Donmitri, rescue wrenchers AU (the one where Wrench and Numbers grab Don and Dmitri and hightail it before shit goes down) for romaniandumpsterhooker on tumblr.
People are like planets, Don said once.
He doesn't remember who he said it to, of course, and they hadn't been listening, which was fine because people don't listen and that's okay; but it's an image that's stayed with him over the years ever since he put his finger on it.
People have a gravity to them. People are interesting. People move and think and talk and really, when you think about it, how cool is that? In a world full of things to pay attention to, Don is drawn to people the most.
Sometimes he realizes that he's standing too close, being too familiar, that this is Awkward and he needs to back off; and he does, usually, until he forgets again.
Sometimes. More so than usual, after what happened in Bemidji.
People are still interesting, definitely, but he's had a glimpse of an interesting he doesn't want to see, the kind of interesting that slits open dogs and ruins lives and leaves someone to die like a rat in a cage, and thinks it's the funniest thing in the world.
Yes, Don is a lot more respectful of personal space, these days.
This particular Friday afternoon, alone in the apartment where they're staying with the odd fellas who gave them a lift out of town, he flops onto the couch, sighing loudly.
And nearly jumps out of his skin when a voice two feet from his ear says "Rough day, huh?"
"Geez!" he yelps, scrambling halfway over the armrest before he realizes it's just Dmitri. The kid had apparently already been sitting there, in his quiet, happy, unobtrusive way. "Oh. Hi," says Don, shakily.
Dmitri looks at him with concern. "Didn't scare ya, did I?" he asks.
"Nah," he lies; and then, because Dmitri looks worried to the point of genuine distress, he feels compelled to add, "Sorry. Just a little jumpy is all."
The kid's expression of worry doesn't fade. "Are… are you okay?" When Don is silent, he hurries to fill the the gap. "Just, ya haven't been sleepin' much. I hear ya walkin' around at night."
Don laughs nervously, to stall for an answer that won't come. He hasn't been sleeping much lately. Hardly at all, in fact. Every time he closes his eyes, he feels duct tape biting into his flesh, and cold metal laid in his hands, and fear so strong he wants to throw up. Has, a couple times, in the long hours of the night.
He settles for as close to the truth as he can get. "I am pretty tired, yah," he admits. "Beds are kinda uncomfortable."
Dmitri looks puzzled for a moment—Mr. Wrench and Mr. Numbers' house isn't exactly what he's used to, but he's fine wherever he is, and the beds aren't that bad—and then he seems to understand. "Oh. So ya like the couch better?"
Not really, Don thinks. "Yah. Yah. It, ah, reminds me of home." Another laugh, which he doesn't feel; he's exhausted. "Too bad there's no pillows."
Dmitri beams like he's just been handed a Christmas present. "You can lean on me, if ya want."
Don stares for a moment, disbelieving, until it dawns that he means it. "R-really? I, I, no, that's fine," he stammers.
"Ya sure?" asks Dmitri, brightly. "Works like a charm for me."
"No, that's fine, I—" Don flails weakly for an excuse, and realizes with surprise that he doesn't need one; the idea really doesn't bother him all that much. "Actually, that don't sound so bad."
Dmitri smiles even more widely, if possible. "Okie."
The process of scooting across the couch and tilting over to lean on Dmitri's shoulder is awkward enough for even Don to feel, and he almost reconsiders. But he stays there for a moment, and another, and another, pulse slowing to match Dmitri's peaceful heartbeat.
He's almost surprised at how quickly he feels himself nodding off, and how much they've shifted position by the time he does; they've gone from stiff side-leaning to fluid and comfortable, half-curled around each other. Dmitri radiates sleepy happiness like a miniature sun, and it occurs to Don to wonder if maybe he feels the same pull to be close to others.
He wonders what Stavros would have had to say about that.
For the first time in more than a week, Don feels warm and safe and happy; and when he sleeps, no dreams follow him.