[Jon looks thoughtful.] The Elvenking said that his Greenwood folk celebrate by burning a great log and many candles. Perhaps we could do the same at the feast, if those in Cothromach hold to the same tradition. [He really wants them to like his family/him and not stab him, ok? That'd be a super great change of pace.] And I was told men are meant to give gifts as well. What would you want?
[He'd gotten his Christmas gift. Sort of. He had his magic back. Jon was healed up. Malia was safe. Cothromach wasn't being invaded. This was... this was good.]
We should put up a tree, like we do where I come from. Let everyone decorate it. We can fit one in the main hall, right?
Uh... well, we could... go... cut one down? Then maybe... crap, I could see about growing one? Wait, don't you know that tree lady? With the wings? Just see if she'll...
[He moved his hands, clearly indicating magic stuff of some sort.]
[Jon goes red despite himself. Tree lady, indeed. Jon is just immeasurably glad that Stiles has never met her, gods, the embarrassing things they both know about him.] I would not... [He huffs.] It seems a trivial thing to call her all the way here for. At least try it, would you?
Fine, fine. I'll try it. But if I can't do it, call your little flying girlfriend and see if she can't sprout something. If she can make an ice bridge and some kind of living octo-brambles, I think she can manage a freakin' Christmas tree.
Of course... [And now he grinned like the little shit he was] you could always invite her for the feast. Like a sort of date.
[Ughhhh why does Jon like this guy so much omg he is like the worst. He tries to will his cheeks to cease their mutinous flushing.]
Oh, don't look so damned smug. [Waving the paper at him now!] I must needs to go tell Sansa. [Yes he stopped here first. WHAT? IT WAS ON THE WAY. He turns but mutters (totally loud enough to hear:)] Honestly. Don't know why I bloody talk to you.
[Stiles stares at the raven, who's staring back at him, then their staring contest is interrupted by Ryia, who assures Stiles 'she's got this' and gets into a very heated staring match with said raven.
Stiles closes his books and gets up to go meet Jon in his room, wondering if maybe he's fallen and he can't get up.]
[There is a bunch of little puppy crying noises when Jon swings the door open, looking mildly harassed. Behind him, six squirming balls of not-quite-fluff-yet are crowding around their big mommy wolf, who definitely looks like she just wants a nap.]
Okay. Fine, daddy by proxy. So... what exactly do you need from me-- whoops.
[There was one frantic attempt to flee between two pairs of legs, a little furry body tripping over Stiles' foot and sprawling. He bent over and moved to turn it around and aim it back towards the other furry bundles.]
What's a baby-- no, never mind. [It's probably something strange. It sounds a little strange. Baby gate.
Jon shuts the door behind Stiles so no one else can make an escape attempt.]
Names. [He puts his hand on his hips, observing the little squirming blind bundles.] I can't think of any damned names. [He's been calling the other wolves "the other wolves" for months now just look at him Stiles. He's a mess.]
Uh, yeah. You might want to actually think of that. Unless you want to call them wolf one and wolf two and so on.
[The one that had tried to escape seemed to have been just going for some kind of noise or smell... or maybe it liked Stiles' feet, because it was now snuffling up to his shoe, tiny teeth gnawing on his pants.]
What do you call the others? Would you-- stop that! I wear these, okay?
I... don't, I suppose. It seemed silly to give them names, they're wild wolves. Not like Ghost and the others, we raised them in Winterfell. [Completely useless, see.] ... I'm going to give one to Sansa, for that Christmas thing of yours. Don't tell her. That one, she can name.
[Jon sighs, like that little puddle is actually Stiles' fault. This is his room bro, stop making the pups pee all over it!]
Do you mind? [He scoops the wolf up and deposits it back between its mother's paws.] And I know it, that's why I'm asking you. I'm not good at this sort of thing. [Ghost had been fitting, okay? As for the rest, he's got nothin.]
I don't know. I had a snake. I named it Jake. Don't ask. I'm not really the go-to guy for naming dogs. I'd probably pick something like Piddles, for that one. Or Grumpy for the one that looks like it has scowly brows. Really, you need like, a girl for this.
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[He'd gotten his Christmas gift. Sort of. He had his magic back. Jon was healed up. Malia was safe. Cothromach wasn't being invaded. This was... this was good.]
We should put up a tree, like we do where I come from. Let everyone decorate it. We can fit one in the main hall, right?
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Uh... well, we could... go... cut one down? Then maybe... crap, I could see about growing one? Wait, don't you know that tree lady? With the wings? Just see if she'll...
[He moved his hands, clearly indicating magic stuff of some sort.]
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Of course... [And now he grinned like the little shit he was] you could always invite her for the feast. Like a sort of date.
[Hee. Hee.]
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Oh, don't look so damned smug. [Waving the paper at him now!] I must needs to go tell Sansa. [Yes he stopped here first. WHAT? IT WAS ON THE WAY. He turns but mutters (totally loud enough to hear:)] Honestly. Don't know why I bloody talk to you.
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I love you too, bro.
3 DAYS LATER SURPRISE I DON'T WANT TO STOP THREADING
I'M TOUCHED IN MY SPESHUL PLACE
Stiles closes his books and gets up to go meet Jon in his room, wondering if maybe he's fallen and he can't get up.]
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So. One of the wolves was pregnant... [Surprise!]
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Uh... congratulations? Dad? Wait, you aren't actually the... dad, are you?
[Hey, he knew you turned into a wolf now, bro. It was possible.]
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What? No. [RUBBING HIS FACE.] It was... one of the wolves who died, I think. The smaller one.
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[There was one frantic attempt to flee between two pairs of legs, a little furry body tripping over Stiles' foot and sprawling. He bent over and moved to turn it around and aim it back towards the other furry bundles.]
Gonna need a baby gate.
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Jon shuts the door behind Stiles so no one else can make an escape attempt.]
Names. [He puts his hand on his hips, observing the little squirming blind bundles.] I can't think of any damned names. [He's been calling the other wolves "the other wolves" for months now just look at him Stiles. He's a mess.]
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[The one that had tried to escape seemed to have been just going for some kind of noise or smell... or maybe it liked Stiles' feet, because it was now snuffling up to his shoe, tiny teeth gnawing on his pants.]
What do you call the others? Would you-- stop that! I wear these, okay?
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Would you deal with this... Aww, come on. Why would you do that?
[The wolf in question hadn't liked having its chew toy taken away and had piddled right beside Stiles' other shoe.]
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Do you mind? [He scoops the wolf up and deposits it back between its mother's paws.] And I know it, that's why I'm asking you. I'm not good at this sort of thing. [Ghost had been fitting, okay? As for the rest, he's got nothin.]
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Or someone name-inclined.