open rp post.

[bestfeature]

[ open rp post! also for continuations from elsewhere / overflow / whatever. drop a prompt here or make me drop a prompt or whatever. please rp with me okay. ]

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[bestfeature]

[ He goes very still at the sound of his voice, brows furrowing in confusion. The bat's still up, but he's not swinging at least. ]

Byers?

[slr]

Wh-- What are you doing?

[ Out here, and in general. Jonathan's slowly lowering his hands though they don't drop. He's still not completely sure how far he'd gone and really was not expecting the bat. But it's hard not to be wary when it's there, and when Steve doesn't sound quite so sure it's him. ]

[bestfeature]

[ He lowers the bat, sucking in a bit of air. ]

What am I doing? What the hell are you doing?! Jesus, you nearly gave me a heart attack in my own damn home.

[slr]

I was just...

[ He doesn't finish the sentence, just motioning instead to the camera as his hands finally drop. ]

[bestfeature]

. . . jesus christ, man.

[ He groans, rubbing at his forehead. ]

[slr]

Sorry. It's just me. Didn't know I'd gone this far.

[ Jonathan relaxes a bit now that there's no bat in his face. He does have the decency to look a little embarrassed at the whole issue. ]

[bestfeature]

This far? In the dark? What the hell were you thinking?

[ He's not mad, necessarily. If anything, he sounds like someone's mom. ]

[slr]

I was taking pictures of the sky.

[ He feels that should be self-explanatory. And he almost feels like he needs to do that explanation at the tone of Steve's voice, weird. ]

I didn't really need the flashlight until just a few minutes ago.

[bestfeature]

[ He just stares at him for a long moment before shaking his head in annoyance. ]

Seriously . . .

[slr]

Seriously.

[ Was that a question or not, oh well. Jonathan shifts awkwardly on his foot, wincing beneath his bangs and then looks at Steve again, remembering an earlier thought that had vacated the premises when he was facing that bat. ]

Can I use your phone?

[bestfeature]

Yeah, sure, just— get over here already.

[ He turns back towards a house, waving a hand. follow me, loser. ]

[slr]

Yeah, sure.

[ He takes a tentative step with his ankle, kinda thankful that Steve isn't watching. Especially because it hurts worse than he wants to admit. ]

Shit...

[ is hissed out under his breath, but he's trying. ]

[bestfeature]

[ It becomes apparent to him pretty quickly that Jonathan is not, in fact, right behind him. With a huff, Steve turns back towards him. ]

Hey, dickhead, what's the hold up?

[slr]

Don't worry about it.

[ He winces as he takes another step - but ultimately doesn't complain and continues to shuffle along behind Steve. He's already asked to use his phone. And Steve is clearly pissed and who could blame him. ]

[bestfeature]

[ Pissed? Well— yeah, he is, but the slightest bit of concern crosses over his face as well. Jonathan's never been an athlete or anything, but Steve has, and he can recognize a few telltale signs. As they make their way back to the house, he glances over his shoulder. ]

You hurt yourself or something?

[slr]

Or something.

[ Clearly he's hurt himself but again - Jonathan's not gonna bother with it. He's used to walking through any injuries he has and dealing with them by himself. This especially applies to something so stupid and mundane and that's entirely his fault. ]

It's nothing, okay?

[bestfeature]

[ He eyes him flatly for a moment before turning, heading back to the house through the garage, only taking a brief moment to slip the nailbat back into his trunk. It seems like he might even let it go.

Except once they enter the house, Steve tosses a thumb over his shoulder, pointing at the couch. ]

Sit.

[ He's not asking. ]

[slr]

[ He's thankful for the lack of chatter on it, and when he gets inside he's got his weight on his good foot and is already looking around for the phone, hoping it's not too far, but then... ]

Come on, Steve.

[ This is already awkward enough, a slightly disappointed look on his face. Just... let him use the phone. ]

[bestfeature]

[ His need to be cool and to keep things from being awkward is vastly, vastly outweighed by his mom friend status. So when Jonathan protests, Steve puts a hand on his hip, pointing again with his other hand. ]

Sit, dipshit. You think I don't know what an injury like that looks like? I've been playing basketball ever since I was ten.

[ And there's nothing awkward about it on his end anymore either. If anything, he's just, well. Annoyed. ]

[slr]

[ "I'm not one of the kids, you know?" "You could just let me use your phone and I'd be out of here, okay?" "What the hell, Steve?" All things going through Jonathan's brain right now. He also knows Steve well enough that he doesn't really... give up, sometimes to his detriment.

All he manages is to shrug-- ]

So?

[ But he does edge closer to the couch, glancing at him warily. ]

[bestfeature]

[ Steve just stares at him in disbelief at first. like, really. is this really how it's going to be. ]

Dude, you were the one stomping around in my backyard. You lost your say.

[slr]

[ Jesus. Steve used to be his bully and now he's just. This is something else. Concern. Still bossy as hell though. He's starting to get the feeling even if he could get to the phone, Steve wouldn't let him use the damn thing. He glances away, trying not to roll his eyes (and failing.)

This is... shitty. But he hates that look, so much. ]

Fine. But it's not a big deal.

[ And he sits down on the couch. He wasn't stomping. ]

I can call home and get our of your hair.

[bestfeature]

[ Once he's satisfied that Jonathan is going to sit down, he heads into the kitchen, grabbing a baggie and stuffing it full of ice before wrapping it in a kitchen towel. He steps back into the other room and grabs the phone from a side table nearby, dragging it over to the couch and plopping it down nearby, the cord tangling around the coffee table haphazardly. ]

You're not in my hair. [ He rolls his eyes back at him, nodding at his leg. ] Let's see it.

[slr]

[ Glancing at the phone, Jonathan doesn't bother to make a reach for it because Steve's focused. This is... look. Jonathan doesn't like relying on other people. Letting other people lean on him, sure. So this doesn't sit well with him. It's doubly strange given who is trying to help him. His hesitance is clear in his posture, hands on his legs and sitting too upright on the couch.

But he'd caved so he'll deal. Like he always does.

Fingers curl in his pants leg and he pulls his jeans up to uncover his ankle. Not broken, not bleeding - well, okay there are a few scrapes, but - it's just swollen and bruised, mottled purple. ]

No big deal.

[bestfeature]

No big deal? What the hell, man?

[ With an annoyed grunt, Steve leans in to inspect his ankle. He frowns, looking back up at Jonathan. ]

It's a sprain, moron. Ever had one before?

[ As he speaks, he pulls back, picking up the makeshift ice pack and holding it out to him. ]