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## you made me forget myself

|| The Doom Patrol play CAH

Sometimes, Cliff thinks, you need a break from saving the world. You need a break from the stress of trying to find your leader. And sometimes, Cliff thinks, that break is called ‘game night’. Team bonding shit or whatever.

Which would be absolutely fine if Cliff hadn’t called a team meeting under the false impression that he had important new information about the Whereabouts Of Niles Caulder. He’s going to get so much shit for this.

“What is it?” Vic asks, and he looks prepared, he is always prepared -- for something to go wrong, for something that can help spark hope, for anything, and for a moment -- for one small, singular moment -- Cliff almost feels bad, until his guilt melts away and his only crushing guilt now is unrelated to this. Good. Good? Good.

“Probably nothing,” Jane responds. “I mean, come on, you think Cliff— ”

“Very funny,” Cliff says, false laughter. And then, lightning-fast, in admission: “Well, now that we’re all here, I have an idea.”

“An idea?” calls Larry from what is essentially a hiding spot in the back of the room. “Great.”

Cliff holds the box in the air, waves it around. A black, rectangular box. Cards Against Humanity.

“I don’t understand,” Vic says. “The information is in the box, or…?”

“There is no information, genius,” Jane tells him. She laughs as she reaches up to snatch the box out of his hand. Of course she’s the only one into it, how fitting. “I just want it to be on the record that I told you so.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s Cards Against Humanity.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, come on, you’re like, 20, you haven’t heard of this game?”

“I’m 23,” Vic responds, holding one metal hand in the air. “Wait. This was all for a game?”

“Maybe.”

Vic shakes his head. Fuck this. “I’m out of here.”

“Me as well,” Rita informs him, firm, breaking her silence. “Good job, Cliff. Bravo. You got me excited for nothing.”

Larry sarcastically salutes him, and turns to follow them; he’s always running, he’s always—

“Wait, wait. Come on. Don’t you guys think we deserve, I don’t know, a fucking break? Just one fucking day where we get to have some goddamn fun ?”

This is, somehow, enough to stop their movement. It’s enough to stop Rita’s sulking, and she places a calm hand on Larry’s arm, huffs. He’ll do anything she asks. Rita shrugs — partially, Cliff knows, in anger, and partially in defeat. “How do you play this… Cards Against Humanity?”

—

“Okay,” Cliff says, when they’re all gathered around the table. They’re all behaving and listening with intent — this is probably the first time Cliff has seen everyone get along perfectly in… really, has this ever happened? “So, we all get ten white cards. Jane, can you deal them out?”

“Why can’t you do it?”

“These cards are too fucking small for my---”

“Ugh, fine.”

She deals them out nonchalant, essentially flinging them in everyone’s direction. Which… okay, not what he meant, but close enough, it works. Everyone has their cards, that’s all that matters, and this cooperation from Jane is magical in and of itself.

“Um, Cliff,” Larry asks, “where exactly did you get this game?”

“I may have bought it off Amazon with Chief’s card.”

“You used the credit card of a man who vanished off the face of the Earth to buy a card game? He could be—”

“He’s fine,” Cliff says, dark, voice low. Then: “He probably wouldn’t have cared if he was here.”

Larry shrugs. No argument. He picks up one of his white cards and reads it, and his body begins to sink in -- repression, Cliff guesses, discomfort. “This is an interesting card.”

“Cliff, good lord,” Rita exclaims. She’s holding a card, her face half-melting. “This says—”

“You’re not supposed to tell people what your cards are, that defeats the whole purpose of the game!”

She shoots him an awful gaze. Her face recoils into normalcy. “If anyone asks, I never played this. Got it?”

“Sure, whatever. So, now that you’ve drawn your white cards, you need to draw a black card, too.” He draws one, places it in the center of the table. “‘___. That’s how I want to die.’ So, you choose one card from your hand that you think would fit best in the blank.”

“That’s it?” Larry asks.

“That’s it,” Cliff repeats. “I’ll be the judge first, but we’ll go around the table. The person judging closes their eyes — or in my case, covers their eyes — and opens them when everyone has played. Then, they pick which card they like best, and whoever played it wins.”

Everyone stares at him. Blank. Confused.

“Just play a goddamn card already,” Cliff says. He covers his eyes—

…

…

…

…

…

Jesus, playing this game with a bunch of senior citizens and one 23 year old was a bad idea, wasn’t it?

…

This is taking forever.

…

…

He thinks it’s been eight minutes—-

“We’re, uh, we’re good.” Vic’s voice, shaken. “Open them.”

He stares at the four cards in front of him. Nods. “Okay,” he says. “This is good.”

“They’re awful,” Larry sighs. “They’re—”

“I don’t know,” Vic interrupts. “I think mine was pretty good.”

“Yeah, probably because you actually know what you’re doing. It’s been about four decades since I’ve played a game like this.”

“Haven’t you been here for six?” Vic asks.

“Yeah, don’t ask.”

“Fair.” Vic turns to Cliff. “So?”

“Let’s see… first card, ‘Sex with Patrick Stewart.’ Well, that’d be a fun way to die. Hell, I’d be just fine with going out like that.” Silence. Stares from everyone. Rita raises an eyebrow in judgement. “I can’t be the only one… nevermind. Second card, ‘becoming a blueberry.’ Wasn’t that from a movie? Uh… third one. ‘A lifetime of sadness.’ Jeez. And finally…” Before Cliff can get the words out, he bursts out into laughter, which quickly infects the entire room as they all let down their repression enough to glance at the remaining card:

Daniel Radcliffe’s delicious asshole.

“This one wins.”

Jane pumps her fist into the air. “Hell yes.”

“Really?” Vic asks. “Sex with Patrick Stewart wasn’t enough for you?”

“Sex with Patrick Stewart would definitely be enough for me, but Jane wins. Sorry, man.”

Vic blinks. “Okay, too much information. Who’s judge next?”

“I will.” Larry, who sounds like he actually might be enjoying himself. What? “Maybe that’ll save me from the humiliation of having to play a card.”

“See?” Cliff asks. “You guys like this. I knew you would. Isn’t this great? Just us, being friends? I mean, fuck—”

“It’s alright, ” Rita tells him. Her tone is indecipherable, but there’s a threat of a smile on her face. “Just alright.”