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Post by Pyro on Mar 7, 2007 19:55:15 GMT
OOC Content warning-ish. The bunny bit and wouldn’t let go. Those sensitive either to the ‘sex type stuff’ or to really badly written angsty crap are advised to either run now, or skip down to the second post… So yeah, warning for SoloM, and more general warnings for sex references and f-bomb dropping, but this being John you know the drill by now.Count down from ten before you do anything stupid. It’s something they tell you when you’re little; take a breather, count down from ten, see whether you still feel like tearing their throat out. Of course John had never paid attention to what people ‘told you to do’, and in his case ten was never going to be enough to make him think ‘y’know what, they can keep their throat’ – ten, if anything, was likely to the time it took to remember that roasting them would be so much more satisfying. Fuck, he needs something to work, to bring things back to normal after storming out… except that they can’t be normal because he’s just told Bob he’d rather he killed himself now and oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck he’s still angry enough to mean it but wants to take it back but still hates Bob but really, really doesn’t and his heart’s racing and he can’t breathe and… ***** Do you now wish to push me into fucking you senseless?Count down from ten. Don’t think about why the shower’s down beyond cold, why that’s not having the effect a cold shower should. Don’t think about why it’s still too hot, fingers too long and skinny, skin not smooth enough. Definitely don’t think about where the twist comes from, who found that one out, and how even though it always works it’s still not working quite right. Because the… important thing about… John is… John lies. And lying… to yourself… is okay. 10 9 8 times we met up before Baker… times we fucked made love had sex stop thinking7 things that make Bob moan and oh fuck, shouldn’t be thinking about this… should just be counting. Anonymous numbers. They’re just numbers, that’s all… 6 times… no, stop it, meant to be not-thinking about that. They’re just numbers. Nothing else… 5… 4 times I promised not to leave…3 times love was mentioned… 3 times I meant it… 3 shut up and get this over with 2,1 and he’d like to pretend it’s Fuck torn ragged from his throat but there aren’t enough Bs in that.
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Post by Pyro on Mar 7, 2007 19:55:32 GMT
It’s a long time later that the fact he hasn’t got anywhere to sleep, rather than anyone to curl up with, becomes important… but there it is; going back to his room is out for obvious reasons, as is returning to Rogue’s because he can’t face the awkward questions and the palpable grief and the ‘not really understanding, just pretending to and missing the point’. Passing out in the showers is pathetic (and he doesn’t want to be close to any reminders, just wants to black out and not care any more) and he can’t keep wandering all night and keeping his fingers crossed that the fire alarms won’t go off. (As for getting out… he’ll pretend that’s because it’s what they expect, that he’ll run, and he wants to prove the bastards wrong. Truth is, just like he told Rogue earlier, there’s no where else he can be… and while he entertained some dark fantasy of seeking out someone, anyone blonde, he knows the differences, and the temptation not to stop running, would drive him insane) Later it’ll probably strike him that Warren’s room is a spectacularly bad choice of hideout. Right now, it seems that fate’s thrown him something of a bone to make up for screwing him over (not that it’s even by any stretch of even his deluded imagination); Josh is, after all, the only other person who can really understand, and still manages to straddle that ‘one of the gang but not one of us line fairly neatly as far as John’s concerned. Besides, it’s still Valentine’s Day (probably… sun hasn’t come up on the day after, at least) and there’s always the chance that he and Wings are off being functional and ‘cute’ somewhere suitably exclusive and he’ll have the room to himself. ***** Josh and Warren have got ‘the baby’ well trained; Puppy’s a ferocious guard dog for the minute or two it takes for him to realise that the wiry intruder telling him in very bad broken fren-glish (or, at least, bad fren-glish until the first ‘fuck’ slips in and he switches back to English and hopes Puppy’s not going to pick up that particular charming trait because it definitely won’t go down well with ‘Mommy’) to be quiet before everyone wakes up is ‘Uncle John’, and thereafter gives what John can only think of as the canine equivalent of a despondent sigh when it becomes clear that this isn’t playtime and yawns and hops up into his lap as soon as he sits down so he can’t just curl his knees up into his chest and pretend the rest of the world has dropped dead… and while John doesn’t do ‘cute’ or ‘fluffy’ or anything else normally connected with cuddling puppies he hasn’t the heart to push him off and besides, pathetic as it sounds, it’s nice to know there’s something out there which doesn’t either hate him or feel nothing. Hell yes, it’s a cliché – alone on Valentine’s Day, sat on the bedroom floor in pajamas with ice-cream (and maybe the fact that’s out should be a sign that he’s not as alone as he’d like to be, and maybe he should think better of stealing from Worthington III, but whatever) and something small and cuddly. But whatever. At least he can trust that the *wtf* quotient is probably sufficient he won’t have to shoot anyone who catches him; they’re brain’ll just melt clean away at the implausibility of it all. |
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Post by Warren Worthington III on Mar 8, 2007 22:21:38 GMT
(( OOC: Touching, implicit stuff, usual drill. You have been warned. ))
I swear to God, love, next time we do not leave our room, cherries or no cherries… I missed you!
Warren knows that’s not entirely fair; if the girl Josh and Jackson had rescued had been injured or killed because of his own self-indulgence he’d never forgive himself. But they can’t be “on duty” all the time… they aren’t police, or superheroes, or anything like that, even if they do get into an absurd number of mutant scrapes.
Well, good thing it wasn’t as bad as that crazy meteor thing last year, he thinks as they float up the stairs to the boy’s dorms, tangled up in one another. Even the cat-girls’ injuries were mostly superficial; Henry and Reed didn’t seem worried, which was reassuring… and had freed the two of them to return to their room and pick up where they’d left off.
Except they seemed to be going about it in the other order, unable to quite wait until they’d made it back to their room before picking up again. At least we’re not leaving a mess behind, he thinks distractedly, chuckling at the cloud of clothing articles levitating along behind them as they careen down the hallway. Though we’ve probably scandalized someone by now…
Not that Warren’s too worried about that. It is Valentine’s Day, after all… and besides, the possibility of being “caught” is a bit of a thrill. He wonders if he’ll be able to lure Josh out into the night sky again, later; somehow there’s nothing that quite compares to the feeling of making love in three dimensions. Though this is coming pretty close… he thinks, as Josh’s other sock peels off to join the cloud as if by its own volition.
Later, he’ll realize he ought to have heard the sounds of company behind the door before it swung open, before they floated through the doorway and their discarded clothes dropped in a pile on the floor. And later, he’ll be glad they’d both kept their pants on, if not much else, as a nod to hallway modesty.
Right now, none of that is even remotely on his mind as he drops supine onto their bed… pulls his partner down on top of him, his teeth nibbling more-than-playfully on Josh’s bare shoulder… and then sits up abruptly as he finally notices the unexpected presence of Allerdyce, in his pajamas, eating their ice-cream and cuddling the puppy.
"What the – John??!??!"
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Post by Josh Dalton Worthington on Mar 9, 2007 1:15:32 GMT
(OOC - touching, kissing, groping, etc. hey. it's us!)
I swear to God, love, next time we do not leave our room, cherries or no cherries… I missed you!
Agreed... Missed you too, Josh sends telepathically. His mouth is currently otherwise engaged. Their lips are pressed firmly together; after a moment he pulls back enough to flash Warren a positively feral look.
“We have the whole night. And neither of us has early classes tomorrow…” Joy runs through him. Both of them had been busy as of late, and some uninterrupted time was welcome. He dives in for another kiss, and their garments tumble through the air behind them.
He can sense Warren’s excitement, as well as the thrill of being seen. Josh’s unsure whether his lover’s feelings are simply contagious, or if he shares them, but he suspects the latter. What they were doing was somewhat inappropriate since it was a common hallway… but that made it all the more hot.
They bump into their bedroom door, and Josh fumbles for the handle. As the door opens, he telekinetically unzips Warren’s jeans, and the two of them land on the bed. He closes the door with his powers, and the distinct click of the lock makes its way into the noises emanating from them.
Josh runs a hand across Warren’s abdomen, and then moves lower. The shoulder-nibbling leaves him breathless, and he leans in for Warren’s lips. The word ‘Warren’ becomes muffled in another kiss.
> "What the – John??!??!"
Josh’s head whips over to the side, and spies John, sitting with the puppy and looking… not John-like. The confusion and panic is enough to make him stop supporting his own body weight, and he drops fully into Warren’s arms.
“John?! Oh my god! What the hell are you doing in our bedroom??” It feels like one of those situations that would probably be funny later on… except for the raging hard-on that’s making it difficult for him to comprehend what possible reason John had to be there in the first place. And that we’re nearly naked… Reflexively, he makes their shirts jump from their resting place on the ground and land on the bed. Josh disentangles himself from Warren and sits up on the bed next to him.
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Post by Pyro on Mar 14, 2007 4:21:50 GMT
Just the fact that he's in here moping (and there's no way to actually say it's anything else without lying) over this makes him angry, which in turn makes it hurt more, which fuels the next spoonful of ice cream, and the absent way he's petting the puppy's head… Which starts over the whole cycle, because this just doesn't feel quite right, but at the same time seems like the only sensible option… What else is there to do?
There are, of course, plenty of other things he could be doing. Burning everything that reminds him of Bobby… Seeking an answer in the bottom of a bottle, or on the ceiling behind some nameless bint or sad eyed lonely boy he refuses to look at… Plenty of totally melodramatic things one should do after a messy break-up. But this is the one he’s settled on.
The puppy shifts, attempting to steal some ice cream from the spoon as he brings it out of the carton, and he holds it up, out of reach, giving the animal a look that's somewhere between a confused frown and something that would pass for amused, were not he so very unamused right now. "Don't think so, pup." It makes a pathetic face (or, really, just sort of looks up at him), and he shakes his head, still holding the spoon up like one would to keep a child from grabbing something, then moving it to his own mouth, shooting the animal a so-there look. It’s really more sticky vanilla soup than ice-cream by now, and by the fourth spoonful is already tending towards sickly rather than tasty, but actually enjoying the eating is far less important than finding something to do…
… and even if it’s not especially diverting, it’s more than distracting enough that he doesn’t hear Josh and Warren approaching until they’re at the door and it’s too late to hide, let alone sneak out unnoticed (though really, given the stupidity of this plan to begin with, it shouldn’t surprise him that neither were really ever options once said plan became anything halfway like staying put). Hopefully, though, they won’t see too much of him, being that caught up in each other that – so he guesses – there isn’t much else (and no, he’s totally not getting all pathetic and mistily nostalgic over that… more ice-cream). He, on the other hand, is seeing more than enough of them. Much more (though, in Warren’s case, also much… less. Were he on less of a downer that would probably be far more amusing; as it is, it’s just a fairly dispassionate huh sort of revelation)… and it’s fairly uncomfortable because even if Josh isn’t really like close family but some sort of distant cousin it’s almost okay to, um, appreciate, it’s still like watching relatives have sex – in Josh’s case really *young* relatives, so it feels, and… yes, uncomfortable, if weirdly mystifying given the whole telekinetic schtick and… no, definitely uncomfortable. And though sitting quietly through this sort of thing is nothing new (in fact, it’s something really, really old, but we don’t think about that…) he must have lost his touch because somewhere that becomes uncomfortable enough that he shifts and even if it’s not that which sparks them noticing him it feels like he a deer caught in the headlights of an exceptionally large truck with *die horned scum* plastered across it.
< What the – John??!??!
< John?! Oh my god! What the hell are you doing in our bedroom??
Um…
Well…
… this would be one of those things that’s hilarious in retrospect, right?
John’s laugh has more to do with nerves and just… not having any other way to react than genuine amusement, though the way Puppy springs from where he’s been settled and looks up at ‘Mommy’ and ‘Daddy’ as if to say Well, I didn’t let him in is definitely sorta funny… as is the sad plop of used-to-be-icecream slipping off the spoon (frozen half-way to his mouth on being spotted) and back into the tub and… yes, he’s laughing, and it’s not all nerves; half of it is that whole or else you’d cry thing which he’s never really understood ‘til now even if he’s unconsciously a master of it. Because pretending like it’s nothing is so much easier, right?
Words would definitely be a bonus, though. ”Um.. well, I’m…” – and the laughs are back under some sort of control, which is only half a blessing because it makes keeping up the breezy sure, everything’s okay bullshitting tone that little bit more of a strain. ”I’m borrowing your floor until the morning, because now’s hardly the time to ask Ororo for a new one of my own.” (He doesn’t add why he needs a new floor, even though it’s hopeless to expect that that’s not an issue) And for the most part the self-assuredness works, though the pacing speeds up as he concludes ”Don’t mind me. ‘ll barely notice I’m here” and turns his back on the couple, the semi-upright equivalent of rolling over and squeezing his eyes shut and hoping they’ll just drop it.
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Post by Warren Worthington III on Mar 14, 2007 18:25:25 GMT
Warren isn’t sure he’s ever seen Allerdyce laugh before. Sure, his affected little cynical “You’re just too dumb to live” snickers are practically a nervous tic, but they hardly count; this sort of full-out uncontrolled laughter is new. And, despite the circumstances, it catches Warren’s attention… it may be the first genuine thing he’s seen from the kid since his arrival, or his rescue, or whatever it was. For just a moment he can understand why anyone bothers with the kid, other than to keep him out of trouble.
Then it’s gone, replaced by more of the same adolescent bullshit, and the circumstances are suddenly far more important. He lets his voice go flat and hard, showing his annoyance with the whole situation. "Allerdyce… let me make this perfectly clear. I’m not going to threaten you, and I’m not going to play games with you. I’m simply letting you know that you will be out of my room within the next thirty seconds. Under whose power, and through what exit, is entirely up to you."
The solemn delivery is unfortunately ruined when their still-unnamed pup, apparently distressed by his angry tone, jumps from John's lap onto the bed to lick his face.
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Post by Josh Dalton Worthington on Mar 15, 2007 3:57:00 GMT
Putting his shirt back on now was kind of pointless, Josh decides. John’s already seen both of them in their various states of undress. Except he can’t shrug off the sense of being, well, half-naked, in front of someone other than Warren. He compromises by easing himself a little farther beneath one of Warren’s partially-unfurled wings.
Then John laughs, a laugh that Josh has never heard the likes of before. It’s somewhat how he imagined John would sound if he dropped all the pretense, all the shields, and just let his natural personality through.
> ”Don’t mind me. ‘ll barely notice I’m here”
“John, this totally isn’t funny. It’s Valentine’s Day. We have plans. Our plans currently revolve around sex until we’re too tired to move. And while some people appreciate an audience for that kind of thing, we were kind of banking on some alone time.” Josh sounds annoyed.
Except that John shouldn’t be laughing like that. Definitely not on their bedroom floor after interrupting the two of them grinding on each other like horny teenagers. (Which he reminds himself, they are, and therefore aren’t really at fault.) If anything, John should be tossing the obligatory quip about his daily fuck from ‘Big n Blonde’… or something. He shouldn’t be sitting there at all. Even John had social mores, and the proper thing to do in this case would be to run. Especially in the presence of a horny, impatient telekinetic. A quiet clinking issues from the nightstand, and Josh realizes he’s making an empty glass vibrate. It takes conscious effort to silence it.
> "Under whose power, and through what exit, is entirely up to you."
Right now, Josh is seriously regretting being the ‘nice guy’, and is inclined to agree with Warren. “Is there something wrong? Because maybe we can figure it out and you can be off, because you are not spending the night on the floor, unless it’s the hallway floor.” If I don’t get any tonight because of you, the next week of your life will be a terrible, pitiful existence.
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Post by Pyro on Mar 16, 2007 1:06:00 GMT
< John, this totally isn’t funny
Even though he agrees – ”No, Josh, it’s not” – the fact that Josh is saying as much inexplicably is the way that that phrase always is, and there’s another spurt of the weird laughter, made all the weirder by how once that’s out all other emotions want a share of this new *genuine* thing and so twist and stretch it so it becomes distorted and unhinged before he cuts it dead.
A side-glance reveals the source of that bloody irritating (far more so than it should be, but hey, everything seems to be notched up on overdrive right now, and he wonders vaguely whether it’s like going beyond tired and into hyper; once you get past numb, do you reach hysterical?) clinking, reminds him that maybe pissing off Josh isn’t the best idea. But… fuck it. Yes, it’s another pathetic whiny little cliché, saying he’s beyond caring because nothing really matters now anyway, but whatever.
... okay, some things still matter. Like the fact that he’s still letting way too much through, and why that still matters he doesn’t know but it does – maybe because it’s something that’s still him, or whatever. Which is why, sod what the clever or proper thing to do might be, he reverts back to the predictable bitter fuck you jackassery, almost like it’s him and not Bob who’s the computer, and he’s blue-screened out and had to re-boot.
< … we were kind of banking on some alone time
”Funny. I wasn’t exactly banking on sleeping anywhere other than Bob’s bed either. Boo fucking hoo” The remark ends with the percussive *pfft* of ignition as he sparks up Sharky – not because he needs the flame or anything, of course. Even if he were stressed out – which he isn’t, duh – then he’s John fucking Allerdyce and he doesn’t need anything as pathetic as a security blanket, even if it is a damn cool one. It’s just… force of habit. Or something.
< Let me make this perfectly clear
”Please do” What few qualms he has about being a jackass to Josh definitely don’t apply to Warren, and so ‘thinking better’ of snapping back at that flat, hard tone, smirk firmly back in its proper place? Not going to happen.
< Under whose power, and through what exit is entirely up to you
”Such a gent…” – okay, it starts off at least mock-respectful, even if it is a twisted parody of any real respect… and then goes south, twisting into a disparaging deadpan sneer – ”Why don’t you just say ‘fuck off’ and have done with it? I thought this was ‘no games and no threats’, Wings.”
< Is there something wrong?
No shit, Sherlock. ”Oh yeah, Josh, a great many things are very, very wrong. Hence why I am here, interrupting your… whatever. Because I have no where else to go.” – and it’s totally John, of course, that even his ‘pity me, I’m all alone’ voice is bitter and snark laden and begging for a smack rather than pathetic… not, probably, that even that is enough to let him quite pull off the next part, because he hates that he’s coming out with it but… fuck. Whatever. ”But hey, maybe it’s better all round if I conveniently fall out the window, or something. When you’re ready, Warr. It’d be a fucking relief, the way tonight’s going.”
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Post by Warren Worthington III on Mar 16, 2007 3:19:08 GMT
> " Oh yeah, Josh, a great many things are very, very wrong. Hence why I am here, interrupting your… whatever. Because I have no where else to go. But hey, maybe it’s better all round if I conveniently fall out the window, or something. When you’re ready, Warr. It’d be a fucking relief, the way tonight’s going."
Warren slowly takes a deep breath, lets it out… unfurls a wing a bit more and wraps it around Josh to help him “cover up” (at least, that’s his ostensible reason… the sensitivity of his inner wing membrane being a secret he’s managed to keep from most people other than Josh)… takes another breath.
Mostly, he wants to call Allerdyce’s bluff, drop him out the window, and get back to the serious business of “celebrating” Valentine’s Day. But he’d have a hard time explaining the resulting injuries – either John’s or his own, and he’s not really sure how that would work out – and it would spoil the mood, besides.
And, he admits reluctantly, he’s not really selfish enough to do it. He’d known when he took the teaching job here that he’d be responsible for all the students, not just the ones in his class… and while he’d normally consider this particular incident well above and beyond the call of duty, there’s something about the kid’s voice that forces him to take it seriously. This isn’t just Allerdyce fucking around, or trying to get their goat… there’s something seriously wrong.
So, OK. There’s still a whole night ahead of them, and they’ll enjoy it more if they’re not worrying about what kind of trouble Allerdyce is getting into because they blew him off. So, whatever’s going on between Allerdyce and Drake right now, they’ll do what they can to talk the kid through it. Fine. But not in his room – that much, he’s adamant about.
"All right. Window it is, then." He gets out of bed, zips his pants back up, goes over to the window to open it. I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.
I’m really sorry, hon… but I can’t just leave him to go get into trouble on his own – and you know he will – and I’m not going to let him stay here. Would you mind giving him a “boost” up to the roof? We can figure it out from there, I guess.
Without another word to John, he launches himself out the window and up to the roof. Sooner we get this dealt with, the sooner we can get back to finishing that ice-cream…
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Post by Josh Dalton Worthington on Mar 17, 2007 3:46:45 GMT
Josh relaxes into Warren’s side, but can sense the annoyance pouring off his boyfriend… something that he himself was feeling. It was one thing if John came to them asking for help, but it always had to be sarcasm and superiority with the older boy. > Hence why I am here, interrupting your… whatever. Because I have no where else to go.Josh looks confused. Nowhere else to go? Just what actually happened? Bobby had gotten steadily stranger since his transformation at the Baxter Building, but Josh couldn’t imagine him kicking John out of their shared room. No… that would require some kind of emotional response.> I’m really sorry, hon… but I can’t just leave him to go get into trouble on his own – and you know he will – and I’m not going to let him stay here. Would you mind giving him a “boost” up to the roof? We can figure it out from there, I guess.
It’s okay. I don’t want him to go off and vent his anger on someone, either. Josh can sense Warren’s refusal to conduct said conversation within their bedroom. While John might be one of his old friends, John was more of a student than a friend to Warren, and it made sense to keep their private life separate. And I don’t care how long this takes, either… we are having sex tonight, damn it. He lets a small amount of amusement drift into his mental voice. After Warren’s gone, Josh just looks over at John, and silently pads over to their closet. He pulls on a hooded sweatshirt (Christmas, from Jake) and slips a flowing shirt with wing openings off a hangar. “Okay, John. Time to go.” The spoon flies out of John’s hand as it nears his mouth, dropping back into the ice cream carton, which hovers upwards onto their dresser, doggie-safe. The balcony door clicks and opens, and Josh inclines his head towards it. John lifts off the ground and starts floating out of the door, towards the roof. Josh knows the telekinesis freaks John out when it’s him who’s floating, so he can’t help but enjoy things a little. Hey, John crashed our bedroom. He deserves to squirm, at least. He follows John out onto the balcony, and glances back at the puppy. “We’ll be back in a little bit. Be good!” The innocent look isn’t fooling him, though. Josh floats off the ground to join the others on the roof. As he sets down next to Warren, he leans into his warmth. It’s cold... at least put on the shirt, okay? He gives him a peck on the cheek. |
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Post by Pyro on Mar 18, 2007 18:47:03 GMT
< All right, window it is
He’d protest that for fucks sake, he wasn’t being serious… but something in Warren’s tone and manner suggests that this really isn’t the time or the place, and in any case he’s more cornered and ready to lash out than cool and ready with a quip. Because he’s on his feet, and he can take Warren (though he’d rather not, because he’s probably pissed Josh off enough without setting fire to his boyfriend, and appealing as tearing everything down in flames is he should probably be slightly more careful about the losing friends thing - he’s got few enough of them left) and there’s something almost poetic about being killed by an Angel for interrupting a few sins and… fuck, no this is not good…
And then Warren’s gone, and after a moment or two of re-assuring himself that he is in fact still stood here and not heading rapidly towards a more pavement-jam like state of existence he’s back to something like himself.
”Let me guess, you’re turned on by that flair for the melodramatic?” – and yes, he’s babbling. Because he doesn’t know what Joshy’s planning (and doesn’t much like what he suspects) and despite the whole going to hell thing he’s not quite ready to make it literal as well as figurative - ”Don’t get me wrong, it’s cute, in a demented sort of way… but we don’t have to deal with things like that, right? His style isn’t ou…”
< Okay John, time to go
Later he’ll no doubt regret not being able to pull off the whole noble so be it thing. Or at least be pissed off that he couldn’t pull anything off without reverting to Oh shit, oh holy fuck, I hate this panic of an even less John-like manner than noble would have been. Even just suffering in silence would have been sort-of-okay (though obviously not flying would always be preferable).
The only real thing panic has going for it is that it distracts you from noticing how much of an ass you no doubt look while doing the whole flailing-protesting-wig-out thing. And sadly even that cuts out just a little too soon for him to totally miss the roof-clinging, double-checking that that is in fact something solid and not air and not quite trusting it not to throw him off, schtick which follows. Which… yes, does not go down well, being made to look an idiot, as if the fact that everything has gone to hell, and having to deal with that while stuck with the perfect, functional couple, is not quite torture enough. Fate’s a bitch… But she’s not around to carry the blame, while Teek-boy and Blondie are.
John’s not quite back to himself – there’s still that stab of post-panic nausea (which, of course, never sits well with over-sweet ice-cream and choked back saltwater), and he’s still blanched and oddly shaky – but of course that only ever makes him more himself, the blazing raging side, and the twisted snark, both hyped up to compensate. If looks could kill, then the ‘stute would be minus one golden couple, and even if they can’t, then the flame darting across his fingers (totally not a *calming down* thing, just adding to the don’t mess with me like that again. Ever effect. Obviously) probably would just as neatly, though the edge (which doesn’t sit quite right, because there are still those moments where shaky wins out, but it’s not a bad effort as far as anyone else’s level of biting goes; this being John, of course, it comes off a little muted) in his tone suggests that they’re not even worth that little effort to be rid off. And maybe it’s all futile and seventeen sorts of pathetic, but whatever – it’s what he knows, and what he does, and fuck, something about this has to be what passes for normal.
”Brilliant idea. Let’s all freeze to death on the fucking roof. Abso-fucking-lute genius… Never do that again.”
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Post by Warren Worthington III on Mar 18, 2007 23:58:49 GMT
> And I don’t care how long this takes, either… we are having sex tonight, damn it.
Warren isn’t surprised by the sentiment, but he is surprised by the amused tinge… he’d expected Josh to be more annoyed than he was, and is pleased to note they’re both on the same wavelength. Someday that will stop surprising him, he supposes, but he’s not in any hurry for that day to arrive. If you have any doubt that the sentiment’s mutual, you’re not half as telepathically sensitive as I thought…
> " Brilliant idea. Let’s all freeze to death on the fucking roof. Abso-fucking-lute genius… Never do that again."
"Next time, " Warren volleys back without hesitation, "don’t assume I’m bluffing. I told you: it wasn’t a threat and it wasn’t a game. I try to avoid bluffing when I can help it; a reputation for it can ruin a negotiating position." He doesn’t allow a hint of emotion to show on his face – neither the entirely sincere annoyance that is beginning to cool off, nor the growing amusement at the absurdity of the whole situation.
"Besides," he adds, pulling on the shirt Josh handed him and dropping lightly into a cross-legged stance on the asphalt, and allowing his tone to become marginally friendlier (not too friendly, which he’s sure Allerdyce would reject immediately, but a notch up from kicking the kid out of his room), "this way you have almost as much incentive to get through this quickly as we do. So… now that we’ve gotten that out of the way: what do you mean, you have nowhere else to go? What’s going on between you and Drake?"
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Post by Josh Dalton Worthington on Mar 22, 2007 3:56:38 GMT
> If you have any doubt that the sentiment’s mutual, you’re not half as telepathically sensitive as I thought…
Josh grins, seemingly at nothing at all. Love you. Now let’s get this over with…
> Never do that again.
Josh looks up from where he’d been staring down at the Institute grounds, which are shrouded in darkness. “How about you try to avoid camping out on our floor like a hobo on days any sane person would assume those in a relationship would be celebrating said bond? If you show up on our anniversary, you are going out the window, no questions asked.” His voice sounds slightly sharp, but it’s obvious that he finds the situation somewhat humorous from a step back.
> What’s going on between you and Drake?
“Yeah. Bobby kicked you out? Isn’t that a little emotional for him these days?” Josh tries to keep the concern from his voice. Bobby’s mental structure (and state) had been a concern of his ever since they’d gotten back from the Baxter Building and discovered what had happened. Even more so, was Bobby’s continued use of the powers that would only accelerate his own death.
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Post by Pyro on Mar 30, 2007 16:56:00 GMT
< Next time, don’t assume I’m bluffing
John’s return volley – ”Next time? Getting a bit ahead of yourself after that oh-so-warm welcome y’laid on, Wings” – is more sulky than sharp, directed into his knees as he hugs them up to his chest and scowls at nothing in particular, sulky and surly and definitely not pity-me (just that couple of stages too short, the three year old still pretending they don’t need their parent’s attention).
< How about you try to avoid camping out on our floor like a hobo on days any sane person would assume those in a relationship would be celebrating said bond?
It takes a lot not to wince at words like ‘relationship’ and ‘bond’ right now, but somehow he manages it, sinking deeper into the scowl and snarling back, drawlingly sarcastic and more than a little bitter. ”Next time I’ll schedule my random crises more carefully. Because obviously the first thing on my mind is how inconvenient it’ll be for you, Josh. Forgive me for not realising it might interrupt the fucking n’all, but hey, obviously my priorities are skewed.”
< You turn up on our anniversary, you are going out the window, no questions asked.
”I have to turn up on your anniversary and you’re still” – John struggles for an appropriate jibe, and gives up, not exactly eager to think about what Josh and Warren might be up to – ”like this? I’ll throw myself out the window.”
< What’s going on between you and Drake?
< Bobby kicked you out? Isn’t that a little emotional for him these days?
Ah. It’s not exactly a revelation, the fact that John rarely if ever thinks things through – with regard to this particular plan that much should already be pretty bloody obvious – but yes, he stopped a few stages too short there, in far more spectacular style than usual; of course he was going to have to explain ‘The Bob situation’ sooner or later. Only he really, really doesn’t want to touch on that.
”It’s… complicated” Understatement of the century… It’s hard to look casual when he’s still flitting between uncomfortably shaken and more habitually jaded, but he tries, uncurling and leaning back (and it’s easier by far to look up to the blackness rather than at them), making a vague dismissive gesture. ”Chucked myself out, really. No longer inclined to share Robert’s living space, as it were.”
And for fuck’s sake don’t ask for any more detail than that.
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Post by Warren Worthington III on Mar 30, 2007 18:25:56 GMT
Warren counts to ten, silently, in the back of his head before responding.
"Look… I’m sorry about the not-so-warm welcome. Your timing was lousy, is all. But if whatever happened between you and Drake was enough of a big deal to chase you out of your room and into ours, it’s obviously more than just ‘complicated’. We’ve all been worried about him since he self-medicated himself into the ranks of the MGH-poisoned; Reed and Hank have had their hands full just keeping his physical condition from deteriorating, but it’s been fairly clear that his mind isn’t what it was. And given how badly it interacts with telepathy, you’re probably in a better position than any of us to understand what’s happening to him. "
He pauses for a moment, not quite sure himself where he’s going, then continues "I suppose what I’m saying is that while I’d rather not intrude uninvited on whatever private crisis is going on in your relationship, if it’s gotten this bad" (he waves a wing to indicate the three of them on the roof) "then I think it’s safe to say we’ve moved past that point. So, please, just tell us what happened?"
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