Silly Guys On Stage

silly guys on stage ♡

james and kirk, august 30th, 1983 ♡

Counterproductive Tendencies ✩ James Hetfield

Part zero of multiple

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

"God only knows what I put you through, and everything you'd allow me to do. You tried to build me into the man you've always dreamed of, what more could you have expected me to do? We'll push and pull and bend and break, until we're both red and blue. And at the end of every drunken and blood-spilled night, I'll somehow find my way on back home to you."

From first hellos to multiple attempted goodbyes, to unordain murmured vows and multitudinous miles on the road. From unshed and held back tears, to widened smiles and promises to start anew. This is where everything begins, and where it coincidingly ends.

This is yours and James' story.

baby met ♡

secret show, july 20th, 1984 ♡

Counterproductive Tendencies ✩ James Hetfield

⭒ introductory, part one, part two, part four ⭒ (wordcount: 7.5k)

Part three of multiple: Lakeside Views and Imminent Goodbyes (Part One) (18+)

Mentions/Warnings: explicit sexual content, finger sucking, oral fixation, lars' morning drinking

Loose noted and crumpled papers wrangle themselves even more astray beneath you as you push your upper half up and twist your head to the side, laid down on tendrils of hair preoccupying your line of vision as a seemingly endless pitter of knocks continue to disturb you from your already uncomfortable position on your too-small bed. You blearily squint your eyes and untangle your partially bare legs from the sifted sheet haphazardly thrown on top of you, your eyebrows raising as you realize that the sound is not coming from your bedroom door- but rather, from behind your curtain covered window.

You hold back a shiver as your thinly covered feet make contact with the cold hardwood of your bedroom floor, the bottom hem of your sleep shirt rising and tickling the bruised skin of your upper thighs as you raise your arms over your head in a stretch while you sleepily make your way over to the sound. Your lips curl upward as a familiar and comforting voice lets out an aborted curse behind the slightly tinged fabric, your grin turning into a wide smile as you push the material back and James fully comes into view.

Tussled blonde locks parade and cascade themselves over his half-covered shoulder blades as he impatiently waits for you on the other side of the glass, his annoyed expression bleeding into a softened look of fondness as he takes in your rumpled and slept in state. A light huff of laughter petals itself from in between his plush lips, as sunlight endeavors its beams over your features and makes the indentation from one of your embroidered pillowcases on your right cheekbone more apparent, one of his hands raising in surrender from the top of your windowsill as you send him a halfhearted glare from inside and pause midway through unlatching the window's lock.

"I could just leave you out there, you know." You quietly tease, making sure to keep your tone down as your dormmate's continue to rest, the house still eerily quiet as the sun unhurriedly makes its way back up to the precipice of the cloudless sky. You wholly unlatch the lock and push the aged wood upward before James can playfully rebut back, stepping aside as he lifts his lower half and kicks his feet into the now opened space. You both wince as his heavily booted feet make loud and rough contact with the hardwood floor underneath them, before letting out muted sounds of matched amusement.

Large and warm palms curl themselves around your upper arms and gently guide you into an embrace, a sound of contentment escaping you as James' scent permeates and thickens the chilled air currently residing in your bedroom. You force your eyes to remain open as your left temple makes contact with the soft and worn cotton of his sleeveless and self-cut t-shirt, calloused fingertips etching and weaving small shapes into your clothed, goosebump ridden flesh while you tiredly blink and encircle your arms around his middle.

"You think you can put the books down for a little while, and go on a trip with me and the guys for a few days?" James asks you quietly, the timbre of his voice reverberating in his chest and lightly thrumming itself against the sensitive shell of your ear. You lift your head to peer over at your disarrayed and messy bed, your mood going from lighthearted and joyful, to pensive. James looks down at you and raises a hand to cup your chin once he catches on to your hesitation, his smile lowering into a worried frown once he sees your downtrodden expression.

"It's not that I don't want to, it's just that," you trail off, disentangling an arm from around him to rest a hand against his raised forearm, delicately thumbing at his exposed skin with a comforting and repetitive motion. "The spring semester hasn't even finished yet, and I've got essays due in less than two weeks and finals the beginning of next month." James nods, disheartened, before silently bending down to place a placating kiss on the crown of your head.

You rest your lids at the gentle sensation and lean into his touch, as his grip loosens on your chin and his palm trails down and back to rest against the nape of your neck. A sigh of relief pillows out of you as his fingers run their way up past your baby hairs to lightly tug the rest of your hair free, the elastic sliding down to wrap and knot itself around one of his thick and long digits.

"The last thing I want to do is get in between you and your studies, I know this opportunity means the world to you." He murmurs, his tone filled with understanding and warmth, regardless of the dissatisfaction weighing heavy in his gut. You reopen your eyes and trail them up to meet his, the blue in his irises light as the sun fully welcomes itself through the new clearing. You tangle your fingers in the material of the back of his shirt and contemplate, not feeling right about bailing on him and the guys, especially with how little time you two have left together.

"How far are you all venturing out for your trip, anyway?" You ask him curiously, lifting your hand from his forearm to reach up and brush the stray hairs from his bangs away from in front of his eyes. James turns his head to place a kiss against the side of your palm before it can fall, and smiles against your touch as one of your fingertips straighten out to lightly caress the indentation of the dimple in his cheek.

"Forty minutes south of here. It's a lake I found during one of my drives. Wanted to take you on my own, but Kirk got excited when I brought it up, and the rest of them just got dragged into it," Your lips quirk up at the absurdity of anyone from the band doing anything they didn't feel like doing on their own accord, and you shake your head to yourself mirthfully. James' expression soon matches your own, your elation and amusement contagious to him. "What is it?" He questions, his tone laced with barely concealed and held back merriment.

"I don't even think you could force Jason to take out the trash, and he seems like the most easy going," you joke, your stomach pleasantly tightening as James lets out a genuine and full laugh. You hum at the feeling of the back of your head being beckoned forward, and you readily mount your lips on his as he bends down to meet you halfway. You lap at his smile and swallow the soft sounds he exhales into your mouth, your body naturally molding against his as your arms encapsulate themselves around his wide and broad shoulders. Your tongues meet and embrace each other in a slick and wet reunion, the tip of his exploring appendage tracing the top of your mouth and lightly ripping a soft mewl from the back of your panting throat. You tug at his mane and begrudgingly pull away as he stutters out an unfulfilled groan, the palm he has splayed on the back of your neck gently trying to keep you in place. You lick your spit clad lips clean and force yourself to not dive right back in for another taste, your swollen pair already partially open so you can easily and hurriedly finish what you have to say. "You should have told me the trip was only forty minutes away in the beginning, babe."

James lets out a disoriented and noncommittal sound, his pupils blown wide and his lips a bright and flushed red. You bite back the pleased feeling of satisfaction emanating directly from your middle due to the blissful look on his face, and instead repeat the remainder of your earlier sentence once again. You tighten your hold around him as his eyes reignite and the content smile returns back to his face. James brings you in impossibly closer, your shuttering inhalation intertwining with his and irreparably becoming one in the small, shared space between the two of you. "And why is that?" He inquires, his voice barely audible enough to be considered a whisper.

"Because forty minutes sounds like it's close enough for me to be able to get back here and have enough time to finish up my assignment, before it's due Tuesday morning." You push the back of your hand against his grinning mouth as he lets out a resounding sound of exhilaration, the both of you freezing in place as you hear a door noisily open, and movement come from the hallway just outside of your bedroom. You hold your breath as footsteps falter and pause by your closed entrance, as if the person they belonged to was going to knock and enter, before they shift and tiredly continue down the corridor and into the nearest bathroom. You puff out a sigh of relief and lean forward to rap your head against James' vibrating chest, removing your hand from the source of his muffled laughter to lightly smack it against his lifting shoulder.

"You're trying to get me grounded before I can even make it to the lake." You playfully accuse, tilting your head back to place a kiss on his jawline, before ducking out of his hold. The hair on the nape of your neck stands as you feel him follow after you, as you make your way over to your makeshift closet to grab a small bag for your clothes and essentials. Exploring and mischievous, silver clad ringed fingers glide their way down the backs of your upper arms, dragging the loose fabric of your sleep shirt down with the intentional touch.

Stretched cotton slides down past your lowered wrists and pillows around your ankles and socked feet, and you let out a gasp as James' fingertips tease the curvature of your now bare waist. "I'm trying to get my girlfriend to come along with me on a trip with the rest of my best friends for the weekend, is what I'm trying to do," Your breath stutters in your chest at the new term, your eyes widening and lips opening in a small gape as you hear him hum from behind you and press his front against your back. You can see the muscles contract in his forearms through the small mirror you have perched on the bedside table in your room, his fingers bending inward to tug you back flush against him. "That's what gets you going, huh? Me insinuating you're mine?"

The tone is his voice is teasing, yet lustful, as if the idea and thought of you being his affects him as much as it's affecting you. You can't do anything but unsteadily nod, your tongue peeking out to lick at your bottom lip as his fingers travel down to tease the hem of your underwear, the rough skin of his wide palms leaving you to suck in a shallow breath as his fingertips dip down underneath the fabric to tease the skin surrounding your quivering groin. Warm and kiss bitten lips trail their way down your neck and rest upon your left collarbone as his hands flatten themselves on either side of your pubic area.

You force your hips to not buck up and stay in place as his index and middle fingers graze the folds of your slick sex, centimeters away from your already pulsating and beading clit. "Answer me, baby."

"Yes, I want to be yours." You nearly whine, eyelids fluttering shut as he teasingly taps his fingertip on the source of your sensitive and overwhelming arousal. You can feel his lips spread in a smile against your heated up skin, your heartbeat faltering in your chest as one of his hands abandons your lower half to slide up and cup your breasts through the flimsy material of your wire-free bra. James coos out a condescending sound of faux sympathy, before maneuvering his fingers to flick at one of your already erect nipples. You feel your whole body shudder and attempt to curl into itself as a thick finger circles your soaked entrance, but you reach up to grasp onto his wrists to keep yourself upright instead, desperate for his touch and for what might come next. Your eyes snap back open as you feel something firm press along the side of your back.

"Oh, sweetheart," he murmurs in the now thick and electrified air surrounding you two, his gentle tone taking a rougher and more guttural side as he presses the hard length of his dick along the top of your backside and lower spine. The hand teasing your entrance comes up to press itself flat on your stomach, to help accentuate the hard pulsations thrumming from his own desperation, his cockhead painfully rubbing against the rough fabric of the inside of his jeans and dribbling a mess down his taut and tense midsection. "You've been mine since the second I saw you."

His weighted words do nothing but overwhelm and stimulate you even more, the confirmation of you already being his makes you instinctually squeeze your legs closer together and silently hope that you aren't already making a mess down your thighs and on the floor beneath you. You give in and allow your head to fall back and pillow on his chest, before arching your back and applying pressure to exactly where he seems to need it the most. Your lips twitch upward as you feel his moan before you hear it, it being stuttered out and heady as your body's natural warmth envelops his painful erection in the closest way it can through the few layers of clothing in between the two of you. James' lips part and spread hot heat down your clavicle as he deserts your breasts and stomach to grip at your waist and lift your feet off the ground. You let out a shocked gasp and tighten your hold around his wrists, a blush traveling its way down to your groped chest once you realize that he now has you two positioned directly in front of the small mirror on your table.

Sun beams nearly take away all visibility, yet you can still see his large hands cultivating themselves in the curved skin of your waist, and you can see the developed arch in his back as he purposefully places his groin against your ass. Your socked feet are returned back on the ground, and you watch, enraptured, as his hands begin to travel all around your middle and down to the hem of your underwear once again. "Tell me what's mine again?" He requests, although it sounds more like a gentle demand. His left hand repositions and massages gentle circles in your side, while his right stays on the edge of your low risen, cotton material. "Whose stomach is this?" He asks, the chill from the rings on his fingers reigniting and bringing back your earlier goosebumps full force as they're pressed into your skin. You open your mouth and obediently answer him, embarrassment flooding through you as you hear the uncharacteristic and needy tone in your voice.

"Yours," you answer, the only word you're able to verbalize sounding like a plea. James takes his time with you, his right hand only moving a few inches up and down your bare skin, each time skimming over your soaked and almost close to dripping pussy. Your hips attempt to rise and grind against his wrist as he bends down to run his calloused palm down the expanse of your right thigh, and you jolt back in place as his fingertips on your waist lightly pinch at your skin in a silent warning.

"Yours," you repeat, your voice sounding hoarse and painfully dry as his hand slides into the mess sticking to your thighs. James' fingers collect some of your slick, and he hungrily raises his hand up to his mouth, one of your hands encircled around his wrists getting disconnected during his hasty movement. You wait with a tethered breath for his reaction, frustrated and pent-up emotions of tears sting your eyes and lie on your waterline while you're unable to see. "Please." You beg, finally letting go of his other wrist to turn yourself around in his grip, only to freeze when you see his reaction. James' eyes are fully shut, and his arm falls limply to his side after you release yourself from his hold. His slicked fingers are almost completely inside of his mouth, his tongue audibly sliding in between his own digits to lap up every single drop of your natural essence, as if he was starving and craving the substance for years.

His pupils are entirely enlarged, and his irises are nearly black, when he eventually reopens his eyes to look down at you. Your own ardently track every movement of his own, from the way his trail down your neck and the swell of your breasts, down to your trembling thighs, and finally, back up to your wanting expression. You reach up to cover his hand with your own, before guiding his recently soaking fingertips into your salivating and awaiting mouth. Your lips stop and enclose themselves around his index and middle finger's second knuckles, only to open up wider and lave the rest of your slick off of his silvered jewelry. You feel the shiver wrack through his body as he watches you chase after the remaining taste of yourself on his spit-covered fingers, flattening your tongue and relaxing your throat as he tentatively presses down on your appendage and places the rest of the length of his fingers in your mouth. You swallow around them and moan at the weight of his digits on your tongue and the lightly faded taste of your own arousal coating your taste buds, the mess on your once clenching together thighs, now slowly traveling its way down to your knees in a multitude of translucent pearls.

You nearly choke as footsteps reappear near your doorway and slowly make their way back to their original location, your suctioned lips raising up in a smile and a laugh reverberating around James' fingers once you catch on to the hilarity of the situation. James can't help but smile himself, and his spent cockhead jumps in the now dampened confines of his jeans at the carnal sound your mouth makes as he slides his digits out of your warm heat.

"I think my place might be a better spot for us to fool around at." James chuckles out, his cleaner hand coming up to lightly wipe at the mess on your chin and the beginning of your neck. You grin up at him and shakily bend down to grab at your sleep shirt, only to pause after you hear a rustle and soft fabric is being pressed into your curved palms. You glance down at the self-cut t-shirt in your hands and stand back up to your full height, before ushering James down to press a thankful kiss to his still damp and kiss chapped lips.

"Always the gentleman and romantic." You muse while lifting the fabric up to open it and place it over your head, a wide smile hoisting your sore lips even higher as he lets out a sarcastic huff. "You count me dry hump fucking you in public and nearly fingering you in your strict dormitory, gentlemanlike and romantic?" James asks you humorously, collecting your hair to free it from the inside of his shirt once you successfully get it over your head, straightening the long fabric after you get your arms through the wide, self-made sleeve holes. He can't help but chortle at the sight of you nearly drowning in the already too-large shirt for him on you, the overworn cotton looking like an uneven, draped sheet.

You carefully scoop and roll the fabric up until it's around the same height of your hips, before reusing the forgotten about elastic to tie it in place on your side. You send him a look, biting back a grin as his expression becomes borderline sheepish. "I count you taking me to one of your favorite quiet places, so we could fully be alone and spend some quality time together romantic, yes. I also count you taking time out of your day to come over and climb through my window to ask me to go on a trip with you, gentlemanlike too. You only came over here to ask me a simple question, not to fuck around. Don't be too hard on yourself, babe. Everything we did, I wanted it to happen. I wanted to do more, to be honest."

The sheepish expression on his face turns smug, and you feign disgust before turning around to walk back over to your closet, letting out a bout of laughter once you feel the added weight of James' arms weigh down your shoulders and purposefully slow you down. You pretend to stumble, only to counteract and duck out of his hold once again, your laughter turning uncontrollable at the look of shock on his face. You toss your head back and lean against the large, wooden compartment for stability as you try to catch your breath.

"How does it feel to get got, huh?" You tease, the large and happy smile on your face nearly splitting it in half. James pauses and takes his time to answer, his eyes darting over your relaxed and delighted posture, his own feeling the lightest its felt in months, if not years. You furrow your eyebrows and go to take a step forward to check on him, only to stop in your tracks at his next words.

"It would be so easy to love you."

An insurmountable amount of different responses flit through your mind as you two continue to stand only a few feet apart and look at each other. You could laugh it off, play it off as a joke. You could reject the notion and his words entirely, cut things off before they get too serious. You could simply just walk away and forget about it all. But as you look at his earnest and open expression, you instead simply let the words that seem the most natural flow out through your still lifted and parted lips.

"As if it'd be so hard to love you."

You watch as his expression filters and stumbles through disbelief and pure vulnerability, pocketing his hands so he doesn't reach out for you, but you make your way back over to him anyway. The heels of your feet lift as you send him a comforting smile, before enfolding your arms around him. You leave an amount of leeway space in case he decides to reject the physical intimacy, and you immediately relax in his stable and secure hold as he tangles his hands in the back of his shirt on you.

"When are we supposed to be leaving for this trip?" You eventually ask, trusting the feeling that he would appreciate the change of topic, and you smile against his bare chest as he relaxes even more in your embrace.

"In like, thirty minutes, tops." You nod absentmindedly, before freezing in place and shoving yourself off of him and breaking the hold, panic rushing through you as you dart towards your closet and yank open one of the two doors. "Why didn't you say anything?" You ask incredulously, tossing a halfhearted glare over your shoulder as James guffaws and rests against the frame of the open window. You blindly grab onto anything that looks like it might match and throw it into the nearly and almost overflowing bag, only momentarily pausing to put on a random pair of jeans.

"I was a little preoccupied, and so were you." You lightly blush at the implication behind his words, a curse slipping out of you as you only remember the mess you made in between your legs as the slick sticks and slowly begins to bleed through the fabric of the dark denim. You hastily pull them down and clumsily yank them off from around your ankles, before tossing them in the direction of your laundry basket.

James clicks his tongue as he watches you fret and stress, before fully standing back up and grabbing ahold of a hand towel from the side of your makeshift closet. "Come here," he softly instructs, gently stopping you in your tracks to squat down beside you and lightly rub at the substance covering your skin. "We're going to a lake, don't have to be completely spotless for a location like that." You grin despite your worry and take in a deep breath, helpfully spreading your legs and finishing up the job on the backs of your knees.

"What about you?" You ask, a short laugh beaming out of you as your eyes travel down and zone in on the obvious wet spot near the zipper of his jeans. James pretends he doesn't see a thing, his smile coming back to at the sound of your unabashed laughter, the sound uncaring if it woke up the other oversleeping dormmates. You fold up the hand towel and walk it over to the container near your bedroom door, picking up the missed throw of denim on the way over. You lift the hair beginning to stick on the back of your neck as the sun begins to heat up the room and fully comes barreling in. "Do you have everything packet yet?"

"What could you need other than cold beer, metal music and your best friends?" He asks you, his expression deadpan and serious, before breaking out in a wide grin. "I'm just fucking with you; I've got my things in the back of one of the cars already, and I've got plenty of time to head back and get changed." You shake your head in gaiety and manage to successfully zip up your overfilled bag, barely remembering to slip on a pair of shorts and a pair of dark brown cowboy boots as you pace around and get all of your things together.

"I'll meet you outside in twenty? We're going to be riding with Cliff, said he wanted to talk to you. Jase might be coming with," You nod and try to keep your facial features relaxed, but James sees right through you. "I know you and him and Lars haven't had time to speak to each other since you walked in on our conversation a few days ago, but Cliff likes you and he wants to make things right. Lars does too, but I think he's too hungover to speak in full sentences right now." Your lips upturn at the imagined imagery of the Dane stumbling around with his hands in front of him, blindly trying to pack his things and failing, and you can't help but let out a giggle.

"It is exactly like how you're picturing it, but so much worse," he adds on through his own wide and amused grin, before holding out a hand for you to latch onto. You wordlessly make your way over and allow yourself to be tugged into a short and temporary embrace. Morning stubble nicks at your left cheekbone and leaves a pleasant sensation in its wake as James kisses each side of your temples. "I'll see you in a little while." He promises, only letting go of you once you agree and lean forward to meet him in the middle for another everlasting kiss, both of your lips stinging and surely beginning to bruise afterward.

You grab ahold of your bag and place it on the edge of your bed as you hurriedly try to reorganize your study sheets and nearly finished assigned papers, your eyes only darting up from your task to make sure James made it back outside and downstairs safely. You let out a sigh of relief once your bed is made and everything is placed back in their original folders, before heading to the bathroom to grab your essentials and quietly attempting to make your way downstairs without waking or interrupting anyone.

The small walkway to the kitchen is still unlit as you descend off of the last stair, and relief floods through you as you peer into the small living room and see that the tv is off and the front door is still closed and bolted. Your booted feet echo on the tiles of the kitchen floor as you hurriedly make your way over and crouch down to level yourself with the cabinet nearest to the bottom of the sink. You carefully place your unbagged items on the floor next to you and lie your overfilled bag down in front of them, in hopes to help stabilize your essentials and stop them from toppling over on the slightly uneven, tiled floor.

You quietly wince as you hear the crumpled plastic bags loudly shift inside of the cabinet, as you curve your fingers around the small handle and hesitantly tug it open. A small smile lifts your lips upward once you successfully manage to open it wide enough for you to be able to stick your hand inside and grab onto a small handful of the reusable shopping bags. A chill ripples throughout your upper half as your bare knees make contact with the cool floor underneath you, as you hastily kneel and quickly place your necessities in the flimsy carriers. Lightly weighed footsteps creak over your head from upstairs, and you pause in place, before using the heels of your booted feet to help stabilize you as you rock yourself back upright to stand, your hands preoccupied with your now fully bagged items.

You left shoulder runs against the discolored stretch of the wall as you try your best to avoid being seen or making noise while you walk your way past the steps, squinting your eyes to try and make sense of the outlay of the mostly dark living room. You nearly miss your footing as the side of one of your boots roughly connects with the front of the vintage ottoman near the end of the small hallway, and you force yourself not to let out a cheer as a sunbeam coming through the window nearest to you graces you with a thin patch of light for the rest of your short travel to the front door.

You wiggle your forearm until one of the plastic bags slide past your wrist bone to give you enough hand space to messily scrawl your initials on the attendance sheet thumbtacked on the wall near the main entrance and exit of the house, before glancing back down the hall to the right of you. Silence stampedes itself across the entirety of the home, and your hand is already reaching out to unlock the door before your mind can even catch up with the movement, your subconscious already acknowledging your wanting to be gone.

Warmth envelops you in a hug as you step out on the front porch and quietly close the door behind you, the deadbolt sliding back into place sounding like an audible finalization of your choice to cross the street and not look back for the next few days. And as you drop your arm back down to grasp onto the plastic handle of one of the many bags again, you do just so, walking past the large tree you had held onto for balance only a week ago.

⭒

The initial anxiety and trepidation you had felt on your first trip over to the band's house was now long gone, fully replaced by excitement for what's to come, and worried amusement as you watch Lars be haltingly dragged out the front door by Kirk, who's waving a cotton pad in front of his bandmate's face. "Just breathe it in, man." He exclaims, sending you a wide eyed look as you continue to make your way up to the top of the long driveway. You situate your bags on the uneven pavement once you do, and pace yourself over to the stressed out looking duo, the curly haired brunette immediately placing the alcohol soaked cotton in your awaiting palm as soon as you get within arms reach.

You let out a quiet hiss of sympathy as the Dane sluggishly raises his head to look up at you, before letting out a groan and stumbling forward to rest his forehead against your shoulder. "I'm sorry for being an asshole, or whatever." He slurs out, his words being half assed and nearly inaudible, but his tone laced with true sincerity and remorse. You raise an arm to lightly rub circles in his sweat clad back, sending a helpless look over to Kirk as he steps away to head back inside.

"It's alright, I know you were only trying to help," you try to console, blowing out a relieved puff of breath as Kirk reappears with multiple bags of snacks and gear, the yellow six pack of Coors being held upright underneath his chin standing out the most, as he stumbles back out and waddles to the car closest to the street. You gently brush Lars back until he's facing you, and you send him an apologetic look as you lift your hands up to hold his bobbing head in place. "Are you sure you're okay enough to come with us?" You ask, starting to feel unsettled and concerned as he lets out a hiccup instead of verbally answering you.

"He'll be fine," a rasped and humored voice speaks up from a few feet away, nearly causing you to jump and let go of Lars's face in shock. Cliff drops a heavy looking cooler near the boot of the other car, sending you a hesitant, yet comfortable smile when you glance over to find the source of the slightly familiar tone. Cliff shrugs on his blue and black checkered plaid shirt, before reaching into the cold box to grab a nearly frozen glass bottle of alcohol. "That's what he gets for day drinking, anyway." You hold back a laugh as he makes his way over to the two of you and places the frosting drink against his best friends flushed forehead, his smile turning into a dopey grin as Lars lets out a blissful sigh and leans into the frigid temperature.

Kirk steps back onto the porch to wrap an arm around his shoulders and raises a hand to hold the cold drink in place, before sending you and Cliff a grateful beam. Silence encases the two of you as he tackles his original task of guiding Lars to the car, the only sounds within ear range being the distant chirps of traveling birds and footsteps coming from within the house in front of you, as Kirk and Lars slowly walk away. You lean back against the black railing and hyper fixate on the patchy grass covering the lawn as an easy means for distraction, languidly watching as small, windblown pieces of sedimented dirt cake themselves on the sharp looking blades of bright green, as the quietness continues on.

"I'm sorry," you look back up as Cliff begins to apologize, following his lead to sit down on the warm step attached to the side of the home, his hands readily reaching down to retrieve a cigarette box from his side pocket as you settle down next to him. "Didn't mean to start anything between the two of you." He murmurs around a beige filter, your eyes tracking the repetitive movement of his palm smacking against the bottom of the opened package to settle the tobacco as he speaks.

"I understand why you said what you did," you admit, bending your knees to flatten the bottom of your boots on the dirt ground past the end of the stair. "James explained to me what happened with his ex. I would be protective of him if I were you too." Cliff shakes his head and removes the filter from in between his lips, reaching his left hand out to flick the ashes off the opposite end of the stick.

"Being protective of someone doesn't give anyone the right to sit back and talk shit, especially when the two people they're talking about and comparing are polar opposites," you let out an understanding hum and twist yourself around to face him and rest your back against the solid foundation of the wall, bringing your knees halfway up to your chest. "I know he seems fine now, but he was really fucked up about it for a while. Got into some trouble and did some things he shouldn't have done. But he's gotten a lot better, and I guess, seeing him open up to you so quickly had me worried on his behalf."

"It's hard to see the people you care for lose it after a bad situation, isn't it?" You ask, your tone turning soft as you watch Cliff's expression turn inquisitive as he looks over to you. "I had a friend from my hometown go through a similar experience, being used and then dropped when they were no longer beneficial to the other person or their lifestyle," you twist your fingers in James' t-shirt's loose material for comfort before you continue. "I've never been through that kind of situation myself, but I've seen the damage it can do to people, felt the hurt it spreads to their loved ones when they feel like they can't do anything to help."

You shake your head as Cliff opens his mouth to speak, his facial features looking apologetic and sorry. "I didn't tell you that to make this about myself or to have you feel sorry for me. I just wanted to let you know that I understand, and I would never put him in any situation or scenario that would make him doubt himself or question that I care for him." You avert your eyes and let out a shaky exhalation as you see Cliff inhale a deep one of his own through your peripheral, the momentary silence between you two feeling lighter, more at ease.

"I think you're good for him," he announces, a small smile quirking up the side of his face as he presses the stump of his earlier smoke into the concrete near his feet. You let a wide smile grace your face at his words and slowly feel your shoulders lower and relax, the earlier apprehension you had for the upcoming conversation dissipating into thin air as you take in his wholehearted blessing. "I think he's good for you too, makes it a lot easier for you to get away from those fucking squares you're forced to call roommates." A loud laugh escapes and echoes from you before you can help it, and Cliff follows it up with a chuckle of his own.

"Dormmates, actually," You playfully correct, another spell of hilarity belting itself out of you as he dramatically raises his eyebrows and fakes shock. You go to mimic his expression, but instead turn around as you hear fast approaching feet. Jason filters out of the door with impressive speed, his hair landing on his back as he lets out a groan and places his hands on his knees. You suck in a breath to hold back a laugh at the look of annoyance on his face once he spots Kirk and Lars in his car. "Are you alright?" You finally ask, using your hands for leverage as you stand up from the shallow step.

Jason lets out a groan and drops his bag on the ground next to his socked feet, before turning to the side to greet you. "Hey, good to see you, and no," his lips involuntarily quirk up as he sees you grin at his offbeat and dead sounding tone. "If Lars gets sick in my car, I'm gonna kill him."

"I don't think he's going to," you pause midsentence, pursing your lips as you follow the sound of a miserable groan, only for Lars to peek his head out of the window and suck in a greedily amount of fresh air. "Maybe you should just drive down with us." You offer instead, looking back at Cliff for confirmation, before turning around to send Jason a nervous smile.

"The more the merrier. Plus, I've got the cold beer." Jason perks up at that and nods his head towards the open door. "You had me at beer, I'll be right back," he pauses and glances over at you. "Your boyfriend's upstairs struggling to pick a swimsuit. Figured you should be the one to go and check on him, since you've probably already seen his bits." He lets out a cackle and makes his way back inside, you turning around to send a sharp look to Cliff, who's hysterically laughing and holding onto his side.

You shake your head in disbelief, the laughter building in your throat being counterproductive to the look on your face. "I thought he was the normal one." You breathe out. Cliff claps you on the shoulder, before beginning to walk his way back over to the last remaining car. "And that was your first mistake," he tosses over his shoulder, his grin still visible as he bends down to pick the cooler back up and unlock the trunk. "Go get your man and his bits, will you?" He asks you cheekily, nearly toppling over in laughter as your jaw drops in playful disbelief.

"You're all the worst." You jokingly state, before walking inside and following after Jason's echoing footsteps leading upstairs. Excitement thrums through you, even though you already saw James only a half an hour ago. You lift your hand to drape it across the polished wood of the railing as you make your way up the long distance of the staircase, and you allow it to drop back down to your side once you make it to the top.

You pause only a few feet away from James' room, your feet skidding to a halt as you're able to see enough within the small gap of his door to have your mind reeling. James paces back and forth, his mane haphazard and tangling behind him as both of his hands grip onto a small, red velvet box. You hear him let out a soft curse, before sliding it into the small compartment on the side of his bag. You take a deep breath and begin to step forward, making your footsteps purposefully loud and audible enough for him to be able to hear them through his mostly closed door.

James straightens up and greets you with a wide smile as you place a hand on his heavy wooden door and slowly push it open, forcing your own to look relaxed as you fully come into view. "You ready to go?" You ask, grateful for your voice to not be shaking. "Jason said I should be the one to come up and check on you. Something about you not knowing which swimsuit to choose, and about your bits." You exponentially calm down as he laughs and tugs you in for a short kiss, the soft feeling of his smile against your lips enough to allow you to push the thought of what might be in the box to the back of your mind.

"My bits and I are just fine, and I'm ready to go." He muses after he pulls away, wrapping an arm around your waist and using his free hand to reach down and grab onto his large bag. You look straight forward and refuse to look in the direction of it, and nearly stumble forward as James gently tugs you forward and towards the stairs.

"Are you alright?" He asks you, unwrapping his arm from around you to cup your chin instead, tilting your head up to have you look at him as he peers down at you, worried. "Your talk with Cliff didn't go bad, did it?" You vehemently shake your head and watch as he lets out a sigh of relief. Guilt churns in your gut at the fact that you saw something you shouldn't have, and before you can admit to what you did see, Jason shuts his bedroom door and makes his way over to you two, shoes now on his feet and his messy curls now controlled in a loose ponytail.

"I don't care what either one of you has to say, I'm calling shotgun." He grins out, his expression renewed and energetic as he passes by and bounds his way down the staircase with ease. You feel James lightly squeeze your delicate skin, before letting go and reaching down to grab ahold of your hand.

"You ready, baby?" He asks you, his smile stupidly wide as his calloused thumb gently caresses itself over your own. You inhale in a slow and steady breath, before side stepping and pressing your arm against his, your fingers easily finding space in between his own, the intimate touch grounding enough for you to surely and adamantly agree.

"I'm ready."

I was ready to say yes to him at any point, and to every opportunity he brought me. Whether it was spontaneous, or well thought out. Whether it was accidental, or on purpose. I would always agree. I would always say yes. And that's how we got to where we are now.