doooooog | Grass Finn Bullshit

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."

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Maybe it was the adrenaline of what they just went through, or the stress of the day, or the fact that Jermaine was truly exhausted, but something about Finn's joke wasn't just funny. It was downright hysterical.

After about forty-five seconds of sustained, wheezing laughter: "What the grease man, you gotta warn me when you drop a truth bomb like that."

“It’s wasn’t even that funny, Jermaine.” Despite that, Finn was laughing too, some kind of emotional overflow making it impossible not to. He shoves Jermaine lightly, annoyed that he’d dragged him into his contagious laughing fit. Annoyed but also, feeling better.

Drying his eyes, Jermaine shoves him back, too tired and limp from laughter to do a very good job of it.

"Oh man, Finn, when we find that guy he's on the hook to make us, like, the best meal of our lives." He closes his eyes, imagining it. "Like, food so good it makes your mind melt. No stops left unpulled for our thank you dinner, y'heard?"

An unassuming door had appeared in the whiteness and the two dutifully trudge toward it, Jermaine distracting himself from whatever grim reality was on the other side by imagining Jake's spread.

Edited 2022-12-04 13:55 (UTC)

“Seriously, he owes us, big time,” Finn says with a grin. It felt good to joke, even if it was transparently a cover for how stressed and worried they both were. Finn absently hoped that this ordeal was almost over…seeing Jake’s face was just about the only thing that could make it all worthwhile. Although, part of him had to admit that it was nice to spend some time with Jermaine…even if the circumstances were about the worst one’s imaginable.

“You ready for whatever this thing’s gonna throw at us next, bro?” Finn opens the door, and seamlessly, they’re standing in the entryway of the treehouse. He knew it too well for there to be any doubt, even if it seemed…different in some way he couldn’t put his finger on. There was no treasure piled in the room and there was a slight chill to the air, a staleness.

“This is the treehouse…” he says, although he’s sure Jermaine knows just as well as he does. Finn wastes no time scrabbling up the ladder at the far side of the room, a distant hope starting to form that maybe this was where they were meant to find Jake. It was home after all, their current home…what better place to find him?

The room at the top of the ladder, however, hardly felt like home. Finn looks around in confusion, the room that he thought of as their kitchen barely resembled one now. There was no real furniture to speak of, just an array of some of their dad’s less dangerous or actively cursed artifacts, scattered in haphazard organization, half of them in boxes. The stove was there, underneath some cartons, but it didn’t look like it had been used in years. There were none of their pictures on the wall, no curtains on the windows, it even smelled empty. Nothing to indicate that anyone lived here.

“This…it’s like when we first came here.”

Jermaine walked with a touch more trepidation as he realized where they were. Even earlier that day (glob, just a day? It felt like it had been a year since they arrived), Jermaine recalled walking up that rickety old ladder with a pit in his stomach.

Everything about the place was so emphatically his brothers', in form and function. They'd built it together, refined each corner with stories. Finn's height scratched into a post in the treasure room, the vegetable garden out front, the scattering of treasure that surely had a story behind each doubloon and ruby... a million little artifacts to a life built together. Two-gether. A family all their own, even divorced from Joshua and Margaret in a way. The fresh start Jermaine never had, surrounded by ghosts every day in their childhood home.

He never imagined it looking like... this. A tomb of their father's obsessions. A flophouse when their Dad was too far to come home. He runs a hand along the uneven wood slats that made up the wall. How long had it looked like this after Jake and Finn came to stay?

"Dusty..." Is all Jermaine can think to say in response to Finn's observation, a shadowy echo of his first thoughts on Mars. "You think Jake's here?"

Distantly, almost as if responding to his name, both of them hear a familiar voice.

"Heh, sorry, man... yeah, no. Not happening. I don't even live there anymore, dude."

It was Jake's phone voice, going from casually dismissive to actively agitated over the course of a few sentences. It sounded as if it was coming from the game room.

Despite their last experience, Finn can’t help the gut reaction to hearing Jake’s voice. He tries to temper his expectation, that this might be another trick or test of something kind…certainly all signs pointed to yes on that part. But still, he hadn’t heard Jake’s voice in weeks and it really hammered in just how badly he missed him

“Jermaine, c’mon, that’s Jake, we have to see…” He grabs Jermaine’s arm and pulls him along, dragging him into the next room and through to the game room. His voice had a hopeful note to it as they approached. “Jake?”

"That's not Jake," Jermaine provides helpfully, walking over to the center of the dusty room. He picks up an old phone tossed haphazardly in the center of the room. Squinting, Jermaine realizes it looks.. familiar, somehow.

"Finn, wasn't this Jake's old phone?" Was Finn too young to remember that? "I think I remember him having one like that when Mom and Dad died."

Finn knew, but it was still disappointing. He was growing weary of the emotional game this temple was playing. He could fight monsters all day, but your own personal demons were a lot more exhausting.

He steps over to look at the phone in Jermaine's hand.

"I..think so?" He squints, trying to remember, trying to picture the phone that Jake used back then. Jake never let him touch it, he remembered that much.

"'Cuz you're a baby, man, you'll get candy or jam or whatever all over it!"

Jermaine looks up at the sound, ears perking up a little as he sniffed the air. The voice was undeniably Jake and sounded as if it was coming from right outside the door, but his nose got nothing. Not even the ghost of Jake through his memories. The sentence made no sense either... Then again, Jermaine barely knew what the hell Jake was saying half the time anyway.

"Not my fault you can't keep up with my flav-uh, brudd-uh."

The voice sounded as if it was coming from just behind him. He turns instinctively, goggle eyed at the empty space. Same as before.

"What the..."

Finn spins around, looking in confusion. It was Jake, but…always just in the other room, just beyond a corner or door. It was a little disorienting and extremely frustrating. But it felt like they were getting close…

“No way man, you missed by a mile-”

“What’s he keep talking about?” Finn demands, looking toward Jermaine, as if for answers, his fists clenched in annoyance. He looks around again, frowning, addressing the open air loudly. “Jake can you hear us? What’s the deal?”

The boomeranging echo of voices was off-putting. So like their brother but so off too, as if they were recordings being played out of time and out of context. Something to lure them... Maybe even trick them.

"Hey, bro, look at me. Just shut him out for a minute." That was hard while Jake's voice was sounding overtop them, but Jermaine pushed on. "Do you remember where you guys slept when you first moved here?"

Finn turns his attention back to Jermaine, looking flushed and anxious. Some small, unkind part of him was tired of this, tired of Jermaine, and just wanted Jake back.

“We…slept in the den. That’s the room with the wood stove, so we could keep it warm at night.”

Finn remembered how much fun that very first night had been, like camping, Jake had said. They had sleeping bags and even set up a blanket tent, like they were outside. The lit candles and Jake cleaned roasted them hot dogs in the fireplace, and told him stories until he was too tired to keep his eyes open. It was a good memory, even though he knew eventually the fun had worn off and they’d had their tough times here.

But that first night was perfect.

"It was perfect for me too, buddy."

The voice is so warm, even out of context. Jermaine found himself feeling some type of way about it, brain buzzing with the strange sense of loving someone and feeling completely outside them. He nods to Finn, gesturing towards the ladder.

"C'mon, let's go. Maybe we'll find something there." His voice came across thicker than he realizes, clearing his throat. "You lead the way. I think this puzzle is gonna be all you, brother." Everything was, with Jake.

"Yeah, well. You never needed me like he did. Finn's my guy, y'know? Always has been, always will be."

Jermaine's ears go back a little at the voice, a strange sense of shame at that. It felt wrong to be hurt by it -- Finn was a kid, why would he be in competition with him? -- but he was. The embarrassment followed swiftly after it.

"Just... lead the way, Finn."

The words were so heartwarming to Finn, but…they were also difficult to hear out loud. In front of Jermaine, an open, if illusory acknowledgement that Finn was so much more important than he was in Jake’s life. Finn was old enough to know that his older brothers’ relationship was…complicated. A lot more complicated than his was with either of them, but he still can’t help feeling a pang of guilt. If he hadn’t been a baby for such a long time, maybe all of them would be closer…who knows?

Finn was quiet, climbing up the wooden rungs to the next level. There was a loose one about halfway up, a small sign of the disrepair the treehouse had been in when they’d moved in. He points it out to Jermaine as they go, climbing out to see the familiar sight of their blanket tent pitched in the middle of the room. He pauses, hesitating near the top of the ladder.

“It looks the same…just like that first night.”

As Jermaine follows, his mind was stormy and meandering. Drifting to their childhood, to the loss of their mother, to that stupid fight in that fancy hotel that had been such a mistake, to his phone call with Bryce after the fact...

"I told you bro, I don't trust that demon... you gotta be careful."

That anger rose up in him again, unbidden, as they crested into the den. The scene was sweet and homey, makeshift tent bathed in warm candlelight and the overall glow of childhood memory. The only thing missing were the people. Jermaine felt his nails dig into his paw, wishing he could call Bryce now. There had to be somewhere he could put this anger. It didn't belong in a place like this.

"Maybe you should do something," he prompts, voice a little more curt than he strictly wanted to be.

Finn felt a strange discomfort at the things he was hearing, like he was overhearing a very private conversation. The sharpness in Jermaine’s tone only seems to confirm that feeling.

“Don’t sweat it, brother! Me and Jermaine can hash out our own beef, don’t you worry about it.”

“Yeah, sure,” Finn says, a little to both of them, trying hard not to have any more thoughts that Jake was going to blast out some awkward response to. Getting on his hand and knees, Finn opens the blanket fort. It was smaller than he remembered, but just as warm and cozy. There was a kids book laying open on the ground, amongst the pillows and furs. Some kind of well-worn stuffed animal. And…a something else, metallic and gleaming in the faint candlelight.

Finn frowns, picking it up. It was…a golden statue of him. This definitely wasn’t something they had, then or now. It had to be important.

“Jermaine, I think I found something,” he calls back to him.

Deep in his own thoughts -- so deep not even Jake seemed to be getting to them, which suited Jermaine just fine -- it takes him a moment to respond to Finn. His brother could've been a thousand miles away for all Jermaine had room for him just now. The day was so long already and this adventure felt unending.

"Yo, earth to Jermaine? Finn's trying to show you something!"

"Oh--" Jermaine jerked up. For a moment, it felt like Jake was right there next to him. His eyes fell on the statue as Finn crawled back out of the tent, drawn immediately to the metallic glint. A golden statue of Finn, huh? Real subtle, Jake...

"Can I see?" He asks, stepping forward with an offered hand to help Finn up. "You look good cast in gold, bro."

The camaraderie felt forced. Everything felt forced right about now. But what else was their family good at, if not faking it 'til they made it?

Finn just watches him, a strange feeling bubbling up in his chest. He could practically smell the bitterness coming off his brother, and he could feel his own frustrated resentment in response to it. The statue was…embarrassing.

“No way, man, it’s cool-“

Before Jake’s annoying, disembodied voice can even finish, he snatches the stupid thing back.

“You know, I didn’t want things to be like this, Jermaine.”

"Huh?"

Jermaine had the strange sense that his voice had been echoed in that moment, Jake's laying over his in an odd sort of harmony. Maybe that was his imagination. It was hard to say.

Taking a more full look at Finn, it was easy to see just how... embarrassed the teenager was. Cheeks red, avoiding eye contact, trying to physically hide the statue as if it were a shameful secret.

"What are you talking about, where's this coming from?" He asks, playing dumb a bit in the hopes he could divert Finn away from the tension in the air. It was his own fault. Finn didn't deserve his bad mood. "Everything's okay. We've gotta be pretty close now."

“I’m talking about you-“ Finn takes a breath, grinding his teeth a little. “The way you guys argue about me, and the way you…you get all, stupid and jealous! It’s not my fault our parents died and everything got messed up! I was just a dumb baby!”

He was holding so tightly to the statue that his hands hurt. Almost as much as his chest hurt, the words hurtling out of him angrily, faster than he could possibly take them back.

The outburst nearly blew Jermaine's ears back, blinking at his kid brother (who just happened to tower over him now, making the whole thing feel a little more surreal) in a strange sort of stupor.

"That's not--" He starts, hearing his voice tinged with frustration and anger. He stops, closing his eyes tightly. Bryce had slowly coaxed him out of using his old mantra, reasoning that it was the crutch of a lonely man without anyone to lean on. He was right, too. But still, Jermaine found his hands performing the motion anyway, even if the words only rang out in his mind: Epsilon, Eucrates, Dernesto...

"Bro..."

Jake's voice sounded far away.

"I don't blame you, Finn." Despite himself, the emphasis on the 'you' couldn't really be missed by either of them. Jermaine doesn't retract it, either. Whatever subconscious part of him felt the need to make that vocal adjustment also saw fit to freezing his vocal chords now, letting the statement rest in the open without clarification or apology.

“But…?” Finn stares hard at him, waiting for him to finish the thought. The statue was so heavy in his hand, palms sweating and shaking a little through his turbulent feelings. When Jermaine doesn’t continue, he does. “He had to spend all that time with me, I needed him.”

"He doesn't mean me." "I don't mean Jake."

Their voices doubled over again, making Jermaine feel strange and out of sorts. Finn had already blown up at him once for this earlier in the day. He didn't want to do it again. Besides, it was bigger than Dad, or Mom, or that stupid letter they'd found that changed the course of all their lives.

"I blame myself."

Edited 2022-12-08 07:59 (UTC)

Finn looks surprised by that. Maybe not…too surprised, if he really dug a little deeper. But surprised in this moment, caught up in his embarrassment, his shame, his defensiveness of Jake that was almost certainly being brought on by missing him so, so much.

“Jermaine…” Finn’s expression softens, although there’s still a shadow of confusion and frustration behind his features. And perhaps most tellingly, he was still holding the statue like his life depended on it. “Why?”

"Because I could've kept you, if I really wanted to." Jermaine blurts, eyes squeezed shut, sinking down onto a pillow near the tent. He put his face in his hands, blocking out the scene even as he sank into it. It was soft. Nice. He could see why Finn cherished the memory. It ached, a little, but not in a bad way... like pressure on a nearly healed bruise.

"It's not like we had iron clad instructions from Mom and Dad. There was this note we found, that was written like... years ago, when you were still really small. It just outlined what you needed, in case something happened. It mentioned that Jake's power could protect you. That's all we had to go on, but we didn't even really talk about it, it's like we both just... kinda understood that he'd take care of you alone." There was a strange edge to his voice, though not anger. Not this time. "He was always better at it. And like, I'm not mad about that, you're a great kid. Jeez, almost a man now, but... I dunno. I never really fought for you. I barely called, never visited..."

Wetness creeped down his muzzle. Jermaine hastily wipes it away.

"I have no memories in this place, Finn. I don't even know where to look for a statue of me in here, if there even is one."

Grass Finn Bullshit

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