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]

“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.

[doooooog]

Jermaine follows Finn's lead, filling two plates with everything two dogs could want. Eggs, delicately flavored with fresh herbs. French toast and bacon, both laden with breakfast syrup. They may have been different in many ways, but food wasn't one of them.

In the time it took to gather their breakfast, Jermaine thought back to what else they'd faced today. It was strange, being nostalgic for things that had just happened, but he couldn't help it. In many ways, they felt like they'd happened years ago.

"Remember those breakfasts Mom would make?" Jermaine asks, scooting down the bench with both plates. Finn had carefully placed their statues together at the head of the table, and that seems good enough a spot for Jake's place setting. "She would wake up at the crack of dawn to make 'em. Jake used to wake up with her, it was like, their special thing."

Something that at the time, filled Jermaine with a sort of strange jealousy (as jealous as anyone could be over something he definitely didn't want to do). Now, that youthful perspective was gone. His voice was nostalgic and fond, memory calcified into a cherished one.

[heroooic]

Finn smiles, sharing the warmth of that particular memory, for all that it was less complicated and maybe a little hazier for him, having been so young at the time. That had it’s own comfort too…he couldn’t remember a time when Jake and their mom hadn’t cooked together. It felt like something that always was.

“Jake loves trying new recipes, experimenting and stuff like that,” he says, sticking his fork into a thick, soft piece of french toast. He takes a big bite, sure before he even tastes it that he knew exactly what it would be. “But he always says mom’s are the ones he comes back to.”

[doooooog]

"Yeah, 'cuz they're the best."

Jake's voice hadn't sounded for a while, but there was something about it that was different this time. A something that would be answered the moment both of them looked up to face the voice, settled at the end of the table near the now-complete music box. Three golden brothers, locked in a stiff embrace, surrounding the now repaired column of notes.

And casting a shadow over it was the tired, confused, relieved face of their big brother. Jake smiles, clearly rolling with whatever volley of punches Glob had ready for him. If this was what being dead was like, he could get used to it.

"Hey, bros." He waves, in an almost comical anticlimax, before digging into the plate in front of him. "Great spread."

[heroooic]

Finn stares at him from across the table, fork still in hand, a piece of French toast dripping syrup on the table. He couldn’t decide if what he was looking at was real or just another illusion, another layer of the puzzle.

“J-Jakey? Are you actually here?”

[doooooog]

Jermaine seemed equally frozen, mouth regrettably full of French toast. Finn would be doing the talking for both of them. As for Jake, he quirks a perplexed smile in the pair's direction.

"Shouldn't I be asking you two that?" He looks between them, quite casual all things considered. "I'm dead, right?"

But he wasn't. A fact brought home by the slow opening of the huge Mars door, looking out on the red surface of the planet. King Man was there, looking as pleased with himself as ever.

Jake blinks at it, slowly coming to realize what exactly he was looking at. Despite the mounting glee that would come eventually, Jake's voice now is confused and more than a little suspicious.

"...Right?"

[heroooic]

The treehouse was gone from around them, not that Finn really cares or notices. He was so relieved to see Jake that they could have been on the moon, or the bottom of the ocean or literally anywhere and he wouldn’t have cared. His whole chest felt like it was going to burst with happiness and relief.

It was finally over.

“Dead!? You’re not dead!” With no table to separate them, Finn grabs Jake, pulling him into hug. Squeezing him like he wanted to really know that he was there, and solid and real. “We came all the way to Mars to save your sorry butt, you better be alive!”

He laughs, spinning around and for a moment, forgets that there was anyone else.

[doooooog]

Jake reacts in stages. The disappearance of the food hits him first, a spike of physical need overriding everything else for a few primal moments. Finn hits him next, quite literally, his grip tight and needy with the kind of emotional heft that couldn't be anything but real. Jake expands himself a bit -- maintaining that base Jake-shape -- to keep the hug feeling familiar and soft, not boney and uncomfortable. It was semi-automatic, his own emotions still processing a step slower than Finn as he sees the expanse of white spin around him. Every so often, a yellow shape would pass by in a blur. In other moments, the fuzzy impression of the Mars door. Magic--no, Normal--no, King Man standing just outside it with his usual smile on.

Finn doesn't let go of him for the entire time back. Whether it was holding onto him physically, holding his hand, or just having a hand to his back. He missed a step once, swooning a bit from hunger, and that only made it worse. About twenty boiled eggs later and Jake was feeling a little more himself. Finn, on the other hand, just seemed even more clingy.

Jermaine was there too -- notably not clingy. They'd hugged, quite tightly, which felt good. Jake did plenty of soul searching up there, and facing the possibility of his last conversation with his brother being a fight didn't sit well. Still, it seemed clear to both brothers that their own reunion would need to wait for a bit. Finn needed some focus now, and Jake was more than happy to provide it. He may have been feeling a little clingy for him, too.

Finn carried both of them into the Mars transporter, both of them clinging tightly to him as they begin their light speed jettison back to Earth and Ooo. Jermaine and Jake locked eyes once or twice on that journey.

Oh yeah. A talk was coming, that was for sure.