![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Grass Finn Bullshit
"Finn!" Jake cupped a hand beside his mouth, the other six or seven busy putting away their haul from the Bargain Kingdom (a store, not a government, for once). A ninth hand sprouted to gently retrieve the vuvuzela from where BMO was absconding with it. "You hungry, buddy? They had a huge special on boar meat, I'm thinkin' sloppy joes!"
"THEY LEFT!" Neptr chimed in, sullenly, from his perch on the stair. "FATHER AND GRASS FATHER. NOT NEPTR."
"Oh yeah. Well, don't sweat it Neptr, that chicken coop is the kinda thing that changes a man. Better to skip it."
"NOT A CHICKEN COOP, A DUNGEON ADVENTURE."
Jake's coordinated dance of arms flagged for a moment, doubt curling in his gut. The prickle of concern was followed immediately by guilt. What the hell was he worried about? Two Finns were better than one. He could stand to cut Fern a break, even in his own thoughts.
"Welp, you can help me on a culinary adventure if you want." Jake's gaze dances from the meat to Neptr. "Whaddya think about Sloppy Joe Pies? Has a nice ring to it..."
---
The sun was slung low in the sky by the time Jake heard the familiar sound of Finn's return up the treehouse steps. Alongside the involuntary prick of his ears, the dog feels a smile start to spread. No matter how capable the kid (teenager) had become over the last decade, Jake was pretty sure he'd never lose the sense of relief that came over him when Finn came home safe.
Lately, lingering misgivings aside, those feelings were starting to blossom towards Fern as well.
"Hey boys!" Jake lets the smile grow to a grin, craning his neck over the arm of the couch. "Y'all have fun out there?"
Jake felt suddenly cold, as if some cosmic entity had reached its hand down and pinched out the contented flame and safety of home. His voice lost its usual buoyancy, standing up from the couch.
"Wait, what happened?"
Finn said nothing, standing there looking as if he'd been through a woodchipper. Blades of grass clung to his hair, his clothes, even stuck to the razor sharp line of blood at his exposed stomach.
"I know that look!" BMO chimed in, sounding pleased to be the one with the answer to Jake's question. Neither the boy or the dog seemed to hear him in that moment. "You just killed someone."
"THEY LEFT!" Neptr chimed in, sullenly, from his perch on the stair. "FATHER AND GRASS FATHER. NOT NEPTR."
"Oh yeah. Well, don't sweat it Neptr, that chicken coop is the kinda thing that changes a man. Better to skip it."
"NOT A CHICKEN COOP, A DUNGEON ADVENTURE."
Jake's coordinated dance of arms flagged for a moment, doubt curling in his gut. The prickle of concern was followed immediately by guilt. What the hell was he worried about? Two Finns were better than one. He could stand to cut Fern a break, even in his own thoughts.
"Welp, you can help me on a culinary adventure if you want." Jake's gaze dances from the meat to Neptr. "Whaddya think about Sloppy Joe Pies? Has a nice ring to it..."
---
The sun was slung low in the sky by the time Jake heard the familiar sound of Finn's return up the treehouse steps. Alongside the involuntary prick of his ears, the dog feels a smile start to spread. No matter how capable the kid (teenager) had become over the last decade, Jake was pretty sure he'd never lose the sense of relief that came over him when Finn came home safe.
Lately, lingering misgivings aside, those feelings were starting to blossom towards Fern as well.
"Hey boys!" Jake lets the smile grow to a grin, craning his neck over the arm of the couch. "Y'all have fun out there?"
Jake felt suddenly cold, as if some cosmic entity had reached its hand down and pinched out the contented flame and safety of home. His voice lost its usual buoyancy, standing up from the couch.
"Wait, what happened?"
Finn said nothing, standing there looking as if he'd been through a woodchipper. Blades of grass clung to his hair, his clothes, even stuck to the razor sharp line of blood at his exposed stomach.
"I know that look!" BMO chimed in, sounding pleased to be the one with the answer to Jake's question. Neither the boy or the dog seemed to hear him in that moment. "You just killed someone."
no subject
That doesn’t matter-
He takes a bite of the toast, chewing. Not just his memories. Not just his whole life.
I love him.
“Fern just wanted…a chance to…” Finn felt like the air was being squeezed out of his lungs. His heart ached. He wanted to tear his arm off. “He wanted you to know he loves you.”
no subject
Finn was his priority. He'd always been and always would be. Fern was new to the treehouse, someone Jake was only just getting to know. That was the convenient lie his subconscious told, anyway. It wasn't as if he missed the stares; always towing the line between resentful and achingly longing. Directed at him as much, or maybe more, than they were directed at Finn.
"... I know he did, Finn." Jake says, voice raspier than before. When had that started? "And I loved him too, I really did."
The words wound around his chest like a vine, thorns digging into his heart. Jake wishes he could tell the difference between real truth and wishing something were so. His hand finds Finn's back, rubbing gently.
"I should've worked harder to show him that." And there it was, the regret, thickening up his voice and making his vision blur for a half second. Shit, he needed to keep it together. "Maybe things could've been different for both of you if I had."
The plane was going down, veer up, veer up!
"Or maybe we all would've turned purple and taken up square dancing." Jake scoots in even closer, leaning his weight against Finn fully. Covertly, a hand grew out of his side and swiftly wiped away a couple stray tears. "Whatever happened out there, maybe it wasn't anybody's fault."
no subject
He wanted Jake’s words to be true so badly it almost hurt. They had a ring of truth to them…one part warm and comforting and one part remote and harsh. They couldn’t be true without also confirming a reality of the world that Finn rather would not. One that was sometimes arbitrary, unyielding, and cruel even to people who didn’t deserve it. Maybe it was better to think that there had been fault. That someone had made a mistake or bore responsibility.
The alternative was so…cold.
Finn wraps his arms tightly around his brother, hugging him fiercely, breathing in the familiar scent of his fur as he pressed his face against the top of his head, sniffling a little. Covertly. But every feeling and comfort was tinged with a new sadness; a reminder of a person who shared those memories.
What would it be like, to have all these memories? Mom, and and Dad, the treehouse and BMO. Everyone he had ever met or knew. Jake. Most of all, Jake. All the memories and none of the comfort. Everything right there and so, so far away.
He thought he’d understood…but had he? Did he?
“He was just like me, Jake.” His voice pulled and he had to force the words out, swallowing. “He was me.”
no subject
"He was, and he wasn't." Jake reminds him, willing his voice to not waver as his reassuring tone pressed into his shoulder. "I know you would never do anything to hurt him unless you had no other choice, Finn."
And as much as it made those thorns dig in deeper to his heart to admit, Jake knew the feeling didn't hold for Fern. He didn't trust him. Maybe that was a self-fulfilling prophecy in the end, but Jake couldn't deny the part of him that was grateful it was Finn that came home to him safe after their inevitable clash.
no subject
no subject
"I know." Jake nods, rocking Finn through the tears. "I know you did, Finn. I know."
no subject
More than anything he felt tired. Wrung out, physically and emotionally. The catharsis would come (he assumed it would come, it had to) but until then, it was like they’d both been submerged in a deep, dark pool and the surface looked so very far away.
They stayed like that for a long time.
1/3
Even after Finn's soft sobs blurred into steady breathing, Jake felt anchored to him for what felt like another hour of meditative rocking. The quiet would've been a perfect time to contemplate tomorrow and begin thinking through his next steps, but Jake couldn't bring himself to be that practical.
Instead, he catalogues the moment. Finn's pajamas, coarse and practically threadbare in a few places after too many washes. His hair, grown out to an awkward length around his shoulders -- Jake could see where it clung, still wet, to his neck from his shower. The waxy, bruise colored skin around his eyelids. His fingernails were getting long again. Just the ones on his left hand, though.
Mind clear and Finn fast asleep, Jake finally let himself cry. And though it was over in a matter of moments, his body felt about a hundred pounds heavier on the other side of it.
"C'mon, bro." He murmurs, manipulating Finn's body carefully as he shifted positions and carried him up the treehouse ladder to their bedroom. It's now that Jake allows himself a thought towards tomorrow, if only to hope it's a little better than today.
2/3
No, that wasn't it.
He had stretched up tall -- 600, maybe 800 feet in the air. The sun wasn't set at all, and the darkness cast out over the field was Jake-made. Squinting down at the distant ground, Jake could see some movement. At first, it was indistinguishable from the dance of wind through the tall meadow grasses. Then, he saw a streak of blue and white.
"Is that Finn down there?" Jermaine asks, perched on his shoulder eating a bologna on rye. Jake can't stop smelling the pickles and fights back irritation over his brother not offering to share.
"Yeah, I think so." Jake replies, trying to lean down to get a better look. Jermaine yelps, scrabbling to get a better grip on Jake's fur. He drops the sandwich.
"What the heck, bro!? You almost killed me."
"Wha?" Jake took a step, overcorrecting a bit to make sure Jermaine was safe. Even so, his response was tinged with defensiveness. "Oh c'mon, it wasn't on purpose!"
Something crunched beneath his foot. The feeling that came with it was as if someone flushed a toilet in his heart, a sudden wave of sucking emptiness overtaking his subconscious.
"Whoa there brother, watch your step."
Jake does so, feeling another crunch. Huge tears start forming in his eyes, falling to earth at high velocity. Before Jake knows what to make of it, the water is high enough to submerge him up to the knees. Below the salty ocean of his own tears, tall grass swishes like kelp.
"Been a while since we went to the beach, hasn't it?" Jermaine pipes up. "Remember how we used to go with dad? I wonder why Finn never came with us."
"He would always cry, Dad didn't think he could handle it," Jake supplied, distracted. He couldn't stop scanning the water for anything resembling their younger brother. His hat, a body, anything--
"We should go to the beach again, now that he's older."
There was that heart flushing feeling again, though this time it came with a different sensation--
---
Jake wakes up with a start, still half-dreaming as he fell out of his cupboard and stumbled toward the bathroom.
3/3
by Jake The Dog
Ingredients:
Whole red cabbage, chopped into thin shreds
3 large eggs from
LorraineFelicitySandraFatty bacon ends (that place in the Wildberry Kingdom has the best ones)
AP Flour
Chicken Stock from
LorraineFelicityGreen onions
Oil & Seasoning (specifics don't matter, just taste while you go and make sure it's not bland)
Chop bacon ends and fry over a low heat while prepping other ingredients. Combine cabbage, green onions, and (cooked) bacon into a bowl. Add in stock and sprinkle salt & pep (plus whatever else you want) to taste. Crack 2 eggs and mix until yolks are fully combined with cabbage mixture.
Add an eyeballed amount of AP flour. Should be enough to create a VERY LOOSE dough.
Turn on the griddle to a high heat and drizzle on some oil. Wait for that stuff to start sizzling before scooping out a pancake sized lump of the omelette mixture and letting it spread over the hot griddle. Reduce flame to medium and leave to cook for about 8-10 minutes on each side.
While that's frying, mix up a mayo with the last egg and some more oil. Serve piping hot with that fresh mayo mix and die a happy breakfast death.
---
The fatty smell of fried deliciousness had filled the treehouse to bursting by the time Jake put a hand against Finn's shoulder, gently rousing him.
"Yo, Finn." Jake half-whispers, hoping to keep the transition from sleep to waking peaceful. "Breakfast is ready."
no subject
There was a long, strange moment between wake and sleep, the savory, smoky smells of freshly cooked food pulling him closer to consciousness while the warm, layered blankets and furs of his bed beckoned him further into sleep. He wanted to snuggle in deeper, the dark and the warm making it hard to remember why he’d even been so tired in the first place. His rumbling stomach, however, proved the tie breaker.
Finn rubbed at his eyes, blinking up at Jake, realizing it was him gently pushing his shoulder. A narrow strip of sunlight cast across his bed. His face felt puffy and his throat scratchy. Sitting up, his feet find the floor and he stretches a little, while everything from the night before finally comes back to him.
“Yeah. Okay.”
no subject
The whistle of the tea kettle greeted them as they reached the kitchen. With a few quick stretches, Jake begin gathering the mugs, sugar, and cream -- they all landed on the table around the same time, stretchy limbs crisscrossing while Finn took a seat.
"I found some Lemon Zinger in the back of the drawer, I thought we were all out. Pretty lucky, huh?" Jake comments from the other end of the table, one of his hands hovering over Finn's tea with sugar spoon in hand. "How sweet d'you want it?"
no subject
Finn feels himself slump into the seat, taking the steaming mug that one of Jake’s arms slides in front of him. He liked Lemon Zinger.
“No sugar, I’ll just take it like this.” He sighs, a frown on his face as he says it. They both knew Finn liked it with sugar (extra sugar, even). But right now he wasn’t feeling very sweet. Boys who kill their friends can’t have sugar in their Lemon Zinger like nothing happened.
no subject
He clears his throat, knife and fork squeaking against his plate as he begins digging in.
"So, uh." Jake takes a large bite, chewing slow. Something about talking around a mouthful of food made the next question feel less loaded. "How'd ya sleep?"
no subject
Finn takes some of the toast and bacon, piling them onto the plate with his omelette. His tone was a little flat, and there was a drawn, harrowed edge to his expression, but his appetite wasn’t suffering. He takes a big mouthful of omelette, chewing while he pours syrup onto his bacon.
“Everyfhing’s mreally good, Jake.” He swallows, taking a long drink of orange juice. It was like he hadn’t eaten in a week.
no subject
Jake had weathered the heartsick hunger strikes and the tearful overeating with Finn before. This was uncharted territory.
"Heh, thanks, bro. I woke up kinda early and couldn't get back to sleep." Another bite. "I had a kinda wild dream. Jermaine was there and everything -- he says hey, by the way."
no subject
It’s only the mention of their brother that gives him a momentary pause. He looks up from his fork.
“Jermaine?” Swallowing and taking a breath, Finn wipes the orange juice and butter from his mouth with the back of his hand. He loved Jermaine, but sometimes he also felt a little nervous around him. He wasn’t like Jake…they didn’t have that easy, effortless connection built from long history and endless hours upon hours of time spent together. And he didn’t have whatever crazy dream link his older brothers had with each other. It was strange territory, especially when he was feeling a little bit like a stranger to himself. “What’d you guys talk about?”
no subject
Remembering himself, he continues: "Well, uh, the dream was at the beach Dad used to talk us to, he was saying we should all go back there again sometime."
no subject
“That was kinda your thing though…yours and Jermaine’s. And dad’s.”
If Finn had ever been upset by being left out of those trips (even if it was really just his own fear), the feelings had mostly been soothed by the time he would get to spend with their mom. She would always make sure to spend a special afternoon with him while dad and his brothers were away. They would bake and she would let him mix batter or add chocolate chips. Or they’d go for an ‘adventure walk’ in the nearby forest, and she would hold his hand and tell him about the things that they saw or watch him look under rocks for bugs and treasure.
But still, he’d always kind of wanted to go.
no subject
Died. Dad died.
Jake moves his omelette around on the plate, brow furrowing. Funny how trying to distract from death just managed to bring them both right back to it.
"I'm just sayin', he would've brought you eventually." He looks up, trying to find Finn's eyes through the walls he was erecting all around him. "This could be like, closing the loop. Or something."
no subject
“Closing the loop…” Finn repeats slowly, considering. Closing the loop on what? Dad? All the things that hadn’t happened and never would. The potential futures unfulfilled. Maybe that still weighed heavier on both of them then they realized.
Maybe they just needed some sunshine and open sky.
“Yeah, I think that could be good. Close the loop.” He taps his fork on the table absently. “It would be cool to see Jermaine again too.”
Everything felt a little like open loops lately. Circling back and back and back around. He first met Fern on a beach. That was an open loop too.
no subject
It was a muted reaction, but Finn may as well have been jumping on the table with enthusiasm for how pleased and relieved Jake felt. He was getting through to him. Maybe this funk won't be like the ones before, he thought, unaware of the irony harpoon the Cosmic Owl had aimed at his forehead.
Be careful what you wish for.