[ 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. ]
[A tug on his arm might as well be a cozy collar around his neck attached to plaid leash she barely has to even move to get him to obey, he reacts so immediately and hopelessly. He'd agree that this was all they got, couldn't deny the truth of it, and with the scare of what home had been made being gone forever, he couldn't help but be a little. Well. Helpless in the way that April could give him the smallest verbal or physical cue and he would answer it like a command spoken directly.
He smiles, warm and happy, following natural at this point. Though he's not content to be nothing but completely enamored and in awe of her presence and one second from getting all soppy over everything, oh no. There is some moderately proactive measure taken, Will tangling their fingers back together while he looks at her like he's completely enamored and in awe and would walk far more than 500 miles back and forth if she asked.
He likes being home, too. The mentally promised baths are a bonus, having April back safe and sound and herself is all he needs, which is why he just won't stop looking at her with that stupidly pleased face of his.]
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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?
no subject
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...]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.]
no subject
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.
no subject
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
Date: 2015-04-07 01:55 am (UTC)He smiles, warm and happy, following natural at this point. Though he's not content to be nothing but completely enamored and in awe of her presence and one second from getting all soppy over everything, oh no. There is some moderately proactive measure taken, Will tangling their fingers back together while he looks at her like he's completely enamored and in awe and would walk far more than 500 miles back and forth if she asked.
He likes being home, too. The mentally promised baths are a bonus, having April back safe and sound and herself is all he needs, which is why he just won't stop looking at her with that stupidly pleased face of his.]