#i’m feeling very panicky and overwhelmed now so i think i’ll be logging off for the rest of the day

[punishandenslavesuckers]

Caleb and Adam go to a party. It’s a nice party. The food is good. The people are chill. Then Caleb eats like three fucking pot brownies by accident. Getting snacks for your giant, high, empathic boyfriend is not the worst way to spend a night. (ao3)

Adam can honestly – for real – admit that Caleb’s teammates are not actually all humongous frat-boy assholes in muscle shirts. In fact, only one of them is wearing a muscle shirt and the one in the muscle shirt is also in Adam’s AP Calc class and, apparently, his ability to crush a beer can against his forehead hasn’t stopped him from getting a 4.0. Several of them have 4.0’s. Adam… knew that on an intellectual level of course. Something about all of them standing together in jerseys made them kind of vanish individually for some reason.

“Cheerleader effect,” says Katie McLain, who has a cider in her hand and winged liner out to her temples. “When a bunch of people stand in a group you stop perceiving the details of each person and view them holistically. This tends to make everyone more attractive. It’s why they all move in packs.”

Bobbie Kensey, the second-string quarterback and her best friend, looks up from the blunt he’s trying to light, offended.

“Hey! That’s not true.” He tries to push Katie away with his palm over her face. She bites at him. “See? She’s rabid. Don’t buy into her fuckin’ slander. We are all individually gorgeous.” He raises his voice. “EXCEPT FOR HENDERSON WHO IS UGLY AS FUCK! GAWD! SOMEONE JUST PUT HIM DOWN ALREADY!”

Faintly from the other-side of the house: “FUCK YOU, KENSEY!”

Adam, who has been nursing a plain Cola-Cola for the last ten minutes, says, “Are the migratory habits of football players really that interesting to you, Katie?”

Katie snorts. “Hell, no. I’m gay as fuck. It’s the cheerleaders I’m monitoring.”

Bobbie and Katie high-five, except Katie is drunk so her palm smacks Bobbie right in the face. “Katie! You useless lesbian!”

“HAAAAAA!”

Bobbie shoves Katie down a nearby hall and moves as if to follow her, then hesitates. “Hey, man, you’re here with Caleb right?”

“Uh, yeah.” Adam takes a drink of his soda to mask the immediate nerves that rise at the question. “I am here... with Caleb.”

“Cool, cool. He didn’t ditch you did he?” Bobbie’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “Because, sometimes, he like just jets outta these parties like a weirdo and doesn’t tell anyone he did it, so people think he’s lying in someone’s lawn somewhere. Or, people would think that, if Michaels actually drank. Which he doesn’t. Because he’s lame.” Bobbie lets that stand for a moment, looking hyperbolically annoyed, but not really. “Anyway, don’t let him ditch you like a loser.”

“Uh, he just went to get some food really quick.” Adam looks around. “Really quick… in this case meaning like half an hour ago.”

 “Food’s down stairs in the den. He probably got roped into a Cards Against Humanity or something. He fuckin’ kills at that game.” Bobbie points a finger. “Don’t… let him ditch you.”

Adam snorts. “He’s not ditching me.”

“I know, like, he really likes you, dude. But he’s kinda dumb in groups. Don’t let him ditch you.”

Adam… isn’t sure why that makes him smile, but it does. “I think Katie found the cheerleaders.” He jerks his head as delighted screaming originates from down the hall. “Should you stop her?”

“Ah, fuck.”

Adam navigates the house, sipping his watery soda to deflect any misguided notions that he might want someone to talk to him. He doesn’t recognize at least half the party-goers, so they’re probably from other schools in the area. He’s already feeling pretty tapped out from meeting the team in a giant group earlier and suspects there were instructions to ‘be cool, guys, seriously, be cool’ because some of them seem to be going especially far out of their way to chat him up.

Imagining Caleb nervously negotiating with a bunch of football players to be nice… Adam logs that mental imagine away to tease him about later.

If he can find him.

After about five minutes of unsuccessfully hunting, Adam begins to worry Bobbie was right. Not about the ditching, but about the jetting away from groups thing. What appears to be random sprinting away from parties to the casual observer was likely just Caleb getting overwhelmed by the collective drunk emotions of other teenagers and peacing out. Seems weird that he wouldn’t text if that were the case. Adam triple checks his phone a few times. Scans the dark slightly smoky confines of the basement. The pool table’s been converted into a buffet line of chips, dip, mini hotdogs and desserts.

There are dark piles of people in the corners of the room, chatting and/or making out. Adam recognizes most of the defensive line-men yelling happily at each other over on the couches near the fall wall. Adam hesitates… then carefully wanders over to inspect the activities and scan for Caleb. He tries to be stealthy. Unfortunately, team captain David Yen spots him over his hand of poker cards and, of course, shouts at him.

“Hey Adam! Wanna play?”

“Uh, maybe next round. Anyone seen Caleb? I think he got lost on his way to pizza rolls or whatever.”

The groups immediately busts up laughing. Yen points at the loveseat by the TV. A very tall person in a letterman’s jacket is flopped there with their arms over their face. Said tall person is wearing the same jeans and sneakers that Caleb was last seen wearing. They are built like Caleb – improbable shoulder to waist ratio and weirdly attractive forearms. But this tall person cannot possibly be his improbable boyfriend because the tall person on the love seat looks… drunk, maybe? Or like they fell asleep in a crowd of raucous teenagers. Both impossible things.

“I think it’s kicking in,” Yen laughs.

Adam immediately goes on alert. “What… is?”

“I saw him eat like… three pot brownies earlier.”

Adam’s eyes get very large. “Say what now?”

“Pot brownies. Like… some pretty strong ones. I know he doesn’t, you know, do that. So I told him to sit down.”

Adam physically climbs over the first-string defensive tackle and the second-string running back to get to the loveseat, disturbing a bowl of Cheetos on his way across the room. He leans over and gently puts a hand on Caleb’s arm, shaking him.

“Heeey, buddy. What’s up?”

Caleb groans and rolls over. It’s very slow, lethargic kind of moving, lots of stretching and unnecessary arching. Caleb drops his arms to squint up at the face hovering over him. Then he grins. Fuck. That smile is white sunshine. Adam’s brain – easily distractible in this area – stops for a moment to admire the geometry of his boyfriend’s face. It’s like… something. A Renaissance painting. The Golden Ratio is somewhere in the way his eyes crinkle at the corners and his mouth kinks up into left-side dimple. There is divine intervention in the warm brown of his skin and the clean line of his jaw.

He’s ridiculously fucking hot. Okay?

Adam shakes himself out it.

“Caleb. You okay?”

“M’green,” he says cheerfully, running a hand over his face.

“Yeeeah. I’ll bet you are. Are you… sure you’re okay?”

Caleb laughs, a warm, sleepy sound and reaches for Adam, catching his arm. “C’mere. Hey, I need to talk to you.”

Adam heroically resists being pulled onto the couch by his giant running back boyfriend. “No. You need to stand up and probably go home.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re reeeeeeally high.”

“Maybe.”

“Not maybe. Definitely. One-hundred percent.”

“So what?”

Adam lowers his voice. “So… we might want to get away from the big crowd of drunk people?”

Caleb blinks, confused, then remembers apparently that he’s fucking empath.

“Ooooh, okay. Right.” He nods. “Smart.”

“Yeah.”

 “You’re worried?” Caleb frowns, brow knitting. “Why’re you worried?”

Adam laughs. The act itself banishes some of the niggling anxiety and Caleb’s grin comes back, relieved and sympathetically cheery. Adam has a sneaking suspicion that his good mood might be contact-high (so to speak) from being around his teammates who seem to all be in relatively high spirits presently. Adam resolves to be calm and logical. It would be incredibly lame of him to fail at being an empathic true north by getting all panicky, thereby making his empath boyfriend freak out while high as balls.

“I’m not worried. You’re just a dork who can’t tell pot brownies from normal brownies.”

Caleb pouts. “They had sprinkles.”

“Oh? The sprinkles fooled you?”

“Pot brownies don’t have sprinkles.”

Yen, from the other couch, pipes up. “Yes, they do, Michaels, you fuckin’ geek.”

Adam nods. “See. Team captain says so. You were duped by sprinkles. That’s adorable.”

“Noo,” Caleb grumps.

“Jesus, you’re really high. C’mon.” Adam takes Caleb’s elbow and tugs, eventually pulling his arm over his shoulders so he gets the idea. “Let’s go. Up. We’re going for a walk. Let’s walk it off, champ. Hey! No! No – well, fuck me, I guess.”

Caleb’s on his feet, but he’s turned Adam’s helpful arm-drape into a hug. Yen and the defensive line are dying laughing, which only makes Caleb increasingly giddy. Adam tries to pry his way out of the bear hug, but gives up and tolerates the warm, nice-smelling, rib-crush of Caleb’s embrace. Mostly because he literally cannot get away, but partially because there’s a kind of rabbiting excitement jacking through his nerves because Caleb is hugging him in public and nothing bad is happening. He eye-balls the rest of the team. The team cornerback is giving Adam an enthusiastic if somewhat asshole-ish thumbs up.

“So… none of you are gonna help.”

Rogers and Masuri shake their heads. Yen is too busy taking a selfie.

“Thanks guys. You’re the best.”

Adam kind of grabs Caleb’s elbow, his arms still firmly around his shoulders, and marches through the chortling linebackers, dragging Caleb with him. Caleb’s weight falls partially against him but not quite enough to drag him down as dead weight. He hums happily and presses his face against Adam’s neck which is, you know, completely earth-shatteringly unfair. He was wrong. There is no god. Adam focuses on putting one foot in front of the other, relying on the smoke and commotion to hide how red he’s getting – and not just because Caleb is goddamn heavy.

“Hey,” Caleb says. His cheek brushes Adam’s jaw. “Hey, Adam?”

“Yup?”

“I’m hungry. Can we go to Taco Bell?”

“Jesus. Yes, Caleb, we can go to Taco Bell, you fuckin’ pot-head.”

“Yesss. You’re the best.”

Caleb kisses him on the cheek.

Adam’s whole goddamn face is now, surely, lit internally. No one cares. Literally no one is looking at them. He knows this. He can tell everyone is far too busy doing whatever they’re already doing, to notice Adam Hayes and Caleb Michaels struggle to get up the fucking stairs because Caleb won’t stop nuzzling him. It’s fine. Happy thoughts.

Adam succeeds, just barely, in lead-dragging Caleb out the front door and into the driveway, where the cool air and distance do the work he was hoping for. It takes about five blocks of walking out from suburbia toward the distinct glow of fast-food establishments, but eventually Caleb stop bear-hugging him and kind of squints around like, he hadn’t noticed the sudden change of scenery. When they reach the sprawl of streetlights and late-night restaurants, he grimaces and scrubs his face with both palms.

“Oh god,” he says into his palms.

Adam pats him on the shoulder. “Breathe.”

“Oh my god.” He drags his hands down his face.

Adam grins. “It’s fine.”

“That was so embarrassing. Oh god. What the fuck?”

“Seriously, it’s fine. No worries.”

“I’m sorry. I ruined it. You were supposed to have fun at the party.”

“Trust me, I’m wholly entertained.”

Caleb frets at the crosswalk in front of Taco Bell. “This is so weird. I’ve never… I didn’t know…”

“Know what?”

“It’s like… I can feel your emotions but its… blurry and far away? Kinda.”

“In a bad way?”

“No. Just… not as strong somehow? Everyone’s emotions felt… distant? Like There were their emotions and mine and they didn’t… mix as much.”

“So… pot mellowed out your powers?”

“Maybe? I dunno. Kinda?”

“Okay. Good to know. Live and learn.”

Caleb’s whole face scrunches up. “Fuck. I kissed you… in front of people…”

“Let’s get you a Crunch-Wrap.”

“Oh man, that sounds so good. Shit, I’m sorry.”

“I really didn’t mind and no one cared, dude.”

“But that wasn’t cool. I didn’t ask or anything. Geez…”

Adam sighs and taps Caleb on the shoulder. When he turns, Adam boosts up slightly to press a quick kiss to his jaw.

“You’re fine.” He drops back down and slaps the back of his hand against Caleb’s chest. “Feel that? Even fuzzy and distant, you gotta feel that right?” He grins at Caleb’s slow, hopeful smile. “See? You’re good. Now, let’s get tacos.”

  fin

#the bright sessions #tbs #caleb michaels #adam hayes #tbsedit #tbsfic #there it did it #it wrote something adorable for this fandom #instead of some stressed power dynamics shit like always #look at this tooth-rotting cuteness #ugh #what? #rae writes #raewrites