Daniel & Jean-Paul, then Morgan & Cammie | Thursday

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In the afternoon Morgan-as-Daniel shows up at Jean-Paul's door with a thank you picnic but things go south when it becomes clear that the same rules don't apply to Daniel as they do with Morgan.

The day had been spent lounging around wearing Daniel for the most part. It had confused some of the people in the mansion but they either walked off confused or asked who he was and got the truth. Vanessa didn't much see the point in lying about it. Either she'd tell them nothing or they'd get honesty, it was just her policy. Morgan was a mask that had been falling off quite a bit lately and Vanessa just wanted to escape for a bit. She didn't want to run off and driving a car wasn't nearly as freeing as riding her bike was, but she wouldn't do the latter in this weather. The natural answer, then, was for her to just put on someone else for a bit. After all, people always reacted differently to people based on ridiculous things such as outward appearances. Besides, it was nice to just wear jeans and a tee shirt with Daniel for once. Normally he was busy taking Jean-Paul out but Daniel was definitely a more casual sort of guy she'd decided.

He was also just cheesy enough, Vanessa thought, to show up at Jean-Paul's door with a picnic basket in hand. It was, of course, full of food, most of which Daniel had cooked because it meant more that way. This was, in a way, a thank you for putting up with all of Vanessa's emotional upheaval lately and for not complaining when he found a six-foot-tall woman in his lap curled up like a five year old. Morgan would have just knocked once to announce her presence and then let herself in, whether or not the door was locked. Daniel, however, had inherited more of Vanessa's manners and so he knocked on the door and waited quietly for it to be answered.

"Come in." Jean-Paul really could be bi-polar about his housekeeping. The suite would be as neat as pin for days or weeks until and idea struck, and then it was a explosion of papers, books, and notepads until Jean-Paul had worked whatever idea had hit him down to a nub. Today had been the day of another explosion, it seemed -- books everywhere, papers on every surface, and JP in the middle of it in his reading glasses.

Daniel's head poked in through the doorway first, his eyes going wide at the sight. "¡Dios mío! What did you do to this place?" Daniel inched in sideways even though it wasn't nearly such a mess as to not be able to open the door. He leaned against the wall, one hand holding the picnic basket behind his back while the other clasped the wrist of the first. He was barefoot and a bit disheveled, but he had nothing on the room itself. "Have you been plotting world domination again, mi corazón?"

"Only if we're planning to dominate the world through well-read young mutants...which isn't the worst idea ever, I confess." Jean-Paul looked up and blinked. Daniel rumpled was, somehow, more appealing than Daniel in formal attire. "Did I miss something...? It's a bit cold out for a picnic, isn't it?"

"Only if you are taking it outside. Under normal circumstances you do have a floor here, I believe." Daniel's head cocked to the side and his eyes glanced from the floor up to Jean-Paul and back again. "I am not entirely sure whether or not it still exists, however, the plan was to spread a blanket over the floor. There is, however, an impressive approximation of a beach in the basement should the floor be unavailable for such activities." There hadn't really been adequate sand-proofing for a beach, but with the mess Jean-Paul had created there were few other options.

"Yes, there's a floor. I cleared a path to it earlier. Through it. Something like that. Give me a minute and I'll clear a space."

"Shall I arrange for a search party in case the floor swallows you whole in the midst of your efforts?" It wasn't really as bad as Daniel was making it out to be, but this was the first time such an explosion had occurred despite how much time Vanessa spent in here. "I'm afraid I don't secretly possess elastic limbs to go in after you myself if such a thing should be needed."

"Send Nate, then. He needs to keep himself distracted and he is a telekinetic anyway." It took longer than it should have to make enough space for two people, but there was some order to the papers that JP seemed to want to keep. At last, however, there was a clearing. "There. Not so bad."

"I'm quite sure Nate would love that. 'Excuse me, I've lost my semi-date to his excessive supply of deceased trees, could you help me locate him?' I can imagine him staring, blinking and then laughing his ass off the moment he realized who was behind the face." While Jean-Paul worked at moving, stacking and shuffling papers and the like about Daniel didn't move. He was content to stand there patiently until it was declared that the exploit of rearranging was done. Slowly, Daniel shuffled closer and stopped behind Jean-Paul. He leaned over the older man and peered over him to the clearing. "Mmm, I do think that will manage to do." Leaning over, a small kiss was placed on Jean-Paul's forehead before the picnic basket was dangled in front of him. "I will get the blanket."

Jean-Paul took the basket and watched as Daniel walked away. It was likely a very bad idea, eating in like this. When Morgan was alone with him in the suite, that was fine and an entirely different dynamic. There was so much more temptation to cross certain lines alone with Daniel, though.

Jean-Paul shook himself out of it. They were both adults; it would be fine.

"So what is in here?"

"Chicken parmigiana; pasta with basil, tomatoes, and olive oil; fruit salad; cheeses; crackers; actual salad; white wine; a tiny Styrofoam cooler with tiramisu, which is purchased because I would have likely blown something up attempting to make such a thing myself," Daniel told him as he went looking for the blanket he wanted. It was just a simple, soft, flannel blanket that Morgan had brought over one day and just left there since she seemed to sleep here more often than in her own bed lately. "There's likely something else I forgot about in there as well," he grinned as he emerged again with the blanket. "You could, of course, just open it to find out."

While the blanket was spread out Vanessa remembered there were flowers on top of everything in the basket because Jean-Paul needed more life in his suite than the pair of rats who were currently asleep in their case. The color would be good for when he was surly, which was most of the time really.

A bright bundle of peonies was indeed the first thing drawn out, and they earned a skeptical look from the speedster.

"I hope you don't intend me to eat these. I've seen what you do to grazers." He grinned and set the blooms aside for the moment. "Generally, though, I am impressed. And, of course, disposed to be grateful to anyone kind-hearted enough to feed me."

Daniel grinned, a bright and happy expression. "No, querido, I do not intend for you to eat them. I had thought you needed something brighter. More life than the 'vermin' to perhaps entreat you to smile a bit more. Though, if eating them will make you happy and smile," the sentence wasn't finished aloud and instead Daniel shrugged.

Taking care to not disturb any of the closer stacks of papers and the like, the blanket was spread out on the floor. Daniel sat down at one corner with a grace rarely seen in Morgan. It spoke more of a dancer than an athlete as Morgan's grace generally did. Of course, Jean-Paul had witnessed Daniel's grace on a dance floor firsthand. "I thought it was only fair. You have been a very good friend to me, particularly as of late, and have fed me more than once. One good turn deserves another, yes?"

"I believe that is the general principle." He cleared his throat and glanced away. "It's been no trouble, truly. I've enjoyed our time together."

An eyebrow was raised at the man with a curious expression stealing over Daniel's features. "Are you attempting to make it sound as if I'm leaving never to be seen again or is this a special talent you have suddenly developed, querido? Perhaps a secondary mutation?" Sure, Vanessa knew that thanking the man for being a good friend might instill awkward, just not that level of awkward.

"No. No, sorry. I mean...you could leave if you wished it, but...ah, hell. Can we say I'm glad you're around and leave it at that?"

Daniel suddenly grinned and it was that warm, sincere look of happiness again. He even crawled across the blanket far enough to kiss Jean-Paul very lightly on the lips before sitting back down on his corner. "Generally you are not the man I attempt to instill awkwardness in. You're also generally not the man I tend to think of as being so easy to achieve such a thing with. Perhaps it is my secondary mutation, no?"

"I'm out of practice with friendly picnics, that is all." Jean-Paul had a hint of color to his cheeks, but at least he was looking up again. "I'll calm down once I'm weighted down by the stomach, don't worry."

The grin was not fading from Daniel's face. Vanessa, it seemed, lived to make men blush. First Sam, now Jean-Paul. If she could manage Nate and Garrison it would be a complete set, but she doubted either of them blushed very easily at all. "Obviously I will have to get you more in practice then. C'mon," Daniel snapped his finger, "it's not meant to sit in the picnic basket all day and it will be horridly disappointed should it get cold before it's eaten."

--

It wouldn't have done to leave the food disappointed, so of course they'd stuffed themselves, joked, teased, talked a bit about Jean-Paul's past about a ski champion and wound up on the couch only because there wasn't enough room on the floor to accommodate stretching out.

Jean-Paul regarded Daniel drowsily from his end of the couch, poking the toes resting close to his head. "Mission accomplished, I think."

The toes curled up at the poking, then Daniel bent his knees and pulled his feet back so that they could escape. "No, mi corazón, there is still half a bottle of wine left." A hand lazily reached down to the floor and lifted the bottle to punctuate the point. "If my mission was accomplished you'd be drunk and curled up in a ball beside me by now. As it is," the bottle was placed back on the floor and Daniel's body followed the movement as he sat up. His feet were tucked up under him as he raised up onto his knees and then crawled over Jean-Paul only to end up laying atop the other man, Daniel's chin resting on Jean-Paul's chest. "It seems any curling up will be my job, as usual." A small, secretive smile spread across Daniel's lips and there was something distinctly mischievous in his eyes.

The drowsy contentment that came with a full stomach was eroded away in seconds by a desire as primal as hunger and considerably more urgent. Jean-Paul offered a weak smile as he tried to rein himself in.

"The wine is probably a bad idea anyway. You know I am a lightweight."

The smile widened into a grin. "Oh, yes, I'm quite aware. You are immeasurably more entertaining when you're drunk, though. And you smile more. Something you know I am quite fond of." Vanessa was entertaining herself by tracing nonsense patterns up and down Jean-Paul's arm. Daniel's hands were on the soft side, but they had that slightly calloused feel that a musician might have. Vanessa also had a habit of her hands traveling so it was no surprise when those patterns began to mix with Spanish words which Daniel wrote down the Canadian's side.

Jean-Paul's skin quivered under the touch, even with his shirt between Daniel's fingertips and his own flesh. The faint heat of his touch seemed to sear.

"Daniel...please."

"Hmm?" Daniel's eyes had wandered to follow his fingers over the material. Jean-Paul's words, or perhaps more so his tone drew those brown eyes back to his face. "What?"

"I..." Had Daniel always had such a clean, masculine scent? He swallowed, hands clenching lightly at his sides. No. "I could use some space. Please."

There was confusion etched into Daniel's features and just the slightest trace of hurt, as if he wasn't sure whether or not he should be. Daniel was more emotionally open than Morgan ever was so it became much easier to read his emotions. Though he did what was requested and crawled off of Jean-Paul to the point that he ended up sitting on the floor beside the couch with his knees drawn up and his arms draped around them. "Are you alright, mi corazón?"

Jean-Paul sat up, breathing deeply.

"I...desole. Sorry. I was about to embarrass myself, that is all."

The confusion turned curious but did not go away. Daniel reached out and took Jean-Paul's hand. His head was laid down on the pair of clasped hands as he watched Jean-Paul, silent but the obvious question in his eyes of how the man was about to embarrass himself and whether or not it was Daniel's fault.

"Daniel...my self-control is at low ebb right now. It...must be the wine. Sorry." He looked down at the concerned man beside him, then away again, quickly. "I am more than half turned-on right now and think I need to be alone for a little while."

An eyebrow arched and something indistinct passed through Daniel's eyes. "I see. So it's okay if you're turned on so long as we are out? Good rule to know." It was hard to pinpoint the emotion in the voice, but it sounded a bit more like Morgan than Daniel despite his accent. Vanessa could, however, remember much worse than this while they were out, especially the first night. In fact, this was so tame she couldn't quite understand what the issue was. Despite that Daniel set about collecting empty plates, cast aside cutlery, empty glasses and what food was left over. If Jean-Paul was to be left alone Vanessa would do him the service of not leaving him the mess.

"When we're out, it is different." He rose to his feet, following at Daniel's heels. "There's no temptation to go any further than friendly when there are other people around."

"I don't tend to qualify 'friendly' as my tongue down your throat and your hands on my ass while I've got your back against a wall," Daniel responded without looking back. "I'm fairly certain it was the photographers and not the setting which deterred you." That and a certain no sex rule, but then Morgan hadn't ever clarified what did or did not constitute sex and he didn't ask. It was likely better that way. Oddly enough, Daniel didn't sound hurt so much as he was annoyed. Walking on egg shells was going to be a bitch and all facets of the metamorph were more inclined to avoid him than have to worry about misstepping, which would suck.

And that was quite enough of that. Jean-Paul's shields went up.

"You are right. It is all about my image. Sorry to have misled you." He was standing very straight all of a sudden, his words clipped and precise. "Thank you for lunch. Do not bother cleaning up. I'll take care of it."

"I was referring to you not being that much of an exhibitionist, not being vain," Daniel countered. He finally spun and looked at Jean-Paul. His expression was best described as unimpressed. "Do not become stoic and detached man simply because I said something you do not like. If you want me to leave you alone I can. In fact, I have found I have little problem leaving most people alone for very long, potentially indefinite periods of time. However, it seems a stupid thing to cause such measures."

He wanted to let her...him...go just to escape the utter mortification of the moment, but the idea was as repellent as it was appealing. Even if his feelings were a hopeless snarl at the moment, he cared about Morgan enough to at least try.


"We agreed that we would not have sex and that is fine, but I am not made of stone. I don't see where I am being unreasonable in asking for space if I need it."

"Perhaps you should define 'space' for me. Are we talking about the sort of space that a day or two cures or the sort of space that dictates which anatomical features I possess when I'm not dragging you out of the mansion with me?" It was a pivotal question so far as Vanessa was concerned, much more so than Jean-Paul may have realized. Though she mentally resolved to accept whatever answer came and the consequences of it.

Jean-Paul blinked.

"'Space' as in enough time to get rid of a half-drunk head and take a cold shower." Which wouldn't actually do a damn bit of good in and of itself, but it was same kind of idea.

"And the next time Daniel decides to flirt with you when there is no one to witness what transpires?"

It was eerie, the change in posture and accent. The voice was Daniel, but the essence was Vanessa.

"That depends on you as much as me." Jean-Paul leaned against the counter. "I enjoy being with you, Morgan, no matter which form you are in, but when you are Daniel, I do desire you. We have not been alone like that often and never for long. Without the check of others around..." Jean-Paul rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "The flirting is only pleasant until a certain point, then it is a definite frustration. It is less what we could be doing if there were not others around, but we can't so we had best do something else and just...what we could be doing. We don't need to ban Daniel from my room but if this is going to happen often, I'm going to be taking a lot of showers."

"Which then means Daniel has different rules." In fact, that meant Daniel had entirely different rules because Morgan could use Jean-Paul as a pillow, take naps on him, sleep in the same bed as him, drag him around by his belt loops, cuddle him, kiss him and curl up in his lap but she doubted Daniel would get away with almost any of that for long before Jean-Paul had to excuse himself. That was not acceptable to her. Perhaps Vanessa would calm and get over it after the beating the hell out of a punching bag in the gym, but as of right now it wasn't acceptable and it was her turn to be done with the conversation.

"By all means, I would hate to keep you from your shower." Daniel had been slipped back on as easily as anything. Vanessa had only stepped out of him for a moment, because it got to the point where it was not exactly him that Jean-Paul was having the conversation with. Daniel was no different from Morgan but neither of them was entirely Vanessa and for that reason alone the accent had slipped away. Now it was back as if nothing had happened. Daniel inclined his head politely toward Jean-Paul and headed for the door.

---

Later in the evening Morgan stops by to meet the new kid. Her mood soured by her dealings with Jean-Paul earlier, things don't go over too well.

Ah, students holing up in the medlab. There had to be somewhere better to put the kids when they filtered in. Didn't most of them end up in guest rooms? Maybe this Carmilla chick was pretty banged up. Morgan had heard very vaguely about the girl's powers being poisonous and figured she should go down and meet her before she showed up in the self-defense class and put someone else in the medlab. Or maybe the girl wouldn't end up staying at all, that was a possibility as well. Either way, Morgan knocked on the door and balanced a container in her hand. It was only pasta but it was better than the medlab food. If she knew whether or not the kid was a vegetarian or something it would have been something more exciting, but alas.

"Door's open," Cammie said, not getting up from the bed. It wasn't like the door really had a lock on it. She was going to be stuck here, as far as she could figure, until her wound healed enough that she (and the staff here) didn't have to worry about her tearing out her stitches, bleeding all over, and making a bunch of people sick. So in the mean time, she was amusing herself with her new laptop (if she did choose to stay, it was way too tempting) and the joys of YouTube and other various internet sites.

Morgan poked her head through the door first and soon the rest of her followed. "Hey, kid." She left the container on the table next to the bed. It smelled like pasta so Morgan didn't bother stating the obvious about what it was. "Figured the food down here likely sucks." She shrugged and moved on. "Aye, your name's Carmilla, yeah?" It was hard to say her name without a Spanish accent. Obviously the metamorph had been spending too much time in Daniel's head recently. "I'm Morgan. If you stay I'll be one of your teachers. Figured I'd come say hi and see if you knew whether or not you were staying once you're healed or ditching out to move onto 'bigger and better' things." There was sarcasm that dripped through the phrase which was absent in the rest of her tone. The sarcasm brought out the Irish even though it should have fit better with the overtones of her Boston accent.

Cammie cast a side glance at the pasta, it would taste as bland as everything else, but she nodded thanks anyway. Even if she didn't eat it, they didn't have to keep bringing her all this stuff. It was weird. 'Here, you got stabbed and poisoned half a town and accidentally killed a guy, have a bunch of free stuff!' It was a lot different than the 'hey, you're homeless, worthless, GTFO' attitude she had run across more than once.

"You can call me Cammie," she said, looking up at the blue woman. At least she wasn't the most unusual looking person here. Small comfort, she supposed, "And I don't know if what I had was bigger and better or what, but I was thinking about staying," she said with a shrug. Noting and shrugging off what seemed to be a changing accent the woman was speaking with.

"It's easy for people to think they can do better without this place." Morgan leaned back against the wall and looked Cammie over. She was studying the girl, specifically her body language. "I didn't have this place when I was your age. I don't think it was even here yet. Let me tell you, it fucking blew. They're good people here. And they'll pretty much bend over backward to help you and make sure you can function like a normal person with your mutation as much as that's possible. Unless you've got a better offer I'd suggest you do more than just think about staying."

"Oh yeah, the last four years of my life have been a five star resort," Cammie returned. "And I'm getting that idea, there's just that bit about... I dunno, the too good to be true?" she said, getting defensive, "I guess I'm still trying to figure out if it's actually for real or not, as when you compare this place with the outside world it seems kind of surreal. I don't have a better offer, so unless this ends up being a trap or I massively fuck things up, it's not like I have anywhere else to go or to be."

"I'll have one of the grads or one of the seniors who have been here for a while tell you about the dinosaurs and other really strange shit that tends to happen around here. The X-Men being here can potentially attractive trouble, too. Most of your teachers will end up more banged up and injured than you ever do. The kids are kids, full of both sides of the emotional spectrum." Morgan shrugged again and pushed off from the wall. "But Charles, he works his ass off to give everyone here what he can. I feel you on the too good thing, but it's kind of a nice change from the outside world. But it can be uncomfortable for a while. The adjustment takes time."

"Well, nice to know I'm not the only one who feels like this is some sort of fairy-dream land," Cammie returned, now wondering exactly how young this woman thought she was. She wasn't a little kid after all. She had managed to survive the streets for as long as she did. Cammie felt that entitled her to a little bit of respect at the very least, "So yeah, I guess I'll give it a whirl and hope I don't fuck it up. I'm pretty good at that," she said dryly.

"Ah, that brings me to the real reason I came to see you." There was a feeling in the weight of Morgan's words that nearly sung dun dun duuun aloud. "I don't know much about your mutation but from the bits and pieces I've heard we need to find a way around it. I'm assuming you're still young enough that you should be in school, or at least that you haven't gone and gotten your GED yet. If you end up in classes, well, self-defense is mandatory if you want to pass. I hear you've got an on contact sort of thing and obviously I don't want the other kids in the class getting hurt. It's hard enough making sure Yvette doesn't hurt anyone accidentally." Mostly because it would crush the girl. Morgan, honestly, tended to worry a bit more about Yvette if she hurt someone than the person who got hurt. Most things could be healed. The psychological damage was harder, though.

"Nice guess, but I'm nineteen," Cammie said, "And yeah, it's on contact. I have it mostly under control though. As long as we don't have to worry about other kids knifing me. This isn't that kind of school though, I'd hope," she returned. "I just don't touch people, and people don't touch me and we'll all get along fine and mostly in good health." Unless someone here was allergic to her or something.

"You look younger." Actually, they all looked young to Morgan. Even some of the ones who were older than she was. Young and untouched. Despite how much she knew some of them had been through they lacked the age in their eyes that she tended to associate with age. Maybe that look only happened to the battle weary who saw too many wars.

"'Mostly' isn't really good enough." Her voice was flat and direct. "Some people will tell you it is, but until you've got it fully under control I expect you to take better precautions than to just not touch people. Know what happened when uncontrollable motion brought someone in contact with a former student who was on the Do Not Touch list? The guy exploded. So do better than 'mostly' and 'I don't touch people.'" The fierce tone of protectiveness caused by her concern for the students was in no way tempered by any care for this girl. Morgan didn't know the girl, why should she care about her? Not everyone here had a bleeding heart of gold.

"Fine, I'll get one of those plastic bubbles and roll around in that for the rest of my life," Cammie returned. "Will that make it better?" She was not going to ask about the exploding kid. She wasn't. She didn't cause explosions, just an overwhelming need for barf bags and detox. Right now the fact that not everyone here was being nice beyond all belief didn't sink in. This was another form of attack, and it made Cammie more sarcastic and more defensive.

"That depends," Morgan began, "are you going to be this bitchy in your bubble or should I just get you a bag so you can suffocate yourself instead?" An eyebrow arched upward. There was the slightest hint of amusement in Morgan's eyes. Cammie was definitely younger than nineteen, she didn't care how long the kid had been living. "Personally I was thinking along the lines of long sleeves and gloves. But you've got a latex fetish, I can respect that. Not the weirdest fetish around. We could get you a pair of rubber opera gloves. Very chic."

"Bags are for kids, I'll take a nylon noose," she returned, "It's only my left arm, and the Michael Jackson thing's been over done. Next thing you'll say is I should be moon walking too. I have my bandages and if you want me to have a glove on my hand too, fine, I'll even do that if it will shut people up. Or, if it's too much trouble, I know where the door is."

But she was keeping the laptop. Even if only to sell the damn thing for all the trouble.

"Keep the glove on." It wasn't a request. "I don't take well to people hurting kids because they are cocky and stupid." Morgan bit down the threat that wanted to boil forth. She should keep her unpleasantness to the unavoidable minimum rather than trying to win a medal in it.

"Oh yeah, because I have absolutely no idea of what I can do when I fuck up," Cammie retorted memories of that disastrous first dance jumping through her mind. It made her mood that much worse, "I'll keep it covered."

"Good." Morgan's mood shifted instantly and she smiled. It looked sincere enough. "People really will bend over backward to help you here. It also means they'll get protective of you. You're on the wrong end of it with me right now. You won't be with everyone or forever. They're all fucking fluffy bunnies except me anyway." She waved dismissively as if that was a given.

Morgan's mood might have shifted instantly but Cammie was now lodged quite firmly in a very sour mood, "That's great. You can go now. Have fun with the Fuzzy Fucking Bunny Brigade." The images dancing through her head were ones she never liked dealing with.

"Cute but surly's already taken by a few people here," Morgan told her lightly. "You might want to find a new shtick before moving into regular rotation, kid." She gave Carmilla a two-fingered salute and headed for the door.

Cammie's salute was one fingered and delivered it without even looking back at Morgan. That message was clear. Surly may have been taken, but the classics never got old.