"I didn't get you anything." Besides the Santa cowboy hat and a Christmas bonus. He hesitates, not wanting to be rude to a good friend. "...well, you might as well bring it in."
The house is even grimmer than usual with most of the lights off, though the fireplace in the living room is crackling with at least an effort at cheer. "Let's haul that upstairs."
The big playroom on the second floor is still mostly empty and is at least better lit than the rest of the gloomy house. Daniel's moved a bit of bondage furniture in, and his toy chest sits along one wall, but other than that it's mostly just the bare light wood panelling, floor, and rafters that it was when he moved in.
"Eh." He shrugs. "I just wanted to do something nice for you, you don't have to get me anything. Or," he adds, grinning crookedly, "the hat you gave me more than makes up for anything ever." Daniel should probably be worried about what Michael got him.
"You don't even know what it is."
...okay it's for the playroom. Michael doesn't comment on the dimness of the house as he carries it up, levitating it with his mind. It's heavy and it's a little cumbersome, whatever it is (he's wrapped it in fabric to preserve the surprise).
He sets it down along a wall that will really draw the eye to whatever Daniel chooses to display on it. He gestures for Daniel to go ahead and unwrap it if he wants, and sticks his hands in his pockets. When Daniel pulls the fabric off of it, it'll reveal a rack made out of metal and wood for displaying his favorite tools of the trade. There's pegs for things that hang and there's shelves for display and easy reach and a section at the bottom clearly meant for shoes.
He laughs. "That just makes me worried about what it is."
He hesitates before pulling the fabric off - maybe it would be better to save it for a good mood, when it'll actually make him happy - but he wants to do it while Michael's there. He pulls the fabric off and takes a look at it.
"This is gorgeous work." He turns away, scrubbing at his eyes. It's stupid that getting a present is going to make him cry - it just reminds him of the work Spencer put into his gifts, finding him the perfect set of boots or a riding crop from a new independent maker, and - he's drunk and depressed and apparently doing exactly what he didn't want to do, which is crying in front of Michael. It might not be obvious at first, but there's an ugly choked noise that is hard to interpret as anything else.
Michael hesitates before going over to him and putting an arm around him. He knows Daniel, is friends with him, he doesn't feel that awkward about going to give him comfort when he's sad. "Thanks," he says. Okay, it's a little awkward. "Hey uh, you want to go back downstairs?" He's guessing from the everything about Daniel that that's where his booze is.
Daniel swallows it down after a moment, scrubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his robe as he leans against Michael for just a bit. "Yeah. Sorry, it just - it's brilliant, really. I love it."
Easier to talk about the present than his feelings. He heads back downstairs to the living room, where his bottle of moonshine is resting by the fire. "You want some? I've got glasses in this mausoleum somewhere."
See, he's being lighthearted and a good host, he's fine.
"I'd make a joke about you actually hating it, but I worked really hard on it and I'm pretty proud of it." Michael puts his other arm around Daniel in a quick and firm hug before he lets him go and follows him downstairs.
"Not if you have to dig them out." Michael even less wants to leave Daniel alone like this, if he's honest. "Do you want to talk?" He wouldn't want to, he doesn't judge Daniel for drinking about his problems instead of facing them.
"You should be." Daniel's response is only slightly muffled by Michael's shoulder. He wasn't expecting a hug, but it's... nice.
"There's some on the side table." He motions to where there's an elegant decanter and a set of glasses on an ebony cabinet to one side. "Grab one if you want one, I suppose." He's going to take a swig straight from the bottle and sink onto the couch. "I guess I owe you an explanation after that little... scene."
He swallows hard, staring at the bottle and not at Michael. "It's just my husband - Spencer - fucking loved Christmas. He really... it was his favourite time of year. He did everything up, spent months present shopping. Ever since... I can't do it."
Michael doesn't help himself, instead sinking into a seat perching on the armchair of the couch. "It's not a scene," he says gently. "You're having an emotion in front of me, it's okay." It's not the first time it's happened but Michael won't bring up the others.
Oh, geeze. Michael looks down when Daniel talks about his boyfriend. "I'm sorry," he says, genuinely feeling for the man. "Shit, and everything..." the guys had decorated the store, and here's Michael with a fucking present. "This has got to be really hard Daniel, I'm sorry."
"It's hard every year, it's fine." He lets himself relax slowly until his head is leaning against Michael's side. "You'd think I'd be used to it by now, it's been eleven years." The first nine were so full of survival and revenge he can't claim to have done much processing. It's just now that he has more time and space that it feels like it hits him like a truck on what is starting to feel like a far too frequent basis.
He takes another drink, considering whether to straighten up and get his shit together. No, he'll take a few more minutes. Michael doesn't seem to be... upset that he's broken down like this.
"Eleven years, and how many of them could you actually let yourself grieve?" Wow, is Michael giving emotional advice? Someone better check the thermostat in hell.
He puts his arm around his shoulders again, running his hand over Daniel's arm in a soothing kind of stroke. "If you feel up to it later, Max has got his potluck," he says. "If being around people who like you would help." Daniel, you are beloved by the people around you, better suck it up and accept it. He really was here to check on him, Daniel breaking down wasn't not on the list of possibilities. He can just lean on Michael and be sad if he wants.
"...does a single-minded pursuit of vengeance count?" Yes, he's aware it doesn't, this question might be a bit facetious.
Oh God, it's so nice. It feels pathetically good to just let Michael pet him. "I don't think I can. I just... can't perform." He snorts, he knows how that might sound from a man of his age. "Look at how much of a wreck I am just dealing with one person who likes me."
Daniel when was the last time you let someone service you? Really service and take care of you? Michael keeps stroking his side, petting him smoothly. “Perform. Jesus, Daniel.” He doesn’t sound admonishing, just a little sad. “I know how that is. Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone else know you’re hiding.” They’ll all come to check on him like Michael did.
It's been... some time. Most of his sexual relations are about him making sure the other person's needs are met. "It's not a complaint. I like being... reliable. Helpful. Wise. I just can't do it today." He gets to have one day off from being everyone's fairy godmother, right? "Thanks. I appreciate it." He knows they will, because his friends are kind people who do things like that, and he'd really prefer to avoid that. One is enough.
“You’re real reliable, D, but you don’t have to be.” Michael nudges him a little. “Trust me, I’ve curated an aura of being unreliable, I know what reliable is.” And it’s Daniel. “You don’t have to be reliable all the time.” Sometimes you can just hide in your house and cry.
Michael leans over and presses a kiss to the top of Daniel’s head. “I’ll tell everyone you’re holed up with a pile of new twinks.”
The nickname doesn't grind Daniel's gears like most do. He lets it slide. "That's kind of the point of being reliable, that you're there all the time." But yes, yes, point taken. "Though I don't think you're unreliable." He's been great, honestly.
He chuckles, then sniffs and takes another drink. "They'll all want introductions once I'm done."
That’s good to know. The look on Daniel’s face when Michael called him ‘Danny’ one time scared him off ever doing it again. One time.
“You can’t do it all the time, you’ll burn out. Anyway, I got out of the habit. I could pick it up again.” He’s mostly joking. Michael gives Daniel’s shoulders another squeeze, leaning into him. “Maybe you rented a couple from the brothel. You really know how to celebrate the holiday.”
"Yeah, I... might be feeling that." He has been reliable for a very long time. It keeps him busy, keeps him moving, keeps him from ever thinking about what he actually needs, because that's just... an endless supply of grief, it feels like.
He huffs a laugh. "I don't know if that's going to ruin my reputation or enhance it."
"Everyone will call me a hussy and shun me from society, Michael." He says this with mock-mournfulness as he takes a drink. Fortunately, he's staring at the fire rather than up at Michael. Banter is easy and low-effort, he can banter for a while.
"I'll still visit you." Pat pat. "I'll tell you tales of the outside world, and what your shop boys are getting up to. Maybe I'll even bring you pastries I stole from Max." Michael squeezes Daniel's shoulder.
"...Would it be all right if I stopped by tomorrow?" he asks, hesitant. "There's something I wanna talk to you about, but it can wait." Not too long, he'll chicken out.
"Brilliant." Daniel closes his eyes for a moment. No, he was wrong, he's all bantered out. It is nice to just sit here with another person, someone (shudder) looking after him, though he doesn't want to get used to it - it's a nice break, that's all.
"Mmm." He does glance up at the tone in Michael's voice. "Sure. I should be functional by then."
It's nice, to sit here with Daniel and hold him in front of the fire.
Goddammit, Michael's having feelings for people all over the place, what the hell.
"Do you want me to come by later with some leftovers, make sure you eat?" He might do it even if Daniel tells him no. He'll bring some by tomorrow regardless.
Michael carefully cups the back of Daniel's head and tilts it back so he's looking at Michael's face.
"Will you feed yourself?" he asks him softly. "Because if you don't take care of yourself, I'm gonna have to come back tonight to check on you. I might even bring someone." Won't he hate that?
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The house is even grimmer than usual with most of the lights off, though the fireplace in the living room is crackling with at least an effort at cheer. "Let's haul that upstairs."
The big playroom on the second floor is still mostly empty and is at least better lit than the rest of the gloomy house. Daniel's moved a bit of bondage furniture in, and his toy chest sits along one wall, but other than that it's mostly just the bare light wood panelling, floor, and rafters that it was when he moved in.
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"You don't even know what it is."
...okay it's for the playroom. Michael doesn't comment on the dimness of the house as he carries it up, levitating it with his mind. It's heavy and it's a little cumbersome, whatever it is (he's wrapped it in fabric to preserve the surprise).
He sets it down along a wall that will really draw the eye to whatever Daniel chooses to display on it. He gestures for Daniel to go ahead and unwrap it if he wants, and sticks his hands in his pockets. When Daniel pulls the fabric off of it, it'll reveal a rack made out of metal and wood for displaying his favorite tools of the trade. There's pegs for things that hang and there's shelves for display and easy reach and a section at the bottom clearly meant for shoes.
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He hesitates before pulling the fabric off - maybe it would be better to save it for a good mood, when it'll actually make him happy - but he wants to do it while Michael's there. He pulls the fabric off and takes a look at it.
"This is gorgeous work." He turns away, scrubbing at his eyes. It's stupid that getting a present is going to make him cry - it just reminds him of the work Spencer put into his gifts, finding him the perfect set of boots or a riding crop from a new independent maker, and - he's drunk and depressed and apparently doing exactly what he didn't want to do, which is crying in front of Michael. It might not be obvious at first, but there's an ugly choked noise that is hard to interpret as anything else.
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Michael hesitates before going over to him and putting an arm around him. He knows Daniel, is friends with him, he doesn't feel that awkward about going to give him comfort when he's sad. "Thanks," he says. Okay, it's a little awkward. "Hey uh, you want to go back downstairs?" He's guessing from the everything about Daniel that that's where his booze is.
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Easier to talk about the present than his feelings. He heads back downstairs to the living room, where his bottle of moonshine is resting by the fire. "You want some? I've got glasses in this mausoleum somewhere."
See, he's being lighthearted and a good host, he's fine.
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"Not if you have to dig them out." Michael even less wants to leave Daniel alone like this, if he's honest. "Do you want to talk?" He wouldn't want to, he doesn't judge Daniel for drinking about his problems instead of facing them.
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"There's some on the side table." He motions to where there's an elegant decanter and a set of glasses on an ebony cabinet to one side. "Grab one if you want one, I suppose." He's going to take a swig straight from the bottle and sink onto the couch. "I guess I owe you an explanation after that little... scene."
He swallows hard, staring at the bottle and not at Michael. "It's just my husband - Spencer - fucking loved Christmas. He really... it was his favourite time of year. He did everything up, spent months present shopping. Ever since... I can't do it."
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Michael doesn't help himself, instead sinking into a seat perching on the armchair of the couch. "It's not a scene," he says gently. "You're having an emotion in front of me, it's okay." It's not the first time it's happened but Michael won't bring up the others.
Oh, geeze. Michael looks down when Daniel talks about his boyfriend. "I'm sorry," he says, genuinely feeling for the man. "Shit, and everything..." the guys had decorated the store, and here's Michael with a fucking present. "This has got to be really hard Daniel, I'm sorry."
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He takes another drink, considering whether to straighten up and get his shit together. No, he'll take a few more minutes. Michael doesn't seem to be... upset that he's broken down like this.
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He puts his arm around his shoulders again, running his hand over Daniel's arm in a soothing kind of stroke. "If you feel up to it later, Max has got his potluck," he says. "If being around people who like you would help." Daniel, you are beloved by the people around you, better suck it up and accept it. He really was here to check on him, Daniel breaking down wasn't not on the list of possibilities. He can just lean on Michael and be sad if he wants.
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Oh God, it's so nice. It feels pathetically good to just let Michael pet him. "I don't think I can. I just... can't perform." He snorts, he knows how that might sound from a man of his age. "Look at how much of a wreck I am just dealing with one person who likes me."
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Daniel when was the last time you let someone service you? Really service and take care of you? Michael keeps stroking his side, petting him smoothly. “Perform. Jesus, Daniel.” He doesn’t sound admonishing, just a little sad. “I know how that is. Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone else know you’re hiding.” They’ll all come to check on him like Michael did.
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It's been... some time. Most of his sexual relations are about him making sure the other person's needs are met. "It's not a complaint. I like being... reliable. Helpful. Wise. I just can't do it today." He gets to have one day off from being everyone's fairy godmother, right? "Thanks. I appreciate it." He knows they will, because his friends are kind people who do things like that, and he'd really prefer to avoid that. One is enough.
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Michael leans over and presses a kiss to the top of Daniel’s head. “I’ll tell everyone you’re holed up with a pile of new twinks.”
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He chuckles, then sniffs and takes another drink. "They'll all want introductions once I'm done."
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“You can’t do it all the time, you’ll burn out. Anyway, I got out of the habit. I could pick it up again.” He’s mostly joking. Michael gives Daniel’s shoulders another squeeze, leaning into him. “Maybe you rented a couple from the brothel. You really know how to celebrate the holiday.”
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He huffs a laugh. "I don't know if that's going to ruin my reputation or enhance it."
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Don’t ask Michael to look at himself about that either. Rude.
“Are you telling me you can’t do anything with a ruined reputation?” He grins down at Daniel, fond. Don’t look at his face, Daniel.
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"...Would it be all right if I stopped by tomorrow?" he asks, hesitant. "There's something I wanna talk to you about, but it can wait." Not too long, he'll chicken out.
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"Mmm." He does glance up at the tone in Michael's voice. "Sure. I should be functional by then."
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Goddammit, Michael's having feelings for people all over the place, what the hell.
"Do you want me to come by later with some leftovers, make sure you eat?" He might do it even if Daniel tells him no. He'll bring some by tomorrow regardless.
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Probably, yes, he's got some charcuterie that's easy enough to throw together.
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"Will you feed yourself?" he asks him softly. "Because if you don't take care of yourself, I'm gonna have to come back tonight to check on you. I might even bring someone." Won't he hate that?
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He sighs, acquiescing. "I'll eat, I've got some stuff that's easy enough to throw together."
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