#brb gonna go listen to wildflower again

[baby-blue-bubbles]

HWHAT

fuck me what do you mean calm was released 4 years ago today

[hencethebravery]

In commemoration of the truly astounding display of public regard for CC thanks to Colin, who is legit an angel (dated 8/19/2017). Not to mention the fact that @mahstatins is a truly amazing mom who is truly v tired and could use some solid flirting. This is established relationship CC. I’m sick of getting them established. They are already together, ok? Modern AU time. TOPICAL modern AU time. Oh, and btw, if u were wondering what their dog (who is named after Sally Ride, because space) looks like.

+ For someone who can’t seem to shut up about constellations and space travel and whatever else not of this Earth, he’s unusually apathetic about the upcoming Event. Which, while scientists have known about it’s coming for quite sometime, it seems to have only just exploded onto the media scene, which means his Facebook is mostly flooded with scams for special glasses and not the latest political nightmare. Although there is that. Never free.

Thing is though, the man has a telescope and a star map and one of those little night lights that projects the constellations of your current geographical location on the ceiling. He’s got a mug, right? David has to remind all of their friends that he did not buy him this mug, he bought it himself, and it says “The rotation of the Earth really makes my day,” like it’s funny—and laughs about it every morning.

So the not caring about the upcoming eclipse? It’s unusual. For him.

“I’ve just been busy lately, love. Honestly,” giving him a peck on the cheek and going about his day, “I appreciate the concern.”

Which, yes, he has been busy. They both have, but they’ve also been dealing with some Liam-related drama (what’s new), and nothing rests heavier on Killian’s shoulders than the latest “Fucked Up Thing Liam’s Said on the Phone,” catastrophe. And usually, Killian shares the latest criticism or blunt (also known as, “rude”) opinion immediately. He’s older now, wiser—less sensitive about Liam’s litany of opinions about his career choices and food choices and how-you-arrange-the-living-room choices and whatever else he can think of. Liam’s a good guy. David is adamant; he’s a good guy that loves his little brother as if he were his own son. But Killian’s not his son, is he?

“I know how hard it was for you guys growing up,” David says for what feels like the millionth time, “but he’s gotta let go a bit, ya know?”

“You don’t need to tell me,” Killian answers for, again, what feels like the millionth time, “I don’t take any of it to heart.”

But he does take it to heart. Of course he does. Killian Jones takes everything to heart and it’s one of the things he loves about him, but it’s also one of those things that makes him soft and vulnerable and sad, only he tries to keep it to himself and that’s when something like a solar eclipse is fucking nigh and he suddenly couldn’t care less.

Which is when he proposes the road trip.

He moans about it at first, mentioning all the work that needs doing and the boat that needs cleaning and how is traveling with the dog supposed to go, and it’s one thing after another until David pulls him a bit roughly into a hug and reminds him (for the millionth time) that it’s all gonna be ok, and it’ll all be here when they get back and they’ve got lots of podcasts to catch up on.

“And I don’t know if you know this,” David whispers conspiratorially, “but the last time a solar eclipse was visible in the U.S., it was 1918.”

“I do know that, actually,” Killian sighs, surrendering to David’s plotting,  “Alright, then. I’ll run to the shop.”

It’s a bit last minute, and it’s a good 20 hour drive, and being prepared for such a trip with the dog (”Her name is Sally,” he had rather drunkenly decided the night before they took her home, “our intrepid lass.”) is a bit of a to-do, but whatever, David knows it’ll be worth it. A little stress now, a lot of pop music, coffee, and about a dozen hand-rolled cigarettes later. He figures he can let up on the no smoking rule for this.

“But just this once, you hear me?”

“Bloody hell, Dave, yes.”

They’re packed up and ready to go in about a day, setting out at an ungodly hour a day or so before the eclipse is supposed to take place. They’ll be driving through a few states, but given the time crunch, they can’t make as many stops as they’d like. Maybe on the way back. They do have to make a decent amount of stops for Sally, including one in New York closer to the Finger Lakes. Luckily, or not so luckily, there are about a hundred incredible wineries along the way and they get a little stuck.

“This tastes like actual candy,” Killian mumbles into his glass, he’d loudly protest only he can’t seem to stop drinking it.

“I don’t see it stopping you.”

It’s some kind of raspberry dessert wine, only it tastes nothing like wine and they’re imbibing the stuff like it’s water. This particular winery is a little bit in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by vibrant, lush meadows dotted with wildflowers; sloping, seemingly infinite hills in the distance.

“We could just stay here,” Killian suggests with his eyes closed, a hand resting on Sally’s head. “12 more hours in the car isn’t the most appealing.”

David grabs his hand, swiping his thumb back and forth over Killian’s knuckles. “Maybe,” he says, conceding the point, “but 1918.”

Eventually they sober up and move a little further on down the road.

In Ohio they pull off to the side of a road and eat some raw corn on the cob (Sally too, of course). It’s juicier than expected, even without being cooked. It’s sweet without being saccharine, a refreshing and floral bite aided by the sight of corn fields and red pick-up trucks and frightening billboards about the Devil. They buy a bag for about 3 bucks and continue on, the strains of Fleetwood Mac and Paul Simon following after one another—windows rolled down, the air smelling vaguely of diesel and freshly turned dirt.

They hadn’t really told anyone before they fled, their only notice a picture of their clasped hands on Instagram, resting over the gearshift, “1918,” the caption reads simply, “brb.”

They find a reasonably empty campground right outside of Hopkinsville, Kentucky. There’s a few families with strangely well-behaved children, a small group of women on some kind of vision quest, and a few students from a nearby university. Killian seems to deflate at the prospect of mostly silence.

They arrive the night before, setting up the tent and feeding Sally before collapsing on top of their sleeping bags, legs entwined. Killian usually wakes up first, listens to Sally’s snuffling, Dave’s soft breathing in his ear.

“You happy we’re here?” David asks quietly, observing the thoughtful expression on Killian’s face. Taking note of the crustiness at the corner of his eyes, the soft, still almost-asleep way he stares up at the sky through the mesh of the tent.

"Very much,” answering with a kiss, offering reassurance with a squeeze to the forearm wrapped around his stomach. “Rather this than being tortured with the regret.”

"Didn’t you know?” David snorts, “That’s why I did this. There’d be no living with you otherwise.”

“So a selfish endeavor then.”

“Obviously.”

Around noon, the moon makes its way in front of the sun. By around 1:30 PM it achieves totality, and it’s twilight in the middle of the day—surreal but beautiful. A rooster crows in the distance, the nighttime insects begin to chirp as if they’ve been rudely awakened, and David can’t keep his eyes off Killian’s face.

A lot of the websites he’d visited had said there would just be too much going on to really focus—you’d have to decide what it is you choose to look at, only he hadn’t really anticipated that it’d be the person he’s looked at everyday of his life for the past 5 years. He looks almost inhuman in this near total darkness, his features taking on an edge, a clarity that he’s never been able to appreciate before now.

“Can you believe such a thing is possible?” Killian says softly, in awe, almost as if he were talking to himself.

“No,” he answers, smiling at the sight of Killian’s high, joyful cheeks, “not at all.”