fandomhighdorms | Fourth Floor Common Room, Thursday Afternoon

Jonothon was going to go stir-crazy if he remained sequestered in the dorm room for the rest of the day. Maybe later, he'd go out and do things, but his experience at the Groovy Tunes yesterday made him a shade more wary of wandering through the shops in down than he had been before.

The telly seemed like a safe bet, really. And he didn't even have to speak if he hit up the common room. Just sit down. Watch whatever was on. Life was... Well. Good enough.

He gracelessly flopped himself down onto the couch and nodded a hello to Jak.

//Anything worth watching on, mate?//

Jak shrugged. He wasn't about to sit up and gesture too readily when he had such a nice spot just there, nearly-bare feet and all. He did raise the remote, though, and click another button. He was channel-surfing. It had a nice, subdued quality to it.

That would last right up until the Red Bull set in, anyway.

As it turned out, Jak's press of the button got them thrown right into the middle of an episode of Wildboyz. Someone was doing something very stupid with an alligator.

Jak snickered.

Jono considered the television for a moment, and then glanced sidelong at Jak, somewhat bemused.

//If this is on MTV, mate, I'm going to be very upset.//

It was a thing.

He was going to be very upset.

Jak returned the sidelong glance with just as much bemusement. He couldn't actually read any of the letters on the screen yet, so, you know, he was a little lost on which letters corresponded to this channel.

He shrugged.

Jono would have to put off being very upset until the next commercial break, which was bound to happen within five seconds.

Five... Four... Three...

//Bollocks!// There it was. //Nothing is bloody sacred around 'ere, is it?//

The year 2009 and everything leading up to it clearly didn't hold music in the same regard as Jono did. And that was why he grabbed a cushion from the couch and threw it at the television set, yes.

He felt marginally better after that.

Jak sat up as the cushion veered on past him. And then smacked the TV, which teethered for all of a second or two before balancing itself.

He threw Jono a look that spelled out in neat, big-blue-sized terms, What the hell was up with that?

Oh, yes, that look spelled it out clearly enough.

Jono crossed his arms over his chest. Wrinkled his nose a little. Furrowed his eyebrows and levelled a look at the television set that stated clearly enough that he figured he ought to have thrown the cushion a little harder.

//It's like all the bloody forces of the universe are conspiring with one another to keep me from catching up on nearly fifteen bloody years of music I've missed,// he noted. As though that actually explained anything at all.

...Yes, it didn't.

Jak blinked. He blinked again. He blinked a third time, and then managed to get the can of Red Bull level with his face, and took a sip.

Then he gestured. Honestly, man? Was he blaming the - gesture - TV for that? Was it really that bad?

Jonothon would blame the television set because it was right there, and because he was impulsive and cranky and he had to blame something.

This snit went on for another few moments before he finally relented, uncrossing his arms, oozing back into the couch a little, and giving his head a shake. For what it was worth, he was sorry that the television set almost had to suffer for the sins of the station that was playing on it.

//I can't very well go storming off to New York to shake down the executives of the station to tell them to put on some real videos, can I?//

Like Jak knew? He shrugged, collapsing back into his seat. In the process, he spilled a few drops of Red Bull onto his tunic. Oh well. He could get someone to wash that, right?

He held up the remote so Jono could see it. Hey, he could change the channel, if it'd stop him form sulking.

Laundry day was going to be a very interesting event in room 408, wasn't it?

//Thanks, mate.// Jonothon reached for the remote. He was hell-bent on finding a station, any station, that actually had music on it.

Click. Click. Click. Click. Pause- No, that was Country. Click. Click. Click. Grump. Hand Jak back the remote.

//I think it's a lost cause.//

Hey, if Jono thought it was a lost cause... Jak was more than happy to snag the remote, and shift the channel back to the Wildboyz. They were now doing truly horrifying things involving a shark tank; Jak grinned and sat back again.

He couldn't quite stop himself from sneaking glances at Jono, though. Seriously, what was the MTV thing?

There were a few minutes where Jono settled for watching the television, silently willing the idiots in the shark tank to lose chunks of their legs or arms or faces to a nasty pair of jaws. It might help him feel vindicated.

The glances, of course, didn't go entirely unnoticed. Jonothon was absolutely the paranoid sort who was constantly on the watch for these thigns, and after a few of them he turned and raised an eyebrow at Jak.

//Wot?//

Oh, nothing. Really, Jono. Jak gave him the patented big eyes of hey, don't look at me, and shrugged one shoulder. If he had any big trauma to share? Here was his chance. If he didn't... well.

Jak was--

Okay, crap, Jak was out of Red Bull.

Jonothon eyed Jak for a moment more, seemingly unconvinced, before he gave his head a shake and let the topic of the weird glances drop. If Jak didn't stare at him after he'd shown the kid his face, Jono seriously doubted that he was going to just start gawking like an idiot now.

//What're yer drinking there, anyway?//

Jak's hand shot up with the empty can this time. Okay, he was starting to feel it. Whoa. It really was a lot like blue eco, wasn't it? His arm kind of shook. Maybe he shouldn't have downed three?

... Red Bull?

//Yer twitching, mate.// Brilliant observation, Jonothon. Really, now. //Please tell me this is the only one yer've had?//

Jak paused.

Which is to say he paused to speed across the room, dump the can in the trash, vault over the coffee table, and land back on the couch.

He held up three fingers, once he'd gotten there.

Why yes, Jonothon was staring the stare of a man who had thought that Jak had gone absolutely insane. Why?

//Three? That can't possibly be healthy.// No, no, not even remotely. //Perhaps yer ought to reconsider trying to sit still. Think about doing some laps around the room or something instead, before all that energy makes yer explode, mate.//

... Well. That was a poor choice of words, coming from Jono.

... Yes, Jak was going to actually do the opposite and stop at that.

And, um.

Throw a questioning glance at Jono's bandaged-up chest. Was that what had happened?

Jono took a moment to follow Jak's gaze.

And then he quite promptly facepalmed.

//Not literally.// A beat. //If this had been because of an energy drink, they wouldn't be makin' more for yer to drink.//

Because if Red Bull had done this to Jonothon, he would have marched himself to their factory and then blown it up. And maybe after that, considered suing them for all they had left.

Hey, it's not like Jak knew about this! The stuff tasted like it had eco in it. So. He shrugged once, and promptly got a jitter in his knee. You know what, maybe that running idea hadn't been completely horrible.

Maybe he should try jumping out the window and seeing if he could snag a branch? He shot the window a look.

Jono... Didn't trust that look. At all.

//What the sodding hell do yer have percolating in that noggin of yours now?//

After three Red Bulls, Jono was seriously contemplating if he'd have to unwind his bandages just so that he could use them to tie Jak down for his own safety.

Jak held up a hand as he began to pad towards the window. Please. There was nothing wrong with this. It was as good an idea as going to Misty Island the... second time he did it. And the third. The third had been a fine idea, even if Samos thought otherwise.

Jak snagged the edge of the window, and yanked it open.

Okay. Clearly Jak was just getting some air, here, and Jonothon had nothing to worry about at all. Right?

Right. Which was exactly why he was on his feet, meandering along after Jak on the suspicion that his flatmate was about to do something that fell very solidly under the blanket definition of completely insane.

If it was any consolation--

Okay, it probably wasn't a consolation, that Jak had hopped up on the sill, both of his feet nimbly (and still shoelessly) below him on the frame. He checked the distance to the nearest tree carefully.

No, that was very definitely not any consolation.

//Have yer gone absolutely mad, yer barmy plonker? We're on the fourth bloody floor!//

Jono was demonstrating his displeasure by making to grab Jak around the waist to haul his idiot arse back to the nice, safe side of the window, yes.

... You know, this was probably where a normal person would start screaming Rape! very loudly. Jak was just surprised.

Sure, he'd been yelled at, eyerolled at, lectured at, and otherwise bullied at whenever he got something into his head, but no one had ever picked him up in the middle of doing something totally harmless before!

His eyes went big. He struggled. Come on!

//If yer don't stop struggling, I'm going to tie yer down and lock you in the sodding supply closet until you crash,// Jono announced, //and then I'm going to find the bloody arse wot sold those drinks to yer and I'm going to light him on fire.//

He meant this statement about as lovingly as Jonothon could possibly mean any statement he spoke, while he grappled to get the struggling Jak as far from the window as possible.

What was wrong with Jono?! Jak's feet found the floor, and he braced himself readily, trying to yank away from him. Seriously, he gestured (as confused, offended gestures went, they were fairly clear), he knew what he was doing! He could take care of himself!

He pushed forward, ducking a little in an attempt to get free.

Oh, he could duck and writhe and wriggle about all he wanted, Jono wasn't going to let him take a leap out that damned window.

//Yer've gone absolutely off yer onion!// He launched himself forward the moment he felt his grip loosen, attempting to put himself firmly between Jak and the window. //This is a purely 'no leaping out the window' dormitory! It's in the bloody rulebook!//

No, it wasn't.

Edited 2009-09-03 18:38 (UTC)

... Jono. He could handle it. You could tell by his face! He did fine at handling this kind of thing!

Jak threw up his hands, then ducked his head sideways in an attempt to find a way out.

Jono wasn't going to have any of it, no.

He ducked down low, and then threw himself at Jak in an attempt to wrestle him down to the damned floor, if need be.

... Okay, Jak was not doing this.

He marshalled all of his strength - and with the Power of Red Bull, that was a lot of strength, speed, and just plain crazy - and hurled himself straight back at Jono, forcing him towards the window.

There was a word for situations like this. It was the sort of word that Jono tended to pull out of his hat in order to address only the worst moments in his life. The sort of moments that saw his taurine-crazed roomie trying to throw him out the window.

...

//Bollocks.//

And then he was falling. And if he managed to survive this, he was going to nail every damned window shut in the building. And then nail Jak to a wall. Possibly after shaking him until his teeth rattled out of his head.

... Okay. That was not what he'd been going for. But he could manage this! There was the tree, just there, full of nice branches that could stop their fall...

Jak's scrambling feet found the school wall and pushed, snagging Jono on his way, finding a convenient air cushion and jumping off of that a second time, hurling them at the tree.

He snagged a heavy branch on the way, and stuck to it. After being yanked forward just a little bit.

Bets on how long this tender balance would last? Probably no more than a few seconds.

And now, Jono was dangling. Dangling, and going over and over in his head with a mantra he'd made up all of a half a second ago.

I will not kill my flatmate.

The mantra stopped momentarily about the same time the branch they were dangling from made that sickening sort of grinding sound that indicated that it was not best pleased at the prospect of having two teenage boys weighing it down. And then he picked up with it again with a mad fervour.

I will not kill my flatmate. I will not...

SNAP!

Edited 2009-09-03 19:19 (UTC)

...Well, that was just awesome.

(This was, strangely enough, roughly the same chain of events that had led to Daxter turning small and fuzzy. That was... probably not the most reassuring factoid, however).

Jak flailed as gracefully as he could the way down, his feet scrambling for a surface, a surface, a surface, the--

--bent trunk of the tree. He slid down. See? Like skateboarding! ...If it was completely uncontrolled and probably hurtling him to his doom.

Jono was pretty much screaming like a girl at this point, yes.

And yes, he was projecting this scream for anyone within earshot to hear.

And yes, he felt something like a rag doll at about this point.

Oh, look! There was the ground, closing in on them!

What Jak wouldn't do for a nice reserve of red eco right now! A sturdy head would be nice! A sturdy everything! The wind was passing by his head! Something was whistling! The pit of his stomach went--

Okay, it really was totally awesome, which was why his expression was torn between sheer fear and the total glee of an utter adrenaline junkie.

And that's when Jak, against every possible rule of physics anywhere, landed on his feet.

Jono, on the other hand, landed directly on his arse.

And then, in a pure white-eyed rage, he swore. A long stream of curse words that really only counted as curse words if you were from Britain anyhow. Following up the whole mess of it was a rousing exclamation of, //And if I had guts, I'd be throwing up on you right now, Jak!//

Nailing. Him. To. The. Wall.

Jak rubbed the back of his head, ignoring the pain in his soles like a trooper. What? He went half-barefoot; the wrappings didn't cover everything, he'd probably picked up one or two splinters along the way.

Anyway, Jono hadn't turned into anything fuzzy, so he was going to count that as a win. Seriously. These things just happened sometimes, right?

If Jak kept thinking things like that, Fandom was going to develop a sense of humour and turn Jonothon into an ottsel.

//I can't believe you really don't see a problem with what just happened there,// Jono continued, hauling himself to his feet and putting a hand on his bum with a wince. He was a mutant, he wasn't invincible. //You are grounded from Red bloody Bull for the rest of your life.//

No, he couldn't enforce that. But he'd sure as hell try.

Fourth Floor Common Room, Thursday Afternoon

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