middaeg | (closed) there were no monster, there were no moon

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(closed) there were no monster, there were no moon

Who: Stiles Stilinski and Jonas Ward
When: Mareuer 14
Where: Aefenglom
What: Newly minted best friends talk ADHD and flower language
Warnings: Language, TBD

[ Despite the warning of inclement weather in the afternoon, the Shopping District is packed. Folk appear to be in high spirits as they go about their business, creating an atmosphere that should be light and pleasant. And yet Stiles walks with a bow to his spine, hunched as if hunted. Even with his aching, itching hands shoved deep into pants pockets, he remains unnervingly aware of each and every nearby individual. Recently awakened Arachne senses are in overdrive, alerting Stiles of minute fluctuations in the air. Harmless movement is translated into potential threats. For example, the upward swing of someone’s arm to wave at a friend becomes a potential strike against him. The trichobothria growing in on his hands is too sensitive; paired with his paranoia and ADHD, Stiles is drowning in sensory overload. He almost regrets asking Jonas to join him today – almost, but not quite. ]

Sorry, I missed that last bit, [ he admits as his friend trails off. ] What were you saying?

[ According to the directions from a helpful Turnskin, they shouldn’t be too far from the plant and flower nursery now. Stiles tries to focus on tuning out their environment, on reaching their destination. It’ll all be worth it, he keeps telling himself. Being able to surprise Jonas with this gift will make the personal hell of actually getting there worth everything. ]

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[ This is indeed the very same nursery from which he bought flowers for the knighting ceremony, though Stiles just smirks in a way he hopes is mysterious and cool instead of confirming. (The smirk only looks self-satisfied.) Stumbling across this treasure trove of a building helped get him involved in gardening; the store owners, a kindly Bonded Witch and her Faun wife, informed him of the free classes being held at the Coven on the subject. After Elliot’s scathing recommendation that he find a hobby, gardening seemed like a decent place to start. Admittedly, most of his initial interest stemmed from half-remembered memories of his mom tending to the backyard garden. A desire to connect with her in any way, especially as homesick as he is now, drove him to attend those classes. The rest is, as they say, history. ]

Nope. You are!

[ Two hands clap on either of Jonas’ shoulders, gently ushering him forward. ]

I want you to choose the first plant for our rooftop garden. Think of it as like, uh, a housewarming gift from your roommate. Whatever you want, we’ll make it work. And maybe we’ll get you set up with a nice bench or swing, so you can read up there next to it. No dying allowed, though.

(the correction doesn't really sink in until hands grip him by the shoulders, their weight making him turn his head to glance back at him. there's surprise in his open expression, a wideness to his eyes that's never there normally. he's always looked low-energy—incidentally, he's the very opposite.

walking with his friend, jonas faces forward and smiles. the plants look different now, as he checks them out far more carefully.)

Stiles, (a huff of an incredulous laugh, even at something that seems so simple, truly touched by the gesture,) dude, this is– I mean, are you sure? I don't know the first thing about plants, or gardening. It sounds super relaxing, though. Like, taking care of one and stuff. I gotta' choose the most badass one in here, right?

(doesn't step out from beneath stiles' touch, but turns in it and tilts his head at him.)

... this isn't just because of that, is it? The– you know, the heavy stuff. I'd like that to be separate from everything...

[ The sharp anxiety that’s been buzzing inside him all morning like a can of horseflies begins to ebb, reassured simply by the warmth of his friend’s smile. This wasn't a bad idea, he decides, allowing himself a moment of satisfaction. It isn’t often that Stiles manages to get a gift right; while his intentions are good, he tends to overthink details. So, to see Jonas react without any hint of awkwardness or forced excitement – well, there aren’t words to describe how it feels, really. ]

I’m sure. Don’t worry about taking care of it. I’ll handle that. [ A pause as his brain works through the pleased haze of triumph to understand what “the heavy stuff” indicates. ] This isn’t about what happened. This is about us, our house, and the life we’re eking out. Wow, [ a breathless laugh, Stiles looking mildly embarrassed, ] that sounded a little gay. But still true! Very true.

Oh, so you're gonna' buy me flowers and take care of 'em yourself? (chuckles a bit bashfully, looking away to distract himself with a few of the more vibrant plants on display.) Sorry, it's shared custody, so I'm entitled to take care of it at least every other day. With alternating Sundays.

(he remains privately fond of the way those words are strung together into a sentence, trying to rub the colour of the back of his neck. close friends—best friends, at least to jonas who confessed that only a short time ago—share quite a bit, don't they? having never experienced it, it's a real trip for him. is he giving enough back?)

Thank you... I mean it. (glancing back, something vulnerable in the way he says it.

fingers absently find the softest petals on a particularly angry-looking plant, however, and it almost scares him into a high jump when it yawns to demonstrate its interior spines.)

–holy shit! ("watch the displays, please," comments a fae currently buffing her nails at the counter.) R-right. Uh, sorry. Let's head in a little further.

Edited 2020-03-23 20:53 (UTC)

Shared custody with my favorite bud? Sounds like a real hardship.

[ Stiles can’t wipe this damn dopey look off his face. Even as his mouth twitches into a more mischievous grin, it eventually fades back into that same smile, too affectionate and too telling. It’s the kind of dangerously sincere smile saved only for certain individuals: his dad, Scott, Malia, and Lydia. Beyond those four people, no one else has managed to worm their way into his heart like this – and for good reason. Jonas, in the time that they’ve lived together, has become a happy exception to the rule.

When the other teen glances back at him, he averts his own eyes, embarrassment rising. But before he can gently dismiss his friend’s gratitude – ]

Dude!

[ Well, that anxiety spike is one way to chase off his smile. Heart lodged painfully in his throat (the trichobothria had not reacted well to Jonas’ sharp movement), he drags the teen further into the store. ]

Maybe something less sentient? [ he suggests, voice somewhat higher-pitched now. ] Or less likely to take off a hand, at least.

("a real hardship" is right, for the same boy who rallies against being protected is most assuredly the one who needs the most protecting. finger whole thanks to quick thinking and stiles bodily dragging him away, jonas blinks wide-eyed at the rest of the store–

–and begins to laugh anew. less subdued, tension broken by risks taken.)

Jesus. Yeah, I think you're right. How– how cool would that plant be to deter unwanted guests, though? "It's completely harmless, we promise." (it's not stress that has him reaching for things almost mindlessly—seed packets, fertilizer sticks for soil beds, ambience gems that catch his magpie eye—but a conscious willingness to pilfer the store of small things they won't miss, turning to deposit them directly into stiles' pockets.) We'll need these, though. Any new plant fathers' starter pack.

(removing his hands from stiles' khakis, jonas gives him a self-satisfied smile and proceeds deeper into the store. he didn't lose the finger, did he? so they still have cause for celebration. how better to do that than with minor lawbreaking and palling around?)

I'm thinking something that grows like, medium-sized? Uh, just because there's a ton of space on the roof. But if that gets too expensive, I'm totally cool with something smaller.

Edited 2020-03-24 16:04 (UTC)

Whoa there, [ he yelps in a harsh whisper, jumping in surprise as hands unexpectedly slide close to the crown jewels, ] easy, cowboy.

[ As his reaction draws unbidden attention to them – a harpy glances at them from where he is browsing across the aisle, wings ruffled – Stiles naturally slips into an act. He throws a casual arm over Jonas’ shoulders, bringing them together in an impromptu side-hug before shooting their harpy onlooker a wink. The Monster rolls avian eyes and moves on, unsuspecting. ]

I got money put aside for you, babe. [ Spoken overly loud, chasing the harpy with the sound of his voice even as the man abandons the aisle. ] Get yourself what you want. Daddy’s treat.

[ This time, it’s Jonas who is treated to the wink – exaggerated and amused. ]

And daddy, [ he continues quietly for Jonas’ ears only, dropping his arm to appreciatively pat his front pocket, ] is going to treat these ladies right. Thanks dude.

(in the moments after he's squeezed against stiles' side, jonas has no idea what's happening. far from embarrassed, it's surprise that forces him to stare wide-eyed at the side of his friend's head before looking around for the source of the sudden roleplaying. then it finally dawns on him. oh. oh.)

Even if it's the most spendy thing in the shop? You're bad. (then flatly, as the harpy decides he's heard enough,) Tee-hee.

–"daddy?" (every day they stray further and further away from god, jonas' memories of his mother slowly shrinking to the depths of his mind where this taint hasn't reached. he's turning on stiles immediately with a far louder reaction stifled against a fist held firmly to his mouth.) That's where your mind jumped first? I am learning a lot about you today.

(picks up a random aloe plant as some kind of topic changing olive branch, then seems to remember something he squares his shoulders at.)

Hey, why did I have to be the sugar baby, anyway? I'm the one with a stable nine-to-five.

[ Hearing Jonas incredulously echo that word is enough to make Stiles cringe in mortification, his ears beginning to heat up. Privately, he’s pleased with how readily his friend joined in the act – a true partner in crime, which he appreciates immensely. Scott was always too thick to pick up on the cues and too godawful a liar to rely on in sticky situations. Clearing his throat, Stiles pointedly dismisses the comparison to his previous best friend and focuses on the present, on Jonas. ]

Is being the breadwinner necessary? [ An idle wondering, Stiles taking no offense at the implication about his own jobless state. ] Can’t a guy just spoil his favorite pal because he wants to? C’mon, dude. Be my sugar baby, just for today.

[ He offers his most winsome smile, eyebrows waggling with teasing suggestiveness. ]

(eyes the smile with an inscrutable look, before the corner of his mouth twitches.)

Oh, I don't think so. Wouldn't you like me less if I didn't have standards? (stiles is entrenched in this now, considering jonas is liable to never let him live it down. he is, however, fond enough of this idiot to shove the aloe at him and give him a parting pat on the shoulder.) Being the breadwinner is essential, so, like... talk to me again when you got stacks.

(it's flower time.

aloe is all well and good, doing god's work cleaning the air, but he wants something... flashy, yet understated; bold, but calming to look at; full, while simultaneously easy to prune. turning the corner into the greenhouse, damp air making his sweater sit heavier on him, his eyes are immediately drawn to a bush with great, fluffy balls.)

Whaaat is that thing. It looks like– like something from a Dr. Seuss book.

[ You wouldn’t be friends with me or Sasuke if you had standards, he’s tempted to say, though he keeps the thought to himself. With a lightly uttered albeit overemphasized oof, Stiles accepts the aloe as it is shoved upon his person. Once Jonas’ attention is elsewhere, he examines the plant critically, looking for signs of infection or infestation; fortunately, it appears to be in good health. Whether or not his housemate plans on keeping it, Stiles recognizes the aloe as a decent addition to the family with summer drawing near. He tucks it carefully under an arm and trails after Jonas. ]

We already tried adopting a bat. Do not summon the Cat in the Hat to our house with this thing, Jonas, or so help me.

[ Warning aired, Stiles leans in to run a curious finger pad along the feathery “petals.” ]

…They look like spider legs, [ he remarks, a strange look in his eye. ]

(sighs wistfully, craning his neck.) God, I wish Sasuke'd turn back. Peewee was way less of a hassle. Cuter, too. (just a tiny bat with a tiny disability and a tiny aggressive streak, aw.

now they're stuck with sasuke again.)

He brought over like, three bags of broccoli. (not to look a gift horse in the mouth, he is in no way a picky eater and loves vegetables of every kind, but if he thinks they'll be able to eat that much before it goes bad then he's got another think coming.) –and that comment's not gonna' stand, by the way, I think this thing's cool looking. How does it even grow like that?

...

Yeah, this is The One. I am obsessed with this– does it not look like it's going to get up and walk out?

Edited 2020-03-27 10:54 (UTC)

Yes, which is exactly why my comment should still stand!

[ That said, Stiles doesn’t actually dislike the flowering bush; he’s still lightly running his fingers along the petals in clear fascination. The tactile feel of them, velvety soft on both the upstroke and downstroke, is exactly like the trichobothria. Comrade! he decides gleefully, with the vague thought that he should probably stop fondling the plant before Jonas gets the wrong (right?) idea. ]

If this is The One, [ emphasis just for you, Jonas, ] we should get a younger starter. And then maybe get some broccoli seeds, since all I’m hearing is how much you love them and it’s all you want to eat for the rest of our days.

[ No further comment on batsuke, though; Stiles is still traumatized that their not-bat-son turned out to be Sasuke. ]

(blinks at the unexpected bond growing between stiles and this weirdo plant, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a confused smile.)

Haha, alright, alright. It stands. And this is seriously it, man, we've both got our... questionable reasons for wanting this guy, so we should get him. I don't know where they keep seedlings like this, though. (cranes his neck to take a look around, spotting a shelf of little baby plants in colourful ceramic pots. stares at them, weak.) Bring the broccoli on. You may think you're teasing me, but it's backfiring, because I looooove me some green.

(reaches up, lightly smacking stiles in the chest with his knuckles.)

Oh. My god. Do you think they have weed in Aefenglom? (immediately raising his arms out from his sides, presenting the idea with extra pizzazz. the way stiles likes his ideas presented. jonas' version of jazz hands.) Don't shame me yet if you hate it, or whatever. Hear me out. Marijuana calms people down, mellows them out.

What if marijuana is good for ADHD? What if we're obligated to research it further? For science?

Edited 2020-03-29 21:13 (UTC)

[ This level of excitement for marijuana is not shared by Stiles. Looking highly panicked, he juggles the aloe plant to the crook of his non-dominant arm to free up his dominant hand, which he then claps over Jonas’ mouth. ]

Shhhhh!

[ Cue Stiles now glancing around them as if expecting an imminent drug bust. Nothing happens. A squirrel, which has somehow infiltrated the building, clambers around on the rafters above. No one even looks their way. ]

…Okay, I may have overreacted. [ A grimace. ] Sorry. My dad’s the Sheriff back home and – well, yeah. If I went to a party where they were smoking weed, he’d always be able to smell it on me even secondhand.

[ A huge sigh rolls through him, helping to dissipate the lingering agitation. ]

That said, I have heard it can help with ADHD, [ he muses, wary interest lighting up his face. ] If it’s for science…how can I possibly refuse?

Edited (huehuehuehuehue) 2020-03-31 04:19 (UTC)

...

(jonas will listen obediently for the time it takes stiles to finish speaking. he does this because he understands. weed is a sensitive topic in most states, possession of it a crime guys like them can go to prison for. it's a sentiment his parents reflected, despite having smoked a lot in their youth. he waits because this strange and fascinating boy is his friend, and he doesn't mind the shushing when they're unlikely to run into the sheriff or any of aefenglom's finest today. endlessly patient.

but staring out from behind the hand on his mouth, he is obligated by law to do the first and only thing he can think of doing in the moment:

sticking his tongue out, it blorps against the centre of stiles' palm.)

Edited 2020-03-31 04:33 (UTC)

[ Something warm and wet pokes against the palm of his hand. After the slow second it takes for Stiles to identify it, he shrieks in an assuredly masculine manner and reels backward like a drunkard, bumping into the row of displayed plants behind him – and then tumbling over it, crushing the lucky specimens beneath him and knocking the unfortunate ones clear off the shelves. The crash of his body to the ground on the opposite side of the aisle is accompanied by the sound of pots breaking, raining him in a shower of soil and leaves.

The aloe plant, somehow, is fine; it remains cradled protectively in his arms, dribbling water and dirt onto his chest as he lays on the floor, stunned. ]

Oh– oh my god, hahaha– Stiles! (a raucous laugh at the sudden crash, sucking in a sharp gasp of sympathy pain before immediately starting forward into the detritus to help him out.) Man, are you okay? Jesus Christ, why– what are you still holding that for?!

(reaching around a couple of the display's broken slats with watery eyes, still shaking as his hands grab for dirt-covered lapels.)

What the hell are you doing to my store?!

Oh, shit, dude! (it's fairly easy to haul stiles up when he gets a good enough purchase on him, a flex in his shoulders and arms for the effort, pulling him clear onto his feet in the water and dead plants. sharply turning to sweep something off of the shelf he was admiring before disaster struck—note to self, surprising someone with tongue is a dangerous game best left to couples—clutching the cute pot in the crook of his elbow.) Alright, hug that aloe tight, buddy. I've got The One, so let's get outta' here before she calls the cops or, like, whatever constitutes.

(one thing left to do. a palm's shown to stiles, signalling for him to wait, before dropping it when the fae clerk circles out from the main section of the store to take the back aisle towards their mess. that leaves the front open.)

Time to go!

You– hey! Don't you run away from me! I warned you before, assholes, and now you're gonna' pay for the damages!

[ The world lurches in a blur of color as Stiles is hauled to his feet, sneakers scrambling for solid purchase below him. He stares at the hand presented before his face with dazed confusion before the reality of the situation begins to sink in. Head whipping around, he gawks at the clerk who is charging toward them, antennae twitching furiously. Oh god. Oh no. He likes this store! This is hardly the first time he’s been chased out of a business, but – ]

It was him! He did it! [ he says desperately, pointing at Jonas. The clerk does not appear to care and continues hustling down the aisle. ] No, no, no, I’m sorry!

[ Apologies are not very convincing when they’re flung over your shoulder as you run away from authority figures, unpaid merchandise tucked in your arm. Stiles dumps a pocket full of cunes on the ground as they flee, like the world’s most expensive breadcrumb trail, because though he’s not above stealing – he really does like this store. ]

MY NAME IS SASUKE UCHIHA AND I AM RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS, [ Stiles shouts. ] SASUKE UCHIHA. REMEMBER THAT.

Calm down, lady, it was a mistake! (his laughter isn't making this very convincing, and neither does his parting comment:) I'll never lick another hand again!

(this fae is out for blood. jonas ducks a box of fertilizer that sails over their heads, sprinting that last yard to the exit. he's quick on his feet, his stamina more impressive than his pace. one quick look over his shoulder tells him stiles is right where he's supposed to be: at his side. they push out into the sun together, the witch going wide to the opposite side of the cobblestone street.

sasuke responsible? oh, he's going to kill stiles if he finds out he's been banned from the store.

slows almost to a stop before a group of two or three passerby rally to see what's going on, immediately hopping into another run with a sweep of his free arm. a gesture to stiles, their escape route a narrow alley leading out to the shops on the other side. it's only once they've gotten past the first trash receptacles that jonas actually pays attention to the snap decision he's made for them.)

–wait, wait, wait, there's a wall. Ah, Jesus. (a mortified look shot back to the mouth of their route, setting the potted plant down to push at his sleeves.) Alright. I'm gonna' boost you, buddy. You be ready up there so I can pass off the children, then I can climb over after.

[ Unquestioningly allowing himself to be swept up into this grand heist and escape is like second nature to Stiles, who has been chasing after Scott McCall since they were tots. Concern about his future as a customer at this particular business eases into giddy delight as he races alongside Jonas, unable to stifle the slightly hysteric sniggering caused by the other teen’s declaration. Outside, the sunlight feels like a reward – basking them in a tepid warmth that may not be deserved. He has to make a quick, awkward hop to avoid tripping over a small dog that’s been drawn by all the noise, but then he’s stumbling behind Jonas once more toward the alley. ]

Children!? [ The aloe plant joins The One on the ground as Stiles steps up to the wall, one knee bent obligingly. ] Dude, we have got to have a talk about this freaky parent complex you’ve got on. Stop trying to adopt everything! We can’t afford to put even an asparagus through college in this economy!

(back hitting the wall, jonas slides down onto a knee in a practiced stance and a weave of his fingers. by making a platform for stiles' foot, he can sling him up and act like a set of stairs.

they'll have this down to a science in no time, their separate antics back home a perfect springboard for their teamwork in aefenglom.)

Then we'll homeschool it, what's the problem? Know what I think? I think you're teasing me to take the heat off your daddy kink. (jerks his head to the side in a "hurry up," trying and failing not to smirk upward at him.) So shut up and get goin', Stilinski.

Um, excuse me!?

[ Jaw hanging, he stares at Jonas in scandalized shock. There’s a moment where his brain does seriously consider the accusation, leafing through a filing cabinet of potential applicants. Rafael? That’s a solid no. Peter? Not on his life. Mr. Yukimura? Meh. Argent? Okay, but everyone knows that Chris Argent is sinfully good looking. Wait. This is the “DILF” filing cabinet, not the “daddy kink” one. Stiles mentally closes it in mortification. ]

You listen here, punk. I won’t stand for this kind of slander –

[ Shouting near the mouth of the alley gives him pause. In the interest of time, he just shoots Jonas a pointed glare before finally stepping into those cupped hands. ]

I’m a delicate boy, please be careful with me, Mr. Ward.

(rolling his eyes with a huff of a laugh, heart racing from the shouts down the alley. they're in the shit now, it's high time they got themselves over, out, and away. jonas is, however, a very patient boy. he addresses stiles' comments before shifting off of his knee.)

You went from calling me a punk to "Mister"— (anticipates putting in more effort than he does, forgetting the transformation's made his arachne friend drop more than his water weight.) —real quick there. Jesus, you're–

(catches himself, teeth digging into his lower lip with a wider stare and a quiet "fuck." they've found them, still out on the street but pointing in their direction. with a few reinforcements. decidedly convenient timing, waiting for stiles to get up on the flat edge of the wall so he can pass him plant after plant until it's time for him to climb it himself. without help he needs to back up a few paces past a pile of garbage that wrinkles his nose. then, like a shot, jonas runs at the wall and jumps.

his height makes it easy to grab the ledge just right of stiles' shoe, hoisting himself with a grunt of effort and a grip of sneaker treads against brick. a sideways glance at his partner in crime reassures him that this is actually going according to plan, a bit flustered by the activity and smiling in his direction. this is... fun. stiles is fun.)

Ready?

[ The leg up sends Stiles shooting up at a faster speed than he anticipated. With a pitchy shriek, he scrambles at the wall so that he doesn’t go flying over the top. Luck’s on their side; he manages to catch himself, folded over the top with his groin uncomfortably digging into chiseled stone. Groaning, he pulls himself up and prepares to accept the stolen goods. Each plant is taken and set aside with painstaking care, Stiles exceedingly nervous about the possibility of their “children” toppling off the wall. With that taken care of, he scoots aside to give Jonas room and reaches down to help his friend up – only to blink in surprise as he sees that the Witch is preparing a running start. ]

Uh, dude, are you sure –

[ Apparently, Jonas is sure. Stiles almost feels guilty for doubting his delinquent friend for even a second. Returning that smile with a huge grin, he scoops up both plants in either arm and slips off the opposite side of the wall. ]

Ready. Let’s go home, buddy.

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(closed) there were no monster, there were no moon

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