suitably_heroic | Manhattan Portalocity Station and Beyond, Wednesday Afternoon

Entry tags:

Manhattan Portalocity Station and Beyond, Wednesday Afternoon

Coming here always made Jack restless - maybe because half the time, he was picking someone up from a different place and a different life, and as much as he was trying to do the healthy thing and not let the whole two-worlds-two-lives thing mess with his head, it still made him jittery.

Anyway.

It was just Cade. What was the worst that could happen?

(Probably a lot.)

He waited outside the station, wearing a jacket and hoodie and jeans and, probably, looking more genuinely relaxed than Cade had ever seen him. Even with the jitters. Even with the way his foot kept jumping.

Space. This was probably a bad idea...

[[ for that guy ]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

"We'll have four quesadillas," Atton told the server, sighing, before ordering a few more tacos. "Space. Forty is going to be a rude awakening for you."

"If I get there," Cade said airily. "Is Zane--" close, Cade, "--gonna complain about his arteries too?"

"Dane," Atton said idly, but he didn't sound all that worried about it. He reached for his soda. "Probably not. He likes jumping off of mountains with a board strapped to his feet, he has weird ideas about health."

"Nah, he just sounds like an adrenaline junkie," Cade said. "Or a teenager. He's not a teenager, right?"

Atton rolled his eyes. "He's my age," he said. "Space."

"Just trying to get a mental image," Cade said, refilling his tequila again to aid in more amazing questions.

Atton groaned, settling back.

Luckily for him, it wasn't long before the door to the restaurant opened again, revealing a Chinese-American man with messy hair pulled back into a way too long ponytail.

Atton leaned back and gave him a wave. "Over here!" he called, pulling the seat beside him back a few inches.

Cade arched up an eyebrow and watched New Guy approach.

New Guy's smile was definitely a little on the doofy side. "Hey," he said, as he reached the table, and stuck his hand out. "Cade, right?"

Atton had the face of a man waiting for a snarky comment that was, apparently, not appearing in this interaction so far. He reached for his soda.

"That's me," Cade said with an easy smile. "Hi."

"Welcome to New York," Dane said, glanced down at his hand, and said, "Right, handshakes not a space people thing."

Atton was not going to overreact and smack someone or run away or anything. Just. Crossing the streams. Weird. Weird.

"No, we prefer to bow and stare at each other until it gets strange," Cade said.

"I feel like that's way more civilized passive-aggression than playing the 'who has the better handshake' game," Dane mused, and sat down in his chair. "Just-- really making it eerie and uneasy."

Atton rolled his eyes. "I ordered you some Al pastor," he said.

"Thanks."

"Who's Al Pastor?" Cade asked.

In his defense, that was a pretty galaxy far, far away name.

"Pork marinated in chilies and pineapple," Dane said, grinning. "You can grab one of mine when they get here." He eyed Atton. "You didn't get him any?"

Atton shrugged. "He talks a big game about being a big space kid more important than this little mudball," he said. "If he doesn't know how to order the good tacos..."

"He's punishing me," Cade said, nodding. "It's why I never visit."

"Jack," Dane said, raising his eyebrows.

Atton leaned back, folding his arms behind his head. "What? I'm an asshole," he said. "And so is he!"

"He seems nice," Dane pointed out.

"You think everyone seems nice. Except for me!"

"Because you're an asshole," Dane said. Agreeably.

"He really is," Cade agreed, so, so, helpfully.

Atton rolled his eyes at both of them. "I don't have any friends," he complained. "Not a single one."

Dante patted him lightly on the shoulder. "You'll be okay," he said, grinning. Sort of. It was closer to an actual smile.

He looked at Cade. "You used to go to school on this mudball, right?" he said. "You ever miss it?"

"Going to school, being a teenager, or seeing this asshole more often?" Cade asked. "Because the answers are all different."

Dane checked his phone. "I have twenty minutes?" he said. "So all of the above."

"I go back to the school yearly because I have family there, but their story would take much longer than twenty minutes," Cade said as the food arrived. "I'd rather fall in lava than be a teenager again, and I only sort of miss seeing that asshole's face."

That last one was clearly teasing.

Atton gave him the finger. Lazily. "Wow, I got an actual 'sort of'," he said. "That's practically a declaration of love from this guy."

"I hope not," Dane said, as he grabbed the plate with the al pastor tacos and oriented it so it was between him and Cade. "I don't have the weird superpowers you guys do."

"Less superpowers, more 'interconnectedness with the universe', blah blah," Atton said.

"He wrote a song about it," Dane confided. "It's a lot more flowery than that."

Atton threw a tiny piece of quesadilla at him.

Cade snickered. "You wrote a song about the Force?"

"Shut up," Atton told him, which was a yes.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject