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This isn't quite the relaxing date he thought it'd be.
His head leans back against the tree trunk, gaze drifting shut. Closing his eyes doesn't do much when it's already dark out, just the slightest remnants of twilight fading over the treetops. He should be trying to get up soon. Should be trying to make it easier on himself and not be greeted with huffy calls and confused greetings when he gets back to the house, should be trying to not end up facing more questions of where he's been that he never answers. All shoulds.
They may as well be coulds, instead. It's not the hardest task to get up. There's nothing but grass and dried leaves underneath him, crinkling with each slight shift of the wind, of his jacket, of anything. Just when he thinks he's gotten comfortable enough, the crackle of twig and maple irks him again from slumber. Maybe it could be time to go. New York shifts his knees, starting to draw them back in-
"Ow."
Only to halt as they dig into the weight in his lap.
The empire state snorts, relaxing back down as his dark irises stare into another's dim blue, unimpressed and the slightest annoyed. A hand half-heartedly slaps at his jaw, making his lips twitch up in a scowl. "What was that for?"
"You tell me. Shovin' your knee into my spine for no reason." New Jersey huffs as he rolls over, trying to get comfortable again. His usual beanie's off and in the half-filled basket of apples beside them, revealing moused up strands of dull hair, a few broken leaves caught up in the mess. New York tries to move his hand over to comb through, but gets slapped away again. "What? Antsy?"
"Your hair looks like shit." He pretends the deadpan doesn't fall away into an easy sigh. Also pretends he doesn't get a snicker in response.
"This was your idea. You deal with it."
"It was not my idea to end up out here, my idea was pickin' apples-"
"Like hell it was, you mean pretending to pick apples before chuckin' them at my head-"
"Don't act innocent, I know it was you first."
"I told you, that one just fell from the tree!"
"Yeah, because you were shakin' it to hell and back!"
Another slap. New York should really call them pats instead, because they're not at all with the same conviction the other state would have had another day. That's probably a little worrying.
"Should've known this wouldn't have gone as planned." He sighs, after a few more moments of listening to the crackling leaves and whistling wind. His gaze drifts up to the stars beginning to flicker between the waving branches. Then back down to the half-melted ice pack in the grass, long ago having slid off of New Jersey’s head. "Maybe we should go back."
"No. We're staying." The other state grunts, head falling back against his leg. It's too dark by now to make out the swollen, purpling bruise over his eyelid. Or the ones on New York’s own jaw, tender to the touch. So what if they went a little overboard in that orchard? Sue them. Whatever money rose out of such a lawsuit would just get re-spent in his own economy anyway. "At least until this fades a little. Let me have my victory for once."
"Shut up, I would've clocked you right on the head again if the orchard staff didn't reach us first."
"Wouldn't."
"Would've."
He flips him off, an inch from his nose. Even greater a worry than the pats. Some of it must show on New York’s face, since his partner’s lip curls. "Stop thinking about it. Fuck you."
"I'm not."
"Yeah, you are. Just not in the way you should be." New Jersey’s arm falls back across his own face, yawning. "I would've been fine if you did, anyway. I'm fine right now."
"Yeah, sure, then you wake up with a concussion and get back to blaming me-"
"You're doing enough of that yourself. I can tell." He huffs, beginning to push himself up- only for New York to press his own hands against his back, supporting his spine. It earns him an eye roll. "See? Just fuckin’ relax, I'm not glass."
"I know you're not." It doesn't make him feel better to see him so silent underneath his injuries, though. They should go back. They should.
New Jersey continues to stare back at him with a raised eyebrow, before eventually relaxing and nestling further against his chest again. Fingers trace by the open zipper of the empire state’s jacket, where a sticky splatter of overripe apple mess still remains. It's his turn to glare in indignance now, though the snort of laughter in response is well worth it. His muscles soften a little more too.
"That was beautiful." The garden state sighs, in too much fondness to be quite true. "I could feel it- fuckin’ hear it, just squish-"
"You're disgusting-"
"-and then you just screamed like I'd given you rabies-"
"Wouldn't doubt it from you-"
"-and it was probably what drew them over." New Jersey snickers, shifting further upright in his lap. His hands find steadiness grasping onto his shoulders, despite the warning look New York gives. A finger flicks at his chin. "And shut up. I'd get rabies from you first."
"You wouldn't complain."
"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?"
"Whatever you want it to." New York plucks his hands off his shoulders, black eyes creasing in a smirk at last, pushing his back off the tree to press a little closer to the garden state. Suddenly he leans in close, lips slotting together, warming each other for that brief second. He can't help but relish the brief shock that flits through his expression for a moment as he leans back, barely visible in the growing night. "But I think we'd both be alright."
Another leaf crackles in the time it takes New Jersey to recover. He scoffs slightly as he takes his hands back, shoulder bumping against New York’s chest. "Fucker. We are alright, right now."
"Good." And he finds that he means it as the garden state settles down, leaf-littered hair resting underneath his sore jaw. His fingers trace idly through the locks, barely trying to neaten anything anymore. The mess is fine, where they are. They're fine, where they are. Even as navigating what makes them them is much more difficult than traversing an apple orchard, every hit and laugh and scowl and touch is together- and that's just fine with him.
"Next year," New Jersey drawls, "We're going to one of my orchards instead."
"Won't be as good, but whatever you say."
"Oh, shut up."