Kevin & Jean-Paul, Sunday Afternoon

[x-quebecois.livejournal.com]

Kevin and Jean-Paul go for a walk in the woods in an effort to distract JPB from his discomfort over the conversation with Kyle.


Jean-Paul found Kevin in the workshop, having ceased the useless replies to Kyle, since obviously nothing was going to get through to the young man. Whatever his problem was, maybe it would be resolved tomorrow. Maybe not. Jean-Paul didn't particularly care, so long as he didn't have to witness the other mutant being rude to Laurie or anyone else he counted among his small group of friends.

He waited for a lull in the music and then said, before it could get loud again, "I think we should walk. In the woods. What are you making?"

The swell of volume came too soon for Kevin to answer so he set the cutting torch aside, pulled his goggles up onto the top of his head and went over to flip the stereo off. "Why're we going to the woods?" He suspected it might have been the crazy comment Kyle made, but it could have been Kyle's general crazy, too. "Ah'm makin' shutters," he said in answer to the question and began pulling off welding gear so he could leave the workshop without dying from the heat outside. The heat inside with the torch going on wasn't much better, though.

"I would like to be away from the mansion. And it seemed a better option than running away to the city," Jean-Paul said, tipping his head toward the door. Truthfully, he wanted to fly straight up and then head west, toward the sunset, but he wasn't going to let himself do that. He was working on his issues, many though they were, and he felt like walking with Kevin would be more constructive than doing so alone.

"Why's it better than the city? Ah mean, Ah'm not complainin', just wonderin'." Kevin left the gloves, goggles and suit all in a pile by the unfinished shutter he was cutting more steel for. A quick glance verified he wasn't leaving anything he needed in there like his cell or his wallet so Kevin nudged Jean-Paul out the workshop's door and locked it behind him.

His eyes moved then to his boyfriend, specifically to his eyes, his jaw and his shoulders for signs of irritation, frustration or anger. Jean-Paul didn't exactly seem relaxed but there was a quietness to the tension he was holding. Kevin slipped his gloved hand into the older man's and nodded toward the door that led outside from the garage. "C'mon, let's go get lost then."

"It is too tempting to stay in the city," Jean-Paul answered, shrugging even as he headed for the door Kevin had indicated. "Away from petty squabbles and things." That was about as far as he was willing to go into the subject of what Kyle had said on the journals. It rankled, but there was nothing he could do about it and he sincerely doubted anyone would take the comments seriously.

At least, he hoped they wouldn't.

"Why are you making shutters?"

The question saw Kevin's eyes dropping and a faint whistling began. The tune of the whistling sounded suspiciously as if it were attempting innocence. His free hand scratched at the back of his neck and then pulled his hood up over his head. "For an experiment, Ah guess. Figure maybe if the steel can take the impact of the concussive blasts then you might not break your windows as much. They're for the inside."

Brows rising, Jean-Paul tipped his head to the side and then caught Kevin's eyes. "My windows do not break any longer. It is yours that are the trouble, since they are not made of shatter-proof glass, I think." He smiled suddenly, though, and raised his arm to loop it over Kevin's shoulders. "But you are making the shutters for me?" It was obvious that he was pleased. The gesture was entirely unexpected.

At first the only reply was the nodding of Kevin's head. A small smile spread, displacing the vaguely guilty look he'd been wearing. "Yeah, for you. And technically your windows can still break." Jean-Paul had told him that the shatter-proof windows had been broken and Kevin knew they could crack. Maybe the pieces didn't fall, but the windows still broke.

Kevin settled comfortably at Jean-Paul's side, an arm looping around the older man's waist to mirror the one around his own shoulders. "There's no point keepin' my suite not Jean-Paul friendly." Jean-Paul had begun Kevin-proofing his suite early on in their relationship. It only made sense for both suites to be equally safe for both of them, Kevin thought.

Such a simple thing. Jean-Paul let the smile linger on his lips as they headed for the woods. "Merci, aime." It wasn't quite cloudy out, the skies a mix of grey-ish blue and that almost blinding white, sun breaking through every now and again, lining things in hues of gold. "It is a good day, is it not?" Comments about his mental health aside, of course.

Mention of it being a good day drew Kevin's eyes up. "Yeah, it is. Ah been locked up in the shop a lot. Me and the sun ain't been seein' each other much." Kevin's smile turned into something quietly playful. It matched his tone when he asked, "So, were you ever any good as a teacher?"

"I do not know," Jean-Paul said, snorting softly. "I have never had to fail anyone. It was interesting, I think, working with students. I enjoyed it, passing on the knowledge. But I do not know if that made me teach well."

Kevin's playful smile was definitely up to something. "Ah think we should test this out. Y'know, see if you're actually a good teacher or if you're one of those people who really suck at it and don't realize it." The smile broadened.

"You would test me?" Jean-Paul's expression was more curious than anything else. "How?"

Without pause Kevin answered, "Ah think you should teach me French."

A sly smile slid onto Jean-Paul's lips. "You wish to understand what I say when I can no longer speak English."

Kevin grinned. "Yeah, pretty much." There were a whole host of emotions that rendered the Quebecois without the ability to speak English. The ones that worried Kevin were negative, frustration or anger, but the ones that were more fascinating were infinitely more positive, usually lust-filled in one way or another. "And Ah want you to teach me so Ah learn your accent. 'Cause maybe Ah wouldn't understand what you say if Ah learned from someone with a Parisian accent."

Clearing his throat, Jean-Paul affected a Parisian accent and said, "I could speak this way, if it was what you learned." Then he chuckled softly. "I think it will be good, teaching you these things I say." He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Kevin's cloth-covered temple. "But it will take me a day or two to remember where to start. Numbers, usually." Then he grinned. "The alphabet."

"Well, Ah guess Ah can be patient with you. Since, y'know, you're all outta practice with the teachin' now and all." Kevin was smiling, though. The expression had lost most of its glimmering mischief and playfulness and was now simply content. "Or Ah could just try to remember all that stuff you mumble half incoherently and ask you 'bout it when you can think again."

"Oui, this you could do." Leaning in again, he murmured something very quietly in Quebecois French against the shell of Kevin's ear. "Can you repeat that?" His expression was fairly wicked when he asked.

There was no trusting that expression in the least. Kevin knew that yet he tried to remember the pronunciation properly. He watched that mischievous upward quirk of the other man's mouth and then carefully repeated the words back to him. The accent was flawed and some of the pronunciation was a little off, but it was mostly there. After all, if Jean-Paul was whispering Kevin was paying attention. "So what's it mean?"

"A good teacher," Jean-Paul said, his tone almost philosophical, "He does not simply give his students the answers, oui? He gives them resources and tells them to find the answers themselves." His grin widening, he then murmured, "But I will tell you, only this once." And then he did, very softly, his accent just a little thicker than usual.

There was a quip about whether or not Jean-Paul had a French-English dictionary hidden somewhere on his person ready and waiting. That reply died very quickly with the image Jean-Paul's words painted for Kevin. Swallowing around a suddenly appearing lump in his throat, Kevin replied with quietly strangled, utterly distracted words. "Ah'm a real visual learner."

"Let me give you practical instruction," Jean-Paul said as they walked farther into the forest.