dadyl | 𝙿𝙴𝙽𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝙸𝙽𝙱𝙾𝚇 ;

[ That question almost brings Daryl up short. He shrugs, opening his own door and whistling for Dog. ]

I don't know. I mostly just used water to rinse him down back home.

[ He doesn't mention that was his go-to for himself most of the time as well. His hygiene habits have changed with the easy availability of soap and running water here in Hell (not to mention company that isn't also living through the scarcities of the apocalypse), but he hasn't considered how that should work for Dog.

When they get into the room, Daryl heads straight for the bathroom so Dog doesn't have the chance to shake and spatter the suite with blood. Once he herds Dog inside, he closes the door behind him. ]

You'll wanna take off your armour, I'm thinkin'. Unless you want it to smell like a wet dog.

All right.

[ He could leave it on. It’s designed to survive under varied conditions, all sorts of weather. Easy to clean, easy to repair. But it’s stiff, harder to maneuver with in close quarters, and he knows what Daryl associates it with. Who he associates it with.

Silently, Gabe steps into the room and begins stripping his armor off. ]

[ While Gabe takes care of himself, Daryl turns to get the bath filled and test the water. He makes a clucking sound with his tongue at Dog and points, and sure enough, he jumps into the tub on command, splashing slightly in the water that comes up over his paws. ]

Good dog.

[ Usually he would use a bucket to rinse him properly, but that usually took place by the side of a river. Still, the showerheads aren't the detachable kind so Daryl gets a bucket out from under the sink. ]

I take it you never had one of these growin' up.

[ He'd gotten that impression from how Gabe had greeted him earlier, almost like it was a new experience for him. ]

No.

[ Gabe pads in silently, leaning against the wall. Toggling his tech and listening to Dog and Daryl moving through the space. ]

I think my parents had a cat, but I don’t remember it that clearly. How’d you want me to help?

Here. I'll soap him down, you rinse as I go with this.

[ He hands Gabe the empty bucket and reaches for a bar of soap. Then he sits on the edge of the tub and lathers it up in the water, working it back along Dog from his hips on up. ]

If he shakes after you start rinsin', we're done for.

[ All right. Simple enough. Gabe fills the bucket back up in the sink, toggles his tech, and then stands at the ready. Once it seems like Daryl's got a good amount of soap worked in, Gabe pours the water. Rinse and (hah) repeat.

Gabe smiles faintly. ]

Figured that was a given.

[ He's never bathed a dog before, but he's read comics. Seen movies. He figures they're going to get soaked. ]

So you do know how dogs work.

[ He doesn't bother to keep the fondness from his voice because this is nice. Dog's back, they're all safe for the moment. He watches with quiet fascination how Gabe completes his task, curious about how Gabe knows when the soap is out of Dog's coat.

He finishes with Dog's ears and gets up off the tub to find a towel for after. That's when Dog decides to follow him and lurches, soaking, out of the tub. ]

Hey, I read. I'll have you know there are entire chapters devoted to washing dogs.

[ Not really. Or at least not in the things that Gabe reads. He grins as he says it, paying close attention to how Daryl moves. What he lingers over, and for how long. His tech can pick up blood and - occasionally - other contaminants. It's not great for soap but when in doubt, Gabe powers through. ]

Tell me if I miss anything.

[ It's a team effort, in the end. Still, Dog's up and out of the tub before Gabe can think to stop him. ]

Aw, shit -

[ He's going to get soaked, isn't he? ]

[ Dog is too big to be manhandled easily and it's no surprise he's out before Gabe can stop him. He's never had a bath exactly like this one, after all. Daryl turns back with the towel just in time to unfold it and half-block the shake that comes next, but mostly the two of them get sprayed with a shower of lukewarm, slightly soapy water. ]

Damn it!

[ But it comes out more like a laugh than a curse. Daryl throws the towel over Dog's back to stop him from shaking again and decides that yeah, they've rinsed him enough. He'll survive until Daryl can get this done properly. ]

Shit, he got me. [ Even as he's towelling Dog down, Daryl is using his shoulder to wipe water off of his own face. ]

[ Gabe can’t help but laugh as they both get sprayed. Well, at least the heating’s on and the water isn’t ice cold. He reaches for a fresh towel and drops it onto Daryl’s shoulders. ]

Yeah, me too. Not completely, though.

[ He’ll want to throw on a dry shirt, though. ]

How bad did he get you?

Thanks.

[ Daryl straightens up and uses the fresh towel to squeeze out his hair and dry his neck, then he examines how his shirt is sticking to him. ]

Not too bad. Pants survived.

[ He tosses the towel he'd just used on his hair back to Gabe and then squats to finish drying off Dog, at least as much as he can. When he opens the bathroom door and lets him bound out, Dog races around, trying to dry himself with the breeze he creates zipping between the rooms. ]

Watch out, don't get in his way. He'll knock you down like nothin'.

[ Gabe hums, folding the towel and setting it aside. And then Dog's bolting out the door, racing around the room like his tail's on fire - maybe for no reason at all, maybe just for the joy of it - and Gabe can't help but grin.

Must be pretty good, being a dog.

He moves to lean against the doorframe, huffing. ]

Damn. He moves fast, doesn't he?

Yeah. He ain't gonna be used to stayin' behind closed doors. He's a roamer like me.

[ Something he can't do here, no more than Dog can, and it chafes him every day. He certainly isn't going to keep Dog cooped up any more than Daryl just hangs around in his room himself. ]

He sorta lives his own life back home. There are just people he likes hangin' out with. It ain't always me.

[ If he's both here and not here, Daryl has to assume that it's the same for Dog in Hell. Here but not here, still living his life back home like Daryl had been when he'd dreamt it. ]

Edited 2022-02-07 03:55 (UTC)

[ Not for the first time, Gabe wonders - and worries - how that's going to work in Hell. How an animal will handle Hell. Do they count as sinners? He hopes not. He hopes Dog gets to stay a dog, and dodge the worst of this shit. And he doesn't say it. No need to cast a cloud on the moment, not right now.

He just smiles, leaning against the wall. ]

Yeah? You think he'll come hang out with me?

Maybe.

[ He grins at the real possibility that yes, Dog will take to him, and Daryl is sort of charmed by the thought. ]

You felt him sniffin' you out. He likes who I like.

[ Maybe he is finally figuring out how to flirt a little. ]

Mhmm. That just means he's got good taste.

[ Gabe rests a hand on his hip, charmed. It's a lighter moment. Something a little easier in the wake of all Hell's bullshit. Maybe he needed that.

Maybe they both did. ]

I like him.

[ And you, he doesn't say, but he figures that part's understood. ]

Glad you do. 'Cause he ain't goin' anywhere for now.

[ Daryl wants to handle the moment carefully because it feels delicate. There's a beat of silence and a lull in Dog's little marathon around the suite, so when Daryl passes by Gabe in the doorway, he reaches out and stops to run his hand over Gabe's hip for a second. It's a touch Gabe can easily shrug out of if there's still the taint of paternal memories lingering. ]

Are you?

[ It's a light touch. Gabe goes still, but doesn't jerk away. There's a lot they haven't talked about, that Gabe isn't sure he wants to talk about. But it feels good. Something gentle, an echo of before.

Maybe they haven't lost this after all.

Gabe tips his head back. ]

No.

[ It comes out soft. ]

Not right now.

[ Daryl just nods, rubbing his thumb over the crest of Gabe's hip where he knows the big scar is. Then he lets him go. ]

Good.

[ He crosses the hall to his room, tugging his shirt off over his head in a relaxed way he'd never be able to around anyone else. Not only can Gabe not see the scars, but he's also felt them all already. ]

I'm gonna feed him. You want somethin' dry to wear?

[ There's a moment where Gabe wants to curl his hand around Daryl's wrist, press his thumb to the pulse point, but Daryl's moved away before he can think to. He tips his head back, breathing out slow.

It feels okay, he realizes. Closer to normal. A break in the storm of everything that's happened since they woke up. ]

Yeah. If you've got it.

[ He gives his shirt a faint tug. ]

He got me pretty good.

[ Daryl fishes something clean out of a drawer and puts it on, not bothering with the buttons yet as he looks for something closer to Gabe's size. He can't find anything so the shirt he eventually brings him is going to fit a little big on his slighter frame. It probably also smells like Daryl and his things because he keeps all of his possessions together. ]

Here.

[ He touches the hastily folded shirt to Gabe's chest and waits for him to take it before moving into the little kitchen. ]

You hungry, too?

[ Daryl isn't, but he's always thinking about how he can help. ]

Thanks.

[ He runs his fingers absently over the fabric, taking in the shape of it before he starts stripping his own shirt off. He folds it, out of habit, before he puts the new one on.

It hangs big. One of Daryl's. But the fabric is soft, and Gabe finds he likes the feel of it.

A comfort. Maybe he needed that, too. ]

Not right now. Maybe later.

[ He smiles faintly. ]

You got anything that comes out of a box, I can probably cook it for you.

[ Daryl grins and rolls his eyes at that, then leans into the fridge to see what's least likely to poison Dog. He doesn't like eating a thing here in Hell, not after all the ways he's been dosed and tricked, but they've been okay so far since getting out of the 'burbs. The last of the carcass of what Daryl hopes was a chicken will have to do. ]

What do they teach you in the future, huh?

[ But it's said with equal parts affection and wonder. Just coming from somewhere where packaged food was still readily available seems exotic to Daryl. ]

Staples and pantry shit all ran out years ago where I'm from. Scavenged or rotted. I gotta teach you how to stew up somethin' from scratch.

[ He sets the plate down for Dog then fills a bowl with water. When he's done, he finds himself drifting back across the suite towards Gabe. ]

Even after all this time it still feels strange not havin' to hunt here.

[ Gabe laughs a little at that, doing up the buttons. ]

Hey, Eli always cooked for us. And a lot of the planets we got dumped on didn't have many animals to start with. Gotta eat what you bring with.

[ Otherwise you don't eat much of anything. He tips his head back, humming a little. ]

But you wanna teach me, I'll learn.

Still owe you another crossbow lesson too, once I get the damn thing back.

[ He reaches out to help Gabe finish doing up the last button and then Daryl catches himself smoothing the shirt down a little and he pulls his hands away. He doesn't know which instinct he was feeding there - the urge to touch Gabe or the urge to parent him. ]

You're a pretty fast learner. I'll get you cookin' for me in no time.

[ But he sounds a little distracted, as though he's joking around to cover up his own moment of discomfort. ]

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