pizza justin

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“People in America will always choose the things that kill them fastest,” [Ezra Miller] thought aloud. “Filterless cigarettes, pizza, Justin Beiber. “ Pausing to contemplate, he added, “Justin Beiber is a murderer.”

I wrote a thing:

The apartment is far too quiet when Justin finally gets home.

Adam always makes it home first, when they work on the same day, and he’s usually in the kitchen making dinner, or singing along to something in the living room, or perched precariously on the table in the front hall, waiting to tell Justin all about his day.

All of the lights are still off, and Justin heads blindly in the direction of the living room, brow furrowed in a mix of confusion and worry.

He lets out a breath of relief when he sees Adam’s head poking over the back of the couch.

Justin flips on the floor lamp just past the doorway and walks around the couch.

Adam doesn’t move. He’s pulled his feet up onto the couch, and is hunched over his emergency pint of ice cream, glaring at the opposite wall silently. He has a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, but he’s still wearing his dress pants and button up shirt.

His suit jacket is on the floor in front of Justin, and Justin picks it up, placing it over the back of the couch before settling himself down on the middle cushion, close enough that he’ll be able to touch Adam if Adam wants, but far enough to maintain a bit of space in case he doesn’t.

“Hey,” he says quietly.

Adam doesn’t say anything, instead shoving a spoonful of vanilla and cookie dough into his mouth.

“Rough day?” Justin continues.

Adam shrugs, keeping his gaze firmly on the opposite wall.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Justin offers.

“No,” Adam says, as though  that question had been particularly stupid.

“Okay,” Justin says, shrugging and ducking his head to hide his fond smile.

Grouchy-Adam is kind of adorable, but Grouchy-Adam definitely does not appreciate having that pointed out.

“Can I sit with you?” Justin asks.

Sometimes Adam finds cuddling helpful; other times he needs to be alone, and will come find Justin whenever he’s ready.

This time, Adam shrugs again, and lifts a corner of his blanket.

Justin stops trying to hide his smile as he shifts to settle himself under Adam’s arm, pressed up against his side.

Adam wraps his arm tightly around Justin’s shoulders, bringing the blanket with him. It’s too small to adequately cover them both, but Justin figures it’s more for comfort than warmth at this point.

“Want to watch something?” Justin asks.

Adam shrugs again, jostling Justin’s head where it’s resting against his shoulder, and Justin wiggles out from under his arm to go grab Adam’s laptop from the bedroom. He impulsively grabs a pair of sweatpants and an old, worn t-shirt as well, then heads back out.

“Do you want to get changed?” Justin asks, “I’ll order something for dinner.”

Adam nods, face still pulled downward into a frown, but he’s glaring slightly less so Justin will count it as a win.

He passes over the change of clothes, and gets the laptop set up, sending off an order for pizza, then pulling up a random episode of 30 Rock.

Adam settles down next to him just as he’s pressing play, and leans his head on Justin’s shoulder, picking his ice cream back up.

“You’re not going to have any room for pizza,” Justin test-chirps him, half-holding his breath while he waits for a response.

Adam snorts something that could be considered a precursor to a laugh and Justin relaxes.

“I’m a giant,” Adam grumbles, “I can eat as much as I want.”

“You’re only two inches bigger than me,” Justin points out.

“And those two inches are entirely ice cream.” Adam shoots back.

“As a medical professional, I’m going to have to disagree,” Justin says.

“Well as an ice cream professional, I think I’m the authority here,” Adam says, eating another spoonful for good measure.

Justin is about to respond, but suddenly there’s a spoon shoved in his face and he has no choice but to join Adam in ruining their dinner.

Being grown ups sucks, like, most of the time, but being able to eat ice cream for dinner definitely helps.

“Does this mean I’m going to grow two inches?” Justin asks, stealing another bite that Adam definitely intended for himself.

“In your dreams,” Adam huffs.

They settle into comfortable silence, only broken by the arrival of the pizza, which they still manage to eat most of.

By the time they head to bed, overly full, and still wrapped around each other in their blanket, Adam seems nearly back to normal.

“Hey,” Adam says, as they crawl into bed, getting their limbs tangled in the most comfortable way possible, “Thanks.”

“Any time,” Justin tells him.

Adam falls asleep with a tiny, almost invisible smile.

———-

Important notes about the thing:
1) I feel like we, as a fandom do not do enough with the fact that Holster is canonically the most giant grump on the face of the Earth. (Except for maybe Jack, but that argument was never resolved to my satisfaction)
2) No, this has no plot. I didn’t even try, tbh.
3) This could kind of take place in the nebulous future where they live together and somehow got together and Ransom still refers to himself as a medical professional (whether or not he is one)
3) I had more things to say before I got home. I may remember them later and add them in.