Impulsiveness
#19 of Free Association
Jonathon and Greyson bein' all friendly-like. 3225 words.
Hey, alls! Free Association, Episode 19, for your pleasure ;3. If you're new to this delightful series, mayhaps you'll want to mosey more motivatedly, mindful of those Major Injuries (or lack thereof) to your left? It's getting to be a fairly big undertaking, catching up to this series, now! But, I hope you'll give it a shot... I've heard it's worth it, if you like cute guys and romance. Not that I'm biased or anything!
I continually amaze myself by managing to churn these out on time. This one was about the closest I've come to being late - the end of the semester put me behind, and when I posted last Saturday I didn't have this one finished, meaning there were ZERO FA EPISODES IN RESERVE *warning sirens blare, red lights flash, hyena runs around starship bridge panicking as sparks fly*. That, and then I've spent the last week doing a great deal of worldbuilding for a project that I have slated for "After FA" and am very excited about! AND THEN I GOT WRITER'S BLOCK AND IT WAS AWFUL AND I CRIED.
However, as you can see, this episode did get done on time (actually a few days ago), and I am still committed to having one up every friday for you guys! I'm going to try to catch up over the break, and in the somewhat more distant future I'm intending to take a short break, once we reach a certain point in the plot. Not yet, though. FULL STEAM AHEAD!
_ Sunday. _
Greyson's smile changed a little; he dropped his gaze. "I kn... kn-know-w. L-ll... lll-love you t-too, J-jonn-ny..."
It was an unspoken component of the deep, complex relationship between them, that he didn't mean the phrase in quite the way Jonathon did. They both understood that, and that was why Greyson was able to say it so freely. But, as he'd once explained to the raccoon - that was why he was able to say it, not why he said it. He said it, because he meant it, and felt it.
Jonathon sat down on the couch, and Greyson made tea - with sugar for Jonathon, plain for himself. Fortunately for the diabetic rat, he liked the taste of plain tea and black coffee.
Then he sat on the couch beside Jonathon, giving him a little grin with his mug of tea. "'ere y-yago!"
Jonathon smiled serenely and took it. His breath huffed in the cup as he took a sip. Reminded him of the last time he'd had tea, at Brad's apartment on Friday.
In some ways, the situations were even more alike than they seemed. After all, he'd come pretty close to having sex with both men... and both encounters had ended by someone saying they couldn't go through with it.
Only, in one case, it hadn't been Jonathon.
He'd gotten a lot further with Brad, though. Greyson had been uncomfortable around kiss number three and paw-under-shirt. It hadn't even really been that sexual, if you discounted the raccoon's desires at the time.
At least now he had a boyfriend, and so had yet another good reason to try to keep his paws to himself.
Once Greyson was ready - which always took a bit; he liked to get comfortable first - he started talking.
"'S-so, this b-book I rrr... rr-read, I th-think you'd-d... you'd l-lll-like it, 's 'bout-t..."
It had been something his current speech therapist, who he only saw once a week, had suggested - occasional, relaxed conversations of thirty minutes or more, preferably on a topic where he would be doing most of the talking, with someone patient and engaged in the conversation. Naturally, the rat had a great deal to say about books, and as his best friend of many years, the raccoon was very used to his companion's halting speech; he found himself hardly noticing the rat's 'normal' issues and only catching the several-second stalls.
Generally speaking, Greyson tended to get better the longer he talked; sometimes, when he was very relaxed and reciting something, he was almost fluent, with only a few hiccups. Other times, he would have serious problems... like that time a few years ago when he'd had hung up on 'chocolate' and couldn't force it or anything else out for ten minutes. Quite understandably, he'd been crying out of frustration by the end of it.
Jonathon was good for that, too. A bit after he started, the raccoon set his tea down and shifted aside to kneel on the couch, and began giving the rat a little shoulder massage. Hell, he was pretty much an expert on how to make Greyson calm and relaxed. It was fun for him, one of the things he wanted to do that his heterosexual buddy didn't mind... and, from the lazy smile that always dawned on his face, one he quite enjoyed.
"An'... an' so, aft-ter they g-get done w-wwwith the quest, y-you'd, you'd think 's ov'r, r-rrright? Hah, ak, actuall-ly, that-t... t... that's when all'a c-c-cool stuffs ssstart!"
"Oh really?" the raccoon remarked, moderately interested so far. Greyson liked talking about books, but he had a good sense of what his friend enjoyed and what he found boring. If he said Jonathon would like it, Jonathon would probably like it.
He wondered what Brad would think if he knew his boyfriend was giving another guy a massage right now. Jonathon grimaced a bit. He didn't want to think about that too much. The raccoon knew it was a bit different, since it was Greyson, but he couldn't help feeling a little guilty about it. He hoped Brad would understand Greyson's special place in his life.
He hoped Greyson would understand Brad's special place in his life.
The raccoon paused to take a slurp of tea, and then started working on the rat's neck. Greyson turned a little to make it easier for him, and his eyes slitted a bit as his words slowed.
"...s-so there's l-l-like this big d-demon-nic g-guy an' he has th-th-the whole, wh-whole p-place und-der his c-co-control, but, but..."
It's not like Brad's less important to me, after all, the raccoon mused. He'd known Greyson a very long time, and Brad a very short time, and thus his feelings for both men were... difficult to compare. Greyson was a burning, steady affection, a deep-seated love and respect built on many years of friendship and trust. Greyson had been one of the first people to know a certain Jonathon Howard was homosexual, after all. The raccoon labored in his charade for a long time... but eventually, he found himself unable to continue. Unable to keep acting like a straight guy with a straight friend.
Whether he'd suspected it or not - Jonathon had never asked - Greyson had taken his friend's revelation remarkably well. The raccoon hadn't been sure what to expect; how does anyone react, upon learning their best friend is in love with them? But it had gone... better than he could have hoped for. Greyson even smiled, as the younger male admitted his feelings. He said it was probably the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him.
But, when he'd been able to get all the words out... the rat was unambiguous: he didn't share Jonathon's interest. In specific or general. He liked girls, a lot, and didn't feel anything for guys. He'd apologized, even.
That just made the raccoon cry harder. Greyson felt badly about far too many things he couldn't control. Jonathon didn't want to add yet another subject to that list.
"...a-an', so, I, I won't s-spoil the, the endin' for y-ya, but basical - b-basically, it's like th-this..."
On the other hand, the way the raccoon felt about Brad... Oh gosh. It was so... wild, complicated, and new. He wasn't sure he'd ever felt quite like this about Greyson. With Greyson, he'd spent such a long time trying to suppress his feelings. First, because he didn't want to admit he was gay even to himself, and later, because he didn't want to admit it to anyone else. Least of all a certain rat, who happened to be his best friend.
This wild feeling... it must've been pushed down to the bottom, pressed into a subtext and a few blushes. And even more importantly... just... just knowing, that Brad liked him back... The big wolf really actually was crazy about him and wanted to be with him and make him happy... It was like a potent catalyst to his chemistry with the wolf. The raccoon grinned as he made that mental pun.
Seriously, though... he'd never had that feeling with Greyson, never had the... 'confirmation'. So, things had been somewhat... tamer.
"...s-so it deals a l-lot with mora-morality, and it's j-just kinda a c-c-cool way t-to ask s-some'a the s-same ques-questions y-you always l-like to..."
Yet, somewhat counterintuitively, he wasn't quite sure how he felt about Brad. He was very familiar with the nuances of his feelings for his rodentine friend, but his lupine familiar was so new and undefined... he felt wild, powerful things about the wolf, but he didn't yet feel comfortable calling any of them 'love'. Greyson, hell yes, he loved the fuck out of Greyson, and it was not platonic love in the slightest. He spent a great deal of time wishing he could move on to platonic feelings, all the moreso whenever he imagined himself finding some nice gay guy. Like Brad...
He hoped he'd love Brad. He figured he would, eventually. Perhaps even soon. The wolf was a nice guy, extraordinarily sweet, very attractive, seemingly trustworthy... and after the events of Friday, it was clear he respected the raccoon as well. Jonathon had a lot of reasons to like him, and the raccoon felt as though, even with those reasons, he liked the wolf a little more than was really justified.
But, love was a fine wine, for the raccoon - these new, raw emotions, strong as they might be, needed time to ferment, before they could be called love. He couldn't delude himself about that, in spite of the delirious happiness of infatuation.
Of having somebody really like you back.
Yeah, couldn't really compare those two feelings. Jonathon gave a little sigh, smiling a bit; he was kneeling on the couch, now, and Greyson was laying with his head in the raccoon's lap. Jonathon was doing his ears, and Greyson's voice was lazy, eyes shut.
"...and so it j-just made me think a lot, abou- about some things that you've s-said to me about stuff, an', an', an' I think you would like it. High fantasy and m-morality, haha, it's like it w-was written especially f-for you. Only n-needs a steamy guy-on-g-guy scene, hahaha!" The rat laughed enough that he curled up a bit reflexively, pulling his head out of the other male's lap.
"Sounds pretty awesome," the raccoon said, excited. "Who wrote it again? Have to remember..."
"A-alice R-rayb-bourne," the rat said, laying his head back; his eyelids had flicked up.
Jonathon grimaced at the spike in stammering. It was always the instant Greyson opened his eyes, that he started reverting. Started growing less comfortable.
Jonathon had learned a fair amount about his friend's most evident condition, over the time he'd known the rat. Stammering wasn't usually a congenital disorder, though it could rarely be caused by motor problems. Typically, it developed during childhood, and then in most cases went away within a few years. He'd heard Greyson's mother say something, a long time ago, that implied the rat hadn't been stammering when he was a young child, at least... but he'd never asked his friend about it. He knew, also, that Greyson hadn't started getting proper therapy until he was in high school.
Jonathon had gone with the rat to see his therapist several times, as the outside party with the most experience now that Greyson's parents were out of the picture... and she had said a lot about anxiety. Things Greyson didn't seem to question. He listened attentively, before offering a fairly butchered reply, worse than usual, even. He liked having Jonathon go with him to doctor's offices and similar places, too, just to answer questions, because he got so bad as to be unintelligible sometimes.
He'd never talked to the rat about anxiety. He didn't really want to know if Greyson spent all his time nervous, dreading having to open his mouth, what people would think of him. He didn't need to know that.
What he needed to know, was that he had Greyson with him, and Greyson liked him, and he liked Greyson... and they could just enjoy each other's company. Find pleasure in the here and now.
And Jonathon intended to do that.
First, though, there was dinner. Greyson wasn't a television chef, but he liked to cook, and had never produced anything that wasn't at least tasty. Jonathon liked to watch, and stood in the kitchen while Greyson sautéed potatoes and braised chicken. The raccoon helped chop up some green onions, but mostly he just stood around and talked. Despite his learned reticence and frequent frustration, Greyson liked to talk, when he had a patient companion.
"S-s-so how's schoo - school?"
"Oh, it's going okay..." The raccoon smiled a little, and then grimaced a little, and then smiled a little again. "Kinda worried about my main chem class, I'm sitting at a B right now, but I think if I study a lot for the final I can scrape an A."
The rat huffed. "Y-you woul-l-- woul-d be dis-s-s-satisff... ff-fied with a b-B."
"Well, of course I would," Jonathon chuckled. "I fought long and hard for my 3.9 and I intend to keep it. If I can't manage it, that's one thing, but I think I can, so it's another."
"H-how's your ffffrien-d doin'? Th-the one wi-with the b-beak."
"Mitch? Okay, I guess. I'm helping him with his homework a lot this semester, but I think he'll do okay. He gets it, he just... you know, doesn't study enough." Jonathon put a paw to his muzzle and whispered. "Lazy!"
Greyson chuckled as he stirred the potatoes, which were beginning to acquire a delightful golden hue and emit even more delightful smells. He lifted the lid of the pot, releasing a wash of steam, and stiffed at the bubbling broth within. "Hm... n-nnnot qui-quite..."
"Smells amazing," the raccoon observed, with a great sniff.
"Heh... Y-ya, tryn' s-someth-th-- s-somethin' new... Th-they were e-eatin' b-braised fff-ff-- f... damn... fff-pheasan-nt in a b-book I was r-read-din... Soun-nded so g-good..."
Jonathon chuckled. "Yeah, I hate that, when you get envious of some meal the protagonist gets to eat and you don't..."
"H-heh... makes-s-sfersome imp... im... im-p puls-sive shoppin' l-list-ts!" The golden-furred rat giggled and flicked his tail and stirred the chicken vigorously, before returning the lid to the pot. "Y-ya w-w... w-anna get me m-my stick-y b-beeper?"
The raccoon nodded and padded out of the kitchen into the little dining area on the other side. The little burgundy travel bag was right where it always was, stuck into a bookshelf next to Steppenwolf. Jonathon grabbed it and returned to the kitchen; the rat extended a paw for the bag.
"Can I do it?" Jonathon asked, a little shyly.
Greyson slowly smiled. "C-course ya'c-cannn..."
Jonathon smiled a bit too, setting the bag down and going to wash his paws. Always good to be clean about this stuff. He unzipped the bag; within lay a dozen syringes, paper-wrapped sharps, a monitor, a small bottle, some bandages and related medical supplies, and an extra drum of strips for the monitor. Jonathon removed the small gizmo and poked it on; it started up, whirred, and extended a sharp-ended strip.
"Y-you rr-rememmm - m... rememmb-ber how ta d-do it?" the rat asked.
Jonathon nodded. "Been a little bit, but I've done it often enough, haven't I?"
The rat smiled a little. "E-enou-nough... yeah..." Tentatively, he offered his paw, and Jonathon took it softly in his own.
Greyson had such nice, nice paws. Small and a little bony, with squishy pads and pointy claws, but so soft and warm... He loved holding his friend's paw, really loved it.
Tearing open a paper-wrapped antiseptic pad, he gave one of Greyson's digits a good swabbing. Gingerly, he drew the meter in, aimed carefully, and - stick! - a little bead of red appeared at the tip of the test strip.
"G-gee... you're b-bett-ter at'tha than I, I am! Heheheh..." the rat chuckled.
Jonathon smiled and gently squeezed a drop onto the strip. The monitor began to flash, and he set it down, reaching back into the bag and retrieving a bandage, which was quickly applied to the rat's oozing digit. He gave Greyson's paw a pat just after, and the two shared another smile.
A moment later, the monitor beeped, and Jonathon picked it up to look at it. "Hmmm... 125," he reported.
Greyson nodded. "It w-was a b-b-bit high b... b-beffffore I c-came to g-g-get you... So g-gave m'self an-nother two u, units..." The rat peered at the stove again, and peeked into the pot he'd been attending. "Hmmm... lossa c-carbs, though, p-potat-t-ters... B-better go w-w... with ff-f-ffffour units, I think-k... M-might end up-p a b-bit high, I'll ch - chhh - look ag... g-gain l-later."
Jonathon nodded; he had the vaguest grasp of how insulin boli worked. If one injected the right amount at the right time, it would kick in just as the meal was being digested, and the blood sugar level would barely waver. It got to be a bit of a numerical art, for a type 1 diabetic who needed it several times a day.
Next out of the bag came a syringe and a needle; Jonathon attached the former to the latter, and carefully took the rat's offered left arm, pushing his t-shirt sleeve up a bit. On the area between the bicep and tricep, there was a patch of fur that was kept trimmed fairly short; Jonathon gave it a good swabbing with the slightly foamy antiseptic pad, designed to work its juice into fur thoroughly. He withdrew the bottle next, giving it a gentle rolling motion, and then peered through the glass to ascertain its consistency. Yup, still nice and clear... low, though.
"Dunno if there are four units in here," he remarked.
"Th-there's an-n-nnnotherone in th... the f-fridge," Greyson replied.
Jonathon nodded and twisted the cap off. Syringe in, suck, careful not to make any bubbles... yeah, looked like he was only getting two units out of this one, push it any more and there'd be bubbles for sure. Holding the partially-filled syringe carefully, he opened the fridge and found the new bottle, behind the eggs.
Greyson stirred the potatoes once more, and checked the chicken, being careful not to dislodge his sleeve.
"This one'll be cold," Jonathon warned. "Sorry."
"'S ok-kay..." Greyson said with a smile, offering his arm again. Jonathon took it, pinched the skin carefully... poke. Squeeeeeze. Greyson made a face.
"Sorry, I did warn you..." Jonathon replied, feeling a little bad about that. "Take the new bottle out a bit early next time. It's not like you need to worry about it expiring, with the way you go through it."
"Heh, y-yeah..." Greyson rubbed his nose a little, embarrassed. "I sh-shoul-should..."
The raccoon withdrew the needle, grabbed another bandage, and slapped it on the rat's arm. Greyson probably didn't need it for that one, but Jonathon wanted to make sure he was taken care of, all the same. Needle goes in the neon plastic biohazard container by the sink, syringe goes in the tub to be re-sterilized, put the new bottle back in the bag, throw away the trash.
The rat gave him a smile, then. "Y-y-you shoul' b-be a nnn... n-nurse..."
"Ha ha," Jonathon replied, unfunnily. "And scrub bedpans all day? I don't think so." His tone softened a bit. "I'll be your nurse, though, whenever you need it. And sometimes when you don't, too, so there."
The rat chuckled... and then reached out and gave him a hug.
A little surprised, Jonathon smiled and returned it, nuzzling his head into Greyson's neck, into his soft, richly-scented golden fur.
"Y-you'r-re sucha g-g-g... g-good ffff-frien-nd, J-jon-ny..."
Jonathon drew back and gave him a deep, affectionate look, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. "So are you."
Greyson's expression changed, then, slowly twisting into something mournful and melancholy. "I, I... I'm I'm s-sorr-r-ry I c-c-can-n't-t..."
"Shhhhh..." the raccoon responded, a finger going to the rat's muzzle, before slowly stroking back across his cheek. "Don't be sorry..." He smiled hesitantly. "We're together right now... and for that, I'm not sorry."
After a bit, Greyson smiled as well, and turned back to the stove. He stirred the potatoes, wafted the chicken in broth.
"Th-think it's ab-bout d - d-done."
I quite like how this one came out. It's... nice. Gives me nice feelings. Also the relationship between Greyson and Jonathon has been one I've been wanting to explore for far longer than FA has been a thing. Some shreds buried in all this are Based On A True Story, and I'll be the first to admit it.
I'm really not much of a Christmas 'yena. Sure, I'll wear the "slutty candy cane" costume if you insist, but, wait, why are you taking pictures? WHAT?! Why I oughta...
*ahem* Anyway. I'm really more of a Thanksgiving sort of guy. Christmas just means filthy consumerism, annoying music, and awkward protestations of "I'm an atheistSORRYPLEASEDON'THITME!". However, I do hope you all manage not to drown in the droves of dogged deal-draggers, or smash too many speakers with sledgehammers, and I hope, whatever all this red and green stuff means to you, that you have a nice holiday. :3
EDIT: Oh, I forgot to remark, as well, that the inclusion of the insulin scene was an homage to Memento, which is an excellent movie, otherwise known as "That one Christopher Nolan did before Inception." I like it better than the latter, in fact.