maskormenacelogs | [closed] we were staring at our ceilings

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[closed] we were staring at our ceilings

WHO: Odin & Peter
WHERE: thE OPEN ROAD BABY
WHEN: After the first week of March. Until... later?
WHAT: The boys are heading out of Florida for a while, cementing their relationship. ~*~It's Shipping Time~*~
WARNINGS: Weed, probably? NSFW content soon enough, whoops.

[ The snacks are packed, the fort/bed's been set up, Rooty's been dropped off and the apartment's locked up tight. Peter's car has fresh oil and new air in its tires, Odin's voicemail has been set up so his fam won't panic and think he's been ported now that he'll be off the grid for a week, and... yeah. Looks like everything's set. The boys are ready to hit the open road.

Odin's riding shotgun as they make it to the border of the city, fidgeting nervously with something in his hands. It's the first mixtape he's made for Peter since they've become, you know, a couple, and he knows how much his boy likes these things. Excluding the truly primo opening track, he wanted to make it a pretty romantic experience and hopefully he did an okay job, but. He's, uh. He's not too confident. Hengh. ]

So, uh. [ There's an open packet of oreos resting in the cupholder between them, because of course there is - the seasonal kind, as Peter had requested. Odin twirls the mixtape in one hand and grabs a cookie with the other, chowing down in an attempt to ease his nerves and failing spectacularly. He swallows and breathes out through his nose, looking at Peter and letting the silence hang there. He's in something fairly casual for him, though he's already lost a couple of layers thanks to the inside heating and the leather seat warming him up well enough, and his knees are bouncing anxiously as he looks back out over the dashboard. ]

Is it weird to be nervous? I'm kind of nervous. Great waves of fear crashing down on this fragile wreck of a body. [ An awkward laugh, more fidgeting, more pauses. ] Um - you want jams? I got jams. They're not great? I hope you'll like them.

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[It's not until they're starting off on the road that Peter realizes the gravity of what they're doing. It's not a bad realization, but it does sink in as he hits on his blinker that for the foreseeable future they'll be living in this little boat of a car with each other. No Rootbeer, no Magnus, no cameras in their face 24/7. Peter had a lot of fun as a host for ImPort My Heart! but God is he ever happy to be living life off screen for the next little while just sharing space in his tin can of a car with Odin, relaxing in plaid and letting his faded hickies shine as he taps his finger on the wheel. His leather jacket squeaks against the bench seat when he sends a glance over his shoulder, though he shoots Odin a wink when straightening back out.

They have the roughest road map imaginable; a vague desire to drive through every Porter city in a loop from Maurtia Falls down to Heropa and back - knocking through Dechima and Nonah along the way. Eyes forward, he adjusts his mirror and leaves the pine tree air freshener rocking with a mental note made to buy a set of cheesy dice to join it. Shit, he should've brought a hula girl too? He's going to have to scour scummy gas stations on the way to try and pick one up.]

Nervous in a car or nervous on a road trip? Don't be nervous about the car - I got you, fam. [He snorts, handling the wheel with ease. Peter's always been impatient and in preference of his own feet simply for how fast they can carry him but cars have their charms. Roadtrips have their charms. And like the subtle beating of a heart next to him at night, the purr of an engine relaxes the tension from his shoulders and the present company allows him to feel relaxed. It also helps that his senses let him pick up on the subtle shifts of traffic before the other drivers themselves know what they're choosing to do.

Peter flicks his gaze back over to Odin, extending an upright palm.] Pass the tunes. I'll get 'em playing and show you how to work the radio while I'm at it.

[ The wink makes his heart skip a beat, but so does the firm and steady grip Peter has on the steering wheel - Odin's still in that dumb, fluttery stage of having feelings where he's constantly seeing his boyfriend in a new light, and here, more than ever, Peter seems like he's in his element. Relaxed and easy, so far from the constant fidgeting and underlying self-consciousness Odin so often finds in him. It's-- nice. How many people have seen Peter like this? He hopes, a little selfishly, that he's one of only a few. ]

I'm not nervous about the car. I know you'll keep me safe. [ He says it like it's a joke, but fuck, look at him - it's clear how stupidly lovesick Odin is, from the dopey, unembarrassed grin to the way he keeps fidgeting in his seat, trying to get comfortable. ] But - it's the first time I'm travelling this far without, like, the intention to slay tyrannical despots with my chiselled good looks and cutting one liners. Or, like - the intention to stab a mindflaying horrordragon in the gut. You know? It's new.

[ Being alone with Peter for a week isn't that scary - they've done that before, especially over Christmas - but it's still a lot, too, and the reality comes with its own anxieties. Its been ebbing over the past couple of weeks, but there's still a part of him that thinks Peter might realize out of nowhere that he doesn't want this after all and bail... if that's ever going to happen, it's going to happen after a week locked up in a tiny metal box together. With a quick breath, he slams the mixtape he's made with undue force into Peter's hand and shuffles a little closer along the bench seat, purposefully knocking his knee against Peter's. ]

You can't tell me if you hate it. [ He pulls a face, then flicks his eyes down to the mixtape, wondering if he should just... snatch it back and throw it out the window. ] Ugh. Seriously. I'll bail from the car and stay with Magnus for a week if you hate it.

Maybe we can find some mindflaying horrordragons on the way. Don't know how many of them are gonna be in North Carolina, but there could be a few. Doesn't Debra come from Nonah? Did I hallucinate that? I saw the pen. She's at least been there.

[He actually stole that pen, to be honest. It's sitting in the glove box of the car and he has no regrets? Maybe a few, because Debra wasn't that terrible. Or so he thinks until he remembers that well, she kinda was. So fuck you Debra, you'll never get your NONAH, NORTH CAROLINA pen back. That purple inked bitch is his and it'll rot in his glovebox for an eternity. Maybe if it's lucky it'll roll itself under his seat for a change of scenery.

Peter takes the cassette tape, flipping it over in his hand while giving it a look before sliding it into the tapedeck. He dismisses Odin's concerns with a wave of his hand before cranking up the volume dial and resting his finger on the play button.] Dude, I won't hate it. There's not a lot of music I hate in the world?

I actually made you one of these too but it's buried in my shit in the back. I'll dig it out for you tonight? Only fair.

[He smiles, clicking the button and letting the amazing first track play. When it hits his ears he cants his head to the side before laughing out loud with an immediate smile spreading cheek to cheek. He bobs his head instinctively, swaying side to side in his seat. By the third hey homies! Peter's mouthing along.] Shit - this is good?

[ Ew, Debra. Odin scrunches up his nose and sticks his tongue out, the mere notion that Peter would bring up the devil's name on what's supposed to be a pure and glorious trip making him lose all respect for the guy. Unbelievable. Unforgivable. This relationship is over.

He can't hold the expression and ends up grinning again, still lovesick, still an idiot, and he leans back just far enough to put his feet up on the dashboard in a way that can only be described as wholly illegal. The smile sticks to his face even through the onslaught of nerves that hits him when Peter slots in the cassette and hits play, and he takes his eyes from the road to watch his reaction. ]

I know you won't hate the music. My taste, like my sense of fashion, is impeccable. Just... [ They're songs that are supposed to be us, he almost says, but trails off once the beat picks up and he gets lost in extremely hardcore rap about homies. He watches Peter and Peter just fucking dances in his seat and it makes Odin laugh, tapping his garish-sock-covered foot along. His stomach does a little flip when he thinks of the tape stashed under clothes and food somewhere in the back, but it's more out of an anxious excitement than fear that his own won't measure up. ]

It's you as fuck, right? [ He leans his head back against the seat, every aggressively mouthed hey homie making him beam up at Peter a little brighter. ] You, Magnus and I should start a boyband. Make songs like this one. Thoughts?

We don't want me singing - one of you two's gotta be in charge of that. [Peter says with a chuckle, still bouncing to the beat - it migrates down to his fingers tapping on the wheel. He's tempted tap on the blinkers with the same rhythm but doesn't, less for road safety and more for making sure he doesn't give Odin any truly terrible impressions on how driving's supposed to go. Respect the car. Don't die in the car.

The Bro Hug, the Sandwich Hug, the Zombie Hug, the T-Rex Hug. A Robot Hug, the Awkward hug, the Bear Hug and the Group Hug!] I like it. Can't wait to hear the rest. Thanks?

[He shoots another sidelong glance at Odin, smile still there but faded gently. More genuine, like the subtle way he meets gaze before gently snorting and turning away. He really does appreciate it, like he appreciates each and every other gift Odin's given him. Things that actually sit in the car with them out of fear something unfathomable might've happened if he left them behind. The silver bracelet's still on his wrist - gleaming in the window filtered sun.] You keep giving me stuff. You're out staging me here. I'm a shitty boyfriend in comparison.

I'm not saying stop or anything, of course. Just that I appreciate it, I guess? I uh, love it. [He thumbs at his nose awkwardly, unmistakably changing shade with an embarrassed flush he's starting to become prone to in Odin's company.] Love you. Whatever.

[ Pfft, whatever. Every hey ladies Peter mouths has Odin screaming WHAT'S UP, every what was that followed by a high pitched SAY WHAAAT. He's not the best singer either (though is this really the song to prove that point with?), but he's having fun, and that's what the boy band venture would be about, in the end. He's coming up with outfit ideas in his head when Peter thanks him, and he's a little sheepish when he chuckles and quiets his voice. ]

Well... I've never really had a lot of things I could call my own. I had my sword from my dad, my ring from my mom, and this diary I wrote in to keep myself sane called the Manual of Justice, and - for a long time, that was it. [ He shrugs, his eyes drawn to the bracelet. If he ever gives Peter his mom's ring... he'll have to think of another three dates to engrave under the band. Their road trip, their anniversary, their first kiss? ] My time with the Shepherds was the best time of my life, and, like. Okay, sure, forty percent of that was being able to hang out with my dead parents or whatever, but the remaining sixty was actually having the security to keep the things I like.

[ He laughs, only the tiniest bit self-conscious. Peter's red and Odin loves it. He sits up and closes the distance between them, dropping his head on Peter's shoulder and shutting his eyes, seatbelt forgotten. Peter's warm from the sun and if Odin weren't so anxious about his reaction to the rest of the mixtape, he could fall asleep here, watching the dust in the air and the clouds drifting through blue sky. Instead, he finds his heart beating hard against his ribs and presses a kiss to Peter's arm, small and affection. ]

I love you, too. [ The second song starts, soft guitar leading in. What he's about to say is going to sound stupid, and he knows it, but-- ] Everything I give you is just - an extension of a moment or a memory and I just - like, the bracelet? When I was making it, I kept thinking, "it's Peter's birthday, we're celebrating his life, remembering that he's here and how lucky I am to know him--" and... yeah. That's why I went with the dates? I don't know.

[ he sits back up, his hair matted down all on one side. ] I just want you to always know, I guess. That I'm thinking of you and the moments we have together and-- all of that.

You... you wait, hold up - hung out with you dead parents? [Peter asks, finding the nonchalance of that statement to be an invisible speed bump they've just driven over. He tries to keep his gaze forward but ends up staring sidelong at Odin anyway, stealing a raised-brow look while no cars are ahead of them. They've hit the stretches of road outside of the city that aren't so busy, weaving out of the congestion of traffic to a more peaceful pace.

He does what he shouldn't do while Odin's resting against him and that's slouch his arm around him, only keeping one palm on the wheel. The wrist that rests against Odin is the one he wears said bracelet on, fingers dragging over his shoulder when he sits back up and Peter slaps his hand back on the wheel - but not without first ruffling Odin's stupid hair.]

And, yeah - yeah. I like the shit you make me, nobody's ever really done that for me. Given me anything really sentimental and important. So I appreciate it but like, dude. Rewinding? Tell me more about your parents.

[ Odin chuckles when Peter messes up his hair, checking himself out in the rearview mirror when he can. He pats down the mats and the spikes and looks at the bracelet from the corner of his eye, and it strikes him for the first time that it was a pretty god damn romantic gift. How long has this thing for Peter been going on? He's known for a while what they have has been a long time coming, but he hasn't sat down yet and figured out when it all really started. ]

It's - an overly complicated story? [ Another sidelong glance to Peter, and then Odin's leaning forward to mess with the volume on the stereo, setting it at just the right level to talk over after having raised it a little during Hey Homies. He leans back in his seat and watches Peter drive, wondering if it would be okay to kiss him but deciding that might get them killed. ]

But, ah - you know how my world kind of... [ He makes an explosion with his mouth and does a pretty wild hand motion that, from context, clearly indicates "went to shit". ] Lucina and I and a bunch of other kids were some of the only survivors. In part, that was because we let our parents fight for us... we did our part to defend our country, but like, what could a bunch of inexperienced kids do in the face of an apocalyptic warzone that the trained royal guard couldn't, you know?

We all lost our parents. One by one. We took it on ourselves to fight and find a way to fix things, because it was that, or... give up. [ Here, he hesitates. This memory in particular is never an easy one to remember; he'd wanted to die for such a long time, thought he'd deserved it even when everyone else was doing their best to stay afloat and keep fighting. There's a moment of silence before he finds his voice again. ] Ah - long story short, we met a God, she sent us back in time, like, fifteen years, and we got to travel the world with the younger versions of our parents, trying to prevent the apocalypse before it started. All very dramatic. Makes for a cool backstory, I think.

You know their names - Lissa's my mom, Lon'qu's my dad. I could talk about them for-- pretty much forever? They're the two best people to have ever existed ever forever and ever from now until the end of time. Anything you wanna know in particular?

Lissa and Lon'qu. Why weren't you named Lowain? [A touch of humor as he takes in what Odin's said, shooting him another glance that lingers. He doesn't know what it's like to lose a parent, but he also doesn't know what it was like to grow up with two of them. Their worlds are so vastly different and Peter tends to not remember that, at least until sobering conversations like this remind him that despite the memes and wisecracking, Odin's - war trained.

Peter only got a touch of that, a taste of the apocalypse that could've happened and that was enough for a lifetime? His leg still hurts from time to time and he doesn't know how much of it is phantom pain anymore. He shifts said leg against the pedals, threading his fingers back through his hair with a ruffle that leaves silver strands in disarray.]

I'm sorry though, man. They sound like good people. Great people.

[Forward focused again, Peter stares at the license plate of a car ahead of them until the numbers no longer register. We took it on ourselves to fight and find a way to fix things, because it was that, or... give up. He can relate to that, actually. Him, the others, they all went to Cairo to try and do something - anything - to stop Apocalypse from taking the world down in flames. He hesitates in the way he asks this next question, dark eyes shooting back to Odin. Brows gently raised, expression soft:]

You ever, uh... have nightmares? Or like, other - stuff?

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