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[ FINISHED/CLOSED ]

Who: John Sheppard & Ianto Jones
What: I Held My Tongue For Like 30 Minutes What More Do You Want?
When: Backdated to the, 24th/25th of May?
Where: Leaving main Wyver for Khalo
Warning(s): Weird Tension, fyrra use

John's best lead for the whole thing is going to be Khalo, but they can at least meander through the main hub first so Ianto can get a drink before he collapses on the floor. He can explain it once Ianto is a little more alert. John is benevolent enough to suggest this without letting on it's mostly for Ianto's sake, even though they both know it is. It's fine, though, he knows the theoretical timeline they're working on -- and since the the whole altar thing was a bust (probably he should mention that, too) this is more firefighting than anything.

He waves off another kid trying to get suspiciously close to him and his bag, mouths scram as he waits for Ianto to get his drink (which, no doubt, he won't enjoy as much as his own fancy coffee) and skims his phone again. It's heating up enough that his jacket is stowed in his bag, and he eyes Ianto idly wondering if he's put on any sunblock. His own arms are getting browner every minute, and he probably has tan lines.

"So," he says, stowing his phone and squinting up at the sky thoughtfully. Clear so far, it's only going to get hotter then. "Your boyfriend seemed in a good mood."

Ultra smooth. Nailed it.

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Ianto can hardly argue with that. He squints suspiciously at the forest in front of them, overall not feeling too keen on crossing that shimmering threshold himself, before glancing back at John. Watching him as he works on rolling out the fyrra and wondering if maybe he shouldn't offer to help. If that wouldn't shatter another conception of himself that the other man might have.

"I thought you'd never ask," Ianto quips in return, unable to help a witty reply even now. He hooks his fingers in the straps of his bag, rocking on his feet anxiously. Wondering if John had somehow procured them some matches as well or how he was expecting to be able to light this up. "We should only need the one. Unless you've got anything against sharing." He raises an eyebrow.

"Not especially, they didn't really say how much we needed to smoke."

Smoking to specifically dodge a sleep inducing haze isn't something John has a lot of experience with. He makes a vague attempt to pack the fyrra as evenly as he can, frowning in concentration.

"I would recommend we wait outside for a few minutes just to make sure this isn't secretly going to make either of us vomit or develop weird rashes.

You know, before they wander aimlessly into a mystery hazy forest right after smoking it and possibly become lost.

He glances aside at the other man in vague alarm at the suggestion of a bad reaction to the herb. Have there been reports of those sorts of things? Never mind, he isn't certain that he wants to know. Especially not just before he's gathered up the courage to experiment with alien substances.

"I expect we will find out one way or another," he replies. The sooner they get this over with the sooner they can get on their way. Speaking of which. Not that he doesn't appreciate the care in which John is taking with his work but he's taking way too much time doing something Ianto himself could have had done by now (though maybe that's just his nerves talking). He fidgets at the other man's side for a moment before holding his hand out toward the other man, unable to just stand by and watch any longer.

"Look, just. Give it here." Delicately plucking the work out of the other man's fingers before he has a chance to say otherwise, he makes sure there's enough of the herb in the paper before rolling it between his fingers. It's the nervous energy, he'll vibrate out of his skin before too much longer. At least he can do this -- even if it is only rolling a joint, he thinks a little bitterly to himself, as he hands it back to the other man. "Have you got a light or are we going to be sat here while you rub two sticks together for fire as well?"

His eyebrows shoot up as Ianto grabs it from him, then John pulls out a book of matches (branded from Shades Darker, these are work matches) and holds them out.

"Here you go," he says lightly, because clearly Ianto is in a hurry and John doesn't feel like picking apart why. "Knock yourself out."

John busies himself scanning the area for any signs of life while Ianto rolls for them, hauling his bag back onto his back and trying to think ahead. If it does give them some weird reaction, might there be another way? Should he be prepared to just wrap Ianto in a blanket and calm him down if he begins to go off the rails? For that matter, should he wait a little to see how he behaves before smoking any himself?

Ianto doesn't mean to just be grabbing things out of John's hands. It's just a culmination of things, he's crawling out of his skin, anxious, uncomfortable, and way too in his own head, and honestly if there is a chance that this will help him calm down then he's all for it.

He does at least mutter a word of thanks as he takes the book of matches from the other man, lighting one to light the little roller up. "Here goes nothing then," Ianto says, glancing to the other man a little anxiously, because he's well aware that this is uncharted waters and probably a terrible idea, before he puts it to his lips and inhales, letting the breath out in a slow cloud of smoke.

It tastes... Pretty much how one might expect, having seen what it was before it was rolled up. Ianto brings the little roller to his lips again, inhaling again because it's pretty much go big or go home at this point, and tries to get a handle on how he's feeling. If it's making him feel anything. He thinks there might be something there. Maybe he should just keep smoking it to find out.

Is... Ianto just going to smoke the whole thing? He's definitely going for it. John watches him with a bemused look, feeling as if he's waiting for something to happen.

"Feel like sharing your experience with the class?" he prompts. He's not instantly choking and falling over, which is a good sign. He's also more comfortable with this than John would have expected, but maybe this all comes under lock-picking territory.

Can he blow smoke rings, John wonders idly. Maybe he can teach him how if not.

Ianto lets out a shaky, smoky breath before he holds it out to John as well. "Sorry, sorry," he apologizes. "It's... Well, I've obviously not started breathing fire yet or anything, which is a good sign. Here."

He reaches up and runs a hand over his face and through his hair. He has a sense he's going to need another few puffs of the fyrra before he really starts to feel it, but it's already more. Comfortable. He's already feeling more comfortable than he had been before.

"It's not bad," he concludes, making a face as he watches John himself.

"I was more worried you'd start to freak out and I'd be bundling you up in a blanket until you calmed down."

Which, so far so good. He watches Ianto for a long few seconds before giving in. Sure, he could wait and that would be sensible but the 'sensible approach' road has long run out of tarmac for him. He's way off the beaten path by now, building his own bumpy road to some completely inadvisable location. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

He blows out a slow cloud of smoke, frowning as he tries to decide how he feels about it before holding the joint back to Ianto. Who clearly is still more in need of it than him.

Ianto takes the joint back from the other man, taking a few more pulls on it before passing it back. At that point... He's feeling pretty good, in all honesty. And as a matter of fact, he does know how to blow smoke rings, which he demonstrates after they pass the joint back and forth a few more times. Though it does take him several times to get it right. Yeah, that's right. He may not be able to build a shelter to keep out the rain but he's great for party tricks.

By the time the joint has burned itself out, Ianto feels a lot lighter than he has in the last few days. At least, as far as his nerves are concerned. Physically, his body feels pleasantly heavy, and it's just as well that they're on a mission because he'd honestly just like a nap at this point. It's just as well that the fyrra is taking care of his anxiety for him, as John places an arm protectively around his shoulders and leads him through the shimmering barrier into the forest itself.

The further they walk, the more everything seems to. Glow? Ianto's not sure whether that's his eyes or whether it's something in the distance and he leans sideways to stage whisper about it conspiratorially to John, who still has his arm around his shoulders. That's alright, it's a nice arm. John's a nice man. He's been very good to him over the past few days, even if it has been a little weird. That's not really his fault either. And he's doing a good job of keeping Ianto on his feet. Which is harder than it sounds. Maybe he should have shared more of that joint than he did.

After not too long walking there stands before them what appears to be... A line of mushrooms? Ianto squints at it, leaning into John again, bracing a hand on his chest to keep himself steady as he says, "It's just the fyrra to get into the village, right? I dunno about you but I really like to draw the line at one potential hallucinogenic at a time, thanks."

John has his arm around Ianto because, his brain says, Ianto is unsteady and high and he needs to stop him falling over. The fact that he also is both of those things doesn't really factor in. He's responsible for Ianto, obviously, and that includes bringing him here and making sure they stick together. Don't get lost. Don't fall over.

Having his arm around him is a logical solution to all these things.

The fact that Ianto is pleasantly warm and steady helps, and John finds the vague mumble of his voice a soothing background noise that he's not really focusing on.

"Yeah," he says absently, then realises he's answering a question and should focus on what the question was. His brain catches up -- mushrooms, right. There's a rule about mushrooms, he thinks? What's the rule? "No," he says, because that's probably the right answer, and he takes a step back now that he can see them -- which means Ianto, who is now leaning into his chest, stumbles back with him. His other arm vaguely comes out around him to stop him falling over, and he frowns down at Ianto. "No mushrooms," he says firmly, just in case his muddled answer had been unclear. Ianto looks different and he finds himself unable to place why, and momentarily confused by it. Does fyrra make you look different if you smoke it? Does he look different? Were Ianto's eyes always this blue? He has no idea.

Speaking of Ianto's very blue eyes, they widen for a moment as he falls off balance, moving to catch himself against the other man as John pulls him closer in turn. Studying the other man's face as he studies him back. John looks puzzled and Ianto hasn't the faintest idea why. He pats a hand where it rests on the other man's chest, as if this will help in some way, tilting his head to the side and cracking a smile at him in turn.

“Steady on,” he urges him gently. “No mushrooms then. Not to eat anyway. Probably shouldn’t be rolling in then either. Best stay upright from this point out.” He smooths his hand in place again before stepping forward to sneak it around the other man’s waist, turning back to the mushrooms as he does.

“Right. Mushrooms. Big old forest of fungi. Fungle?” He swings his head up to rest on John’s shoulder, because it’s easier to look at him from this angle if he does. You know. Fungi jungle? Follow along, John. Isn’t he hilarious?

"Fungle," John repeats, and slips his arm back around Ianto in turn -- hooked around his waist since his head is now on his shoulder. He feels warm. John feels distantly concerned he might fall asleep on his feet if Ianto keeps attaching to his side. "We need to get through the fungle," he declares solemnly. "Which means you need to keep your feet under you."

He rests his cheek against Ianto's hair for a moment, absently rubbing at his side as he thinks. How much further is it? More importantly, how much will it be for a room? He may wipe out as soon as he gets there. He gave Ianto most of his money, too. Maybe they should just sleep in the fungle --

"Move," he says finally, and takes a deep breath as he straightens up and tries to encourage Ianto to move with him.

Ianto is distantly pleased his word has stuck. Not all of them do. Owen might have had something to say about fungles but Owen isn't here now is he. John is. And John is very warm and solid against him and honestly a little sweaty but Ianto doesn't mind so much, it's nice too. Very masculine. Ianto likes it, it's very... Him.

All too soon however the other man is coaxing him forward and he groans slightly in protest at the thought of more walking, even as he obeys the command. Stepping carefully forward over the mushroom ring and into the fungle -- yes, that's what it is now -- itself. He's trying to do his best to watch where he's walking but it's difficult when his coordination feels so off as a whole.

"What happens if I step on something?" he asks, because he keeps feeling dangerously close to doing exactly that. He tightens his arm around John's waist on principle.

"Well then I assume the fairies kidnap you," John assures Ianto. "But don't worry, I'll come rescue you."

He tugs Ianto along further into the forest, eyes skipping around the area curiously. It's all brightly coloured, covered in strange plants that John doesn't recognise at all. It's beautiful, in a haunting, menacing sort of way. This had always been something that fascinated him, though, when you walked through a place so distinctly alien, somewhere that reminds you how far you are from home. He slows a little and lets his eyes drag up a large tree, stares at the forest canopy for a long moment.

"Pretty cool," he murmurs finally. Everything feels so colourful, like someone took the whole place and ramped the saturation way up.

"Fairies," Ianto repeats, wishing John hadn't mentioned the creatures, his eyes darting around the area uncertainly. There can't be any fairies living here, can there? No, they're native to Earth, been there since the dawn of time, and with any luck they probably died with the planet too. Still, it has him thinking about more than he'd like and as John pauses them at the base of the tree he recalls a poem they'd dug up during that investigation, a piece of which he mumbles aloud.

"Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild,
With a faery, hand in hand..."

Glancing aside at the other man, he studies him for a long moment, cocking his head to the side as if it will help him concentrate (it doesn't).

"Better not let go of me, then," he concludes. "Just in case. No wandering off the path after the pretty lights. Next thing you know we'll be... Sinking in a bog or something, I don't know. Growing extra heads." The sky is the limit, okay.

"Sure you're not just looking for an excuse to hold hands?"

Even though John is holding him closer than that already, arm slipped around his waist as it is. It's hard to block out how close he is, and John is blearily uncertain of his own reasoning. It's a bad idea, he remembers, though it doesn't feel such a bad idea right now. Ianto's eyes are still very blue, and John thinks of McKay who also has blue eyes. It makes him pick up his walking again.

"Anyway," he assures him, "I'm much scarier than the fairies. I mean look at them, they built a place you get high to get to."

Not exactly hugely intimidating, in John's book.

Edited (spacing) 2018-06-11 23:44 (UTC)

Ianto shrugs in response to the question. He doesn't really need an excuse though, does he? John's certainly not asking him for one. Though on the scale of things, fairy abduction is a pretty good reason to be clingy as far as he's concerned.

Although, speaking of. He glances aside at John uncertainly as he tries to piece this together. Which is difficult, considering he's operating at limited capacity. Fairies. Built this place. What does he mean this place? What does he mean fairies?

"They... Fairies? ...Khalo?" This is a difficult concept to grasp, okay.

"Yeah," John says, as if this is a normal conversation. "I mean they call themselves Khali but they're little green... flying people."

So essentially fairies to John. He steers them around another suspicious looking mushroom, tightening his grip on Ianto for a moment as he makes a course adjustment. Don't fall over, keep walking. Simple rules really. Also don't follow the pretty lights, according to Ianto. He can keep that one in mind too.

Ianto narrows his eyes in concentration, walking even closer to the other man as he allows John to pilot him while he considers this. Little green flying people. Little green flying people who live in a mushroom forest, and the only way they'll let you in is if you get high first.

"This place is mad," he decides at last. Because while he could fuss over the little green fairy people they're supposedly off to visit, he really can't find the energy to do so. Mostly he wants to know why he's only just hearing about them now. Still, they're not fairies, not in the sense that he's used to. Khali, he has to remind himself of that. And they've got a whole village, and they've invited people in and everything.

"Right. So the bandits are hiding with the fairies. Here we are in a magical mushroom forest. Swamp. I'm starting to wonder whether we haven't stumbled into Neverland after all." He casts a glance up at the glowing canopy, swaying a little dangerously on his feet but luckily he's still got that arm around John, right? "Think they'll give us any pixie dust if we promise to behave? I've always wanted to know what it would be like to fly."

"Well I hope so. The real question is, which one of us gets to be Peter Pan? Since I'm guessing you're not up for being Wendy."

Though, in his heart, John is pretty sure Ianto is Wendy in this situation -- and John is dragging him into increasingly foolish plans. He leans into Ianto a little more, lowering his voice to a playful whisper.

"You'd look good in a blue dress, though. Just saying."

It would bring out the blue in his eyes.

"Would I, now..." Ianto's eyes trail down from the canopy above them to study John beside him. Study him as thoughtfully as he can, given as much as the fyrra as there is muddling his thoughts. This is a question that deserves careful consideration, after all. Which one of them is Peter?

In the end, there's really no question at all. John really does know how to fly, never mind the fact that he needs a machine to accomplish it. But more than that, he can do magic. Ianto's seen it. And truth be told, no matter what the other man's hangups are on the matter, he thinks it's wonderful. He's wonderful. And he knows he doesn't see it in himself. That's what makes him such a good man. A good roommate. And a good friend.

"Never grow up, John," he concludes. As though the statement makes any sort of sense, out of the context of the conversation he's been having with himself.

John smiles at that, broad and playful, because it's an easy reference to place even without Ianto's internal dialogue.

"Well then it's a good thing you're coming to Neverland with me," he says, "so we can both stay young forever."

He grabs Ianto and turns him in a quick twirl, as if they're dancing -- or perhaps flying? Either way he stumbles a half step at the end and laughs, an obnoxious, low, dirty old man chuckle. Ianto is coming with him to Neverland and John wouldn't have it any other way, because Neverland is boring without friends to hang out with.

Ianto allows himself to be spun, stumbling along with him as he does and laughing, harder when John laughs because the sound of it is contagious. He tightens his arm around John again, the other coming to help catch himself before he finds himself spinning off into the mushrooms beyond, fingers hooking in John's tactical vest as he does.

"Good thing," he says, leaning in close, a broad smile across his face, breathless from the laughing and the spinning and the other man's happiness. "Just don't you dare drop me in these mushrooms," he warns, as if John's arm around his waist is the only thing keeping him upright. In a way he supposes it is. "Then you really will be carrying me the rest of the way there."

"Alright, alright, no mushrooms."

He lets out a last huff of laughter then steers Ianto onward -- leading him around and between mushrooms again.

"C'mon, Wendy, let's go on an adventure."

An adventure to Khalo, at least. He works his way deeper into the forest, picking a meandering path between the mushrooms. The gentle glow of them in the lower light under the forest canopy is fascinating and unsettling both, leaving John uncertain what to expect. Are there dangerous creatures, here? What kind of creatures do you even get in a mushroom forest?

"If you're Wendy," he says after a long moment of deep contemplation, "I guess I really do have to protect you from jealous fairies."

John's arm is warm and solid around him and honestly pretty nice. Ianto likes the feeling of being wrapped up like this. He likes the fact that it's John. John makes him feel safe. No matter what he thinks, for as long as he's known him he's always been there for him. It's more than he can say for a lot of people in his life, really.

He's starting to feel kind of... Floaty. Like maybe if John weren't holding on he really would fly away. Or maybe without the contact grounding him he'd simply leave his body and just. Stop, for a little while. Maybe that would be nice too. But then he'd be leaving John alone and that wouldn't be very fair for him. So no floating away. Not yet.

It takes him a moment to process what John had said, come back into himself enough to use his brain. "Jealous?" he asks, frowning. Jealous of what? "Of me?"

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