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*
"Nope!"
Angel jerks himself back through the door-frame, clutching onto it. His hand hovers over the back of his head.
"NOPE!"
"It's just a little rain," OJ insists, standing on the porch with his hands resting on his thighs. Em has already booked it out of the house, claiming she's got a date with some hot lady working at Fry's Electronics. Angel's coworker. OJ forgot her name. She seemed nice.
The weather alert on OJ's phone said the local area, from Forest Park to Lakeview, has a thunderstorm watch until morning.
(He hopes it lasts. They could use the rain. Not too much… not too much or else there'll be flooding.)
"No goddamn way in hell, OJ," Angel mutters, peeking out as if to check if there's any usual and dark clouds—he groans and smacks himself on the face. You're not supposed to make eye-contact with a territorial animal. "That could be a new fucking alien."
OJ lets out a small sigh. "It's not a new fucking alien."
"Prove it."
"I'm out here, ain't I?"
OJ gestures with both hands towards the porch's roof.
Unfortunately, at the same moment, a clap of thunder booms out across the distance.
"Shit! Shit, shit!" Angel yells this, nearly jumping out of his skin.
He ducks.
It reminds OJ of Mulberry. She was a younger horse OJ helped train.
Any kind of thunder made her inclined to panic, bucking and whinnying, before she was traded for Lightning Bolt.
"We got rain. That's it. Cool it down for a second."
"I'm good," Angel says, his eyes darting. His fingers comb into his bleached hair. "Thanks. I—I think I need to go and get the kitchen knife—"
"No, you don't." OJ gently grasps Angel's wrist, lowering his arm from the door-frame. He doesn't blame Angel. Last time he was there… well, there was gallons and gallons of blood pouring out of the sky… and people screaming and dying high above… and…
Angel makes a face.
"Stop with the tongue-clicks and shit," he mumbles, wrapping an arm around OJ's middle. "What am I? A horse?"
"I gotta say, a horse is better behaved," OJ retorts softly, his lips curling up.
"Ha, ha… dickhead."
OJ gets closer, brushing his mouth absently against Angel's jaw and letting Angel tense up against him. He smells good. Clean minty toothpaste and Dial soap. When there's another thunderclap, OJ hums out, rubbing the side of Angel's thigh.
This is good.
At least he got Angel on the porch while it's raining.
The other man muffles out a sigh, leaning on him, burying his face to OJ's neck.
"Does it gotta be like this?" Angel's words muffles more. "Am I gonna be fucked up like this every time I notice a cloud? Huh? Or if I'm out somewhere, and then, one of those stupid shit-ass tube men deflates for no reason, and then, I feel my heart going—"
OJ interrupts, "—you don't gotta do it alone, alright? Me and Em got you."
His arm tightens on Angel, and Angel sneaks his own arm around OJ's shoulders, looking up. He smiles gratefully.
"… uh, can we go inside now?"
"Sure thing," OJ reassures him, holding in a laugh when Angel steers them.
It'll be a long road ahead.
OJ can't wait to see where it takes everyone.
*