bluejamiemoon:
@clrkingrm
Is this his best idea, or his worst? Jamie isn’t entirely sure but oddly enough, he’s feeling… optimistic? Is that crazy of him to think? Possibly, considering he’s banking on Clark to listen to him. But, he’s choosing to believe that his friend’s penchant for annoying people will finally be directed towards someone else and not him.
He parks his car on the street outside of his father’s house, taking a quick look around before figuring out he’s the first to arrive. Fine by him, it gives him a minute to mentally prepare himself for yet another dinner with his dad…. plus Clark Ingram. A knot forms in his stomach at the thought.
Fuck. Maybe this is a bad idea.
Jamie shakes his head, trying to think that everything will go terribly, but the kind of terrible that he’s hoping for. Hopefully. He pulls his phone out and fires off a couple of messages to Clark.
( sms — trashboy ) please tell me you didn’t shower
( sms — trashboy ) i’m outside of my dad’s, i’ll wait for you out here
He shoves his phone in his bag and gets out of his car, slamming his door shut with his hip. Shit, it’s cold but, luckily, he has the perfect remedy for that. Kind of. Jamie fumbles through the contents of his bag before pulling out his most recent purchase in a brown, paper sack - four mini bottles of tequila bought at Dingle’s finest liquor store. Uncapping one, he gulps down the contents in one go, scrunching up his face at the taste. Terrible, but he’s gonna need to be at least a little buzzed to deal with whatever the night will throw at him. The paper bag crinkles loudly as he sets it on the top of his car, him pulling out a cigarette and a lighter from his coat pocket.
Jamie’s halfway through his cigarette when he sees lights coming down the street, perking up at the hopes of it being Clark. He squints at the car and waves awkwardly with his free hand - Yes, he probably looks stupid, but he’s hoping he at least looks stupid to a friend instead of one of his old neighbors.
truthfully, jamie’s proposal was almost reasonable enough for him to consider taking it seriously. a shitty dad, a forced & uncomfortable dinner, and an innate desire to be annoying as hell. really, to his core, he understands it. he vibes with it. not to mention he actually considers jamie a good friend, and it would be the friendly thing to do to go along with this dastardly plan.
but the keyword here is almost.
( sms — gutterman ) oh
( sms — gutterman ) was i not supposed to? (:
he rolls up a few minutes later in his mom’s shiny bmw — there was intense groveling involved in getting to borrow it, but the moped and the wet brain ice cream truck were not going to cut it here — and his shit-eating smile is already beaming like the sun as he throws up a funky lil wave and slowly pulls into park behind jamie. (very slowly, mind you. his mother would have his head on a stick otherwise.)
his first steps out of the vehicle are worked like he’s on the runway. typically greasy mop of hair is freshly washed and combed, the fancy jacket for his mother’s company occasions is freshly ironed, and his singular pair of good shoes are freshly shined. he’d even managed to eliminate the weed stench that surrounds him like a perpetual cloud, by something of a miracle.
(the miracle that is a few days full of nothing but edibles, and a delicate spritz of some sample cologne from target.)
he abruptly stops in his tracks as he struts his way up the sidewalk, mocking an awestruck gasp. “jamie... you look.....” he places a hand over his heart, softly shaking his head. “wow. you look beautiful.”