dadyl | 𝙿𝙴𝙽𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝙸𝙽𝙱𝙾𝚇 ;

[ Of course there’s some fuckery underfoot. Hell’s got a brand to maintain. Nothing ever swings mundane when they can have one of those ironic, nightmare twists at the end.

Apparently the demons are dressing up in costumes now. Apparently it’s getting contagious. He finds out when one of the local demons corners him and then, when the flirting doesn’t go far enough to satisfy, shoved him into a wall and kisses him on the mouth.

Things get a little fuzzy after that. He loses the thread. Picks it up again when he’s staggering away - knife in hand, thankfully not in a goddamn costume - and promptly walks face-first into a wall.

So, his tech’s glitching too. On top of everything. And it’s getting -

Hot. Hard to focus. Gabe drags a hand down his face, trying to slow his breathing down. His skin feels too tight.

Belatedly, he remembers to sheath the knife before he drops it outright.

Not good. Really, not fucking good.

He twitches. ]

What?

[ He’s out in the open. Disoriented. And he thinks, but cannot tell, that he’s got someone watching. ]

[ Daryl has been hanging around the hotel a lot more lately because keeping an eye on Carol's recovery trumps his discomfort with being around so many people. He'd stay with her more if he didn't sense his presence was something of a complication for her, though he can't be quite sure why, and besides, he can't be around Negan for long without losing his temper one way or another.

So he's in the hallway when he notices Gabe and he stops in his tracks when he finally sees that twitch that he was warned. Concern spikes in him and he's about to say something when Gabe rounds on him. ]

S'just me.

[ He catches himself before he asks if Gabe's alright, at least. Instead of insinuating anything he just steps in closer, cautious about whatever has made the other so jumpy. ]

What's goin' on?

[ It's impossible to conceal the way that Gabe goes completely - perfectly - still. Or how a moment later he has to stick a hand out to brace himself against the wall as the world spins. He feels sweat running down his neck, tickling the ports. It's unpleasant. His skin feels too tight.

He grits his teeth. ]

Oh, nothing. Hell being Hell.

[ His voice is tight. It's hard to focus, to follow the thread of the conversation. ]

What floor is this?

Hmm.

[ It looks about that way to Daryl. Gabe has always been so aware of himself in Daryl's experience, even when he needed Daryl's help, that seeing the guy like this is making Daryl's skin prickle. It isn't right. ]

Three.

[ It isn't a question that bodes well. Daryl worries his lip a little anxiously between his teeth. ]

You need a hand?

[ A funny thing happens then. Gabe has an impulse - so smooth and sudden it feels almost natural - to get down on his knees and ask Daryl for something to do. Like it's the expected thing, like it's -

He grits his teeth. He feels more than vaguely sick. ]

Uh huh.

[ Because it's this or stagger around like a goddamn moron until he runs face-first into yet another door. ]

Okay.

[ It feels a little bit like approaching a wild animal he's come to know and somewhat predict, but Daryl steps into Gabe's space and touches him on the elbow before pressing his own to Gabe's. The last thing he wants to do is grab him but he wants the other to know exactly where he is. ]

Where you tryin' to get to? I'll get you there.

[ That's the question, isn't it? Gabe slows his breathing down, focusing on staying centered. On keeping his feet. The world lurches again and he hisses as Daryl guides his hand. They've got practice at it now, don't they? They've figured out how to move with each other. Good thing, because Gabe's tech won't cycle back on and he feels wrong in some fundamental way. Dosed, fucked in the head. He's been high before, he's even been dosed before, but this is -

Different. Heavier, somehow. It's not just for sex this time. He's aware enough to realize that, to know his mind might go off somewhere before too much longer. And then what?

Doesn't really bear dwelling on. He sways, realizing he's been quiet too long, and tightens his grip on Daryl's arm before he pitches right over like an asshole. ]

Somewhere - not here.

[ He really doesn't care. Literally, anywhere but here. ]

[ Daryl doesn't like that sway. He weighs the possibility of Gabe snapping at him against the possibility that he's about to watch the guy collapse or faint and Daryl moves in to support him with more than just his elbow. He's close enough to brush against him every time Gabe moves, ready to catch him in case his legs give out. He remembers the fight Gabe had put up against being carried the first time they'd met and quietly hopes that it won't come to that. ]

Mine's just down the hall. C'mon. Slow.

[ He hadn't been intending to crash there, not yet, but he isn't about to leave Gabe alone like this. He has the urge to get help, to find someone who can tell him what's wrong with the guy, but Daryl has also seen enough to know that whatever it is, it's just going to have to be waited out. ]

What happened? You drink somethin'?

[ But that's exactly what had gotten Daryl at least once. ]

Goddamn it.

[ The curse comes out soft. He's losing the thread here, his boots dragging against the carpet. Every time he moves, he's gambling that he won't pitch right onto his face. Like an asshole, like an idiot, like the fucking asshole who wasn't fast enough or strong enough to dodge what came. Because he knows by now. There's no excuse.

He keeps his feet under him. He won't fall. Every time Daryl brushes against him feels like a balm, eye of the storm shit, and he grits his teeth hard enough that his jaw aches. Because he wants to get down on his knees, pride be damned, and -

Focus. Don't get lost. ]

Some demon. Got pushy.

[ Shoved him into a wall. In a different moment, with someone human, Gabe thinks he would've liked that. It's a bitter image now. ]

It's, hah. It's real fun.

It's alright.

[ Said just as softly as the curse and Daryl reaches to squeeze Gabe's upper arm with his other hand in what he hopes is a reassuring way. He isn't going to get hurt while Daryl's with him. Daryl can at least make sure of that. ]

Fuck. Course it did.

[ He's grown to hate them, these demons that seem to delight in their suffering, but for a while, they were almost passive about it. They got the sinners to hurt each other instead of acting outright, but Daryl has his doubts about that now, too. Everything is out to get them here. ]

Don't worry. I got you. It can't last forever, right?

[ When they make it to Daryl's room he lets them in one-handed, keeping the other on Gabe's back to let him know where he is the whole time. ]

[ It's all right, Daryl says, and Gabe makes a strangled noise. It's really not. It's really not, and he knows it. This is going to burn before it dies and with their luck it's going to get both of them by proximity.

He can feel his hands twitching. A tremor working its way down through the whole of him. But the hand on his back is steadying and he has to fight not to press into it. Because he wants -

Hah. Of course he does. Gabe exhales through his teeth. ]

Always a first time.

[ There's usually a trick to it. Some condition he'll have to fulfill before it passes. Sex or violence are the usual culprits. ]

Do me a favor and punch me, would you? Want to - test a theory.

[ There is always a first time, it's true, but Daryl tries not to sink into the same sort of despair about the situation quite yet. He closes and locks the door behind the two of them just in time to hear Gabe's strange ask and Daryl turns around, trying to figure out if he's serious. ]

You want me to punch you?

[ It's exactly what Gabe said but he's asking anyway, deadpan. He doesn't want to hurt him. He never wants to hurt any of his people and he's grown to think of Gabe that way, too.

But he also knows that Gabe is normally sure of himself. He knows the guy can probably take a punch and he wouldn't be asking without a point. Hesitantly, he asks: ]

Where?

Yep.

[ His voice is very flat. Sex or violence. And it's not like he's asking Daryl to beat him senseless. Just smack him once. If it turns him into a slut for the pain, well, that'll be an answer. ]

Not in the face.

[ It'd really suck to field a broken nose on top of everything right now. ]

[ He doesn't have to ask if Gabe wants him to hit hard. He has a feeling he'd be pissed if he felt Daryl holding back and treating him gently. Even still, it's hard for Daryl to commit. ]

You asked for it.

[ He's telling Gabe as much as he's telling himself but he doesn't make him wait. Daryl hits him in the shoulder, hard, probably enough to send even someone expecting it stumbling backward. ]

Well?

[ Daryl asks it expectantly. Is he going to explain why he just asked for that? ]

Yeah, yeah.

[ It comes out impatient, edging onto sharp. Anger is better than whatever bullshit is running through his veins. It goes warm, then soft or sharp in turns. His skin feels too tight, his joints aching like he's been running hard on a three-day job and not fucking around the hotel. Not good.

The blow comes. He takes it with a grunt, staggering back a step, but he keeps his feet. And he -

It feels like the most natural thing in the world to drop down to his knees. To bow his head and take it like punishment. Pain's good for the soul, the instructors used to say.

Gabe hisses out a curse. It's not the pain, exactly. He's got gagging for it this time, it doesn't feel good. But something's wrong with him, something is fundamentally wrong with him right now, and he doesn't know what's going to make it stop. ]

This is fun.

[ His voice is tense. Angry. ]

This is really fucking fun for me.

[ Daryl watches, focused as ever. Even though he's expecting the stagger, he tenses when Gabe falls to his knees and takes a step backward to give him room. It didn't look accidental or like it came from fatigue.

That would have been bad, but Daryl likes this even less. ]

I can tell.

[ So fun that he's practically snarling and Daryl takes a knee in front of him, tilting his head to get a better look at Gabe's face. His expressions can be hard to read, he doesn't seem to pull them unconsciously as most people do, but what Daryl sees now is even harder to interpret. At least the anger is obvious enough. ]

Tell me how to help.

[ But it doesn't sound like a command. It sounds almost a little desperate. ]

[ He can hear Daryl moving, knows he's close, but his tech's bitched out and that just twists through him. Rage building upon rage and underneath that - barely concealed - is whatever's fucking him up that makes him want to do whatever someone tells him. Someone, anyone - he has a feeling it doesn't matter. And that it'll get worse before it breaks.

Time isn't going to fix this. Neither is violence.

He hisses a vicious curse under his breath, his head bowed. ]

I don't fucking know. But I want to -

[ He swallows, his throat tight. Everything about this is hateful. ]

I want to get on my knees and do what you tell me, and it's getting worse the longer I don't.

[ His voice is very flat. ]

My tech's getting hot. I can feel it in my skull.

[ He's already halfway there, Daryl notes, even as he balks at the other half of Gabe's admission. Without realizing it, he pulls back a little again. Gives him space, leaning back on his knee to do so. ]

You want what?

[ Because the details matter to Daryl even though all possibilities are making his stomach turn. ]

I'm goin' to touch your head. Okay?

[ What Gabe's said has him worried and he doesn't wait long before he reaches out, slowly, and lays his palm against Gabe's skull just behind his ear. Daryl's stomach plummets. He's warm to the touch, far too warm, and Daryl's touch doesn't linger. It doesn't have to be for him to be sure. ]

Sure is.

[ Daryl doesn't swear like Gabe but there's stony panic in his voice. ]

[ Gabe's jaw works. He doesn't lean into the touch, but he doesn't flinch away from it, either. This is happening. He only has a few choices about how to survive it. And in one version, he doesn't. His tech has drawbacks, weak points. So does the human body. ]

It's going to give me brain damage if it gets worse.

[ Like before, his voice is very flat. ]

Probably going to have a seizure.

[ Fuck. Daryl doesn’t like being at a disadvantage in understanding the threat at hand, but if there’s something he’s still truly in the dark about, it’s the fine details of the tech in Gabe’s head. He doesn’t know how to help him. He doesn’t know how to keep the worst from happening.

So he’s willing to listen. Daryl sets his jaw and scowls. He has to try what he can. ]

No. You ain’t.

[ He’s about to ask ’what do I got to do again but stops himself. Gabe has told him already, even if Daryl doesn’t understand - or doesn’t want to understand. He’s silent for another few seconds, steeling himself. ]

Tell you what to do. [ Repeating it, as if to himself. ] You mean like a command? Like a dog?

[ Humiliation curls in his chest, hot and sour. Gabe exhales through his teeth, purposefully slowing his breathing down. Steadying himself. The only way out is through. ]

Yeah. Like a fucking dog.

[ He bites his rage down. He'll find an outlet for it later. ]

Fuck.

[ He lets out the curse in a low hiss and has to look away from him. The humiliation is burning into Daryl by proximity. He feels no better than Gabe does that he has to have any part of this. ]

Alright. Fuck, alright.

[ What can he tell him to do? What will work? Daryl swallows.

Better start with what he can handle. Something easy. ]

I want you to hit me. Make it even. Okay?

[ Make it even. Gabe makes a strangled noise, digging his nails into his palms. But he's been given an order and he hates the part of himself that settles at the sound of it. That wants to jump to it like a good soldier.

It could be worse. It has been, in the past.

He stands up slowly. He still feels sick, overheating. He can feel his implants burning hot in his skull.

Do or die. Get it done, sniper. Gabe exhales through his teeth. His tech isn't working, but he knows more or less where Daryl is. And so he strikes. Closed fist, aimed for center mass. ]

[ Daryl stands up when Gabe does, flinching less this time now that he knows halfway what to expect, and braces himself. He isn't sure how he'll be hit. He knows Gabe can't see, that he's smaller than Daryl is. But hell, he's fierce.

The punch proves it. He strikes Daryl in the sternum and Daryl takes a step back despite holding his weight on his back foot, lets out a hollow 'oof' as his breath escapes him.

It takes a moment or two to fill his lungs properly again as he rubs at the place of impact. ]

Nice.

[ At least it doesn't come out as a wheeze, but now he's encountered the next problem - there's no way that command is going to be enough. ]

That help? At all?

[ The blow lands. He's always been a scrapper, quick to adapt. Had to be, Gabe thinks, otherwise there wouldn't have bene much use to him and he wouldn't have survived. Wolves aren't long-lived. He's edging up on the list, getting old enough that his joints have started to ache in new and exciting ways, but some things never change. He'll always be a fighter. And he will never, ever let someone force him down to his knees.

Not ever. And not like this.

Gabe hisses, satisfaction burning deep. ]

Some. Not enough.

[ Hatefully, he wants to do more. Be good. ]

Action - tdm antics

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