#if anyone goes “hmm this isnt realistic” then youre wrong because it did happen and unrelated im a fucking moron

[laswells-ashtray]

When Johnny was a kid, he thought that everyone had the same reaction to face paint. Their face would get itchy after ten minutes and then eventually start to burn until it was utterly torturous and they'd be forced to take it off, only for the stinging in their face to be agonising for hours later.

It isn't until he's taking off eyeblack in Las Almas after they've all finished with their Ghost Team bit that anyone seems to notice. He scrubs at the eyeblack, and it comes off, but his entire face is violently red and obviously painful.

Then Simon asks him, and he lets slip about the face paint when he was younger. The blank look on his lieutenant's face triggers a defensiveness that he can't quite put a name to.

"Wit? Why are ye lookin at me like that?"

"No one in your family ever considered that you might have sensitive skin?"

"..."

"Johnny?"

"Shite."

They go home, and he doesn't think that much about it again. That's until a box of sensitive skin products is delivered to his house. He'd thank Simon, but firstly, he has to find out how the other man found his address.

[harryseyebrows]

Yeah I am. Okay, so would Harry maybe roll over and be like ‘you get him this time/your turn’ to Jeff, who is obviously super confused. But follows the sound of a baby crying and rocks it back to sleep or changes it’s diaper? Or would Harry get the baby and leave Jeff to wonder wtf is going on?

okay so this is gonna be a choose your own adventure-collaborative effort alskdjfkasjdf SO, two options:

1. as you suggested, jeff slowly comes to, realizes he isn’t in his own bed because he’s used to his automatic room-darkening blinds being down to keep the sun out of his eyes, which..is clearly not the situation here because he thinks he’s being blinded??? he opens his eyes fully, blearily looks around, and instantly sits up quickly enough to give himself a head rush because what the fuck. he last night was a little weird after the cab ride from hell but he doesn’t remember going home with anyone?????? because that is most definitely another person in bed with him. jeff is panicking. he’s trying to think of ways to sneak out but when he looks for his phone, he can’t find it anywhere. then, just as he’s about to swing his legs off the bed, the person next to him speaks.

“the baby is crying.”

jeff freezes, clutching the unfamiliar duvet with sweating palms in a death grip. is that...no, it can’t be. 

the mystery person, who’s been mostly obscured by a mountain of pillows they’ve buried their head in, unearths themselves, revealing a thick head of dark hair and a pouty mouth that jeff couldn’t forget if he tried. 

“harry?” jeff splutters.

with a clumsy knuckle, harry rubs the sleep from one of his eyes, face covered in pink lines from the wrinkles in his pillow. his shoulders are bare--or rather, his whole torso is, which becomes increasingly obvious the further the duvet slips down. 

jeff’s mouth is dry. his whole body feels like it’s made of cement, anchoring him in place. his cheeks are blazing, likely cherry red. 

“the baby,” harry repeats, voice like tumbled rocks. he’s always been extra croaky in the morning. “it’s your turn to get him.”

“baby?” jeff practically squeaks. 

harry’s eyebrows form a little crease in the middle. “are you sick? you’re acting even weirder than you did when you had that super high fever last year.”

jeff doesn’t recall being fevered last year. perhaps, more importantly though, jeff doesn’t recall speaking to harry last year, or even the year before that. maybe this is a dream. a startlingly realistic one--and he’d like to thank his subconscious for its attention to detail on the freckles dusting harry’s shoulders--but a dream nonetheless. he drops his grip on the blanket and pinches his own thigh, hard, but all it seems to do is leave him with a dull ache. 

harry’s still eyeing him, traces of amusement clear on his face. “well, i have to get ready for work. so if you could stop acting deranged and attend to your son, that would be great.” with a sigh and a graceless flourish, harry flings the covers off himself and swans out of bed, and jeff is immediately assaulted by his pale, tan-lined ass as he rounds the bed and slips through a doorway. 

jeff feels dizzy. this can’t be happening. there’s just--there’s no way. he tries slapping his own cheek, once lightly, and then again, with more force, but it’s no use. he doesn’t wake up. he doesn’t get magically transported back to his own bed, in his own apartment. he doesn’t even know where he is right now. 

he scrambles out of bed, briefly and duly noting his questionable taste of bed attire (plaid boxer shorts and a lord of the rings t-shirt), and checks the window, only to reveal a street with houses all of similar sizes and styles. a neighborhood, straight out of some idolized suburban fantasy. all that’s missing is a white picket fence. 

he goes back over to the bed, checking under it, in the sheets, and on the table next to it, looking for his phone again. maybe his keys are around here somewhere, or his wallet. but there’s nothing on the floor either, except for a singular discarded sock. 

the door harry disappeared behind is shut, and jeff doesn’t dare knock. he’s still not convinced that harry is even real, like he’s the Other Mother from Coraline or something equally terrifying, despite his relatively unchanged and still handsome appearance. 

jeff is on his hands and knees, searching for...well, he isn’t sure what he’s looking for anymore, but just something that might be able to help him, when a little voice gives him pause. 

“daddy?”

jeff sits up slowly. in the doorway of the bedroom, is a little girl who has harry’s mess of curls, wearing purple and blue striped pajamas. he swallows, shakily pointing in the direction harry went. “he’s in there,” he says. 

the little girl shakes her head. she has big brown eyes, ones that instantly remind jeff of his nephews, and his own, from baby pictures his mom has hung up in his parents’ house. 

his stomach instantly falls somewhere between his knees. she--she looks like harry, but she looks like himself, too, jeff realizes with a startling amount of clarity. 

he doesn’t get to panic or dwell for long. the little girl is walking over to him, and before he can do anything other than stop moving entirely, she presses her small hand against his forehead. “hmm. you don’t feel warm.”

jeff chokes on a laugh. of course harry’s kid would be exactly like him. but then jeff looks at her, up close like this, and more of the pieces start to fall together: her small slightly curved nose, her full round face, the tilt of her mouth--confused but not unhappy. 

she’s...his. undeniably. he knows that. and he has to sit down, right on the floor, because otherwise he thinks he’d fall over. 

“jesus christ,” he mutters to himself, his whole body tingly and warm, like all of his nerve endings are just as frazzled as he is. 

the expression her face morphs into is all harry, though. heavy brows and narrowed eyes. “don’t say that, it’s not nice,” she says decisively. 

“i--sorry. just, yeah. sorry.”

she visibly softens, considering him for a long moment, her gaze thoughtful and wary. it’s a little funny; she can’t be any older than six or seven, but she looks wise beyond her years. 

“it’s okay,” she finally says. “but [baby’s name] is still crying. and i think you should go get him, because he woke me up.”

that’s right. jeff’s been distracted, but now that he starts to pay attention again, he can hear the baby who’s presumably down the hall. his son, harry had said. jeff went to bed last night, blissfully single, and woke up today with two kids. fuck. 

“right,” jeff says. he wants to ask her what he name is, but that’s wrong, isn’t it? if she’s his daughter? typically parents shouldn’t have to be reminded of their own kids’ names. 

he stands, wobbling only for a second, and sets off into unfamiliar territory, both metaphorically and literally. 

TA DAAAAAAAAAAA

or, 2. i suppose we could do something very similar but maybe harry just kinda huffs and gets up once he realizes that jeff isnt gonna cooperate, and collects the baby, only to bring him back to the bedroom and immediately hand him to jeff before going into the bathroom. but then we probs shouldnt do nakey harry because..kids dont wanna see that asjdflkasjdf