What do I do when my love is away? (Does it worry you to be alone?)
Monday, 1/21/2019
James + Jules
PG-13 | Complete
The exterior brightly lit in neon pink, provocative posters of women wearing only a sliver of clothing on their nether regions on the interior, music bassline pumping so intensely to rattle the fillings in your teeth, heard even from the outside - it was every bit the strip club scenario one would imagine when they ventured into Atlantic City.
James had come here because fuck Summerview for the time being. Not like it was far, but Maeve had fucked off to bloody Thailand so he wasn’t about to sit at home waiting for who knew what. Besides, he needed more information and who better than to get it from than the fellow who basically lived up the ass of (well, to be fair he didn’t know what to call her) the person whom he was dating (there, that would do)?
And Jules could do with a night out, couldn’t he? In a place where, next to the bare breasts and exposed buttcheeks, alcohol was the next best selling point.. Or the chicken. It varied sometimes. But really, that chicken was fantastic - strips of hormone-injected white meat, fried to a crisp and golden brown.
“Poultry and tits,” he said from his vantage point on a stool at the bar; pretty soon, the bull riding contest would start - it was pink and encrusted with rhinestones. “Can you honestly think of a better place to come to?” He had really hoped, in his heart of hearts, that Jules wore a velvet blazer, at the very least, to this establishment. It tickled James.
It was very pink, wasn’t it? Lurid, really. Personally, Julius prefered his titillating entertainment in burlesque form, but since he was under the impression that it was James who really needed the night out (who was to say which of them had more personal drama at the moment, really), he wasn’t going to say anything. Ostensibly, it was good to get out of one’s comfort zone from time to time, but did it always have to involve burning out his corneas? Neon lights. Pink. Sequins. Yeesh. This was why he avoided Vegas. That and the whole… Desert thing.
“I thought they usually served an all day breakfast buffet at these places,” Julius commented, an eyebrow raised as he stirred the straw around in his old fashioned. He had in fact, worn such a garment--in a deep forest green not so different than the upholstery on the booths at Veritas but with the added touch of an embossed vine pattern--but only because he had at least ten or so nearly like it in his closet. It felt very tied to his magic, really. Grounding. Something he could use at the moment.
"I wouldn't know, I don't usually come to these sorts of establishments," was James' answer, faux-innocence all wrapped up in a gravelly accent. "We can stop for flapjacks on the way home though, if you want." Something greasy was always preferred, to sop up the booze. A good Ulster fry back home would do it.
Chicken strips worked too. He had a basket of them now, plus dipping sauce. And was nursing a drink - a bourbon, straight up. Next round he might order whatever was on tap (liquor before beer, you're in the clear - though that was shite and pretty much not true).
Next time, he'd gladly go to a burlesque show. But this time, Julius had an old-fashioned and a velvet blazer in a strip club, however, so James felt accomplished and they could leave whenever (he was the biggest troll in the universe, had he mentioned?). First, a discussion of personal drama. "How are things, mate?"
They could get to his shitshow in a minute. Take turns, you see. It's what friends did.
Now both eyebrows were creeping up his forehead in utter disbelief. He sipped his drink like it was tea, a bemused expression replacing the disbelief after a moment. “Waffles are better,” he replied, “but now I am sort of craving breakfast.” Served him right for bringing it up. He wasn’t particularly worried about having too much booze. As long as he wasn’t trying to drink James’s Aunty Shara under the table again, he’d be fine. It’d be a few more of these old fashioneds before the alcohol caught up with him. Perks of Fae blood, he supposed. Their alcohol was so much stronger (but much less delicious, in his humble opinion).
Things? Ah, but wasn’t that a truly overflowing can of worms? “Things?” He repeated. Hmm. “It’s a shit show, honestly. A little heartwarming family drama, a visit from my dad, and oh--did I not tell you?--my dear, sweet baby sister is coming to stay, and I can’t venture further than Atlantic City or risk my own demise. It’s been a lovely week.” He sipped at the drink again, leaving out the bits about Briar since… Well, they’d get there probably. “And yourself?”
James snorted a laugh. "I guarantee any place that has flapjacks also has waffles, so we'll get what we want." As long as the establishment was somewhat reputable - they'd distinctly avoid any Waffle Houses, since hepatitis didn't seem like a great addition to waffles (it didn't quite hug the syrup the way waffles did).
With the soothing comfort known as Danger Zone as the soundtrack, the bull was beginning to buck rather intensely, having passed the warmup wherein drunk, 'a stiff breeze could blow me over' college girls who tended to throw up in the shower of their dorms got thrown off - the epic adventure ending for them before it could really even begin, what a shame. James was only half paying attention. He did cough into his drink at Julius' response.
"Also a shitshow, but let's rewind - can you explain all that a little more?" he asked.
This was true some of the time the places that specialized in pancakes didn’t always do waffles much justice. But there were always eggs and bacon. Not the same at all, but he was profoundly opposed to pancakes. Too soggy. French toast though… hmm.
Julius, being too involved in his own story, missed most of that, only glancing over when the girl went flying, eyes flicking immediately back to James when he started choking on his drink. Whoops. “Ah hmm. Which part? My dad dropped by, made a deal with me, and now I’m babysitting my adult sister Chrysanthemum.” He sucked the rest of his drink through the store, stabbed at the smashed cherry at the bottom and popped it into his mouth, gesturing to the bartender for another. “She’s the favorite. Has about 200 years of magical education I don’t have.”
“So you made a deal and now have got to babysit her - what exactly benefits you out of that? I assume there must be something?” James guessed, dunking fried chicken boob into a small dish of spicy barbecue sauce. This was utter rubbish, but he didn’t care.
He also picked up on a bit of bitterness there, wormwood and absinthe before the sugar cube. Not that James blamed him. He was a swirling pit of acrid coffee on some days. “Suppose you could always catch up. We could practice together, though obviously I won’t be able to learn as much as you,” he pointed out. But he could try. Since Auntie was sweet enough to teach him and all.
“Well actually, now that you mention it,” Julius began as a fresh drink was put in front of him, “I’m being paid in magic books.” Which sounded about as ludicrous as magic beans but were actually quite practical and useful. “Which I suppose might be useful to you…” he stirred his drink thoughtfully, not trusting the strip club bartender to have mixed it properly.
“I actually promised them to Maeve when I’ve had my fill of them.” Actually it had been Sebastian but that was a story for another time.
That made James bristle for some reason. Deep blue sea eyes turned stormy; they stared down at his drink, into the amber-brown liquid. “Can’t imagine why she needs to learn that magic when she’s neither fae nor witch,” he said. “To add more faces to her arsenal, perhaps?”
Then, fuck it. He just downed the bourbon in one go, asking for a beer next. No fucks given - it was housemade (surprisingly) and a craft beer, so as long as it didn’t taste like drinking a loaf of bread he was fine with it. “I need to know about that deal you made,” he implored Julius. “Everytime I ask her a question she either freezes like a deer in headlights or acts like I’ve just told her to chisel a list of all her previous sexual partners on a stone tablet for me.”
Well, that was a fair point. What exactly was she? Still, the magic in her was definitely of the Summerlands. Fae magic. She might not have been born into it, but there was something in her blood that was decidedly Fae now, whether anyone liked it or not. Not that James would know it’s mark, smelling like that Summerlands fruit like it did, but to anyone who had been, it was unmistakable.
The question caught him off guard though. He paused mid-stir head cocked in curiosity but his features furrowed into a frown that dug canyons. “Deal? What deal?” He’d made two (count them, two) deals in his life that were worth anything and both in the last month and a half. “You mean the one where I guess a face and she gets to ask me a question? Because that’s the only deal I know of. It’s only been… two months maybe?” Oberon, why did Maeve tell James about that? That was embarrassing.
“No - what the fuck - “ James received his beer and had to resist the urge to shotgun it, despite how it was clearly in a tall, cold glass as opposed to a can. “Although that sounds completely bonkershits, mate. We can get back to that in a minute.”
It did sound bonkershits, yet not surprising. Another person went flying off the bull (fraternity brother, pink polo shirt and flip flops) and James took a moment to phrase his clarification over the whooping and cheering of the crowd by the mechanical bucking bronco. “She said something about making a desperate deal at one point. I think it had something to do with...the magic she wasn’t born with. I had thought you were involved but I obviously don’t know for sure - “
Jesus H. Christ, he just needed something to make sense. Maeve giving him little pieces of what was obviously a big picture was beyond frustrating.
“Me?”Julius snorted into his drink. Of all the--Well he supposed that was, in a way, a compliment. A backhanded one, but a compliment all the same. Just thinking about it made him laugh. Not wildly, but enough that he needed to take a moment,setting his drink back down on the bar until he was together enough to drink it, focusing instead on the next bro taking his turn on the bull (why was there so much pink?) “No, that wasn’t me,” he said finally.
“I don’t have that much magic. I did offer her something once, but she turned me down cold. Of course, if she hadn’t, there would be anything left of her to speak of.” Of course, he supposed someone else still could have come along still even if she had taken that original deal and offered whatever trick they’d used to make her whatever she was now, but. Maybe they wouldn’t have.Who could say?
If anyone knew about the infuriating feeling that came along with getting only bits and pieces out of her, though, it was Julius.Which was why he’d made that deal in the first place.
James didn’t have the intricacies about, well, much of any of this - in fact, hearing that Julius wasn’t the one who made the deal with Maeve and therefore wasn’t responsible for her somehow procuring her rather unique abilities just caused all sorts of other questions to spring up. Like popcorn in his mind, pop pop.
Shapeshifters, from what he understood, generally only had one form (two at the most) - an animal they comfortably shifted into, he thought, but they couldn’t just keep changing their face every second of every day. Maeve could, and it had become so commonplace that she didn’t see anything wrong with doing so - that was what concerned James.
“It’s just creepy, you know what I mean?” he said - and at least the next people on the bull wouldn’t be wearing pink. They appeared to be leather-wearing bikers, actually, and one even had on a pair of leather short-shorts. The fellow didn’t have the legs to pull those off, but more power to him. “I don’t know all the details but I know enough to be quite cognizant of the fact that she’s lying to me - to everyone. Her employees, her friends. It’s like every good thing she may do is tainted because it’s a lie and she doesn’t...”
He trailed off, taking a large swig of beer. “She doesn’t think it matters.” Honestly, James wasn’t sure if he could do this. He liked Maeve - but was Maeve even real?
Honestly, Julius wasn’t sure how much of this was his responsibility. No. Wait. He wasn’t the one who’d turned Briar into the...What? Metahuman? That she was today, so really, he had nothing to answer for. But clearly she wasn’t doing herself any favors keeping all her stuffboxed up. There was only so much he could answer though--only so much he knew howto answer--and more that he probably shouldn’t, simply out of respect.
But. He could...Tell a story. Kind of. “Alright, listen.” Julius slugged back about half his drink and set it back on the bar so his hands were free. “I met her in 1874, and back then she was a lot like me, or like I had been when I got kicked out: Bastard child, undervalued, scrappy, hungry, angry, treated like something less than.” Specifically, less than human. “I’m not telling you this to excuse anything, only to tell you what I’ve seen and how I understand things.” Of course, he had a PhD in Archaeology, not Psychology, so what did he know, really?
“I think part of her still believes she’s not good enough and never will be. Part of her is more disconnected from humanity than the rest of us non-humans.” This was something he’d accused her of more than once now, especially when she accused him of being too human. The glass was picked up again, stirred around and sipped before he continued. “In any case, I’ve made the acquaintance of more than one of those faces along the way, and they’re all her, just. Different parts amplified.”
James listened, rubbing his forehead with fingertips chilled from the glass. And he understood - he did, really. Like Jules said, those were reasons, but they weren’t excuses. “Besides the bastard part - I was well aware of who my shite father was - that was me too,” he said. “So I get it. However...you can’t expect to build a foundation on sand and not have it sink.”
The truth wasn’t malleable. It was hard as diamonds, it was unchangeable - and sooner or later, it always came out. Maeve’s friends would find out she was lying. Those who worked at The Long Way Down would too, and not all of them were going to take ‘she felt undervalued as a child so she manipulated everyone and it’s fine’ as perfect rationale.
“It’s also not so much that she’s got the faces - I don’t care that she shifts into someone else, or wakes up as a man, or whatever,” James clarified. “It’s that she’s keeping them from me.” She didn’t trust him yet - fine, fair enough, but the reasoning of ‘at least we didn’t shag first before you found out this isn’t my face’ really set him off.
If that had happened, there would be no limit to the angry rain of fire he used to burn down the city with. He wasn’t in this to be assaulted, thanks.
“But alright, never thought I’d be helping someone get back in touch with their humanity,” he chuckled dryly, lifting his glass for another drink. Julius probably wasn’t wrong - that seemed to be a good chunk of the problem. Whatever was between he and Maeve, James knew it wouldn’t be easy - but these things never were. Relationships were hard, anyone could tell you. “Here’s to that, I guess.”
Julius was sure James thought he got it, but he was pretty sure until James met Briar he wouldn’t actually understand. Not being American or even human himself, it had taken a long time for the fact that their situations were similar but also very different to sink in. Being younger and possibly having a grasp on early American history would probably help. Maybe.
But see, that was the thing. Truth, for Julius, for Fair Ones and Politicians everywhere, existed in shades of gray. What was true one day could turn out to be false because a butterfly batted its wings a million miles away. Because it rained instead of snowed. Because one person had an opinion and another person didn’t. Truth was personal. Truth wasn’t fact. It wasn’t black and white. He lifted one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “She’s never built a foundation anywhere else I’m pretty sure. Probably doesn’t know how.” Except, of course, Australia. Though of all of the Briars, Sebastian probably had the best handle on that sort of thing, as far as Julius could tell.
Not that he was going to bring that up. Julius didn’t… Hold a candle for anyone, ever, but. Well. He did keep Sebastian’s jacket for ninety-odd years. “Listen, I’ve known her for…” Well that was sticky because it was sort of on and off wasn’t it? But just to make things uncomplicated for the sake of uncomplicated, “One hundred forty four years. I don’t think I’ve met all of them. Had to make a deal to suss them out, and I don’t like making deals, so there you are. I wouldn’t take that to heart, darling. You’ve known her, what? All of a few months? A year? But not well. You got more out of her in the span of a few dates than I managed to gather in over a century.” Was he bitter?
Maybe a little. The drink was finished off in a swift gulp and had an eyebrow raised at the bartender indicating that they should probably just have a steady stream going for him at this point.
“Better you than me?” Julius offered though not entirely meaning it in the way it came off. More like you’re probably better at humanity than I am and therefore are the better teacher than well I don’t want her she’s all yours bro.
“What a sweet compliment,” James rolled his eyes, a grin peeking through. He didn't know how great he was at humanity, but she could have been Tiny Tim in fucking A Christmas Story, or any scamp from a Mark Twain novel, he wasn't going to condone Maeve manipulating and lying to everyone - ever. Most residents in Summerville had been manipulated enough; he'd be hard-pressed to find someone who didn't have a terrible childhood or suffer traumatic experiences while as an adult, and they didn't need someone to come in and be their friend but not actually their friend.
Plus, she didn't need or deserve someone who would offer sympathy and just let her keep doing what she was doing. She needed and deserved someone who cared about her so much, they'd call her out. They'd hold her accountable, tell her to knock that shit off. That was the hardest to do. But them's the breaks, right? When you cared about someone, you were in it for both the difficult parts and the easy ones.
"I don't even need to meet, er...all of them. I would suffice with knowing how it all works - though I imagine it'll all just take some getting used to," he mused, turning the glass around in his hands. Lights flashed like UFO beams in the club, illuminating his scruffy faces in varying shades - purple, green, even pink. Strip clubs - they were great places to help you think.
But anyway. "I won't go on about that though. We can talk about your love life now?"
Was that a compliment? Nah, when Julius handed out an actual compliment, it was fairly obvious. He didn’t pass them out like candy hearts on Valentine’s Day in a third grade classroom. “Not a compliment, more a fact,” he clarified. “Maybe you have more Hob in you than you think. Better at getting the most stubborn types to open up.” Because it had to be magic, right? Everything came back to magic in the end. “I’d been trying to crack that nut for months before you came along, and suddenly you’re about as up to speed as I am.” Well. Alright, not really but. “Alright, maybe it was a compliment,” he amended. He probably should have switched to something stronger than the old fashioned but the bitters suited him at the moment.
Julius sighed. “I don’t think she knows how it works, which is why she wants a crack at the books on Fae magic, see?” Back to that now. Conversation had come full circle.
His love life? Julius raised an eyebrow, eyes swept the room dramatically, taking stock of the setting before settling back on James. “Is that why you picked the pinkest location in the known universe? For girl talk?”
More Hob in him than he thought? James would take that. "Aye, auntie would be so proud, hearing you say such a thing," he chuckled roughly. "Perhaps. I didn't even know I had Fae blood anyway, so it was quite a shock learning about it." Not that it was bad - far from it. In fact, Shara had helped him fill in a large gap considering his family history - and he was quite proud of those parts (despite his great-great-times-a-thousand grandmother apparently breaking from tradition and fucking humans, hashtag 'free love').
"We actually are here, in the mouth of the beast - " Or a building in which the decor was probably meant to remind you of pussy immersion, "...to delve into girl talk. So let's go. I'm ready."
He had all night, Jules.
To be fair, there didn’t seem to be a lot that didn’t tickle Shara, but certainly she’d find that assessment amusing. “Perhaps, but it has to be nice to know you have family around.” And then, since technically he also had family around, he added. “Good family. The kind that brings treats for no reason instead of dropping in after two centuries and making demands.” It was the little things. “Shocking, but maybe a good surprise?”
What was this? Spill your guts night? Julius had agreed to this on the pretense that they were going to deal with James’s problems, not his own. He was doing just fine bottling them up for a later date, thanks. Also, relationship talk--was it a relationship? He supposed that by the dictionary definition it was, but what kind was a whole other issue he wasn’t quite prepared to look at yet--was not his forte. So really, all his opinions on anyone else’s relationship were… Honestly sort of useless. He didn’t have the experience. “What do you want to know, I guess?”
Time to crack it open like a lobster claw, Jules. It was what friends were for, aye? You couldn’t bottle all that shit up - otherwise it would get to be too much, and explode. Making more of a mess than necessary, affecting every aspect of life.
“I’ll make a note to drop in more often on you, and bring treats for no reason,” James winked. He had to really embrace the Hob tendencies after all. And family didn’t always mean blood - among other things, it meant having a conversation more often than every two centuries. “But, oh, let’s see...”
He drummed his fingertips on the bartop. “What’s been going on? You’ll have to fill me in on any developments.”
What about never? Never was good.
Anyway any explosion from Julius was fairly innocuous, if not horribly embarrassing.The entire island would likely only wake up to find they’d been overrun by wildflowers, the entire place looking like an English garden, but at least it wouldn’t be burned down.
Julius grinned. “I’m not going to say no to treats.” Or anything cooked by James, honestly. He had hired him for purely selfish reasons, clearly.
“I dunno, I mean at first it was just her feeding off of me, which was…” He couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his lips, drawing them up lopsidedly. “If you don’t know, I recommend it. But sometimes we talk, we’ll have sex without me becoming dinner, which is also… Quite good.” Whatever that was though was beyond him. “We’ve been on one date.” That about summed it up, he supposed, but braced himself for the inevitable follow up questions with a long drink from the fresh old fashioned that had been set in front of him.
James took a sloooooooooow sip from his glass, though he was clearly sporting some kind of cheshire grin that he made little effort to hide. The amusement was clear as day, however.
What an intriguing...summary. That was what it was, right? A summary? Like reading off the back of a cereal box?
"Feeding, what, like she's a vampire?" he asked, since he'd been with a vampire or two in his day. The thrill of something so taboo, being a food source basically, often led to a complete euphoric unraveling for some. It meant blood on the tongue and teeth, blood that played a part in the game of seduction. So there was no judgment here. "Do you want another date?"
The amusement did not go unnoticed, and he supposed he was glad to provide the entertainment for his friend even if it meant he was being forced to dig into something he was packaging away for private inspection. What were friends for, he supposed?
“Uh… Honestly, I can’t speak to that.” As a rule, prior to Summerview, Julius tended to give the undead a wide berth (he was well aware he was delicious to their kind, grew up with warnings), much in the same way he avoided Wolves (but for that whole wet-dog-smell reason). “But I suspect it’s similar?” From what he’d heard anyway. Less messy though, definitely less messy. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind, who would? She’s beautiful, sexy, uninhibited, and yet still fairly uncomplicated, but…” He trailed off. There were a few buts. First, but not limited to, she was already catching feelings, and he wasn’t sure his heart was where it was supposed to be in the first place. And then that other thing.
He assumed Julius was talking about being with a succubus, then. James didn't know of any other creature that fed off of others - especially during sex. But he'd been with a succubus once or twice too (of course he had, manslut that he was) and he could see the thrill of it.
But. There was always a but. "Alright, so what's the plot twist to this story then?" he asked, setting down his glass. The bucking bronco contest was almost over, the judging happening - whomever gave the mechanical thing its best ride would win one-hundred dollars. That may even be enough to buy the winner a private lapdance in the back.
If Julius had ever envisioned having a conversation even remotely like this, this was not the place he would have imagined having it in, but here they were. He was lucky it was loud in there and that there were plenty of distractions for the bartender so that a conversation about Vampires and Succubi probably slid right under the radar.
“Two big things really,” he sighed staring at his glass as if trying to decide if he just wanted to down the whole thing already--the bartender had wisely caught on and supplied a backup--finally deciding he did, slamming the rest and reaching for the next one. “I think she means to fall in love with me, and I’m not sure I’m capable of returning, never have done. Never loved, never had it in return, and… On the off chance I did…” He sighed again, this was so deep a conversation to be having among sequins. “My people are possessive, it’s bred into us, what we love, even what we don’t love, we have an innate urge to possess, the Unseelie steal babies, for Oberon’s sake. It’s not that bad with us, but still, it’s part of who we are. And it’s worse with me, I think, everything I’ve ever had of my own I’ve had to claw for, so the urge to keep it and have it all to myself is strong. With things anyway. I don’t… I haven’t tested it with people.” He took a long drink and set it down on the bar so he wouldn’t be tempted for a moment. “In short, I’m not good at sharing.”
"Hmm." James made a contemplative noise, deciding to forgo another beer - he made his next order a shot of water, and that would be good enough. Jules could get completely pissed if he wanted, off pithy human alcohol, since the witch had the keys to his car which he'd drive sober - good ol' Sally.
The water glass was pulled toward him, ice clinking the sides. "At least you know, then, she is interested in you and not simply the dangling appendage between your legs?" he said. "I think as long as you communicate along the way, then things will turn out however they are meant to. Not everyone feels things simultaneously."
Sex before the actual relationship part could be a confusing sort of mess though, especially if there wasn’t any talking about possible surfacing feelings or what have you. Which was why he suggested the communication part.
"Who can tell, mate. Your instincts tell you that you'll act one way, but love is an instinct unto its own. It could override the others."
If that was the goal, it would be a while. There was a reason Shara thought wine was alcohol for babies. The Fae knew how to drink. But still, he appreciated not having to drive.
On the off chance.
That seemed like a small consolation. “I suppose, but it’s always easier if it’s just that.” Communicate. Well wasn’t that just the oldest, most simple answer in the book. Also a suggestion he’d given to Maeve for her own situation. “Communicating is not really the problem.” He wasn’t sure what it was though. Maybe he was… Just like his father.
Too cold.
He shrugged halfheartedly. “I’ve had two hundred years to figure things out about myself, I’m rarely surprised anymore. But I suppose I can’t set anything in stone.”
It was always the 'simple answer,' but no one ever fucking did it. They acted like they’d rather take a bath with dead kittens and lobsters than actually talk to someone. James chortled in a rumble, nursing that water. "What's easiest isn't always the best route. Or the most fulfilling. Wouldn't it be grand to have a favourite person to shag and spoon on a regular basis? I bet she'd even let you be the little spoon sometimes. It'll make you feel safe."
He was teasing, but come on - it was also true. "So if you do that communicating shit and just let things happen, you'll be fine. Maybe even discover fun little tidbits about yourself you never knew before," he pointed out. Hadn't Jules said it himself? He'd never been in love in his wretchedly long, arctic tundra of an existence - how the fuck did he know how he would react, what he would do?
"Anyway, I'm sure even Auntie's learning things about herself and she's older than dirt from the prehistoric era. So don't be a prat about it." Checking to make sure he had his mobile phone, and his keys, he was about ready to say goodnight to the nipple tassels and pink tacos - and head for something more carb-laden. "Alright then. I don't know about you, but I could go for hash browns right about now."
And waffles, but that was a given.
This was the difference between people who loved dogs and those who preferred cats. He took a long moments consideration in which he stirred his drink fervently, took a long sip and returned from that dive with a quizzically raised eyebrow that said he didn’t really know. “I’m not sure. It’s sort of hard to say. I’ve grown rather accustomed to having my own space all the time.” Sharing that was also bound to be a struggle. “We haven’t even come to the point where either of us keeps a toothbrush at the other’s house yet, I’d say it’s fairly preemptive to jump to any thoughts on permanent spooning.”
“I’m not sure what there could possibly be left to discover.” He and himself had spent many nights comfortably alone, if you didn’t learn more about yourself that way than any other way then you were doing something wrong. “And I’ve been out in this world far longer than Shara.” Maybe if he went back to the Summerlands… fat chance of that though.
“Oh thank Oberon,” Julius said, breathing a sigh of relief at the mention of hashbrowns. “Please, yes, I’m serious about those waffles.”
James rolled those sapphire eyes toward the ceiling. Was he suffering from mad cow, or was it a bit difficult to discover things about yourself when you weren’t around other people to challenge you and provide additional opportunities besides company in the form of your left hand? Smoking a pack of cigarettes in a darkened room, alone, didn’t lead to much besides brooding. And he would know.
Though the fact that Jules mentioned the toothbrush as a step in Scary Adult Relationships showed that he probably wasn’t as clueless as he thought he was; it made James smirk to himself, and perhaps even feel a bit of heartwarming joy masquerading as acid reflux. Awww. “You’re just all mixed up, aren’t you?”
He patted his best mate on the shoulder. “I didn’t say permanent spooning, darling, you did. But don’t worry, I’m here to help you get sorted out. I don’t even charge for my services either. Now, hashbrowns,” he left a tip in the jar and stuffed his wallet back in his trousers; greasy food cured all, didn’t it?
Until next time, mechanical bull. You’d be fondly missed.
Tomato, to-mah-to. There was nothing wrong with introspection without brooding. Particularly if you were the sort that tended to use interactions with others as a means of escape. At the end of the day, all one had was oneself, after all. And if you weren’t at peace with who you were and what you were then you had bigger problems that couldn’t be solved by throwing in your lot with other people. People were manipulative. If you weren’t grounded in yourself it was easy to begin to become someone you didn’t like. To stray from yourself. Your core.
“I’m… something.” Mixed up, possibly but not necessarily about what they were talking about. “Isn’t it how these things work?” He didn’t plan on falling in love with anyone really—did anyone—but he was pretty sure he only had the capability to handle it once. Especially knowing his own flaws as intimately as he did.
“Well I suppose that is a consolation.” Though if they were both in a weird place with their respective relationships how good was the advice going to be? Just a loop of telling each other the same thing over and over, probably. “Hashbrowns indeed.” He said slipping off the barstool and stuffing an additional tip in the jar for the bartender who’d figured out his MO to keep them coming.
“You’re definitely something,” James agreed. A friend, certainly - one that James would bail out of jail or hide a dead body for or have a ‘heart-to-heart’ in a strip club with, whatever was necessary at the time. He didn’t have a lot of close friends either, but when he did have that closeness he’d do whatever he could to help if there was a rough patch that needed navigating.
Provide perspective or not provide perspective; sometimes he knew what he was talking about, anyway. He was just as capable of getting drunk and drowning in chicken boobs with a mate too.
Oh, and waffles. Those were always important, in times of crisis.