[Closed] @eidxiety ††

[winterbolt]

u get the small baby bird icon this time

Comments

[lupusxylem]

I won't.

[Wolfwood assures him as Ain steps out of the car, unable to really help the way his gaze lingers on him as he watches him wearing his coat. He didn't actually think he'd take it with him, much less actually put it on.

...it looks good on him, he thinks.

He stays in his car parked by the curb, watching and waiting as Ain makes his way safely to the bus stop. He'll stay parked there too, watching him like a hawk to make sure he gets onto the bus without getting jumped or approached by someone weird. Then...he'll sit in his car for a little while longer. Reach for a smoke.

Realize his lighter is missing, remembering that he'd left it in the pocket of his jacket.]

Fuck.

[eidxiety]

[The second he's on the bus, when there's a moment, he checks to make sure his mask is still in his cardigan pocket. It is, thank God, at least he can rest easy there. He shouldn't be seen wearing this Northside. He shouldn't.

But it smells good. It smells like all the things Wolfwood is, somehow, and it's unfair. Why's such a flutter bum like him gotta make Ain think like this? Ain isn't half as attractive. Ain doesn't have nice muscles and certainly doesn't look good in a wet t-shirt. Wolfwood could come back next week with a girl on either arm, and Ain wouldn't even be shocked. The coat is so warm and Wolfwood is so fun to be around, even if they got off to a tough start, and it's just not fair.

How's a guy to compete? Why can't he get Wolfwood out of his mind?

He goes home. He takes the coat off and puts the mask on before he gets close to the house, taking his chances, because if he's carrying the jacket he can say that he found it outside and is looking for the owner. He's never lied to his family as much as he has in the last few days. It feels weird. It feels wrong. Ain shouldn't ever go back to the Southside. Lying is against God, his mom said. God wouldn't want him to lie to her. He shouldn't be hanging out with those Southside sinners.

His lips taste like the strawberry milkshake, though, and he's still thinking about dancing in front of the jukebox. He's probably giddy about having a friend. He's never had one. That has to be it.

Luckily, his family doesn't think twice about the "I found this while doing my rounds" argument. Leather jackets are warm. It's autumn. A lost item says nothing to his family about the person who might own it, leather or no, and they don't give it much of a glance. So Ain proceeds to his room and locks the door, hanging it up, changing into pyjamas. He combs his curls out, dries off.

...looks at the jacket. Gets up. Puts it on, and stands in front of his bedroom mirror to look at himself in it. Something like this doesn't suit him. It's too big, the shoulders too bulky, the sleeves too long. It's built for a man like Wolfwood, with his broad chest and squared shoulders. It's not meant for someone more petite like Ain.

He doesn't take it off. He fiddles with the cufflinks, frowning. Wolfwood wouldn't be part of that group, so it's fine. Wolfwood protected him. Chapel's people have never done something nice for another person, mom says, so Wolfwood clearly isn't with them. He isn't. He can't be.

Which is precisely why, when Ain decides to feel what's so heavy in his pocket, he nearly drops the lighter to the floor. No, no, no way. There's no way that nice man is in the mafia. He can't be! He's too normal. Too kind. A bit of a punk, but he's not...

...it's not like Ain really even knows, but wouldn't a bad guy have robbed Ain a long time ago? Like the guy who stole his wallet? The people who tried to mug him? Wolfwood's not with them. Maybe he's pretending so they don't beat him to death in the streets? That's what Chapel's people do. They beat civilians to death. It makes sense that Wolfwood has to hide, then. Why he's so nice, but dresses like he's not.

Right. Makes sense. That's what Ain will tell himself for the foreseeable future.]

[lupusxylem]

[While Ain goes home to his religious cult family and proceeds to have a small internal crisis, Wolfwood goes home to his religious cult family and proceeds to wait a minute-

No, it's not so serious as that. If anything, he gets home and he's...once again thrust into the humdrum of things being mundane, normal, and- in a word- boring. He gets back home to the mansion and puts in his report like normal. Some of the guys ask him where his jacket ended up, and he tells them an easily believable lie that he accidentally left it at the diner he had lunch at and will just pick it up when he goes back to that area for his weekly patrol. It gets them off his back so he can go to the lounge and get a drink while he watches some of the others play pool.

He thinks about how the day had gone. How his...god, there's really no getting around what it was, is there? He had burgers and shakes with the guy. They danced by the jukebox. He gave him his jacket and he actually kept it. That, my friends, is a date. He groans, dropping his head onto his arms on the edge of the bar as he watches condensation dribble down the outside of his glass.

Back years ago, when he was a teenager, he had his first time. It wasn't anything serious, more just fooling around than anything...but it was with another boy. Perhaps he had been deeply entrenched in his rebellious phase then, constantly getting himself in hot water with the family and the church for this or that bad thing he'd done, but this...this was a bad thing he couldn't so easily take back. He remembers vividly afterwards that he'd been struck with terror, with this idea that God wouldn't love him anymore now that he'd done something so against what he knew about his teachings. Even the boy he'd been with, a fellow member of the gang, had similar misgivings. He remembers they never did anything like that again, and that guy got moved to another town for outsourced work.

Yet Wolfwood never changed. In fact, as he got older, he experimented more. Not just with sex, but with other vices. Smoking became the one constant he fell the hardest into, an attempt to look cool turning rapidly into an actual addiction. Eventually he'd experiment with women too, but always...always, his mind would wander back to that first encounter. And when the time finally did come for him to have a proper night with someone?

Yeah. It was a man. It pretty much cemented Wolfwood's closeted life from that point on, but by now in his early twenties, he's started to see things a bit differently in terms of his life in general. Sure, he still feels a deep seated guilt, like maybe he shouldn't be doing what he's doing, but...then he thinks about Ain. He thinks about how he lit up the room with his smile, how he said he didn't have any other friends. How...genuinely happy he seemed when he was dancing, or drinking a milkshake for the first time.

He drags a hand through his hair, picks up his glass of whiskey, and takes it with him to bed. A few of the others look after him as he goes, but they don't really say anything or stop him.

It's...going to be a long week, he thinks. A long week of getting back to his cover job, taking care of bodies and being surrounded daily by death and sorrow. All the while, wondering if Ain ever did anything with his jacket.]

[eidxiety]

[Ain... sleeps in the jacket. Yeah. Seriously.

The first night he has it, he "absentmindedly" wears it to bed. Tucks himself right under the covers and snuggles up, breathing in the scent of nicotine and sandalwood. It's...

...it's so bad. It's bad, because he's pretty sure that jacket is what spurns him into fever dreams. At first, they're normal — hanging out, doing something mundane. Catching a flick, eating food. It's basically a dream about the night they had, adding in some weird dream logic like a giraffe being there at one point and the waitress is a dog. Normal. And then...

Then it's not normal. Ain tosses and turns all night, bouncing between half awake and dreaming. Wolfwood is at the corner of his mind. They're dancing, and Wolfwood dips him like he might a pretty girl. They're running through the rain, soaked to the bone, and suddenly Ain's hands are roaming over the expanse of the man's chest.

That one wakes him up. He's in a cold sweat, feeling strangely ill, filthy, and it's five in the morning and he simply decides he's going to take a shower. He tells himself he won't wear the jacket the rest of the week, at least not to sleep in, but that turns out to be a total lie. At one point, that's a blanket for him. At another point, he wears it only when he's alone in his room all day reading. The books still feel empty. Horribly, terribly empty. The world is so grey and dreary, and it isn't just the autumn rains, but every moment spent without Wolfwood. And when he thinks of Wolfwood, there are suddenly colours in his vision, splashes of bright ink staining his hands he can't wash away, seeping into his skin and his clothes. It's blinding.

He thinks something is wrong with him. God doesn't answer his prayers, though, and the dreams only get worse throughout the week. Suddenly they're necking in the back of Wolfwood's Toyota. Suddenly there's a scenario from one of Ain's romance novels playing scene by scene in his head, except the husband and wife roles are them, and Wolfwood's kissing him goodbye as he heads to work while Ain makes breakfast. Ain can't even cook in real life. He sure can't cook in a dream, but maybe that's less important than the fact he wakes up and swears he can taste nicotine on his tongue.

Something is Seriously wrong with him. He wakes up crying, deciding maybe he needs to lay off the books altogether because his brain is getting confused, and so he'll just read gardening books instead. It's more productive. And that doesn't work, because the next dream is worse, Wolfwood's hands on his hips while they dance under the moonlight, and that's when Ain spends the rest of his free time between work and church services reading the Bible cover to cover for the millionth time.

By the time Monday rolls around again, he hasn't entirely shaken it off. He thinks he's doing a little better, though; his brain was just confused. He was excited to have a friend and then the facts got twisted. He didn't do anything wrong, so there's nothing to worry about. God already has his six hundred apologies for his filth-ridden fever dreams, and surely he's forgiven, right? He didn't do anything. He didn't...

Ain shows up to their meeting point wearing the jacket. When he takes it off to give it back to Wolfwood, the other man's scent is completely gone. He's been wearing it all week. It smells like strawberries and star anise, Ain's signature, sharp but sweet. Everything is in the pockets as it should be.

He's not going to ask about the crosses and the lighter. He just hands it over with a smile.

Nothing is wrong.

The colours won't fade, either.]

[lupusxylem]

[Wolfwood might actually feel bad, if he knew he were responsible for Ain's blossoming sexual awakening. Or crisis. Or both. It seems to be having an equal affect on the poor guy, actually...but so long as that remains an internal problem, well...there's not much Wolfwood can do about it. He had his own fight with it, and while he's not sure he can say he's made peace with it, he's at least reached a point where he's accepted the fact he's not straight, he's closeted, it's just the way he's going to have to live his life.

While Ain is busy having a confusing meltdown over the fact that Wolfwood keeps popping up in his dreams, Wolfwood...is thinking about the fact that he may just be harboring a bit of a crush for this little twink. Now, at first, he pushes back against the idea. There's nooooo way, nuh uh, not happening. Gay man or no, he can't be hooking up with someone from the north side. Even if Chapel didn't know he was batting for the other team, he'd definitely still string him up if he knew he was even speaking with people from over there. Merely being friends with someone over there is akin to being a traitor.

But crushing on one? Crushing on a man??? Wolfwood may as well cannonball into hell immediately.

So he tries to go back to work as normal. He collects bodies as per his job description, and it is as distressing and hard to deal with as it is any other day. It's not a job he enjoys, but he at the very least takes pride in being able to help those that are grieving to have some kind of closure. Meanwhile though, Wolfwood's mind is...far and away someplace else. He's thinking about Ain, of course. Thinking about...what it might be like to take him on a "real" date, one they were both actually aware of because Ain clearly Is Not. But he figures that, realistically, that's not happening. He is fully entrenched, he is straight as an arrow, he's going to marry a nice young lady one day and have a daughter and a son and be a perfect nuclear family for his mom to have grandchildren or whatever and.

Wolfwood...thinks about him anyway. Thinks about what he can't have. Imagines holding him in his arms, kissing him and treating him nicer than he thinks he's probably been treated for most of his life, if his upbringing has been anything like his own. He has no idea, of course, that he's been tormenting Ain this whole time...just in a different way.

Whatever he's thinking and wherever his addled mind is at, he tries to put all of that on a neat little shelf for the time being as he waits at the park for Ain. This time, he actually isn't worried about him not showing for some reason. Him showing up is simply expected, and one of those rare smiles works its way onto his face when Ain shows up and he takes his jacket back. Oh, god, it smells like him. He tugs it a bit more securely around himself and immediately pats his pocket to see if his lighter is still there. He kindof wants to light up but...no. Later, when he can take this off.]

Well I'll be. You actually kept it nice and clean. It even smells better than when I left it. Kinda think I'm more keen on this than the cigarette smoke.

[He smirks, reaching out to ruffle those curls.]

Nice job, Ain.

[eidxiety]

[Hnmmgmgnfjfjgn hand in hair is exactly why Ain's having thoughts, you can't do that to him!

...anyway, he giggles, real bright and almost childish, swatting Wolfwood's hands away playfully.]

I'm not a little kid. [His curls are soft, by the way. Real soft.] You're welcome. I didn't run it through the wash or anything. I think it just picked up my scent while it was with me all week.

[Lowkey way of saying "I've been wearing it". Oh buddy, he's been wearing it.]

You ought to quit those cancer sticks anyway. They're bad for your respiratory health. If you like this scent better, that's the first sign.

[lupusxylem]

[His scent? Well then, his scent is pretty damn nice, he thinks...way, uh. More feminine than most of this era To Be Frank. But he isn't going to judge, not when his brain is cementing this as "Ain". He will associate these smells with him from now on, even when they're apart, thanks.]

Ahhh...ain't so easy as just quitting. I've been tryin'.

[He shrugs one shoulder as he steps away from the tree he was leaning against, pushing his hands into his pockets.]

Guess I need to try to find me another vice.

[eidxiety]

[The truth come out: does Ain is gay?]

Bubblegum will keep your mouth occupied. Get addicted to that instead. A quarter will get you enough to last you a week.

[Oh, they're going? They're going. Ain easily falls into step with Wolfwood as he pushes off that tree.]

I didn't come with plans in mind. This is your neck of the woods. I hope you didn't invite me out here just to return your coat and go back home, though.

[lupusxylem]

[They're going! Not very far though. Just down the street, around the corner...Wolfwood saunters as he goes, looking up at the sky which is mercifully raincloud free today.]

Oh nah. I've got plans in mind. But...

[As they turn the corner, he pulls a key out of his pocket, twirling it on his index finger.]

If it makes you too nervous, we can skip it. Just thought you might at least like to see her.

[And there she is, sitting on the sidewalk chained next to one of those bike racks because you can't trust anybody in this town, but namely this town. It's Wolfwood's bike that he mentioned, jet black and sleek, with a silver cross stamped on the gas tank.

He walks over and places a hand on its side, then reaches into a compartment into the back to pull out two helmets from within.]

This is Angelina. I thought...you know. Maybe...you'd wanna take her for a spin with me? Just around the block.

[eidxiety]

[Ain takes this helmet and stares into it like he's never worn one in his life. Doesn't it have chin straps... (no you're thinking of bicycles). Where are the chin straps? (Ain that's a bicycle.)]

She's pretty. You take good care of her. [And then Ain grins, wicked and playful, and loudly says,] I'm so happy to meet your girlfriend finally, haha!

[He fiddles with the helmet. It's thick and heavy, for obvious reasons, and he's going to have to flatten his hair down with it... he can imagine the helmet-hair he's gonna get as a result.]

I can handle more than around the block. [Feeling brave today, are we...] Take me somewhere fun, yeah?

[lupusxylem]

[Not going to lie, Wolfwood is shocked by Ain’s answer. He wouldn’t have been offended if he said he was too nervous and just wanted to look, they could just walk somewhere instead. But then he answers like he’s making it a challenge, and Wolfwood can’t help but bark a laugh as he puts his helmet on.]

Shit, alright. Well let me know if you wanna ride front or back, hot shot.

[Either Ain is sitting between his legs in front or wrapping his arms around him from behind, dealer’s choice-]

[eidxiety]

[He is trying so hard to be brave. He lied to his mom. He lied to his brothers, even! He may have woke up crying the other day but that's fine that happens to everyone. He wants to do the fun things Wolfwood is doing because that's what you do with friends, and Wolfwood is obviously the bee's knees, so it's fine. They're not doing anything deadly or dangerous. They have safety gear!

But, that does give Ain time to pause and ponder. He can't get those dreams out of his head no matter how hard he tries, so it seems like they'll be worse if he holds Wolfwood from behind. His hands might be tempted to move to where they don't go, for example, like in the first dream when he was touching Wolfwood's chest (Ain has avoided looking today, so his brain doesn't get any sinful ideas, here). Plus, he kind of wants to see everything from the front, rather than having to look over Wolfwood's shoulder...?]

Haha, I want to ride in the front, I think. So I can see everything. You can drive around me, right?

[He's swinging his leg over the front seat and plopping down, then putting that helmet on. Surely this won't be worse than sitting behind him haha—]

[lupusxylem]

[Wolfwood nods as Ain climbs onto the bike, waiting for him to get his helmet on before swinging his leg over the side behind him after getting the bike unchained.]

Sure can. Just don’t touch the gas tank with your hands or legs, it’s gonna get really hot. If you feel like you’re losing balance just hold the handles under my hands, or you can grab onto my arms. S’long as you don’t yank the handlebars, anyway.

[He sure would look Sinful holding a man from behind. But you know what’s just as bad?

Being straddled by a man. A man who has to scoot forward a bit to reach the handlebars comfortably, Ain’s back resting against Wolfwood’s chest. And like…okay. Wolfwood isn’t trying to do anything here. He isn’t intending this to be fresh or anything like that. It’s just sort of a fact by design that his crotch will be against Ain’s ass.

Fully clothed. Fully platonic. Not even platonic, it’s not anything. Yet…even at rest, Ain will be able to feel Wolfwood against him.

Like. Really feel.

Now that they’re both on the bike, he adjusts his shades and cranks the ignition, setting the bike to rumbling. The vibrations hit immediately, rattling right into Ain’s bones as he shouts over the din.]

Alright, you ready?

[eidxiety]

[Oh it's worse. Ohhhh it's worse.

When he was having those weirdly domestic dreams (crossed with, y'know, necking in the car), it wasn't like he could really feel anything. Dreams are strange like that — you get a hug from a person and it never feels like anything, but you know someone gave you a hug anyway. Ain could never feel the lips on his neck or the arms around him in a physical sense, and maybe that dampened the blow when he woke up all those nights freaking the fuck out. So, suffice it to say, when he gets to feel everything from behind, he's suddenly so glad that the drone of the motorcycle blocks out the squeal he makes in the back of his throat, and so glad that he's wearing a helmet and his expression can't be seen through it, nor from behind.

Ain hates that his first observation is that Wolfwood feels like an almost comforting weight behind him. He hates that the second has to do with how much he can feel, from that muscular chest to everything below the belt, and that the third has to deal with the fact that Wolfwood is hung like a racehorse. Some girl is gonna be real happy with him yep yep yep and surely this feeling in his stomach is Masculine Jealousy, right, right...

He takes a shaky breath and nods, then yells out,]

Ready!

[He sounds so much more confident than he feels in this moment. All he needs to do is focus on not touching the gas tank, right? Focus on the road. The things happening that are not Wolfwood. Wolfwood is not the things to focus on.]

[lupusxylem]

Better hang on tight then. I'm boutta burn some major rubber.

[The engine revs like a growling beast as he pumps the gas, carefully kicking off from the sidewalk so he can maneuver his way into the street. From there...Ain will realize immediately just how different riding a bike is compared to being in a vehicle. Since he's in front and isn't having Wolfwood's body act as a windbreaker, he's being blasted in the face by the chilly autumn air. For what it's worth, Wolfwood isn't actually speeding or doing anything that might be scary to Ain other than just driving like normal. He's sticking to the central part of town to start with, meaning he really isn't allowed to go much faster than 40mph at most. That can still be quite fast feeling on a bike though, especially when there are times it might feel like the bike is about to topple over when he takes a turn...

But it's freeing. It feels like he's flying. And even with all of these other factors in place, Wolfwood's arms bracketed around him to drive feel safer than anything.]

[eidxiety]

[If he's honest? It is fun. They're just joyriding, at least as far as Ain knows. Who knows if Wolfwood really is taking him somewhere cool — but he's having a damn good time, and maybe that's all that matters. Ain wants to look around and peep at various things, but he only whips his head around when they're at a stop light or something like that. He tries to hold still, worried that sudden movements might cause them to skid across the pavement. Sometimes, it does feel like they're going to crash when Wolfwood takes a turn, but Ain manages to keep his centre of gravity lined up.

That, and Wolfwood hasn't dropped him, even when Ain leans against his arms. He must be strong, to support Ain's weight when a turn is a little too sharp and Ain sort of bumps into him. He imagines it would feel more freeing if the wind was in his hair, but uh, no. No, that's not happening, he's not taking the helmet off. For all his confidence, he hasn't yet reached the point of forgetting himself.

It's... good. It's dangerous and reckless and stupid, this thing, but it's fun, and Ain comfortably slouches and leans back into Wolfwood whenever they stop, like the guy's a backrest. He's having a phenomenal time. It's so strange, how Wolfwood manages to make him feel so secure.]

[lupusxylem]

[Wolfwood has two places in mind to bring Ain. One is a bit more of a softball than the other, because he wasn't sure how well he'd take to the bike initially. Seeing as how he seems to be acclimating to it really well, though...he'll probably end up taking him both places. For now? They ride.

The helmets have a singular drawback. Like this, Wolfwood can't rest his chin on Ain's head at stoplights. He can't subtly breathe in the scent of his shampoo. Would Ain find it strange if he did that? Perhaps, but then again, he may just accept it as the two of them riding together and Wolfwood needing to balance Ain without having access to his hands. It makes sense enough, if you think about it. He'll just have to make do with having Ain nestled between his legs.

Not a bad place for him to be. Wolfwood is just thankful that the brainpower required to focus on keeping the bike upright means that his mind can't wander too much...and he's at least got enough experience under his belt that he thinks he isn't going to pop the most embarrassing boner of his life over here.

They occasionally hit stoplights, and for the most part people don't pay them any mind. Some do steal glances, because they recognize Wolfwood's bike with the big cross on it. Best be on their best behavior, that's the mafia, etc etc. Then, there's one instance where he pulls up to the front of the white line to wait for the light to change, and a car full of other guys notices them with the driver rolling down his window a sliver so they can whoop and holler at Wolfwood and Ain over the din of the engines rumbling. To Ain, it will probably seem like they're just being friendly neighborhood hoodlums.

Wolfwood knows exactly what they're doing. They see him with a twink on his bike and are automatically assuming.

You Know.

They drive off a minute later, and it's just another few blocks before Wolfwood pulls up to a nicer looking strip of storefronts. This is probably the wealthiest part of the south side, but that isn't why he brought him here. There's a building just across the way, the outside painted in soft pastels.]

Have you ever had frozen yogurt?

[eidxiety]

[Those are just noisy southside gangsters to Ain, yeah. He literally has no opinion here other than that. Those are the people he expects to see more often than not, based on what his mom's said to him in the past. There are degenerates there. They sin in the streets, dressed in skimpy attire and showing skin. They're loud and worship Satan and kill each other just for fun.

There are too many normal people. He's seen maybe three people do something bad since he's started popping over here, and two of those groups were on his first day at the market. The others are next to him, and they're not hurting anybody. They're simply... loud.

Ain must look confused when they drive off. No one can see his expression or the way his brow scrunches, wondering why they whooped and hollered like that. Were they just making noise because they could?

But eventually, they stop, and Ain makes to take the helmet off and pass it over to Wolfwood to put away. He has hella helmet hair. He knows he does, because the static inside the helmet zaps him briefly, and he runs his hands through his curls to try to rearrange them in some other way.]

...are you going to laugh if I say no? It's like ice cream, isn't it?

[lupusxylem]

I mean, I could laugh. It's kindof ritzy, so I figured you might have at least heard of it.

[Don't look now Ain, he's reaching out. He's ruffling your helmet hair. His fingers cause the static in the curls to pop briefly a couple times before he pulls away, tugging his own helmet off his head. His helmet hair is no better than Ain's, but at least he's scruffy enough to pull it off for the most part.

It takes him a few minutes to get his bike chained up, but once he has, he'll lead the way inside. The place is quite frankly adorable, with bright colors not dissimilar to the diner they ate at last week. The difference here is that instead of a bar, there's a bunch of frozen yogurt machines set into the far wall.]

It's exactly what it sounds like. It's like ice cream, but it's yogurt instead. I like it better than ice cream myself. Comes in pretty much every flavor, too.

[eidxiety]

[Mmmm the hair ruffles get him good man. He giggles every time it happens, too. And then insists he's not a kid despite that.

God, though. This place is super cute. Ain finds himself (kiddishly) skipping along the black and white tiles, the white tiles are lava, but honestly the black ones are so tiny it's difficult to actually avoid the white ones. Oh well. He's having fun.]

Is it... self-serve? [He's looking at the things on the back wall, where the people are. The ice cream dispenser things. Y'know. The things.] We just get whatever we want, huh?

[lupusxylem]

[Why are you baby. Why are you so cute. Stop it-

Wolfwood nods to the employees behind the counter, holding up his fingers to indicate "two". Then, he looks back towards Ain.]

Sure is. They price it by weight, so you can get as much as you think you'll eat and they'll charge you accordingly.

[This. May be a dangerous thing to be telling Ain in particular-]

[eidxiety]

[The man is 23 and was not allowed to be a child. They had fucking nativity toys and stuff, not actual real toys. He's going to play the floor is fucking lava for as long as he can, at least until he has a cup in his hand and is set loose.

He. Does not know where to start. It looks like there are a lot of fruit flavours, ranging from normal strawberry to sort of strange like kiwi, and Ain isn't sure what kind of concoction he's going to make, but after observing others for a spell... he figures out he can just mix and match whatever. They can't stop him. They literally cannot tell him what to do. So!

Instead of being normal, Ain mixes orange, strawberry, and kiwi into one cup. There's this colourful mishmash of swirled frozen yogurt together, and that's when he figures out there's a toppings bar goodbye he's slapping chocolate chips and white chocolate chips and M&Ms all over this. This is too much. This is teeth rotting. This is gross. Ain's going to love every goddamn second of it.

It's also just under a dollar (apparently an $8 item was about $0.67 back in the 50s, insane), which is probably more than anyone should be paying, but hey.]

[lupusxylem]

[Wolfwood watches from some distance away, amused, as Ain just goes fucking feral with the frozen yogurt like he's never had the opportunity to make his own dessert before. Like...was he raised? Properly? Who hurt you, Ain.

Even if his mixture of flavors and toppings is a bit eclectic, Wolfwood isn't going to stop him (he WILL tease him for it, though), instead just smirking as he follows after him to make his own cup. He doesn't go for the fruity flavors himself, instead getting a mixture of chocolate and butter pecan. It's normal, it's boring, but it's what he likes. He'll also grab some slivered almonds to put on top too before they head up to the counter to pay.

This time before Ain can grab his wallet, though, Wolfwood places five quarters on the countertop to pay for both of theirs combined. He doesn't make mention of it, instead just raising a brow as he looks down at Ain with his prize.]

You gonna eat all of that?

[eidxiety]

[:0

Ain is taking his to the table now, since Wolfwood just paid. That was nice.]

I owe you for next time, [he says, casually, taking a seat and crossing his legs bro you're gay,] and yeah, I told you before that I have a black hole for a stomach, right? Haha!

[He loves to eat :)]

Yours is pretty plain. [No, Ain, his is normal.] For some reason, I thought you'd be more of a triple chocolate kind of guy!

[That's STILL NORMAL, AIN]

[lupusxylem]

Plain? Compared to yours, maybe.

[He huffs as he follows Ain to a table, sliding into the booth across from him. Next time, huh? He'll just have to not think too hard about how that definitely-throwaway comment makes him feel, given the way his heart thuds behind his ribs like it does.

Wolfwood will not be crossing his legs, though he does notice the way Ain is as he digs his spoon into his cup.]

Might as well get more than one flavor, yeah? Especially at these prices.