Jean-Paul and Jake: Flattery and Cake

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Jake (literally) drags Jean-Paul out for some pastry therapy; Jean-Paul goes for the scenery. They end up at the frilliest bakery in all of Manhattan.



The problem with maintaining a dour mood was it almost always required solitude to cultivate, or at least low-key company. Being towed for three blocks behind a pastry-fixated metamorph who was practically ready to dislocate Jean-Paul's shoulder if that got them to the bakery any quicker was not conducive to a properly dour mood.

"The bakery is still going to be there when we arrive," Jean-Paul pointed out, trying to regain possession of his arm.

"You don't know that," Jake replied with a straight face, tightening his grip. "Small businesses have a frighteningly high failure rate in their first year of operation. For all we know they're mere second away from hanging up their hats." The Quebecois had arrived on his doorstep looking like a man who was trying desperately--and failing--to pretend that he wasn't wallowing. In Jake's world, the only answer to that was well-made pastry. "I'd never forgive myself if we missed this place."

"À cause? What is so special about this one?" Jean-Paul was trying very hard to maintain his poise as opposed to smacking Jake. No, nothing to see here, good people. Just taking my fellow mutant for a walk.

Jake grinned over his shoulder at the other man. "It's there."

"That is the most ri -- oh. So it is." Jean-Paul was finally allowed his arm back as he followed Jake into Aubrey's Cake Cafe. The place was a bit frilly for his taste; everything was graced with ribbon and the small seating-for-two tables were covered with white lace and tea roses in tiny milk glass vases. "I think the testosterone is being sucked out of me just standing in this place."

"Oh. My. God," the shapeshifter said with equal parts amusement and horror. "I think you're right. Do me a favor? Let me know if I suddenly turn into a girl." He approached the counter, studying the display case carefully. At least there weren't any items on display worthy of appearing on Cake Wrecks, although there was an excess of fondant and pink. And pink fondant. Reflexively, Jake glanced down to make sure he hadn't, in fact, suddenly turned into a girl.

"No cupcakes," Jean-Paul said firmly. "Those are cheating. The petit fours look reasonable. And not overly iced."

"I don't understand how cupcakes are cheating," Jake protested mildly. "Do you think we can withstand the lace and ribbon and," he waved his hand absently at their surroundings, "long enough to eat here, or should we get our order to go?"

Jean-Paul glanced around. "I think I will live, if you can stand the company."

"Oh yes," Jake said dryly, poking the other man gently in the shoulder. "I invited you along simply for your taste in baked goods." He rolled his eyes. "Don't worry. If I find you too boring, I'll simply start making up ridiculous stories. I'm very good at amusing myself," he said with a smirk.

"I am assuming you asked me along because you enjoy being admirable scenery," Jean-Paul pointed out.

"Ooh, flattery," Jake said with a surprised smile, not bothering to stop the slight blush that spread across his cheeks. "Flattery and cake. The Great Bakery Tour of Ought-Nine is off to an excellent start. He wants the chocolate one, and I'll take the strawberry," he told the girl behind the counter. "And a pair of cupcakes to go."

"I do not flatter. I deliver precise statements of fact. It is not my fault that you are easy on the eyes." Jean-Paul leaned on the counter. He had eaten well at lunch, but that was almost five hours gone now. "And one of the fruit tarts. Custard, not mousse."

"Ooh," Jake said again, not able to stop either the smile or the blush as they grew. "Make that two." He paid for their desserts and followed Jean-Paul to one of the lace-covered tables. Once they were seated, he leaned in close. "Be on the lookout for roving bands of girls throwing tea parties," he murmured conspiratorily. "I hear they like to use their stuffed animals as decoys."

"I think I have developed the appropriate antibodies by this point. We were stormbound the day before I left Muir. Guess what Queen Rachel decided we should do to alleviate boredom." He smirked. "Of course, if I had been in possession of my camera, it would have been all worth it to see Rachel telekinetically correcting Nathan on the proper way to hold his cup."

Jake smirked at the image, snagging a bite of Jean-Paul's petit-four with his fork. "That would have been worth the risk of any reprisal Nate decided to dish out." He paused. "Wait...How old is Rachel, exactly?"

"Four in August." Jean-Paul gave Jake a look that said claiming that Jake was raised by wolves would be an insult to wolves across the globe and popped the other half of the little cake into his mouth. "Why?"

The look he got in response said that wolves should be so lucky, although Jake followed it by sliding his cake towards Jean-Paul. "Just...feeling old, really. The last time I saw Rachel she was a face in a blanket. A telepathic face in a blanket, mind you, but still." He shook his head. "That was right before I left."

Jean-Paul laughed softly, planting a blueberry from his tart on top of Jake's petit four. "Paurve bebe. Let me help you out, then: when I left, Nathan was single, and Scott was single and the woman he would be married to was at the bottom of a lake. I had to keep fighting the idea that I had somehow wound up at the right address with the wrong people."

Jake speared the blueberry with his fork and carefully licked the strawberry frosting off of it before he popped it in his mouth. "When I left, Remy'd just returned from the dead," he said quietly. "And even then, he..." He shook himself slightly, looking up at the other man, focusing on the here and now, pushing away the memories of blood and concrete and twisted rebar. "It's a strange life we end up leading, isn't it?" One corner of his mouth pulled up in a self-depricating smirk. "And yet we keep coming back."

Thinking up alternate uses for Jake's tongue would certainly be one way to fill up time, Jean-Paul mused idly. He would have to keep that in mind.

"I believe that says unflattering things either about our lives beyond the Xavier Nation or our mental states." Another berry appeared on top of Jake's confection. "And since I am perfect in every way that counts, I choose to believe that it is the fault of the rest of the world for not being able to satisfy whatever unfulfilled needs have me back to the school."

"I like the way you think," Jake declared, smiling once again. Once again, he licked the icing off of the berry before popping it in his mouth, not noticing the effect it had on Jean-Paul. "Mind if I ask what those unfulfilled needs are, or does that get us into less than pleasant conversational topics?"

"Apparently I have an uncontrollable urge to feed every waif and wastrel that gets within one hundred yards of my doorstep."

Jake grinned. "Not enough of those in Canada, hmm? Well, on behalf of the waifs and wastrels, I'm glad you came back."