[ okay, mr. furball, nicknames are fair game when you started it!!!
anyway. this wolf is better than the ones he's encountered in the past. this one only bites him when he asks, and this one pulls him out of his daydreams instead of making them worse. and maybe most importantly, this one knows how to rile him up in a way that doesn't hurt. jiaoqiu doesn't remove his hand from therion's back, and doesn't press too hard, just easy and warm. and when therion speaks, his tail waves back and forth like it does when he's agitated or impatient. ]
You should be. You're far too skinny. [ grumbles. and nags him, because therion is right, he's fussy about how much therion eats. ] And I would wager a guess that you have not eaten today.
[ which is fine, because jiaoqiu hasn't either. he slides his hand up therion's back gently, and then pulls away from him so that he can peer into the fridge as well, starting to pull ingredients out. there probably is some weird shit in there, but also? there's a whole bag of apples, and a tupperware container of sliced ones with homemade caramel. ]
Hm... meat skewers, I think. With roasted vegetables and a side of rice. And sauce to dip all of it in, of course. Is that simple enough for your palette? Will you eat vegetables if I prepare them?
[ hah, there he goes. yeah. therion rolls his eyes, but internally, he's a little amused. ]
I'm not four.
[ tch!!! he'll eat his vegetables! jiaoqiu has probably noticed by now that he usually finishes his plates when they're put in front of him. there's not really any room to be picky, and though he has no trouble lifting himself enough cash for a meal (or the meal itself) nowadays, old childhood habits tend to die hard. and he's used to jiaoqiu's particular brand of cooking, as spicy as it is, so he'll especially eat whatever he feeds him, now that he's sure it's safe to. so.
as for the rest. the hand sliding up his back is not. unwelcome, though he sort of tenses a little initially, just like always, and tries to pretend it doesn't make the hair on the back of his neck stand up, easily resists the urge to lean back into it, even if its there. its the combination of that and staring at the tupperware container in the fridge, because he knows that's not just there because jiaoqiu got a craving. when did he do that? how long has it been sitting there? when was the last time he came by to visit? guilt and something more dangerous flutter up into his throat, and he swallows them back, patting the fridge where he's resting on it and pulling back and away. ]
Do whatever you want. [ which jiaoqiu surely knows by now is therion for "yes". that's thing. he's learning how to be known. ]
[ this works. he's gotten used to the push and pull. it's comfortable. it's easier than letting himself think about the warmth of therion against his back, grounding him as the water soaked into his fur and got in his ears. he lets therion pull away, and gets further into the fridge, gathering ingredients.
idly, mock-scolding: ]
Mind your manners, or I'll be enlisting you to help prepare the meal.
[ which is a little bit of an invitation. if he'd like to help, he can. he doesn't have to - he can go curl up and hang out in jiaoqiu's lame armchair.
he also says this as he puts the ingredients out on the counter and pulls out a very sharp knife from the drawer. ]
[ sassy!!! and for what!! there's a brief, amused little smirk, something very genuine, but he considers this threat/offer. and after a moment, he decides to hop up on the counter instead, planting his bony butt here in his space like a cat.
he'll do kitchen stuff if jiaoqiu hands it to him, but for now, he's going to sit here like he owns the place, and... watch him, with that knife. watch the skill and care that goes into something like that - cutting vegetables, cutting pills, methodical and so different from the way therion wields a switchblade. so different from the way they met, where it was therion with the knife, a skittish animal ready to bite at any minute. ]
[ it's second nature, the way he holds the knife. like an extension of himself - the way therion does too, he's sure. different, maybe. the function is different, but the end result is often the same. they both use the knife to live.
there's a little tch sound that jiaoqiu lets out when therion hops up on the counter. ]
You are dirtying my work space. [ he keeps nagging, because he knows therion is doing it on purpose, and because he likes this, likes being annoyed and annoying right back. ] How am I supposed to cook when your germs are all over my counter, hm?
[ very gently thwacks him with the hilt of his knife. yes, he does a little twirly motion so he can hold the blade of it in order to do so. he doesn't cut himself. he's well practiced, and he telegraphs his movement very obviously, allowing for therion to see that it's the hilt that is going to whap at his wrist and not the blade.
he twirls the knife back, and starts using it to cut vegetables, eat flicking. it's a marked difference from the way he was sitting in front of the graves. ]
[ see he finds this attractive, which says a lot about the kind of person that he is. the skill and dexterity it takes for jiaoqiu to turn that knife is expertise. being able not to hurt yourself is skill. (but on the other hand - it just means you get more skilled with a different weapon. it doesn't have to be the edge of a knife. it can be days of not eating, a life of existing in nothing. he's familiar with those skills, too.)
therion doesn't say anything, but there's something appreciative in his visible eye, briefly, even after he's been smacked. (and frankly, the fact he doesn't immediately jolt away is such a testament to the amount of tentative trust he's built to jiaoqiu that not even a brief, sour look could hide it.) after the prerequisite bitching, of course, where he swats at his hand automatically and grouses: ] Show you germs on the counter.
[ he probably has but that's beside the point. anyway whatever else he was going to stay is silenced as he is just. handed a potato? he stares at it. he stares at jiaoqiu, giving him a very pointed look. and you know what? you know what?
he shrugs, and reaches into his pocket, and pulls out his switchblade, casually flipping it open and starting a mental countdown to how long it takes jiaoqiu to flip his metaphorical lid (to react, to react) over therion just using his switchblade he uses to occasionally stab people to peel a potato that's going in someone's mouth. ]
Germs! [ is all he manages to splutter at first, putting his knife down. okay, now you're getting thwacked with a dishtowel like he's some sort of exasperated housewife. ] Where has that knife been? Wash your hands!
[ but there's no heat to it. it's all for show - well, most of it. the huffiness is, he's serious about not using a stab knife to peel a potato, but he's not mad. he is very rarely ever really angry with therion. it's just a constant game of pulling each other's tails.
and... he is, he's reacting. he's alive. he's acting like it. crazy, to think the start of his day was catatonic. ]
[ rude!!!! he makes an undignified noise when he's swatted at! ] What did you want me to use, my teeth?
[ YOU DIDN'T GIVE HIM A PEELER!!!! anyway this was all completely on purpose, and he's a little smug at the successful pigtail pulling, finally sliding down from the counter and walking over to wash his hands, shutting the switchblade with a click and tucking it back into whatever place he keeps it on his person. in the meantime, he has to push the sleeves of the borrowed shirt up to his elbows, has to invade jiaoqiu's space to get to the sink. companionable and close, in ways that he's not been with anyone in years, in ways that he does not dare allow himself to consider for more than a second.
it's easiest like this. maybe that's what makes it successful - he doesn't have to think about it at all. ]
You're going to give this old fox white hair. [ grumble grumble.
but therion goes to wash his hands, and jiaoqiu is appeased. instinctively he shifts to make room for therion to stand, tilting his body to the side to let him close, not bothering to step away. companionable. this close, jiaoqiu can smell his shampoo on therion, can smell the mix of his own scent and therion's rubbed in against the borrowed shirt, the remains of rain. therion is right here, with him, and it's easy.
for a moment, there's something in him that wants to wreck it. there is something in him that wants to dig his teeth in and rip it to shreds, if only to remind himself that he will lose whatever nails in his feet that are keeping him pinned. but it isn't an instinct to hurt therion, and it won't ever be - it's just for a moment he considers curling his fingers around the blade of his knife again.
but he doesn't. he puts the knife down. he pulls a peeler from the drawer, hands it to therion, and leans in therion's space to bit the ridge of his ear.
and then he scoots away with a huffy little laugh, escaping to the fridge. ]
however, it's a heatless comeback, despite the sass and complaining, and therion sideeyes him for a moment as he's shaking the water from his hands. he can't shake the sight of the waif of a person settled before that grave even with a real, lively jiaoqiu sitting next to him, and as he's toweling off his hands, his mouth pulls lower into a frown. he should have just left him there. this isn't his problem. the more that he interacts with him, the more dangerously he situates himself into old habits, the more he sets himself up to be pushed off the proverbial cliff. he doesn't trust jiaoqiu, he tells himself, and yet, he finds himself in this relative moment of comfort and safety, not captured or held but staying.
scary. it rattles fear through his heart, briefly, and he entertains how quickly he can escape this situation when jiaoqiu very suddenly interrupts him with a bite to his ear - which warms to it as he jolts and claps a hand over his ear, flustering and shooting him a scowly glare before he snatches the peeler with a loud huff, then sits right back down on his counter to resume peeling the potato. a roll of the eyes after a glare, a petty comeback as opposed to a chance to flee. ]
Have you had your rabies shot recently? [ therion you're the one who needs a rabies shot. also as if he has not been bitten by jiaoqiu many, many times before. ]
his tail swishes back and forth as he digs into his fridge, and he chances a look over his shoulder at therion, who is glaring at him. he's not sure if the feeling he gets is a stomach cramp or his heart trying to handle what he's feeling, but either way it continues to hurt. he wonders if it'll ever stop, or if he'll get used to it. it has to be like exercise, right? his old bones will get used to it.
he comes back to stand next to therion, and cuts the meat. ]
You would know if I hadn't. [ he hums peacefully, glancing up at therion with a sly little smile. therion cannot escape jiaoqiu biting the shit out of him every time they sleep together. ]
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anyway. this wolf is better than the ones he's encountered in the past. this one only bites him when he asks, and this one pulls him out of his daydreams instead of making them worse. and maybe most importantly, this one knows how to rile him up in a way that doesn't hurt. jiaoqiu doesn't remove his hand from therion's back, and doesn't press too hard, just easy and warm. and when therion speaks, his tail waves back and forth like it does when he's agitated or impatient. ]
You should be. You're far too skinny. [ grumbles. and nags him, because therion is right, he's fussy about how much therion eats. ] And I would wager a guess that you have not eaten today.
[ which is fine, because jiaoqiu hasn't either. he slides his hand up therion's back gently, and then pulls away from him so that he can peer into the fridge as well, starting to pull ingredients out. there probably is some weird shit in there, but also? there's a whole bag of apples, and a tupperware container of sliced ones with homemade caramel. ]
Hm... meat skewers, I think. With roasted vegetables and a side of rice. And sauce to dip all of it in, of course. Is that simple enough for your palette? Will you eat vegetables if I prepare them?
[ teasing, a little. ]
no subject
I'm not four.
[ tch!!! he'll eat his vegetables! jiaoqiu has probably noticed by now that he usually finishes his plates when they're put in front of him. there's not really any room to be picky, and though he has no trouble lifting himself enough cash for a meal (or the meal itself) nowadays, old childhood habits tend to die hard. and he's used to jiaoqiu's particular brand of cooking, as spicy as it is, so he'll especially eat whatever he feeds him, now that he's sure it's safe to. so.
as for the rest. the hand sliding up his back is not. unwelcome, though he sort of tenses a little initially, just like always, and tries to pretend it doesn't make the hair on the back of his neck stand up, easily resists the urge to lean back into it, even if its there. its the combination of that and staring at the tupperware container in the fridge, because he knows that's not just there because jiaoqiu got a craving. when did he do that? how long has it been sitting there? when was the last time he came by to visit? guilt and something more dangerous flutter up into his throat, and he swallows them back, patting the fridge where he's resting on it and pulling back and away. ]
Do whatever you want. [ which jiaoqiu surely knows by now is therion for "yes". that's thing. he's learning how to be known. ]
no subject
idly, mock-scolding: ]
Mind your manners, or I'll be enlisting you to help prepare the meal.
[ which is a little bit of an invitation. if he'd like to help, he can. he doesn't have to - he can go curl up and hang out in jiaoqiu's lame armchair.
he also says this as he puts the ingredients out on the counter and pulls out a very sharp knife from the drawer. ]
no subject
[ sassy!!! and for what!! there's a brief, amused little smirk, something very genuine, but he considers this threat/offer. and after a moment, he decides to hop up on the counter instead, planting his bony butt here in his space like a cat.
he'll do kitchen stuff if jiaoqiu hands it to him, but for now, he's going to sit here like he owns the place, and... watch him, with that knife. watch the skill and care that goes into something like that - cutting vegetables, cutting pills, methodical and so different from the way therion wields a switchblade. so different from the way they met, where it was therion with the knife, a skittish animal ready to bite at any minute. ]
no subject
there's a little tch sound that jiaoqiu lets out when therion hops up on the counter. ]
You are dirtying my work space. [ he keeps nagging, because he knows therion is doing it on purpose, and because he likes this, likes being annoyed and annoying right back. ] How am I supposed to cook when your germs are all over my counter, hm?
[ very gently thwacks him with the hilt of his knife. yes, he does a little twirly motion so he can hold the blade of it in order to do so. he doesn't cut himself. he's well practiced, and he telegraphs his movement very obviously, allowing for therion to see that it's the hilt that is going to whap at his wrist and not the blade.
he twirls the knife back, and starts using it to cut vegetables, eat flicking. it's a marked difference from the way he was sitting in front of the graves. ]
Peel this.
[ hands him a potato. ]
no subject
therion doesn't say anything, but there's something appreciative in his visible eye, briefly, even after he's been smacked. (and frankly, the fact he doesn't immediately jolt away is such a testament to the amount of tentative trust he's built to jiaoqiu that not even a brief, sour look could hide it.) after the prerequisite bitching, of course, where he swats at his hand automatically and grouses: ] Show you germs on the counter.
[ he probably has but that's beside the point. anyway whatever else he was going to stay is silenced as he is just. handed a potato? he stares at it. he stares at jiaoqiu, giving him a very pointed look. and you know what? you know what?
he shrugs, and reaches into his pocket, and pulls out his switchblade, casually flipping it open and starting a mental countdown to how long it takes jiaoqiu to flip his metaphorical lid (to react, to react) over therion just using his switchblade he uses to occasionally stab people to peel a potato that's going in someone's mouth. ]
no subject
Germs! [ is all he manages to splutter at first, putting his knife down. okay, now you're getting thwacked with a dishtowel like he's some sort of exasperated housewife. ] Where has that knife been? Wash your hands!
[ but there's no heat to it. it's all for show - well, most of it. the huffiness is, he's serious about not using a stab knife to peel a potato, but he's not mad. he is very rarely ever really angry with therion. it's just a constant game of pulling each other's tails.
and... he is, he's reacting. he's alive. he's acting like it. crazy, to think the start of his day was catatonic. ]
no subject
[ YOU DIDN'T GIVE HIM A PEELER!!!! anyway this was all completely on purpose, and he's a little smug at the successful pigtail pulling, finally sliding down from the counter and walking over to wash his hands, shutting the switchblade with a click and tucking it back into whatever place he keeps it on his person. in the meantime, he has to push the sleeves of the borrowed shirt up to his elbows, has to invade jiaoqiu's space to get to the sink. companionable and close, in ways that he's not been with anyone in years, in ways that he does not dare allow himself to consider for more than a second.
it's easiest like this. maybe that's what makes it successful - he doesn't have to think about it at all. ]
no subject
but therion goes to wash his hands, and jiaoqiu is appeased. instinctively he shifts to make room for therion to stand, tilting his body to the side to let him close, not bothering to step away. companionable. this close, jiaoqiu can smell his shampoo on therion, can smell the mix of his own scent and therion's rubbed in against the borrowed shirt, the remains of rain. therion is right here, with him, and it's easy.
for a moment, there's something in him that wants to wreck it. there is something in him that wants to dig his teeth in and rip it to shreds, if only to remind himself that he will lose whatever nails in his feet that are keeping him pinned. but it isn't an instinct to hurt therion, and it won't ever be - it's just for a moment he considers curling his fingers around the blade of his knife again.
but he doesn't. he puts the knife down. he pulls a peeler from the drawer, hands it to therion, and leans in therion's space to bit the ridge of his ear.
and then he scoots away with a huffy little laugh, escaping to the fridge. ]
no subject
[ you got a problem with white hair? huh?
however, it's a heatless comeback, despite the sass and complaining, and therion sideeyes him for a moment as he's shaking the water from his hands. he can't shake the sight of the waif of a person settled before that grave even with a real, lively jiaoqiu sitting next to him, and as he's toweling off his hands, his mouth pulls lower into a frown. he should have just left him there. this isn't his problem. the more that he interacts with him, the more dangerously he situates himself into old habits, the more he sets himself up to be pushed off the proverbial cliff. he doesn't trust jiaoqiu, he tells himself, and yet, he finds himself in this relative moment of comfort and safety, not captured or held but staying.
scary. it rattles fear through his heart, briefly, and he entertains how quickly he can escape this situation when jiaoqiu very suddenly interrupts him with a bite to his ear - which warms to it as he jolts and claps a hand over his ear, flustering and shooting him a scowly glare before he snatches the peeler with a loud huff, then sits right back down on his counter to resume peeling the potato. a roll of the eyes after a glare, a petty comeback as opposed to a chance to flee. ]
Have you had your rabies shot recently? [ therion you're the one who needs a rabies shot. also as if he has not been bitten by jiaoqiu many, many times before. ]
no subject
his tail swishes back and forth as he digs into his fridge, and he chances a look over his shoulder at therion, who is glaring at him. he's not sure if the feeling he gets is a stomach cramp or his heart trying to handle what he's feeling, but either way it continues to hurt. he wonders if it'll ever stop, or if he'll get used to it. it has to be like exercise, right? his old bones will get used to it.
he comes back to stand next to therion, and cuts the meat. ]
You would know if I hadn't. [ he hums peacefully, glancing up at therion with a sly little smile. therion cannot escape jiaoqiu biting the shit out of him every time they sleep together. ]