Summary: Thomas Elliot has incredibly bad luck, can’t decided if he hates Bruce or vindictive sea beasts more, and has a sticky little problem involving the eight fleshy limbs attached to his torso. He never expected to get all domestic, let alone with one Jason Todd, nor did he think he would ever live in such pathetic conditions.
*A Gotham in which a ‘mystical kraken’ turned one Thomas Elliot into Hushtopus after a failed confrontation with Batman. Much of pre-52 comic is still canon. Branch-off AU. Primarily Tommy/Jay with mentions of Bru/Jay and Tommy/Bruce.
Rated: M (May vary per chapter)
(Fic order may change at random with new additions)
Jason grins and flicks the furry pom-pom on the tip of the hat with a finger as the man across from him glares so hard his eye twitches
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He hummed to himself as he touched down on the fire escape, a genuine bounce to his step as he approached the window frame and punched in his security code, successfully flinging it open as he awkwardly held his bags in a single hand.
“No.”
Jason grins and flicks the furry pom-pom on the tip of the hat with a finger as the man across from him glares so hard his eye twitches.
His good mood only burns hotter as he realizes that the red head had been sitting there waiting for his return.
“Aww, come on! Where’s your holiday spirit Tommy?” He snickered, trudging across the room with the bags of groceries in hand, clad from head to toe in red and black.
“Lost in the dark depths of the Gotham Bay along with my lower half!” The redhead snaps, swaying forward across the floor. “You look absurd. Please, please tell me that you did not carry out your patrol in that god awful suit... you look the farthest thing from intimidating. And think of the little hellions- do you wish to corrupt them more by letting them see St. Nick blow someone away?”
Tommy looks utterly disgusted and Jason can’t help but cackle as he slides into the kitchen and opens the fridge to deposit the night’s haul.
“No, I didn’t patrol tonight. I went shopping… and then nearly gave the woman at the children’s center down the street a heart attack. Admittedly I kind of broke in, woke her up accidentally, and dodged getting pummeled by a lamp, but you try getting a truck full of presents through a front door quietly.”
The twitching spread from the man’s eye to his lower eight limbs.
“You purchased a truck’s worth of gifts on Christmas Eve and delivered them to an orphanage?”
“Children’s Center, the kids don’t like the term orphanage, but yes…” He huffed, shoving the gallon of milk on the top shelf. “I did it last year as well. Yay for healthy traditions!”
Tommy snorted and leaned back against the wall.
“How the hell did you manage to shop and wrap dozens of toys in a few short hours on the busiest last-second retail night of the year?”
“Hundreds. Truck load, remember? Not everything was toys, I’m a practical person, and hypothetically? I may or may not have held a table full of mob underlings hostage at a table and forced them to be my not so merry elves…” He smirked and turned towards the older man as he shut the fridge. “But hey, I sent them all home in one piece so I think it was quite the compromise, don’t you?”
The red head rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.
“Your idea of a good time is horrendously unique, Todd.”
At that Jason’s faced morphed into an entirely different sort of grin and he froze as the Hood bent down for the last bag upon the floor, reached in, and retrieved a bottle.
“Yeah, but it’s still a fucking great time-“ he laughed, waggling the bottle before the man. “I figure that you and I can sit back, drink this whole thing of amaretto, and…”
“And?” Tommy rose a brow, interest peaked.
“…and you can get me out of this ‘god awful suit’.”
Notes: Hushtopus: An Origin Story, For Cornflakepizza.
Word Count: 2865
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“Tentacles. They’re fucking tentacles. I should put you out of your misery and wipe this image from my memory with an obscenely potent bottle of vodka.”
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It was unfortunate really. A miscalculation on his part, a horrendous error that he had not anticipated, and given the results how could he?
He had known the chase by vehicle would end abruptly and soon, given the horsepower the armored car was packing, and how stubborn the man behind the wheel could be. Perhaps he should not have attempted to go off island, should have instead circled around and headed back towards Midtown instead of flooring it down Kane Memorial Bridge, but had he indeed made it to the other side a chase through rural roads would have been thrilling. Had he made it even further, crashing through the gates, and slamming at top speed into the Manor would have been incredibly satisfactory, even if he would have had to suffer through Arkham afterwards long enough to come up with an escape plan. But alas, Bruce had caught up with him far too soon, and slammed him from behind until he had lost control of the vehicle, and it had rolled.
Still, that had not been the cause of his… misfortune. That came much later.
The fight that had begun once he had pulled himself from the wreckage was one he was not likely to forget any time soon, nor would Bruce he supposed. It was drawn out, more bickering than fists, which was to be expected. He cut to bleed, both physically and verbally, and it was entertaining whenever his words hit home and the man flinched. It did not take much effort really.
Looking back, he wondered what he could have done differently, if the end result had been at all avoidable… He supposed he could have gone for the gun instead of the knife. Perhaps grappled and steered them away from edges and back towards the center. He had admittedly not been paying very much attention to his surroundings. Bruce could be infuriating and utmost distracting at the worst of times. He should have seen the roundhouse coming after that punch. Definitely should not have let pride get in the way when the man had offered his gauntlet clad hand as he had dangled off the side of the bridge… nor should he have attempted to use the man’s grip against him to give him leverage to stab him in the face- something which had also failed, due to Bruce’s advanced reflexes. But you could not blame a man for trying.
The fall had never worried him. Water was…well, water. Nothing to be worried about. The height in which he had fallen from ensured some bruising. The fact that such an event had already happened to him once prior took away any hesitation. He knew he would live to fight another day, even if that meant feeling like a drowned rat, and having to accept defeat at the man’s hand in the meantime.
The collision with the murky water had been just as unpleasant as he had remembered. If Bruce had entered the water himself in effort to retrieve him he had been unaware of his presence. The icy water had ripped the air from his lungs and his coat had weighed him down. Perhaps it had been his thrashing in attempt to free himself that had attracted its attention. He might never know.
He had barely been able to see it coming for him, the water hardly clear enough to see just feet in front of him, but the massive shadow heading right towards him would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his days, that he was sure of. He had only just wrenched free of the sleeves when it had come upon him. Bright crimson had become all he could see, and he had been unsure if it was his blood that had stained the water, or if it had been the beast’s flesh. He remembered the constriction, the tightening of iron muscle on every inch of his body, the feeling of what must have surely been his bones snapping under the pressure. He remember his lungs protesting, feeling as though they would burst if he did not inhale, and of course eventually with no other choice he had. He remembered it feeling like daggers were perforating his chest as the deep chill of the water entered his lungs. Mostly he remembered the rage and self-loathing… how after everything this was to be his end. That Bruce had won, and he was never going to get his revenge, he was simply going to lose consciousness and fall victim to some monstrosity that was likely product of some madman’s failed experiment given the city, and that would be all she wrote.
That last thing he had seen was the bright green pendent, wrenched from his neck, swirling down into the dark abyss below him. Then nothing.
Waking however long after had been a frightening experience, to put things lightly.
The creature had gone, without him ever having seen it in its entirety, and most alarming had been the realization that he had not yet left the water, that he was clearly alive yet… wrong.
Despite having surely still been in mucky Gotham runoff, his vision was nearly perfect in the water, and even though he was completely submerged and most definitely not breathing, he was not suffocating. It was then that things had gone rapidly downhill as he had made further discoveries, mostly centered around what lay waist down. He had screamed, flailed, sent foam soaring in every which direction as he struggled with reality and the sensation of six too many lower limbs most definitely lacking any bone. He had toppled over backwards, bouncing off the sand as ‘arms’ flopped in all directions, all before a black smog clouded his vision.
To say he panicked would be an understatement.
But he was logical. He recovered relatively quickly given the circumstances. Took the time to figure things out. Managed to make note of how everything moved, practiced until he successfully managed to shuffle about, all the while keeping an eye out for whatever it was that had grabbed him and turned him into whatever he was exactly. He was always about dexterity and even after such a drastic metamorphosis that was not going to change. He spent plenty precious hours refining his new motor skills, learning how to increase his distance and speed, feeling like an infant as he was forced to relearn the concept of balance. Even worse was learning movement off ground and he was not willing to admit to his countless crashes and tumbles. Still, he was a stubborn man, and not at all a stranger to having to work diligently for what he desired.
Breaking the surface was a different sort of difficulty however… There the earth’s gravity was against him and he was certain that land would be far more difficult than one could anticipate. Making matters worse, twice he had to dodge for cover as boats rode past him, the latter of which clipped his shoulder as he dove out of sight and he was left nursing a gash he feared would lure enemies of a different sort to his location.
He stayed away from the surface during daylight hours thereafter.
He came away from that experience with the knowledge that he had been moved to another area of the island however. That he found intriguing.
When he had exhausted his body, the entirety of it, he shimmied into a secluded corner, flung away the trash lingering in it (the brief setback being that some of it clung to his limbs and proved difficult to remove until he had worked out how to somewhat control his suction) and curled in on himself willing his mind to allow a nap.
All the while he had hoped he would wake up to it all being some sick nightmare he would love to blame Crane for.
Unfortunately he was not so lucky.
When he awoke and eventually pulled himself back together he decided that he had had enough of his self-pity and that he needed a plan. He needed allies, something he had thoroughly been lacking as of late, and that would most definitely be a problem, considering that much of the Gotham underworld would likely attempt experimentation on him rather than attempt to aid him. He needed access to his money. Access to research utensils. A safe place of dwelling where he could collect himself and not have to worry about being shark bait.
Admittedly, coming to a decision had been difficult, and even after weighing pros and cons of his potential choices he was not at all confident in his selection. Confrontation would go poorly, he knew that much already, simply factoring the appearance of his face, let alone his lower half.
Locating the Red Hood- a young man by the name of Jason Todd, former Robin and bat-child of Bruce, was not at all a difficult task. Much of it was simply waiting for the right time, in the right place, and he knew for certain that the northeast docks were frequented by the man on a regular basis as a part of his ‘patrol’ route (he had listened to plenty a man bitch and groan over drug shipments and firearms lost to the vigilante time and time again).
In his wait he continued practice of movement. As he had suspected, moving along solid ground took much effort, and was not the slightest bit pain free on his tender fleshy limbs. He was at the very least relieved to discover that he could still breath in a human fashion if he was in a position to do so (the horrific thoughts of potentially having to wear a fish bowl upon his head were not only disturbing but degrading).
He was ashamed to admit that his first venture on land ended in him stealing a food cart for sustenance whist its owner lay passed out in a drunken stupor. Still, he needed to eat to survive, even if he felt disgusted with himself for resorting to cheap fast food, but there was not a chance in hell that he was going to conform to his new situation and live off the land- water. It would be disgusting, no matter what his tentacles had to say on the matter (for they frequently grabbed things without his permission, much to his horror).
As luck would have it however, on the third night of his aquatic stakeout, the Hood arrived, guns blazing, as a shipment of one sort or another was on its way out of Gotham. He waited until things settled down, in effort to not be rude (as things would be difficult enough without infringing on the man’s temper tantrum whilst flopping around on tentacles). But no matter how he approached the man it was bound to be awkward, and potentially violent, which was not something he was looking forward to. Being bottom heavy definitely put a damper on dodging.
In the end he merely draped himself across the warehouse doorway in waiting, and as the man made an effort to leave the rusty building via the skylight instead of the door like a civilized human being, he called out to him.
“Todd!”
And of course the Hood froze mid aim with his grapple and looked his way. He needn’t see beneath the man’s ridiculous helmet to have visualized the look that must be upon his face, and when he made no move, Tommy simply shuffled forward, making his way across the less than habitable floor towards him.
He was not at all surprised when he found himself staring down a barrel by the time he got within a few feet of the man.
“Stop your nonsense Hood, I find myself in a peculiar… predicament. I require assistance and however sad it may be you were the best to be had.” It was a reluctant admission.
“Wha- Hush?”
To give the man credit, Tommy was fully willing to admit that he too would be flabbergasted had he come across someone he knew in such a state… in fact, his first instinct likely would have been ‘burn it with fire’. Luckily Todd was slow to act. Or perhaps awestruck.
“Yes, if anything the voice should have made things obvious.” He snarked back at the man, rolling his eyes.
To which he could hear the hiss the man let loose in response.
“Your face-“
“Yes, it is obvious where your priorities lie boy, honestly…”
“What the fuck!” Jason snarled, taking a step back. “Why? You shouldn’t- the hell did you do to your body? Your FACE?”
“The face was in effort to destroy Bruce... The body however was not of my doing and I am insulted that you would think such things. Also, if you do not remove your gun from my face, I will remove that hand from your person. You would be amazed at how much strength is in one of these… appendages.” He huffed, crossing his arms.
“Tentacles. They’re fucking tentacles. I should put you out of your misery and wipe this image from my memory with an obscenely potent bottle of vodka.”
Tommy sighed and batted the man’s hand away with one of his front most limbs resisting the urge to cackle as the man twitched when he made contact.
“I highly doubt you could do such a thing, considering my appearance from the waist up, and your unhealthy attachment to whom I borrowed it from.”
“Last I checked B was never a ginger and I know firsthand that the carpet matched the drapes.”
“I beg your pardon?” And with that he reached up, plucked a strand from his head, and stared down at it in horror.
Because of course it would be ginger. Why the hell not? Clearly the world was out to get him.
“An unfortunate bit of this mishap I was not aware of until now…” he muttered. “Never the less, you and I have to talk. We could have a mutually beneficial arrangement until I can get my… state of being sorted out.”
“Not a chance in hell Hush. My space is my space and you’re more likely to off me when my back is turned than to assist me in shit. There’s not a damned thing you have that I’d want. Our ‘partnership’, if you could even call it that, ended ages ago. You wasted your time.” Hood huffed, turning on his heel as he raised the grapple gun once more.
“Really now? I thought you might enjoy some witty banter. Some company that you do not intend to kill for a change. Minus the sudden reappearance of my natural hair color, I thought I might be pleasing to look at, given your history with our mutual acquaintance.” He smirked as a growl surfaced behind the crimson helm and chuckled. “I could always tuck you in at night, nurse your wounds? I am a doctor after all, and you have a sad tenancy to find yourself in exploding buildings, do you not?”
“You know what Hush? Fuck you.” Jason snarled, whipping back around.
“Only if I am feeling particularly generous and you have learned to be respectful Jason. Regardless, we could always plot against Bruce. He is after all the one you are fixated on and the reason I am in this situation in the first place. Bastard knocked me off a bridge into the clutches of what I can only call pure evil. We could put him on display for all of Gotham in nothing but his cape and boots. Or perhaps leave him penniless, empty his accounts, get rid of his butler, and leave him unable to access his cave. Ah, here’s a thought, we could capture him, disarm him, and cage him like a pet where you could play with him at will while I watched and laughed. Anything to humiliate him as I have been.”
At this Jason snorted, and he dropped his hands to his side before cocking a hip.
“If you think any of that would work you don’t know him so well. Besides, so much as touch Alfred, and you’ll be takoyaki faster than you can scuttle away. Butler is off limits.”
“Ah yes… never bite the hand that fed you. Such a considerate stray.”
“Don’t make me change my mind just seconds after I’ve made it up.” Jason glared behind his lenses. “We can talk. Once you don’t look so dry and reek of sewer.”
Tommy’s lip curled.
“I resent that. You haven’t the slightest idea what is in that water. I cannot control what filth this city has put into it. I had little choice in the matter.”
“Yeah? Well you can take a shower. A long one. I’ll take pity on you. But you’re scrubbing the shit out of it afterwards to get rid of your sea creature residue.”
“Ah, so you are allowing me in your dwelling after all?”
The Hood snickered.
“Of course. Sure ain’t talking to you out in the open. I’m no Disney Princess. I wouldn’t be caught dead hanging with Ursula.”
Tommy knew it had been a bad night the moment Jason had crawled through the window hours before dawn was even a thought...
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Tommy knew it had been a bad night the moment Jason had crawled through the window hours before dawn was even a thought, helmetless, jacket long since forgotten with the blankest of looks settled across his face. A bad night of a different sort, one so rarely seen that it always surprised him to see the younger man in such a state, a hurt-bad rather than angry-bad. The kind of hurt that had nothing to do with battle scars… no wounds to lick, or bruised pride to ice.
The emotional hurt was always far more tragic and reminded him just how young the Red Hood really was… how fragile.
He had learned the hard way the very first time the man had returned to their flat in such a state that this was not a time for nagging, not a time to taunt, nor for words that cut deep. He could admittedly be a cruel man, enjoyed it even, but seeing a man normally so strong become reduced to a sobbing mess like that of a child had been incredibly heart breaking.
These days he was far more careful.
He need not ask what had occurred. He could guess enough of it… Bruce.
Always Bruce.
Of course.
He had said nothing as Jason slunk towards him, letting his remaining gear drop to the floor with little care as he crossed the stretch of room, and ultimately cocooned himself in the mass of blankets draped across the couch. Tommy let him be for a time, merely watching him squirm with anxiety, heave in deep shaky breaths. But when little improvement had been made in a reasonable amount of time he shuffled over to the burritoed form and tsked before wrenching the swaddled man into cradled limbs.
Jason did little more than squeak in protest at the action and Tommy only rolled his eyes as he unearthed the man’s covered head.
He cursed Bruce’s ability to make his life chaotic and difficult in the worst of ways as he sighed and carded a hand through Jason’s raven locks. The younger man slumped and curled in at the action, hiding his face back among the blankets as Tommy pet him soothingly.
It was not at all the first time they had done this, nor was it likely to be the last, and while Tommy could not deny that he enjoyed having Jason curled up in what had once been his lap, he still felt horribly about the situation and highly preferred Jason with a fiery temper and inappropriate sassiness over the hurt kicked bird in his lap at current.
Still, so long as he needed it he was content to coddle the man for a time, knowing that the sooner he got it out of his system, the sooner he would be back to his typical self, Bruce be damned…
He was quickly becoming antsy… twitchy… and he didn’t at all appreciate limbs moving without his permission.
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A storm was raging outside, had been for days, rain falling from the sky in thick sheets that blanketed the dark city.
Tommy had enjoyed it, for a time, until the lightning storms began and he had been forced to seclude himself indoors once more, but it had been pleasant while it had lasted, resting out on the warm rooftop with the cool rain pelting down on his flesh…
Now he was quite simply bored, tired of once again being trapped in a brick prison, with not a soul to keep him company. Jason Todd, his reluctant housemate, and only friend- if he could even truly be called that, had been gone more often than not. The city’s underbelly was acting up with the weather, and much to his displeasure, it kept Todd away long hours at a time. During which he was forced to fend for himself and seek mindless entertainment elsewhere.
He had never been much for television, but at the present he had very little choice, since the apartment had little to offer amusement wise.
It was only when Jason neglected to return in a full twenty-four hour period five days into the massive storm that worry began to set in, whether Tommy was willing to admit it, or not. It was agitating, more than anything, an annoyance that he was going to make well known when the man did eventually return home. His boredom was beyond extreme, the fridge nearly empty of all that he could make without things being hazardous to his health, due to the man having been too busy to shop, and he was quickly becoming antsy… twitchy… and he didn’t at all appreciate limbs moving without his permission.
He heard a ruckus on the fire escape nearly thirty-six hours since Jason’s last appearance, and he prepped himself, armed with one of the man’s pathetic pieces of crate ‘furniture’, ready to launch it at the man as he rightfully deserved.
Only…
Jason barely had the window open before he was falling into the living room sopping wet like a half drowned kitten being weighed down by his fur, completely void of his usual firearms, with blood oozing down his thigh. Tommy paused mid motion, crate raised above his head as he scowled down at the younger man.
Jason gave a weak laugh and grinned stupidly up at him, small rivulets of blood streaked and dripping down his face, no doubt caused by yet another shattered helmet.
“Give me one good reason, Todd, to not still whip this at your wretched, bleeding head?” He snarled, baring his teeth as Jason turned himself onto his side, wincing as he went, and snorted.
“Because I’ve already been pummeled enough, need sleep, and some tender loving care from the resident doctor? Because I’m a caring kind of guy who sees things and brings them home for you, getting shot at, and flung off a boat in the process? Nah, I’ll go for ‘too sexy to kill’, again, instead…” He chuckled, breaking off into a cough as he pressed a gloved hand against tender ribs.
Tommy rose an eyebrow, but all the same placed the crate gently back upon the ground and chose to instead cross his arms, and move slightly closer to the drenched man.
“You have piqued my curiosity… explain.”
“So that’s what you call it these days?” The fallen man leered with a smirk, pushing himself up on an elbow.
Tommy cast him a look of disgust before shooting out a muscled limb, and dragging him to his feet by the arm.
“TODD-“
Jason squeaked, cracked ribs stabbing, and thigh wounds protesting at the sudden action.
“Sorry?”
“You best be, boy. Do you have any idea what it was like being stuck here, alone, wondering if you had been stupid enough to get yourself slaughtered by some scum littering the streets?”
Jason bit his lip, trying to carefully balance himself on his good leg as the man kept him held up, on his toes, dangling before him.
“Special circumstances? Honest… but seriously, ow?” He whined clutching the kevlar low on his side. “Just… put me down? Take me to the couch, chair, bed, something?”
With a huff, Tommy let him sink ungracefully, yet slowly back onto the hardwood floor, panting as he shifted into a less painful position. Before the man could prompt him further, Jason was peeling the dripping leather from his shoulders, and tugging at the zipper of his kevlar armor.
“I did not tell you to strip.”
“Hush-” he snapped, reaching down his chest.
The man was about to retort when quite suddenly, a flash of green entered his vision, and the injured Jason wore a look so smug he looked absolutely proud and amused with himself.
Tommy could only gape as Jason rocked it like a pendulum, wrapped around his finger as he brushed his bangs back with his free hand.
“Where-“
“Penguin.” Jason stated, matter-of-factly. “Total clusterfuck of crossed interests. Ol’ Ozzie was holding an off shore auction. Not only was the bastard there himself, but so were several ‘people of interest’ that I needed to have a heart to heart with. Add into the fact that Catwoman- don’t give me that look- wanted in on some statue he had, and I had a hell of a blast. Quite literally in fact.” He chuckled, wincing again as he forgot about ribs.
Tommy still only stared, gaze transfixed upon the pendant in the younger man’s grasp.
“Only managed to drag two of my targets away from the party before shit hit the fan. Not only was I spotted, but when hell rained down upon me, Selina took that as her chance to get what she wanted. Queue massive gunfire, tons of mindless, poor-shot thugs, and scattering of the ritsies, and you’ve got mass chaos. Happened to catch sight of this out of the corner of my eye, recognized it, and went for it. Figured, why the hell not? You seemed pretty attached to it back in the day. Turns out that Pengy knew exact what it was, who it belong to, and wasn’t letting it go without a fight. Ass let off a grenade. On the deck of a ship. Idiot. Blew me into the water, along with several other people that probably actually deserved it, but not before I had it in hand. I can only assume it washed up on shore somewhere, and either he got his hands on it immediately, or snatched it from someone who had. Guess I should count my lucky stars that I didn’t run into whatever made you… well, you, right?”
Tommy only nodded, eyes wide as Jason unwound the necklace from his hand, and tossed it in his direction. He caught it with ease at the end of a tentacle and brought it to his hands, examining it carefully, rolling it in his fingers in silent awe.
“I thought for sure it was lost… gone permanently.”
Jason sighed, tilting his head at the man, smile still gracing his face.
“It’s lightweight, current is strong… so long as it hadn’t gotten caught on something it stood a good chance of surfacing at some point.” He paused, watching as Tommy slipped it around his neck, still marveling at the pristine state of the pendant. “Happy?”
Tommy sighed, the anger he had long been stewing forgotten as he shuffled across the room.
“Beyond measure. Still... could you avoid bodily harm once in a damn while? Tired of stitching you back together. I have put more stitches in you than anyone, save myself, and that is… an annoyance.”
“Awe… so you do care!” Jason tittered, yelping as the man’s limbs shot out and him and pried his remaining armor from his form, leaving him in nothing but his boxer-briefs.
“Stay still, shut up, and maybe- just maybe, I won’t prolong your suffering.
Jason sighed and reluctantly lay back on the wet floor, sprawled with arms out at his sides, eye closed as Tommy hovered over him. The medical bag hit the floor with a dull thud, opened for probably the hundredth time since he had brought it home for the other man shortly after his initial arrival. The man worked quickly, yet gently, cleansing and stitching the deep graze across his thigh as he draped an arm across his face to hide his wincing. Thomas Elliot, even in his present state, in these moments could be as gentle and meticulous as Alfred. He hadn’t even noticed that the man was finished with the bullet wound until the arm was being pried from his face and the light being shown was blinding him.
“Wha-“ His protests were muffled as one of the burgundy tentacles forced his mouth close, Tommy frowning up above him as he washed his face and picked through his hair. He twitched as each little crimson shard was removed from his flesh, and he flushed as the man grumbled while he worked.
“Hey, wouldn’t you rather I have slivers instead of a hole in my skull?”
Tommy glared, and purposefully jerked the next piece roughly.
“One would think that after having this happen at least twice a month that you would contemplate switching material. But no. That simple concept is too difficult for you to comprehend.” He snarled, dropping piece after piece into the dish at his side with a loud clink.
“Too…too heavy. Too bulky. Tried it, in the beginning, didn’t go so well. Fucked my neck up. Stayed in bed for three days cursing myself. They may shatter, but they take most bullets like a champ, and that’s what really counts. People like to shoot at me. I shoot back, ‘cept I’m a great shot, and they’re idiots.”
Antiseptic burned like hell, but he suffered through it silently thereafter, watching the man’s expression change with each passing minute, eventually settling on content as his thoughts drifted back to his reacquired possession.
It was only after Tommy started packing his things back into the bag that he made his move, stretching out his arm whilst the man wasn’t looking, before he clenched his hand around the pendent, and wrench the man’s torso down with the force around his neck.
Before the red head could protest the sudden attack, Jason had his hand clenched in his hair, tugging him ever closer as he gnashed their mouths together in a rough, heated kiss. The younger man hummed appreciatively when Tommy went with it, merely rolling his eyes before pushing his tongue into Jason’s mouth.
When Jason finally pulled back with a laugh, the older man sighed, tentacles twitching and curling in annoyance as he regarded him with a frown.
“You insist upon being hard to get along with…” he muttered, shaking his head.
“Yet another thing we agreed to not discuss, yet you use against me every time we have a disagreement…”
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It was definitely becoming one of those evenings that Jason was regretting coming home early rather than staying out raising hell…
“I’m just saying it would be far more practical if we were to… I don’t know, change scenery?”
Jason’s eyes narrowed and he rubbed at a temple as he sighed.
“Meaning, you’re having issues navigating my ‘shack’, correct? It’s understandable, ‘cuz those hips don’t lie…” He snickered, noting the sheen of crimson that skirted across the man’s cheeks.
Tommy glared, top lip twitching as he held back a snarl of outrage as he shuffled forward, arms folded across his chest.
“I…must admit, my lower extremities are a touch wide…” he muttered, tentacles curling indignantly in annoyance. “However… be that as it may, my wideness is not the key factor in this suggestion-“
“Demand.” Jason snorted, leaning back against the brick wall with a scowl.
“Oh for heaven’s sake, yes, demand…honestly.” He huffed, waving a hand at the younger man. “Regardless, my point it, this- this home of yours is not fit to house two individuals. Not fit to house one, but I’ve already expressed my opinion on that matter several times previous to now… However, if we are going to continue this mutually beneficial arrangement, it would be wise to find a larger location. I assure you that our mornings would be far less chaotic with a second bath. That you would not have to worry about me blocking your path to the refrigerator.”
“You’re not supposed to be in the kitchen in the first place. We discussed this. Several times in fact. Do I need to remind you of the oil incident? Or perhaps the time tentacle ‘F’ decided it liked my kitchen blade set and you almost stabbed me, repeatedly, by accident, when I startled you and you flailed at me?”
“Yet another thing we agreed to not discuss, yet you use against me every time we have a disagreement…” The red head growled, tossing his hands into the air.
Jason only sighed, and tossed his jacket across the room onto the couch.
“Yeah, well… when it comes to things that have caused us bodily harm, we need to be reminded every now and again to not repeat the situation.” He rolled his eyes, and stomped toward the aforementioned ‘kitchen’, retrieving a water bottle from the bottom of the fridge.
“So you insist…”
“Yes, yes I do, as more times than not, I’m the one fearing for his life over the stupidest of shit.” He groaned.
With a huff, Jason crossed back across the small living room and tossed himself onto the sofa, beside his discarded jacket. He glared at the man to his right as he chugged half the bottle down in one go, and reluctantly nodded.
“It can be a bit cramped in here at times.”
Tommy perked up at once, a look of victory firmly set upon his face as he smirked, and moved to Jason’s front.
“So we are in agreement then? Excellent. You will start the search first thing tomorrow-“
“Hey!”
“- as clearly I cannot go hobbling around town as I stand currently. As you can imagine, my list of preferences is vast, but I will stick to requirements as you will most certainly disregard the majority of what I ask out of spite alone.”
“Oh, you know me so well…” The younger man spat, digging his blunt nails into the couch cushion.
“No matter… I require a second bath. Primarily so I can have my own to frequent as often as I require, and so you are not whining that I am creating a death trap-“
“Yet another case of you trying to kill me, accidentally. I almost die of shower slime induced head trauma four time a week.”
“Yes… continuing… now, I also request that you forgo carpeting, as again you are constantly shooting me looks of disgust for things completely out of my control… Furthermore, the floors must either be refinished, or already in a close to perfect state, so I am not lodging splitters in my appendages, like before when we tried to dispose of the carpet in this dung heap.”
“Elliot, you keep insulting my house, and I’m going to set it ablaze with you trapped inside, and sell your tasty carcass at the Asian market on 7th street…” Jason hissed.
Tommy scowled, but shuddered all the same.
“Moving on… a kitchen, normally equipped with a center island, but island is to be removed for maximum floor area. This way the limbs are not so claustrophobic and grasping at objects to maim you with.
Jason drew in a deep breath and counted down slowly to lessen his annoyance.
After his moment of calm he grinned, eyes shining in amusement, much to Tommy’s dismay.
“You know what would be practical, in my opinion then?”
Tommy stiffened
“I’m sure that I would rather not-“
“Tentacle socks. Eight legged footed pants. With a Velcro fly instead of zipper, so you don’t hurt yourself. I’ll send a letter to Alfie. He still likes me, to a degree. He’ll take pity on me.”
Tommy glared daggers, and Jason was suddenly very grateful that with the growth of his eight slimy limbs, the man had not also gained the ability to turn others into stone. Like Medusa.
