deercountry | (closed) december catchall

Entry tags:

(closed) december catchall

Who: Ange (

entreats), Chizuru (

tealeafs), Daniel (

miyagimagic) and various others.
What: December shenanigans.
When: During all of December.
Where: Locations vary.

Content Warnings: Bullying, (mild) violence, will edit to add more later.

( starters in the comments! if you want to plot anything with me, feel free to either pm the journal or contact me at

queeningsquare, i'm always open to new ideas and threads! )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's not an easy job to try and focus on his breathing rather than the way his heart is still pounding with adrenaline, but Daniel manages. Partially due to the same tactic Robby is using here - if I just try really hard to not look at something, maybe it can disappear from my mind - but also by trying to center his focus on the boy. If he keeps Robby by his side, if he makes sure Robby's alright, then he's at least doing one thing right.

So Daniel nods as they turn towards the most nearby door. "I'll open it, alright?"

Partially because he'd rather be the first in the line of fire, yes, but also for a reason he makes clear by holding up his own palm for a moment, as if to wordlessly say it's easier for him to open up that door when the burn isn't on his hand in his case.

But he at least allows the boy by his side when he puts his hand on the door, a soft - but audible to Robby - count to three under his breath to make sure they're both prepare to potentially defend against whatever they may find on the other side, since Daniel certainly is counting on it being more zealots.

.. except it's not. When Daniel opens the door on three, there's nothing on the other side.

Nothing alive, anyway. There's just.. a husk of a person. Something that was human, but is barely recognizable as such at this point. A torso torn open, all organs and blood removed, looking little more than like something one might find in a slaughterhouse. The room behind the door is so small, and it's all there is in there, and the combination of any lack of exit with that sight makes Daniel pull the door back shut so quickly that it's almost a reflex-like movement, like the door burned his hand.

Shit. He can't get the thought out of his own mind, and it's making him feel quite literally nauseous, but Daniel's concern instead makes him look over at Robby, realising the poor boy saw that too. Despite the sight being gone now the door is closed again, Daniel still steps between the door and the boy, even if there's no longer any sight to protect him from. (The sight of what Robby could have been, if Daniel would have arrived just a little bit later, if he hadn't coincidentally been in the right place at the right time--)

The damage has already been done.

"Let me look behind the other ones," he says, no - pleads, looking right at Robby. He at least has to spare the other from more sights like those.

Daniel swallows, trying to find a compromise here, even though his brain is absolutely working overtime at this point. It's hard when every single part of him screams for him to protect Robby from all of this, yet it feels like there's not a single thing he can actually protect the other from under these circumstances. Even as he tries all the same. "Can-- Can you keep an eye on the stairs?"

Robby misses a weapon at his side, or just anything he could grasp at, have ready beyond his hands - one good hand, one poor - and feet. In a world with magic, the lacking presence is noticeable as he stands by Mister LaRusso before that door, before it's even opened. The counting speaks the man's fear as well as Robby's own heart does for him.

And it doesn't go, not really, when on the other side isn't anything that can hurt them.

But it's sickening, and it drains Robby of the blood that someone had wanted to cut out from him. He doesn't keep looking; the moment his eyes adjust and he realises what it is he's looking at, Robby turns away, the smell hitting his nostrils more sickening than what their current room was providing.

That place of peace and serenity is so far away, and Robby is trying desperately to cling on and compartmentalise everything around him.

Except-- except he'd seen how small that room had looked, and he looks over at the centrepiece of the room, overflowing flush and pink in the presence of the statue, a halo of light falling down over all. Robby looks at Mister LaRusso when he speaks, torn between his own thoughts, the want to stay by Mister LaRusso (because what if?), but then he realises--

"--Let the omens look. They're smoke-- we don't need to open the doors. I think we need to turn back." He swallows around the words, a little hurried, but-- neither of them need to see what they just did again, and Robby turns to see his omen already coming over to them, a mass of shadows shaped like a four-legged beast.

But he clarifies what he means by what he last said, only nodding his head to the statue. "Why would there be an exit in some altar room?"

Before Daniel can verbally answer the boy, there the Omens come already. Robby's own, more shadowy than ever, followed by Daniel's, still in its bigger form, most likely to match the uncertainty and worry that still courses through Daniel's own veins. As long as he's still on guard, the creature won't just go back to its more compact form.

.. though it seems to be trying to calm down Daniel all the same, the shisa sitting down next to him and nudging his head against Daniel's arm until said arm reaches back, the man moving his hand through the lion-dog's cloudy mane. Like a physical reminder to breathe, even in the middle of all this.

Especially since there's something about what Robby is saying that Daniel hates the implications of. Not just going down there and risking facing more of those zealot lunatics, but also the fact that Daniel doesn't think he ever saw an exit. He knows the floor he woke up on must have been the lowest floor in the entire complex since there was no stairway leading down, but even there he doesn't remember seeing any door, any exit - unless he missed it in his rush to get to Robby.

And the idea that there's no exit at all is unacceptable. He won't have it. Not for himself, and even less so for Robby, as the two of them stand there, clearly both hurt enough already. He has to get them out of here safely - but how?

Even his Omen sitting next to him doesn't seem to have an answer. It just sits there, like all it knows how to do to help in this moment is provide comfort for a moment before looking at the other doors.

Maybe there isn't time for that though. There's footsteps on the stairs. Again those damn footsteps, and Daniel's Omen pulls away from him, alert, baring its teeth, while the man himself steps closer to Robby, standing right by the boy's side.

He doesn't want to fight more. He's so tired already.

But what other choice is there to keep them safe? He'll keep doing this, as often as he has to until they're out.

Robby's omen shifts its shape, more fluid than padding as it comes to position itself between the stairs leading up and the humans. The shadows lick the air, body poised as if ready to pounce at the first sign of a threat. Robby turns himself to face the same way as Mister LaRusso comes beside him, dread in his heart, but he knows he can't panic, he knows he has to think. Even if he doesn't have a weapon, doesn't have magical powers; he can't let Mister LaRusso do this alone, he can't let people he cares about die.

The threat doesn't make it. Instead, there's a light: white and soothing, the same as the Moon Presence's glow, warm and sympathetic over their bodies. As if some larger force knows of their fear, their exhaustion, and says without a voice: You're alright. You're safe.

Safety itself envelops them, and when they can see again, eyes soothed and not stinging despite the white, despite the change in scenery, they stand within a place of meaning to the both of them: the Miyagi-do dojo. The light is on above their heads, Daniel's bonsai with the shears and small tray beside it; the soft mat underneath their feet, the western style door leading into the house and eastern style sliding ones leading out into a garden gathering fresh snow.

Robby stares at the new sight, confuse despite the comfort. How, who--but he looks to see Mister LaRusso beside him still, the both of them dressed as they were already, and he puts his hands on the man's arms with his brow furrowing, looking from him to the room. "Mister LaRusso?"

You're okay? We're okay? asks that tone, where a part of him wants to be suspicious, as does his omen, moving through the room and around to check its senses, but the sensation--it had been so believing, so honest.

And yet, it's baffling to comprehend. That all that could just be...over, and here they are in the quiet of Mister LaRusso's home. Of the--their--dojo.

It's the change in the sound that gets Daniel the most, for some reason. Maybe it's because it'd be easy to chalk up the sudden change in surroundings as a hallucination of sorts, perhaps a desperate illusion born from the wish to just be back here, rather than being stuck in that awful place.

But the change in sound jolts Daniel's brain out of even contemplating that possibility. It's such a change to go from that structure they were in mere moments ago, filled with groans of agony, and hurried footsteps, and metal tools, to..

.. well, this. The dojo as Daniel knows it, silent and serene. The only sound coming from the windchimes hanging outside the door.

It's hard to deny this atmosphere, to see it as anything other than real, even if it makes no sense that they could go from a terrible situation to this so easily. Even with that warmth that came over them, one even Daniel could somehow feel. A presence so comforting that Daniel hasn't felt anything like it in a long time now, a feeling that soaks down all the way into his bones.

The man glances over at the Omens, and then back over at Robby, slowly exhaling.

"We're back," he says, as if at least one of them has to actually say those words to allow any sense of relief to set in. As if one of them needs to confirm that this really is happening.

It doesn't make what they've gone through just now any better, especially with the wounds still on both of them as a physical reminder that what they went through was also very much real, but at least it prevents any further harm from coming to them at the hands of that place.

Daniel glances at the hand that's resting on his arm, but he doesn't move away from it, allows Robby to keep it on him if he so wishes.

"Are you okay?"

(He doubts either of them is fully okay just now.

But even a relative answer to that can tell Daniel a lot, he figures.)

We're back, Mister LaRusso says. Are you okay? he asks; and he does so on the edge of relief, where he can believe there's time or security to not question any of this. Robby can't help it, despite the quiet about them, the comfort of their arrival; suspicion is latched onto his heart that he can only nod for an answer distractedly, his gaze already elsewhere, at the door leading into the house.

"I'll check it out."

Robby doesn't wait for agreement or any response. It's better that he goes first, speaks reason; the urge to protect his sensei not having left Robby despite their leaving that place, and he has to be sure. His omen is only happy to accompany him, to stalk the hall leading closer to the kitchen and living room. Just for any sign of any danger, whatever form it might take. If this is some kind of illusion, or if this is really Mister LaRusso's house -- then what if those people broke in? What if anyone broke in?

He just wants it to be safe, to be sure. His footsteps can be heard, the soft slapping of skin as he hurries to make a quick scan. And he wishes there were more rooms by the time he reaches the living room, standing there--

Not quite sure what to do. Just standing, and maybe saying once Mister LaRusso finally catches up, voice quiet:

"It doesn't look like anyone's been here."

He doesn't protest Robby's decision. Instead he just lets the boy walk off, further into the house. Mostly because it's so quiet that Daniel refuses to believe there could be any danger in here, and even if there was, surely he'd hear it in time to be right there by the boy's side before it'd be too late.

Daniel looks over at mister Miyagi's framed medal of honor - the thing that reminds him of the man the most, when he can't stare at his photo the way he used to do in the dojo back home. It's a little too embarrassing to speak out loud to it when Robby would most likely be able to hear, so instead Daniel just stares at it for a moment, even as he can feel his Omen still gently bumping against his hand, trying to comfort his heart.

Did I do right, mister Miyagi?

It feels like he at least did something right by being there in time to save Robby, sure - but it feels like he could have done better. Maybe he should have protected the boy so he never would have ended up there in the first place. Maybe he should have protected him better inside of that building, just so Robby wouldn't have to be so on edge now. Just so Robby wouldn't have to be hurt - so neither of them would have to be, Daniel is reminded of by the sting on his chest and his face.

He sucks in a breath and then turns to follow the boy, finding Robby there in the living room. Daniel slowly walks up to him, and then puts a hand on Robby's shoulder while turning his head to look around the room at the same time.

".. yeah," he slowly agrees. "I think our Omens would've noticed if anyone else was here."

But neither of them seem to be trying to point something out to them, as far as Daniel can see.

"I think.. It's really over now. Somehow." Because, boy, that sure was an abrupt end to it. Not that Daniel is complaining, but he understands why it might make it harder to move on from those moments, to realise they're truly somewhere safe now.

The confirmation should give him some relief, but Robby stays standing quietly, unsure of what to do now. Not wanting to move out of Mister LaRusso's touch, but not wanting to do much of anything else--not wanting to think about what just happened, not wanting to settle into complacency, to rid himself of the apprehension that can't so easily loosen from his shoulders.

That's it, but what does that mean for the two of them now? For Robby, glancing at Mister LaRusso when he speaks, but then eyeing the room uncertainly. His omen sits watching them just as unsure, quiet, whatever thoughts it has kept reserved to itself, and Robby is working his brain for anything to say or do.

And he's failing at it, except for a lame and quietly asked, "Is it okay if I sit?" which, if allowed, he'll take a seat on the sofa by an arm, facing towards the fireplace, and just...trying to decide what comes next.

When it feels like nothing comes next.

Of course Daniel answers that question affirmatively. Like he'd stop Robby from doing something as simple as sitting, especially after what they just went through. Daniel's Omen finally shifts back to his usual smaller form, hopping right up onto Robby's lap the moment the other sits down, settling in these like a comfortable ball of fluff, a touch warmer than Daniel's skin.

The latter excuses himself for a moment, but is sure to say he'll be right back, not wanting to leave Robby alone for too long in this state.

It's just that he has to go into the kitchen to splash his face with some water to try and calm down, rubbing some at the area between his nose and his mouth to try and get rid of the frozen coldblood there. It's tempting to stare at his hands, or to do breathing exercises, but thinking of Robby has him instead grabbing the first aid kit and filling a bucket with ice, his powers at least coming to him pretty easily while a part of him is still faintly on edge.

He returns to the living room with those, holding out the bucket to Robby.

"Here, put your hand in this."

It's not like he didn't notice the way it had been burned back there, after all. It may technically be a little too late for this, but better late than never.

This is something he can do in this moment. Something he can focus on. He can't just make Robby forget about that awful experience, but he can at least try to take care of him. At least it's something. A start.

"Let me help to patch you back up."

Perhaps not too different from the time they had sat on the couch together after that battle in the dojo - though the stakes certainly had been higher this time, but perhaps just as emotionally tough in other ways.

Robby doesn't move or speak to acknowledge Mister LaRusso's leaving, but soon after he does, he wraps his arms around the small body of fur on his lap, the first he's ever touched the omen so much. It's a better sight than any other part of the room, unless the shisa looks back at him; he can't make eye contact in that case, even with someone as small or as soothing as Daniel's omen.

Because he doesn't want them seeing what he's thinking, try to give him any more affection than this.

(No, maybe that's a lie--maybe it's simply because he can't handle it.)

Robby glances at Mister LaRusso when he returns, wordlessly raising his hand and sinking it in the cold ice. Something twitches in his hand like a muscle spasm, and maybe it's that. He doesn't feel the sting of the burn as much again, nor the one at his stomach; and he's not thinking about them either with the other thoughts plaguing his mind. He doesn't want to clean himself up; he doesn't want to think about his health. Rather...

"Mister LaRusso? Can I ask something?" There's a pause, space made for an answer in the affirmative, or asked if the man should attempt to move out from the room: "--Can you just sit with me instead?"

Instead of patching him up, doing whatever else. He doesn't care, he just wants-- he just doesn't want to be alone right now, he thinks.

He was about ready to move, to do more, to just do anything that feels even remotely productive - and what would feel more productive in this moment than tending to a boy who needs it so much - to keep his hands and thoughts occupied.

But the question - even before it's asked - stills him. There's an affirmative hum at the prelude, but when Daniel hears Robby's actual request, he looks surprised.

Only for a brief moment, however. The surprise in his eyes is quick to melt, his gaze turning so much softer as it's aimed directly at Robby without a single attempt to hide it. It's a softness that's edged with worry. After all.. It's in moments like these that Daniel is reminded once more of just how young Robby is, no matter how old he pretends to be at times. He's still a kid. A kid who's been thrown into circumstances that are way too difficult to deal with. Daniel himself already can't quite deal with them, judging by that nasty feeling still present in his chest, an anxiety that bounces back and forth, renders him unable to fully calm down in this moment.

So how could such a young kid deal with it?

".. of course, bud."

It's a soft answer, but not lacking in warmth. A part of Daniel would like to patch Robby up before taking time for anything else, but he tells that part to shut up for a bit. Maybe this can help take care of Robby's emotional state a little, and.. in some ways, that's just as important.

He puts everything he already gathered down on the table, and instead has his hands completely empty as he moves to sit down next to where Robby is sitting.

There's no awkward huge distance between them like this, but there's still a touch of a respectful distance, of Daniel wanting to make sure to do whatever is most comfortable for the boy in this moment.

That is likely also the driving force between the way he turns his head slightly to the side to look at Robby, asking: "Do you want me a little bit closer?"

Despite the fact that Daniel himself has not nearly calmed down as much as he'd like to pretend he has in this moment, his voice is devoid of any hints as to that fact, instead filled with nothing but parental indulgence. A wish to spoil a kid, if that's what needed to heal their heart, even just a little bit.

If he could move without disturbing the shisa, Robby might, but he also likes the semblance of security that sitting by the arm of the sofa gives him, small as it is. He doesn't read anything in the man's look, and truth be told, he isn't watching him closely as he moves to sit down, or after the fact; as the question's asked, to which Robby only delays by a pause, before nodding his head and giving a small, "Yeah."

He does want him closer, if he's being honest by himself; and he has no reason to be anything else like this, his arms still wrapped comfortably around the omen's small form, his gaze over on the floor.

Robby doesn't really need to look, either, once Mister LaRusso does shuffle closer; because even if their arms are close to touching, Robby leans his weight against the man anyway, ignoring the smell of dirt and oil from their overalls, and simply taking in the touch of their bodies in even a small press of intimacy.

Because he doesn't want to talk about what happened, but it doesn't mean that it didn't; it doesn't mean he's ready to go home to Tory and know how he should act, when he doesn't want to be truthful--not right now, not about this. He wants to close his eyes and be selfish.

He doesn't want to be responsible or thoughtful.

Daniel doesn't say a word as the boy starts leaning against him. The Omen in Robby's lab similarly does not move an inch. It just rests within Robby's arms, nothing but a comforting ball of fluff - almost like it's more a plush animal than a living being.

It's the man who starts moving first after a moment. Nothing too big, and certainly nothing that would jostle Robby away from him. Instead he slowly shifts Robby so he's leaning against Daniel's side and the man's arm is free, and then reaches out to wrap that arm around the boy's back, until it moves to rest on his opposite arm, fingers spread out on the upper part of his arm near the shoulder.

It moves to pull the boy even a bit closer, Daniel's body turning a bit so Robby has even more to lean against. Not a full on hug, no, but just enough to have a little bit more contact.

He doesn't say anything for another moment, fingers gently rubbing reassuringly against Robby's arm.

It's okay, a part of Daniel wants to say to reassure the boy, but nothing about what just happened was okay. Robby should never have been in that situation to begin with. The boy nearly died. If Daniel had been a moment later, or if he hadn't been there at all, then-- then he would've ended up like the other corpses back there, drained of anything useful to those zealots. He wouldn't have been sitting here on the couch next to Daniel, still living and breathing.

His hold on Robby is a reminder of it in this moment. Even if none of that was okay, at least Robby got out of there alive. As long as he's alive, they can still make things better.

"I'm here," he finally says.

Maybe that's all he can offer the other. He can't make everything magically okay, as much as he wishes he could. But what Daniel can offer Robby is very much the same thing mister Miyagi offered him, way back. Someone who's there. Someone you can lean on unconditionally, even when things seem impossible to deal with.

Someone who won't let you be alone during tough moments.

Robby doesn't protest against the moving. Though it might momentarily make him lose that weight beside him in the initial shuffling of Mister LaRusso's arm, there's something soon enough to replace it, for him to feel against him.

A cold side, but living, and breathing. His eyes had opened a little in the stirring, but as the fingers brush against him in comfort, Robby lets his senses focus on these things: the presence of another, the small gestures of affection. Maybe he should have some shame, pretend that he's thinking of his mother, make up some excuse in his mind about how this is alright.

But Mister LaRusso says 'I'm here', and he doesn't think he would want to hear it from anybody else. His body relaxes, like the words are permission, his own body tilting more towards Mister Larusso so his head can rest more comfortable on his shoulder. He moves his one good hand (or, one good palm) onto the man's thigh to rest, and like this, he might be considerate enough to ask in a mumbling voice--

"Is this okay?"

It's not just about his hand. It's not about any singular thing, but this as a whole, this fine line they're crossing over, what Robby's asking, what they're doing. Maybe this is another part of being a sensei to Mister LaRusso, but--

But Robby knows he's asking -- and taking -- far more than any person should from just a mentor.

Still, there's only one answer he really wants to hear.

"Of course."

He doesn't even have to think about that answer. Why would he? Even aside from the fact that Robby needs it right now, this is something Daniel would have readily done for Sam and Anthony whenever they needed it. Honestly, he's pretty sure he was in pretty much the exact same position with Sam while they sat outside at the dojo together back home.

So why would it be different for Robby? He may not have Daniel's blood, but that doesn't matter when the man has already realised months ago that this feels just as much as his son to him. When he's even told Johnny about it, of all people. Maybe he should have told Robby, but.. it's such an awkward thing to bring up, and the timing is never good.

It certainly isn't the right time right now.

So those words still remain buried in Daniel's heart, but maybe the boy will realise something through this. Maybe not the full extent of Daniel's feelings, but at least that Daniel is willing to treat him like this. That he actually wants it, especially when it helps Robby.

Maybe that's why he tightens his hold on the other just a tad as he adds: "Not just now. Whenever you want."

Just to make it even more clear. This isn't just a one time thing that Daniel is doing because the entire incident they just went through was so horrible. If something that bad happens again, or Robby feels like he needs it again - then Daniel will hold him, just like this.

(And maybe it makes him feel a touch better too, even after all that. At least he could help Robby back there, at least he can help Robby now. It won't make his guilt for not helping anyone else or not doing more for Robby disappear, but at least it allows him to feel like he's doing something.

.. and indulging in the presence of one of his kids, when he misses the other two so much.)

"It's always okay."

Deep down - though Robby can sense it now - he's sure he shouldn't want this at all. That this isn't something people his age really seek, they're just given it sometimes, and hasn't he let himself be exposed like too many times as it is? This isn't the kind of person the world taught him to be; this isn't going to make him better.

...but it's hard to be against it, when he feels as comfortable as he does. Mister LaRusso's chill feeling all the more noticeable the longer they stay like this, but Robby isn't going to ask for anything to change. Even the small touch of his had on the man's leg is nice.

He doesn't know how often he could want something like this, when he'd prefer not to feel like he's in this type of headspace again, but at least Mister LaRusso's voice is as warm as his kindness, isn't it. (And that's always been the problem, just how nice he is. He doesn't get what that's like for a fucked up kid like him, when he wants more. When he says he can, but--)

"I can't let that happen again," he says quietly, brushing his thumb against Mister LaRusso's leg absently. He can't let himself be put into a situation where all he wants is this. "I won't survive if I do."

It's dark, but it's the truth, isn't it? If Mister LaRusso hadn't been there, he wouldn't be here right now.

Daniel pauses his speech for a few moments when Robby says that. Because as much as he wants to dispel those words right away, he also knows they're right. This sort of thing - it's a near inevitability here. Everything that happens to them is so much above their level, so much beyond what they're used to, and every single thing they can do in preparation only can do so much. They only made it out of the sleeper farm in the first place due to abilities beyond what they had before like the Omens and Daniel's blood magic, and then a supernatural invention at the end.

It makes most reassurances he could give Robby here feel empty. Like they're just words, without anything to back them up. His heart burns for him to tell Robby that it'll be okay, but-- how can Daniel guarantee that, when he's only one man?

He doesn't let go of the boy though. If anything, that sense of helplessness just makes him hold the other close even more, like he could protect Robby from this world, just as long as he could keep him right next to him.

"I know.. we don't always have the choice," he slowly starts.

If he can't promise the things he wants to promise, then he'll just have to promise the next most realistic thing he can offer Robby.

"But as long as I can be there, I will do whatever I can to get you out of a dangerous situation, Robby. It doesn't matter what it is." The danger, the likelihood of Daniel actually succeeding in it - it doesn't matter, as long as he can at least try. This is a man who, decades ago, didn't even hesitate for a second to run out into a life-threatening storm to save a girl he didn't even know, after all.

And he knows he can't always be there. Sometimes he can only barely be in time - like today - and sometimes he can only pick up the pieces in the aftermath, with two broken children standing in front of him and his pick up truck.

But.. even so. Even so.

"I'm here to protect you. I won't let you be alone in this."

Truths like the reality of their situation are easy to spill out without much consideration for the morbidity of the subject. Because death lives so closely to them, so easily; people you see regularly on the street could be gone by tomorrow, and if it isn't the beasts, it's some other new danger lurking around the corner now. Not having an answer to your safety is life-threatening; and even then, it doesn't always matter.

No wonder why non-Sleepers die so often. They wouldn't stand much of a chance if anything dragged them away like the zealots had done to him and Mister LaRusso.

But at least there's some comfort to be found, even after something like that. The tighter hold of Mister LaRusso's arm around him, and the words that sound nice, that he'd deeply love to believe. If someone could be always be there, and nothing could go wrong; it's a lie for children, but it's not like it's one he's been told with any frequency in his life.

(Even if life has made it so easy for him to imagine scenarios where he isn't saved, where there's no one to come and save him; with the blade pressing into him, and there's no one to make it stop.)

"Okay," he says, a reply that might be underwhelming to such a declaration for most; but something about it sounds a little thick, wet. He's never been one good with words in times like this, and he's not about to start now. Instead, Robby tilts his head against that space of Mister LaRusso's shoulder.

He believes his intent, even if they both know intent is never enough always enough.

...but it's plenty for now, and Robby asks after a pause:

"Is it okay, uh-- if I stay here tonight? On the couch. I think I just want to stay here?"

It's a question, more that it's alright than out of confusion, because he knows why. Sometimes he just like couches; sometimes he doesn't like being trapped inside four walls with nothing but his thoughts. But he wants to brush aside any offer of the spare bedroom he knows that exists, and not really explain it.

For all of the spiralling that Daniel's mind tends to do, especially in high-stress situations, his brain doesn't bother to tie itself into knots over Robby's answer. Daniel knows what it means - if not by tone, then just by the fact that he likes to think he knows Robby well enough by now to know there's so much more behind that answer, even if it only sounds like one simple word when said out loud.

He knows that at least part of the message must have been passed on to the boy. As much as would be allowed to in a situation like this, both of them still caught up in the emotions of the aftermath of such an impossible situation.

"Yeah, it's okay," he instead answers, focusing on the boy's question instead. Daniel is of half a mind to offer the guest room instead, thinking that Robby should at least be sleeping on a proper bed, but it's not like Robby doesn't know about the room's presence in Daniel's house in the first place - and yet he asked for the couch. There must be a reason behind it, so Daniel lets that matter rest for now. He can just ensure later that the kid is comfortable even when laying on the couch, rather than in bed.

(Daniel doesn't say it, but-- he thinks he likes this more too than Robby just going home. Not that he'd be alone there either, but if Daniel is allowed a little bit of selfishness in this moment, he'd admit to himself that he wants Robby to be near him, when he ran such a big risk of losing him entirely today.)

"We can stay like this for a little bit longer," he continues. Because Robby probably could use it, and.. well, Daniel can too. "But we'll have to get cleaned up before we sleep, alright?"

Look, Daniel also knows Robby enough to remember that the kid tried to stumble out of his house after that spar-gone-wrong on the opening day of the dojo without doing even the bare minimum about his wounds.

Sometimes you have to be the adult, and put your foot down and make sure that a kid is being taken care of.

Especially when you're reminded of said kid's presence, of their hurt, as starkly as Daniel is when he feels Robby lean into him so much.

"And then I'll make your favourite breakfast in the morning."

It's nothing that can fix what they went through. He knows it. But if he can't change what happened to them, and if he can't promise that it won't happen again since those zealots seem capable of taking anyone from anywhere at any time-- at least he just has to try to do what he can do, even when they're just little things like this. A sense of normalcy in a situation that isn't normal in the slightest.

Robby wonders if getting cleaned up means the full works (he thinks he has some spare clothes here ~~for Danny to nick later~~); he knows it'll probably mean his wounds, Mister LaRusso already trying to care for them once, and he'll have to begrudgingly go along with the man if he doesn't concede under a minimal amount of resistance. He'll give all the plans a mumbling "'kay" for now, though the later offer makes him feel childish, but is he going to fight a dad over his dad-like qualities?

(...even Mister LaRusso is more dad-like than he's ever wanted his own dad to be. Knowing his favourite foods, reminding Robby of what those are, letting him sit here with him like this. None of the gestures or show of affection he's ever thought about - or expected - a dad to give before.

He could probably give in, and rest his head on the man's lap like he used to with his mom long ago, once upon a time, and Mister LaRusso let him. Robby won't, though; he's got Mister LaRusso's omen on his lap, after all, and he's comfortable enough as it is.)

He's happy not to move for now, until whenever Mister LaRusso decides with his adult sense of time when they've had enough. Happy not to do much or anything, and just let himself rest; but Robby does peer out through the cracks of his eyelids, just to see enough what he wants, reaching with his hand on Mister LaRusso's lap over to the man's spare hand.

...because maybe it just feels like he needs to give a little something back, with how much is being offered to Robby, and what is he meant to do? Maybe this is just for him, too, and Robby can't tell himself that it isn't.

But this is enough, and he closes his eyes again, giving the hand a squeeze despite the burn across the skin.

They sit there for a while.

Because Daniel feels Robby needs it, sure. Even without any further words being exchanged for a while, Robby still seems like he could just use this - a physical presence close to him, a sense of time passing without anything attacking them. Knowing he's safe, and that he isn't alone. And it's not like Daniel himself can't use it either, especially when that hand suddenly attaches itself to his own hand.

He's still shaken up from what happened as well, after all. Waking up tied up in a strange place, all the suffering and gore he saw, the fighting, the thought that Robby almost died - it's all so much. It weighs heavily on Daniel's heart, and the presence of the boy he saved so close to him and alive makes up for a lot.

It can't last forever though. Daniel isn't even sure how much time passes before he finally gently nudges Robby back into a seated position without leaning against Daniel. Before he gets out the first aid kid to try and treat both of their wounds as well as he can, guiding the boy into the bathroom so he can clean off some of the blood by himself. Daniel ponders making some food in the meantime, but it's late, and he knows they're both just physically and mentally exhausted. It can wait until breakfast for once. Instead Daniel just uses the time to change his clothes as well, and then to grab the blanket and pillow from the guest room, bringing it over towards the couch once Robby is at least physically a little more patched up and waiting for him there.

"Here," Daniel says, a small smile on his face as he gives the boy the pillow, though he still holds on to the blanket himself. "Go lie down."

.. Is this a little too childish for a kid Robby's age? Definitely. This isn't the sort of thing he'd normally do with Sam either, after all, but.. he does remember a few times, so close after the school fight, when Sam had seemed so tiny and scared and hurt that Daniel couldn't quite help but sit there with her and hold her hand before she fell asleep, just so she knew she wasn't alone.

He won't embarrass Robby with all of that, but he can at least cover a similarly hurt boy with a blanket, right.

Robby doesn't think about time--in actuality, he starts to drift off, the exhaustion on his mind and person enough to have him be lulled into sleep. It's only with Mister LaRusso's nudging that he stirs, to a rather disagreeable instruction of getting up to get cleaned.

He considers being stubborn and staying sitting where he is, and does hold out until the first urging to get up he's giving after the initial one, but he's still too weak right now to the man to put up any more of a fight. (Ugh.) Robby stays mostly quiet for the rest of the night; he doesn't complain to his face or hands being touched, but if Mister LaRusso considers his stomach, he'll shake his head and say, "--Sleep'll help. I'll clean it tomorrow."

He learned that one from his time in hospital with the busted hands.

It's his only other resistance, as when he's led back to the couch, ...yes, he's not sure why Mister LaRusso is keeping a hold of the blanket, but it's a two-second thing, at most. He sets down the pillow and sits on the couch with his feet on it--half-way to laying, but still sitting up. Because he's not expecting anything else but to be handed over the blanket.

...but if Mister LaRusso insists Robby lay properly, then he won't argue it, even if he doesn't seem sure; he's still in a compliant mood, shifting his body lower, and some thought given about laying on his side. But he'll skip on that for now, with his (thankfully superficial) stomach wound.

Daniel just waits there, still holding the blanket until Robby seems like he's made himself comfortable - or as comfortable as one is going to get while sleeping on a couch with a stomach wound, anyway. (Or after going through a nightmarish scenario.)

It's then that he gives Robby the blanket. Though it's not really giving, as much as Daniel is draping the blanket over the boy here, making sure that he's properly covered up. Tugging the bottom so it's over Robby's feet, making sure it's not hanging too far to either side of him.

It's a little much, perhaps, but Daniel needs to feel like he's at least doing something for Robby here. When there's so much he can't fix, and only so much he can do to make up for anything that happened.

When he's done, he moves his hand to gently move through Robby's hair once.

(That's definitely too dad-like, but-- he feels like Robby's dad in this moment, perhaps stronger than he ever has before. What else is he supposed to be when a boy sought comfort in him so desperately, when Robby trusts him with all this?)

It's only a faint fleeting moment anyway, before the hand is already back at Daniel's side.

"Good night, Robby," he adds then. "If you end up needing anything at all, you know I'm right here."

.. though he thinks he's going to sit outside for a bit longer first. A moment to think about everything by himself, to try to properly calm down, restore balance as far as he possibly could after all this.

He won't linger long - mostly because he figures it's too embarrassing for Robby to say anything in return, so Daniel just gives him a patient smile before moving away from the couch, walking over to go sit out the back.

He hasn't been treated like this in a long time, that Robby both knows and is confused about what Mister LaRusso is doing. Because this isn't a fussing that people do except for mothers at an age that Robby can barely remember; and even the touch of his hair - gentle as it is - makes him question that assessment of the world.

Is this what other kids get, even at this age? From a present father, a doting mother? There's no time or room to work out any of this in his brain about any of this before Daniel is speaking, Robby's eyes only glancing at the man quickly before looking down.

"...Night," he does say though, even if it's not while looking at Daniel. It's lonelier once the man leaves, but Robby doesn't feel completely so. But if he could be like any kid (a kid with his mom, just like she'd do when he was ill and young), he wishes he could be one falling asleep with an arm around him, a hand stroking his hair.

(A body next to his, their presence telling him everything was going to be alright.)

...but Robby's learned to make do with what he has, and so he focuses on what he did as he closes his eyes. Pretending Mister LaRusso to be a warmer man as the blanket gives him comfort, and refusing to think any farther back than them sitting silently side-by-side.

It's all he needs.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

(closed) december catchall

cw: gore

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject