[ zack and trini are his more...difficult team members. they're not as easy to reach, not for a (former) golden boy. see, kim makes sense. hell, he doesn't know how they hadn't talked before now, what with the cheerleader and quarterback thing (well, he does know; jason can count the number of times he awkwardly tried to speak to her before they found more binding common interests). and billy is good, better than all of them.
still, the rangers have been doing well. training, stopping petty crime, causing a stir on the days when they all show up to school and share a table in the cafeteria. they're friends now (literally ride or die, as it happens). with the texting and impromptu rendezvous, jason feels like he and zack are closer, too. like there's fondness where once was occasional bursts of tension. maybe they're still not as close as he'd like, but — jason's not just everyone's friend, is he? he has responsibilities. he leads, whatever that means. honestly, he treats it the same as he did football: schedule practices, give some pep talks, win big when the games roll around. he just needs to keep his eyes clear; that's all.
they're a few beers down by the time jason thinks to roll out his sleeping bag, to soften where he's sat for hours talking, almost like the first night they all gathered around the fire. ]
Aw, shit. [ he breaths in deeply, containing his irritation. well, he also drops his backpack. a little bit stroppy. ] You want those history notes now? [ he cards a hand through his hair, sheepish now that he's facing zack again. ] 'Cause that's what I'm bringing to the table tonight.
[ seeing as he brought his school backpack and not the bag with supplies for tonight. maybe he was distracted when he gathered his things after detention, swapped out his plaid shirt for a flannel, and made the quickest stopover at his house possible. ]
[ they're pretty far out - they went hard, covering a lot of ground and then just running for the hell of it, not away or toward anything but just to feel free. at least that's what it gave zack; he can't be sure it's the same for jason because he doesn't always get jason who stays in school despite all the detention, who takes regular shit more seriously than zack ever will.
the stuff that really matters? that's not school or anything. it's family, connections, the people you have. it's his mom, for zack - and now the team. ride or die.
it's left zack pleasantly tired, a burn in his muscles when he stretches them after sitting still for too long. there's a fire, the beer's cold and the air crisp. they've had sandwiches for dinner. it's not a bad way to spend the evening and zack's not tired yet, or he's caught in that place between tiredness and wakeful. ]
Yeah, no.
[ he really doesn't give a shit about history notes right now. for a moment, he finds himself just looking at jason, taking in his shoulders and the way his hair curl-flops just so. ]
We could go back. [ a beat. casual: ] Or you can share mine.
[ jason enjoys the running — the hint of competition, seeing as his teammates are the only ones on his level anymore (which is pretty crazy, seeing as he was limping around town a month ago). it's a satisfying ache that settles into his limbs, with a hint of something sharper in his knee. he knows it can't be real, not when he survived a collision with a train, but the phantom pain persists. maybe that's the result of having to fake the injury even after getting superpowers, or dealing with the fallout of two horrific car crashes. it's not like he can ask a doctor to look at it, so he lets it go.
that doesn't mean he wants to double his step count for today. we could go back. man, that's a lot of effort. or you can share mine. his mouth feels dry. it didn't sound like a joke or, well, anything. he tries to fast forward through thoughts of accepting that offer, scrubbing at his face to stop from staring back. ]
Yeah? [ agreement to something, if not for how the word ticks up at the end. vague. unsure. he drops down opposite zack, and one corner of his mouth hooks into a smile. hesitant, but grateful (more than that, interested, even if he tries to damper it). ] Yeah, I don't think I have another marathon in me, man.
[ says the guy who's stupidly fit, even without the super-boost. ]
[ zack knows better than to think that jason doesn't have his own demons. they all do, they all have their problems and maybe the sum of them is easier to face than if they each grabbed theirs from the pile and tried to go back to dealing with it on their own - but it's still odd to him to see jason hesitant.
it's more quiet than most things shared between them. slower. a contrast to all the running and the competitiveness of before.
and then there's the way jason's gaze seems to linger just a little. ]
All right.
[ zack's never been shy about sharing his space, about getting into someone else's. he's never been shy, but it's also never really mattered. this matters. jason matters, and not just because he's the leader of their little team. ]
[ so it's settled, just like that. for a long moment, he can't look away, not from the sharp lines of zack's fire-lit expression, even when his response seems even.
despite the whole star quarterback thing, jason's never really been suave. he's charismatic, sure, but that's different. this is more difficult to navigate, if it's anything at all. ]
Definitely. [ he reaches for their haul and grabs two bottles, tossing one to zack haphazardly. jason knows he'll catch it. ] This was a good idea. [ the running, the camping, and the beers. and softer — ] Think I needed it.
[ he knows zack deserves a break like this, when the nights are the hardest to survive. does he need it, too? maybe, but jason wouldn't want to imply as much. ]
[ zack's not sure there is anything to navigate, even with jason's gaze like a physical - and not unwelcome - weight on him. what he knows is that he feels warm despite the crisp night air, that his limbs feel heavy, his belly full of food and beer. all of him is relaxed. loose, easy, comfortable. it's a feeling he chases but doesn't often catch.
catching the bottle from the air is easy, too, unthinking. a lot of things are like that, with jason, at least lately. like showing up to detention because he knows kim's sick and won't be there to keep jason company. like leaning over and bumping his shoulder against jason's.]
Yeah.
[ just one word, but it's agreement and an admission both. he needed this, too. ] Sometimes it's good to get away from everything, right? [ part of zack always feels guilty for leaving his mother. he's pretty sure she knows he's running because he's not coping well. he's pretty sure she forgives him for all the times he isn't there - but the fact still remains that there are so many times when he isn't there.
right now, it doesn't feel like that. so he needed this more than he knows to say. ]
[ some things are easier than others. touch is instinctive. when zack bumps he shoulder, he leans into it until they're comfortably aligned. a little yeah is he needs from zack to make him want to reach out (to comfort, to share all their troubles and split the weight as best they can). he can't imagine the constant guilt and anxiety gnawing at his friend, but he can be there in moments like this. ]
Right. [ he hasn't looked at his phone since they ran off, and maybe he should, just in case his mom jimmied open his bedroom door. instead, he takes a swig of his beer. his brows lift slightly. ] Away from everything except good company.
[ said lightly, although the sentiment is entirely genuine. the more time they've spent alone, the more he enjoys it. ]
[ zack wouldn't want jason to imagine it. he doesn't even particularly want to talk about it, though he's not too proud or closed off to admit that maybe he needs to voice what goes on with him sometimes. he did, the first time they'd been by a fire like this, the whole team instead of just the two of them.
he refuses to let himself be surprised when jason says good company like that, casual, like he means it. he knows he's great, all right, but other people don't always see it the same way. it's nice that jason does. (it's more than nice.)
zack lifts his own bottle to his lips, too, following jason's movements, mirroring them subconsciously, throat working as he takes several long swallows. combined with the earlier exertion, the beer is helping his drowsiness along and he sets down the bottle a little heavier than intended. fortunately, it doesn't crack or spill over. ]
Any idea how late it is?
[ he tips his head back, looking at the stars above them for a moment. ] 'cause I don't. But I'm not sure I really care.
[ the question and immediate answer make him let out a surprised laugh. he has an alarm set for when he needs to get back to reality; that's the only time he's tracking. ]
No idea. [ he sneaks a sideways glance at zack, trailing up the hollow of his throat, then looking to the stars. another generous drink, a purposeful distraction from all his tendency to wander. ] I'm flagging, so it must be late.
[ 'cause his sleep schedule is only regular in the sense that he can always count on it to be erratic, whether that's because of ranger duty, his fellow rangers, or his own thoughts. he'd been intending to lie back when he first realised his bag mix-up, too, so it's surely well into the night. ]
[ zack glances back at jason at the laugh, finding himself grinning in return. it's unexpected, the way the team can make him feel, how they take him out of his own mind in ways he didn't know could work, how they make his chest burst. how even just jason's laughter feels important.
like his mother's laughter, but not in the same way. ]
Yeah.
[ and then, with a sudden and momentary burst of energy, zack's sitting up straighter, reaching out to clasp jason's shoulder for a moment. ] Drink up, man. Time to sleep.
[ he moves to stand, emptying his bottle and setting it aside after. ] I'm going for a pee.
[ he laughs again, warm and unmocking. zack's bursts of activity and split-decisions often surprise him. sometimes, it's like pulling him in the van, and jason can't look away. times like this, it's simply entertaining. ]
Yeah, yeah, I'll alert the media.
[ he rolls his eyes and turns his attention to the fire, finishing off his bottle. time to sleep. right, together, in the same sleeping bag. jason brought a jumper to fight the evening chill, but it's not going to be cold when they're practically spooning. and he should ask about that, right? most of the football had been the "row of pillows between us" while bed-sharing levels of heterosexual. but for all zack's alpha male stylings, he's not like that. and he wouldn't have offered, if he was bothered. and jason's not bothered, either, not like that — it's the opposite, really. at least the alcohol takes the edge off.
when he hears footsteps, he calls over his shoulder, still seated to embody casual. ]
Should've asked earlier — big spoon or little spoon?
[ teasing and testing in equal measure. it'll be easier, if they see the humour in squeezing in a small space together. ]
[ zack's not bothered. he's not bothered at all - and if he notices that jason sounds just a little too casual, if jason does at all, he doesn't comment. maybe because he's embodying casual, too. ]
Whichever, man.
[ things zack taylor does not care about: this. he does care about whether or not he gets to curl up with jason, their legs tangled together, sharing warmth - it's not something he'd thought about, not actively, until jason had mentioned that sometimes, the others crawl in through his bedroom window.
he's been thinking about it a lot since. ] You choose.
[ he stands and extends his arms, stretching. (it buys a little time to calm his nerves, too.) of course zack doesn’t care — he’s actually cool, whereas jason only thinks of himself in those terms superficially). after a moment, he walks over to zack, clapping a hand on his shoulder. ]
Thanks again. [ a genuine smile this time. ] For saving me from a night on the ground.
[ zack's coolness, whatever amount of it he possesses, comes from chasing adrenaline and from caring about other things than how people perceive him. it comes from a change in priorities. but this, not caring whether he's little or big spoon with jason - that's not because he doesn't care.
that's because either option is good. ]
Yeah, 'f course.
[ a grin flashes across his features. ] You know K would kick my ass if I made you sleep on the ground. [ joking, mostly. not that kimberley couldn't kick his ass, or get damn close - but that's not the reason why he's doing this. ]
[ god, that grin knocks the wind out of him. fortunately, it's followed by something that makes him laugh again, just like he has been all night. everything's easier here, with his team, with zack. he may overthink his role in their lives and pretty much any act that shifts their dynamics, but he knows they're all better together. ]
She would.
[ kick his ass. hell, kick anyone's ass. he gives zack's shoulder a squeeze before he sweeps both his hands in a gesture toward the ground. ]
After you. [ tipping his head. ] And really savour these next thirty seconds of comfort before I invade your space.
And yeah, I tremble in fear. [ of kimberley, maybe - or of jason invading his space.
zack's still grinning by the time he gets into the sleeping bag, making a point to spread all four limbs, to really fill out the bag - at least for a moment. then he pulls his arms and legs in and makes space for jason. he's grinning, but where he may have felt heavy and a little tired before, he feels charged now, energised by the anticipation curling in his chest.
they're getting to sleep. this is the opposite of helpful, but he can't help it. ]
[ at zack spreading out, he pulls a face. it's a little exaggerated, seeing as he's still leaning into the humour of all this, especially the ease of his rapport with zack. anything to avoid getting keyed up over, well, invading zack's space.
'course it doesn't stop his pulse from picking up, heart thudding through his skin. no, he's undeniably alert now, hyper-aware of the way he slots in next to zack. how he bumps an elbow into his friend's chest before brushing over the same spot with his hand, an instinctive comfort, and mumbling an apology. he shifts his hand off quickly enough, leaning away to capture the zip of the bag and pull it up until it hits his waist. just a little more.
it's the slightly-too-snug fit alongside zack that has him abandoning hope of fully closing the bag and rolling on his side instead, one arm pillowed under his head, which — okay, this is a new kind of too much. see, it's an intimate angle, looking at the slope of zack's shoulder, the sharp line of his jaw, near face to face, closer than jason has been to him than ever beyond brief hugs and fleeting fights.
he has thought about how they're the same height several times, when they've sparred in training or rough-housed on the long walks back from the pit, but until now, he's never thought it's nice or noticed how they fit together comfortably as a result. by now, his grin is more of soft smile. ]
My sleepovers don't normally get this cozy, for the record.
[ it comes out quieter than he intends, lacking the lilting cadence of his typical joke delivery. it's not quite intentional, though he thinks it's worth mentioning. maybe. ]
[ the words shouldn't come as a relief. this isn't anything, really - it's one sleeping bag and their legs touching, it's jason's jace close to his, jason's hand on his chest for just a moment. it's nothing beyond that. proximity, sure. if jason's regular sleepovers with the others were like that, it wouldn't be anything but proximity, either. they've all touched each other, sparred, thrown each other, caught each other.
and still - zack finds himself letting out a breath, soft, some sliver of tension leaving his shoulders.
jason's so close. he finds himself glancing at jason's lips for a moment, at the line of jason's jaw - softer than zack's own - at the dark eyebrows and his hair, floppier now even than usual at the end of the day, after their race. he shifts, one of his legs knocking against jason's. he doesn't pull it back. ]
So - big or little? [ he asks after a moment, though he's not sure he wants jason to choose at all. facing jason, watching him - they could stay like this, couldn't they? ]
[ jason could stay like this, breathing slowly and deeply, looking down to where zack's shirt just covers his collarbone, catching him looking back (there's nowhere else to look, he reminds himself, nowhere else for zack's leg to go, nowhere else for jason to sleep).
he thinks about waking up with their legs tangled together and his arm across zack's chest. not cursory, like it had been just now, but languid and comfortable. or zack curling an arm around him, bringing them flush against each other. he thinks about reaching out, closing the small gap between them, and he scoots closer) legs all but entwined with zack's own), lifting his hand —
— and he pushes his hair back, out of his face. naturally, the curl of it flops forward again. after a long pause, he finally replies (voice still low). ]
[ zack's agreement is even, casual - but he doesn't move. doesn't turn and pull jason's arm around him, doesn't shift closer and wrap his own arm around jason. doesn't let their legs tangle any more than they already are. he doesn't feel so casual right now, even if the energy from before seems more concentrated now, alertness instead of activity, a bright sliver of something pulsing in his chest.
jason's voice has no right to be that low.
when zack moves, it's to lift a hand and brush the flopped curl of hair from jason's forehead. ] Ever thought of cutting it? [ he asks, voice equally low. ]
[ his breath catches. he's buzzing, like he's waiting for the big game or dance or something, on the edge of this moment. ]
After that stupid article. [ there's no venom in his tone. it's only irritation now, his anger dulled after finding his new team (his new family). then, quickly — ] The nicer one, I guess. [ not the one with the photo of him hanging back, looking out on the field while his old teammates practiced, detailing their record low score and pinning it on jason's carelessness. no, he means the first one. star student hits the books and the field with the stupid photo of him kneeling on the stupid field with his stupid golden hair in a perfect curl. golden boy jason scott cares about his team — and his grades. total syrupy garbage. ] I thought about buzzing it all off.
[ maybe he would have looked less like a boy-next-door ken doll, then. it definitely would have pissed off his dad (much less than pranking the school, evading arrest, crashing his car, and busting his knee did, of course, but that's a high bar for disappointment). only he doesn't actually dislike his hair, or the way he looks at all. 'course he doesn't think he's hot shit or anything (never has, even after he started getting the peculiar amount of attention afforded to big fish in small ponds, or when the cheerleading captain kissed him at a tailgate party). he knows he's not unattractive. ]
well, it's pretty, but it's also part of jason. it's how zack knows him and he doesn't think anything would change if jason buzzed it off, but it's not like he's got something to prove here. it's superficial, yeah, but zack likes the hair.
he likes the way it draws his gaze down to jason's eyes.
right. right. he's crazy, but he's not crazy enough to throw away the team, to throw away the growing rapport beyond the team with jason on an uncertainty. not when he's only just found people to belong with, to belong to. ]
Big spoon, mh?
[ and with that, he turns. it doesn't feel like running, when he can feel jason's warmth at his back. it's just a temporary retreat. ]
[ it's simple, probably good advice, and it shouldn't make his chest tighten. odds are he would look like an idiot with a buzzcut, trying too hard to be an edgy kid, when he got arrested for dumb prank.
jason feels like he should say something charming or light back, but zack turns around before he musters a reply. a flicker of dejection passes over his features until zack continues talking. oh. ]
Yeah.
[ he swallows, steeling himself. don't overthink it, scott.
throwing an arm over and around zack is almost too easy. lazy, like he'd imagined. and bringing them flush together is a straightforward act. it's after, when he's done it, properly cozied up to one of his best friends (his only friends now, incidentally) that he feels vulnerable, half-expecting zack to shrug him off and laugh with a line like "now who's crazy?"
it's warm, as if the afterglow of the fire has suffused his skin everywhere it brushes against zack's, even through their clothing. zack smells more like the fire and the outdoors than anything else. maybe his shampoo, too, whatever it is. jason honestly tries not to let his thoughts wander, to avoid the phantom flex of his fingers as he considers tightening his hold on zack's chest, to stop his fidgeting when he's pressed against his friend's muscled back.
[ sometimes, mental clarity's not the most important thing. sometimes, you don't have to think, you just have to act. at least that's often been zack's mantra and while it hasn't always led him right, it hasn't often misguided him entirely. it's all worked out so far, somehow.
jason's arm is warm around him, heavy like a brand. zack drags in a breath and scoots back a little, slotting his body against jason's, his back against jason's chest. alignment. all in the name of limited space in the sleeping bag, of course, not because he wants to be closer, not because the thought of rolling his hips against jason's alone has his breath catch in his throat, making his stomach tighten with want and nerves in equal measure.
he doesn't move his hips - not closer, but not away, either.
like this, he has no hope of ever going to sleep. ]
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no subject
[ sharing a tent, sharing a sleeping bag. (accidental) boners. ]
yELLS
still, the rangers have been doing well. training, stopping petty crime, causing a stir on the days when they all show up to school and share a table in the cafeteria. they're friends now (literally ride or die, as it happens). with the texting and impromptu rendezvous, jason feels like he and zack are closer, too. like there's fondness where once was occasional bursts of tension. maybe they're still not as close as he'd like, but — jason's not just everyone's friend, is he? he has responsibilities. he leads, whatever that means. honestly, he treats it the same as he did football: schedule practices, give some pep talks, win big when the games roll around. he just needs to keep his eyes clear; that's all.
they're a few beers down by the time jason thinks to roll out his sleeping bag, to soften where he's sat for hours talking, almost like the first night they all gathered around the fire. ]
Aw, shit. [ he breaths in deeply, containing his irritation. well, he also drops his backpack. a little bit stroppy. ] You want those history notes now? [ he cards a hand through his hair, sheepish now that he's facing zack again. ] 'Cause that's what I'm bringing to the table tonight.
[ seeing as he brought his school backpack and not the bag with supplies for tonight. maybe he was distracted when he gathered his things after detention, swapped out his plaid shirt for a flannel, and made the quickest stopover at his house possible. ]
yELLS LOUDER
the stuff that really matters? that's not school or anything. it's family, connections, the people you have. it's his mom, for zack - and now the team. ride or die.
it's left zack pleasantly tired, a burn in his muscles when he stretches them after sitting still for too long. there's a fire, the beer's cold and the air crisp. they've had sandwiches for dinner. it's not a bad way to spend the evening and zack's not tired yet, or he's caught in that place between tiredness and wakeful. ]
Yeah, no.
[ he really doesn't give a shit about history notes right now. for a moment, he finds himself just looking at jason, taking in his shoulders and the way his hair curl-flops just so. ]
We could go back. [ a beat. casual: ] Or you can share mine.
no subject
that doesn't mean he wants to double his step count for today. we could go back. man, that's a lot of effort. or you can share mine. his mouth feels dry. it didn't sound like a joke or, well, anything. he tries to fast forward through thoughts of accepting that offer, scrubbing at his face to stop from staring back. ]
Yeah? [ agreement to something, if not for how the word ticks up at the end. vague. unsure. he drops down opposite zack, and one corner of his mouth hooks into a smile. hesitant, but grateful (more than that, interested, even if he tries to damper it). ] Yeah, I don't think I have another marathon in me, man.
[ says the guy who's stupidly fit, even without the super-boost. ]
no subject
it's more quiet than most things shared between them. slower. a contrast to all the running and the competitiveness of before.
and then there's the way jason's gaze seems to linger just a little. ]
All right.
[ zack's never been shy about sharing his space, about getting into someone else's. he's never been shy, but it's also never really mattered. this matters. jason matters, and not just because he's the leader of their little team. ]
'nother beer first?
no subject
despite the whole star quarterback thing, jason's never really been suave. he's charismatic, sure, but that's different. this is more difficult to navigate, if it's anything at all. ]
Definitely. [ he reaches for their haul and grabs two bottles, tossing one to zack haphazardly. jason knows he'll catch it. ] This was a good idea. [ the running, the camping, and the beers. and softer — ] Think I needed it.
[ he knows zack deserves a break like this, when the nights are the hardest to survive. does he need it, too? maybe, but jason wouldn't want to imply as much. ]
no subject
catching the bottle from the air is easy, too, unthinking. a lot of things are like that, with jason, at least lately. like showing up to detention because he knows kim's sick and won't be there to keep jason company. like leaning over and bumping his shoulder against jason's.]
Yeah.
[ just one word, but it's agreement and an admission both. he needed this, too. ] Sometimes it's good to get away from everything, right? [ part of zack always feels guilty for leaving his mother. he's pretty sure she knows he's running because he's not coping well. he's pretty sure she forgives him for all the times he isn't there - but the fact still remains that there are so many times when he isn't there.
right now, it doesn't feel like that. so he needed this more than he knows to say. ]
no subject
Right. [ he hasn't looked at his phone since they ran off, and maybe he should, just in case his mom jimmied open his bedroom door. instead, he takes a swig of his beer. his brows lift slightly. ] Away from everything except good company.
[ said lightly, although the sentiment is entirely genuine. the more time they've spent alone, the more he enjoys it. ]
no subject
he refuses to let himself be surprised when jason says good company like that, casual, like he means it. he knows he's great, all right, but other people don't always see it the same way. it's nice that jason does. (it's more than nice.)
zack lifts his own bottle to his lips, too, following jason's movements, mirroring them subconsciously, throat working as he takes several long swallows. combined with the earlier exertion, the beer is helping his drowsiness along and he sets down the bottle a little heavier than intended. fortunately, it doesn't crack or spill over. ]
Any idea how late it is?
[ he tips his head back, looking at the stars above them for a moment. ] 'cause I don't. But I'm not sure I really care.
no subject
No idea. [ he sneaks a sideways glance at zack, trailing up the hollow of his throat, then looking to the stars. another generous drink, a purposeful distraction from all his tendency to wander. ] I'm flagging, so it must be late.
[ 'cause his sleep schedule is only regular in the sense that he can always count on it to be erratic, whether that's because of ranger duty, his fellow rangers, or his own thoughts. he'd been intending to lie back when he first realised his bag mix-up, too, so it's surely well into the night. ]
no subject
like his mother's laughter, but not in the same way. ]
Yeah.
[ and then, with a sudden and momentary burst of energy, zack's sitting up straighter, reaching out to clasp jason's shoulder for a moment. ] Drink up, man. Time to sleep.
[ he moves to stand, emptying his bottle and setting it aside after. ] I'm going for a pee.
no subject
Yeah, yeah, I'll alert the media.
[ he rolls his eyes and turns his attention to the fire, finishing off his bottle. time to sleep. right, together, in the same sleeping bag. jason brought a jumper to fight the evening chill, but it's not going to be cold when they're practically spooning. and he should ask about that, right? most of the football had been the "row of pillows between us" while bed-sharing levels of heterosexual. but for all zack's alpha male stylings, he's not like that. and he wouldn't have offered, if he was bothered. and jason's not bothered, either, not like that — it's the opposite, really. at least the alcohol takes the edge off.
when he hears footsteps, he calls over his shoulder, still seated to embody casual. ]
Should've asked earlier — big spoon or little spoon?
[ teasing and testing in equal measure. it'll be easier, if they see the humour in squeezing in a small space together. ]
no subject
Whichever, man.
[ things zack taylor does not care about: this. he does care about whether or not he gets to curl up with jason, their legs tangled together, sharing warmth - it's not something he'd thought about, not actively, until jason had mentioned that sometimes, the others crawl in through his bedroom window.
he's been thinking about it a lot since. ] You choose.
no subject
Alright.
[ he stands and extends his arms, stretching. (it buys a little time to calm his nerves, too.) of course zack doesn’t care — he’s actually cool, whereas jason only thinks of himself in those terms superficially). after a moment, he walks over to zack, clapping a hand on his shoulder. ]
Thanks again. [ a genuine smile this time. ] For saving me from a night on the ground.
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that's because either option is good. ]
Yeah, 'f course.
[ a grin flashes across his features. ] You know K would kick my ass if I made you sleep on the ground. [ joking, mostly. not that kimberley couldn't kick his ass, or get damn close - but that's not the reason why he's doing this. ]
no subject
She would.
[ kick his ass. hell, kick anyone's ass. he gives zack's shoulder a squeeze before he sweeps both his hands in a gesture toward the ground. ]
After you. [ tipping his head. ] And really savour these next thirty seconds of comfort before I invade your space.
no subject
And yeah, I tremble in fear. [ of kimberley, maybe - or of jason invading his space.
zack's still grinning by the time he gets into the sleeping bag, making a point to spread all four limbs, to really fill out the bag - at least for a moment. then he pulls his arms and legs in and makes space for jason. he's grinning, but where he may have felt heavy and a little tired before, he feels charged now, energised by the anticipation curling in his chest.
they're getting to sleep. this is the opposite of helpful, but he can't help it. ]
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'course it doesn't stop his pulse from picking up, heart thudding through his skin. no, he's undeniably alert now, hyper-aware of the way he slots in next to zack. how he bumps an elbow into his friend's chest before brushing over the same spot with his hand, an instinctive comfort, and mumbling an apology. he shifts his hand off quickly enough, leaning away to capture the zip of the bag and pull it up until it hits his waist. just a little more.
it's the slightly-too-snug fit alongside zack that has him abandoning hope of fully closing the bag and rolling on his side instead, one arm pillowed under his head, which — okay, this is a new kind of too much. see, it's an intimate angle, looking at the slope of zack's shoulder, the sharp line of his jaw, near face to face, closer than jason has been to him than ever beyond brief hugs and fleeting fights.
he has thought about how they're the same height several times, when they've sparred in training or rough-housed on the long walks back from the pit, but until now, he's never thought it's nice or noticed how they fit together comfortably as a result. by now, his grin is more of soft smile. ]
My sleepovers don't normally get this cozy, for the record.
[ it comes out quieter than he intends, lacking the lilting cadence of his typical joke delivery. it's not quite intentional, though he thinks it's worth mentioning. maybe. ]
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and still - zack finds himself letting out a breath, soft, some sliver of tension leaving his shoulders.
jason's so close. he finds himself glancing at jason's lips for a moment, at the line of jason's jaw - softer than zack's own - at the dark eyebrows and his hair, floppier now even than usual at the end of the day, after their race. he shifts, one of his legs knocking against jason's. he doesn't pull it back. ]
So - big or little? [ he asks after a moment, though he's not sure he wants jason to choose at all. facing jason, watching him - they could stay like this, couldn't they? ]
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he thinks about waking up with their legs tangled together and his arm across zack's chest. not cursory, like it had been just now, but languid and comfortable. or zack curling an arm around him, bringing them flush against each other. he thinks about reaching out, closing the small gap between them, and he scoots closer) legs all but entwined with zack's own), lifting his hand —
— and he pushes his hair back, out of his face. naturally, the curl of it flops forward again. after a long pause, he finally replies (voice still low). ]
Big.
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[ zack's agreement is even, casual - but he doesn't move. doesn't turn and pull jason's arm around him, doesn't shift closer and wrap his own arm around jason. doesn't let their legs tangle any more than they already are. he doesn't feel so casual right now, even if the energy from before seems more concentrated now, alertness instead of activity, a bright sliver of something pulsing in his chest.
jason's voice has no right to be that low.
when zack moves, it's to lift a hand and brush the flopped curl of hair from jason's forehead. ] Ever thought of cutting it? [ he asks, voice equally low. ]
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After that stupid article. [ there's no venom in his tone. it's only irritation now, his anger dulled after finding his new team (his new family). then, quickly — ] The nicer one, I guess. [ not the one with the photo of him hanging back, looking out on the field while his old teammates practiced, detailing their record low score and pinning it on jason's carelessness. no, he means the first one. star student hits the books and the field with the stupid photo of him kneeling on the stupid field with his stupid golden hair in a perfect curl. golden boy jason scott cares about his team — and his grades. total syrupy garbage. ] I thought about buzzing it all off.
[ maybe he would have looked less like a boy-next-door ken doll, then. it definitely would have pissed off his dad (much less than pranking the school, evading arrest, crashing his car, and busting his knee did, of course, but that's a high bar for disappointment). only he doesn't actually dislike his hair, or the way he looks at all. 'course he doesn't think he's hot shit or anything (never has, even after he started getting the peculiar amount of attention afforded to big fish in small ponds, or when the cheerleading captain kissed him at a tailgate party). he knows he's not unattractive. ]
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[ the hair's -
well, it's pretty, but it's also part of jason. it's how zack knows him and he doesn't think anything would change if jason buzzed it off, but it's not like he's got something to prove here. it's superficial, yeah, but zack likes the hair.
he likes the way it draws his gaze down to jason's eyes.
right. right. he's crazy, but he's not crazy enough to throw away the team, to throw away the growing rapport beyond the team with jason on an uncertainty. not when he's only just found people to belong with, to belong to. ]
Big spoon, mh?
[ and with that, he turns. it doesn't feel like running, when he can feel jason's warmth at his back. it's just a temporary retreat. ]
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jason feels like he should say something charming or light back, but zack turns around before he musters a reply. a flicker of dejection passes over his features until zack continues talking. oh. ]
Yeah.
[ he swallows, steeling himself. don't overthink it, scott.
throwing an arm over and around zack is almost too easy. lazy, like he'd imagined. and bringing them flush together is a straightforward act. it's after, when he's done it, properly cozied up to one of his best friends (his only friends now, incidentally) that he feels vulnerable, half-expecting zack to shrug him off and laugh with a line like "now who's crazy?"
it's warm, as if the afterglow of the fire has suffused his skin everywhere it brushes against zack's, even through their clothing. zack smells more like the fire and the outdoors than anything else. maybe his shampoo, too, whatever it is. jason honestly tries not to let his thoughts wander, to avoid the phantom flex of his fingers as he considers tightening his hold on zack's chest, to stop his fidgeting when he's pressed against his friend's muscled back.
he's the leader. his head should be clear. ]
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jason's arm is warm around him, heavy like a brand. zack drags in a breath and scoots back a little, slotting his body against jason's, his back against jason's chest. alignment. all in the name of limited space in the sleeping bag, of course, not because he wants to be closer, not because the thought of rolling his hips against jason's alone has his breath catch in his throat, making his stomach tighten with want and nerves in equal measure.
he doesn't move his hips - not closer, but not away, either.
like this, he has no hope of ever going to sleep. ]
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