#midterm exam | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sage-lights · 2 months ago

Text

could i rest here for a while?

word count: 1958 VidCon afterhours in Amanda and Angela's hotel room. (for the everyone in the amangela group chat. and especially for the kindest soul, @babychosen. ❤️‍🔥)

“Would you quit shuffling around over there? I can barely hear what’s going on in the 911 call,” Amanda chides, rolling her eyes playfully, though the flicker of frustration in her voice is mixed with a fondness she can't quite hide.

“Turn up the volume then! You’ve got a remote for a reason,” Angela fires back, her voice laced with mock annoyance.

Amanda turns on her side and looks over at the wiggling form to her left, “What are you even doing over there?”

“I’m trying to find a comfortable position to settle in.”

“You’ve sunk so far into the bed that it looks like the comforters are swallowing you whole,” comments Amanda. She leans forward to grab her phone from the nightstand between their beds and snaps a picture of Angela. In a sea of pearl white bed sheets, only Angela’s head pokes up out of the blanket.

“No, wait! No, don’t take a picture, ‘Manda!” Angela yells indignantly, thrashing slightly under the covers.

Amanda laughs at her mini tantrum, “You look like a floating head, Angie.” She turns the phone around to show Angela the photo in her camera roll.

“I look horrible in that! Oh my god, you have to delete it.”

Amanda hums in response, placing her phone back on the nightstand without deleting the picture, and directs her attention back to The First 48. She can hear Angela huffing out of frustration, and Amanda smiles to herself. On the screen, dramatic flashes of the evidence photos paired with an even more dramatic voiceover was setting the scene of the crime.

“The gruesome murder of the perfect all-american girl shook this otherwise quiet Nebraskan town. Who could’ve carried out such a horrific crime? All eyes turned to the quarterback boyfriend, the last person to see Jennifer Wiles alive.”

Amanda hears Angela snickers softly to herself and muses, “Imagine being in the voiceover booth for a job like this. Like, how many takes of this do you think they have to do?”

“Cut!” Amanda mocks, dropping her voice to a deep Southern accent, “Sorry, can we get that line again? Maybe this time, try to sound more like you’re a cop who couldn’t give less of a shit about this case. Alright, ready? Take 56, action!”

Angela repeats the voiceover, but with the strangest intonation and facial expressions known to man, causing Amanda to double over in laughter.

“Holy shit, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sound like that. It was like you were a baby learning to speak for the first time,” Amanda manages through labored breathing.

“That could be a fun game though,” muses Angela, “trying to give the worst line read ever.”

“Okay wait, I think you’re onto something!” They take turns, each read more outrageous than the last, their playful banter filling the room with warmth and joy. Eventually, after a particularly hilarious exchange that leaves them both breathless, they finally settle back into their cozy positions, the laughter slowly subsiding as they resume watching the show.

Suddenly, Angela shoots up from her slouched position and messily kicks the comforters off of herself. Before her feet are even fully situated in her hotel provided slippers, Angela is tripping over herself to get to the counter next to the TV with the coffee maker and concessions.

“What are you doing over there?” Amanda asks and then tilts her head, “Huh, feels like I was just asking you that.”

Angela rifles through the snacks, excitedly holding up a folded brown paper bag shrink wrapped plastic, “Amanda. Lehan. Canto. How good does popcorn sound right now? Every good movie night needs to have popcorn.”

Amanda raises an eyebrow skeptically, “Never once during our movie nights have you ever craved popcorn.”

“Okay, well, where the hell am I gonna find goat cheese, salami, and crackers to make a charcuterie board for us right now?” Angela rips the plastic wrapper off, crumbles it into a ball, and tosses it into the trash.

“Check the market pantry in the lobby,” shrugs Amanda.

“Ugh, too far away,” Angela sticks the unpopped kernels into the microwave and sets a timer for two minutes.

“Lazy.”

Angela sticks her tongue out at Amanda, “Yeah, and what about it?”

“You know you have to pay for that, right?” Amanda props her elbows up on her legs in front of her and rests her chin in her hands, watching Angela intently. The siren sounds of the Wiles case echoing from the shitty hotel speaks are momentarily forgotten.

“Company card, duh. Smosh can pay for it. VidCon is technically a company trip anyways.”

“I’m telling Ian and Anthony that you’re wasting their money on late night snacks. Gonna run Smosh into bankruptcy and then we’re all going to be out of jobs. All because someone wanted popcorn.”

“It’s one bag, ‘Manda, chill,” right as Angela begins to defend herself, the microwave dings. She grabs the inflated and buttery bag, but immediately drops it back onto the glass tray. Quietly, she whispers Ow, hot and opens the fridge under the desk to soothe her burnt fingertips against the cold interior walls.

“You okay?” Amanda asks, her voice softening.

“Yeah, the bag was just hotter than I expected.”

“Well, duh. It’s literally steaming because of the microwave.”

With her sufficiently iced fingers, Angela carefully carries the popcorn back over to her bed and settles back in, “Wow, and for a second I thought you were actually being nice to me.”

Now it’s Amanda’s turn to stick her tongue at Angela. Childish, she knows. But with Angela, she doesn’t feel embarrassed acting a little immature. And besides, Angela did it to her first.

Amanda sticks her hand out expectantly across the divide. Angela eyes her in disbelief, “You have the audacity to talk so much shit while I was making popcorn and now you want to ask for some? No way, go make yourself your own bag.”

“I don’t want a whole bag's worth, just, like, half a bag's worth.”

“Interesting. Splitting my bag between the two of us would mean you get half a bag of popcorn. Huh, how convenient!”

“You know what they say, sharing is caring!”

Reluctantly, Angela passes the bag over, “You’re lucky that I love you.”

Amanda slowly pops a piece of popcorn into her mouth, a smug grin spreading across her face as she savors the buttery flavor. Angela’s gaze lingers on Amanda’s lips for a moment before she shakes herself from the thought, quickly refocusing on the show.

For a while, they take turns handing the bag back and forth, sharing the snack like it’s a playful game. But as the night wears on and the light from the TV flickers dimly, the fun begins to fade. With every pass, Angela feels the weight of fatigue pulling her down, and the popcorn-sharing routine starts to feel tedious.

“Okay, I’m tired of you hogging all my popcorn,” Angela grumbles, half-heartedly glaring at Amanda. “Passing the bag back and forth is so fucking annoying.”

Amanda chuckles, “Alright, alright,” she replies, scooting over to the right side of her bed, “Here, we can share my bed instead.”

“Oh, of course. You’re making me move,” Angela says, but there’s no real annoyance in her tone. She’s already climbing out of her bed, shuffling over to Amanda’s side. Curling into Amanda’s warmth is one of the few moments where Angela feels her hyperactive brain quiet down completely. It’s peaceful beside Amanda; Amanda is her peace.

“Hey, you’re the one complaining about sharing the popcorn. I’m totally okay with tossing kernels into your mouth and having you catch them, if that’s more your speed.”

“Shut up, you’re stupid,” Angela half-heartedly retorts, pulling the blankets over her and mirroring the position she was in moments before in her own bed. Amanda mimics Angela’s position, sinking down further. She wraps her left arm around Angela’s shoulders, pulling her closer into her side. Angela, a willing victim, lets herself be enveloped in Amanda’s warmth. She rests her head on Amanda’s chest, sighing.

Nestled in the ripples of the blanket between them is their joint custody bag of popcorn, like a child squished between their parents. For the first time all night, they don’t say anything to each other.

It’s so silent that Amanda can hear Angela’s even breaths. She’s sure Angela can hear how fast her heart is beating through her chest. Unconsciously, Amanda begins to stroke the length of Angela’s arm with her fingers, feeling the warmth radiate between them.

As Amanda looks down at Angela, who was now fast asleep with the arm Amanda was caressing slung over her stomach, a warmth spreads through her chest. She finds herself wanting to lean down and press a soft kiss on Angela’s forehead. But as she leans closer, hesitation creeps in. She pulls back and clears her throat, trying to forget the urge.

After a while, Amanda can feel her eyes start to droop. She hasn’t paid much attention to this episode of The First 48 to be invested in seeing the resolution.

“Baby,” Amanda whispers. No response. She tries again a little louder, “Ang? Angela?” Still nothing.

Fuck, Amanda thinks, What do I do?

For all the times they’ve had a movie night or simply hung out at each other’s apartments, never have they stayed the night, let alone shared a bed like this. What was the protocol for something like this? Was Amanda supposed to keep trying to wake Angela up? Maybe carry her back to her bed?

Amanda hesitated, glancing at the empty bed across the room, then down at Angela, who had curled closer into her side. The thought of waking her up felt wrong—she knew her friend had been working herself to the bone between the shooting schedule of Smosh, rehearsals for the newest Starkid musical, filming days for her podcast, and whatever other creative projects Angela promised her friends she’d be a part of. It seemed like this was the first time in days that she’d actually rested.

Maybe Amanda could move to Angela’s bed. Slowly, Amanda tries to sit up and release herself from Angela’s grasp. Unfortunately, it has the opposite effect as Angela holds onto Amanda even tighter, furrowing her eyebrows disappointedly.

Amanda sighed. She could move, give Angela her space, but the weight of exhaustion tugged at her, her limbs heavy with fatigue. Maybe it was fine—just for tonight.

Amanda feels around for the remote, turns off the TV, and gingerly places it on the nightstand. She’s careful not to hit Angela, and flicks the light switch off too, engulfing their room in darkness. She sank back into the pillow, carefully wrapping her arm around Angela again, her eyes fluttering shut almost instantly.

With another yawn, Amanda settles in. Before she knows it, she’s dead asleep as well, wrapping herself around Angela.

(Angela blinked, waking to a mouthful of hair that wasn’t her own. Her fingers twitched beneath something warm, and as her brain slowly caught up, she realized her hand was flat against Amanda’s stomach.

Oh, shit.

Her heart raced. She carefully glanced up, making sure Amanda was still asleep. Thankfully, she was, her features soft, her messy hair falling across her face.

Angela’s eyes lingered a moment too long—despite everything, Amanda still looked beautiful, even like this. But the panic snapped her back. Gently, she slid her hand out from under Amanda’s shirt and slipped out of bed, careful not to wake her.

Moving quickly, she rushed through her morning routine, her pulse still pounding in her ears as she fled the room. She just needed some space to think.)

(When Amanda wakes up, she immediately notices how cold the left side of the bed suddenly feels.)

#amanda lehan canto #angela giarratana #smosh #amangela #smosh rpf #smosh fanfiction #i’m not totally happy with how it turned out but it’s an idea i’ve had for so long and seeing the group chat explode with everyone’s #fictober stories inspired me to write something again!!#posting this right before a big midterm exam too so let’s hope this brings me luck :’)

77 notes · View notes