(no subject)
Title: The Light Fantastic
Summary: We were promised high, sparkling cities and shiny one-piece outfits and what do we get?
Pairing: Platonic Lance/Joey.
A/N: Response to prompt by ephemera_pop in fic_requests.
~~~
I thought outer space sounded awesome until I turned about 13 and quit watching the Jetsons. It was just more frustrating than anything else once you started paying attention to the actual space program. I never doubted the possibilities, the opportunities; but I never lost faith in the government's dedication to fucking it up, either. We were promised high, sparkling cities and shiny one-piece outfits and what do we get? A $125 million Erector set with a jet engine, destroyed because somebody forgot to convert feet to meters. You want evidence of how quickly bureaucracy can destroy a good thing, you don't have to go any farther than the Cape.
His unabashed enthusiasm for all forms of geekery, even in the face of superstardom, always tripped me out. We used to blame it on his mother; life with a math teacher could have warped anyone's brain, Chris said. But watching her try and sit through a conversation when he got on a roll -- probe this and lander that and orbital the other -- got that idea out of anyone's head. Diane was exonerated; Lance was a nerd entirely of his own making.
He'd vanish for hours at a time at night, wander back in to all of us losing our shit, and say 'There was a meteor shower,' in that innocently even tone, puzzled at how we'd missed it. He'd steal news magazines out of hotel lobbies, even the ones he couldn't read, if it had a stock photo of the Milky Way on the front. He could name half the planets in German before he figured out how to order a Coke. It would have been the funniest thing ever, pretty much -- if not for the way it made his eyes light up. You could have brought Chris Gwen Stefani and a bottle of Jack on a silver platter, and you wouldn't get near the level of enraptured euphoria that was Lance sprawled in the grass under a glittering night sky.
I ended up caring despite myself, or at least paying attention. I'd find an article and email it to him; two days later there'd be a reply, saying he read it last week but thanks for the heads-up, here was why it was important and four other news blurbs about the exact same thing. If I caught him on a less busy day, I'd get a few paragraphs about what they were doing, a historical comparison... kid should have been a science teacher, I swear. The best teachers in the world are the ones who love the hell out of what they're doing, and Lance... well, shit, he got Chris to sit down and listen to about ten minutes on the origins of the asteroid belt, once. That's impressive shit right there.
He told me about Soyuz first. Just showed up on a Wednesday afternoon, said he was in town and felt like hanging out, that was all. Kid's a good liar to everyone but me. So we sat in the cave by the pool and talked until a quarter to 11 -- well, he talked. I know I responded from time to time. All I can remember is being entranced by the glow in his eyes, that exhilarated grin that I couldn't remember when I saw last.
"You're not scared?"
"Of course I'm scared," he laughed. "But... if this isn't worth it, what is?"
He was scared of the wrong things, as usual, and smiled graciously for the cameras when he came home. He had nothing but love and gratitude for the Russian space program, he'd enjoyed his training and appreciated their kindness, he was disappointed the deal had fallen through but hoped to have another opportunity. It was three weeks later I finally got to LA, and his eyes were red when he opened the door. I didn't leave for a month and a half.
There was a lunar eclipse at the beginning of this past March. I started calling him the Hairless Werewolf after about the third article I'd gotten before Valentine's. Near noon on the 2nd, he tossed out something over the phone about maybe coming down for the weekend, in a purposefully casual tone. It wasn't like he needed to ask. But it tripped something in the back of my mind, and I looked through the stack of emails... yep, it was only visible on the east coast. Talked him his share of smack for it, then went to help Kelly with dinner.
Out on the back porch, once everything was in the oven and pending, he sat on the lowest step with Briahna on his lap, both their faces tilted skyward. He'd described the process to me a thousand times, full of looping logic and tricks of light and ostentatious scientific terms for startlingly simple concepts. He explained it to her in hushed tones and two-syllable words, his arms around her waist and chin resting on top of her head.
"I don't know if you can see it with all the lights out here," he whispered, stroking her hair with one hand. "But -- now that there's less light from the moon, you can see more stars." She nodded slowly, entranced. Now that there was less light from the moon, the stars in both their eyes twinkled bright enough to blind.
I guess that's why I never cared too much for outer space. He looks to the stars and sees opportunity, enlightenment, inspiration... I found mine right here on Earth.
Summary: We were promised high, sparkling cities and shiny one-piece outfits and what do we get?
Pairing: Platonic Lance/Joey.
A/N: Response to prompt by ephemera_pop in fic_requests.
~~~
I thought outer space sounded awesome until I turned about 13 and quit watching the Jetsons. It was just more frustrating than anything else once you started paying attention to the actual space program. I never doubted the possibilities, the opportunities; but I never lost faith in the government's dedication to fucking it up, either. We were promised high, sparkling cities and shiny one-piece outfits and what do we get? A $125 million Erector set with a jet engine, destroyed because somebody forgot to convert feet to meters. You want evidence of how quickly bureaucracy can destroy a good thing, you don't have to go any farther than the Cape.
His unabashed enthusiasm for all forms of geekery, even in the face of superstardom, always tripped me out. We used to blame it on his mother; life with a math teacher could have warped anyone's brain, Chris said. But watching her try and sit through a conversation when he got on a roll -- probe this and lander that and orbital the other -- got that idea out of anyone's head. Diane was exonerated; Lance was a nerd entirely of his own making.
He'd vanish for hours at a time at night, wander back in to all of us losing our shit, and say 'There was a meteor shower,' in that innocently even tone, puzzled at how we'd missed it. He'd steal news magazines out of hotel lobbies, even the ones he couldn't read, if it had a stock photo of the Milky Way on the front. He could name half the planets in German before he figured out how to order a Coke. It would have been the funniest thing ever, pretty much -- if not for the way it made his eyes light up. You could have brought Chris Gwen Stefani and a bottle of Jack on a silver platter, and you wouldn't get near the level of enraptured euphoria that was Lance sprawled in the grass under a glittering night sky.
I ended up caring despite myself, or at least paying attention. I'd find an article and email it to him; two days later there'd be a reply, saying he read it last week but thanks for the heads-up, here was why it was important and four other news blurbs about the exact same thing. If I caught him on a less busy day, I'd get a few paragraphs about what they were doing, a historical comparison... kid should have been a science teacher, I swear. The best teachers in the world are the ones who love the hell out of what they're doing, and Lance... well, shit, he got Chris to sit down and listen to about ten minutes on the origins of the asteroid belt, once. That's impressive shit right there.
He told me about Soyuz first. Just showed up on a Wednesday afternoon, said he was in town and felt like hanging out, that was all. Kid's a good liar to everyone but me. So we sat in the cave by the pool and talked until a quarter to 11 -- well, he talked. I know I responded from time to time. All I can remember is being entranced by the glow in his eyes, that exhilarated grin that I couldn't remember when I saw last.
"You're not scared?"
"Of course I'm scared," he laughed. "But... if this isn't worth it, what is?"
He was scared of the wrong things, as usual, and smiled graciously for the cameras when he came home. He had nothing but love and gratitude for the Russian space program, he'd enjoyed his training and appreciated their kindness, he was disappointed the deal had fallen through but hoped to have another opportunity. It was three weeks later I finally got to LA, and his eyes were red when he opened the door. I didn't leave for a month and a half.
There was a lunar eclipse at the beginning of this past March. I started calling him the Hairless Werewolf after about the third article I'd gotten before Valentine's. Near noon on the 2nd, he tossed out something over the phone about maybe coming down for the weekend, in a purposefully casual tone. It wasn't like he needed to ask. But it tripped something in the back of my mind, and I looked through the stack of emails... yep, it was only visible on the east coast. Talked him his share of smack for it, then went to help Kelly with dinner.
Out on the back porch, once everything was in the oven and pending, he sat on the lowest step with Briahna on his lap, both their faces tilted skyward. He'd described the process to me a thousand times, full of looping logic and tricks of light and ostentatious scientific terms for startlingly simple concepts. He explained it to her in hushed tones and two-syllable words, his arms around her waist and chin resting on top of her head.
"I don't know if you can see it with all the lights out here," he whispered, stroking her hair with one hand. "But -- now that there's less light from the moon, you can see more stars." She nodded slowly, entranced. Now that there was less light from the moon, the stars in both their eyes twinkled bright enough to blind.
I guess that's why I never cared too much for outer space. He looks to the stars and sees opportunity, enlightenment, inspiration... I found mine right here on Earth.