Caleb and Cal - New Year's Eve
Dec. 31st, 2018 09:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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ax_mainDrunk boys are drunk.
"Thank god that movie's over," Cal said as the end credits started rolling. His speech was a little slurred, and he was leaning sideways into Caleb. "I don't think those rules are very fair. I know I said we should do a marathon, but I don't think my liver would survive more Ominous Shark Fins."
A Sharknado drinking game had been a fun idea in theory, but in practice? Okay, it had been fun. Super fun. Especially with Caleb's running commentary on the movie. Cal's abs had been kinda sore there for a moment, he'd been laughing so hard. But he was still way drunker - more drunk? - than he had intended. Another movie and he'd probably puke. Nobody wanted that.
“It did not make any sense! And I’m saying that as someone who likes fantasy!” Caleb was beginning to slur as well, and his accent had become more pronounced, making him a little hard to understand at times. “How can that many people be killed by falling sharks?!”
"We went over this," Cal replied with a wide, shit-eating grin. He was clearly a lot less troubled by the lack of logic, finding it highly entertaining. "The real question is, how are the sharks still alive?”
Caleb threw his hands up in the air. “Right?!” That had been his number one complaint throughout the entirety of the movie, and, now that it had been brought up, he launched right back into his argument. “It is impossible! Sharks cannot breathe in a water tornado! And there’s no way they would be able to survive hitting at the ground at such a high veloss—velo—” He made a face. “Speed. They would be shark pancakes! Shark pancakes, Calvin!”
Cal was giggling all the way through Caleb's entire tirade - up until he called him Calvin, that was. That brought his mirth up short, and his laughter faded away awkwardly. He cleared his throat, grimaced, opted not to say shit, and smirked at Caleb. "So clearly we're watching the second movie next time. Not tonight! That would be bad. But next time.”
The shift in mood was just obvious enough that Caleb noticed it, and he was just drunk enough to comment on it (and would have) had Cal not steered the conversation in another direction. “Next time. Maybe. There needs to be more shark pancakes.” He reached for the tequila bottle so he could top them both off.
"Hmm." Cal was deeply thoughtful for a moment, the sort you only were when you needed to focus on something while already plastered, and then a hole appeared in the ceiling and a shark fell through, at great veloss... speed, and splattered on Clint's side of the room. It was a lot less realistic of an illusion than if Cal had been sober, but since he was in fact very much not sober, he thought it looked kickass, and he punched Caleb in the shoulder happily, after the illusion vanished. "That was awesome. Wasn't that awesome?”
Caleb went wide-eyed and looked from where the shark pancake had been to Cal, then back again, and then back to Cal once more. “How did you do that? What was that? How did you do that? Magic! Was that magic? Did you do magic?”
Cal blinked, and then laughed. "Did I never tell you? Loki does illusions, too. Not magic. I mean, I guess illusions are magic, but not magic-magic. Not like you. You're still the coolest in all the land," he added fondly, with a wide grin.
The kind words, and the grin that came with it, had Caleb making a dismissive sound, shrugging, then making the sound again. “Yeah, well. That’s me. Cool wizard. The coolest wiz.” Compliments were weird and people should not give them to him.
“So. Illusions?” Those were definitely going on Caleb’s list of things he needed to learn how to do. It was a very long list.
Cal was still giggling over 'the coolest wiz', and making a mental note to call Caleb that again later. Tell Clint about it, definitely tell Clint about it, whenever he showed up. He wished he would, even if it meant bringing Wanda along, at this stage. "Illusions," he confirmed as his laughter faded. "You know." He snapped his fingers - not because he needed to, but for showmanship - and Caleb was wearing wizard robes straight out of Hogwarts.
Caleb gaped at his Ravenclaw robes, then went wide-eyed with excited realization and grabbed Cal by the shirt-sleeve. “Oh, oh! That I can do! Watch I have been practicing!”
Letting go of Cal, Caleb moved his hands in a quick, albeit fumbling, motion and said a few words. It was a more complicated spell and, on the first two tries, nothing happened, but, on the third, his form shivered like a television with bad reception. In a blink of an eye, the red-haired, blue-eyed boy in the rumpled clothing was gone, and a well-dressed one who looked vaguely like Chris Hemsworth sat in his place.
Caleb held his arms out. “Ta-dah!”
Cal stared, then smirked. "You... kinda look like Loki's brother. Why do you look like Loki's brother?"
“I do not,” Caleb, who had never met Loki’s brother, replied. “It’s so I can go out, and no one will recognize me. I do not have to look like this, but if I’m going to look different I might as well be handsome.”
"You totally look like Loki' s brother," Cal retorted. "Tall and blond and buff and - give me a smile?”
Caleb smiled, as asked, and it was toothy and beaming. The first was the illusion at work, but alcohol was definitely to blame for the second.
"Dude! You even have the dimple!" Cal said, reaching out to clasp Caleb's current face and grinning at him. "You're like his little brother or something. No, wait, that's Loki. You know what I mean!"
“I am not,” Caleb grumbled, covering said dimple with his hand. “I’m a disguise I made up all on my own.”
"You saw him around the school and made an approximate copy! Nothing wrong with that," Cal stated, and patted Caleb's cheek twice before dropping his hands. "Come on, change back. You don't need a disguise with me, and it's pretty freaky. And awesome!" But also just weird.
Caleb gaped at Cal. “Are you accusing me of plagiarism?”
Cal dissolved into giggles. "Dude! Fine. Look." And now Cal looked like Thor, and gave Caleb a lopsided grin. "This is Loki's brother.”
Caleb looked at Cal, then looked at himself, and then looked at Cal again. Well, crap. He did look like Thor. Sulkily, he dismissed his disguise. “Okay. Fine. But, it’s a coincidence. I did not copy Mr. Hunky Prince Guy.”
"Don't pout, my friend!" Cal told him cheerfully, in Thor's booming voice. "It's unbecoming!" Very pleased with his imitation, he then giggled again, dropping the illusion. "You looked great. You look better like this, though."
Caleb gave Cal a flat look. “Says the guy who looks like he could be Loki’s brother’s brother.”
"Did I not drop the illusion?" Cal asked, patting his face as if that might reveal the truth. "It's dropped, right?”
“Yes.” Caleb poked Cal’s cheek. “And you still look like you could be Loki’s brother’s brother.”
"Oh." Cal dropped his hands, tilted his head to the side, and made a face. "Yeah, kinda. But that'd be weird." He reached for his mug of tequila. "What does that have to do with anything?”
Rolling his eyes, Caleb sat back against the headboard. “Nothing important.” He stretched his lanky legs out in front of him and nudged at a sleeping Frumpkin with his toe. “Do you have a resolution?”
"They're bullshit," Cal replied, immediately. Because they were. A big fat load of bullshit. Change your life every day of the year. He squinted, then asked, "Why would you wanna look like a jock?”
“They are not bullshit!” Caleb disagreed. “It is good to have goals. They give you direction.”
"New Year resolutions are bullshit," Cal retorted, easily distracted in his drunkenness. "New year's a bullshit motivation. You wanna change something in your life, change it. Don't wait for this arbitrarily selected day. People never stick to them, anyway." He took another drink, to that sentiment.
Caleb pointedly did not take a drink. “Maybe some people need the motivation of a fresh start, and just because you have never stuck to them doesn’t mean no one ever does.”
Cal paused, and then shook his head. "Not me." He took another drink, this time to help himself get the words out. "My dad. He always promised me shit he never delivered on.”
The defensive anger left Caleb like air going out of a balloon. “Oh. I’m sorry.” He hesitated for the briefest of seconds, then put an arm around Cal’s shoulders and a little mental call had Frumpkin padding up the bed to plop onto his lap. “He sounds like a jerk.”
Cal leaned into Caleb, instinctively patting Frumpkin's neck and back. "He was an asshole. He tried to..." The words stuck to his throat, and he straightened up and shook his head, picking up his mug for another swig.
Oh. This was really serious. Caleb put his drink down on the nightstand, and squeezed Cal a little closer. “What?” he asked gently. “You can talk to me. I can keep a secret.”
"No," Cal said, and shook his head again, shifting his arm to break Caleb's hold on him. "Tonight is for celebrating. Where the fuck is Clint, anyway?" He reached for his phone to check it for messages.
Caleb let go and wrapped his arms around himself. He knew it wasn’t personal, but it still weirdly stung being shrugged away. “With Wanda, I think.”
Clint had still said he'd show up after a while. It had been a while. Cal took another drink, then looked back at Caleb. "Do you have a resolution, then?”
Caleb eyed Cal uncertainly. “Yes.”
"What is it?" Cal asked, petting Frumpkin again.
“Why? You think they are stupid,” Caleb said as he picked his mug back up. “And if I say it, it won’t come true.”
"That's wishes," Cal replied. He hesitated, then reached out to lay a hand on Caleb's back. "I'm sorry I took a dump all over resolutions. I don't believe in them. But if you do - I mean. You can do anything in the world.”
A small, bittersweet smile settled briefly on Caleb’s expression. “Yes…” He waved a hand, pushing it and any dark thoughts away. “Never mind. Tonight is for celebrating.”
Cal frowned for a few seconds, then slid his hand up to Caleb's shoulder and squeezed it. "Hey. I'm sorry."
Fuck, they really needed Clint around. He would know just what to say to bring this party back up. Cal had no fucking clue, so he pulled his hand back and turned into a panther, dislodging Frumpkin in the process. He ignored the offended cat to plop his head down in Caleb's lap, blue eyes looking up at him hopefully.
Caleb deservedly felt like an asshole. “That’s cheating,” he told Cal, but he folded down over him to hug him all the same, burying his face into the soft, faintly musky fur. “I am not mad at you. You can change back. Please.”
Cal hadn't really planned on shifting back so soon. He'd wanted to make Caleb feel better. His plan had involved cuddling and purring. (Regular panthers didn't purr, but he was hardly regular.)
But when Caleb said please, he shifted back immediately, for all that the position was a lot weirder as a human. He hugged Caleb back anyway, because awkwardness didn't matter. "I thought you'd like it," he told Caleb's stomach.
That made Caleb’s heart hurt. “I did. I do. I just like you better,” he said, his cheek now pressed to Cal’s stomach instead of fur. He gave himself a second more of hugging and then sat up to give Cal back his space, not drunk enough to forget something as important as that.
Caleb offered a soft, hopeful sort of smile down at his friend. “Come on. Tonight is for celebrating.”
Cal let go of Caleb when his friend straightened up, but remained where he was for a beat, just watching Caleb from this surprising angle, with his head in Caleb's lap. Until Caleb fed him back his own words again, with that smile that made Cal's heart twist a little, and he sat up at last, and reached for his mug of tequila.
"Yes," Cal agreed decisively, and slung an arm across Caleb's shoulders. He knocked his mug against his friend's, and gave him a smile. "Let's celebrate!”
Caleb smiled as he was squished against Cal, that ugly, black feeling that had been creeping in fleeing, and he raised his mug in a toast of agreement. “To a new year. Prost!”
"Prost," Cal agreed with a grin, and took a drink. "Which, by the way, German is fucking hard. All the..." He gestured vaguely with the hand on the other side of Caleb's shoulders. “Grammar."
The sound that came out of Caleb could almost definitely be described as a giggle. “Every language has grammar!”
"Not as much!" Cal protested. "They have rules for everything. What the fuck is dative, man?”
“The indirect object in a sentence,” Caleb answered like it was obvious. “And English has rules for everything! It is the worst! It beats up other languages in dark alleys, then rifles through their pockets for loose grammar and spare vocabulary.”
Cal burst out laughing. “What?"
“You heard me!” Caleb replied.
Cal couldn't stop laughing. "What's English ever done to you?”
“Everything,” Caleb said over his mug like a man who had been to war and seen some shit. “I love English, but it is ruthless.”
"How?" Cal exclaimed, still laughing through his incredulity. "It doesn't do cases and inflections and gendering everything. It's easy as all get out!"
Caleb scoffed dismissively. “Please, there are so many rules and exceptions to the rules and exceptions to the exceptions. I before E except after C, or when sounded as A as in neighbor and weigh.” He waved a hand. “Go home, English language, you’re drunk.”
"You're drunk!" Cal protested, with the shit-eating grin of a drunk boy who thought he had just been very, very clever.
Caleb laughed at the joke who, yes, being drunk himself, found it to be very clever as well. “And? That does not change anything.”
"That's just pronunciation, whatever," Cal replied with a wave of his hand. He paused for some deep, deep thinking. "Or spelling, depending how you look at it.”
“Both is good.” Caleb went to take a sip of tequila, found there was none left, and then frowned down at the empty mug. He reached for the bottle.
Cal helped by passing it over, since it was on his side of the bed. "So what's your resolution, man?”
Caleb gave a small shrug, but didn’t look up, eyes fixed on his mug as he quietly said, “To make my parents proud.”
Wow, talk about a shift in the mood. Cal looked over at Caleb and the way he was staring down at his mug, then took the bottle back from him and poured tequila into his friend's mug. "Sounds like a worthy objective," he said, hoping it wasn't the exact wrong thing to say.
Caleb talked about his parents about as often as Cal did: never. So Cal had no idea where they even were, or if they were still alive. But if Caleb wanted to make them proud, they were bound to be good people. Cal trusted his friend.
“Yeah,” Caleb softly agreed. He took a long drink from his mug, nearly emptying it in one go, then gave Cal a weak, watery smile.
Oh, fuck. Caleb should never, ever look like that. It just did things to Cal's insides. Twisted them all up. "Dude," he blurted out softly, all sympathy. Clint would know what to say. Cal was just an idiot. So he asked, like an idiot, "You wanna, uh - you wanna tell me about them?”
Just the thought sent a rush of panic through Caleb. “No,” he said maybe a little too quickly, then as an afterthought, added, “Thank you.” The smile he gave this time was still sad, but it was warmer.
That happy feeling from earlier that seemed like it was gonna last forever was gone, like air that had been sucked out of a room, and that was all on Caleb. Tonight was supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be about celebration. He had put enough of a dampener on the evening. After all Cal had been through, he deserved a great start to the new year, and Caleb wasn’t going to ruin that for him. “Do you think Sharknado’s resolution would be more shark pancakes?”
That was a clear answer, even for an alcohol-addled mind. Cal forced his lips to tick up into a half smile at Caleb's question, and his mind to kick back into Sharknado-dissing gear. "I think Sharknado's resolution would be more lasers, and unicorns. This was still pretty grounded, and there's, like, seven of them?" He didn't know how many exactly, but a lot. "Maybe the unicorns can impale the sharks on their horns.”
“That is an insult to unicorns. Unless it was a unicornado.” Caleb was pretty sure he could get behind a unicornado. There would, ideally, be a lot of sparkles and rainbows. “Do you like unicorns? I have a cool book about them. I should lend it to you.”
"Well, they're not my favorite fantasy creature, but they're all right," Cal replied with a purse of his lips. "You got any books about dragons? Dragons are badass. Sharknado could totally use some dragons.”
Caleb was already lurching up to his feet and stumbling over to his computer desk. “Dragons, psh. I’ve got dragons coming out of my butt, I’ve got so many dragons.” He grabbed Zombies vs. Unicorns, then two other books at random. They probably had dragons. Fantasy had a lot of dragons in it.
"That's a whole other SyFy movie," Cal assured Caleb with a shit eating grin.
Handing the books off to Cal, Caleb plopped back down on the floor. “No, that is a Chuck Tingle novel.”
"A who novel?" Cal asked with a frown, reaching for the books to have a look at them. Of the two latter, he handed one back to Caleb. "Already read that one.”
Caleb tossed the book onto his bed. Or tried to. It hit the side instead and landed on the floor. He left it there. “He’s an author. His books have weird titles like Space Raptor Butt Invasion.”
"What?" Cal asked with a frown, which promptly dissolved into laughter. "Lend me that one, I've gotta read it! What?" He couldn't get over that title, and was still laughing.
“I don’t have it.” Which was thankfully true, because Caleb really didn’t want to explain to Cal how he knew about a gay romance.
"I will make a note to get it," Cal announced. He wasn't drunk enough to think he'd remember this in the morning otherwise. He grabbed his phone and unlocked it. "Space Butt Raptor Invasion? No, wait.”
Caleb should never have opened his mouth. “I don’t think you’ll like it.” He topped both their mugs off, his brain flipping through change of topics like they were flashcards. “You know what movie we should watch? That really bad dragon one.”
"Space Raptor Butt Invasion!" Cal exclaimed, as he finally put the words back in the right order. Then only did he realize Caleb had kept talking, and after saving that note, he looked over at his friend with raised eyebrows. "Sorry, what?”
“Don’t read it. You won’t like it,” Caleb repeated and he poked the books he’d brought over closer to Cal.
"It sounds like crack!" Cal protested. "I'll so read it. And those," he confirmed, with a nod at the two books.
Caleb really should never have opened his mouth. Well, it was a problem for the sober!Caleb of the future now, so, instead of pressing, he said, “Want to watch another movie?”
"Sure," he agreed. "Did SyFy make any Space Raptor Butt movies?" It sounded right up their alley. Maybe without the butt bit.
“Not that I know of.” Caleb looked up ‘space raptor‘ on his phone, but all that came up was the book that had started all this, so he just shoved his phone back into his pocket. “Nope.”
"You fail us, SyFy!" Cal pronounced dramatically at the ceiling, then looked back at Caleb with a lopsided smile. "I don't know, what do you feel like watching?”
Caleb watched his friend’s theatrics with a dopy smile. Cal was great. “Another bad movie,” he suggested. Sharknado had been, even with the shortage of shark pancakes, and he didn’t have it in him to concentrate on a movie that required actual thought.
"Let's see what Netflix recommends," Cal agreed with a nod.
"Thank god that movie's over," Cal said as the end credits started rolling. His speech was a little slurred, and he was leaning sideways into Caleb. "I don't think those rules are very fair. I know I said we should do a marathon, but I don't think my liver would survive more Ominous Shark Fins."
A Sharknado drinking game had been a fun idea in theory, but in practice? Okay, it had been fun. Super fun. Especially with Caleb's running commentary on the movie. Cal's abs had been kinda sore there for a moment, he'd been laughing so hard. But he was still way drunker - more drunk? - than he had intended. Another movie and he'd probably puke. Nobody wanted that.
“It did not make any sense! And I’m saying that as someone who likes fantasy!” Caleb was beginning to slur as well, and his accent had become more pronounced, making him a little hard to understand at times. “How can that many people be killed by falling sharks?!”
"We went over this," Cal replied with a wide, shit-eating grin. He was clearly a lot less troubled by the lack of logic, finding it highly entertaining. "The real question is, how are the sharks still alive?”
Caleb threw his hands up in the air. “Right?!” That had been his number one complaint throughout the entirety of the movie, and, now that it had been brought up, he launched right back into his argument. “It is impossible! Sharks cannot breathe in a water tornado! And there’s no way they would be able to survive hitting at the ground at such a high veloss—velo—” He made a face. “Speed. They would be shark pancakes! Shark pancakes, Calvin!”
Cal was giggling all the way through Caleb's entire tirade - up until he called him Calvin, that was. That brought his mirth up short, and his laughter faded away awkwardly. He cleared his throat, grimaced, opted not to say shit, and smirked at Caleb. "So clearly we're watching the second movie next time. Not tonight! That would be bad. But next time.”
The shift in mood was just obvious enough that Caleb noticed it, and he was just drunk enough to comment on it (and would have) had Cal not steered the conversation in another direction. “Next time. Maybe. There needs to be more shark pancakes.” He reached for the tequila bottle so he could top them both off.
"Hmm." Cal was deeply thoughtful for a moment, the sort you only were when you needed to focus on something while already plastered, and then a hole appeared in the ceiling and a shark fell through, at great veloss... speed, and splattered on Clint's side of the room. It was a lot less realistic of an illusion than if Cal had been sober, but since he was in fact very much not sober, he thought it looked kickass, and he punched Caleb in the shoulder happily, after the illusion vanished. "That was awesome. Wasn't that awesome?”
Caleb went wide-eyed and looked from where the shark pancake had been to Cal, then back again, and then back to Cal once more. “How did you do that? What was that? How did you do that? Magic! Was that magic? Did you do magic?”
Cal blinked, and then laughed. "Did I never tell you? Loki does illusions, too. Not magic. I mean, I guess illusions are magic, but not magic-magic. Not like you. You're still the coolest in all the land," he added fondly, with a wide grin.
The kind words, and the grin that came with it, had Caleb making a dismissive sound, shrugging, then making the sound again. “Yeah, well. That’s me. Cool wizard. The coolest wiz.” Compliments were weird and people should not give them to him.
“So. Illusions?” Those were definitely going on Caleb’s list of things he needed to learn how to do. It was a very long list.
Cal was still giggling over 'the coolest wiz', and making a mental note to call Caleb that again later. Tell Clint about it, definitely tell Clint about it, whenever he showed up. He wished he would, even if it meant bringing Wanda along, at this stage. "Illusions," he confirmed as his laughter faded. "You know." He snapped his fingers - not because he needed to, but for showmanship - and Caleb was wearing wizard robes straight out of Hogwarts.
Caleb gaped at his Ravenclaw robes, then went wide-eyed with excited realization and grabbed Cal by the shirt-sleeve. “Oh, oh! That I can do! Watch I have been practicing!”
Letting go of Cal, Caleb moved his hands in a quick, albeit fumbling, motion and said a few words. It was a more complicated spell and, on the first two tries, nothing happened, but, on the third, his form shivered like a television with bad reception. In a blink of an eye, the red-haired, blue-eyed boy in the rumpled clothing was gone, and a well-dressed one who looked vaguely like Chris Hemsworth sat in his place.
Caleb held his arms out. “Ta-dah!”
Cal stared, then smirked. "You... kinda look like Loki's brother. Why do you look like Loki's brother?"
“I do not,” Caleb, who had never met Loki’s brother, replied. “It’s so I can go out, and no one will recognize me. I do not have to look like this, but if I’m going to look different I might as well be handsome.”
"You totally look like Loki' s brother," Cal retorted. "Tall and blond and buff and - give me a smile?”
Caleb smiled, as asked, and it was toothy and beaming. The first was the illusion at work, but alcohol was definitely to blame for the second.
"Dude! You even have the dimple!" Cal said, reaching out to clasp Caleb's current face and grinning at him. "You're like his little brother or something. No, wait, that's Loki. You know what I mean!"
“I am not,” Caleb grumbled, covering said dimple with his hand. “I’m a disguise I made up all on my own.”
"You saw him around the school and made an approximate copy! Nothing wrong with that," Cal stated, and patted Caleb's cheek twice before dropping his hands. "Come on, change back. You don't need a disguise with me, and it's pretty freaky. And awesome!" But also just weird.
Caleb gaped at Cal. “Are you accusing me of plagiarism?”
Cal dissolved into giggles. "Dude! Fine. Look." And now Cal looked like Thor, and gave Caleb a lopsided grin. "This is Loki's brother.”
Caleb looked at Cal, then looked at himself, and then looked at Cal again. Well, crap. He did look like Thor. Sulkily, he dismissed his disguise. “Okay. Fine. But, it’s a coincidence. I did not copy Mr. Hunky Prince Guy.”
"Don't pout, my friend!" Cal told him cheerfully, in Thor's booming voice. "It's unbecoming!" Very pleased with his imitation, he then giggled again, dropping the illusion. "You looked great. You look better like this, though."
Caleb gave Cal a flat look. “Says the guy who looks like he could be Loki’s brother’s brother.”
"Did I not drop the illusion?" Cal asked, patting his face as if that might reveal the truth. "It's dropped, right?”
“Yes.” Caleb poked Cal’s cheek. “And you still look like you could be Loki’s brother’s brother.”
"Oh." Cal dropped his hands, tilted his head to the side, and made a face. "Yeah, kinda. But that'd be weird." He reached for his mug of tequila. "What does that have to do with anything?”
Rolling his eyes, Caleb sat back against the headboard. “Nothing important.” He stretched his lanky legs out in front of him and nudged at a sleeping Frumpkin with his toe. “Do you have a resolution?”
"They're bullshit," Cal replied, immediately. Because they were. A big fat load of bullshit. Change your life every day of the year. He squinted, then asked, "Why would you wanna look like a jock?”
“They are not bullshit!” Caleb disagreed. “It is good to have goals. They give you direction.”
"New Year resolutions are bullshit," Cal retorted, easily distracted in his drunkenness. "New year's a bullshit motivation. You wanna change something in your life, change it. Don't wait for this arbitrarily selected day. People never stick to them, anyway." He took another drink, to that sentiment.
Caleb pointedly did not take a drink. “Maybe some people need the motivation of a fresh start, and just because you have never stuck to them doesn’t mean no one ever does.”
Cal paused, and then shook his head. "Not me." He took another drink, this time to help himself get the words out. "My dad. He always promised me shit he never delivered on.”
The defensive anger left Caleb like air going out of a balloon. “Oh. I’m sorry.” He hesitated for the briefest of seconds, then put an arm around Cal’s shoulders and a little mental call had Frumpkin padding up the bed to plop onto his lap. “He sounds like a jerk.”
Cal leaned into Caleb, instinctively patting Frumpkin's neck and back. "He was an asshole. He tried to..." The words stuck to his throat, and he straightened up and shook his head, picking up his mug for another swig.
Oh. This was really serious. Caleb put his drink down on the nightstand, and squeezed Cal a little closer. “What?” he asked gently. “You can talk to me. I can keep a secret.”
"No," Cal said, and shook his head again, shifting his arm to break Caleb's hold on him. "Tonight is for celebrating. Where the fuck is Clint, anyway?" He reached for his phone to check it for messages.
Caleb let go and wrapped his arms around himself. He knew it wasn’t personal, but it still weirdly stung being shrugged away. “With Wanda, I think.”
Clint had still said he'd show up after a while. It had been a while. Cal took another drink, then looked back at Caleb. "Do you have a resolution, then?”
Caleb eyed Cal uncertainly. “Yes.”
"What is it?" Cal asked, petting Frumpkin again.
“Why? You think they are stupid,” Caleb said as he picked his mug back up. “And if I say it, it won’t come true.”
"That's wishes," Cal replied. He hesitated, then reached out to lay a hand on Caleb's back. "I'm sorry I took a dump all over resolutions. I don't believe in them. But if you do - I mean. You can do anything in the world.”
A small, bittersweet smile settled briefly on Caleb’s expression. “Yes…” He waved a hand, pushing it and any dark thoughts away. “Never mind. Tonight is for celebrating.”
Cal frowned for a few seconds, then slid his hand up to Caleb's shoulder and squeezed it. "Hey. I'm sorry."
Fuck, they really needed Clint around. He would know just what to say to bring this party back up. Cal had no fucking clue, so he pulled his hand back and turned into a panther, dislodging Frumpkin in the process. He ignored the offended cat to plop his head down in Caleb's lap, blue eyes looking up at him hopefully.
Caleb deservedly felt like an asshole. “That’s cheating,” he told Cal, but he folded down over him to hug him all the same, burying his face into the soft, faintly musky fur. “I am not mad at you. You can change back. Please.”
Cal hadn't really planned on shifting back so soon. He'd wanted to make Caleb feel better. His plan had involved cuddling and purring. (Regular panthers didn't purr, but he was hardly regular.)
But when Caleb said please, he shifted back immediately, for all that the position was a lot weirder as a human. He hugged Caleb back anyway, because awkwardness didn't matter. "I thought you'd like it," he told Caleb's stomach.
That made Caleb’s heart hurt. “I did. I do. I just like you better,” he said, his cheek now pressed to Cal’s stomach instead of fur. He gave himself a second more of hugging and then sat up to give Cal back his space, not drunk enough to forget something as important as that.
Caleb offered a soft, hopeful sort of smile down at his friend. “Come on. Tonight is for celebrating.”
Cal let go of Caleb when his friend straightened up, but remained where he was for a beat, just watching Caleb from this surprising angle, with his head in Caleb's lap. Until Caleb fed him back his own words again, with that smile that made Cal's heart twist a little, and he sat up at last, and reached for his mug of tequila.
"Yes," Cal agreed decisively, and slung an arm across Caleb's shoulders. He knocked his mug against his friend's, and gave him a smile. "Let's celebrate!”
Caleb smiled as he was squished against Cal, that ugly, black feeling that had been creeping in fleeing, and he raised his mug in a toast of agreement. “To a new year. Prost!”
"Prost," Cal agreed with a grin, and took a drink. "Which, by the way, German is fucking hard. All the..." He gestured vaguely with the hand on the other side of Caleb's shoulders. “Grammar."
The sound that came out of Caleb could almost definitely be described as a giggle. “Every language has grammar!”
"Not as much!" Cal protested. "They have rules for everything. What the fuck is dative, man?”
“The indirect object in a sentence,” Caleb answered like it was obvious. “And English has rules for everything! It is the worst! It beats up other languages in dark alleys, then rifles through their pockets for loose grammar and spare vocabulary.”
Cal burst out laughing. “What?"
“You heard me!” Caleb replied.
Cal couldn't stop laughing. "What's English ever done to you?”
“Everything,” Caleb said over his mug like a man who had been to war and seen some shit. “I love English, but it is ruthless.”
"How?" Cal exclaimed, still laughing through his incredulity. "It doesn't do cases and inflections and gendering everything. It's easy as all get out!"
Caleb scoffed dismissively. “Please, there are so many rules and exceptions to the rules and exceptions to the exceptions. I before E except after C, or when sounded as A as in neighbor and weigh.” He waved a hand. “Go home, English language, you’re drunk.”
"You're drunk!" Cal protested, with the shit-eating grin of a drunk boy who thought he had just been very, very clever.
Caleb laughed at the joke who, yes, being drunk himself, found it to be very clever as well. “And? That does not change anything.”
"That's just pronunciation, whatever," Cal replied with a wave of his hand. He paused for some deep, deep thinking. "Or spelling, depending how you look at it.”
“Both is good.” Caleb went to take a sip of tequila, found there was none left, and then frowned down at the empty mug. He reached for the bottle.
Cal helped by passing it over, since it was on his side of the bed. "So what's your resolution, man?”
Caleb gave a small shrug, but didn’t look up, eyes fixed on his mug as he quietly said, “To make my parents proud.”
Wow, talk about a shift in the mood. Cal looked over at Caleb and the way he was staring down at his mug, then took the bottle back from him and poured tequila into his friend's mug. "Sounds like a worthy objective," he said, hoping it wasn't the exact wrong thing to say.
Caleb talked about his parents about as often as Cal did: never. So Cal had no idea where they even were, or if they were still alive. But if Caleb wanted to make them proud, they were bound to be good people. Cal trusted his friend.
“Yeah,” Caleb softly agreed. He took a long drink from his mug, nearly emptying it in one go, then gave Cal a weak, watery smile.
Oh, fuck. Caleb should never, ever look like that. It just did things to Cal's insides. Twisted them all up. "Dude," he blurted out softly, all sympathy. Clint would know what to say. Cal was just an idiot. So he asked, like an idiot, "You wanna, uh - you wanna tell me about them?”
Just the thought sent a rush of panic through Caleb. “No,” he said maybe a little too quickly, then as an afterthought, added, “Thank you.” The smile he gave this time was still sad, but it was warmer.
That happy feeling from earlier that seemed like it was gonna last forever was gone, like air that had been sucked out of a room, and that was all on Caleb. Tonight was supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be about celebration. He had put enough of a dampener on the evening. After all Cal had been through, he deserved a great start to the new year, and Caleb wasn’t going to ruin that for him. “Do you think Sharknado’s resolution would be more shark pancakes?”
That was a clear answer, even for an alcohol-addled mind. Cal forced his lips to tick up into a half smile at Caleb's question, and his mind to kick back into Sharknado-dissing gear. "I think Sharknado's resolution would be more lasers, and unicorns. This was still pretty grounded, and there's, like, seven of them?" He didn't know how many exactly, but a lot. "Maybe the unicorns can impale the sharks on their horns.”
“That is an insult to unicorns. Unless it was a unicornado.” Caleb was pretty sure he could get behind a unicornado. There would, ideally, be a lot of sparkles and rainbows. “Do you like unicorns? I have a cool book about them. I should lend it to you.”
"Well, they're not my favorite fantasy creature, but they're all right," Cal replied with a purse of his lips. "You got any books about dragons? Dragons are badass. Sharknado could totally use some dragons.”
Caleb was already lurching up to his feet and stumbling over to his computer desk. “Dragons, psh. I’ve got dragons coming out of my butt, I’ve got so many dragons.” He grabbed Zombies vs. Unicorns, then two other books at random. They probably had dragons. Fantasy had a lot of dragons in it.
"That's a whole other SyFy movie," Cal assured Caleb with a shit eating grin.
Handing the books off to Cal, Caleb plopped back down on the floor. “No, that is a Chuck Tingle novel.”
"A who novel?" Cal asked with a frown, reaching for the books to have a look at them. Of the two latter, he handed one back to Caleb. "Already read that one.”
Caleb tossed the book onto his bed. Or tried to. It hit the side instead and landed on the floor. He left it there. “He’s an author. His books have weird titles like Space Raptor Butt Invasion.”
"What?" Cal asked with a frown, which promptly dissolved into laughter. "Lend me that one, I've gotta read it! What?" He couldn't get over that title, and was still laughing.
“I don’t have it.” Which was thankfully true, because Caleb really didn’t want to explain to Cal how he knew about a gay romance.
"I will make a note to get it," Cal announced. He wasn't drunk enough to think he'd remember this in the morning otherwise. He grabbed his phone and unlocked it. "Space Butt Raptor Invasion? No, wait.”
Caleb should never have opened his mouth. “I don’t think you’ll like it.” He topped both their mugs off, his brain flipping through change of topics like they were flashcards. “You know what movie we should watch? That really bad dragon one.”
"Space Raptor Butt Invasion!" Cal exclaimed, as he finally put the words back in the right order. Then only did he realize Caleb had kept talking, and after saving that note, he looked over at his friend with raised eyebrows. "Sorry, what?”
“Don’t read it. You won’t like it,” Caleb repeated and he poked the books he’d brought over closer to Cal.
"It sounds like crack!" Cal protested. "I'll so read it. And those," he confirmed, with a nod at the two books.
Caleb really should never have opened his mouth. Well, it was a problem for the sober!Caleb of the future now, so, instead of pressing, he said, “Want to watch another movie?”
"Sure," he agreed. "Did SyFy make any Space Raptor Butt movies?" It sounded right up their alley. Maybe without the butt bit.
“Not that I know of.” Caleb looked up ‘space raptor‘ on his phone, but all that came up was the book that had started all this, so he just shoved his phone back into his pocket. “Nope.”
"You fail us, SyFy!" Cal pronounced dramatically at the ceiling, then looked back at Caleb with a lopsided smile. "I don't know, what do you feel like watching?”
Caleb watched his friend’s theatrics with a dopy smile. Cal was great. “Another bad movie,” he suggested. Sharknado had been, even with the shortage of shark pancakes, and he didn’t have it in him to concentrate on a movie that required actual thought.
"Let's see what Netflix recommends," Cal agreed with a nod.
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Date: 2019-02-07 01:47 am (UTC)Yana is likewise disappointed but hopes to hear about the book later!
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Date: 2019-02-07 11:41 am (UTC)Yana will totally hear about it later though!
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Date: 2019-02-07 08:28 pm (UTC)How do you know about Chuck Tingle Caleb wait no I don't wanna knowI love these boys (and Clint for the All-C's Trifecta) <3
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Date: 2019-02-08 11:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-08 10:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-10 07:57 pm (UTC)