Nate, Johnny, and Jean-Paul

[x-cynosure.livejournal.com]

Johnny meets Nate, Nate wakes up with a headache, and Jean-Paul takes a poll concerning breakfast.



Jean-Paul wasn't used to waking up with daylight coming in through the windows. Just how late had he and Nate stayed up anyway? He was even less accustomed to another person in the room when he opened his eyes, and so that thought was quickly eclipsed by a moment of defensiveness that left him upright in bed before he recognized the uncertain boy peeking his head into his bedroom.

The speedster sighed and flopped back down onto the mattress. "What time is it?"

The boy in question, still ruffled with sleep and topped with an unkempt mass of white hair, yelped softly as Jean-Paul shot up, withdrawing from the cracked door almost to the point invisibility. Johnny relaxed slowly as the older mutant did, gradually peeking in again. He looked at his watch, “Almost eight.”

He paused, looking over his shoulder as the unfamiliar man on the couch some distance behind him grumbled and shifted in his sleep, then stepped into Jean-Paul’s room a little more. He cracked a grin, unable to resist teasing the other mutant, “…I didn’t think guys your age had sleepovers.”

"One of the advantages to being an adult is that you do not necessarily have to act your age." Jean-Paul yawned and sat up again, more languid this time. "I've overslept. And I suppose you're just up." Jean-Paul climbed out of bed and headed to the living room and to the couch's latest occupant. "Nathan. You are required to be awake now."

"I'm not required to be away. You're required to be awake," was the petulant and moderately nonsensical reply. Nathan cracked open an eye, glaring balefully up at Jean-Paul. "Wine gives me a headache. Why did you let me drink half the bottle?"

"For the sake of my dignity. Do not think I am unappreciative of you you taking the hit for me. You are a true friend." Jean-Paul leaned on the couch, smirking at Nate from under his bedhair. "Nathan, this is Johnny. He is new here. Johnny, this is Nathan. He is rather not."

Johnny had followed Jean-Paul from his room, close on his heels like a steadfast pup, and stood watching the older men (particularly the disoriented Nathan) with clear amusement. When he found himself roped into the conversation, he did his best to make this less obvious and raised one hand thoughtlessly, “Hey…do you need some aspirin or
something?” Not that he’d know where to find it.

"Yes, please," Nathan said with as much dignity as he could muster as he sat up. "Red wine is bad. Jet lag and red wine is worse. And hello, it's good to meet you, Johnny."

"You too." Assuming Nathan would last long enough for it to even be considered a proper meeting. He'd never had red wine or jet lag, but it seemed to be a painful combination. Johnny nodded, more than willing to fetch the necessary medicine until the fact that he had no idea where Jean-Paul kept such things dawned on him rather abruptly. He looked up at the dark-haired man, the request for directions written plainly on his face.

"Medicine chest in the bathroom. There should be a few left." Jean-Paul reached down and gave Nate's shoulder a vigorous pat as Johnny wandered off. "You'll live." Considering Jean-Paul's own lack of tolerance, he was surprisingly chipper. "I, however, am starving. Should I be cooking for two or three?"

"I don't know," Nathan said, not quite dryly. "What are you cooking?" He got that preoccupied look that people did when they were considering just how settled their stomach seemed to be.

Jean-Paul considered and headed over to the kitchen to confirm some suspicions. The cupboard, both the real ones and the metaphorical one that he assumed included the fridge and fruit basket, were rather bare. He'd been preoccupied lately, and groceries had seemed a low priority when he could just raid downstairs. Finally, "Pancakes, I think. Or very small omelets."

The sound of Johnny loping back with the bottle in hand, the pills bouncing about in the plastic container, was probably not a pleasant thing for Nathan’s headache. Despite the early hour and the fact that he had only recently rolled out of bed, the young man was surprisingly awake and, perhaps unnervingly, full of energy. Elated by the notion
of a homemade breakfast and secretly keeping his figurative fingers crossed for pancakes, he offered the bottle to the telepath, “Here you go.”

"Thank you," Nathan said gravely, shaking a couple out of the bottle and dry-swallowing them. "So. What do you think of the school so far, Johnny?"

The boy had turned to look down the hall into kitchen by the time Nathan had swallowed his pills, perhaps looking for some sign of Jean-Paul’s decision, and brought his attention back to the telepath with a sheepish grin as he found himself addressed. “Well, I’ve only been here a few days and most of that was in the infirmary. But…I like
it so far.”

"You should stop down by the boathouse when you get some time. You can meet my gang of likeable yet unique minions, and possibly the flying telekinetic toddler, too." Nathan aimed an ever-so-slightly malevolent smile at Jean-Paul. "My daughter is loads of fun, isn't she?"

"Oh, yes. She's become so attached to me that I chose your birthday cake with her delight in mind. I hope you don't mind pink fondant ponies wishing you a happy forty-third." Jean-Paul appeared from the kitchen. "So what am I feeding you?"

Flying telekinetic toddler…? Johnny grinned, uncertain whether the notion itself was the funny part or if it was the fact that, in this place, such a thing could easily be true. And apparently was. He nodded, “Who could say no to an invite like that?”

The teen’s eyes moved to Jean-Paul as he returned from the kitchen, the mention of cake (even a ridiculous one) and the question regarding their meal reminding him of his mounting hunger. He looked to Nathan expectantly, hoping the man would have an answer by now.

"Pancakes for me, I think," Nathan said, catching the look. #And then I need to go face the music,# he sent to Jean-Paul alone. #I didn't give Scott and Ororo much beyond the basic explanation last night.#

#The joys of debriefings.# Jean-Paul headed toward the kitchen again.