Chapter Text
Fern hopped down from the lowest birch branch. The sound they made as they landed sounded a bit like a leaf falling from a tree, faint and oh so quiet. Fern was very fond of how sneaky they could be, how the forest helped them blend in and hide so well. Very stealth. It was unfortunate how he had to blow his cover so soon.
“Hey, Earl.”
His voice startled even himself, ringing out clearly through the otherwise quiet forest clearing.
Lemongrab looked up, starting to stand up from his seat on a fallen tree a few yards away. He looked a little miffed to be being disturbed, but more startled than anything. He was wearing casual clothes, a blue button-up and khaki shorts, something that was actually quite a rarity for the Earl. He typically wore his grey military-esque outfit, professional.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Fern whispered, raising his hands reassuringly.
He tiptoed across the clearing to be a few feet away from the Earl, who had frozen in a half-sitting, half-standing position. His normally wide eyes were even wider, following his every move.
They kneeled down next to the Earl, motioning for him to sit down as well. Lemongrab sat down, a bit defeatedly. He folded his hands in his lap, giving a small monotone hum, his clawed sugary fingers intertwining with a gritty scrape. Fern slowly, gingerly repositioned to be sitting on his heels.
“Do you remember being candy? More candy than you are now, anyway?”
“Eerrr... Yes.” The Earl’s voice was pitchy, and every word was stretched out a bit, a little overenunciated.
“We were friends.”
“We were.”
The time as a peppermint candy had damaged Fern, sure, but he did have the fond memories of his fleeting friendship with Lemongrab. These memories were a source of distress, turmoil even, but they were also comforting in a strange way. A shameful way?
His Finn-Memories told him the Earl was dangerous, his Fun-Memories told him the Earl was their friend. He couldn’t decide which one was right. He had no Fern-Memories of him.
Fern sniffed, reaching to itch his shoulder. The motion startled the Earl, and both of them froze, staring wide-eyed at each other. He let the itch fester and he rested his hands back in his lap.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Nnnnn... no, don’t apologize,” Wide-eyed, pupils shrunken to mere slits, Lemongrab looked away. He rubbed at his hands, his fingers scraping away flakes of lemon zest and sugar.
Fern watched for a moment before prompting, “Was that nice?”
“Hm?”
“Being friends.” he clarified. His voice was a little shaky, but he told himself it wasn’t. What was he if he was afraid of a pathetic lemon candy? Cowardly.
The Earl sniffed, a loud huffing and gurgling noise. Despite himself, Fern mused that sound was what jelly through a vacuum would sound like.
“I... I believe so. I think so.”
“Would you still want that?”
“I have never had any friends in this form. Friends include the sharing of mutual affection; I do not know how to attain that. Mother Princess told me that lonely was the only way I am stable.”
Fern resisted the urge to wince. He remembered that conversation, but it was a Finn-Memory. Blurry and spotty, no clarity. A brief image of a patchwork, dead-eyed Lemongrab flashed in his head, and he squeezed his eyes shut to clear it.
“I’m sure that’s not true. You were a good friend, before.”
“When I had all of my insecurities smothered by the Candy elemental magic, reducing me to nothing but a bobble-headed sugar candy.” He doesn’t sound angry or bitter, just stating the truth.
“True, true.” His hands started to twitch. He pressed them between his knees, holding them still. Excessive movements agitated the Earl, if memory served.
“If you don’t mind my asking, er...what frightens...” his attempt at talking formerly was failing, he had no idea what to say. He changed his tactic and said, in his normal speaking manner, “What scares you abou’ affection?”
The Earl squinted. He stumbled with his words a little as he explained. “Ehh... er. Touching. Gross. Touchy-feely, overwhelming. Y’know.”
“Oh.” Fern blinked, a little surprised but relieved. “You don’t have t’ touch peeps to be affectionate with them. You can use words or gifts or whatnot. I dunno.”
Fern themself was pretty affection-starved, they weren’t entirely sure how to explain how to show it. Finn and Jake would show them affection—awkward one-armed hugs, squeezing his hand, offhand compliments, but it was all very distant and awkward. Part of him knew the distance was probably deserved, but that didn't stop him from being sad about it.
“You don’t have t’ touch peeps.” he repeated, a little more unsure.
“That is how Mother Princess said that is how you do it.” Lemongrab protested, voice rising a bit in pitch, but not volume.
“Well, that’s one way to show affection.” Fern allowed, “But that’s not the only way. You just have to find what way you like the best. Or, maybe, you don’t like affection? That’s fine, too. Affection isn’t everyone’s... er...” they struggled to find the expression. “Cup o’ tea?”
The Earl hissed, slowly, through his teeth. “Okay but.”
Head tilted, prompting.
“What about my stability?”
“What abou’ it?”
“I do not wish to... repeat,” he elaborated, “My past. Their past. The past of the first two. I wish to stay out of trouble.”
Fern nodded, understandingly, his chest constricting with sympathy, “But I don’t think that friends would... drive you to that. Y’know. The way you’ve been handling the earldom is, well, impressive. The citizens seem... happy.”
“Happy?” Jelly-like tears welled, and the hand scratching slowed, the shards of lemon candy stopped flying.
“Yeah, they seem happy,” they nodded, again, his tone softening a little, “You’ve been doing great, running the earldom.”
The Earl started crying, sobbing, folding in on himself, head on his knees. Fern’s eyes widened, unsure if these were good tears or bad tears. The context implied happy, but the wails coming from Lemongrab suggested otherwise. Conflicting.
“Would you like, er...” Fern struggled to find an appropriate response to this. As Finn, this would’ve been easy. Spout some nonsense, problem solved. Almost anything Finn said with good intentions went well. As Fern, even the most well-intentioned words could flop, big time. Talking was less smooth, more jumbled, rougher.
They held out a hand, cautiously, fingers slightly curled in, trying to appear non-prying and non-threatening. “You want comfort? You good?”
There was a few more moments of wailing and sobbing and gasping for breath. Fern let their hand hover over the Earl’s head and shoulder, ready to offer comfort if the other granted permission. He didn’t want to touch him without explicit permission, it would most definitely upset him and that’s the opposite of what he wanted.
Lemongrab finally took a heaving breath and sat up. He wiped the jelly-ish tears off his face. “Excuse my stupidity,” he choked out, his voice gurgling with tears, “But what is your name?”
“Oh.” They blinked, surprised, retracting their hand back. “Fern.”
“Like the plant?”
“Heh, yeah. That was the point.”
“But you are not a fern plant,” Lemongrab pointed out, taking another bubbling inhale through his nose. “You are... grass? A cactus? Tree?”
“Kind of a mix of a grass and a tree,” Fern laughed a little. The Earl bristled a little, and they quickly clarified, “I’m not laughing at you! I’m not, I promise.”
His tense shoulders relaxed, and he took a deep breath. “I apologize for the crying. I get overwhelmed with compliments. I have never received one before.”
“What? That’s, uh... travesty.” He wasn’t sure if that was the correct way to use that word, but the Earl’s expression softened a little at hearing it. He offered, “You definitely deserve more compliments.”
“You think so?” He prompted, earnestly.
Fern felt a strange surge of fondness for the Earl. “’Course,” He offered a rare, gap-toothed grin. “So, what do you say about friends?”
“You really think I can do it without hurting anybody?”
“Of course,” They nodded, confidently. Gently, they prompted, “You don’t wanna hurt anyone, right?”
“Of course, I do not desire to harm anyone!” he insisted, clenching his hands together.
There was a brief silence.
"I would like a fresh start.” The Earl glanced away, briefly. In a questioning tone, he added, “A fresh start with... my new... friend?”
“Yes!” Fern blurted out, loudly. To his delight, the Earl didn’t flinch, he simply just offered a small smile. He drummed their fingers against their thighs, the surge of happiness bringing a surge of energy along with it. “Oh, glob, yeah.”