xp_logs | Nathan and Johnny, Saturday lunchtime (Reply)

Johnny ventures down to the boathouse to have a little talk with Nathan.

It hadn't been easy to admit he was wrong and it had left him with a lot of unsavory thinking to do, but Johnny was grateful Jean-Paul had set him straight. The last thing he wanted was to be like his father. Worse than his father. He shook his head and tucked his hands into his pockets as he continued the short walk out to the boathouse. Nathan would be expecting him and it was time to put things right between them. Even if the man continued to blame himself, the knowledge that one less person agreed with him had to be worth something. He reached the door, pulled in a steadying breath, and knocked.

"Come in." Inside, Nathan was in the kitchen, cutting up a variety of fruit and sliding it into a bowl. "Sorry," he said quietly, not looking in Johnny's direction. "Just getting something ready for lunch for Ray - she's up at the house with her mother. Did you want anything? A drink?" He was keeping his mind resolutely within the confines of his own brain. He didn't really want to know what Johnny wanted to talk about. He was tired, and finally having the conversation with Moira last night about precisely when he'd thought he was while he'd been lost in the Ukraine had been harder than he'd expected. There was nothing quite like having old wounds ripped open.

Johnny stepped inside, following the sound of the man's voice to the kitchen and lingering briefly in the entry. Nathan wasn't looking at him and he tried in vain to convince himself it was because of the importance of his task. "No problem," he said, shaking his head, "And no thanks. Looks like you've got your hands full."

The teen moved to lean against the far edge of the counter, watching the worn man and making no effort to rationalize the resulting guilt away. He deserved it, though he knew the man's current condition was almost certainly not on his account, at least not beyond a fractional degree. "...Are you okay, Mr. Dayspring?" There was no shortage of reasons not to be, even from his limited view, and his concern was genuine, with a softness that had been long absent from any of their passing interactions.

"... just tired," Nathan said after a moment, slowly, not sure at all what to make of the change in tone. "Bad night." He finished with the fruit salad, tossing the scraps in the compost bucket and putting the bowl into the fridge. He'd deal with the rest of the clean-up later. "What can I do for you, Johnny?" he asked, turning to face the boy for the first time and mustering up a faint smile that was definitely tight around the edges. "Before you answer, let's go sit down, okay?"

The man's features were too tired and too unsettled to give much strength to the smile resting atop them, but Johnny decided not to push the matter and smiled weakly back as Nathan did, if only out of obligation. His lips thinned again and he started to answer, but stopped himself at the suggestion. He bobbed his head slowly, "...Sure." The trip into the living room was a short one, with the older mutant leading the way and the younger following a distance behind and trying to collect the right words in his head while he had the opportunity, though it was difficult not to spend those brief moments in unhappy curiosity about the man's 'bad night'.

"I suggested to Moira that she and Ray be a little late for lunch," Nathan said, "just to make sure we were uninterrupted." He sank down onto the couch, not quite managing not to flinch at Johnny's troubled look. "Is this something to do with Jean-Paul?" Foolish question, really. What else would it be? He only hoped there would be no questions he couldn't answer.

Johnny sat on the far end of the couch, leaving what seemed like necessary distance between them, and nodded again. He wasn't sure how long this would take and giving them a little extra time, just in case, was probably a good thing. He caught Nathan's minute flinch and looked away despite himself, "...Kind of." He pulled one knee up to his chest, heel propped against the lip of the seat, and occupied his anxious hands by folding his arms firmly around it. He was ashamed and it was hard to look back again, but he eventually forced himself and admitted quietly, "But not really. I...wanted say I'm sorry. What I said to you, what I accused you of...it was really out of line."

Nathan blinked. Then reminded himself that engaging the brain before he opened the mouth was definitely a good thing. "Johnny," he started slowly, "I'm not trying to brush you off here, but I don't really see what you have to apologize for."

It was just as Jean-Paul had predicted and they had both come to expect. Johnny frowned. "A lot. Because what happened isn't your fault, even if you feel like it is." He remembered that feeling and felt his throat constrict before he found the words to continue. It wasn't difficult. It was a feeling that never faded entirely, but one which would find dormancy and return at its leisure, just to tear the scar tissue asunder. He continued, quietly, "And I blamed you just because it was easier than accepting things as they are and you didn't deserve any of that junk I said. And I really want you to know that."

Oh, now, where had all this come from? Nathan shifted, one hand rubbing at his hip and his eyes shifting across the living room for a moment before he re-focused on Johnny. "It's all right," he finally said, quietly. "I think it's safe to assume that none of us were really at our best that week." Or now. "Often we say things at times like that, things we might wish we hadn't, later..." He didn't want the kid feeling badly about any of it. That was the important thing here.

Johnny watched the man shift and look away from him and slowly look back again. He wondered what Nathan was thinking, staying quiet and tightening his grip against his shin as he waited for him to finally say something. When he did, the boy smiled a little, relieved for both of them. It didn't undo what he'd said, but the fact that the man understood and that he was doing a little better too, that was the important thing. He nodded, speaking quietly, "Yeah...definitely not." He hesitated, then ventured, "But...we're okay? And you're okay?"

He got a real smile, if a tired one. "We're fine," Nathan said, quietly but firmly. None of this had had anything to do with his guilt, after all. He was just glad to know that Johnny was doing better. "I'm glad we had this talk. Jean-Paul was going to, uh, notice the awkwardness at some point."

Johnny's posture relaxed finally, his folded leg released from tight arms and allowed to fall back beside the other, and he turned a little more toward the older mutant. This shift in body language and a stronger smile spoke more quickly and more directly than his words could, "...I'm glad." He began to press his second question again, but Nathan's comment caught him unprepared and seemed to set all his features with a sudden, sheepish uncertainty. "He...well, he already did. Notice, I mean."

Ah, hell. Nathan's smile stayed on, though, and there was something close to a twinkle in his gray eyes. "He's annoyingly perceptive, isn't he?"

Visibly amused, Johnny bobbed his head and piped back, "The most annoyingly perceptive guy I know." Though, he was grateful for it. He head learned a lot on the basis of Jean-Paul being able to read him like a book, faults and fortes alike.

"Mmm. It's a good thing for him that he's loveable." Nathan took a deep breath, then rose, biting back the groan. "Care to stay for lunch?" he asked. "We have plenty."