OOM: The transition begins.

[isaysimplewords]

The Door opens into Cal's living room, which features a brown leather sectional couch. The color base of the room is fairly neutral, with a few colors overlaid that emphasize the framed pictures on the wall without going overboard. In short, it looks exactly like it was decorated by someone with good taste and a substantial budget who knows Cal

Comments

[isaysimplewords]

Eventually, physical exhaustion takes over, and Cal falls asleep on the couch somewhere around dawn. He wakes just a couple hours later, but the mental break - and the sunlight streaming through the windows - are enough to clear away the worst of the anxiety from the long night. He listens for a few minutes, rubbing at a crick in his neck, but doesn't hear anyone moving around; Sam must still be asleep.

. . . Oh, Jesus. He grimaces as the memory of his behavior last night comes flooding back. He'd thought he was done with that shit. There was no reason for that. Not with Sam.

He's going to have to try to explain, and to make it a real explanation this time.

But he's not going to gain any points if he wakes Sam too early, and after that sense of claustrophobia clung to him for so long last night, he wants desperately to get out of the apartment for a little while. So he goes for a run, even though he's not dressed for it.

Cal hasn't gone running in his new neighborhood yet, and the challenge of navigating unfamiliar territory clears the rest of the cobwebs from his mind. He's still sleep deprived, with no chance of fixing that until tonight, but he's thinking more clearly.

Before he goes back to the apartment, he stops at the coffee shop for coffees and some of the pastries they sell. It's something of a peace offering.

[necessary_child]

Sam hasn't really slept: irritable catnaps, sprawled out more or less fully-dressed (shoes and socks kicked off), are closer to the picture.

When he hears Cal moving about he does too, but before he can open the door the front door goes bang. For fuck's sake, he thinks, but it's about possible that Cal just wanted milk or something, so he squelches down on the instinct to throw up his hands and just go back to Milliways, tossing himself down on the bed again to wait. For the moment.

...This had better be good.

[isaysimplewords]

The apartment is still quiet when Cal gets back, but then it's still early. The coffee, he realizes, will probably get cold before Sam gets up. Well, it can always be reheated, and the pastries will still be good.

In the meantime, he decides on his usual post-run shower. The water is warm and soothing, and that combined with the lingering endorphins has him almost feeling good. After the shower, he ties the towel around his waist and slips carefully into his room for a change of clothes. Hopefully, he can just get in and out and not wake Sam.

(The pieces of the letter are still on the floor where he left them. He ignores them.)

It turns out to be unnecessary, though - Sam is sitting up on the bed, very obviously awake. Cal blinks, surprised.

"Oh, hey," he says, voice automatically pitched low as if waking Sam might still be a problem. He pauses, mentally corrects that, then continues in a normal tone,

"I thought you were asleep. Uh, I brought coffee, if you want any." He gestures in the general direction of the kitchen.

[necessary_child]

"Yes, thanks."

Sam shrugs, shaking his head. "I didn't really sleep that much, just napped a bit. Wondered why you went straight out."

[isaysimplewords]

"Wanted to go for a run."

Cal heads for the dresser to get some clothes. It conveniently keeps him from having to look at Sam as he continues,

"I - get claustrophobic sometimes. Like last night. I needed to get out for a little while."

[necessary_child]

Curiously, "How come you didn't go out last night, then?"

[isaysimplewords]

Cal does glance back at him with a hint of wry amusement.

"By the time it hit, it was too late. Not all of us have magic to keep ourselves safe at one in the morning in New York."

[necessary_child]

Sam frowns at him. "In this sort of place? Being male and six foot four should be enough."

[isaysimplewords]

Cal raises an eyebrow.

"I know this isn't exactly the Bronx, but that doesn't make it safe. I grew up in this city, in a nicer neighborhood than this, and shit still happened. I'd rather not take my chances."

He pulls a shirt on and turns back to the dresser for the rest of his clothes.

[necessary_child]

"And I thought London was meant to be dangerous..." Sam shakes his head.

"America is weird."

[isaysimplewords]

Cal shrugs a little.

"Anyway, the coffee's out on the kitchen table if you want it. I got some croissants and stuff, too. I'll be out when I'm done getting dressed."

[necessary_child]

Sam's eyebrows lift slightly at the implicit dismissal.

"...Okay then."

He doesn't exactly have much getting dressed to do - clean clothes can wait - so he heads out.

[isaysimplewords]

. . . yeah, he didn't gain any points with that, but whatever, he's allowed to want privacy to get dressed. Even if he didn't care yesterday.

He's allowed to want privacy, period, from whoever, about whatever, and that is a lot easier to remember now than it was last night. He's allowed.

Cal dresses quickly and goes out to the kitchen, taking the cup of coffee that Sam hasn't already claimed and sitting at the table. He's had enough of the couch for right now.

[necessary_child]

Sam's leaning against the kitchen cupboards as he drinks, fingers of both hands curled around the coffee cup. Once again, he's considering heading back to the bar: he can tell a peace offering when he sees it, but peace offering or not there doesn't seem to have been much change. Maybe this just isn't going to work.

[isaysimplewords]

Cal is quiet for a couple of moments as he sips at his coffee. He tried, during his run, to find the words that would clearly explain his behavior last night. But a lot of those words are words he doesn't know, or doesn't have access to in this context. So he's still thinking, still trying, and knowing he can't let the silence stretch for much longer - he can see the tension in Sam's posture.

"I'm sorry about last night," he begins. "I wasn't - well, it's not that I wasn't myself exactly, I was just - myself from a year and a half ago. How I used to think. About - just trying to - I didn't want you to get mad again and leave."

[necessary_child]

Sam frowns, taking a long sip of coffee.

"I don't understand," he says, frankly. How was any of that meant to make him not want to go?

A pause, then: "You said you wanted me around, but then you promptly shoved me to arm's length. You've been doing it again now. And you can't have it both ways, Cal."

Well. Not more so than usual.