houseofcards_rp | [ota] you're gonna go far, kid

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[ota] you're gonna go far, kid

There are very few people, particularly in the Deck, who wouldn't describe Evan McCartney as 'an annoyingly happy camper.'

And he is happy. He's happy to be getting his degree sorted out. He's happy to be looking at jobs which will allow him to be productive--to actually use what bit of a brain he has properly, the way it's meant to be used. He's happy to be in love and waking up every morning next to the woman he's in love with. He's happy to run with the dogs and spend afternoons with his parents and run errands for his sister. He's even happy to get into fights with cousins who look down their noses and young idiots who need to get their heads out of a generation far too outdated to still be crafting culture.

He's happy. He's Evan McCartney.

But he's quiet these days. He's not entirely certain why. He's been singing less. Shouting less. Simply moderating his voice far better than he ever has, as if the concept of 'an indoor voice' has sunk in more than twenty years after being introduced. It sits funny in his shoulders.

So he does what he can. He gets up early to study; makes Riley breakfast and takes the dogs on a run. He goes to throw punches at bags until it's time to ice his shoulder and suck on his lip so the bleeding will stop. And he goes, ultimately, to lie on his back in the snowed-upon Green, because he's not entirely certain where to go when a body feels pensive.

Someone should teach him how to do 'pensive.'

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Probably one of them should recommend having this heart to heart inside. Or at least upright and with some cocoa.

"I guess I-- ain't been this steady this long since before I was..." Give him a second. "...like fifteen. 's-- unnatural-feelin' now."

They'll get there. For now, they need a few minutes to just sit and snug.

"Isn't it-- good, though? To be steady?"

And it's an incredibly appreciated thing, having a friend willing to stop her day, drop down into the snow and just poke at the bothersome bothers. He'll give her a proper hug about it later.

Now? Now he'll just huff out a freezing cold breath and shrug with the shoulder that doesn't hurt. "It's supposed t' be, right?"

"Usually, yeah. But I guess not always."

Apparently not as much, in this case.

"What would help?"

"...a cookie."

Look, Teresa. Look how easy it would be to help a friend.

Of course, the cookie will clearly come with more trying to understand what's wrong, but. They could do that with cookies.

She laughs, squeezes him tight as she nods.

"All right, then. Up, so we can go get a cookie."

"A free cookie?"

For a poor, unfortunate soul? So sad? So much a puppy? Also so helping her back up without letting go, because what the hell else are all these muscles for if not popping up to feet and dragging friends with you?

"Yep. A free cookie, all nice and special for you."

Isn't she such a good friend?

"Might even throw in a hot chocolate if you're lucky."

That gets a low whistle through his teeth, a bit of a smile more like the ones he usually has.

"Oughta throw myself in more snowbanks, 'f this is what I get for it."

She chuckles as she tugs him more in the direction of the coffee shop.

"'s what you get whenever you're having an existential crisis. Don't go thinking we'll make a habit of it."

Except it already almost is.

"Ain't got that many crises under my belt."

But, you know. Now that they're upright and moving and she's easier to tug against himself for a firm kiss on the cheek? That's happening.

"Thanks."

"You've got enough."

But also she's totally accepting of the cheek kiss. Also she's totally going to give him one back.

"'course, silly. What are friends for, mm?"

Friends are for this. Friends are for being comfortable enough around to let the smile fade back down to what's actually being felt.

"Still. Ain't like you don't have enough on your plate."

"Never too much to help you out, mm?"

Particularly when it's something so simple as a cookie and a cup of hot chocolate.

"Real sweet of you." And meaning he was absolutely going to be slumping just a hair more while following along with her. "It's just... crankiness, y'know?"

"I know."

And she's going to snuggle him for a quick moment before she moves along again.

"I can deal with it. Lionel gets much grumpier'n you."

But still. But sigh, Teresa. Sigh and huff of dragon-breath air as he follows along.

"I just-- I should be happy. An' I-- am, but-- not. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah, it does."

And she's been there, before, so of course she understands it.

"'s not-- you don't need to feel guilty about not being happy, though. You can't help what you're feeling."

"But it's-- both, you know? Like-- I'm happy an' not all at once."

And guilty about it. He'd work on the guilty about it part.

There's a hum of agreement at that.

"That's not-- so odd, I guess. You've been living with things all topsy-turvy, I guess things being settled might feel confusing. Like maybe you're waiting for the other shoe to drop?"

It's close. It's not quite right, but it's certainly close. His face has to scrunch up a little in thought, scrambling for the right words for the emotion.

"Like... maybe I don't know how t' do this. Like I've just-- spent my whole life, y'know, dreamin' about how I'd come back here and find the girl I wanted t' marry and a house t' have kids in and all that. And now that 'm actually here, it's... What if I shoulda been here all along? Practicin' on this instead of livin' out there?"

"...You've lived your life the way you thought you wanted to, Ev."

It's important to say very clearly, stopping just outside the cafe to make sure he's getting it.

"You-- I don't think it's bad that you tried doing stuff you found interesting before coming back to settle down. It gives you perspective. Makes you well-rounded and all."

"Makes me selfish, maybe."

And it's nothing his parents have ever told him. It's nothing his sister or his friends have ever thrown in his face.

But it's sitting on his heart, clearly, from the way he murmurs it out without quite being able to look her in the eye.

"...Okay, say hypothetically it is."

Because she can see how he might see it that way-- how others might see it that way, also.

"It's still your life, Ev. You've got to live it-- not anyone else."

He can nod to that. He can also squirm to that like a six-year-old being forced into Sunday clothes and asked how he's doing in school.

"And what if I-- lived it wrong?"

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