Kissing a Frog part 2
Jolly/Jamjars ahead.
A Banjo-Kazooie fic that was written by TheShekinah over at DA. (who has now left) All credit for the fic goes to her.
"So this's the best room in the house, punk?" Jamjars asked Jolly as he looked around the small bedroom. Jolly couldn't be sure because of the mole's dark sunglasses, but it looked as if he were eyeing Jolly's flowered bedspread skeptically.
"Yes," Jolly replied haughtily, then he decided he might as well be honest. "Although. . . it's the only room in the house."
"Oh." Jamjars' mouth drew back in a slight grimace. "Where will you sleep, then?"
Jolly shrugged. "Behind the bar, like I always do when I have a guest." Saying "always" meant that he wasn't being entirely honest, but Jolly had to draw the line somewhere. "Here," he went on, turning down the bedspread, "make yourself at home. But then, I suppose you already have." He pointed at the silo still protruding from the floor in the corner opposite the bed.
"Hunh, ya just left it here?" Jamjars went over and kicked at it. "I haven't used this thing in years! Why didn't ya tear it down?"
"I thought you might come back," said Jolly without thinking. He immediately blushed and was glad his back was turned so Jamjars couldn't see. He began fluffing the bed's pillow with a vengeance as a distraction.
Too late. "Eh? Why'd ya think I'd come back? And why'd that stop ya from fillin' in the silo, anyway?"
Jolly covered the slip with a joke, spoken with dry seriousness. "I was hoping for a good game of Whack-a-Mole-- I keep a mallet under my bed."
To Jolly's credit, Jamjars actually snickered. "No, really, punk."
The frog had to think about that one. Why hadn't he ever filled in the silo? One answer was that he just hadn't ever gotten around to it, but there had to be a reason for that too: he certainly kept the rest of the inn in pristine condition. He supposed that he had hoped Jamjars would show up again one day, if only so that Jolly could yell at the "rodent rascal" for tearing up the floor he refused to repair.
Finally, Jolly answered, "I guess I thought you might need it again someday, if there was an emergency."
"Eh," Jamjars muttered, "Thoughtful of ya, I suppose." He scuffed at the silo again with his foot, then walked over to the bed. "You gonna get outta here so I can get some sleep, punk?"
"I thought you said it was still early," sniffed Jolly as he moved away from the bed and crossed his arms.
"Yeah, well, I've had a long day." Jamjars climbed into the bed-- an action that was rather awkward due to his height and which involved a cute scramble at the end-- then he pulled the covers up to his wide but toned waist. He took off his hat, revealing surprisingly rumpled brown head-fur (also quite cute), and started to remove his sunglasses before hesitating and looking up at Jolly again. "Uh, look, I really don't wanna take yer bed, punk. I still got time to get home and--"
"I won't hear of it!" Jolly interrupted. This was a battle of wills now, no matter how rude and annoying (and cute) the mole was! "I've shared my bed plenty of times." This time, he chose the words deliberately, just to gauge Jamjars' reaction. Sure enough, the mole's grizzled cheeks flushed red beneath the sparse fur.
"E-erm, well, if yer sure." He lowered his snout to pull off his sunglass, then looked up abruptly with a glare as Jolly sat down on the end of the bed. "Hey, whaddya think yer doin', punk?"
"I can't decide if I like you or not," Jolly answered bluntly. "And I'm going to sit here until I figure it out!"
"Great," Jamjars groaned. "Wake me when ya make up yer mind, hunh? And I hope ya can think in the dark, 'cos I don't sleep with the light on!" The mole leaned over to turn off the light, then he lay down on his right side and hauled the bedspread up over his left shoulder. A little light still seeped in from the bar through the window in the door; it was plenty for Jolly to see by, and of course he knew full well how good moles' eyes were in the dark.
The rascal, he smirked to himself as he leaned over to see if Jamjars' eyes were closed. If he really wanted me to leave, he'd be pushing me out the door! At least, that was how logic worked in Jolly's convoluted world.
The mole's eyes were closed-- but he opened one slightly even as Jolly was studying him. When he saw Jolly watching, Jamjars closed it tightly again, but the frog just giggled quietly. "You aren't fooling me! You aren't sleepy at all, are you?"
"How can I sleep with an amphibious punk breathin' on me?" the mole growled. He finally rolled on his back and opened both green eyes to glare up into Jolly's. "Do ya do this to all yer guests?"
"Just the cute ones." By then Jolly had made up his mind: he did like the mole, if only because he was so gruff and annoying.
"Well, it ain't no wonder ya don't get many guests if you sit on 'em all night!" grumbled Jamjars.
"Oh, but that's what some of them liked the best," Jolly cooed, but then Jamjars' words reminded him of his earlier worries: the distinct lack of guests, for whatever the reason. The frog sighed and drew back to sit upright, looking down at the dimly lit floor glumly. He's right-- what am I doing flirting at a time like this? It hasn't saved the business yet, and I don't suppose it's going to start now.
"Uh. . . ." Jamjars sat up too, pushing the covers down to his waist again. "It was a joke, punk. I didn't mean to offend ya."
"What? Oh, you didn't," Jolly assured him with a rather limp wave of his hand. "I was just thinking." He sighed again and stood. "Have a good night. Breakfast is on the house in the morning-- since you don't have any money anyway."
"Hey, punk, wait a minute," Jamjars said in a quiet voice before Jolly could reach the door.
"Hmm?" Jolly looked back at him and could just make out the shape of the mole's head turned towards him, watching him.
"Somethin's botherin' ya," accused Jamjars loudly enough, but his next words were spoken in barely a mumble. "Is there. . . somethin' I can do?"
Jolly's heart fluttered a bit at the first sign of tenderness from his gruff guest. "Not. . . not really. But thank you." He turned back to the bed, though he hesitated rather than sat down again. "I just have some big decisions to make, and I guess I didn't really understand that until you showed up."
"Eh, what kinda decisions?" The mole peered up at him, then to Jolly's surprise, patted the end of the bed in an invitation for the frog to sit down again. "My brother's the most indecisive kid in the world, and I'm used to helpin' him make up his mind about things. Maybe I can help you too."
"Oh, well." Jolly flushed with happiness as he sat down, even to broach such a serious subject. "I've just. . . well, you see what kind of business I've been doing lately: none at all. I think. . . I think maybe it's time to take my losses and pull out like Maggie did."
"Ya mean shut down the inn?" When Jolly nodded, Jamjars rubbed his long nose thoughtfully.
"Do you. . . do you think that's cowardly?" Jolly asked in a small voice. To his surprise, he was actually worried that the mole would think just that.
But Jamjars shook his head. "Nah. . . not if ya've given it yer best. In the service, they always said part of bein' a hero was knowin' when to retreat." He leaned forward a little, towards Jolly. "But what would ya do if ya let the place go? It's no fun bein' between jobs, I'll tell ya."
"Oh, I have that all figured out!" Jolly chuckled. "It's a secret dream I've always had."
When he didn't go on, Jamjars actually nudged his arm with his nose. "Well? What is it?"
"You. . . you want me to tell you? I did say it was secret." Jolly blushed again, this time at the thought of telling his silly romantic fantasy to anyone; even Maggie hadn't known.
"Yeah," said the mole, "tell me."
"W-well. . . ." Jolly swallowed then gave in. "I always wanted to be a. . . a kind of highwayman. A figure of romance and mystery and intrigue!" He flapped his hands as he spoke, talking more easily once he got started. "To rob from the rich and sell to the poor!"
"Wait, I thought it was 'give to the poor,'" Jamjars said drily, although as far as Jolly could tell in the dim light, he was smiling a little.
"I have to support myself somehow!" retorted Jolly. "And they wouldn't really be poor per se. . . more like I'd steal from the-- the big corporations keeping down the working class, and-- and redistribute the wealth! For a nominal fee."
Jamjars chuckled. "Well, it sounds more excitin' than servin' ginger beer and salty dumplings to sailors, anyway."
Jolly decided not to mention just how much fun that could be, in the right situation. Instead he asked, almost shyly, "You. . . you don't think it's silly?"
"Hmph, course not," snorted the mole. "It's more'n my brother does-- or Banjo and the buzzard, fer that matter. They go off adventurin'-- or gettin' themselves killed and resurrected in the kid's case-- but they don't make a profit. You'd be doin' a spot better if ya got somethin' out of it." He paused, sighing as he rubbed his nose in his paw again.
"Well, I'll keep thinking about it then. Maybe I just need a kick in the pants to get going." Jolly looked down at Jamjars with a little smile. "And you should really look into broadcasting, if that's what you want to do. We can't sit around doing nothing forever!"
"Heh. Maybe I need a kick to get goin' too."
Jolly leaned closer and tilted his long nose back with one finger. "Hey, kicking's what frogs do best." Jamjars' eyes widened a little, then a lot as Jolly leaned over and planted a kiss on the end of his snout. "But then, I have other talents too. "
"Wh-what're you. . . y-ya punk!" stammered the mole. Jolly slid his fingers down the length of Jamjars' nose, enjoying the feel of the short, soft fur.
"Just thanking you for listening to me," Jolly breathed.
"Y-ya don't hafta. . . really. . . ." Jamjars scrambled backwards away from him to press up against the wall. Jolly just leaned farther forward, grinning. After some years of experience, he knew a merely token protest when he heard one.
"Oh, maybe not. . . but I'd love to." Jolly scooted closer and, now that Jamjars had no way to escape, turned his head to kiss the mole on the lips.
"Mgh!" squawked Jamjars. When Jolly drew back, the mole was panting breathlessly.
"I-- in all my-- I've never kissed a man!" he yelped.
"Then it's high time you started!" Jolly pecked him on the mouth again, then sat back with a grin. "Well?"
"W-well what, punk?" spluttered Jamjars as he rubbed at his mouth with the back of his paw.
Jolly's smile grew a little more tender. "If you don't like it, I'll leave you alone. But you haven't given it your best yet, have you?"
"Damn you, ya punk," growled Jamjars-- as he reached out and grabbed Jolly's striped shirt, drawing him closer. "Not a word of this leaves here, got it?"
"Of course not," Jolly cooed. He waited, and this time Jamjars was the one to make the move, hesitantly returning the kiss, close-mouthed.
"Mmn," he muttered thoughtfully before repeating the gesture several times in quick succession. Jolly's blood rushed faster with each kiss, partially at the thought of the conquest he was making, but mostly because he truly wanted Jamjars. Not wanting to scare Jamjars off, Jolly resisted his urges to step up the action, but it was all he could do to hold back.
Finally, Jamjars opened his mouth under Jolly's. The frog seized the moment and pushed his long tongue into the mole's mouth, probing it gently. Jamjars tensed up but then slowly relaxed, moaning softly.
"Bet you've never kissed a non-mammal before either," Jolly teased when he pulled back to let Jamjars catch his breath.
"N-no, can't. . . can't say that I have." Jamjars lay back on the pillow, still breathing hard as he looked up at Jolly. "It's. . . different." He jumped and cringed a little when Jolly flicked out his tongue to caress the tip of the mole's nose, without even leaning over.
"Just be glad you're not a fly. . . sergeant." This time he did lean over, pressing his body against Jamjars' much shorter form as he kissed the mole again.
--
Jolly spent the night in his own bed after all. He fell asleep in utter bliss, curled up around the mole's compact, muscular body, his worries about the inn and his own future temporarily forgotten.
Maybe I'll keep the inn open after all, Jolly thought dreamily as he dozed off. He could even move in with me instead of his brother. . . and we could run it together. . . .
He realized just how much he had been jumping to conclusions-- as always-- when he awoke the next morning to find himself alone.
"Hmn?" Jolly opened his eyes slowly, expecting to see Jamjars still beside him; however, the mole was gone. Already started breakfast, probably, Jolly thought with a little smirk as he sat up and stretched his long limbs. After finding his pants-- which took a good couple minutes-- and pulling them on, he shuffled out to the bar. . . but it was empty as well.
"Jammy?" Jolly called; it was a new nickname he had invented for the mole during the previous night. When that got no response, he tried, "Jamjars? Sergeant?" But there was nothing.
After a thorough search of the inn and the surrounding environs, Jolly trudged back inside and slumped down on one of the barstools. It certainly wasn't the first time one of his partners hadn't stayed for breakfast, but it was the first time Jolly had cared: he had felt a bond with Jamjars, and it hurt when someone like that ran out on him.
I shouldn't have expected anything more, he told himself, staring down at his own faint, distorted reflection in the shiny wood of the bar. To have imagined he would stay with me! It was just a one-night stand for him-- and really, I knew that from the start. Or I should have, anyway.
He stood up and went back to his room to finish dressing mechanically, then bent to make the bed. As he did so, he noticed something sticking out from underneath. When he investigated, it proved to be the corner of his old brown suitcase, which he had been saving just in case he ever did decide to pursue the adventurous life of his daydreams.
Jolly knelt beside the bed and pulled out the suitcase, looking down at it thoughtfully. What's stopping me? he thought, running his hand over the scuffed surface. Maybe this was the kick I needed. . . .
--
The next night, Jamjars trudged back into the Lagoon, tired from travelling in his tunnels all the way from Spiral Mountain-- tired and nervous. He felt like a bit of a fool for coming such a long way just to go to a bar. . . and just to see another man. Jamjars told himself he was only coming to apologize for running out on Jolly without so much as a thank you for his hospitality, but that didn't explain why he felt so eager to see the frog again.
But then, Jamjars saw the sign on the inn's door. His heart sank even before he was close enough to read the world "CLOSED" printed on it in large block letters. Jamjars pounded on the door a few times, just in case, but he didn't really expect any answer.
Finally, he turned away and started back to the world's entrance. I didn't get to tell the little punk sorry, Jamjars thought grumpily. Or. . . or anything else. Just what else he might have said to Jolly, he didn't know.
--
The End
A Banjo-Kazooie fic that was written by TheShekinah over at DA. (who has now left) All credit for the fic goes to her.
"So this's the best room in the house, punk?" Jamjars asked Jolly as he looked around the small bedroom. Jolly couldn't be sure because of the mole's dark sunglasses, but it looked as if he were eyeing Jolly's flowered bedspread skeptically.
"Yes," Jolly replied haughtily, then he decided he might as well be honest. "Although. . . it's the only room in the house."
"Oh." Jamjars' mouth drew back in a slight grimace. "Where will you sleep, then?"
Jolly shrugged. "Behind the bar, like I always do when I have a guest." Saying "always" meant that he wasn't being entirely honest, but Jolly had to draw the line somewhere. "Here," he went on, turning down the bedspread, "make yourself at home. But then, I suppose you already have." He pointed at the silo still protruding from the floor in the corner opposite the bed.
"Hunh, ya just left it here?" Jamjars went over and kicked at it. "I haven't used this thing in years! Why didn't ya tear it down?"
"I thought you might come back," said Jolly without thinking. He immediately blushed and was glad his back was turned so Jamjars couldn't see. He began fluffing the bed's pillow with a vengeance as a distraction.
Too late. "Eh? Why'd ya think I'd come back? And why'd that stop ya from fillin' in the silo, anyway?"
Jolly covered the slip with a joke, spoken with dry seriousness. "I was hoping for a good game of Whack-a-Mole-- I keep a mallet under my bed."
To Jolly's credit, Jamjars actually snickered. "No, really, punk."
The frog had to think about that one. Why hadn't he ever filled in the silo? One answer was that he just hadn't ever gotten around to it, but there had to be a reason for that too: he certainly kept the rest of the inn in pristine condition. He supposed that he had hoped Jamjars would show up again one day, if only so that Jolly could yell at the "rodent rascal" for tearing up the floor he refused to repair.
Finally, Jolly answered, "I guess I thought you might need it again someday, if there was an emergency."
"Eh," Jamjars muttered, "Thoughtful of ya, I suppose." He scuffed at the silo again with his foot, then walked over to the bed. "You gonna get outta here so I can get some sleep, punk?"
"I thought you said it was still early," sniffed Jolly as he moved away from the bed and crossed his arms.
"Yeah, well, I've had a long day." Jamjars climbed into the bed-- an action that was rather awkward due to his height and which involved a cute scramble at the end-- then he pulled the covers up to his wide but toned waist. He took off his hat, revealing surprisingly rumpled brown head-fur (also quite cute), and started to remove his sunglasses before hesitating and looking up at Jolly again. "Uh, look, I really don't wanna take yer bed, punk. I still got time to get home and--"
"I won't hear of it!" Jolly interrupted. This was a battle of wills now, no matter how rude and annoying (and cute) the mole was! "I've shared my bed plenty of times." This time, he chose the words deliberately, just to gauge Jamjars' reaction. Sure enough, the mole's grizzled cheeks flushed red beneath the sparse fur.
"E-erm, well, if yer sure." He lowered his snout to pull off his sunglass, then looked up abruptly with a glare as Jolly sat down on the end of the bed. "Hey, whaddya think yer doin', punk?"
"I can't decide if I like you or not," Jolly answered bluntly. "And I'm going to sit here until I figure it out!"
"Great," Jamjars groaned. "Wake me when ya make up yer mind, hunh? And I hope ya can think in the dark, 'cos I don't sleep with the light on!" The mole leaned over to turn off the light, then he lay down on his right side and hauled the bedspread up over his left shoulder. A little light still seeped in from the bar through the window in the door; it was plenty for Jolly to see by, and of course he knew full well how good moles' eyes were in the dark.
The rascal, he smirked to himself as he leaned over to see if Jamjars' eyes were closed. If he really wanted me to leave, he'd be pushing me out the door! At least, that was how logic worked in Jolly's convoluted world.
The mole's eyes were closed-- but he opened one slightly even as Jolly was studying him. When he saw Jolly watching, Jamjars closed it tightly again, but the frog just giggled quietly. "You aren't fooling me! You aren't sleepy at all, are you?"
"How can I sleep with an amphibious punk breathin' on me?" the mole growled. He finally rolled on his back and opened both green eyes to glare up into Jolly's. "Do ya do this to all yer guests?"
"Just the cute ones." By then Jolly had made up his mind: he did like the mole, if only because he was so gruff and annoying.
"Well, it ain't no wonder ya don't get many guests if you sit on 'em all night!" grumbled Jamjars.
"Oh, but that's what some of them liked the best," Jolly cooed, but then Jamjars' words reminded him of his earlier worries: the distinct lack of guests, for whatever the reason. The frog sighed and drew back to sit upright, looking down at the dimly lit floor glumly. He's right-- what am I doing flirting at a time like this? It hasn't saved the business yet, and I don't suppose it's going to start now.
"Uh. . . ." Jamjars sat up too, pushing the covers down to his waist again. "It was a joke, punk. I didn't mean to offend ya."
"What? Oh, you didn't," Jolly assured him with a rather limp wave of his hand. "I was just thinking." He sighed again and stood. "Have a good night. Breakfast is on the house in the morning-- since you don't have any money anyway."
"Hey, punk, wait a minute," Jamjars said in a quiet voice before Jolly could reach the door.
"Hmm?" Jolly looked back at him and could just make out the shape of the mole's head turned towards him, watching him.
"Somethin's botherin' ya," accused Jamjars loudly enough, but his next words were spoken in barely a mumble. "Is there. . . somethin' I can do?"
Jolly's heart fluttered a bit at the first sign of tenderness from his gruff guest. "Not. . . not really. But thank you." He turned back to the bed, though he hesitated rather than sat down again. "I just have some big decisions to make, and I guess I didn't really understand that until you showed up."
"Eh, what kinda decisions?" The mole peered up at him, then to Jolly's surprise, patted the end of the bed in an invitation for the frog to sit down again. "My brother's the most indecisive kid in the world, and I'm used to helpin' him make up his mind about things. Maybe I can help you too."
"Oh, well." Jolly flushed with happiness as he sat down, even to broach such a serious subject. "I've just. . . well, you see what kind of business I've been doing lately: none at all. I think. . . I think maybe it's time to take my losses and pull out like Maggie did."
"Ya mean shut down the inn?" When Jolly nodded, Jamjars rubbed his long nose thoughtfully.
"Do you. . . do you think that's cowardly?" Jolly asked in a small voice. To his surprise, he was actually worried that the mole would think just that.
But Jamjars shook his head. "Nah. . . not if ya've given it yer best. In the service, they always said part of bein' a hero was knowin' when to retreat." He leaned forward a little, towards Jolly. "But what would ya do if ya let the place go? It's no fun bein' between jobs, I'll tell ya."
"Oh, I have that all figured out!" Jolly chuckled. "It's a secret dream I've always had."
When he didn't go on, Jamjars actually nudged his arm with his nose. "Well? What is it?"
"You. . . you want me to tell you? I did say it was secret." Jolly blushed again, this time at the thought of telling his silly romantic fantasy to anyone; even Maggie hadn't known.
"Yeah," said the mole, "tell me."
"W-well. . . ." Jolly swallowed then gave in. "I always wanted to be a. . . a kind of highwayman. A figure of romance and mystery and intrigue!" He flapped his hands as he spoke, talking more easily once he got started. "To rob from the rich and sell to the poor!"
"Wait, I thought it was 'give to the poor,'" Jamjars said drily, although as far as Jolly could tell in the dim light, he was smiling a little.
"I have to support myself somehow!" retorted Jolly. "And they wouldn't really be poor per se. . . more like I'd steal from the-- the big corporations keeping down the working class, and-- and redistribute the wealth! For a nominal fee."
Jamjars chuckled. "Well, it sounds more excitin' than servin' ginger beer and salty dumplings to sailors, anyway."
Jolly decided not to mention just how much fun that could be, in the right situation. Instead he asked, almost shyly, "You. . . you don't think it's silly?"
"Hmph, course not," snorted the mole. "It's more'n my brother does-- or Banjo and the buzzard, fer that matter. They go off adventurin'-- or gettin' themselves killed and resurrected in the kid's case-- but they don't make a profit. You'd be doin' a spot better if ya got somethin' out of it." He paused, sighing as he rubbed his nose in his paw again.
"Well, I'll keep thinking about it then. Maybe I just need a kick in the pants to get going." Jolly looked down at Jamjars with a little smile. "And you should really look into broadcasting, if that's what you want to do. We can't sit around doing nothing forever!"
"Heh. Maybe I need a kick to get goin' too."
Jolly leaned closer and tilted his long nose back with one finger. "Hey, kicking's what frogs do best." Jamjars' eyes widened a little, then a lot as Jolly leaned over and planted a kiss on the end of his snout. "But then, I have other talents too. "
"Wh-what're you. . . y-ya punk!" stammered the mole. Jolly slid his fingers down the length of Jamjars' nose, enjoying the feel of the short, soft fur.
"Just thanking you for listening to me," Jolly breathed.
"Y-ya don't hafta. . . really. . . ." Jamjars scrambled backwards away from him to press up against the wall. Jolly just leaned farther forward, grinning. After some years of experience, he knew a merely token protest when he heard one.
"Oh, maybe not. . . but I'd love to." Jolly scooted closer and, now that Jamjars had no way to escape, turned his head to kiss the mole on the lips.
"Mgh!" squawked Jamjars. When Jolly drew back, the mole was panting breathlessly.
"I-- in all my-- I've never kissed a man!" he yelped.
"Then it's high time you started!" Jolly pecked him on the mouth again, then sat back with a grin. "Well?"
"W-well what, punk?" spluttered Jamjars as he rubbed at his mouth with the back of his paw.
Jolly's smile grew a little more tender. "If you don't like it, I'll leave you alone. But you haven't given it your best yet, have you?"
"Damn you, ya punk," growled Jamjars-- as he reached out and grabbed Jolly's striped shirt, drawing him closer. "Not a word of this leaves here, got it?"
"Of course not," Jolly cooed. He waited, and this time Jamjars was the one to make the move, hesitantly returning the kiss, close-mouthed.
"Mmn," he muttered thoughtfully before repeating the gesture several times in quick succession. Jolly's blood rushed faster with each kiss, partially at the thought of the conquest he was making, but mostly because he truly wanted Jamjars. Not wanting to scare Jamjars off, Jolly resisted his urges to step up the action, but it was all he could do to hold back.
Finally, Jamjars opened his mouth under Jolly's. The frog seized the moment and pushed his long tongue into the mole's mouth, probing it gently. Jamjars tensed up but then slowly relaxed, moaning softly.
"Bet you've never kissed a non-mammal before either," Jolly teased when he pulled back to let Jamjars catch his breath.
"N-no, can't. . . can't say that I have." Jamjars lay back on the pillow, still breathing hard as he looked up at Jolly. "It's. . . different." He jumped and cringed a little when Jolly flicked out his tongue to caress the tip of the mole's nose, without even leaning over.
"Just be glad you're not a fly. . . sergeant." This time he did lean over, pressing his body against Jamjars' much shorter form as he kissed the mole again.
--
Jolly spent the night in his own bed after all. He fell asleep in utter bliss, curled up around the mole's compact, muscular body, his worries about the inn and his own future temporarily forgotten.
Maybe I'll keep the inn open after all, Jolly thought dreamily as he dozed off. He could even move in with me instead of his brother. . . and we could run it together. . . .
He realized just how much he had been jumping to conclusions-- as always-- when he awoke the next morning to find himself alone.
"Hmn?" Jolly opened his eyes slowly, expecting to see Jamjars still beside him; however, the mole was gone. Already started breakfast, probably, Jolly thought with a little smirk as he sat up and stretched his long limbs. After finding his pants-- which took a good couple minutes-- and pulling them on, he shuffled out to the bar. . . but it was empty as well.
"Jammy?" Jolly called; it was a new nickname he had invented for the mole during the previous night. When that got no response, he tried, "Jamjars? Sergeant?" But there was nothing.
After a thorough search of the inn and the surrounding environs, Jolly trudged back inside and slumped down on one of the barstools. It certainly wasn't the first time one of his partners hadn't stayed for breakfast, but it was the first time Jolly had cared: he had felt a bond with Jamjars, and it hurt when someone like that ran out on him.
I shouldn't have expected anything more, he told himself, staring down at his own faint, distorted reflection in the shiny wood of the bar. To have imagined he would stay with me! It was just a one-night stand for him-- and really, I knew that from the start. Or I should have, anyway.
He stood up and went back to his room to finish dressing mechanically, then bent to make the bed. As he did so, he noticed something sticking out from underneath. When he investigated, it proved to be the corner of his old brown suitcase, which he had been saving just in case he ever did decide to pursue the adventurous life of his daydreams.
Jolly knelt beside the bed and pulled out the suitcase, looking down at it thoughtfully. What's stopping me? he thought, running his hand over the scuffed surface. Maybe this was the kick I needed. . . .
--
The next night, Jamjars trudged back into the Lagoon, tired from travelling in his tunnels all the way from Spiral Mountain-- tired and nervous. He felt like a bit of a fool for coming such a long way just to go to a bar. . . and just to see another man. Jamjars told himself he was only coming to apologize for running out on Jolly without so much as a thank you for his hospitality, but that didn't explain why he felt so eager to see the frog again.
But then, Jamjars saw the sign on the inn's door. His heart sank even before he was close enough to read the world "CLOSED" printed on it in large block letters. Jamjars pounded on the door a few times, just in case, but he didn't really expect any answer.
Finally, he turned away and started back to the world's entrance. I didn't get to tell the little punk sorry, Jamjars thought grumpily. Or. . . or anything else. Just what else he might have said to Jolly, he didn't know.
--
The End