knewaguy | (no subject)

Remember how I was gonna tell you to go fuck yourself like 1.5 jokes ago?

Before I promised to wash your car for you?

Before you got me to pay you more money to wash my car than I offered, yeah.

[ ... ]

Oh no. It seems I've run out of jokes.

Good, cause I was almost out of patience.

You need anything else right now, Stiles?
For real, not just to fuck around

[ i just want someone to talk to wouldn't be a hard thing to say. i'm scared of being alone while i'm sick is pretty straightforward, too. honesty might be enough to keep logan around for a while, but.

maybe it wouldn't be, either. stiles doesn't really want to find out, so. ]

Nah, I'm done. I'll leave you to it.
I'll swing by later tonight to take care of your car?
Or... later today, I guess. Given the endless sunlight thing.

OK

[A delay. Normally he'd just let that go, talk to the kid when he sees him but he feels? like he needs? to offer just one more shred of something. Kid's definitely got like zero friends here, so.]

what do you eat on your burgers.

Edited 2020-03-27 06:35 (UTC)

Uh.

[ dot dot dot. ]

Like. Everything? Seriously, everything. Just load it up with whatever you've got and I'll be happy.
Two patties is ideal. Two big, greasy, bad-for-your-heart red meat patties.
Why?

Edited 2020-03-27 06:45 (UTC)

Why the fuck do you think why?

[He's not cooking though, no fucking way. He's just going to grab take out and call it a day.]

Well, I mean, like, are you literally making burgers as we speak? Am I going to need to come over and clean your car right now if I wanna get my munch on?
Because I had things to do today. Video games to play. Movies to watch. Definitely legally purchased ebooks to read.
I'm, like, halfway through The Hunger Games.

[ no, he was going to come over in, like, 15 minutes, but. girls like it when you play it cool, so 90 year old men you have an oddly familial platonic relationship with are probably the same. ]

I'll be home in a half hour
you gonna be there by then?

I guess. If I have to be.
Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

[ Just the promise of food, the underlying offer of someone doing something nice for him, is enough for Stiles to be in a pretty decent mood by the time he's heading out to Logan's. He's happy for the excuse to get out of dodge, pocketing his Fluid and toeing on his sneakers, jumping down the stairs to his townhouse two steps at a time. He never strays too far from Roscoe, these days, but Logan probably hasn't seen her yet - it's dumb, but Stiles is kind of excited to introduce the two of them. A part of him kind of wants Logan's approval, and Roscoe's a perfect car, so. He's bound to get it here.

Stiles drives out to Logan's and parks on the grass outside of his house, taking side roads and travelling through the woods to avoid as many cultists as possible, then sits on the hood of Roscoe while he waits for Logan to get back. He manages to make it out here without seeing too much bloodshed, if any at all, and he's grateful that Logan's got a set up so far out of town. He wonders if it'd be too weird to ask to stay for a day or two, just until the end of the month, then decides - well, he'll just ask, see what happens.

When Logan gets back, Stiles looks pretty happy to see him. Pretty happy to smell take out, too, which he's immediately gesturing towards, swinging his legs in front of him. ]

Show me the beef, homie.

[Logan's been driving around a fucking limo, so it takes a moment to park it - and then he isn't at all sorry for making an arrangement for Stiles to have to clean it for a crisp twenty five bucks. He just closes his door and takes off his sunglasses, squinting at both Stiles and his car with a handful of paper bag. There's a tray with a coffee and a soda on it that he sits on the hood of his car, then gestures to Stiles to get.]

Get the drinks, go inside.

[He'll lead the way - unlocking the door and shouldering it inward - letting that nice damp, moldy and dusty smell of a barely kept house leak out. Wrinkling his nose he walks on in toward the kitchen, ignoring any flickering from the corners of the rooms.]

[ Jesus, since when has Logan had a limo? Stiles isn't subtle when Logan pulls up, staring at the thing like he's both impressed and trying to come up with a joke about how fucking out of character it feels for the Logan he knows to be a driver. There's a twitch at the corner of his lips when Logan steps out and hands off the drinks, but other than that, Stiles keeps his comments to himself. ]

'Kay.

[ Stiles does as he's told, sliding off of Roscoe and picking up his share of the load. He heads inside, screwing his nose up, too, once the smell hits him, but he's already taking a sip of his soda, so he doesn't get to comment right away. Once he's set the tray back down on the counter, Stiles is spinning on his heel to look at Logan, hands shoved into the pocket of his hoodie. ]

I'm gonna clean your house, too. Free of charge. You need to air the place out a bit, dude.

Crack a window and it ain't half bad.

[But - well, whatever. You wanna clean his place? Knock yourself out kid. Logan's dropping the paper bag onto the kitchen table, rifling through it to toss out a few items onto said tables next to it. Several burgers, both chicken and beef, and two big boxes of fries. He didn't know what to get and it's been a long fucking time since he's had the 'luxury' of take out. Caliban's nose never really appreciated it.

He goes for the fridge to pull out a beer.]

Eat whatever you want.

[ You give him an offer like that and he's gonna eat literally everything. Stiles catches one of the chicken burgers before it's even hit the table, peeling back the wrapper and biting through it the way only a starving teenage boy could. This one's got pickles, which is disgusting, but Stiles doesn't really mind. It's kind of hard to find normal food disgusting, after - you know. The spring festival.

Stiles takes both boxes of fries and carries them to the kitchen counter with his free arm, setting them down with his soda like he's claimed them, but he's not gonna fight if Logan takes one back. He is gonna fight if cracking a window is all Logan's going to let him do, but, whatever, he'll tackle that after lunch. Stiles does as he's told and gets the kitchen window open, pulling back its little curtains and sitting his ass down by the sink. He talks with his mouth full, because of course he does. ]

Thanks.

[ Another few chews. There's awkward silence here, now, but that's just because Stiles is ramping up to ask what he wants to ask. He thinks about easing into it, maybe asking Logan what he's been up to lately or tell another shitty joke or two - but he kinda just goes for it, in the end, swallowing and rushing the question out. ]

Can I crash on your couch for a couple days?

[Logan putters for a second, using the counter to take off the cap of his beer with a swift and oddly perfected hit of the bottle against it. He takes a long swig, lets the beer sit in his mouth, then swallows and moves forward to take a burger and sit at the table. Like a fucking civilized person would. Dinner table, Stiles. Move your ass over. He doesn't say anything for a beat, he just eats a bite of his burger - all elbows on the table and beer swig to chase. Then, after a beat of consideration, all he has to say is:]

You piss anyone off or anything like that?

Edited 2020-03-28 05:34 (UTC)

Only, like, the normal amount.

[ Nah, he hasn't pissed anyone off. Stiles takes the hint and scoops up his food in both arms again, making a lop-sided and slightly precarious trip to the dinner table, where he drops his loot and crashes into the seat opposite Logan. He's all gangly limbed and taking up too much space, slouching low in his chair, one leg hanging over the arm of it, one foot up on the table. He sips his soda, chewing on the end of his straw between mouthfuls. ]

So... is that a no?

[If Logan seems to mind the uncouth table manners, he doesn't show it. What they're eating doesn't need a fork and - well, nobody's around to bear witness so there's no corrections made. He just keeps drinking his beer as he goes through his food, letting silence hang in the air just the way he likes it before having to crack through it again.]

You can stay if you want to. I just want a heads up if there's any shit I need to know about. Pissed off girlfriends, owed taxes - any of that.

[A pause.]

But if you're asking for room and board, you're back to only getting twenty for washing my car.

Dude, if I had a girlfriend, I'd be asking to stay with her, not you.

[ No offense, he adds through a mouthful of food, lifting his hands in mock surrender. Stiles doesn't say much else until he's gotten through a bit more of his food, slapping down the empty cardboard burger box and slapping around for his fries when he's done. He just kinda puts the box to his mouth and lets the fries shovel themselves into his mouth, sliding down the inside of the box like a tray, and he makes a couple of startled/annoyed noises when he takes too much at once and gets fries over his shirt. Ugh.

He picks them up, though, polishing them off and sucking grease off his fingers, and then he moves to sit upright, feet on the ground and elbows on the table. He wipes his mouth on the back of his arm and eats a little slower, eyes down. He breaks the quiet eventually, not-- shy, exactly, but quiet, like he's not really sure how to say this. ]

Thanks. It just, uh - sucks being on my own, sometimes. I've got a friend who's been crashing downstairs sometimes, and there's this guy I've been hanging out with a bit, but it's - just.

[ He shrugs, grabbing another burger even though he's starting to feel full. ]

Things still suck.

You're used to living at home, aren't you.

[Logan makes the remark without really remembering if they talked about Stiles' homelife, or how things were before Rapture. He just speaks his mind because he's seen too many kids roll into the mansion back in the day, homesick for familiarity and still not sure what to do with sudden independence. But even there there were others - so he gets it, he thinks. Not exactly sure he wants the kid forever on his couch, but he's open to allowing it for a while.]

There's a couple different bedrooms upstairs, take your pick as a guest suite. Clean up's in your hands though, since you're so keen to do it.

[ Guilty, yeah. It's hard not having a strong male figure to disappoint every time you sneak out past curfew. Stiles shrugs, slowly, slowly, sloooowly slumping back down in his chair. He's getting a little more comfortable again. ]

Cool. Okay. It'll only be for a day or two, promise. Just until things - settle down.

[ The endless days, the... sacrifices. Those old chestnuts. ]

I'll clean, but like, I'm gonna have to teach you how to take care of yourself a little. Do you even know how to use a vacuum cleaner? The state of this place implies no.

Lived out in the desert the last few years. Vacuums didn't do shit out there.

[So, no, he's never really been fond of keeping up with more than patchwork the last decade or so. Holding shit together on behalf of everyone, if not just himself. This house is a league above what he was living in with Charles and Caliban for so long. And yet it's so far from the mansion that it's almost a little bit sad.]

Fix it up all you want. But you're taking that on yourself, too.

[He'll get suckered in, maybe, but his point is: don't expect shit from him upfront.]

I don't have to give you any talks or rules, right? You know how not to be an asshole?

[ That's all the permission he needs. Stiles gives a sarcastic little salute, polishing off a second burger and being mildly upset when he realizes he's on the tail end of his meal. He tries to make these last few fries last, savoring every gristly bit of lukewarm salt he can get. He thinks he knows how to behave, but - well, he wants Logan to think he's well behaved, so. He seeks out clarification, just in case. ]

You should probably lay down some ground rules just so you don't tear into me when I do something I didn't know I wasn't supposed to do.

[Logan leans back in his chair, wiping his hand off on a napkin before tipping back his beer bottle to nearly empty it. He regards Stiles for a moment, tries to assess whether the kid does know how not to be an asshole and then goes from there.]

No touching my stuff, going in my room or fucking with my car. No loud music, no guests, no telling anyone where I live. No drama, no theatrics, especially no overnight guests. And don't fucking wake me up if I'm asleep.

[That's the most important thing, after all.]

That enough?