#threads: caleb.

caleb grinned, feeling his cheeks flush, which happened more often than he cared to admit around her. "don't tempt me. i've been dying for an excuse to hit up home goods," he replied, turning to his side and propping himself up on his elbow to look at her properly. his lips still tingled from her kisses, and he liked that feeling, liked the way it pulsed in him, even now, like her touch had left an aftershock. he thought about kissing her again, and wondered what kind of spell she'd worked on him. "you got something chocolate back there? i'm a simple man. if it's got fudge, just put it in my face."

he was mostly joking, but from the looks of the debris, that lamp was a goner. a replacement was definitely in their future. "yeah? what's the vibe you're going for? like rugged outdoorsman, or more of a moody, scandinavian minimalist thing?" caleb asked, now invested in their interior design plans. his apartment had the personality of a hotel lobby, so he appreciated people who had a vision for these things. he propped himself up on an elbow and offered her an earnest grin. "what's your lamp dream?"

caleb propped himself up on an elbow and scanned the disaster zone. throw pillows scattered everywhere, one sneaker by the kitchen entrance, his pants draped over a potted plant. if there was a shirt-shaped object in the room, it had gone into hiding. "uhh, good question. did you…?" he looked lila up and down, confirming there was definitely no shirt attached to her. "i think it's in the kitchen," he guessed, not entirely convinced, but he was out of other ideas. "it might be on the fridge. i got really excited about ice cream at one point, i remember."

Caleb steered around Meena and the glass, bare feet stepping on the hardwood. He snagged his boxers from the armrest and wriggled into them, the room still humming with the afterglow of their rather... intense reunion. His left hip throbbed where he must've landed on the lamp, though he couldn't remember the exact moment of impact. "I'll get the broom," he volunteered, already moving toward the kitchen and swiping up his old college t-shirt on the way. He didn't know his way around Meena's home quite as well as his own, but he assumed the broom would be… somewhere logical. Pantry, maybe. "You want to hit up IKEA this weekend?" he offered, trying to navigate unfamiliar territory, a hand on a cupboard handle before realizing it was a fridge, not a closet. "We could make an afternoon of it. You can judge all the lamps, and I'll push you around in a cart like a toddler."

caleb's brows furrowed at the confession, not sure what to do with the image of elena in a trench coat, blackmailing some married auteur with the threat of a leak to french tabloids. "damn, you're out here living in a soap opera," he said, awed. "i never even met a director. i did some background acting once in college, and i think the drama teacher wanted to kill me," he shared with a grin, rolling onto his back and stretching, a satisfied ache radiating through his upper body. "you're sure it's okay i destroyed your blackmail lamp?"

Caleb propped himself up on an elbow, squinting at the mess. The cord from the lamp had tangled around a chair leg; the shards glittered among the carpet fibers. "I'm not sure you ever actually turned that lamp on," he claimed, lazily drawing invisible shapes across Owen's stomach. Not that he'd been over very often, but it did seem like a weird flex to have a lamp for decorative purposes only. "Are you secretly nocturnal?"

"i've been romanced," caleb quickly replied, defensively. he sat up straighter on the couch, one arm slung across the back, the other holding a handful of popcorn. "i've—okay. i have done the romancing. i'm an excellent romancer. top tier. i've been sending my mama flowers on valentine's day every year since i was, like, 14. she cries happy tears each time," he continued, pointing a piece of popcorn at kit for emphasis right before eating it. "but been romanced? like, on the receiving end?" caleb chewed as he paused to think. "i mean.. does it count when demarco left a gatorade on my locker shelf with a note that said 'happy v day big dog'? because that was—i was touched. genuinely."

His mouth twitched, but he couldn't hold back the smile. "Only you would treat breaking and entering as a sport," Caleb said. "You can be sneaky through the front door, too, you know. You could wear a disguise. Get a trench coat. Maybe a mustache." He twirled an imaginary mustache on his face, even though his hands felt too big, too clumsy for jokes. He hadn't meant to make it a production. It had seemed rational, giving her the key. But now he realized he'd made it weird. He scanned her face, looking for a sign that he didn't totally misread the situation. "So, uh, is that a yes? To the key?"