Cam!
Happy-AU Cam.
Title: One Man Went to Mow
Wordcount: 1,559
Saturday morning, and the roads were empty, the asphalt like a black river in the sunlight. The trees barely moved. Cam pushed the ratty old lawnmower in precise paths, hoping he wouldn't hit a frog this time. Cleaning frog-gunk out of a grass-smeared mower wasn't an experience he wanted to repeat.
The air had that redolent mown-grass hot-sun-on-things smell, and the mower guttered and thrummed, adding a diesel smell to the mix. Cam's mohawk would be wilting in the heat if he hadn't cheated that morning. Trickles of sweat traced along his skull, his neck, and by the time he reached the last patch of lawn, out by the sidewalk, he was swearing under his breath in time with his steps. He wore orange surf shorts and a faded black beater and looked like he'd just crawled out of a fishpond. His shoulders gleamed with pina-colada sunblock, a relic from one of his or Kev's old girlfriends. Pity there wasn't any OldSpice sunblock or anything, but shoulders burned a dainty pink was unthinkable, so fruity-smelling gunk it was.
Aha! The last patch of lawn. Cam shoved the mower over the plush grass and whacked it into oblivion. He turned the mower off and spun it around to celebrate, then bent to scratch a shred of cut grass off the top of his foot. A slim arc of green rose out of the carpet-smooth mown grass, tiny pea-sized pink blossoms bunched at the tip. Cam made a face at it. Blasted mower missed a spot. Took three yanks to get it started again. He dragged the mower backwards over the solitary flower, and it bent before the mower only to bounce jauntily aloft once the weight had passed.
Cam scratched the back of his neck and shoved the mower forward again. Sproing, went the flower, orange petals like flags in the sun.
"What the shit," Cam said. He hit the 'off' toggle and crouched. Looked like any other flower, really. He could identify roses, daisies, and orchids, thanks to three separate girls with very specific tastes in apology-flowers. Otherwise it was all a chunk of green stuff with colours on top. He poked the tip of the stalk to make it bobble, then dug his fingers into the grass at its base. He traced the stem down to the base and bent it sideways; the flower tipped obligingly but didn't snap. He tugged, only to have his fingers slide along the slick pale-green wire of the stem.
"Seriously, what the shit." Cam burrowed into the grass with both hands now, worrying into the earth to either side of the flower-stalk. "Think you're clever, huh?" The dirt was cool and he could feel it jamming up under his short nails. That'd be a bitch to clean. He'd probably end up picking the dirt out with one of Kev's nice kitchen-knives, just to annoy him.
Down about three inches now, Cam finally found the base of the strange flower; instead of a bulb or a seed or whatever the hell he'd expected, he hit something hard, too smooth to be a stone. Plastic? Fuckin' weird. Scrabbling the grass and damp soil away produced a waft of acrid cut-plant smell, the smells of mud and earthworms and ants. The flower-stem was connected to a faceted lump of shiny black glass. Or maybe it was that volcanic rock with the funny name.
A car drove past, slowly, While My Guitar Gently Weeps playing at volumes usually reserved for thrashing metal or political speeches. Cam managed to get a grip on the rock and hauled it out of the ground. It was the size of a golf ball, luminously black, and the flower seemed even more dainty and gemlike, out in the air like that. The green stem phased into the stone, no roots to be seen; the green of the stem just got darker and harder, and there was no joint, no seam or anything.
"Weird," Cam said, and set off for the house, rock held between forefinger and thumb of one hand, lawnmower dragging from the other. He left the mower by the front step and kicked his sandals off on the welcome-mat. The shadow of the house was like a dip on cool water, and dark as shades after the sun outside.
"Hey, Kev!" Cam hollered.
"Yo!"
Cam followed the reply into the kitchen, where Kev was making apple pancakes and whistling Birdhouse in your Soul. He wore his old Grope the Cook! apron and his hair was still cropped short and dorky-looking. Cam wandered over to him and waggled the flower in his ear. Kev jerked away, cursed, and dropped the spoon into the mixing bowl to swat at Cam.
"Gotcha!" Cam said, grinning. "Check this out." He offered the rock-and-flower thing, trying to hide the relief that burst in his chest that Kev had responded properly. That's how he judged Kev's gradual return to not-craziness, how grumpy he got. At first he just took everything-the jabs in the ribs, the pepper dusted on his morning granola, the teasing about his dweeby hair. And jumping out at him from around corners-fuck. Cam had only done that the once. Seeing Kev turn chalky, that attack of the dry heaves-fuck. Scared the shit out of him all over again. But he got annoyed now, swatted or swore or pestered Cam right back. Even forgot and called him Candy sometimes, and Kev was holding the rock up to the light, in the clean kitchen and air that smelled of apples.
"What is this, obsidian?" Kev had his interested face on, like one of those nature-guys on tv, down in the mud following bugs around.
"Dunno," Cam said. "Isn't it weird?"
"It's so delicate," Kev said, tracing the stem with one forefinger. "Go get me a cup of dirt, okay?"
"Eh?" Cam said.
Kev looked up at him, wore that crooked nose-wrinkling smile like he'd used to. The skin under his eyes wasn't as purple as it had been, his cheekbones weren't quite so hollow. "I'm keepin' it, it'll go in the windowsill."
Cam shrugged and grabbed a plastic cup from the draining-board, went back to the hole he'd dug to get the rock in the first place. He scooped it full of mud and went back to the kitchen, watched Kev wet the earth with drips from the sink and knuckle a hole in the center for the rock to go. The flower wobbled on its long thin stalk.
"Don't you even want to know what it is?" Cam said.
Kev shrugged. "It's pretty, isn't that enough?"
"I dunno, it could be an alien blood-sucking parasite."
Kev snorted. "That's it Dicky. Uh. Cameron. No more late-night tv!"
Cam dropped his head forward, scratched the knobbles at the base of his skull. There were splatters of soy-sauce on the floor from Kev's stir-fry last night. "You can still call me Dicky if you want to," Cam said.
"Hey," Kev said, and put the cup-and-flower ensemble on the windowsill. He came over and cuffed Cam's shoulder softly. "I'll call you your new name. Well, not that new. You're family. Having a little brother is cool." He skimmed his palm over the top of the mohawk. Cam ducked away, snickering helplessly. He looked up when Kev set one hand on his shoulder and left it there. The somber look on his brother's face made the laughter die.
"I can't believe you looked for me that long," he said.
Cam twisted his head, like the high crest of his hair was a shield he could raise. "I can't believe you stayed there so long. Fuckin' dumbass."
Kev's face was older than it had been, way older, the lines of his nose and cheeks and forehead drawn on someone battered and tired. "I didn't know there were any options."
"What the shit. Kev," Cam said, but then his throat closed over and he couldn't keep talking. This was the guy who'd dive into fights that Candice had started, bristling with protectiveness? This was the guy who'd taught Cam what he knew about being a good and decent person? Cam shook his head, hard, meaning, You're my big brother, man. Wanted you around so bad, when I was confused. When all the shit went down. Worried about you till I puked.
Kev's face softened. He said, "Thanks, though. I mean it," then poked Cam hard, high on the bony part of his chest. "Now go have a wash, you stink."
"Yeah well, you oughta finish making breakfast. I mowed the lawn, didn't I? Don't I deserve to get fed?" Cam found another grin, wobblier than the last, but Kev didn't mention it.
"You put the lawn-mower away, right?"
"Crap," Cam said, and heaved an exaggerated sigh. "I'll get to it."
"You better had, slacker," Kev said, and waved the batter-covered spoon. "Jeez, I gotta do everything myself?"
"No ya don't," Cam said. "But hey, if you want to, feel free."
"Whatever, Candy," Kev called.
"I'll get you for that!"
"What's that? You say you want to do the dishes for me? Sure!"
Cam kept walking, lips twitching as he tried to control his face. It was okay, it'd all be okay.
Title: One Man Went to Mow
Wordcount: 1,559
Saturday morning, and the roads were empty, the asphalt like a black river in the sunlight. The trees barely moved. Cam pushed the ratty old lawnmower in precise paths, hoping he wouldn't hit a frog this time. Cleaning frog-gunk out of a grass-smeared mower wasn't an experience he wanted to repeat.
The air had that redolent mown-grass hot-sun-on-things smell, and the mower guttered and thrummed, adding a diesel smell to the mix. Cam's mohawk would be wilting in the heat if he hadn't cheated that morning. Trickles of sweat traced along his skull, his neck, and by the time he reached the last patch of lawn, out by the sidewalk, he was swearing under his breath in time with his steps. He wore orange surf shorts and a faded black beater and looked like he'd just crawled out of a fishpond. His shoulders gleamed with pina-colada sunblock, a relic from one of his or Kev's old girlfriends. Pity there wasn't any OldSpice sunblock or anything, but shoulders burned a dainty pink was unthinkable, so fruity-smelling gunk it was.
Aha! The last patch of lawn. Cam shoved the mower over the plush grass and whacked it into oblivion. He turned the mower off and spun it around to celebrate, then bent to scratch a shred of cut grass off the top of his foot. A slim arc of green rose out of the carpet-smooth mown grass, tiny pea-sized pink blossoms bunched at the tip. Cam made a face at it. Blasted mower missed a spot. Took three yanks to get it started again. He dragged the mower backwards over the solitary flower, and it bent before the mower only to bounce jauntily aloft once the weight had passed.
Cam scratched the back of his neck and shoved the mower forward again. Sproing, went the flower, orange petals like flags in the sun.
"What the shit," Cam said. He hit the 'off' toggle and crouched. Looked like any other flower, really. He could identify roses, daisies, and orchids, thanks to three separate girls with very specific tastes in apology-flowers. Otherwise it was all a chunk of green stuff with colours on top. He poked the tip of the stalk to make it bobble, then dug his fingers into the grass at its base. He traced the stem down to the base and bent it sideways; the flower tipped obligingly but didn't snap. He tugged, only to have his fingers slide along the slick pale-green wire of the stem.
"Seriously, what the shit." Cam burrowed into the grass with both hands now, worrying into the earth to either side of the flower-stalk. "Think you're clever, huh?" The dirt was cool and he could feel it jamming up under his short nails. That'd be a bitch to clean. He'd probably end up picking the dirt out with one of Kev's nice kitchen-knives, just to annoy him.
Down about three inches now, Cam finally found the base of the strange flower; instead of a bulb or a seed or whatever the hell he'd expected, he hit something hard, too smooth to be a stone. Plastic? Fuckin' weird. Scrabbling the grass and damp soil away produced a waft of acrid cut-plant smell, the smells of mud and earthworms and ants. The flower-stem was connected to a faceted lump of shiny black glass. Or maybe it was that volcanic rock with the funny name.
A car drove past, slowly, While My Guitar Gently Weeps playing at volumes usually reserved for thrashing metal or political speeches. Cam managed to get a grip on the rock and hauled it out of the ground. It was the size of a golf ball, luminously black, and the flower seemed even more dainty and gemlike, out in the air like that. The green stem phased into the stone, no roots to be seen; the green of the stem just got darker and harder, and there was no joint, no seam or anything.
"Weird," Cam said, and set off for the house, rock held between forefinger and thumb of one hand, lawnmower dragging from the other. He left the mower by the front step and kicked his sandals off on the welcome-mat. The shadow of the house was like a dip on cool water, and dark as shades after the sun outside.
"Hey, Kev!" Cam hollered.
"Yo!"
Cam followed the reply into the kitchen, where Kev was making apple pancakes and whistling Birdhouse in your Soul. He wore his old Grope the Cook! apron and his hair was still cropped short and dorky-looking. Cam wandered over to him and waggled the flower in his ear. Kev jerked away, cursed, and dropped the spoon into the mixing bowl to swat at Cam.
"Gotcha!" Cam said, grinning. "Check this out." He offered the rock-and-flower thing, trying to hide the relief that burst in his chest that Kev had responded properly. That's how he judged Kev's gradual return to not-craziness, how grumpy he got. At first he just took everything-the jabs in the ribs, the pepper dusted on his morning granola, the teasing about his dweeby hair. And jumping out at him from around corners-fuck. Cam had only done that the once. Seeing Kev turn chalky, that attack of the dry heaves-fuck. Scared the shit out of him all over again. But he got annoyed now, swatted or swore or pestered Cam right back. Even forgot and called him Candy sometimes, and Kev was holding the rock up to the light, in the clean kitchen and air that smelled of apples.
"What is this, obsidian?" Kev had his interested face on, like one of those nature-guys on tv, down in the mud following bugs around.
"Dunno," Cam said. "Isn't it weird?"
"It's so delicate," Kev said, tracing the stem with one forefinger. "Go get me a cup of dirt, okay?"
"Eh?" Cam said.
Kev looked up at him, wore that crooked nose-wrinkling smile like he'd used to. The skin under his eyes wasn't as purple as it had been, his cheekbones weren't quite so hollow. "I'm keepin' it, it'll go in the windowsill."
Cam shrugged and grabbed a plastic cup from the draining-board, went back to the hole he'd dug to get the rock in the first place. He scooped it full of mud and went back to the kitchen, watched Kev wet the earth with drips from the sink and knuckle a hole in the center for the rock to go. The flower wobbled on its long thin stalk.
"Don't you even want to know what it is?" Cam said.
Kev shrugged. "It's pretty, isn't that enough?"
"I dunno, it could be an alien blood-sucking parasite."
Kev snorted. "That's it Dicky. Uh. Cameron. No more late-night tv!"
Cam dropped his head forward, scratched the knobbles at the base of his skull. There were splatters of soy-sauce on the floor from Kev's stir-fry last night. "You can still call me Dicky if you want to," Cam said.
"Hey," Kev said, and put the cup-and-flower ensemble on the windowsill. He came over and cuffed Cam's shoulder softly. "I'll call you your new name. Well, not that new. You're family. Having a little brother is cool." He skimmed his palm over the top of the mohawk. Cam ducked away, snickering helplessly. He looked up when Kev set one hand on his shoulder and left it there. The somber look on his brother's face made the laughter die.
"I can't believe you looked for me that long," he said.
Cam twisted his head, like the high crest of his hair was a shield he could raise. "I can't believe you stayed there so long. Fuckin' dumbass."
Kev's face was older than it had been, way older, the lines of his nose and cheeks and forehead drawn on someone battered and tired. "I didn't know there were any options."
"What the shit. Kev," Cam said, but then his throat closed over and he couldn't keep talking. This was the guy who'd dive into fights that Candice had started, bristling with protectiveness? This was the guy who'd taught Cam what he knew about being a good and decent person? Cam shook his head, hard, meaning, You're my big brother, man. Wanted you around so bad, when I was confused. When all the shit went down. Worried about you till I puked.
Kev's face softened. He said, "Thanks, though. I mean it," then poked Cam hard, high on the bony part of his chest. "Now go have a wash, you stink."
"Yeah well, you oughta finish making breakfast. I mowed the lawn, didn't I? Don't I deserve to get fed?" Cam found another grin, wobblier than the last, but Kev didn't mention it.
"You put the lawn-mower away, right?"
"Crap," Cam said, and heaved an exaggerated sigh. "I'll get to it."
"You better had, slacker," Kev said, and waved the batter-covered spoon. "Jeez, I gotta do everything myself?"
"No ya don't," Cam said. "But hey, if you want to, feel free."
"Whatever, Candy," Kev called.
"I'll get you for that!"
"What's that? You say you want to do the dishes for me? Sure!"
Cam kept walking, lips twitching as he tried to control his face. It was okay, it'd all be okay.