#colby carson

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It just snowed again here lol so I feel the cold. Could you do a fic where Jason gets locked out of the apartment/apartment building (my apartment building has doors outside that you go through and if you don’t have the key you’re fucked) and Colby finds him? Maybe hypothermia for Jason?

The first day of the new semester is dedicated to working out kinks.  Jason knows that.  He doesn’t expect to receive any homework as he waltzes around campus, every class releasing early after a casual overview of the syllabus.  

One benefit of being a halfway through his junior year is the lighter schedule.  He’s only on campus twice a week now, but, as he’s quickly learning, the aforementioned lightness is subjective.  Tuesdays and Thursdays have him running from seminar to lecture to lab from 8 in the morning to 5 at night.  And those are start times.  It’s well past 7 when he finally trudges back to his car to drive home.  

“Flop day, my ass,” Jason mutters, turning on the radio and scanning until he finds something that isn’t a commercial.  He’d been irrationally proud of himself this morning, learning before the school day even commenced.  When I’m a teacher, he’d written across the top of the first page of a fresh spiral notebook, don’t start coursework on first day.  Set expectations.  Expect schedule changes.  Then he’d missed the professor’s introduction because he was too busy beating himself up over the two iterations of the word “expect” so close together.  

Jason can’t believe how tired he is.  Some of it is misinformation, his brain attempting to process his surroundings and doing it badly.  It’s barely past the dinner hour, but dark enough to be midnight.  He may not have any reading to do when he gets home, but he’s still been gone for more than 8 hours.  Exhaustion is a natural response, even if it isn’t helpful or expected.  

A flutter of panic runs through his stomach as he thinks of what’s in store for him tomorrow.  He’s starting his first run of student teaching, meeting his mentor and the principal of the local high school bright and early tomorrow morning.  Will he be able to get enough sleep?  It’s so late…

No, he reminds himself.  It’s not.  The car clock says it’s 7:26.  Twelve hours before he has to be somewhere again.  Twelve hours, what a relief.  Or should he be thinking only 12 hours?  Is that really enough time?  Does he have a shirt to wear that isn’t horribly wrinkled?  There’s enough time to iron, isn’t there?  Do they even have an iron?

And so it goes.  For almost half an hour.  Traffic is stop-and-go, a mix of late commuters and folks on their way to and from the smattering of restaurants ringing the campus.  Jason thinks about stopping to pick up something to eat, but he lacks the motivation to even pull into a drive-thru.  He’ll have to watch that.  make sure it doesn’t become a habit.

Eventually Jason reaches the parking lot of the apartment complex.  He pulls his Corolla besides Mike’s frosty Rav-4, proof that she’s been home for hours already.  If only he could count on her to cook dinner.  He laughs to himself, wishing Colby was the one who got off mid-afternoon.  But alas, his partner is stuck in the awkward phase of proving himself and working long shifts in between the holiday and regular retail seasons, while his stubborn sister is inside, probably reading with headphones on and oblivious to Jason’s imminent arrival.  Jason shakes his head.  At least Mike doesn’t take up much space.

He slings his bag over his shoulder and runs toward the building, skidding slightly on the ice around the edges of the lot.  He swipes the RFID fob on his keyring across the sensor situated on the other side of the glass door.  Jason doesn’t hear the requisite beep, but he assumes his chattering teeth have just drowned out the soft sound.  He hadn’t thought he’d need gloves and a hat when the only time he’d be spending outside would be spent walking briskly, but he wishes he had them now.  He reaches for the door handle and yanks, but it stays resolutely shut.

“The hell?” Jason mutters.  He swipes his keyring again, listening closely.  Again he hears only silence.  “Hm.”  He cups his hands around his eyes like binoculars and looks through the glass, trying to find the source of the problem.  It’s hard to see in the dark, but the kiosk with the sensor seems to be glowing with its usual pinprick of orange light.  

Jason swipes a third time, looking and listening this time.  Still nothing.  He gives the door a good smack with the pinky side of his fist.  The warm brightness shakes, and the jagged edges of something papery tremble into existence.  A leaf or a gum wrapper or something, trapped between the glass and the sensor, perfectly positioned to interrupt whatever invisible means the key fob uses to communicate with the kiosk.  

“Ugh.  Fuck.”  Jason smacks the door again, then stupidly pulls on the handle.  Hitting it won’t unlock it, he knows.  But the situation is frustrating.  Jason looses a few more choice words, then slowly pulls in a deep breath.  He blows out a cloud of steam.

There is a simple solution, though it’s mortifying.  Jason digs in his pocket for his phone to call Mike and ask to be let in.  He feels like a dog scratching at the door.  He taps his phone’s dark screen, but nothing happens.  At first he wonders if his mind is playing tricks again, since the door just pulled the same one, but then the realization hits him and his stomach turns to a bucket of ice.  He ran out of battery before stepping into his last class.  

It’s his own fault for leaving his headphones plugged in with Pandora streaming for an entire class period.  Jason tells himself he’ll carry a charger with him at all times from now on, but it does nothing to fix the current problem.  “God fucking dammit, Mike!” he yells, pacing back and forth in front of the door.  “Decide to go check the mail or something!”  

But she won’t.  Jason knows she won’t.  Mike is… lazy is the wrong word, but Jason’s shivering seems to be interrupting his thoughts with sharp spikes like those produced by a seismograph.  Sparing.  That’s more accurate.  If something isn’t her problem, she’ won’t volunteer to make it her problem.  Once she’s safely in the apartment for the night, there’s little chance Mike will step out of her bedroom, let alone the front door.  

They originally chose this complex for its safety features, but now Jason hates them.  The 10-foot brick wall surrounding the grid of row houses is too steep to scale, and if he tries, he’ll only mangle his fingers.  He imagines drops of blood running down his palms and freezing before they hit the ground.  Jason feels faintly nauseated.  If he pukes, that will probably freeze, too.  At least his stomach is empty.  

He wonders vaguely how long it takes to starve to death.  Then how long it takes to die of exposure.  If he gets back in his car, he might be warmer, but he’ll have to run the engine to run the heater.  Jason’s gas tank is rarely over half full, and today topping up was another activity on the list to do later.  Plus, people are more likely to see him up here by the door.  Someone will come in or out soon.  

It’s still early.  Right?  Jason checks his watch.  It’s almost 8.  Time for… what do they watch on Tuesdays?  He’s too cold.  He can’t think.  He bounces on the balls of his feet, vocalizing indistinctly and listening to his pitch change as it bounces off the glass and echoes back at him.

“What the hell are you doing?” a muffled voice asks.

Jason spins around to see a tall, slender figure, almost unrecognizable under a hat, scarf, and shabby parka.

“Ohmygod.” Jason feels faint with relief.  He trips toward Colby, unintentionally tackling him and sending him ass-first onto the pavement.  

“Whoa, ok.”  Colby says, his voice halfway between amused and concerned.  “Good to see you too.”  He clasps Jason’s hands between his mittens.  “What’cha doing out here?  Besides trying to give me a concussion”

“Freezing to death,” Jason breathes, burying his nose in Colby’s shoulder.

“You lose your keys or something?  Did you walk here?”  Colby looks around wildly.

“No,” Jason says, trying to determine if it’s worth it to explain.  His brain gets hung up halfway through.  “Did you walk here?”

“Nah, Gil dropped me off halfway down the block,” Colby says.  He uses his thumb to stroke Jason’s red nose.  “Who are you and what did you do with my boyfriend?  Since when are you worried about me before you’re worried about you?  Not that, like, that’s a bad thing.  It’s just a ‘you’ thing.”

“Sheesh.”  Jason tries to roll his eyes, but he feels faint again.  

“Here, let’s go inside.”  Colby starts to pull him up.

“No, you gotta, um, you gotta…”  Jason can’t stop stuttering.  “You gotta call Mike.”

“Why?”  Colby looks at him like he’s gone nuts.

“Don’t ask.  Long story.”  It’s not actually that long, but Jason shakes his head anyway.  “Just do it.”

“Ok?”  Colby takes off one mitten and pulls his phone out of his coat pocket.  “But I get the full explanation later, right?”

“Yeah,” Jason agrees without thinking.  “But call her fast.  I’m fucking cold.”

“You know, I would have never guessed,” Colby laughs as he dials and holds the device to his ear.

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How about something where Jason (kinda out of the blue) starts rambling about how maybe he's being a bad son by not going home for Christmas, and he's getting fairly worked up and a little teary, and Colby is confused as to where it's all coming from until he puts a hand on Jason's shoulder and realises that his temperature is sky high

Ahhh, the drama.  I hate playing favorites, but (with the obvious exception of Troy), I think these guys are my favorite OCs.

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Colby’s lost in thought as he drops his towel in the laundry basket and climbs into bed.  Jason’s already tucked under the covers, staring down at a textbook in his lap.

“Did you put the baby down?”

“What?” Colby asks, blinking himself out of the daze of fishing paraphernalia flashing through his mind.  He knows he’s only a temporary employee, but he genuinely loves the store.  He cares that it does well.  At first he thinks that’s what Jason’s referring to, but he doesn’t usually smirk like that when they talk about Colby’s holiday job.

“My sister,” Jason says.  “You tuck her in or something?”

“No,” Colby replies, pulling the covers up to his waist, but maintaining a few inches between him and Jason.  “She just wanted to talk a little bit.  And I had to wait for you to get out of the shower, anyway,” he adds a little defensively.

“Mike doesn’t talk.  Not, like, socially.”  Jason closes his book.

“Yeah, I know.  But…she hasn’t been doing so good, and I think maybe acknowledging it is a step in the right direction.”

“You’re trying to be her therapist now?  And her mom?”  Jason gives a humorless laugh.

“Hey, now,” Colby says softly.  “She lives here.  We’re friends.”

“Well, give me the full report,” Jason says.  “Since she’s apparently not friends with me.”

“God, I didn’t say that,”  Colby scrubs his hand down the side of his face.  Jason’s probably tired, maybe stressed.  He’s just being petty.  But Colby also sees the grain of truth.  “But, honestly?  She feels bad about not going home for Christmas.”

There’s a beat of silence.  “Jesus.”  Jason bites his lip.  “Fuck.”  He laughs again, but this time it’s prolonged.  Colby watches his eyes well up and drip fat teardrops down his cheeks, and he realizes the sound is a sob.  He’s immediately concerned, but also taken aback.

“What…?” Colby starts, his brows knitting together.

“You know we’re staying here for her?  Because she’s the one who always fights with our mom?  You know I’ve spent the past, like, two months already feeling bad about that?  We didn’t go home for Thanksgiving, now we’re not going for Christmas.”  Jason pauses to swallow.  “Do you know how many texts I haven’t replied to, or said I was studying, or that we’re too busy, or some lame-ass excuse?  Do you know how hard that is, to feel like you’re letting your parents down?”

He just needs to talk.  He just needs to let his feelings out.  It’s just the way Jason is, and Colby knows it.  He loves him for it.  He knows he doesn’t mean it.  It’s not the right time to remind Jason that he has family troubles all his own.  “Yeah,” Colby whispers.  “I do.  It’s really hard.  I’m sorry.”  He reaches to put his hand on Jason’s shoulder.

“God, I mean, I didn’t…”  Jason seems to realize the impact of his words.  “I know you look out for your sister too, it’s just, like, I have a reputation, just like Mike has a reputation, but we’re opposite.  She’s bad, and I’m good.  She doesn’t care.  I try really hard not to, but I do.”  He sniffles and wipes his nose on the back of his hand.

“Yeah…” Colby sighs.  He rubs his hand down Jason’s arm until he passes the sleeve on his t-shirt.  Sleeping, or even just relaxing in bed, does funny things to body temperature, and so does crying, probably.  But the heat coming off Jason seems unnatural for any situation.  

Colby reaches with his other hand to cup Jason’s cheek.  

“What?” Jason demands weakly.

“You feeling alright?  You’re really warm.”

Jason looks at him, another tear escaping from the corner of he eye.  “No,” he mumbles, deflating.  “I’m a bad son and I ruined Christmas and my head hurts and my throat hurts and I’m fucking cold.”

“Hey, come’ere.”  Colby opens his arms as Jason leans into him.  “I want you to be well.  And happy.  And I want the same things for Mike, and your parents, and, well, everybody.  But I don’t think any less of you when you’re not.”

“Yeah,” Jason breathes, sending a gust of warm air into Colby’s collar.  “I know.”

“Good.”  He kisses the top of Jason’s head.  “And I know you want me to hold you all night and all day tomorrow until you feel better.  Right?”  He cracks a smile as Jason looks up at him with red, glassy eyes.

“Right.”

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How about a Drabble where Jason and Colby have plans for a date and a bit before the date Jason starts having stomach pains and throws up- or maybe they’re watching s movie together on the couch where without warning Jason throws up? It’s okay if you don’t do either tho! They were fun to come up with :)

I’m glad you enjoyed coming up with them!  I’v already written pretty much the exact plot of your second suggestion, so I’m pasting it below. :)

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“Why’re you looking at me like that?”  Colby stirs his tea and drops the spoon in the sink.  

“’Cause.”  Jason pouts.  “I don’t feel good.  Fix it.”

“I wish I could.”  Colby brings his mug to the table and pushes Jason’s curls off his forehead, testing the fever with the back of his hand.  “But you keep turning down my suggestions.”

“Your tea is gross,” Jason complains.  

“You want coffee?  With your freaking Almond Joy creamer or whatever?”  Colby jerks his head toward the fridge where the garish blue decanter occupies the space beside the organic milk.

“No.”  Jason sighs.  “My stomach hurts too.”

“I’m sorry.”  Colby takes up his tea again.  “Wanna watch TV?  Take your mind off it?”

“Only if it isn’t Discovery Channel.”  Jason smiles, but his eyes remain set in a slight squint.  Colby knows he really is in pain.

“Sure.”

They settle on the couch in front of an old rerun of Lost in Space.  Jason laughs at the dialogue for the first few minutes, then he goes quiet.  Colby hopes he’ll fall asleep.  With Jason’s reluctance to take any other measures to treat this latest run-in with the flu, a nap seems to be his body’s best chance at healing itself.  

Colby’s about to snag the National Geographic off the coffee table when Jason stirs.

“Hey, Colby, I—“ he starts, then his shoulders hunch and he lurches forward, his hand over his mouth.

“Fuck,” Colby mutters.  He gives Jason a shove toward standing, but he’s already retching.  They don’t have a chance of making it out of the living room.

“Here.”  Colby snatches his empty mug and pushes it into Jason’s hands a second before he heaves again.  Strings of mucous and spit hang from his lips into the depths of the cup.

“Oh god.  Fuck,” Jason mumbles before he gives in to another wave.  He squeezes his eyes shut.  More comes up this time.  The coffee cup shakes in his hands.

“Do you think you can move?”  The receptacle’s going to overflow if Colby doesn’t do something.  

“Ugh.”  It’s not much of an answer, but Jason doesn’t protest when Colby slips his arm around his chest and pulls him to his feet.

The path into the kitchen feels like an Olympic sprint, though it seems to take an eternity.  Colby tries not to look at the sick slopping against the rim of the cup.  He supports Jason to the sink, regretting leaving his dirty dishes.  

“I’m fine…” Jason gasps.  “I think…I’m done.”  But a threatening hiccup rides on the last word, and he jerks forward over the basin.

Colby pats him on the back.  Jason spits and breathes raggedly.  “God.  Fuck.”  He shakes his head, then swallows and winces.  “That was…”

“It’s ok.”  Colby continues to rub soothing circles between his shoulder blades.  “I’m a little worried about you, though.  This is kinda major for your first sick day of the school year.”

“Eh.”  Jason shrugs.  He turns on the faucet to rinse the evidence down the drain.  “Yeah.  It sucks.”

“I know.”  Colby sighs sympathetically.  “Do you want to try some peppermint tea, maybe?”

Jason shakes his head.  “I think… I just wanna lie down.”  He looks at Colby.

“And you’d like some company?” he guesses.

Jason wipes his mouth on the back of his hand.   Then he nods.  “The new Lost in Space is better.  The one on Netflix.”

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Nice!! Uhhh how about a Drabble where Colby and Jason go on a run while it’s p hot out and Jason ends up getting heat exhaustion..I would like him to throw up but that’s entirely up to you!! :D -🌱

“Hey,” Jason pants, stopping at the corner and looking over his shoulder.  It’s the third time he’s had to pause and wait for Colby to catch up with him.  “You alright?”

Colby speeds up his jog until he gets to Jason’s side.  “Yeah,” he says quickly, though the word is almost lost in a breathless gasp.  

A car slows and puts on its blinker, so Jason takes the time to look his boyfriend up and down.  “You don’t like this so much, do you?”

“It’s fine.”  But Colby bends at the waist and braces his hands on his knees.  A trickle of sweat beads on the end of his nose and drips onto the sidewalk.  “Just, hot.”

“Weird for October this far north,” Jason agrees, yanking down the zipper on his windbreaker.  “But we’re outside.  You like that.”  He gives Colby a gentle slap on the shoulder.  “And this sure beats hot yoga.”

“Eh.”  Colby shrugs.  “How much longer is the loop?”

“Another mile and a half or so,” Jason estimates.  “I never actually measured it.  But the whole thing shouldn’t take more than an hour.  At least, it doesn’t when I do it by myself.”  He doesn’t want to insult Colby, but he’s usually up for a bit more lighthearted competition.  

“Huh.  That’s…far.”  Colby lets out a shaky breath.

“You sure you’re ok?”  Jason cocks his head.  “‘Cause this isn’t really like you–”

He barely gets the words out before Colby’s spine arches and he retches hard, bringing up water and undigested granola all over his sneakers.  

“Fuck,” Jason mutters, jumping backwards a few feet.  He turns away and interlaces his hand behind his head.  He wants to cover his ears, but that would be too much.  

“Oh, god.  I’m sorry,” Colby sputters.  “I–shit–”  He heaves again.  

“Ok, ok.”  Jason pulls in a deep inhalation, trying to keep himself from hyperventilating.  “If you were feeling bad, why’d you come?”

“I’m fine, I swear.”  Colby straightens up and drags his sleeve over his mouth.  “I’m just…it’s so hot out…”  He swallows, and his breath hitches, but he maintains control.  “If you wanna keep going without me…” he trails off.

“No, I, “Jason falters.  “It’s fine.”  He pointedly doesn’t look down at the mess as he hops off the sidewalk and puts his arm around Colby’s waist.  He holds him close and begins to walk in the bike lane, heading back toward their apartment complex.

“You sure?  I’ll be fine on my own.”  Colby dabs his glistening forehead.  His cheeks are bright red, but the rest of his face is the color of milk.  

“No, you’re not,” Jason sighs.  Colby looks on the verge of fainting.  Or puking again.  “It’s fine.  Let’s just…walk fast, ok?”

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Jason and his boyfriend home watching s movie then in the dark room Jason pukes in a bowl or trash can thing and Colby is concerned I’m not sure haha

“Why’re you looking at me like that?”  Colby stirs his tea and drops the spoon in the sink.  

“’Cause.”  Jason pouts.  “I don’t feel good.  Fix it.”

“I wish I could.”  Colby brings his mug to the table and pushes Jason’s curls off his forehead, testing the fever with the back of his hand.  “But you keep turning down my suggestions.”

“Your tea is gross,” Jason complains.  

“You want coffee?  With your freaking Almond Joy creamer or whatever?”  Colby jerks his head toward the fridge where the garish blue decanter occupies the space beside the organic milk.

“No.”  Jason sighs.  “My stomach hurts too.”

“I’m sorry.”  Colby takes up his tea again.  “Wanna watch TV?  Take your mind off it?”

“Only if it isn’t Discovery Channel.”  Jason smiles, but his eyes remain set in a slight squint.  Colby knows he really is in pain.

“Sure.”

They settle on the couch in front of an old rerun of Lost in Space.  Jason laughs at the dialogue for the first few minutes, then he goes quiet.  Colby hopes he’ll fall asleep.  With Jason’s reluctance to take any other measures to treat this latest run-in with the flu, a nap seems to be his body’s best chance at healing itself.  

Colby’s about to snag the National Geographic off the coffee table when Jason stirs.

“Hey, Colby, I—“ he starts, then his shoulders hunch and he lurches forward, his hand over his mouth.

“Fuck,” Colby mutters.  He gives Jason a shove toward standing, but he’s already retching.  They don’t have a chance of making it out of the living room.

“Here.”  Colby snatches his empty mug and pushes it into Jason’s hands a second before he heaves again.  Strings of mucous and spit hang from his lips into the depths of the cup.

“Oh god.  Fuck,” Jason mumbles before he gives in to another wave.  He squeezes his eyes shut.  More comes up this time.  The coffee cup shakes in his hands.

“Do you think you can move?”  The receptacle’s going to overflow if Colby doesn’t do something.  

“Ugh.”  It’s not much of an answer, but Jason doesn’t protest when Colby slips his arm around his chest and pulls him to his feet.

The path into the kitchen feels like an Olympic sprint, though it seems to take an eternity.  Colby tries not to look at the sick slopping against the rim of the cup.  He supports Jason to the sink, regretting leaving his dirty dishes.  

“I’m fine…” Jason gasps.  “I think…I’m done.”  But a threatening hiccup rides on the last word, and he jerks forward over the basin.

Colby pats him on the back.  Jason spits and breathes raggedly.  “God.  Fuck.”  He shakes his head, then swallows and winces.  “That was…”

“It’s ok.”  Colby continues to rub soothing circles between his shoulder blades.  “I’m a little worried about you, though.  This is kinda major for your first sick day of the school year.”

“Eh.”  Jason shrugs.  He turns on the faucet to rinse the evidence down the drain.  “Yeah.  It sucks.”

“I know.”  Colby sighs sympathetically.  “Do you want to try some peppermint tea, maybe?”

Jason shakes his head.  “I think… I just wanna lie down.”  He looks at Colby.

“And you’d like some company?” he guesses.

Jason wipes his mouth on the back of his hand.   Then he nods.  “The new Lost in Space is better.  The one on Netflix.”

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Casa Deangeles-Carson

Here it is. Obviously not to scale, and quite squiggly, but this is how I imagine Mike, Jason, and Colby’s apartment.

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Risk and reward, part 2

This is part 2 of what I expect to be a 3-part arc featuring Ash, with cameos from the rest of the Mike&Co cast.  

Find character info here.

Find the previous installment here.

This chapter contains violence, implied homophobia, and 911 calls.

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Ash is on the point of answering when someone calls out to him.  A dark figure approaches, walking down the sidewalk in the opposite direction.  

“Huh?”  Ash stares at the as they pass each other.

“I said, is that an iPhone?” the guy repeats loudly.

“Yeah?”  Ash wonders why it matters.  He’s already zoomed halfway down the block.    He shakes his head and looks forward again.

“Well then you better give it to me.  And your wallet.”  The second man emerges from the shadows before Ash has the chance to slow down.  He stumbles off his board a second before they collide, but it doesn’t stop the large fist from colliding with the side of his face.  Ash staggers, dizzy.  His phone hits the pavement.  Then his head does too.

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“Ash?”  Mike holds the phone an inch away from her ear as the line crackles loudly.  “What the fuck?”

The call’s still connected.  Her screen glows, showing a years-old profile pic of Ash sticking his tongue out.  “What did you do, you idiot?  Did you drop your phone?”

There’s no answer.  There is movement, though.  Heavy footsteps and what sounds like wind noise.  Then a voice that’s decidedly not Ash.  “Pat him down.  Check his pockets.”

It takes Mike a second to process.  “What the hell?” she mutters.  This can’t be real.  This only happens in movies.

“Gimme your wallet and you won’t get hurt.  Well, not too bad.”

“Get away from me.  What did I ever do to you?”  That sounds like Ash.  But its thick and muffled.  He’s already hurting.

“We’ll call it wrong place, wrong time.”  There’s a gruff laugh.

Then a third voice speaks, this one much closer to Ash’s phone.  “What the--?”  Static plays over the line, and the sounds shift quieter, then louder again.  “Fuck.  He was talking to somebody.”

So two attackers?  Mike swallows her shock and tries to memorize the details.  This guy has Ash’s phone.  The other one has Ash.  

“Ash?” Mike yells, cramming her phone against her mouth.  “Fucking run!  Get out of there!”

“Shit.  Hang up before they call the cops!”  A muffled thump.  A cry of pain.

“Who were you talking to, huh?”  There’s a tap of thick fingers against the screen.

“Ash!”  Mike tries again  “Run, Ash!”

“Ash, run!” the goon parrots.  He laughs cruelly.  “Is that your girlfriend?”

“Hey, you fucking stop,” Mike spits.  Anger surges, and she’s glad for it.  It’s easier to deal with than fear.  “Fucking let him go!”  She hears impact again, and Ash moans.

“Ha.  Mike.”  More laughter.  “I fucking knew it.  Your pansy-ass boyfriend isn’t coming to save your pansy ass.”

“You shut the fuck up,” Mike rises up on her knees, knocking her laptop off the bed.  “Get out of there, Ash!”  She can see the events unfolding in her mind’s eye, each one shoving another arrow into her heart.  Her stupid nickname, Ash’s tendencies to fill his contacts with emojis instead of useful information, the goddamn stick figure drawing she’d sent him instead of a profile picture…  It’s easy to misinterpret, even for someone with an intelligence level higher than that of the average street robber.

“Nah, you’re not going anywhere.”

“Here, get his wallet.”

“Hey, fuck you!” Mike screeches.  “You fucking--”  

The line crackles again, then goes dead.

“Ash?  Come on.  Ash?”  She knows there won’t be a reply, but she can’t seem to stop asking.  “Fuck.  Ash?”

Mike’s door bursts open.  Jason fumbles the light switch, then stands in the doorway, squinting.  “What the hell are you doing?” he asks sleepily.  “What the fuck?”

“Goddammit!”  Mike lowers her phone, watching the screen fade to black.  “Fuck.  Ugh.  What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“What are you doing?  Why are you screaming?” Jason blubbers, rubbing his eyes.

“I--fucking Ash,” Mike says, looking at her brother and acutely aware of how much she’s shaking.  “He’s getting mugged or something.  What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“Wait, what?”  Jason shakes his head.  “Ash?”

“Yeah, he called me, and they robbed him, and, fuck, I don’t know--”

“He called you for help?”  

Jason’s fixated on the wrong part, and Mike has no patience for him.  “No, before that,” she says.  “But he’s not here.  He’s at home.  I don’t-- like, what do I…?”  Her throat goes tight.  The urge to help is alien to her.  But it’s born of protective instincts, some overgrown aspect of her inability to turn away from a fight.  

“God, Mike, I don’t know…”  Jason comes to sit on the end of Mike’s bed just as Colby appears, looking much more awake.

“What?  You ok?”  Under any other circumstances, Mike would care about the differences in Colby’s and Jason’s approaches.  But today there’s no time to spare on an answer.  

“Ash is getting beat up, and he called me from fucking Ann Arbor, and he’s probably dying in the street two hours away from here,” Mike blurts, eager to push out the words as quickly as she can.  The pressure of building tears makes her head throb.  It’s a feeling she’s unfortunately used to, but that doesn’t make it any more pleasant.  

“Ok, um…”  Colby blinks a few times.  He barely knows Ash, probably barely comprehends what Mike just said.  He drops a comforting hand on Jason’s shoulder and fixes his eyes on Mike’s.  “I think you should call the cops.”

“But it’s a different city!”  Here comes the anger again.  At least if Mike’s loud, she’s not sobbing.  “They won’t do anything!”

“Maybe they can connect you or something.”  Colby bites his lip.  “I mean, it’s worth a shot.”

“They won’t fucking do anything,” Mike says.  But she wakes the screen on her phone anyway.

“Do you want me to call?  ‘Cause I will.”  Colby holds out his hand.  It’s how he operates, pressing Mike’s buttons and driving her up the wall in exactly the right way.  Mike wonders if he even realizes he’s doing it.

“I can do it,” she mutters defensively, dialing 911 and putting the phone on speaker.

“911, please state your emergency,” a young, female-sounding voice answers.

“I, um, ok.”  Mike takes a breath.  “My friend’s getting mugged.  They beat him up and took his phone, and he’s hurt, I think.”

“What’s the location?”

“He’s in Ann Arbor,” Mike says.  She realizes she’s unsure where in Ann Arbor, making her even more unhelpful.  She can rattle off Hannah’s address, give a general description of the neighborhood, but she doesn’t know where Ash’s apartment is, whether it’s north or south or closer to the university.

“Ok.  This is East Lansing PD,” the operator says, sounding confused.

“Yeah, I live here,” Mike replies.  “He’s in Ann Arbor.  We were on the phone, and then the call got fucked up, and he’s getting robbed.  They were beating him up!”

“Something happened during the phone call?” the operator clarifies.

“Yes!” Mike shouts, exasperated.  “I heard it.  There were two of them, taking his shit and hitting him!”

“Ok, sweetie, try to stay calm.  Is he conscious, do you think?”

“Don’t fucking call me sweetie!  I don’t know.  I’m not fucking there.”  Tears begin to drip from the corners of Mike’s eyes.  “It’s all my fucking fault.”

“Take a breath,” the operator soothes.  Mike doesn’t on principle.  

Colby clambers onto the bed between Jason and Mike.  He gently grabs Mike’s wrist and pulls the phone toward himself.  

“This is her roommate,” Colby chimes in.  “She’s really worried about her friend.”

“Ok, yes, I understand,” the operator says.  “It’s just, it’s a different PD.  I can’t dispatch from here.”

“Can you transfer the call?”  Colby’s younger than Mike.  She wonders how on earth he’s so mature.

“No, but I can give you the number.  You can request a welfare check and let them know you suspect an assault.”

“Ok, ok, yeah, good,” Colby says.  He leans over and digs a sharpie out of the mess on Mike’s bedside table.  He scribbles the number on his palm as the operator reads it off, then thanks her profusely.  

“That was a fucking waste of time,” Mike mumbles.  The operator wasn’t inept, but Mike choses to color her that way anyway.  It helps write over the piece of truth she’d spilled.  Mike doesn’t want to think about it, but it is all her fault.

“No it wasn’t.”  Colby takes Mike’s phone and starts dialing.  He nudges Jason in the back with his knee.  “Why don’t you go back to bed.  I’ll be right there.”  Then he looks at Mike, his gaze earnest again.  “We’re gonna take care of this.  It’s gonna be ok.”

Every part of Mike screams for her to contradict him.  He’s being too optimistic.  And she’s been lied to too many times to give the words any weight.  But deep in her heart, she wants them to be true.  So she stays silent as the phone line begins to ring.

[builder051]

Please could you do a drabble where either Colby or Jason gets sick on a flight?

Sorry this took me forever to reply to…  But I made it kind of long to make up for it :)

_____

“This is insane,” Colby murmurs as they stand in line, waiting to board.  “You can’t spend all this money on me.”

“Stop saying that.  I already did.”  Jason shakes his head and grips Colby’s arm.  “We need a vacation.”

“My first time on a plane, too,” Colby prattles on.  

“It’s like riding the bus.  No big deal,” Jason says.  “And it’s only like an hour flight, anyway.”

“It is a big deal!  It’s like the second time I’ve ever been out of the state!”

“Well, you’re gonna love Minneapolis,” Jason laughs.  “I haven’t been in a few years, but the museums are great.”

The line begins to move forward, and Jason leads the way through the tunnel and onto the plane.  “Shit.  We’re in the back,” he sighs.

“Is that bad?” Colby asks.

“Like I said, it’s like the bus.”  Jason stows his backpack in the overhead compartment, then climbs into the window seat.  “It’s just bumpier back here.”

“Well, you said it’s a short trip.”  Colby pulls a book from his bag and sits down.  

“Always looking on the bright side.”  Jason grins and slips in his ear buds.  

Colby opens his book, but there’s too much activity around him.  He finds himself watching the other passengers settle in their seats, then engrossed in the safety demonstration.  “A water landing?” he whispers to Jason.  “Is that likely?”

Jason shakes his head without looking up.  “We’re not gonna crash,” he says.

The plane begins to taxi backward, and Colby nearly jumps out of his seat.

“Hey.  Chill out,” Jason says, grabbing Colby’s hand.

“I just wasn’t expecting that.”

“It’s just backing up before it goes forward.”

“Hey, I’ve never done this before,” Colby points out again.

“I know,” Jason says.  “But just relax.  Put your head back.”

“Ok, ok.”  Colby pushes his shoulders back against his chair and opens his book in his lap.  He does his best to focus on the story and not on the revving engine, but it’s hard to distract himself from the anxiety growing in his gut.  Is it supposed to be so loud?

The plane begins to speed down the runway, and Colby’s breath catches in his chest.

“It’s ok.  It’s just takeoff.”  Jason raises his eyebrows.

“Hm.”  Colby swallows, pushing down panic along with a bitter taste.

A wobble runs through the cabin as the plane lifts from the runway.  Colby feels himself tilted backward, then his ears pop as pressure changes.  The nose of the plane dips to even out its trajectory.  

“See?”  Jason says.  “It’s fine.”

Colby nods, but his stomach won’t stop churning.  The fear he’d felt a moment ago is gone, replaced with intense, rolling nausea.  

“Hey, I don’t feel–” Colby starts, but his throat goes into contraction and he throws his free hand over his mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” Jason whispers in a panic, scrambling in the seat pocket for a bag.  He shakes it open and shoves it at Colby, then pats him on the back while angling his body toward the window so he doesn’t have to watch.  

Colby’s hand is a sticky mess as he holds the bag in front of him and retches.  

“You’re ok,” Jason says through gritted teeth.

Colby gags again, then chokes out, “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t,” Jason replies, sounding like he’s barely holding back a heave of his own.  “It’s ok.”

Colby lets out a shaky breath and lowers the bag from his lips.  “I didn’t…think that was gonna happen…”  He shakes his head.  “I just…”

“You don’t have to explain it.”  Jason gives him a weak smile.  “You wanna go to the bathroom?  Maybe freshen up?”

Colby looks around.  “Am I allowed to?  I thought we had to wait…”

“You can.  It’s ok.”  Jason squeezes Colby’s shoulder.  “The bathroom’s right there.  Can you make it ok?”

“Yeah.”  Colby undoes his seatbelt and rises to a stooped position with his arm around his stomach and the bag held delicately between his fingers.  “I’ll, uh, be right back.”