A/N: I'll be attatching the author's notes straight from AO3.
Fair warning that this one is a little more intensive and does deal with attempted kidnapping, as well as threats and dehumanization. You've been warned.
Also, huge shoutout to horsesandrobotsandtimelordsohmy on AO3, not just for their help with the title, but also for their kind reviews and just being a lovely person all around ^u^. Thank you!
(My draft title was "Jasjsjaj" lol.)
Oof, characterization is all over the place in this one, ain't it?
WHAT EVEN ARE TENSES OR POVS I SWEAR I AM A NATIVE ENGLISH SPEAKED BUT I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I AM DOING.
Dansel In Distress
It was one of those days where all four occupants were actually tired enough to fall asleep at the relatively early time of eleven PM.
Not surprisingly, they had fallen into a rhythm after living together for nearly six months; work circulated just right, so no one got home later than seven PM, or left earlier than five AM, and each had a day off where no one else was home. That also left nice, balanced moments of bonding, or alone time in one another's presence.
Today had been one of those cold, brisk days with wind sweeping in rain. The last one to come home, Phil, had been greeted with an uproariously laughing Mark, while Jack and Dan scampered around one another, turning off burners or removing pots just as they began to smoke, while also chopping vegetables and checking the oven.
Phil smiled warmly to himself; it was good to be home.
He shook off his umbrella, then entered and let the door slam behind him. He put it away in the bucket and hung up his jacket, commenting, "Brrr! It's really cold out there. So what are you lads making?"
Mark's face was beet red, eyes practically stuck close from squinting so hard. He tried to catch his breath back, huffing, "They're - hff - tryin' to make - heeheehee - make soup b-but Jah-ah-ck," he could barely say syllables, he was wheezing so hard, "caught hisarmhairsonfireand - heeheehee - Dansmackedhimselfwithapah-pan!"
Phil didn't hide his chuckle, though his hand covered his mouth. Sly blue eyes looked over at a pair of unamused brown ones.
"Don't you dare, Lester."
"But Dan," his smile turned practically malicious, "there's no need to pan-ic at the disco."
There was absolute silence for a moment.
Dan covered his face in shame an exasperation, exclaiming, "Oh dear god, I would prefer the humiliating banter over this!"
"Thaht one sucked, dude."
"That's it, Phil is banned from puns."
Phil stuck his tongue out at Mark as the other two went back to finishing their task. "Hey! You don't have any authority to ban the skills of the pun mah-ster!"
"When you say it in that high-pitched voice, a-yeah I do."
"Okay, guys," Jack's loud voice chipped in, "it's time fer food!"
They all met at the table, sliding into their preferred seats and chatting amicably. It went as unspoken agreement that they all ate at least one meal together, and always to eat at the table (unless it's take out, in which case they sat down in the living room.) Chatter went forth smoothly, one to the other and across and back around - Phil dared make comment on Dan's still-red face and Jack's slightly bald arm. Overall, it was friendly and they were content.
Too bad the night couldn't stay that way.
Dan tossed and turned in his sleep, headache present and skin itching at the thought of the spider he had killed (well, Phil had killed) before bed.
He lay on his back, rubbing his eyes and groaning.
He wasn't sure if it was more the pan-induced headache or his archnaphobia that kept him awake, though; honestly, Dan just felt restless restless restless, like the nights where Seán wandered the apartment aimlessly, or when Phil came to his room on his own bad nights until he felt sleepy.
Huh, Mark probably had the best sleep-schedule out of all of them and he was the one with ADD.
Dan pulled his mind back from wandering. He needed to focus on why he couldn't sleep. He sighed forcefully, eyes peering through the darkness and at the ceiling. He could go to Phil's room, see if he was up to chatting until Dan grew tired. He knew his friend wouldn't mind - heck, the Dismalen sharing-tendencies would probably make him drowsy if Phil was sleepy enough.
But he couldn't be bothered to move - he was tired as all hell but didn't have the energy, really. Huh.
His blinks felt heavier, thoughts foggier.
Was it a side affect of his anti-depressants? Insomnia didn't just mean inability to fall asleep - it meant waking up frequently as well as sleeping in late. Just especially the hard-time . . .thing.
Where was he goin' with that?
Ohhhhhh.
Finally. He was getting tired.
Dan's thoughts grew hazy and disjointed until he finally fell asleep.
No one heard the front door unlock; no one saw the twist of the deadbolt in the night-draped apartment.
There was no awareness of the not-quite humanoid figures entering to break the stillness; no person to catch the pair of glowing indigo irises sweeping the perimeter, or hear the stifled growls of conversation.
Fingers much too long and thick to be human twisted a knife to show the other, as the companion patted his side gently where his own instruments lay.
They made their way in, then to the right, and then to the door on the left, leaving a faint water-trail from their rain-soaked forms in their wake.
No one was aware, until the sounds of struggle started.
Dan's eyes shot open as a wide hand clasped over his mouth, and another set helped lift him up.
Not Phil not Phil Phil doesn't do surprises like this only does teasing isn't agressive so who what why-
"Gorm'd, didja getta muzzren?"
"Korsa diden, Deffad."
Dan began to struggle as the hand lifted and something else - metal - was shoved between his teeth, and fastened around his head while the other held him tightly to their chest.
He could hear his own heartbeat, thudding in his ears invaded invaded captured strangers fear fear fear.
He had never been more frightened or uncomfortable in his life.
Their voices were harsh, breath hot when it brushed against his skin. The language was foreign; their words senseless.
Or maybe it was just because Dan was panicking so much.
One of the hands pet his curly hair - thick, almost lizard-like appendages that made Dan want to vomit.
Oh god, give him spiders any day over this.
"Gudd, iss gudd Dism'len," one hissed, caressing his hair.
Dan had slowly stopped thrashing, helplessness taking hold; panic seized his limbs and all he felt was no no no help please please help unsafe wrong help Phil please help. . .
Dimly, though, one of the words latched onto his brain.
Dism'len
Dismalen.
Oh no.
They had begun to cart him out of the room, when he began his thrashing anew.
"Auf! Gremminun slach-raph!"
He had managed to kick the one carrying him where he thought their nuts were; he couldn't be sure, as he was apparently being kidnapped by aliens.
(His mind decided it would be the right time to supply the thought of Dil, the silly little Sim he and Phil made for fun who got abducted on more than one occasion.
not now, brain.)
It had been enough to stumble the alien, causing them to smack into his dresser and curse loudly.
Ah, good; it was a male. And, as such, vulnerable.
He kept thrashing, trying to scream around whatever was gagging his mouth. They passed through the hallway; he fought even harder when they passed Phil's door.
"Dan-!"
Phil had run into the living room where Dan had finally been dragged, eyes blown wide in the dim lighting, and obviously panting as though panicked. Dan could feel the thrum of not safe must help Dan Dan Dan save Dan protect help him coming from Phil.
But before Phil could say another word, a knife was pressed against his throat, the alien speaking slowly in gutteral but flawless English, "No moves or we stab your pretty little pet." His partner growled for emphasis, "We will do it."
And then the room was flooded with light.
"Guys. . .?"
"Oh jaysus!"
Mark and Jack stood in the hallway to the living room, the Irishman's hand still on the light switch. Mark's expression bordered on calculated, taking the scene in with a glance, while Jack's morphed from surprised to serious. Dan slid his gaze back to Phil, seeing that the other was protectively furious.
Huh. He could feel it too, actually; a fire to balance out his chilling fear.
His abilities were damn near poetic and absolutely not needed right now.
Phil was the first to break the silence, all courtesy gone from his speech as he practically snarled, "Let him the eff go right now."
The one holding the knife to Dan's neck spoke slowly, tauntingly. "Ahh, look, it's owner wants it back. What do you think Gorm'd?"
The one who's nuts he had kicked reply back, his voice deeper, "I think not, Deffad. After all, an already trained Dismalen like this will fetch a nice price I'm sure."
Phil's eyes flickered to Jack and Mark, fear evident; that they had heard Dan's secret, without his choice in the matter, and that his best friend was in such danger.
Jack and Mark both seemed to stiffen, and some sort of wonderment flickered in each of their expressions; nothing truly shocked or dark, but rather a kind sort of surprise. But they dropped it, focusing on the matter at hand.
"What do you want with him?" Jack cut in, voice curt and almost hushed.
"Don't you know? This" He lifted Dan up by his hair for emphasis. "It's a Dismalen - one of the best creatures in the galaxies as a pet."
"And perfectly legal on most planets," the other added.
"Their energy makes perfect little mood regulators."
"Hmm, a shame it's already bonded; but it can relearn."
Mark noticed how they referred to Dan as 'it', as well as the odd, alien-looking muzzle clamped on his mouth. He was obviously trembling, terrified; Wilford rose in Mark's mind just as angry.
But he held his ground, deciding to try to negotiate first. "Then why steal him? Since he already. . . belongs to Phil," the Brit seemed uncomfortable with the phrasing, though he seemed reassured by the look Dan shot him, "surely that's illegal?"
The two aliens just looked at him - they were humanoid, though their skin was slightly oranger, eyes indigo, and flesh as smoothly shiny as lizard scales. Their noses were shaped oddly, too, the nostrils a thin, vertical slit. Black clothing with a material like a backpack was clad on their taller, more compact forms.
They smelt the air, the knife one - Deffad - tilting his head curiously. "You all smell odd - too faint of earth."
"Doesn't matter," big bad Gorm'd said, voice lowered enough it was obvious he was directing it to his companion. "Dismal is a well-protected planet, and breeding humanoid species is prohibited - but there's no law against capturing and selling them." He rose his voice, "Especially since rich little families love them for their children and aging parents."
"Plus, no one in their right minds would come to Earth. No one will know we took this pretty little thing from here," Deffad purred, running his clawed hands through Dan's curls.
He looked like he wanted to vomit.
"But, we can always kill and sell its corpse," Deffad continued, looking at Dan and watching tears silently fall from his eyes, "after all, its parts could be butchered and sold."
Phil stiffened with absolute hatred, but before he could even move, something flew through the air and smacked Deffad in the face with the same nuance of a squeak toy and bouncing off in the same manor.
(Was . . . was that an eyeball?)
"Yow!"
As Dan wrenched himself from the alien's grasp, Phil flung himself forward to catch him, hugging the younger man close and muttering as well as feeling, 'I've got you you're safe I have you Dan you're okay okay safe okay. . .'
Deffad moved his hand from his smarting face, turning to snarl, only to have it die down as he faced the Irishman who stood too close for comfort. Irises flashed in a circle with bright green, veins racing with the same color in his arms as he hissed, "Don't even think of messing with my friends ever again."
There was a distinct, muffled thwack that sent Deffad flying, and stars to shimmer in his darkened vision.
To say being punched with Boss Energy backing it up hurt would be an understatement, even if said energy was dampened.
Phil saw Jack apprehend Deffad, holding the collar of the alien's shirt and pointing his own knife at him. He hadn't missed the green energy, nor the apparent eyeball hanging about Jack's shoulder, but he decided to focus on Dan for now. He worked at getting the buckles for the muzzle undone, dropping it in disgust, and undid the tie around his hands. They looked at each other for a moment, and then they hugged one another tightly.
"You okay?"
"Of course, you spork."
He gave him another tight squeeze, trembling with either anger or terror, and both of their fear strangling them.
Then they stood, Phil moving slightly in front of Dan, as they looked at the aftermath.
Mark had darted forward, voice warbled and dangerously low as he said, "You'd best not move." Gorm'd felt the cold metal of a pistol pressed against his temple, and saw the faint yellow of Wil's sleeve.
The others all saw what Gorm'd could not turn to see; that Mark had on a completely different outfit, as well as a pink mustache, though if one really looked they could see that it was slightly opaque, as though not quite there.
"A Warfian," Gorm'd said slowly. "I knew you smelt odd. Hybrid? But what are your kind doing here?"
Wil growled in his own voice, but Mark's words, "Wwellll, wouldn't you like to know?"
"A Bossotronio too, Gorm'd!" Deffad squeaked out, which Jack growled at.
Gorm'd's tone said it all. "What in hell? How did the Billycons miss that? How are you all even living together?"
"Because we're friends," Phil said, boldly, "and that means-"
"That doesn't answer his question!"
Jack's voice terrified Deffad into silence, "Shut the eff up. Mark?" His tone changed when he spoke to his friend, though it still held anger. "What do you think we should do?"
"You know," Gorm'd cut in. "Interesting thing about Warfians that I just remembered. They're manipulators. Actors. So that means," he slipped out from Wil's grasp, knocking Jack aside and grabbing his companion. They fled out the door, passing Phil who stumbled back to move Dan out of the way.
"Damn it."
Jack raced out the door after them, while Mark hurried over to Dan and Phil. He looked normal again, the outfit and pistol gone. His accent shifted back to its flatter American one.
"You okay?" Mark asked, concerned.
Dan nodded, heart still racing. "Never thought I'd ever be abducted. But I'm - I'm okay. They just grabbed me a little roughly."
Before Mark could comment, Jack came back in, sopping wet from the heavy rain. He closed the door behind himself gently. His tone was apologetic and heavy with self-disappointment. "They're gone; gave me the slip." His shoulders dropped dejectedly.
". . .So what now?" Phil asked.
The four Roomates looked to one another, eyes settling mainly on Mark. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Let's just. . .get cleaned up and settled down for the moment. I'll make some hot chocolate and we can sit down and talk about this when you guys are ready."
There wasn't really anything to say in response, so Phil led Dan off to their hallway (Dan had murmured about wanting a shower, while Phil quietly decided that he would right anything that had been knocked down in Dan's room.)
Jack stared at Mark, mouth opening, but the American cut him off, "Not yet, okay? We can - we'll all talk about this in a bit, okay?"
He shut his mouth, but nodded. Then he went to go get changed into dry clothes while Mark set the stove up.
About an hour went by; Jack came back out and mopped up all the rainwater, while Mark had picked up the furniture that had been knocked askew in the scuffle. Dan joined them at the table, hair fluffed from him towel-drying it, and Phil following in his wake.
There was a still silence as they sat there, sipping their hot coco for a good ten minutes.
They were startled as an empty mug was set on the table rather purposefully.
"So," Jack started, eyes trained on the worn wood. "I'm - I'm something called a Bossotronio. They're from a planet called Bossotron - or so I've been told," a smile quirked on his lips, "I didn't really know I wasn't human until about seven months ago." His blue eyes looked up at them, twinkling wit humor, though also glittering with apprehension.
"Seven months? But that's barely-"
"Yeah, my ma told me as I was moving out."
He took a deep breath, but exhaled without speaking as Mark chipped in, voice low. "As you heard, I'm part Warfian. They're from Warfanel. I didn't know until maybe two years ago now? They're - we're illusionists of sorts," he kept his eyes down as he spoke, "can throw our voices, or make ourselves appear different. To a degree."
"So the whole lemonade outfit. . .?" Dan asked, gesturing.
"That's, uh," Mark chuckled awkwardly. "That's Wilford Warfstache. I sorta can channel him, basically."
"He can also make you see and hear me!" The other three looked at the little box that had appeared on the table, in surprise. "Hi! I'm Tiny Box Tim!"
Then he faded from existence, though a little smile remained on Mark's face.
"The phone," Phil muttered to himself. No one noticed the sharp glance Mark gave him.
Dan finally added to the conversation, though reluctantly. "Well you heard what they said - I'm Dismalen. Mostly, at least. I've known for pretty much my whole life. Basically were symbiotic - it's like an energy transfer thing? Or something?" He scratched his head. "Anyways, I didn't know that we are . . .pets to some species. I don't really know any species beyond those on Earth."
"Same here," Jack snorted.
Mark looked at Phil. "So did you make the thing that smacked that other guy?"
"Uh, no, that was me," Jack coughed. "Uh, say hi to Sam."
They watched as the eyeball appeared in Jack's hands, which glowed green under the skin. The little eyeball tittered, propelling itself off the table and cuddling into the crook of Seán's neck, which he chuckled happily at.
"Wait," Mark's brow furrowed, "then what are you Phil? 'Cause if I'm an alien, and Jack's an alien, and Dan's an alien, then aren't you. . . ?"
Phil shrugged, which Dan mirrored when Mark looked to him. Welp. That's all there was to that, I guess.
"I guess I should also come clean and say that my abilities are that I channel Boss Energy; that's why I wander around the apartment at weird hours, sometimes. It's also why I can make Sam!" He held up the eyeball, grinning cheerfully.
"Boss Energy? Really?"
"Well, there's a longer scientific name for it but eff, I don't really remember it's."
"So, all aliens," Phil pondered aloud, "what even are the odds that we'd all move in together?"
This statement, coupled with the recent nervous ptension, left them to dissolve into giggling and laughing hysterically. Because, honestly? What even were the odds?
When they had all calmed down and begun to catch their breath back, Mark spoke in a firm tone, proposing, "Okay. So I think we're all agreed that everyone is gonna take off work Tommarrow, and we'll be staying inside to order pizza."
"Not that I'm against that, dude; but why?" Jack asked.
Mark shrugged. "Dunno 'bout you guys, but after this, I'm pretty traumatized - it's not like we can go to the police about the break-in, and I think we could all deal with a day to recoup."
"Sounds good to me? Dan?" Phil turned to his best friend. He noticed that Dan felt guilt guilt sorry my fault guilt, and Phil gave his arm a squeeze, feeling, not fault okay we're okay all okay fine. It seemed to help.
Dan fake-groaned. "Ugh I can't even think about work right now. We're effing staying in."
"So, it's agreed," Mark stated.
"Yeah, and uh, let's leave the lights on tonight, too," Phil added.
Jack clapped his hands. "How about a sleepover in the living room? We could play games or somethin'."
"Ooh, I'll grab my laptop! We can all play a game," Phil said, jumping up excitedly.
"We can set up the XBox, too!"
Mark chuckled. "I think we still have a frozen pizza I can make, even though it's," he squinted at the clock above the dining table. "Uh, 4:43 in the morning?"
But the others weren't listening - Jack had already started turning on the TV, and Dan stumbled into the hallway, racing against Phil who was sure to have the laptop in record time. They were already getting rowdy and excited, surely loud enough to bother their neighbors.
He smiled to himself, shaking his head in fond exasperation. Mark headed to the kitchen, chuckling to himself, "Glad to know some things will never change."
A/N:
Translations of the Vevmilons' language:
"Gorm'd did you get the muzzle?"
"Of course I did, Deffad."
"Good, this is[you're a] good Dismalen."
"Oof! *mutiple expletives pertaining to native tongue*"
Gorm'd (Gore-m'd; m'd is med with a muffled vowel sound) means "Giant".
Deffad (deaf-fahd) is indicative of a swift, lean lizard species from their native planet.
If none of you know already I absolutely love making up languages and peoples and cultures (*cough* Sacrifice *cough*).
EDIT: Just found out that Mark has ADD so I added that mention last minute.
Also, yes there's a reason why they're being so dismissive about the whole reveal.