anti-vinsky, an open post

[pillz]

leave me prompts or starters
or simply refer to this as an extremely important reference list
for our future adventures ◕‿◕✿

pothead better driver naps! hyperactive tree, furniture, and church climber cries about anything eerie not dangerous less hairgel!!

Comments

[mellori]

Adam's smart, but it still takes him a second to work out what happened. He fell asleep. He's not in any danger. Not immediate. He's always in danger. He's been used to that ever since he realized his father wasn't like other people's fathers.

The way that Joe talks about his family - it's never bragging, it just seems to come up naturally in conversation - that's the kind of thing Adam used to envision for himself, when he was small enough to hide under his bed successfully.

"It's fine," Adam tries out the words, seeing whether the millionth time will make the true. "Me sleeping isn't gonna teach you algebra."

He yawns, twisting himself onto his back but keeping his lower body still, so as not to disturb that hand on his ankle. His eyes are still puffy with sleep when he looks over at Joe, expression softening into something inscrutable. It's easier for him to be hard on himself when he isn't looking Joe in the face, for some reason.

"You stayed."

Not that it's unusual. But Adam was asleep. He can't imagine it was all that interesting.

[pillz]

"Yeah, but making out teaches me algebra." Joe's hand tightens when the other boy comes back into himself. He's careful, but not delicate where Adam is concerned. Sometimes, a squeeze is as necessary as a gentle touch, and the one he administers, warm palm and slightly rough fingers, to Adam's ankle is exactly that. "You open your mouth, I open my mouth. Makes me feel smarter."

He skims his thumb up the back of Adam's calf, a little bit suggestive, mostly affectionate. Still watching the other boy carefully, seeing the tension leak gradually out of his narrow shoulders and elegant face.

It's a terrible thing, Joseph thinks. No justice in it. Before they started tutoring, he hadn't been the intrusive type who would try and see, but in retrospect lately he's wondered how many times in freshman year that Adam had come in, favoring one side, and he hadn't noticed. How exhausted from shiftwork that he'd been in the mornings, when Joe -- like the rest of the Aglionby boys -- had complained about having only seven hours and a seven AM wake-up, after a bedtime pushed back because of a particularly compelling video game.

"I like your bed," he notes. He doesn't say, Your bed is nice but Adam might take it that way, and he realizes this the next instant. So he adds, "It smells like you."