bigapplesauce | So Who's Going to Watch You Die? [closed]

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So Who's Going to Watch You Die? [closed]

Daniel scans the intersection for the twentieth time in the past five minutes, hands crammed in his pockets. He's not anxious and he's certainly not fidgeting. Well. Not overly.

And if he were, hypothetically, fidgeting and shuffling and shifting in one place restlessly, it'd be completely justified given present circumstances. He's just a little on edge, mostly thanks to shared group dreams which are, apparently, possible - something he's recently discovered in the worst way imaginable. He'd been hoping all morning that leaving the apartment and interacting with the real world for a bit would brush away the last few echoes of the nightmare, but there's still a chill in his spine regardless. Expected, but no less unwelcome.

So, yes, he's a little concerned, primarily about Seth. It's true that Seth has lived here for longer - much longer - and he'd acted like he was used to the shared nightmarish experiences by now. Daniel has more than a few issues with that sentiment (the foremost being that horrible nightmares in which people get impaled and imprisoned and die should not be something one gets used to, personal history with nightmares aside) but he's also hoping Seth can clear up a few questions about the Dreaming. It might not have been real in the strictest sense of the word, but it had certainly felt like it.

Also he is worried.

That line of thought just keeps looping on back.

Daniel's phone buzzes, a text from Seth. Soon the phone returns to his pocket as he crosses his arms, takes stock of the intersection again, and waits.

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"That makes me feel better," he says earnestly. "I do like cats. The normal kind. Used to be allergic but, well, that didn't stick."

He adjusts his grip on the mug a few times, shuffling it around with both hands before he looks up again. "And, uh, what about you? I'm guessing you've owned reptiles before?" He inclines his head at the empty tank.

"Not here. I've recently gotten that set up," he answers. "But back in my universe yeah. That possibly time-traveling iguana. Who.. unfortunately got eaten by a zombie." He raises his eyebrows - yeah, he knows how ridiculous it sounds. Though perhaps not more ridiculous than giant mosquitoes and telepathic cats, all things considered.

Daniel chokes on his coffee for a second but recovers admirably.

"That - um. I'm sorry," he says, blinking rapidly, completely unsure as to whether a fumbling apology is an appropriate response to hearing that a friend's time-traveling iguana was devoured by a zombie. "Um. That must have been hard."

Seth can't help but smile a little at Daniel's surprise. "Yeah, it was pretty crap," he answers. "Aaand, yeah, it was as weird and messed up as it sounds. That sort of shit happened uncomfortably often, actually."

For a while he'd actually done a really good job of not getting into it, though. Just... staying out of it, not getting himself involved. It was a pretty effective method for neither endangering his safety nor his feelings. Also not very fulfilling.

"Well here's to dealing with the weird and the messed up," Daniel replies, lifting his mug slightly in pseudo salute. "And we're both still here, so." Not that that's necessarily impressive in Daniel's case, just more a mix of luck and some really unexpected friends in very high places.

Seth raises his mug a bit too and takes a drink, then sets it on the table. "Speaking of the weird. Now we're out of the open, want your power back?" he asks, and offers Daniel his hand. Might as well get it over with while Seth's in a pretty good mood and still enjoying traces of the morphine. Makes the experience a lot more easy and pleasant.

"Uh, sure." Daniel drains his mug and sets it down to join Seth's. "Never know when something like that could be handy, I guess."

He takes Seth's hand, mentally bracing himself a little.

Seth closes his eyes against the light and tries to forget about how the last time he gave Daniel a power, he was in the middle of dying. And the time before that, it was because Daniel was dying. Not exactly thoughts he wants to dwell on.

It goes much more smoothly this time, over in only a couple seconds, and Seth slumps back against the couch feeling more exhilarated than drained.

The feeling is different this time, different than it was before or in the dream, the latter mostly because he is not currently in an obscene amount of pain. It's less of a pulling and more of a, a surge of sorts. He's not exactly sure how he would class it. But before Daniel can analyze it further - and he would, honestly, had it gone for longer than a few seconds - it's over, and Seth has leaned back and away and Daniel's left flexing his hand thoughtfully. He closes it into a loose fist and opens it again.

"Look at that," he says happily, studying the paperclip that's appeared in the center of his palm. He pockets it, pleased, and looks over to Seth, who now looks alarmingly like he might have passed out or something.

"You okay there?" It crosses his mind that Seth might be reliving some unpleasant memories from when he last had to do this, namely in their little dream life-or-death situation and Daniel silently wonders if he should have asked him to wait on it. Seth had offered so he'd assumed it wouldn't be a problem, but this reaction does have him worried.

Seth looks up at the question. "Mm? Yeah," he answers, and takes a deep breath through his nose, then exhales as he relaxes into the couch. "Just a little more intense for me than it is for you. Takes a couple moments to get over it," he adds, and smiles to show he is okay. And sometimes, like now, after he'd pushed away the thought of last night, it's a good kind of rush that he doesn't mind basking in for a few moments. Even if it does make him look at little out of it.

He nods his understanding and continues to sit, studying his hand with more intensity than fully warranted. Seth seems fine, much to Daniel's relief, especially in contrast to the night before.

And he is going to try for the umpteenth time to stop thinking about that.

"Well, thank you," he says after relocating his voice. "It already feels a lot more manageable."

"It'll probably still take a while to get a proper handle on it. I mean, it's not like my experience with it magically transfers to you. But hopefully it'll be easier now," he answers and sighs. "And thankfully I had a lot more luck with this one than the last one."

"What happened with the last one?" Daniel asks slowly, with all the trepidation of someone who's not sure if they want to know. And he's not sure if Seth really wants to talk about it and thus preemptively regrets asking.

Seth makes a face and reaches up to rub his neck. "Lost control of it and nearly killed both myself and my friend," he answers. He's still pretty freaked out about it, even if he pretends not to be, so he feels weirdly like... he should warn Daniel about it. Like 'hey, on the days I'm not getting myself killed while trying to help you, I might just accidentally kill you instead.' Just a disclaimer, before the whole cooking dinner thing happens.

"Wow," Daniel mutters, looking back down at his hands. "Um, I'm sorry." He has no idea if he's apologizing out of regular sympathy or if it's for bringing it up or even just for the sake of social convention. He leans back against the couch, breathes a small sigh, and glances up at Seth, trying to tactfully work a comforting remark into the conversation.

"You know, uh, you know those dinners I owe you?" Woah, no, that's not the direction he wanted to take this. "Well, it's...yeah, it's kind of noon right now, not, not particularly your typical dinnertime but I can, uh, I can make you lunch." So not the direction he'd been planning for. Did Daniel really just offer to make a man lunch in his own apartment?

Seth doesn't answer immediately, his frown deepening a little. There's that 'owing' thing again, and it happens to come right after the mention of accidentally causing a friend's death, and accompanied by Daniel apologising.

"Listen, Daniel..." he begins slowly, feeling like this is gonna sound a little out of the blue. "I, uh... I happen to know a thing or two about blaming yourself for someone's death." Seth pauses to swallow. "I don't want you to feel guilty or like you actually owe me something after what happened to me last night. I mean for one thing, it was just a dream, so it doesn't matter. But more importantly, it wasn't your fault."

"Who said anything about guilt?" he counters, shrugging. "Sometimes friends make each other dinner. Or lunch. It's a thing. It is a thing, right?" And then he immediately gives himself a shake, reminding himself that that's hardly Seth's most important point.

"I mean, okay, so I do feel like I, ah. I messed up. And I get that it was a dream and all, but that doesn't change that I still feel...well, not guilty, per sé, but I do feel responsible. To an extent." He quickly takes off his glasses and starts cleaning them, if only to give his hands something new to do. And, possibly, to avoid eye contact as he tries to gather what he's trying to say into something word-shaped. "I do know about regret. And I also know how it feels to lose someone you care about. A little too closely acquainted with that feeling, really. So after the whole dream thing, I'm more relieved than anything, because now I know it wasn't real."

The glasses go back on and he can finally look back over to Seth. "Friends make each other lunch and, and whatnot. It doesn't have to be a guilt thing. It, it can be, uh, yeah. Just a...a thing."

Well, that was an eloquent conclusion.

Seth wants to argue that Daniel is not responsible, not at all, considering how hard Daniel tried despite the fact he still had a hole in his abdomen. It would be much easier to blame Seth who just didn't hold on well enough. But Seth stays quiet and lets Daniel finish. He's probably made his point as well as he's able to anyway.

"Alright," he answers after a moment and nods. "Just a thing, then." He's not going to apply too much meaning into the 'someone you care about' bit.

He gets to his feet and steps over to the fridge, looking inside. "Well, I have... egg and bacon. And bread for toasting. So I think we're kind of limited to that." Seth is not the kind of person who has a lot of variation in his kitchen, or ingredients ready to make complicated things.

Daniel stands and joins him, head tilted sharply to one side as he inspects the fridge's contents, like trying to view the whole thing at a ninety-degree angle.

"I can work with that," he decides with a nod. "If you're up for letting me commandeer your kitchen."

He pulls out the aforementioned carton of eggs, flips it open, sets it on the counter by the stove, then goes back in to retrieve a carton of milk. He sniffs the contents briefly before depositing it beside the eggs, having apparently deemed it passable.

"You got onions?" he asks, moving with more confidence than he feels as he sets about looking for a pan.

Seth gestures in a 'be my guest' way, and goes to sit at the kitchen table where he can more easily watch and talk to Daniel.

He snorts a little at the first question. "You are already greatly over-estimating the contents of my kitchen," he answers, pushing himself to be cheerful rather than dwell on what they'd just been discussing.

"I mostly live on take-out and stuff you just need to heat up." Half the reason he even has bacon and eggs is in case Gabe decides to cook for him again. Well, and that it's something Seth can actually manage to cook himself. Expecting there to be fruits or vegetables is just a little too far.

"Well, it's not like I'm any great chef myself." Daniel has located a bowl, the bacon, and a pan. He starts heating it up as he goes through the silverware in search for a whisk and, finding none, settles for a fork. "Pretty much lived on a military base for eight years. There were whole weeks where I'd completely forget to go home, just eat and sleep there because it was easier."

He sets to work mixing some of the eggs and milk with his improvised fork-whisk. Seth was promised dinner and Daniel is determined to follow that through, even if it happens to be dinner at noon. Or lunch, then. Whichever.

"I will tell you, one thing that's been helpful now and again," he continues, now tipping some of the bacon into the pan, "is living on another planet for a year. You wouldn't think it, but it actually did wonders for my cooking. Even learned to grind my own flour. Well, kind of. Ha!" The last bit, directed primarily at the spatula Daniel just unearthed, is accompanied by a triumphant grin.

Seth smiles as he watches Daniel bustle about. And he can't help but think it sounds horrible living on a military base. Sounds far too restrictive and would probably just make him feel trapped. Well - he has sort of lived in a not-exactly-military but-definitely-base for four months, but the difference there is that he was actually trapped and could hardly pop over to use the kitchens or whatever. Living on another planet actually seems more tempting. Though probably very depending on the planet.

"Well, I'm just not as self-sustaining. I buy my flour," he answers, grinning a little at his enthusiasm. "Well... I'm pretty sure I have flour, anyway. Not that I'm sure what to use it for."

"Well, we'll burn that bridge if we come to it," he replies, now poking at the bacon with his newly acquired spatula. "Don't think I'll need flour unless I've really messed this up. Though I probably haven't," he adds hastily.

Having judged the bacon as cooked through enough, Daniel dumps about half of the egg mixture into the pan along with it.

"Wouldn't exactly place myself in the realm of being a culinary exceptionalist." He works the spatula beneath the rapidly solidifying egg-and-bacon mix and jerks it in what was planned to be a spectacularly deft airborne flip. Contrary to expectation, it chooses instead to flop halfway over and fold in on itself, forming a mournful half-moon. "Ah, crap."

He prods at it hopefully with the spatula in hopes of rectifying his mistake, but the damage is done.

"This might turn out a little less, erm, circular than originally planned," Daniel mutters, flipping it again with thankfully more success.

"Oh, Daniel, really? I'm so disappointed," Seth teases, trying really hard to keep a straight face and mostly failing. It's already more impressive than he expects of anyone. He's not even sure he would risk frying the bacon and eggs together, he would just assume that would create some sort of disaster.

"Whatever, mate, as long as it tastes at least halfway decent, I'm good," he adds. The smell is really making him hungry now, too.

Daniel has to scramble to find a plate (who forgets to get out plates?) in time to transfer his semi-successful achievement in cooking from the pan.

"Uh." He frowns at it for a long minute before carrying it to the table. "It was supposed to be an omelet," he explains ruefully, sliding his slightly lopsided creation over to Seth. "Hopefully it, uh, tastes better than it looks?"

He returns to the stove to shuffle more bacon into the pan and re-stir the remaining egg mixture. And then give Seth a fork because he realizes a little late he forgot to include that rather necessary step in the serving process.

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