[attr="class","jaytop"]

[attr="class","littlejay"]

he fumbles. "well — maybe grubbin grocers just has the best... celery stalks?"

[break][break] it seemed foolish now that he'd said it outloud. jayden coughs.

[break][break] to be perfectly honest, jayden wasn't exactly sure why he made the trek to this grocery store in particular at this particular time. sure, he was a man of routine and pattern, and he liked the comfort that came with seeing the same set of eyes staring across a sea of cabbages. but also at the same time, with his other obligations such as school or work or rocket-related activities, there would have been plenty more excuses to not come to this supermarket.

[break][break] after all, the stock on the rocket sub was probably sufficient enough. even if the food in the cafeteria probably still tasted of metallic tin.

[break][break] jayden is relieved that he hasn't seemed to upset the other. (for some reason, the thought of upsetting this near complete stranger makes his stomach turn in all sorts of unpleasant ways.)

[break][break] as they lead their way out of the grocery store and up the sootopolis steps, he stills as a laughter - bright and bubbly - peals out of the other. he turns with confusion and concern. had he said something wrong? something embarrassing —

[break][break] "oh." he blinks, looking back at fern delaney. "we're neighbors?" how curious.

[break][break] jayden leads the steps up to his apartment, unlocking the door with a slight of his hand. his palm presses against an invisible panel in the wall, disabling the alarms and whatever traps may lie within, before leading his way into the living room proper.

[break][break] "on brand?" he asks, before leading his way down another hallway and into the laundry room. it's a quaint space, like the rest of his apartment, dressed in monochromatic colors. jayden begins immediately to peel off his shirt, ridding himself of the sticky red substance.

[break][break] he pops open the washer, and offers fern delaney to do the same with a gesture of his hand.

[attr="class","ooc"]

mission [break]
fern delaney

☉

“Mhm…yep. It’s definitely the selection of celery stalks,” the reply with the tiniest of smirks. Maybe they should feel a little bad, it’s almost too easy to make him falter now that they’ve figured out their words are effective.[break][break]

And after all, Fern isn’t heartless. And yet…maybe just a little more shameless teasing won’t break him entirely.[break][break]

Though, underneath the comments and flirty remarks and coy looks, it does settle with them how genuine he is. It seems to really matter to him that Fern hasn’t become uncomfortable in his presence, and while that is a difficult feat to accomplish where Fern is involved, it is still a bit touching. The understanding only further affirms that sense of being grounded in his presence. The almost calming effect that often settles on their shoulders when they spy a flash of dark violet peeking over at them as they declare that week’s unshucked corn selection to be subpar.[break][break]

Naturally, Fern overrides the pleasant, mellow effect with his antics. It is innate within him to always be a bit of a performer, but to his chagrin, he actually enjoys the authenticity of it when it comes to these mundane interactions. Which is no little thing for someone who behaves on a larger than life scale whenever they can help it.[break][break]

“It would seem so!” He smiles brightly at him–Michail, hands clapping together once. “Very fortuitous.” There is a degree of blatant curiosity that comes with watching him disarm whatever has been set in his absence. It informs Fern that their own security is not at all up to snuff, and it’s all rather fancy. “It just seems…fitting, is all I mean.”[break][break]

Though their evaluations could be wrong, they consider as they follow him down the hall. And then they are definitely reevaluating as he pulls his shirt off without sparing a second thought. “Well, this deviation from the norm has certainly become that much more illuminating, Misha.” Very unsubtly, his glance flits down then back up, mischief gleaming in his eyes as he follows suit and hands over his shirt.[break][break]

Though maybe it’s a bit rude to use the diminutive of his name when they’re still practically strangers, but per usual, Fern glides right over expectations. If he is asked to refrain, he will. If it’s visibly off putting, he will scale back. Until then, however, they will run amok.

[break][break]

+ jayden cross | mission | operation name every fruit and vegetable I can come up with in one thread 2k22

[attr="class","pokeclass"]

[attr="class","jaytop"]

[attr="class","littlejay"]

"ah. thank you, then?"

[break][break] he isn't quite sure what fitting means, but it feels oddly like the times that mint frost will tease him on things he does not understand. it's easy to brush off — what is not so easy to brush off is the lingering effects of fern delaney 's smile on his back as he leads them into the laundry room.

[break][break] jayden peels off his shirt without much thought but when he does so, it would reveal a few things. for one, there is a patchwork of scars that litter both his front and back, one that speaks much more than a typical city worker. the second is one scar in particular, two stab-wounds that feel a little to fresh to be considered childhood wounds, in the center of his stomach.

[break][break] and yet, despite all this barreness that he is displaying in front of fern, it is the word mischa that makes him unravel.

[break][break] feeling suddenly raw to the rest of the world.

[break][break] his jaw clenches, eyes flashing steel.

[break][break] "don't call me that."

[break][break] mischa, mischa, mischa.

[break][break] he can hear the tones of his family - now dead - ringing past his ears. his mother's warm yet threatening tone, the touch of a knife against his jaw and the reflection of his father's blood-red gaze. his brother's sneer, the sound of snapping jaws.

[break][break] stiffly, he turns on a heel. "michail is fine."

[break][break] the silence that filters through the room after is deafening, and jayden busies himself with adjusting the appropriate settings on the machine. part of him considers tossing out fern delaney completely, but that would be rude. improper. impolite.

[break][break] plus, he didn't want him to leave.

[break][break] not exactly.

[attr="class","ooc"]

mission [break]
fern delaney

☉

Fern winks again, “It was a compliment, so you’re welcome.”[break][break]

While he has been content with their little unintentional meetups until this point, Fern finds himself practically plagued with curiosity about jayden cross with each glimpse he gets. It’s all a bit one-sided, perhaps. He’s not revealed much about himself at all apart from the fact that he lives down the street, and being rid of his shirt reveals that they are littered with evidence of past debacles. Knicks and scars from their attempts to wiggle free of numerous tricky situations back in Galar.[break][break]

Though not nearly to the same extent as the tapestry that is spun in silvery scars (some still fresh and pink, even,) along Michail’s skin. It isn’t a matter that unnerves Fern, only one that begs they ask, who are you? In their mind the answer is evolving at a greater pace than they could’ve anticipated.[break][break]

The air in the room shifts abruptly before they can say anything more, however, and it catches Fern by surprise. Tension erupts where it hadn’t existed before and they know hard and fast that they have messed up.[break][break]

“Ah-” Their words falter, and it’s not often that they are rendered speechless, let alone feeling the tumble of guilt twisting a knot in their stomach. Fern is more often than not a shameless creature–the sort who would rather explain away a situation rather than admit fault for anything at all ever.[break][break]

Maybe it’s the sudden thought that they spoiled something they were perhaps a bit fond of that makes the immediate regret kick in. Or something in the sharpness of jayden cross’s expression. They were expecting annoyance maybe, but not this. It’s almost haunted, and while Fern doesn’t really know what to make of that, there is a dire need to correct the blunder (also new for him.)[break][break]

“Okay.” It’s uncharacteristically quiet, and a small frown settles in place when they decide it’s essential that he knows they’re not fooling around with their words as they’ve been doing all day. They move like they’re trying to approach a startled deerling, stepping up next to him where he’s turned away to still his fiddling with the machine controls by placing their hands over his. “Michail.”[break][break]

They try to crane around but it’s not quite enough, so one hand lifts to tuck along his jaw in an attempt to draw eye contact if jayden cross doesn’t tug away. It’s a careful touch, though one meant more to command attention rather than hold affection. “I’ve struck a nerve, I’m sorry.”
[break][break]

+ jayden cross | mission | oops :c

[attr="class","pokeclass"]

[attr="class","jaytop"]

[attr="class","littlejay"]

his skin continues to pinken as they walk into the laundry room. there is something tingling on his skin as fern delaney dances with words and gestures, pulling and pushing where jayden doesn't often allow others to be.

[break][break] then again, it isn't often that he allows strangers into his home.

[break][break] however whatever may exist between them - soft, bubbly, pink - all but disappates in mere minutes. the greatest contrast to his life is the mundane nature of the relationship that he began with a stranger in a supermarket, but as all things in his life must end, so does this. crashing and burning as it goes, bringing up trauma and misery with every misstep.

[break][break] fern delaney would notice the exact moment that his expressions shutter close. while his normally monotonous expression could be seen as a bubble to the outside world, a shield that was still very much poppable, the word mischa causes something ironhard to clamp down atop of it. what was a bubble is now an iron-sharp shield, threatening as a ferrothorn.

[break][break] the sound of a spinning washer echoes in the distance. birds chirp somewhere outside, an ironic backdrop to the tension that exists in the air. jayden forces himself to calm down. he's being dramatic. and yet he can't, not as the ice chips at his heart, as the memories begin to resurface.

[break][break] he's almost fine - almost -

[break][break] and then fern touches him.

[break][break] fingers clamp down hard on fern delaney 's skin, twisting around his wrist and pulling it up - sharp. his gaze is now a blazing violet, a tornado of bruised purple and blue.

[break][break] violet meets a verdant green, a springfield of flowers against a twisting distortion, and jayden stills.

[break][break] "i —"

[break][break] he steps back. he swallows. he drops his grip.

[break][break] "i'm sorry."

[break][break] his skin still tingles along his cheek, where fern had touched him.

[attr="class","ooc"]

mission [break]
fern delaney

☉

Fern has made a mess, mucked it all up and is no longer sure if it can be salvaged. There’s a switch that goes off, and there is no more color tingeing the lines of his face, and Fern gets it a little better now. That order and control and neutrality keeping everything safe and confined. “I’m sorry,” it babbles out of them again, unbidden. And a little pathetic.[break][break]

The grip that snags their wrist is strong. Fingers dig into their skin, and a hissed breath slips loose before they can swallow it down. They don’t consider themselves afraid of jayden cross, not exactly. But their fight or flight instinct does kick, heavy as their heart skitters then thumps unevenly.

Even so they meet his gaze evenly, despite the widening of their eyes and startled flicker that they’re sure passes through the normally placid murk of blue-green. There’s a fire there that he finds in muddied, stormy color. Plum-lilac and indigo and as they fail to wiggle their arm free from where it hangs above their head; they feel distinctly like a small prey animal caught in a trap.[break][break]

Their mouth works, opening and shutting wordlessly in a demand to be released. It will be like each infraction they’ve committed in the past, all caused by their own disruption. A self-saboteur at his finest, he makes his bed daily with the problems he causes by not knowing when to leave well enough alone. If he can’t skirt the consequences, he’ll pay for them. And this likely means there will be no more friendly words and no more supermarket visits.[break][break]

They shrug most inconveniences, but this one causes a bubble of disappointment to swell up.[break][break]

All of these thoughts crashing through their head in no more than a handful of seconds before the moment breaks and Michail releases them before they have to start yanking back harder. They immediately clasp their wrist and step back, rubbing at the sore skin as they eye him warily.[break][break]

This is the part where they are told to get out, yes? It would not be the first time harsh words are hurled in their direction for crossing lines they should not. So they brace for that impact and– ‘I’m sorry.’[break][break]

What now? Fern’s brows knit together as they squint at him, confusion obvious in the way their head tilts. “Why?”
[break][break]

+ jayden cross | mission | oops :c

[attr="class","pokeclass"]

[attr="class","jaytop"]

[attr="class","littlejay"]

concern etches in the lines of his face as he pieces himself back together. like a piece of scribbled art, broken and muddled, that is only just beginning to splash with color once more.

[break][break] "i've hurt you."

[break][break] it's obvious, in the way that fern delaney is now cradling his wrist, and something twisting and awful worries itself in his gut. there's no reason for it. he doesn't owe the other man a single thing — especially considering that they're practically strangers.

[break][break] but are they? now? not when jayden has shown too much of himself in too short of a time. it had taken mint frost nearly a year to squeeze his way past jayden's defenses. it had taken fern delaney, what? an hour?

[break][break] jayden steps forward then, careful and offers a hand. his palm upturned. "may i?"

[break][break] if allowed, jayden would carefully and gently inspect the injury. it doesn't seem particularly bad, but the guilt still twists itself into his gut in a awful way.

[break][break] the silence still persists - yet it seems, somehow, less muddy than previously. a little bit lighter, if only slightly.

[break][break] the sound of birds chirp in the distance. a family of pidgey on a clothesline somewhere, perhaps?

[break][break] as to his why, jayden finally answers:

[break][break] "i have bad memories with that name. it's not your fault. you didn't know."

[attr="class","ooc"]

mission [break]
fern delaney

☉

Just like that, the familiarity is back. The careful concern and the somber sincerity that they have come to associate with jayden cross filters back into how he holds himself, and Fern thinks that just maybe they can breathe a sigh of relief.[break][break]

A huff of hollow laughter slips loose as he looks down at his wrist. The singular note is lax, though still a bit empty. But when they look back up, they’ve painted a small smile back into place and they shrug. “I’ve had much worse, no need to fret.”[break][break]

The display of emotion is one that he wasn’t anticipating in the slightest. He only thought he might continue to fluster jayden cross to a certain extent, but beyond that, it would only be an extension of their typical pleasantry. Just with a different backdrop. They feel they have a completely different view of the other now, though.[break][break]

One that they had to break the surface tension to catch sight of. And despite the flurry of nerves that followed having his wrist pinned up in an obvious moment of agitation, Fern doesn’t mind this. They’re not so simple, either. They have defenses of their own that keep their vulnerabilities in check. Those mechanisms simply look different.[break][break]

Their eyes follow the offered palm, then dart up to Michail’s for a moment. Silently, they move back into the space they had retreated from and offer up their wrist for inspection. Mild scrutiny still embedded in their eyes.[break][break]

Beyond the bubble they’re locked in, life continues quite pleasantly. These are stormy emotions that befit a stormy night, but the sun shines through the small window and brightens everything up with warm light. It’s all so ridiculously mundane that it might nearly make them laugh. “Well,” they chew on their bottom lip as they glance back up at his face, studying it as attentively as he does with their wrist. “I shouldn’t have anyway.”[break][break]

Maybe they can salvage something if they play at coyness as they always do? Their smile twists playfully, even if it doesn’t quite reach their eyes, which are still too apologetic. “Quite a grip you got there, though. That’s usually a good thing.”

[break][break]

+ jayden cross | mission | oops :c

[attr="class","pokeclass"]

[attr="class","jaytop"]

[attr="class","littlejay"]

despite the other's reassurances, jayden has to see it with his own eyes to know that it's not true. though it's not as if he has not done worse before, in the same way that fern delaney has experienced worse, it doesn't take away from the fact that he'd let this happen. he'd allowed it.

[break][break] 'unacceptable.' he can almost hear his father's biting tones in his ears. it is only in death that there is the absence of his father's knife.

[break][break] after a few moments, jayden seems to be satisfied and returns the other's wrist back to him, fingertips ghosting atop bruised skin. even so, jayden doesn't step away. he lingers. they linger.

[break][break] "it is?" his brow arches slightly at the compliment, his own lips upturned. "in what way?"

[break][break] jayden holds the gaze for a moment longer, before stepping away. "come on, i can make you some tea if you would like it. i also have a spare shirt in my closet."

[break][break] the rocket goes on then to lead the way out of the laundry room, only pausing at the door to make sure the other is following.

[break][break] privately, he is glad that they are back within the bubble. who knew what could have transpired otherwise?

[attr="class","ooc"]

mission [break]
fern delaney

☉

It is the gentleness that comes in the wake of tumult that gives Fern pause. The regret is almost palpable, and they can nearly feel it in the ghostlike touches over his aching wrist. That ache is the deep sort, the kind that says there would likely be a blossom of angry color soon. And already, there are some spots quickly darkening.[break][break]

But they have always bruised easily, and they don’t think much of it. Not that Michail knows that they often find themselves bearing all types of blotches, most of them mysteries or from clumsy moments. “Really, it’s alright. But thank you.”[break][break]

Fern’s wrinkles in amusement at the question turned back to him. “Well, let’s just say I don’t typically mind a bit of rough handling,” they answer, unable to temper the quiet laugh that follows. There is a smile returning to the other’s face, albeit a small one. Still, they find it relieving.[break][break]

They wait, though they’re not sure what for. Maybe to allow jayden cross to make the next move, whatever that may be. They have doled out their fair share of complications to today’s exchange, and it might do well if they simply gave him some space.[break][break]

Yet when he steps back, it comes with an invitation, and they are undoubtedly pleased that they will not be kicked out for causing discomfort, unintentionally so or not. “Tea sounds nice,” Fern chimes, and it isn’t until the other mentions it that they remember they still lack a shirt.[break][break]

He is not usually self-conscious, but his eyes flit down at himself briefly and suddenly there’s a dusting bloom of pink over the bridge of his nose. “A shirt is also nice.” Quick to recover, he gives him a sly look, “Careful though, I’m liable to nab things I like.”

[break][break]

+ jayden cross | mission | hehe

[attr="class","pokeclass"]

[attr="class","jaytop"]

[attr="class","littlejay"]

he pauses. "well, i'll do well do remember that then."

[break][break] after all, it would be convenient to note that he wouldn't have to tiptoe around the other man, even if he was a civilian. it was certainly easier to hang around other people who he didn't feel like he had to hide parts of himself near.

[break][break] then again — something about fern delaney made it so that he didn't feel that way to begin with.

[break][break] jayden leads them into the foyer, and sunlight sprawls through the open window. there is a fire place and a set of sofa cushions to which jayden gestures to. "stay here, i will return in a moment."

[break][break] swiftly, he pauses at the kitchen to turn on a kettle of water before disappearing from the hallway whence they came. in about five minutes, he returns — clothed. jayden wears a crisp white button-up and in his hand he has a simple black t. he closes the distance from wherever fern delaney had decided to deposit himself, offering the shirt to the other.

[break][break] "i wasn't sure which colors you'd like, so i thought something simple would suffice." a pause, and he adds, "if you get cold easily, you can borrow a sweater of mine."

[break][break] the kettle whistles to life, and he glances towards the kitchen. as he walks towards it, he asks, "do you have a preference for tea?"

[break][break] in the open space, fern delaney would see that everything is as one might expect it to be. simple and monochromatic, there is nary a thing out of place. next to the sofa, there is but a singular end table with a single photograph. it pictures a young couple, an infant child, and a child that looks to be about four or five. the man in the photo has a saccharine-sweet smile, and blood-red eyes as he sits in the chair, donning a smart suit and shoes that look like they're made of italian leather. the woman is wearing a red silk dress, one manicured hand placed carefully atop her husband's shoulder and the other carrying her sleeping baby. her other child stands in front of them, poised and perfect just like his father, in a suit as well.

[break][break] beside that photo is but one other, a picture of a small jayden holding what looks like to be his first eevee. eyes wide and full of childlike wonder, sprawling in the lights of ballonea town.

[break][break]

[attr="class","ooc"]

mission [break]
fern delaney

☉

“Might come in handy.” They have to resist the instinct to continue tossing winks in his direction. It might start looking like a twitch. They, for once, care about someone feeling comfortable around them. It’s double-edged–if he is comfortable, it favors Fern. They plop down daintily where indicated, not fast to snoop about and earn more agitation. At least they are a fast learner.[break][break]

“This is fine,” they reply with a shrug. It wasn’t like they expected to be given something nice to wear for the time being. Though– “A sweater would be good, yes.” As if on cue, as they pull the t-shirt over their head they can feel their skin prickle with chill despite the pleasant warmth that had been in the air outside. Once their arms pop through the sleeves, and their head through the neck, they rub their arms with a dramatic little shiver.[break][break]

Though they are normally a bit vain about their appearance, Fern doesn’t think about the fact that the effort caused static to ruffle the strands of their hair, tangling it a bit and making some stand up. They are too busy thinking about the prospect of a sweater (that probably smells nice,) and also how their hands might feel bundled up in the pouch or wrapped around a warm mug of tea.[break][break]

Fern feels the itch to follow him into the kitchen, maybe lean against the counter and enjoy the return of comfortable quiet. “Earl grey, if you have it,” they call after him instead, wandering a bit further into the open living space. Their own place is a total mess in comparison, or maybe it just looks cluttered. But it is the sprawl of stuffy furniture and tons of pillows and blankets that clutter their space that makes it so comfy, even if everything else isn’t kept in an ordered arrangement. Maybe they should get jayden cross a colorful throw blanket, as thanks for cleaning their things.[break][break]

Maybe something violet. That would do nice with the monochrome, they think.[break][break]

“Is this your family?” Fern asks as the photos capture his attention. His eyes move from person to person, and the man who must be Michail’s father is definitely familiar to him, though he’s not placed where from just yet. However, it is the photo of undoubtedly jayden cross as a child that he fixates on, carefully lifting the frame for closer inspection.[break][break]

“You were a cute kid,” they say as they look up across the space toward the kitchen with a widening smirk, “not that much has changed in that regard.” Their eyes are bright, though. Excited. “This is Ballonlea. You’ve been to Galar?”

[break][break]

+ jayden cross | mission | hehe

[attr="class","pokeclass"]

[attr="class","jaytop"]

[attr="class","littlejay"]

with a nod, jayden whistles low. it calls his umbreon into the room, ears perked. jayden whistles once more, and the umbreon disappears, only to loop around to fern delaney with a zip-up hoodie in his mouth. the color of it is sable black with the exception of it's plum-colored drawstrings. there is a small bird blotted out in the corner of the chest.

[break][break] "hm?"

[break][break] reaching up into a cabinet, jayden has pulled a small tray from it's interior. he sets it on the slate table — half the tray is filled with several different types of tea. he picks up the canister labeled earl grey, spooning equal portions into two coffee mugs. by the time he walks over to fern delaney, the cups are steeping hot where he sets them down on the table.

[break][break] "ah - yes. those are my parents. or, well, were my parents." he doesn't elaborate further, instead making sure that each of the cups are placed on coasters. jayden reaches over the center of the table to light a candle, the smell of vanilla filling the air between them.

[break][break] his brow arches, the ghost of a smile on his lips. "are you calling me cute?" he seemed skeptical, but bemused.

[break][break] shaking off the match until it dissipates into smoke, surprise filters through his gaze at the excited look that fern was giving him. 'cute,' jayden thinks, unbidden.

[break][break] "yes. actually, it's my hometown."

[attr="class","ooc"]

mission [break]
fern delaney

☉