nightlogs | Everybody Wants to Party with You [Open/Mingle]

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dan sagittarius

Everybody Wants to Party with You [Open/Mingle]

Who: Dan and everyone – feel free to mingle with each other!
What: Dan’s turning forty and it’s party-time.
Where: The Pole
When: After Shitty Little Town, before Halloween
Warnings/Notes: Drug and alcohol use, general Dan warnings.

I. Let’s Get It Started, No More Hesitation

Dan didn’t expect to get this far. He really didn’t. He was supposed to be dead by twenty-three, and then when that milestone came and actually passed, he just assumed that the lethal profession he threw himself into would snatch him into the dark sooner rather than later. It’s only in the last few years, partnered up and with his creature needs stably met, that the horrifying possibility of a death by natural causes has entered his consciousness. It dogs him throughout the week leading up to his birthday, this looming sense that he may need to make peace with getting older, with losing his looks and physical capacity, of turning from an asset in the field to a liability.

He doesn’t want to become a burden. He knows his loved ones would rather he become a burden than prematurely become a memory, but he thinks that must be much easier to think from the other side of things. Everyone he’s close with is imbued with myth powers for now, possibility forever, and in Bunny’s case is stewarding god-like powers. Meanwhile, doing what he can to hide his heartburn and his back pain and the way his right shoulder cracks when he raises his arm above his head, Dan finds it very easy to conceive of how he’s going to be less pleasant and less fun and less capable as the decades shuffle by, and how all this time with the people he cares about will eventually become less enjoyable all around.

It would be easier to just be dead, and it bothers him all week, so he does what he does best, which is to distract himself. In this case, he’s planning a party.

He considers doing something tasteful and subdued, a nice night in with close friends and a bottle of wine and a charcuterie plate or something, then decides that those sorts of mannered engagements can be relegated to his forties. Today, he’s thirty-nine and three hundred and sixty-four days.

The yetis and Dan are quite tight at this point, and they assist with decorating the communal relaxation room with non-denominational décor, everything from paper lanterns to an inflatable bouncy castle. Dan doesn’t seem to have themed this party at all, instead just wishlisting every indulgent thing he could come up with, from a chocolate fountain to a pin-the-nose-on-the-snowman game. There’s cornhole with red and green sparkly hacky sacks, a table loaded with all sorts of cheap sugary snacks and drinks of various proofs, a photo strip booth, a karaoke machine, a bunch of Polaroid cameras, and even some fireworks for later in the evening. Technically, it’s a Halloween party, so there are cheap costumes available for those who haven’t brought their own. Phil the yeti has DJ powers.

Everyone’s invited.

II. Anybody Just Won’t Do [Closed to Bunny]

Dan knew Bunny wouldn’t be particularly keen on a rowdy party, so he set aside two days after the party for their own little date – he needed the day after the party to sleep off the hangover, and Bunny was doing a milk run in Mongolia.

He sleeps in, occasionally peeking at Bunny doing his t’ai chi but mostly just enjoying his warm bed and the smell of the tea Bunny brews, figuring he’s going to let Bunny do what Bunny does best and take control and boss him around a little. When Bunny’s talking over him, it bothers Dan, but when Bunny’s ordering Dan to have a good time and taking him out on a date and surprising him with things to do and places to see, there’s nothing he likes more. So he lets Bunny wake him up.

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Dan kills his cigarette and looks out at the coyote, giving it a little wink as if it could see and understand him from up here. He feels a bit sheepish at its expense, sitting up here enjoying maple mocha while it has to return to eating ground squirrels and quail.

He lets Bunny shield him against the wind at the top of the mesa and opens up the package. "What did I do to deserve getting spoiled like this?"

He knows the answer: he's irreplaceable.

"Honey..." He turns a Peep over in his hand, looking at the little beady eyes and the bright coloring, and then shoves it into his mouth, groaning with satisfaction at how nostalgic it is. He remembers taking Bunny out to that beach to work through his feelings on the Peeps ban that weren't actually about the Peeps ban. He thought Bunny forgot it.

"It tastes perfect," he says with his mouth full.

"What did you do?" Bunny says, "just went and picked the best possible person to marry, didn't you?"

All the nostalgic happiness on Dan's face warms Bunny's heart, and as hard as it was to make objectively bad candy, the happiness it brings Dan makes it worth it.

Maybe this is enough to sweep Peeps Fight behind them forever. Maybe Dan will taste the I'd do anything for you in the cheap-tasting marshmallow and carry that with him the way Bunny assumed he did after Bunny messed with time and space to save Dan's family, and save Dan from erasing himself from existence.

In any case, it's still a good birthday, and Bunny pulls Dan closer into the windshield of his body to watch the sunset turn vibrant. The diamond sand down below throws off the same rainbow iridescence the unicorns that transformed it cast.

"I spent a long time getting the formula right," Bunny preens, because if nothing else he can he proud of how accurate he got the terrible concoction. "I'll make you some again next Easter."

"And somehow convinced you to go along with marrying me." He grins and wolfs down another Peep, cuddling up with Bunny to watch the sunset. Their day doesn't have to end here; they can just pop over to another timezone where the sun's still shining and enjoy their waking moments together. They both love the work and the missions, but Dan wishes they got to do more of them together.

"I knew there weren't no recipe you couldn't might crack." He also knows it pained Bunny to make something that's objectively trash, but it's Dan's favorite trash. "My world feels right again having these."

He watches the shimmer of diamond dust in the canyon below.

"I didn't expect forty to feel like a milestone. Thirty didn't feel like one."

"Is either of those a milestone?" Bunny asks. He's not trying to be dismissive, and aware as he says it, he probably sounds it. "More or less than fifty? Sixty?"

Dan might not make it to either of those. This isn't the time to think about that, but it does cross his mind.

A swirl of wind spins up an iridescent dust devil that sings across the desert. Bunny focuses on that instead.

"Humans generally think in decades. Forty's around when you're middle-aged. Supposedly I'm due for an identity crisis where I rethink all my life choices and pick a new career."

For the first time in his life, Dan feels content where he is, as much as he's ever been. The urge to burn his life down feels so much more poisonous when he has a life to burn down.

"You know it's hard for me to think about the future, but...I reckon that's why I want to hear what you think. I can't really imagine what life's going to look like when I can't do things like this with you."

"You'd better not rethink all your life choices, I'm one of them," Bunny jokes, to deflect from the fact that he would like Dan to make at least a few changes in his life. He almost says and I'd hate to go to work without you, but then Dan makes that very point.

One day he'll have to, but today, he can joke about it.

If only he could find a joke.

"I think I'll miss you when you're gone, but until then, I'm glad to have you," Bunny says, thinking carefully. "I'll always be glad to have you, no matter what you can or can't do."

Before Dan can protest, he adds, "I know that's easy to say now. You don't have to remind me. I know it'll get harder. I'd rather it get harder than not have happened."

"You're the best choice I've ever made." He gives Bunny a scratch to the ticklish part of Bunny's chin.

He wants to believe Bunny; he does believe Bunny. But he can't seem to place himself in any sort of picture of the future. He can't imagine years of sitting around waiting for Bunny to come home to be anything but demoralizing and discouraging, can't imagine that he'll be a good partner to Bunny, can't imagine the time together won't start to feel like a chore for Bunny, like a distraction from all the work Bunny has to do and all the wrongs in need of righting in the world.

It would be easier to just die younger and not have to face that, but Bunny's telling him, and has told him in different words so many times, that that's not what Bunny wants. That's something so antithetical to what Bunny wants that the idea of it is offensive.

"I won't lie, it scares me. Way more than I reckoned it would might." He adjusts so he's resting his head on Bunny's leg, partially in his lap. "I didn't get to see my parents get old. I know forty ain't old, but I'm already older than they were when they died."

Even though they undid that.

"I don't want to turn into an obligation for you, and I ain't sure how to avoid that when so much of what we love to do together is hard on me and getting harder."

He loves it, but it's hard on his body to be in the heroing business. Even aside from the substance use, he's been banged up and thrown around and he recovers less quickly than he did when he was in his twenties or early thirties.

Bunny's eyes roll back in pleasure as Dan finds the right spot on his chin. But he snaps back as Dan admits he's scared, and combs his claws gently through Dan's hair.

"Even when you can't keep up, you won't be anything but a blessing." He considers, as he pets Dan. "I know it won't be much fun for you, though."

That's an understatement. The horror of aging only touches him through Dan. The idea of losing his ability to do he work, to bounce back from injury and exhaustion, to get less and less capable over the years is awful. He doesn't want to think about it. But Dan has to. So he has to as well.

"You sure you're going to be satisfied with a partner who ain't do much more than sit and talk to you? What if my mind starts to go?"

Dan knows that this is further down the line than he needs to be thinking, but he finds that right now he wants the reassurance. He doesn't want to become tedious to Bunny. He doesn't want to bore himself, either.

It feels like one thing to age with someone, and another to age away from someone who will never go down that path. Wandering down dark untaken roads has never scared Dan before, but now he feels like this is a journey he's going on alone, no matter how much he doesn't want to leave Bunny behind and no matter how much Bunny wishes he didn't have to take that path.

"I didn't set myself up good to get old and I don't think I have it together enough to reverse that."

Bunny sits with the question a minute, knowing the answer is that it will hurt and sadden him. "Then I'll tell the same stories over again. I don't hate hearing myself talk."

He smiles at his joke.

"No point in dwelling on it. It isn't happening now and there's not much thinking about it can do to stop it," he says, curling around Dan affectionately. "If you can't reverse anything -"

He stops himself, because the amount of sober Dan won't get, and the amount of abuse he puts his body through, there's no not making anything worse.

"You've got better doctors now," he points out, instead. "You've got doctors at all. And there's some favors I could call in, a panacea here and there in store would do you good."

There's so many ways to prevent things from becoming the worst they could be, as long as Dan is alive, in the time they do have left. It is deep in his nature to cling to that.

That gets a laugh out of Dan anyway. It's good to take the hurt out of this with a joke. He pets Bunny's leg, feeling the warmth of the hot rock beneath his torso preventing the evening chill from becoming unpleasant.

"I might could get over my ego enough to start asking for panaceas. If things get worse." He sighs. "Sometimes I do try, you know. I try to not drink or to cut back. I know it's better for both of us, but I just can't do it."

It hurts to admit that. It isn't that Dan doesn't have grit, doesn't have perseverance or an ability to tolerate discomfort, but he feels so powerless in this matter. He feels almost like his addictions are something that were done to him, just like the family curse and the repossession.

"By a few hours in it just feels like torture- worse than torture, so I don't even tell you when I'm making an attempt because I know deep down I'm just going to slide back into it."

"I'll source a few," Bunny says, looking out over the sunset that is turning from red and orange to pink and purple, now that the sun is halfway behind some clouds. "Doesn't hurt to be prepared."

He listens to Dan admitting to sometimes trying to quit, and gets hopeful - his first impulse is to say well don't give up, just keep trying and he knows from everything he's read about addiction that that's not the right thing to say. It feels like the right thing to say to him. Like sobriety can be practiced, like any other skill that needs honing.

"Well," he says, thinking, "It means a lot that you try."

Aren't there hospitals that specialize in that, he also thinks, but doesn't leap into asking, when Dan is being vulnerable about the one thing Bunny does wish would change about him.

"I just hurt all the time," Dan confesses. "And feel exhausted. Wouldn't could complain about something to take the edge off that."

He doesn't like complaining to Bunny, but if Bunny's offering to help it doesn't serve either of them to pretend that Dan's hard living isn't catching up to him. He doesn't know why he's talking like he's already approaching the end of his life when he may plausibly have many decades left - but for Bunny, this must all feel like it's happening so quickly. If Dan's been taken off-guard by how much he's declined in five years it must feel like the blink of an eye to Bunny.

He sighs. He knows that trying isn't the same as accomplishing, and he does wish he could do this for Bunny. He wishes he could do it for Stacia and Elle and Cammie and Price and Miguel and all the people who've come to care about his wellbeing. He winds his fingers into a thick part of Bunny's fur.

"You gave me such a good birthday, honey. I don't mean to be maudlin. You just got me wanting as many of these birthdays as I can get."

Which might be the first time Dan's ever told anyone - ever felt - like he's wanted more time, not less.

"I hate that you do." A thing that's easy to say, and mean, when he himself is almost entirely assured that any physical pain he feels will go away. The idea that Dan can only expect there to be more horrifies him. And yet it's the most natural, normal thing in the world - more normal, statistically, than his charmed - and dutied - existence. "Whatever I can do to make it easier, I will."

He leans in to rub his forehead against Dan's, get a good long gaze into Dan's eyes in. He knows too well what a big deal it is to hear Dan say he wants more time, not less. It warms his heart. It makes him feel accomplished. It reassures him that he's going to get more of that time, even though it will never be as much time as he wants. "Good."

He pulls Dan in for another embrace. "I'm glad I got a whole year to think of how to top this birthday, though. I don't know how I'm going to come up with a better surprise next year," he jokes, nuzzling Dan's neck.

"I'm just glad I got another four months before yours. You set a high standard. I got to figure out how I'm going to meet it." Dan always wants to make something hand-made for Bunny, usually something from carving, tailoring and leatherworking. Last year he put together a very nice carrying bag for small camping supplies.

"Day ain't over yet, though." Even though it's nightfall by now - they aren't bound by timezones. "And you worked me up an appetite. What you got planned for us next?"

Dan's hoping a nice dinner and a little more time together before they go back to their room at the Pole and fall asleep in each others' arms.

"I smelled a good place last time I ran through Thailand. And there's a hot spring nearby - figured you'd need a soak after a day of riding."

Dan never sleeps before the next day's begun, so Bunny knew this would be a long day, and he also knew that even though Dan's getting older, a single day of riding would not be enough to tire him out.

"Unless you'd rather go dancing first."

"I'm still getting my back and hips back in order after sleeping on the street for so long. A hot spring with some pad thai would do me a world of good." He gives Bunny another snuggle. "But I'd love to go dancing first. Where do you think, somewhere like the club we first kissed, or you got something else in mind?"

"If it's in France, we can get a cake. You get those for birthdays, don't you?"

Bunny opens up the tunnel to Europe anyway. There aren't earplugs manufactured to the level of his sense of hearing, or the shape of his ears, but every club like the one where they first kissed is full of adults who no longer believe enough to see a giant rabbit in their midst, and one of them's a silent disco. This is the only place Bunny can comfortably share a dance with Dan. He doesn't even need to wear headphones to hear the music, so many of them are pumping the volume so hard.

Dan almost jokes that he'll bake a cake for Bunny's next birthday, then figures any whisper of their last baking debacle deserves no attention on a day of celebration. Better to pretend they never botched making a wedding cake together.

A silent disco in Paris is the perfect setting for the two of them, nestled in one of the more progressive neighborhoods in the area, under stars that try their best to peek out from the pollution of the city of lights. Dan's grinning and flitting around between people, finding new dance partners but always coming back to Bunny for each slow song, always affirming through touch who his real home is. He gives Bunny a nuzzle at the end of every song, a kiss on the cheek at the beginning of each. He knows this isn't how Bunny would be spending his day otherwise, but he also knows Bunny's having a good time, and Dan loves to get Bunny to step outside his routines into the chaotic world of mortal humans and discover the abundance of fun there.

But he does laugh when someone walks right through Bunny and Bunny gives a full body shudder as if someone had just dripped icewater on his scalp.

"I'm sorry, honey. I should have could redirected them," he laughs, giving Bunny a squeeze.

It would be expected that Dan would be getting side-eyed by people who see him kissing or snuggling the air, but instead, every adult in the room's eyes just sort of glide past, seeing that Dan is interacting with someone but not processing that that someone isn't human. The mind of the nonbeliever sees what it expects, not necessarily what is there. No one is paying much attention to Bunny and who or what he is; when Dan isn't interacting with him directly, that's when people get too close, walk through him, sending that shudder down his spine that he sure loves Dan a lot, to put up with.

"No worries, I've felt worse," Bunny chuckles, cuddling Dan close. It's true he's biding time until Dan's done dancing, but in the grand scheme of things the time isn't going to be that long. There's a lot he can do for a lot of time, when an afternoon feels like a blink in the grand scheme of things. And Dan is having the time of his life, which is the point of the moment.

Dan doesn't keep them here for too long, aware that he's being indulged. It's not like he couldn't be doing this on his own, but most things, almost all things, are better enjoyed with Bunny to share them. He's having a great time; it's better because he gets to keep coming back to Bunny's arms like a yo-yo into a hand.

"I love you," he says during a last slow dance, face deep in Bunny's ruff. "Thanks for the birthday, honey. Let's eat cake in bed."

And then, because riding horses and dancing takes a lot of energy and Dan's still gradually regaining his strength, they can canoodle and get a full night's sleep. Dan thinks he's tired enough that he'll sleep more soundly rather than less.

Bunny pulls Dan against him, forehead to the top of Dan's scalp. "You got it."

A few people do double-take when Dan appears to disappear into a hole in the ground that suddenly isn't there anymore. But the club is dark and the presence of myths has a way of sliding off the brains of even adults who see.

A nice cake disappears out of a nice bakery, with a gold nugget left behind. Half that cake gets eaten in a hot spring; the rest in bed back at the pole, to round out Dan's 40th.

"Here's to getting another year you didn't think you would," Bunny mutters in Dan's ear, as Dan drifts off.

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Everybody Wants to Party with You [Open/Mingle]

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