#uh frank i only have 2 friends with international vtol licenses

[kentaurex]

The way you said “I love you.“ (Some fluffy, some angsty prompts)

30: [jensard] Too quick, mumbled into your scarf

more doin the Prompts!

@czigonas ​

genupdate i haha uh labled the last one with the wrong number its fixed now but im dying inside all the same HAHAhahaas sobs

The blizzard is bad. It hits hard, it hits fast, and it leaves a dozen departures stranded out on the tarmac enveloped in the dark and among increasingly tall mounds of snow.

Francis sits in gloves and jacket and a full winter scarf on the cold airport chairs, gratefully contemplating the fact that he’d called and made Adam get up on time to catch his flight that morning.

It’s been a long day.

It’s only the sight of the first few augs from Adam’s flight quickly scattering from the security checkpoint that makes Francis shake his head clear, yawn a little, and sit up. He recognizes them well. He ought to. Adam had spent the entire flight sending him descriptions and bothering Francis to tell him what he thought their stories were.

I’m a crime writer, not a dramatist, he’d protested. Like that’s helped.

Fine. Then pretend it’s Snakes on a Plane, Adam has said, smugly and stubbornly and much like a man who’d had to be coaxed, threatened, and then blackmailed into getting up on time. Adam has many bad habits. One of which is thinking Francis sounds cute when he’s annoyed, the other of which is having too many pilot friends with international VTOL licenses. Makes him complacent.

Francis can only hope he’s not giving security any trouble. It would be just like him, Francis thinks, to have brought the nanoblades.

Judging by the fact that Adam still is not through security, Francis figures he might be right about the nanoblades.

Francis is usually right, of course.

Two more people stomp out of security – ‘suspicious stranger who nonetheless is a red herring’ and ‘tragic survivor poised to inherit the massive estate’ – and then there he is, voted most likely to stop the crime at the last minute.

His hair is ruffled and messy and entirely flat on one side. He didn’t sleep any on the plane, so he must of dozed off waiting for security. His ACRNM jacket has several deep creases, as if he’s been wearing it this entire time and, knowing him, that’s probably exactly what’s happened. He steps out yawning and rubbing the back of his head while he casts about for Francis. When he spots where Francis is sitting, his shades shhhhk away. His expression softens, and he smiles, just a little.

Hey, he mouths, and his voice sounding out crystal clear on Francis’ infolink.

The mild worried annoyance melts, giving way to relief that Adam’s here, that he’s fine, that all is well. The relief is replaced almost as quickly by something else, something warm and settling that he always gets itchy and anxious about calling love, but…

“You look cold,” Francis says, as Adam walks over. Nervousness has come back and joined the coil of emotions, as it usually does whenever Adam comes back from a long time away. A hundred series of what if what if what ifs that he knows, he knows, Adam’s never done anything to justify. But old habits die hard.

Adam flops down in the seat next to Francis, puts an arm around his shoulder, and pulls him closer.

Francis doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know what to say. ‘Hello’ is too paltry, ‘welcome back’ is just going to sound bitter and snarky – that’s how he gets. He can feel the edge, and that’s how he gets. He knows it. It’s why he’s not worth it, why he’s never been worth it, why-

Adam bumps his head against Francis’ shoulder, rests there and then proceeds to nudge Francis gently like some sort of overgrown puppy.

“Hey,” he says, looking up. “Hey. Hey, you.”

“What,” Francis says, despite himself. Sounding grumpy. Despite himself.

Francis can feel Adam’s eyes boring into his head. So he makes the mistake of looking down. Adam is grinning at him, with his pretty yellowgreen eyes.

Adam sits up. “It’s a secret,” he says, and waves a hand. “Come here.”

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I,” Francis complains, but he leans in anyhow.

Adam shakes his head. “Closer.”

“No.”

“Come on.”

“NO.”

“Pretty please?” Adam says, and blinks with false, false innocence.

Francis huffs a sigh, just so it’s clear where he stands on that particular issue.

Adam doesn’t say anything either, just drops his head back down to Francis’ shoulder and then nudges him again. “Okay,” he acknowledges, and then pauses. “You gonna ask me what it is?”

“Fine. What?”

Adam mumbles something in Francis' scarf, eyes alight in what Francis has taken to calling the Evil Intentions mood.

It’s nice to see him happy, though, Francis thinks, and that’s the first thing that disarms him.

The second is when Francis reminds Adam there’s no way in hell he could hear what he said, Adam says I love you. And then he adds And that’s never gonna change.

And then he steals Francis’ scarf. Which, Adam points out as Francis storms after him, is technically actually Adam’s scarf, but that has no bearing and no relevance on the situation at hand in the slightest, Francis thinks.