Work Text:
This hat was going to kill him. It might have already, it was honestly hard to tell at this point.
No matter what he did, the cables kept twisting around and trying to face the wrong way. It was infuriating. The cabling needles helped. A bit. A tiny bit.
On the plus side, it was doing wonders for his fitness levels that every time he got pissed at the cables he threw them in the freezer and went and worked out for a while before coming back and trying to fix them. It occurred to him then that this was probably also why Maria Kanellis was looking so cut despite the baby (or possibly because of the frustrations therein).
He had several months before it became an issue on finishing the hat (and the gloves...well. Glove. One had managed to get done. He was still fairly certainly he summoned some kind of demon to finish it…) but the hat was getting farther along each time, it was just exceedingly slow .
-----
It wasn’t entirely surprising to him that the other glove had managed to be finished before the hat was even halfway done. Given that he had been working on them in alternating fashion, and that the gloves were smaller (the hat having a rolled up style of rim), it naturally should be finished first.
Perhaps if he took up Mike Kanellis’s suggestion and went to one of the local yarn stores and got help there…(he had been relentlessly bothering the Ravelry forums with pictures and questions, not that they seemed to mind it, but still ).
Also he did have to consider that the gloves smelled suspiciously like brimstone. And somehow also a lot like Finn Bálor. He didn’t know why he knew what Bálor smelled like, either. It was like there was a memory that was there wasn’t there was gone.
Eh well, he could always just ask Bálor if there was a good way to remove the smell of brimstone from things, he seemed like the type to know that.
…
Bálor might bite him again.
…
The local yarn stores were probably less scary than Bálor.
-----
“Hello, what can I help you with today?” It was cozy in the shop, cloyingly so. Why were all of them this way? Was there no punk knitting shops? That should be a thing. This one at least did not have that horrible perfume that some of the others had. In fact this one seemed almost entirely fragrance free. He tried not to worry about the smell of the gloves and the brimstone and and and
“I um, your website said you have a Knitting Doctor??” What a knitting doctor was exactly he wasn’t sure, but it sure sounded like they’d be able to help with the stupid cables going in the stupid wrong direction.
“Oh yes! She can help you troubleshoot what is going wrong in your knitting, is that what you need?” The woman at the counter started waving towards the back of the store where he assumed said knitting doctor probably was.
“Oh god yes. It keeps twisting and doing the wrong things.”
“Right, right. Well, she can certainly help you.”
“Hello! I’m Afton, and I’m the resident knitting doctor. Having problems with your cables?” Oh thank god she hadn’t assumed he was bringing it in for someone else! Finally.
“Yes, yes I am. They keep twisting around on me and they should be pointing left...I think...and they keep pointing right. Rightish? It’s a round hat…”
“Ah yes, that’s a common issue to have with the cables. Made a poncho one time with cables. Not making another, certainly. May I see the hat?” She patted the table in front of her and he set the chonk of hat and needles and yarn down for her to examine.
“Oh, I think I see what your problem is here.” She began to slowly explain to him what exactly was occurring with the damnable cables.
-----
That was both more and less confusing than he thought it was going to be, but thankfully, he was now making considerably more progress on the hat. And she had even shown him how to make a scarf to go with the hat and gloves (and had been extremely insistent that he not even consider sweaters. At all. No sweaters. Something about a curse. So no sweaters for Becky...unless they were already married when he made one. Then it was...fine? Weird curse...and he knew good and well that a sweater was quite some time away before he could consider tackling one for himself, much less anyone else).
Even better than the cables was that the Knitting Doctor’s daughter had been there and was very happy to help explain how to get the smell of brimstone out of the gloves.
Downside was that he was pretty sure that Bálor was hoarding all of the borax again. If he was hoarding it, however, that meant he was probably not the Demon. At least, not right then. And Finn himself didn’t usually bite people. Usually.
Well
Might as well get it over with and go as Bálor for the borax if he wanted to clean and block the gloves.
-----
“Oh how nice, you’re almost done with the hat then?” Bálor smiled (an almost friendly one, even) at Seth when he had entered the empty locker room.
“I...yes. I found a nice pattern for a scarf as well, it’s going much better now.” It felt like a continuation of a conversation they had before. But they hadn’t talked about knitting before, had they?
“Ah yes, the knitting shop you mentioned before.” He had done what now??
“....I don’t think I told you about that, Bálor.” Pretty sure he hadn’t. It was there not there gone almost there come back memory stop that.
“...Seth, you come here for borax a week ago. When you blocked the gloves. How do they look, by the way?” Finn turned to look at Seth, mildly concerned. Concerned enough to even put down his own knitting.
“They look great, I’ve got them folded up in their box now waiting for the hat and scarf. Wait, what? I don’t remember getting the borax from you. I don’t...I…”
“Oh, I see. Hrumph. You should be remembering this when you talk with me. This isn’t right.” A flicker and ah why was that it felt wrong and oh oh The Demon.
“YOU DON’T SAY.” A count goes to him for standing his ground.
“No no, it’s wrong because this means you probably also don’t remember what I was showing you with the cables and that’s bad.” How does a Demon sound upset ?
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Finn.” That sounded wrong?
“Bálor.” There was a difference there. Not just in the name but in how he was saying it. Ah ah, who was speaking?
“What?” He had thought they were the same person! No. He thought that there was only one and that they pretended to be a person at all.
“Bálor. Not Finn. I mean. I’m Finn. But Bálor is the question here. Stop being an amadán. Not you Seth, Bálor.”
“What exactly is going on here, Finn...Bálor. You?” Confusion and that’s why, he thought, that Finn and Bálor must normally not talk out loud.
“Ugh, I see. Okay. Sorry Seth. You weren’t supposed to forget talking with us, you were just supposed to not be able to talk to other people about it.”
“.... why ? Because it’s knitting? I’m fairly certain that someone laughing about that would die .” Oh goody, less memory loss. He didn’t even care about not talking to anyone about it, he certainly wasn’t doing that before now either.
“Yes. But also not exactly the problem. You’d... you’d be unsurprised at how many people would actually try to summon a Demon to solve their knitting issues. Particularly if they knew the Demon actually knew how to knit and not just how to burn a giant hole in a knitting pattern.”
“So punk knitters exist .” HE WAS RIGHT.
“Yes? And if you try to tell them about me you will regret it.” Not that he could tell anyone, The Demon had just fixed that problem. Or should have.
“Why would I do that? It’s much better getting advice from you and them being all “OMG, TEACH ME.” and they’re just so happy about me showing them the cables…” He had a headache. Oh aaaah no. Stop that. Too much memory now too soon. It stopped? Ah. Ow . He suspected he’d have nightmares/dreams/memories tonight.
“...Oh good, we’re on the same wavelength here. What are you trying to do, develop groupies? I don’t think Becky would appreciate that.” The glint in his eye showed more of the Demon than it did of the man.
“Not groupies. Knitting lackies. People to provide me with more patterns and ideas.” Becky had liked the potholders that he had used to gauge her interest in hand made gifts. It was a good sign.
“...That’s not where I thought that was going.”
A slight shrug. “And most people also don’t think I’m the type to knit.”
“Fair. Speaking of, I wanted to show you this technique I picked up for color changes!”