self-directed diatribe about - about the kissing, Daniel supposes, though he never actually says it. And he's getting flustered, oh no no no no no, that's not good. That is the opposite of good.

"That's - not -" he begins haltingly, raising both hands in what he hopes is a clarifying, placating manner. "That's not what's happening here. Is it? I didn't, I didn't get that impression. I mean, it was, we were, I mean yeah, we -" He motions vaguely, the meaning implicit. "- but it was, we. We. You know. It was mutual, it happened, um. It was very nice."

There was an original point buried there somewhere but Daniel cannot for the life of him pick out what it might have been. And how his ears are red again. How perfect.

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