"Oh, yeah, uh, sure thing, Finn!" Jake finished strong at least, the initial weakness in his voice building toward something resembling bracing. He watches the kid go, frozen in place with a vacant expression on his face. Hell, part of him feels the urge to wave.
What the hell was wrong with him?
The mechanizations of their water barrels create a low hum throughout the treehouse, making it clear Finn's shower had begun. The sound was enough to finally jar Jake from his trance, kickstarting the gears in his head after nearly five minutes of starring at the spot Finn once stood. BMO had shifted to his side at some point, leaning against him in that sweet way he did whenever he knew Jake needed it. Jake gives him a few pats on the head in gratitude, not trusting his idiot mouth to express the thought verbally.
"I will create a new game for Finn when he is feeling better!"
The smile Jake meets those words with is warm, but tired.
"That's great, Beemo. I think he'll really like that." He holds a beat, looking down at the dark kitchen just below where they currently stood. "Do me a favor though... hold back on the cheering up tonight, alright? I think I need the night for some Big Bro-Little Bro business." Another beat, looking a little unsure. Both in whether it was right to ask that of BMO, or even his confidence in his own plan. "... Is that okay?"
"Hm..." BMO seemed to think about it for a moment, before looking up at Jake with his usual smile. "Yes! That will give me more time for my game!"
"You are welcome, Jakey!" BMO holds a moment, before pointing at the top of his 'head.' Jake bent down for a quick goodnight smooch, sending BMO to his room in a torrid of giggling. It was enough to make an old dog feel nostalgic.
There was a time when even the worst things -- sad things, scary things, things that rattled Jake -- could be cured with good spirits and maybe an especially goofy bedtime story. That went both ways, too. Their parents dying, it was the worst thing that had ever happened to Jake. Just about the only thing that made him feel remotely pulled together was making his kid brother cinnamon toast and telling him jokes until they both forget how much they missed them, at least for a little while.
Climbing down the ladder into the kitchen, Jake found himself drawn to their breadbox.
---
When Finn exits the bathroom, he'll find Jake waiting at the kitchen table. In front of him is a towering pile of thick-cut cinnamon toast, two glasses of milk, and Jake's own hopeful expression.
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What the hell was wrong with him?
The mechanizations of their water barrels create a low hum throughout the treehouse, making it clear Finn's shower had begun. The sound was enough to finally jar Jake from his trance, kickstarting the gears in his head after nearly five minutes of starring at the spot Finn once stood. BMO had shifted to his side at some point, leaning against him in that sweet way he did whenever he knew Jake needed it. Jake gives him a few pats on the head in gratitude, not trusting his idiot mouth to express the thought verbally.
"I will create a new game for Finn when he is feeling better!"
The smile Jake meets those words with is warm, but tired.
"That's great, Beemo. I think he'll really like that." He holds a beat, looking down at the dark kitchen just below where they currently stood. "Do me a favor though... hold back on the cheering up tonight, alright? I think I need the night for some Big Bro-Little Bro business." Another beat, looking a little unsure. Both in whether it was right to ask that of BMO, or even his confidence in his own plan. "... Is that okay?"
"Hm..." BMO seemed to think about it for a moment, before looking up at Jake with his usual smile. "Yes! That will give me more time for my game!"
"Great!" Jake breathes out, relieved. "Thanks, BMO."
"You are welcome, Jakey!" BMO holds a moment, before pointing at the top of his 'head.' Jake bent down for a quick goodnight smooch, sending BMO to his room in a torrid of giggling. It was enough to make an old dog feel nostalgic.
There was a time when even the worst things -- sad things, scary things, things that rattled Jake -- could be cured with good spirits and maybe an especially goofy bedtime story. That went both ways, too. Their parents dying, it was the worst thing that had ever happened to Jake. Just about the only thing that made him feel remotely pulled together was making his kid brother cinnamon toast and telling him jokes until they both forget how much they missed them, at least for a little while.
Climbing down the ladder into the kitchen, Jake found himself drawn to their breadbox.
---
When Finn exits the bathroom, he'll find Jake waiting at the kitchen table. In front of him is a towering pile of thick-cut cinnamon toast, two glasses of milk, and Jake's own hopeful expression.
"Hey, bro. Feeling any better?"