bigapplesauce | Does it trouble your mind the way you trouble mine? [closed]

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Does it trouble your mind the way you trouble mine? [closed]

Navigating his way to Seth's building without assistance makes Daniel prouder than he has any right to be, but it's just nice to know he's able to adapt and learn his way around. It gives him a sense of accomplishment to contrast with the drifting downward trajectory it feels like his life's taken as of late.

The optimism lasts about as long as it takes for Daniel to find the apartment door. Then he briefly loses his nerve and has to take a minute (or two, or three, certainly no more than four and no, he has absolutely not been counting) to collect all his thoughts into one place and automatically begin assembling a preamble before scrapping the idea almost immediately.

He is not going to start with a formal introduction. That would be ridiculous.

And he's not nervous. Just a shade agitated, maybe. Well within reason. It's just the issue of he and Seth spending a disproportionate amount of time walking around in each others' heads, something that definitely warrants a conversation of some sort. Possibly involving alcohol, and Daniel isn't typically one to make that suggestion lightly.

He's done hesitating. Daniel takes a quick breath and knocks before he can change his mind.

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Seth might be a bit more ready to accept Daniel's statement of faith, if it weren't becoming apparent that Daniel actually thinks some of what the clipboard said has changed. Granted, he's not actually suicidal anymore. That had been partially based in logic, an achievable way of robbing the rebels of his services. Not something he has any desire to attempt now. The only time that ever seemed like an option before then had been when Shannon died, and that had been largely out of guilt and some misguided attempt at karmic justice.

But the thing that Daniel might actually judge him on, that hasn't changed. "I'm still a drug dealer," he answers quietly, because he feels like letting Daniel go on believing otherwise would be deceit. Like having a friend under false pretenses. Let him get all the facts, then he can go about believing in Seth's goodness if he wants to.

That elicits a somewhat longer pause but Daniel shakes away the hesitation and presses on gamely.

"All right, so maybe you're a work in progress. We all are, it's, that's not exclusive to you." He doesn't fully know what to do with that information other than to just keep talking and attack the problem with words and reason and sympathy, however ineffective, and hope it does something. "I can't guarantee that I won't try to change...that. But I can say I'm not the type to just leave, or give up, or, or any of that."

Well, it's not the intensely negative reaction he had feared. And... well, to be honest, he appreciates Daniel not pretending that's not something that bothers him. The admittance that he disapproves but that he still intends to stick around, that's probably better.

"It's just weed," he adds, trying to... reassure, perhaps? Or maybe justify. He opens the bottle again and takes a swig. "I don't deal any of the hard stuff, I know how dangerous that shit can be." Both with loved ones and first-hand, in fact. And a literal archangel of justice had been okay with this, so Seth doesn't exactly feel bad about it. He's just worried Daniel still won't look too kindly on it.

"Well, see, that's already a step forward." The smile comes out a little forced but there isn't much to be done about that. Seth is being open and honest about something that he probably didn't ever want to be open and honest about, even if the reason for the honesty is more circumstantial than anything else. "And we all have stuff we need to work though."

He lets out a low, unsteady breath, because suddenly he knows a lot more about Seth than either of them expected. The subject matter has gotten very abruptly heavy, so Daniel starts searching out a way to lighten it.

"I mean, hey, you want perspective, one of my best friends spent the first, oh, hundred years of his life helping commit interplanetary genocide." In terms of lighter subject material, that particular example might have just face-planted. Nice work there. Daniel transfers his stare to the floor and nervously tries to bring it back around to his original point. "Um, but he wanted to change. He expressed that desire and we, uh, we helped when we could. So, you know. If, if you want me to help, ever, then uh, then I will."

Seth has to look over at Daniel at that, giving him an incredulous look. Well, good to know he's not as hopeless of a case as the guy who helped commit genocide. It does however help him realise just how much Daniel is willing to forgive and help with.

Eager to get off the subject, Seth sighs and shakes his head a bit, turning around to lean against the counter, crossing his arms. "You know, this was supposed to cheer us up after last night, not... this."

"Yeah," he replies, pulling out the word with a wince. "Sorry about that. Look, we don't have to keep, uh, talking about it. If you don't want to. We can just talk about, um," he flounders for a minute in search of an appropriately casual topic of discussion, "sports?"

Of course. They can just transition from their discussion of drug-dealing and genocide and redemption and just shift it along so they can talk about sports. Daniel doesn't know anything about sports. Daniel doesn't even know if Seth knows anything about sports. Daniel doesn't care about sports. Does Seth even remotely care about sports? Why on earth would he suggest sports. How is that the first thing his allegedly vast vocabulary provided.

"Or, or, you know," he amends, rubbing at the bridge of his nose with pinched fingers, "something else. Anything else. God."

Seth can't help give a mild snort at the suggestion of sports. He's not even slightly the athletic type, interested in neither watching nor participating in sports. What with Daniel's obvious regret at suggesting that, he's going to go ahead and assume Daniel isn't that interested either, though at least he looks the part.

"Are you suggesting we discuss God, or are you just expressing frustration at not coming up with a topic," Seth asks, managing a small smile now.

"Whichever's more likely to keep my dignity intact?" Daniel drops his hands and smiles tiredly back, then huffs a little. "Look at me, talking like I had any in the first place."

His conversational blundering may have successfully lightened the mood after all. At least Seth is smiling now, and that makes it pretty well worth it.

"I say we, we just take tonight to, uh, not think about any of that," he suggests with an equivocal hand gesture to signify the ominous that, the metaphor for all their stacked problems, "and put it on hold. And just, yeah. Stick to the, uh, original plan."

Seth nods in agreement, and decides to head back to the couch. Might as well try to finish that Irish coffee, even if the whipped cream is melted and it's not quite as hot anymore.

"Apparently there isn't a God or Heaven in this universe anyway," he says, flopping down back into the couch. He feels weirdly tired now, from being so tense. But maybe with some more alcohol, he can manage to make it into a good kind of tired.

Daniel follows a little cautiously, but Seth seems to be very okay with taking his advice. Before long they're both back on the couch, sitting and talking like they haven't just had a horrible, harrowing conversation about Seth's very personal history.

"What, you've got authority on that?" Daniel asks, eyebrows shooting up to alarming heights. He's never devoted any more thought to the Christian god than he has any of the other various cultures' higher powers he's studied, and the idea of an afterlife for him is, well, a bit of a moot point.

"That, uh, celestial friend I mentioned," he answers with a half-shrug. "Not in my home universe either, I'm pretty sure. But obviously there was in his home universe." Which is a bit baffling, actually. That there is actually a God, but only in some realities, and those realities are actually theoretically available to them. As far as subjects to switch to go, this was perhaps not the lightest. But at least it's less painfully personal.

"Celestial friend." Short of an Ascended being Daniel has no idea what that could mean, and based on Seth's confusion about that concept when he first mentioned it, it's doubtful that's the case. "Right. Um, that's, uh, that's news, I guess." He's never properly considered the existence of a unified higher authority, which is, the more he thinks about it, slightly ridiculous.

"I dunno," muses Daniel, contemplative, attention successfully diverted from the painfully personal subjects in question, "in my universe there's this weird intergalactic trend where everyone seems to want to claim they're a god without any evidence to back it up. Well, beyond just having a lot of really big guns. The existence of an all-encompassing, definitive God just seemed a little suspicious at that point."

"To be fair, some humans do that too," Seth answers. "I'm just gonna go ahead and guess that if you are an all-encompassing, definitive God, you don't feel the need to go around bragging about it. Or having really big guns."

Then again, it sort of depends on your definition of gods. There are so many different kinds around the world, with varying degrees of power depending on religion. But one single creator of the universe? Might possibly exist, but it's highly unlikely they'll ever find out for sure.

"Makes sense," he says with a small nod. "Wish I'd thought to ask around when I was Ascended, get confirmation on the whole 'God' thing. Who knows, maybe I did and just can't remember." That sounds like the sort of thing Daniel would be ridiculous enough to think of. And the sort of thing the Others would scrub from his mind after.

Daniel should write a book. How to Take a Conversation From Genocide to Theological Musings in Five Seconds Flat. The prior discussion is still profoundly exhausting to even think about at this point, so Daniel takes a long, thoughtful look at his glass of rapidly cooling Irish coffee and the tired part of his brain makes a very poor snap decision. He goes ahead and drains the entire thing.

Seth raises his eyebrows and smiles with amusement. Good thing he got a couple drinks in straight from the bottle, so he can hopefully keep up when what Daniel just did catches up with his body.

"Russian, here we come?" he asks, getting to his feet to fetch Daniel a glass of water. Waking up with the beginnings of caffeine withdrawal seems to be inevitable for Daniel, but hopefully they can avoid the big hangover.

"Mm. Looks like." Wow, all of that just shoots straight to his head. Daniel doesn't feel particularly tipsy yet but he definitely recognizes the tingling rush of his body taking in that much all at once.

He lets himself flop back onto the couch with his head back as he just...lets his bodily chemistry sort through that for a minute.

"That is really good," he remarks to the ceiling. "I'd say you have a gift."

"I can make you another, if you want," he offers, smiling more widely now. It had been a very concentrated effort to go back to the casual conversation and try to relax again, but at least it's getting easier now.

He pours them both two large glasses of cold water, and sets them on the table before falling back down on the couch, and picking up his own glass of alcoholic coffee and taking a good drink. Might as well try to keep up. It's thankfully not terrible, even if it's not as exciting as when it's properly fresh and hot.

"If you really wanna hear my Russian you are most certainly welcome to." Daniel takes heart in the fact that Seth is smiling again and no longer quite as guarded as before. Mission accomplished. And worth the effort, even if said victory first required this not unpleasant headrush-like sensation.

The feeling gradually fades enough for Daniel to sit up again and sip gratefully at his water. He wouldn't mind getting properly drunk, as he isn't the type to do so often and is probably long overdue, but the hangover prevention effort is a thoughtful gesture.

"Thanks," he says, reciprocating with a grin of his own, but he doesn't clarify for what. For the water, for the drinks, for the honesty, for telling him things he was under no obligation to tell anyone, much less Daniel. All of that. It's implied, he's pretty sure.

That grin of Daniel's is surprisingly infectious, so it's very difficult for Seth not to smile right now.

"You know, you've mentioned the Russian so much now that I'm gonna be disappointed if I don't get to hear it," he answers, leaning his head back, and looking at Daniel sideways. The alcohol is slowly starting to do its job, and Seth is very grateful.

"Well I'm sorry if that's the country the SGC had the most issues with, internationally," Daniel laments, infusing the words with enough melodrama to maintain his good humor. "And they kept sending me to fix those international relations. I don't know what they expected me to do about it. No one there even seemed to like me. Everyone I met told me my grasp of the language was tenuous at best."

He takes a much-too-large swallow of his water and pulls a face.

"Andere Länder, andere Sitten," he mutters, and runs one hand through his hair. Then he abruptly halts mid-motion, looking scandalized. "Oh god," he whispers, plainly horrified, "they were right. That wasn't even Russian."

At this he shoots Seth a vaguely, almost comically suspicious look. "How Irish was that coffee, exactly?"

Seth continues grinning at Daniel's melodrama, comfortably slumped back against the couch. When Daniel suddenly switches to... is that German? Seth lifts his head and frowns a little. Then he laughs at Daniel's horror.

"Not that much, I swear," he answers, holding up his hands defensively, even if one of his hands is still holding his own glass. Which he then too decides to drain the rest of.

Daniel regards him for a minute with mock skepticism before shrugging and decidedly emptying his water glass.

"Must be the, uh, caffeine," he reasons aloud, sinking back against the couch again. "The both of them, the alcohol. Coming together and wreaking havoc on my biology, you know." He mimes an explosion with both hands, imitating the noise accordingly. He's pretty sure the mixture has already intermingled with his brain chemistry, just reduced enough for him to be aware of it.

"Must be it," Seth agrees with amusement, taking both their Irish coffee glasses and getting to his feet, heading over to refill them. "I mean, it makes you a very cheap -- aahh. Cheap. To get drunk, I mean."

Then he turns back and fetches his water glass too, realising he hasn't drunk any of that yet, and works on doing so while he mixes them new drinks. There may accidentally be a bit more Irish in them this time than the first ones.

"Cheap," he repeats, fighting a lazy smirk before giving up with a short laugh. "Mm, no, I can't even pretend to be offended. It's a fair assessment." More than fair for someone with such a scant historical record of interactions with alcohol.

It's already shaping up to be an interesting night. Or day. It's technically still day, he's pretty sure, but that's hardly relevant. What is relevant is the quantity of caffeine-alcohol compound Daniel will probably be consuming. He's fully anticipating an increase in his velocity of speech in the very near future.

"And no one said it was a bad thing," Seth answers with a grin, bringing the freshly made drinks back over to the couch, handing one to Daniel before carefully flopping down, somehow miraculously avoiding spilling. He forgot to reheat the glasses this time, but whatever. He also forgot the half-drunk glass of water by the fridge, but he doesn't particularly care about that either.

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