[On April 21st, before the last bell rings to dismiss classes, Jeff gets a text. The logic is simple: Neji's out to prove he's not an idiot who can't maneuver through this fucking tech, and should everything go disastrously-- it's Mr. Calhoun, and so who cares. That it takes some edge off his worry(?) neediness(?) is welcome, though definitely Not The Point.] I left something for you at your home. Let me know if it is adequate or if I should find you something else.
[Whenever the hell Jeff returns home, he'll find a plain cardboard box moderately hidden from view. Inside is a staple of Maine outdoors living- a classic Bowie, clip point and all. It's a hair less than a foot in length, has a solid 6 inch blade, sheath, and was totally swiped from those market days.]
[ Jeff reads over the text, totally-- but pleasantly!-- surprised. A+ texting, Neji, you've cracked this tech. ]
You did? Wow thanks!
[ Then again... 'something' is pretty vague. 'Something' could be anything, especially in a place like this. ]
Wait what did you leave at my house Wait nevermind if you wanted to tell me the specifics you would've Thanks again, whatever it is, I'm sure it's more than adequate!
[ And, later, once he's home and finds that box and...
It's a knife.
A bitchin' hunting knife that he could probably, like, gut a bear with-- in some alternate universe where he's capable of beating a bear in a fight, anyway. A knife that Jeff feels like, the longer it's out of its sheath, the greater the likelihood is that he'll accidentally cut his own fingers off.
Very, very gingerly, like the weapon might fly out of his hands and stab him, he puts it back in its sheath and sets it on his kitchen table. And he can't help but wonder: is this the Neji equivalent of when a cat drops a dead animal at your feet because it thinks you're helpless?
(In this case: the kid's not wrong) ]
That's a very generous knife thank you Definitely looks like it'll do the job 👍😊
[ Wait, does that combination of emojis, given the context, make him look like a serial killer??? ]
Full disclosure I've never used a knife like that before but I appreciate the gesture!
[The worry(?) neediness(?) makes a fantastic comeback; thanks. Never used a knife? Damned useless academics.]
You should only use it to cut anyway. This one is long enough to afford you some reach. Aim for arms or faces and making a getaway for when you will need to defend yourself. Omega or not.
[ Oh god. Aim for the FACE? The thought makes Jeff a little queasy.
This is a guy whose idea of fighting is "throw a single punch and immediately run while they're distracted." ]
That's some good advice.
[ Which isn't a lie. It is good-- if totally concerning-- advice, and Jeff's being sincere there. He appreciates the way the kid's reaching out, and even if he's way too much of a wimp (ahem, principled pacifist) to put the advice into action, Jeff doesn't want to discourage him.
Which is to say: if Jeff had a pack, the kid would be welcome. ]
I wouldn't do that! It's going somewhere safe and secure just as soon as I figure out a good place for it!
[ Because, look, as much as Jeff does understand where Neji's coming from with this, Jeff can't very well carry a knife with him to work. There's... so many reasons why that'd be the worst idea ever. ]
Wait how'd you know I put it there? Am I that predictable?? Wait nevermind it's not important if I'm predictable or not Let's circle back around to the other thing. [ About being seen as lesser, he means. ] Are people giving you shit?
["A good place" for a bear-gutting knife would be on the man's person. Neji feels like pushing the issue will lead to less acceptance of it later. Encouragement could wait.
He thinks five words have never been so amusing. But apparently reassurance couldn't wait, not with the guy so... soft and squishy like that.] Language, Mr. Calhoun.
[There's a lot of lost introspection revolving around if and when Neji had ever heard that question in his blasted life and
he decides then and there that he doesn't care.] But no.
[ BABY STEPS, NEJI. Just like Jeff is trying not to be too much of an overbearing teacher-dadfriend-pack(???)-whatever all at once, lest he scare him away, he needs... very slow encouragement before he can live up to his full stabbing potential. ]
haha :) [ The smiley's there to convey he's actually sincerely laughing! Why yes, Jeff is the type to worry if laughter just looks sarcastic over text, why do you ask-- ] Okay I walked into that one
Good. I'm just
[ Oddly protective over a kid he barely knows? Is this what having an empty nest feels like? Or is it...
No, he's pretty sure he knows what it is. He doesn't really understand all this pack stuff, the alpha-beta-omega thing, but he knows what he is, and he knows he feels more comfortable around other omegas than he does with alphas and betas. There's a degree of kinship there, and maybe... maybe all that undirected dadness in him is mixed up in the omega thing and here we are. ]
I just want you to make it clear that if you ever need anything or anyone gives you shit TROUBLE, you can come to me. I may not be able to stab a guy but I can help. We're both newbies here but we're not alone
And I promise I won't just leave the knife in the kitchen
okay so you get some bread and then you add -bacon (though i wouldn't trust the bacon here so maybe turkey bacon??) -egg (preferably cooked IN the bacon grease but given the above point about not trusting the bacon here, maybe not) -avocado (which I was always too broke for so it was guacamole for me)
be there in a few (probably more than a few on account of how crazy it is outside)
[ AND LO, Jeff arrives after some time with coffee and... an avocado, if only because avocados are the rarest ingredient in his hangover sandwich and he figures it's safe to assume Peter has everything else. Eggs, bacon, bread, and pickles are total 1950s kitchen staples. ]
Dude, I'm so glad your AC is working. It's like a fucking oven out there!
[ Which is why he's kind of sweaty and his t-shirt's clinging to his skin. SORRY, PETER. ]
[ Which may as well be 100 coming in from the northwest coast. He wipes a hand through his damp hair now that he's sat up in bed. Thank God he was too drunk to undress; this might be a little awkward, otherwise. ]
Last I checked I had the basics in my kitchen. Didn't try to eat any of it since, you know, it was fake.
[ Jeff laughs, all sunny disposition in the face of Peter's killer hangover. ] Man... 80's totally mild where I'm from. All you need's a good fan to get a breeze going!
[ And his smile dims a little, sympathetic. ]
Yeah... I probably went a whole day without eating when I got here. [ Besides the magic fruit in the jar that showed up with him. No way was he about to take the risk of fading away into nothing. As soon as his fingertips started to tingle, he downed those berries. ] Nothing like getting swept up in a dream to kill a guy's appetite. [ That and seeing people turn into pigs from the food here.
[ He's rusty with this, with dealing with hangovers. It's been years since he's drank enough to feel it the next day, and it's not like his daughter's ever needed his help with it. (Yet.)
But he tries to remember the little tricks that worked for him, back in the day. Room temp water, so the cold doesn't fuck with his stomach. Aspirin, if he can find any in the kitchen. ]
Hangovers are punishment enough on their own, so... [ As he hands Peter the water and offers a bottle of aspirin. ] Try not to be too hard on yourself, okay?
Thank you. [ He takes his room temperature glass of water and pops a few aspirin before gulping the whole drink down. ] I'll be here if you need be. Trying to collect my dignity.
Nahhh. [ Jeff backs out into the doorway, then holds up his hands, thumbs and index fingers pointed at each other, as if he's framing a shot of Peter on the bed. ] Still got your clothes on. No puke anywhere in sight. You look plenty dignified!
[ Okay, that's enough of that. Time to start the coffee and make a hangover sandwich! Cook up some... bacon... (please don't be cursed. It's not cursed, right, it can't be, because he hasn't seen anyone turn into a pig in months...) fry up a couple of eggs... Slice that avocado... Slap it all on some toast and top that off with some pickles. It's all pretty quick and easy, and Jeff has to stop himself from doing extra, like heating up a can of beans or making pancakes or slicing a bunch of fruit or whatever.
Dad instincts-- which totally don't apply when he's hanging out with a guy who's, like, a peer.
(He's way too used to being around kids.)
Eventually Jeff returns with the breakfast sandwich, and another glass of water. ]
You know, I usually don't make a guy breakfast in bed unless he bought me dinner the night before.
[ Jeff smiles, clearly a little charmed by the invitation to sit-- by the notion that it might be forward, even if it's, like, a totally practical thing on account of the lack of furniture.
Still! It's gentlemanly. ]
It's not too forward. [ At least he's careful not to jostle the mattress much when he sits down. Who knows if sudden movement will turn Peter's stomach inside out. He points at the other man. ]
And I'm holding you to that. [ The dinner thing. ] It's a date.
[ Wait. Jeff's been here too long. That's something to say under normal circumstances, not... to a guy who just found himself in a crazy dream world and drank himself sick in an attempt to wake up. Is he being too presumptuous? Insensitive? Should he laugh his own comment off as a joke or just backtrack and give Peter an out from any awkwardness or what? ] I mean! Or... it's a not-a-date! [ What are those things called again? ] A hangout of peers! No pressure-- unless you want-- Uh. I'm-- I feel like I'm being weird right now. Am I being weird right now?
I'd call it cute, but... [ Peter seamlessly shrug with perfect seriousness. ] I'm also sick from alcohol poisoning, so maybe take it with a grain of salt.
You know how often I get called cute? [ NOT OFTEN ENOUGH, BUDDY. ] I'm taking that as the raw, unfiltered, totally objective truth of a handsome man with exceptional taste.
Me too. About ten years, which is, like, a record for me... [ Ten years since his last bad hangover, that is. ] Hey, if you need somebody to slap a drink out of your hand the next time you think you might get wasted, I'm your guy. [ With a smile, he adds: ] I've got a lot of experience.
Experience being a buzzkill? That's a thankless job right there. [ It's hard to tell whether Peter is actually kidding. Enjoy puzzling out his terrible humor, Jeff. ] But I'll remember that, thanks.
How about instead of knocking a shot out of my hand, could you fill me back up? [ He grabs his empty glass off the bedside table. ]
[ Jeff snorts out a laugh, taking that deadpan remark as the joke it better have been intended as! ]
You're lucky you're good looking. [ Jeff takes that glass, getting up to go get that refil. ] And that I'm taking pity on you in your painfully hungover state!
Good-looking... [ Peter will definitely take that compliment, thank you. He has no leg to stand on here, but Jeff seems to enjoy his sense of humor and play, so he adds, ]
Tell me more about that. After you get me some water.
[ Okay okay hang on, let Jeff go fill that glass back up. ]
I'm a simple man. I like 'em tall, rugged, and good at holding their liquor. [ Teasingly, as he passes the water back to Peter: ] But two out of three isn't bad.
[ As unpleasant as the words popping up around town have been to see, there's some part of Peter that's seen some of them like a.... a sort of lifeline. He's drowning, slowly at first and then fast — his head stays under the water for longer and longer these days. He loses himself to the thing inside him, flooded over by inky black waves. When he manages to emerge from the depths, it's only for brief periods of time. Sometimes a mere hour or two, before he's fading back away, and Paimon takes over again.
Paimon. He knows its name now. He understands... what it is. It's a demon, apparently quite a powerful one. A king. And it's taken him. It has something to do with that title associated with him — Ultimate Host. He's seen that word, "host", attached to his name before. This town knows. And it's all catching up to him. Soon... he won't be Peter anymore.
But some of the words about other people involve things like this, demons and monsters and possession. Peter seeks those people out, desperate for any kind of answer, any kind of information that could possibly help him.
There's one, though, that's a bit different from the rest. One he'd seen a week or so back, and hadn't... hadn't quite known what to do with.
Jeff Calhoun had a demon in his head and he liked it.
He's been too afraid, too nervous, to find out more about that. And then another week goes by and Peter spends three consecutive days unconscious this time, and his body feels like it doesn't belong to him, and he has to sit and think and try to remember what month it even is or what some people's names are. And he's sick, as though the demon is some sort of illness — eyes shadowed, dark circles like bruises again. He looks like he did when he first woke up here. Like the remnant of a person, breathing shallowly.
It's easy enough to find Mr. Calhoun's address. The hard part is knocking on the door. There's something cowardly to the fact Peter didn't contact him first, just showed up. He.. was afraid Jeff might refuse to see him if he knew what this was going to be about, maybe.
After a long moment in which he stands outside of the door, fingers curling into his palms, nails pressing little marks into the soft skin there (preparing himself to enter it, the way he'd had to after Charlie had died and Peter hadn't wanted to come inside his own house, like an unwelcomed stranger) the boy lifts his hand and knocks. The words whisper through his mind, confusing him, frightening him. ....He has to know.
Jeff Calhoun had a demon in his head and he liked it. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
un:nejihyuuga
I left something for you at your home. Let me know if it is adequate or if I should find you something else.
[Whenever the hell Jeff returns home, he'll find a plain cardboard box moderately hidden from view. Inside is a staple of Maine outdoors living- a classic Bowie, clip point and all. It's a hair less than a foot in length, has a solid 6 inch blade, sheath, and was totally swiped from those market days.]
1/2
You did? Wow thanks!
[ Then again... 'something' is pretty vague. 'Something' could be anything, especially in a place like this. ]
Wait what did you leave at my house
Wait nevermind
if you wanted to tell me the specifics you would've
Thanks again, whatever it is, I'm sure it's more than adequate!
2/2
It's a knife.
A bitchin' hunting knife that he could probably, like, gut a bear with-- in some alternate universe where he's capable of beating a bear in a fight, anyway. A knife that Jeff feels like, the longer it's out of its sheath, the greater the likelihood is that he'll accidentally cut his own fingers off.
Very, very gingerly, like the weapon might fly out of his hands and stab him, he puts it back in its sheath and sets it on his kitchen table. And he can't help but wonder: is this the Neji equivalent of when a cat drops a dead animal at your feet because it thinks you're helpless?
(In this case: the kid's not wrong) ]
That's a very generous knife thank you
Definitely looks like it'll do the job
👍😊
[ Wait, does that combination of emojis, given the context, make him look like a serial killer??? ]
Full disclosure I've never used a knife like that before but I appreciate the gesture!
no subject
You should only use it to cut anyway. This one is long enough to afford you some reach. Aim for arms or faces and making a getaway for when you will need to defend yourself. Omega or not.
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This is a guy whose idea of fighting is "throw a single punch and immediately run while they're distracted." ]
That's some good advice.
[ Which isn't a lie. It is good-- if totally concerning-- advice, and Jeff's being sincere there. He appreciates the way the kid's reaching out, and even if he's way too much of a wimp (ahem, principled pacifist) to put the advice into action, Jeff doesn't want to discourage him.
Which is to say: if Jeff had a pack, the kid would be welcome. ]
Have you had to do that here?
no subject
[And what with the warning, the deliveries making the rounds...]
Please don't just leave it on your kitchen counter.
[Pack. Sure. Fine.]
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It's going somewhere safe and secure just as soon as I figure out a good place for it!
[ Because, look, as much as Jeff does understand where Neji's coming from with this, Jeff can't very well carry a knife with him to work. There's... so many reasons why that'd be the worst idea ever. ]
Wait how'd you know I put it there? Am I that predictable??
Wait nevermind it's not important if I'm predictable or not
Let's circle back around to the other thing. [ About being seen as lesser, he means. ] Are people giving you shit?
no subject
He thinks five words have never been so amusing. But apparently reassurance couldn't wait, not with the guy so... soft and squishy like that.] Language, Mr. Calhoun.
[There's a lot of lost introspection revolving around if and when Neji had ever heard that question in his blasted life and
he decides then and there that he doesn't care.] But no.
no subject
haha :) [ The smiley's there to convey he's actually sincerely laughing! Why yes, Jeff is the type to worry if laughter just looks sarcastic over text, why do you ask-- ]
Okay I walked into that one
Good. I'm just
[ Oddly protective over a kid he barely knows? Is this what having an empty nest feels like? Or is it...
No, he's pretty sure he knows what it is. He doesn't really understand all this pack stuff, the alpha-beta-omega thing, but he knows what he is, and he knows he feels more comfortable around other omegas than he does with alphas and betas. There's a degree of kinship there, and maybe... maybe all that undirected dadness in him is mixed up in the omega thing and here we are. ]
I just want you to make it clear that if you ever need anything or anyone gives you
shitTROUBLE, you can come to me. I may not be able to stab a guy but I can help.We're both newbies here but we're not alone
And I promise I won't just leave the knife in the kitchen
text; un: pozzy ( day after )
im still here
i feel like an asshole
no subject
for what it's worth i think you're right about waking up
it WILL happen!
one day
Just not today...
[ ANYWAY. ]
At least you're not hungover right? :)
no subject
[ He is SOOOO hungover ow owOWOW. ]
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[ Since he bought you at least one of those drinks and all. OOPS. ]
so i should make it up to you
I happen to know a mean hangover cure
totally fool proof!
no subject
but honestly Im dying here so I am all for fool proof
no subject
-bacon (though i wouldn't trust the bacon here so maybe turkey bacon??)
-egg (preferably cooked IN the bacon grease but given the above point about not trusting the bacon here, maybe not)
-avocado (which I was always too broke for so it was guacamole for me)
and now this is key
This is the secret ingredient
-PICKLES
no subject
Not sure when Ill be able to stand let alone cook an egg
But its worth a try
no subject
I mean
if you want the help
no subject
1/2
I'm offering
practically forcing my help upon you!
2/2
no subject
I cant say no to this kind of logic
no subject
I'm working with rock hard logic here buddy!
Need me to bring anything or did your kitchen come fully stocked?
no subject
im in one of the farmhouses on clover
302
--> action
be there in a few
(probably more than a few on account of how crazy it is outside)
[ AND LO, Jeff arrives after some time with coffee and... an avocado, if only because avocados are the rarest ingredient in his hangover sandwich and he figures it's safe to assume Peter has everything else. Eggs, bacon, bread, and pickles are total 1950s kitchen staples. ]
Dude, I'm so glad your AC is working. It's like a fucking oven out there!
[ Which is why he's kind of sweaty and his t-shirt's clinging to his skin. SORRY, PETER. ]
no subject
[ Which may as well be 100 coming in from the northwest coast. He wipes a hand through his damp hair now that he's sat up in bed. Thank God he was too drunk to undress; this might be a little awkward, otherwise. ]
Last I checked I had the basics in my kitchen. Didn't try to eat any of it since, you know, it was fake.
no subject
[ And his smile dims a little, sympathetic. ]
Yeah... I probably went a whole day without eating when I got here. [ Besides the magic fruit in the jar that showed up with him. No way was he about to take the risk of fading away into nothing. As soon as his fingertips started to tingle, he downed those berries. ] Nothing like getting swept up in a dream to kill a guy's appetite. [ That and seeing people turn into pigs from the food here.
SPEAKING OF: ]
You need anything before I get started?
no subject
You mind a water?
no subject
[ He's rusty with this, with dealing with hangovers. It's been years since he's drank enough to feel it the next day, and it's not like his daughter's ever needed his help with it. (Yet.)
But he tries to remember the little tricks that worked for him, back in the day. Room temp water, so the cold doesn't fuck with his stomach. Aspirin, if he can find any in the kitchen. ]
Hangovers are punishment enough on their own, so... [ As he hands Peter the water and offers a bottle of aspirin. ] Try not to be too hard on yourself, okay?
no subject
[ Ha ha. ]
no subject
[ Okay, that's enough of that. Time to start the coffee and make a hangover sandwich! Cook up some... bacon... (please don't be cursed. It's not cursed, right, it can't be, because he hasn't seen anyone turn into a pig in months...) fry up a couple of eggs... Slice that avocado... Slap it all on some toast and top that off with some pickles. It's all pretty quick and easy, and Jeff has to stop himself from doing extra, like heating up a can of beans or making pancakes or slicing a bunch of fruit or whatever.
Dad instincts-- which totally don't apply when he's hanging out with a guy who's, like, a peer.
(He's way too used to being around kids.)
Eventually Jeff returns with the breakfast sandwich, and another glass of water. ]
You know, I usually don't make a guy breakfast in bed unless he bought me dinner the night before.
no subject
[ He stares at Jeff for a moment, clearly considering something as his lower jaw juts a little to the side. ]
Is it forward to offer you a seat on the bed?
[ There's no other furniture to sit on in here. ]
no subject
Still! It's gentlemanly. ]
It's not too forward. [ At least he's careful not to jostle the mattress much when he sits down. Who knows if sudden movement will turn Peter's stomach inside out. He points at the other man. ]
And I'm holding you to that. [ The dinner thing. ] It's a date.
[ Wait. Jeff's been here too long. That's something to say under normal circumstances, not... to a guy who just found himself in a crazy dream world and drank himself sick in an attempt to wake up. Is he being too presumptuous? Insensitive? Should he laugh his own comment off as a joke or just backtrack and give Peter an out from any awkwardness or what? ] I mean! Or... it's a not-a-date! [ What are those things called again? ] A hangout of peers! No pressure-- unless you want-- Uh. I'm-- I feel like I'm being weird right now. Am I being weird right now?
no subject
no subject
Even if he's sick from alcohol poisoning.
no subject
Thank you, by the way. I'd have been found dead in my sheets after a few days.
no subject
[ Jeff returns the smile, leaning back on his hands. ]
No problem. I've been in your shoes a few times, myself. [ A beat. ] Okay, more than a few times.
[ But that's all behind him now! ]
no subject
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How about instead of knocking a shot out of my hand, could you fill me back up? [ He grabs his empty glass off the bedside table. ]
no subject
You're lucky you're good looking. [ Jeff takes that glass, getting up to go get that refil. ] And that I'm taking pity on you in your painfully hungover state!
no subject
Tell me more about that. After you get me some water.
no subject
I'm a simple man. I like 'em tall, rugged, and good at holding their liquor. [ Teasingly, as he passes the water back to Peter: ] But two out of three isn't bad.
no subject
Mm, I'm not all that tall. Will you take one out of three?
— action (cw: demons / demonic possession)
Paimon. He knows its name now. He understands... what it is. It's a demon, apparently quite a powerful one. A king. And it's taken him. It has something to do with that title associated with him — Ultimate Host. He's seen that word, "host", attached to his name before. This town knows. And it's all catching up to him. Soon... he won't be Peter anymore.
But some of the words about other people involve things like this, demons and monsters and possession. Peter seeks those people out, desperate for any kind of answer, any kind of information that could possibly help him.
There's one, though, that's a bit different from the rest. One he'd seen a week or so back, and hadn't... hadn't quite known what to do with.
Jeff Calhoun had a demon in his head and he liked it.
He's been too afraid, too nervous, to find out more about that. And then another week goes by and Peter spends three consecutive days unconscious this time, and his body feels like it doesn't belong to him, and he has to sit and think and try to remember what month it even is or what some people's names are. And he's sick, as though the demon is some sort of illness — eyes shadowed, dark circles like bruises again. He looks like he did when he first woke up here. Like the remnant of a person, breathing shallowly.
It's easy enough to find Mr. Calhoun's address. The hard part is knocking on the door. There's something cowardly to the fact Peter didn't contact him first, just showed up. He.. was afraid Jeff might refuse to see him if he knew what this was going to be about, maybe.
After a long moment in which he stands outside of the door, fingers curling into his palms, nails pressing little marks into the soft skin there (preparing himself to enter it, the way he'd had to after Charlie had died and Peter hadn't wanted to come inside his own house, like an unwelcomed stranger) the boy lifts his hand and knocks. The words whisper through his mind, confusing him, frightening him. ....He has to know.
Jeff Calhoun had a demon in his head and he liked it. ]