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Rarely does Caelus take over the dining car.
He is, admittedly, a complete novice when it comes to cooking. Give him something with instructions and he’s fairly steady, but creating something on his own? Not a chance. Siobhan’s lessons on bartending and mixing drinks, however, had done wonders, and now whenever he was feeling a little too restless, it was a simple thing to grab the ingredients and mindlessly create something that would help, either for himself to drink or for someone else to be offered. More often than not, however, he’s doing so in the relative privacy of his room, where he’s not in anyone’s way and doesn’t have to deal with unexpected visitors.
Today, however, the Express is quiet. The last time he heard from Himeko, Welt, and March 7th, the Family was stalling, and the investigation was pondering several different paths forward. There was no point in re-gathering planet-side yet, and Caelus has been working on different things there for a while anyway, so his being here isn’t hurting anyone. With a quiet sigh, he goes back to mixing his drinks. He’s mostly let his hands work off of muscle memory for the past half hour, and when he glances down at his creations, his heart clenches. There are three drinks on the counter so far, but all of them bear similar colors and characteristics.
He doesn’t think he meant to do it intentionally, but they all have Firefly’s colors.
“I thought I heard Pom-Pom talking to someone earlier.”
Caelus jumps. Dan Heng crosses the threshold of the dining car, looking admittedly more rested than Caelus has seen him in a long time. Not dealing with Penacony, or the rather wild stunts he’d been dragged into on the Luofu, have done him good. He’s not back to normal- Caelus honestly doesn’t know what normal is for Dan Heng anymore- but he seems better, and Caelus cannot help but be relieved.
He shrugs in answer to Dan Heng’s statement. “I asked if I could use the dining car for a bit. Didn’t want to disturb you, or the others if they come back for a bit.”
Dan Heng frowns slightly, but doesn’t press him. “I wasn’t aware you’d become a mixologist.”
Absurdly, Caelus feels a brush creep across his skin. “It’s just something I picked up recently. A… friend on Penacony asked me for help, and taught me how.”
He hates how he hesitates to say the word, as if it’s wrong of him to have friends on Penacony, but… he can’t think about them without also thinking of her. His fingers grow cold as he tries to force the memories back. He doesn’t want to think about the Memory Zone Meme, he doesn’t want to think about the last time he saw Firefly.
He doesn’t want to remember how it felt when she dissolved in his arms.
He doesn’t realize he’s spiraling until a hand grips his shoulder, firm but not painful. Dan Heng is next to him, keeping Caelus steady, his eyes flashing with concern. This close, Caelus is acutely aware of how well-defined Dan Heng’s form is, how the heat reflects between the two of them. Before those thoughts can go any further, he shoves them away. Now is not the time.
“Sorry,” he rasps. “I guess my thoughts went haywire for a second.”
Dan Heng watches him for a moment, and when Caelus’s eyes dart quickly to the drinks, and just as quickly away, he gently tugs Caelus a pace back from the table. “Something is clearly bothering you, Caelus. You can talk about it if you need to.”
“I-” Caelus breaks off. “I-I can’t. I can’t keep thinking about what happened. I’ll go mad.”
His words only seem to alarm Dan Heng further. “Caelus, if something has happened to you on Penacony, then you need to speak to someone. Bottling up what’s happened to you isn’t healthy.” A brief, bitter smile darts across his face. “I recognize the hypocrisy in being the person who tells you that, but please, tell me what’s on your mind.”
Caelus forces himself to stop for a moment, to take in a deep, shuddering breath. Then he looks at the glasses on the table again.
“The colors of the drinks,” he says numbly. “They’re the colors of a woman I met on Penacony. A friend.”
Carefully, Dan Heng nods. “Was she the one who taught you to mix the drinks?”
Caelus shook his head. “No. No, she was… she…”
It all comes flooding out, then. His stories of Firefly, of meeting her and saving her from the Bloodhound Family’s guards, of their wandering the Dreamscape until Firefly brought him to the overlook where they could watch the shooting stars of other dreamers. The things she told him, about her condition, her quest for the Watchmaker’s Legacy, and all the dreams she had. Their being intercepted by Sparkle, being thrown into the crack in the dreams, the Memory Zone Meme and being rescued by the Memokeeper. And then, with a heavy voice and tears threatening to fall down his face, he tells Dan Heng about what happened when they went back to investigate, how he found Firefly in the dream lobby and couldn’t stop the Meme from killing her. How she dissolved, an apology on her lips, and he was left reeling in shock and horror. He thinks about mentioning what happened after, with Aventurine and Robin, but the words just won’t come. He feels like a deflated balloon, or maybe a stringless puppet.
Somewhere in the deluge of stories, Dan Heng has moved them away from the table and appliances. They’re both sitting on the floor, with their backs against the wall of the car. Mercifully, Dan Heng chose the side that faces outwards, so Caelus can look out the window without seeing Penacony. He leans bonelessly against Dan Heng, and finally admits the final thing that’s been haunting him since everything went down.
“Penacony makes me hate the idea of dreaming,” he says softly. “They made that dream tech so perfect that I genuinely have trouble separating what happened in reality from what happened in the Golden Hour, and I hate it. How can I ever trust a dream again, having had them so meticulously enhanced here? How can I ever sleep again without fear of waking up in an entirely different place, where everything is false and yet it’s so hard to figure that out?”
For a heartbeat, everything is silent. Then Dan Heng shifts just enough to be able to look at him.
“The dreams of Penacony are manufactured for their presumed perfection, Caelus,” he says gently. “Your dreams, the dreams that come from you and you alone, will never be mired in so much complexity. The only one creating your dreams is you.”
Caelus lets out a huff. “That makes sense, and I get it, that everything on Penacony is a group effort to make it that way. I just wish it hadn’t made me hate dreaming in the process.”
Dan Heng lets out a similar huff. “I can understand that frustration, believe me. I felt very similar about the Loufu in my earlier years.”
Caelus blinks. He’s not sure how to respond to that: mentioning Dan Heng’s past is something he’s been careful to avoid, afraid of accidentally triggering the man. Now, however, he lets himself lean further into Dan Heng’s warmth. “I don’t know when there’ll be something new for me to do in this investigation on Penacony,” he says quietly. “Is it alright if I stay here until they call for me?”
“Of course,” Dan Heng answers, and an arm goes around Caelus’s shoulders, firm and comforting. “The Express is your home, Caelus, just as it is for the rest of us. You can stay aboard for as long as you want to.”
Caelus sighs quietly. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “That’s… really nice to hear.”
They sit that way for a few more minutes, before Dan Heng nudges him. “Come on,” he says evenly. “PomPom will want this place locked up again soon. Let’s clean up and head to the Archives. You can de-stress there, and if you like, you can tell me about your mixology adventures. There hasn’t actually been a bartender on the Express since my arrival, but there are records of other Trailblazers who practiced the art for the Express. We can add your name to that list, if you like.”
That does sound good, actually- having some aspect of him recorded in the Express’s history for reasons other than the Stellaron. He knows the others have worked hard to make sure that he’s treated as a person, respected and appreciated for himself and not just for the strange things he can do, but Aventurine’s words at the beginning of this trip, his immediate use of Stellaron as a means of identifying Caelus, have shaken him more than he would like. When Dan Heng carefully untangles himself and stands, offering Caelus a hand to do the same, he takes it without hesitation. That feels good, too. He’s learned, since the aftermath of the Loufu, to be less hesitant when it comes to Dan Heng. They haven’t spoken about it, but there’s been a subtle shift in the way they interact. Dan Heng is more open to Caelus’s brand of comfort, well-meaning but non-invasive physical contact. He’s even initiated hugs a few times. It’s fed Caelus’s crush satisfaction like wildfire, but he’s careful never to overstep.
Interestingly enough, though, he can’t help but notice Dan Heng doesn’t seem to have much use for distance at the moment. As soon as he’s cleared away the ingredients and put away the cups, the Express Guard takes Caelus’s hand in his, and tugs him gently through the parlor car towards the door to their rooms. Caelus is eternally grateful that PomPom is nowhere in sight, because he is definitely blushing something fierce. When they reach the door to the Archives and slip inside, Caelus decides that screw it, if Dan Heng is allowed to do this, then Caelus is allowed to do something as well, and as soon as the door closes he squeezes Dan Heng’s hand, sliding close enough to rest his chin on the other man’s shoulder.
“Looking to give PomPom a show?” he says lightly, and Dan Heng chuckles.
“There’s no one else here,” he reminds Caelus as they shift further into the Express. “We may as well take advantage of the peace. I doubt we’ll have a moment to consider this new existence between us in peace again for a very long time.”
Caelus’s brain honest-to-aeons short circuits. “Ah…” is all he manages. Dan Heng glances back, sees his bright red face, and bursts out laughing, though as always his laugh is quieter, more melodious, than the others. “I know I’ve been dealing with quite a bit in recent weeks, but I’m hardly blind. And given how hard it is for you to disguise when you’re happy, I’m fairly sure we’re on the same page regarding this development.”
Even the idea of stringing words together is lost in Caelus’s embarrassment, so he nestles further into Dan Heng’s neck. “Didn’t want to bother you,” he mumbles finally. “Not after… all of that.”
Dan Heng merely chuckles quietly. “I appreciate it,” he answers softly. “But now I’d like to take care of you for a bit, if you don’t mind.”
That sounded heavenly, honestly. Caelus cannot remember the last time someone ‘took care of him’, outside of patching him up whenever he does something stupid. Even the idea of Dan Heng just… being there with him sounds amazing. Carefully, he straightens up. “Ok, yeah,” he says hoarsely. “I’d like that.”
Dan Heng gestures over to the futon. “Come on, then,” he says.
“Let’s see if we can find some more pleasant dreams for you.”