thedifferencebetween

"She's twenty one, she's from my first marriage, her name's Angel. It's...complicated. I gotta lotta complicated family stuff, okay?" Jack clearly is not thrilled at the idea of having a conversation about his daughter.

"She's...I mean she's the best fucking kid. Was? I...I don't even know what tense to use anymore! She's been here a couple times, but it...it's been a while now. And I really, I mean really don't want to go into the details here, they upset me, but she died back home. So I don't talk about her much."

It's painful, it's upsetting. And a lot of it is just intensely private.

"Jesus," Steven breathes. He's just going to gently put a hand on Jack's shoulder. "That's okay, we don't have to talk about her if you don't want to. That's-- shit, it's hard to lose someone you care about. I've never had kids, but. Well, I've lost people too. I get it. I do."

Tio Carlos, so very long ago. Coming back to find Charley was gone. He really fucking gets it.

"Yeah, gonna give ya a little tip now...odds are high anybody we talk about from my past? They're dead. Like everybody I know or ever cared about, it's...like I said, it's a shitty and violent place I come from."

And even Jack, with all his power and reach and technology, can't always protect everyone all of the time. Hell, Nisha had flat out refused to let him protect her, insisting on staying on Pandora and policing her town with friggin hand held guns. He could have given her laser turrets! Robots! All kinds of fancy gadgets to keep the town safe!

"You might have noticed I don't ever talk about that kind of stuff - I'm not being some kinda withholding shithead or something, it's just all depressing and literally from another lifetime."

"Yeah, no," Steven says hurriedly. "I get that. I do. I-- shit. I'm the last person talk about withholding shit from my boyfriend, even if I haven't with you."

God, he feels like such a heel now. He squeezes Jack's shoulder. "But. Um. Look. I'm not going to press for details, but if you ever do think you need to talk about her, I'll listen. If you ever need to talk about anything. And I won't fucking judge. Anything. I promise. God knows, that's what always kept me from talking about things."

"Okay, okay. I know, you're here for me, all that stuff....but seriously. I don't need to talk about anything." Not this kind of stuff. He doesn't talk about it, he buries it and ignores it and it's like it's gone.

Totally healthy.

"And trust me, I'm not afraid of being judged. Like I give a shit! No, it just hurts. And I, being a sane and reasonable human being, avoid things that hurt me."

"Yeah," Steven says. "Okay. Okay, I get it. Subject dropped."

He casts his mind about for something, anything else to talk about and finally blurts out "So. Uh. I guess I'm probably going to have to change my long term plans here? Because it's kinda obvious that you're in it to eventually replace Giovanni as the Boss of all the Rockets, not just the ones who aren't useless, and I don't want to have to figure out how to depose you too? But, hey, maybe you could use a partner? Or at worst a second in command?"

"Appreciate it."

And then Jack just sort of looks across the table at his boyfriend. Obviously he has plans to take over. Or, barring that, splintering off and founding his own criminal organization. An actual mafia. Something that had a purpose. He likes to think it's clear to his own little circle of transplants.

But that's a lot of ambition Steven is displaying. A whole lot. It's something he'll need to keep an eye on.

"Yeah, I'm sure there's a place for you in my grand plans somewhere. But let's not get too far ahead of ourselves, we've been dating for like a handful of weeks. And a little bit of advice... I don't really do the 'partners' thing when it comes to business. What I need is somebody to help get me to the top. Eventually. I'm...I'm not exactly in a rush. I didn't take over Hyperion in a year, it took decades to do it right. So I gotta ask, Steven, are you a patient guy? Cuz I am."

God, Jack's such an ass sometimes, Steven thinks. But then, he had gotten him into a bad mood by bringing up his dead daughter. He'd have been just as prickly if someone had been asking about Charley when he didn't feel like talking about her.

"Yeah," Steven says. "I'm patient, Jack. I get it. Honestly, I didn't have any set plans for anything yet, anyway. I just spent my week of training hating the Admins and Giovanni and the local Rockets and thinking, 'My God, I could run this place so much better than them.'"

"That's a pretty natural reaction, I think, to that assorted collection of sentient assholes." Jack's even been honored personally - in front of the rest of the entire organization - by the trio of higher ups everyone eventually answers to, and he still hates them.

"I just wanna be clear on where we stand, babe. I've been laying down the work for the long con five years now. And look...I've had like five different fucking transplant teams. Nobody else ever sticks around more than a year or so. It's like a god damned Shakespearean tragedy over here, every time there's just one guy left standing. And it's totally arbitrary! Space Llama does it! So yeah, I'm not exactly gonna be making a lot of room for anybody in my long term plans just yet, cuz I've got no guarantee I won't wake up tomorrow and you're gone!"

It's a shitty part of life here. And besides that...there's a lot here, a whole lot. Mixing business and personal life and all that, it can get messy. Especially depending on just how ambitious Steven actually is. Jack's gotta be careful here, make sure nothing gets fucked up anywhere. They've got a good thing going, he's invested in this relationship.

Steven winces. "Okay, yeah, fuck. I can get that. I can definitely get that. And-- look, I can't make any promises for what Space Llama decides to do with me, but if I can stay in this world long term, I want to. I mean, what's left for me back home? A probably dead baby sister, goddamn day labor and an inferior fake that's stolen my life? Things are nice for me here. I'm happier than I've ever been. I've got you and I'm not scared of the shit I want anymore. I might even be able to get it if I'm lucky next heist."

He runs a hand through his short hair, a restless gesture.

"I just. God, the Team's such a fucking mess on every level. I want to dig my hands deep in an administrative capacity and fix it. We could be so much better than this! And yes, our own little crew is, but it's a goddamn crime and not the fun kind that the rest of the Team's got no damn focus at all."

Edited 2020-03-02 17:39 (UTC)

"What you want doesn't matter. I'm not trying to be an asshole, it's just the facts. And it's something we gotta be aware of and take into consideration."

Who the fuck knows how it works? Jack's seen so many people come and go, sometimes they come back, sometimes they don't, sometimes they came back and didn't remember...

"No, it is. That's why I ignore most of it and do my own thing. Nobody's told me not to." He shrugs. It's been years and there's been no complaints, so either they aren't paying attention or they didn't care. "Now come on, just...relax, chill out. It's not like anybody's getting anything done tonight! We're having a nice dinner...ya know what?"

Steven does need to chill out. Not get so worried about the possible future. Whatever happens...Jack's gonna look out for him however the fuck long he's here.

"I think tonight's an excellent time to get high and put on a mellow album. I got some Carbink Floyd!"

Steven blinks.

"I've... never actually gotten high before," he admits. "I was always worried I'd... say something under the influence and everyone would know. Or worse, do something and by the time I was sober I'd be in jail."

"You've never..."

Jack sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He can't even say he gets it this time. He spent plenty of time on the fighting himself train, but holy shit, getting high was one of the things that always helped. It quieted his mind and let him focus on music or TV or a comic book or whatever.

"Okay, you cannot be going on forty and have never gotten high ever. Fuck it, we're getting you high tonight."

"Look," Steven says, defensively. "Except for alcohol and tobacco, recreational drugs were highly illegal back in my time. The only partial exception was pot and even then you had to have a doctor prescribe it to you. Remember how I come from the goddamn dark ages, Jack? So yeah, being worried about what I'd do while high was the deciding factor, but a lot of why I didn't was that I simply didn't want to get arrested at all. A drug conviction would have done nothing for my career."

He sighs and shakes his head. "Look. I didn't say I didn't want to tonight. You said yourself that it's not illegal here. And I'm pretty sure there's nothing I can say while high that will disgust you."

"No, no, I know, I just...it boggles my mind. How weird shit was in the past. I'm not mad at you or whatever, it's just insane to me that anybody would make it to your age and never been high. Like I'm pretty sure it's insane to you that I could press a button and in seconds a computer would construct whatever I wanted out of essentially thin air."

It's just a weird thing. And Steven is getting defensive about it, further proof they need to get high and veg out tonight.

"And you'll mostly say stupid shit. Or think you're talking but you aren't. You might get a little paranoid, but you just ride it out and you'll be fine."

"Not completely insane," Steven says, dryly. "I have seen Star Trek. And heard of 3D printers. But point taken. Honestly, I think the whole legal murder for everyone thing is more insane to me. Great, mind you, but insane."

He's really been getting much better at saying these things without his face heating up these last few day.

"When it's legal, it's not called 'murder', it's just killing people!"

Jack says this cheerfully. A small distinction, but an important one.

"But come on, let's finish up dinner. It's your first time dancing with Mary Jane tonight, so I gotta set the mood right."

Like choking verses strangulation. Of course.

Steven smiles, "Killing people," he amends--before setting himself to finish his food quickly.

The subtle differences are important to Jack. Semantics are a tool, and he believes in using them correctly.

Jack finishes up as well, and leaves Steven to clean up. He's got other stuff to do. Specifically popping into the downstairs bathroom and retrieving a little box from the back depths of his medicine cabinet.

By the time Steven's done clearing the kitchen, Jack's on the couch in the living room with the lights dimmed and the TV's turned to the travel channel and muted. Jack's rolling a joint, and there's a Mareep standing on the other side of the coffee table, watching Jack with a sense of familiar anticipation.

Given that supper is usually either something Jack paid for or Jack cooked, Steven is more than okay with being the one who cleans up. It's only fair, after all.

(Honestly, given how many awful instincts he has, it's probably just as well that Steven's been socialized with as many notions of decency and fairness as he was.)

Once that's over, he takes his place on the couch next to Jack and leans over, curiously. "So what's in there?" he asks. "It doesn't seem like cannabis."

(Look, just because he hasn't personally done a weed doesn't mean he didn't go to college with people who did.)

"It is not. Ya know how they tell ya not to eat the berries? They are correct! But if you dry and refine the right ones and their leaves..."

Jack gestures to the substance he's rolling into a substantial sized joint.

"It takes a while, and I dunno if anyone's dealing the stuff already prepared, but...eh, it's worth it to get high. And it's basically the same as getting stoned, there's just more of a visual effect to go along with it. Shit gets sparkly, or glows, ya get trails...it's cool."

"Huhhhh," Steven says, interested despite himself. "And you said it's not illegal here, right? Do you just get the berries, then, and dry and refine them yourself? Are you the only one you know of who's tried, or is this-- some sort of, I don't know, counter-culture popular knowledge that you picked up somewhere?"

He frowns a little. "Why isn't Team Rocket dealing it? You'd think drugs would be a natural stream of revenue for organized crime."

"I'm guessing cuz it's not a Pokemon." Jack snorts.

"Nah, other people know how to do it. I picked it up from a teenager a couple years ago. I'd been licking Pokemon up till then... at least the ones that have venom or secrete weird substances or have weird mind effect abilities."

Just in case.

Jack seals the joint and waves it back and forth like a Polaroid to dry it.

"Honestly it all comes down to Pokemon. More people would rather spend the money or the time and effort and use the actual berries on their Pokemon than use them to get high."

Steven nods. "I suppose given how Pokemon-mad everyone is here, that would make sense--but nobody ever tries even making synthetic drugs? Ones that they don't need to use up berries for? Like, okay, this is me digging up old health classes from twenty years or more back, but I though LSD at least is made just from-- you know, chemicals. Chemistry's still the same here, isn't it?"

"Probably, but I'm guessing there's no demand for it. The only people I know who indulge are other transplants, the locals just...I dunno. it's not their thing, I guess."

Jack just shrugs. The way he sees it, it just means more for him.

"Anyway, drug dealing's sleazy when you're not in a culture where it's normal and everybody's doing it. And I'm guessing the main reason it's not illegal is because no one realizes it's even a thing. No reason to start putting it out there and all of a sudden somebody's demanding laws about it. Under the radar keeps it hassle free."

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i just realize marijuana decriminalization didn't happen until after fairy kidnapping

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