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AUcember Masterpost
This past month, I challenged myself to write a different SP7 AU every day. The only rules were that I couldn’t repeat AUs, and I had to post something new every single day. This is the end result of that.
AUs are organized on this list by the day they were posted. All of them were posted on Tumblr, with a handful cross-posted to Ao3 and linked. Every fic has its setting, ship, and length listed.
always better (when you’re falling) [ao3] musician au. cib/sami jo/steven, 2.3k
i could sleep, i could sleep ghost au, 1.3k
if i didn’t, darlin’ speed dating au. cib/parker, steven/james, 1.6k
the genius next door haruhi suzumiya au. cib/steven implied, 1.7k
back and forth divorce au. cib/james, past cib/steven, 1.4k
now i’m a stranger [ao3] go on au. cib/parker, cib & autumn, 3.5k
if i had all my yesterdays bakery/magical realism au. autumn/sami jo, 1.9k
(you’re) all i wanna do dancing with the stars au. james/steven, cib/sami jo, 2.2k
this one has a dog in it meet-cute au with a dog. cib/parker, 1.2k
the grayness turns to glitter tattoo artist au. cib & autumn, cib/james/steven, 1.4k
this sort of thing is old-fashioned [ao3] pacific rim au. cib/parker, steve & parker, 2.8k
something dumb to do married in vegas au. cib/parker, 1.9k
equivalency white collar au. future cib/parker, cib & steve, 1.9k
a lesson in framing photographer/model au. cib/parker, 1.3k
one page at a time (true colors) soulmate au. autumn & james, autumn/reina, james/cib, 2k
greatest story ever told, boy national treasure au. cib & steve, 1.5k
you’ll always be my happy ending [ao3] celebrity au. cib/parker, 1.8k
take only what you need from it grim reaper au. steven & parker, 1.9k
us against the world mr and mrs smith au. james/steven, cib/parker, 2k
cast my name to the wind moonshine holler au. autumn/sami jo, 1.8k
way out in the water inception au. cib/parker, 2.2k
and other things that glow [ao3] zombie au. james/steven, cib/parker, autumn/sami jo, 4.6k
today and every day fake engagement au. cib/parker, 1.5k
i’ve seen the waters that make your eyes shine college au. jamie/mimi, james/parker, 2k
and my arms are open wide wedding au. cib/parker, james/steven, 1.5k
if our hearts must share a grave dystopia au. autumn & james, 1.7k
steady (keep on hoping) “the timing’s never right” au. cib/parker, background ships, 2.2k
till our bones break gta au. cib/parker, 2.9k
a better side of you to admire domestic au. cib/parker, 1.6k
some time to breathe awake au. cib/parker/sami jo, 1.6k
i want your midnights holiday party au. cib/parker, 2.4k
total word count: 61.9k
official AUcember spreadsheet
list of ideas that didn’t get written
#
Thank you to everyone who told me it was a good idea, who helped me figure out my own rules and stipulations, and who read, liked, and reblogged along the way. I wish I could name everyone without being afraid of leaving someone out, so instead I’ll just say, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.
(And also, if I talk about doing this again, someone remind me to do it a couple months earlier, so I don’t have to deal with finals and holidays. AUgust is a better name, anyways.)
FIC: back and forth
On James’s fourth date, he meets his boyfriend’s ex-husband. It’s not as weird as it sounds. Cib/James, mentioned Steve/Cib, 1.4k. [AUcember]
#
It’s not until the fourth date that things get… weird.
James has been on dates with: a dude who got really into describing the personality of every single goldfish he’s ever had, a woman who passionately insisted that James should go with her to Coachella, a guy who made six jokes about proposing, and someone who intentionally ordered food they were allergic to in order to test his reaction. So it’s not like Cib is weird by comparison, even if he’s weird, but James likes him. Likes him enough to go on a fourth date, and Cib invites him over for dessert afterwards, and James agrees.
(James agrees, because whether or not dessert is code for banging, he’s pretty sure he’s going to be happy with the outcome. And that’s rare, with dates.)
The problems don’t start until they get to Cib’s house and there’s a dude sitting on the couch, staring intently at his laptop.
“Welcome to my house,” Cib says, one arm around James’s waist. “Here we have the living room, the TV, the couch, my ex-husband Steve, the door to the kitchen-”
“Hold on,” James says. “Go back one.”
“Couch,” Cib says, helpfully. “For hanging out on.”
“Please don’t introduce me as your ex-husband,” Steve the ex-husband says without looking up. “It’s uncomfortable for everybody involved except you.”
James forces himself to laugh. “Okay, so you’re not really his ex-husband? Because that would be totally-”
“No, I am.” Steve clicks something furiously on his laptop. “I just think it’s less important than the part that we live together.”
James can feel his smile threatening to fail, and he doubles down, even though it definitely looks plastic. “You… live with your ex-husband.”
“We’ve been divorced longer than we were married,” Cib says, like it’s a completely normal thing to say. “Neither of us can afford the rent on our own, so we’re making it work right now. Oh, Steve, this is James, he’s-”
“Boyfriend, yeah.” Steve finally looks up at James. “Hey, nice to meet you, sorry I didn’t clean at all before you showed up.”
“It’s cool,” James says, because there’s not a ton else to say right now. Cib squeezes him a little tighter around the waist, and James leans into it automatically. “Sorry, I’m still trying to wrap my head around the whole- I knew there was a roommate, I just didn’t know the marriage part.”
Steve shrugs. “It’s not as important as it sounds.”
“I thought transparency was important,” Cib says, leaning into James so he’s more or less talking into James’s hair. “Gotta be up-front about the weird things. By the way, I have a cactus garden in my bedroom.”
James snorts quietly. “Do you really?”
“Absolutely.” Cib straightens up and looks at James, eyes sparkling. “You, uh, wanna see my prickly pear?”
“Gross,” Steve mumbles.
James ignores him, because this is another one of those things that could be a double entendre or could be an actual cactus. He’s pretty sure either way Cib is going to be excited about it, and he also wants to get the hell out of this room, so he looks at Cib. “I’d love to.”
Cib grins and moves his hand from James’s waist to his hand, tugging him along. “C’mon, let me show you around.”
James lets Cib pull him out of the room. If he focuses on Cib’s hand in his, he doesn’t have to think about Steve calling out behind them, “have fun.”
#
Autumn shows up on James’s doorstep the next morning with McDonald’s breakfast and arched eyebrows. “You know, we don’t have a code infrared.”
“I use code red too much,” James admits. “I needed something that showed how dire the situation is.”
“How dire is it?”
“First, did you get hash browns?”
Autumn pushes her way into James’s apartment, plops the bag down on his coffee table, and looks up at him. She doesn’t have to say anything for him to get the gist: of course she got hash browns.
“Okay,” James says, and sits next to her as she starts pulling out pancakes and hash browns. “So I had my fourth date last night.”
“Four, huh?”
“Yeah, I really like him.”
“What’s the problem?”
“He took me home afterwards.”
“Just tell him you don’t wanna fuck, it won’t be a problem.”
James shakes his head. “He took me home, and I met his roommate, who’s also his ex-husband.”
Autumn pauses. “That’s weird.”
“Right?”
“Did he explain why?”
“Said it helps with rent.”
“And he didn’t make a thing out of it?”
“He didn’t say anything else about it.” James picks up a hash brown and takes a sullen bite out of it. “It’s like, I don’t have a problem with him being married already, but it would’ve been nice if I knew about it beforehand.”
“Before meeting the guy?”
“Yeah, exactly.”
“Is the ex-husband nice?”
“I think I hate him on principle.”
Autumn nods and dips a pancake in syrup. “Are you going to go on a fifth date?”
James freezes. He’s been trying to avoid thinking about that, but… “Do you think I should?”
“Do you want to?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Do you think he wants to?”
“Cib’s ex-husband called me his boyfriend,” James says, because that’s the other thing that’s bothering him, a little. “I- is four dates that point? Do we need to talk about this?”
“Oh my god,” Autumn says. “Do you want him to be your boyfriend?”
“Yes,” James says without hesitation. He likes Cib. It’s that simple.
“Then go on another date,” Autumn says patiently. “And if it keeps bothering you, talk to him about it or something. Or just shove it down till it doesn’t bother you anymore, whichever one you think will work better.”
“What if I think one will work better but I don’t want to deal with it?”
“That’s depression,” Autumn says. “Or just being a person, I can’t tell the difference anymore.”
“Me neither,” James admits. Autumn leans her head on his shoulder. “Thanks for coming.”
“Don’t ever say code infrared unless you’re dying.”
“I feel like dying.”
“Tough,” Autumn says. “And you owe me, like, six breakfasts now.”
“Fuck,” James says, although he knows he doesn’t mind.
#
Ten minutes into their fifth date, Cib loudly announces that he forgot something and they have to go to his house. And, being Cib, he drags James into the living room and says “I’ll be right back, don’t move,” and leaves James there. With Steve, on the couch, playing on his phone.
“Hey,” James says, because he’s not an asshole. “How, uh, how’s it going?”
“We were only married for, like, nine months,” Steve says. “Just so you know.”
James decides to bite the bullet and sits down next to him. “You guys are genuinely just… roommates?”
“Yeah,” Steve says, and puts his phone down. “The marriage was two parts because we were dating, one part because it felt like it’d be convenient. And that was three years ago.”
“But you still live together?”
“I like him as a person, that didn’t change when we got divorced.”
“Why did you get divorced?”
“Because we weren’t in love.” Steve shrugs. “I know it’s, like, a weird situation, but he’s honestly just my best friend. And he likes you a lot, and I want to make sure you’re not freaked out by it.”
“I’m a little freaked out by it,” James admits. “But you seem okay.”
Steve half-smiles. “You seem okay too. But if you hurt my ex-husband, I’ll fucking kill you.”
“Can I threaten you too, or are we not at that point?”
“Definitely not at that point.”
James nods. “Fair enough. Any advice?”
“Be nice to him,” Steve says. “Goes a long way.”
“You think I wouldn’t?”
“I think it’s worth saying.”
“Hey!” Cib skids out from another room, coming to a stop behind them, one hand resting on James’s shoulder. “Sorry about that, you ready?”
“Ready,” James says, and goes to get up, but Cib presses down on his shoulder. James looks up, and Cib leans down and kisses him, gently.
It would be really sweet, James thinks, except for Cib’s ex-husband sitting three feet away from them. Or maybe it’s still sweet. He’s not sure how that works.
“Ready,” Cib says, satisfied, and James can’t help but grin up at him. “Steve, hold down the fort.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Steve waves him off. “Have fun.”
“Oh, we will,” James says, and he’s almost as happy that Steve grins at him as he is that Cib does.
FIC: this sort of thing is old-fashioned
“Cib doesn’t do anything on purpose,” Jeremy says, which might actually be true. Cib is one of the most confusing people any of them have ever met, which is extra strange when compared to Steve’s hyper-rational self. And somehow the two of them pilot the most famous Jaeger in Los Angeles. (A Pacific Rim AU. Cib/Parker, 2.8k.)
AUcember || title lyric || Ao3
#
“The boys are coming back,” Jeremy remarks, on what should be a totally uneventful Tuesday morning.
Parker glances over, trying to hide the fact that his heart is definitely beating faster. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Jeremy says, casual as can be, which is a sign that something is definitely up. “They got deployed way early this morning. Big mission before breakfast.”
“You’ve been talking to Reina again?”
“She let me know that they’re incoming. Sounds like they have something for you.”
“For us,” Parker corrects him. “Both of us. We have the same job.”
Jeremy snorts. “Yeah, because Cib bringing you things is related to our job, and not at all how he expresses affection the same way dogs do.”
“Cib’s not a dog,” Parker says, even though he’s pretty sure that would explain… a lot about Cib. “What’re they bringing?”
“She wouldn’t say, just said it was for you.”
Parker makes a face. He likes Reina - likes everyone in the Shatterdome, of course - but he doesn’t like the running joke where everyone seems to think he and Cib are dating. Or whatever the joke is. He tries to avoid it, because it’s the kind of misinformation that’s a little chest-stabbingly painful whenever he remembers it’s not real.
And besides. Dating a Jaeger pilot is probably a bad idea.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Jeremy says mildly. “This is good. This is gonna be a breakthrough, or something.”
“The last time Cib came back from a mission with something for us-”
“For you.”
“For us,” Parker repeats, “it was the left hand of their Jaeger, because he forgot that we’re K-Science and not J-Tech.”
“It was covered in Kaiju blue. We made breakthroughs with that.”
“That doesn’t mean he did it on purpose.”
“Cib doesn’t do anything on purpose,” Jeremy says, which might actually be true. Cib is one of the most confusing people any of them have ever met, which is extra strange when compared to Steve’s hyper-rational self. And somehow the two of them pilot the most famous Jaeger in Los Angeles. Nobody understands it, least of all Parker.
“Still,” Parker mutters. “We don’t know what he’s going to bring.”
Jeremy shrugs. “We’re gonna find out in a few minutes, right?”
“Yeah,” Parker sighs. He’s a little embarrassed by how much he’s looking forward to that. Steve doesn’t seem to like him at all, but he figures that’s the kind of thing that happens when your friends become Jaeger pilots. You become friends with their copilots. That has to be perfectly normal.
#
Reina pushes the door to the lab open and props her hands on her hips. It’s the kind of hands-on-hips that makes Parker stand up a little straighter for no real reason, the kind that seems to mean something is about to Happen.
“Okay,” she says at last. “We’re going to need-” she gestures towards half their lab. “Everything over there? Gotta get it out of there.”
Jeremy, lounging in a chair, jumps to his feet. “What?”
“You’re going to need space for this,” Reina says, in her mission control voice. “Like, guys, you’re really going to want as much room as possible.”
“Why?”
“You’ll know why in about twenty minutes.”
“Why don’t we know now?”
“We’re busy clearing it,” she says, and for some godforsaken reason, looks at Parker. “You… have indirectly made my life very difficult today.”
Parker blinks. “What? How did- sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
“No, of course not,” Reina mutters. “It’s not your fault, someone else made it very directly difficult.”
“Someone whose name rhymes with bib, I’d guess,” Jeremy says, in that weird semi-cheerful way he gets whenever something incredibly weird is about to happen. It’d make Parker’s skin crawl if it weren’t Jeremy. “Twenty minutes?”
“Twenty minutes!” Reina snaps her fingers and points at Jeremy, then Parker. “Get it done. Boys’ll be here soon.”
Jeremy nods at her, and Reina leaves as quickly as she entered. “What do you think they’re bringing us?”
“I don’t know,” Parker says thoughtfully. “Sounds like an actual kaiju-related thing this time. Do you think we’ll need to sterilize?”
“I think if we’re going to try and prep lab space for kaiju parts in twenty minutes, we need to get a move on.”
“Good point.”
Jeremy grins at him, a little shark-like. “Still think it’s not for you?”
“Shut up,” Parker mutters, because if it’s for him then he doesn’t know how to handle that, and Jeremy has to know that by now. “Let’s just… prep the lab, okay?”
“Sure thing,” Jeremy says, a little overly generous. Parker decides to ignore him.
#
Andrew is the first one in the lab, followed by Sami Jo and Jamie from J-Tech and a ton of people that Parker doesn’t recognize. And in the center of them all is something huge and covered in a tarp.
“Sami Jo!” Parker says, more surprised than he means to be. “You’re- hey, what’s going on?”
“Too much, Coppins,” she mutters, but she still flashes him a bright smile. “You guys are going to be spending a lot of time here soon. Better get comfy.”
“Yeah,” Parker says, because he’s getting that impression, “but what’s… you know, happening?”
“Get comfy,” Sami Jo repeats, and goes off towards Jeremy.
Parker blinks after her for a few seconds, trying to understand, but Sami Jo isn’t easily understood, so he turns away and finds Cib only a couple feet from him. He tries not to jump, he really does, but he’s kind of an obvious jumper. “Oh, uh, Cib! What’s-”
“Got you a present,” Cib says. He’s practically beaming.
“Ugh,” Steve says, walking past them both. “You- come on, Cib.”
“I did!” Cib protests. “It’s a good one, too.”
“Thank you, first of all,” Parker says. “And I can’t wait to actually… find out what it is.”
“They didn’t tell you?”
“Reina said something about security clearance?”
Cib snorts. “You guys have, like, big fucking clearance, you should know what it is.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” Jeremy says, materializing by Parker’s shoulder. He’s still watching everyone fussing around the thing under the tarp, in the newly-cleaned and barely-sterilized half of their lab. “What’d you get us?”
“Steve, what’d we get them?”
Steven sighs. “So we cut a Kaiju in half in the middle of the ocean, and Cib had the great idea of bringing you guys the upper half.”
“What?” Parker whips around, staring at the thing. It looks like the engineers are pulling the tarp off, and it looks like a giant glass tank. “You got-”
“Lower half was too damaged to be studied extensively,” Andrew explains. “Hey, guys.”
Parker waves at Andrew. “Thanks, J-Tech.”
“We’ve been building you guys a tank all morning,” Andrew says. “Sami Jo saved our collective asses on that, she figured out how to get it done quick.”
“And it’s the kind of thing we can study?” Jeremy demands. “We can actually run experiments on it?”
“I named him Alfredo,” Cib says. When Parker glances over, he looks completely pleased with himself. And he’s looking right at Parker. “You like him?”
“This is the greatest thing anyone’s ever given me,” Parker says, mostly without thinking. Although it’s sort of true. He’s probably never going to leave the lab again, because he has to figure out every single secret that Alfredo has to offer. And that kind of puzzle, that kind of opportunity is the kind of thing that means a lot.
When he looks back, Steven is mid-eyeroll, and Andrew is making a face that means… something. But Cib has gone completely soft around the edges, like he melted. Like the only thing he wants to look at is Parker. It’s a little overwhelming, all told.
“Awesome,” Cib says warmly, and it’s all Parker can do to tear his eyes away and look back at Alfredo.
#
The thing is, then Parker actually doesn’t leave the lab for four days.
He and Jeremy have things to do - so many things to do. Experiments, ideas, the works. The only people allowed entry are Reina, because they couldn’t stop her if they wanted to, and whoever brings them pizza, which tends to be Reina because she gets automatic entry.
They spend the first day coming up with ideas for what to do with Alfredo. (Jeremy starts out insisting that they can’t name it, but by halfway through the second day he’s calling it Fred for time’s sake.) The second day is gathering equipment, with help from Andrew and Sami Jo. The third day begins with Jeremy sleeping, because apparently he’s still physically capable of that. Parker’s not sure that he is, which is why he’s awake and scribbling notes on a whiteboard when the door opens.
“Hey,” he says without turning around. “Reina, J-Tech, pizza?”
“Have you ever met an actual person before?” Steve says. “Just wondering. And why’s Jeremy on a lab table?”
“We don’t have sleeping bags.” Parker turns around, blinking hard when dark spots appear in front of his eyes. “What’s going on?”
“Just wanted to make sure that you’re still alive. Just you, I’m okay if Jeremy’s actually dead.”
“I would’ve filed a report.”
“You would’ve,” Steve mutters. It feels weirdly like an insult, even though it’s a factual statement.
And Parker, who hasn’t slept in a little over two days, can’t stop himself from saying, “Did I do something wrong?”
Steve frowns. “What?”
“Like, it’s okay if you want to be, you know, hotshot Jaeger pilot, because you are,” Parker says, and god, he’s babbling, but if he doesn’t say this now, he won’t do it. “Be friends with James and Autumn and all the other pilots, that’s cool, but we knew each other before, and I just want to know… why.”
“Why I’m not hanging out with you even though are jobs are in completely different divisions?”
“Why you don’t look at me anymore.”
Steve sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Parker waits, swaying on the spot, until Steve says, “Listen. You’ve heard of ghost-drifting?”
“Sure,” Parker says. “You’re linked even when you’re not drifting.”
“Exactly. Cib and I get a little bit of that. Every pair of pilots does.”
“What about it?”
“Cib has… feelings.” Steven wrinkles his nose. “And I know they’re his, but I don’t want them to get mixed up with mine. So I’m trying to dial up my opposite feelings. And that means being mean to you.”
Parker blinks. “So Cib wants to be nice to me?”
“Oh, honey,” Steve says, “you’re smarter than that. And you didn’t do anything wrong, other than assuming that I was Reina, what the fuck?”
“Reina’s allowed here. You’re not.”
“Says who?”
Parker points at the whiteboard where he and Jeremy wrote all their lab rules. The biggest one, at the top, is the list of people allowed in the lab. “You’re not allowed.”
“Are you throwing me out?”
“If you’ll leave.”
“Get some sleep, dude,” Steve says. “This science is dangerous to do when you’re not functioning at a hundred percent.”
“It’s dangerous to do when you are.”
“Sleep,” Steve repeats, and leaves, calling over his shoulder, “and text Cib, for Christ’s sake.”
Parker should text Cib. He has a handful of unread texts from Cib, the ones that he knows would distract him if he read them, but he can’t read them. So instead he wanders over to the table where Jeremy is sleeping and crawls underneath. He knows it’s not great sleeping conditions, but he barely has time to think that he should ball up his coat under his head before he closes his eyes.
#
Jeremy wakes him up a few hours later - definitely not long enough for either of them to be rested, but enough that they can make better choices. “You ready to collect samples?”
“Mm.” Parker stretches and gets out from underneath the table. “Why’d I- there’s another table right over there.”
“I thought you just wanted my company,” Jeremy says. “But, you know.”
Parker half-smiles. “Maybe. You ready to do this?”
“I just asked you that.”
“Maybe we should get more sleep before we do this.”
“We don’t know how long Fred’s gonna last,” Jeremy reminds him. It’s a conversation they’ve had a dozen times over already. “Better to do it now.”
“I’ll tell Reina,” Parker sighs, and they get to work.
It takes them twenty-three hours, edging them into day four of lab work, for them to sample everything. They have tissues from the brain, mouth, eyes, throat, intestines, and a couple of things that Parker’s not sure what they functionally are but seemed important. But at the end of it Alfredo is still mostly whole, and they have… a lot of Kaiju fluids in their lab.
“Okay,” Jeremy sighs, scrubbing at his eyes. “Okay, clean-up, we should-”
“You can go,” Parker says immediately.
Jeremy frowns. “What?”
“Go see Andrew or something,” he says gently. “You’ve got- you know, there are people outside waiting for you. It’ll only take me a couple hours.”
“You sure?”
“Sure.”
“Alright.” Jeremy leans forward and hugs Parker. It’s a little awkward and more than a little clumsy, with the exhaustion and the fact that they don’t normally do that, but it’s heartfelt. Parker can tell. “Great job, dude.”
“You too.” Parker squeezes him and lets go. “Go have fun. I’ll be out soon.”
“Let me know when you’re done so I know you didn’t pass out,” Jeremy says, and then he’s out of the lab, on his way to see Andrew, probably.
Parker doesn’t mind being in the lab alone. He probably prefers it, all told. It’s quiet enough to hear himself think, or to talk to himself as he has ideas. Or talk to Alfredo, because Alfredo is a better listener than Jeremy during cleanup.
He’s just finishing up when the door swings open. “Almost done,” Parker says, and turns, and it’s not Jeremy. It’s Cib. “Oh.”
“Dude,” Cib says, looking around at all the carefully-labeled samples and equipment. “What is that?”
“It’s Alfredo.”
“Seriously?”
“We’re going to have so many tests to run.” Parker rubs his eyes. “After both of us eat something that came from a vegetable, or a food group other than takeout.”
“You did all this in four days?”
“We don’t know a lot about preserving Kaiju. We’re doing what we can.”
Cib whistles lowly. “Well, color me impressed.”
“Thanks.” Parker finally, finally remembers to smile at him. “And thanks.”
“You double-thanked me there.”
“Thanks for being impressed,” he clarifies. “And for Alfredo. This- you guys are going to probably literally save lives, you know?”
“Aw, gee,” Cib says, and he smiles back at Parker, the kind of sly, secretive smile that he only gets when nobody else is there. “And here I was just trying to impress you.”
Parker laughs, a little helplessly. “Well, now I’m the impressed one, I guess.”
Cib grins. “Dude, you’re so fucking tired.”
“I’m so tired,” he admits, and shucks off his lab coat. “I haven’t seen a bed in four days, just the underside of a table.”
“Not nearly as comfy, I bet.”
“Not even close.”
“You probably shouldn’t drive,” Cib says, like it’s just occurring to him, or like it hasn’t occurred to Parker a dozen times. “Do you need a ride somewhere?”
“You don’t-”
“Let me take you home,” Cib says, and it’s not an offer but a plea. “Parker, come on.”
“Okay,” Parker says. It’s barely a whisper, but Cib’s face still lights up. “Thank you.”
“Course,” Cib says. As soon as Parker’s close enough he slings one of his arms around Parker’s waist and pulls tight, so tight that Parker’s half leaning on them as they leave the lab. “You look exhausted, I was legit worried you’d pass out driving.”
“You might be right,” Parker mumbles, and he doesn’t say much else as they make their way through the dome. Cib’s talking, about things that might be important but sound like mush to him, and he’s going to have to ask for him to repeat it all when he can listen. “I’m probably going to sleep in your car.”
“I’d be more surprised if you didn’t,” Cib says cheerfully. “And I’ll have, you know, food when you wake up.”
Parker frowns. “What?”
“I’m taking you to my place,” Cib clarifies. “It’s closer, and I know where it is.”
“You don’t-”
“I have a spare room.”
“But-”
“Hey,” Cib says, gentle, careful. It’s so unlike him that Parker wants to smile. “I’ve got you, alright? Mister bigshot scientist, let me take the wheel on this one, okay?”
Parker takes a deep breath. “Okay.”
Cib’s fingers flutter against Parker’s waist, and maybe that’s something they’re going to have to talk about when Parker can have a conversation. But for the moment, Cib just says, “Good.” And Parker can’t help but agree.
FIC: you’ll always be my happy ending
A love story, told through articles, transcripts, tweets, and a very popular song. Parker/Cib, celebrity AU, 1.8k.
AUcember || title lyric || Ao3
#
1. Article from Teen Vogue, Dec. 2017 issue
Fast Five: Things You Need to Know about Cib by R. Scully
Clayton James, better known as Cib, put out one of the biggest alt-pop records of the year with Songs From Every Coast. His meandering lyrics, smooth vocals, and surprising production have earned him fans around the world. He’s also notoriously private, but we here at Teen Vogue sat down with him to get five must-know facts.
Yes, he’s like that in real life. (Sort of.) It’s been a big debate between fans whether his stage persona - kind of a goof, an idiot but in a fun way - is an act or actually who he is. But he says the truth is somewhere in the middle. “I can do basic things,” Cib says, “but I think anyone who says they’re totally competent is either lying on purpose or just wrong. Like, haven’t we all microwaved silverware before? We all make mistakes, I just play them up on stage.”
His first guitar was named Sheila. “Not for any reason, I think I was going through an Australia phase. You know, the Australia phase that every kid goes through. I thought it’d be cool.” His current guitars? Annie, Melanie, Sally, and one that he says is a secret.
He hated riding bikes as a kid. “I do it all the time now,” he laughs, “but when I was a kid? Nah, dude, I fell off constantly. Crashed it more than once My balance was s***. I’m way more coordinated now. I think it’s all the choreography.”
The headband started as a joke. If you’ve seen more people wearing headbands lately, that’s no accident: that’s Cib’s brand. But he says the brand was a total accident. “My friend Steve bet me I wouldn’t,” he says, “and all it takes is one or two photoshoots, a couple of paparazzos, and bam, you have a brand.” Lucky for him, he didn’t mind leaning into it: “I think it’s a good look, don’t you?”
Mr. Mcghghy is real, and he’s not who you think he is. Easily the most popular song off Songs From Every Coast, “Dear Mr. Mcghghy” sparked waves of speculation in fans. The song is obviously a love song, written to someone who’s only ever called Mr. Mcghghy. And who is he? “Someone I was friends with as a kid,” Cib says. “We had nonsense nicknames for each other, and his was Mr. Mcghghy. He was definitely my first crush, looking back, but I don’t really know where he is these days.” And what was his childhood nonsense name? “Aw, dude, it was Cib. Of course.”
#
2. Excerpt from Song Exploder, episode: Cib - Dear Mr. Mcghghy
“Okay, first of all, because I know everyone’s asking about it: yes, Mr. Mcghghy is real, but I don’t remember his real name. When I was younger, I used to spend my summers visiting family in North Carolina - it was actually a big inspiration for this album as a whole. When I say it’s from every coast, you know, I mean it’s from every coast. East, west, Canadian, American, it’s all in here.
“But I used to go down to North Carolina for a month every year, and there was this kid who lived down the street from my family. He was a couple years older than me, and I don’t remember a lot about him, because we were kids, and kids don’t know how to pay attention to shit that’s going to be important. But he was a little older, had curly hair, and was totally okay with bratty little me dragging him on adventures all over his city. He said he’d seen it all before, but I was seeing new things, and that was part of the song.
“The nicknames just came out of nowhere. We picked our own, although I think one of my cousins had already been calling me Cib. I don’t remember why he picked Mcghghy, but he was always really, really specific about how it was spelled. I made up a song to help me remember, and you can actually hear that melody in the background of the chorus…”
#
3. Interview with The Sami Jo Show on iHeartRadio (Dec. 8, 2017)
SJ: Okay, okay, so here’s the question on everyone’s mind.
C: You sure about that?
SJ: It’s on my mind, and I think it’s a thing a lot of people are curious about. What’s your favorite song off your album?
C: Oh, f***- wait, s***, I can’t say that on air, can I?
SJ: I mean, you can say it. The people won’t hear it.
C: Good to know. I mean, I can’t pick, right? They’re all my favorite. I put a lot of time into every one of them.
SJ: Top three?
C: God, that’s still so hard! Uh, Gold Rush, because it’s f***ing catchy as all hell. Does hell get bleeped out?
SJ: Nope. Don’t kids listen to your music?
C: I mean, I say f*** on their album. I think I’m single-handedly responsible for a lot of parents teaching their kids about swear words.
SJ: Like many great artists before you.
C: And some not-so-great ones too.
SJ: Of course. So, come on, top three.
C: S***! Um… I Don’t Mind? And then Dear Mr. Mcghghy.
SJ: Oh, I was hoping you’d bring that one up. Because, as a lot of people know, Mr. Mcghghy is a real person.
C: Yeah, he is.
SJ: And you don’t know who he is?
C: I don’t know! And a lot of people think that I’m lying when I say that, that I’m just trying to protect his privacy. A few people think we’re actually secretly married - we’re not, by the way. I legit don’t know where this guy is, or what he’s up to anymore.
SJ: Do you think he’s heard the song?
C: I think it’d be hard not to, it’s kind of popular. Ugh, humble brag, gross.
SJ: And do you think he knows it’s about him?
C: Maybe! Never say never. Mr. Mcghghy, if you’re out there, hit me up. We can get coffee.
SJ: [laughing] And you can tell Cib your real last name.
C: Please! Please, god, so many people spell it wrong, your last name has to be easier to spell than Mcghghy.
SJ: What if it’s not?
C: Don’t- don’t jinx it! [laughing] Don’t cast your last name magic, Siedband!
SJ: Whoa, hold on, let’s not bring my last name into this, I haven’t done anything wrong?
C: Haven’t you? [Sami Jo laughs] Haven’t you?
#
4. A tweet from Cib (@maybeCIB) on Twitter, with replies
Clayton James @maybeCIB kinda miss North Carolina but now I’m old enough to know better
Andrea Whatt @piecesofwhatt Replying to @maybeCIB :( but what if Mr. Mcghghy is waiting for you there?!
evan @evannumbers Replying to @maybeCIB never come back to this state
Tiara, throwing sparkles @theycallmera Replying to @maybeCIB Nooooo most of NC is fine, we swear!
Parker Coppins @pcoppins Replying to @maybeCIB Did you write a song about me?
#
5. Direct Messages between @maybeCIB and @pcoppins
@maybeCIB: Dude
@maybeCIB: I think I might’ve?
@pcoppins: I think you might’ve too
@maybeCIB: how can we confirm
@pcoppins: Uh
@pcoppins: Every year you insisted on eating a ton of saltwater taffy even though you thought it was gross because you thought it’d make it easier for you to open your eyes in saltwater
@maybeCIB: Oh my god
@maybeCIB: it’s you?
@pcoppins: It’s me
@maybeCIB: no way
@maybeCIB: how’ve you been dude
@pcoppins: You keep saying my hair is curly
@maybeCIB: is it not curly anymore??
@pcoppins: No it’s definitely curly I just want to know why that matters so much
@maybeCIB: I don’t think it does
@maybeCIB: it’s just sort of whimsical
@maybeCIB: kind of my brand
@pcoppins: It always was when we were kids too
@maybeCIB: okay so
@maybeCIB: Coppins?
@pcoppins: I can’t believe you actually forgot my last name
@maybeCIB: well what did you remember about me??
@pcoppins: Apparently more than you remembered about me
@maybeCIB: well yeah that’s not hard
@maybeCIB: also sorry for, like, writing a love song about you when I haven’t seen you since I was eleven
@pcoppins: no it’s okay
@pcoppins: it took me an embarrassingly long time to realize it was about me
@maybeCIB: don’t tell me you forgot about mcghghy?
@pcoppins: Oh I remembered it I just thought it was a coincidence
@maybeCIB: really
@pcoppins: Yeah
@pcoppins: And then I heard your Song Exploder
@maybeCIB: oh my god
@pcoppins: Also for the record
@pcoppins: I live in LA now
@maybeCIB: Iiiiinteresting
@pcoppins: so you don’t have to come to NC to see me
@maybeCIB: hey so can I get your number
@maybeCIB: we should do coffee sometime
@maybeCIB: but like, nowhere obvious, because I do have fans who will drag you into a spotlight if they think you’re Mr. Mcghghy
@pcoppins: but I am
@maybeCIB: dude trust me it’d be better to save that for later
#
6. Excerpt from Star Magazine’s gossip section
MEETING MR. MCGHGHY?: Self-proclaimed “weird pop” singer CIB was spotted in L.A. this past weekend in a coffee shop with a mystery man. He’s tall, curly-haired, and as the song to Cib’s hit “Dear Mr. Mcghghy” goes, he has a starlight smile. Could this be the man who stole America’s collective hearts?
#
7. Cib’s acceptance speech for Favorite Breakout Artist, at the People’s Choice Awards
[Cib, standing in front of the podium, clears his throat and looks at a camera operator.]
“Whoa, oh my god, how much time do I have? ...ohhh, that’s not enough. Not enough. I want to say thanks to my family, to my parents, because when I said “Mom, Dad, I think I want to do music,” they both sort of went “yeah, sounds okay.” Thank you to Steve, who learned all sorts of weird music stuff and figured out how to explain it to me. Thank you to my label, thank you to my producers and co-writers and graphic designers. I don’t think most people realize what a team effort it is to make an album, but it involves so many people, and if I could name you all I would, but-”
[The orchestra begins to play, signifying time running out.]
“Ah! Ah, okay, last things, I want to thank the people, for voting for this, you did that on purpose and that’s so crazy. Thank you to all my fans, to every radio station who ever played one of my songs. And thank you to Parker, the best accidental muse I could ever have. Love you, man. Let’s go Broilers!”
[The orchestra music swells. Cib goes back to his seat, and a camera follows him. On the television broadcast, a voiceover announces what will be coming after the commercial break. Just before the feed fades out, Cib reaches his seat. A tall man with curly hair jumps out of his seat, smiling widely, and Cib reaches up, pulls his head in, and kisses him.]
FIC: a better side of you to admire
It is a mystery to Cib, most days, how he ended up dating the literal nicest person in the world. Or, more exactly, how the literal nicest person in the world ended up dating him. (A domestic AU. Cib/Parker, 1.6k)
AUcember || title lyric
#
“You look constipated,” Steve announces. “Tell me what’s wrong before I change my mind.”
“You wanna hear about me being constipated?” Cib says, even though they both definitely know that’s not the real problem. “Wanna talk about my bowels?”
As always, Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, Cib, tell me all about those bowels of yours.”
“Well, it all started when Parker started talking about how we have different diets.”
“So this is about you and Parker moving in together?”
“Maybe,” Cib hedges, which they both know is as good as a yes. Steve is good at speaking Cib’s language: Cib says shit he doesn’t mean, and Steve hears the shit he does mean. It’s a gift. Cib has been telling him for years that he should put it on his resume.
“Okay,” Steve says. “What is it about, then, really?”
“Nothing,” Cib says as forcefully as he can.
Steve taps his chin and looks at him consideringly. “You asked him to move in with you.”
“Yes, I did.”
“And the big day is two days away.”
“Yes, sir, yes it is.”
“And you’re not worried about that.”
“I’m actually mostly not.”
“But it is about Parker.”
“It actually mostly is.”
“Okay,” Steve says, and leans in to look closely at Cib’s right iris, which he swears holds all of Cib’s secrets.
Cib asked Parker once to see what secrets were in that iris. Parker had lasted about three seconds before he leaned back in bed, giggle-snorting, and announced that looking at eyes freaked him out. And Cib was pretty much required by law to kiss him, because that was damn cute, and that was the end of that.
“Holy shit,” Steve says, “you think Parker’s cheating on you.”
“No,” Cib says immediately, and Steven gives him a look. Cib knows that look, because he’s just as fluent in Steve’s language as Steve is in his. It’s a look that means he knows Cib is lying. “I don’t!”
“You think that your fourth-grade teacher boyfriend-”
“I don’t think that!”
“You’re afraid,” Steve amends, and Cib nods. “That your fourth-grade teacher boyfriend is having an affair?”
“I think teaching kids for a living could drive anyone to want more out of life,” Cib says, which is at least partially true. Kids are great, he loves kids, but Parker is… well, he’s great with them, in a way that most people just aren’t. Parker is patient, and steady, and makes self-deprecating jokes like he’s not the only genuinely kind person in Cib’s life.
It is a mystery to Cib, most days, how he ended up dating the literal nicest person in the world. Or, more exactly, how the literal nicest person in the world ended up dating him.
“Okay, no, stop.” Steve shakes his head. “Where is this coming from?”
Cib chews his lip for a second. “Okay, so there’s a third-grade teacher down the hall, right?”
“Jesus Christ, you think he’s having an affair with a coworker? In front of the eight-year-olds?”
“You should hear how he talks about her,” Cib protests. “He keeps talking about how she’s pretty, and nice, and good with the kids, and…”
He trails off, but he’s pretty sure Steve can hear what he’s not saying. That Parker talks about Miss Siedband from down the hall the same way that Cib talks about Parker.
“Dude,” Steve sighs, and he at least looks a little more sympathetic now. “If he wanted to date someone like that, he would.”
“I know,” Cib says, because that’s the worst part. He knows that this is all bullshit nonsense paranoia, and he trusts Parker completely. Or at least mostly. “But what if he does want to?”
“Then he’ll break up with you,” Steve says, and when Cib flinches, he adds, “you fucking wimp, oh my god. But he’s not going to, because you’re moving in together.”
“I know.”
“And also, this is Parker, who I’m pretty sure could not hurt someone if his life literally depended on it. How do you think he’s going to hurt you?”
“He’s not,” Cib admits. “It’s just… he’s… and I’m…”
“A fucking idiot,” Steve finishes. “C’mon, man, waste my time with real problems next time.”
It’s a little more blunt than the usual dialect of Steve-speak, but Cib understands it anyways: he has nothing to worry about. Which he knew, or at least suspected, but it’s nice to hear it from Steve.
“Maybe I’ll talk about my constipation instead,” he says, because he knows that Steve will hear the unspoken thank you. And Steve groans, but Cib’s pretty sure that just means “you’re welcome.”
#
Cib shows up before Parker’s school open house with fresh store-bought cookies, still in the container.
“Aw, babe,” Parker says, beaming down. “From that grocery store we go to every week?”
“You know me, I’m always down to go that extra mile.” Cib sits down on one of the kids’ desks, because he’s not about to fit his entire adult self into one of those chairs, and Parker sits next to him with the cookies on his lap. “You ready to meet parents?”
“Sure.” Parker holds out the cookies, and Cib grabs a couple. “I mean, there are always a couple of problem parents, but I think most of my kids this year are great, you know?”
“You said that last year.”
“I know.”
“And the year before.”
Parker smiles, looking a little wistful. “I know.”
“I’m beginning to think you just, like, love your students or something,” Cib says, and reaches one foot out to bump against Parker’s. Parker kicks him back, unbearably gentle, and Cib can’t help but smile at him. Parker smiles back, all sparkly eyes and happiness and whatever and for an instant Cib feels horribly, horribly guilty.
He’s trying to figure out something to say when the door opens. “Hey, Parker, you- oh my god, he’s real.”
Parker nearly drops the cookies, eyes going wide as he turns to face the door. “You can’t say that in front of him!”
“In front of what?” Cib says, staring at the woman in the door. She’s a little short, with curly hair and a natural tilt to her head that he likes immediately. “You mean me?”
“I mean you.”
Parker holds out the cookies. “Take a couple so I don’t eat them all?”
“Ugh, fine.” The woman comes over, grabs a cookie, and waves. “Hey, I’m Sami Jo.”
“Miss Siedband from down the hall,” Parker adds, like he hasn’t called her both interchangeably. It’s cute. Cib’s boyfriend is cute.
“And you’re-” Sami Jo’s eyes narrow. “Clllllark?”
“Clay. Or Cib.”
She snaps her fingers. “Cib! I knew that. Cib who works at the community theater, right?”
“Uh, you know a lot about me for assuming I was fake.”
“Please,” Sami Jo says. “‘My pretty boyfriend who wears headbands and does community theater and never visits me at work because he thinks children will hate him,’ that doesn’t sound fake to you?”
“Well, how do I know you’re real?” Cib shoots back. “‘My pretty coworker who’s good with kids and ate staples because I dared her to,’ doesn’t that sound fake?”
Sami Jo gasps and swats Parker on the arm. “You told him about the staples?”
“I had to tell someone!” Parker glances at his feet. “I felt guilty.”
“Aw,” Cib says, and nudges one of Parker’s feet again. “You felt guilty.”
“I did,” Parker says, but he looks up at Cib through his eyelashes and smiles that stupid, brilliant smile of his. “But, you know.”
“I know,” Cib says, and Parker’s smile widens.
“Yuck,” Sami Jo says, and grabs another cookie. “I gotta go get set up for parents, I’ll leave you guys to it.”
Parker looks at her in surprise. “Did you need something?”
“Nothing I can’t get from Sean.” She winks at him and then, weirdly enough, again at Cib. “It’s not every day your kid-phobic boyfriend drops by.”
“That’s true,” Parker says, looking pleased. “See you.”
Sami Jo waves at them both and leaves, closing the door behind her.
“She’s nice,” Cib says, and Parker turns and gives him a Look, and Parker looks are definitely harder to understand than Steve looks. “She is!”
“You like her?”
“Well, yeah, did you see her?”
“Her girlfriend likes her too,” Parker says, and eats a bite of cookie like he’s daring Cib to say something.
“Dude,” Cib says in awe, “are you… jealous that I like your coworker?”
Parker shakes his head, but Cib is definitely fluent enough in Parker to know that that’s a yes.
“Aw, honey,” he says, and hooks one of his feet around Parker’s ankle. “If you’re gonna be jealous of anyone, be jealous of that hot grad student with the dark hair who helps design sets at the theater, and I get to be jealous of Sami Jo. Deal?”
“Deal,” Parker says.
“Scooch over.”
Parker scooches, and Cib forces himself to squeeze next to him on top of the desk. They’re both halfway falling off, but he ignores that to hook a hand around the back of Parker’s head and bring their foreheads together. “We’re a couple of idiots, you know that?”
Parker smiles. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m not jealous of your grad student.”
“And I’m not jealous of your coworker,” Cib says, because he’s pretty sure it’s true now. “Because you’re my fucking boyfriend.”
“Yes, I am.”
“And I’m yours.”
“Yes,” Parker says, and brings a hand up to Cib’s cheek. “You are.” And Cib sees just a quarter-second of a smile before Parker leans in and kisses him.
FIC: steady (keep on hoping)
Parker likes Cib. Cib has a girlfriend. After a while, Parker has a boyfriend. That should be the end to this story. But it’s not. (A story about timing. Parker/Cib, miscellaneous background ships, 2.2k)
AUcember || title lyric & inspo
#
“Why are we here again?” Parker asks, although he can barely hear himself over the thudding bass in the house. He hates parties. He hates parties, and there’s no reason that he should be here.
“Because James used to be friends with the guy hosting this,” Steve shouts back. “And it’s, like, a revenge plot or something, I don’t know.”
“Is that really a good reason to be here?”
“Since when do you need a reason to go to a party?”
Parker tries to give Steve a look, one of those sardonic looks that Steve is always giving him, but he’s pretty sure he just looks desperate instead. Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m going to find James.”
“What?”
“James,” Steve shouts again. Someone bumps into him, but he ignores it. “I’ll be right back, dude.”
“Wait, Steve, you can’t-”
“Oh my god, you can-” Steve cranes his neck and then reaches into the crowd of people dancing in this stranger’s living room. He grabs someone by the elbow, seemingly at random, and pulls him over. “Cib!”
“Steve!” the new guy shouts cheerfully. “You here for the party or for the vengeance plot?”
“Vengeance!”
“Rock on, dude!” He turns and looks Parker up and down. “What about you?”
“I’m here for Steve,” Parker says, although he would be amazed if the dude can hear him. The guy, Cib, is the kind of person that looks completely at home in a party, loose-limbed and heavy-lidded and grinning like he belongs. It’s breathtaking. Parker’s definitely having trouble speaking.
“That’s cool,” Cib says.
“No, he’s not,” Steve says, because he’s a great friend but not a kind one. “Cib, I need you to watch Parker and make sure he doesn’t get wasted or something, I’m gonna go track down James.”
Cib salutes Steve. “Sounds good, dude!” He loops one of his arms through Parker’s. “I do this with my girlfriend, when she and I go to parties.”
“That’s nice,” Parker says, but he can feel his heart sinking. Girlfriend. Of course he has a girlfriend. Why wouldn’t he have a girlfriend? “That’s… generous of you.”
“Just call me Ellen, I’m so generous.” Cib grins at him, and Parker can’t help but grin back. His heart is still fluttering and sinking all at once, like a drowning butterfly or something.
All he has to do, he thinks, is never speak to Cib outside this party again. That’s all he needs to do and everything will be fine.
#
They meet outside the party. Because it turns out that Cib is actually pretty good friends with Steve, and from then on out Parker can’t get rid of the guy. Or the way his stomach turns over every time he sees him.
Cib’s girlfriend is one of the nicest people that Parker has ever met. He hates that, just enough to be ashamed about it. It’d be easier if she were awful and he could say, with confidence, that Cib deserved better.
But Sami Jo is sweet, and when Cib smiles at her she smiles back like he’s the sun. Which Parker understands completely.
“You like her?” Cib asks. He and Sami Jo were out for coffee and Parker ran into them. Stroke of luck, Cib had said. Parker’s not sure if that luck is good or bad.
“Yeah,” Parker says. “She’s… she’s great. You guys, great pair, real good.”
“Yeah?” Cib smiles, eyes going distant. “She’s pretty great, huh?”
“Pretty great,” Parker repeats, and wishes more than anything that he were lying.
#
Four months into Parker’s crush - Parker’s big, useless, headed-nowhere-fast crush - he goes on a date.
The guy’s name is Andrew, and they have the same coffee order. And he’s nice. Has a good smile and a good sense of humor, and he’s smart. And he’s nothing like Cib. Maybe that’s why Parker says yes when Andrew asks him out.
He doesn’t mention it to anyone except Steve, which is both a good call and a mistake in its own right. Because Steve doesn’t say anything about it until he, Cib, Parker, and James are trying to plan a boys’ night sleepover.
“No plus-ones,” James argues. “Sami Jo’s not even a boy, dude!”
“No, she’s not,” Cib says, and James and Steve groan. “She’s not!”
“Boys only,” James insists.
And Steve, one of the only people who knows about Andrew, has to go and say, “Does that mean Parker can invite his boyfriend?”
“I don’t think he’s my boyfriend yet,” Parker says automatically, and then realizes that James and Cib are both staring open-mouthed at him. “I mean… it’s… what’s the rule, is there a rule? We’ve gone out twice-”
“Twice,” Cib says, something strange in his voice. “Twice?”
“Two times,” Parker says. “Going on three.”
“You didn’t mention.”
Because I’m in love with you, a little bit, Parker almost says. What he actually says is, weakly, “No, I didn’t.”
“But he’s a guy,” Steve says impatiently. “Does the boys only rule extend to him?”
James grimaces. “We can’t- come on, dude, you know that’s not what it means.”
“What do you think boys only means?”
Parker’s phone buzzes, and when he checks it, there’s a text from Andrew. And James and Steve are arguing, and he has the text to answer, and it’s almost enough to make him forget that he can feel Cib’s eyes on him.
#
At boys night, a week later - which turns out just to be the four of them, because Andrew has to meet and be approved by all the boys in order to be at boys night - James and Steve sneak off halfway through the movie they pick. They make their excuses a couple minutes apart, like that’s going to keep Parker and Cib from figuring out that they’re making out in James’s bedroom or something.
“So,” Parker says, because Cib hasn’t looked at him all night and he’s kind of sick of it, “how’s Sami Jo?”
“Good,” Cib says, still without looking at Parker. “I mean, we broke up, but she’s good.”
It feels like there’s a boulder on Parker’s chest, pressing into him. “Broke up?” he repeats. “I’m sorry, man, what happened?”
“Wasn’t working,” Cib says, like he and Sami Jo haven’t been the perfect, idyllic couple as long as Parker’s known them both. “She met someone else.”
“I’m sor-”
“Don’t be.” Cib looks up at last, but not quite at Parker, more like he’s looking somewhere over Parker’s shoulder. “I’m happy for her. It was a mutual thing anyways. There was someone else I was interested in, too.”
Parker swallows. “Was?”
“Yeah,” Cib says, and looks back at his phone. “But, uh, I guess he met someone else too.”
“Oh,” Parker says, softer than he wants to be. “Cib-”
“Dude,” James shouts from somewhere behind him, and Cib turns away from Parker to look at him. Parker swallows and decides to try not to think about it.
#
The boys all approve of Andrew. Cib is nice to him. Parker doesn’t know what to think of that. But then again, he was pretty nice to Sami Jo when he met her.
#
Andrew breaks up with Parker after about seven months and Parker would be lying if he said he was anything other than relieved.
(“I like you,” Andrew says. “But I’m pretty sure that you’re not going to love me. Which is cool. We can still be friends.”)
The first thing Parker does, for reasons he can’t understand, is call Steve.
“I’m sorry you’re single or whatever,” Steve says impatiently, “but I’m really not the person you should be calling right now.”
“Because I should be calling someone else?”
“Yes, and also because I’m on a date right now, you jackass.”
“Oh. Tell James hi?”
“Parker says hi,” Steve says, and then James says something that Parker can’t quite make out. “He says call Cib, you fucking idiot. The fucking idiot part is editorial from me.”
“Thanks, James.” Parker hangs up, takes a deep breath, and dials Cib’s number.
It doesn’t even ring before he hits voicemail. “Heyyy, dude, Cib’s the name, picking up the phone is not my game, call me, I’ll call you back and hope it’s not the same. ...was that good, Steve?”
The phone beeps. Parker takes a deep breath. “Hey, man, it’s… uh, it’s Parker. You probably knew that. Phones are cool these days. God. Uh, I was wondering if you wanted to… hang out, or something. Andrew and I just broke up, and I’m - not that this is about that, it’s just - I just want to hang out. I feel like we haven’t. In a while. Okay. Bye.”
He hangs up and wants to bang his head against a wall. “Phones are cool these days,” he mumbles. “What are you doing, Parker, what are you doing?”
He lasts about forty more minutes before he calls Cib one more time. He won’t leave a voicemail this time, he just has to call and see.
The phone rings twice this time before someone picks up. “Cib’s phone,” the voice on the other end says.
It’s not Cib’s voice.
Parker feels something hot crashing over him in waves, like… like shame, or anger, or something else awful. “Sorry, bad number,” he manages to say before hanging up.
Great. So he’s single. And Cib’s not. Because Cib doesn’t let just anyone answer his phone. He’s weird about passcodes, and privacy, and things like that.
“Bad number,” Parker mumbles, and flops over in his bed, trying to ignore the stinging at his eyes. “Good going.”
#
He doesn’t exactly remember falling asleep, but he wakes up to the sound of banging on his door. Not just knocking: full-on aggressive door-banging.
“In a minute,” Parker shouts in the general direction of the door, and goes about the business of getting up. His hair’s a mess, and his clothes are a mess, and he kind of generally looks like he passed out on top of his bed, lying sideways, thinking about a boy he’s been hopelessly half in love with for nearly a year.
Whoever it is, they’re just going to have to live with that, he decides. Because that’s exactly what he did, and if they call him on it, he’s earned the right to look a little messy.
The banging on the door starts again, and Parker groans. He runs a hand through his hair, just on principle, and opens the door.
“Dude,” Cib says, eyes wide, “are you okay?”
Parker blinks and, for good measure, rubs his eyes. “Cib?”
“That’s the name I’ve chosen.” Cib looks him up and down, and when his eyes settle on Parker’s face, something about him softens. “I got your voicemail. Sorry about Andrew, dude.”
“That’s-” Parker shakes his head. “That’s okay. Weren’t you with someone?”
“With someone?”
“I called you again,” Parker says, feeling a little lame. “Someone else picked up.”
Cib frowns. “Yeah, didn’t you get my voicemail?”
Parker blinks. He hadn’t even thought to check his phone. “No?”
“I went out to a movie with a friend I haven’t seen in a while, he had my phone for a minute.” Cib rolls his eyes. “I didn’t notice you called, because you can’t trust a guy with hair that dark. You doing okay?”
Parker swallows. There’s a chance that what he’s about to do goes horribly wrong, but that’s not substantially different from most choices he makes. “Do you wanna… get coffee?”
“It’s ten at night, dude,” Cib says, and now he looks actually concerned. “Are we doing an all-nighter? Because we can do better than coffee. Or Irish coffee.”
Parker shakes his head. “I mean… not right now.”
“What?”
“Do you want to get coffee sometime,” Parker says, a little desperately. He’s not sure how else to say it. “With me.”
“Of course with you.”
“No, I mean… with me, with me.”
He can tell the exact moment Cib gets it, because his eyes widen. “You mean-”
“You don’t have to,” Parker says quickly, because he needs to give himself a way out here. “Just, you know, if you’re- if you want to- if you drink coffee-”
“You’re asking me out,” Cib says delightedly. “You’re asking me out?”
Parker shrugs. He wants to retreat back into the safety of his house, away from this conversation. “If you want. Or we can be just friends. Or never speak again, it’s up to you, it’s really not a big-”
“Parker,” Cib says, with so much raw affection in his voice that Parker comes up short. “Course I’ll get coffee with you, dude. I don’t even care if I’m the rebound.”
“You’re not,” Parker says. “Andrew kind of was.”
“That,” Cib says, “is the best thing I’ve ever heard. You wanna get coffee now?”
“It’s ten at night.”
“I can think of things we can do instead of sleep,” Cib says, and before Parker can even blush Cib grabs his hand. “Let’s go. I’ve been waiting for this.”
“Me too,” Parker breathes, and Cib’s eyes sparkle as he pulls Parker out towards his car.
FIC: today and every day
“My parents think I’ve been engaged for six months,” Parker says mournfully. “They think I’ve been engaged for half a year and they just haven’t met who I’m engaged to.” A fake engagement AU. Parker/Cib, 1.5k.
AUcember || title lyric
#
“You’re worried about something,” Sami Jo says.
Parker hates it when she does that. She has this way of… of looking at him and reading him, even when he tries his hardest not to be read. It was impressive when they first met. It’s the reason she’s his best friend, even after one month of stilted, uncomfortable dating. And it’s nice to have someone who understands him, right up until he’s trying to avoid being understood.
“Maybe,” Parker says, because he’s not giving this one up without a fight.
Sami Jo’s eyes narrow. “Are you trying to hide from me?”
“I’m not-”
“At our weekly lunch-and-bitch?”
“There are no lies at lunch-and-bitch,” Parker says automatically. It’s one of their ground rules, and one that he gleefully leverages when she tries to lie to him. It’s only happened twice, but boy, does he love catching her at it.
“Exactly,” Sami Jo says, and points her fork at him. “You’re worried.”
“I’m worried,” Parker agrees.
“And you don’t want me to know what you’re worried about.”
“No, I do not.”
Sami Jo eats a few of her sweet potato fries, still giving Parker that considering, calculating look. He would relax, except the fact that she’s still looking at him definitely means she’s still coming for him.
“You’re going to visit your parents next week,” Sami Jo says at last, and Parker sighs. “Oh my god, seriously?”
“It’s not just that,” he admits, pushing some of the salad around on his plate. “It’s… complicated.”
“They still think you’re engaged,” Sami Jo guesses.
Parker pushes his plate aside and thuds his head down on the table. “I don’t know why I told them that.”
“I don’t know why you told them that either,” Sami Jo says, but she reaches out and ruffles his hair. It feels weirdly nice. Parker kind of doesn’t want her to stop. “You’ve never been engaged.”
“They think I’ve been engaged for six months,” Parker says mournfully, even though she was there when he told that lie, and for the immediate fallout when he realized what a bad lie it was. “They think I’ve been engaged for half a year and they just haven’t met who I’m engaged to.”
Sami Jo keeps her hand on his head. “Do you even have a ring?”
Parker groans. “I need to get a ring.”
“You need to get a fiance or tell them the truth,” Sami Jo says, kindly but firmly. “Those are your options at this point.”
“No getting a ring?”
“Get a ring if there’s a man who comes with it.”
“What if I hired someone to be my fake fiance?”
“Wow,” Sami Jo says. Parker looks up at her; she doesn’t look impressed. “This is a whole new level of avoiding your problems.”
“Is that good?”
“What do you mean, is that good? No, it’s not good that you’re trying to keep this going!”
“What if I told them I broke the engagement off?”
“With the fiance you don’t have?”
“What if,” Parker says, “I just didn’t visit?”
“You’ve gotta get it together, P,” Sami Jo says, and finally takes her hand back. Parker sits upright at last, and she shakes her head. “Look at me, I’ve never lied to my parents about being engaged.”
“That’s just because you haven’t proposed yet.”
“Correct,” she says cheerfully. “And I won’t until Autumn and I talk about it, but that’s not the point.”
“What’s the point of any of this?”
“The point is-” Sami Jo leans in. “Quit lying. Get engaged, or tell them the truth. Or hell, tell them you broke it off if you have to. But don’t keep this going any longer, got it?”
#
Parker’s weird neighbor Cib is hanging out outside when Parker gets home from lunch-and-bitch. He waves. “Hey, dude.”
“Hey, Cib,” Parker sighs. Weird, hot Cib is one of Parker’s favorite people when he’s in the mood to talk. He’s not in the mood to talk right now.
Cib folds his arms on top of the fence between their houses and props his chin on top. “You seem like you’re having technical difficulties.”
“Technical how?”
“With life,” Cib says solemnly. “Wanna talk about it?”
“My parents think I’m engaged,” Parker says, before he can stop himself.
“Why?”
“Because I told them that.”
“Are you?”
“Nope.”
“Were you ever?”
“Also nope.”
“Whoa,” Cib says. “Fake-gagement. That’s intense.”
“Yeah,” Parker sighs. “Only I’m going home next week, and I really don’t have a fiance to bring with me. They don’t know anything about the imaginary fiance, so I can say it’s for work, but-”
“But you’d have to make up a person,” Cib finishes knowingly. “Yeah, I’ve been there.”
“Really.”
“I mean, I’ve been next-door.”
“To… my parents?”
“No, to your situation.” Cib perks up. “Turned out okay, though! She lived.”
Parker would ask what that means, he really would, but he’s not entirely sure that he wants to know. “Anyways, Sami Jo says I should just tell the truth, and I think she might be onto something.”
“More like on something,” Cib snorts. “Samuel Josephine doesn’t know the first thing about relationships.”
Sami Jo has been dating the same woman since basically the week after she broke up with Parker. Cib knows this, because he’s met Sami Jo more than once. And Autumn, for that matter.
“Yeah?” Parker says, a little wary. “What do you think I should do?”
“I’ll go with you,” Cib says cheerfully. “I’ll be your fiance.”
Parker blinks. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would.”
“I can’t ask you-”
“I volunteered. All I require is free food, and your signature on every petition I send to the HOA.”
Cib’s petitions to the HOA have been about, within Parker’s experience: snowglobes, magnolia trees, whether or not the grass in his front yard can be replaced with sand, the fact that he should be allowed to paint his own driveway, and breaking his own windows. Parker signed every one of those petitions.
“Sure,” he says. “But you… you really don’t have to.”
“You’re worried,” Cib says, simply, like that’s that. “And also, I could use food that I don’t pay for myself.”
It’s a bad idea. Sami Jo is right, and Parker knows that even if he’ll never admit it. It’d really just be better to end this whole thing and deal with their disappointment, or even just to say he’s single now and build a real relationship from the ground up.
“Fine,” Parker says. “But we should… you know, come up with a cover story.”
“We’re neighbors,” Cib suggests. “And then we fell in love.”
Parker nods. “Sounds good. I’m leaving Thursday morning next week.”
“Cool,” Cib says. “I’ll get you a ring.”
#
At 8:45 on Thursday, Cib knocks on his door. Parker opens it, and Cib immediately drops down to one name. “Parker Mcghghy, will you-”
“What did you just say my last name is?”
“Can’t remember the real one, I made one up.”
“It’s- you should know that if you’re marrying me.”
“Well, what is it?” Cib says impatiently.
“Coppins!”
“Ugh, won’t work. Cib Coppins sounds like a cartoon character. Clayton Coppins, Kid Carpenter, or something.”
“You already are a cartoon character,” Parker tells him. He means it mostly as a compliment, but it sounds a little mean out loud, and he winces. “I mean-”
“Aw,” Cib says, looking touched. “You think so?”
“Uh… sure?”
“Cool. Wanna get hitched?”
“A thousand times yes,” Parker says, and holds out his left hand. Cib slides the ring on, and Parker lifts his hand to inspect it. It’s surprisingly fancy: silver, with something geometric etched onto it. He was expecting something that was plainer, or maybe costume jewelry. “This-”
“You like it? I stole it myself,” Cib says, so happily that Parker is actually afraid to ask if he’s serious.
“That’s really nice,” Parker says hesitantly. “I didn’t get you-”
“We match, dude.” Cib gets to his feet and wiggles his left hand in front of Parker’s face; there’s an identical ring on his fourth finger. “I picked the rings out, because I have a good aesthetic eye. That’s what we can tell your parents.”
“It’s also the truth,” Parker points out.
“Exactly. Oh, almost forgot.” Cib bends down and picks up a bag of McDonald’s. “Egg sausage McMuffin stuffin’?”
“That’s exactly what I get at McDonald’s,” Parker says, racking his brain for any time that Cib would’ve found that out. “How-”
“I have my ways,” Cib says. He winks, taps Parker’s nose, and side-steps him to go inside.
Parker turns and watches as Cib drops the McDonald’s on the coffee table and drops himself on the couch, legs sticking up over the back. Weird, hot neighbor Cib is in Parker’s house, and knows his McDonald’s order even though there’s no reason he should. And he got them matching engagement rings.
“I’m in trouble,” Parker whispers. His heart is pounding. Sami Jo was right. This was a mistake.
Cib peers over the back of the couch. “What’d you say, dude?”
“Nothing,” Parker says, and twists the ring on his finger. If he’s going to make this mistake, he might as well commit.
FIC: and other things that glow
The apocalypse started in June, when it was supposed to be sunny and… not the end of the world, or whatever. It’s December now, but Arizona December isn’t anything worth being scared of. It’s almost Christmas, James thinks. Maybe this is their Christmas vacation. He’ll have to run that by Steve later, see if it makes him laugh. (A zombie AU, part two. James/Steve, background Parker/Cib and Autumn/Sami Jo. 4.6k.)
AUcember || Ao3 || part one
#
There are cars broken down all over the highway the highway. Not as many as there used to be, probably, but enough that they have to drive slowly.
“I think we were the last ones to leave California,” Steve says, around the fifth time that they have to stop and push a car out of the way so they can keep driving. “Everyone else had this idea first.”
“Yeah,” Cib says, wringing the sweat out of his headband, “but that just means that there’s no traffic.”
Steve flings an arm at the rusty shell of a Nissan that they just pushed away. “This is our traffic!”
“At least the traffic doesn’t want to eat us,” James says, because he’s pretty sure he’d rather deal with old cars than with zombies. Old cars are a pain in the ass, sure, but they’re not going to actually kill them. Probably.
“There are ways to die that don’t involve being eaten,” Steve points out, and Cib… winces, a little, the way he does sometimes. They’ve all shot zombies at this point, but Cib’s the only one who’s had to do it point-blank, and that’s different.
Also, a zombie tried to eat Cib’s boyfriend. James has to assume that makes it different too.
“Let’s get back in the car,” James says, and they all do. The SUV isn’t the nicest car they’ve ever had, and they’ve been siphoning gasoline out of every empty car they find along the way because there’s an actual, real chance that they run out. But there’s enough room for all six of them, and for most of their things. Food, and guns. Cib’s guitar. Vodka. Walkie-talkies. James has grenades, not that anybody else knows about those. A dude’s gotta have his secrets.
Parker doesn’t quite wake up as Cib climbs into the backseat, just mumbles something unintelligible. Cib coos loudly at him. “Look at him, he’s asleep.”
“Thank god,” Steve mutters. James is inclined to agree, considering how Parker is about sleeping sometimes.
Sami Jo is also fast asleep, leaning against the window. Autumn is holding her hand, running her thumb across the backs of her fingers. She half-smiles at James when she notices him looking. “This road trip is really gonna fuck our sleep schedules, huh?”
“Nah,” James says. “We don’t really have… time, in the traditional sense anymore, right? We’re just guessing at everything.”
The clock in the SUV says that it’s just past four in the afternoon. It might be. But James doesn’t know how time zones work, or clocks for that matter, and he’s pretty sure that the only standards they have now are “morning,” “afternoon,” and “too dark to be safe.”
“Hey, navigator,” Steve says impatiently. “You got the map? Let’s go.”
“Right!” James picks up the map from where it’s spread across the dashboard. They crossed the Arizona border earlier that day, kind of by accident, and he’d picked the map up from a rest stop so they could find their way. It was meant for tourists in a world that doesn’t completely exist anymore, and he figures that it can help tourists through the world that does.
“Are we still going north?”
“Yeah, keep going north.”
“Fucking great,” Steve mumbles, and starts the car.
“One of us could drive,” James says, even though it’s more cursory than an actual offer.
And just like he expected, Steve shakes his head. “This is my happy place and you don’t get to take that away from me.”
“All yours, dude,” James answers, and Steve doesn’t quite smile, but his lips twitch as the SUV lurches forward.
#
It takes them two days to drive from Los Angeles to the Grand Canyon. It’s supposed to take six hours, or something like that, but between car troubles and the fake traffic and Steve insisting that he’s the only one who drives, it takes way longer.
“This is nice,” James says, around the time they pass a sign that tells them the exit is five miles away. It’s late, and he’s the only passenger awake. Autumn and Sami Jo’s fingers are still tangled together, and Parker’s asleep with his head in Cib’s lap.
Steve glances at him. “Being in a car again?”
“Driving somewhere together.”
“So you mean the road trip?”
“Big apocalypse road trip,” James murmurs. It’s what Sami Jo calls it, every time, and it makes it seem… grander than it is, somehow. Like they’re going out on this adventure intentionally and not on a whim.
“Apocalypse road trip,” Steve echoes. “You think this was the right choice?”
“Of course.” He pauses. “Unless there are, like, zombies in the canyon.”
Steve makes a noise like an aborted laugh. “You think there are zombies in the canyon?”
“You think they’re smart enough to avoid falling off the edge?”
“That’s what we’ll do with them,” he says, and when James looks over he’s brimming with glee. “Just take all the zombies and dump them into the Grand Canyon so they eat each other. Quarantine it.”
“Put a giant dome over the top.”
“Plexiglass.”
“No, just glass. That way when it shatters they’ll get cut up.”
Steve laughs sharply, a little manic. He’s gripping the steering wheel with both hands, knuckles going white. “We solved the apocalypse.”
“Steve?”
“We solved it,” he repeats, and his thumbs are twitching against the wheel. “We can- it’ll all go back to normal now, right?”
“Steve-”
“We’re just having a normal road trip,” he continues, and James can’t do anything but stare. “Just a normal road trip, just six friends talking about trapping zombies in the- oh, god.”
“Are you okay?”
It takes Steve a minute, but he shakes his head, beaming fiercely. “No, I think I’m having a breakdown.”
“Okay, do you want me to drive?”
“No, man, this actually feels pretty good.”
“The nervous breakdown feels good?”
“No, I mean the part where I’m not pretending it’s normal anymore. Aren’t you tired of acting like this is all normal?”
James looks out the window, because he can’t look at Steve anymore. He can’t admit that it all feels normal now. “That was our exit.”
“I know.”
“Steve-”
“I’ll turn around in a minute,” he says. “I just don’t want to stop right now.”
“Okay,” James says. “If anyone wakes up I’ll just… I’ll say that I missed it. That I distracted you or something.”
“You don’t think I should tell them about the breakdown?”
“I think you’d freak them out.”
“Am I freaking you out?”
James wants to say yes, but honestly, he’s not all that freaked out. “I’m just glad you’re not… doing this alone, you know?”
“I know,” Steve says. James finally looks back, and one of Steve’s hands is resting on the gearshift. His eyes are fixed on the road. “Can you keep talking to me?”
“About what?”
“The weather. Where we’re going next. Anything.”
He keeps looking at Steven’s hand. He kind of wants to reach out and link his fingers, rest his hand on top. It’s stupid. He can already tell he’s going to be thinking about it for a long time.
“Of course, man,” he says, and Steve’s fingers twitch on the gearshift, and James knows then and there that he’s probably fucked.
#
Nobody gives James more shit about the missed exit than Sami Jo, who berates him for about three minutes.
“Go easy on him,” Autumn says when she wakes up. But she’s smiling softly, and Sami Jo beams at her. “Or don’t, you know.”
“Don’t let her yell at me,” James complains. “I’m doing my best.”
“Oh, doing your best,” Sami Jo repeats mockingly, but she’s still smiling at Autumn, and her heart’s definitely not in the mocking anymore. “It’s the end of the world, James, when were you going to say we drove thirty miles past it?”
“When we hit thirty miles!”
“At least he figured it out before we hit sixty,” Steve says, which is completely, totally unfair. James tries to glare at him, but Steven just arches an eyebrow at him, unrepentant. And James knows that he could pull out his trump card of “it was actually Steve’s fault,” but it’d taken all thirty of those miles to talk Steve back into being steady. “And it’s not like we had to stop at all along the way.”
“Yeah, actually,” James says, because he’d been wondering about that. “You’d think there would be more abandoned cars near the Grand Canyon, right?”
Autumn frowns. “Why would you think that?”
“Because there’s no way we’re the only ones who decided to go to the Grand Canyon at the end of the world.”
“Everyone whose first instinct at the end of the world is to go to the Grand Canyon is a fucking idiot,” Steven announces. “It’s a zombie pit. It’s also in the middle of the desert, so it’s hot, and it probably smells terrible.”
Sami Jo makes a face. “Why are we going there again?”
“It was literally your idea.”
“Yeah, but you guys were the ones who said yes.”
“Grand Canyon’s a good idea,” Parker says from the back. He’s still lying with his head in Cib’s lap, which is fucking gross. “We need to see it. It’ll be good for us.”
Sami Jo turns to look at him. “Have you been before?”
“Not for a few years.”
“Who here has been to the Grand Canyon?”
Steve lifts a hand. Parker doesn’t raise a hand, but he does raise the stump of his right arm.
Sami Jo nods decisively. “This was a good idea.”
“You were just saying -”
“Three miles,” James says loudly. “Exit for the south rim in three miles! Isn’t that going to be great?”
“Is the south rim the tourist rim?” Sami Jo makes a face. “I mean, do we really want to be tourists?”
“I really, genuinely don’t think it matters at this point,” James says. “Unless anyone cares.”
“I care,” Cib says loudly. James twists around to look at him, and he’s glaring in no specific direction. But it’s definitely a glare. “I want to be a tourist.”
“You’re the worst kind of person,” Steve says. “Actually, all of you are the worst types of people, especially Parker.”
Cib brushes Parker’s hair back. “Don’t listen to him, I’m worse than you ever were.”
“Aw,” Parker says. “That’s sweet.”
“Jesus,” Steve mumbles. “Do we really want to reward this with the Grand Canyon?”
“Yes,” Autumn and Cib say in unison.
Steve shakes his head. “Okay,” he says dubiously, and takes the exit.
#
Sami Jo, for her part, insists on keeping her eyes closed so that the first thing she sees is the canyon. It would be endearing, or something, except it means she has trouble getting out of the car. And walking. It’s actually more of a pain than it is endearing. Autumn, thankfully, volunteers to herd her around.
Steve, for his part, insists on going through the big hotel resort that’s closest to the rim itself, so they have somewhere to stay. He also parks the car in the most inconvenient place possible so nobody can steal it.
Cib and Parker, for their part, announce that instead of helping with literally anything, they’re going to go find a quiet corner to make out.
So that leaves James, because Steve said that he could case the hotel alone. It’s just him, a walkie talkie, and the entire Grand Canyon. All the food has been raided, which isn’t a surprise, but there are things he can pick up along the way. Guns, ammo, clean clothes that people left behind. Bottled water. (He uses a bottle to rinse out his hair, because… okay, sure, bottled water is a hot commodity these days, but there’s something to be said about personal hygeine. He feels like more of a person when his hair is clean, who’s going to give him shit for that?)
“Hey, James,” Steve says, crackling over the walkie talkie. “You think we could stay the night here?”
“Uh, of course, why wouldn’t we?”
“Because of the whole apocalypse? I don’t know, what are we doing after this?”
“I don’t know, I can’t believe we made it this far. Did you find a hotel room?”
“Yeah, there’s a suite up here that got looted to hell, but we can steal pillows and whatever from other rooms. Definitely room for all of us for the night.”
“And no sign of anyone else?”
“No recent sign.”
“Should we check the canyon for zombies?”
Steve pauses. “Shit, do you think there are actually zombies in the canyon?”
“I can scope it out,” James offers. “I’ve got a stockpile in the lobby, so as long as someone picks that up I can go.”
“Got a gun with you?”
“Two.”
“Check in if it’s all clear.”
“Of course.”
“Over and out,” Steve says, and James stuffs the walkie talkie back in his pocket.
The apocalypse started in June, when it was supposed to be sunny and… not the end of the world, or whatever. It’s December now, but Arizona December isn’t anything worth being scared of. It’s almost Christmas, James thinks. Maybe this is their Christmas vacation. He’ll have to run that by Steve later, see if it makes him laugh.
He’s never been to the Grand Canyon before, but it takes his breath away when he looks out at it, like he always knew it would. There’s something strange about the expanse, about how broad and unstoppable it feels. And there are zombies milling around in the bottom of the canyon, sure, but not close enough that it’s going to be a problem.
James pulls his walkie talkie back out. “So there are definitely some undead hanging out in the bottom of the canyon.”
“Seriously?”
“Not enough that it’s going to be, like, a thing. But we should probably be aware of that.”
“Still safe?”
“Still safe. And I have my guns.” And grenades, not that he’s going to announce that. “You all set up in the suite?”
“Yeah, Autumn and Sami Jo brought your stuff up to the room.”
“You guys want to come down?”
Steve sighs, crackling full of static over the walkie. “Whose turn is it to get Parker and Cib?”
“I mean, I’m already out here, so…”
“I don’t understand them,” Steven complains. “Like, when Autumn and Sami Jo sneak off to bang or whatever, they’re tasteful about it. They do it when they have plenty of time. None of this rushed shit, when we’re in between things.”
“Parker and Cib are new at this whole dating thing,” James says mildly, and kicks a rock over the edge, follows it down with his eyes. “They don’t know how to do it right.”
“I’m going to an early grave because of them,” Steve says, and James can feel the exact moment he winces. Gallows humor is only funny, he thinks, when you’re not in line for the gallows.
“I’ll see you in a few,” James says, and pockets the walkie again. It’ll take a minute for them to get out there, so he takes a minute to stretch his arms and shoulders. You don’t realize how cramped it gets in an SUV till you’re not in that SUV anymore, and frankly, James is sick of being stuck in one place.
It’s while he’s stretching, one arm drawn across his chest, that he notices the tent.
It’s down a path, set up on a landing a few hundred feet down from the edge. It looks like a regular camping tent, except it looks like there’s something stuffed in the empty space between the tent and the rock. Like there’s a carpet, or sleeping bag, or something. Like someone’s living there.
James knows it’s a bad idea to investigate, but he can’t help himself. As soon as he notices it he’s halfway down the path, climbing down a cliff and jogging through the dust. It’ll only take a minute. He’s sure of it.
He stops a couple yards away. You can’t exactly knock on a tent, and even if he did there’s no guarantee that anyone would answer.
Slowly, James reaches out and pulls the corner of the tent aside.
“Freeze,” someone shouts from the inside.
James, for his part, does not freeze, and pulls one of the guns out of his hoodie pocket. Maybe the movement is enough to get him shot, but if it is, he’s glad that he’s at least going to die on his feet. And not because of a zombie.
“Wait,” the person in the tent says, and pushes the canvas back further. “James?”
It takes a second for James to blink through the haze of adrenaline, but when he does, he manages to focus on the person in the tent. She has a gun pointed at him, but she’s lowering it, staring at him wide-eyed. She’s short and blonde, but her dark roots are growing out. And he hasn’t seen her since well before the apocalypse.
James slides his gun back into his hoodie. “Reina?”
“Oh my god,” Reina sobs, and flings her arms around his neck. James squeezes her as tightly as he can. He and Reina were never close, but they knew each other - couldn’t help but know each other, as two of Steve’s best friends - and he knows Steve had been worried about her. And here she is, in the Grand Canyon. Alive.
“Hey,” James says, and he can feel his throat closing up. “Hey, oh my god, Reina, Reina-”
Reina says something into his chest, teary and incomprehensible. James smooths down her hair. “You’re gonna have to run that by me again.”
She sniffles and pulls back enough that he can hear her say, “I didn’t think I’d ever see anyone I knew again.”
“God,” James whispers. “We’re here, Reina. Holy shit, what are you doing here?”
“I was on vacation when- you know.” Reina sniffs. “There used to be a bunch of us, just tourists who were trying to make it work, but all the other ones left. I didn’t want to, though, because people - you know, they knew I was going to be here.”
It’s not sound logic. But it’s apocalypse logic, and James understands.
Reina sniffs one more time and pulls back to beam up at James. “It’s really good to see you.”
“Yeah, you too.”
“What about you, how did you end up here?”
“Uh.” James scratches the back of his head. It kind of sounds stupid, now that he has to say it to someone else. “Apocalypse road trip?”
“Sweet,” Reina says. “Solo?”
“Group.” He blinks. “Wait, holy shit, we need to-”
“James,” Steve says over the walkie talkie, and Reina claps both hands over her mouth. “Where the fuck are you?”
“Oh my god,” Reina whispers, muffled and more than a little teary. “Oh my god, that- is-”
James grins. “You wanna visit?”
Reina nods, and he lifts the walkie. “I found another survivor, dude.”
“Great,” Steve says, sounding not at all like he means it. “Super. Tell them they can’t join our club.”
“She can hear you.”
“Oh, okay. You can’t join our club.”
Reina reaches out and pulls the walkie talkie, and James’s hand, closer to her mouth. “I’m already in your club, you bitch.”
Steve goes silent for a long minute. Reina takes the opportunity to sling a backpack over her shoulder. “We gonna go up?”
“If you’re ready.”
Reina nods and follows James out of the tent. They’re already beginning the climb up out of the canyon when Steve says, tremulously, “Reina?”
“We gotta climb up out of the canyon, dude, we’ll be there in a minute.”
“Out of the zombie canyon?” Steve demands, but James slips the walkie into his pocket.
“Is it just you guys?” Reina asks.
“Nah, there’s six of us.”
“Six, really?”
“Me and Steve, Cib and Parker, and Autumn and Sami Jo, who I don’t think you’ve met.”
“I haven’t. You said Cib and Parker? How’re they?”
“Good.” James thinks about it. “I mean, Parker lost an arm, but good.”
“Lost an arm?” Reina repeats. “What the fuck happened?”
“There was a zombie, it was a whole thing.”
“Oh, great. That’s… I’m glad he’s okay.”
“We all are,” James admits. It was harder than any of them want to admit, watching Parker screaming and bleeding out. But he’s okay, and that’s worth being grateful for.
They make the rest of the trek in silence, and James offers Reina a hand to help pull her up the last bit of the way. When he turns around, the rest of the group is standing clustered together, watching them. And Steve is at the front of them all, staring, eyes wider than James has ever seen.
Reina grips James’s arm. “Whoa.”
“Told you they’re here,” James says, but Reina probably doesn’t hear him, because she breaks into a sprint. Steve runs right back at her, and they don’t embrace as much as collide with each other, arms flying everywhere, kicking up dust. The next thing James knows they’re both on the ground, kneeling, arms around each other. Reina’s shoulders are heaving, like she’s crying again, and James can see the tears in Steve’s eyes.
“You’re here,” Reina sobs, and Steven grabs her head and clutches her closer. “Oh my god, Suppy-”
“You’re here too,” Steven says, choked and awful and the best thing that James has ever heard. “Reina, Reina, Reina, Reina-”
James goes over to stand by the rest of the group and looks away. It feels too personal to watch.
His eyes land on Sami Jo, who’s also looking away, out at the canyon. “What do you think?”
“Grand Canyon was a good call,” she says quietly, and smiles at James. Not a flashy smile, or a jokey smile. A real smile.
“Yeah,” James agrees, looking out, over the edge. There are zombies at the bottom, and bloodstains on the rock. And a tent, left unzipped, down a trail.
#
They end up staying at the canyon for three nights. The first night, Steve and Reina go off in another hotel room by themselves, probably to catch up, or just to be with each other. The next day James and Cib spend exploring the canyon, while Parker, Autumn, and Sami Jo get into a weirdly intense argument about foraging. Steve and Reina don’t emerge from their room until the morning after that, and they both look fucking radiant.
“Reina’s coming with us,” Steve announces. “We’re going to make room in the SUV. We’ll make the supplies work.”
It’s not a question. It’s not a democratic decision. It’s a statement. James nods anyways. “Course. Welcome aboard.”
“Thanks,” Reina says, beaming.
Cib props his chin on James’s shoulder. “Hey, good to see you, Reina.”
“You too.”
“Steve, where’re we going next?”
Steven frowns. “I don’t know. I guess I hadn’t thought about that.”
“I vote we keep road tripping,” Reina says. “There’s not a lot else to do.”
“True,” James says. “We can take turns picking.”
“Parker’s next,” Cib says instantly.
Steve raises his eyebrows. “Is that how this works?”
“I nominate him,” Cib says. “And none of you contested me in the official format, so I win, bitch. Which just means Parker wins.”
Reina elbows Steve, ignoring the way he yelps. “Why didn’t you contest him so I could pick?”
“Because we don’t have rules about contesting!” Steven glares at Cib. “You can’t just make up rules and act like they’re a thing!”
“That’s what you do!”
“Yeah, because I’m apocalypse leader, or whatever, remember?”
“No, dude, Parker’s in charge!”
“ What? ”
Reina looks at James and whispers, “You wanna stage a coup?”
“No coups,” Steve says loudly. “James, quit nodding, don’t- no coups! This is a democracy!”
“Bullshit,” Sami Jo calls from further in the suite.
“This is socialism,” Autumn adds. “We all make the choices together.”
“I like them,” Reina murmurs. “James, you still wanna stage a coup?”
“Maybe,” James says. “We’ll talk about it.”
“Great,” Steve mutters. But he meets James’s eyes, and he looks the happiest that James has seen since they decided to leave Los Angeles.
#
They spend the last night in their suite together, with vodka and some wine that Reina apparently stole from the hotel bar a long time ago. James doesn’t remember the night clearly, but he remembers Steven and Reina sitting side by side. He remembers Cib playing his guitar, even with Parker leaning against him. He remembers drinking a lot and feeling warm and happy, and trying to convince Parker to go to Nashville, not fucking Disney World.
(He loses that fight. But he has to admit, he’s kind of curious about what the zombie apocalypse did to the happiest place on earth.)
When James wakes up the next morning, it’s in the grey almost-light that means it’s too early for him to be awake. He considers going back to sleep, but when he opens his eyes the whole way, he can see Reina. And he can see the empty space where Steve was sleeping.
Carefully, quietly, he makes his way out of the suite, out of the hotel. He already knows where Steve is going to be before he even makes it to the canyon.
And there he is, standing at the edge. His hands are in his pockets. The sun is threatening to rise, off to one side, but it’s not quite peeking above the horizon yet.
James stops next to him. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“What’re you thinking?”
“We can do anything.”
James slants a look at him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean-” Steve gestures at the canyon. “This couldn’t stop zombies. Like, they’re all down there, just waiting for something. Nature didn’t do jack shit except contain them. But we can get rid of them. We can do… anything.”
“We can,” James says, and fishes a grenade out of his pocket. “You wanna do something dumb?”
Steve looks down at the grenade and up at James. “Where did you-”
“I raided Jeremy and Andrew’s place after they left,” he admits. “They had a lot of grenades.”
“Nice,” Steve says appreciatively, and takes it. “So how do you-”
“You just pull the pin and then throw.”
Steve looks down at the zombies, still in the bottom of the canyon, almost definitely too far for the grenade to reach. “Are you suggesting I blow up the Grand Canyon?”
“We can do anything,” James says, and Steve half-smiles at him. “Weren’t you just saying that?”
“I was just saying that.” Steve takes a deep breath, pulls the pin, and throws. It’s not a great throw, or even a good one, but it makes it down to the zombies before it explodes. James can’t see well, but he has to assume that it takes out at least a couple zombies.
“Nice,” James says, and Steve starts laughing. Not like the weird, manic laughter from the car, but like he’s happy. “Steve?”
“We did it,” he says, and turns to face James fully. The sun is coming up over the horizon, and it hurts to look at, and he can’t look away. “We- six months, James, we’re not dead, Reina’s not dead, we did it.”
“We did it,” James agrees, and he grins. Steven laughs all the harder and then leans forward, and then they’re kissing, messy and exuberant and alive. Steve is still laughing into James’s mouth.
James slings an arm around Steve’s shoulders, and they stumble away from the edge together. “We’re alive,” Steve says breathlessly, and kisses James again, and again. “We’re alive.”
“And we’re gonna stay alive,” James says, and kisses Steve all the harder.
