Jean-Paul | John - Saturday Morning (Backdated)

[x-pyromania.livejournal.com]

"Don't have sex man. It leads to kissing and pretty soon you have to start talking to them." -Steve Martin-

Someone had left an entire box full of pastries outside his suite sometime after he'd gotten in the previous night and before he'd woken up that morning. There were far more bits of over sweet bits of dough in the box than he'd be able to eat by himself, so he'd taken the box into the kitchen to put it on the counter for the other residents to eat.

John had just finished packing the last of his belongings for the big move. He crushed his cigarette in the ashtray and stepped through the back door of the patio, walking into the main kitchen.  

It didn't surprise him to see that Jean-Paul was there but they hadn't bumped into each other since the other night.  

District X.

John remembered waking up the next morning feeling like he'd taken a crazy tumble headfirst down a steep hill. That or someone had dropped his brain into a blender and poured it back through his ear.

The night hadn't sucked however so there was no cause for complaint.

"Morning."

Glancing up, Jean-Paul caught sight of the younger man and nodded, saying, "Morning." Opening the box of pastry, he gestured toward it in offering and leaned back. The edge of the counter dug into the small of his back, but he wasn't too terribly worried about it.

"No, thanks." John didn't have much of a sweet tooth. Instead, he settled for a cup of coffee from the pot he'd brewed earlier. "Want some?" He offered the cup, already pouring himself another as he looked out the window. No sign of a truck outside. But it was early. Most of the residents were still asleep. The only reason John was awake was because he hadn't actually slept. The movers were scheduled to arrive at eight and since he'd procrastinated on the packing, he'd had to suffer through the night to make sure he got everything boxed up.

"Merci," Jean-Paul said, closing the box again and accepting the cup John offered him. He got the cream from the refrigerator and poured in a bit, raising an eyebrow in question when he caught the younger man's eye. John seemed tired, but Jean-Paul was coming to realise that wasn't really unusual.

"Yeah. I know." He'd caught the look and managed a smile. "I look like shit on a stick."

"I have heard that sleeping helps," Jean-Paul said, putting the cream back in the refrigerator before swirling the coffee in his cup around a bit so all the liquid was that rich, dark tan. Then he took a sip and leaned back against the counter again. "This is good," he said, indicating the coffee.

John nodded. "Sumatran. I bought the beans during a visit to Indonesia some months ago." It had been a quick trip to help establish some new connections for Elpis but John had also taken the time to travel and check out the sights. "Ever been to Asia?"

Quirking a small smile, Jean-Paul said, "For the Summer Olympics in 1988. Seoul, South Korea." That was the year he'd gone on to win his own gold medals in Alberta. John probably didn't remember any of that, of course. He couldn't have been very old at the time.

"You're kidding." John chuckled. "Wow. I was four." He turned to look at the older man. "How ancient are you anyways?"

Snorting softly, Jean-Paul took another sip of coffee before saying, "I am thirty-nine." And he'd be turning forty this year, but that was a topic for a different conversation. He did some quick math and said, "You are twenty-five?"

"Yeah, that's right." John couldn't believe how much time had passed since he first stepped foot into the mansion. He was only a kid back then.

"So do you miss it? Skiing? Competing?"

"Oui," Jean-Paul nodded. "Competing... yes, I think I miss it sometimes." Perhaps it was winning that he missed the most. He'd never felt quite so complete as he had when he won those medals. It was like the rest of his life had been a poor excuse for a game of catch-up that he was never going to finish. "But I can ski any time I like, so I do not miss it so much."

"Man, I've never done any kind of sports. Spent my high school years ditching gym classes in favor of smoking pot with a bunch of street thugs." He grinned a little. "Those were the days."

Snorting, Jean-Paul shook his head. "I was not interested in school at all." His life, up until Belmonde, hadn't really promoted academics as a viable life choice. After Belmonde... well. After Belmonde had taken him in, he'd had skiing. "Not until later, at least."

John sipped his coffee in silence. What he knew of the man so far amounted to almost nothing but he figured he'd find out more later. So much for keeping himself disinterested though. There was something about Jean-Paul that intrigued him.

Maybe it was just that damn accent. Or maybe it was because he'd never gotten over his stupid crush on the guy from years ago. John frowned. That would be incredibly pathetic.

Whatever that look was for, Jean-Paul thought he probably didn't want to know. It wasn't a happy expression. Glancing out the window, he watched the clouds shifting across the sky and considered his plans for the day. He didn't really have any. He turned his eyes back toward John and raised his brows. "Did you enjoy your time in Asia?"

"Yeah, pretty much. I mean I didn't almost get mauled by a large animal, shot at or be asked to participate in a suicide mission. So yeah. All things considering, I guess it was a good trip." He shifted and straightened up when a couple of students walked into the kitchen.

John quickly refilled his cup of coffee and picked up the morning paper from the counter. "That's my cue to go." He didn't want to hang around with the kids in the kitchen. It was too early in the day for him to have to deal with all the noise and chatter.

"Drop by the apartment sometime? I'll text you the address."

Jean-Paul nodded, finishing off his own cup before rinsing it in the sink and heading outside. The clouds weren't supposed to do anything more than congregate today, so getting a bit of flying in early might do him some good. And if that didn't, there was always running.

He paused, trying to remember if he'd given John his new mobile number after the bookshelves or District X, but wound up deciding not to worry about it. It seemed everything was still, for the moment at least, blissfully complication-free.