#yanking exorcist over for no particular reason

[the-bloodline-embrace]

Stop flirting with the sops challenge /j

(feat @ask-aesop )

[himbowelsh]

Jet lag & Webgott. I know the theme is PAIN but can I request something mildly to very funny??

a little fall of meme can hardly hurt me now  ( accepting )

‘make it funny,’ you say, at which point i instantly forget the concept of humor

By this point, David has become fluent in Joe’s bitching, whichever language it’s voiced in.

It’s an acquired skill — frankly, one he could have lived his entire life without acquiring — but knowing where Joe stands makes navigating their relationship a lot easier. When it comes to the little things, Joe wears his heart on his sleeve. If he doesn’t like a particular TV show, he’ll say it… loudly. When it’s snowing, he’ll agonize about it until David’s tempted to shove him outside and lock the door; when it’s too hot, he’ll strip without shame, hissing like a disgruntled cat all the while. By now, they’ve been dating long enough that David knows Joe like a familiar book, leafed through a hundred times over. Sure, sometimes he could do without all that context, but a working knowledge of Joe’s quirks makes dealing with him that much easier.

Joe Fact #263: He can’t stand long flights.

It’s not like he’s a nervous flier. He’s just… a lot to handle. Part of it has to do with Joe’s inherent restlessness, a genetic predisposition to never hold still for more than a minute; part of it is just Joe’s talent for being annoying. And he can be… really, really annoying. Damned obnoxious. He doesn’t read, he’s hardly interested in the movies — he just spends the entire flight complaining. Why can’t he get WiFi? Why can’t he order another gin and tonic? Why are the seats so lumpy? Why do you want me to close the window, Web, look at this view, it’s priceless —

Having the window open makes him air sick. Joe knows this.

It’s not a massive problem, but during any long flight, it becomes an inevitable one. Queasiness is just another thing Joe gets to complain about on long flights. Part of David thinks it’s all a ploy; an excuse to get up and move around the cabin, even if it’s just to hide out in the bathroom and try to get WiFi signal. 

To be fair — on their trip to the Amalfi coast, when Joe had to sprint to the bathroom mid-flight and stayed there for over an hour, he probably wasn’t faking it.

Flying with Joe is unbearable for everyone involved… so when Joe announces his new solution, David’s optimistic. They’re two days out from a trip to Hawaii when Joe reveals a bottle of air sickness pills — apparently “the best they sell on the whole Internet, Web, I checked.”

David’s skeptical. “Are you… sure you can’t just make it?”

Joe huffs, genuinely offended by the question. “Fine! This time I’ll just blow chunks all over you. In-flight entertainment’s gonna be The Exorcist. How about that, Web? Fuck.”

David rolls his eyes — but he doesn’t argue anymore. At the time, it seems like a testament to his self-control.

Oh, how naive he was.

The pills make it through customs in their carry-on bag — something Joe gloats about for the next half hour, like he’s just pulled one over on the government, even though David looked it up and medication is allowed on planes. While waiting for their flight, Joe insists on Cinnabon. Insists, like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted. He pouts, he pleads, and finally he just tows David over to the stall without any forewarning and sits him down at one of the tables. (Joe Fact #312: Arguing with Joe while he’s got a pastry craving is like reasoning with a brick wall.)

The cinnamon bun in front of Joe is larger than your average infant.  “You ever heard of ‘tempting fate’?” David can’t help but ask around his own mouthful of pastry. 

Joe reaches over and smears frosting on his chin.

Without any delay, they make it on their flight in record time. Joe waits until they’re sitting, buckled in and watching the flight attendant go through safety procedures, to dig the pill bottle from his bag. A strange sense of unease churns David’s stomach, though he can’t for the life of him say why. Joe glances over, smirking; as David watches, he pops the two pills and swallows them dry.

“There. This flight’ll be smooth sailing.”

With four and a half hours of airtime ahead of them, David can only pray.

Joe’s not the researching sort — that goes without saying — but David has always been. He never takes a medication without looking up the full list of side effects in advance. When, twenty minutes into the in-flight movie, Joe’s head starts to loll against his shoulder, he’s not surprised.

“You alright?” he murmurs, turning just enough to speak the words softly into his boyfriend’s temple. Joe shifts, sighing heavily, and tries to straighten up again. It’s more effort than it’s worth.

“Might just end up sleeping through this thing,” he mutters. “Movie’s a snorefest anyway.”

It’s some movie about a dog. Neither of them have been really paying attention. “Okay,” David replies, keeping his tone casual. “That’s fine, just… get some rest.”

Joe shifts in his seat, making himself more comfortable. For about ten minutes, David stays very still. He doesn’t move; he doesn’t fidget; he doesn’t even breathe loudly.

When he looks over again, Joe’s dead to the world.

Oh, thank god.

David tilts his head back to grin at the ceiling, fist pumping the air without a sound — definitely earning a few sideways glances from other passengers, but he doesn’t care. Finally. After all this time, all this anticipation —

There’s no time to waste. He rummages through the carry-on at his feet, emerging with three large books, and headphones dangling from between his fingers. David drops his tray table, sets up his classical music Spotify playlist, cracks open the first book, and orders a Bloody Mary.

Peace at last.

The amount of long flights he’s endured through Joe’s whining… the amount of poking he’s had to deal with, the amount of dirty jokes whispered in his ear, all the times Joe’s stolen his books or drained his phone battery… he’s earned this, okay? As David leans back in his seat, it’s impossible to keep from grinning. Slumped against the window, Joe’s soft snores are easily drowned out by his headphones. They’ve got another five hours of flight ahead, and David plans to enjoy them.

Which he absolutely does, for the first hour. By the second, Joe’s got a specialty airline pillow under his head and a blanket tucked around him; David’s wallet is thirty dollars lighter, but it’s worth it. He runs his fingers through Joe’s hair absently, still engrossed in his book; after a while, he finishes it, and starts another one.

Somewhere around the third hour, Joe stirs, face smushing up against David’s shoulder. Gently, David repositions his head, only to find his boyfriend blinking drowsily at him.

“Hey, Web…” Joe’s voice is raspier than usual, thick with sleep. “How long’ve I been out?”

“A little while. We’re about halfway there.”

Joe hums, head flopping back against David’s shoulder. After a minute, he becomes aware of the blanket around him; a small huff escapes him, turning into a chuckle halfway through. “Aww, Web. Knew you cared.”

“As though I’d ever hear the end of it if you woke up with a sore neck.”

As though just to spite him, Joe cranes his neck at an unnatural angle to look up at him. “Wouldn’t be the first time we woke up sore together.” He pauses, thoughtful, then grins. “Wanna renew our mile high club membership?”

David shakes him off.

“Okay, okay, shit —“ Joe straightens up, disgruntled. Even sitting up in his seat, he sways a bit, as though rocking to turbulence no one else can feel. Davis observes as he gradually slumps against the window again, all the energy drained out of him. Mile high club — uh huh, very likely.

“These pills have any weird side effects?” Joe asks after a moment, brows furrowed. David rolls his eyes.

“How many times have I told you —“

“Read the fine print, yeah, damn it, Web. I get it.” Joe’s eyes scrunch shut. “They’re just not gonna — gimme an extra toe, or turn me green or anything, right?”

“No.” David diverts his attention, recommitting to his book with new stubbornness. “Orange, maybe.”

“That’s a color I can live with.” Without looking, Joe reaches over. Whatever he’s trying to grab, he ends up smacking David in the jaw. Hard, damn it. As David draws back with a muttered curse, Joe’s hand finds his chest; he gives it a few solid pats, maybe as an apology. “Mind if I sleep the rest of the way?”

“Please,” David rolls his eyes. “Be my guest.”

After a while, Joe’s snoring picks up again — and David is left to read in peace. He makes it through about a quarter of the next book before his eyes start hurting, and he finally has to set it aside. He orders a snack. He watches some late-night show. He doodles a bull shark on his napkin and daydreams about the white sands of Honolulu.

By the time the plane’s begun its final stretch, David is more than ready to start vacation. His pulse thrums with muted excitement, mind racing with all the things he wants to do as soon as they step off the plane. Every slight jolt of the plane as it descends kicks his anticipation a little higher.

By all rights, it should also jar Joe awake… but when David looks over, he’s surprised to find his boyfriend still sleeping.

“Hey,” he says, nudging Rip Van Winkle’s blanket-clad shoulder. “Nap time’s over. We’re almost there.”

Joe groans, shifting in his seat. When David tries again, he blindly smacks him.

“Jesus — will you —“ With a huff, David yanks the blanket away, leaving Joe bare. Suddenly exposed to the plane’s crisp air conditioning, Joe’s face scrunches up. He writhes in discomfort for a moment, fumbling around for the blanket, before at last cracking an eye open to look at Webster.

“You’re a sadist, Web.”

“I’m tired of watching you drool,” Webster retorts, busy packing up his carry-on. “Come on, rise and shine. We’ll be on the ground in a few minutes.”

Joe gives a drawn out sigh, as if it’s the greatest inconvenience in the world to ask him to be awake. Still, he props himself up. Over the next few minutes, as the airport tarmac slowly comes into view, he pulls himself from the syrupy haze of half-sleep, back into the land of the living. By the time they’re on the ground, he’s still blinking hard and rubbing his head, but awake.

“At least we’re had an easy flight,” David chirps as they make their way up the aisle.

“I dreamed I was on some tropical island, with a buncha pool floats, and the local girls were letting me eat fruit slices off their chests.”

“I already told you, we can’t do that in public — plus I have to wear sunscreen! I burn! Why do you want to eat fruit that tastes like sunscreen?”

“Just leave a spot bare —“

“I can’t stand tangerines,” Webster declares, cutting the argument off before it can take root. “Find a better fruit. If it’s pineapples, I’ll consider it.”

“That’s because you, like pineapples, are disgusting.” 

Joe suddenly stumbles, bracing himself against the ramp. On reflex, David catches him by the arm  —  but Joe isn’t falling, apparently, just steadying himself. When David raises his eyebrows, his boyfriend rolls his eyes and brushes him off.

“I’m fine, quit lookin’ at me like that.” A second later, Joe is on the move again. “Just a little jet-lagged.”

To be fair… David did enough research on the motion sickness pills in advance to know they made you drowsy. He just… didn’t look up how long it would last. 

By the time they’re collecting their luggage, Joe is lounging on a nearby-bench, half-asleep; David has to haul every suitcase off the conveyor belt on his own. He also has to hail a taxi by himself… and, when they pull up in front of the hotel, with Joe dead to the world against his shoulder, pay for it.

“Come on,” David mutters, dragging his boyfriend out of the car. “Home, sweet home.”

Joe wakes up just enough to blink at him in amazement. “Wow, that was some vacation, Web!”

The bellboy who comes out to greet them blinks at the sight of David, two suitcases braced against one arm, a comatose body against the other. With barely a word of apology, he deposits Joe on the luggage trolley. Joe, who seems delighted with this turn of events, just pulls his legs up. 

Hopefully the hotel has a big bed, because it seems like they’ll be spending their first night in Hawaii getting to know it well.