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

[heroooic]

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.

[doooooog]

"'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..."

[heroooic]

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?”

[doooooog]

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?"

[heroooic]

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.

[doooooog]

"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."

[heroooic]

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.”

[doooooog]

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.

[heroooic]

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.

[doooooog]

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?

[heroooic]

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.”

[doooooog]

"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."

[heroooic]

“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.

[doooooog]

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.

[heroooic]

“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.”

[doooooog]

"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."

[heroooic]

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?”

[doooooog]

"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."

[heroooic]

Finn stares at him, motionless for a long time. It was hard to imagine, there being any uncertainty about what was going to happen with him after their parents’ death. And maybe there hadn’t been…or at least there hadn’t been any to Jake.

He wanted to ask, demand why Jermaine hadn’t ever come with them. They could have lived together, all three of them, or at least had long visits. And maybe a couple of years ago he would have believed that, or asked. But now, he knew it was so much more complicated than any simple answer could explain. There was so much about their parents legacy, the things they left behind, so much about Jermaine, and so much about Jake and who both of them were as people that simply wasn’t compatible enough to exist in the same space for as long as it would have taken for Finn to grow up.

He doesn’t say any of that though, but lets the statue fall from one hand to the ground with a heavy thunk. Kneeling, Finn puts his arms around his brother, hugging him tightly.

“I’m sorry, Jermaine…”

[doooooog]

Whether Finn granted him the period of silence out of kindness or simply not knowing what to say, Jermaine didn't care. You don't look a gift horse in the mouth.

He felt his breathing, in and out. Meditating wasn't usually his thing -- his mind raced too fast for it, anxieties amplifying when given the room to run wild. That said, there was something he learned a long time ago that cut through the noise. It was a little silly, but it usually worked. Funnily enough, Jake had taught it to him. Maybe that made it all the more appropriate, huh? Or maybe disembodied Jake would just tell him he was doing it wrong...

"Oh c'mon man, at least gimme a chance..."

Ridding his mind of thoughts for Jake to respond to was enough incentive to try. The method was simple enough -- picture an object, real or imagined, and mentally catalogue everything about it. Go deep. What was it made of, was it worn in places, were there intricacies in the carving...

It took a moment, but before long Jermaine realizes exactly what he was picturing. A golden statue. Him. Settled on a little pie piece, arms outstretched like mom's old music box. And when Finn's arms closed around him, Jermaine could swear they felt like cold metal. Just for a moment.

He opens his eyes, hugging Finn back fiercely.

'...I think I--" He stops, recognizing the heaviness in his lap as real. Looking down between them, the glint of gold shines back with silent acknowledgement. It was--

"Me." He says, dumbly, separating just a hair from Finn. "How'd I...Jake?"

There was no response. The Jake voice, finally, had quieted for both of them.

[heroooic]

Finn looks at the statue, eyes wide with surprise. He reaches over and picks up the one that he’d let fall, holding it near, seeing how the bases could fit together. He smiles a little at Jermaine.

“One last brother to find.”

[doooooog]

It was the kind of optimism Jermaine never seemed to feel capable of, yet brought a genuine smile to his face all the same. He laughs ruefully, rubbing at a still-damp eye.

"Wish I knew where to start." The sentiment may have been the usual Jermaine pessimism, but there was something different in his voice. Thoughtful. Considering. Maybe they could do this. "I found mine when I did the meditation trick Jake taught me, you found yours when you remembered him taking care of you that first night..."

He trails off, standing up.

"What should we be looking for? A place Jake feels... Safe?"

[heroooic]

Finn stands up, looking thoughtfully around the room, trying to imagine what and where Jake’s best memories lie. Or his safe, comforting memories, as that appeared to be what this place was looking for. There were memories everywhere here; it seemed like everything he looked at could stir up some thought or feeling of significance.

Taking a few steps, he cranes his neck, looking upward. The bedroom was upstairs, lots of memories there; bedtime stories and late night talks on stormy nights and pillow forts with BMO. But were those more his? Would that be the thing that Jake’s mind went to for safeness?

“The kitchen…” He says with sudden certainty to Jermaine, turning to pass him and climb back down the ladder.

It was different now, not empty and dusty and unlived in but warm, a rich early morning sun just beginning to stretch through the window. Everything looked like their treehouse now…no. It was how it had looked about 8 or 9 years ago. Some of the decor was a little different, a few things in different places than they were now, some things a little less worn with use. This was a few years in, when they had started to really make the place their own.

The room was a riot of fresh and savory smells of cooking, and he could hear a quiet bubbling sound. Taking a few steps in, Finn wasn’t surprised to see that no one was here, but when he looks at the stove, it’s as if someone had just been cooking moments ago. A pot boiled with eggs, a pan of thick sliced bacon was sizzling on a burner, a high stack of french toast was waiting on the side. There was a cutting board with freshly chopped herbs and a fine dusting of powdered sugar on the counter.

“Jake always got up early to make breakfast,” he says to Jermaine, although he almost certainly knows that too. “And he always liked us to sit down and actually eat together. I used to not really get why he’d wanna spend hours on something that would be gone so quickly…but I think I kinda of do now.”

[doooooog]

The change to the treehouse almost felt seamless, one reality melting into the next before you noticed what was happening. It made Jermaine think back to the first time he'd seen Finn, after years of growing and changing. It was so jarring, looking at him. Did Jake even notice those little changes at all?

He sniffs the air, doggy scent receptors firing off on all cylinders. Maple, sugar, butter, fried salty goodness... it was enough to make Jermaine remember just how long it had been since he last ate.

He smiles, settling a hand next to the plates stacked beside the bounty. Looking up at Finn with that same smile, stretched a little thinner with distant worry and affection for their third brother, Jermaine nods towards the table.

"You hungry?" He took the plates, pressing one into Finn's hands and keeping two for himself. "'Cuz I could eat."

[heroooic]

“Well, Jake wouldn’t want this to go to waste.”

Finn grins, taking the plate and waiting while Jermaine piles on the food. Sitting at their little breakfast nook, which was already set and spread with syrups and jams, a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice, and even a little vase with a cut flower. It had all the markers of when Jake was setting up for one of his extra special breakfasts.

Finn pours the syrup in a smiley face onto his french toast, the way he always did when he was little. The perfect amount, Jake had taught him.