Indeterminable In The Sunlight
Title: Indeterminable In The Sunlight
Author: inabasket
Rating: G
Disclaimer: This has not happened.
Characters: Adam Lazzara and John Nolan.
Word Count: 882
Prompt: jingle (for spittingink )
Summary: Adam has always just had this thing for ants.
Notes: Something short and cutesy, mostly for likeanaccidentx, who really likes Adam and John. This is moderately pointless and silly. Oh well.
Adam really, really likes ants. He’d consider ants to be one of his favorite activities in the summer - watching ants carry undeterminable objects, carrying ants and putting them on people, putting ants on himself, poking ants, herding ants, staring at anthills - even if he only did it when the situation arose, which, honestly, was less and less since he’d gotten into this whole rock band thing.
For Adam, it’s simple to think about ants. Adam’s actually pretty simple in general. When he has a water bottle, an anthill, and warm weather, everything just becomes single-sentence descriptions, and they’re all generally joyful.
For example: Adam plays with ants.
He’s all by himself, behind a venue in Knoxville, the sun is beating down hard, but he’s in this tuft of grass, next to the parking lot, and there are three glorious anthills. There are some big ants and some small ants, and Adam currently is picking them up specifically by their characteristically large abdomen, but it’s a hard task that requires a lot of precision and concentration.
He laughs, loud, when an ant crawls up the sleeve of his t-shirt, because, whoa, how the heck did it get up there so fast? He also laughs because it tickles. He pulls up his sleeve with his other hand, rolling onto his back while he does so, nearly missing one of the anthills with his head when he does so.
The layout of the three anthills is simple. There is one anthill, right on the line where the concrete lot turns to the patch of grass. The next one is about a yard south, which is the one by Adam’s head. This is, by far, the biggest out of all the anthills, also, the most fascinating, as ants are rushing in and out rapidly. The third anthill forms what is almost perfectly a right triangle with the other two, if the other two anthills were to be graphed.
Adam finds this simply fascinating.
He plucks the ant from his shoulder, watching it squirm between his index finger and thumb. “Oh, there you are,” he says to the ant, before placing it back in the grass, in a safe spot. He rolls onto his stomach then, and watches more ants, brown eyes darting around furiously.
Another thing Adam would consider a hobby is John-watching, and this springs up is because John chooses that moment to find Adam behind the parking lot, and he has some Fun Dip in his hands. He sees Adam there, on the ground, and approximately two yards away from the line where concrete becomes earth, John stares.
“Stop that,” he commands, but he doesn’t mean it because he’s laughing. He always seems to when he actually takes in the scenes in front of him. Out of everybody he knows, Adam would say John is the best at looking at situations with the clearest perceptions.
Adam doesn’t move to stop, only props himself onto his elbows and beams. “Hey, Johnny.”
John laughs and closes the distance between them, and in this direct path to Adam, he nearly crushes the anthill that’s in the crack between the pavement and earth. Adam notices this and frowns a little, but doesn’t say anything, because John’s crouching down besides him and following his line of vision, towards the mounds of specs that Adam is observing.
“They have their own little world.” Adam grins and pats John’s arm, strokes it a little, which is unnerving to most people, but John never minds. Adam adds, “They’re the best.”
“Better than candy? Oh yeah, Mark bought a whole lot of candy. I forgot to say that, yeah,” John blinks eight or nine times, Adam can’t even count in time. John adjusts his thick, fashionable glasses and says, “You should come in now, before it’s all gone.”
Adam moves to get up in a pathologically dangerous way, hearing just about every joint crack. John stands up when he does, and offers him his elbow. Adam takes it daintily.
Whenever Adam walks, he makes this announcing, jingling noise, because he likes to clip dozens of keys and key chains on his belt. On the way into the venue, he holds up his ‘staff’ pass, his identification so he can get backstage but the person working there laughs, “No, I know you by now. I can hear you coming.”
John and Adam exchange glances and John’s look is playfully patronizing. The poor worker, with her pierced face and small, blue eyes, just looks away after a moment, pretending to find more interest in some lumpy elderly lady workers who’re chatting about botany.
They make their way to the back, decidedly quick and practical.
John lets go of Adam, and Adam grabs some candy, jingling happily. “This is good. You know, Taking Back Sunday isn’t always that bad, huh?”
Eddie who walks past gives him a friendly bop on the shoulder and goes, “That’s right.”
Adam cradles an armful of various wrapped treats, savoring the cool temperature of the backstage before smiling at John. “I’m going to go back outside.”
“Okay,” John permits, expression merging between amused and distracted. Adam doesn’t mind this though. He props the candy up in his arm so it’s flat against his chest and thinks.
Adam really, really likes John.
Author: inabasket
Rating: G
Disclaimer: This has not happened.
Characters: Adam Lazzara and John Nolan.
Word Count: 882
Prompt: jingle (for spittingink )
Summary: Adam has always just had this thing for ants.
Notes: Something short and cutesy, mostly for likeanaccidentx, who really likes Adam and John. This is moderately pointless and silly. Oh well.
Adam really, really likes ants. He’d consider ants to be one of his favorite activities in the summer - watching ants carry undeterminable objects, carrying ants and putting them on people, putting ants on himself, poking ants, herding ants, staring at anthills - even if he only did it when the situation arose, which, honestly, was less and less since he’d gotten into this whole rock band thing.
For Adam, it’s simple to think about ants. Adam’s actually pretty simple in general. When he has a water bottle, an anthill, and warm weather, everything just becomes single-sentence descriptions, and they’re all generally joyful.
For example: Adam plays with ants.
He’s all by himself, behind a venue in Knoxville, the sun is beating down hard, but he’s in this tuft of grass, next to the parking lot, and there are three glorious anthills. There are some big ants and some small ants, and Adam currently is picking them up specifically by their characteristically large abdomen, but it’s a hard task that requires a lot of precision and concentration.
He laughs, loud, when an ant crawls up the sleeve of his t-shirt, because, whoa, how the heck did it get up there so fast? He also laughs because it tickles. He pulls up his sleeve with his other hand, rolling onto his back while he does so, nearly missing one of the anthills with his head when he does so.
The layout of the three anthills is simple. There is one anthill, right on the line where the concrete lot turns to the patch of grass. The next one is about a yard south, which is the one by Adam’s head. This is, by far, the biggest out of all the anthills, also, the most fascinating, as ants are rushing in and out rapidly. The third anthill forms what is almost perfectly a right triangle with the other two, if the other two anthills were to be graphed.
Adam finds this simply fascinating.
He plucks the ant from his shoulder, watching it squirm between his index finger and thumb. “Oh, there you are,” he says to the ant, before placing it back in the grass, in a safe spot. He rolls onto his stomach then, and watches more ants, brown eyes darting around furiously.
Another thing Adam would consider a hobby is John-watching, and this springs up is because John chooses that moment to find Adam behind the parking lot, and he has some Fun Dip in his hands. He sees Adam there, on the ground, and approximately two yards away from the line where concrete becomes earth, John stares.
“Stop that,” he commands, but he doesn’t mean it because he’s laughing. He always seems to when he actually takes in the scenes in front of him. Out of everybody he knows, Adam would say John is the best at looking at situations with the clearest perceptions.
Adam doesn’t move to stop, only props himself onto his elbows and beams. “Hey, Johnny.”
John laughs and closes the distance between them, and in this direct path to Adam, he nearly crushes the anthill that’s in the crack between the pavement and earth. Adam notices this and frowns a little, but doesn’t say anything, because John’s crouching down besides him and following his line of vision, towards the mounds of specs that Adam is observing.
“They have their own little world.” Adam grins and pats John’s arm, strokes it a little, which is unnerving to most people, but John never minds. Adam adds, “They’re the best.”
“Better than candy? Oh yeah, Mark bought a whole lot of candy. I forgot to say that, yeah,” John blinks eight or nine times, Adam can’t even count in time. John adjusts his thick, fashionable glasses and says, “You should come in now, before it’s all gone.”
Adam moves to get up in a pathologically dangerous way, hearing just about every joint crack. John stands up when he does, and offers him his elbow. Adam takes it daintily.
Whenever Adam walks, he makes this announcing, jingling noise, because he likes to clip dozens of keys and key chains on his belt. On the way into the venue, he holds up his ‘staff’ pass, his identification so he can get backstage but the person working there laughs, “No, I know you by now. I can hear you coming.”
John and Adam exchange glances and John’s look is playfully patronizing. The poor worker, with her pierced face and small, blue eyes, just looks away after a moment, pretending to find more interest in some lumpy elderly lady workers who’re chatting about botany.
They make their way to the back, decidedly quick and practical.
John lets go of Adam, and Adam grabs some candy, jingling happily. “This is good. You know, Taking Back Sunday isn’t always that bad, huh?”
Eddie who walks past gives him a friendly bop on the shoulder and goes, “That’s right.”
Adam cradles an armful of various wrapped treats, savoring the cool temperature of the backstage before smiling at John. “I’m going to go back outside.”
“Okay,” John permits, expression merging between amused and distracted. Adam doesn’t mind this though. He props the candy up in his arm so it’s flat against his chest and thinks.
Adam really, really likes John.