[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:]
[ 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. ]
[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. ]
[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.
[ Sounds good. Stiles nods, looking away, sucking a french fry dry. He slooowly drags his eyes back, looking at Logan with the totally-not-innocent look of someone trying to look innocent. He's just got one quick question. Completely serious. Not just asking this to get Logan a little mad. Totally not like him to try and get under someone's skin after they've gone out of their way to be nice to him. ]
Can I wake you in an emergency? Like, if I accidentally set the house on fire, or something.
[He lifts his brows again, stares right back at Stiles and finishes his beer. He puts the bottle back on the table, sliding it a little bit farther to the side and it seems he means this. Only he doesn't, clearly, but he wants to get his point across. So:]
[ Stiles taps his fingers on the edge of the table, drumming out a quick 1-2-3-4 1-2-3-4 rhythm. He looks at Logan like he's not done, like there's more bullshit questions he's about to put him through. He wraps his fingers back around his soda cup and takes a big, long sip, sucking at empty air once he's drained the last little bit of it. ]
Please clarify what you mean by "overnight guests". Because - I mean.
[ He gestures to the outside. It's still daylight out there, man. It hasn't not been daylight since they got here. ]
I don't want to hear you having sex, provided you ever get that far. Falls under the no guest rule in general, regardless of the time of day. We good with that?
[He wants nothing to do with teenage hormones, OK. Nothing.]
Don't even talk about the fucked up days. That's already pissing me off.
[ Oh, god, this was a mistake. Logan says the word sex and Stiles immediately feels like he's getting lectured by his dad, and never has an attempt to make someone else feel uncomfortable so completely backfired on him. He wrinkles his nose up and gently places his cup back down, quietly bitter. He lost that round. ]
Okay. Wow. Got it. No making the beast with two backs under your roof. No opening the gates of Mordor. No slaying any dragons or sweeping any chimneys. No verbing the adjective nouns. Reading you loud and clear.
[ Quick salute. Moving on. ]
No whitewashing the picket fence.
[ one more. ]
No introducing any basilisks to any chambers of secrets.
[They're on the same page then. Logan lets that sit in the air for a moment before getting up, throwing his trash into a nearly overflowing trash bin by the counter and going to the fridge for another beer. Sits himself right back down in his seat afterward, leaning back and twisting the lid off with his bare hand this time.]
You stay longer than a few days an' you're signing yourself up to be a babysitter, too. A kid might come around and if she does, you're in charge of making sure she doesn't start any fires either.
[ Wow, no appreciation for his craftsmanship. Stiles stares at Logan like he's expecting more than just a good, and when that doesn't come, he scoffs quietly under his breath and reaches out for that beer. He wants one too, apparently. ]
[Logan looks across the table and notices Stiles' gesture of want, and looks for a moment like he's just going to hand the bottle over. Lifts it, start to move it, but before it gets into his touch? Logan pulls it back and takes a swig. Get your own is implied from there.]
[ Jeez, rude. Stiles is truly offended, splaying his hand over his chest in shock. The nerve? He looks at Logan like he wants to just kinda reach out and snatch the beer from his hand, and really, if he was anyone else, he probably would, but. Well. ]
Have you, like, threatend to break his kneecaps yet? That feels like something you'd do.
[ That's why he doesn't snatch Logan's beer. He gets up and gets his own bottle from the fridge, sighing laboriously every step he takes until he's back in his seat. He tries to mimic Logan, twisting his hand over the cap, but it just hurts and doesn't move at all. He makes a quiet ow noise, then starts gently whacking the neck of the bottle against the table, like he'll pop the cap off that way. ]
Wait. Are we at the stage where you'd threaten to break someone's kneecaps for me yet?
No, but she's got other people that are more willing to do that.
[Frank's having a Time with it and Logan's actually pretty mellow, all things considered. Yeah, sure, there's a faint trickle of anxiety in his spine when he thinks about having the responsibility put on him to give her a Talk or whatever, but... she's a kid, probably will grow out of this shit anyway, right? Totally. Logan stares at Stiles as he starts fucking up the table's edge with the bottle, expression staying blank.]
Use more force. Momentum on the swing.
[And because he's hesitant to disappoint the kid but also not sure what to say:]
You think a guy my age could still break kneecaps?
[ Wait, like this? A few tentative taps and Stiles starts thinking of the beer bottle as more like a baseball bat, and that familiarity is what carries him through. Momentum on the swing - Stiles brings the neck down against the edge of the table one more time and the bottlecap pops off with a loud ding, rocketting forward and onto the ground, and, well. Stiles is shocked that he did it and actually kinda proud of himself. He's trying not to grin too much, but. He's failing. He wipes his mouth with his hand, though, smearing that smirk away while he answers Logan's question. ]
I mean, not most guys your age, but you? Totally.
[ He takes a quick swig of beer, gesturing with his hand when his mouth is full to say that hold on, he's still got more to say, don't interrupt him. ]
Don't get me wrong, you'd absolutely need a nap after taking someone's kneecaps to church, but. A big, scary badass like you? C'mon.
[He really has broken so many kneecaps, Stiles. And so many other bones. Gutted people with claws you don't even know he has. He watches Stiles drink then rolls his eyes in the opposite direction. Big Scary Badass is probably some of the kinder words ever directed his way. He pushes back his chair and stands, moving around in the kitchen area to find the cupboard he left his cigars in.]
[ Oh, totally. Stiles crosses his heart, but he crosses his fingers, too, so it all amounts to nothing in the end. He throws back his beer like this isn't the first time he's been drinking, and - truth be told, a part of him wants to hound Logan about his health, just like he did in rapture. It doesn't seem like he's right on the brink of dying anymore, so maybe drinking less would keep things that way? Ultimately, he doesn't say anything, because stealing Logan's beer while berating him for having any in the same breath seems pretty shitty, but it's on his mind all the same. ]
Gonna take that as passive confirmation that you'd kick someone's ass for me if I needed you to. Good to know. Totally gonna hold you to that promise one day.
[Logan's not a guy who's made a lot of plans into the future for obvious reasons, so tossing that in with a good chance of never having to fill his end of the bargain's fine by him. Reminds him how they met though, with Stiles being an idiot wielding a pipe and asking to get into shit. God, the things Logan would do for some fucking peace and quiet.]
[ Logan's seriously kicking him out already? Stiles, scandalized, gestures at his bottle with a mouthful of beer. This isn't going to drink itself either, dude. Stiles pointedly puts his feet up, really settling in for the rest of the day. Peace and quiet is for cowards. ]
Do you have a wife?
[ It's ask personal questions until Logan legitimately throws him outside time, apparently. ]
[Bad question. Logan looks at him for a beat, turns away to slam a kitchen cupboard shut and ever so eloquently exits the kitchen with his cigar in hand. He's going for the front door, leaving Stiles in the kitchen to sit unknowing to what he might've stirred up besides Logan's annoyance and having his buttons pushed. He uses his claw while outside to crack the tip off his cigar and get it lit, metal retreated into his knuckles soon after that - the blood dripping down to the porch as he sits in one of the uncomfortable wicker seats. One way or another Stiles will be outside or out of his hair. He doesn't care which.]
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deerington | inbox for James "Logan" Howlett
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You piss anyone off or anything like that?
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[ 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?
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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.
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[ 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.
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[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.
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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.
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[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?
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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.
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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?
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Can I wake you in an emergency? Like, if I accidentally set the house on fire, or something.
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[He lifts his brows again, stares right back at Stiles and finishes his beer. He puts the bottle back on the table, sliding it a little bit farther to the side and it seems he means this. Only he doesn't, clearly, but he wants to get his point across. So:]
Also? Don't set my fucking house on fire.
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[ Stiles taps his fingers on the edge of the table, drumming out a quick 1-2-3-4 1-2-3-4 rhythm. He looks at Logan like he's not done, like there's more bullshit questions he's about to put him through. He wraps his fingers back around his soda cup and takes a big, long sip, sucking at empty air once he's drained the last little bit of it. ]
Please clarify what you mean by "overnight guests". Because - I mean.
[ He gestures to the outside. It's still daylight out there, man. It hasn't not been daylight since they got here. ]
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[He wants nothing to do with teenage hormones, OK. Nothing.]
Don't even talk about the fucked up days. That's already pissing me off.
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Okay. Wow. Got it. No making the beast with two backs under your roof. No opening the gates of Mordor. No slaying any dragons or sweeping any chimneys. No verbing the adjective nouns. Reading you loud and clear.
[ Quick salute. Moving on. ]
No whitewashing the picket fence.
[ one more. ]
No introducing any basilisks to any chambers of secrets.
no subject
[They're on the same page then. Logan lets that sit in the air for a moment before getting up, throwing his trash into a nearly overflowing trash bin by the counter and going to the fridge for another beer. Sits himself right back down in his seat afterward, leaning back and twisting the lid off with his bare hand this time.]
You stay longer than a few days an' you're signing yourself up to be a babysitter, too. A kid might come around and if she does, you're in charge of making sure she doesn't start any fires either.
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The hungry one? How's she doing?
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Good. She's got a boyfriend apparently.
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Have you, like, threatend to break his kneecaps yet? That feels like something you'd do.
[ That's why he doesn't snatch Logan's beer. He gets up and gets his own bottle from the fridge, sighing laboriously every step he takes until he's back in his seat. He tries to mimic Logan, twisting his hand over the cap, but it just hurts and doesn't move at all. He makes a quiet ow noise, then starts gently whacking the neck of the bottle against the table, like he'll pop the cap off that way. ]
Wait. Are we at the stage where you'd threaten to break someone's kneecaps for me yet?
no subject
[Frank's having a Time with it and Logan's actually pretty mellow, all things considered. Yeah, sure, there's a faint trickle of anxiety in his spine when he thinks about having the responsibility put on him to give her a Talk or whatever, but... she's a kid, probably will grow out of this shit anyway, right? Totally. Logan stares at Stiles as he starts fucking up the table's edge with the bottle, expression staying blank.]
Use more force. Momentum on the swing.
[And because he's hesitant to disappoint the kid but also not sure what to say:]
You think a guy my age could still break kneecaps?
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I mean, not most guys your age, but you? Totally.
[ He takes a quick swig of beer, gesturing with his hand when his mouth is full to say that hold on, he's still got more to say, don't interrupt him. ]
Don't get me wrong, you'd absolutely need a nap after taking someone's kneecaps to church, but. A big, scary badass like you? C'mon.
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Don't put me in a position to ever have to.
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Gonna take that as passive confirmation that you'd kick someone's ass for me if I needed you to. Good to know. Totally gonna hold you to that promise one day.
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[Logan's not a guy who's made a lot of plans into the future for obvious reasons, so tossing that in with a good chance of never having to fill his end of the bargain's fine by him. Reminds him how they met though, with Stiles being an idiot wielding a pipe and asking to get into shit. God, the things Logan would do for some fucking peace and quiet.]
Car's not going to wash itself.
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Do you have a wife?
[ It's ask personal questions until Logan legitimately throws him outside time, apparently. ]
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