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He follows him into the kitchen but he stays at the threshold, watching him as he leans against the doorframe.
"That's bullshit. And you know that. So what is this?"
"That's bullshit. And you know that. So what is this?"
"It's not bullshit," he insists and kneels down in front of the oven. He takes an oven mitt and pulls the cupcakes out, setting them on top of the stove with a clatter that betrays his real feelings.
"You're just so quick to jump right in the middle, aren't you? And for what? For this? For something she did herself?"
"You're just so quick to jump right in the middle, aren't you? And for what? For this? For something she did herself?"
"Daniel," he says slowly, "you know me. You know. how I do. anything. You know how I work. Why are you angry at me. for doing what I do?"
He slams the oven mitt onto the counter. "Do you think I like seeing it every time? Do you think I just enjoyed seeing you throw yourself into it? Every time you took a bullet or shrapnel for me or Maxwell or yanked us back or any of it, do you think I liked it? Do you think I didn't want to say 'hey, this kills me a little bit?' Well, guess what, asshole, I can say it now. I can be angry at you now. I don't have to swallow it down and say 'welp, that's just the colonel, doing what he does best.'"
"So this is..." he considers it and looks down, arms crossed, as he tries to work out what to do.
"Do you need me to-" and he steps back out of the kitchen for the moment, into the living room. There's about a three minute pause before the sound of paws padding into the kitchen announces his return. That, and a sad dog noise as he puts his head down in doggy apology.
"Do you need me to-" and he steps back out of the kitchen for the moment, into the living room. There's about a three minute pause before the sound of paws padding into the kitchen announces his return. That, and a sad dog noise as he puts his head down in doggy apology.
He glares down at the wolf, but everything's a little - softer. "These are chocolate!" He shakes his head, tempted to sit and run his fingers through fur, but he wants to be angry a while longer. "I'm so mad at you," he tells him. "And I hate her for this, Warren. I'm not singing to her anymore. She's just - one more thing that stands between you and your deal."
He picks up a ruined cupcake and watches it crumble in his fingers. "So she needs to learn how to read on her own."
He finally does sit down, leaning his head against the counter. "Happy anniversary. And two weeks after her birthday - what a joke."
He picks up a ruined cupcake and watches it crumble in his fingers. "So she needs to learn how to read on her own."
He finally does sit down, leaning his head against the counter. "Happy anniversary. And two weeks after her birthday - what a joke."
There's a reason he's a wolf: it's so that he can't argue anything, so that he can't try to defend anything or anyone. Because that makes them on opposite sides. And he doesn't want to be on the opposite side of Jacobi right now.
Instead, he steps up, into Jacobi's lap and starts nuzzling against his shoulder and his neck and his jaw.
Instead, he steps up, into Jacobi's lap and starts nuzzling against his shoulder and his neck and his jaw.
He hesitantly brings one arm around him, relinquishing some of his anger in the face of that unabashed affection.
"You're so heavy," he complains, but he's quiet for a long time after. "You treat her like Maxwell, you know. You were always like that with her. You don't hide it very well." Another long pause. "I really hate it."
"You're so heavy," he complains, but he's quiet for a long time after. "You treat her like Maxwell, you know. You were always like that with her. You don't hide it very well." Another long pause. "I really hate it."
That won't change, so in a way, it's a good thing he's on four legs when Jacobi says it. Because he doesn't have to deny it or try to make him feel better about it. It just is.
And it really just is.
He settles his whole weight on Jacobi and nuzzles up against his chest.
And it really just is.
He settles his whole weight on Jacobi and nuzzles up against his chest.
Jacobi is quiet, the weight of the wolf against him keeping him somewhat grounded. But he can't shake it. He can't shake that anger he feels burrowed deep in his chest, constricting each breath. The flippancy of his reaction would be enough on his own, but he can't even go to Tim.
He sniffs.
"I'm going to bed," he says eventually.
He sniffs.
"I'm going to bed," he says eventually.
The wolf pushes up, careful to push off of the floor to avoid pushing on Jacobi. He makes a soft noise and trots into the next room, the living room, and he'll hop onto the couch to curl into a ball.
Jacobi pauses as Warren jumps onto the couch. "Yeah, we're not doing this. If you're sleeping on the couch, then I'm just leaving to get trashed with Tim or Dorian."
He uncurls immediately and hops down, trotting towards the bedroom with a headtilt. Bed? He didn't want to assume since Jacobi was angry.
"Yeah, that's what I thought. Look, I'm - I'm pissed at you, but you didn't do anything couch-worthy. You just did what you've always done."
He slips off his shirt. Jacobi's compartmentalized that before. He's seen him hurt so often and he's been able to keep it all stuffed away. So he can do it now.
"Ulla and Trevor can get fucked, though," he mutters.
He turns down the blankets and crawls into bed.
He slips off his shirt. Jacobi's compartmentalized that before. He's seen him hurt so often and he's been able to keep it all stuffed away. So he can do it now.
"Ulla and Trevor can get fucked, though," he mutters.
He turns down the blankets and crawls into bed.
He makes a slight noise, but it's hard to tell if it's agreement or frustration. Possibly both, given the two names listed. But he'll hop up into the bed and immediately cuddle up against Jacobi.
Jacobi takes a breath and holds him close, arms around him. "You know," he mutters, closing his eyes, "This right here, me spooning a big fucking wolf, is the reason why Tim calls me a furry."
That? Was definitely a laugh. And a lick to his arm that would be a kiss any other time.
He gives him a little scratch behind his ear. It's early; he had been anticipating staying up much later, but there isn't a point. He knows he's just going to continue to be disappointed and angry. It's just easier to fade into oblivion.
"I love you," he mutters. He's not going to sleep well, but at least he can sleep. "You can clean the kitchen in the morning."
"I love you," he mutters. He's not going to sleep well, but at least he can sleep. "You can clean the kitchen in the morning."
That, at least. Is an apologetic affirmative. And he’ll nuzzle him a little.
He might make breakfast for them. And use the cupcakes to make some cake pops. Set up a cheese plate.
The full apology shebang.
He might make breakfast for them. And use the cupcakes to make some cake pops. Set up a cheese plate.
The full apology shebang.
There's clean-up to do first. Helping in the library, collecting the tapes, getting Sandy's nest set back up in the spare room at Jon's. Staying in the shower after he's done, until he can say for that the smell of smoke only exists in his head.
He should talk to Jacobi. He knows Jacobi needs it, but he also knows Jacobi's gonna take the excuse to make it about him. Focus on the memories burned into Tim's brain, instead of the facts of Warren and Jon and himself and the status quo being viciously upheaved.
And honestly, Tim's half tempted to let him. But Jacobi's already done too much with the whole Danny thing. He needs to be there for Jacobi and he can't let him deflect.
His hair is still damp and his outfit is 'neat but too tired for Style' when he knocks on Warren's door.
"Jacobi. You in?"
He should talk to Jacobi. He knows Jacobi needs it, but he also knows Jacobi's gonna take the excuse to make it about him. Focus on the memories burned into Tim's brain, instead of the facts of Warren and Jon and himself and the status quo being viciously upheaved.
And honestly, Tim's half tempted to let him. But Jacobi's already done too much with the whole Danny thing. He needs to be there for Jacobi and he can't let him deflect.
His hair is still damp and his outfit is 'neat but too tired for Style' when he knocks on Warren's door.
"Jacobi. You in?"
He hasn't slept since the fire, so when he opens the door, it's with the sluggish, yet jittery, movements of someone surviving on hopes and coffee.
He isn't surprised to see Tim and gestures him inside the newly renovated cabin. A cozy living room instead of the space cabin, with extra doors and a real couch and an honest to God television.
"Hey," he says, rubbing his face with freshly bandaged hands. "Come in. I was just having lunch. Or...breakfast? Eh, I'll make mimosas and we'll call it brunch."
It's just toast.
He isn't surprised to see Tim and gestures him inside the newly renovated cabin. A cozy living room instead of the space cabin, with extra doors and a real couch and an honest to God television.
"Hey," he says, rubbing his face with freshly bandaged hands. "Come in. I was just having lunch. Or...breakfast? Eh, I'll make mimosas and we'll call it brunch."
It's just toast.
He'll save Jacobi the concern of worrying about what time of day it is in a moment. He gives Jacobi's shoulder a warm squeeze as he steps in, taking in the new room without hiding the look of surprise and interest on his face.
"How about you have a sit and I make us something?" he offers, lifting the hand on his shoulder to ruffle Jacobi's hair. "Warren won't mind as long as I clean up after myself, right?"
"How about you have a sit and I make us something?" he offers, lifting the hand on his shoulder to ruffle Jacobi's hair. "Warren won't mind as long as I clean up after myself, right?"
He won't argue.
"He won't mind, even if you trash the place," he tells him. Because Tim is taking care of Jacobi and Warren has priorities.
He flops down onto the couch, stretching his legs out. He gestures to the door with the fully-stocked kitchen.
"How are you?"
"He won't mind, even if you trash the place," he tells him. Because Tim is taking care of Jacobi and Warren has priorities.
He flops down onto the couch, stretching his legs out. He gestures to the door with the fully-stocked kitchen.
"How are you?"
And that tells Tim just about everything.
"Better than you, apparently." There's no venom, or even pity; it's just a statement of fact, as he goes to the pantry to rummage briefly. You know what? Fuck it. Bacon pancakes. Let's get ingredients together. "But, seems like everyone's a goddamn mess right now, so who's gonna notice besides us."
"Better than you, apparently." There's no venom, or even pity; it's just a statement of fact, as he goes to the pantry to rummage briefly. You know what? Fuck it. Bacon pancakes. Let's get ingredients together. "But, seems like everyone's a goddamn mess right now, so who's gonna notice besides us."
He follows him into the kitchen to sit at the table as he does when Warren cooks.
"Yeah," he says softly. "I'm not doing so great."
"Yeah," he says softly. "I'm not doing so great."
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