I’ve been watching a bunch of Cannon action movies for NinJanuary and this idea began to form in my mind. In a perfect world this would have been a real movie in the late 80’s...and it would have ROCKED.
Over at the I Know What You Did podcast, where Millie and Danielle have spent the month of February focusing specifically on Black creators in honor of Black History Month, the films covered have been mostly serious, as compelling as they’ve been. Imagine my surprise at the fact that, for the final episode of this stretch, the focus would turn to not only one of the most prolific Black families of creators out there, but quite possibly the current first-family of funny, the Wayans family. While Don’t Be A Menace to South Central While Drinking Your Juice in the Hood is not my jam, I’m Gonna Git You Sucka is and always will be, and with that DVD already positioned for a Black History Month viewing, it jumped from being on the list to a position at the top.
Jack Spade (Keenen Ivory Wayans) returns to Any Ghetto, U.S.A. after a tour of duty to find his brother Junebug has lost his life to a case of “overgold”. Jack vows to care for his mother Belle Brown-Spade (Ja’net Dubois) and Junebug’s widow Cheryl Spade (Dawnn Lewis), but after the women are threatened by Leonard (Damon Wayans) and Willie (Kadeem Hardison), henchmen to the notorious Mr. Big (John Vernon), Jack makes the choice to eliminate the negative element from his neighborhood. He reaches out to former hero John Slade (Bernie Casey) for assistance, and initially Slade refuses, but after Leonard and Willie make an attempt on Slade’s life, he decides to join the fight. In hopes of evening the score, he enlists the help of some of his former vigilante friends : Hammer (Isaac Hayes), Slammer (Jim Brown), Flyguy (Antonio Fargas) and Kung Fu Joe (Steve James). With both sides at full power and intent on removal of the opposition, tensions rise and bullets fly.
Outside of the Zucker/Abrams/Zucker camp, I haven’t seen anyone pull off trope-based humor the way that the Wayans family has been able to, and it all started with Keenen Ivory Wayans and his early Hollywood work. I’m Gonna Git You Sucka embraced two different sets of tropes, shuffled them together like a deck of cards, and dealt them out to audiences in a manner where everyone got a winning hand. First and foremost, the film is an ode to Blaxploitation classics, and all of the earmarks of the genre are present, up to and including ex-soldiers returning home, the impact of drug dealing on the Black community, the role of vigilantes stepping up to protect the ghetto when police are absent or corrupt, and so on. Normally, this genre of film takes itself deadly serious, but Wayans pours heaps and heaps of comedy into the mix, with running jokes, physical comedy, tons of sight gags, hilarious subversions of expectation, and even extremely base-level seriousness making the film as memorable as it is funny.
The real power of the film, however, comes in its lasting legacy in terms of how it served as a stylistic and generational bridge between the stars of the past and the promise of the future. Keenen Ivory Wayans pays direct homage to the past by including some of the biggest names from the Blaxploitation era in key roles, and he uses the rest of the casting as an opportunity to not only showcase the talents of his vast family, but also open doors for a wealth of hilarious up and comers (many of whom are still working to this day). The issues that plagued the Blaxploitation era are given a modern day equivalent, with drugs and sexual exploitation replaced with the embracing of hip-hop and gangster culture, but this substitution does not cheapen the strength of the narrative, despite the film’s comedic intentions. The film is even deceptively poignant in the way that it exposes systematic oppression and police corruption.
In terms of production value, everything is more than acceptable, but from what I can surmise, I’m Gonna Git You Sucka wasn’t created to be a cinematic masterpiece. The main aim of the film is clearly humor, and Keenen Ivory Wayans obliterates the bullseye he targeted. The music cues all work, even the ones that are direct references to films of the past, and even some of those cues are used for humorous sight gags. Wardrobe-wise, the film is surprisingly strong, with the costuming providing memorable outfits from the modern era, Blaxploitation era, and even a few ridiculous over-the-top costumes (including those outrageous goldfish platforms).
Keenen Ivory Wayans definitely had a lot on his plate as the writer and director of the film, but all of those obligations didn’t take away from his ability to play a comically inept version of a leading man with pinpoint precision. Ja’net Dubois takes the trope of protective mother to new and outrageous heights, while Dawnn Lewis plays the damsel and distress with incredibly comedic nuance. Bernie Casey is too cool for school, which makes his sharp one-liners and punchlines even funnier due to their curveball-esque delivery. Isaac Hayes, Jim Brown, Antonio Fargas and Steve James are all able to take character aspects that made their careers and flip them on their ears, turning them into jokes without them feeling like they are the butt of said jokes. John Vernon brings a sense of gravitas to his antagonist position, but like everyone else in the film, he manages to keep it humorous without going too ridiculous... instead, he allows the ridiculousness to come from Damon Wayans and Kadeem Hardison as his henchmen.  The list of cameo appearances reads like its own solid comedy film, with the likes of Clarence Williams III, Clu Gulager, John Witherspoon, David Alan Grier, Eve Plumb, Robin Harris, Kim Wayans, Nadia Wayans, Hawthorne James, Gary Owens, Tony Cox and more popping up, and even Robert Townsend and Peggy Lipton providing uncredited roles.
While it’s true that the comedy films of the Wayans family can be divisive in terms of reception, it’s hard to argue against I’m Gonna Git You Sucka being a classic. The film opened many doors for Keenen Ivory and the rest of his family, and with his next project being the culturally iconic In Living Color, it seemed like the sky was the limit for his family. As we stand thirty-plus years removed from this declaration, it’s impressive to see that the Wayans family is still rising.
Disney - The Muppets - I Am Kermit The Frog - Adapted by Ray Santos - Based on the screenplay by Jason Segel & Nick Stoller - Illustrated by Stephan Britt and Steve James - Passport To Reading Level 3 - 2011 Little Brown and Company - ISBN: 978-0-316-18297-3 #muppets #themuppets #kermit #gonzo #iamkermitthefrog #kermitthefrog #fozzybear #misspiggy #animal #rowlf #fozzie #passporttoreading #sweetums #disneybooks #disney #raysantos #jasonsegal #nickstoller #stephanbritt #stevejames #bookstagram #puppets #booksofinstagram #cartoons #cartooncharacters (at Portland, Oregon) https://www.instagram.com/p/BsiZuHph0Sl/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=72z71vyikkg8
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?”
“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.
It’s going to be an easy wedding. Textbook, even. Parker’s nearly done with the flowers in the reception hall. There weren’t even bouquets. This is going to be easy. A wedding AU. Parker/Cib, background Steven/James, 1.5k
AUcember || title lyric
#
“Weddings stress me out,” Parker announces, two hours before the ceremony.
“Not me,” Mimi says cheerfully.
“Not even a little?”
Mimi is Parker’s favorite wedding planner to work with, because she makes sure that every detail is perfect. She’s not a micromanager as much as she’s a fan of competent work. And luckily for him, Parker is a pretty competent florist, most days.
“Oh, I don’t get to be stressed.” Mimi flashes a smile at him. “I have to have it together.”
“What if things are falling apart?”
“Are you planning on letting things fall apart?”
“Absolutely not,” Parker says. Mimi’s a fan of competent work, but he’s seen how she reacts to incompetence. And he’s not about to be one of those people.
Mimi beams at him. “Do me a favor, I need you to track down the best man, I have to talk to him about something.”
“Which best man?”
“Steve’s.”
Parker pauses. “Which… is that?”
“Haven’t you met the party?”
“I haven’t even met Steve,” Parker admits. James had been the one who worked with him picking out arrangements and stuff. (He’d said the whole time that his fiance was making him do it and he wasn’t interested in flowers, but he’d definitely been more invested in the flower choices than Parker had.)
Mimi makes a disapproving noise. “Okay, well, his best man’s name is Cib. Just bring him to me, and if he’s wearing a headband, tell him to take it off.”
“A headband?” Parker says. “At a wedding?”
“He’s an… odd duck,” she says delicately. “He’s something else. You’ll understand. Just send him my way?”
“Send him your way,” Parker repeats, and heads off towards the rooms where Steve is getting ready.
The thing is, weddings actually do stress Parker out, because he’s had some spouses-to-be who really, really don’t know how to handle things going wrong. Especially things that they think are easy to control and get right. And flowers tend to top that list.
James and Steven’s wedding has been easy, at least, because they know what they want. James had been completely invested in the flowers, and the venue, and when Parker snuck a look at Mimi’s notes they were detailed enough to be doable but not unmanageable. It’s going to be an easy wedding. Textbook, even. Parker’s nearly done with the flowers in the reception hall. There weren’t even bouquets. This is going to be easy.
He knocks on the door, and it swings open, and he’s about to say something, but suddenly, he… can’t.
“What, dude?” says the guy who opened the door. He’s tall and for some godforsaken reason, the first thing Parker notices is that he has really nice shoulders. Maybe it’s the lines of the tux jacket he’s wearing, or the way he’s leaning against the doorframe. His fingers are tapping on the side, and he’s gazing up at Parker through his eyelashes.
And, Parker realizes, he’s wearing a headband.
“You should take the headband off,” he says automatically.
The guy stands up straight and adjusts his headband, looking affronted. “Why don’t I go keep it on instead?”
“Uh,” Parker says, except he can’t think in a straight line long enough to follow that up, shit. “Be...cause…”
“Cib, who is it?” someone says out of sight.
The guy, definitely Cib, looks over his shoulder. “Some drink of water who is against my headband.”
“Florist,” Parker says. He has to be able to save this. Just so his client doesn’t think he’s the kind of person who knocks on doors unexpectedly and insults people’s fashion taste.
“Florist?” the other voice repeats. “Open the door.”
Cib swings the door open. The second Parker sets eyes on him, the wedding-florist part of his brain screams that this has to be the groom. He’s got that same nervous, effusive energy that all grooms have. “You’re Steve, right?”
“Yeah, man. Parker, right?” Steve leans forward - or, really, he lunges forward from across the room - and shakes Parker’s hand. “Hey, I really appreciate you working with James and not calling him out on the fact that he actually loves flowers.”
“Of course,” Parker says. “It’s- lots of dudes like flowers, you know?”
“I know,” Steve says, and gets this misty look for a second. It’s cute. “So, uh, is there a flower problem?”
Parker stares blankly. “What?”
“That you need to clear up with me?”
“No, I’m-” Parker pivots to look back at Cib. “Mimi wanted to talk to you, actually. And she said to take off the headband.”
“Mimi?” Cib repeats. Both of his hands are still on the headband. “Why?”
“She didn’t say.”
“Steve said I could wear the headband.”
Parker looks to Steve, who shakes his head, eyes wide and pleading. “Get it off him, please, god.”
“Steve!”
“You’re wearing a navy headband! It doesn’t match the wedding colors or your tux!”
“You sound like you’re getting married or something,” Cib huffs, but he tugs the headband off and stuffs it in his breast pocket. “Headkerchief.”
“Gesundheit,” Parker says kindly.
“No, excuse you.” Cib looks at Steve. “You good if I check on Mimi?”
“Of course,” Steve scoffs. “Fine. Totally fine. Hurry back.”
“Course, dude,” Cib says, and leaves the room. The second the door is shut, he leans in close to Parker and whispers, “He needs me.”
“Ha,” Parker says weakly, because he’s distracted by the attractive dude with his lips very close to Parker’s general… self. “Yeah, he… he sure does.”
“Like we’re friends or something,” Cib says, not without glee. “You saw that, right? He’s my best friend.”
“Yep,” Parker agrees. “Let’s- Mimi- you know her.”
“I know her.” Cib starts down the hall towards the banquet hall. “So you said you do the flowers, right? How do you pick them?”
“What?”
“How do you pick the flowers?”
“I mean, it’s mostly up to the couple getting married, normally they have an idea, but-”
“No, dude,” Cib says. “Like, do you pick them yourself from the dirt? Steal them from people’s lawns? 3D print them?”
Parker nearly trips over his own feet. “You mean… how do I get the flowers?”
“What else could I possibly mean?”
He decides not to answer. “I mean, I order them, same as anyone, but I also take care of them. I grow some myself.”
“Grow them yourself,” Cib repeats, sounding pleased. He whistles lowly as he walks into the banquet hall. “This is so good I wanna get married in it.”
“Mimi’s great.” Cib plants his hands on a table, looking at the centerpiece. “You did this?”
“Uh, I did, yeah.”
“Does it need all the flowers?”
“Does it- what?”
Cib reaches in and plucks a carnation out of the vase, twirling it in his fingers. “Can I have this?”
Parker has to shake himself out of staring at Cib’s fingers, because that would be… unprofessional. “Uh, if you want it. There are a bunch in that vase, I don’t mind, why would I mind? I’m not sitting at that table anyways.”
“You say a lot of words,” Cib says, and in one smooth motion reaches up and tucks the carnation behind Parker’s ear. His hand lingers by the side of Parker’s head. His face is very, very close. “I like it.”
“Thank you,” Parker squeaks out, because it’s all that he can manage around the electrical storm inside his brain. His face is burning, he’s sure of it.
Cib opens his mouth, and Parker’s about to try and prepare himself for whatever embarrassing thing he’s going to do next, when suddenly Mimi calls out, “Cib!”
Cib’s face immediately slips into a smile - if Parker didn’t know any better, he’d say it looked a little regretful, but what does he know? - and he slides away from Parker just as fast as he’d gotten close. He turns to Mimi, and Parker follows suit. “Mimi! What’d you need?”
Mimi glances between them, looking suspicious, but then her eyes settle on Cib and she visibly relaxes. “Oh, good, you took the headband off.”
“Excuse you!” Cib folds his arms. “How do you know I didn’t listen to you and not wear one?”
“I can see it in your suit pocket.”
“Oh. Right.”
“Anyways,” Mimi says. “I need to talk about the toasts, can I steal you away for a second?”
“Of course,” Cib says, and leaves the room.
Mimi arches an eyebrow after him and looks at Parker. “I told you he was something.”
“Mmmmhm,” Parker says, and he’s sure that he’s more or less as red as the carnation behind his ear. Is the carnation red? Oh, god, he can’t even remember what the flowers are. All he knows is there’s a flower tucked behind his ear and he kind of feels like he’s about to die, but in the best way. “He sure is.”
Mimi gives him a knowing smile and follows Cib out of the room.
Parker takes the deepest breath he can manage, brushes his fingers against the carnation, and goes back to setting up centerpieces. And if one table ends up one carnation short, well. That’s hardly his fault, right?
A Mr. and Mrs. Smith AU. 2k, James/Steve, background Cib/Parker.
AUcember || title lyric
#
“I don’t know, dude, it just kind of feels like the thrill is gone, you know?” Steven doesn’t slow down in assembling his rifle, but he frowns. “Like, you date a guy for a couple years, you think he’s great, and then…”
“And then you don’t know how to follow through,” Cib says wisely. Steven can’t see him, what with the earpiece and all, but he can picture Cib looking weirdly smug. As though he’s said something brilliant here, and not something that only almost makes sense.
“Sure,” Steven says, because he’s not about to argue with Cib while he’s on a job.
“Yeah, I’ve been there.” There’s a sound, probably Cib kicking his feet up on his desk. “You know, you think you’ve got something special, right? Think a dude is gonna be significant like a zero.”
“Zeroes aren’t significant.”
“Significant digits, Steve, keep up.”
Steven stops putting together the rifle just long enough to roll his eyes. It’s a really good eye-roll. It involves neck movement.
“Anyways,” Cib says, blithe as ever, “you think it’s special, you’ve found the one who loves you even though you kill people for a living. And then, bam, turns out it bothered him the whole time and you need to talk about it, or whatever.”
“That’s completely not what’s happening here.”
“You sure?”
“Please quit throwing your relationship with Parker onto me,” Steven grunts, and lifts the gun to his eye to check the sight. “And besides, you guys worked your things out, you’re golden, right?”
“Aw, yeah, it’s awesome,” Cib says brightly. “You know, if we have a wedding-”
“Are you fucking serious?”
“-do you think buffets are tacky? Or, you know, plated dinner, is that extra tacky? Sticky tack?”
“The only thing that’s tacky is marrying someone, Cib, you know it’s dangerous to tie in people who aren’t involved!”
“I’d use a fake name, idiot!”
Steven shakes his head. Cib is dating a civilian, and he’s stupid about it, because Parker knows about his job. Technically Cib doesn’t actually kill people, but he does facilitate the missions, which isn’t that far off. But Steven is the one firing the bullets, and is he about to go and tell James that? Absolutely not.
Or, maybe. If it means they break up faster rather than being stuck in this limbo, it might be worth the loss of secrecy.
“Whatever,” he sighs. “Point is, we’re probably not going to get married.”
“Only probably!”
“Almost definitely!” He can hear people on the street below making noise, and he sighs. “I gotta go, I’ll update you in a couple minutes.”
“Shoot good, dude.”
Steven smiles slightly. “Thanks, man.”
He can hear the click of Cib closing the line, and he takes a deep breath. Assassinations are easy. All he has to do is take out this guy as he leaves the courthouse. Fire a trigger, and go home to see his live-in boyfriend that he doesn’t actually love anymore. That’s great.
He lives a sad, sad life. Killing people and a dead-end relationship.
But he’s distracted from feeling sorry from himself when he catches sight of something on the roof across from him. Not something, somebody. Somebody else with a rifle.
Steven lifts a hand to his ear. “Cib.”
“That was quick.”
“I’m the only one on this job, right?”
“Of course, dude. What-”
“There’s someone set up across from me,” Steven says, without taking his eyes off of them. He doesn’t think they’ve noticed him yet, and hopefully it stays that way. “Do I- if it’s not one of ours, should I take them out?”
“Shit,” Cib says. “Shit, uh- what’s the protocol here?”
“You’re my handler!”
“Oh my god, I’m your handler.”
“Oh my god,” Steven says, because sometimes the reality of it hits him all over again, “you’re my handler. What’s the target level?”
“Uh,” Cib says, and Steven can hear frantic typing. “Low enough that it’d be better for you to take out the other guy.”
“Even if it ruins the hit?”
“Yes, even if it ruins the hit! We can hit again.”
“You’re sure?”
“Of course not,” Cib snaps, “but neither are you.”
He has a point, so Steven takes a breath. “Call you back,” he says, and shuts his comlink off without waiting for a goodbye. He only has a few seconds before this other shooter notices him, since he wasn’t exactly making an effort to be quiet, so he levels his rifle and looks through the sight.
And it’s James.
Steven sits back on his heels, blinking hard. It’s James, and he was looking away. Hand pressed up to his own ear, like he was talking to someone.
James, his boyfriend he’s not in love with anymore, who he might actually, literally have to kill.
“Fuck it,” Steven mutters, and points the rifle down. The target is clearly visible, and it only takes a second to fire off the shot, and then people are screaming. The sound of a hit well done.
When he lifts the rifle back up, James is staring down at the people in shock, like he hasn’t figured it out. He can tell when it clicks, because James looks up, across the street between them. And then he lifts his own rifle to look at Steven.
Tentatively, Steven lifts an arm and waves at him. It takes a few seconds, but James waves back.
There’s still pandemonium downstairs, and Steven has to strip his rifle down faster than he’s ever had to before. He’s sprinting down the stairs of the building when he finally remembers to link back in with Cib. “Hey-”
“Dude, what happened?”
“Long story.” He jumps over the rail for the last flight, landing on the ground with a grunt, and keeps running. “Other assassin? It’s my boyfriend.”
“No way.”
“I swear to god, it was him.”
“Did you kill him?”
“No, I didn’t fucking kill him! I killed the target.”
“Oh,” Cib says. “Hey, good job, dude.”
“Good job? Is that really all you have to say?”
“Well, what else am I supposed to say? Your supposedly civilian boyfriend kills people!” Cib pauses. “Oh, my god, do you think Parker kills people?”
Steven kicks open the emergency exit and keeps on running, trying not to laugh. He really doesn’t have the spare oxygen in his lungs to laugh right now. “Parker couldn’t kill someone if he was holding a knife and they ran into it.”
“Yeah,” Cib says, so sappy that it’s gross. “Alright, Steve, let’s get you out of there, what’s your twenty?”
“Running south on Chicago,” Steven huffs out. He hopes that’s right. He checked all the maps and street signs and shit, but his only instinct had been to run away from the commotion, and away from James.
“Mmmmmmhm. Coffee shop, two blocks down on your left. Slow it down first.”
“I’m not an amateur,” Steven wheezes - really, actually wheezes, because he’s pretty sure that he can’t actually take in a real breath anymore. The briefcase for his rifle is heavy, and it’s hard to run with it without the additional outside shock of his fucking boyfriend killing people. He slows down to a jog. “So how do you think we should… you know, talk about it?”
“What, the killing people thing?”
“Yes, the killing people thing!”
“Don’t talk about it.”
“You serious?”
“Parker and I don’t talk about it.”
Steven slows to a walk. His lungs and legs are burning, and he heaves a couple of deep breaths. “Again, really not a comparable situation.”
“Guess not,” Cib says thoughtfully. “Who do you think he works for?”
“Who fucking knows?”
“You could ask him.”
“You literally just said not to talk about it.”
“Well, what do I know? Maybe you should!”
Steven rolls his eyes and pushes the door open to the coffee shop. It’s a weekend afternoon, so it’s crowded, and Steven takes a deep breath as he gets in line. “Listen, I’m in line, I’m gonna switch from the earpiece to my phone, okay?” The rest goes unspoken: the mission is over. And this is a conversation for personal phones.
“Roger jogger,” Cib says cheerfully. Steven pulls the earpiece out and slips it into his pocket. It’s not the best way to treat company property, but he’s too good for them to fire.
His phone starts ringing just as he reaches for it, and he answers and lifts it to his ear in one smooth motion. “You really think I should talk to him about it?”
“Who?” James says, and Steven closes his eyes. Fuck. “Steve?”
Steven clears his throat. Maybe he can save this. “Uh, hey. Thought you were Cib.”
“Thought I was Cib?” James repeats. “Why would- oh, for fuck’s sake, is he another-”
“You know, we should really talk about this when we get home.”
“Is there a lot to talk about?”
“Isn’t there?”
“You’re not really a freelance editor, are you?”
“Well, you don’t write scripts,” Steven counters.
James laughs softly. “Yeah, got me there, Steve, I sure fucking don’t.”
“And also,” Steven says, as casually as he can, “in that… uh, situation, that we were in-”
“Are you in public?”
“Aren’t you?”
“No, I’m on my way home. Although I guess I didn’t just shoot someone.”
“I win,” Steven says, and then wants to wince for some reason.
But James just sort of chuckles and says “Yeah, this time,” and Steven… doesn’t know what to do with that.
“Anyways,” Steven says. “If we meet… shall we say, competitors while we’re out and about, our job is to make sure there’s no competition. If you catch my drift.”
“You mean kill me,” James says flatly.
“Yeah. You know. Just business.”
“But you didn’t.”
“I mean, no-”
“You could’ve.”
“I could’ve,” Steven agrees, because he’s been sort of thinking about that too. He could’ve. Maybe it’s not a great way to end a relationship, but he would’ve been justified. He would’ve done it, if it had been anyone else.
“I didn’t even see you there,” James murmurs. “Had no idea.”
“I’m good at what I do.” Steven clears his throat. “What we do.”
“Technically, I was supposed to kill you too,” James says conversationally. “As soon as I noticed you were there, I was supposed to try and take you out. By the way, dude, I don’t care how good you are, you really shouldn’t wave at people.”
“I wanted to defuse the tension!”
“Oh, you defused something.”
“Did I?”
“This isn’t safe to talk about,” James says abruptly. “It’s- you’re literally in public right now, talking about killing people.”
“Cib and I do it all the time. We have codes.”
“Of course you do,” James sighs. He sounds tired, and drained, and… fond. Weirdly fond. “You’re right. We should talk about this. Without fucking killing each other.”
“Or we should talk about it before we try fucking killing each other,” Steven corrects him, and James makes a little half-noise that Steven knows well. It goes with a little smile, a duck of the head, genuine amusement at a joke. It makes Steven’s heart clench for reasons he can’t explain. “Get home safe.”
“You too,” James says, sounding like he means it. “Steve?”
“Yeah?”
“Love you.”
Steven closes his eyes. “Love you too, James.”
“No killing each other,” James says again, and then hangs up.
Steven sort of smiles at his phone and scrolls over to Cib’s name in his phone.
Cib picks up immediately. “Dude, what the fuck, I called you!”
“James called me first.”
“What’d he say?”
“You want to hear something weird?”
“Course.”
“I think this is the best thing that’s happened for our relationship in months,” Steven says.
Cib snorts. “Well, I could’ve told you that. After Parker and I worked everything out, we spent all night-”
“Stop.”
“I’m glad, dude,” Cib says. “And I won’t… you know.”
“Tell anyone?”
“Not till they torture me.”
“Excellent,” Steven says. Because this seems like the kind of thing they can work out on their own.
Huge shoutout to Steve James, the incredible host of the Guru Viking podcast! I had the pleasure of joining him once again for an in-depth, thought-provoking conversation that took us on a journey.
I guess it’s a #stevejames day watching #americanninjamovies he was born #february191952 passed away #december181993 #mantis https://www.instagram.com/p/ChA6CkMlLA4/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
