fandomhighdorms | Fourth Floor Common Room, Thursday Afternoon

Entry tags:

Fourth Floor Common Room, Thursday Afternoon

So it'd almost been a week, and Jak was settling in just fine. Yep. It was a miracle that up until now he hadn't had time to explore the television yet. They had... something like it, back in Sandover, but it so wasn't the same thing. And it was good practice on his alphabet thing.

Right. Practice.

In practice, Jak was slung over a chair, dangling his feet over the edge, and sipping at a can of Red Bull. He was pretty sure the name was misleading - if there was any eco in that drink at all, it so felt like blue.

[[ open! ]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Fourth Floor Common Room, Thursday Afternoon

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject