It was not a good morning. Jasper had taken the long way to SHOP, stopping in at Daphne's for a cupcake on his way, but it had only improved his mood the smallest amount. It was very early, but he needed to see Atlas (ie. yell at him and probably hit him in the head with a blunt object) before he opened his shop, so he'd left Cal asleep after their rather dreadful previous night. There were distinct finger marks on his throat; he'd had to wrap a bulky scarf double around his neck in hopes of avoiding any comments from Atlas. Thankfully the day was cold enough that it didn't stick out.

This whole disaster was largely Atlas' responsibility. He wasn't excusing Cal, but Atlas was the one who had been bloody investigating him like a misguided Sherlock Holmes for the past month. He tried to convince Jasper on every possible occasion that Cal was a criminal overlord, and Jasper, understandably, was having none of it. He knew Cal was involved in the criminal world, but Jasper was too. So was Atlas. The whole thing was absurd. It wasn't surprising that Cal had gotten angry.

The door to SHOP was locked, so Jasper knocked on the window until Rudolph appeared with a slightly sleepy "WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE!" Jasper gestured at the door and Rudolph clattered over to answer it. He was a little surprised that Atlas hadn't appeared yet, wielding some weapon he'd made out of fourteen cashews and a machine gun. Although if he had, Jasper probably would have just ripped it out of his hands and shoved it up his nose. He took a final bite of his cupcake; the raspberry center did not appease him. Not a good morning.

"Where's Atlas?"

Rudolph responded by flinging a scapula at him playfully. Scowling, Jasper snatched it up and threw it back a bit harder than necessary. Rudolph's head fell off, jaws clicking. Jasper sighed and put the skeleton back together. If Atlas had been there he probably would have added "Broke your toy." Then punched him. At least Rudolph seemed to get the message, leading Jasper through to Atlas' workshop. Jasper normally tried to avoid going there, since the time Atlas had been inventing something involving a waffle iron that had ended in small square burns all over Jasper's face. Thankfully there didn't seem to be any live appliances at the moment. No Atlas eithe--

Oh, wait, he was under the workbench. Apparently trying to hide. It wasn't especially successful because he was about a foot too tall to fit under the thing. There were scribbles of red and blue chalk on the floor around him. He was snoring gently. Jasper wondered if it would be entirely too awful to stomp on his hand to wake him up.

Then again, it was Atlas. He'd probably been traumatized by last night too. As angry as he was, Jasper needed to remember that. Atlas had been having a very hard time recently; he deserved a chance to explain himself.

"Thanks Rudolph. Sorry about your head."

"WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!" Rudolph chirped. He waved brightly and departed. No hard feelings, apparently.

Jasper looked down at Atlas again, and poked him in the side with the highly polished toe of one boot.

"Atlas. Wake up."

Someone…or much more likely something was poking him. Atlas hated poking; it never ever led to anything good. He tried to roll, hoping to place some distance between himself and his molester, instead he found himself pressed against something hard. He jerked awake, startled, eyes opening to stare directly into a brick wall, odd. Atlas. Wake up.. Well that limited his attacker to someone able to use human speech, narrowed the list slightly, certainly eliminated the lobsters. Atlas finished assessing the wall, reached a hand out to smudge an incorrect equation he had written and then rolled the other way. The second roll caused his vision to swim in an uncomfortable manner and his head seemed to swell to a considerably larger size.

What did I brink last night? He scrubbed a hand over his face, blinked his eyes open and then peered out at his attacker. Jasper? Definitely Jasper, scowling down at him, with a eerie light silhouetting him from behind. It made him look rather like one of those angry gods one saw in terrible Muggle movies. Atlas dragged one hand forward to his jacket, he had fallen asleep in his clothes? And pulled out his pocket watch, checking it 4 times before deciding that yes it was 11 AM. A glance back to Jasper, who hadn’t disappeared. “Its 11 in the morning Jasper.” Replacing the watch Atlas let his head fall back to the cool stone of the floor and observed the doodles now covering it. Big red noses, and little dogs on tricycle…..s—t. Calixtus, the clown…well the clown….thing.

Why why why why why did he have to suggest they try to do anything together. He should have left Cal to his misery but really being alone with the thoughts of what that volume had contained might have actually been worse than the fight that resulted. Another glance at Jasper, or maybe not. Now that he had remembered he had been in a fight, his body seemed to remember how sore it was, a condition only made worse by his choice of sleeping arrangements. He would complain about it but Jasper really didn’t look to be in the mood and complaining around Jasper never really made anyone feel better anyway.

Pulling himself up to his knees, head just protruding out from under the bench Atlas watched Jasper and tried to determine just how angry the other man was with him. This was a new area of Jasper anger, relationship Jasper anger, which Atlas could only hope was something like abuse of his clothing Jasper anger, or pointing out flaws in his plans Jasper anger, or bringing up his nose Jasper anger, which Atlas had only ever witnessed, never instigated himself. “You look like Doctor Who, I didn’t even know you had a scarf that actually served the purpose of a scarf.” The words were gravely and Atlas cleared his throat loudly a few times before he was satisfied it might be at a normal pitch and level.

He decided to cut to the chase. “Did you fix the wrist?” There was another comment bubbling up through the murk in his brain, something about ‘kissing it better’ but Jaspers foot was at a perfect level for head stomping and Atlas rather thought there had been enough violence in the past twenty four hours already.

There was a very long pause during which Atlas attempted to curl himself further into a ball, as though Jasper couldn't see him if he couldn't see Jasper. Jasper spent this time wondering if he should crush Atlas' fingers like Vandamm and Roger Thornhill at the end of North by Northwest. Jasper secretly idolized Cary Grant. Atlas finally scooted out a bit from under the bench, brandishing a pocket watch.

“Its 11 in the morning Jasper.”

It certainly was not. Jasper knew that for a fact because eleven was a real time. As opposed to now, which was certainly some sort of purgatorial intermediary state between sleep and daytime. He realized that he should have just put his face under his espresso machine and let it pour into his mouth for about ten minutes before he left. If nothing else, it would have given him more energy to be enraged at Atlas.

Atlas was finally struggling from under the bench, poking his head out like a giant, wooden-shelled turtle. He looked nervous. Good. That pleased Jasper inordinately.

“You look like Doctor Who, I didn’t even know you had a scarf that actually served the purpose of a scarf.”

Actually, he was not nervous enough. Jasper tugged at the scarf uncomfortably, making sure it was still bunched up around his neck. The last thing he needed was some smart arsed comment from Atlas about the marks. He'd kick him in the face. He was feeling mean, but not bone breaking mean. Plus then he'd have to do more healing spells, and that hadn't gone especially well yesterday. He didn't think he could stand someone else bleeding on him. Especially near these shoes. A man in a remote part of the Italian Alps had handmade them for Jasper. He was ninety seven years old, there wouldn't be many more pairs.

“Did you fix the wrist?”

Atlas was giving him a rather arch look for a man who was huddled under a bench, surrounded by poorly drawn circus scenes. Jasper often wondered what went on in Atlas' mind. Apparently much of it involved clowns and dancing elephants. That explained some things. First things first. He leaned over and plucked the watch from Atlas' pocket and placed it on the floor.

"It's--" Stomp. "Six--" stomp, stomp, gratifying crunch--"fif--"heel grind, sprockets bouncing off Atlas' nose--"teen."

He considered stooping so he could glare more effectively, but decided that the imperious, arms-crossed stance conveyed his feelings of disdain more clearly.

"I don't know who Dr. Who is, but I'm going to benevolently suppose that was a compliment instead of punting you on the forehead. You're being awfully judgmental for a man who spent the night drawing a trapeze artist on your floor in a drunken stupor."

He paused and tapped his foot. "And I did fix the wrist. I believe you promised me an explanation for that when you brought my 'toy' home last night?" He nudged Atlas again with his toe. "Get up, I know you're hungover, I want to see the wincing."

At the mention of the scarf Jasper baulked visibly hands coming up abruptly to pull at the material. Atlas eyes watched the movements of his hands, it was easier than looking at his face but the quick movements made his eyes cross and his head throb further. There was something wrong; he blinked trying to get his eyes to focus long enough to determine what it was. It looked as if he was trying to construct a noose, Atlas craned his neck, no beams on the ceiling…and the scarf really wasn’t long enough anyway. Jasper’s hands returned to a folded position across his chest. His fingers clenching into fists and staying that way while he glowered down and Atlas from his higher vantage point.

Jasper’s knees bent and for a moment Atlas imagined he might be preparing to crouch set them both on eye level, on even ground for the oncoming lecture. Instead Jasper’s nimble fingers lifted Atlas pocket watch from where he had carelessly place it on the floor. This was bad…Jasper hated time. Atlas hadn’t really known it was possible to hate an abstract construct before meeting Jasper. He should try and save the watch, spare it from whatever terrible fate it would no doubt come to at the jeweler’s hands. But his muscles were cramped and slow to even consider moving.

He winced when Jaspers foot came down on the timepiece. "It's--" Stomp. "Six--" stomp, stomp, gratifying crunch--"fif--"heel grind, sprockets bouncing off Atlas' nose--"teen." He drew back when one of the hands bounced off his nose. 6:15? Well that was just impossible, Jasper simply didn’t exist at 6:15…Atlas would have checked his watch in order to correct Jasper but, one of the rotors rolled, bumped into his hand and feel flat, no way of doing so now. He would just have to take Jasper’s word for it. If it was 6:15 and Jasper was here, fully clothed things were in the high end of trouble. Hovering around ruining new boots.

I don't know who Dr. Who is, but I'm going to benevolently suppose that was a compliment instead of punting you on the forehead. You're being awfully judgmental for a man who spent the night drawing a trapeze artist on your floor in a drunken stupor.

Yes that was true he supposed. Atlas scuttled backwards to get a better look at his doodles. They were rather good though, especially the little monkey playing the accordion on the popcorn machine. The sound of Jasper’s foot tapping an angry rhythm on the floor was much louder in Atlas ears than he would have thought humanly possible. It jumbled his thoughts and stopped his appraisal of the artwork.

And I did fix the wrist. I believe you promised me an explanation for that when you brought my 'toy' home last night? Toy? What was Jasper talking about? Atlas thought back, sending his brain into temporary overdrive. He had the gist of what had transpired but the specifics…oh…he had referred to Cal by his function when handing him off to Jasper. Anymore of the conversation was sent back into storage when Jasper poked him again, like some child trying to wake up an ape at the zoo. Get up, I know you're hung-over, I want to see the wincing..

“Sadist.” Atlas mumbled glumly setting his limbs in order before carefully crawling out from under the table. Standing caused several vertebras to crack uncomfortably; he stumbled when the blood rushing from his head traveled downwards, he caught himself on the edge of the table. Making sure he was steady before bringing his hands up and grinding the heels of his hands into his eyelids. “It’s your fault you know.” Hands still over his eyes he shifted his head to where he knew Jasper to be standing. “You said I should talk to him, I’d like him. Well tried both…not under the best circumstances I grant you…” Atlas let his hands fall, both them coming to rest on the table edge, he kneaded the wood with his palms. He wondered what Cal had said, the specifics, the man had been in a right and proper state when Atlas had left him but he had had hours to recover. In the end he decided that Cal’s version didn’t matter.

“Calixtus came across me making my Tuesday night rounds, we had a brief discussion in which we discussed the nature of outward appearances which culminated in,” It definitely to early for this. The light in the room was dim but not dim enough and just thinking about the porn, his stomach lurched and Atlas was glad that he had nothing to eat recently. “In, an event of a sexual nature. You should really screen his media.” The last bit was said with complete seriousness.

Atlas inhaled suddenly, taking a great gulp of air in and then yawning a moment later. “Both of us felt off put after that and in the spirit of comradely and taking your advise I asked Calixtus if he might like to join me in the time honored tradition of getting p---ed together.” There was something off about the scarf and Atlas found himself looking at it again, continuing on. “You can guess most of the rest. One comment a little to on the personal side and he explodes. I think he has an anger problem. I subdued him with the aid of a wall and my considerable bulk.” Why was it so big? Atlas eyes flicked up to Jasper, and he sighed, slouching against the table. It was digging into the back of his thighs uncomfortable; he needed to get some chairs in here. “I had him in a hold and he tried to get out. Jerked his arm, I didn’t let go and the force was such that he snapped his wrist. Fragile as it was already I should have been more careful, I wasn’t thinking. After that I brought him straight to you and.” Whatever Atlas was going to say next went completely out of his head as his eyes went back to the scarf, or more specifically what it had been hiding.

He felt his head lulling to the right. The scarf had come loose while Jasper was pulverizing Atlas pocket watch and the man had been to busy glaring at Atlas to take notice. With the fabric fallen to one side Atlas could clearly distinguish the markings ringing the exposed area of the man’s throat. Squinting he could better make out what seemed to be a thumb print and the marks left by the other digits. He looked from the marks to Jasper’s face and then back down, unblinking, processing this new information as fast as he was able to cross running it with any past experience he could imagine. His mind came back with nothing and so he finally said, voice low, “Those are new.” He almost moved to get at the article of clothing, suspicious because it was so functional and therefore so unlike Jasper but he stayed where he was fingers now digging into the table hard as he refused to break eye contact with Jasper.

“Sadist.”

Jasper's mind grated over the word. It was the last thing he wanted to hear after last night; any connection between sex and violence was more than he wanted to think about. He considered snapping something back at Atlas, but that would only raise further comment from the other man. Which he wanted even less. He rotated his toe over an errant bit of watch face and listened to the glass crunch as Atlas unfurled himself from under the work bench, sounding a bit like cooking popcorn. Jasper stood sternly still, crossing his arms.

“It’s your fault you know. You said I should talk to him, I’d like him. Well tried both…not under the best circumstances I grant you…”

Jasper wanted to point out that he'd said "Talk," rather than "Get drunk and fight like petty little children," but Atlas seemed to be prepared to illuminate further.

“Calixtus came across me making my Tuesday night rounds, we had a brief discussion in which we discussed the nature of outward appearances which culminated in..." Atlas looked rather like he wanted to vomit for a moment, and Jasper took a judicious step back, thinking again of Enzo in his tiny mountain cabin, getting older by the moment. "In, an event of a sexual nature. You should really screen his media.”

I should screen my mental friends, is what I should do. Jasper sighed, waved his hand for Atlas to continue. If he interrupted, Atlas would only get side tracked and they would end up talking about how Noel Gallagher was a Martian. Again. Jasper didn't know they got there, but they always did.

“Both of us felt off put after that and in the spirit of comradely and taking your advise I asked Calixtus if he might like to join me in the time honored tradition of getting p---ed together. You can guess most of the rest. One comment a little to on the personal side and he explodes. I think he has an anger problem. I subdued him with the aid of a wall and my considerable bulk. I had him in a hold and he tried to get out. Jerked his arm, I didn’t let go and the force was such that he snapped his wrist. Fragile as it was already I should have been more careful, I wasn’t thinking. After that I brought him straight to you and.”

Atlas was bloody staring at him. Not at him, precisely, but at his neck. He'd already made a comment about the scarf and some doctor--probably the therapist he kept telling Jasper he should see if he felt there were "unresolved problems in his relationship with Calixtus." Jasper wanted to reach up and make sure the thing was properly around his neck, but that would only draw attention to it. He wondered if Atlas had a new conspiracy theory involving scarf wearers. Probably not. He'd already have tasered Jasper if that was the case. Atlas was tilting his head now, absurdly interested in Jasper's neck, and he had a sinking feeling that the scarf was not at all hiding what it was supposed to. F--k.

“Those are new.” Atlas looked down, then up and straight into Jasper's eyes. Jasper saw his fingers twitch on the edge of the table then clench there more tightly. He reached up and pulled at the scarf, wrapping it until it almost touched his chin.

"How astute of you to notice. Would you prefer to make your snide comments about abuse now, or later, after you explain your own inappropriately violent tendencies?"

He paused and rubbed his eyes, fingertips on the arches of his eyebrows. Tired tired tired. Furious. His mind struggled past the desire to just go home before Atlas asked something else awkward. It would happen eventually, Atlas had a particular gift for it. But this thing between him and Cal really needed to stop. Jasper was sick of playing the intermediary; he lacked sympathy as it was, this feud was really making him scrape the bottom of the barrel of emotion.

"I've got a lot of questions for you, Caedmon. First of all, why did you think it would be even remotely appropriate to discuss my sex life with Cal? Second, how did you decide it was fair to fight with him? I mean, honestly, Atlas, that's like me fighting Daphne. It's just ridiculously one sided. Third, why've you got the outline of a clown smudged onto your face?"

He paused again, gathered himself and made sure the scarf was in place. "I've had enough of the two of you. It's annoying. Neither of you is stupid, you should be able to figure out that you'd be better off just leaving one another alone. Or, if that fails, you could at least consider that I'd be better off if you left each other alone. I'm going to chuck the pair of you soon and leave you with each other. You fight like an old married couple anyway."

Jasper didn’t flinch but what he did do was unfurl and redo the scarf with a speed that Atlas really only ever saw from him when he was trying to rapidly conceal contraband. Which, Atlas supposed he was doing in a way. How astute of you to notice. Would you prefer to make your snide comments about abuse now, or later, after you explain your own inappropriately violent tendencies?. Atlas’s eyebrows drew together and moved downward and then made a sound of displeasure. Did Jasper imagine that he might find the situation funny? Jasper’s hands came up to rub at his eyes, which upon further inspection had faint circles under them, only a slight discoloration, but enough to be vaguely noticeable. Taking advantage of Jasper’s lack of ocular ability Atlas scanned over any visible skin, not entirely sure what he was looking for. A quick investigation produced no other signs of ill use, he would have tried to look again but Jasper had finished with his eyes and was back to looking at him.

I've got a lot of questions for you, Caedmon.. Atlas let go of the table, sure if his hands stayed flush against the un-sanded wood much longer he would end up with all manner of splinters. He crossed them over his chest effectively mirror Jasper’s current stance and posture. First of all, why did you think it would be even remotely appropriate to discuss my sex life with Cal? Second, how did you decide it was fair to fight with him? I mean, honestly, Atlas, that's like me fighting Daphne. It's just ridiculously one sided. Third, why've you got the outline of a clown smudged onto your face? At the third question Atlas turned, much too quickly, winced and flailed on the table top blindly before producing a cooling tray. Not a perfect mirror image but the bottom of the pan reflected enough for him to take note of a rather sinister looking white faced, red nosed man with hooked teeth leering back at him in the wibly metal. Agitated he jammed a hand into the nearest non acidic liquid, a think watery solution meant as a coolant, and scrubbed at the drawing until all that remained was a bit of white pigment.

He dropped the tray unceremoniously, wiped his hand along the outside of his jacket, which also appeared to be covered in various visions from his Cal induced nightmares. I've had enough of the two of you. It's annoying. Neither of you is stupid, you should be able to figure out that you'd be better off just leaving one another alone. Or, if that fails, you could at least consider that I'd be better off if you left each other alone. I'm going to chuck the pair of you soon and leave you with each other. You fight like an old married couple anyway.

The hanging meat on doodled onto his breast pocket was particularly disturbing, he should make another appointment with Nick. He began rubbing at the discolorations on his coat, his voice taking on a sort of lecturing quality used for teaching college lectures, not for speaking to friends, “I wasn’t discussing your sex life per se.” He couldn’t look at Jasper. “But I rather think I had better advise to give than Vulgar the Clown and,” He struggled to remember the bold print headlines strewn over the box, “Squeezy and Honky and the Lube Shoot Duo.” He looked up and jabbed a finger into Jasper’s chest lightly. “Which is really saying something.”

“Second: He attacked me. Yes that explanation is wearing thin, I understand that but the point remains. How many people have made you angry in your life? Do you go about beating at them. The force was excessive.”Why do you make excuses for him? Atlas pressed his lips together in a fine line before continuing. “His wrist was an accident, I wouldn’t torture someone Jasper you know me well enough to know that.” A cursory examination of his jacket showed no more doodles and once he was satisfied most of the caulk dust distractions were gone he looked back at Jasper.

“Now listen.” He almost hesitated, giving Jasper any sort of direct command for even simple things could end in the other man throwing up his hands and walking away. He kept his voice steady and eyes on Jasper. “Firstly,” He counted off on a finger. “I gave Calixtus a certain degree of advise, at no time did I suggest asphyxiation games as a wholesome form of recreation. Secondly, what else does he find amusing? And when did you start to think it was amusing….your….” Atlas faltered hand moving to rub the bruise on his face, “You’re wearing a scarf for Merlin’s sake Jasper! A scarf! You don’t wear scarves, you don’t…” Atlas shook his head and made a stabbing motion at his eyes with his right hand. “You don’t see it do you?”

“And I’m sorry and…” He realized he had been yelling, something his voice was unused to and the bemused lilt that he had carefully knitted into his speech at 10 years old had disappeared completely on the word ‘firstly’. He bit the inside of his cheek and watch Jasper defiantly.

"I rather think I had better advise to give than Vulgar the Clown and Squeezy and Honky and the Lube Shoot Duo.”

Jasper had one lucid thought after those words, which was "I am choking on my own saliva." After that, his mind switched to shrieking "What?! WHAT?!?!" in various horrified tones. He thought he could go on like that for approximately six hours if he was left alone. Mercifully, Atlas continued speaking. Well, maybe that wasn't merciful. But at least it distracted Jasper from the crippling horror that he'd felt when the word "lube" came out of Atlas' mouth. He wondered exactly how much he would need to drink before he forgot that, or if he should just pour the alcohol directly onto his brain in an attempt to sear the memory away.

“Second: He attacked me. Yes that explanation is wearing thin, I understand that but the point remains...His wrist was an accident, I wouldn’t torture someone Jasper you know me well enough to know that.”

That was true. Whatever Atlas had done to Cal, it came from honest anger. Which Cal had probably done a lot to inspire; Atlas was usually so easy-going. This was by far the most dramatic disagreement he and Jasper had had in over a decade of friendship, and it had barely even included raised voices. Atlas most definitely didn't have the capacity for torture, or even malice. He'd once told Jasper that he kept the lobster bandits around because otherwise they would be homeless and they didn't have the money to go home to Guadalajara.

“Now listen.”

Jasper immediately resisted listening. He resisted instructions of all kinds. The absolute worst way to get Jasper to do something was to tell him he should do it. Wendell had told him fourth year to pick up his shoe because Will had tripped over it. Jasper had picked it up, chucked it at Wendell, and refused to speak to him for three days. And Wendell had been nice about it. Unlike Atlas, who had on a face like Jasper's mother giving him a lecture about how he was practically a mummy and would never have children if he didn't get married within the week. Atlas was looking a little guilty about the order, as though he had realized it was a bad idea.

“Firstly,” He counted off on a finger. “I gave Calixtus a certain degree of advise, at no time did I suggest asphyxiation games as a wholesome form of recreation. Secondly, what else does he find amusing? And when did you start to think it was amusing….your….”

Atlas reached up, as though he wanted to touch Jasper's neck, and Jasper recoiled. He felt like he would snap off Atlas' finger if it touched him. Atlas was yelling. In a tone very different from when he was overexcited and yelled about how he knew who had actually shot President Garfield. Jasper wasn't sure he'd ever heard this voice before. It made him utterly furious. He felt his nails dig into his skin through the fabric of his jacket.

“You’re wearing a scarf for Merlin’s sake Jasper! A scarf! You don’t wear scarves, you don’t…” Atlas shook his head and made a stabbing motion at his eyes with his right hand. “You don’t see it do you?And I’m sorry and…”

Atlas dropped his voice finally, even though he was still looking directly at Jasper. All this was much too assertive for Atlas. He actually thinks-- It was absurd. Utterly ridiculous. Last night had been a fluke, a result of the fight with Atlas and their fight the night before and Jasper's own refusal to say what he wanted. Nothing more. Nothing more.

"D'you know what, Atlas?" Jasper took a step forward, voice slowly escalating. "I wish everyone would stop bloody telling me how sorry they were and just stop f--king acting like idiots. Don't ever tell me to listen. I'll listen to who I want to, and right now it's certainly not you and your absurd excuses and mad ideas about Cal."

He took another step forward now, breaking the line of space appropriate between friends. "As for these--" He snatched the scarf off his neck. "There, look! Satisfy your morbid curiosity about it. For the record, I do bloody wear scarves. This one is Hermes, I've owned it for three years."

Another step, practically touching Atlas now. His throat felt rough. "It wasn't f--king amusing. At all. And you're not without responsibility in the entire debacle that was my day and night. But he's not. Bloody. Abusive!"

He'd shouted the last word. Jasper hardly ever shouted. But he found that when he did, he sometimes had a hard time stopping, as though he'd been saving it all up.

"Stop making up things you don't know anything about, Atlas! Stop talking to Cal, stop seeing each other unless one of you can grow the f--k up! Which, if I'm being honest, I highly doubt will ever happen given your prior behavior. So just leave each other alone, before you drive me out of my bloody mind! I don't care if he "attacked" you. Charm him still and leave, don't snap his sodding limbs off then dump him on my doorstep! I'm not your personal damage control!"

Jasper took a step back, horrified at himself. This was why he didn't like to be angry. It wasn't controlled. It was ugly and foolish and he said and did things he felt terrible about later. He was breathing hard, but forced himself into a normal tone of voice. The scarf was hot, prickling wool against his clenched fingers.

"And what are you on about clowns?"

They regarded each other for what felt like an excruciatingly long time. Neither saying anything, it was like an obscene pantomime of blinking competitions one might play as children. Jasper’s face as screwed up funny like it didn’t know which expression would be appropriate attire for the situation. For a moment all the muscles went entirely slack and Atlas was convinced Jasper would just turn on his heel and stalk out, but then Jasper came to a decision and his entire body followed. D'you know what, Atlas? With his head down and his eyes turned upwards Jasper very much resembled the boy from the omen, right after he killed his mother. I wish everyone would stop bloody telling me how sorry they were and just stop f--king acting like idiots. Don't ever tell me to listen. I'll listen to who I want to, and right now it's certainly not you and your absurd excuses and mad ideas about Cal.

Jasper was advancing, his voice raising steadily, his shoulder blades squared and stiff under the cut of his jacket. Atlas might have thought to step back, if there had been anything but a table behind him. He had known that trying to make Jasper do something as simple as hear him out had been a gamble. Jasper was about as receptive to instruction as a cat. Jasper was still shouting and the expression he made when he did so was completely alien, a contortion of his usual features. He was very close now. His presence threatening. As for these, The scarf was gone a moment later, There, look! Satisfy your morbid curiosity about it. With the scarf gone and Jasper so close Atlas didn’t have to look very hard. All ten digits present and accounted for, when Jasper swallowed the two distinct thumbprints swelled and bobbed along with his Adams apple.

It was obscene, Atlas jerked his head away, looking first away and then down. He watched Jasper’s boots take a step closer, he could feel the other mans breath on his face when Jasper continued. Still loud, It wasn't f--king amusing. At all. With considerable effort Atlas looked back at Jasper, almost jumped when he realized just how close his friend was standing. And you're not without responsibility in the entire debacle that was my day and night.

At the conclusion of his statement Jasper took in a deep breath, elongating his body to its full height and bellowed. But he's not. Bloody. Abusive! They were fighting, the realization came upon him rather suddenly. What were you supposed to do when you were fighting? Stop making up things you don't know anything about, Atlas!. I’m not. He retorted and it took a moment for Atlas to realize he hadn’t said it aloud. It wouldn’t matter anyway, Jasper was postulating in a stream words that were certainly meant to wound, meant to put a stop to Atlas. He stopped listening. Tuning the words to a different frequency but still watching Jasper warily.

It passed, Atlas had a notion of what Jasper had demanded and really in the scheme of things it wasn’t entirely unreasonable. Jasper’s narrow chest was heaving; he seemed to become aware of the minimal space between them and took a sudden fluid step backwards. His knuckles were white where they clutched the scarf.

And what are you on about clowns?

This elicited a frown as for a moment Atlas had no idea what to make of the sudden change in topic. “The porn Jasper.” His stomach seized and he leaned forward slightly to ease the pressure. “The porn that Calixtus had, he said it was some sort of learning implement and I….I don’t want to know.” It was a phrase he found himself with very little use for in his day to day life but the things one could learn from circus porn had made it onto that list with the speed to turn back time. “I suggested maybe he should talk to Will if he wanted advice, its…. its none of my business.”

He crossed one leg in front of the other and stooped his shoulders; crossing his arms in a defensive gesture and found himself looking at Jasper’s neck. “If it wasn’t amusing then why did you let him do it? There are,” He counted off in his head until he reached 230 examples. “Countless ways you could have stopped it. You’re a wizard for f—ks sakes!” The anger was coming back but Atlas tried his best to not let his voice raise to much. “Is this about keeping people happy? Being the peacekeeper? And where do you come off blaming me? You get your ass handed to you and that becomes my fault? For God’s sakes Jasper,” He was desperate and out of sorts. He didn’t talk like this, he didn’t do this.

Clown porn? Crack dealer clown porn? Jasper had a momentary flash of horror. Perhaps Atlas had been right all along. Maybe Cal was completely wrong for him. Jasper could not think of anything he would want to see less in porn than clowns. He hated clowns, they were awful and badly dressed and not at all funny. He felt like he might be sick.

“I suggested maybe he should talk to Will if he wanted advice, its…. its none of my business."

Well, obviously not, but you commented anyway. Jasper wondered at what point Atlas had come to that conclusion. Apparently after they'd had their detailed conversation about sex positions. Maybe Atlas didn't really understand the meaning of "none of my business." He had trouble with basic concepts like that sometimes, since he was bloody mental. Other examples: understanding that Cal was not Dr. No, why you didn't need to cook instant pudding, lemurs.

Atlas shifted positions and moved on, as though he had not just A: told Jasper his boyfriend spent his free time watching weird, deviant films about the circus and B: then suggested that he take advice from possibly the most inappropriate person in history, who said boyfriend was also incredibly suspicious of. Personally, Jasper would have liked to dwell on at least one of these concepts a bit more, at least to resolve the feeling that his head was going to explode from the overwhelming bulk of information he was receiving. But Atlas plowed on through his private celebration of "Enrage Jasper Day." Hopefully there would at least be fireworks later.

“If it wasn’t amusing then why did you let him do it?" He was looking at Jasper's neck again, and he suddenly wished he hadn't taken the scarf off. Now he was just an object of pity, for Atlas of all people. It made him feel vaguely slimy and repugnant. "There are countless ways you could have stopped it. You’re a wizard for f—ks sakes!”

What? Atlas had his voice raised again, out of nowhere. He seemed like he was personally affronted by the problems between Cal and Jasper. It was none of his business. Jasper hadn't come over to talk to him about couples' counseling. Atlas was the one who needed to be sorted out here, not him. This was just absurd. He considered leaving, but decided he wasn't done with Atlas yet. He was going to bloody well listen to reason.

“Is this about keeping people happy? Being the peacekeeper? And where do you come off blaming me? You get your ass handed to you and that becomes my fault? For God’s sakes Jasper."

"Don't talk to me like a child, Caedmon." The words snapped out cold and level. He wasn't shouting. Yet. "I didn't 'get my ass handed to me.' Obviously there were a thousand ways I could have stopped Cal. Hell, I could have broken his f--king wrist again, that seems to be pretty effective, doesn't it?"

He'd thought that speaking might help him calm down, but it had the opposite effect. He could actually hear himself getting angry, the blood wooshing up through his ears. "But I didn't, because I'm a wizard! What d'you want me to do, agree that I should have just Crucioed him? Unlike you, I don't find it acceptable to beat up on people who can't fight back!" He retraced his step forward, sneering. "I guess that's being the peacekeeper. Acting like a f--king adult. Sometimes part of that is not doing what you want."

He wheeled back and turned away from Atlas for a minute before facing him again, a new wave of anger washing over him. Everything in the room but the man across from him felt impossibly distant and blurred. Atlas was being unreasonable. Of course some of this was his fault. He had a gift for antagonism like no one Jasper had ever met.

"But it's totally impossible for you to understand that, because you're such a f--king child about everything! You and Cal both! This is some of your fault because you couldn't grow the f--k up long enough to realize that you shouldn't have gone out and gotten pissed with someone you hate. It's Cal's too, and maybe some of it is mine, but don't get up on some pious high horse with me about how I'm not making good decisions in my life, because you're the one getting into pub fights over nothing."

"You'd better bloody well get your act together." His voice dropped coldly. "You can't act like this forever, Atlas. Not everything is a conspiracy, you can't go off accusing people on a whim, you're going to end up hurting someone innocent."

Darien. Once he said it, he realized how terrible it was. Every ounce of rage left his body and he felt like collapsing. "S--t. Sorry. God, that wasn't about--s--t. Atlas, I'm so sorry. It's just, you wouldn't understand this--" gesture at his neck-- "I'm sure Hellena wasn't--we were so young when you two--it was much simpler. Christ."

He found a chair that didn't look possessed and sat down, head in his hands. He was as bad as Atlas and Cal now, destroying everything.

Anything further that Atlas might have had to say on the matter was cut off by Jasper, Don't talk to me like a child, Caedmon. That was as far as Jasper was going to let him go the cold quiet cadence in his voice made that fact perfectly clear. What had a few minutes before been unfiltered rage this was a quieter sort of malice, and one Atlas was slightly more familiar with from Jasper. I didn't 'get my ass handed to me.' Obviously there were a thousand ways I could have stopped Cal. Hell, I could have broken his f--king wrist again, that seems to be pretty effective, doesn't it? As he repeated Atlas Jasper’s voice took on a deadened tone which Atlas could only assume had been meant to imitate his voice. It wasn’t a poor imitation really. Had Jasper not looked as if interrupting might result in some kind of horrific disfigurement Atlas might have taken the time to point that out, as it was Jasper was barreling on.

But I didn't, because I'm a wizard! What d'you want me to do, agree that I should have just Crucioed him? Unlike you, I don't find it acceptable to beat up on people who can't fight back! And then Jasper was in his face again, his lip curling back unpleasantly. I guess that's being the peacekeeper. Acting like a f--king adult. Sometimes part of that is not doing what you want.. Actually, Atlas mused, that was rather what adult hood was all about. Doing things not because someone had told you to do them, and not because you thought that it would make someone happy, you did them because they made you happy, because you wanted to do them. Being an adult was about choosing your own actions, for yourself uninfluenced by others. Jasper should realize that more than anyone, he had always gotten what he wanted and did what he wanted and was perfectly used to people following in the wake of his decisions.

Typically Atlas saw no reason not to comply with that mode of thinking. Content to just ride along after whatever decision Jasper had come to, but he had never thought Jasper was wrong. Not really at least. The mention of the unforgivable seemed a bit on the extreme end of the spectrum, Jasper using the unpleasant word with the even more unpleasant connotations to get a point across. Jasper was painting him as a thug and a bully, two images outside of Atlas’s nature. He thought about the encounters he and Cal had had, thought about how much worse they might have been had Jasper’s assertions been correct. The memory of Cal chocking and coughing and pleading with Atlas to let him go surfaced and the thoughts faltered.

The air whooshed when Jasper turned away and Atlas imagined that when he looked back he would find the man’s back retreating as Jasper bounded out of the workshop. His anger would have settled in a few days and then everything would settle. Jasper wouldn’t forget but he would calm down and the anger would dissipate. Jasper wasn’t really capable of holding anger for to long, it was something incompatible with the rest of his being. But then he looked up and Jasper was still there, eyes narrowed to slits.

But it's totally impossible for you to understand that, because you're such a f--king child about everything! You and Cal both! This is some of your fault because you couldn't grow the f--k up long enough to realize that you shouldn't have gone out and gotten pissed with someone you hate. It's Cal's too, and maybe some of it is mine, but don't get up on some pious high horse with me about how I'm not making good decisions in my life, because you're the one getting into pub fights over nothing.

I don’t hate Cal. and as soon as he thought it Atlas realized it wasn’t true. It had been a very long time since he had actively hated someone. Since the mere thought or mention of someone had been enough to make the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, but Cal had somehow done it. But it wasn’t over nothing, he didn’t just hate him, there were reasons. Reasons he couldn’t prove by and large but reasons, why would he hate someone if he had no cause to? Then again what evidence did he really have against Cal besides a few scattered notes and a nagging feeling at the back of his head? He got nagging feelings all the time. Every time he heard a bird singing at night, or whenever he passed a shop window dummy.

You’d better bloody well get your act together. You can't act like this forever, Atlas. Not everything is a conspiracy, you can't go off accusing people on a whim, you're going to end up hurting someone innocent.

And oh did that hurt. Atlas sagged against the table, as far back from Jasper as was possible in the cramped room. It was one of Jasper’s often-unused abilities. It was like he could see the fault lines in a person, all the little cracks and insecurities and then exploit them, physical, mental Jasper knew exactly where to apply pressure. Atlas swallowed uncomfortably and for a moment had to remind himself that no matter how similar the stone floors and dim lighting he was home, in his workshop and not in the department with Darien Holywells dead eyes starring back up at him.

S—t. Sorry. He didn’t look at Jasper. The floor was very interesting after all. God, that wasn’t about—s—t. Atlas, I’m so sorry. Atlas wanted to be angry, really he wanted to be anything that might let him double back the hurt onto Jasper, but he couldn’t come up with anything. Maybe this was why they didn’t fight. It’s just,. Atlas looked up, head aimed in Jasper’s direction but he made a point to look past him, still able to make out his feature in his periphery vision. You wouldn’t understand this. Jasper drew attention to his throat again and Atlas shook his head, the motion stopping when Jasper kept talking. I'm sure Hellena wasn't--we were so young when you two--it was much simpler. Christ.

Jasper moved away and Atlas was grateful for the space. He stayed withdrawn, head tucked down against his chest. “She…”His breath hitched and he stopped. “Its never simple.” He concluded finally.

He scooted to the left and then sank down against the table. Rump resting on the floor while he leaned against one of the table legs he placed his hands behind his head and breathed out. “It’s alright Jasper. Its fine.” Anything else he might say would sound like an excuse, an explanation for behavior that Jasper had already decided had no explanation. “I can’t make him fit.” He unclasped his hands and mimed a rubix cube in the space in front of him. “Because I can’t think straight long enough to do it, and every time I think I have something another little fact comes up and it falls apart. Apophenia, seeing patterns or connections in random or meaningless data. Calixtus was the first person I saw after the ministry. Maybe I mistook what was actual sincerity for something else..” He looked where he knew Jasper tended to keep his wand. “I feel like a f—king cripple Jasper and maybe I’ve just been deflecting that blame to Calixtus. Because he’s smaller, because he can’t fight back, because he had the unfortunate chance of being someone I didn’t really like to being with. Your right, not everything is a conspiracy, I’m sorry. I… your right.”

Atlas looked totally dejected, and Jasper felt awful. It was bad enough he'd said so many (true but horribly unwarranted) things. And then he'd just had to mention Hellena. That was the taboo topic with Atlas; he'd been devastated when their relationship had ended. It had been a shame, really. Jasper had liked her a lot, and she'd helped Atlas be...less like Atlas, in a way. Whatever else he'd said was true, but he knew that mentioning Hellena had been incredibly low, even for someone with morals as loose as his own. Atlas sat against on the table across from him, body collapsing inward.

“It’s alright Jasper. Its fine.”

It probably wasn't. Jasper was good enough at appeasing people that he knew those words always meant anything but fine. But they also weren't ones that should be questioned. Usually the speaker intended them to cut off the conversation.

“I can’t make him fit.' Who? Oh, Cal of course. Atlas made some strange gesture with his hands “Because I can’t think straight long enough to do it, and every time I think I have something another little fact comes up and it falls apart. Apophenia, seeing patterns or connections in random or meaningless data. Calixtus was the first person I saw after the ministry. Maybe I mistook what was actual sincerity for something else.."

It struck Jasper that Atlas never used Cal's nickname. Maybe it made Cal too human, too much the way Jasper saw him. Calling him Calixtus made him something strange, foreign and formal and able to be thought of as Atlas did. Jasper never thought of him as Calixtus; he'd been Cal from the moment at his birthday party when Mr. Ferox had seemed entirely too formal for someone staggering against walls. Atlas glanced up at Jasper, staring somewhere near the center of his chest, and it took Jasper a moment to realize he was studying the pocket where he habitually kept his wand, inside his jacket. Odd. Maybe it was easier than looking Jasper in the face, since he'd been a complete bastard so recently. The muscles in Atlas' face tightened uncomfortably.

“I feel like a f—king cripple Jasper and maybe I’ve just been deflecting that blame to Calixtus. Because he’s smaller, because he can’t fight back, because he had the unfortunate chance of being someone I didn’t really like to being with. Your right, not everything is a conspiracy, I’m sorry. I… your right.”

Normally, Jasper loved to hear "You're right." They might have been his favorite words. But this time he felt like he'd pummeled Atlas into submission. He was glad that Atlas had come to some kind of realization about his accusations, but he hadn't wanted to make him utterly miserable in the process. It might have been better if he'd come over later; definitely a judgement error there.

"I'm really sorry, Atlas. About Scotland and--everything. I wish I could have done more to help. And thanks for trying, with Cal. I know how you feel about him, and how hard everything is right now. I talked to him too--just don't see each other anymore, please."

He stood and reached a hand out to Atlas. "Why don't you come over for drinks tomorrow night? Just something normal. That's mostly what I'd like right now."