applesaucedream | 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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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.

Seth smiles at the look, reassured that they're okay and that everything's good. Everything's really very good, actually. Daniel likes Seth, and Seth likes Daniel, and Seth really wants to kiss him again now, but he's going to at least wait until they've finished their dinner. Well, until Daniel has. Seth isn't too bothered, he's eaten some today, but who knows how well Daniel's been keeping himself fed - probably not all that well, so that's priority.

He picks up his own box of chicken to continue eating, and he's somehow drifted a bit closer to Daniel now, sitting shoulder to shoulder, not quite touching but almost, and Seth can't quite stop smiling.

"You can ask me some ridiculously personal questions too, if you want. Even the scores a bit," he suggests, only half joking.

"Weren't that personal," Daniel manages from around the last of his chicken. "Justified, considering the, the circumstances."

The circumstances. Are his ears red again? They very well may be.

He tries to think of something personal and/or possibly important to ask, but his brain is hung up on the question he's been mulling over since he got here. He swallows the last of his dinner and sets down the empty box, running one hand through his slowly drying hair.

"Why'd you help me?" He glances over at Seth, curious and oblique. He genuinely wants to know what would inspire anyone to give the sopping wet homeless guy in the corner of a café a second look.

Seth blinks at the question, not suspecting that. He was expecting questions about his past, but maybe a bit longer than just a few hours ago.

"Um," he answers, with little idea where to go from there, forgetting to finish eating while he thinks back to the café. "I mean, I, uh, I came over to you cos... I thought you were cute," he continues, and smiles self-consciously. It's possible they're getting matching red ears now.

"So, uh." He looks down at his food again, poking at it. "Proper shallow reason, really. And then I guess it just didn't feel right to just leave you there."

He frowns at that, utterly at a loss. He'd been soaking wet, completely alone, small and scared and huddled in the farthest corner he could manage and obviously unable to afford anything short of a stick of gum. Nothing about that is something Daniel would typically label as "cute" or even remotely in the realm of "approachable."

He drops his hands and stares at Seth and, in a small, perplexed voice:

"You thought I was cute?"

Well, the soaking wet bit kind of made sense, being alone actually made him more approachable, and... well the scared and huddled is probably what made the difference between 'cute' and 'hot', to be honest.

Seth looks over, surprised at how meek Daniel suddenly sounds, and looks. Yeah, cute is definitely appropriate.

"I still think so," he answers, with a slightly nervous smile. He looks down at his chicken, which is just a nice convenient place to stare when eye contact is a bit much. "And, uh, after I saw you in the bathroom, pretty fit too."

Yep, his ears are definitely red.

"O-oh." Daniel looks at his empty box of chicken because where else, exactly, is he supposed to look? "Oh."

He's not what he would call strapping by any means, but going on enough digs has more or less forced his body to adapt to the kind of work it is. As of late he hasn't had purpose or means or funds to do any of it anymore.

"Oh," he says again, his biology betraying him further by sending a much more intense rush of scarlet at his ears.

Oh.

Has just... no one ever complimented him before? Daniel is definitely a few years older than Seth, you would think at some point someone would have pointed out to him that he was attractive. This Sarah person, at the very least, if no one else. Yet it seems to be a complete shock. Or perhaps it's just been so long, and his self-confidence has been brought down by all the other things in his life. Seth makes a note to compliment Daniel more often.

It occurs to him that they seem to have finished their food. And, well, it's not like they're currently being overly good at riveting conversation, and with that look on his face and his now rather noticeable blush, Seth wants to kiss him now more than ever.

So he sets down his almost-empty box, and takes Daniel's empty box and sets that down too, and leans over to do exactly that.

Apparently the overt bloodflow to Daniel's face and ears is still cute because Seth is -

Oh, okay.

There's less warning this time but now Daniel has a bit of a better grasp on the logistics, having just gotten something of a refresher course. Which means, of course, that he doesn't have to be hesitant and he doesn't have to flutter indecisively. He knows that Seth - understands, and gets all of it. The lingering, clenching fear in his gut has all but dissipated. He reaches up to the back of Seth's neck again but now the other hand crawls over to his shoulder, and he doesn't even care if there was really next to no conversational segues to this because it's nice, it's incredibly nice, and Seth smells a bit like rain and coffee and probably Thai chicken curry and Daniel cannot keep a stable train of thought to save his life but he is just fine with that because of lips and all the associations besides.

It's a lot less nerve-wracking this time, less worry about potential disastrous consequences, less pressure, less frantic excitement, and they don't even have to worry about where this might lead. Just. Just Daniel and his soft lips and his gentle hands, and the pleasant smell of Seth's soap mixed with the not quite as pleasant smell of the inside of Daniel's suitcase from the clothes, but that's okay because Seth just feels wonderfully, blissfully content at this moment.

One hand ends up rested against Daniel's chest, the other at his side, and they're just comfortably leaned against each other, and Seth can break apart to breathe and smile sometimes without it feeling awkward.

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

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