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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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.

Seth manages to stop his train of thought from going further, from digging himself into an even deeper hole of guilt.

It was. It was very nice apparently. That. Okay.

He takes a moment to let Daniel's words sink in, to realise that what Seth thought, what Seth was afraid of, was in fact not what's happening here. All right. Mutual. Okay. Good.

His brain seems to have overloaded a little bit, having trouble making sentences that are longer than two words after the many emotions he's been racing through over the last several minutes. His feelings aren't exactly clear just now, but at least they're a little calmer, settling in a tangled mess rather than running laps around his brain. Although there is another little squirm in his stomach as he realises Daniel is blushing. That. That takes a moment to absorb as well, to mix in with everything else.

"Oh," he answers finally, and then at last seems to realise he actually left for a reason, so he takes a step forward and sets the bag of Thai on the table.

"Good," he adds, because it is, even if his general state hasn't quite caught up to reflect that he thinks so.

It looks like the communication breakdown is also mutual. The thought is oddly fortifying, so Daniel knows he's not the only one struggling with all - this. All of this. The indefinable this.

"So are we, um?" He doesn't know how best to put this. And linguistics is supposed to be one of his strengths. "It's...okay, it's all, you know."

He makes an exegetical little hand gesture and hopes that makes his point, which it probably doesn't.

"Uh, thanks." A hasty subject change, then. "It, uh, smells great."

Seth nods vaguely at the question. It's all, you know, indeed. Daniel is neither mad nor upset nor showing any signs of feeling like has has actually been forced into something he didn't want, apart from the whole pervasive awkwardness that seems to fill the room. So it probably is okay.

This thought finally allows him to rally into something vaguely resembling normalcy once Daniel changes the subject to the food. Whatever normal is in this situation.

"Uh, yeah, yeah they have good stuff there," he says, gesturing vaguely at the bag. "Um, go ahead and help yourself, I..." He turns towards the kitchen and opens the ancient fridge, peering inside. "I have orange juice and coke and, and water, I guess. And beer."

As much as he feels like he needs to take a deep breath and relax right now, he's not entirely sure if lowered inhibitions would be the best plan, considering what he did while he was sober.

"Water is, is fine," Daniel ventures exactly at the same time his stomach releases a low, embarrassingly loud growl.

Right. It's been a while since he last ate. That's not a fact he was overly eager to broadcast to the world which, in this case, contains solely Seth but that's really thoroughly embarrassing enough.

He hastens to pull the boxes out, breathing in the warm, sharp scent of chicken curry. Oh god, actual food. Daniel slides one of the cheap wooden pairs of chopsticks out from the bag - why some of these places choose to pack chopsticks in with Thai cuisine that's historically intended to be eaten with silverware he'll never understand, but he's not complaining - and cracks open one of the boxes eagerly. He shovels the first bite in and chews slowly, almost reverently, savoring the taste and feel and texture of having actual real food.

Seth gets them both some water, and gratefully he's even got ice cubes, since the plumbing system at this place doesn't seem to remember how to make properly cold water, except in the winter, but then it's the hot water that's the problem.

He turns back towards the couch area in time to see Daniel quite obviously enjoying the food, and he smiles a little. God, he's been there. A few times too many, really, so he's glad he's able to help Daniel in this situation.

Setting the glasses on the table, Seth returns to his seat on the couch, being perhaps a little overly conscious of not sitting too close or too far away from Daniel. His mind keeps flashing back to before the doorbell rang, and he flexes his fingers a little, like he can still feel Daniel's hair between them. Then he reaches forward purposefully, digging into the food, trying not to think about how he's replacing the taste of Daniel's mouth with the taste of curry.

Water, food, a place to sleep, and company that can stand to hold a decent conversation with him. This is more than Daniel would have ever expected, and he's certainly not used to having a four-for-four count. There's even the wavering bonus fifth tickbox, but Daniel's still not a hundred percent clear on the meaning there.

Thinking about it is a bit much right now. For now he's content to munch on his Thai food happily and try not to eat with the voracity that comes from not having eaten in - in a while. Not having eaten in a while. He hasn't been counting.

"So, um." He swallows a much-too-large mouthful in an effort to not speak through Thai curry chicken because he wants to be somewhat intelligible. "I don't know if I've thanked you enough, really, but I think I should keep doing it because, um, because you keep doing things like this, so. Yes. Thanks. For that. And. Everything."

He squirms a little at that intensely awkward expression of gratitude. Oh, way to go.

Seth smiles at the thanks, not minding the awkwardness of it one bit - it's par for the course so far, really. Seth has dim memories of actually coming across as relatively cool and confident earlier on, but that seems to have evaporated the more he realises he likes Daniel.

"You're welcome," he answers, because while Daniel may have thanked him a lot, Seth's not actually sure if he's actually said that or just made quips. It's entirely possible he's mostly joked away Daniel's gratitude, considered it unnecessary.

"Although you probably won't thank me as much in the morning - this couch is a killer," he jokes, his smile widening as he stuffs some more chicken into his mouth. Alright, so he may not be entirely done with the quips. But it's true, it's not a very comfortable couch, and he's pretty sure Daniel is a bit too long for it.

"Uh, trust me, it's a lot better than what I'm used to." He grins, pausing in his meal to pat at the thing appreciatively. "I mean, for one it's got cushions. Surprisingly rare commodities, those. You wouldn't think it, but there it is."

And he's going to take a minute to savor the small, unconscious thrill that Seth has taken the night's strangeness in stride and wants him to stay regardless of the delicate situation. Daniel finds that touching, almost. Whatever personal baggage might have abruptly cropped up between them, Seth is still kind enough to lend him room and board.

"Oh yeah, it's pretty much a five star hotel," Seth answers with a small smirk, leaning back in his seat with his box of chicken. "Only thing we're missing is a breakfast buffet. And maybe a pool."

Seth isn't entirely sure what they have in five star hotels, and what makes them different from four star hotels. Price, probably. Snobbishness of their guests.

"Well, you know." He shrugs and resumes eating. "Even before the untimely eviction, kinda got used to dirt floors and leaky tents. Archaeology isn't the most comfortable work out there." Daniel's probably done some sort of irreparable damage to his back at this point, all the hard, rocky surfaces he's curled up on. At least he won't have to worry about that anymore.

The thought is still distantly sobering even before what he's just said catches up to him. Daniel swallows hard and stares at his chicken without seeing it, appetite suddenly reduced.

Seth watches Daniel quietly, noting the way his shoulders tense up every time he brings up anything to do with his job or his current lack of place to live. He wishes he could do something about it, but even if he went as ridiculously far as to offer Daniel the opportunity to move in, he still couldn't fix his career.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" he asks quietly, watching the back of Daniel's head.

"Mm?" He looks back up at Seth, jerking himself out of that depressing train of thought. If he were in a brighter mood he'd have to suppress a grin at the question - they just kissed, that's about as personal as they can get. He's not sure if anything Seth has to say would exactly go past that line that they already crossed, intimately and with great enthusiasm. "Um, sure?"

Kissing someone can be remarkably shallow and unintimate - for some people it's only bodies, after all, even if Seth usually attaches a bit more significance to it. But probing into someone's past, into their feelings and motivations and experiences, that's asking someone about who they are, about things that make them them.

As it is, Seth's question isn't inherently that personal and soul-probing, just potentially, and perhaps a little awkward. "How many people have you, you know, been with?"

The question comes a little out of nowhere, sure, but no less out of nowhere than anything else that's happened tonight. Daniel tries to laugh as if to say no big deal, but it just sounds pained.

"Uh, as of now?" Yep, definitely pained, a self-deprecating little insecure grin and an abrupt renewal of the desire to go sinking into the earth's crust so he can disappear beneath the surface and never return. "Well, we've got a grand total of, um, of one."

His shoulders slump. "Sarah Gardner. Two months. My fault." He ticks off the six words on three fingers before letting the hand drop. He doesn't know how to explain how completely he screwed up there except to be succinct about it and hope that will be enough.

Seth nods a little, prodding at his food but not currently eating it. He waits for a moment to see if Daniel elaborates, but it doesn't seem like something he's all that interested in talking about.

"That's nothing to be embarrassed about," he says after a second, with a small shrug. "I mean, the, the grand total."

For all he knows, 'my fault' could very well mean something to be embarrassed about, but he won't pry into that. But the small number of partners, he finds that... Well, not admirable exactly. It's not like there has to have been any kind of specific motivation behind it, it could just have been a thing that happened - or, not happened, rather. But it's not something to be ashamed of. It's just a thing.

"No, I know that." That hadn't been the issue so much as how obvious it quickly became that Daniel was in no way suited to maintain long-term relationships of that or any nature. There's a reason he doesn't have any friends or family to call and fall back on now. "I just kind of, um. I wasn't very good at it, the relationship thing."

He winces as he says it. Oh, great, stellar thing to say to the guy he just kissed in his own home. Someday Daniel's alleged tact will come sailing back to him. That's the bitter, desperate hope.

"I was always working," he elaborates in an abashed mumble. "Always, always caught up in whatever research I was doing at the time. Probably not even all that important but, well. Eventually she decided it wasn't worth it." Not to mention the profound fumbling over physical intimacy, but Daniel doubts Seth wants to hear that. Particularly after the, well, the kissing thing.

Seth nods, taking a bite and chewing it thoughtfully, considering this. It's not completely unfamiliar to him. Being wrapped up in something or other at the expense of relationships, whether platonic or not.

"Maybe you were just in the wrong relationship," he suggests. "You just... need to find someone who meshes better. Either who gets as caught up in whatever they're doing as you do, or someone you can actually work with."

It feels a little strange, giving relationship advice to someone he just took home with him largely because he thought he was hot. But... he wants to help Daniel out, and at the moment this seems to be what he can do.

"Well that was thing, see." Yes, let's recount all of Daniel's past failures and alphabetize them to the guy who has just met him, just kissed him, and has no reason to care at all about any of that. "She was an archaeologist and we were even in the same field of study so I just thought, you know, we'd both be alike enough to - you know. But that's - it just wouldn't, you know."

And his level of coherency is rapidly plummeting, so Daniel falls silent, trying to muster the energy to keep eating but largely failing.

Seth really doesn't know Daniel well enough to reassure him verbally, but it still pains him to see Daniel sad. He doesn't know how it happened, how this guy somehow elicits this reaction so easily in him and why Seth is so convinced he needs and deserves Seth's attention and compassion.

But he is convinced, and he wants to give it, so he leans forward a little to sit properly next to Daniel, and rests his hand on his back in a way he hopes is comforting. He just... wants Daniel to know there is someone there who actually gives a shit.

Daniel was completely prepared to spend the rest of the evening in his misery-bucket because that's gotten to be a very familiar place with him, and he goes a bit rigid when Seth puts his hand - there, on his back, that's fairly intimate, isn't it?

He coughs a little, sets down the chicken his knotting stomach certainly won't be able to process right now, looks up at him.

Is he getting any of these signals right? Does a hand on the back deviate significantly from a hand on the shoulder? The shoulder is the upper body, suggesting leverage for mouth-related activities but a hand on the back is very much more lower body-oriented, maybe implying the use of faculties for certain activities that Daniel is less willing to reciprocate. It's just not - it's not an interest of his. He's not fond of it. But he doesn't want to be rude. Is he being rude? Oh, help. He should probably say something. But his mouth is very dry.

Come on, come on. Deep breath -

"Idontliketogettoophysicallyintimate," he explains in a rush, very red, and okay just slow down there.

Seth doesn't pull his hand back when Daniel goes rigid, thinking he is just surprised again, that he'll relax in a moment and appreciate the comfort, but then he doesn't, and Seth gets worried, thinking he's overstepped his bounds this time.

And then Daniel says that, and Seth pulls his hand away immediately, not at all sure where the line for 'too physically intimate' goes, and not wanting to be anywhere near that line until he figures it out.

He's definitely overstepped.

Except, Daniel had seemed into the kissing earlier, hadn't he? It feels a little more blurred now, muddled by Seth's panic earlier, harder to be certain. But Daniel had reassured him, used the words 'mutual' and 'very nice', which had implied... But now a hand on the back is too intimate? It confuses Seth.

Or perhaps it's just a preliminary warning, just to ward Seth off before it goes further, and in usual circumstances a hand on the back would be fine. Perhaps Daniel is just scared Seth is gonna want to have sex with him, that that was the reason he asked him over.

Which... Okay, yes, Seth does want to have sex with Daniel, he thinks he would very much enjoy that in fact, because Daniel is very attractive and Seth already likes him rather a lot. But he would only enjoy that if Daniel did too, and it's certainly not a, a requirement. It's not the important thing. The important thing here is Daniel.

"Okay," he answers, setting his box of food down as well and rubbing his hands together nervously. "I'm sorry," he adds, because he's pretty sure he's done something wrong.

But he doesn't know where to go from that. He's confused and he's got a lot of questions, none of which he has any right to answers to, nor does he know how to pose them, in a way that would be... sensitive and considerate and respectful and not make them both feel even more awkward.

"No no no it's, um." There is just no easy way to explain this. Seth's hand has sprang away and Daniel doesn't know how he feels about that, relieved or apologetic or terrified, and this was it, this was one of the fundamental issues with Failed Relationship Number One - Daniel doesn't know how to communicate this.

"I, I like you." Yes, and that all sounds very twelve-year-old when he puts it like that. "And the stuff before - was nice."

Just so there's no confusion there. That was nice. A bit of a divergence from Daniel's preference for slow-burning, step-one-friendship, step-two-get-to-know-each-other-personally-and-at-length, step-three-maybe-take-this-to-a-new-category approach which is, again, the reason why he has so little relationship experience to speak of - but it was nice. Really nice, in fact.

"But in, in terms of, of, you know." He'd like to make an illustrative hand motion but that would just not be appropriate. "It's not really my - I'm not - that's not really what I, what I'm good at, er, what I prefer - ah, no, that's not. It's not. I mean, I'm not."

Ah, hell.

"I'm, I'm." Another deep, fortifying breath. "I'm not - interested in, in other, in certain - aspects."

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