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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"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."

Seth can't quite bring himself to look at Daniel right now, partly out of his own embarrassment and guilt, and partly for not making this more difficult for Daniel. They just kind of sit there, awkwardly side by side.

The reiteration that their um, activities so far was nice, and that Daniel likes him, that is, that is definitely appreciated. It relieves a lot of the worry. Because at this point, now Daniel has actually, you know, spoken up, there probably isn't any need to pretend if he felt otherwise.

Slowly it starts to become clear what Daniel's getting at, and that it was in fact just a preliminary warning, perhaps just a way to make sure Seth didn't.. get his hopes up or something. Which is considerate.

"Okay," he repeats, nodding a little and glancing over at Daniel. "That's - that's fine."

He's not sure what more to say to that. Because, well, it is fine. And it probably shouldn't be as big of a deal as they're making it? Perhaps Daniel is just worried about how Seth will take it. Or consider it a rejection.

Which, he might've done if it had been said differently, but. Daniel likes him. Daniel likes him, and the kissing was nice. So that's. That's definitely not a rejection. Whatever reasons Daniel has for not wanting to have sex doesn't sound like it has anything to do with Seth specifically. So that's okay then.

"I mean, just to," he starts, awkwardly, hesitantly. "Just to make sure I've got this right," he says, and tries to make sure that his voice doesn't sound judging or demanding or rejected or anything that could put pressure on Daniel. "The kissing was nice. And the.. the touching, it uh." He reaches over carefully, gently, tryingly taking Daniel's hand, just initiating some form of nice contact that is, you know, simple and friendly and comforting. "That's nice too? You just. Not interested in actually, um, having sex. Yeah?"

Oh, thank god.

This sort of thing never usually goes over well. It's often interpreted as a complete lack of interest or something else entirely. Worst case scenario, Daniel gets all sorts of awkward, unwanted questions that range from isn't that a disease? to what the fuck is wrong with you? It's why it took him two months to bring it up to Sarah, and by then their relationship was well on its way to the crash-and-burn state it hit once that discussion was over. And it isn't just people being unable to fully understand it because Daniel doesn't quite get it himself, he just knows that it's a thing that is somehow, weirdly, how he feels about that level of intimacy.

And public eye perceptions aside, well. Daniel can't even remember how many anthropology courses and humanities courses and sociology courses he's taken by now, ones that posit a basic instinctual need for sex and put forth an emphasis on sex, on the human necessity for sex (not ever preference, not ever), on sex as a biological function and not just a thing that people do if they feel like it, on sex as some sort of fundamental piece of what it is to be a sentient being, and that just makes everything - snap into place, horribly, because no wonder Daniel can't maintain a single romantic attachment or just operate normally on a day-to-day basis if that's supposedly one of the fundamental requirements for being a person.

This kind of patient, earnest response to that intensely awkward tumble of confessions is extremely new.

The hand is nice, it's a welcome polar opposite of the usual shuffling away and mumbling and weird sidelong looks he might get in any other situation, so Daniel answers with a light increase in pressure to signal that yes, touching is fine. Touching is more than fine.

"Yeah, that. That about covers it." He's feeling vaguely light-headed at the admission and how well it's gone over with Seth, because it never goes over well with anyone. "It's just - it's not exclusive to, to anyone. It's just. Yeah. A thing."

A thing. A thing that Daniel has no phrasing or definition or explanation for which is utterly infuriating from a linguistic perspective, but Seth is - is taking it. And processing it. And he seems to be...okay with it, even? Is that a fair assessment? Or is Daniel just wildly projecting his too-often trampled optimism in all the wrong ways?

"Okay," Seth says once again, because he really feels like he needs to reiterate that it is okay. He seems to be stroking Daniel's hand a little with his thumb now, just a small, comforting gesture.

Seth's not sure he actually gets it, and he doesn't know why Daniel feels this way, but it kind of seems like Daniel doesn't either, or it's just tied to something so personal that he doesn't want to discuss it. Which, once again, is okay. That's fine.

Now Seth knows that, and he will try to be aware of it if and when they're going forward, and check in and make sure things are alright, that things are good, and hopefully Daniel will feel more comfortable now with letting Seth know if they're not.

Jesus, they only just met. Seth isn't sure why he - why he's thinking about this as if it's a long-term plan. Something that needs to be kept in mind for the future. They're barely discussed as far into the future as to tomorrow morning, and sure, whether or not they will have sex kind of factors into that, but the reasons for why doesn't really. Not unless they both... see the possibility of this actually lasting longer than tomorrow morning. Which Seth... kind of does. Kind of really easily, actually.

He suddenly finds the corners of his mouth being drawn up into a smile, quite of their own doing. "So you like me, huh?" he asks, just... a mix of teasing and a little giddy.

Okay. Okay?

He's just - okay. He's okay with it. Seth is okay with it. He's stroking his hand and smiling at him and making a dry little joking comment and he's okay with it. He's okay with it. He's okay with it.

Daniel's expression settles somewhere between a grin of relief and a deeply quizzical look before his shoulders shake in a small shaky sigh of a laugh.

"Figures that's what you take away from all that." Which...is a comment that implies a level of familiarity that Daniel has no idea if they've reached, but there is hand-stroking happening here and that seems fairly personal, so.

Finally, there's that smile again. It somehow seems to light up the room, and Seth is happy Daniel is comfortable enough to bring it out again.

"Well, to be honest, it did seem to be the most important bit," he replies, his voice and his face wavering somewhere between joking and intensely sincere.

Because, well, it is, isn't it? Step one: does Daniel like him or not?

And then there's all the other steps, but they're not as important as the first one. They're just things, like sex is just a thing, and one that Seth has found not to be the be-all and end-all it is consistently built up to being. It can be a lot of fun, and it can be horrendously awkward, but it's not... it's not a requirement for having a good relationship with someone.

Not that he has had a sex-less romantic relationship since his teens, but that's because both parties were interested in it. If Daniel isn't, then Seth doesn't see why that really has to be a huge issue.

And there he goes again, thinking about this in the long-term.

"Well that's, that's good then. That's good we got that covered." Which they did. Quite, well, quite personally and quite somatically. There's no really denying that.

Now that Daniel's stomach isn't tying itself into pretzel-shaped contortions in a fit of nerves, he feels internally adjusted enough to finish his dinner. He draws his hand back a little reluctantly to do just that, but he shoots a grateful look at Seth over the retrieved box of Thai to ensure he doesn't interpret that as anything other than strict necessity.

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

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tw: discussion of acephobia

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