bigapplesauce | [closed] After painting the ceiling red

[Warning: Lots of focus on suicide, with a side of drug and alcohol use, plenty of traumatic subjects.]

Seth should start keeping a tally of number of times Daniel gets to watch him die in a dream. Only two so far, but that's in less than three weeks of knowing him, so who knows what it will be over time? He's long since given up on keeping track of when he dies in a dream in general, since that's not a terribly unusual occurrence, but it's rarer for it to happen in shared ones.

He had given up on sleep more or less immediately after waking up. The fear he had felt, the hopelessness, it was all a bit too real, too familiar, and easily stuck with him. So he had gone out to cope with it in the only way he felt capable of - getting blissfully high.

A few hours later, once morning had properly arrived, and the buzz was wearing off, he returned home. Not ready to deal with being sober however, he had replaced the morphine with alcohol, namely whiskey. The rest of the morning had passed in only somewhat comforting intoxication and anxiety, and then Daniel had texted him, and Seth didn't feel able to answer. It took two hours before he could actually face the idea of seeing him after that ordeal. Not just because of the things he had seen Daniel do, but the things Daniel had seen him do. There's no small amount of shame and self-loathing involved.

But at last he had answered, and now he's waiting for Daniel to get there, anxiously picking at his sleeves and staring at the wall. He's not as drunk as he would like, but he's definitely not sober. It's not going to be a fun conversation.

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Seth nods. He knows this already really, Seth is pretty sure he suggested as much in their very first conversation even. "I'd suggest somewhere downtown," he adds, further considering Daniel's housing options. "Further away from the Rift and all that. I lived down in the financial district before I moved in here." And, well, the only reason he's okay with living this close to everything is because he's got a literal archangel upstairs, and the fact it's free certainly doesn't hurt.

"Huh, okay." He's already planning to consult Google maps on the matter. Since being introduced to the concept, Daniel has placed a great deal of his faith in Google maps. "I'll give it a shot."

He folds his arms, considering, before pulling out his own phone. "Not sure how eager I am to exactly steer clear of the Rift itself, mind. I wouldn't mind helping people who fall through, just kinda wanna keep out of it with the factions."

"Well, don't say I didn't warn you when you're drowning in rabbits," Seth answers with a shrug. "Or when everyone starts talking a different language. Or the rain makes you invisible. Should I keep going?" he asks, smiling a little. It's a lot easier to joke about these things when it's a bit longer ago. It's only a few days since the rain thing, of course, but it's easier to get over it if he can joke about it. (If only he could manage to apply that logic to his imprisonment.)

Daniel's eyebrows climb higher with each hypothetical situation - or rather, not hypothetical. Seth seems to be speaking from experience here which is, well, it's the Rift. He really shouldn't be surprised at this point.

"I just think people coming in should know, you know." He shifts a little in place, also smiling but still feeling the need to justify himself. "They should know what signing up for either faction would get them into. I was just lucky to have heard through word of mouth before either of them could induct me."

"I agree," Seth answers with a nod, smile widening at Daniel's desire to help. He would do it himself, if he weren't worried about being spotted by a rebel who knows him. Or generally being not the most enthusiastic about crowds. Seems to trigger his claustrophobia, which has gotten worse rather than better, since every time he recovers from a situation that plays on it, another one comes along.

"Oh, then there was the time it took away our powers without warning, and I walked into a door," he adds, his smile turning a tad self-deprecating.

"Smooth," Daniel comments dryly, grin becoming a little more pronounced. "Sounds like fun. I mean, one good thing about a spaciotemporal anomaly hanging out in the middle of Manhattan," he spirals a finger in a sloppy little circle above his head, "never a dull moment."

He coughs, remembering that's hardly a 'good' thing where most rifties are concerned. There was the whole rain-disappearing thing, after all, which had really been no fun.

"Well. Maybe not good. Interesting, I guess." And Daniel's used to interesting. He got interesting about twice a week at the SGC. Compared to well sir, the galaxy is in grave danger and so the universe is about to explode. again., temporary power disappearance or perception-filter rain doesn't seem quite as unmanageable.

"Well, Johnny thought it was very funny, at least," he answers, still smiling, though it fades a little as he thinks back to it. "It... certainly wasn't a dull evening, plenty highs and lows. Though most of the unpleasant stuff was circumstantial, not the event itself. Powers came back the next day." He's not entirely sure he wants to think about the bad stuff, but sometimes it's hard to stop himself.

Seth looks a little more morose at the memory. Whatever happened, it can't have been a great time. Daniel absently rubs at his shoulder in a manner he hopes is somewhat consoling, then remembers too late the original purpose of their discussion.

He draws his arm back, wraps it more securely around himself. There are a plethora of reasons Seth wouldn't be open to Daniel touching him right now, and that wasn't very considerate. Even if Seth didn't mind initiating contact of his own, it's quite a different matter to have Daniel be the one doing the initiating.

"Sorry."

Seth appreciates the comforting touch, so it takes him a moment to realise the 'sorry' is an apology, not just an offer of sympathy. They've been talking a while now, so his reason for not wanting to be touched has taken a backseat. He's even a little sad when Daniel stops.

"S'alright," he reassures with a small but sincere smile, not sure exactly how to communicate his openness to touch.

He shrugs, sweeps his stare to the opposite wall in a lateral slide of quiet anxiety. Seth's been a little too forgiving of the less savory spots in Daniel's history for him to feel like he's fully earned the other man's open sympathy, even from the point of view of someone who so adamantly practices forgiveness. Seth hasn't seen the full extent of damage that's been done there and it's unlikely he'd ever want to.

The quiet, atonal hum of Seth's phone disrupts that disquieting line of thought. Daniel jerks his chin at the phone, expression shifting to vague curiosity.

"What's Gabe say?"

Seth picks up his phone to look, frowning slightly at the message. Being invisible to Satan might be a good thing, but a bit inconvenient if he's then invisible to Gabe as well. Not just for the social aspect, but if something else terrible happened, he wouldn't be able to help. At the second message, Seth can't help but flinch a little at the idea. Well, that doesn't seem like the best plan, then.

"Not sure you want to know," he answers, but shows him anyway. Suppose it's a sort of back-up plan if things get really desperate.

"Mm, lovely," answers Daniel dryly. "But I think I'm good as far as rib-carving goes. I mean, it's not like he's showing up at my doorstep, just - it was one time. And if the building's warded, there's a limit to how much he can do."

You just go on believing that, Daniel.

[closed] After painting the ceiling red

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