#nfl catching stays from ash lmao

[ashton-ryder]

"It's not my job, but you're still my friend," it was a simple matter of fact statement returned in the same soft spoken words, in no way to disagree with Beau's reassurance. Just that he could've been a better friend. Whether Ashton had the mental and emotional capacity to do so and be a good friend at all, he wasn't sure. But he understood Beau's next words, knowing there's no point on harping on it any longer, as long as he got to say his piece on it, Ashton let it go with a simple reply, "..yeah, happy spring." Hopefully it'll be happy, but with the shitty winter they just had? Bar should be so low, it's underground, can't be that hard to hit.

He's glad to see the talk of the garden spring a spark back to Beau, "good we need another plant dad around here, Ember has been.." Ashton knew well enough to hold back his tongue, choosing his words carefully, "..doing her best." The hesitation and despairing look was enough to read between the lines. He wasn't about to air his minor grievances to Ember's friend, not when it honestly isn't that deep. "Of course not, can't let you take all the blame, or credit," optics. "They are a good idea, that's why they got approved for my thesis, though the Wexley did not give their consent for a ten course sweet potato only meal." Did he feel bad? A little bit, but not bad enough to recognise they've help feed the building for awhile over the winter. "Now you can choose a new staple vegetation to haunt the entire building for all of spring."

Ashton sighs almost dramatically and despondently at the follow up questions for his precious sweet potatoes in the lab. "Me too.. maybe they were so good the chompers ate them. But last I saw on the last day itself, the shapes are definitely different." A mystery Ash may never solve if they never get back to normalcy. If anything it might mean he'll need to scrap the experiment from his thesis and fill it with something else.

But there it was, mini flickers of the old friend Ashton knew how to draw back and with a smirk to the accusation, "I thought the NFL didn't fight fair anyways." He graciously waited a few steps above Beau, seeing if he'll take the bait even if a cup of tea in his hands, trains the balance, right? Ashton didn't actually think Beau was going to take up the challenge leaning against the railing when Beau stopped them to take a drink, and bolted past Ashton. "Hey- asshole!" He yelled as his voice echoed up the stairwell. Guess NFL didn't fight fair but his handicap balances it out. He waited for a moment or two, letting the head start gap widen before Ashton took off after him, three steps at a time pulling his limbs into a very familiar burn of pushing the limit. Catching up to Beau sooner or later neck and neck halfway up, "don't spill that tea, that's my ration for today," he joked once he was close enough to Beau. Ash wouldn't going to lie, the adrenaline (that didn't stem from a life or death situation) was intoxicating, shifting more into endorphins instead of the usual fear. What a long forgotten privilege. 14 flights still took a hot minute or two but there was no dread to be felt this time, just a stupid grin to some friendly competition.

❛ oh no, ❜ beau wants to say, ❛ don't do that. ❜ even before the other man speaks, when the only thing indicative of what's to come is the conflicting smile that shifts his expression into something caught almost between affection and melancholy. guilt? there's something apologetic in his gaze that beau thinks is misplaced, and his worry is only validated by the words that follow. he wonders where the thought might've gone had ashton allowed himself to finish it, but he doesn't have it in him to ask. it doesn't matter now, does it? bygones being bygones and all. ❝ it weren't your job to be lookin' after me, ash, ❞ he says instead, his words quiet and reassuring. he doesn't say aloud the truth that he's thinking ― ashton had more important things to do. and it's not self-pitying either, in spite of how he knows it sounds ( precisely why he doesn't actually say it ) but the honest to goodness truth. beau isn't self-absorbed enough to think otherwise. ❝ we both made it through the winter anyhow, 's all that matters, hey? ❞

even if the words are posed as a question, they're said with an air of finality that brokers no argument. ashton shouldn't feel bad, not for anything he's done. how could he blame him for no longer showing up at a door that rarely opened for him anymore in the first place? beau lets his attention instead shift to the topic of the garden, and he can't help the genuine smile twitching at the corners of his lips as ashton speaks of the rooftop set-up. ❝ i don't know why i didn't think to ask sooner, ❞ beau confesses almost sheepishly. ❝ i've had nothin' but time on my hands lately, and i'd be lyin' if i said i weren't itchin' for somethin' to invest it in. ❞ he's been getting restless in a way that workouts won't satiate, filled with a nervous and unfocused energy. ❝ you ain't told nobody that, have you? ❞ he chuckles as they walk toward the stairs. ❝ i still stand by they were a damn good idea, even if folks are gettin' tired of 'em. rightfully so, i guess. ❞ there's a pause as a curious smile finds his features and he glances over at ashton. ❝ i'm always wonderin' what happened to the likes a' your anti-gravity potatoes. it keeps me up at night. ❞

the promise of the sunset encourages beau to move with a little more haste as he follows ashton out of the diner, but he's not anticipating the challenge that meets him at the base of the stairs. beau arches an eyebrow, a spark of that old competitive twinkle in his gaze. ❝ oh, you wait 'til i got a scaldin' hot cup of tea to challenge me to a race, huh? what, you worried i'd be too fast for ya if i didn't have somethin' slowin' me down? ❞ his tone is playful, teasing ; how long has it been since he's sounded like this? ❝ hang on, lemme just... ❞ beau takes a deep breath before gulping a mouthful of the hot tea, enough to lower the level in the mug by a few inches. satisfied, he doesn't give the other man more than a half second's warning before he holds the mug away from him and with a hasty, ❝ go! ❞ begins sprinting up the stairs.