ᴅ'ᴀᴠɪɴ "unnecessary apostrophe" ᴊᴀǫᴏʙɪs (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
killswitcher) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
pericenters2017-01-16 03:39 pm
killswitcher) wrote in pericenters2017-01-16 03:39 pm
dutch & d'av [ modern au ]
On the list of places D'avin Jaqobis wants to be today - or any day, for that matter - court-ordered support group is somewhere really close to the bottom, narrowly beating the DMV but not quite having a root canal. Of course, he hasn't wanted to be here the last four weeks either, but that's what it takes to stay out of jail for his involvement in that bar fight last month. He's just lucky no one died.
So he attends. Dutifully. Drinks bad coffee and listens to other survivors (not all vets; apparently PTSD comes in a variety of nasty flavors) share, avoids doing the same himself. Eventually someone is going to make him pony up, but he's managed to fly mostly under the radar so far, an aspect of these meetings which is about to crash and burn in rather spectacular fashion. He gets there early one week (Thursday nights, 6-8 PM in the local VFW), gets half distracted from his shitty coffee by the equally shitty vending machine, and by the time he's paying attention to it again (armed with Snickers), said shitty coffee is even worse by virtue of how it's gone cold.
This is, naturally, where The Event happens. Inasmuch as he's going to throw it out when he manages to narrowly avoid crashing headlong into a much smaller person--who, he registers dimly, he's seen in group before; she doesn't share either, meaning D'avin would like her even if she weren't so pretty it seems like a genuine affront to science. Near collision aside, his half full coffee cup doesn't manage quite the same feat, meaning they both end up splashed with it.
"Shit," will be the first word D'av ever says to Dutch, "my bad, sorry, let me uh--" napkins, right, there are some on the dinky little snack table; he ......manages somehow to stop himself before he dries daubing like, at her chest. So. You know, hi.
So he attends. Dutifully. Drinks bad coffee and listens to other survivors (not all vets; apparently PTSD comes in a variety of nasty flavors) share, avoids doing the same himself. Eventually someone is going to make him pony up, but he's managed to fly mostly under the radar so far, an aspect of these meetings which is about to crash and burn in rather spectacular fashion. He gets there early one week (Thursday nights, 6-8 PM in the local VFW), gets half distracted from his shitty coffee by the equally shitty vending machine, and by the time he's paying attention to it again (armed with Snickers), said shitty coffee is even worse by virtue of how it's gone cold.
This is, naturally, where The Event happens. Inasmuch as he's going to throw it out when he manages to narrowly avoid crashing headlong into a much smaller person--who, he registers dimly, he's seen in group before; she doesn't share either, meaning D'avin would like her even if she weren't so pretty it seems like a genuine affront to science. Near collision aside, his half full coffee cup doesn't manage quite the same feat, meaning they both end up splashed with it.
"Shit," will be the first word D'av ever says to Dutch, "my bad, sorry, let me uh--" napkins, right, there are some on the dinky little snack table; he ......manages somehow to stop himself before he dries daubing like, at her chest. So. You know, hi.