Drake's not a therapist. He's had a lot of therapy, but not even the type that Sam probably needs. Still, he wants to help. This city's hard enough to survive without touch issues, and with them? He can't imagine the stress Sam's under right now. So he's made the place as comfortable as possible -- there are snacks, soft pillows on the couch, his partner's out until dinner and the tv's on a nature channel for some background noise. When the other man arrives they can put on something else to watch, or nothing at all... they can just talk, if Sam would prefer. He's definitely winging it here, but figures that his best attempt is better than nothing.
There are lion cubs playing on the screen when the knock on the door comes. Drake gets up off the couch and crosses to open the door.
Sam's all nerves. He feels like he's going to jump out of his skin or something. Vibrate away into the night. But he's here, he's going to try this.
He stands in front of the door for a good few minutes before he manages to knock. Then Drake answers and Sam gives a small wave in greeting. "Uh, hey. Thanks." The place looks... cozy. Much nicer than his apartment. And a helluvalot nicer than any of the waystations he'd stayed at in distro centres at home.
The Up apartments are pretty fancy to begin with, and Drake's taken efforts to make his place look like he lives there. The biggest thing Sam will notice as he comes in are the murals on the walls, hand painted by Drake's partner. The living room is a jungle scene, and he's gotten accents to match. That's where he leads Sam to, and there's snacks out on the coffee table.
"How about you unwind a little first? Sit down, we can talk -- you want a drink? I'll grab you something."
The murals are impressive. And a huge difference from the stark white and grey walls of the distro station bedrooms. Makes the place look like an actual home, instead of just a place to stay.
He steps back into the kitchen, and there's the sound of clinking bottles and then a drawer opening. When Drake comes back he's got two beer and a bottle opener, and he comes and sits down on the couch with Sam.
"I thought we could just hang out, talk, find something to watch so your focus isn't totally on contact? And go from there."
"So you're... not. Going to try and touch me?" Sam asks, taking one of the beers and sitting a bit stiffly on the sofa. The lions on the TV are cute, at least. He's not sure if lions are still around.
Right, relaxing. Different subject that isn't the potential extinction of lions.
"Not immediately? I'm pretty sure if I tried right now it wouldn't go so well." Sam's obviously incredibly tense, and Drake wants this to work out long term. It'd help if he could unwind a little first, not start out when he's already on edge.
Drake opens the other beer and takes a sip, then reaches forward to pass Sam the remote.
"I'd let you. Might be a little jumpy at first, but I'd let you."
Sam stares at the remote for a long moment, looking from it to the television. "Um. This isn't really a thing, where I come from. I mean some people still have them, but I haven't used one since I was a kid."
"No?" Drake lifts the remote to show Daryl which buttons to press. "Welcome to flipping channels, then. It'll show the program that's on at the bottom of the screen every time."
"Okay. Lion cubs it is." He smiles disarmingly, putting the remote down and offering Sam his hand. "You can let go whenever you want, just remember that."
Sam hesitates, trying to decide what to do with the offered hand. Finally, he says, "Touch me on the arm, first. I don't want a rash on the palm of my hand."
He flinches away at first, but manages to settle a little, still tense. "Yeah. I get a rash wherever the other person touches me."
A handprint shaped red mark starts to form on his forearm where Drake's hand is. He holds still as long as he can before he pulls his arm away, frowning at the rash. "It was starting to itch."
"Not quite as bad. Still leaves a mark, though." Sam scratches around the edges of the rash, frowning faintly. Hopefully Drake is as patient as he claims to be.
Hmm. That makes hitting quota a lot harder than Drake had anticipated, yeah. He considers the problem for a moment, then asks, "How long does it take to go away?"
"Depends on how long the touch was. Could be a few minutes, could be a few hours." He turns his arm back and forth, looking at the gradually fading handprint on it. It's at least gone from an angry red to a few shades lighter.
"Well that sucks cuz I'm always tense." He finishes off his beer, though, which does help a little. "You can try on my shoulder, I guess." Where the sleeve of his tanktop is.
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dup au
Drake's not a therapist. He's had a lot of therapy, but not even the type that Sam probably needs. Still, he wants to help. This city's hard enough to survive without touch issues, and with them? He can't imagine the stress Sam's under right now. So he's made the place as comfortable as possible -- there are snacks, soft pillows on the couch, his partner's out until dinner and the tv's on a nature channel for some background noise. When the other man arrives they can put on something else to watch, or nothing at all... they can just talk, if Sam would prefer. He's definitely winging it here, but figures that his best attempt is better than nothing.
There are lion cubs playing on the screen when the knock on the door comes. Drake gets up off the couch and crosses to open the door.
"Hey, Sam. Come on in."
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He stands in front of the door for a good few minutes before he manages to knock. Then Drake answers and Sam gives a small wave in greeting. "Uh, hey. Thanks." The place looks... cozy. Much nicer than his apartment. And a helluvalot nicer than any of the waystations he'd stayed at in distro centres at home.
"How do you want to do this?"
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"How about you unwind a little first? Sit down, we can talk -- you want a drink? I'll grab you something."
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"Sure. I'll take a beer, if you've got it."
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He steps back into the kitchen, and there's the sound of clinking bottles and then a drawer opening. When Drake comes back he's got two beer and a bottle opener, and he comes and sits down on the couch with Sam.
"I thought we could just hang out, talk, find something to watch so your focus isn't totally on contact? And go from there."
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Right, relaxing. Different subject that isn't the potential extinction of lions.
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Drake opens the other beer and takes a sip, then reaches forward to pass Sam the remote.
"See if you can find something you like."
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Sam stares at the remote for a long moment, looking from it to the television. "Um. This isn't really a thing, where I come from. I mean some people still have them, but I haven't used one since I was a kid."
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He doesn't rush Sam into taking his hand, just keeps holding it out in offering. Letting the other man get used to the idea.
"We can talk about whatever you want."
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"So it only happens wherever you're touched?"
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A handprint shaped red mark starts to form on his forearm where Drake's hand is. He holds still as long as he can before he pulls his arm away, frowning at the rash. "It was starting to itch."
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omg the latest tag in the world
<3
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