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pillow forts for ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
weaintashes
Sometimes, you just need to crawl into a pillow fort and forget the world for a while.
The lights and candles are probably a little cheesy, but without them it's too dark in there and he couldn't really think of anything else. The important thing is that it's cozy, closed off so everything outside can just be forgotten or ignored for some time. He's rounded up as many blankets and pillows as he could find, darker sheets draped over furniture and pinned with old clothespins to make sure it won't fall apart so easily.
And of course there's snacks, a few bags of chips and beers fresh from the cooler, whiskey and a couple glasses nearby. A small pile of mystery novels are off to one side, a radio on the other. The television's still visible from the fort's entrance, remotes within reach, and a couple of his personal favourite Game and Watch handhelds just in case.
It's not much, but he knows what it's like when life just gets to be a little too much. This is the best (and less self destructive) way he knows to shut everything out and just be for a while. It might not help - it probably won't - but he wants to at least try.
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And, well, so maybe he is a hick, but that has no bearing on his intellectual capacity. Might almost be pleasant if it did, because maybe then he could find some relief in the skin of an unthinking, unfeeling animal, driven only by instinct and not so easily overwhelmed by human chaos and universal bigotry.
But it's never been that simple.
Daryl's too distracted with his own agitation to notice Jeremy's project at first, but once he does, he watches the construction with growing interest. The finished structure is irresistibly den-like but with all the comforts that appeal to the man in him, which is the form he takes before curiously crawling in to kneel amongst the nest of blankets and pillows lining the floor.
"This is real nice," he says in a voice softened with wonder as he takes it all in, their mingled scents on the bedding soothing to his inhuman senses — like he's welcome, like he belongs here. There's something shy about the way he drops his gaze after a few moments and fidgets with the hem of his rumpled shirt. The level of thought and care behind Jeremy's gesture is all too apparent, and while Daryl doesn't feel worthy of that kind of consideration, he greatly appreciates it nonetheless. Especially today. "Mind if I join you?"
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Jeremy generally dislikes people, for the most part. For as long as he's lived, he's done his best to avoid them. It's only when he absolutely has to feed that he bothers at all, and otherwise the most social interaction he gets is from the late night clerk at the 24-hour convenience shop. From humans, anyway.
While he doesn't have many friends, the small circle of trustworthy people are the only ones he feels safe with. The circle became increasingly smaller over the years, his own anxiety and general distrust of people (plus his natural longevity compared to mortals,) making it difficult to maintain a proper friendship. But sometimes there's someone he manages a connection with, and when it's someone who wants to shut out the world around them as much as he does, he can't help but want to try and make things easier for both of them. At least for a little while.
The fort is as comfortable as he could make it. He knows that when things get tough, he can at least disappear for a while, but others don't always have it as easy. Daryl's been in something of a mood all day, and Jeremy thought that, maybe, a little secluded pillow fort could help him feel better. He spends a long minute wondering if the idea was too childish, if he should just take it down and offer the guy a beer, but it surprises him to see it actually goes over well.
"Oh-- y-yeah, sure," Jeremy answers, a small smile on his face as he moves over enough so there's room for Daryl to get comfortable. He's not sure if he wants company at all, but it's not important at the moment. "It's, uh ... not much, just ... something that-- well, I find it ... it helps, when ... y'know. Bad days."
Good to know he's still awful at conversation.
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Several minutes pass before he stirs again. The dull aching of his injured shoulder prompts him to shift his position, rolling more onto his side and facing his friend. Whom he finally peers at, the low light reflecting in his eyes slightly, as it would a cat's. His human guise isn't entirely accurate (another source of mockery from the human-born), but he lacks the incentive to perfect it. Who cares about fully passing for human when he avoids them as much as possible?
He isn't exactly close with too many blood suckers — nor with many beings in general, his cat nature largely dictating his loner tendencies — but he knows Jeremy well enough to suspect he might be needing this quiet escape just as much. That maybe something happened to him, too, beyond the usual struggle to exist in a society that doesn't want them.
Possibly more vampire infighting; he's heard rumours of it recently, and knows some of them can become as obsessed as wolves with their 'rules' and hierarchies. Many a foolish whelp has been made to regret attempting those domination games with him, and it makes him inwardly bristle thinking Jeremy may get subjected to similar bullshit.
"Rough night too, huh? How have things been?" he asks, his voice briefly muffled when he rubs his face against the pillow. Ostensibly to clear the hair out of his eyes, but also not-so-subtly scenting it, a gesture of self-comfort. "Heard some rumblings about shit going down with the fang gang again, but your name hasn't come up. Been keepin' an ear out." And a lot more than that, truth be told. But he doesn't want Jeremy getting the wrong idea — Jeremy's perfectly capable of taking care of himself, he's sure, but can't help wanting to protect him too.
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At least his pillow fort was providing the desired comfort they both needed, after a trying day. He figures, at first, that Daryl's gone to sleep and will be for a while. And he doesn't mind it, opting for one of the handhelds he brought while Daryl rests. He looks over at his companion after a few minutes, wondering if he should pull the blanket further up over his shoulders to make sure the other stays warm. But Daryl starts to stir the moment he reaches his hand out to do that, and he quickly pulls back.
He does notice the way Daryl favours his one shoulder briefly, and he wonders if he should ask about it. But he stays quiet about it for now, since it's not necessarily his business and maybe he's just reading too much into small gestures. He shouldn't be prying. Everyone has their own secrets and problems. Instead, he should just enjoy the quiet peacefulness of the moment, and be glad for the company. He's far from social, especially where other vampires are concerned, but it's different with Daryl. No pressure to put up a confident front, just the two of them getting away from it all, shutting the world out around them.
"-- oh ..." The conversation does surprise him a bit, thinking Daryl had been asleep while he was distracted with his game (and briefly worrying he'd been making too much noise with it and woke him up.) He didn't know Daryl was actually looking out for him, and though he almost wants to ask why he'd even bother, he keeps it to himself. And it's true, there'd been problems and more than a few incidents happening, enough to cause a public commotion now and then between rival clans. "It's ... you know how vampires are. They're assholes. Not picking a side makes you a target."
It probably sounds more serious than it is, despite how casually he answers the question. Jeremy's halfway decent at combat, but far better at hiding. He leans back against the pillows, the two of them close but not breaching any personal boundaries, except maybe when he does absently reach over to tuck a few stray hairs back against Daryl's head, and he quickly draws his hand back again when he realizes what he's doing.
"S-Sorry. You, uh, had some stickin' out."
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The coolness of Jeremy's touch isn't startling the way it once had been, a long time ago, though it isn't quite a familiar sensation either — the number of people Daryl doesn't mind being touched by could be counted on one hand, with fingers to spare. And it doesn't happen often. But instead of flinching away or snapping as he would with nearly anyone else, the gesture has him shifting a little closer with a faint snort of amusement at the explanation. His hair rarely is groomed beyond being kept clean and more or less untangled, because it's perpetually disheveled by changing forms.
"I don't purr, if that's what you're testing," he points out as he nudges their pillows closer together and resettles along Jeremy's side, head resting partway against his shoulder and at a better angle to see the screen of the game he's holding. (Video games are still an interesting novelty to Daryl, owing to his relative inexperience with them.) He's on the opposite end of the body heat spectrum, being noticeably warmer than a human would be, so between them he figures it'll probably even out into a comfortable median for both of them.
"You thought about getting outta the city for a while?" With me, he doesn't say, never quite sure whether his presence would be welcome for an even more extended period of time. He wouldn't want to impose, though a trip out to the wilds together is something he'd enjoy. "I could piss around the outside of your building, too," he says, unfortunately not entirely joking. "Won't do much against them Jehovah's folks, but anybody wanting to recruit you for their asinine war'd get the message."
Whether it's literal piss or the more socially acceptable magic warding, the message would be the same: Stay the fuck away or be prepared to fight.
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"Oh. That's a shame," he answers, meant only as a tease (though now it's got him wondering if Daryl can make other animal noises.) What he's not expecting is for Daryl to shrug it off and move closer instead. A lot closer, actually, and he's briefly glad for the fact he hasn't had to feed in a while so he can't blush at the new proximity. Before he thinks to ask why, he notices Daryl's watching his game screen. Maybe he just wanted to get a better look. Jeremy doesn't mind if that's the case, and he adjusts his position so Daryl can get a better look at the screen. Parachute's not the most fascinating game to watch, but it's the one he's the best at.
The idea of leaving the city might've crossed his mind once or twice, when the pressure from the other clans would get to be too much. They've never gotten along well, and Jeremy's always considered himself a loner. Life's just easier that way. But he hasn't ever gone through with packing up and moving on again, and the desire to has been even less so since meeting Daryl and getting to know him better. He's the first real friend he's had in such a long time, he hasn't smiled or laughed or felt this comfortable with someone for so long that the thought of leaving it behind just because rival vampire families were getting up in arms yet again just didn't seem worth it.
"Around the whole building?" Jeremy snickers a bit at the idea, knowing full well something like that would just get other vampires up in arms if they knew, but the thought behind it is sweet - that Daryl was just looking out for him and wanted to help. It warms his cold and unbeating heart, and he can't help shifting just the slightest bit closer as well, just close enough to tilt his head and lean against Daryl's. "Nah. It's not that bad, and ... I like it here. But if they get to be a bigger problem ... I don't know. I wouldn't want to go alone."
It's right about then that he realizes he hasn't been paying attention to his game and the game over sound beeps out loud. "Aw, son of a bitch."
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"Don't gotta go alone," he says, fighting against his initial urge to suggest Jeremy go with one of his other friends. Maybe, most likely, he'd even have a more enjoyable time with one of them. But that isn't what Daryl wants to tell him, and he knows being indirect about this would be counterproductive.
"If you'd want to with me. I wouldn't mind escapin' for a while too." An understatement. He's always felt more at home in the wilds than he's ever been in crowded cities. If not for the connections he has here, it's debatable if he'd bother maintaining a regular job, apartment, or the illusion of a human life at all. What would be the point? A nice forest beyond the reach of humanity would provide everything he needs, except for — this. Companionship with someone he trusts and cares for. Regardless of his nature, there's no denying how important his few friends have become to him; they're the family he chose, and he doesn't use the term lightly.
He hasn't been paying close attention to the handheld for the last few seconds either, and the sudden loud beep draws his focus back to the screen. Jeremy's apparent distraction gets an amused chuckle from him, a low, quiet sound more easily felt than heard, and he lightly bumps Jeremy's forehead with his own. Hoping to diffuse some of his self-consciousness and nerves, he reaches for the other handheld.
"Whatever happens, I've got your back. Anyone has a problem with you, then they've damn sure got a problem with me." Gaming isn't second nature to him the way it seems to be for those who grew up with it — it requires more of his direct attention, and there's a pause while he gets the game started. "Is it hard for you, bein' away from the city? Because of..." Without looking up from the game screen, he chews his lower lip in thought. Inadvertently hurting his friend with a bad choice of words is the last thing he wants. "The food situation."
It's worded delicately enough, he figures.
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He doesn't want to suggest it, worrying that it could possibly come across as too forward and bold. But Daryl's the one to bring the idea up instead, and while it's surprising at first, the fact that Daryl would even want to go with him at all is sweet enough that it makes Jeremy smile at the thought of it. Going alone had its share of problems and dangers, whether it was running into another vampire family out on the prowl or the hunters that had grown in numbers lately, but he can't deny that he'd feel safer out there with someone else. Especially with someone else with their own set of fangs.
There's still a part of him that doesn't necessarily understand why, of course. Why did Daryl want to keep seeing him at all? It wasn't as if he was anything special. Hell, he was more cowardly and reclusive than most vampires, he spent most of his time trying to turn people away or hide in pillow forts not unlike the one they were in just to shut out the rest of the world.
Before his thoughts could spiral further, Daryl's gently bumping his forehead, a gesture that both confuses him further and nearly makes him drop his game. He's not sure what he was about to say before that, suddenly at a lost for words ... but perhaps it was on accident? Seeing as how the other had reached for a different game just after, that was the conclusion Jeremy decided on. Daryl was just curious about the other games. That had to be it.
"If that's the case ... maybe I'll keep that offer in mind," he replies, a bit of uncertainty in his tone, before clearing his throat and adjusting his position against the pillows. Maybe he'd moved too close? Did Daryl need a little more space? Jeremy figured he shouldn't be pushy, just because he was comfortable being that close together didn't necessarily mean Daryl was too.
Calling it the "food situation" on the other hand, it does make him laugh a little bit. Other vampires certainly hadn't done anything wonderful for their kind's reputation. He points out a few helpful tips for the game first, setting his own aside for the time being - sometimes it's more fun to watch.
"Nothing to worry about, really. I can go without for quite a while. It's the hunters that end up being more of a problem out there," he answers, folding his hands over his chest, and hoping that Daryl's not too put off when he tilts his head to rest gently against the man's shoulder. "To be honest, you don't really seem like the city type yourself."
now with his very own weredaryl account, just because
Taking the game pointers into consideration, his very shaky start steadily improves as he catches on to the objective. Simple as these games may be, they're no less challenging for it.
"Any hunters bother us, we could kill two birds with one stone," he points out with a trace of grim amusement. Even though the hunters would undoubtedly have various charms and wards and such, rendering them unpalatable unless the protections are removed. Offering his own blood doesn't cross his mind due to it being considerably more toxic to vampires in its natural state, just as vampire blood is to his kind, which is likely one of the only factors preventing the two races from devouring one another on the regular. Literally speaking, anyway.
"I'm not." It seems that's the sum of his response while he concentrates on the game, but several long moments and one completed level later, he elaborates. "Only stick around for the company," he admits, and there's a pause both verbally and in his gameplay as though he might say something more, but awkwardness wins out and he remains silent. While he hadn't protested or seemingly even noticed Jeremy's shifting to give him a little more space, neither does he mind feeling his friend resting against his shoulder now — it's what encouraged his honesty. Were he the type to angle for sympathy he might have played up his injury, but in truth, it's already mostly healed by this point thanks to accelerated regeneration.
His own distraction is now evident in his gameplay, and before long a sudden Game Over beep mocks him. His first attempt had been respectable enough and not completely embarrassing, he hopes, trying not to feel too self-conscious about the failure.
"Where would you wanna go?" he asks with some hesitance before starting the game over. The patterns are easier to recognise and predict on the second go, but the quickly ramping up difficulty keeps him on his toes.
it's a weredare!
Whatever it was that made Daryl the exception to that rule, or when exactly it was that had been established, he wasn't entirely sure. But there wasn't much point in trying to figure it out. He was comfortable and content, and those feelings were such a rarity, it was best not to waste it by thinking of all the reasons Daryl would probably be happier with someone of his own kind.
"True." Hunters were always the problem. Jeremy didn't particularly enjoy jumping straight to murder in order to deal with them, since it would only further the hunter cause and make him seem more like the monster he was, but sometimes they weren't exactly left with any other choice. Daryl seems to have an easier time with it, but maybe hunters had been a bigger problem for him, compared to Jeremy's experiences with them. "But hopefully it won't come to that."
The silence between them for that short time is a comfortable silence, while Jeremy watches his friend get used to the game he's playing. Nothing really needed to be said, he felt. Except Daryl does, and were the vampire capable of things like a racing heartbeat or flushed features, that ... yeah, that would certainly do it. Jeremy couldn't imagine what it was like - why would anyone stay in an environment they weren't really all that comfortable with, just for ... company? What logic was there in that? Unless ...
Well. Better not to think about it. He could be assuming too much.
"It's okay, I get stuck on that part a lot." A little reassurance at the ever familiar game-over noises might help, because he doesn't want Daryl feeling too frustrated at something that's supposed to be fun, and also because it helps him forget about his own puzzling thoughts and emotions from a moment ago. Not that they were ... bad puzzling thoughts and emotions, of course. But they were confusing ones, feelings he didn't fully understand yet nor needed discussing, though it's hard to put them completely out of his mind.
"... is a cabin in the woods a little too ... I don't know, cliched?" he answers, glad for the excuse to talk about something different for the moment. "But-- I guess ... yeah. Somewhere away from people. Maybe on the lake." Definitely cliched.
"You ever go swimming in the moonlight?" The question escapes him before he realizes how that might sound ... but, he rolls with it, though his voice grows quieter. "It's, uh ... it can be kinda nice. Relaxing."
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Probably giving the wrong impression, too. A murderous rampage across the countryside is about the last thing he'd want on a trip meant to help them decompress for a while. Even under normal circumstances bloodshed isn't his go-to remedy for his problems — but nor does he shy away from it, when he feels it is necessary, which admittedly probably happens more often than his friend might be comfortable with.
Like Jeremy said, hopefully it just wouldn't come to that.
"You had me at woods," he replies, trying to offer some reassurance of his own. He likes the idea and besides, a vampire and werecat escaping together is anything but a cliché, regardless of their destination. "Cabin, lake, it all sounds good to me." Especially the being away from people part. "Perfect for night fishing."
A midnight dip also doesn't sound bad at all, and it takes even longer for it to occur to Daryl that there could conceivably be ulterior meanings there. Could be, but surely it hadn't been intended that way. Does Jeremy even realise...? It's hard to say, with him lacking many of the 'tells' that Daryl could normally read, such as the subtle changes to someone's scent caused by perspiration. But he does note the way Jeremy seems to grow more self-conscious following his suggestion, and thinks better of teasing him for it. Well, maybe just a little. It's hard to resist when he sets himself up for it like that.
"Reckon I've done a few things that involved stripping by moonlight and ending up wet," he says with barely concealed laughter in his voice, "but not that. Not with another person, anyway. As long as there's a fire to dry off by..."
He's almost been drifting into autopilot with the video game, as distracted as he still is with his thoughts. The two consecutive Game Overs are enough to catch his attention though. It's been nice having something occupying his hands, not to mention how it provides an excuse to keep his eyes on the screen, which seems of particular importance at the moment. So he patiently starts over again.
"What else do you do to relax?" The traces of laughter have since faded from his voice, leaving it pitched a little lower, quieter, unconsciously matching Jeremy's tone.