taketheapple

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nsheepsclothing‌:

Adam reached for the onion rings when Victor suggested that they might have been the thing to kill him. If “I don’t think that’s what happened.” He muttered before purposefully cramming three onion rings into his mouth at once. If they had been the thing to kill him he figured they couldn’t do him any worse now.

He didn’t find Victor’s reminder that they were at least still conscious very encouraging when he was actively drinking to try and black out. He only paused when Victor mentioned Danielle possibly being there too, concern flickering across his features before he dismissed the idea. He refused to believe that the universe would let someone as perfect as Danielle end up in a miserable place like this. 

“Hey,” Adam protested as Victor pulled him to his feet. He grabbed for the other’s arm as he swayed unsteadily, his other hand reaching for the basket of onion rings that were left on the bar. “I don’t know.” He mumbled with a shrug, letting go of Victor and heading towards the exit. “I don’t see anyone stopping us.” He made his way outside out of the bar with the basket in hand, looking around for someone he could bum a cigarette off of. He didn’t smoke, but it seemed like the logical next step to make in his current situation. “What are you gonna do?” He asked curiously, glancing back at Victor. “I don’t think people will care enough to vote either way here.”

Victor continued dutifully shepherding Adam out of the bar, pausing only once to glance uncertainly at the register before stepping outside. He kept a steady grip on his friend’s arm, ignoring the onion rings when he glanced aside with raised brows. “I've got more going for me than being the next mayor,” he said, with a lightheartedness he didn’t feel.

Falling silent, Victor shrugged after a beat. “I don't know, I'm dead. What can't I do?” Oddly enough, he wasn't too torn up about finding out he was a ghost, though he did feel some sympathy for his mother. But the last few years of his life hadn't been anything like he thought it would be, losing touch with his father, his fiancee, and his best friend on top of it all. He felt worse about the fact that he didn't feel like he'd lost much at all.

“I guess I don't need to ask what your plan is. Should we go find you a pair of Crocs and chewing tobacco?” Victor didn't hide his distaste as he steered Adam determinedly towards his house, marching his drunk charge down the sidewalk like his father used to do.

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Adam wanted to laugh at the joke or feel some sort of shared relief but all he could feel was dread curdling in his gut alongside the alcohol and fried carbs he’d already consumed. He reached for his drink to further the condition, downing a good portion of it while Victor picked at his ruined suit.

“Home.” He grumbled as he lowered the nearly-empty glass, his stomach turning at the memory of waking up there. “Not enough.” He decided when Victor asked how much he’d had to drink already.

“Were you- Did someone try to murder you?” He asked finally, still unsure how much he believed that this was reality instead of a nightmare brought on by working too many long hours at the office. “I think someone killed me too.” He admitted under his breath, glancing over his shoulder before unzipping his hoodie enough to reveal the bloodied t-shirt underneath it. He looked down to confirm that it was still as gruesome as it’d been before, a choked laugh escaping him when he realized that it was.

“Should have known better…” He muttered, despair washing over him anew as he turned back towards the bar. He was pretty sure this couldn’t be actual hell if Mayor Childs and Victor’s dad didn’t show up at some point. “We both should have.”

Victor frowned when Adam seemed determined to stay belligerently drunk, and his expression remained unchanged when he saw the amount of blood on his friend. “I don’t think someone tried, I think they succeeded.” He reached for the gash in the fabric, but stopped himself when Adam turned away. Biting his lip, he rolled his eyes to the ceiling as if to ask for help from a higher power-- until he remembered where he was. Ironic.

“Hey, don’t go victim-blaming me. I was clearly assassinated, I’m an innocent. You probably ate too many of these things and your heart burst out of your chest.” Victor said, in an attempt to lighten the mood. Was he supposed to mourn his own death? He picked up an onion ring and thought, What the hell, I’m already here, and took a bite. Face curdling, he dropped the rest of it back into the basket. Too oily.

“Get it together, man. We’re conscious, aren’t we? Enough with the pity party.” He wiped his hands on a napkin and elbowed his friend in the side. “What if Dani is here?” For stabbing Adam, probably. Victor grabbed him and pulled him off his chair and paused, glancing uncertainly behind the bar. “Do we have to pay? Do you have money?” 

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Adam grabbed the edge of the bar when Victor pulled him around to face him, buzzed and trying to keep from falling off of the bar stool as he focused on his friend’s face. Adam’s face scrunched when Victor asked him if he was a ghost, but it’d been a strange day made only stranger by the way that he was trying to cope with it.

“She’s not here, Vic.” He mumbled, sounding as lost as he felt in regards to this realization. It had never been any mystery to Adam why Victor had planned on marrying Danielle. She made everything around her better. She’d made him better. And he had no clue what he was going to do without her in this new reality that he’d found himself in.

Adam reached to touch one of the bullet holes that were ripped through Victor’s suit, his brow furrowing in confusion as his gaze flitted to meet the other’s. “Who did that?” He asked blankly, his own mysteriously bloodied shirt hidden under the hoodie he’d thrown on before leaving the house. 

Victor blinked at the despair painted on Adam’s face, a little taken aback considering how hard his friend worked to appear unflappable. He loosened his grip but didn't let go, expression softening despite himself. He could understand how it felt to lose Danielle, and found himself sympathetic even if Adam didn't quite deserve it. She was a force of nature that he still sorely missed, someone he couldn't imagine living without.

“That's a good thing, isn't it? She probably doesn't deserve all the fire and brimstone,” Victor joked lamely; because this had to be hell, there was no other way to approach it. He was pretty sure he hadn't missed the pearly gates on his walk back into town.

Following Adam's gaze to his suit, he picked at one of the torn holes sitting right above his sternum. “No idea. There's a lot of them.” Twelve, to be exact, though he was sure that a few of them were exit holes. The lawyer in him wanted to find the culprit (or culprits) and bring them to justice.  But a larger part of him wondered if it mattered anymore.

“Where did you wake up?” Victor could only assume that something similar had happened to Adam. “And how drunk are you?” From the boozy whiff he got, he assumed it had to be very.

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Victor woke up in Chicago. There was no other place he could have been; strewn over the courthouse steps in his favorite suit and second-favorite shoes, he found himself disoriented but unhurt. But once he started walking, it only took him seven minutes to reach Muddy Waters, and eleven more to explore the abandoned streets.

Instead of heading home, he went straight to the bar-- the first place Muddy citizens would likely hide out in the event of... whatever this was. Victor refused to panic, even as he felt fear bubble up inside his chest, abated only by the sounds he could hear through the door.

Stepping inside, he was surprised to see the back of Adam’s head, and someone else sitting at the end of the bar. He crossed the room swiftly and dropped down onto a stool, glancing only briefly at the graveyard of fried foods that sat on the counter. “Are you okay?” Victor grabbed his friend’s shoulder to wrench him around to face him, scanning the other’s face to see if anything else had changed. “Are you... real? Are you a ghost?” It sounded like a stupid question, but Victor was currently walking around with bullet holes in his suit, so nothing seemed impossible.

It had taken Adam all of three minutes to despair after realizing that he was in fact dead. Murdered, even. And very, very alone. He had mowed through everything in his pantry at the house, leaving only to seek out fried food and booze at Troy. After all, a Syndicate hotspot seemed safer than anywhere else after the things he’d seen. 

He heard someone take the stool at the bar beside him, torn between telling them to find another seat and begging whoever they were to stay with him. In the end he just pushed the half-eaten basket of mozzarella sticks in their direction, reaching for his drink instead. “Knock yourself out, if you want.” He offered grimly, fully intent on ordering the potato skins next. 

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Adam paused mid-drink when Victor called him on his shit, his eyes narrowing at the other as he lowered the bottle from his lips only to have it snatched from him by Victor. “I really don’t think that’s true.” He insisted, fairly certain that if Victor still told him everything he wouldn’t be feeling the way that he did right now. It was easier to presume that Victor was just hanging onto the past and refused to see that things had changed between them since Victor had moved off to go to some fancy-pants college.

“You’re not my lawyer.” He made a grab to reclaim his drink only to have it moved out of his reach before he could get it. The reminder that he was indeed keeping secrets (or, a secret) from Victor stung, the dread of telling Victor the truth hanging over Adam like a dark cloud. 

“Victor,” He looked up suddenly, trying to muster the nerve to say what he needed to. He’d gone over this moment a thousand times in his head since he had found out about Victor’s dad, mentally preparing for a conversation he knew he wasn’t going to want to have. It all meant nothing now that he was face-to-face with Victor though, dread of what Victor would feel in response tripping Adam over his own words until he couldn’t remember a single one of them anymore. 

His shoulders fell as he decided that he was probably too drunk to have this discussion or try to finish that drink, moving to stand and step away from Victor. “There’s just so much shit in this town. You’re crazy to want to move back here with her.” He muttered, more to himself than anyone else as he moved to lean against the railing of the deck.

“It is true,” Victor insisted, at least it was for him. Discomfort welled in the pit of his stomach at the implication that there were things that Adam couldn’t or wouldn’t tell him. He searched his friend's face, desperately trying to find a crack in the other's armor that he could exploit. His profession required it, and Victor was good at it, but even after all this time, Adam remained as difficult to read as ever.

Difficult, but not impossible. “What?” Victor demanded, expression softening when it seemed like they were on the verge of a confession. But he was surprised when Adam simply broke his gaze instead, shoulders taking on a dejected slump. Frustration and curiosity needled at him, but Victor knew from experience not to push too hard.

“This is my home, and I love her. Why shouldn't I try to have both?” He stood, cautiously approaching his friend's side to slump against him. “And you’re here. You can’t tell me that you didn’t miss me.” He bumped Adam’s shoulder companionably even if doubt bubbled up beneath his easy veneer. There was a beat of silence, and Victor heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Well I missed you, you asshole.”

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Adam couldn’t help feeling both charmed and antagonized by the bright smile plastered across his friend’s face. Victor had always had the best smiles. And hugs. And neither were anything that Adam wanted to think about too hard at the moment.

He reached back inside to grab two drinks off the top of the cooler, tossing one of the ciders to Victor before cracking open his own. He perched on the armrest of the opposite side of the bench  from Victor, leaving as much space between them as possible. “You’ve just… changed a lot since high school. A lot of things have, I guess. I don’t know.” He shrugged, tipping his head back to take a long drink from the beverage that was too cold to be drinking outdoors this time of year. “It’s good, though. I’m happy for you. I guess it’s just hard to know how to pick up where we left off when things are different.” He paused, feeling like he must have sounded like an idiot. Or worse, like he actually cared that he and Victor weren’t as close as they’d used to be. “I wasn’t trying to be a dick.” He gestured idly, tipping his drink towards Victor in apology. 

Victor caught the bottle, surprising himself with his level of dexterity with so much wine sloshing inside of him, and paused to read the label before taking a drink. He listened with perhaps more focus than was required of the conversation, brows slowly raising at Adam’s excuse. Expression exasperated, and more than a little suspicious, he seemed to consider the plausibility of Adam’s reasoning before choosing a reaction.

“That’s bullshit,” Victor decided, the expletive a sure sign that he was more than a little tipsy. “What are you talking about? I tell you everything. The only thing that’s changed about me is my pant size.” He took a swipe at the other’s drink, childishly snatching the bottle out of Adam’s hand. “Are you keeping secrets?” He suddenly realized that he couldn’t remember the last time they’d had a conversation that went beyond the mundane. Maybe things really had changed. “I’m a lawyer, man, you gotta tell me. Or be a better liar. You can’t say ‘I’m happy for you’ and look like you bit into a lemon. That’s amateur.”

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Adam had long since resigned himself to these kinds of events, deeming them a necessary evil in the life that he planned on having for himself. It wasn’t that he wanted to follow in his parents footsteps, he wanted to make change happen- he just believed that change was generally better if you didn’t try to force it to happen too quickly or abruptly. It took a lot of patience and he was still learning how to manage that, which is how he found himself drunk and ready to hide out out on the back deck of his parents house during their holiday jamboree.

It wasn’t the welcome break that he’d imagined, his best friend from school already there and looking… appallingly cut. Adam wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to this new version of Victor, longing for the days when Victor had been more like a snowman and less like the cover of Men’s Health. 

“It’s kinda hectic in there” He gestured over his shoulder towards the house as he made the excuse. “So uh, Danielle seems nice. Looks like things are going well for you.” He offered lamely, unsure who the jealousy he felt was aimed towards at the moment. He was generally better at pretending but the amount of spiked eggnog he’d already drank wasn’t helping him win any Academy Awards this evening. 

“Danielle is nice,” Victor agreed, smiling a little too wide and expression a little too goofy to be entirely sober. “She's incredible, I've never met anyone like her.” He would’ve continued gushing about his fiancée if it weren’t for the look on Adam’s face, his own fading to something a bit more subdued. They’d won enough debates in school that he knew what Adam looked like when he was happy. He gestured to the large, open cooler by the door, “Anything good in there? Grab two.”

Sinking down onto a fancy-but-uncomfortable bench, Victor leaned back on his arms to pin Adam with a searching look he could’ve only learned from his father. “You have been avoiding me,” he surmised, less accusatory and more knowing. “What is it? Is it worth the cold shoulder?”

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@nsheepsclothing

Everything was beautiful, of course, the Wolfes always went above and beyond for their annual holiday party. And despite the nondenominational invites, that holiday was clearly Christmas, with extraordinary trees and vaguely biblical decorations adorning the sprawling property. He and Danielle had already made their rounds-- with the hosts, no less-- bemoaning the trials and tribulations of house hunting in this economy. It was standard smalltalk and boring as hell, which got him exiled from the kitchen when his fiancée noticed him nodding off.

Meandering through the familiar halls, Victor eventually ended up on the deck, where the music was quieter and the air was colder, and he could hopefully sober up by the time the party wrapped up. He draped himself against the banister and loosened the collar of his shirt, only to pause when he heard the doors slide open behind him. Victor huffed out a laugh and turned back to face the trees dripping with lights, exhaling a breath that materialized in a cloud before dissipating.

“I was starting to think you were avoiding me,” he mused. “Barely got to say ‘merry Christmas’ before you ran off.”

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Adam made a mental note of the Reese Witherspoon thing, though he hated that he was still learning things about his wife from Victor. It wasn’t that he thought Danielle would cheat on him, it was just that he wanted to be the better man since Victor had dated her and planned to marry her at one point.

“I wouldn’t worry about it.” He assured Victor, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he hoisted the box and started towards the doors leading further into the building. “Dressed like that no one is going to assume you were invited.” 

Victor's grin mirrored Adam's despite the snide remark. "Is that your subtle way of saying that you do want to see me in a suit?” he called, raising his voice as the other walked away. “Request accepted. I’ll see what I can do.” He nearly shouted that last part, inspiring giggles from the volunteers behind him.

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Adam laughed, making no move to help clean up the mess that he’d made. “You clearly have a huge advantage in rom-com tactics.” He offered condescendingly, guessing at how many Drew Barrymore movies Victor must have seen up to now. “You don’t watch them with Danielle, right?” He wanted to believe that his wife had better taste than that, quicker to question her taste in movies than he was to question her fidelity.

He paused when Victor called him out, the muscles under his eye twitching before he turned to face the other fully. “You’ll be lucky to get a handful of single moms who are willing to take a chance on you. The last thing this fragile town wants is a wild card.” He leaned back to scoop the box up again. “If you’re still here sorting out dried fruit you should check out the after party. I could use help dragging out any lingering lushes after they’ve signed the checks.”

Victor hummed noncommittally and responded with, "She prefers Reese Witherspoon," which failed both to answer the question and provide the reassurance Adam was looking for. His expression didn't turn any less smug when the other attempted to backtrack, unconvinced but definitely amused by the effort. It’d taken a long time for him to get used to (and even longer to appreciate) Adam’s defense mechanisms.

“There’s that famous Wolfe charm. Insulting me and inviting me over in the same breath.” Victor pretended to think about it, as if he wasn’t about to accept the invitation already. “Are you sure you want me there? I’d hate to sully your good name.” Moreover, he wondered if Adam already had a reason in mind to explain his presence at an opponent’s after party. 

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Adam didn’t realize that he was gearing up to heave a heavy sigh of forbearing until his lungs were already stocked too full of air, his shoulders rolling back as he tried to exhale it all in the least dramatic way possible. Victor and his troll campaign didn’t deserve the attention.

“Please.” He couldn’t seem to keep the annoyance out of his tone as Victor spoke. “You’re just sucking up.” He stopped to adjust the things that he was carrying, knocking a stack of dried goods over when he placed the box he’d been carrying on the edge of Victor’s table. 

“I didn’t invite you for fear of tainting your humble image.” He offered, resting his elbow on top of the box. “Pro tip: This isn’t a progressive area. I don’t know why you think this town wants a GQ Mr. Rogers when they’re busy casually blowing up every building in town.”

Victor raised his brows in a look of amusement as he stooped to retrieve the mittens and scarves Adam had sent sprawling to the floor. “Sucking up… to the town?” His grin broadened. “Ah, now I get your strategy. So the Mayor's playing hard to get. You know that method’s been debunked by every Drew Barrymore movie, right?” Although, if this were a Drew Barrymore movie circa ‘00s, Adam would have been doing exactly that for the past five years.

Looking more than smug at Adam's attempt at intimidation, it was clear that Victor was enjoying their confrontation more than anything else. It felt just like when they were on the debate team, but with a lot more unresolved sexual tension.

“You think I belong in GQ?” he asked, cheeks dimpling as he breezed over the rest of Adam’s sort-of-insult. “That sounds exactly like the demographic I should be targeting.” 

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Victor paused in between sorting cans of green beans and mushroom soup to look up at the sound of footsteps. He was expecting a donor, but wasn’t disappointed to see Adam instead. Handing over the full box to another volunteer (“You can load this in the truck, thanks”), he turned back to face his friend with a mega-watt grin.

“Don't worry, we’ll be wrapping up exactly at seven.” Which meant that they wouldn’t be out of the place until at least eight, or possibly nine, because Victor was perennially unable to turn down late arrivals. His gaze drifted to the dry cleaning in Adam's hand, lips quirking ruefully. “Wouldn't want to cramp your style with all this generosity.” He meant it harmlessly, especially considering Danielle had stopped by earlier with her own sizable donation-- under the Wolfe name, of course.

“I assume my invitation got lost in the mail?” Victor teased. “I look really good in a suit. You're missing out.”

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Adam was arriving early to help set up for a fundraising mixer that the mayor’s office was hosting to raise money for those in need during the holidays. The event had been Adam’s idea but Danielle had fine-tuned it, proving once again that she could be fully dedicated to both her book club and her marriage.

With a dry cleaning bag slung over one shoulder and a box tucked under his other arm, Adam shouldered his way through the front doors of the rec center only to see that Victor was already there running a charitable food drive to provide Thanksgiving dinners for the less fortunate.

“I hope you’re wrapping up before seven tonight.” He commented, stopping near the edge of Victor’s operation. “I didn’t know to tell everyone to bring their canned goods.”

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@nsheepsclothing

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Adam shook his head, not about to dignify Victor’s claims about Colonel Popcorn with an actual response. “Stop.” He grumbled as Victor took his photo, holding Colonel Popcorn to his chest again in the interest of making him shut up. 

“Can’t.” He shrugged when Victor suggested that he walk the dog around the festival. “He’s underage and Dani made me promise to go through the maze in her stead. I want to go before people start heading back for the bonfire.”

Victor raised his brows as a sharklike grin spread across his face, uncommon in a setting outside the courtroom. “Was that an invitation? You know, you could just say that you want company.” He was unrelenting, especially tonight, or perhaps simply because Adam admitted to fucking up their relationship. If he really wanted to reconcile, Victor was still waiting for the proof.

“But I understand if you don't want me to see how scared you are of the dark,” Victor said, somehow both entirely sincere and teasing at once. He gestured to Colonel Popcorn, who had eventually settled down and was now enjoying the warmth of Adam’s bosom. “And he isn’t underage, he’s three. That means he can drink.”

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@nsheepsclothing

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“You and I both know that there are never enough cops to go around on Halloween. Remember last year? Literal bodies falling from the ceiling and the whole place went up in flames.” Adam shook his head, refusing to be teased for being paranoid or in-character just because he didn’t want potential voters to go up in flames.

He stared at the pumpkin for a moment before looking up at Victor. “You have a lot of talent. You know, if the whole mayor thing doesn’t work out you’ll always have a backup career with this.” He couldn’t tell if Victor was being weird about him saying no to the offer of sharing a tent or not, lightening the mood with a little almost-mean humor. 

“You’re not about to leave me with this gremlin.” He warned, putting both his hands around Colonel Popcorn’s middle and holding him towards Victor. The dog immediately started protesting, loudly. “I don’t know how you live like this.” Adam enunciated loudly to be heard over it.

Victor had heard about the Halloween tragedy last year, but he hadn’t been anywhere near the event. It’d be a ballsy move for someone to try anything criminal tonight, considering the heightened vigilance. Then again, Muddy Waters wasn’t exactly known for its prudence.

Rolling his eyes good-naturedly at the teasing, Victor stooped to retrieve his backpack along with Colonel Popcorn’s. He looked up at the sudden warbling, lips quirking unsympathetically at Adam’s complaint. “He’s a decorated officer, show some respect.” He shouldered his bag and pulled his phone from his back pocket, lifting it front of him where it made a distinctive shutter sound. Pulling up his text thread with Dani, he sent her the photo before focusing on Adam. “He likes you, man. Besides, Colonel Popcorn’s great PR. You’ll be trending in no time if you trot him around the festival for a bit.” He tilted his head towards the campgrounds. “Or you can pull that stick out of your ass and hang out with me like friends do,” Victor challenged.

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Adam made a face, seriously tempted to drop Colonel Popcorn but afraid that his fat body might end up breaking one of his little legs. “God, you’re such a…” Adam couldn’t think of a decent way to say what he meant. There just weren’t a lot of even semi-mature insults that political conservatives had come up with for the opposition.

He stared at Victor in muted astonishment when Victor suggested that they camp together, baffled that he would offer such a thing when he’d just accused Adam of being the one who wanted to sleep with him. “I have my own sleeping bag.” He felt rude as soon as he’d said it, his conscience in constant watchdog mode when it came to Victor. It was strange being competitive with someone that he also felt very protective of. They’d both been nerds in high school but Victor had been the chubby son of the town’s sheriff and a nerd. 

“I’m probably not going to be sleeping that much.” He backpedaled quickly. “I promised I’d be keeping an eye on the campgrounds to try and make sure nothing apocalyptic happens during the night.”

Victor was disappointed but unsurprised by the rejection, having figured that Adam would turn him down. He dropped his gaze back to his pumpkin, pretending to be distracted by the shapes he gouged out of the thick skin. He glanced back up, lips twitching at the justification before grabbing a wad of paper towels. “That’s what the cops are for. You sure you’re not taking your costume a little too literally?” Finished cleaning his pumpkin, he spun his work around to reveal Captain America’s shield cut out of the surface. “What do you think?” He scooped up his tools and began tidying up his space, glancing back at Adam over his shoulder.

“I’m going to set up camp. If you change your mind…” Victor trailed off, uncertain if the sentence needed to be finished. It was unlikely that Adam would change his mind. He shrugged and looked away, dumping his carving tools into a bucket. “You know where I’ll be.”