Grass Finn Bullshit

[doooooog]

"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."

Comments

[doooooog]

"Yeah, exactly, and he's probably barely over it." Jake tosses off, a little sourness coating his words. "I guarantee you, Jermaine's totally still holed up in that hotel wishing he'd never left his studio."

Grinding black pepper into the eggs, Jake realizes just how loud the grinder seems to be in the kitchen in this moment.

"But, uh, I mean. Totally ask him, you never know, right?" Jake clears his throat, turning down the heat on the eggs. "I'm sure he'd have plenty of ideas on how to improve things."

[heroooic]

There it was again…a palpable bitterness that always seemed to bloom around Jermaine these days. Finn hadn’t brought him up more than a handful of times since that incident, but every time, Jake seemed to sink into a dark mood about it.

Finn rest his chin on in his hand, huffing exasperatedly.

“Oh my glob, come on, man, you can’t be like this forever, you’re gonna have to see him eventually!” Finn’s voice took on the cadence of someone who was more frustrated than angry. Mom and Dad would roll in their graves if they knew their two boys were acting like this. Of course, he keeps that sentiment to himself, sure it would only rankle more feelings. “We almost had a great day at that beach-“ (What part Finn was referring to as almost great was anyone’s guess) “We can’t give up on that momentum!”

[doooooog]

"Y'know, that's pretty rich coming from you right now," Jake reminds him, slipping the eggs onto a plate before stretching up to fetch his latest batch of jam from the fridge. Cherry-flavor, deep and dark. "He said some stuff to me, Finn! Like, I'll get over it, but it still hurts! I'm... processing."

Slipping the eggs and jam in front of Finn, a hand (with fork) joins it shortly after, followed by salt, hot sauce, and a pat of chive butter. Over by the stove, a the smell of buttery biscuits tumbled out of the oven as Jake creaked it open. "Oh man, I outdid myself with these ones, buddy."

[heroooic]

Finn makes a grumbling sound as the food is placed in front of him. The savory smell of perfectly cooked biscuits wafting across the room was making his stomach growl too.

“Me?” He protests incredulously, eyes on the tray that Jake was taking out of the oven as they spoke. “After today I’m Finn: one, inner demons: zero. I think your Grumbo is gonna be talking to Jermaine.”

Talking with all the confidence and surety of a sixteen year old who had recently solved exactly one problem.

[doooooog]

"Y'know, you'd think I used sage in these biscuits with how you're talkin' right now." They were piping hot as Jake deposits a towering plate of them in front of Finn. "You ever think maybe I'm Jermaine's Grumbo?"

[heroooic]

You’re definitely his grumbo, Finn thinks, annoyed.

“You’re making up excuses.” He takes a biscuit, hissing while he bounces it in his hand, scalding hot. Until he remembers his metal hand, and transfers it. Butter, jam, egg. He admires the still steaming, perfectly dressed biscuit for a lingering moment before taking a bite. It was hot, and he fans his mouth with one hand while still trying to talk. “It’s like, you gotta- ow ow…you gotta be the bigger person.”

[doooooog]

Jake watches him with naked judgment in his eyes, very determined to retain his Big Bro authority here (despite how Finn kinda had a point).

"Dude, you can't even taste it when it's that hot! How about you be the smarter person?"

[heroooic]

“No way man, I wanna taste the heat.”

He takes another bite and the biscuit was gone. He starts in on buttering and jamming another one. It was admittedly a disheartening sight, how quickly he was destroying them considering how long they took to make.

“We should pack some of these when we go to the dungeon.” It was casual, but clearly intended to show Jake he wasn’t going to keep harping on the Jermaine issue. At least for now. Jake seemed like he really wanted to just move on, and the biscuits were incredible.

[doooooog]

Jake had long since reframed his cooking hobby as a sort of protracted mandala. Great art was worth doing in and of itself, even if immediately sacrificed to the maw of destruction (also known as Finn Mertens).

"Ooh, picnic dungeon? Now you're talking my language." He takes a biscuit for himself, breaking off a crumb and feeling it back and forth. Springy, light, fatty. Jake smiles, looking up at Finn, who despite everything seemed... excited about the future. It was enough to banish any lingering thoughts of Jermaine or his own exhaustion; doubts burned away in the light of Finn's excitement. "I wonder if I still have that bubble potion from Wizard City, I've been looking for a trap to test it out on..."

He finally pops the biscuit in his mouth, chewing for a few blissful moments. It was good. All of it.

"Y'know, it's been a while since we inventoried our packs." Jake suggests, coming out of his brief moment of gratitude with a little more eagerness. "Sound like a fun way to kick it before bed?"

[heroooic]

Finn smiles broadly, taking another bite of his own biscuit, which had now cooled just enough to actually appreciate the flavors.

“Yeah, I think that’s perfect!”

It did sound perfect. Everything felt so blissfully right in this moment. Even in spite of a very minor disagreement about Jermaine, things felt so good with them. Finn felt like himself again, and he was going to hold tightly to that feeling, never let it slip out of his grasp again.