Title: Carded
Author: inoru_no_hoshi
Beta: argylepiratewd: TY bb!
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 5x100
Warnings: N/A
Pairings/Characters: Glamtroupe gen.
Disclaimer: I do not know these people, and neither know nor mean to imply this may be fact. Damnit. Naturally, no monetary gain is being made from this work of FANfiction.
Summary: When the tech gets old, the cards get new. For a while.
Notes: I drabbled! \o/ The base idea for this originally came from these tweets from various Glamfolk; it sat and ruminated until glam_100 gave the perfect prompt, and I think it works a lot better as drabbles than a detailed fic. (Though you may never see me accomplish drabbles so easily ever again.) Written for glam_100, of course!

*
Being on the bus is generally free time, though they've all been known to rehearse in the aisles. It's also "entertain your own fucking self" time; that this usually devolves into TV- or movie-watching as a group, or YouTubing random shit to share, or stealing each others' phones for nefarious purposes is not really acknowledged.

But sometimes, all the technology in the world isn't entertaining. That's when the card games get broken out: Poker (all varieties, generally played for candy or as strip), Old Maid, Spades, Rummy, Crazy Eights, Hearts, Blackjack, War, Go Fish--

Name it, they've probably played it.
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Of course, the everything-is-boring-let's-play-cards doesn't usually strike more than a few people at once. When it does, things get a little crazier than usual and a single game can never be decided on. That's generally when Neil tells them all to shut the fuck up and declares it Slap Jack time.

The resultant chaos culminates with space on the bus floor cleared, three to six decks worked together, and a circle of six to twelve people just waiting with undisguised glee for Neil to dole the cards out.

"Remember the rules? Good." Neil smirks, and tosses the first card down.
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It starts out well-behaved enough, everyone in their turn, drinks out of range, and hands more slapped than smashed in pursuit of the jacks.

It never, ever stays that way. Adam and Neil are brothers, which is enough said; Tommy is competetive, and surprisingly fast; Taylor and Sasha both tend to go for anything marked 10 or higher; Sutan is not above deliberately sloshing drinks as a distraction; LP slaps his hand down so hard even twitching towards the pile gives him an advantage; Cam, Brooke, and Terrance just end up laughing at everyone, pretty much slapping cards at random.
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The thing about playing with so many people and so many cards is that it can go on nearly forever, and would last even longer if a rule that no one with no cards left could continue slapping jacks hadn't been implemented.

As the hours drag on, the competition gets more and more heated, the conversation gets louder and filthier, elbows, knees, and even feet get employed as delaying tactics, and drinks are never entirely out of range of a stray limb or deliberate attack.

Of course, stress melts away and laughter rings out, so it's totally worth the bruises.
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Slap Jack is a game of attrition: one by one the players are rendered cardless, or too drunk or tired to continue playing, or someone notices that, holy shit, they've been playing for ten hours more or less straight. Then, whomever's holding the biggest stack of cards (which is somehow usually Neil or Tommy; allegations of cheating are denied) is labeled winner, the cards generally dropped into an empty bowl, and they straggle back to their bunks (or just crash on the floor, because no one's invented a teleporter yet and the bunks are not designed to be shared, seriously).