blood and rust ;

lucas biermann ; 42 ; scout ;

[lucasbiermann]

joel-biermann​:

“Nearly got you smiling, I’d say I’m doing a good job,” he gives Lucas another once over. Even suffering in this heat he looks damn fine. Even when he’s clicking his tongue and for christsakes, Joel already apologised about the dishes. He puts it down, it slips his mind.

“Hey, now, maybe he’s a busy man,” Joel knows what Lucas is doing. Knows that he can’t even stop himself entirely from falling into this little trap. And yeah he skipped out on the dishes a few times but— whatever. “Clearly too busy to spend time with you.”

Joel still always loses at this game of chicken, there’s no benefits to winning, not when Lucas is already turning into him. Joel takes a seat now, sitting sideways, so he’s completely facing Lucas.  “See I turned that one around, babe.”

Lucas waits patiently for Joel to break, eyebrows raised, hoping it's coming. Hearing him say babe is already good enough, and he'll take it (if anything, also for the fact that he can't help the fond smile that curls up his lips then).

"How is admitting you're busy turning anything around?" He turns over too, so they can be facing each other. Lucas is not one for gratuitous PDA at big events like these, but he still reaches a foot forward, hooks it comfortably around Joel's ankle, so they can have a point of contact. "You're doing the dishes all of next week."

His words clearly hold no harshness, his grumpy ways always softened when it comes to his husband, and he takes a sip of his beer again before asking, "are you having fun?" It's not just idle conversation, he genuinely wants to know. At least, if Joel tells him about it, he can live vicariously through someone who is enjoying themselves.

[lucasbiermann]

elenahastey​:

Elena hummed in agreement, watching as the other drank his beer. The action prompted her to do just the same, and though she had never quite figured out to squash her distaste of the watered-down drink, she figured it was a good enough distraction against the heat. Only because it had traded one repugnant thing for another. Most anyone could hope for these days, really. 

“You’re welcome,” she bowed her head mockingly, “where was it that I quoted again? Grease?” She placed her elbow on the countertop, rested her head in her hand, and grinned slyly. “Was ‘Grease’ the word that you heard?” 

The normality of their conversation felt strangely reassuring. Nostalgia was the last indulgence in a horribly shattered world. Even if the world was destroyed completely, at the very least, it had felt lived-in. The one thing the goddamn walkers there would not be able to unroot would be memory. 

So, Elena continued the conversation. Retraced her memory more than two decades in the past, until she came into the slew of titles for fighting games.

“Damn shame, actually. I’d have beaten you at Street Fighter,” she chuckled, before pointing a finger at Lucas. Raising her brow, she probed casually, “Or were you a Mortal Kombat kind of guy?”

x

Her joke about Grease landed her a side glare from where he'd been sipping his beer, but he was amused, somewhere deep down. Despite now having John Travolta's singing voice stuck in his head. He was sure Joel would have a field day once he heard.

"There are better musicals out there you could've gone for. I'm just surprised your taste is that bad," he teased, his own sly smile tugging on the corners of his lips then. Honestly, he wasn't one to speak, he actually missed the wonders of television enough that he'd probably be delighted to watch anything, even if it was Grease.

The question of the fight games had his brows furrowing, brain scanning around for deeply buried memories. He could never differentiate between those games even while they were still around, let alone now, sixteen years after seeing one. "I'll say Mortal Kombat just to antagonize you." A snorted chuckle left him. "Okay, but honestly, we really should find more ways of having fun around here. Strippers or walker fights seems like quite a narrow world of alternatives. How aren't you bored out of your mind, after retiring?" The question was for curiosity as much as it was a silent plea -- please tell me I won't be bored out of my mind too, when I'm forced to retire. 

[lucasbiermann]

itsfrankyork​:

@lucasbiermann​

Frank didn’t even notice when the lights went out, and he was too busy downing yet another glass of something to realize what was going on when the commotion started and people around him began to run around in a panic. In his drunken stupor, Frank bellowed and cursed anyone who happened to bump into him.

“Do you know who I am?” His voice called out at nobody in particular. He hiccupped and threw back his empty glass, barely noticing he wasn’t drinking anything. Disappointed, he threw himself on the bar, waving at the bartender who’d disappeared. He awkwardly hopped to the other side of the bar, his eyes set on a shiny bottle of liquor sitting on the shelves.

Still oblivious and an oddly calm figure amidst the chaos, he popped off the cap messily pouring the drink in his glass. He was about to drink it up when the figure of Lucas caught his eye in the movement before him.

“Hey! Hey!” Frank shouted at the man, “Lucas! Where are you— where’re you going so fast, the fun’s jus— just getting started!” He hiccuped through his words, barely comprehensible.

x

It happens so fast. Lucas is used to living with the constant threats, he knows better than to let his guard down unless he's safely behind the locked doors of his home, but the sudden blackout still gets to him. More for other people, than anything else. Hearing the commotion, seeing everybody get frantic, and run, and call out to each other -- it fills the room with the stench of panic and it's suffocating.

Joel is gone in a flash, Murphy following behind. He can't locate Summer, but he's not worried about her yet, she knows how to take care of herself, and this sudden darkness doesn't have to mean a big threat. Maybe it'll be brief. Maybe the walkers will be held back anyway.

He's starting to rush off to go find a way to help when the familiar voice calls out to him. He stops and turns, begrudgingly. There's no part of him that wants to help Frank, not out of the goodness of his heart, but Christ. The man's as drunk as a skunk. It won't be good for anyone if he ends up getting into trouble. And knowing Frank, that's quite possible.

"Fun's over, pal. Come on, I'm taking you home," he huffs, moving into the bar so he can take the bottle, returning it to its place on the shelf. "Can you even walk straight? Shape up, 'cause I'm not carrying you, man."

[lucasbiermann]

joel-biermann​:

HEY HANDSOME || joel & lucas

Lucas is quick to catch onto Joel’s antics. Try as he might: he’s got kind eyes. He never could keep the fondness out of them despite his perpetual attempts to be the ‘grumpy’ guy. Joel likes to think he’s the only one who gets those looks, but he’s seen the same sort of gentleness when talking to their kids. Still, feels special. It is special.

Joel’s own smile broadens at the ring shown to him. His own matching band clinks against the beer bottle as he settles it on the bar. It’s always fun when Lucas entertains him, there’s nothing like getting to flirt with Lucas like it’s the first night all over again. Even if he was just about as receptive as he is now back then.

“Trying to? Think I’m doing a good job of it,” brash words even as he’s thinking nothing but gentle thoughts, “Can’t even tempt you? Bet you I’m much better lookin’ than him.”

It's hard to see the grin on Joel's face and not find his own lips tugging up with a smile, try as he might to keep his composure for the joke. His grumpy man persona is one easy to crack whenever his husband is around. He's stopped trying to resist that for years now, to be honest. Let the world know what a big sap he is.

"Are you? Doing a good job?" He asks, skeptical eyes squinting, though there's still that lingering amusement in his tone. His beer comes up for another sip, and he finds himself leaning towards Joel, the other man always working like a magnet. Even in this insufferable heat, it feels like he's the only ever-warm furnace to melt the ice off Lucas' cold hands.

The comment about his husband's look gets a click of his tongue. "I don't know about better looking, champ, but he certainly has been annoying me." It's not even remotely true, but he's just trying to get Joel to drop the act first, at this point. "He hasn't done the dishes once this week. Imagine that."

[lucasbiermann]

joel-biermann​:

HEY HANDSOME || joel & lucas

@lucasbiermann

Joel said he wouldn’t be embarrassing but every Biermann knew he couldn’t manage it for long. He’s had more than a couple beers, just enough for his ears to feel warm and for his smiles to linger longer. When he spots Lucas, now alone, he physically can’t keep the smile off his face. There’s still nothing quite like knowing he’s getting the luxury of growing old with a husband. 

Makes him feel all warm and fuzzy—all that cheesy shit—thinking about the first time he saw Lucas, just as miserable at a bar much like this one. ‘course it didn’t stink so much and Joel was able to do a tour, take a plane ride home  and still drink all night without a wink of rest. Now he’s feeling his age, already thinking about getting to fall heavily into bed later and wake up miserable with a hangover.

He sidles up to Lucas, leans on the bar acting all nonchalant giving Lucas a once over.

“Hey, handsome.”

“What’re we drinkin’ tonight?”

One of the only reasons he still agrees to come to these things, is because of Joel. It gets boring, and it's far too hot, and the hangover is not nearly worth the buzz the alcohol gives him, these days. But he can admit there's some part of him -- the sappy part -- that enjoys being out with Joel. He wouldn't be caught dead coming to one of these by himself, but he's found out that one of the perks of having a husband is never finding himself alone for long. And if there's one person who makes social events more bearable for him, it's Joel.

Lucas twirls the beer he has around on the counter, and as expected, the familiar shape soon fills the space next to him. Anyone else might've made him immediately startle away and grumble something about respecting personal space, but he doesn't even need to look up to recognise Joel. 

The unusually sleek act makes his brows furrow, but the confusion only lasts a second, before it melts off into an amused look as he understands the current state of tipsiness Joel is at. "Are you trying to hit on me?" He lifts his hand up, beloved ring shining under the dim lights of the bar, stubbornly trying to keep the fond smile off his lips. "Sorry, buddy. I'm married."

[lucasbiermann]

elenahastey​:

@lucasbiermann​.

Never mind talking birds, glass mountains, or ugly ducklings turned white swans. In the Golden Triangle fairy tales had come in the form of heady decadence —dancers and liquor and even goddamn walkers and whatever else had now constituted as this world’s entertainment. Elena had never been much for parties as large as this one. But between this and coming back to her apartment struck with an unbearable humidity, the choice was obvious.

“Goddamn summer nights,” grumbled Elena to her friend, drumming her fingers against the chipped bar counter in an attempt to distract herself from the jeers and cheers on the cage match. It had never sat well with her, how easily struggle could be transformed into a spectacle. All it demanded was a captivated audience. 

“How’d that song go again? Bowling in the arcade, drinking lemonades?” It’s a jump in her original stream of thought, but no matter. A conversation’s a conversation; a distraction’s a distraction. “I’m sure there are old arcades down here. Why didn’t we revive that?” Perhaps the high-rise had that amenity, as they do innumerable others, but that’s a thought in which she doesn’t care to linger. 

x

To no one's surprise, of course Lucas hated these events. It was only fair -- he never liked parties and festivities much, even before the apocalypse. The idea of being surrounded by people while everyone got intoxicated and sweated their asses off wasn't exactly something that appealed to him, but. He understood the importance of mingling, nowadays. He knew that forcing himself to go out of the house was good on the long run, otherwise it'd be too easy to let himself retrieve into the antisocial cave-like part of his brain.

It wasn't so bad, anyway, when he had good company he could complain with. "It's grossly hot in here, isn't it?" He sighed, wiping the sweat from his hairline before taking a sip of whatever alcoholic beverage they were serving. Something close enough to beer, it seemed.

The mention of arcade and lemonades uncovered some deeply hidden memory from his brain, and he furrowed his brows, turning to look at her. "Are you really quoting Grease to me right now? Fuck. Now it's gonna be stuck in my head all night." There was a lilt of humor in his tone, a hint of amusement despite the usual dryness he gave off. Knowing him for so many years, she would no doubt pick up on that. "Apparently arcade wasn't enough entertainment anymore. People had to turn barbaric."

[userpoe]

#coziest sweater