xp_logs | Sam and Jay, Thanksgiving weekend

Backdated to Saturday, November 27th. Back home, Jay gets roped into performing with his band at a fair. Sam watches the show, and speaks with Jay afterwards. They snark, they mock, but they actually really talk, too. Sam also decides that it would be best to stay at the farm for a little while instead of returning to school with Jay.

So Manuelo had lied. He and the boys weren't actually planning on a random jam session Saturday night. They actually had a gig and wanted to rope Jay into playing with them. He'd reluctantly agreed, and they played their set at the county fairgrounds for the annual Thanksgiving weekend fair. It was a good time, Jay had to admit, being back on stage and playing for a crowd who had missed the old band. Thankfully, no one said anything about the wings, and any whispers or rumors about Jay circulating through the audience didn't get back to him. Once their set ended, the boys began breaking down their instrument, heedless of anybody around them.

"Ya sounded good up there," Sam said quietly as he leaned against the bottom of the stage, near where Jay was disconnecting one of the amps. "Has Al tried to rope you into playing with the student band yet?" Talking about Alison brought a slight twinge of worry across his face, but he smiled gently, hoping that Jay would take the olive branch he was offering.

Startled, Jay looked over his shoulder to see who was talking to him. And he managed to not roll his eyes when he spotted Sam. "Thanks. And naw, she hasn't talked me into nuthin'. Ah don't think mah style would really fit in with 'em anyway." The 'I'm better than they are' was left unsaid.

Sam shrugged. "Ah get the feelin' that they don't much have any one 'style'. Ah mean, they've got Terry, who's got that whole Irish harp thing goin', and Jamie'd probably play anythin' with a good beat on the drums, and Doug keeps moanin' about how he wishes there were enough good singers to make some kinda a cappella group." Trying to maintain his steady smile, he added "'Sides, from the way you look up there, Ah 'spect you kinda miss playin'."

"Ah am enough singers ta make an a cappella group," Jay pointed out, still not looking at his brother. "We wouldn't mesh, Ah don't think. Even with Jono all e'sploded which leaves open a guitar player, Ah ain't just one. Ah'm a singer, and it don't seem ta me that Doug's willin' ta give that up for no one." He left Sam's last comment alone, because it was true, and he wasn't about to give Sam the satisfaction of knowing that.

At least he was talking. That was a start, Sam was inclined to think. He could tell Jay still wasn't entirely comfortable around him, but talking was good. "Ah can't really speak to what Doug may or may not be willin' to do. Don't know him all that well, but Ah imagine he might be a bit more receptive than you might think. He don't strike me as all that selfish." He carefully skirted the subject of Jono's incorporeal state, as well as its effect on Paige.

"Iffn he'd relegate himself ta just backup, as if Ah really needed backup anyway, then Ah'd consider it." Picky picky. It was Jay's way of saying that no, he doesn't like the idea, but at least he won't dismiss it immediately. A big step forward in Guthrie brother relationships, surely. "Y'all gotta be selfish iffn ya wanna be a real rock star."

"Ah dunno about that," Sam replied. "Don't seem like Al's all that selfish, and she was pretty successful." He tried to tamp down on the irritation that spiked up at Jay's pickiness. They were talking, and that was good, Sam reminded himself. Continually thinking about Alison also led to him worrying about how she was doing, which furthered his frustration.

"How much're ya willin' ta bet that she was a whole 'nother person way back when?" He passed the wire from one amp to Manuelo and set to disconnecting another. "And as much as Ah like her and her style, this is a whole different kinda sound here. None of that bubbegum stuff. Different music, different attitudes."

"'That bubblegum stuff' sure seemed to be popular back in the day," Sam stopped just short of retorting hotly. "Not quite my style, but that don't mean ya gotta just dismiss it offhand." He didn't quite understand why he was so irritated when Jay was at least making an effort to talk and communicate. Most likely just his worry over Alison's condition.

"Ah ain't makin' no judgement 'bout that kinda music, Sam," Jay said defensively, shrugging. "Different artists gotta be different people dependin' on their styles and needs. Ya ain't gonna find no Black Sabbath fan talkin' about how beautiful ya really are on the inside. Unless it's a song about fuckin'," he added as an afterthought.

Sam chuckled, thinking about Jono's taste in music. "That's probably true," he allowed. "Ah'm just sayin' maybe give Al and the rest of 'em a shot. They might surprise ya. Or at the very least find some way to keep playin', as it seems to make ya so happy."

"Ah play just fine on mah own. Sometimes Ah jam with Jamie or Terry just for shits and giggles. That keeps me happy enough. Iffn these freaks back here," Manuelo let out an indignant 'Hey!' at that, "Were to suddenly become mutants and came to school, then Ah'd be interested in a band." Jay sighed. "What keeps me happy is knowin' that as soon as Ah can get mah ass outta Xavier's, the four of us here are gonna be together again and get ourselves a deal."

Sam envied Jay in a way. So assured of what he wanted from life and how to get it. "Might be Al could help ya with that," he said softly. "What with startin' her own record label and such. Couldn't hurt to ask, at least." He tucked his thumbs in his belt loops, at a loss for what to do with his hands.

"Ah was kinda thinkin' that, actually," Jay admitted. "So long as she don't try ta shaft us, which doesn't seem ta be her style." With that amp done, Jay began disconnecting the microphone. "So, um, didja hear the whole thing, or only some of it?"

"Most of it," Sam said. "Ya'll sound pretty good to me." And it was the truth. Jay definitely had a talent and charisma that suited him as the lead singer. Maybe not quite as much as he thought himself, but he wasn't very far off the mark in his self-assessment.

For the life of him, Jay couldn't figure out why he was asking Sam this. He didn't care if his brother had finally seen one of his shows, or even if he liked it or not. "Thanks. We're a bit rusty, seein' as how Ah haven't been able ta practice with them since August. We're usually much better."

The honest gratitude in Jay's voice helped Sam cool down from his irrational frustration a bit. He nodded slowly. "Ah can't see why Al wouldn't be willin' to take a chance on you. She's generous that way."

Jay nodded in agreement. "That she certainly is. Ah've gotta talk it over with the guys, but Ah don't think they'd object to it none. But Ah'll haveta wait ta ask her until she's able ta actually hear stuff again. Wouldn't want ta hoodwink her into signin' us without ever hearin' us."

The reminder of Alison's current condition caused another spike of worry to cross Sam's face. She'd been doing better, and she'd been rather insistent that Sam go to visit his family for Thanksgiving rather than sitting around mothering her. It had been hard, but Alison had put her determined face on, and Sam had knocked under. It didn't stop him worrying, though.

Only a complete idiot wouldn't recognize the expression on Sam's face. Jay sighed again looked at Sam intently for a second before turning back to the mike. "She's gonna be alright, sooner than ya know it. Ah've heard plenty of rumors 'bout what Bartlet and the other docs do down in the infirmary. This is nuthin' they can't cure."

He knew that. He knew that Alison was getting better every day. The new student, Forge, had been a godsend in that regard, inventing everything the medical staff had needed to tend to Alison. But it didn't stop Sam from worrying. And none of the medical staff's efforts could cure his jealousy of Haroun, and his sadness over having fumbled away something so precious, something he had realized too late he wanted in his life. At a loss for words, Sam shrugged and nodded in response to Jay's reassurances.

Jay rolled his eyes and shook his head. Fine, if Sam didn't want any words of support (which was quite a generous thing for Jay to give, he thought), then Jay wouldn't give them. "The fellas and Ah are gonna hit up somewhere for food before we head home. Are ya headin' back soon?"

Sam paused for a moment, mulling over Jay's question, though probably not in the way he had meant it. He had forgotten how calming life at the Guthrie farm was. As if something had clicked inside him from Jay's question, he realized that maybe staying a bit longer might do him some good. "Yeah, Ah'll probably grab some food on the way home," he replied. "Ah'll tell Ma that you're plannin' to eat with the band."

"Thanks. Don't need her worryin' that Ah'm about doin' somethin' stupid," he said, none-too-spitefully. "Ah'll see ya when Ah get back then, Ah guess."

"All right," Sam said easily. "Take care and drive safe, y'hear?" he said, predicting the eye roll that Jay would give him.

And it was right on cue. "As if Ah really needed ta drive, anyway," he said, glancing at his wings. Not that Sam needed to know that Jay wasn't yet accustomed to flying at night and would sooner hit a tree than make it home. "Don't worry, Manuelo ain't no fool."

"Then Ah'll see ya when ya get home," Sam said with a nod, turning toward the parking lot and heading off.

Jay watched as Sam left. "See ya," he replied, probably not loud enough for Sam to hear, though. For the first time in a good while, he wasn't angry with his brother. Which in turn made him angry at himself. Shaking his head to try and physically force the thoughts out of his head, he finished up with the microphone and went to help the guys pack everything up.