Callie and Jake, Jake and Jean-Paul

[x-courier.livejournal.com]

Jake replaces the Nutella he and Jean-Paul stole after prom from Callie, and gets a very special dinner out of the deal.



So far, so good--Jake had made it into the mansion without seeing or being seen by Jean-Paul or Nathan. Not that he cared. Really. (Although the sight of Jean-Paul's car in the garage had given him pause for a brief moment before he'd moved on.) Unfortunately, he had no idea where to go from here--he could look upstairs in the student dorm, he supposed, or hope to bump into someone and ask directions, but he didn't really feel like wandering around the mansion all afternoon. He shifted the jar of Nutella from one hand to the other, glancing around the foyer and trying to decide which direction to go.

"You look lost," came the comment from behind him. Callie was just on her way in from enjoying a relaxing time reading outside. But as the sun grew high in the sky, she decided to head in to cool off. Perhaps to grab something to eat. "Want some help?"

Jake jumped slightly, then turned to face her. "Oh! Hey. Actually, you're just the person I was looking for." He held out the jar of Nutella. "I believe I owe you something?"

"Oh, um, thanks?" She eyed the jar warily and reached out to take it in her gloved hands. She was becoming better with the whole no-touching thing, but was still obsessively careful about it. "My dad already sent me a jar...but thanks. I guess I'll have enough for two years now? Or... you can take it? If you want. So you have some? I really don't need all this." But she would eat it. Of that she was most sure.

He shook his head. "There's no such thing as too much Nutella. Besides," he grinned at her conspiratorially, "I picked up a jar for myself, so that I wouldn't be tempted to steal from people who might make dessert for me." He glanced at her gloves. "Isn't it a bit hot for formal wear?"

The Nutella was hugged close to her chest, like a mother protecting her child. Now that the jar was in her possession, she was very reluctant to let it go. This was the good stuff, not the American version, meaning that it was more precious than gold. "Thank you," Callie managed to squeal. "And yeah it is. They're cotton though, so they're cooler. But yeah. I can't touch people." She really didn't want to talk about it. Time to change the subject.

She examined the jar in her arms. "I have like zero will power when it comes to this stuff. It's bad enough having just one jar teasing me, but now two. I will be fat and happy with it. Or..." an idea struck her. "I could treat everyone to a Nutella dinner?"

He hadn't remembered the gloves from before, but chalked it up to obliviousness, especially as he was distracted by the next thing she said. "Nutella dinner?" One eyebrow quirked, intrigued. "What, exactly, constitutes a Nutella dinner?"

"Yeah. I can't believe you've never heard of one!" Her tone of voice made it seem like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it was just her family who was weird and experimented with putting the spread of chocolate and hazelnutty goodness. "Nutella pizza, and ravioli, and, crepes, and nutella sandwiches and panini..." She raised her eyebrow. "Any of that sound appetizing at all?"

"Yes, yes, yes, yes and yes," he responded, nodding. "All of the above." In truth, he was a little surprised that he hadn't heard of a Nutella dinner, but it could probably be chalked up to his complete and utter inability to cook. "Do you need someone to experiment on? Because I've been told I make a very good test subject."

"I could always use someone to experiment my baking on," she said, a hint of evil sneaking through in her voice. "Tell me how do you feel about the idea of a banana-Nutella tempura?"

The grin she got in return was equally as wicked. "Are you an evil genius? Because that sounds amazing. Amazing enough that I might have to sell off my first born for some." Not that Jake was ever going to have kids, but Callie didn't need to know that.

Callie drummed her fingers together, much in the manner of an evil genius. The action was accompanied by the best evil cackle the girl could muster, which granted wasn't very good. For she was not a real evil genius. "Excellent," she grabbed his wrist and started to drag him toward the kitchen. "Then I say let us waste no more time with this talking nonsense when there are delicious experiments to be tried and devoured. And if they kill us, at least we'll die happy and well-fed."

* * *

Jean-Paul comes across Jake asleep in the kitchen after the Nutella massacre. They talk, make up, and clean up.



Jake had agreed to clean up the Nutella-induced mess he and Callie had made of the kitchen. He had every intention of following through, too, except that he was sitting in a very comfortable patch of sunlight, and he'd had just enough sugar to crash out once it wore off. The combination of sunlight and sugar coma were enough to leave him sprawled out at one end of the kitchen table, head tipped against the back of his chair, snoring lightly.

Jean-Paul hadn't expected to find a slumbering, unaware Jake Gavin waiting in the kitchen when he came down to check on the venison stores. He stopped in his tracks and simply stared for a time, wrestling with a tangle of images and emotions. He wanted to go to him, to talk to him, to turn and run and pretend he'd never seen him there. In the end, he went to the electric kettle and began rummaging around in the communal tea caddy atop the fridge.

When Jake opened his eyes, Jean-Paul was sitting across the table from him, and there was a cup of tea and a plate of flat, sweet matcha cakes in front of him. Nori had introduced him and Jean-Paul found himself minorly addicted.

Jake blinked for a moment as if he were trying to decide whether or not the figure across from him was actually there, then rubbed a hand across his face to scrub the sleep away and buy himself another minute. "I fell asleep," he said finally, then kicked himself mentally; if this was the highest level of conversational aptitude he could manage, they were likely doomed before they managed to start.

He dropped his hand from his face abruptly. "Hey," he tried again, but wasn't quite sure where he wanted to go from there.

"Hello." Jean-Paul looked around the kitchen, a hint of amusement on his face. "I see you have found someone else to help you keep starvation at bay." He sobered after a moment, however. "Jake, I do owe you an apology for how I behaved before."

"I replaced the Nutella that we--I stole from Callie. Somehow I got a Nutella dinner out of the deal," he replied with an absent wave of his hand.

He stilled at the apology, then slid the mug of tea closer, grateful for something to occupy his hands. "It's--I--" he stuttered, then shrugged uncomfortably. "You don't have anything to apologize for," he said quietly, stirring his tea absently.

Jean-Paul's eyebrows raised in mild surprise. "That is very forgiving of you, but I...I did not treat you well." Jean-Paul looked away, frowning. He didn't want to talk about what had happened after. He had behaved badly, but there had been a truth there as well. If he told Jake the whole of it now, odds were that he would retreat, one way or the other. "I owed you more than 'I am alive, now get out'."

"That's not exactly what you said," Jake protested, still toying with the spoon in his tea, not making eye contact. "And...it's okay. You and I...We wanted different things, right?" He hadn't intended for the last line to sound quite as desperate for validation as it did, but he couldn't take it back now.

"Right." There was no point arguing that. "I understand if you would like to keep some distance between us, but I...hope we can remain friends."

Jake glanced up at him then, finally. He tilted his head and looked at Jean-Paul as if something had just occurred to him. "I missed you," he admitted, suddenly annoyed at himself for not being able to say it until now.

He took a sip of his tea, thinking, trying to give the matter the attention it deserved. "I don't have any idea what I want," he said finally, eyes fixed on his tea again.

"I have missed you too." Jean-Paul reached out and gave Jake's free hand a slight squeeze. A small reconnection that he sorely needed, something overlay what he'd thought would be the last time he would touch Jake. "And I cannot tell you what you want, or even what you need...but I can perhaps summarize what you have."

Jake held on to Jean-Paul's hand with just enough pressure to let him know the touch was appreciated, wanted even. He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What's that?"

"One Quebecois who is very glad you are talking to him."

Jake pretended to ponder that very seriously for a moment. "Do you think he's worth much in trade on the black market?" he asked, squeezing the hand in his as if to reassure said Quebecois that he was only kidding.

"You must be joking," Jean-Paul released Jake's hand to aim a swat that missed him completely. "You have seen the scuff marks. I do not even quality for 'gently used' status."

Jake smirked. "Damn. Maybe I can use him to prop open a door or something."

"You would never get me to stand still for so long." Jean-Paul shook his head. "Are you here for long?"

Jake glanced around at the remains of his Nutella dinner. "Other than cleaning up this mess, I've got nothing on my schedule for the rest of the afternoon." He almost asked if Jean-Paul had something in mind, but then decided against it.

"I am trying to spend more time out of my room and around the people here. Care to join me for a movie and snacks in the rec room?"

Jake stretched, pretending to consider even though he had no intention of saying no. "Depends on the movie--not Paint Your Wagons again, I hope?"

"Not where impressionable minds can stumble in and see, no. I am thinking a Pixar-Miyazaki marathon." Jean-Paul cast his gaze about the kitchen once more. "The sooner I help you get this cleaned up, the sooner it is suitable for my use."

"Ooh, Miyazaki," Jake replied, standing to start cleaning up their mess. "Spirited Away?" He glanced at the dishes and bowls and such that he hadn't managed to lick clean yet. "And I certainly wouldn't turn down help. We made a lot. I never knew you could do so much with Nutella."

"That surprises me, given your usual eating habits." Jean-Paul moved to man the sink. "And yes: Spirited Away, Mononoke, and Cagliostro. I have not decided on the Pixar yet."

Jake shrugged, swiping a finger through a smear of the hazelnut spread that he'd missed earlier and popping it into his mouth. "She made ravioli with it," he said, collecting dirty dishes and trying to ignore the odd feeling that the easy familiarity of washing up together invoked. "As adventurous as my eating habits are, I'd never had that before." He paused a moment to hunt through the drawers for a towel before settling in at the sink next to Jean-Paul. "Monsters, Inc might be good. Or--ooh--Finding Nemo."

"Am I the only one on the planet who remembers that A Bug's Life exists?" Jean-Paul shook his head and began scrubbing up. "But we will see. I am betting on you falling asleep again before we hit the second film anyway."

"Short attention span," Jake replied cheerily. "And you're probably right. I'll try not to drool on your shoulder this time." He gave Jean-Paul a quick sidelong glance to see how his comment was received.

Not so much as a twitch, though Jean-Paul kept his gaze on the suds filling the sink. "Such restraint. I promise not to drop you into the lake."