#c’mon man if you take over after a big accident that kills the captain and you’re like NO mourning get back to WORK of course the crew won’t
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watching the alien prequels, Prometheus was pretty good, but I think the concept probably would have been stronger if it wasn’t a capital A Alien movie, also I wish the human tech looked clunkier like in the originals but that’s ok. I guess. 😔 Starting out Covenant and I don’t care for the guy taking over as captain.
#c’mon man if you take over after a big accident that kills the captain and you’re like NO mourning get back to WORK of course the crew won’t#like you man!! it’s probably not bc you’re religious#interesting that these are more focused on religious/philosophical points#reminding me of contact a bit#we’ll see how it goes#I find I have less patience for sequel/prequel/franchise films that try and explain things#I’m a big fan of hinting at bigger things but not actually explaining them#having an internal sense of worldbuilding/logic but it’s not necessarily all fleshed out for the audience#I find that wayyy more interesting#bc moooostttt of the time the explanation makes the mysterious initial thing less interesting#but. we shall see#there will be aliens to look forward to either way#.doc#hmm bc tbh the big bald engineers that made humans is way less interesting than the mystery of what the fuck was going on in the original#alien ship#all that big completely alien (aha) structures and creature from a long dead civilization that you’ll never understand is WAY cooler sorryyy#alien
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Play Ball
A bit of Sledgefu that I’ve had brewing in the back of my head since I made this post: https://aboutthatmelancholystorm.tumblr.com/post/186689955621/okay-but-sledgefu-with-a-baseball-related-plot
Please note that if there are any baseball inaccuracies in here, it’s because I’m not a huge Sports Person, and despite trying to double check rules and how the game goes, it is very possible I fucked something up. Forgive me if you find any lol.
He was unhinged, a wild beast of a man, his blood boiling.
And they hadn’t even started playing yet.
“You always this...passionate, about baseball?” Snafu asked, watching Eugene pace and sulk, glaring down the other team.
“They have the nerve to show up this late, we could have left by now, and they’re talkin’ shit,” Eugene spat.
As if on cue, a player from the other team called over abuse to their bench, something Snafu could only half hear, about how they couldn’t hit a ball if their lives depended on it, and Eugene exploded.
“Come over here and say that! I fuckin’ dare you!”
Sid, the reluctant team captain/amateur coach sighed. “This is why his dad made him stop playin’ when we were kids. He gets a half mile within a baseball field, and...well.”
“I mean, I don’t hate the passion,” Snafu replied as he watched Eugene nearly climb the fencing that separated them from the team and their bench from the field. “Just...haven’t seen him like this since Okinawa. And that was war, this is...”
“Not war?” Sid snorted. “I know. But I already told him, he keeps himself together or he’s out for at least a game or two. Ain’t healthy, him gettin’ that upset.”
“You know, you wanna talk about us not hittin’, but what about you showin’ up on time? Get a watch, motherfucker!” Eugene was almost spitting with each word, his muscles tense to the touch as Snafu gently pulled him back to the bench.
“C’mon, wait to beat ‘em out there,” Snafu soothed, wondering if he wouldn’t have to actually sit on Eugene to get him to stay on the bench for the next few minutes until they could run to the field.
“Oh I will; I’ll beat ‘em off the damn field,” Eugene hissed, then paused. “Wait, no-”
But it was too late, and Sid’s laughter along with the rest of their teammates interrupted him.
Snafu watched a smile break out on Eugene’s face. “Shit. I didn’t mean...”
“We all know Snafu’s the only one you do that to, Eugene. Maybe reword that next time though, huh?” one of the older team members, a veteran who’d fought in the European theater laughed.
The break in Eugene’s anger was a nice one, and Snafu felt a bit better as they ran out onto the field. This might be okay after all, and might even be a fun thing to add onto their summer schedules from here on out.
The other team’s batter strode onto the field like he couldn’t be bothered to be excited to play. He barely swung at the first two pitches, and Snafu could feel everyone else’s confusion joining his. The fuck was this guy’s issue?
The third pitch, he gave an electric grin, and hit the ball sky high, giving Snafu a chance to watch Eugene, who was far enough out in the outfield to go for it.
It was intense, and impressive. Eugene had a hell of an arm on him as he tossed the ball back towards their team members nearer the bases, screaming for someone to tag him out.
He screamed even louder when they failed to do so, and absolutely howled as the next batter walked up, chuckling.
“Look at him, he can’t hit shit! We got no goddamn excuse now!”
“Eugene!” Sid’s voice rang out across the field.
“Yeah?!” Eugene shouted back.
“Shut the fuck up and get ready to catch somethin’!” Sid was half-laughing as he shouted, but Snafu noticed that didn’t seem to catch Eugene’s attention. He was petulant after the reprimand, red in the face and clearly irritated.
Their pitcher seemed immune to all of it going on, as if he was somewhere else, pitching well without a care in the world, well enough to strike the batter out, and strike the smarmy grin off the player’s face.
“Told you he couldn’t hit shit!” Eugene was bouncing on the balls of his feet in the field, glaring down the next batter before he was even fully in the batter’s box.
Sid caught Snafu’s eye, and gestured to Eugene as he called for a time-out.
Snafu trotted out to him and sighed. “You gonna be good for the rest of this?”
“I’m fine,” Eugene said.
“Bullshit. The hell about this goddamn game has you so riled up?”
Eugene shrugged. “Just...don’t like losin’ at it, for some reason. I know it doesn’t mean shit whether we win or lose, I just get out here and...”
“Okay, well you gotta relax, or Sid’s gonna pull you. You know he will. Won’t wanna, but he will. You good?”
Eugene nodded.
The next batter seemed half afraid as he looked out to them, but he hit the ball.
At least, that was as much as Snafu could remember before waking up on the side of the field, a circle of concerned faces from both teams looking over him.
“I will rip you to fucking shreds! So small they won’t have shit to bury!” Eugene’s voice was the loudest and clearest thing as he came back to himself, sitting up despite the protests of the other players.
Sid was sitting on him in the dirt, motioning for the batter that had just been up to leave. “He’s gonna be fine, we’ll have a doctor look at him, you aren’t in trouble.”
Snafu clambered to his feet, ignoring the ungodly ache of his head, and wondered how big the bruise on his head would be from where the ball must have hit him. “Hey, you the kid that hit me?”
He looked to be all of nineteen, and took a step back as Snafu approached him.
“Relax, you’re fine. Shit happens. I made through Guaducanal and Peleliu, gonna take more than a rogue baseball to take me out,” Snafu smiled, and held his hand out for the kid to shake.
Eugene, Sid, and everyone else had gone completely silent, watching them.
The kid smiled, and shook his hand enthusiastically. “Thank you for yo-”
“Ah, ah, I only brought that up so you know you didn’t kill me. I’ll be fine, and as long as you don’t make a habit of beanin’ other players in the head, you’ll be fine too.”
Sid climbed off of Eugene, and sighed. “Everyone fine with us just reschedulin’ this one? I got a player to take to a doctor, and a goddamn headache.”
The other team’s coach sighed as well, in relief. “Next Sunday?”
“Sounds good,” Sid said and the crowd began to disperse.
“Thought he fuckin’ killed you,” Eugene was beside him suddenly, and Snafu jumped.
“Nah. You should know better by now; I got a skull so damn hard even common sense can’t break into it,” Snafu grinned, but Eugene didn’t smile.
“I scared the shit outta that kid, actin’ like I did. This is my fault,” he said softly, and wrapped Snafu in a hug.
“You need to do better at the next game,” Sid agreed, walking over to them. “But this isn’t your fault. Could have hit anyone, we coulda been up to bat and hit one of their guys. Just an accident.”
“We’ll call my dad over, have him check you. I’ll tell him to come for the next week; we’ll just have him over for dinner each night and that way if anything happens-” Eugene had gone from sad and remorseful to frantic. “Let me look at your eyes, he told me what to look for once.”
Eugene’s hands were on his face, pulling his eyelids up before he could bat him off, and he couldn’t help but laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Eugene asked, moving his hands from Snafu’s face to his waist.
“Look in my eyes, Sledgehammer,” Snafu quoted himself, remembering the day he’d spent begging Eugene to try and diagnose him with an illness he hadn’t had. “Think a head injury is worse than the heebie jeebies?”
Eugene smiled. “Even with a head injury, you’re somethin’ else, you know that?”
“You can tell me how much of somethin’ else I am while you drive me home,” Snafu teased, though his head really was killing.
“Both of you are gonna get in the backseat and shut up,” Sid sighed irritably. “Or did y’all really forget I drove us here?”
“...thank you for drivin’ us home, Sid darlin’,” Snafu grinned. “And for bein’ the best coach we could ask for.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Sid shook his head. “Just bring your best next weekend, and please, Eugene-”
“I know,” Eugene interrupted. “Sorry, Sid. I’ll rein myself in next weekend. Promise.”
The drive home was still a bit awkward, if only because Sid had meant his command to stay quiet. If they so much as giggled, he shushed them like a frustrated father and reminded them of his headache. By the time he’d dropped them off, they were shaking from suppressing their laughter.
Mentally, as he rested on the couch with Eugene’s father checking him over, he made a note to have them try some other sport in addition to baseball. Something calmer, that might not raise Eugene’s blood pressure to dangerous levels. He didn’t know what that might be, but he figured he’d have plenty of time to ask Eugene what he’d want to try, while he insisted on waiting on him hand and foot, refusing to let him move from the couch and then their bed later that evening, treating him like a potentially-concussed prince.
#text post#LeeH writes#Sledgefu#I literally had to invent something to stop the game because I'm so bad at figuring out baseball and the rules of it and shit#I just gave up on it lol#I'll watch it but damn if I should know wtf is going on in it
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Wishing On A Black Star
Words: 1462 Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Request: “Hi are taking requests if u are could u do a bucky x stark reader . Were it is he readers 19th birthday and her tony throws her a party with all her friends and stuff and she goes out on the balcony and bucky comes too chatting with her he then finally kisses her tells her how he feels and tony comes out u can decide what happens next srry if it sounds stupid😊😊😊😊” -@lovely-wagner
"There's the birthday girl.” You looked over your shoulder to see Bucky Barnes had just joined you out on the balcony. “You know your father’s been looking for you for the past twenty minutes?”
“Yeah.” You sighed. You rested your elbows on the balcony’s railing and settled your head on top so that you were looking out at the city. “I probably should go back in soon. He knows where I am, he’s just buying me some time.”
“Buying you some time?” He was confused.
“Yeah.” You sighed again. “I told him it was getting a little bit much in there, I wanted fresh air.”
“A Stark who doesn’t like parties.” Bucky leaned against the railing next to you. “That’s something new.” He chuckled mostly to himself.
“Dad once told me that Grandma didn’t like parties much either. Maybe I get if from her.” You turned to look at Bucky. “I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve come out on the balcony for some peace and quiet the over the years.” You leaned against the railing now too, so you and Bucky were both looking back inside your father’s penthouse.
“I use to have this silly fantasy when I was younger that one day I’d come out here and some handsome guy would have followed be out here. We’d talk just like this about how parties are so fake and superficial, and just as I turn to leave he’d pull me in for this big romantic kiss.” You snorted. “Then again, used to think I could fly at that age so what did I know.” You shook your head.
“I’d better get back in there. It is suppose to be my birthday party after all. It was nice talking to you, Bucky.” You pushed off your spot on the railing but Bucky called you back.
“[Y/n], wait!”You turned around not sure what he could possibly want. It only took a half step for him to close the gap between you. He brought his warm hand up under your chin and tilted your head. You had no choice but to look up at his turquoise blue eyes.
“Happy birthday.” He whispered before bringing his own face down to kiss yours. You were completely surprised. You had no idea Bucky felt that way about you! By the time you realized he’d kissed you, he was pulling away.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for awhile, but the timing was never right.” He whispered. The balcony was suddenly filled with overwhelming noise. You and Bucky whipped your heads to see the source of the sounds. Your father had just stepped outside.
“Oh, there you are!” He was too busying calling dramatically over his shoulder to the crowd by the door to notice you wrapped up in Bucky’s arms. “Hey, [Y/n], why don’t you come inside we’re gonna get the cake…” He finally turned to look at you and he froze. “What’s going on out here?”
“Nothing Dad.” You stepped away from Bucky and towards your father. “Bucky was just letting me know you were looking for me. You were saying something about cake?”
“No.” Tony shook his head. You watched the storm begin to brew in his dark brown eyes. His pupils were wide and furious. “I’m sorry, but absolutely not.”
“Dad, Daddy, it’s nothing.” You reached out to him trying to guide him back inside, but he pulled you towards himself instead.
“Go back inside, Princess.” He kissed your forehead and gently pushed you towards the door.
“Dad, c’mon. We can talk about this later.” You tried to tug him inside with you again but he shrugged off your grip.
“No!” He yelled. This took you by surprise. Tony Stark didn’t yell, and certainly never at you. “I’m sorry but no, not this time. He doesn’t get to take you too.”
“Stark it’s not like that.” Bucky argued.
“Don’t speak to me.” Tony spat. He stepped in front of you protectively.
“Dad!” You gasped, trying to push past him. You’d never seen him react this way before. “What is going on with you?” By now the small crowd that was gathered by the door had stopped their idle chattering. All eyes were cast outside at the windy balcony. Steve had pushed his way to the front of the pack. He stepped out onto the balcony in an attempt to defuse the situation.
“[Y/n], why don’t you come inside?” The captain suggested softly. “This is something that doesn’t need to involve you.” You really wished someone would tell you what was happening.
"Don’t tell my kid what to do, Rogers.” Tony growled. “You know he’s only here on your word in the first place. Of course, maybe that’s why you’re trying to send her away. You don’t want her to know the truth about your old war buddy here?” He gestured at Bucky in disgust.
“Tony, this isn’t exactly the ideal time or place. We really should move things inside.” Steve was speaking in a calm even tone but his body language had taken on an offensive stance.
“Maybe I should just go…”Bucky started walking towards the door but your father stepped in his way.
“Oh I don’t think so.” The billionaire began to roll up his sleeves. Around this time Dr. Banner had managed to force his way out out the balcony, it was starting to feel a little crowded with the five of you out there now.
“Tony what’s going on?” Bruce asked. “Don’t you think you’re over reacting a little bit? [y/n) is nineteen, as of this morning. And they were just kissing. I’m sure it’s not her first kiss.”
“You don’t understand Banner.” Tony sneered.
“Then enlighten me.” Bruce insisted. “Because I’m pretty sure if it were possible you’d be a green monster in purple cutoffs right about now.”
“You mean he doesn’t know?” Your father looked between Steve and Bucky. “Well of course not because you two are the only ones who know. And, apparently, no one was planning on ever telling me. Which, I know you don’t exactly owe me anything Rogers, but an explanation really would have been a courtesy in this case.”
“How was I suppose to bring it up Tony? There was never a right time…” Steve struggled to explain himself.
“THE LAST THING…” Your father took a minute to compose himself and lower his voice. You didn’t know what to do other than watch silently. You’d never seen him come unhinged like this before. “The last thing you should have done was brought him here. It’s an insult to their memory, and frankly it’s an insult to me that you didn’t think I would figure it out on my own.”
“Insult to whose memory?” Dr. Banner asked, obviously as confused as you were.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Tony pointed a shaking hand at Bucky. “You are looking at the face of the man who killed Howard and Maria Stark.”
“What?” There were gasps from the open doorway behind you, but the truly horrifying thing was that Dr. Banner was the only person out on the balcony who looked as shocked as you felt.
“No, no.” You shook your head violently. It couldn’t be true. You suddenly felt uncomfortable. You wanted to scrub your skin. Just the idea of what your father had suggested made your skin crawl. You were just talking to Bucky about your grandmother seconds ago and he hadn’t said anything. He hadn’t even seemed uncomfortable at the mention of her.
“Grandma and Grandpa Stark died in a car accident.” You argued. “I’ve seen the newspaper clippings. They hit a pole, there were no other cars on the road.”
“All the evidence was fabricated.” Bucky confessed. “The tire didn’t blow out. I shot it. It’s true, [y/n]. You’re father’s right. I’m responsible for your grandparents’ deaths.”
You felt your chest tighten. Second ago you’d been lip locked with the man who killed your grandparents. Not only had he ruined your father’s life on top of murdering two people, he’d deprived you of so many childhood memories. Memories that other children got to have and share with their grandparents. Memories that your father too had missed out on. You could have lived a whole other life were it not for him. And he’d made romantic advances towards you, you’d been flirting for weeks! He did all of this knowing what he’d done.
You felt sick to your stomach. You felt angry. You were heartbroken. No wonder your father had reacted the way he did! It was taking all your might to not start screaming yourself. Instead you turned on your heels and ran inside, the crowd parted for you as you wiped away the thick fat tears which had already started to fall.
#Bucky Barnes#james buchanan barnes#Bucky Barnes FF#Bucky Barnes Fan Fic#Bucky Barnes Fan Fiction#Bucky Barnes x Reader#Bucky Barnes Reader Insert#Request
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Caleb and Adam go to a party. It’s a nice party. The food is good. The people are chill. Then Caleb eats like three fucking pot brownies by accident. Getting snacks for your giant, high, empathic boyfriend is not the worst way to spend a night. (ao3)
Adam can honestly – for real – admit that Caleb’s teammates are not actually all humongous frat-boy assholes in muscle shirts. In fact, only one of them is wearing a muscle shirt and the one in the muscle shirt is also in Adam’s AP Calc class and, apparently, his ability to crush a beer can against his forehead hasn’t stopped him from getting a 4.0. Several of them have 4.0’s. Adam… knew that on an intellectual level of course. Something about all of them standing together in jerseys made them kind of vanish individually for some reason.
“Cheerleader effect,” says Katie McLain, who has a cider in her hand and winged liner out to her temples. “When a bunch of people stand in a group you stop perceiving the details of each person and view them holistically. This tends to make everyone more attractive. It’s why they all move in packs.”
Bobbie Kensey, the second-string quarterback and her best friend, looks up from the blunt he’s trying to light, offended.
“Hey! That’s not true.” He tries to push Katie away with his palm over her face. She bites at him. “See? She’s rabid. Don’t buy into her fuckin’ slander. We are all individually gorgeous.” He raises his voice. “EXCEPT FOR HENDERSON WHO IS UGLY AS FUCK! GAWD! SOMEONE JUST PUT HIM DOWN ALREADY!”
Faintly from the other-side of the house: “FUCK YOU, KENSEY!”
Adam, who has been nursing a plain Cola-Cola for the last ten minutes, says, “Are the migratory habits of football players really that interesting to you, Katie?”
Katie snorts. “Hell, no. I’m gay as fuck. It’s the cheerleaders I’m monitoring.”
Bobbie and Katie high-five, except Katie is drunk so her palm smacks Bobbie right in the face. “Katie! You useless lesbian!”
“HAAAAAA!”
Bobbie shoves Katie down a nearby hall and moves as if to follow her, then hesitates. “Hey, man, you’re here with Caleb right?”
“Uh, yeah.” Adam takes a drink of his soda to mask the immediate nerves that rise at the question. “I am here... with Caleb.”
“Cool, cool. He didn’t ditch you did he?” Bobbie’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “Because, sometimes, he like just jets outta these parties like a weirdo and doesn’t tell anyone he did it, so people think he’s lying in someone’s lawn somewhere. Or, people would think that, if Michaels actually drank. Which he doesn’t. Because he’s lame.” Bobbie lets that stand for a moment, looking hyperbolically annoyed, but not really. “Anyway, don’t let him ditch you like a loser.”
“Uh, he just went to get some food really quick.” Adam looks around. “Really quick… in this case meaning like half an hour ago.”
“Food’s down stairs in the den. He probably got roped into a Cards Against Humanity or something. He fuckin’ kills at that game.” Bobbie points a finger. “Don’t… let him ditch you.”
Adam snorts. “He’s not ditching me.”
“I know, like, he really likes you, dude. But he’s kinda dumb in groups. Don’t let him ditch you.”
Adam… isn’t sure why that makes him smile, but it does. “I think Katie found the cheerleaders.” He jerks his head as delighted screaming originates from down the hall. “Should you stop her?”
“Ah, fuck.”
Adam navigates the house, sipping his watery soda to deflect any misguided notions that he might want someone to talk to him. He doesn’t recognize at least half the party-goers, so they’re probably from other schools in the area. He’s already feeling pretty tapped out from meeting the team in a giant group earlier and suspects there were instructions to ‘be cool, guys, seriously, be cool’ because some of them seem to be going especially far out of their way to chat him up.
Imagining Caleb nervously negotiating with a bunch of football players to be nice… Adam logs that mental imagine away to tease him about later.
If he can find him.
After about five minutes of unsuccessfully hunting, Adam begins to worry Bobbie was right. Not about the ditching, but about the jetting away from groups thing. What appears to be random sprinting away from parties to the casual observer was likely just Caleb getting overwhelmed by the collective drunk emotions of other teenagers and peacing out. Seems weird that he wouldn’t text if that were the case. Adam triple checks his phone a few times. Scans the dark slightly smoky confines of the basement. The pool table’s been converted into a buffet line of chips, dip, mini hotdogs and desserts.
There are dark piles of people in the corners of the room, chatting and/or making out. Adam recognizes most of the defensive line-men yelling happily at each other over on the couches near the fall wall. Adam hesitates… then carefully wanders over to inspect the activities and scan for Caleb. He tries to be stealthy. Unfortunately, team captain David Yen spots him over his hand of poker cards and, of course, shouts at him.
“Hey Adam! Wanna play?”
“Uh, maybe next round. Anyone seen Caleb? I think he got lost on his way to pizza rolls or whatever.”
The groups immediately busts up laughing. Yen points at the loveseat by the TV. A very tall person in a letterman’s jacket is flopped there with their arms over their face. Said tall person is wearing the same jeans and sneakers that Caleb was last seen wearing. They are built like Caleb – improbable shoulder to waist ratio and weirdly attractive forearms. But this tall person cannot possibly be his improbable boyfriend because the tall person on the love seat looks… drunk, maybe? Or like they fell asleep in a crowd of raucous teenagers. Both impossible things.
“I think it’s kicking in,” Yen laughs.
Adam immediately goes on alert. “What… is?”
“I saw him eat like… three pot brownies earlier.”
Adam’s eyes get very large. “Say what now?”
“Pot brownies. Like… some pretty strong ones. I know he doesn’t, you know, do that. So I told him to sit down.”
Adam physically climbs over the first-string defensive tackle and the second-string running back to get to the loveseat, disturbing a bowl of Cheetos on his way across the room. He leans over and gently puts a hand on Caleb’s arm, shaking him.
“Heeey, buddy. What’s up?”
Caleb groans and rolls over. It’s very slow, lethargic kind of moving, lots of stretching and unnecessary arching. Caleb drops his arms to squint up at the face hovering over him. Then he grins. Fuck. That smile is white sunshine. Adam’s brain – easily distractible in this area – stops for a moment to admire the geometry of his boyfriend’s face. It’s like… something. A Renaissance painting. The Golden Ratio is somewhere in the way his eyes crinkle at the corners and his mouth kinks up into left-side dimple. There is divine intervention in the warm brown of his skin and the clean line of his jaw.
He’s ridiculously fucking hot. Okay?
Adam shakes himself out it.
“Caleb. You okay?”
“M’green,” he says cheerfully, running a hand over his face.
“Yeeeah. I’ll bet you are. Are you… sure you’re okay?”
Caleb laughs, a warm, sleepy sound and reaches for Adam, catching his arm. “C’mere. Hey, I need to talk to you.”
Adam heroically resists being pulled onto the couch by his giant running back boyfriend. “No. You need to stand up and probably go home.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re reeeeeeally high.”
“Maybe.”
“Not maybe. Definitely. One-hundred percent.”
“So what?”
Adam lowers his voice. “So… we might want to get away from the big crowd of drunk people?”
Caleb blinks, confused, then remembers apparently that he’s fucking empath.
“Ooooh, okay. Right.” He nods. “Smart.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re worried?” Caleb frowns, brow knitting. “Why’re you worried?”
Adam laughs. The act itself banishes some of the niggling anxiety and Caleb’s grin comes back, relieved and sympathetically cheery. Adam has a sneaking suspicion that his good mood might be contact-high (so to speak) from being around his teammates who seem to all be in relatively high spirits presently. Adam resolves to be calm and logical. It would be incredibly lame of him to fail at being an empathic true north by getting all panicky, thereby making his empath boyfriend freak out while high as balls.
“I’m not worried. You’re just a dork who can’t tell pot brownies from normal brownies.”
Caleb pouts. “They had sprinkles.”
“Oh? The sprinkles fooled you?”
“Pot brownies don’t have sprinkles.”
Yen, from the other couch, pipes up. “Yes, they do, Michaels, you fuckin’ geek.”
Adam nods. “See. Team captain says so. You were duped by sprinkles. That’s adorable.”
“Noo,” Caleb grumps.
“Jesus, you’re really high. C’mon.” Adam takes Caleb’s elbow and tugs, eventually pulling his arm over his shoulders so he gets the idea. “Let’s go. Up. We’re going for a walk. Let’s walk it off, champ. Hey! No! No – well, fuck me, I guess.”
Caleb’s on his feet, but he’s turned Adam’s helpful arm-drape into a hug. Yen and the defensive line are dying laughing, which only makes Caleb increasingly giddy. Adam tries to pry his way out of the bear hug, but gives up and tolerates the warm, nice-smelling, rib-crush of Caleb’s embrace. Mostly because he literally cannot get away, but partially because there’s a kind of rabbiting excitement jacking through his nerves because Caleb is hugging him in public and nothing bad is happening. He eye-balls the rest of the team. The team cornerback is giving Adam an enthusiastic if somewhat asshole-ish thumbs up.
“So… none of you are gonna help.”
Rogers and Masuri shake their heads. Yen is too busy taking a selfie.
“Thanks guys. You’re the best.”
Adam kind of grabs Caleb’s elbow, his arms still firmly around his shoulders, and marches through the chortling linebackers, dragging Caleb with him. Caleb’s weight falls partially against him but not quite enough to drag him down as dead weight. He hums happily and presses his face against Adam’s neck which is, you know, completely earth-shatteringly unfair. He was wrong. There is no god. Adam focuses on putting one foot in front of the other, relying on the smoke and commotion to hide how red he’s getting – and not just because Caleb is goddamn heavy.
“Hey,” Caleb says. His cheek brushes Adam’s jaw. “Hey, Adam?”
“Yup?”
“I’m hungry. Can we go to Taco Bell?”
“Jesus. Yes, Caleb, we can go to Taco Bell, you fuckin’ pot-head.”
“Yesss. You’re the best.”
Caleb kisses him on the cheek.
Adam’s whole goddamn face is now, surely, lit internally. No one cares. Literally no one is looking at them. He knows this. He can tell everyone is far too busy doing whatever they’re already doing, to notice Adam Hayes and Caleb Michaels struggle to get up the fucking stairs because Caleb won’t stop nuzzling him. It’s fine. Happy thoughts.
Adam succeeds, just barely, in lead-dragging Caleb out the front door and into the driveway, where the cool air and distance do the work he was hoping for. It takes about five blocks of walking out from suburbia toward the distinct glow of fast-food establishments, but eventually Caleb stop bear-hugging him and kind of squints around like, he hadn’t noticed the sudden change of scenery. When they reach the sprawl of streetlights and late-night restaurants, he grimaces and scrubs his face with both palms.
“Oh god,” he says into his palms.
Adam pats him on the shoulder. “Breathe.”
“Oh my god.” He drags his hands down his face.
Adam grins. “It’s fine.”
“That was so embarrassing. Oh god. What the fuck?”
“Seriously, it’s fine. No worries.”
“I’m sorry. I ruined it. You were supposed to have fun at the party.”
“Trust me, I’m wholly entertained.”
Caleb frets at the crosswalk in front of Taco Bell. “This is so weird. I’ve never… I didn’t know…”
“Know what?”
“It’s like… I can feel your emotions but its… blurry and far away? Kinda.”
“In a bad way?”
“No. Just… not as strong somehow? Everyone’s emotions felt… distant? Like There were their emotions and mine and they didn’t… mix as much.”
“So… pot mellowed out your powers?”
“Maybe? I dunno. Kinda?”
“Okay. Good to know. Live and learn.”
Caleb’s whole face scrunches up. “Fuck. I kissed you… in front of people…”
“Let’s get you a Crunch-Wrap.”
“Oh man, that sounds so good. Shit, I’m sorry.”
“I really didn’t mind and no one cared, dude.”
“But that wasn’t cool. I didn’t ask or anything. Geez…”
Adam sighs and taps Caleb on the shoulder. When he turns, Adam boosts up slightly to press a quick kiss to his jaw.
“You’re fine.” He drops back down and slaps the back of his hand against Caleb’s chest. “Feel that? Even fuzzy and distant, you gotta feel that right?” He grins at Caleb’s slow, hopeful smile. “See? You’re good. Now, let’s get tacos.”
fin
#the bright sessions#tbs#caleb michaels#adam hayes#tbsedit#tbsfic#there it did it#it wrote something adorable for this fandom#instead of some stressed power dynamics shit like always#look at this tooth-rotting cuteness#ugh#what?#rae writes#raewrites
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