halo 'n horns [klance au]

10. On the Road

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Keith

Blue eyes glowing gold. Brown skin turning caramel before my eyes. Strands of brown hair floating with static. Pink lips in a smile. Cold hands. Cold hands holding mine. Tethering me to Earth. Keeping me down. Pushing my head underwater. Around my neck. Choking. Taking my life. With a smile.

I lurched forward, eyes flying open. Heaving, I looked around frantically, confused. Afraid, even. It took me a few seconds to remember where I was.
The hotel room was pitch-black and silent, save for the angel's soft snores. I held my head in my hands, slowing my breathing.

Scenes from my nightmare kept flashing through my mind. One second, Halohead was holding my hands, smiling, and the next he was strangling me, eyes crazed. I glanced over at his sleeping figure, splayed out over the mattress, arms strewn recklessly beside him, chest rising and falling.

I pressed my hand over my chest, catching my breath, shaking slightly. I pressed two fingers to the side of my neck and found no pulse. I've never had one. I'm technically dead. Lance had one, though. I tuned into it now, hearing the comforting, slow pulse of his heart.

I turned to the clock on our shared bedside table and sighed, laughing a little. 2:46 AM. Even I didn't wake up this early. I flopped back down on my back, my pillow letting out a puff of protest. I looked over at Lance again.
Our beds were close enough that if I reached out, I could touch his mattress. Of course, I wouldn't, though.
I fell asleep to a deep, lulling thu-thump, thu-thump.

...

"Up! Up! Up!" I crowed, throwing a pillow at the sleeping angel. It was actual morning now, not the middle of the night, and I was in an incredibly good mood, for some reason. Not good enough to let Lance sleep in, though.
He had informed me the night before that we had a 17-hour drive ahead of us- from Seattle to somewhere called Lancaster, California. He'd even shown me a map.

"I need all the sleep I can get," Lance groaned at me, batting my pillow away blindly with a limp hand. His face was buried in his pillow and his hair was a mess.

"Guess I'll just pour coffee on you," I said, shrugging, and made for the coffee pot, "but I don't know how to cool it down like you can."

As if sensing that I would actually pour coffee on him, Lance scrambled out of his bed, muttering curses under his breath. "You asshole. Can't get my right quiznacking hours of beauty sleep with you around."

I wrinkled my nose at the odd swear. "Not my fault."

"Yes, your fault," Lance grumbled, pouring himself coffee that room service had brought. He flicked his hand at my bed and a messy pile of clothes flopped down. In a second flick, a neat stack of clothes landed on his own bed. I scowled at him.

"You sure are petty," I informed the angel, grabbing the clothes and walking to the bathroom.

...

"We need some guidelines," Lance said as we slid out of the lot behind the hotel after inconspicuously magicking up a car. It had visibly worn Lance out, but he seemed okay once he was sitting down.

The car he'd produced was cute in its own way. Small, a little bit cramped in the front, but cute. I had already pushed my seat all the way back and had my feet up on the dash, musing over the ways I was going to spend the next 17 hours.

"What do you mean?" I asked absently, leaning forward to dig through the glove compartment. The only thing I found was the car manual, but I wasn't about to start reading that, even if I was dying of boredom.