Gods & Monsters

XXIX

This chapter has LOTS of fluff.
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"What do you even get for a mom?"

dylan peers at Jacob from beneath his messy hair, eyes slitted in contemplation. He's a pinprick of complete calm amongst the bustle of the brightly lit shop, swarmed by individuals clutching handfuls of bags and children. "Tarot cards?"

Jacob stares at him.

Right. He should've known better than to ask.

"Er. Thanks, D," he smirks, valiantly resisting laughter as he continues strolling down the aisle. It's cold in here despite the number of bodies flitting about; his hands are freezing, even with Troye's gloves on. It must have to do with the fact that his old jean jacket has so many gaping, shredded holes now that his pockets are barely even pockets. If he were a smarter lad, he'd buy a new one.

But he's never claimed to be smart, so. Whatever.

"How about a rolling pin?" Dylan offers next, hands limp at his sides as he peers hesitantly around, eyes dark. The sentence is carried with all the languidity of assuredness because Dylan firmly believes everything he says, firmly believes his suggestions are practical and wise. It's one of the many reasons Jacob loves him, actually. 

So he laughs, clapping a hand briefly to Dylan's tense shoulder. The nylon of his parka is cold as well, seeping through the knit of Jacob's gloves. "I think she's already got one of those, mate. But good effort."

In response, Dylan just hums contemplatively, swinging his arms as he continues walking, eyes still flicking around the shop with mild unease. It's a little chaotic inside—all the last minute shoppers (like Jacob) are scrambling, trying to find the most heartwarming purchases that forty-eight hours can buy. And jacob knows that Dylan is a bit squeamish in the outside world, not to mention in crowds, so he sticks close to him as they continue perusing for Laurelle's present.

Jacob wants to get her something nice. Special, like. It's the least he can do after she's offered to let him stay in her house for the entire holiday weekend, so. Like he said—it's the least he can do. And he likes her. Quite a lot, even.

They stop in front of a large glass...box thing. Inside are delicate bottles of perfume, glinting golden and silver and pink and pearl. They look fragile and clean, like Jacob's hands would scuff them. 

They also look mum-ish. Hm.

"How about perfume?" Jacob questions, glancing sideways.

Dylan looks mildly overwhelmed. "Uh. Yeah," is all he grunts, shuffling closer to avoid an onslaught of laughing teenagers passing through.

Sighing, Jacob looks back at the selection. They essentially all look the same.

"Isn't perfume kinda expensive?" Dylan asks after a moment, voice very near to Jacob's ear, making him jump just a bit. Dylan gets a bit clingy and intrude-y whenever he feels awkward.

"Yeah, but, Laurelle's..." Jacob shrugs, unsure of how to finish. He keeps his face aloof, shuffles from one foot to another. "She's a good lady. Want to get her something special. Especially if she's letting me stay with her family on Christmas, you know? Kinda... She's a bit like a second mum to me or somethin. Or rather," Jacob mumbles, a little darker than he means to, "A real mum."

At that, Dylan remains quiet, just stepping that much closer and breathing harshly through his nose. He smells like Jed and weed.

After Jacob's successfully managed to obtain a clerk and a nice bottle of something-or-other for Laurelle, he pays at the till, barely flinching at the total while Dylan noticeably starts.