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

Current Location: Hell's Kitchen
Current Music: July 25th, late afternoon (backdated)

Entry tags:

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"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.

The sharp burn of alcohol tastes much more present in this round, though that could just as easily be Daniel's taste buds reacting with increased awareness of the drink's composition. Either way, it still tastes excellent.

"You'd be the first to say it wasn't," Daniel admits, recalling too well his teammates' good-natured grousing about how little he could put away on movie nights or how in important political functions he often elected to avoid drinking altogether which was, in Jack's words, "incredibly geeky of you and no fun at all". The thought is distantly sobering - with a faint pang he knows that he still misses them - but Daniel quickly steers his mind back to the distracted, once-again comfortable present. He has a place to stay, at least for now, and a friend who doesn't mind getting a bit drunk with him over nothing. That's more than he'd ever ordinarily expect in a situation like this.

He tips head at his glass in a mock toast and takes what is probably far too long a drink. In his defense, it is very good Irish coffee, and tasting better with each progressive sip. Such is the nature of alcohol, he concludes.

Seth is very glad this night is back on track. It's been far too long since he had a carefree night of drinking and laughing, at least in the waking world. Over a month, in fact - he's not sure the night with Johnny at the hotel counts, as they had both been worried about Gabe's disappearance, and they'd brought up more than a few serious subjects over the course of the evening. Then again, he's not sure this night counts now, given their conversation earlier, but if they keep at it, at least they'll have a higher ratio of cheer than seriousness.

He joins Daniel in taking a too-long drink, enjoying the pleasant, warm numbness that's creeping into his muscles. He licks whipped cream off his lips as he comes up for air, though he misses the bit that's on his nose.

He comes off the prolonged drink with a shake of his head and some rapid blinking to reassert his perception of his surroundings. Physical arrangements apparently in check, Daniel starts to take another drink at the same time that he glances slantwise at Seth, a truly critical error of mistiming as he snorts into his drink and nearly ends up spraying it all over himself when he sees the white dab on his nose.

"You -" He dissolves into incomprehensibility, practically shaking with silent, barely bit-back mirth. The combined might of alcohol and caffeine and personal exhaustion have made the sight of Seth sitting there with whipped cream on his nose the most singularly hilarious thing Daniel can imagine.

He almost loses his grip on his glass before recovering enough to reach out with one dubiously coordinated finger to wipe the offending spot off.

"Um," he says, voice thick as he struggles to keep his tenuous composure, "missed a spot."

Seth blinks in confusion at Daniel's snort and subsequent descent into unintelligible noises. He might've noticed the whipped cream himself if he weren't thoroughly distracted Daniel's laughter.

"What? What are you..." he trails off, smiling in confusion. If he weren't cheery himself, he might've been starting to feel offended at Daniel laughing at him, but as it is it's only contagious. He only barely manages not to pull back when Daniel reaches out to poke his nose, which only furthers his confusion until it's finally cleared up.

"...Oh," he answers, then, "How was that that funny?" Though he's laughing a fair bit himself, even if that's mainly at Daniel's amusement.

"I don't," he begins, but the look of entertained bafflement on Seth's face nearly sets him off again. He bites his lip and has to fight back several incredibly undignified snorts.

"I have no idea," Daniel finally answers quite honestly, a bit on the breathless side, because he doesn't. He's going to put this one down on the alcohol. For certain. "I think you, your Irish coffee is possibly, um," he considers it for another minute then takes a thoughtful sip, "possibly very extremely Irish."

Seth slumps comfortably in his seat, grinning at Daniel's continued uncontrolled cheer, finding himself focusing on his rapidly rising and falling chest until Daniel speaks again.

"Is it?" he asks innocently, raising his eyebrows like he has no idea what Daniel is talking about. At least the whiskey is doings it job admirably.

"It really is," Daniel sighs, then narrows his eyes at Seth's far-too-light tone.

"You did that on purpose." The accusation isn't enough to keep the smile out of his voice. He glares at the Irish coffee in question for a minute before shrugging and downing the entire thing in concession of his inevitable fate.

"Well, maybe a little," he admits with a grin, then downs the rest of the drink too. Then he takes glass from Daniel and gets to his feet (when did he get so heavy?), and goes to deposit them in the sink. It seems to take a bit more concentration to walk straight now, but he somehow manages it.

"Wait, so... It's just languages, right?" he asks, coming to fetch Daniel's water glass. "Or can you do accents? Cause, I mean, with all the Irish," he says, gesturing vaguely before refilling their water.

Daniel observes Seth's minimally wobbly pathway with his head to one side. They're both starting to feel it now, he's quite certain.

"Uh, I mean I can try." Oh, good, the caffeine just kicked in to push back the mildly soporific effects of intoxication. Daniel's rate of speech ramps up significantly. "Apparently I can do a passable German if I'm actually um, sober, or at least I'm assuming it was passable because at the time it was part of an attempt to get back into the correct time stream - uh, long story, long long story - but I'm better with the technicalities of linguistics, you know, the written, not as much the aural, um."

He thinks that made sense. Did that make sense? He can't remember the specifics of what he just said so he assumes yes.

Seth doesn't even slightly have the current focus to ask about the whole being in the wrong time stream thing, which is probably for the best.

"No but see, with all the Irish in you now, you should be able to do an Irish accent," he says, worried he didn't make his joke clear, bringing back their filled water glasses and setting them on the table. "Oooh, no, wait, hold on. Can you do my accent?" he asks, grinning expectantly.

"That - that's not typically how one processes new lexicon in the strictest teleological sense," Daniel answers faintly, now undergoing a bit of struggle to keep his word and thought flows from diverting from one another. "Especially when one considers linguistic transfer in the broader general context, it's usually an absorption, sensory flooding of overall culture, not just systematic imbibing of vaguely related alcoholic beverages in order to, to..."

He abruptly runs out of steam.

"I'll try," he concedes wearily, fully anticipating a spectacular crash-and-burn as he lapses into an extremely mediocre imitation of Seth's Mancunian dialect. "I'm onl' agrae'n t'this 'cos I am not soba' and therefore take no responsbili'y abao' it."

This time it's Seth's turn to snort and dissolve into what can only be described as giggles.

Not because it was actually that terrible - keeping in mind that Daniel is very drunk at this point, it was probably a lot better than is to be expected - but because it is completely ridiculous to hear it come out of Daniel's mouth. Just... wrong, really.

He has to stop and lean on the kitchen table just to give himself a minute to... remember how to breathe properly again.

For a while Daniel can only sit there, completely bereft of dignity with his eyebrows climbing toward his hairline at an alarming rate because Seth is giggling

Seth is giggling.

Seth.

Yes, Daniel concludes in the part of his brain that is still somewhat rational, they are both drunk. Most assuredly.

He snorts a little and ducks his head, shoulders jumping to his ears, partially in embarrassment because good god that accent was awful and partially out of involuntary laughter-induced muscle contraction.

"I told you," he says pseudo-mournfully once he's recovered enough of his lung capacity to speak again. "Accents are not my area."

If Daniel ever tells someone he made Seth giggle, Seth will obviously flatly deny it. Seth does not giggle. He laughs and chuckles and probably snickers, but he most assuredly does not giggle. And he definitely doesn't cackle - he's far too subdued for that. Even his definitely-not-giggles are a little strangled.

"No, I," he starts, as he finally comes up for air again. "Just... Is that what you think I sound like?" He shakes his head a bit, blinking away the tears that seem to have spring up from his laughter.

"I said I wasn't good at accents," Daniel protests. "You were the one who wanted me to reproduce your accent even after I told you it wouldn't be accurate."

Seth definitely giggles, assuming one provides the correct impetus. Daniel considers his obtaining of this new information to be a bit of a personal achievement. Seth is even crying a little too, which just makes it doubly so.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject