dadyl | 𝙿𝙴𝙽𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝙸𝙽𝙱𝙾𝚇 ;

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. ]

I'd like that.

[ No tease or joke there. Just something he could learn - that he'd enjoy learning. It's useful, practical here - they've had proof positive they can't trust the food more than enough these days - and it'd be a reason to stick with Daryl for a while. Have one of those quieter moments he keeps hearing about. Gabe hums a little, holding still as Daryl smoothes the wrinkles out of his shirt -

And then pulls away.

Gabe tips his head back. ]

What?

[ There's a lot they haven't talked about. There's a lot Gabe doesn't particularly want to talk about. But the way Daryl sounds right now, just a little bit off -

Yeah. That isn't right, is it? ]

Nothin'.

[ Daryl answers quickly, too quickly really, and shakes his head a little. He doesn't want to bring the association up. If they can't fix it there's no sense dwelling because that will only keep the other set of memories churning for longer. And he wants them out of his damn head. ]

Just thinkin' 'bout things I shouldn't be.

[ Yeah. That's going around, isn't it? Gabe scruffs a hand through his hair, noting - not for the first time - that he needs a trim. His hair's getting long again. Scruffy. He used to wear it long, when he was a kid. Pinned up in braids because that was his, that was all him and Gilly, and fuck what the rest of the universe thought.

They shaved his head his first day of training. Ten years in the Wolves or ten years in a labor camp. Either way, he knew he'd be losing pieces of himself.

Gabe drops his hand with a sigh. ]

I do that a lot these days. Used to think I'd be better off burying that shit so deep it'd be like it never happened - and I'd hurt anyone who said otherwise.

[ The smile he gives Daryl is small, and bitter. ]

But it keeps bubbling up, doesn't it? Hits me sideways every time. You're not my father, man. My father got blown up in somebody else's war. You and me, we're just - here.

[ Daryl isn't expecting anything to be unearthed and when Gabe does it, just lays it out plain like that, Daryl purses his lips a little and finds he can only look at him in short glances. He rubs the back of his neck and reminds himself to breathe, trying to take it for what it is. ]

It's goin' away. It is. [ The associations. The memories. Slowly but surely, they're fading. But not nearly enough. ] Just hits me sometimes. Like you said. Comes at me sideways when I don't wanna think it.

[ Or it makes him wonder how Gabe experiences being touched or even flirted with. Who he feels those hesitant advances are coming from. ]

I know I'm not. I ain't anyone's dad.

You've got Lydia.

[ Like Gabe has Zee. It's not about genetics - though he supposes it is about blood in a lot of ways. Blood, and the quiet promises people make to each other to survive.

Gabe toggles his tech, trying to track Daryl. Get a better sense of how he's holding himself. ]

I know it's complicated. But I don't want to lose - this.

[ Again, Gabe nearly knocks him over with just a few words. Daryl blinks at him, somehow still so surprised to be known in this way. Lydia isn't his child but he still feels responsible for her. He's responsible for Judith and RJ too, and so many others, but some are more acute feelings of belonging than others. ]

That ain't the same.

[ It isn't the same as feeling as though someone is yours. That instinctual possession, that easy to understand affection. It had been all he'd known with Gabe and then he'd woken up and everything had turned upside down.

But he'd never really had to fight for those kids. Protect them from something real. Bleed for them. He hadn't chosen them. Not like he'd chosen his family back home, not like he's chosen Gabe here, over and over. ]

I-- [ It feels like a punch for him to hear Gabe be that honest and Daryl reaches out to grasp him by the junction of his neck and shoulder and he squeezes, almost clinging. Then he steps forward and presses their foreheads together, tipping Gabe's head back a little as he rubs against him. At least this gesture is always safe. ]

I don't either. At all. [ He swallows, drags his thumb over the apple of Gabe's throat. ] I just don't want you to feel like... y'know. I'm some creep.

[ Somehow - like so many times before - the gesture floors him. Catches him unawares. From an enemy, the blow would be devastating. Here, it's a rush of anxious energy and then that sudden calm, like stepping into calm, cool waters. Because he knows Daryl, in the end. The feel of his calluses, way he shifts to compensate for the height difference. An enemy would take the opportunity to choke him, to go for the ports in his neck. Slip a knife between his ribs - something. Anything.

The risk is clear. So is his training.

Gabe presses into it. He tips his head back willingly, swallowing hard.

It doesn't hurt. ]

I know what it feels like to be with people who want to hurt me.

[ He says it simply, reaching up to curl his hand around Daryl's wrist. ]

I know, okay? And you don't.

[ The grip on his wrist tethers him, anchors him to the moment and keeps him from pulling away even as he feels Gabe react to the gesture and lean into it. He's missed this so much, the quiet safety of being held like this and holding in return. He and Carol had had no qualms about touching each other in their other lives but that easiness feels alien and unsettling to Daryl now in retrospect. He'd never had any walls for anyone to conquer in that life.

Something tenuous and delicate has been won here, however. And he wants to hold onto it. ]

I don't.

[ Daryl says it like a promise, like a soft little prayer, and just nods against Gabe's forehead. Breathes deep, trying not to tear up. ]

It kills me that I did. When I was your dad. [ When he'd been all tangled up in concerns that seem so outrageously stupid to him now. ] Over shit that don't matter at all.

Edited 2022-02-09 00:03 (UTC)

[ Gabe reaches up and - very carefully - runs his fingers through Daryl's hair, then shifts to cup the back of his neck. Just to hold him there, for a moment. He's already matched his breathing to Daryl's without thinking about it.

Instinct. It feels right. ]

Would it help, if I said I forgive you?

[ It comes out quiet, and tentative. ]

It was Hell. But it was us, too. I trust you here, now.

[ Gabe tips his head back, pressing into Daryl's hand. Offering out his throat because that, at least, is a language they both understand. You don't bear your throat to anyone. You don't.

But he does. ]

I trust you.

[ Daryl shivers when he's touched like that, always so unprepared to be handled with care. He's locked into Gabe and he nods because it does help. He wants to believe he's been forgiven for it, that whatever had woken up in Daryl back then has been deleted and forgotten. That whatever they have in their real lives can outweigh all that.

And sometimes body language is easier for Daryl than words. He slides his hand over Gabe's throat, now offered and unprotected, and closes his fingers around it. Only for a moment, only gently, and then Daryl bends to kiss him there. Once, twice on his pulse. Then full on the mouth, once, desperately focused. ]

That other thing I told you.

[ That admission he's been thinking about on and off since waking up in his own head again. Daryl makes himself say it into the space between their lips. He doesn't want to leave that memory buried. It doesn't deserve to be. ]

I don't-- I ain't takin' anythin' back, I mean. Yeah? It wasn't all... meaningless.

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