Whaaaat, I'm writing for 'Super 8'? Yeah, well. I like the movie and my Aniki (Razor 0603) is a big fan of Joe and Cary so when I told him it was Drabble Tuesday, he jumped it and gave me the prompt 'bedtime' for something for 'Super 8' all "take the prompt and flyyy, Imouto yo~~". So this very quick little ball of simple fluff is for him :D
Finally, after all the action that had happened with the alien, the Lamb family and the rest of the town had returned to their homes. Although there wasn't much relief to this for Deputy Jack Lamb as other people who had cautiously settled back into daily life. He'd been down at the station all day, wondering how to appropriate fill out paper work on such an event, taking calls from paranoid citizens who were concerned about a second invasion, and being overworked in general. There was also all the damage that various parts of Lillian had acquired throughout the ordeal. By the time the Deputy was told to head home for the day he was rubbing a hand over his tired features as he drove home and sighing heavily as he pulled into his driveway, seeing the lights of the house on.
'Joe better be asleep. If he thinks he doesn't need rest after all that's happened to him.'
He was aware that Joe's little gang of friends had been coming over when he left for work that morning and he didn't doubt the possibility that they were all still there, making a mess of their small house, eating all their food, causing trouble—if Cary was there, the likelihood of that was pretty high. He and Joe were very close and the little pyromaniac always seemed to bring out something a little stupid and immature in Joe who was usually more on the quiet side. Jack supposed it was probably something to do with feeding of the excitement of being together with someone you got along with so well. Or something. It seemed like a very long time ago that he was a child and had had the chance to experience such feelings. Especially after the day he'd had.
The man grumbled to himself as he pushed open the front door that, to his irritation, had been left unlocked despite the time of night.
"Joe?" He called out, shrugging off his coat and throwing it over the back of a chair as he wandered into the kitchen, taking in the pile of dishes and food remains on the counter, evidence of Joe's friends visit. At least the plates were rinsed.
"Joe?" he called again, a little louder and in the direction of the stairs. No reply.
Jack moved to check the lounge and stopped short in the doorway, huffing an amused chuckle as he folded his arms and leant against the doorjamb, taking in the sight with a fond smile.
Nestled in a pile of blankets that had clearly been dragged off of Joe's bed and combined with every other blanket the Lamb's had in the house, lay his son and his best friend, sound asleep, side by side. Empty popcorn bowls and movies lay scattered around the two and other little beds of blankets. The gang seemed to have had a movie night but everyone else was long gone. On the floor next to where one of Cary's feet had found its way out from under the blanket the two were huddled under, was a note written in neat- presumably Alice's, handwriting.
'Thanks for having us, Joe. I tried to clean up a little. See you and Cary tomorrow.'
Feeling the fatigue fade from his weary body, Jack padded forward across the carpet, talking to the two sleeping boys on the floor as he went.
"Come on you two, bed time now. You can't sleep on the floor." He didn't wake them with his soft whisper; just reached for the blanket they lay beneath, planning to carry each of them up the stairs to Joe's room. But when he took hold of the thick material and pulled, what it gave way to made him stop again, eyes widening, mouth dropping open a little. He stood for a moment, staring down at what lay between the two boy's bodies.
Their hands, intertwined.
The jaw dropped expression twitched and then, almost nervously, melted into something of a tender, although surprised smile.
Maybe Joe and Cary were closer than he thought.