'CHAPS ROUND YOUR WAIST

His gaze is glued to Trent's face. Every twitch that might give him away. Kyree catalogues them in his head. He didn't wanna let me in. Kyree squints at Trent like it might give him some other answer. Something else to make any of this make sense. He cannot find a single thing. What the fuck is he supposed to do with this? He glances down to his knee and the bandage that appears to be seeping. Trent hadn't looked at it and Kyree grinds his teeth about it. His gaze turns toward the sound and he wants to throw Trent in front of him like a shield. Human sacrifice. Trent's words are clipped in a way Kyree has not noticed from him before even in the very short time they've been speaking. The door swings open and his gaze lifts up towards who must be Howard. "He was checking my knee. It's bleeding." Kyree explains with some strange need to protect Trent from him and that voice of his. "I was screaming at the door and he heard me." He lies.

Howards plods back up the stairs, and Trent doesn't say anything, a bit embarrassed to be a told-off kid that Kyree felt the need to defend against. "You didn't have to say that. He's intense but he's not — you know, bad or nothin'."

Cas can only nod cause his mouth has really already said too much. His usual strict brain to mouth filter has gone all fuzzy from the weed and close proximity. He's gotta desperate grasp the tether that keeps him from saying too much. He wants to. There's so much that he wants to say. He tries to steady his breathing as Trent keeps talking about who is in his phone. Is he really that curious? "You." Cassell says instead of anything else. There's a few people here and there. Probably someone he intended to hook up with but knowing him the chemistry dried up over text. That's usually what happens. Cassell is a deep thinker and not the best with short form flirting but he doesn't want to tell Trent that. He might get jealous or start pouting and then they'd really have a problem. Trent's touching him suddenly and despite how slow his movements are Cas feels caught out. He stills beneath the others touch before his lips part with the press of Trent's thumb. His words come out a little too breathy to be anything but want. "Working on me, Trent."

Trent feels lightheaded again, but in a pleasant way, slightly unmoored by the darkness they're enveloped in. He laughs, a breathy, lilting thing because obviously he'd meant to exclude himself in that question too. "Goofy." He says, and he could be talking about either one of them. Trent lets himself enjoy this. He's at his best when there's nothing left to say, he thinks. Although he supposes that might sound coy, and a little bit cute, to ask what's working on him, Trent's nothing if not blatant with his affection, a glaring open wound, all rosy and throbbing. So, he just hums instead, a little hmm sort of thing. Trent wants to lay on top of him and mash their mouths together until they become one. More than that he'd like to just kiss him. "What about me?" Without warning his hand abandons his mouth, to take Cas's hand and place it on the inside of his thigh. "Am I still here?"

"Expensive as hell, Trent. Gotta plan in order t'see what we can an' can't do." It's said with disappointment, but she's watching as the bubbles start to form in the pancakes and she's already grabbing the spatula to nudge the straying sides of the pancake back to it's circular shape. "Unless you're wantin' t'spend a couple hundred on mouse shaped ice creams." It doesn't take long for the side planted down against the pan to signal it was time to flip, and Jessie gently slides the spatula underneath the golden brown side to flip, listening to the sound of sizzling get louder as the batter touches the heat. "I do like your enthusiasm though, an' you bet your ass that I'll be takin' pictures everywhere in them mouse ears." She lets the pancakes cook for a moment, going up on her tiptoes to grab a plate from the cabinet and letting it sit on the counter beside her before she's turning to Trent with a tired smile. "Today I was thinkin' we could go to the pool, hang out here for a bit, an' then go to the movies I'm cravin' popcorn."

"Oh." He frowns, forgetting that things cost money. Trent's never felt restricted by it because he knows how to run up a credit card like it's nobody's business, but he's been maxed out for months now. Trent would, is the thing, spend hundreds of dollars on mouse-shaped ice cream. "But we gotta go big or go home, right? I ain't worried 'cos there's so much work around these parts. We can grind for a week then blow it all on everything we wanna do at Disney." He grins. Trent's getting excited already. He's never known savings, or what to do with them. Trent grabs the berries from the fridge, the thought of coffee set aside when the pancakes are nearly ready. "What d'you wanna see? You should choose somethin' you don' care about concentratin' on so I can make out with you."

"You talk like he is." Kyree insists softly as he tries to understand the dynamic. Are neighbours not usually friendly? It's curious to see Trent react to his words. How he seems to digest everything all at once. Takes everything at face value. It would be easy to get him in here Kyree thinks. He stays watching him because anything else is a gray wall. There's another angle he can go at him with and he's about to try it. "Really? Why do you think that Trent? Tell me." Kyree keeps saying his name on purpose. He wants Trent to feel familiar, like he's special, he keeps looking at him. "I would have never guessed." His knowledge of America is limited to the man he came here for and pop culture. "Yes I am." He's not surprised Trent guessed that. They all do. It makes him smile when it comes from Trent's mouth though. "It doesn't matter. I want you to." The look on Trent's face is intriguing enough that he would like to press his fingers into his features. His face expresses everything and gives him away. The sound of footsteps draws his gaze away but he doesn't move. "I don't know Trent. I don't want to be here. Doesn't that make it bad?"

"I brought you crutches." The low, booming voice is heard even before the metal door swings open, creaking on its hinges. It takes several moments for Howard to assess what his eyes are seeing. "What the hell are you doin'?! I told you to leave him alone and let him rest."

"We're about two hours away from Orlando," The redhead pipes up. "Kinda wanna plan a trip to Disney while we're here." Because she didn't think Florida was Trent's end goal, but she wanted to make the most of it.

"You wanna go today?" 'Cos that's the way they've always moved — immediate, taking the world by their hands and bending it to their whims. Routine non-existent in the realm of gigs and side hustles, and they're not immune — to a 9:00 to 5:00, or something with a mortgage, staying in a place long enough to get to know their neighbours, but they're not quite there yet. Though he's not sure if he'd ever get used to the idea of working a job where he's gotta book a day off two weeks in advance. Their BnB's got a Nespresso machine. It's pretty cool, and most importantly, hard to fuck up. "Do you really gotta plan it all out? I ain't never been before. You'd look cute in them ears though."

"Yeah, can be. If you look hard enough." Cas just doesn't give it away so easily. His face never gives away anything when he's in front of a camera. It's only when he's with the people he trusts does he let his guard down. And between the weed and Trent's smile it's gone. He likes having his own things and he likes Trent's things cause he's real passionate about them. Cassell has always liked that Trent's just himself all the time. He's just that sweet and that endearing. It's almost got his teeth aching. "Easy." Cas accuses as a grin breaks across his face. "Yeah it does. You can call me whenever you want. A like ain't getting you shit." He side eyes Trent when he asks about him giving out his number. "Exclusive club." He assures him. Confusion screws up his face as he watches Trent get up wondering where he's going. Cas presses his face into the pillow with closed eyes as he feels Trent next to him once more. "I'm here right? Not gone somewhere else?"

Trent doesn't have to look that hard. Because really Cas is thoughtful about everything, the way he dodges the paps and ices out the press — something conscientious that Trent can't fathom in himself. And it makes it even sweeter that Trent isn't on the other end of that. He's never had a friend like him, though he does remind him of Luke. "Whenever I want?" He probes. If that's the case, he'll add him to his list of contacts he plays roulette with, for his morning drives to practice. It feels like the world's opened up. Trent's going to call Cas all the time. He smiles to himself, happy to be part of a special club. "Who else is in the club? Apart from your family. And teammates. And agent." A silence settles thinking about this. Trent feels a bit selfishly greedy, to want all Cas's special thoughtfulness for himself. It's ugly and a sin. "Mm...Let me check." His hand fumbles toward Cas in the dark, eyes closed, too heavy from the weed, and tonight's game catching up to him. He grazes on his knuckles and clutches around his wrist. "You hand is here..." His fingers climb up his arm, along his bicep, up his shoulder, "And your neck." Imagines him in his head and follows the path upward, thumb tagged on his lower lip. "Lips." He says softly. "An' you're breathin', which I think means you're here."

"Your friend is." Kyree snaps a little bit because the pain is making it hard to focus. Trent certainly appears to be an extension of Howard. "You shouldn't make people do things that they don't like Trent." He doesn't actually know which angle to use on this guy. He's not giving off any specific vibe that Kyree can use to his advantage but he'll try anything He needs to convince him to open the door. Kyree does not know what's going on. "Tell me what you saw outside." Kyree aims to sound helpless as he blinks at Trent. He wants to hit him in the face for looking so earnest while saying that bullshit to his face. "You are so American." They always think someone is out to get them. Howard does sound crazy and so does Trent. Isn't it his American right to go out there and die? Kyree glances where Trent's hand has just moved from before he looks back at his face. "I want you to look at it." He insists again. Shouldn't Trent be moved by the wound on his leg? He lifts his foot onto his leg and tries to gauge how bad it is by feel alone. "It hurts. You don't have anything for me?" Kyree needs to sway Trent or incapacitate him and he doesn't think the second one is an option. He presses down onto Trent's leg and hisses like it really hurt. "Trent, don't leave me in here."

"He ain't my friend." Trent pipes up, a little defensively. His expression screws up into this tense little face again, because this feels unfair. He's not making him do anything. And Kyree's got this tone with him like he' telling him off and it upsets him. Trent chomps down on the inside of his cheek until it hurts, then takes deep breath through his nose. He shakes his head. Trent can't. Physically. He's not going to talk about his horses with Kyree. That's all that he'd seen. And what he'd felt had been immeasurable. "I think there's something in the air." He says, in a small voice. And Howard has his theories: nuclear fallout from the Russians, toxic gas from the aliens. He looks at him, mouth quirking. "Texas born and raised." Nods, doesn't get that Kyree might mean it as a bad thing. "Are you from London?" He tries. It's the only place in England he knows of, which is where he must be from. Trent looks at him, helpless and useless. "But I ain't no doctor. Howard's the one who wrapped it up for you." Pinned in place by the deadweight of Kyree's leg, the offer to get him a Tylenol is cut short by the sound footsteps, heavyset and intruding. His heart speeds up, but he's not sure why. He has half the mind to stand, like a soldier prepping for its sergeant to enter, but he doesn't want to move Kyree's leg off him when he's already in pain. He's not sure why Kyree is saying his name like that. Like it means something. "This ain't a bad place to be. I promise. We can get Howard to give you some painkillers."

Something about Trent's smile is creeping him out and it shows on his face. Lip curled up before he masks it back into a line. He's almost doll-like in that Blythe sort of way. Big, pleading empty eyes and all. Kyree might want to fuck him if he wasn't trapped in a fucking prison with him. There's no doubt in his mind. Kyree would rather burn up outside or become radioactive if it meant getting out of here. "Why can't you let me out? What happened?" He shouldn't have come to this country to visit a man. This is what he gets. Kyree wants a cigarette so badly he might start clawing out Trent's eyes. "You don't know?" Kyree tips his head to the side. That seems very strange. If they're neighbours and must have been good ones by the way Trent speaks about him. Kyree's suspicious gaze narrows in on Trent's mouth and the expression has him confused. "So you don't know him well." Kyree supplies as he shakes his head. He doesn't say anything as he brushes his hand along the cylindrical block wall. This is a cellar. This is a fucking dungeon. "Why are you down here?" There's two lights on the wall and Kyree starts to move before his knee buckles beneath him. "Fucking hell." Dread washes over him as he sits back down onto the mattress. "It hurts." Kyree complains as he looks back at Trent. He seems easy to manipulate but unfortunately loyal. Kyree just needs to get him to switch sides. "You need to look at it."

And the questions come barrelling toward him again and Trent tries to catalogue them all — but the world's ending, he's pretty sure, and the questions will be too. "I'm not keeping you here." He interjects, desperate for Kyree to know that he's not a prisoner. Trent looks visibly distraught, taking a breath and then clamping his mouth shut because what is he meant to say? He doesn't know. But he'd felt it outside, he's sure. Something in the air. In the end, he decides to parrot what Howard had told him. "Um, maybe aliens. Or the Russians?" He asks, like a question. "Howard said whatever it is, it ain't American. He's, like, a doomsday prepper. Everyone in town thought he was crazy. Now they're probably wishin' they did the same thing." Instinctively his hand drops from the door handle and reaches to steady him in case he falls, Kyree manages by himself. He stays static at the door, but he feels so bad for Kyree, in pain, and it feels like a call to action even though he has no medical experience. "I think maybe you should be keepin' it raised." He sits at the edge of the mattress, cross legged. "Can I lift your foot? You can rest it on my knee." The corn chips are finally set aside. "The pantry's just outside the door. I was hungry. And curious. Howard told me to leave you alone though."

"You're buying land there? Trent you got the whole wide world." Cas lets him know cause he genuinely doesn't know if Trent thinks he's landlocked to a certain place. If he knows that he came bring people with him wherever he goes. "I wouldn't want to put you through that." Cas teases with a wide grin. He does like how eager Trent seems to be about it though. Cas think he'd be interested in anybody and it's not anything special. The last thing he needs is to be thinking that what's happening here is any different to who Trent treats everyone he meets. Cas doesn't need pining and he doesn't need distance. He pushes it all down and nods in agreement. "Yeah, you would. I know." It's almost too fast how quickly his words come out. "Be home steading for a captor. I see it all." And he can see by Trent's face he'd feel special about it too. Cas wants to throttle him. "You're not worryin' about likes on your posts. Not from me. You have my number Trent." That should mean more shouldn't it? Cas pulls away from Trent to pull his sweater off feeling too hot. "Does that work on anyone?" Cassell knows that it does.

"Maybe, I dunno." He knows he's got the whole wide world, but he hasn't been anywhere outside of America — and he's sure there's farms everywhere but he doesn't want to be everywhere. Just close to the people he loves. "That's real thoughtful of you." Trent means it, a rush of sweet fondness pressing down on his heart. Maybe he doesn't need to. Their different interests hasn't really affected how much he wants to hang out with him and be around him, which is, all the time. "Only if they were hot." He'd watched a show once because his partner had wanted him to, something about a bank robbery where one of the robbers fell in love with the hostage an it was pretty romantic. "Does it? Mean more? Who do you give your number to?" Trent gives his number to everyone, but Cas isn't Trent. Maybe it is special. He feels quite pleased about that. Trent can't look at Cas with his sweater off so he gets up, only to flick off the light. It's not quite pitch black, the light from the hallway leaking under the door, stretching from the highrises outside his window. He flops back onto the bed, shuffling up until his head rests on the pillow. "I dunno. Is it gonna work on you?"

"Kyree." It comes out of his mouth before he can come up with a fake name. Would it matter? This man seems naively earnest with that stupid bag in his hand. His mouth opens but no sound comes out as he swallows down the scream. Something is wrong and his heart starts to race the more he looks at his hands and sees so scrapes. Shouldn't there be something? He lifts a hand to his face and does not feel any abrasions. "Trent. Where is this place?" He glances around again and sees a chain coiled up against the wall. Kyree turns his gaze back to Trent. Who is this person? "Where is Howard?" He questions him with a furrowed brow like he's annoyed. Kyree is something else entirely but he's not going to let it show on his face. "I don't need to rest." But he's shifting all of his weight onto his left side as he says it. "Trent." He breathes out trying to figure out how to get the answer he's looking for. "Where do you live?" He asks instead knowing he mentioned neighbour. Where is his home in relation to this...place? "Tell me about it." Being told he can't leave is making his skin feel tight. Kyree doesn't comment on it.

He nods slow, offers a misplaced half-smile, as way of introduction. When Kyree looks around, Trent looks too. Rendered in a different light, maybe, dark and jail-like. But Kyree's not a prisoner here. Neither of them are. Howard had saved them and outside the world's ending. "It's a bunker." Is his best guess. Not a cell. Not something nefarious. There's something going on outside. There's no service. Howard had said the telephone lines are dead, but he has a two-way radio to listen to emergency broadcasts. "He's upstairs." Trent provides. His mouth screws up into something dissatisfied, because he's not doing well at this. Making Kyree worry when there's nothing to worry about. He listens intently, taking inventory of the questions. "Next door. But in that country that's the same as sayin' down the street so..." Kyree's not from here, obviously. "There's shit goin' down outside. It's better we're here." He tries, again, but it's hard to put a name to the shit — but his horses had died because of it.

There's a smugness to her at the comments, but she rolls her eyes regardless. There was nothing pretty about the way she looks when she just woke up. His white tee hangs from her body, hanging below her knees and brushing against her thighs as she moves. Jessie has grown to mostly live in his orbit, which includes his shirts most nights and his hoodies during the day. The redhead stands beside him with a raise to her brow and no pants, her hair is up in a messy ponytail with tired yet amused eyes, and she takes the compliment as if she were on the runway. "You're definitely full of shit." She laughs, letting her gaze drift over to the stove before back to him with a hearty laugh. "And you didn't even turn the burner on."

"I ain't never bullshitted a day in my life." He insists, though he's got on a toothy grin and Jessie was his best friend before they were in love, so she knows that's not entirely true. Trent still hasn't gotten used to the mornings spent with her, the ease of it, how painstakingly grateful he is to wake up and not have to think about where they're going to be sleeping that night. When she points out the burner, a laugh echoes out of him. "That's crazy." He says, as though he surely couldn't be responsible for forgetting. "Damn, all right. We're switching. I'll do coffee." He decides, giving her ass a couple pats, can't help himself, as he strides over to the freezer to get the ice.

"Trent." Kyree repeats it like it matters at all. There's this deep, aching throb in his side and he wonders what else on his body is in need of mending. He tries to remember this crash that this stranger mentioned. Kyree can't remember it or what his car even looks like. He lifts his hands to his face and that at least hasn't been rearranged. Kyree glances up at the fluorescent lights and feels his stomach churn. "Trent." It's making him feel sick. He looks towards the door and then Trent's hand on it. He ignores the shooting pain as he limps towards the door. "What crash?" He keeps using that word but Kyree cannot even remember what he was doing before this. He slips his arm past Trent's to touch the door himself. "Who are you talking about?" He feels continuously dazed the more Trent speaks to him like constantly getting flash banged and you can't get up. He flicks his gaze down towards Trent to impose their height difference. "I need to open this door Trent." His knee hurts so fucking bad he bites the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood.

"What's your name?" He asks softly. Not only because the stranger looks like a wounded bird he doesn't want to scare into flying before its ready but because he doesn't want to be interrupted by Howard. Trent winces watching him limp towards the door. It's bandaged, wound tight to enough to be a makeshift case. Trent wonders whether he broke it in the crash. The traffic must have been bad, everyone fleeing to make it home to their families. "You crashed your car." Trent tells him, definitively. That's what Howard had told him. "The man who owns this home. He made all this." Trent gestures, bag of corn chips still in hand, to the bleak bunker, with its steel doors and haphazardly placed mattress on the ground. It's nicer upstairs. In the time it takes to explain, the man's inched closer. Trent finds his back pressed even harder against the door, shirking slightly. "Okay." He's says, unconvinced, although he's not going to do anything to stop him. Trent peers up at him. "But...It's not like you can leave. An' I dunno if Howard's gon' be happy you ain't restin'."

"All I'm hearin' is that I'm two seconds away from benchin' more than you," Jessie snickers, pressing a kiss to his shoulder before pinching at his sides, turning on her heels to grab orange juice from the fridge along with two glasses from the cupboard. "I'm shocked t'see you cookin'," a beat. "And awake b'fore me. Are you about t'tell me somethin' bad happened?"

"You gotta leave somethin' for me to be better than you at. You've already got tennis and volleyball and cookin'." Definitely cooking. The batter's been on the pan for what seems like forever and they ain't even bubbling yet. "Why's there gotta be somethin' bad happenin' for me to be makin' you breakfast?" It's true, Jessie usually gets the breakfast for the sake of their tastebuds, but all the guys be makin' their girl's breakfasts on Love Island, and it's cute. He turns, spatula still in hand. "You look pretty." He can never keep his thoughts to himself. She always does. Whatever time of day, whatever state of dress. "I don't really know why I was up. Wouldn't recommend. It's way better bein' up after you, so I don't gotta miss you while you're sleepin'."

His eyes feel sticky as he tries to blink away his drowsiness but it feels like he was roofied. Kyree blinks as a grating voice seems to cut through the grogginess and suddenly he's shooting upright. Now what the fuck is this? His chest is already heaving as his head turns to rapidly assess his surroundings. Kyree has no idea how he ended up here. He can hardly remember anything at all. It feels like a chunk of his memory has been taken out. The before and the after. "No I'm not hungry. Who are you?" Kyree moves to get up and there's an ache in his knee that shoots all the way up. He hisses between clenched teeth as he glances down to see it's bandaged. What caused that? Kyree can't remember. "Who are you?" He pushes himself up to full height on his wobbly knee. "Tell me."

Trent, selfishly, is glad there's another person here with him. Howard's cool and all, and he's grateful to be in his home, but he can be a little strict. His back is flush against the bunker door, and maybe he should have kept it cracked because the guy's sort of still coming to terms with everything. Trent watches, fingers grazing the door as if trying to decide if he should leave him a while longer, his other hand still dumbly holding his bag of corn chips. "Trent." He provides, brows creased with concern at the way his leg buckles slightly when he stands. Should he get Howard to come change his dressing? Trent's not even sure if he's meant to be talking to the stranger, or letting him rest some more. "Ain't none of this normal but my neighbour, he — I mean, the crash you were in? He saved you."

Cassell can't even look away from Trent's dumb, sweet face. He wonders what he's thinking about constantly cause it seems so pleasant. He doesn't ever remember seeing Trent stressed out. So he keeps looking because it's something worth seeing. All that pleased joy on his features. Cas wants to bottle it up and keep it. "Now why would I go to New Mexico?" Cas shakes his head. He couldn't even point it out on a map if he's honest. It's not the first time that he's heard that but it's the first time from Trent. It's funny that they both just wanna be inside each others heads. "Guess so. You're not interested in what I'm interested in so it might be boring as fuck for you. Hostage type shit." Cas sighs softly before his face screws up. "Kay and so what? That's all you got space up there for? Guess I seen you in enough stories." He murmurs. "I ain't ever gunna believe that one. You just wanted me here I know your game."

"'Cos that's where my godfather is." He explains, and in his head, there's are several made-up memories of Cas meeting him, for some reason. "I could be interested." He pipes up, a little meek and pathetic, like he's trying to get a gold star for it. Trent might not be interested by he's diligent and thorough and he's done it all before; read books he's seen on lovers' nightstands, listened to grisly true crime podcasts that upset him until they didn't, coordinated outfits, learned rules to sports he'd never watched before, gone sober. "I'd get Stockholm syndrome." He decides, smiling like he's pleased about it. Maybe he doesn't exactly know what it means. "Yeah, I know. You're seein' them but you ain't liking them. What's that about?" He doesn't really mind, but Trent likes anything and everything that Cas posts, when he posts. "My bed's comfier than the guest bed anyways."