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lovemykilt"Oh Priestly."
Jen's voice seemed to come out of nowhere, startling Priestly hard enough that he nearly dropped his frying pan. He spun in place, flicking out one of his earbuds (Greek punk rock, because the internet was awesome), still holding the pan filled with frying potato, onion and pepper, and flashed Jen what he hoped was a reassuring grin. "Heeeeeeeeeey. Did I wake you?"
"Are you kidding? This is the fifth night in a row." Jen leaned against the door jam, arms folded sleepily over her faded t-shirt. "I didn't bother going to sleep."
Priestly winced, turning back to the stove and setting the pan back on the burner. "Sorry. You know, when the pans start calling. . . ."
"And the nightmares keep coming?" Jen shuffled over, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Don't think I haven't noticed you're stocking up on concealer, either.
Priestly stared down into his pan. "That's left over from Tish."
She smacked his arm. "You're a terrible liar. You know what works real well for getting rid of those lack-of-sleep dark circles? Getting actual sleep."
"Sleep is for the weak," Priestly said, watching the oil bubble and snap around his veggies. He should stir them, in a minute. "Overrated. Grumble grumble manly insomniac ramblings."
Jen hmphed and shuffled away. Priestly didn't even begin to think he'd won, but figured he'd at least bought time to formulate another clever argument for being perfectly fine. Then she was back at his arm again, this time holding an enveloped in his face.
Priestly leaned back, taking the envelope. ". . . How the hell do you know how to book Portalocity tickets?"
"Dude. You've, like, never cleared out your browser history."
Priestly groaned, rubbing his hand over his face. "Jen, I can't --"
"You're going. I already talked to the others. We were going to do an intervention later today if you somehow didn't end up cooking breakfast at four in the morning. And I know you've been thinking about it, anyway."
"How --"
"Never cleared your history."
Priestly stared down at the tickets again. "Fuck."
"You need to confront it. More than that, you need to hang out with people who actually get it. We love you, but there's not really much else we can do for you, here." Jen leaned into him again. "I'm not kicking you out, okay? You can come back. Just . . . I think you need to at least try it. Try going back and living in Fandom for awhile."
Priestly sighed. ". . . Okay. But if it sucks, I'm holding you responsible forever."
Jen patted his arm patronizingly. "Sure thing, honey. You can send for most of your stuff when you get settled in."
"And I'll say 'I told you so' every ten minutes for a year."
"I already know how to take care of Ramone, and Piper said she'd love to get more time behind the grill."
"See, now I'm going to have to come back just to rescue you all."
"She's a good cook!"
"I'm telling you, Karla's so terrible it's gotta be genetic!"
Jen smacked him again. "I promise I won't let her burn the place down."
"Damn right."
[ooc: establishy, lala, PRIESTLY'S GONNA BE A TOWNIE, OMG.]
Jen's voice seemed to come out of nowhere, startling Priestly hard enough that he nearly dropped his frying pan. He spun in place, flicking out one of his earbuds (Greek punk rock, because the internet was awesome), still holding the pan filled with frying potato, onion and pepper, and flashed Jen what he hoped was a reassuring grin. "Heeeeeeeeeey. Did I wake you?"
"Are you kidding? This is the fifth night in a row." Jen leaned against the door jam, arms folded sleepily over her faded t-shirt. "I didn't bother going to sleep."
Priestly winced, turning back to the stove and setting the pan back on the burner. "Sorry. You know, when the pans start calling. . . ."
"And the nightmares keep coming?" Jen shuffled over, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Don't think I haven't noticed you're stocking up on concealer, either.
Priestly stared down into his pan. "That's left over from Tish."
She smacked his arm. "You're a terrible liar. You know what works real well for getting rid of those lack-of-sleep dark circles? Getting actual sleep."
"Sleep is for the weak," Priestly said, watching the oil bubble and snap around his veggies. He should stir them, in a minute. "Overrated. Grumble grumble manly insomniac ramblings."
Jen hmphed and shuffled away. Priestly didn't even begin to think he'd won, but figured he'd at least bought time to formulate another clever argument for being perfectly fine. Then she was back at his arm again, this time holding an enveloped in his face.
Priestly leaned back, taking the envelope. ". . . How the hell do you know how to book Portalocity tickets?"
"Dude. You've, like, never cleared out your browser history."
Priestly groaned, rubbing his hand over his face. "Jen, I can't --"
"You're going. I already talked to the others. We were going to do an intervention later today if you somehow didn't end up cooking breakfast at four in the morning. And I know you've been thinking about it, anyway."
"How --"
"Never cleared your history."
Priestly stared down at the tickets again. "Fuck."
"You need to confront it. More than that, you need to hang out with people who actually get it. We love you, but there's not really much else we can do for you, here." Jen leaned into him again. "I'm not kicking you out, okay? You can come back. Just . . . I think you need to at least try it. Try going back and living in Fandom for awhile."
Priestly sighed. ". . . Okay. But if it sucks, I'm holding you responsible forever."
Jen patted his arm patronizingly. "Sure thing, honey. You can send for most of your stuff when you get settled in."
"And I'll say 'I told you so' every ten minutes for a year."
"I already know how to take care of Ramone, and Piper said she'd love to get more time behind the grill."
"See, now I'm going to have to come back just to rescue you all."
"She's a good cook!"
"I'm telling you, Karla's so terrible it's gotta be genetic!"
Jen smacked him again. "I promise I won't let her burn the place down."
"Damn right."
[ooc: establishy, lala, PRIESTLY'S GONNA BE A TOWNIE, OMG.]