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[There's a knock at the door to Stiles' super duper magical room! A knock followed by some quiet yipping.

Hmm, suspicious.]

[There's quiet for a moment from the super duper magical room as the occupant debates on whether to open the door or not.

Finally it cracks open and one suspicious brown eye peers out.]

What?

[Wow rude. There's a bundle in Jon's arms that's hard to see with the way he's holding it, but it's definitely the source of those little distressed puppy noises.

Jon gives Stiles his best puppy eyes to match, though he'd never cop to it because he's 2 manly.]

I have need of your magics again.

[Why was Jon holding something that was yipping? What was going on? Why was magic needed. Why... oh. Oh god no. Don't look at him like that. Scott does that. That's unfair. He foresees pain and suffering in his future.

He sighs.]

What for?

[The door cracks open a bit wider because defeat.]

[Oh good, Jon nudges it the rest of the way with his foot hope you don't mind Stiles (but it doesn't matter if you do tbh.)

He holds up the squirming mass, gently and mindfully, giving him a look like how could you deny this? How, Stiles? How?]

She's got a wounded paw.

["She's" a tiny bloodied direwolf pup.]

[He's used to this. Far more used to it than he should be. He doesn't even complain when he's pushed a little aside and Jon just comes barreling in, looming over him with his... loominess.

Then he looks at the squirming ball of fur before giving Jon a return look of how do you think, Jon. is it human and female and wanting my attention? no? then who cares?

But he resigns himself to playing vet.]

I see that. How did she get a wounded paw and what are you doing with her? I thought you had Ghost?

Aye, I do. [Though Ghost isn't actually anywhere to be seen right now, which is odd.] But one of my lord father's bannermen was gifted her by the fairies, it seems, though she's not in the castle right now. [Plus he has a huge weakness for little baby killing machines, who was he to turn down the call for aid?] I swore I would see her well until she returns. [So come on, Mr Magic Dispenser. Help a guy out here!]

[Hear that? That's Stiles' will draining slowly out of him, taking his soul and dragging his balls along with them. Goddammit, Jon.]

You want me to make a healing potion for your puppy?

[This was what he was good for now. Puppy power.]

I do. I fear otherwise she might develop a limp.

[No it's a great power tho! Think of all the ladies he could woo with puppy healing powers!! Ladies that aren't Jon's little sister STILES]

[Jon had a point. Well, aside from the little sister part. Shut up about that, Jon. Your sister was hot.]

Fine. Come on over here. Sit there, if you want. It'll take me a little bit to make one up.

[And thinking about it, he guessed he should have a few made anyway, just to be safe. Maybe he'd make a huge batch.]

[Jon does sit! And rubs her behind the tiny little furry ears to try and distract her from her bloody little paw.]

Thank you, Stiles. [See? He's not totally an ass. He watches with interest, because he's been kinda curious about the whole thing since Reynard.] What were you doing before?

Mm, nothing. Well, nothing big. I was trying to find a way to make flowers change colors and not die.

[Not that those flowers were for anyone. Ahem.]

[Jon blinks. Stiles no.] I was not aware you liked flowers.

Oh, they're not for me.

[Oblivious Stiles is oblivious to big brother suspicion.]

[He stops petting long enough to squint suspiciously, which makes the pup nip at his fingers.]

Who are they for?

Alayne. Now that she's awake, I thought she might like something... nice.

I mean, she still has the tree, but girls like flowers.

[And he was being totally innocent about it, too. Alayne was a girl, therefore she liked flowers. It wasn't about getting under her skirts, either.]

[So basically what you're saying is he'll have to find wounded puppies 24/7 to stop this mess from happening?

Not that he doesn't think Sansa deserves something nice... He frowns, torn, and resumes petting.]

Some girls.

[Girls like Sansa, yes. Girls like Arya would think it a useless gift.]

Some girls, yeah. But hey, she liked the tree. That might be because of the snow, though. But she might like flowers that change colors, like a rainbow. That's kind of neat, right?

[Come on, Jon. He's totally the mac daddy. Just admit it. He was also putting together what he'd need for the potion because he wasn't a slacker.]

[The thing is, she would like that, delicate little rainbow flowers. At least, the girl he'd known in Winterfell would: the one who wept when singers would not stay in the ice cold North, who loved courtly dresses and dancing and beautiful things. And in the grander scheme, it isn't as though Stiles would be so bad a suitor as Joffrey was, as the Imp surely turned out to be.

So maybe... no. Nope, nooo, nuh-uh, it's still weird and awful don't do it Stiles. Time to aggressively change the subject like that'll make him forget about probably being sweet on Sansa.]

That'll be because she has sense. [Liking some tree because of magical snow.] Gods know we could all do with a nice heavy summer snow. I don't see how the heat hasn't killed us all by now. [The first time he'd walked outside into ninety degree weather or whatever he'd nearly had to lay down for a minute. It's just not right.] Could you do that, with your magic? Make it snow for real? [AKA please work on literally any project that's not Sansa-related because those make Jon feel super weird.]

[Stiles had to laugh, turning to look at Jon before moving to go get some ingredients.]

You need to come to California some time. Maybe Mexico. Now that is hot. This? Not so much.

[Bringing the ingredients back to the table, he grabbed his staff, angling it juuuust so.]

I have been working on something. Again, for Alayne. She said she missed the snow, so...

[After mumbling a word, the stone in his staff flared and a whirlwind of snow shot up from it, spraying down to land just over Jon and his pup, sprinkling them both with flakes as Stiles smirked at him. Another word and it stopped.]

No more slush.

[Jon glances up suspiciously before the snowflakes start falling, and he has to laugh, short and quiet and a tiny bit full of wonder. It's only been a handful of months, but it still feels like half a lifetime since he last felt snow melting on his skin. Most days on the Wall he'd wanted nothing more than a bit of heat, but the grass is always greener on the other side.

The direwolf pup spends her time trying to lick them out of her fur and catch them in her sharp little mouth, squirming less now than she had been when they first came in.

Jon catches the last few in an outstretched hand as the little display comes to an end, and watches them disappear slowly into tiny droplets of water in his palm. He does look inordinately pleased for a moment - at least, as pleased as he ever looks with the perpetual ~~pout~~ serious and manly expression on his face.]

Well, it's a start.

[Not that he'll, you know, pay Stiles the compliment or anything.]

Edited (u saw nothing) 2014-08-30 07:14 (UTC)

[Was that a smile? Wow, it had been. Guess there were more people that would like that than Alayne.]

Hey, don't you 'it's a start' me. That wasn't easy to figure out, buddy. But I'm working on something bigger. Like... something that will cover an area. A small cloud or something, like a bigger version of her tree.

[He knows guy-speak, Jon. You may as well just tell him you love him and want to live in a little log cabin in the snow with him.]

[Is Jon envisioning one of the smaller courtyards blanketed in white and snowball fights with his little sisters? Yes he is. If Stiles could get Sansa to laugh and play like she used to with that, might be Jon would relax just a smidgen about the whole... everything.]

How do you learn a spell like that? It just looks to me like waving a staff.

[Alright, so it's not quite a confession of love and desire for snowy log cabin retreats yet, but that's the sort of business a man has to work himself up to, gosh.]

Well, the staff is like... the focal point. It channels what I do. The words are sort of the catalyst, but I have to be able to focus it properly. Otherwise slush. Or bedsheets on fire. If it were just that easy, I'd be able to do everything in the books by now. But there's more to it than that. Which is probably a good thing.

[He'll have you bringing him home a slain bear to cook in no time, Jon-boy. He needs a full season of courting. =|]

[Jon scuffs one of his shoes against the floor as he curls his fingers up under the direwolf's ears again, thoughtful.] Aye, but you will eventually, won't you? [He frowns - it's the sort of thing that's been bothering him since they got back from Reynard's, since Jon has decided he can't just ignore the war and keep to his family anymore.] The King and Queen can make themselves great armies by giving men such gifts, so why do they wait to be asked? What kind of strategy is that?

surprise action can't stop won't stop

OH GOD No--- just kidding. Bring it on.

that's the kind of warm welcome i've come to expect from u friend

It's only because I love you with the burning of all the suns ever

aww bless

♥

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