dǫçţǫŗ şɭęęƥ (shone) wrote in valloic, @ 2021-05-26 13:12:00 |
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Deja Brew was a cozy haunt of Catra’s discovered during her weekly treks towards yoga class, right around the corner; built-in shelves lined up with books of different genres so patrons could read if they liked, couches were of ample supply with pillows so soft it was like leaning into clouds, and there were also bistro chairs and tables for people to sit across one another and converse. In the back was a small stage (the backdrop was brick with graffiti art) for performances of the acoustic variety, or even the occasional trivia night. Overall, the ambiance was pleasantly chill. The caffeine wasn’t bad either. Plus - snacks, they had those too. It was fitting that she’d take Dan out for a cup o’ joe anyway, considering he’d been the first one to give her a tour of the establishment known as Starbucks - thus, creating her addiction to those sugar-saturated frappuccinos with the extra whip so thanks a fucking lot Dan - but she figured he’d enjoy a spot that wasn’t an Earth chain (so she had learned). “I come here during my bendy-yoga days,” she explained, settling down across from him with a cinnamon-flavored cold brew and a blueberry muffin to unwrap. Her claws began snagging at the plastic to rip it up. “Also known as my anger management days. Only downside is that there’s no cake pops here but I’ve managed to cope with that.” Dan had been to many of the coffee shops in the city - The Grind was one of his favorites, but given the vibe of Deja Brew? He could see himself coming back here more than once. He liked the books and the comfy furniture, easily able to sink into the cushions from the looks of it, and the friendly but calm environment and the way they used reusable glass jars to serve drinks. There was also something comforting about the smell of a good coffee shop, the sweet aromas of burnt vanilla and baked goods emanating from plenty of pastries in their cases. And right now, he could appreciate the comfort. He had an iced coffee with room for cream, the largest size - and after studying the menu chalkboard to see what was available, he’d also settled on a cinnamon bun. It was ooey, gooey, sticky, and chock full of sugar but maybe he could get into the idea of eating his feelings now too. Just this once. “They seem like they have other good options besides cake pops,” he chuckled, rough and scalded - a bit like steel wool scraping against wood, because stress and lack of sleep did that to a person. He’d been trying, but damn if it wasn’t difficult. “Thanks though - for coming out here with me. I really could use the break.” Plus he hadn’t seen Catra in awhile. Frantically triaging injuries and helping patch people up in the field during an ancient Vallo dragon attack didn’t really count as quality time. Oh, Catra noticed Dan had some wear and tear there - it was why some kind of coffee boost was required. If he wasn’t a recovering alcoholic she’d recommend shots instead. Which, they technically could do but it’d be shots of espresso instead and that might send them both into cardiac arrest if they knocked back too many. “We never got a chance to really catch up while we were stitching morons up from the dragon attack,” she commented casually, shrugging. Her bedside manners were shit though she did okay with basic medical care when it came to non-life threatening wounds and she was happy to at least help Dan out. Even if she had been scowling the entire time and telling certain people to shut up, stop whining. Whatever, she tried being nice. “Something going on, though?” Catra prodded with an eyebrow rising up into her bangs. “You seem - uh, tired. Is it a work thing or a home thing?” “Home thing,” Dan narrowed it down right away. Because, sure, work was always tiring - that was just the way things were around here. And there was clearly something else going on, bubbling like black tar about to spill over on fresh grass. He didn’t have any magic but he still picked up on it anyway - the Shining was like that; he had that extra sense, ESP if one wanted to call it that, and when things were off balance or disaster was afoot he got a prickle up and down his spine. Or sometimes more unsettling feelings, depending. He’d been distracted with how Sabrina felt - sorrowful, anger, anguished - and that had been sinking into his own bone marrow due to the connection they shared but he still experienced a ping of ‘other stuff’ here and there too. He sipped on his coffee, swirling the straw in the taupe shade. “Sabrina and Nick left the mortuary for a little while, not sure when they’ll be back - something must have happened, I don’t know. All I could get from her was that it was a memory update. I went to see her yesterday and it...didn’t go well.” She didn’t want to talk and was clearly upset so he didn’t stay long - didn’t want to push her either, because it was like walking on eggshells with a teenager and her emotions all over the place. Especially after yet another recollection of what was going on in her world (they’d been through this song and dance before). Right, Dan lived with a lot of people. Wife and small kid, then a handful of teenagers. Home life had to be pretty busy overall. Catra was familiar with some of them - she’d spoken to Sabrina a few times over the network but she wasn’t like, close to his mish-mosh family (aside from him) or anything. But she knew enough to where Dan basically considered himself as the parental figure in their case, so anything they went through affected him too. “Okay - we know memory updates can suck so assume the worst there,” she said. Especially if it made the two of them leave for an undisclosed amount of time. The muffin was neglected for a few sips of her coffee - a little bit sweet and strong, the added espresso packed a good punch. Made her tail twitch a bit. “What happened when you spoke to her? And where did they even end up going?” Oh yeah. It was true - memory updates (or if there was some kind of official term for them, Dan didn’t know what it was) were the worst. He’d been there when Allison suddenly remembered what happened after the apocalypse was kickstarted; in fact, that had happened around the same time as all of her siblings too, so that was convenient. It was a wild ride and it probably wasn’t even over for all of them yet - all he could do was be there, be present, because unless he suddenly had some afterlife business to attend to, it was unlikely he’d be remembering anything more past his death. “They’re at Morningside,” he sighed, beginning to work on the cinnamon roll - it required a knife and a fork. “In one of the empty apartments. I went to drop off some food I made and she was just - on the couch, barely moving. I tried to talk to her but wasn’t really getting anywhere so I left.” He felt awful that he had to but he wasn’t going to sit there and pull the words from her mouth - or even root around in her thoughts. You couldn’t push someone to do something before they were ready, not like that. Yes, he’d pushed her - gently - to go to therapy. It had been kind of an argument but eventually she relented and was all the better for it. But this was so big - it wasn’t something he wanted to fight with her about. Especially when she was clearly already heartbroken. “There’s just been so much going on,” he heard himself saying, word vomit beginning to expel. “I don’t - no one can handle all of this. It just doesn’t seem possible.” He was reasonable enough to know he couldn’t wave a magic wand and fix everything, and yet here he was. Feeling like he failed her anyway. Catra didn’t even know the specifics but it seemed safe to assume that whatever happened was pretty heavy stuff - so heavy that needing to be away from everyone seemed like a necessity. Arms crossed over her chest, she leaned back into her chair and watched assessed him, eyes all squinty as she thought it through. “If they’re at the apartments then they obviously want to fuck off by themselves,” she spoke up after a pause. “Sounds like they need time to process. If it’s still fresh then don’t expect to get too far with them.” It was merely a guess. Really, she didn’t personally know any of them but she also tended to ice people out when she felt overwhelmed. Having someone come at her too soon while she was trying to sort things out for herself wasn’t usually received well. Adora had always known that about her and persisted anyway - though she was also learning to back off when asked. It was a process. “I know you want to help but there’s just - also only so much you can do or say? Let them figure it out on their own and make yourself available if they ask for help with that. No point in repeating yourself if they’re not listening in the first place.” “Definitely no point in that,” Dan agreed. “And - we’ve done this before. In the sense that Sabrina’s been here awhile and it’s not the first time she suddenly remembered a whole bunch of traumatic things,” he added, chewing on a bite of stickiness (with his mouth closed, thanks, he wasn’t rude - his mother taught him proper table manners). “I kind of feel like a broken record, but...” He was still there. Not going anywhere. This world wasn’t kind and obviously neither was hers - the last thing he wanted to do was tap out when things teetered on the edge of ‘difficult’ - or when they took a kamikaze dive into it, either one. Dan hadn’t before, when he had to nudge Sabrina into going to therapy, and he wouldn’t now. “I’m going to definitely just give them some more time. And I don’t even really mind them being gone, sometimes I feel the need to get away with Allison even without any particular drama, but I just worry.” Trying to strike a balance between wondering what the fuck even happened and backing off was honestly one of the worst parts of this ‘looking after two teenagers’ gig. “To an extent it doesn’t hurt to repeat some things,” Catra added. “Repetitiveness can be annoying sometimes but also - some reassurances don’t hurt to hear?” In a nutshell, being a broken record wasn’t necessarily a useless thing but context was also important. Gods only know how many times she and Adora repeated shit to one another. Sometimes it was annoying little things (like how Adora wasn’t the fucking boss of her) and other times it was the things that kept them going (like how this was it for them, as messy as their history was). “It’s good to show them that even if they shove you out that you’re there, that you’re not going anywhere. You’re doing the best you can.” From what she gathered were the actual responsibilities of a parental figure, Dan was killing it. Her own experience was dismal so really, if all Dan did was give them the occasional hug before walking away then he was ten times infinitely better than the sorry excuse of a mother figure she’d grown up with. The teens were lucky to have someone who cared so much. Her posture straightened up some and she reached for her muffin. Catra didn’t bite into it or anything, just tore off these tiny pieces to toss into her mouth since she was a dainty eater. “But, seriously - what did happen? Did they tell you? Or are you just not saying anything because of privacy, which I get. No pressure.” “Thanks,” Dan smiled a little, relieved, because it was reassuring to hear that he was doing his best - he was, really, and while Allison was great about encouraging him that support coming from an outside source was nice too. “I’m pretty stubborn. And we’ve been through a lot together already - it’d be stupid to just throw in the towel now.” He picked up most of his parenting skills from his mother’s example - sometimes she just didn’t know what to do with him, because he was too quiet, too anti-social, too weird; he wanted to sit in an air-conditioned library and read all day, time to himself, rather than make any friends (not that anyone wanted to be friends with the weird kid anyway). After the Overlook, he went through a period where he barely talked at all - not even to her. And yet she hadn’t given up on him. When she died, to know that she was never coming back, was this sensation of sitting in a boat with a hole in it and you just kept sinking no matter what you did, or how much water you tossed out - he imagined that Sabrina was feeling that way too. He hated her feeling that way, but there wasn’t much he could do to stop it. “I actually don’t know what happened though,” he admitted. The best part of the cinnamon roll was the center - and he was saving that for last, cutting around it so he could stuff the warmest, softest part into his face when the time came. “No one told me yet. I’m hoping Nick comes by to talk, and maybe I can get the info from him. All I know is that it’s probably nothing good, given the state their world was in and what they last remembered.” Ouch. That definitely didn’t bode well. If they weren’t fessing up to what was putting them in a shit mood, then - yeah, they weren’t ready to talk things out yet. “Well - if it helps,” Catra started, claws picking at the blueberry spots mostly. She was leaning forward now, elbows on the table so the plate could catch the falling little crumbs of her muffin destruction. “At least they’re together to deal with whatever happened? They’re not alone. I’m sure it’d be a lot worse if they remembered whatever happened if the other wasn’t around.” Misery loves company, that sort of thing. They had someone who understood each other in one another but she hoped they’d open up to those who cared about them too. Dan clearly struggled being left out of the loop when all he wanted to do was understand and help in whatever way he could. “Being a family man sounds like a tough lime,” she then added, teasing with a smirk to hopefully ease up the conversation. “I’d tell you to chill out but worrying seems to be like, part of the dad thing so I guess you’re stuck with that.” Standing outside the loop was sort of frustrating, but Dan knew that eventually someone would tell him - so he wasn’t going to poke around in anyone’s head (they trusted him not to do that and he didn’t like doing that, it was damn rude) or push for information. He’d just be patient. Maybe come out for more coffee - actually do things besides work and fret, fret and work, lather and rinse and repeat. “It’s - definitely difficult,” he huffed out a laugh, a punch of air that was fatigued. “Never thought I’d be in this situation but overall I’m not complaining. Suddenly being responsible for a couple of teenagers and a six-year-old - it’s more than I could have hoped for.” In good ways, mostly. He swirled the coffee to mix it up a little more, nudging Catra under the table - a teasing gesture, something else light to slice through his gloomy mood (he didn’t want to ruin their coffee date or anything). “And I worry about you too. You’ve been doing okay?” he asked. Catra hadn’t really given much to the typical family dynamic before - probably because the ‘typical family dynamic’ she’d grown up with was a squadron and military superiors. Movies and television shows gave her a new perspective on what the norm seemed to be. It was nice, she guessed? Even if dramatic emotional explosions seemed to be common during holidays where no one really wanted to spend time with one another?? Shit’s weird. Anyway. “Things have been okay,” she answered honestly with a shrug. The question made a hand mindlessly withdraw to slide beneath that mane of wild hair and just - rub at that scar, the visible one from the chip. Catra’s body wasn’t unmarred in the slightest; everything else was just hidden by that light fuzz of fur except for that one. Like it was exposed trauma she kept trying to cover up. “Adora and I’ve been working through some stuff but it’s going pretty good. Communicating is as exhausting as bottling everything up and hating things by default though.” Overall, she was happy. It wasn’t picture-perfect but they’d made a home out of Darla, and they had pets (plural now thanks to Adora’s impulse adoption) and a routine that worked well for them. They were better. Catra never thought they’d ever get to this point, after everything. Well, Dan couldn’t argue that - communication did have a tendency to be difficult, especially if you weren’t really used to doing so. “Does help to take out the guesswork however, which is good,” he noted, idly twisting his wedding ring around on his finger. Healthy communication, healthy relationships, didn’t happen because of little white lies or withholding information - but once you got that part down, avoiding the annoying misunderstandings just made everything so much better. Catra and Adora had been through a lot, however - even for the average couple, who hadn’t been put through the ringer in terms of war and destruction and having to make penance for mistakes, building trust and learning how to support each other could feel like a sticky bramble to navigate. It took some time. “You two sound like you’re doing well, anyway. I’m glad to see that you’re happy. I think you both deserve to be.” It was kind of like - having to cut open old wounds, so they could squeeze all the poison out? That way when they healed this time it would be clean, less of a scar. They’d known each other their entire lives so there was a lot to unpack, but. It was working. Catra was always going to have guilt, though - and that was probably normal for someone who had caused so much damage to begin with. “Adora, sure - she’s sunshine and rainbows,” she snorted a small chuckle. Adora definitely deserved to be happy because fuck destiny, fuck expectations, fuck that savior-complex she’d been stuck with. If she wanted kittens, puppies, a tramp stamp tattoo that spelled out I LOVE SWORDS (wait no, would that be basically hinting at anal?) or some nonsense then Catra was making sure she got that. Whatever made her happy. “I’m still on the same boat of thinking I don’t deserve any of it but somehow I… have it? Probably because Adora’s too forgiving for her own good.” Catra shrugged, lifting up her cold coffee for a sip to wash down all that muffin she devoured. They were trying this whole no grudges practice which was a miraculous attempt on her behalf. She was queen of petty grudges, holding onto resentment and letting shit fester - but clearly that had never worked in her favor so it was time to switch tactics. Wasn’t always easy. “And since I can’t make up for what I did back home then I guess I can focus my energy on helping out here with - you know, whatever. Instead of plotting world domination out of spite.” “World domination’s overrated anyway,” Dan pointed out, sounding amused - it was probably true, because what would anyone even do with the world once they had it? Seemed like a lot of stress and headache. Not to mention the paperwork (because surely there was paperwork involved in good old-fashioned villainy?). “Helping out here is needed too - pretty much all the time. We’ve always got something going on.” Case in point: the bullshit they were dealing with now - and the bullshit they’d dealt with not long ago. It all just fell like dominoes and ended up in a trash heap on the floor. Maybe he should try a little more optimism though - it wasn’t all terrible. Like this cinnamon roll, for example. The center part was consumed and it was as soft and gooey as he hoped. So good. “You weren’t so bad at the field medic stuff either. If you ever wanted to look into doing anything with the clinic.” Maybe her bedside manner needed some polishing, but - that could be a work in progress? Very overrated, Catra would agree there - and while she played the villain role well, turns out she didn’t have the iron conscience to carry on the weight of her deeds. So she paid the consequence, deeply. That was something she was sure she deserved. “Ugh, don’t compliment me,” she groused, the glass held to her lips as she suppressed a grimace. “I fight people better than I fix them.” Must be a war thing - that was how she was used to existing, at least. Claws and blood and violence. “I’ll pass on anything permanent but if you need the occasional hand while you’re understaffed, poke me. I’m not going to say no to making sure what I know doesn’t die from lack of practice.” Basic medical knowledge was handy to have. It sure as hell saved her ass a few times back when shit was rough on Etheria and she needed to patch herself up before extensive blood loss happened. “In your position I’d lose my fucking mind anyway - too many people overestimate what they can handle, I’d let them bleed out of spite.” Hah. Not really. But also - maybe. Dan laughed a little. Okay, no more compliments. Well, again - also maybe. He was just being honest, however. It always helped to have an extra hand around for when shit became a tizzy and whirlwind of injuries and trauma (as they both knew, it happened frequently). “You’re right about that - way too many people overestimate what they can handle. I’ll be there to patch them up though. It’s a rewarding job, if a little thankless sometimes,” he said. Especially when there were magical heavy hitters around to simply make all the injuries go away in a snap of their fingers - he appreciated magical healing, don’t get him wrong. But then other times he was kind of wary of the idea, because he didn’t think constantly relying on it was smart - then again, what did he know. “And I’ll definitely keep you in my back pocket. Not literally, but - “ A subtle (and awful) dad joke thrown in, perhaps the coffee and mid-day cinnamon roll had perked him up a little, “...for both the clinic and this place. Coffee in general.” Sometimes it was necessary. “Yeah, well -” Catra rolled her eyes, fondly. It was sometimes annoying (in a good way) how endearing Dan could be, how genuine he was despite having done some shitty things himself. He cared. In this weird, fatherly (a word she’s never used) way she wasn’t used to but found herself not completely hating either. “I guess I must like you, or something.” Which meant she did and sometimes her emotional immaturity couldn’t be outmatched by even a toddler, bite her. “But I don’t mind catching up here again - it’s been awhile, and…” A shrug. “I wouldn’t mind hanging out more.” Sounding nice sounded so stupid. He’d take I wouldn’t mind hanging out more. It sounded like lots of progress to Dan - and he was pretty familiar with how the youngsters (not like Catra was that young - definitely younger than him though) sometimes had trouble with the emotional constipation or, say, dealing with grief and trauma. They didn’t have the best examples to learn from, back in their own worlds - such as Sabrina, for example. Dan liked her aunts just fine but they also failed her in a lot of ways. It was becoming more and more clear, whenever something new from Hell appeared or she received another round of memories (in this instance - he didn’t know the details, but had a feeling that there was a reason it seemed like a chasm was between Zelda and her niece). Still, he’d do what he could. For all the people he cared about. “Well, I’ll keep that in mind and make sure to gently nudge and see if you’re interested in hanging out again - on a more regular basis,” he promised. It was good for him too, after all. And next time there could even be cake pops. |