nightlogs | 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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"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.

Everybody Wants to Party with You [Open/Mingle]

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