Oh, I can hear it now. Sorry, Freddy, you can't arrest me. The Queen thinks I'm the best! I have a royal tailor. [Jacob grinned wide, caring little for how he was distracting from the eggs. He'll kiss Ned again if he wants, they'll just have to deal.]
Just don't get more famous than I am. I don't want anyone to think I'm riding your coattails. [Because he's totally. not doing that.]
[Ned chuckles, choosing magnanimously not to mention how Jacob is definitely doing that. He tries to focus on poking the eggs around in the pan so at least half of this breakfast is edible, but his free hand inches down Jacob's arm to take his hand anyway. Breakfast is so gay.]
Does that mean I can be more notorious than you? More than I already am, that is. [grin..... he must be like this compulsively.]
[Hey, hey, don't try and stop him from delaying this breakfast for as long as possible. Not that that's his plan, or anything. Jacob sighs, leaning off of him and opting to cross his arms instead. Big baby eyes and over the top pouting.]
How much of the notoriety comes from me crashing your carts? [Crashing...]
And yet it's so obvious you're American. [Jacob says, like he hadn't taken a few meetings to actually pay attention to it. He nearly leans on the stove, looking at Ned, before he realizes how bad of an idea that is.
Ned's distracting and dumb.] Climb through the ranks, did you?
[Jacob is the dumb one, thanks. Ned reaches for his hand again, just to hold onto him so he doesn't do anything else to ruin breakfast. And because of his gentle gay feelings, but it's fine.]
I am the ranks. You should've seen London when I got here—a shambles, all the way down.
I think I prefer seeing you on top. [Ooooh... no, Jacob doesn't even mean that in any other way than crime. Kinda like he's content just holding hands with Ned while he makes very domestic eggs. He's a simple man.]
Though... young Ned Wynert picking up London's pieces. I daresay, I would have been smitten.
[Ned still blinks in surprise, pausing for a fraction of a second to glance at Jacob for that. If he were more confident in this whole relationship thing than he is right now, he'd have something witty to say about how he can get used to that, but not today.
Best plan: ignore it. He hums and squeezes Jacob's hand a little. The smirk is back.] Oh, you should've been there—I even got into fights. You think the bad neighborhoods are bad now, but let me tell you, this is the soft and gentle London compared to a couple years ago.
Little Ned? Brawling in the streets of London? That's already better than anything Crawley had to offer. [Jacob would argue there was nothing soft or gentle about taking down Templars if he weren't so distracted by this. He had tried to take a more disbelieving expression, but it just wound up being impressed.]
And yet you won't go on any excursions with me! I feel deprived, Ned.
That's just because I'm persuasive. [Please... he hadn't even thought about kissing him at the time. Well, more than usual.
But. Eggs. Jacob relieves Ned of distributing the eggs to their plates, and yes, he is still going to add his bacon. It's extra crispy. Extra.] Clearly, I've done all the work.
You're gonna work on sitting down and eating before I send you out the door with a handful of breakfast. [He still has somewhere to be, and Jacob will have to go spend the rest of the day on his own couch, or whatever he does. Still, Ned manages to say this affectionately, complete with a little elbow nudge. Eat with him, be domestic. It's weird and he doesn't understand it but it doesn't seem to hurt.
He picks up a piece of bacon between two fingers and stares at it. God.] Does Ms. MacBean do all your cooking? I never did ask, but the answer's staring me in the face now. How do you manage this?
[What does Jacob do when Ned's gone? Wait for him to get back. That is what he'll do when he's not being domestic. While Ned criticizes his bacon, he'll enjoy these eggs.
The boy talks with his mouthful. Charming.] By doing my best. Didn't exactly get lessons in anything but swinging a sword, Ned, don't judge me.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
trainspotter) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
dumbshow2017-02-06 11:06 pm
no subject
Just don't get more famous than I am. I don't want anyone to think I'm riding your coattails. [Because he's totally. not doing that.]
no subject
Does that mean I can be more notorious than you? More than I already am, that is. [grin..... he must be like this compulsively.]
no subject
How much of the notoriety comes from me crashing your carts? [Crashing...]
no subject
Maybe a little since you got here. I'm the seasoned Londoner, after all.
no subject
Ned's distracting and dumb.] Climb through the ranks, did you?
no subject
I am the ranks. You should've seen London when I got here—a shambles, all the way down.
no subject
Though... young Ned Wynert picking up London's pieces. I daresay, I would have been smitten.
no subject
Best plan: ignore it. He hums and squeezes Jacob's hand a little. The smirk is back.] Oh, you should've been there—I even got into fights. You think the bad neighborhoods are bad now, but let me tell you, this is the soft and gentle London compared to a couple years ago.
no subject
And yet you won't go on any excursions with me! I feel deprived, Ned.
no subject
[He has important desk work to do, alright... Other people can get dirty in the field.
Anyway,] Here, this is done. Let's eat already.
no subject
But. Eggs. Jacob relieves Ned of distributing the eggs to their plates, and yes, he is still going to add his bacon. It's extra crispy. Extra.] Clearly, I've done all the work.
no subject
He picks up a piece of bacon between two fingers and stares at it. God.] Does Ms. MacBean do all your cooking? I never did ask, but the answer's staring me in the face now. How do you manage this?
no subject
The boy talks with his mouthful. Charming.] By doing my best. Didn't exactly get lessons in anything but swinging a sword, Ned, don't judge me.
no subject
And here I thought you were born swinging those dangerous toys around. Even I can make a halfway decent meal. [One day, they can play cooking class,]