Jake and Jean-Paul

[x-cynosure.livejournal.com]

Jean-Paul shows up to console Jake with take-out and movies.



Jake was tired. He'd had maybe an hour of sleep the night before, and had come home from work and made it as far as the couch. He hadn't moved since, other than a slightly enhanced stretch to reach the remote and turn on the television. He was fighting to stay awake, changing the channel every time he felt himself start to drift off, trying to convince himself that it was too early to fall asleep when there was a knock at the door.

He blinked, then grimaced. There was no telling who was out in the hallway, although most of his fellow Brownstonians would have likely just knocked and walked in. He sighed, levering himself up off of the couch; the best he could hope for was that it wasn't Adrienne again.

There was a Canadian on his doorstep. With take-out boxes and movies.

"You have the world's most unappealing doorman, did you know this?" Jean-Paul's tone was casual. "I have been informed that you might need to be scraped off of your couch, fed, and consoled due to an eventful night."

"Blame Emma; I'm told she hand-picks..." Jake trailed off, blinking. "Wait. Who told you that, and what, exactly, did they say?" he asked wearily.

"Even I know that if you name your sources, you find that they dry up quickly. Suffice to say, I was told that you are not feeling your usual charming self. I suspect that I was told this so that I could do something about it. So. Here I am. Do I get to come in?"

Jake blinked again. "I suppose it would be rude of me to make you stand out in the hall since you've come all this way, and been kind enough to bring me food." He stepped back, holding the door open and favoring the other man with a tired smile. "Please, come in. Make yourself at home."

Jean-Paul eyes roved briefly over the minimally decorated apartment, then he headed for the kitchen. "Shall I assume the very deep indentations on the couch will match your outline? Where do you keep your plates?"

"It's a very comfortable couch," the shapeshifter protested half-heartedly; Doug and Marie-Ange hadn't lied about that. He followed Jean-Paul into the kitchen, fetching a pair of plates from the cabinet. "What'd you bring me?" he asked, peering over Jean-Paul's shoulder at the take-out containers. He hadn't eaten much of anything today, he realized, other than one of the pastries from the box that had been left on his desk, and his stomach growled at the sight and smell of food.

"Showing interest in food. This is a good sign." Jean-Paul began flipping open boxes and dealing out portions with an eye toward presentation. "Garlic-roasted game hen with a tamarind glaze, seared gnocchi and basil pesto with portabello mushrooms over mixed greens, and curried cauliflower with chick peas. Roasted strawberry shortcake with whipped cream for after, ridiculous action movies for during."

He'd been expecting Chinese or curry at best, and the surprise was enough to provoke a genuine smile from Jake, one that grew as the recitation continued. "You really don't mess around, do you?" He indicated the winerack with a tilt of his head. "Did you bring anything to drink," he teased, "or are we going to have to hope that I've got something here that'll work?"

"If I am going to bother with take-out, it had better be worth my time. If I am presenting take out, it had better be worth at least two people's time." Jean-Paul's wicked grin matched Jake's easily. "I suppose I have to trust you at some point. What do you have?"

"Hmm. Riesling, no, pinot grigio, maybe, or--ooh, Shiraz?" he suggested, sliding the bottle out of the rack. As he fetched wineglasses, he realized he was still smiling slightly. "Although I haven't had much sleep, so I apologize if I drink a couple of glasses and pass out with my face in the gnocchi."
____

Jake's endurance -- or his affection for dessert, at least -- turned out to be greater than he gave himself credit for. An hour later found the two sprawled on the couch and finishing off the last of the shortcake while the Beast of Gévaudan savaged helpless, buxom shepherdesses. They hadn't really spoken about the reason for Jake's upset, mostly because such talk did nothing to improve digestion and Jean-Paul was more interested in making sure that the younger man felt better before they broached the topic.

"All right, so the leads are still stupid. But at least they are good-looking, non? Or would be if this movie did not insist that everyone looks best wearing a coat of mud."

"Pretty goes a long way, and this movie is full of it," Jake agreed, scooping up the last bite of shortcake from his plate. They were watching the original version of the film, in French and without subtitles. He regarded the other man idly, toying with his fork. "Do you think in French or English?"

"French. I did not speak English much until I started with the Flight program. I read a great deal of it, though."

Jake nodded, stretching. "Every now and again I dream in French. It's very weird."

"Oh? I had assumed it was just something you had picked up as necessary for your work." Jean-Paul set his plate aside. "Or do you dream in other languages too?"

"Nah, it's my other first language. Grew up in Geneva," he explained. He set his plate down and picked up his wineglass, holding it in his left hand--insurance against his arm disappearing when he wasn't paying attention. He swirled the wine lazily. "Spoke English at home, most of the time."

"Definitely not the case here. There were language wars on the playground." Jean-Paul chuckled. "Good for learning how to fight dirty, move fast, and make sure you knew more good swear words than the person you were trying to brain."

Jake smirked. "We had our share of those, too. Probably why I learned to swear in as many languages as I can name," he laughed. "I think it was a defense mechanism."

"So if I get drunk enough to ask you to talk dirty to me, I may get a lot more than I bargained for, hm?"

Jake laughed out loud, surprised. "Oh, absolutely. But I doubt there's enough wine left for that. Although speaking of..." he drained the last of his wine. "More?"

"One more. I am close to my limit as it is." Jean-Paul shrugged lightly. "Trick metabolism. Makes me a cheap drunk."

"I have the opposite problem," Jake said a little ruefully, refilling their glasses. "Even when I'm not trying to stay sober, it takes me a while. Tonight, I'm pretty sure I'd be asleep before I end up anything resembling drunk." He took a sip. "Good wine, though. Almost as good as the food."

"If nothing else, the world usually looks a little less bleak after a decent meal." He sipped carefully. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Jake hesitated for a brief second. Between the wine, the movie and the food he'd almost forgotten this was coming. "The meal? I think next time I'd skip the chick peas in favor of something a bit firmer. Or maybe slightly less cooked cauliflower. But that's only if I'm looking for something to complain about." He glanced at Jean-Paul briefly to
gauge the other man's reaction.

Jean-Paul was far too familiar with this trick not to be amused by it. "I will take that as a 'no', then. Or at least a 'you will have to pin me down first', and I think we are both too full and lazy right now for that nonsense."

Full, lazy, and with an arm that threatened to sneak off when he wasn't looking. Jake shrugged in reply. "More that it's far too boring a story to waste either of our time telling it, and I don't have the energy to make up something remotely interesting." He turned to look at Jean-Paul. "Besides, I'm having a much better time tonight than I
was last night, even though tonight's activities have been a fair bit less exciting."

"First it is nothing interesting, then it is more exciting. You are making me curious for my own sake." Jean-Paul set his glass aside. It was still half full, but best to give it a break for a little while. "Do you want to go out tomorrow? Scour New York for bakeries worthy of the Jake Gavin Stimulus Package?"

He snorted at that. "Would I ever turn down food? As long as Remy doesn't ship me off to Lithuania this weekend, that sounds like a plan."