unclejackworthing
We Happy Few RP
Sideblog! Follows back from @mothergooseberry
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Arthur is quick to brush his suffering off as not being worth Jack's worry. Jack knows better. Though it isn't quite as severe as the most recent one Jack can remember, he knows it's unpleasant even without the eyes. Back when he could still take Joy, he'd missed his dose once or twice while still getting used to the routine.
He remembers it vividly, even though he could simply pop another pill and only have to endure for a few minutes. He's not sure how long it's going to take for Arthur to get through it, but he knows it's miserable.
“And if you came down from Joy every day, you'd still deserve comfort through it.”
He shifts to lay beside him, though far enough away that their bodies aren't quite touching. He isn't sure why it's such a big deal now; they've been sharing the bed at night and inadvertently getting so much closer. He doesn't want to overstep when Arthur is in such a fragile state.
Instead of moving close enough to wrap an arm around him, he lets one hand rest on Arthur's upper arm instead, gently rubbing it. “This is going to pass before you know it. But, if there's anything that would make it easier on you in the meantime, all you have to do is ask.”
@unclejackworthing
It was Arthur's fault for getting too comfortable. Jack was in the kitchen trying to figure something out while Arthur waited in the living room. Jack was only a room away. He got too comfortable.
When the knock on the door came, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He was in no state to entertain company. He was wearing someone else's pajamas and covered in bruises after his last encounter. But when he he hesitated too long, he heard a voice through the door:
"You'll want to cooperate, of course. It's a matter of your health." Arthur looked through the window and made direct eye contact with a doctor. Another one was behind him, difficult to mistake when they were dressed almost identically in the same odd fashion sense common among Wellington Wells' medical community.
Arthur's heart sunk, but he put on the best smile he could and opened the door. He tried to keep his body mostly behind it. "Gentlemen! Lovely day for it! Now what's all this about a medical emergency?"
"Yes, well, you'll forgive the intrusion, but my colleague and I happened to be wandering along when caught your scent through the window. It's ajar."
Arthur looked at it again. Indeed it was. Why did every little thing have to go wrong? The doctor pushed past Arthur into the living room, then turned to face him, so Arthur had a doctor on both sides.
"And, when we'd sniffed you out, then we couldn't help but notice that peculiar pungency telltale of one off their Joy." The doctor smiled, his creepy little mustache curving up at the edges. "So of course we both agreed it was our medical duty to come remedy the situation."
"Oh, dear!" It wasn't difficult to look horrified. It was harder to to look like he had nothing to hide. "Silly me! Has it been that long since I've popped a Joy? I'll take one straight away. I'm so thankful to you for warning me, Doctor." Arthur kept turning between the doctors, unsure which one to face. "And, uh, Doctor. Jolly decent of you."
"Yes, we'll administer a dose presently." The doctor leaned close, peering at Arthur with one fish eye. The one behind Arthur--he was getting them mixed up now--took a noisy sniff of Arthur's neck. "Are you certain you don't need more extreme medical intervention, sir? You do seem to be rather beat up."
"Oh, not at all! That's why I'm at home in my pajamas, you see. Silly me, I tripped down the stairs and the doctor put me on strict bed rest until I've healed up."
If only smiling hard enough would make them believe him. His cheeks were starting to hurt. "I've been going crazy here at home instead of at work. I'm sure the Joy will help with that." Arthur tried to step out from between the duo. "I'll just step away and go take care of that right now. I shouldn't waste another minute."
The doctor behind Arthur grabbed his upper arm and wrenched him back in place. "You'll forgive us for wanting to take you back to the office just to be sure. It is a matter of your health, after all. You can't be too careful."
"Oh, pish-posh!" said Arthur desperately. "I'm as healthy as a horse. Just some light bruising."
"I think that's for a qualified medical professional to to decide, don't you think?" The doctor in front of Arthur produced a rather large syringe as the one behind him held Arthur's arms. "But first there is the matter of your Joy. I think you'll be much more agreeable once the proper dosage is applied.
The doctor came in close and tilted Arthur's head up to expose his neck. He ran a finger along the vein he chose and then stabbed the needle into Arthur's skin, fully compressing the plunger and emptying the pink liquid into Arthur's bloodstream.
"Shit," said Arthur. His legs had suddenly stopped working correctly. He collapsed into the doctor's arms. Too much Joy.
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Arthur starts in that he ‘doesn’t mean to be difficult-’ but, fortunately, he rethinks it before Jack can call him out. They both know that he absolutely does mean to be difficult. It's endearing. Jack likes the ‘difficult’ a lot more than the shallow apology he was starting in on.
“Of course,” He instantly agrees, though the grin on his face suggests that he isn't taking this very seriously. He can't deny that it's cute when Arthur tells him off. It's a breath of fresh air after so many years of everyone wanting to be on his good side.
“You're in charge. And…” when your plan backfires- There's probably a less confrontational way to phrase that. “should you need assistance, your wish is my command. Lead the way, dear.”
[continued from here]
@illsuiteddowner
Arthur’s in a hurry. Jack, less so, but he's prepared. He'd already packed his bag full of absolute necessities; what small amounts of food he's been saving and a few personal belongings. Anything else can stay in the pneumatic tubes.
Though he doesn't know which hatch they might end up in next, he's sure they will end up in a hatch soon enough. He's not going to allow Arthur to sleep in mines or alleyways the way he's done in the past- beds are a necessity now.
When Arthur heads for the ladder, Jack grabs his bag and swiftly follows. (It's understandable, he reasons, to admire Arthur's long legs and nicely fitting trousers the entire way up the ladder. It's not like he has anything else to look at.)
Once they've reached the surface, he nearly links arms with Arthur- mostly, but not entirely, to keep him from taking off. He thinks better of it and keeps his hands to himself.
“To Apple Holm! Off we go! It's… this way, I think.” On second thought, maybe he'd better let Arthur lead the way.
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By the time Arthur hits the bed, his body language is already beginning to change- he pulls the blanket up around himself and rolls onto his side. The withdrawal must be hitting already.
It's something of a relief; he's no longer too high to have any idea what's going on around him. No more walking on eggshells to avoid confusing or inadvertently manipulating him, no more worrying that he's going to injure himself stumbling around. Though the withdrawals aren't exactly better, it's all temporary. He knows he'll be back to normal soon. He just has to continue comforting him through this, as he has been.
Jack carefully sits beside him on the bed. He doesn't touch him, not yet, but he makes sure Arthur knows that he's there to continue supporting him. “Can I do anything for you..?”
@unclejackworthing
It was Arthur's fault for getting too comfortable. Jack was in the kitchen trying to figure something out while Arthur waited in the living room. Jack was only a room away. He got too comfortable.
When the knock on the door came, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He was in no state to entertain company. He was wearing someone else's pajamas and covered in bruises after his last encounter. But when he he hesitated too long, he heard a voice through the door:
"You'll want to cooperate, of course. It's a matter of your health." Arthur looked through the window and made direct eye contact with a doctor. Another one was behind him, difficult to mistake when they were dressed almost identically in the same odd fashion sense common among Wellington Wells' medical community.
Arthur's heart sunk, but he put on the best smile he could and opened the door. He tried to keep his body mostly behind it. "Gentlemen! Lovely day for it! Now what's all this about a medical emergency?"
"Yes, well, you'll forgive the intrusion, but my colleague and I happened to be wandering along when caught your scent through the window. It's ajar."
Arthur looked at it again. Indeed it was. Why did every little thing have to go wrong? The doctor pushed past Arthur into the living room, then turned to face him, so Arthur had a doctor on both sides.
"And, when we'd sniffed you out, then we couldn't help but notice that peculiar pungency telltale of one off their Joy." The doctor smiled, his creepy little mustache curving up at the edges. "So of course we both agreed it was our medical duty to come remedy the situation."
"Oh, dear!" It wasn't difficult to look horrified. It was harder to to look like he had nothing to hide. "Silly me! Has it been that long since I've popped a Joy? I'll take one straight away. I'm so thankful to you for warning me, Doctor." Arthur kept turning between the doctors, unsure which one to face. "And, uh, Doctor. Jolly decent of you."
"Yes, we'll administer a dose presently." The doctor leaned close, peering at Arthur with one fish eye. The one behind Arthur--he was getting them mixed up now--took a noisy sniff of Arthur's neck. "Are you certain you don't need more extreme medical intervention, sir? You do seem to be rather beat up."
"Oh, not at all! That's why I'm at home in my pajamas, you see. Silly me, I tripped down the stairs and the doctor put me on strict bed rest until I've healed up."
If only smiling hard enough would make them believe him. His cheeks were starting to hurt. "I've been going crazy here at home instead of at work. I'm sure the Joy will help with that." Arthur tried to step out from between the duo. "I'll just step away and go take care of that right now. I shouldn't waste another minute."
The doctor behind Arthur grabbed his upper arm and wrenched him back in place. "You'll forgive us for wanting to take you back to the office just to be sure. It is a matter of your health, after all. You can't be too careful."
"Oh, pish-posh!" said Arthur desperately. "I'm as healthy as a horse. Just some light bruising."
"I think that's for a qualified medical professional to to decide, don't you think?" The doctor in front of Arthur produced a rather large syringe as the one behind him held Arthur's arms. "But first there is the matter of your Joy. I think you'll be much more agreeable once the proper dosage is applied.
The doctor came in close and tilted Arthur's head up to expose his neck. He ran a finger along the vein he chose and then stabbed the needle into Arthur's skin, fully compressing the plunger and emptying the pink liquid into Arthur's bloodstream.
"Shit," said Arthur. His legs had suddenly stopped working correctly. He collapsed into the doctor's arms. Too much Joy.
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They make it safely up the stairs- something he's grateful for every time. He's eager for Arthur to be fully recovered, both from his injuries and from the Joy, so that he doesn't have to worry quite so much. He's already thinking about what the next step of this current plan is; getting Arthur safely to a bed, bringing him some water, keeping an eye on him. He's pulled out of his thoughts by Arthur’s hand gently touching his arm.
A big smile grows on his face, despite how quickly Arthur gets flustered and pulls away. It's only a few steps longer, anyway, before Arthur gives him the chance to reciprocate. He looks lost. Jack gently links arms with him and guides him towards the bedroom. “Don't worry, dear, we're nearly there now. Then you can rest.”
@unclejackworthing
It was Arthur's fault for getting too comfortable. Jack was in the kitchen trying to figure something out while Arthur waited in the living room. Jack was only a room away. He got too comfortable.
When the knock on the door came, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He was in no state to entertain company. He was wearing someone else's pajamas and covered in bruises after his last encounter. But when he he hesitated too long, he heard a voice through the door:
"You'll want to cooperate, of course. It's a matter of your health." Arthur looked through the window and made direct eye contact with a doctor. Another one was behind him, difficult to mistake when they were dressed almost identically in the same odd fashion sense common among Wellington Wells' medical community.
Arthur's heart sunk, but he put on the best smile he could and opened the door. He tried to keep his body mostly behind it. "Gentlemen! Lovely day for it! Now what's all this about a medical emergency?"
"Yes, well, you'll forgive the intrusion, but my colleague and I happened to be wandering along when caught your scent through the window. It's ajar."
Arthur looked at it again. Indeed it was. Why did every little thing have to go wrong? The doctor pushed past Arthur into the living room, then turned to face him, so Arthur had a doctor on both sides.
"And, when we'd sniffed you out, then we couldn't help but notice that peculiar pungency telltale of one off their Joy." The doctor smiled, his creepy little mustache curving up at the edges. "So of course we both agreed it was our medical duty to come remedy the situation."
"Oh, dear!" It wasn't difficult to look horrified. It was harder to to look like he had nothing to hide. "Silly me! Has it been that long since I've popped a Joy? I'll take one straight away. I'm so thankful to you for warning me, Doctor." Arthur kept turning between the doctors, unsure which one to face. "And, uh, Doctor. Jolly decent of you."
"Yes, we'll administer a dose presently." The doctor leaned close, peering at Arthur with one fish eye. The one behind Arthur--he was getting them mixed up now--took a noisy sniff of Arthur's neck. "Are you certain you don't need more extreme medical intervention, sir? You do seem to be rather beat up."
"Oh, not at all! That's why I'm at home in my pajamas, you see. Silly me, I tripped down the stairs and the doctor put me on strict bed rest until I've healed up."
If only smiling hard enough would make them believe him. His cheeks were starting to hurt. "I've been going crazy here at home instead of at work. I'm sure the Joy will help with that." Arthur tried to step out from between the duo. "I'll just step away and go take care of that right now. I shouldn't waste another minute."
The doctor behind Arthur grabbed his upper arm and wrenched him back in place. "You'll forgive us for wanting to take you back to the office just to be sure. It is a matter of your health, after all. You can't be too careful."
"Oh, pish-posh!" said Arthur desperately. "I'm as healthy as a horse. Just some light bruising."
"I think that's for a qualified medical professional to to decide, don't you think?" The doctor in front of Arthur produced a rather large syringe as the one behind him held Arthur's arms. "But first there is the matter of your Joy. I think you'll be much more agreeable once the proper dosage is applied.
The doctor came in close and tilted Arthur's head up to expose his neck. He ran a finger along the vein he chose and then stabbed the needle into Arthur's skin, fully compressing the plunger and emptying the pink liquid into Arthur's bloodstream.
"Shit," said Arthur. His legs had suddenly stopped working correctly. He collapsed into the doctor's arms. Too much Joy.
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Though he's likely well enough to go up and down the stairs by himself, the dizziness of the Joy complicates things. Jack's too worried to allow it all alone; in addition to holding Arthur's hand, he wraps an arm around his waist to keep him steady. They walk slowly, at Arthur's pace, and by the time they reach the stairs Arthur is freshly confused.
“You're going upstairs, sweetheart. The Joy’s made you sleepy. You're going to snuggle up in a nice warm bed and get some rest.”
He gently ushers Arthur forward towards the first stair. “Take it slow. I won't let you fall.”
@unclejackworthing
It was Arthur's fault for getting too comfortable. Jack was in the kitchen trying to figure something out while Arthur waited in the living room. Jack was only a room away. He got too comfortable.
When the knock on the door came, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He was in no state to entertain company. He was wearing someone else's pajamas and covered in bruises after his last encounter. But when he he hesitated too long, he heard a voice through the door:
"You'll want to cooperate, of course. It's a matter of your health." Arthur looked through the window and made direct eye contact with a doctor. Another one was behind him, difficult to mistake when they were dressed almost identically in the same odd fashion sense common among Wellington Wells' medical community.
Arthur's heart sunk, but he put on the best smile he could and opened the door. He tried to keep his body mostly behind it. "Gentlemen! Lovely day for it! Now what's all this about a medical emergency?"
"Yes, well, you'll forgive the intrusion, but my colleague and I happened to be wandering along when caught your scent through the window. It's ajar."
Arthur looked at it again. Indeed it was. Why did every little thing have to go wrong? The doctor pushed past Arthur into the living room, then turned to face him, so Arthur had a doctor on both sides.
"And, when we'd sniffed you out, then we couldn't help but notice that peculiar pungency telltale of one off their Joy." The doctor smiled, his creepy little mustache curving up at the edges. "So of course we both agreed it was our medical duty to come remedy the situation."
"Oh, dear!" It wasn't difficult to look horrified. It was harder to to look like he had nothing to hide. "Silly me! Has it been that long since I've popped a Joy? I'll take one straight away. I'm so thankful to you for warning me, Doctor." Arthur kept turning between the doctors, unsure which one to face. "And, uh, Doctor. Jolly decent of you."
"Yes, we'll administer a dose presently." The doctor leaned close, peering at Arthur with one fish eye. The one behind Arthur--he was getting them mixed up now--took a noisy sniff of Arthur's neck. "Are you certain you don't need more extreme medical intervention, sir? You do seem to be rather beat up."
"Oh, not at all! That's why I'm at home in my pajamas, you see. Silly me, I tripped down the stairs and the doctor put me on strict bed rest until I've healed up."
If only smiling hard enough would make them believe him. His cheeks were starting to hurt. "I've been going crazy here at home instead of at work. I'm sure the Joy will help with that." Arthur tried to step out from between the duo. "I'll just step away and go take care of that right now. I shouldn't waste another minute."
The doctor behind Arthur grabbed his upper arm and wrenched him back in place. "You'll forgive us for wanting to take you back to the office just to be sure. It is a matter of your health, after all. You can't be too careful."
"Oh, pish-posh!" said Arthur desperately. "I'm as healthy as a horse. Just some light bruising."
"I think that's for a qualified medical professional to to decide, don't you think?" The doctor in front of Arthur produced a rather large syringe as the one behind him held Arthur's arms. "But first there is the matter of your Joy. I think you'll be much more agreeable once the proper dosage is applied.
The doctor came in close and tilted Arthur's head up to expose his neck. He ran a finger along the vein he chose and then stabbed the needle into Arthur's skin, fully compressing the plunger and emptying the pink liquid into Arthur's bloodstream.
"Shit," said Arthur. His legs had suddenly stopped working correctly. He collapsed into the doctor's arms. Too much Joy.
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He isn't sure exactly when Arthur ended up mostly on his lap, but the way he's squirming certainly draws attention to it. This is a problem. His body is already starting to react to Arthur on top of him- the last thing he wants is to make the situation weirdly sexual. He respects Arthur too much to put him in such an uncomfortable position while he's high out of his mind.
Fortunately, Arthur gives him an out. He's yawning. Time for bed, if only because Jack knows the crash is coming soon and this couch isn't the most comfortable place for it. If he's lucky, he can lull him to sleep and skip the crash altogether. If not, well, they'll deal with it just like they've dealt with everything else. Arthur is a fighter.
His hands slip down to Arthur's hips, gently lifting him and pushing him aside enough for Jack to stand. He grabs Arthur's glasses before they can get broken and extends a hand to the very confused Arthur.
“Let's get you to bed. You can sleep this off and wake up feeling right as rain.”
@unclejackworthing
It was Arthur's fault for getting too comfortable. Jack was in the kitchen trying to figure something out while Arthur waited in the living room. Jack was only a room away. He got too comfortable.
When the knock on the door came, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He was in no state to entertain company. He was wearing someone else's pajamas and covered in bruises after his last encounter. But when he he hesitated too long, he heard a voice through the door:
"You'll want to cooperate, of course. It's a matter of your health." Arthur looked through the window and made direct eye contact with a doctor. Another one was behind him, difficult to mistake when they were dressed almost identically in the same odd fashion sense common among Wellington Wells' medical community.
Arthur's heart sunk, but he put on the best smile he could and opened the door. He tried to keep his body mostly behind it. "Gentlemen! Lovely day for it! Now what's all this about a medical emergency?"
"Yes, well, you'll forgive the intrusion, but my colleague and I happened to be wandering along when caught your scent through the window. It's ajar."
Arthur looked at it again. Indeed it was. Why did every little thing have to go wrong? The doctor pushed past Arthur into the living room, then turned to face him, so Arthur had a doctor on both sides.
"And, when we'd sniffed you out, then we couldn't help but notice that peculiar pungency telltale of one off their Joy." The doctor smiled, his creepy little mustache curving up at the edges. "So of course we both agreed it was our medical duty to come remedy the situation."
"Oh, dear!" It wasn't difficult to look horrified. It was harder to to look like he had nothing to hide. "Silly me! Has it been that long since I've popped a Joy? I'll take one straight away. I'm so thankful to you for warning me, Doctor." Arthur kept turning between the doctors, unsure which one to face. "And, uh, Doctor. Jolly decent of you."
"Yes, we'll administer a dose presently." The doctor leaned close, peering at Arthur with one fish eye. The one behind Arthur--he was getting them mixed up now--took a noisy sniff of Arthur's neck. "Are you certain you don't need more extreme medical intervention, sir? You do seem to be rather beat up."
"Oh, not at all! That's why I'm at home in my pajamas, you see. Silly me, I tripped down the stairs and the doctor put me on strict bed rest until I've healed up."
If only smiling hard enough would make them believe him. His cheeks were starting to hurt. "I've been going crazy here at home instead of at work. I'm sure the Joy will help with that." Arthur tried to step out from between the duo. "I'll just step away and go take care of that right now. I shouldn't waste another minute."
The doctor behind Arthur grabbed his upper arm and wrenched him back in place. "You'll forgive us for wanting to take you back to the office just to be sure. It is a matter of your health, after all. You can't be too careful."
"Oh, pish-posh!" said Arthur desperately. "I'm as healthy as a horse. Just some light bruising."
"I think that's for a qualified medical professional to to decide, don't you think?" The doctor in front of Arthur produced a rather large syringe as the one behind him held Arthur's arms. "But first there is the matter of your Joy. I think you'll be much more agreeable once the proper dosage is applied.
The doctor came in close and tilted Arthur's head up to expose his neck. He ran a finger along the vein he chose and then stabbed the needle into Arthur's skin, fully compressing the plunger and emptying the pink liquid into Arthur's bloodstream.
"Shit," said Arthur. His legs had suddenly stopped working correctly. He collapsed into the doctor's arms. Too much Joy.
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Uncle Jack peeks from his dressing room two minutes before show time. He wants to make sure, if nothing else, that at least there's someone prepared to work the teleprompter. But, no, that's apparently too much to ask today.
Fresh irritation boils within him. Why can't things ever just run smoothly around here? He didn't want this godawful position to begin with, and now it seems like he's the only one doing anything more often than not.
They've had Arthur on the teleprompter recently; the only other person who seems capable of functioning around here. He realizes he's been taking that for granted now that Arthur isn't here. He's probably been tasked with cleaning up someone else's mess, (god knows there's plenty of them,) probably lost track of time because of all the fucking Joy in his system.
It's fine. He's fine. It's a comedy segment- those are always easy. He could adlib Downer jokes in his sleep. He'll get through this with minimal effort. He swallows down his anger and touches up the concealer under his eyes in his makeup mirror before stepping out onto the set.
Lo and behold- Arthur is right where he belongs, in the nick of time. Even under the stage lights, Jack can see that he looks like shit. It's concerning, at least coupled with him being uncharacteristically late. He looks sick. Maybe it's just the recent low food supply- but, maybe it's something worse. There's been so many illnesses going around lately.
He smiles for the camera, remains mostly focused on the teleprompter. “What's the difference between a Downer and an onion? No one cries when you chop up a Downer.”
His gaze drifts to Arthur during all of his pauses, staring him down. Does he look worse? Downer jokes usually cheered people up- not that they really needed it. Why would he look so sad- Unless…
“What's pink and silver and runs into walls? A Downer with forks in its eyes!"
If Arthur's off his Joy, that's a problem. The only competent person left working in this god forsaken place is going to get himself killed. Great. That's perfect. That's what he needs today. He can't help but start laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, played off as laughing at his own joke. Why not? This might as well happen!
“How many Downers does it take to tile your kitchen? Depends on how thin you slice them!”
He doesn't know how many more jokes he tells after that; only that he continues to laugh just a little too hard at them in his overwhelmed state. This is bad. This is extremely bad. Arthur's wellbeing aside, which he only cares minimally about, this is going to bring suspicion to the whole broadcast station. Everyone knows Downers are like roaches; if you see one, there's a dozen more hidden in the walls.
He'd done so well hiding. He knew this day would come eventually- he just didn't think it would happen like this. He should've known the pretty teleprompter boy with the wavy hair would be his downfall. He laughs his way through the outro, wishes everyone a good day and reminds them to take their Joy.
The camera flicks off and his smile drops in an instant. He leans down like he's trying to find something in a desk drawer; really, he's taking a swig of whiskey out of Arthur's line of sight as he contemplates whether or not he's going to have to kill him before anyone else notices that he's off his Joy.
Instead of going straight back to his dressing room like usual, he quickly makes his way to the exit, blocking it before Arthur can slip away. “Are you feeling quite alright, my dear? You're lacking your usual glow.”
@unclejackworthing
When Arthur lost his job at the "O" Courant, he was hired on as a writer at the Wellington Wells Broadcast Corporation. Over the years, he ended up doing many things other than writing, but technically, his job was to come up with the fun, light topics Uncle Jack talked about. This segment was on the uses of a common flower in Wellington Wells, the Rose of Gilead.
Arthur was alone in the writers' room when he started working on it. He was often alone in the writers' room. Getting work done wasn't a strong suit for the people of Wellington Wells. It was one of the most quiet places in the studio and he often popped in there to get some ideas for upcoming shows written down.
That was the case with this Rose of Gilead show. Arthur usually had to do more research for these sort of segments, Arthur found that the words came easily. Soon he had written down a recipe for a medicinal balm that soothed minor wounds without even thinking.
Funny that he still remembered it. He'd never been much interested in flowers, but Percy had told him so many times he could never forget it. He would repeat it over and over again, any time he was thinking about it, and Arthur could hear every word of the instructions he'd written down in Percy's voice, clear as day. And with it came the memory of that same voice screaming out Arthur's name, over and over again, and Arthur became urgently aware that he needed to take his Joy.
But he didn't.
He still hadn't taken his Joy when one of his coworkers rushed in, demanding to know where he'd been. Arthur started some excuse about having his nose to the grindstone, and she interrupted him to say it didn't matter, didn't he know that filming was going to start any minute now? Uncle Jack would be furious if no one was operating the teleprompter, she said, and Arthur knew very well that that was his job, because Jack snapped when people took too long, and he wasn't going to put his colleagues like her through that, was he? Of course not.
She was so focused on her own ranting that she didn't seem to notice Arthur's haggard appearance. It was a good thing that no one would be looking at Arthur behind the teleprompter. When Jack was around, all eyes were on him. It was a small blessing. The last thing he wanted was to get chased out of the Broadcast Tower for being a Downer.
Was he a Downer now? Well, here he was, deliberately not taking his Joy. There weren't any other words for it.
Arthur managed to get behind the teleprompter controls just as Jack was coming out of his dressing room. Arthur was breathing a little too hard, partially from rushing but mostly from anxiety. He wasn't making any noise, but if someone looked at him, he didn't know what they'd see. For once it paid off that no one ever gave him a second glance.
Arthur operated the teleprompter so automatically he didn't even comprehend what the topic was until Jack was already reading it. Jack was wearing his Humor Hour costume. Arthur had time to think that the giant bowtie was really too ridiculous when you weren't on Joy when his eyes scanned ahead on the teleprompter and he realized the segment was a fan-favorite recurring topic. Downer jokes.
What's the difference between a Downer and an onion? read the first one. No one cries when you chop up a Downer.
Arthur was fairly certain all the color drained from his face. These jokes were about him, now. It made him seriously question whether it was the right decision to stop taking his Joy. The smart thing would be to go back on it and pop a Joy the instant he could leave the teleprompter.
But he wasn't going to do that, was he? He wanted too badly to remember. As Uncle Jack started to read the jokes and laugh too hard at them, Arthur began to shake. Had Jack always been that... Threatening? Was being off Joy making everything feel a lot more dangerous than it had a few hours prior, or had it always been that terrifying, and Arthur just didn't notice?
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Arthur relaxes into him, burying his face in Jack's shoulder, lips brushing against his neck when he speaks. It makes Jack's heart beat faster. He's so wrapped up in the sensations of Arthur cuddled close against him it takes him a moment to register that he's apologizing again, and a moment longer to figure out what he's trying to apologize for.
“You're sorry for just being the same you? Why, Arthur, you being you is my favorite thing about you.” He murmurs his praise against Arthur's hair, holding him close against him.
“You don't have to apologize so much. You're doing everything right. You're perfect."
@unclejackworthing
It was Arthur's fault for getting too comfortable. Jack was in the kitchen trying to figure something out while Arthur waited in the living room. Jack was only a room away. He got too comfortable.
When the knock on the door came, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He was in no state to entertain company. He was wearing someone else's pajamas and covered in bruises after his last encounter. But when he he hesitated too long, he heard a voice through the door:
"You'll want to cooperate, of course. It's a matter of your health." Arthur looked through the window and made direct eye contact with a doctor. Another one was behind him, difficult to mistake when they were dressed almost identically in the same odd fashion sense common among Wellington Wells' medical community.
Arthur's heart sunk, but he put on the best smile he could and opened the door. He tried to keep his body mostly behind it. "Gentlemen! Lovely day for it! Now what's all this about a medical emergency?"
"Yes, well, you'll forgive the intrusion, but my colleague and I happened to be wandering along when caught your scent through the window. It's ajar."
Arthur looked at it again. Indeed it was. Why did every little thing have to go wrong? The doctor pushed past Arthur into the living room, then turned to face him, so Arthur had a doctor on both sides.
"And, when we'd sniffed you out, then we couldn't help but notice that peculiar pungency telltale of one off their Joy." The doctor smiled, his creepy little mustache curving up at the edges. "So of course we both agreed it was our medical duty to come remedy the situation."
"Oh, dear!" It wasn't difficult to look horrified. It was harder to to look like he had nothing to hide. "Silly me! Has it been that long since I've popped a Joy? I'll take one straight away. I'm so thankful to you for warning me, Doctor." Arthur kept turning between the doctors, unsure which one to face. "And, uh, Doctor. Jolly decent of you."
"Yes, we'll administer a dose presently." The doctor leaned close, peering at Arthur with one fish eye. The one behind Arthur--he was getting them mixed up now--took a noisy sniff of Arthur's neck. "Are you certain you don't need more extreme medical intervention, sir? You do seem to be rather beat up."
"Oh, not at all! That's why I'm at home in my pajamas, you see. Silly me, I tripped down the stairs and the doctor put me on strict bed rest until I've healed up."
If only smiling hard enough would make them believe him. His cheeks were starting to hurt. "I've been going crazy here at home instead of at work. I'm sure the Joy will help with that." Arthur tried to step out from between the duo. "I'll just step away and go take care of that right now. I shouldn't waste another minute."
The doctor behind Arthur grabbed his upper arm and wrenched him back in place. "You'll forgive us for wanting to take you back to the office just to be sure. It is a matter of your health, after all. You can't be too careful."
"Oh, pish-posh!" said Arthur desperately. "I'm as healthy as a horse. Just some light bruising."
"I think that's for a qualified medical professional to to decide, don't you think?" The doctor in front of Arthur produced a rather large syringe as the one behind him held Arthur's arms. "But first there is the matter of your Joy. I think you'll be much more agreeable once the proper dosage is applied.
The doctor came in close and tilted Arthur's head up to expose his neck. He ran a finger along the vein he chose and then stabbed the needle into Arthur's skin, fully compressing the plunger and emptying the pink liquid into Arthur's bloodstream.
"Shit," said Arthur. His legs had suddenly stopped working correctly. He collapsed into the doctor's arms. Too much Joy.
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As if by clockwork, Arthur continues through his cycle of momentarily relaxing then finding something fresh to panic about. Arthur starts to pull away. If he'd followed through with it, Jack, of course, would've released him. But, he gives up at the slightest resistance and freezes up to focus instead on his anxieties.
Jack runs a hand through Arthur's hair, pushing curls back from his forehead. When did it start mattering if Jack liked him or not? Last he checked, Arthur would rather be anywhere but here.
“Oh, Arthur. I like you very much. More than I've liked anyone in a very long time. Everything's okay, dearest. You don't have anything to worry about.”
@unclejackworthing
It was Arthur's fault for getting too comfortable. Jack was in the kitchen trying to figure something out while Arthur waited in the living room. Jack was only a room away. He got too comfortable.
When the knock on the door came, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He was in no state to entertain company. He was wearing someone else's pajamas and covered in bruises after his last encounter. But when he he hesitated too long, he heard a voice through the door:
"You'll want to cooperate, of course. It's a matter of your health." Arthur looked through the window and made direct eye contact with a doctor. Another one was behind him, difficult to mistake when they were dressed almost identically in the same odd fashion sense common among Wellington Wells' medical community.
Arthur's heart sunk, but he put on the best smile he could and opened the door. He tried to keep his body mostly behind it. "Gentlemen! Lovely day for it! Now what's all this about a medical emergency?"
"Yes, well, you'll forgive the intrusion, but my colleague and I happened to be wandering along when caught your scent through the window. It's ajar."
Arthur looked at it again. Indeed it was. Why did every little thing have to go wrong? The doctor pushed past Arthur into the living room, then turned to face him, so Arthur had a doctor on both sides.
"And, when we'd sniffed you out, then we couldn't help but notice that peculiar pungency telltale of one off their Joy." The doctor smiled, his creepy little mustache curving up at the edges. "So of course we both agreed it was our medical duty to come remedy the situation."
"Oh, dear!" It wasn't difficult to look horrified. It was harder to to look like he had nothing to hide. "Silly me! Has it been that long since I've popped a Joy? I'll take one straight away. I'm so thankful to you for warning me, Doctor." Arthur kept turning between the doctors, unsure which one to face. "And, uh, Doctor. Jolly decent of you."
"Yes, we'll administer a dose presently." The doctor leaned close, peering at Arthur with one fish eye. The one behind Arthur--he was getting them mixed up now--took a noisy sniff of Arthur's neck. "Are you certain you don't need more extreme medical intervention, sir? You do seem to be rather beat up."
"Oh, not at all! That's why I'm at home in my pajamas, you see. Silly me, I tripped down the stairs and the doctor put me on strict bed rest until I've healed up."
If only smiling hard enough would make them believe him. His cheeks were starting to hurt. "I've been going crazy here at home instead of at work. I'm sure the Joy will help with that." Arthur tried to step out from between the duo. "I'll just step away and go take care of that right now. I shouldn't waste another minute."
The doctor behind Arthur grabbed his upper arm and wrenched him back in place. "You'll forgive us for wanting to take you back to the office just to be sure. It is a matter of your health, after all. You can't be too careful."
"Oh, pish-posh!" said Arthur desperately. "I'm as healthy as a horse. Just some light bruising."
"I think that's for a qualified medical professional to to decide, don't you think?" The doctor in front of Arthur produced a rather large syringe as the one behind him held Arthur's arms. "But first there is the matter of your Joy. I think you'll be much more agreeable once the proper dosage is applied.
The doctor came in close and tilted Arthur's head up to expose his neck. He ran a finger along the vein he chose and then stabbed the needle into Arthur's skin, fully compressing the plunger and emptying the pink liquid into Arthur's bloodstream.
"Shit," said Arthur. His legs had suddenly stopped working correctly. He collapsed into the doctor's arms. Too much Joy.
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He's frozen for just a moment, watching in total disbelief as Arthur tells him off and proceeds to storm off in the general direction of vinegar. He finds himself grinning despite himself. There's something very wrong with Arthur; maybe in the opposite way that there's something very wrong with Jack.
No one stays so kind and selfless in Wellington Wells. It's unheard of. Quickly, he picks up the pace and catches up to Arthur.
“Oh, slow down,” he almost calls Arthur out for his overly dramatic reaction, but bites his tongue. He'll play nice.
“You'd better take me with you. You'll get a steep discount if the chemist thinks it's for me. Has anyone ever told you that you're very committed to doing things the hard way?”
[continued from here]
@illsuiteddowner
Arthur’s in a hurry. Jack, less so, but he's prepared. He'd already packed his bag full of absolute necessities; what small amounts of food he's been saving and a few personal belongings. Anything else can stay in the pneumatic tubes.
Though he doesn't know which hatch they might end up in next, he's sure they will end up in a hatch soon enough. He's not going to allow Arthur to sleep in mines or alleyways the way he's done in the past- beds are a necessity now.
When Arthur heads for the ladder, Jack grabs his bag and swiftly follows. (It's understandable, he reasons, to admire Arthur's long legs and nicely fitting trousers the entire way up the ladder. It's not like he has anything else to look at.)
Once they've reached the surface, he nearly links arms with Arthur- mostly, but not entirely, to keep him from taking off. He thinks better of it and keeps his hands to himself.
“To Apple Holm! Off we go! It's… this way, I think.” On second thought, maybe he'd better let Arthur lead the way.
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Jack watches intently as Arthur gets lost in his thoughts, gazing sadly at the blank wall. As much as it breaks his heart to see Arthur so visibly sad and conflicted, it's hard not to notice just how beautiful he is at the same time. His features are soft- softer when he's melancholy than when he's forcing a smile. Though he still looks exhausted despite the nap, it's like there's a whole galaxy behind his deep brown eyes.
It's easy to lose track of time. When Arthur breaks his silence, he's unsure of how long they've been like this- Arthur focused on his worries and Jack focused only on him. He doesn't question what he's sorry about. He simply moves on to more good news; something to cheer Arthur up. It's force of habit. But, it's probably good for Arthur when there's so much bad news floating around.
“Dinner's in the oven. It should be ready in… oh, an hour, maybe? Here,” he retrieves a canteen from near the bed offers it to Arthur, “pure water. You can finish it off… I have a water filter in the pneumatic. I'll go back and grab supplies this evening and then we should be set.”
@unclejackworthing
Arthur had gotten a little too far away from Jack. He knew he was going to get told off for it when Jack inevitably caught up—but was it his fault he was faster than a man twenty years his senior? (Arthur was still grappling with that little facet of this whole thing.) Of course there was a part of him that was testing boundaries to see if he could get away with it. He might have been deliberately mixing in with the crowd in the hopes that Jack would lose sight of him. Jack could never prove it was intentional.
He was so focused on Jack that he didn't realize the alley he slipped into wasn't empty until it was too late. There was a gaggle of Plough Boys already occupying the area and they took notice of Arthur's entry.
“Well, if it isn't Arthur Hastings,” said one of them. Arthur recognized him vaguely from school, one of the older boys who was always picking on him and Sally. “I heard you got a fancy job in the Parade. What are you doing slumming it with the rest of us here?”
Arthur had done much more slumming it than in Hamlyn Village. He'd spent more than enough time in the Garden District lately, but he kept that to himself. “Lovely to see you,” he said nervously, backing up into the alley wall as the three Plough Boys spread out to corner Arthur. “But I really should be going…”
“Nah,” said the ringleader, pulling out a lead pipe. “The way I see it, if you're working in the Parade, you must be loaded, right?”
“I don't—work in the Parade anymore, as such,” started Arthur, but he wasn't given a chance to explain.
With a cry of “get ‘im, boys,” the three men fell upon Arthur and started to whale on him with their weapons. Arthur was on the ground almost instantly. He curled up into a ball as the blows rained down on him, arms over his head to protect it. Their laughter rung in his ears.
Something with a sharp edge caught Arthur's side and a pained noise escaped him as blood began to gush from the wound. Arthur tried to stem it with his hands, but the ringleader smacked his arm away with the pipe and flipped Arthur onto his back to look at him. He stepped on his stomach, making it difficult for Arthur to breathe. “You always were an easy target,” laughed the Plough Boy. Arthur looked over his shoulder to make eye contact with Jack.
Fuck.
Arthur didn't know whether he should be relieved or even more scared. All he did was freeze, unable to look away from Jack's approach.
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Arthur begins to panic again; it's becoming unsurprising, despite the fact that it should be impossible on Joy. Jack starts to panic, too, frantically brainstorming ways to calm him down before it can spiral out of control.
But, then, he seems to catch himself. He grabs Jack and buries his face in his chest. It startles him, but he only hesitates for a moment before acting. He can't help but to wrap his arms around him and hold him close, encouraging the affection. A hand strokes gently through the back of his hair as he speaks.
“Oh, indeed. You'll have to send him a postcard from someplace exotic,” he shys away from the topic of Germany, though it's not really him stretching the truth. Surely he doesn't intend to stay there long term. As far as he's aware, there's not much in Germany worth putting on a postcard, “Paris, maybe. Or a lovely beach somewhere.”
@unclejackworthing
It was Arthur's fault for getting too comfortable. Jack was in the kitchen trying to figure something out while Arthur waited in the living room. Jack was only a room away. He got too comfortable.
When the knock on the door came, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He was in no state to entertain company. He was wearing someone else's pajamas and covered in bruises after his last encounter. But when he he hesitated too long, he heard a voice through the door:
"You'll want to cooperate, of course. It's a matter of your health." Arthur looked through the window and made direct eye contact with a doctor. Another one was behind him, difficult to mistake when they were dressed almost identically in the same odd fashion sense common among Wellington Wells' medical community.
Arthur's heart sunk, but he put on the best smile he could and opened the door. He tried to keep his body mostly behind it. "Gentlemen! Lovely day for it! Now what's all this about a medical emergency?"
"Yes, well, you'll forgive the intrusion, but my colleague and I happened to be wandering along when caught your scent through the window. It's ajar."
Arthur looked at it again. Indeed it was. Why did every little thing have to go wrong? The doctor pushed past Arthur into the living room, then turned to face him, so Arthur had a doctor on both sides.
"And, when we'd sniffed you out, then we couldn't help but notice that peculiar pungency telltale of one off their Joy." The doctor smiled, his creepy little mustache curving up at the edges. "So of course we both agreed it was our medical duty to come remedy the situation."
"Oh, dear!" It wasn't difficult to look horrified. It was harder to to look like he had nothing to hide. "Silly me! Has it been that long since I've popped a Joy? I'll take one straight away. I'm so thankful to you for warning me, Doctor." Arthur kept turning between the doctors, unsure which one to face. "And, uh, Doctor. Jolly decent of you."
"Yes, we'll administer a dose presently." The doctor leaned close, peering at Arthur with one fish eye. The one behind Arthur--he was getting them mixed up now--took a noisy sniff of Arthur's neck. "Are you certain you don't need more extreme medical intervention, sir? You do seem to be rather beat up."
"Oh, not at all! That's why I'm at home in my pajamas, you see. Silly me, I tripped down the stairs and the doctor put me on strict bed rest until I've healed up."
If only smiling hard enough would make them believe him. His cheeks were starting to hurt. "I've been going crazy here at home instead of at work. I'm sure the Joy will help with that." Arthur tried to step out from between the duo. "I'll just step away and go take care of that right now. I shouldn't waste another minute."
The doctor behind Arthur grabbed his upper arm and wrenched him back in place. "You'll forgive us for wanting to take you back to the office just to be sure. It is a matter of your health, after all. You can't be too careful."
"Oh, pish-posh!" said Arthur desperately. "I'm as healthy as a horse. Just some light bruising."
"I think that's for a qualified medical professional to to decide, don't you think?" The doctor in front of Arthur produced a rather large syringe as the one behind him held Arthur's arms. "But first there is the matter of your Joy. I think you'll be much more agreeable once the proper dosage is applied.
The doctor came in close and tilted Arthur's head up to expose his neck. He ran a finger along the vein he chose and then stabbed the needle into Arthur's skin, fully compressing the plunger and emptying the pink liquid into Arthur's bloodstream.
"Shit," said Arthur. His legs had suddenly stopped working correctly. He collapsed into the doctor's arms. Too much Joy.
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He doesn't notice the knocking at first. Maybe it's just that he doesn't care what the noise is- it's not going to help them get Arthur to the bridge. But, Arthur follows it, and Jack has no choice but to follow him.
He hangs back and allows Arthur to do the talking- god forbid the man in the mood booth recognize him and prolong this interaction even further. Maybe he zones out a bit; it's not like the conversation they're having really matters. All that matters is that it's over fairly quickly. Arthur manages to distance himself from the conversation with a reassurance that he'll mention it to someone and then they're on their way once more.
‘Telling someone isn't going to be enough-’ It's a temporary relief that they're on the same page. There's no point in telling anyone about this. What would it achieve? No one's going to care, most certainly no one's going to actually do anything about it. But, before he can wholeheartedly agree, Arthur continues.
He can't help but to stare for a moment, dumbfounded, before rolling his eyes so hard it nearly hurts. Weren't they supposedly in a hurry?
“Oh, please, Arthur. Really? You'll spend all this time breaking him out and then what? He falls down a manhole and gets lost in the sewers? Forgets to eat for a week? Tries to hug some plague ridden wastrel? There's no helping these people.”
[continued from here]
@illsuiteddowner
Arthur’s in a hurry. Jack, less so, but he's prepared. He'd already packed his bag full of absolute necessities; what small amounts of food he's been saving and a few personal belongings. Anything else can stay in the pneumatic tubes.
Though he doesn't know which hatch they might end up in next, he's sure they will end up in a hatch soon enough. He's not going to allow Arthur to sleep in mines or alleyways the way he's done in the past- beds are a necessity now.
When Arthur heads for the ladder, Jack grabs his bag and swiftly follows. (It's understandable, he reasons, to admire Arthur's long legs and nicely fitting trousers the entire way up the ladder. It's not like he has anything else to look at.)
Once they've reached the surface, he nearly links arms with Arthur- mostly, but not entirely, to keep him from taking off. He thinks better of it and keeps his hands to himself.
“To Apple Holm! Off we go! It's… this way, I think.” On second thought, maybe he'd better let Arthur lead the way.
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The way Arthur traces little patterns against his thigh fully distracts him from the conversation. He feels like he's on Joy, too, with the way his head spins from having Arthur warm against his side. He's interested to hear more- to hear what Clive could've possibly done to incur the soft-spoken man's wrath, to hear about his writing, to hear what he disappeared for two weeks to do.
But, it's a force of habit to push towards the future instead of dwelling on the past. The first thing he manages to say is encouragement; Arthur's future is bright and it's hard not to remind him of it.
“I think you should pursue writing again. You could find a job at another newspaper, pick up where you left off-” Oh. He realizes as soon as the words leave his mouth that they aren't on the same page. There aren't a lot of options for a writer in Wellington Wells. He knows that Arthur intends to leave Wellington Wells and live a full life with an exciting new career somewhere else. He's not so sure that Arthur remembers.
“If you ever move away from here. Which you will. Perhaps. Not that there's anything wrong with Wellington Wells-” He can't seem to successfully backtrack, so he gives up. Whatever. It's not like the truth is going to confuse him more than whatever lie he was trying to come up with.
“Well, you are leaving. You made up your mind last week. You're moving someplace better to pursue… opportunities that haven't been available to you here. Isn't that delightful? I bet that idiot Clive will be jealous.”
@unclejackworthing
It was Arthur's fault for getting too comfortable. Jack was in the kitchen trying to figure something out while Arthur waited in the living room. Jack was only a room away. He got too comfortable.
When the knock on the door came, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He was in no state to entertain company. He was wearing someone else's pajamas and covered in bruises after his last encounter. But when he he hesitated too long, he heard a voice through the door:
"You'll want to cooperate, of course. It's a matter of your health." Arthur looked through the window and made direct eye contact with a doctor. Another one was behind him, difficult to mistake when they were dressed almost identically in the same odd fashion sense common among Wellington Wells' medical community.
Arthur's heart sunk, but he put on the best smile he could and opened the door. He tried to keep his body mostly behind it. "Gentlemen! Lovely day for it! Now what's all this about a medical emergency?"
"Yes, well, you'll forgive the intrusion, but my colleague and I happened to be wandering along when caught your scent through the window. It's ajar."
Arthur looked at it again. Indeed it was. Why did every little thing have to go wrong? The doctor pushed past Arthur into the living room, then turned to face him, so Arthur had a doctor on both sides.
"And, when we'd sniffed you out, then we couldn't help but notice that peculiar pungency telltale of one off their Joy." The doctor smiled, his creepy little mustache curving up at the edges. "So of course we both agreed it was our medical duty to come remedy the situation."
"Oh, dear!" It wasn't difficult to look horrified. It was harder to to look like he had nothing to hide. "Silly me! Has it been that long since I've popped a Joy? I'll take one straight away. I'm so thankful to you for warning me, Doctor." Arthur kept turning between the doctors, unsure which one to face. "And, uh, Doctor. Jolly decent of you."
"Yes, we'll administer a dose presently." The doctor leaned close, peering at Arthur with one fish eye. The one behind Arthur--he was getting them mixed up now--took a noisy sniff of Arthur's neck. "Are you certain you don't need more extreme medical intervention, sir? You do seem to be rather beat up."
"Oh, not at all! That's why I'm at home in my pajamas, you see. Silly me, I tripped down the stairs and the doctor put me on strict bed rest until I've healed up."
If only smiling hard enough would make them believe him. His cheeks were starting to hurt. "I've been going crazy here at home instead of at work. I'm sure the Joy will help with that." Arthur tried to step out from between the duo. "I'll just step away and go take care of that right now. I shouldn't waste another minute."
The doctor behind Arthur grabbed his upper arm and wrenched him back in place. "You'll forgive us for wanting to take you back to the office just to be sure. It is a matter of your health, after all. You can't be too careful."
"Oh, pish-posh!" said Arthur desperately. "I'm as healthy as a horse. Just some light bruising."
"I think that's for a qualified medical professional to to decide, don't you think?" The doctor in front of Arthur produced a rather large syringe as the one behind him held Arthur's arms. "But first there is the matter of your Joy. I think you'll be much more agreeable once the proper dosage is applied.
The doctor came in close and tilted Arthur's head up to expose his neck. He ran a finger along the vein he chose and then stabbed the needle into Arthur's skin, fully compressing the plunger and emptying the pink liquid into Arthur's bloodstream.
"Shit," said Arthur. His legs had suddenly stopped working correctly. He collapsed into the doctor's arms. Too much Joy.
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He can't help but to laugh at Arthur's comments about how rude he's been. Does he really think that his snark hasn't been justified? Arthur never signed up for any of this.
“Oh, yes, you were terribly rude after I tried to kill you. Completely unreasonable. I think we both know I deserve worse than what you've been dishing out.”
Deserved or not, he has to admit that Arthur is being more pleasant after a warm shower and a good nap. Kissing him didn't seem to hurt the situation, either.
“I know exactly what we're going to do. You're going to spend a few days resting while we work our way through the well stocked kitchen downstairs, and then you'll be continuing on with your journey. It isn't a setback so much as an opportunity for you to gather your strength before things get harder. I'll handle everything.”
@unclejackworthing
Arthur had gotten a little too far away from Jack. He knew he was going to get told off for it when Jack inevitably caught up—but was it his fault he was faster than a man twenty years his senior? (Arthur was still grappling with that little facet of this whole thing.) Of course there was a part of him that was testing boundaries to see if he could get away with it. He might have been deliberately mixing in with the crowd in the hopes that Jack would lose sight of him. Jack could never prove it was intentional.
He was so focused on Jack that he didn't realize the alley he slipped into wasn't empty until it was too late. There was a gaggle of Plough Boys already occupying the area and they took notice of Arthur's entry.
“Well, if it isn't Arthur Hastings,” said one of them. Arthur recognized him vaguely from school, one of the older boys who was always picking on him and Sally. “I heard you got a fancy job in the Parade. What are you doing slumming it with the rest of us here?”
Arthur had done much more slumming it than in Hamlyn Village. He'd spent more than enough time in the Garden District lately, but he kept that to himself. “Lovely to see you,” he said nervously, backing up into the alley wall as the three Plough Boys spread out to corner Arthur. “But I really should be going…”
“Nah,” said the ringleader, pulling out a lead pipe. “The way I see it, if you're working in the Parade, you must be loaded, right?”
“I don't—work in the Parade anymore, as such,” started Arthur, but he wasn't given a chance to explain.
With a cry of “get ‘im, boys,” the three men fell upon Arthur and started to whale on him with their weapons. Arthur was on the ground almost instantly. He curled up into a ball as the blows rained down on him, arms over his head to protect it. Their laughter rung in his ears.
Something with a sharp edge caught Arthur's side and a pained noise escaped him as blood began to gush from the wound. Arthur tried to stem it with his hands, but the ringleader smacked his arm away with the pipe and flipped Arthur onto his back to look at him. He stepped on his stomach, making it difficult for Arthur to breathe. “You always were an easy target,” laughed the Plough Boy. Arthur looked over his shoulder to make eye contact with Jack.
Fuck.
Arthur didn't know whether he should be relieved or even more scared. All he did was freeze, unable to look away from Jack's approach.
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He wonders how Arthur balances all of his beliefs; his admiration of self sacrificing heroes doing it all for the one they love, and his low self esteem that he's certain keeps him from seeing just how much of a hero he really is. How long can you look at yourself in a mirror before you finally realize what you're looking at?
Arthur snuggles against him and he allows himself to get comfortable, brushing a light kiss against Arthur's forehead. He continues to explain himself and it forces Jack to think- is this a story where people love each other?
Arthur certainly doesn't love him. He loves the warmth of another human against his side while he's too high on Joy to weigh the pros and the cons of letting a monster get so close. He loves the feeling of being safe, for now, while he isn't thinking clearly enough to question whether he really is safe.
And Jack… doesn't love him the way he loved Rosemary. How could he? A handful of days doesn't compare to a lifetime, albeit a short one. He tries to remember how he'd felt about Rosemary on their second date and he can't. Was it like this? Is this a seed with the potential to blossom into some grand love story? It really doesn't matter. Arthur is leaving. Their story isn't going to get an ending, or a middle, or a chance.
But, he'd do anything for Arthur. He knows that much. He knows that there's not a single person alive that he cares about besides the man cuddled up in his arms. He knows that he'd die to protect to protect him, that he has killed for him and would do it again. He wishes he could pop a Joy, too, and let close enough be enough.
“You're easy to love, you know. I know you don't think you're special. But, you are. Tell me more about your love stories. Do you ever write them down? Or just keep them to yourself?”
@unclejackworthing
It was Arthur's fault for getting too comfortable. Jack was in the kitchen trying to figure something out while Arthur waited in the living room. Jack was only a room away. He got too comfortable.
When the knock on the door came, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He was in no state to entertain company. He was wearing someone else's pajamas and covered in bruises after his last encounter. But when he he hesitated too long, he heard a voice through the door:
"You'll want to cooperate, of course. It's a matter of your health." Arthur looked through the window and made direct eye contact with a doctor. Another one was behind him, difficult to mistake when they were dressed almost identically in the same odd fashion sense common among Wellington Wells' medical community.
Arthur's heart sunk, but he put on the best smile he could and opened the door. He tried to keep his body mostly behind it. "Gentlemen! Lovely day for it! Now what's all this about a medical emergency?"
"Yes, well, you'll forgive the intrusion, but my colleague and I happened to be wandering along when caught your scent through the window. It's ajar."
Arthur looked at it again. Indeed it was. Why did every little thing have to go wrong? The doctor pushed past Arthur into the living room, then turned to face him, so Arthur had a doctor on both sides.
"And, when we'd sniffed you out, then we couldn't help but notice that peculiar pungency telltale of one off their Joy." The doctor smiled, his creepy little mustache curving up at the edges. "So of course we both agreed it was our medical duty to come remedy the situation."
"Oh, dear!" It wasn't difficult to look horrified. It was harder to to look like he had nothing to hide. "Silly me! Has it been that long since I've popped a Joy? I'll take one straight away. I'm so thankful to you for warning me, Doctor." Arthur kept turning between the doctors, unsure which one to face. "And, uh, Doctor. Jolly decent of you."
"Yes, we'll administer a dose presently." The doctor leaned close, peering at Arthur with one fish eye. The one behind Arthur--he was getting them mixed up now--took a noisy sniff of Arthur's neck. "Are you certain you don't need more extreme medical intervention, sir? You do seem to be rather beat up."
"Oh, not at all! That's why I'm at home in my pajamas, you see. Silly me, I tripped down the stairs and the doctor put me on strict bed rest until I've healed up."
If only smiling hard enough would make them believe him. His cheeks were starting to hurt. "I've been going crazy here at home instead of at work. I'm sure the Joy will help with that." Arthur tried to step out from between the duo. "I'll just step away and go take care of that right now. I shouldn't waste another minute."
The doctor behind Arthur grabbed his upper arm and wrenched him back in place. "You'll forgive us for wanting to take you back to the office just to be sure. It is a matter of your health, after all. You can't be too careful."
"Oh, pish-posh!" said Arthur desperately. "I'm as healthy as a horse. Just some light bruising."
"I think that's for a qualified medical professional to to decide, don't you think?" The doctor in front of Arthur produced a rather large syringe as the one behind him held Arthur's arms. "But first there is the matter of your Joy. I think you'll be much more agreeable once the proper dosage is applied.
The doctor came in close and tilted Arthur's head up to expose his neck. He ran a finger along the vein he chose and then stabbed the needle into Arthur's skin, fully compressing the plunger and emptying the pink liquid into Arthur's bloodstream.
"Shit," said Arthur. His legs had suddenly stopped working correctly. He collapsed into the doctor's arms. Too much Joy.
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Jack certainly notices the way Arthur rushes to correct himself after he dares imply that he doesn't like taking his Joy- and then the way he quickly follows it up with more of the truth. It's easy to see how Arthur ended up in such a mess. Even on Joy, the truth comes so easily to him. There's no way he could've faked being on Joy for more than a few days.
It's admirable, really, in a town full of liars. Yet, it's still landed him homeless and in the care of a serial killer after being beaten half to death. Quite the award for being an upstanding citizen.
He continues to try and ease Arthur's anxieties, despite the fact that he shouldn't even be having them. “It's alright to be a little confused, my dear. That's why I'm here! To take care of all those silly serious matters like when you should go to bed and what you'll have for dinner. You're safe with me.”
He slips an arm around Arthur's shoulders as he shifts the focus back to who Arthur is as a person. “Now, what do you like to read? Fairytales? Nonfiction? Just the newspaper? What sort of stories do you like?”
@unclejackworthing
It was Arthur's fault for getting too comfortable. Jack was in the kitchen trying to figure something out while Arthur waited in the living room. Jack was only a room away. He got too comfortable.
When the knock on the door came, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He was in no state to entertain company. He was wearing someone else's pajamas and covered in bruises after his last encounter. But when he he hesitated too long, he heard a voice through the door:
"You'll want to cooperate, of course. It's a matter of your health." Arthur looked through the window and made direct eye contact with a doctor. Another one was behind him, difficult to mistake when they were dressed almost identically in the same odd fashion sense common among Wellington Wells' medical community.
Arthur's heart sunk, but he put on the best smile he could and opened the door. He tried to keep his body mostly behind it. "Gentlemen! Lovely day for it! Now what's all this about a medical emergency?"
"Yes, well, you'll forgive the intrusion, but my colleague and I happened to be wandering along when caught your scent through the window. It's ajar."
Arthur looked at it again. Indeed it was. Why did every little thing have to go wrong? The doctor pushed past Arthur into the living room, then turned to face him, so Arthur had a doctor on both sides.
"And, when we'd sniffed you out, then we couldn't help but notice that peculiar pungency telltale of one off their Joy." The doctor smiled, his creepy little mustache curving up at the edges. "So of course we both agreed it was our medical duty to come remedy the situation."
"Oh, dear!" It wasn't difficult to look horrified. It was harder to to look like he had nothing to hide. "Silly me! Has it been that long since I've popped a Joy? I'll take one straight away. I'm so thankful to you for warning me, Doctor." Arthur kept turning between the doctors, unsure which one to face. "And, uh, Doctor. Jolly decent of you."
"Yes, we'll administer a dose presently." The doctor leaned close, peering at Arthur with one fish eye. The one behind Arthur--he was getting them mixed up now--took a noisy sniff of Arthur's neck. "Are you certain you don't need more extreme medical intervention, sir? You do seem to be rather beat up."
"Oh, not at all! That's why I'm at home in my pajamas, you see. Silly me, I tripped down the stairs and the doctor put me on strict bed rest until I've healed up."
If only smiling hard enough would make them believe him. His cheeks were starting to hurt. "I've been going crazy here at home instead of at work. I'm sure the Joy will help with that." Arthur tried to step out from between the duo. "I'll just step away and go take care of that right now. I shouldn't waste another minute."
The doctor behind Arthur grabbed his upper arm and wrenched him back in place. "You'll forgive us for wanting to take you back to the office just to be sure. It is a matter of your health, after all. You can't be too careful."
"Oh, pish-posh!" said Arthur desperately. "I'm as healthy as a horse. Just some light bruising."
"I think that's for a qualified medical professional to to decide, don't you think?" The doctor in front of Arthur produced a rather large syringe as the one behind him held Arthur's arms. "But first there is the matter of your Joy. I think you'll be much more agreeable once the proper dosage is applied.
The doctor came in close and tilted Arthur's head up to expose his neck. He ran a finger along the vein he chose and then stabbed the needle into Arthur's skin, fully compressing the plunger and emptying the pink liquid into Arthur's bloodstream.
"Shit," said Arthur. His legs had suddenly stopped working correctly. He collapsed into the doctor's arms. Too much Joy.
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