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i. It's late and the road is glittering black and silver in the moonlight. John's sleeping, head in Alex's lap. Mulligan's leaning against the window. Lafayette's driving.
“I wish it wasn't like this”. Soft. Raw.
Mulligan leans back to look at Alex. He's looking straight out of the window, face unreadable, blank, eyes wide. There's a far-away look in them. “Like what?”, Lafayette asks, soft. Alex keeps looking out the window, shrugs. “I wish that this wasn't the only place I can love you.”
Mulligan's heart aches. He knows they're all thinking about John's father. Seabury and his gang. “Alex”, he says. “I love you”. Lafayette makes an affirmative noise. Alex nods, hastily, turns his head to look at him. His eyes look so black in the moonlight. “I know”, he says, “I know. I just. I wish. Sometimes.”
“I know, baby. Some day.” Alex nods, fierce, repeats it, “some day.”
Lafayette's smile looks a little watery. Mulligan doesn't comment on it, just puts his hand over Lafayette's where it's on his thigh.
-
ii.“Fuck you, Lafayette”, says Alex. John's driving, this time, looking over his too-big sunglasses at the road. Mulligan's trying his best to stay out of it for now. He likes banter as much as the next guy but what's happening in the back seat is bordering on actual tension and he doesn't want to get into it, he's reluctant to pick sides. John keeps driving, quiet, eyebrows raised, the physical embodiment of “yikes”. He hates this as much as Mulligan does, and when he offers one hand, silent, Mulligan takes it, grateful. Squeezes. John smiles at him over his stupidly oversized sunglasses.
“You did not have to yell at Jefferson on my behalf, what is wrong with you? You know who's going to get into trouble? Me!”.
Lafayette screams for a little longer. Switches to French. Switches back to English. Alex tries to get a word in. Mulligan watches from the mirror as Lafayette physically clamps his hand over Alex's mouth, keeps going. There's a resentful look in Alex's eyes that Mulligan finds absolutely hilarious.
Lafayette runs out of steam eventually. Removes his hand.
There's a brief silence where the only sound is the AC and Lafayette's ragged breathing. Alex licks his lips. John counts seconds silently, mouths them in Mulligan's direction. Mulligan's lips curl into a smile.
On ten, there's a frustrated noise and then the slick-sharp noise of two mouths colliding. Teeth clanking. Mulligan winces, rolls his eyes when the noises turn a little too wet. John fixes his sunglasses, turns the blinker on.
-
iii. “You missed it”, says Lafayette, voice flat. “You missed it. It was right there and you missed it. You added twenty minutes to the route. Twenty minutes, Hercules.” Alex looks at John, widens his eyes more than what looks natural. John snickers. “Don't call me that”, Mulligan says, pitiful, pushes his bandana up. “I tried, Laf. I tried. That soccer mom came out of nowhere.”
Lafayette crosses his arms. Alex mimics the gesture exaggeratedly. John pushes his face into Alex's shoulder to muffle his laugh.
Lafayette turns around in his seat, shoots a dirty look at them. “Will y'all behave.” Alex bats his eyelashes. John widens his own eyes. Lafayette rolls his eyes at them.
-
iv. Lafayette puts his head on John's lap. John puts his hands in Lafayette's hair. Alex looks at them in the mirror, feels something swell in his chest at the sight. Mulligan sees him looking, offers him a small smile from the passenger's seat.
“They're precious”, he says, soft, so as not to disturb them. Alex looks over at him, smiles. “They looked fucking exhausted. Are they asleep?” Mulligan leans over a little, listens to the sound of their breathing, looks at the way John's eyelashes flutter as his eyes move behind his closed eyelids. Lafayette snuggles closer into John's body.
“Yep”, says Mulligan. His voice is full of warmth. Alex smiles.
Twenty miles later Alex pulls into the parking lot of a gas station. Mulligan is asleep against the window. Lafayette is curled up around John's body like a cat. When Alex closes the door as he gets back into the car Lafayette blinks his eyes open, bleary, smacks his lips, says, “what”, slow, sleepy. “Shh”, Alex says. “Go back to sleep, baby”.
“Okay”, Lafayette agrees easily, eyes falling shut again.
-
v. “No play-fighting in the car”, Lafayette chastises. He sounds exhausted, probably is. He's been driving for a while, now, keeps rubbing his eyes. Alex is riding shotgun, glasses on his nose, feet on the dashboard (“no shoes on the dashboard, Alex” “relax, Laf, I'll take them off--”) typing on his laptop. He's squinting. The screen brightness is already as high as it will go, but the sun is merciless, as they all know at this point. The AC is blasting. It's not enough. It's hot as hell.
Mulligan and Laurens are piled up in the backseat, Laurens on top of Mulligan. His hair's a mess. His shirt is wrinkled and he's laughing. Mulligan takes the opportunity to flip him over, tickle over his ribs. John bucks his hips, tries to shake him off but Mulligan won't budge, and when he raises one arm, tries to get a punch in Mulligan catches him by the wrist easily.
“Seat belts”, Alex says, doesn't even lift his eyes from his laptop, just squints harder at it.
“Killjoy,” says John, muffled from where he's squished between the seat and Mulligan's solid body. Lafayette rubs at his temple. Alex reaches over to pat his arm.
-
(0.
All of them packed in the backseat. John lying down across the three of them, face buried into Lafayette's stomach, trying very, very hard to stay still. Lafayette's rubbing at his temples with both hands, presumably to keep himself from touching his neck, his shoulders, and he's grateful.
Alex is playing with his hair. He's quiet, and it's so unlike him, so out of character that it startles John. Makes him want to shiver.
“Do you want me to call the cops?”, and Mulligan's voice is very soft, his hands very soft where they're rubbing at his calves. John shakes his head. The movement makes a fresh wave of pain roll down his shoulder.
“I'm going to kill him”, says Alex, later, after a visit to the ER and John is already tucked into Lafayette's bed, his face just barely visible, eyes blinking slowly open, lids heavy with pain killers. “I'm going to fucking kill him.” He's curling his hands into fists, and he's straining to keep quiet, but John hears him anyway, feels his heart swell at the sound. Lafayette's wrapped around his body, cat-like. “I know”, he says. “He broke his collar bone”, says Alex. Thick. Muffled. “I know”, says Lafayette.
The mattress doesn't dip that night but John still wakes up to soft lips kissing his forehead.)