glarghlefest

[unamaga]

Hell yes, I could use some love, you guys: The Post | My thread.

Speaking of love, apparently the track boys are my comfort zone, so (with kashmir1's help) I've started on the sequel to Stars of Track and Field in earnest. Man, I missed these boys.

John woke up on Monday and fell out of bed.

This wasn’t exactly unusual; in fact, John had gotten so used to falling out of bed that he’d taken to leaving his and Rodney’s dirty clothes piled up next to it for extra padding. The alarm went off above his head, shrilly, and he pulled on the power cord until it clattered off the ledge of the desk and hit the floor with a sharp crack.

“Rodney,” he said. He craned his head so he could see the tips of Rodney’s outstretched fingers where they poked over the edge of the bed. “Rodney,” he said again.

“M’up,” came the muffled reply.

John didn’t believe him for a minute, and reluctantly wiped the remnants of sleep from his eyes before pulling himself to his feet. He took in Rodney’s sprawled form, the bed that was almost too small for just Rodney and his awkward legs to fit on, the tangled blanket Rodney had managed to wind around himself like a particularly fuzzy Christmas ribbon. Despite the fact that they both had class in less than an hour and a half and he still had to cycle back to his own campus across town, John climbed back into bed and found Rodney’s hot, sleep-sour mouth with his.

He whispered, “Morning,” when Rodney’s blue, blue eyes finally opened, and smiled.

-

It wasn’t uncommon that they ran a little late and John only had half an hour to get back to campus – he already had a system worked out for days when Rodney’s night-warmed skin was too tempting, seeing as they occurred so often. Rodney gave him a blurry goodbye kiss at the door, and John jogged past his own bike chained up out front of the dorm building, crossing Massachusetts Avenue at great danger to his life and making it to the T station right as the train was pulling up.

John’s multivariable calculus course was always deathly boring and taught by what looked like a crumbling skeleton, so no one noticed much when he slipped in late and took a seat by the door. They were all far too busy nursing their comas.

Still, Rodney yelled when John skipped classes (usually about scholarship probation and John’s imminent failure at life, but also sometimes about how far Massachusetts was from Pennsylvania, which was slightly more effective), so John stuck out the entire torturous hour and a half with good grace, handed in the slip of paper he’d answered the quiz questions on, and hoofed it out of the building to meet Rodney for early lunch.

The routine was familiar now, half a semester behind them.

Oh, and just in case you live under a rock or your flist has failed you miserably: Sweet Charity bidding is now open! There are too many awesome people to name up for auction, so go on, bid your little hearts out. ♥