[The funny thing, when April sees Will, is that his mention of needing to put on pants meant "I need to cover myself" because his idea of pants ends up being plaid pajama bottoms that clash bitterly with the plaid shirt he threw on over the white undershirt he tends to sleep in. He's outside, barefoot, every single window open. One finger has a hasty, homemade bandage wrapped around it, and he has the distinct look of someone who is more focused on the person he's expecting instead of the distinct look of someone puzzled by the appearance of raccoons. He's pale and tired and all that, sure, but there's new hope and life coursing through his veins to make it almost seem like he's ready to run a 5k instead of collapse into bed and sleep for a solid day. He lingers next to that dogwood tree naturally, dog-and-tree pack, glancing back at its progress when looking up the road gives him no April.
But, oh, when she finally does come into view, he's got eyes for nothing and no one else, snaps out of standing around and waiting and looking quickly, pushing off to meet her. Meet her halfway, maybe? She could stop and let him bridge the full gap, there is a Will Graham-shaped train coming at her regardless.]
[ She grins a little, ducking her head to hide it, as he rushes up to meet her. The same pace she'd been walking at the whole time doesn't change until he's within half a dozen feet. And then she stops. All the better to brace herself for impact with, my dear, and all that. But no matter how hard that impact may or may not be, she wraps her arms around his shoulders, forehead pressed against his neck.
It hadn't been anything to her, this little trip out. Leaving her chat with Mary one minute, then the next she was outside the porter with her comm freaking out at her. No new memories or even a cool new tattoo. But it'd still be possibly the worst moment ever for it to happen. ]
Stupid porter. It never does this when, like, I have a 80 hour work week or something.
[Stand still as much as she wants, Will's just gonna hug her like she's been gone for months.
There is plenty of force, of course, of course. Not enough to knock her over, but enough to make it clear Will could just as easily grab her up off the ground. He's a bit exhausted for that, though, so he ends up hugging her tightly, momentarily uncomfortable before his grip eases off. Right now, breathing a few strands of her hair straight up his nose is one of the best things to happen to him instead of a source of mild irritation.]
Rather you be stuck at the hell of a work week than be gone. [Grumbling, quiet, close enough to ear that he doesn't see a reason to raise his voice. Though the Porter does definitely deserve a stern talking to about this.] Sorry you're coming back to a mess.
[Whether he means himself or the house is anyone's guess.
[ Apparently she's going with the mess being the one of the raccoon's making. She doesn't move out of the hug, but does pull one arm away to try and tug Will's bandaged hand up towards her face to examine it. She always rolled her eyes and made empty threats when people wondered what diseases her raccoons had. But now was the first time she's ever actually taken a moment to consider it herself. Surely they all scheduled their own vet appointments.
[When April mentions it, tugs on his hand, it seems almost like Will had totally forgotten about it. Because he had. Eduardo and Will had a disagreement, he'd slapped a bandage over it to stop the bleeding after a quick wash, texted April about it, and immediately turned into a sad, terrible mess.]
Yeah...he was the last one to. Escape. [Eduardo was the oldest of them, or had been around the longest, from what Will could tell. So even though he's always viewed him as some furry stand-in for April's father, in this world, Will made more of an effort to keep him from running off than the others.] It's not that bad. Just bled a lot at first. Doesn't even hurt anymore.
[Never mind the fact that he has yet to detach himself from April in any way to give off the vibes that he's totally okay now, Will goes ahead and wiggles his finger to show that it (so far) isn't a gangrenous, infectious, rotting digit that will put his life in danger. Everything is all right. Will be all right, now that she's back. Wiggles his finger and, to show dexterity, he opens it from the next, enough room for another finger to fit in. Definitely just showing that his motor skills are all right, not unsubtly hinting about how lonely his hands have been and how she can fix that.]
[ His totally subtle hints are rewarded and April threads her fingers though his, bringing the bandaged hand down to press a kiss against the wrapping. Because pressing more germs from her mouth against the wound is the solution to all injuries, right? ]
He'll draw an apology picture. With puppies in it.
[ Puppies, the biggest rival in raccoon affection. Poor Eduardo would be in a month long pout, but that's what he got. Even if it was all outside his own control, that's what he got. ]
[Yes, yes it is. Will's never been afraid of germs in the slightest, whatever germs might come from April Ludgate's Injury-Healing Kiss are more then welcome, in his book. Healing enough that Will manages to not nearly crush her hand in return as a misguided effort to show how much he missed her, allows room for him to treat it like their normal, usual, everyday activity without any terrifying dramatics having gone down.]
Then I'll wanna put it on the fridge, and they'll all start trying to draw us stuff worth being on the fridge, too. [This is his attempt at saving Eduardo some humiliation, with about as much subtlety as he'd used prior. There's no fooling April, not with her boys, he wouldn't ever really try for that.] Is that what you want?
[Finally, finally, he moves to untangle, walk hand-in-hand without any hesitation. There's no Hannibal Lecter around to see or find out and get his panties in a wad over it, Will could care less if the entire street has come out on their porches to squint at them. He's completely unaware of anything outside April, anyway.]
[ Back into the house the go, a very slow stream of raccoons trailing in the windows after them. April moves to lean her head against his shoulder as they go, the house now sideways.]
Yeah. I want them to repaint the whole place in raccoon art. And we will rule over it all.
[He might not always be the most stable person around, but his shoulder is definitely well-equipped as a resting post. Even the steady stream of raccoons won't upset that, though Will does have the decency to give them all a moment's glance, a welcome back home, boys, as they do filter.]
In that case... [He sighs, obviously put upon, considering the smile in place.] ...they all owe apologies, he's just the only one who bit.
[ Because his badassness and not the simple fact he'd been the first to come to her was why he was the leader (spoiler: it was the arriving first thing).
She wanders along easily until they actually get in the house, at which point she spots walking and lifts her head up, trying to reestablish some kind of eye contact. ]
Eye contact isn't difficult to get. Will's spent the last day completely beside himself thinking she might never return, or that something terrible had happened—he's really quite inclined to hold eye contact for the next several hours. Even the question only has him breaking it for a moment to look around the messy house and its new (old) inhabitants flooding in.]
Yeah. [Holding a sad vigil. The stubble seems to have grown in more quickly, powered by distress.] Finished all the alcohol before noon, wasn't really...fit to go anywhere.
[So she can just imagine how he reacted when those presents knocked on the door, inebriated and not wanting who showed up to be anyone other than April herself. He tipped well, at least?]
[ Bless you, Will Graham. What a wonderful, terrible, perfect thing to focus on instead of how this was the worst possible moment April could have picked to be ported out. Still holding him by one arm, she drags him into the kitchen and other normal hiding places to investigate and confirm this tragedy. ]
[He's easily led, tragic almost. Like he's afraid if they stop touching, April will vanish into thin air. Every place she looks gets a momentary shake of his head because no, there is nothing to be found. Unless April has her own, unshared, alcoholic hiding spot, Will went through everything in his misery. Everything. His breath, most likely, reflects it. But she'll notice there's a box on the table, one that Will probably meant to put away but was too busy being exited about her return to think on. It's unopened and has a card on top with nothing but her name—Will's so far gone that he doesn't think to mention it, even.]
We can find more alcohol. [Just...not now. April isn't allowed to leave again so soon and Will is in no condition to wander down to the nearest convenience store.] And find a way to change you being sad.
[ Box. Will is saying things- and she's listening, really she is. She hears him, and even smiles a little over her shoulder at him at the whole changing being sad bit.
While she's heading to the box.
But she isn't a savage. Not with Will anyway. Drunk, hopefully less-sad-now-Will. For him she can behave just a little. So she opens the card first, fully expecting (and therefore mentally bracing herself) for some kind of pun, fish based or otherwise. ]
[Oh hell. Will doesn't say anything to stop her, though he does stiffen when he realizes where she's headed. Still, it's not like he hadn't planned on making her aware of them tomorrow morning (or afternoon, whatever), and they are all technically hers. So he goes quiet and watches her open that card, which is...
...in Spanish. Guess who doesn't know Spanish? Will Graham. So she'll find herself faced with a moping bulldog with big warm eyes looking up and saying Get well soon. The inside has more Spanish wishing a swift recovery and sending warm thoughts your way, Will's writing on the other side, in English, that lets her in on the secret. The secret apparently being:
The only other card they had in Spanish was something religious. Happy six month anniversary. And then, there's a few tries of scribbled out ti amo and tu amo and te amor before he eventually gave up and just added. I love you. - Will
Bronze star for effort?]
The other card had the Virgin Mary on the front and everything. I...thought the dog was better.
[The box itself is a collection of Janet Snakehole merchandise, if she had merchandise. A black t-shirt with the snake, big and bold, on the back like some fantastical house sigil. A black coffee mug with the same, and the handle at the top having been crafted in the shape of a snake's head, biting onto the rim of the cup to hold it in place. A pair of those terrible ballet flats, yellow, with the words GO and AWAY written large and in loud red font just over the toes so anyone looking at her straight on could read the message loud and clear. Black socks with the snake on the ankle are stuffed into them. And, at the very bottom of the collection, is a pair of tickets to an art show happening just outside of Heropa at the end of May. A short list of artists featured is on the back of both tickets, and there's one name he hopes sticks out more than others. One that maybe now has started putting gonads on sculptures of lady angler fish.
And maybe she'll also notice that the snake is an exact recreation of her tattoo, in the way that suggests either Will took a picture of it or drew it from memory. Every little detail is there, no skimping out.]
[ She takes the proper time looking over each item, placing them all on separate parts of the table according to function and snake-intensity. The card itself gets grinned at a bit- get well soon might just fit considering the state of her life choices and the porter's feelings towards her. But in the end she's left holding the tickets to the show, just looking down at them...
And guilt isn't a thing she did. Guilt implied making a mistake, feeling regret. And she didn't have that with most of her life choices, but definitely not over the house of animals and sex and booze she'd carved out with Will. But all this...for the six month. Which, true, meant more around here than it did in most places. With the vanishing she'd just displayed and all. So it wasn't guilt, even if she hadn't really thought too much about the whole event. But it was all still...
Something.
So she turned around, leaning against the table (or letting it dig into her lower back, as the case may be), and tilted her head at him. The next statement isn't judging, isn't guilty, isn't anything but pure affection. ]
[Meanwhile, Will does that staring thing, watching April like she is literally the entire universe as a person. Observing for any and all minute reactions, which she likes best, which isn't a big hit. The same way he thought he might be able to tell if she liked pizza, take-out, or tacos better. He's not antsy or nervous, isn't worried something is going to be offensive. He just wants to know which one she looks at and immediately thinks, yes, good. So he'll know for later. Birthdays. Holidays. One year anniversary?
Good Lord they've been here too long.
But crazy, okay. He's been called worse, and in worse ways. He might put on that he's totally awful with the people, but crazy doesn't imply criminal, so it's easier to put on the back burner, especially in that tone of voice.]
As long as I'm your kind of crazy, don't see a problem with it.
[Ordinarily, he might help out with that table digging into her back. But he's tired and his breath is rank and he knows it, so the table is spared. For now, at any rate. They'll be back, sometime, he's sure of it. He does, however, lean forward just enough to plant a kiss to her forehead. Foreheads don't care about terrible breath.]
[ Nor do girlfriends that have just been ported out in the worst moment possible. So the non-ticket holding hand comes up to tug at his hair, right the nape of his neck, and angle up for an actual kiss-
Which, admittedly, she ends with a small cough and a laugh. Never mind finding a new bottle of vodka or wine. She could just inhale his fumes for a while. Which...tempting. Kinda? After a visit to the toothpaste and maybe a shower. The latter of which she might volunteer to help with. But she makes up for the coughing by pressing her forehead against his collar bone, grinning as everything just...settles. Back to how it should be.
Her kind of crazy.
Which means the next part, while quietly spoken into his shirt over anything else, comes out easier than normal.]
[Actual kisses are great, and Will's totally fine with it, less fine with the coughing that ensues. But he gets why, isn't insulted, and as long as April isn't going back on him being her kind of crazy and walking out, everything is awesome. There's a mumbled sorry from a mouth that's failing not to smile. Sorry the alcohol-fueled exhaust pipe that is his breath was so noxious, he'll take care of it. Toothpaste and a shower sounds like the best sort of party at the moment.
The soothing motion of his hand running over her back slows. Slows, not stops, and only for a second before it picks pace right back up like nothing unusual or remarkable has happened at all. But, oh, that smile on his face is human and happy and glowing and he doesn't care which furry menace spots it.]
I love you, too. [There are two sharks being their general shark selves named April roaming the Atlantic, after all.] I'm so glad you're home.
[Not back, home. There was a difference. They'd gotten their own place, forged a little life for themselves. Neither of them would ever know the other back at what would be considered their real homes. They only had here, so as long as April was around and nothing was going to hell in a handbasket?
[ Home was a huge difference, and she shoves her forehead harder into his shoulder as a result. He got it. This wasn't some alternate universe one episode spin-off, wasn't some pit stop on the path of real life. It was all they had, all they got, and anything else was the back. The fake stuff. This was home.
So after a long moment she lifts her head up and tugs on his arm, looking to guide them out of the gift covered kitchen and towards that mentally promised bath. The cake and rings and snakes may just have possibly been forgotten in the...the good of the moment. ]
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timeasmymeasure
late that night
Date: 2015-03-24 02:20 am (UTC)5 mins
no subject
Date: 2015-03-24 02:24 am (UTC)i'll put on pants and be outside by then
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Date: 2015-03-24 02:32 am (UTC)i'm rounding the traitors up on the way
and they lost door privileges for the week
[ and not mentioning anything else from those texts yet ]
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Date: 2015-03-24 03:11 am (UTC)did you go home?
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Date: 2015-03-24 03:18 am (UTC)just hold on
[ april ludgate: officially in the City too long to think 'going home' means ported back to indiana.
and want to move this into action here? ]
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Date: 2015-03-24 04:18 am (UTC)[The funny thing, when April sees Will, is that his mention of needing to put on pants meant "I need to cover myself" because his idea of pants ends up being plaid pajama bottoms that clash bitterly with the plaid shirt he threw on over the white undershirt he tends to sleep in. He's outside, barefoot, every single window open. One finger has a hasty, homemade bandage wrapped around it, and he has the distinct look of someone who is more focused on the person he's expecting instead of the distinct look of someone puzzled by the appearance of raccoons. He's pale and tired and all that, sure, but there's new hope and life coursing through his veins to make it almost seem like he's ready to run a 5k instead of collapse into bed and sleep for a solid day. He lingers next to that dogwood tree naturally, dog-and-tree pack, glancing back at its progress when looking up the road gives him no April.
But, oh, when she finally does come into view, he's got eyes for nothing and no one else, snaps out of standing around and waiting and looking quickly, pushing off to meet her. Meet her halfway, maybe? She could stop and let him bridge the full gap, there is a Will Graham-shaped train coming at her regardless.]
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Date: 2015-03-25 12:59 am (UTC)It hadn't been anything to her, this little trip out. Leaving her chat with Mary one minute, then the next she was outside the porter with her comm freaking out at her. No new memories or even a cool new tattoo. But it'd still be possibly the worst moment ever for it to happen. ]
Stupid porter. It never does this when, like, I have a 80 hour work week or something.
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Date: 2015-03-25 01:44 am (UTC)There is plenty of force, of course, of course. Not enough to knock her over, but enough to make it clear Will could just as easily grab her up off the ground. He's a bit exhausted for that, though, so he ends up hugging her tightly, momentarily uncomfortable before his grip eases off. Right now, breathing a few strands of her hair straight up his nose is one of the best things to happen to him instead of a source of mild irritation.]
Rather you be stuck at the hell of a work week than be gone. [Grumbling, quiet, close enough to ear that he doesn't see a reason to raise his voice. Though the Porter does definitely deserve a stern talking to about this.] Sorry you're coming back to a mess.
[Whether he means himself or the house is anyone's guess.
(It can be both.)]
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Date: 2015-03-26 01:06 am (UTC)[ Apparently she's going with the mess being the one of the raccoon's making. She doesn't move out of the hug, but does pull one arm away to try and tug Will's bandaged hand up towards her face to examine it. She always rolled her eyes and made empty threats when people wondered what diseases her raccoons had. But now was the first time she's ever actually taken a moment to consider it herself. Surely they all scheduled their own vet appointments.
Surely.
Either way, it's an easy topic to focus on.]
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Date: 2015-03-26 03:59 am (UTC)Yeah...he was the last one to. Escape. [Eduardo was the oldest of them, or had been around the longest, from what Will could tell. So even though he's always viewed him as some furry stand-in for April's father, in this world, Will made more of an effort to keep him from running off than the others.] It's not that bad. Just bled a lot at first. Doesn't even hurt anymore.
[Never mind the fact that he has yet to detach himself from April in any way to give off the vibes that he's totally okay now, Will goes ahead and wiggles his finger to show that it (so far) isn't a gangrenous, infectious, rotting digit that will put his life in danger. Everything is all right. Will be all right, now that she's back. Wiggles his finger and, to show dexterity, he opens it from the next, enough room for another finger to fit in. Definitely just showing that his motor skills are all right, not unsubtly hinting about how lonely his hands have been and how she can fix that.]
no subject
Date: 2015-03-27 12:30 am (UTC)He'll draw an apology picture. With puppies in it.
[ Puppies, the biggest rival in raccoon affection. Poor Eduardo would be in a month long pout, but that's what he got. Even if it was all outside his own control, that's what he got. ]
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Date: 2015-03-27 02:38 am (UTC)Then I'll wanna put it on the fridge, and they'll all start trying to draw us stuff worth being on the fridge, too. [This is his attempt at saving Eduardo some humiliation, with about as much subtlety as he'd used prior. There's no fooling April, not with her boys, he wouldn't ever really try for that.] Is that what you want?
[Finally, finally, he moves to untangle, walk hand-in-hand without any hesitation. There's no Hannibal Lecter around to see or find out and get his panties in a wad over it, Will could care less if the entire street has come out on their porches to squint at them. He's completely unaware of anything outside April, anyway.]
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Date: 2015-03-29 12:57 am (UTC)Yeah. I want them to repaint the whole place in raccoon art. And we will rule over it all.
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Date: 2015-03-29 01:33 am (UTC)In that case... [He sighs, obviously put upon, considering the smile in place.] ...they all owe apologies, he's just the only one who bit.
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Date: 2015-04-03 01:05 am (UTC)[ Because his badassness and not the simple fact he'd been the first to come to her was why he was the leader (spoiler: it was the arriving first thing).
She wanders along easily until they actually get in the house, at which point she spots walking and lifts her head up, trying to reestablish some kind of eye contact. ]
Were you here all night?
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Date: 2015-04-03 02:23 am (UTC)Eye contact isn't difficult to get. Will's spent the last day completely beside himself thinking she might never return, or that something terrible had happened—he's really quite inclined to hold eye contact for the next several hours. Even the question only has him breaking it for a moment to look around the messy house and its new (old) inhabitants flooding in.]
Yeah. [Holding a sad vigil. The stubble seems to have grown in more quickly, powered by distress.] Finished all the alcohol before noon, wasn't really...fit to go anywhere.
[So she can just imagine how he reacted when those presents knocked on the door, inebriated and not wanting who showed up to be anyone other than April herself. He tipped well, at least?]
no subject
Date: 2015-04-04 01:24 am (UTC)[ Bless you, Will Graham. What a wonderful, terrible, perfect thing to focus on instead of how this was the worst possible moment April could have picked to be ported out. Still holding him by one arm, she drags him into the kitchen and other normal hiding places to investigate and confirm this tragedy. ]
I'm so proud. And sad. And proud.
no subject
Date: 2015-04-04 03:28 am (UTC)We can find more alcohol. [Just...not now. April isn't allowed to leave again so soon and Will is in no condition to wander down to the nearest convenience store.] And find a way to change you being sad.
[Phrasing...]
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Date: 2015-04-04 03:37 am (UTC)[ Box. Will is saying things- and she's listening, really she is. She hears him, and even smiles a little over her shoulder at him at the whole changing being sad bit.
While she's heading to the box.
But she isn't a savage. Not with Will anyway. Drunk, hopefully less-sad-now-Will. For him she can behave just a little. So she opens the card first, fully expecting (and therefore mentally bracing herself) for some kind of pun, fish based or otherwise. ]
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Date: 2015-04-04 04:08 am (UTC)...in Spanish. Guess who doesn't know Spanish? Will Graham. So she'll find herself faced with a moping bulldog with big warm eyes looking up and saying Get well soon. The inside has more Spanish wishing a swift recovery and sending warm thoughts your way, Will's writing on the other side, in English, that lets her in on the secret. The secret apparently being:
The only other card they had in Spanish was something religious. Happy six month anniversary. And then, there's a few tries of scribbled out ti amo and tu amo and te amor before he eventually gave up and just added. I love you. - Will
Bronze star for effort?]
The other card had the Virgin Mary on the front and everything. I...thought the dog was better.
[The box itself is a collection of Janet Snakehole merchandise, if she had merchandise. A black t-shirt with the snake, big and bold, on the back like some fantastical house sigil. A black coffee mug with the same, and the handle at the top having been crafted in the shape of a snake's head, biting onto the rim of the cup to hold it in place. A pair of those terrible ballet flats, yellow, with the words GO and AWAY written large and in loud red font just over the toes so anyone looking at her straight on could read the message loud and clear. Black socks with the snake on the ankle are stuffed into them. And, at the very bottom of the collection, is a pair of tickets to an art show happening just outside of Heropa at the end of May. A short list of artists featured is on the back of both tickets, and there's one name he hopes sticks out more than others. One that maybe now has started putting gonads on sculptures of lady angler fish.
And maybe she'll also notice that the snake is an exact recreation of her tattoo, in the way that suggests either Will took a picture of it or drew it from memory. Every little detail is there, no skimping out.]
no subject
Date: 2015-04-04 04:28 am (UTC)And guilt isn't a thing she did. Guilt implied making a mistake, feeling regret. And she didn't have that with most of her life choices, but definitely not over the house of animals and sex and booze she'd carved out with Will. But all this...for the six month. Which, true, meant more around here than it did in most places. With the vanishing she'd just displayed and all. So it wasn't guilt, even if she hadn't really thought too much about the whole event. But it was all still...
Something.
So she turned around, leaning against the table (or letting it dig into her lower back, as the case may be), and tilted her head at him. The next statement isn't judging, isn't guilty, isn't anything but pure affection. ]
You're crazy.
no subject
Date: 2015-04-04 04:52 am (UTC)Good Lord they've been here too long.
But crazy, okay. He's been called worse, and in worse ways. He might put on that he's totally awful with the people, but crazy doesn't imply criminal, so it's easier to put on the back burner, especially in that tone of voice.]
As long as I'm your kind of crazy, don't see a problem with it.
[Ordinarily, he might help out with that table digging into her back. But he's tired and his breath is rank and he knows it, so the table is spared. For now, at any rate. They'll be back, sometime, he's sure of it. He does, however, lean forward just enough to plant a kiss to her forehead. Foreheads don't care about terrible breath.]
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Date: 2015-04-05 12:37 am (UTC)Which, admittedly, she ends with a small cough and a laugh. Never mind finding a new bottle of vodka or wine. She could just inhale his fumes for a while. Which...tempting. Kinda? After a visit to the toothpaste and maybe a shower. The latter of which she might volunteer to help with. But she makes up for the coughing by pressing her forehead against his collar bone, grinning as everything just...settles. Back to how it should be.
Her kind of crazy.
Which means the next part, while quietly spoken into his shirt over anything else, comes out easier than normal.]
Mm. I love you, you know.
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Date: 2015-04-05 04:35 am (UTC)The soothing motion of his hand running over her back slows. Slows, not stops, and only for a second before it picks pace right back up like nothing unusual or remarkable has happened at all. But, oh, that smile on his face is human and happy and glowing and he doesn't care which furry menace spots it.]
I love you, too. [There are two sharks being their general shark selves named April roaming the Atlantic, after all.] I'm so glad you're home.
[Not back, home. There was a difference. They'd gotten their own place, forged a little life for themselves. Neither of them would ever know the other back at what would be considered their real homes. They only had here, so as long as April was around and nothing was going to hell in a handbasket?
That was home.]
no subject
Date: 2015-04-07 01:14 am (UTC)So after a long moment she lifts her head up and tugs on his arm, looking to guide them out of the gift covered kitchen and towards that mentally promised bath. The cake and rings and snakes may just have possibly been forgotten in the...the good of the moment. ]
I like being home.
(no subject)
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