The Importance of Being Me-ness

The last few weeks had done been easy. At every turn, it seemed Fate had decided to throw catastrophes in Michael’s path. He’d grown more jaded about life, yet at the same time he had gained new incentive to change the course of his destiny. For now, he would have to stay in his family’s keep until he had his own footing, but Michael was certain he could manage to free himself if he worked harder.

It was four a.m. and even the less reasonable members of the household had gone to bed. Vincent hadn’t come out of his room all day, which didn’t surprise Michael in the least. He had become a loner after the debacle with Theo, only coming out of his room to eat dinner or leave the house. Michael never knew where Vince went or if he ever visited Theo in the hospital where he was still recovering from the injuries Mathew had dealt him. Michael never asked Vince about it, anyway. He doubted Vince would be willing to share. 

Michael had woken up in a cold sweat. Every once in a while he had nightmares about Shannon, and about Mathew beating Theo into a pulp. Sometimes he woke up crying, other times he just felt exhausted. This time, he was merely tired out of his wits. 

He couldn’t force himself to go back to sleep, so decided to get up and get a midnight snack as a distraction. Maybe if his body was working to digest it would be too tired to keep him awake. No, wait. It was his mind he had to worry about. His body had been pleading for a decent’s night sleep for the past week. Michael shrugged and ventured to the kitchen nonetheless. What else could he do?

The Cox house had been quiet for the last week. The somber aura that had descended on the house since Theo’s crimes had left everyone in it flip-flopping between bouts of melancholy and angry outbursts. Michael had mostly kept to himself, if he bothered to stay in the house at all. He grew so sick of being around these people that sometimes he did nothing else but stare out his bedroom window and dream of the day he could leave. 

He rounded a corner into the expansive kitchen and stopped in his tracks. His mother was standing by the wall phone, her hand like a claw around the receiver and her eyes staring at the wall yet at the same time staring at nothing. Michael walked hesitantly toward her. 

“Mother?” 

Bernice stirred, her eyes regaining some light. She turned her face infinitesimally toward her son. “Oh. Hello.” 

“Mother, what are you doing?” Michael asked. He placed a hand on her shoulder. Bernice was still in her nightgown and her long hair was tied in a thick braid. She looked so fragile. Something about the way she spoke and stood, barely acknowledging his presence, terrified Michael. 

“Your uncle is dead.” 

The words were said so matter-of-factly that it took Michael a moment to let them sink in. His uncle Stefan? Michael hadn’t seen him in more than ten years. He could remember him vividly, though. Stefan had always been so kind, so up for any kind of adventure his nephews might suggest. Michael could recall his little cousin, as well, though he had rarely interacted with her at the time. His heart sank. Uncle Stefan was dead. 

“How did he die?” he asked. 

Bernice let her hand slip from the phone receiver, clutching her nightgown instead. Michael was unnerved by his mother’s blank expression. Her voice was just as cold. “He was killed. He had many enemies, your uncle. I’m surprised he lasted as long as he did with the life he led.”

Michael’s heart beat at a painful rhythm. He couldn’t believe how coldly his mother could describe the death of her only brother. The mob life was a hard one, filled with death and violence of all kinds. Yet he had hoped there was still some room for compassion in it all. Perhaps everyone in his family was as heartless as Michael’s father and it had taken Michael this long to see that.

Then, Bernice’s cool mask cracked. A tear rolled down her cheek, followed swiftly by another on the twin cheek. Her face crumpled into a mess. Michael reached out for her without thinking, pulling her into a hug. Bernice sobbed softly against him. She was as fragile as the paper-thin facade she’d been wearing. As much as she wanted to hide it, Michael realized, she was as human as anyone else. 

“I’m sorry,” Michael said against her hair. He didn’t know what else to say. There was nothing he could do to ease the pain Bernice had suffered. First her son had showed himself to be a monster, and now her only brother had died because of the dangerous life the mob had given him. 

”Volevo darvi una buona vita,” she sobbed. “My baby, you understand that? Una bouna vita, si?” 

“I - I understand.” Even though he truly didn’t. 

“Good.” Bernice still cried, but she relaxed some after a few moments in her son’s arms. “All I have done has been for us. I never want you to forget that.”

Michael swallowed. He could feel a tear opening up in his heart. All she had ever done had been for her family? But why? Why did it have to be this way? He couldn’t ask any of these questions, for he knew they would only upset her more. 

He patted the space between her shoulder blades to comfort her. He felt how much her bones stuck out, every tiny one like that of a bird’s. That was all she had ever been. A caged bird. That’s all Michael had ever been, too. A bird living in a gilded cage. He had been comfortable with that life for far too long, he realized. At last, he would take the first steps to fly away. 

But he couldn’t fly right now. Not when his family was like this. He had to wait for the right moment before he could leap out of the bounds of his cage into the bright, open sky. 

‘We’ll be all right,” he said to her.”Somehow, we will be.”

Michael would hold his breath.

(Source: fav.me)

“Why did I do that?” 

Daniel had been asking this question ever since slamming his fist into the face of the ugly bar patron. His hand hurt like hell and he had a migraine on top of it. Still, he supposed in the end it was worth the pain. He’d protected a friend. That counted for a lot in his book of honor. Nevertheless, if he could protect the virtue of a friend ‘without’ spraining his hand in the process then he would be very, ‘very’ grateful. 

“Because you’re a fool,” Morgan answered him. He was currently bandaging up Daniel’s hand with the only medical supplies they had at hand. Ace bandages and some kind of heating lotion, which Daniel was really hoping was used for first aid purposes and not for what Morgan liked to do in his spare time. Daniel hissed as Morgan wrapped the bandages around his bruised knuckles. Next time, Daniel was going to try some good old nonviolent noncooperation; wait, except that most of those people had the shit kicked out them anyway. Bad plan. 

“Well, thanks,” he said to Morgan, sounding enthused as ever. 

“To be fair, it’s likewise because you’re sweet.” 

Morgan hadn’t looked him in the eyes while saying this, so Daniel’s surprise was likely not caught by him at all. Daniel settled in his seat and watched Morgan continue his rather skilled treatment. How had Morgan learned to do this? Daniel might have asked, but it seemed too invasive a question. And Daniel knew how much Morgan hated those. What little Daniel had learned of Morgan’s personal life, he could assume Morgan had been in a few scrapes in his day. Morgan had even admitted to being bullied. Personal first aid would probably be a needed skill.  Daniel frowned. He was depressing himself at the thought of anyone picking on Morgan. It was probably why he had socked the guy back there. He couldn’t stand seeing anyone giving Morgan shit. 

“There, you should be good as new,” said Morgan, sounding pleased with himself.

Daniel surveyed his handiwork. The bandages had set his fingers and the bones of his hand back into place, at least as well as they could. A real doctor would have been able to set them properly, but they didn’t have that option right now. Daniel was contented with the results, for now. Morgan thrust a bottle in Daniel’s direction, which Daniel took tentatively as he studied the label. “Benzos?” 

“It’s that or aspirin. I just thought this might be a bit more effective,” Morgan said. 

“Yeah, I’d say so,” said Daniel. He wanted to laugh, but the throbbing in his fingers made it seem like too much effort. Daniel accepted the Benzos with full knowledge of what it might do to his state. He chose to take five because he remembered his mother taking them at some point for an injury; she had always taken five Benzos with a shot of rum. Now that he thought about it, her method probably wasn’t medically prescribed. 

“Thank you,” he said after ingesting the pills. Hesitantly, Daniel gave Morgan a smile. Morgan returned it with one of his great, shining, sun’s-gonna-come-out smiles, which actually cheered Daniel up quite a bit. 

“No, thank you.” Morgan’s smile lessened, but it was no less sincere. “What you did back there – well, it’s the nicest thing anyone’s done for me in a long time.” 

“Don’t mention it.” Daniel tried to curl his injured fingers and groaned in pain. If he could forget this night had ever happened, maybe the pain would be assuaged for a bit. He could hope, right?

The door opened behind them with a clatter. Whoever came in, they had no consideration for Daniel’s delicate condition. Okay, okay. He was being melodramatic. But he thought he deserved a little whining, after what he’d done. Looking up, it came as no surprise to him that it had been Lou who’d chosen to enter the room with all the grace of a thoroughbred in a toyshop. Except that Lou was a great deal louder and far more camp. 

“How’s our knight doing?” Lou said. Daniel tried to ignore the mocking tone, but his temper was already raised for the evening. He shot Lou a deathly glare. 

“He should be fine,” said Morgan. His fingers grazed Daniel’s bandages to check if they were still tightly in place. Daniel tried not to flinch. “Hopefully my bandaging job will keep the bones from going wonky and we won’t need a doctor’s visit. I hate hospitals.”

There was a moment of silence between Morgan and Lou that indicated to Daniel that Morgan’s reason for hating hospitals was not something to be discussed. At least not while Daniel was there. He tried not to be too put out by yet another measure of secrecy. He was more concerned with his hand, anyway. Daniel knew he was going to be sore for a while, even with Morgan’s skilled doctoring. Good thing he was just a manager, or he’d be screwed. He thought of it as a good thing that he had stepped into the fray and defended first instead of Lou or Jonah; if one of them had injured their hand in the fight, then the upcoming shows would have to be delayed. Money down the drain, a displeased fan base, or an injured hand? Daniel preferred the latter. 

Morgan placed a hand over Daniel’s bandaged one when Daniel tried to move his fingers again. “Stop that. You’ll only make things worse.”

Daniel stopped the twitching of his fingers, but having Morgan’s hand on them was only making things worse. He sighed with relief when Morgan let him go, though he tried hiding it for Morgan’s benefit. Morgan had had a rough enough night without needing Daniel’s grumbling to make it any worse. Considering that Morgan was being especially good to him at the moment, Daniel refrained from upsetting him. 

“I’m going to ask Jonah if it’s alright to leave you like this,” Morgan said. His hand moved to rest on Daniel’s shoulder. Daniel tried not to stiffen up from the unexpected touch. Morgan didn’t even look at him, or appear to notice how Daniel’s pose had suddenly become awkward. That or he didn’t care. “Lou, can you stay with him and make sure he doesn’t cock-up the bandages?”

“I’m not a ‘child.’ I can be trusted on my own,” complained Daniel. His whining only resulted in making him sound even more childish. 

“Quiet, you,” Morgan said. 

“I’ll stay.” Lou was smiling in a way that made Daniel fear more for his life than for the state of his fingers if he were to run away. It made the idea of escape all the more appealing. 

“Ta. Two seconds,” said Morgan, holding up two fingers to cement his promise. Daniel could only pray he’d be that quick.

After Morgan darted from the room, Daniel slumped in his chair and curled up over his hand in pain. He’d been acting brave for the last hour and it had taken its toll on him. Now that Morgan was gone he could at least express himself with some integrity. He wanted to run around in circles screaming curses, but of course he couldn’t do such a thing. Not without every person in the building running in to see him acting like a lunatic. Daniel really didn’t want to wind up in an asylum before the age of thirty if he could help it. 

“You act like you’ve never punched a jaw before,” Lou said, still smiling in a way that left the blood a bit cold. 

“I haven’t.” Daniel uncurled himself by small margins until he had his shoulders against the back of the chair. He realized it wasn’t just his hand that hurt. His shoulder ached as well from how hard he’d swung. Then there was the migraine, which hadn’t been alleviated in the slightest since he’d left the bar. With the company he was keeping, he sincerely doubted the headache would be cooled down at all for the next day if not more. 

Lou pulled up a chair and dragged it to sit next to Daniel. The bassist was twitching in a way that made Daniel think Lou wanted a smoke. Well, too bad. Daniel might have tolerated it on another night, but if Lou lit up now he’d take the cigarette and shove it somewhere highly sensitive. Probably not in the place one would think, either. Since none of that was important at the moment, Daniel sulked in silence and waited for Lou to start some kind of conversation. He was sure it was coming. He just wasn’t sure what it would entail. 

To his shock, Lou said absolutely nothing to breech the silence. Daniel kept on waiting, even when minutes had passed and he started looking toward the door to check for Morgan. Where was he? The silence was becoming awkward, at least for him; not that Daniel wanted to have a conversation with Lou, because it never ended well. Daniel was afraid the conversation would divert into a discussion about his sex life, or Lou’s, or Morgan’s, or anyone else’s that Daniel didn’t want to hear about. Since the drugs had started to kick in, Daniel also feared he would let something slip he would never be able to live down. Because Lou would never let him forget it. The bassist would, Daniel was sure, tell every living person within a fifty mile radius about his embarrassing incident in the university’s abandoned psychology classroom.

He had begun to stare at Lou with intensity as he concentrated on not starting an awkward conversation. Unfortunately, his staring only created another awkward moment, as Lou noticed his staring and stared back. Daniel’s lids fluttered and he turned his head away quickly. Yeah, the drugs were definitely kicking in. Why had he taken two? At least he hadn’t drunk any rum…

His vision had become fuzzy. Not in a way that bothered him, though. It was kind of nice to see the world through hazy, kaleidoscope eyes that could see sparks of light everywhere. The pain was gone, too. Daniel could even bend his fingers all the way without feeling anything but a weird buzzing in his joints. He kept bending and unbending his fingers, smiling as he watched them do their awkward motions. Daniel’s moment of surreal peace was shattered as Lou’s hand enclosed his. Shaken, he looked up at the bassist with wounded eyes. Lou waggled a finger at him and grinned. It was then that Daniel got a ‘really’ good look at the bassist’s cross tattoo.

“When did you get this?” His finger trailed along the length of the cross tattoo. The ink looked faded, yet the detail of the image was still perfect. It was the placement of the tattoo that made his stomach turn to knots. Right on Lou’s wrist, where the soft underbelly was almost pure white. 

“When I was fifteen,” Lou said. A smile quirked the bassist’s lips. Lou joined Daniel in tracing the tattoo, though Lou’s expression told of nostalgia instead of curiosity. “The shop didn’t even ask for an ID when I requested this.”

Daniel stopped the ministrations of his fingers and took to studying the tattoo with eyes. He couldn’t imagine doing something so bold at the age of fifteen. Yet Lou told him this as if it was nothing more than sneaking liquor out of a parent’s cabinet. A daring act, but also tinged with bravery that went beyond normal teenage rebellion. Daniel winced. He would never have the gall to ink his body. Too much pain for so little profit. 

“Why did you do it?” 

Lou laughed at Daniel’s pained expression. “Because I could. Because I wanted to.”

“What is it with you people and vague answers? I’m being serious,” Daniel said, thoroughly annoyed by all the simplistic responses he’d been getting. Did the members of Young Charmides have some kind of pact to keep everything a secret from anyone outside their group? Daniel was tired of the whole charade. 

“Fine, fine,” said the bassist. Lou’s eyes squinted to blue slits, moving to the ceiling to contemplate an answer. Sighing, Lou finally thought of something. “It was a vow.” 

“A…vow?” Daniel said. “Like a vow of celibacy or something?”

“No,” said Lou, laughing at the implication. “Nothing like that. I mean it was a vow to Him. Not one of the empty vows so many people give to Him these days. Mine was from the heart. It’s why I marked myself like this, so I would always carry Him with me. So I would never forget.”

Daniel blinked. In all the time he had spent with Lou, he had never gotten such a serious answer. It shocked him into silence. Daniel was not a religious man. He had come from a WASP-y family, but over the years his faith had dwindled into agnosticism. Hearing someone speak so plainly and with such verve for the subject of religion made him both uncomfortable and strangely enchanted. Lou, for all the bassist’s casual cruelty and what had appeared to be a lack of consideration, was deeper than he’d ever realized

He traced the very edge of the cross, where he saw words in very slight print. The words were German, a language he had never managed to grasp. He had taken Spanish in high school, after all. German equated to Spanish like how a golf ball translated to an orange. “What do the words mean?”

“Peter 4:8,” said Lou. 

“Huh?” Daniel was not acquainted with Biblical verse. He assumed that’s what Lou meant by that. Maybe Peter 4:8 was a German electronic band, for all Daniel knew.

“Read a book, will you? It says: ‘But above all things have fervent love among one another, because love covers a multitude of sins.’” . 

“That’s,” Daniel began, but he couldn’t find the right words. “That’s sweet.”

Lou gave him an unimpressed look. “Sweet? That’s all I get, is sweet?”

“Well, I don’t know what else I’m supposed to say! This isn’t really my – uh, area of expertise.”

An awkward silence followed, in which Daniel started to look around the room for something to focus his eyes on while Lou continued to stare at him with an even greater sense of apathy. Daniel wished he could stop walking into these embarrassing lines of conversation. However, it seemed God or nature or fate had a beef with him. What he had done to displease any of these potential forces, he had no idea. He only wished said forces would make up their minds in deciding he was going to be their biggest chew toy, or if they would simply kill him to end his misery.

“You’re an idiot,” Lou said. 

Daniel buried his face in his uninjured hand. “Yeah. I’m beginning to get that impression myself.” 

“Hm. Morgan’s been gone for some time. I think I should go check on him,” said Lou, sounding more rushed than what was really necessary.

Daniel had the feeling Lou wanted nothing more than to get away from him. Daniel didn’t voice his opinion, even though the Benzos were dancing on his shoulder and whispering for him to say any number of unwise things. Daniel was left to ponder God, destiny, and the nature of all things as Lou swished off to find Morgan. 

He also had to wonder whether or not having a heart-to-heart with any of the band mates was really a good idea after all. As enlightening as these conversations were, the pain he suffered to get to any piece of salvageable information didn’t really measure up. He enjoyed his work because his work was his life. If he didn’t have his job then he would go mad from boredom. Yet while working he seemed to be going mad from stress. It was the lesser of two evils, he supposed.

The door opened behind him, this time much more quietly. Daniel tried spinning in his seat only to realize the chair he sat on couldn’t turn without screeching against the tile floor. He cringed and stopped moving. Not even the Benzos could dull the instinctive pain a horrid noise brought. There was really no need to turn at all. He knew it could only be Morgan. His sigh filled the room before Daniel could even get a good look at him. By the time Daniel’s eyes had focused on the singer, Morgan was leaning over him with a concerned expression straining his face.

“I spoke with Jonah,” Morgan said. 

“Oh?” Daniel was smiling. He had no idea why.

“He said giving you Benzos after you’ve had alcohol probably isn’t the best idea.”

“Oh, psh,” said Daniel, waving his hand at the very idea that taking his magnificent medicine could do anything but good. 

“Your response isn’t comforting me at all.” 

Daniel giggled, then clapped his hand over his mouth. If he kept acting ridiculous then Morgan would keep worrying about him. He had to be serious. Daniel took a deep breath and stared at Morgan with grim resolve. “I’m cool,” he said. 

Morgan sunk down to eye level with deliberate slowness. His expression was stoic and his eyes were opened wide. Daniel stared into them and marveled at how black they looked. How anyone could have eyes that dark and still manage to see confused his mind. Morgan stared at him with those way-too-black eyes and raised both his hands. Daniel waited, his breath catching. He half expected to get hit. If Morgan clocked him upside the head then he’d have to find some way to counter-attack. Maybe he could sweep the leg if Morgan was distracted. ‘Yeah. I can take him. He’s a sapling, I’m a redwood. Bring it, bitch tree!’

His line of thought (if it could even be called that) was stopped abruptly as Morgan brought his face ever closer. Daniel’s fighting instinct sank immediately. His flight instinct took over next. What was Morgan doing? One thought starting revolving in Daniel’s mind: was Morgan going to kiss him? Well, damn. That was forward of him. Not to mention exploitative. Daniel was clearly off his rocker and Morgan was taking advantage. Daniel eyed him from toe to top. If he was going to make a move, he better do it soon. Daniel felt like he might fall asleep from boredom.

In the blink of an eye (or what felt like a blink in Daniel’s addled state), Morgan grabbed both sides of his face and pulled Daniel toward him. Expecting a snog, Daniel’s eyes popped out and his mouth fell open. Probably not the best defense strategy, but he was startled. He squeezed his eyes shut in the seconds it took for Morgan’s face to reach his. Daniel braced himself for impact. 

“Ow! What the hell?” Daniel said as Morgan’s teeth nipped at his cheek, much harder than what would have been playful. It felt like Morgan was really trying to hurt him. “Why are you trying to eat my face?” 

“Ah, you are high,” said Morgan. He didn’t answer Daniel’s question. Instead, he leaned away from the man on his heels and placed his hands on his hips casually. 

Daniel clutched his cheek and writhed in his seat. He was never letting Morgan near him again. “Do you drug test people by ‘biting’ them? What’s wrong with you?” 

Morgan rolled his eyes. “If you were sober you would have pushed me away.” 

“How do you know? Maybe I wanted to see what the ‘fuck’ you were doing with my face?” Daniel stopped his writhing and turned to sulking. He crossed his arms over his chest petulantly. His cheek probably had bite marks on it now. How would he explain that to the rest of the group? Where ‘was’ the rest of the group? They could have at least checked on him when they heard him yelling.

“That’s an odd way to look at it, Danny. What if I was trying to make a move? You would have let me?” Morgan was teasing him now. Daniel didn’t find it very funny. Not when his hand ‘and’ his cheek hurt. He had punched a man for Morgan’s sake and now the singer was taking enjoyment from messing with him. 

“Shut up,” Daniel said. “You’re a jerk. And probably a cannibal.” 

“Oh, whatever.” 

Morgan ignored Daniel’s continued grouching and went to get something from the fridge. Daniel pretended to not care, but he looked sidelong at Morgan as the singer grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. He brought it to Daniel, barely containing a smile as Daniel grabbed it from his hand like a child. 

“Drink up. It won’t do much for you ‘now’, but it will help flush out your system.” 

Daniel struggled with opening the bottle, until Morgan took the bottle back and unscrewed the top for him. Feeling even more useless, Daniel nursed the water with a pout. He didn’t feel ‘high’ so much as out of it. Or was that was feeling high was like? He’d never done drugs, even when they were offered. He had never seen much of a point to them. Maybe if he was an artist or a musician he could have used them to ‘inspire’ himself, but he was too ordinary for them otherwise. He’d never even had any stronger pain killers than ibuprofen. Now having tried what might have been an excessive amount of medication, Daniel was surprised at how well he was able to function.

He thought this while tipping the water bottle in hand so the water dribbled onto the floor. Daniel heard Morgan sighing, then felt the singer’s hands brushing his own as he took the bottle away. His ears pricked when he heard plastic against tile. The bottle being placed on the floor? Maybe. He was too drowsy to look for it. 

“You’re a mess,” Morgan said. 

Daniel felt his fingers moving over his hairline, brushing the wild strands of hair away from his eyes. He assumed they were Morgan’s fingers he was feeling. He hoped it was Morgan and not some random stranger. Daniel closed his eyes and sighed contentedly. He leaned into Morgan’s touch. It was soothing for his headache to feel the singer’s fingers running over his temples and scalp. Daniel could fall asleep just like this, if Morgan would keep touching him. 

“Danny?”

He half-opened his eyes. “Hm?”

There was a silence that followed. Morgan’s fingers paused in their movement, trembling just enough for Daniel to feel. “Never mind. I was just,” he said, pausing, “thinking out loud.” 

“Hm.”

If Daniel hadn’t felt the irresistible urge to fall asleep then he would have questioned what was on Morgan’s mind. Sadly, his eye lids were drooping again and his head was following suit. His chin nearly came to rest on his chest with the way he was leaning. He was only stopped when Morgan straightened him up by grabbing his shoulders and shoving him back against the seat. Daniel made a pained sound, but no other protests left his lips. He didn’t have the energy to form coherent thought, much less be disagreeable. 

“You can’t fall asleep, Danny,” Morgan said. 

“Why’s that?” 

“Because if you do, it will only make you ill.” 

Morgan’s logic was pretty sound, but Daniel couldn’t seem to muster up the motivation to care. He nodded to Morgan as if he agreed with what the singer was saying, yet he still allowed his head to flop down like an empty sock puppet. Daniel felt Morgan’s hands on him again, cupping his face and tilting his head up to look straight ahead. Why couldn’t Morgan let him fall asleep, just for a little while? Daniel was exhausted after all they’d done tonight. He’d had to beat someone up, and have frank discussions with people, and…some other stuff he couldn’t remember at the moment. Anyway, it seemed perfectly reasonable to want a nap after all that.

“I think you gave me rabies,” said Daniel, the words no more than a mutter. 

“I did not, you silly git.” Morgan ruffled his hair, making Daniel grunt with annoyance. Daniel swatted at Morgan’s hand, but Morgan caught him before the blow could hit home. “Wouldn’t matter if did. You’re already temperamental enough.” 

Daniel didn’t  have a good comeback on hand. His response to Morgan’s insult was to tip precariously off the side of the chair, though this wasn’t really a form of retaliation; he honestly couldn’t keep his balance anymore. He heard Morgan curse softly as the singer caught him before he could tip off the chair altogether. Daniel was surprised to feel Morgan’s arms enfolding him, keeping him safely away from the hard floor. It was nice. Sighing tiredly, Daniel wrapped his arms over Morgan’s shoulders. He felt Morgan freeze up apprehensively, but then the singer relaxed and sighed with the same weariness.  

The way Morgan was leaning had to be uncomfortable, though Daniel. Morgan was bent at the waist with his arms locked right below Daniel’s armpits. He hadn’t moved from that position for minutes now. Daniel thought of offering for them to switch places, but he didn’t think he could lift his entire body from the chair as he was. Besides, if Morgan was in his place and Daniel in his then Daniel was fairly certain they would both topple onto the floor. 

He buried his face in the crook of Morgan’s neck and breathed evenly. Morgan was freezing up again, only for the singer to hesitantly unlock from whatever stony defense mechanism he had built for himself. Daniel’s breath hitched slightly as Morgan’s hands ran over his shoulders, down to the middle of his back. There was an alarm going off in the back of his head, wailing for him to snap out of whatever spell he was under and make this stop; however, the siren was so faint Daniel could barely hear it, nor could he say he cared about the damned alarm at all. He was comfortable as he was, so what should he care if his brain was yelling at him that this was ‘wrong, so wrong’?

Morgan rested his cheek against Daniel’s scalp and took a shaky breath. Daniel, too far gone to pay it any real mind, saw the shakiness of Morgan’s breathing as nothing but tiredness. He heard Morgan whispering his name, too quietly for it to mean the singer was trying to get his attention. Daniel closed his eyes against Morgan’s skin and waited to see if Morgan would speak up. 

Apparently, he didn’t need to wait long. “Danny, I wish you were in your right mind.” 

“Who says I’m not?” Daniel said.He was close to falling asleep in the crook of Morgan’s neck. 

A chuckle rippled through Morgan’s body. Daniel could swear it started from the tips of the man’s toes and ended at his crown. It would make sense. The way Morgan laughed was like sunlight bursting through clouds; while you’d think it could only go so far, instead the rays washed over everything until there wasn’t a cloud left. All-encompassing, it was. Maybe even Godly. ‘What was I talking about?’

“I know you’re not in your right mind, Danny. If you were, you wouldn’t be like this with me.” Morgan’s voice was so sad it made Daniel reopen his eyes to stare at the patch of Morgan’s skin he was using as a pillow. The skin was flushed almost red. Daniel wondered if it hurt. 

“I would be,” Daniel said. He didn’t want to argue, but he thought Morgan was being ridiculous. Of course, if the rational side of his mind were awake it would have told him that Morgan was absolutely right. He would never get this close and personal with someone he was working for. Especially not when that someone was a man. “I’m comfor - ‘comfy’.” 

“You’re drunk,” Morgan corrected him. 

“‘Comfy’ drunk.” 

“‘Right’. Whatever you say.” 

Morgan shifted and Daniel heard his joints pop. A hiss was released from Morgan’s lips like a balloon receding air. Daniel would have told him he could let him go, but he was too tired. He wanted to stay like this for as long as possible, at the very least until he had gotten an hour’s sleep. Morgan was possibly the best pillow Daniel had ever had. 

He barely registered the sound of the door opening behind them, but he did feel Morgan moving to peer in that direction. Judging from how Morgan was frozen up again, he didn’t like whoever was walking in to see him like this. Daniel, meanwhile, was too far gone to give a shit. Whoever it was could get over it. Whatever ‘it’ was. Daniel wasn’t really sure. 

“What are you doing?” said the person. They sounded cold. Also, female. 

“Hi Connie,” Morgan said, sounding distraught. 

Daniel opened his eyes fully and managed to turn himself enough to look at Constance. He gave a little wave, then let his hand fall back on Morgan’s shoulder. Constance didn’t look terribly happy. Actually, she looked pretty pissed off. Daniel couldn’t understand why, so he chose not to think about it. His mind was too fuzzy to process complicated things like what went on in Connie’s head. Despite this, he could sense Morgan looking at him sharply. Daniel didn’t know what he could possibly want. 

“He hurt his hand,” Daniel heard Morgan say. For some reason, Morgan’s voice sounded muffled. Maybe it was because of the way Daniel’s face was buried against his neck. “There was a man at the bar who tried to start trouble, so Danny just - he stepped in.”

“So this is your way of repaying him? Getting him drunk and…doing whatever it is you’re doing?” Connie said. 

“I didn’t mean to get him drunk. I wanted to give him something to stop the pain. ‘This’,” Morgan was motioning to his and Daniel’s current arrangement, “happened because of him.” 

“Right.” Connie didn’t sound convinced, nor did she sound very happy. 

Daniel heard her heels clacking on the kitchen floor. He opened one eye to look at her as she stood before them. She was studying Daniel’s face with her penetrating gray eyes. Unsure what to do, Daniel didn’t move and, for a moment, he forgot to breathe. Connie shook her head at him and whirled away with further clacking of heels and the swishing of her pleated skirt. Daniel closed his eyes and listened to the opening of the fridge. He heard a glass being slammed on the counter and filled with ice and liquid. There was the sound of stirring and cabinets opening, but none of these noises gave him any clues. He didn’t know what it all meant, but he did feel Morgan sighing against him heavily.

Connie soon returned with a glass in hand. She held it out to the two men, her brow quirked in a way that told of how exasperated she was with them both. “This is for him,” she said, meaning Daniel. “It’ll make him throw up, but that’ll be better than having him pass out as he is.” 

“I don’t want to throw up,” Daniel protested. He squirmed in Morgan’s grasp as if to escape; it was no use, as Morgan wasn’t letting him go. The drink smelled terrible and Daniel knew he didn’t want it anywhere near him, much less inside his stomach.

“Too bad,” Connie said. She looked thoroughly remorseless as she watched Morgan hold the glass up to Daniel’s mouth to force him to drink. 

Daniel sputtered at the terrible flavor in his mouth. He still swallowed, afraid that Morgan and Connie would find a way to make him miserable if he didn’t. Connie looked satisfied, while Morgan appeared regretful. Daniel at least knew who was on his side. He clutched at Morgan and coughed, feeling Morgan flinch. 

“What was in that?” Morgan said, sounding concerned. 

“Warm water, apple cider, salt and pepper. It’s an old family cure for hangovers,” said Connie. She smiled for the first time. “It had some rather unexpected results the first time it was used, so the story’s been repeated through the years enough times for it to become tradition to make some poor soul drink it.” 

“It’s disgusting,” Daniel said, still coughing. He decided then and there that he hated Connie. Screw all she had ever done for him, this was unforgivable. 

“Don’t worry about it,” said Connie. “You won’t have it in you for long.”

“What do you -” Daniel started to say, but then he froze. 

Clutching at Morgan even tighter, he lurched as his gut did a flop. Morgan gasped and twisted away from Daniel’s grasp as quickly as he could. Daniel stumbled off the chair, covering his mouth with one hand and frantically looking around. Connie and Morgan pointed emphatically to a door across the room. Daniel took the hint and ran for it, bursting through the door just in time to upchuck right into a waiting toilet. 

“Fuck me.” Daniel groaned and sank onto the floor, his arms thrown over the toilet seat as his only means of support. He hated them both. There was no excuse for this level of cruelty. His stomach gave out on him again and Daniel could do nothing more than collapse on the toilet and let the contents of his stomach make a hasty escape. 

“Are you alright?” he heard behind him. Morgan was peering tentatively into the doorway, looking both disgusted by and sympathetic to Daniel’s condition.

“Yeah, just peachy,” said Daniel. His face was still hanging into the bowl of the toilet. If he was to describe his current situation, ‘alright’ would be the furthest indicator in his mind.

“Connie says you’ll thank her later.” Morgan entered the bathroom and glanced around. He took a seat on the edge of the small tub across from Daniel. 

Daniel groaned. “She would.” 

He was surprised to feel Morgan’s foot rubbing at his back. The gesture filled him with feelings of strangeness and comfort. Sort of fitting, considering who was doing it. Daniel would have shaken him off at any other time, but he was too exhausted to bother now. There was no point in protesting against something that was only meant to make him feel better. Groaning, Daniel raised his head from the toilet and glanced in Morgan’s direction. His vision was blurry so he couldn’t read Morgan’s expression. 

“Here,” Morgan said, handing Daniel a towel from the rack. Daniel grabbed for it, missing twice; he somehow got a hold on the damned thing and brought it to his face, but even his attempts at cleaning himself were clumsy and futile. 

Daniel rested his cheek against the crook of his elbow. He wanted to sleep. He also wanted to throw up again, but he was hoping that feeling would pass. A sound behind him made him open his eyes slightly. In the next second, Morgan crouched beside him and took the towel from his hands, wiping Daniel’s face with meticulous deliberation. Daniel would lift his head just enough for Morgan to get better access. Anything else felt like too much work. Morgan said nothing as he worked, aside from soft hums of a tune Daniel didn’t recognize or couldn’t in his state.

The way Morgan touched him brought Daniel back to childhood, when he had been deathly ill with pneumonia or any other terrible but inevitable childhood infection. His mother or father would stay by his side in shifts, reading him stories and brushing back his hair from his fever-reddened brow. When he would cry out when he was about to be sick one of them would carry him into the bathroom and stay with him until they knew he was in one piece again. Those moments were strenuous and positively ordinary, not to mention something most would take for granted. But it was the sort of consideration Morgan showed him now.

“Thank you,” Daniel said. He placed his hand on Morgan’s shoulder, squeezing weakly. He swore he could feel Morgan’s bones every time he touched him. Morgan felt like a baby bird, all jutting limbs and fragile bones. How the singer was so compact and graceful with a form like that was a mystery for the ages. 

“Don’t mention it.” Morgan stopped cleaning him up and sat back on his heels. The way he crouched reminded Daniel of a tree frog. He smiled, wondering if it was possible to compare Morgan to anything other than a creature you would find in the Amazon. 

Daniel hated to admit it, but he was beginning to feel better now that the contents of his stomach had been completely emptied. He refused to believe Constance had been right in making him that awful concoction, though. After drinking that, Daniel wasn’t sure he would ever be able to consume alcohol again, or medicine of any kind for that matter. The only reason the tonic could be classified as a hangover cure was because it insured that no one would ever want to drink booze again after taking it. 

He buried his face in his hands and groaned. His migraine from earlier now paled in comparison to what was raging in his skull. At least his stomach was no longer torturing him and he no longer felt like he would pass out at any moment. His hand still stung, but it was a stinging Daniel could live with. If he slept, then perhaps the pain would subside and he would feel better by the next morning. Daniel lifted his face from his hands and looked at Morgan, sighing from total exhaustion.

“Is Connie still out there?” Daniel said. If she was, she would likely be tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for them to rejoin her in the kitchen. While Daniel appreciated her caring for him, he wished she would learn to be a little more forgiving. 

Morgan ran a hand through his hair and looked at the ceiling. “She’s with Lou, I think. She was upset with me.” 

“Why would she be upset?”

“She thought we were being too intimate,” Morgan said, a blush tinging his face a faint pink. “And that I was taking advantage.” 

Daniel acquired a blush to match Morgan’s. He couldn’t believe Constance would assume something like that. Then again, he couldn’t actually picture clearly what had been happening in the other room. If Morgan had wanted to take advantage, he would have had ample opportunity. Since Daniel was still safe and dry, he could come to the conclusion Morgan had been a gentleman. Something poked at him in the back of his mind - something which Morgan had said earlier. Daniel rubbed at his temple. No use trying to remember it now. His brain was too muddled to remember anything beyond his first name.

“Well, I know you didn’t. That’s all that matters,” said Daniel. 

“I suppose.” 

Morgan didn’t sound convinced, but Daniel had no clue how to make him feel any better. He had the feeling Constance would come around by tomorrow and forget the awkwardness of this evening. If he was wrong, then he’d figure some way to apologize to her. For now, Daniel would focus on getting well and ‘not’ emptying whatever was left in his stomach. 

“Could you help me up?” he said, looking hopefully at his friend. 

“Of course,” Morgan said. He didn’t hesitate for a moment. After a lot of clumsy fumbling as Morgan tried to lift Daniel up by the armpit, Daniel managed to hook his arm over Morgan’s shoulder and hoist himself up. 

“This is going to end badly,” Daniel said, punctuating his words with a grunt of pain as his arm bumped against the door frame as they made their way out of the bathroom. 

“Shush. Have a bit of optimism.” Morgan’s jaw was clearly clenched. He was keeping Daniel on his feet since Daniel was too weak to do it all by himself. Daniel’s gut clenched again, but only because he felt guilty for making Morgan into his personal pack mule. He tried holding himself up as best he could; unfortunately, Daniel’s whole body was working against him. 

Stumbling through the empty section of the house, they both searched fervidly for a private room. Well, mostly Morgan searched and Daniel hung limply from the singer’s shoulder while trying not to collapse entirely. Sleep would be heavenly, he thought. Never had he wanted to sleep in a stranger’s bed more than this moment. That sounded weird. ‘I don’t care anymore,’ he thought. Propriety was for people with less issues to deal with than he had. Morgan huffed and lifted him higher, making Daniel trip against the carpeted floor. They both slammed into the nearest wall, but luckily not hard enough to hurt Daniel anymore than he already was. Morgan cursed near Daniel’s ear, making Daniel smile faintly. He was too tired to curse along with him, instead contributing only in spirit. 

“There should be a guest room around here some - there!” Morgan turned them sharply, causing Daniel to nearly slip from the singer’s shoulder. Thanks to some quick reflexes, Morgan grabbed his arm and readjusted Daniel back into place. Daniel’s eyes rolled as his head was sloshed around. When his eyes refocused, he saw a bedroom door in front of him.

Morgan opened the door and dragged Daniel inside, huffing and strewing profanities as he went. The bed looked so inviting that Daniel started reaching for it before they were even three feet away. Yes, the bed was his friend. Once the bed had him in its embrace, Daniel hoped he would never have to leave. Morgan threw him against the glorious bed and took a huge gulp of air. 

“I need to quit smoking.” 

“Mm,” Daniel said. He was too busy stretching out on the mattress like a cat to care about eloquence. 

“We should put you under the covers, Danny,” said Morgan, poking his stomach pointedly. Daniel breathed out all the air left in his lungs. He didn’t want to move, but Morgan was right. It was cold and he was already sick. Putting himself at any further risk of catching something would be foolish. 

He had been trying to rally himself to get up from the bed, but so far he had been failing with epic proportions. Ready to give up completely, Daniel was surprised when Morgan’s arms found their way around his waist and lifted him up. His chest pressed against Morgan’s and his arms hung at his sides uselessly. Daniel would have protested being treated like a baby if he had the strength, but Morgan’s way of helping him really was all Daniel had to rely on in his current condition. Morgan hugged him tightly with one arm while pulling back the covers with the other. He sounded out of breath, which Daniel couldn’t blame him for. He had been involved in an altercation only to have to take care of Daniel once Daniel hurt himself, then he had dragged Daniel’s heavy ass through half the house. The poor guy probably needed as much sleep as Daniel did.

Daniel tried not to be put out at being tucked into bed like a child, since Morgan was being awfully sweet about it. He sighed and wrapped himself in the covers, letting his injured hand hang off the bed so he wouldn’t roll onto it. This night had not gone well for him. Had he known it would end up like this then he would have stayed out of the conflict. No, wait. He wouldn’t have allowed himself to stay out of it, not when Morgan might have been seriously injured. 

He glanced at Morgan and sighed inaudibly. Morgan was dragging a cushioned seat from the far corner of the room to sit by the bed. Why did Morgan have to be so nice? It made it very difficult for Daniel to resent him. He really ‘should’ be angry, considering how much trouble Morgan caused him. Yet whenever he got angry at Morgan he always wound up feeling like a dick. That was not fair, at least not in Daniel’s view. Clearly Morgan needed to be more of an unforgivable bastard, or Daniel would never feel justified in his anger.

“Are you going to stay with me?” Daniel said, what Morgan was doing finally sinking in.

“Yes. I want to make sure you’ll be alright through the night.” Morgan paused. Daniel wondered for a moment if it was because he’d made an unintended rhyme, then he came to his senses and realized the implications of what Morgan was saying.

“You need to sleep, too. You can’t just stay here all night.” 

“I’ll sleep after a bit. I can stay in this chair and have a zizz when I need it,” Morgan said. “Besides, it’s my fault you’re hurt and took those Valium. I want to make certain nothing else will happen to you.” 

Daniel made a face, but Morgan was unfazed. He stuck his tongue out at Daniel and got comfortable in his seat. The chair was a high-backed green number which hurt Daniel’s eyes with its green and purple design. It was as if Barney the dinosaur had exploded onto a hotel seat. Daniel closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at it. 

“You should sing me to sleep,” he said, smiling wryly. “Make some use of that voice.”

“Oh, like I don’t make use of it already?” Morgan paused. Daniel could guess he was smiling to himself, though he didn’t open his eyes to see it for himself. 

Grinning, Daniel yawned and stretched his good arm under his pillow. “Pop numbers aren’t good for bedtime. I need something soothing. Are you capable of branching out so you can sing me something soothing?”

“I have a wide range, ta.” The snipping in Morgan’s voice made Daniel smile wider. “Let me think of something.”

The long silence that followed made Daniel fall into a half-sleep. He would be happy when sleep took him and his mind could relax. Daniel spent all his time worrying. He worried over his work. He worried about the people around him. He worried about whether his family was proud of him or if ‘they’ worried about him too much. His mother used to warn him that if he worried too much he would start losing his hair, which had only made him worry about yet another problem. All his worries piled up and made him feel like he was being weighed down by circumstance. Sure, he found ways to counteract his worries and to combat his fears, but it was all still a lot for him to handle. He hadn’t even reached thirty and already he felt like an old man. Perhaps Morgan had been right about him. Maybe his soul really was a withered old man, just waiting to die. 

His morose thoughts were broken to pieces when Morgan began singing. The man’s singing seemed able to pierce through any fog. The fog in Daniel’s mind was no exception. He could hardly grasp the lyrics, but the song sounded like a lullaby. There was something familiar about the song, a twinge of childhood pulsing in Daniel’s heart. Morgan’s singing wasn’t overblown, yet it was still powerful. He sang softly, such a sweetness embedded into every note that Daniel found warmth growing within his very center at listening. 

“‘Tuppence a bag,’” he heard, and then he knew where he’d heard the song. ‘Mary Poppins.’ He couldn’t remember what the song was called or even how he could remember a song he had never noticed when he was young, since he had always been so enamored with the chimney sweepers’ song and ‘Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.’ Now that Morgan sang it Daniel couldn’t imagine how such a song could ever be forgotten. The song caressed its way into his ears and slowly danced into his heart, spinning incessantly like a shining Christmas ornament. 

“Beautiful,” he said, more to himself than to Morgan. His whisper must have been heard, for Morgan’s singing lilted in an unnatural way before going back to the true rhythm. Daniel wished to stay awake longer. He desperately wanted to ask Morgan to sing for him again. However, sleep would not let him wait. It swept over him like another blanket and Daniel drifted away just as the song came to an end.

Before he was lost to sleep completely, he heard the creak of Morgan’s chair and the soft squeak of the wood floor. Long fingers ran through his hair, trembling faintly. Daniel didn’t move. He couldn’t move as it was. The heaviness of sleep and fear of scaring Morgan off froze him in place. There was warmth at his ear, and the sound of frightened breathing. What was Morgan doing? Daniel waited expectantly. He received no answer. Morgan quickly pulled back and Daniel heard the same obnoxious squeak of the floor and creak of the chair. 

Daniel’s heart beat fast, though he had no idea why. He was confused by many things, but Morgan’s behavior had to be at the top of the list. Daniel gritted his teeth, partly because his hand was really stinging now. But it was also as Daniel couldn’t throw off the strange tingly feeling creeping over his body. It was like a thousand tiny spiders running across his skin. 

Whatever. He would never be able to decode why he suddenly felt so uneasy, or what Morgan had been doing, or why any of it had to be so complicated. Daniel merely wanted rest and a chance to heal. He settled into the cocoon of his blankets and buried his face in the soft pillow under his head. As he drifted off, Daniel could have sworn he heard a few tinkling, silvery notes from the beautiful bird song drifting from Morgan’s chair.

(Source: fav.me)