sleepytimejunction | oh my god there was one bed.

oh my god there was one bed.

[You know how it is. A new location opens up in the City, and then they're off to investigate despite all of the weird shit that's happened in the past. By now, not a lot surprises Daan; not to say he doesn't react to anything, but it's more with exasperation than anything else, and this isn't especially all that different.

The residential district that opened up felt off already. Most of the buildings uniform, some odd loft-like setting inside of them. More like a single room cottage than housing, but it's also the kind of place he wouldn't have minded staying as a kid. Not exactly saying much, but it's a sturdy roof over the head and, presumably, some clean furniture.

The problem is that the door has locked behind them, and there aren't windows, otherwise breaking out would be too easy. Because of fucking course.]

It's about that time that I wish I had any lockpicking skills at all. Then again, I doubt that'd do us much good here...

Anyway. If we go have anything like past patterns to go by, this should be temporary. So we've got that going for us.

[Probably.]

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Maybe it's the lack of depth perception on my part. [His tone is wry and he places a hand over Vergilius'.] Don't get me wrong, I know you can be a prickly bastard, but I like that about you too.

[And if anything, he knows that there isn't such a thing as anything being flawless. Whatever this is, whatever they choose it to be; they have their faults, but either you change or learn to live with them.

Although frankly, Vergilius is one of the more reliable people he's met in his life. What does that say about Daan or him? Maybe it's sad either way.]

That too? Mm. Note to self. Be worse.

[He does mean it as a joke, but part of it....might be a little sincere. If he was worse, this never would've happened. Daan, precious and beautiful, would've never got tangled up with him.]

[But...Daan is happy. That's really what's stopping him from simply acting on the urge to push him away. Daan is so happy.]

[He doesn't have it completely in him to ruin it.]

...You've liked me for a while, huh. [Not even a question. It's an obvious observation at this point.]

Pfff, okay, then I'm gonna just give back as good as I get.

[Ah.

Well, here he is, getting called out. Daan can't stop the intense blush on his face, and shrugs helplessly.]

Yeah. I wasn't... I don't know, I didn't want to make things difficult for you. Or... I suppose I worried I was projecting or something. Especially after I used that spell on your hand.

It was after that, for me.

After the spell?

[Sorry, sorry, he can't help it - he huffs against Daan's skin, hand reaching up to stroke his thumb over the other's earlobe. That blush is adorable. He's sure he'd be slapped a little for saying that again.]

You sure you didn't bewitch yourself?

Look at this guy. A real comedian.

[He grumbles, and it does nothing to pacify how red his face has gotten. It's dumb, he tells himself; he's been in love before. He's done unspeakable things, filthy actions, and seen just how depraved humans can get in war, and here he is blushing like he's a boy again.

Maybe Vergilius just has that effect on him. Making him comfortably vulnerable. No one's ever done that before.]

I don't know exactly when. Maybe when I remembered that you came for the cat, even though nothing could change me back except waiting it out. Or... when you wished me a happy birthday, even though I don't even have one.

It probably doesn't matter exactly what timing was anyway. But I know what I'm feeling pretty well.

...

[His face falls, ever slightly.]

[Now he's in love, and you did this. You cursed him. You, the horrible monster. You doomed him.]

I couldn't help it. [He finally says, his voice quiet.] You inspire that in me.

[I want you to be happy.]

[It's subtle, but then a lot of Vergilius' expressions are. Though Daan jokes about his lack of depth perception, he does have a sharp eye for detail, as is needed for him. So he notices.

Well. That's fine, this is fine.]

You know, we don't have to change anything between us if that's too much for you. I promise I'll understand.

[What's a little heartbreak, anyway? He's suffered far worse than this. He can suffer a bit more.]

I don't expect you to feel the same way.

No, that's...

[He starts, stops. Like he's tripped over thin air, and he's faltering to get back to balance.]

It's. [Another attempt.] I. I just.

[His heart feels like its melting inside his chest, eating away at his insides.]

I'm not someone who can...make you happy.

Hm, that so?

[Slowly, he reaches up, brushing his fingers over Vergilius' cheek.]

Isn't that up for me to decide, though? Because I'm pretty sure I'm already happy right now, with you. Either I'm easy to please, or you're really underestimating yourself.

...But like I said, we don't have to change a thing. I'm not gonna insist if you... I'll get it if you need space on this. Just know you don't have to worry about if you can make me happy or not. You already do that.

[No.]

[No, he can't let this happen.]

[Didn't the City beat it into him, time and time again?]

[He couldn't protect anyone. He couldn't protect the children. Everyone who cared for him, he couldn't protect.]

[Daan will lay here, comfortable, and then sometime Vergilius be holding his bloody body in his hands, with no ability to turn things back. That isn't even a question. It will happen. As sure as anything.]

[He has to stop this before it goes down such a path.]

...I'll lose you too, Daan. [He says, moving away from that tender touch.] I don't want you to fall into what I bear. You don't deserve that.

[Briefly, Daan pauses, watching how Vergilius flinches away from his touch. He knows this kind of sign, the way the past dictates how they can process or decide such things.

It's selfish and awful, but all he can think of about the prospect of dying is so what? Death for himself has never been a frightening concept, only dying before he'd ever know the truth about Elise. But that, in turn, is probably also cruel to Vergilius, who has a more fragile heart than he cares to admit.]

Considering the kind of places we're from... well, I can't blame you for being afraid.

So you tell me, then. What the fuck do I deserve? [When all he's ever gotten was being spat in the face by gods, their twisted morality, and probable betrayal.]

And when do I get to tell you what you deserve?

Edited 2023-10-16 18:49 (UTC)

[He almost perceptibly winces at the curse - of course Daan isn't happy. Who would, after a moment like they shared?]

[But it has to be done.]

[He's resolved to sink in the well of his karma alone.]

...You deserve to be happy.

[He's sincere about that. He means it with every fiber of his being.]

Doctor. [Please.] Daan. I don't deserve you.

Don't "doctor" me. This isn't my office.

[And it feels-- after all of that, after hearing his name spoken like that, and how much all Daan wanted was to keep hearing it. Like he was worth something, like he was adored, loved. Vergilius does say his name here, but Daan's reaction to hearing "doctor" after all this is completely an impulse kneejerk reaction, angry and a little hurt.

He breathes in, trying to ground himself. Trying not to spiral. It's... difficult, when all of his instincts tell him to hiss and lash out not unlike he'd done with Midnight in the past. Frightened of being vulnerable or close again.]

Then I guess it's a real conundrum when the happiest I've been is with you. Isn't it? Even in this... I don't know, not even an argument with us.

[Slowly, Daan sits up, but not exactly pulling away from Vergilius.]

I can't make you change your mind. But I'll tell you what I think you deserve. I think... you also deserve to be happy. Even if the things in your life tell you that you have to be otherwise. The things that have hurt you, the things that have been taken from you.

I don't know everything you've done or not done in your life. How could I? But I know what you're like. You care, more than you want to admit. You can be a bit cold, but you think you have to be. But you also try to do the right thing anyway. Even if you don't always know what that is, you try, and that's hell of a lot more than most people.

...And you're the first person I've been with that's... probably ever cared about my happiness. Or what I wanted. And I feel weirdly okay being open with you.

So there you go. In so many words, I think you deserve to be happy, too. Even if you're scared to take it. It doesn't even have to be with me, Vergilius. But you do deserve even an inch out of this shitty world. It won't give it to you otherwise.

[He's never had anyone talk to him like this. A part of him wants to snap in anger. Another part of him wants to hang his head, ashamed, admonished. It's one thing if this came from a stranger, where he could simply let it all slide off his back and move on solidly without a care.]

[Hearing it from Daan makes him feel something twist in the depths of his stomach. His eyes widen - that red gaze, staring through the shadows of his hair, fixates on the other's face.]

Funny how...I could say the same things about you.

[He reaches up, fingertips grazing against the man's cheek.]

I'm a killer. I'll continue to kill. I've bathed in blood like nothing else. Am I not anathema to you?

Edited 2023-10-16 20:15 (UTC)

[Well. All of that near-righteous frustration is almost sapped from him with the way Vergilius looks at him. The touch against his cheek. Daan closes his eyes briefly, his lips trembling for a moment before he hesitantly leans his head into the fingertips daring to touch him.

Yeah. That's fair. At least half of what he said -- if not more -- was probably also describing a bit of himself. Yet he's a bleeding heart in a lot of ways, too. His stark inability to turn his back on patients who genuinely need help. He's a sucker, sometimes.

Maybe Vergilius is, too.]

I don't know that I'm that much different, to be honest.

[Carefully, he reaches up to touch the back of Vergilius' hand.]

I'm not unfamiliar with the amount of blood on my hands, too. Maybe it's drops in a pool in comparison, but it's there.

But I wouldn't ask you to be anyone else other than who you are.

[He would be sincerely surprised if Daan got anywhere close to the amount of things he's done with his hands. Daan, after all, is a doctor, isn't he? He's here to save others.]

[When has he ever saved anyone?]

I couldn't be changed even if I tried.

[As if to emphasize that. There's no going back for him. The fingers on his hand make him still for a second.]

[His eyes flicker towards those trembling lips.]

There's still hope for you, yet. If anything, I'll...do everything I can for that. For that singular hope.

[He can't help himself - he leans up to kiss him, gently, feeling a tremble start in his own hand.]

[Hope for Daan. That sounds absurd, he hasn't felt hopeful for much in so long. Though maybe Vergilius does just draw that out of him, as well. Making him hope for a bit more, yearn for kindness, grab onto the affection given to him like a starved animal being presented with the most pathetic of meals.

He returns the kiss with a shudder, still skittish and uncertain, but he does want it. Whatever is willingly given to him. So he leans into it lightly, hesitantly holding onto the Fixer's hand more, rubbing his thumb over the knuckles.]

Well. Seems like I can't see myself the way you see me either.

Maybe because you've got the eyes for it. [hey if he tries a little humor misdirection maybe it won't be so obvious how emotionally vulnerable he is right now]

...Just don't come up with shit like that for me. "You deserve better" and all that. You are better than anything else I've ever had. I mean it.

[And he goes in for another kiss. Just as cautious, just as light.]

Ha. This gaze sees all, you know.

["But it's true". He wants to say. "You're better than me."]

[He doesn't say it at all. Ah, how did he get so malleable to the emotions of others? Daan looks at him this way, kisses him this way, and he can't even begin to unroll his spiel of why, exactly, this shouldn't work, why Daan should find someone else.]

[...Maybe that's simply what he'll do. He won't break Daan's heart. But when the time comes, he'll push him aside to save him, and descend into hell.]

[That's where he's going to go. He'll make sure the good doctor won't be pulled in with him.]

Okay. I won't. [He returns the kiss, smiling briefly.] Just stop stealing the words from my mouth, alright?

[In retrospect, it's a strange thought to him that the efforts to push him away were based on Vergilius' concerns and fears. Naturally that very much tracks for the man; Daan knows he can be soft in ways, and his worries are clear to him. It's just he isn't used to that concern being directed at him so much, and he could have more easily anticipated reasons to be rejected than all of that.

But, in true Vergilius fashion, it'd been for his sake. Daan was right, he can be sweet, in his own way.]

Well, it's not my fault you can't think of your own words. [He teases, of course, finding himself leaning into whatever kiss he can earn.]

We still have one problem, though.

[Reluctantly, he glances at the door that had shut and locked them both in here. YEP, now what...]

Should I regale you with poetry, instead?

[He's more of a poet than most people would assume - even if he's vulgar sometimes, he can't help it. Something about such language sings in his soul.]

[He's still a little awkward with the affection, not used to it, but happy for it all the same. Daan feels so right in his arms. It's the worst and best feeling in the world.]

Mm? [Oh. Right. He also glances to it.] I don't suppose another round will make it open?

[He's joking.]

[Mostly.]

If you know any, you'd be one up on me.

[Really, he doesn't even expect Vergilius to know any poetry off the cuff, but it's a nice idea.

The suggestion makes him snort.]

Gotta be a new low for this place. Locking people inside until they fornicate. Should've at least did us a favor with some modicum of supplies, but I guess they at least gave us a bed.

[There's a brief pause, and he leans in closer. Not that he needs to whisper anything, but he wouldn't mind teasing Vergilius like this too: settling up to murmur in his ear.]

I don't have a gag reflex, by the way.

[He nips at his earlobe.]

Maybe I will.

[Now. Maybe later. It makes his heart quicken a little. Maybe later. Like that's a possibility now, even if part of him wants to reject it on instinct.]

[The further description makes his breath puff out in a soundless laugh, but when Daan leans in to whisper into his ear...]

[Well. That ear is warming up in an instant. It's like Daan's breath and little bite has managed to set it alight.]

...Ah.

[Ah.]

That's... [A little clearing of the throat, his hand shifting to tangle into the man's hair.] Good to know. Very good to know.

[Phew.]

Mind giving this old guide a...um. Demonstration?

[A soft sigh escapes him at the hand in his hair, and he offers a faint, crooked smile.]

Well, we've got plenty of time to kill. Don't we?

[Fingertips drag lightly down Vergilius' chest, trailing down to rest against his hip.]

Sit on the edge of the bed for me, won't you. And I'll show you in intimate detail.

We do. Not like we're going anywhere.

[Just here, together, with no one to disturb them. Not even the world.]

[He had rejected the idea of "momentary satisfaction" not too long ago. But something like this feels like something frozen in time. It may be a dot of time compared with a flow of events but...there's something to it, too, he thinks.]

[He follows the other's direction, grasping onto him to easily move him off as he sits on the edge.]

[He kisses his cheek, feeling like he's asking for it.]</smallI I'm all yours, Daan.

[There's something so much more intimate about a kiss on the cheek than most things, oddly enough. He fails to hide a smile before he's arranging himself to slide off the mattress, kneeling down in front of the other man. Hands rest on Vergilius' knees, coaxing them to spread so he can comfortably nudge between them.

Clever fingers gently find Vergilius' cock again, just tenderly holding it before he leans in to give the tip a slow lick. Still the lingering flavor of before, his handkerchief cleaning only as much as it could. That's fine, though; it hardly deters him. He's been keen to taste him proper anyway.

Daan looks up, kissing the end of his dick.]

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