Indianapolis, Sunday Afternoon
Oct. 26th, 2025 03:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
suitably_heroicJack was antsy. He had been since breakfast. Nothing had helped. Not Trent dragging him on a 'manly man-date' to the racecar track, not Jill's advice to stick his head under the tap, and now, not taking a walk around the block of their hotel with Dane.
His eyes just kept skittering across the road, like he was looking for danger.
"I don't get it," he muttered. "It's going to be what, 300, 400 people? We've done that before. We have the set list, all our stuff is where it's supposed to be, everyone's rested and practiced, nobody went drinking last night."
"Not even Trent," Dane agreed, his hands stuffed in his pockets, voice easy and calm as they wandered down the street. There was a sliver of something underneath, Jack could tell, but he was a little afraid that if he'd poke at it now, something would go wrong. And he could not handle anything going wrong wright now.
"So why in space am I nervous?" he grumbled. "It doesn't make any sense!"
"I mean," Dane said, glancing his way. "Look on the bright side. You did spend a year telling us over and over that you were trying to excavate the guy you actually are underneath all the--" He waved a hand. "--everything. I think we can now definitively say 'hypercompetent perfectionist' is a part of the original-flavor Jaq package."
"That does not help," Jack told him. "It does not remotely, ever, help."
Dane shrugged. A few years ago, Jack might've been concerned that shrug meant he was actually upset and just didn't want to mention it. Now, nah. Not something as small as that. It was still weird, though, and he glanced right on back.
"Ah, who am I kidding," Jack sighed. "All I'm doing is driving you as nuts as I am. I mean. Whatever your version of 'nuts' looks like. I'm still not completely sure." Okay, that was a lie, but he was nervous-rambling and it happened. "Look, you can head back to the hotel, okay? I think I'm probably going another fifty laps before this settles down, so one of us might as well be comfortable."
"If you're sure," Dane said, inclining his head. "I don't mind."
"I know you don't mind," Jack sighed, lifting a hand to give Dane a gentle pat on the back. Or maybe a squeeze, for like. The five seconds he was willing to. "That's exactly why I'm sending you back. Just get out of here. Before I hit the level of miserable where I change my mind because I decide being nuts in company is better."
Fucking touring. Fucking music. Life was a lot easier when all he needed to do was save people from evil space wizards. At least that had an easily-definable goal to hit. This? He looked up at the Indianapolis skyline as Dane took the right towards their hotel, and rubbed his half-gloved hands together to ward off the cold.
This was terrifying.
[[ open for phone calls etc ]]
His eyes just kept skittering across the road, like he was looking for danger.
"I don't get it," he muttered. "It's going to be what, 300, 400 people? We've done that before. We have the set list, all our stuff is where it's supposed to be, everyone's rested and practiced, nobody went drinking last night."
"Not even Trent," Dane agreed, his hands stuffed in his pockets, voice easy and calm as they wandered down the street. There was a sliver of something underneath, Jack could tell, but he was a little afraid that if he'd poke at it now, something would go wrong. And he could not handle anything going wrong wright now.
"So why in space am I nervous?" he grumbled. "It doesn't make any sense!"
"I mean," Dane said, glancing his way. "Look on the bright side. You did spend a year telling us over and over that you were trying to excavate the guy you actually are underneath all the--" He waved a hand. "--everything. I think we can now definitively say 'hypercompetent perfectionist' is a part of the original-flavor Jaq package."
"That does not help," Jack told him. "It does not remotely, ever, help."
Dane shrugged. A few years ago, Jack might've been concerned that shrug meant he was actually upset and just didn't want to mention it. Now, nah. Not something as small as that. It was still weird, though, and he glanced right on back.
"Ah, who am I kidding," Jack sighed. "All I'm doing is driving you as nuts as I am. I mean. Whatever your version of 'nuts' looks like. I'm still not completely sure." Okay, that was a lie, but he was nervous-rambling and it happened. "Look, you can head back to the hotel, okay? I think I'm probably going another fifty laps before this settles down, so one of us might as well be comfortable."
"If you're sure," Dane said, inclining his head. "I don't mind."
"I know you don't mind," Jack sighed, lifting a hand to give Dane a gentle pat on the back. Or maybe a squeeze, for like. The five seconds he was willing to. "That's exactly why I'm sending you back. Just get out of here. Before I hit the level of miserable where I change my mind because I decide being nuts in company is better."
Fucking touring. Fucking music. Life was a lot easier when all he needed to do was save people from evil space wizards. At least that had an easily-definable goal to hit. This? He looked up at the Indianapolis skyline as Dane took the right towards their hotel, and rubbed his half-gloved hands together to ward off the cold.
This was terrifying.
[[ open for phone calls etc ]]
