"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?
He's only brave enough to do it because Daniel is incapacitated. "I mean it, too." Michael eases the hand to the back of his neck and presses a kiss to his forehead.
He closes his eyes and sighs a little, his eyelashes getting a bit wet as he tries to hold back another spate of tears. He'll pull away to wipe his face after a second and try to laugh it off.
"If you can steal some brownies from Max, you'll be my favourite..." Not that he'll have to steal. He's pretty sure Max will force more Christmas baking on the dinner attendees than anyone will ever be able to eat on their own.
Michael won't comment on the sudden extra dampness, just slide his hand from Daniel's neck (and maybe stroking his cheek on the way) and back into his lap.
"Brownies, check. I'll be at my most stealthy." He stands up, giving Daniel a cautious look. "You sure you'll be okay tonight?"
....Yeah, Daniel, that isn't making Michael feel better about leaving you alone tonight. He looks at him with a slightly tear-glazed look of his own, fierce and helpless.
"You wanna say that in a way that isn't gonna make me worry?" he asks, voice a little wavery.
He snorts and bumps his head against Michael's side, affectionate but tired. "I've weathered this before, I'll weather it again. You'll show up tomorrow and I'll just have a hangover. Might even be wearing trousers."
Michael runs his hand over Daniel's head, ruffling his fingers into his hair and weighing his worry over the man who knows himself best. It's not like Michael hasn't had dark nights of his own, they never got much worse than a raging hangover.
"Let's focus on those trousers," he says. "That'll be our goal for tomorrow, all right sweetheart?"
Michael leans to kiss him on the top of the head again, before giving him his space. Of course he worries about him for half the day, but Daniel knows himself and if he thinks he'll be all right then Michael will trust him.
He's back bright and early the next day (or as bright and early as he can be after a party like that), bearing leftovers and letting himself into Daniel's house with his brain. He goes straight for the kitchen to get Daniel's coffee started and pull out the ingredients for omelets.
The rest of the day passes in a blur of moonshine and grief, though he does feed himself at some point. Eventually he makes it up to bed, he's too old to sleep on the couch.
Daniel wakes up to the smell of coffee and something fried and stares blearily at the ceiling wondering where he is, who's downstairs, and what year it is before he remembers Michael saying he'd be over.
He's feeling enough like himself to shower before he comes downstairs in a t-shirt and yoga pants (see - trousers!), leaning against the door of the kitchen. "That coffee had better be for me."
Michael smiles at Daniel when he sees him come down damp and fully dressed.
"I want to see if it's possible for me to overdose on caffeine," he says, nodding at the full pot of coffee. He flips the omelet over after sprinkling cheese into it. "You're not allergic to mushrooms, right?" If he is, Michael will eat this one. "How are you feeling?"
Daniel will come pour himself a mug - an incongruous cheerfully cute one he got from Peony's shop. It's got a cat on it. He drinks it black, sinking down at the kitchen bar. "No, no allergies. And like someone came in the night and hit my head with a bag of hammers."
He doesn't apologize for the day before, though he's tempted. He's sure Michael would brush it off the way he would. Still, he feels like he should acknowledge it. "Ah... thanks. For coming by yesterday. It was good to see a friendly face."
"Did you piss your elves off? Maybe they did." Sneaky little jerks. Michael isn't sure what the source is of Daniel's feud with them, but it seems to be mutual.
"I wanted to make sure your present got here on time." They don't have to talk about the...feelings. He sets Daniel's omelet down in front of him on the island, next to the boxes of leftovers. Daniel can have a brownie once he's had some protein.
"So," he leans his elbows on the island, sliding his hands together in what might be seen as a nervous wring. "I actually came by yesterday to talk to you about something."
"They did take offense to me offering them Santa hats," Daniel muses... then chuckles. "No, I think it's just the moonshine."
He takes a bite of the omelette, making an appreciative noise. He wouldn't eat brownies for breakfast anyway, they're far too rich. The omelette feels like he might be possibly making up for yesterday's idiocy.
"Oh?" He looks up at him, waving his fork in a 'go on' gesture. "Is everything all right?"
"That might have been culturally insensitive," Michael points out. "Or just really, really ugly." He's still gonna wear the santa cowboy hat but he's doing it under protest.
The sight of Daniel enjoying his breakfast makes him smile. He can't cook much, and he doesn't love it as much as Max seems to, but he can't deny the enjoyment he gets out of nourishing someone.
"--Yeah." He glances down at his hands, rubs the tattoo on his forearm hidden now by his sleeve. "There's something I haven't been telling people, cuz it's nobody's business, but it's come out a few times and I'm thinking about making it less of a big deal. Telling more people." He starts tracing the design through his sleeve, glancing up at Daniel. "And it's probably shitty timing, but I wanted to start with you."
"So is kidnapping us," Daniel grumbles. And he knows Michael loves the santa cowboy hat, deep deep down inside.
He looks up, furrow between his brows increasing as Michael builds up to it but he doesn't interrupt him, taking a sip of his coffee instead. Which turns out to be poorly timed as it turns into him choking on it.
He clears his throat with a cough, shaking his head. "You don't - you don't look like one."
This is probably the most inane thing he could say, but it's true. When Daniel thinks of aliens he thinks of nightmare sea urchins or heavily armoured thugs. Not... Michael. He's seen Michael's dick, for Christ's sake.
Maybe hungover Daniel is the best version of Daniel for Michael to tell after all--everything's a little bit dulled.
"Maybe you look like us," he points out in a weak attempt at biting humor. "Maybe evolution was like 'mostly hairless bipeds, yeah, let's stick with this' all over the universe." He doesn't really know enough about his own biology, which is great really.
Still! At least Daniel doesn't seem angry or scared of him. "Do uh, do you have any questions?"
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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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"Good, I'll bring leftovers tomorrow, then."
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"If you can steal some brownies from Max, you'll be my favourite..." Not that he'll have to steal. He's pretty sure Max will force more Christmas baking on the dinner attendees than anyone will ever be able to eat on their own.
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"Brownies, check. I'll be at my most stealthy." He stands up, giving Daniel a cautious look. "You sure you'll be okay tonight?"
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And look where that got him. The world's horniest afterlife, without the one person he would have died to see.
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"You wanna say that in a way that isn't gonna make me worry?" he asks, voice a little wavery.
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"Let's focus on those trousers," he says. "That'll be our goal for tomorrow, all right sweetheart?"
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He'll let out a breath, relaxing a bit more. It's nice to be taken care of sometimes.
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He's back bright and early the next day (or as bright and early as he can be after a party like that), bearing leftovers and letting himself into Daniel's house with his brain. He goes straight for the kitchen to get Daniel's coffee started and pull out the ingredients for omelets.
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Daniel wakes up to the smell of coffee and something fried and stares blearily at the ceiling wondering where he is, who's downstairs, and what year it is before he remembers Michael saying he'd be over.
He's feeling enough like himself to shower before he comes downstairs in a t-shirt and yoga pants (see - trousers!), leaning against the door of the kitchen. "That coffee had better be for me."
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"I want to see if it's possible for me to overdose on caffeine," he says, nodding at the full pot of coffee. He flips the omelet over after sprinkling cheese into it. "You're not allergic to mushrooms, right?" If he is, Michael will eat this one. "How are you feeling?"
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He doesn't apologize for the day before, though he's tempted. He's sure Michael would brush it off the way he would. Still, he feels like he should acknowledge it. "Ah... thanks. For coming by yesterday. It was good to see a friendly face."
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"I wanted to make sure your present got here on time." They don't have to talk about the...feelings. He sets Daniel's omelet down in front of him on the island, next to the boxes of leftovers. Daniel can have a brownie once he's had some protein.
"So," he leans his elbows on the island, sliding his hands together in what might be seen as a nervous wring. "I actually came by yesterday to talk to you about something."
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He takes a bite of the omelette, making an appreciative noise. He wouldn't eat brownies for breakfast anyway, they're far too rich. The omelette feels like he might be possibly making up for yesterday's idiocy.
"Oh?" He looks up at him, waving his fork in a 'go on' gesture. "Is everything all right?"
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The sight of Daniel enjoying his breakfast makes him smile. He can't cook much, and he doesn't love it as much as Max seems to, but he can't deny the enjoyment he gets out of nourishing someone.
"--Yeah." He glances down at his hands, rubs the tattoo on his forearm hidden now by his sleeve. "There's something I haven't been telling people, cuz it's nobody's business, but it's come out a few times and I'm thinking about making it less of a big deal. Telling more people." He starts tracing the design through his sleeve, glancing up at Daniel. "And it's probably shitty timing, but I wanted to start with you."
And, deep breath. "I'm an alien."
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He looks up, furrow between his brows increasing as Michael builds up to it but he doesn't interrupt him, taking a sip of his coffee instead. Which turns out to be poorly timed as it turns into him choking on it.
He clears his throat with a cough, shaking his head. "You don't - you don't look like one."
This is probably the most inane thing he could say, but it's true. When Daniel thinks of aliens he thinks of nightmare sea urchins or heavily armoured thugs. Not... Michael. He's seen Michael's dick, for Christ's sake.
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"Maybe you look like us," he points out in a weak attempt at biting humor. "Maybe evolution was like 'mostly hairless bipeds, yeah, let's stick with this' all over the universe." He doesn't really know enough about his own biology, which is great really.
Still! At least Daniel doesn't seem angry or scared of him. "Do uh, do you have any questions?"
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