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.]
[ Ah - okay. Bad question. Stiles' dad never reacted like that when people asked about Claudia, but he figures this is Logan's equivalent of stifled west coast awkwardness. He winces at the noise and stays at the table for a second or two, just long enough to try and give Logan some space to calm down a little, then slinks outside in his shadow, nervously scratching the back of his neck. ]
What about - family? Like, a mom or a dad or a brother or a sister or something.
[ A daughter, or a granddaughter, maybe, if that's the kid he's been looking after since coming here - Stiles doesn't want to ask, just because he's getting a picture of Logan's homelife here, and he doesn't want to hurt the guy by prying into things he shouldn't. Immediate family feels safer to ask about, but Stiles is aware he's still taking a risk here by asking about it. He's hovering in the doorway, eyes flicking to the blood on Logan's hand but saying nothing. He figures Logan must've-- punched something since coming out here, and christ, Stiles feels like a dipshit. ]
Friends? Pets? Houseplants? I'm just - sorry, man, I just wanna get to know you better. I didn't mean to...
[ ... something. Ask too much. Stiles nervously taps his fingertips against his bottle, pressing his lips together and shutting himself up. ]
[Sure enough, Stiles comes stirring. Logan has the feeling the kid can't sit alone for too long without losing his cool - he's full of energy, funneling it out of himself however he can. Unfortunately for Logan that means through his mouth right now, and as he chomps on his cigar and sighs - he's subjected to another bout of questioning. Which he really doesn't want to get into?
So he looks at Stiles. Stares at him and - okay, maybe it's unkind:]
Tell me about your mother, then. If we're getting into fun family dynamics.
[ Okay, wow, yeah. Stiles tenses up, folding his arms tight over his chest. He's not offended by Logan bringing his mom up, exactly, but he knows she's dead, knows she died from the thing that's killing him now, and this just feels like a dig to get him to feel like shit and leave him alone. ]
She croaked. Bit the big one. Bought a pine condo.
[ Unfortunately for Logan, it just sparks the defensive, shit-eating spark in Stiles that gets him into so much trouble. He digs his heels in, not about to take this. ]
No wife, then? Girlfriend? Husband? Both? I'm not gonna judge, James, you don't gotta get all shy on me.
[There's a touch more venom in Logan's voice than there ought to be as he flexes his hand, rubbing the blood off his knuckles and onto his pants. They're playing a game of taking swipes at one another with a razor blade here and he doesn't like it. He feels like he's getting pushed into a corner and that never bodes well.]
You like playing this game, pissing me the fuck off? Leave good enough alone. You were ahead there, for a second. Then you ran your mouth.
[ The tiny little crumbs of satisfaction he got from working his way under Logan's skin doesn't really last. He snaps, lashes out and Stiles stands his ground, for the most part, but when Logan starts to say the same kind of shit he could picture his dad saying if he got frustrated enough, it kinda stops being fun. Stiles clenches his jaw, blinking a little too hard, and he looks away, torn between being angry and just wanting this to stop. ]
Alright. Alright, c'mon.
[ It's the fact that he still doesn't want to be alone that tethers him here when he could be storming off. Stiles doesn't apologize, but he at least tries to wind this down a bit and take the L. ]
If... if you really wanna know about her, and you're not just bringing her up to be an asshole - my mom's name was Claudia. She and my dad got engaged while they were in college. She... yeah.
[ Stiles shrugs, looking down and trailing off. Doesn't really feel worth talking about her in detail if Logan's just gonna use her as ammo later. ]
[Logan wants to stew in his gritty, pissy mood right now but Stiles won't leave or take the hint and that's probably a good thing. Logan smokes his cigar, blowing smoke to the side and breathing in shallow pants that are either from the irritation or the shitty healing factor. Could be both. He leans back in his chair and doesn't look back to Stiles, but is very aware of his presence.
He doesn't speak for a good long period of silence that might hint he's not wanting to speak again at all. That maybe he doesn't want to hear about Claudia, maybe he doesn't care. Doesn't want to care. He's supposed to be keeping his distance from people and yet here he is somehow chatting it up with a kid about his emotionally charged life. He grunts, running his hand down the front of his face.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
deerington | inbox for James "Logan" Howlett
no subject
[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?
no subject
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.
no subject
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?
no subject
Can I wake you in an emergency? Like, if I accidentally set the house on fire, or something.
no subject
[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.
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
[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.
no subject
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.
no subject
The hungry one? How's she doing?
no subject
Good. She's got a boyfriend apparently.
no subject
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?
no subject
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.
no subject
Don't put me in a position to ever have to.
no subject
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.
no subject
[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.
no subject
Do you have a wife?
[ It's ask personal questions until Logan legitimately throws him outside time, apparently. ]
no subject
no subject
What about - family? Like, a mom or a dad or a brother or a sister or something.
[ A daughter, or a granddaughter, maybe, if that's the kid he's been looking after since coming here - Stiles doesn't want to ask, just because he's getting a picture of Logan's homelife here, and he doesn't want to hurt the guy by prying into things he shouldn't. Immediate family feels safer to ask about, but Stiles is aware he's still taking a risk here by asking about it. He's hovering in the doorway, eyes flicking to the blood on Logan's hand but saying nothing. He figures Logan must've-- punched something since coming out here, and christ, Stiles feels like a dipshit. ]
Friends? Pets? Houseplants? I'm just - sorry, man, I just wanna get to know you better. I didn't mean to...
[ ... something. Ask too much. Stiles nervously taps his fingertips against his bottle, pressing his lips together and shutting himself up. ]
no subject
So he looks at Stiles. Stares at him and - okay, maybe it's unkind:]
Tell me about your mother, then. If we're getting into fun family dynamics.
no subject
She croaked. Bit the big one. Bought a pine condo.
[ Unfortunately for Logan, it just sparks the defensive, shit-eating spark in Stiles that gets him into so much trouble. He digs his heels in, not about to take this. ]
No wife, then? Girlfriend? Husband? Both? I'm not gonna judge, James, you don't gotta get all shy on me.
no subject
[There's a touch more venom in Logan's voice than there ought to be as he flexes his hand, rubbing the blood off his knuckles and onto his pants. They're playing a game of taking swipes at one another with a razor blade here and he doesn't like it. He feels like he's getting pushed into a corner and that never bodes well.]
You like playing this game, pissing me the fuck off? Leave good enough alone. You were ahead there, for a second. Then you ran your mouth.
no subject
Alright. Alright, c'mon.
[ It's the fact that he still doesn't want to be alone that tethers him here when he could be storming off. Stiles doesn't apologize, but he at least tries to wind this down a bit and take the L. ]
If... if you really wanna know about her, and you're not just bringing her up to be an asshole - my mom's name was Claudia. She and my dad got engaged while they were in college. She... yeah.
[ Stiles shrugs, looking down and trailing off. Doesn't really feel worth talking about her in detail if Logan's just gonna use her as ammo later. ]
no subject
He doesn't speak for a good long period of silence that might hint he's not wanting to speak again at all. That maybe he doesn't want to hear about Claudia, maybe he doesn't care. Doesn't want to care. He's supposed to be keeping his distance from people and yet here he is somehow chatting it up with a kid about his emotionally charged life. He grunts, running his hand down the front of his face.]
I have a kid. That's all.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)