Vanessa & JPB, Kevin & JPB - Saturday

[x-quebecois.livejournal.com]

Jean-Paul stops by Vanessa's apartment to drop off some paperwork, but things don't go exactly to plan when Daniel answers the door and triggers a false memory.


Daniel was in the process of pulling on clothing. It was hard being this pretty, Vanessa could understand that. She swore she spent more time dressing Daniel than any of her other alts. In fact, Daniel was the most high maintenance of them all. "I am metrosexual, quiver at my beauty!" She was doing a girl at the cafe down the street a favor and dressing up to play boyfriend for her. Her name was Maddie and she had a skeezeball ex-boyfriend who just would not fuck off no matter what Maddie did so Daniel was going to prove that Maddie wasn't interested any more and make sure the guy knew why in no uncertain terms. Lex probably wouldn't care if she had to kiss the girl as a favor anyway.

Jan-Paul had paperwork he needed to give Vanessa so that she could stamp it or sign it or whatever it was that small business owners did to ensure their employees had work visas in the United States. He could have left said paperwork on her desk with a post-it, but he wanted to ask her about doing something during the upcoming weekend, anyway, and so he took it downstairs. Knocking on her door, he shuffled through the sheets of paper just to make sure his signature was legible on all of them.

Vanessa swore quietly in Spanish and pulled Daniel's pants up. By time the door was reached Daniel's pants were all done up but his shirt was still mostly open with the ribbed tank beneath plainly seen. A quick look through the peep hole revealed the visitor to be Jean-Paul so the locks were all undone and the knob twisted to undo the catch that held it closed. Daniel turned back toward the bedroom as the door began to swing open on its own. "Hola, mi amor. I was not expecting you to be by today. Did I forget plans made or were there none?" A glance over Daniel's shoulder was spared for the Quebecois. "Apologies, I am in the middle of preparing to head out."

The voice triggered the memory. Jean-Paul hadn't had time to actually look up by the time Daniel turned around to walk back into the apartment, but the voice had his eyes widening and his heartbeat accelerating so quickly that, by the time he did look up, he'd frozen, body gone completely rigid.

It was easy, at first. Easy and even fun. But Jean-Paul tried to call the evening quits, something unsettling him, making his stomach clench tight in discomfort. He was nearly home, the Hispanic man with him could easily be lost - but things didn't quite work out that way and Jean-Paul wasn't one to beg. But it hurt. It hurt, and the other man wouldn't stop talking to him through the whole of it, pinning him and forcing the issue, forcing everything.

When Jean-Paul never replied Daniel's steps halted completely. Turning around fully, hands stopping their buttoning, a more serious look was given to the Quebecois. His eyes were wide and Jean-Paul looked...frightened almost. It wasn't quite fear, but it was something close. Brow knitting, slow steps started back toward him. "Primo, are you alright?"

One step closer was one too many for Jean-Paul. He moved without thinking, no conscious effort going into the forward surge, the blur of motion as he brought his fist in and up. There was nothing particularly strong about the blows, they were nothing more than what a normal man would have been able to deliver. Rather, it was the speed and the repetition that lent them something very, very dangerous.

Honestly, Daniel was more a lover than a fighter. Vanessa didn't practice hand-to-hand or just about anything else that lent itself to violence when she wore him. Daniel was more effective at smiling, dancing and kissing than kicking, punching or stabbing. That, however, didn't stop Vanessa from getting the heel of Daniel's hand into Jean-Paul's solar plexus with a fair bit of force. She hoped the wind getting knocked out of him would help stop whatever crazy had taken over. Just in case it didn't she reached around for the knife tucked away in a sheath on the inside waistband of Daniel's pants. "What the fuck?" Those words were all Vanessa's, along with her accent despite the borrowed voice.

Reflexes taking over, Jean-Paul wound up in the air farther down the hallway trying to catch his breath. "What are you doing here?"

Daniel's face quickly took on a rather confused look. "I live here, remember? You came to my door to attack me why?" Ow. Daniel's free hand wrapped around his ribs. Shit, that hurt.

"Quoi?" Jean-Paul usually used that word with something like a playful tone, but there was none of that now. There was something very wrong with this situation.

Vanessa dropped the mimic. She was left in men's clothing that was slightly too broad in the shoulders and slightly too narrow in her hips. Daniel was tall enough that his clothes mostly fit her own body, thankfully. "Don't fuckin' 'quoi?' me, mate. The fuck is your issue?"

Jean-Paul dropped to the ground, feet hitting first before his back met the wall and he took a moment just to breathe. "Vanessa?"

One arm was wrapped around her ribs still, but the one holding the knife went up into the air. "Aye, Vanessa. You know, chick who lives here? Random blue lady you hang with who pesters the hell out of you and gets you to spy on people and drop bits of bodies? Who else did you think it was?" And then it dawned on her that he really seemed to be confused about her being here. Maybe that scrambled brain of his got re-scrambled. But still...fucking ow.

"But you would not..." Jean-Paul raised his hands, realising he'd dropped the paperwork somewhere, and pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. "Marde," he muttered, taking another slow breath. Another false memory? It had to be, because Vanessa would never have done to him what the memory was telling him the Hispanic man had done.

"Stab you in the kidney for walking in here and immediately going after me for no fucking reason? I would, actually." It was possible that if scrambled brain was at work here then she maybe should show a little sympathy. It was also possible her sympathy wasn't going to show up until her ribs stopped hurting so badly.

"Non," Jean-Paul said, slouching against the wall, not actually looking at her now. "Non, you would not do the things I remember that body doing. To me."

"What things?" Her voice softened, as did the grip she had on her knife. After a moment of consideration she put the knife away and took a few cautious steps toward Jean-Paul.

It couldn't have really happened. That's the only thing that let him look up at her, confusion still apparent. "Rape. This is what I remember. But you would not."

That one word had her eyebrows trying to embed themselves in her hairline. Vanessa closed the remaining distance between them quickly and reached out. Her hand was a very bare touch against his arm. "No, I wouldn't. We've never had sex, gay or straight or consensual or not. You and Daniel made out a lot. In public. That's it."

"Oui," Jean-Paul said, making himself stand up a bit straighter, pulling his confusion and uncertainty into a small ball that he could deal with later. "This I know. It is only that the appearance, the voice... I was caught unprepared."

"That was a lot more than just unprepared. That memory came from...where? The shit last year?" She knew his brain was all messed up from that, but a memory of Daniel raping him? Jesus.

"I think, yes," Jean-Paul said, scrubbing his hands over his head. "It is not the first false memory I have had. I just... it was very vivid."

"So...you're scarred for life where Daniel's concerned?"

Jean-Paul just nodded. It all seemed very over-dramatic, now that he'd had a chance to stand back and look at the whole situation from start to finish. He should know better than to simply react. Even if there had been no questions as to why that man would be in Vanessa's apartment, he knew his own memories were faulty. "I am sorry." It seemed like Jean-Paul was saying that a lot lately.

Vanessa sighed but nodded. "It's alright." Out of the pocket of Daniel's trousers she pulled the lock of hair she used to take on the mimic. "You wanna destroy it so you know he's gone or you want me to?" There wasn't any question in her mind there. Daniel needed to go. She wasn't going to bring up traumatic memories, false or not, when it was a friend. Now, if she didn't like him so much that would have been a different story.

"I would rather not," Jean-Paul said, shaking his head. He'd already given Vanessa some impressive bruises. Somehow, burning up her mimicking materials seemed to compound that trauma.

Shrugging, she padded off toward the bathroom. She'd flush Daniel and just have to find another unsuspecting guy to steal hair from. Wow, it was so shady when she put it that way, wasn't it? "So, other than beating the shit out of me, why'd you come by?" And speaking of getting the shit beat out of her, the freezer was going to be her next stop after flushing Daniel. She was pretty sure she had ice in there.

"Work visa papers," Jean-Paul answered, stooping to pick them up from where they'd fallen. "And a movie this weekend."

The toilet flushed, pulling the lock of hair with Daniel's genetic code in it down the drain. Vanessa pouted a little because she'd had some good times with Daniel, but she only had him because of Jean-Paul in the first place anyhow. Between the bathroom and the kitchen the metamorph stripped off the collared shirt Daniel had been wearing and pulled up the wife beater to check out the damage to her ribs. It wasn't as bad as it had been in the other body, but then if she'd stuck around in Daniel she'd probably have some bruised ribs and shit. She poked at herself to test the pain level. It sorta sucked but it was bearable and she didn't think there was any actual damage.

While she gathered up ice cubes in a dish towel she asked, "What movie?"

"Any, to be truthful. I have not seen one on the large screen in a long time. You pick, I will pay. This sort of thing." Jean-Paul rubbed at his chest where she'd hit him. It hurt, but not so badly that he'd have trouble breathing after a bit.

"Alright, I'm in. As long as I can tell my boyfriend that I'm having an affair with another man because I feel the need to explore my inner homosexual man. Really, I've been out of touch with that part of me." She poked her head through the door and frowned at him. "It's really terrible, you know. Really terrible."

"Tell your boyfriend whatever you like. Mine will likely be very, very medicated. Shuffling to and from the theatre would not be so fun for him, I think. I will bring him popcorn back, though. And some candy. I wonder what theatre candy he likes best..." Jean-Paul made a face at that. "I hope it is not the tiny raisins covered in chocolate."

"You've never gone to the movies with him?" Vanessa finally appeared with her wife beater tied up around her ribs so her towel full of ice could be pressed directly onto her skin. "You guys dated for how long and you never went to the movies?" Then something occurred to her. "Wait. Boyfriend? As in you two did a reconciling thing or as in you're rebounding like a motherfucker?"

"Kevin and I are dating again," Jean-Paul replied. "But theatres are places where people are not so careful in the dark, you see? So we watch many movies, just not in the theatres."

"Ah, right. Still, the first showing in the middle of the week when the kids are back in school probably wouldn't be very crowded. You could even end up with a theatre to yourselves. Just something to think about." Vanessa flopped down on her couch and sighed. Relaxing into the cushions was heaven with the ache in her abdomen. "So, what about a visa?"

"You and Bishop need to sign things. Mysterious papers must change hands between our governments. I think they need to make sure I am not a terrorist. And also, I have to pay them. Or you do, I cannot remember." Jean-Paul's head hurt, a combination of adrenalin and anxiety all coming together to make his temples pound. "They were neatly organised, the papers. I think they are not so much, anymore."

"I can sort them." Vanessa held out her free hand and made a gimme gesture for the papers. "It's gonna be hard convincing them you're not a terrorist, though. I mean, just look at you. You look shifty. Especially with the black eyes. Which, by the way, what did you do? Run into a glass wall at high speed?"

"Jean punched me when I told her women were complicated and this was why I fucked men instead," Jean-Paul answered, handing over the papers. "Also, she did not agree with me about whether I was capable of dealing with my problems myself. She thinks, I believe, that she will find me in a ditch somewhere."

"Nah, that won't happen," she told him while trying to figure out what order the papers belonged in. That wasn't so easy with one hand. "I'm sure if you end up in a ditch it won't be anywhere near here so Jean's really unlikely to be the one to find you." Maybe that wasn't reassuring. Vanessa thought she could get away with being less comforting on account of how she had bruises forming all around her lower ribs. Tosser. "Also, women suck. I mean, they're hot and I really, really, really enjoy doing really, really, really, dirty things to them, but they are some bipolar, crazed bitches. Is she mad that you discovered the truth and it's supposed to be a secret? I fuck men a lot because women are crazy, too."

"I did not even understand most of what she was saying to me," Jean-Paul said with a shrug. "She kept saying 'trust' and things. I wanted only for her to understand that I did not require her to meddle in my affairs, no matter how concerned she might be that my broken mind was incapable of dealing with the troubles." Shrugging unrepentantly, Jean-Paul sat at the end of the other end of the couch. "It is very inconvenient, no, that she can stop me with the power of her mind."

"Yeah, I told her that wasn't one of her better plans. She needs some sort of precognition so she can get the giant, neon abort! abort! signal when she does shit like that." Vanessa shook her head. "Telekinetics and telepaths...god, can you imagine how fucked up the inside of their heads are? 'I can move small cities with my brain therefore I am God! Pay me tribute!' and shit like that. I mean, I'm sure Jean was well intentioned, but if you don't let the broken brain try to deal with shit you never find out if it can. Now, if you give it a chance to and it's stuck on the abort sign then you might need to kick the brain."

Vanessa looked up from the work visa papers suddenly and quirked an eyebrow. "Can I paint your brain black and white like a soccer ball? You know, just in case?"

"Non," Jean-Paul answered, snorting and then wishing he hadn't. His nose still hurt. "Brains are meant to be grey, are they not? And so mine will be grey." A thought occurred to him them, though, and he asked, "Where were you going?"

Pouting, Vanessa complained, "But I want your brain to be more ball-like for when I need to kick it!" The pout didn't last beyond the comment, though, and a smile quickly spread across her lips. Said smile grew more devilish with every passing second. "Oh, the cafe down the way. Which is where you're going once I'm satisfied my ribs are numb enough to make me tingly on the inside."

"You and tiny carrot vibrating boy were meting at the cafe? He did not strike me so much as one who would enjoy Daniel..."

"Oh, he doesn't. And he got points off for trying to roll with it instead of sacking up and admitting it. But he's not who I was meeting." Vanessa fished her mobile out of her pocket and pulled up a picture of Maddie. Maddie was an athletic but petite brunette in her mid-twenties. "Maddie. She's a really sweet girl and she had my coffee order memorized after the first time. She's got a bastard ex who won't leave her be. Daniel was going to make it obvious that she had moved on and very possibly make it clear to said bastard that he'd be leaving Maddie alone. But since my cover's sunk now you get to play boyfriend to Maddie." She smiled and wiggled the phone with the pic still up on the screen. "Maybe he can be an outlet for all that rage you've got."

"I do not have rage," Jean-Paul said, thumbs working in small circles at his temples in an effort to calm the headache. "I have issues. There is a difference, I have been told." Still, he reached over and took the phone. "She was expecting Daniel, though. Will that not be a problem?" He could pretend to be straight - it wouldn't be the first time he'd done it. And this was for a much better cause than the last time.

"Correction, she was expecting me wearing a hot guy. She's never seen Daniel. Technically I could wear you and get it done just fine, but I feel like you deserve time in the penalty box and this is it."

Jean-Paul smirked a bit despite himself. "So I am to be this hot guy now. I believe I will manage." He wondered if there was a secret signal or something he was supposed to use to let the woman know that he was not simply a very forward man taking advantage of the situation. All in all, though, that seemed very complicated. Chances were, things wouldn't need to be that confusing. "This is your usual cafe?"

"It's getting that way, aye. I figured when we moved in here that we'd be better served by me staying in the neighborhood for things like coffee and Chinese and what not. Establish a presence and all that. It's been a decent way to meet the people about the neighborhood and get the agency's name out, actually." She'd also started to hear how good blue looked on her...which was a little disturbing actually. "Maddie's even memorized my alts already. Especially the new one."

"But not Daniel," Jean-Paul said, nodding. "This is good. I like the cafe, of course. I have not had a chance to become a regular yet. I will fix this, I think." Pushing himself up, off the couch, he headed for the door. "Do you want one of your regular coffees? I will bring it back after dealing with the ex."

"That'd be lovely." Vanessa held up her phone and snapped a quick picture of her fabulously bruised friend. "So she knows who's coming," she explained and sent the picture via text message to the girl at the cafe. "Bonus points for being a regular for Maddie, too. You might even end up with free coffee out of the deal if you glare at the ex should he show up in the future."

"Oui," Jean-Paul said, nodding. "This I can do."


After helping Maddie at the cafe, Jean-Paul heads back to the mansion and tells Kevin he had to kiss a girl.


Jean-Paul turned up at Kevin's suite and knocked on the window before opening it and letting himself float inside. "Bonjour," he said, softly enough that, if the younger man was sleeping, he wouldn't wake him. He put the coffees he'd brought back for them both from the cafe in District X on the counter near the microwave and toed his shoes off, then walked toward the bedroom.

Kevin was laying on his stomach, propped up by pillows, drawing. The tv was on and he wasn't really paying attention to what it was. Something with with supernatural stuff. Or maybe supernatural was the name. He wasn't sure. "Hey." He turned enough to look over his shoulder in the direction from which the voice came. "You missed the icing. Ah know how that's your favorite part of my day and all," Kevin told him in a voice that was a little sarcastic but mostly impish.

"Oui, but I think I will make it, though I missed the peas," Jean-Paul returned, stopping and then going back for the coffees. "Have coffee," he said, offering the Southerner the cup that had just plain coffee and sugar in it. "I had to kiss a woman today." He managed to make a grimacing sort of expression without wrinkling his nose.

Kevin sat up at the word "coffee" but his progress slowed considerably when Jean-Paul said he had to kiss a woman. "Ah didn't need coffee that badly. Besides, it's like a buck-fifty. You're only worth a buck-fifty?"

"The coffee was free," Jean-Paul said, jiggling the cup a bit to keep Kevin's attention on it. "And I was kissing her to make sure her ex boyfriend would leave her alone. I did not have to punch him, at least. He was very large."

He took the coffee, what with it jiggling and all, and sipped carefully. Keeping taste buds intact was a nice little perk to life. "But you still got the coffee for kissing the girl, right?" Kevin was very confused. "Why were you kissing her to get the very large boyfriend to leave her alone?"

"Because he was mean," Jean-Paul said. "And also, she is something of a friend of Vanessa's. Vanessa was going to use Daniel to keep the ex boyfriend away, but I bruised her and so it became my job." Putting his coffee down, Jean-Paul pulled his jacket off and half-flopped onto the other side of the bed. "It was not such a good day, the coffee aside."

Kevin's eyes tracked Jean-Paul as he moved, eyebrows creeping upward incrementally as they did. "You...bruised Vanessa? Are you two...not friends anymore?" Only then why would Jean-Paul go and do what Vanessa had been planning to do? Why was he still confused? Why would the world not make sense already? With a sigh, Kevin went to sip at his coffee some more. At least the coffee made sense.

"We are friends still, Vanessa and I," Jean-Paul said, reaching for his own coffee again and then settling the cup on his solar plexus. It didn't hurt, really, but the heat felt nice. "She was wearing Daniel when I went to speak with her, for the work visa, oui? And there is... an untrue memory in my mind. I told you of those, did I not?"

"Yeah you told me. So your 'untrue memory' made you hit her or throw something at her so she was bruised? Why would that stop her? Ah mean, it's a bruise. It's not still there when she shifts, is it?" That would be some really crappy shapeshifting. You could look like someone else, but you kept all your own scars and bruises. Sorta shoddy."

Cracking a reluctant smile, Jean-Paul shrugged. "Penance, I believe, for bruising her at all. This was why I went to the coffee shop, you see." He considered that for a moment, then said, "I bruised her badly, though. Punching her. When she was Daniel, I mean. She iced her ribs, but she did not use peas."

"Maybe she's not a pea-lover. Or maybe she is a pea lover and doesn't wanna waste 'em on her ribs. Shame. Peas ain't got no place in this world 'cept as icing." Kevin said this with a very grave tone. "So did you snap out of it or somethin'?"

"When she shifted back to herself, oui," Jean-Paul said, nodding. "And then she rid herself of Daniel. So I went to the coffee shop to help the girl. Which meant kissing her."

"Ah didn't know you swung that way," Kevin teased lightly. "Ah feel like Ah gotta put it out there now that Ah'm not all for sharin' and Ah know Ah said that before but Ah wanna make sure you know that means girls, too. Ah'm not lettin' you date me and have a girlfriend."

Jean-Paul managed a pout. "But this Maddie, she was so... cute."

"Nope. Not havin' it. Ah'd put my foot down but that's a lotta effort for where Ah am in my percocet cycle here."

"C'est la vie," Jean-Paul said, raising his head enough to sip at his coffee. "Where are you in your percocet cycle, as you say?"

"Ah think Ah'm ovulatin'," Kevin replied seriously.

Jean-Paul coughed as he partially inhaled coffee. "Pardon?"

Kevin gave him an innocent look. "Ah think Ah'm ovulating," he repeated, trying to enunciate each word more fully. "In a couple hours Ah'll get into my spin cycle."

"I do not think this word means what you think it means," Jean-Paul said, trying to clear his windpipe of inhaled coffee.

"Sure it does." Kevin had a look of absolute certainty on his face. "Ah'm droppin' eggs. Then they gotta get clean so we hit the spin cycle. Then comes fluff. Then we take another pill and bleed for a week."

Pulling the pillow out from behind his head, Jean-Paul let it fall on his face despite his nose and just stayed there. It was nice, in the dark. Nice and most definitely not enough to make his brain stop thinking about an ovulating Kevin. He was vaguely horrified in an amused sort of way. Voice muffled by the pillow, he said, "You do not have the parts for this. I know."

"Not true," Kevin argued. "You don't know what goes on in there! Just 'cause you can get a little handsy - well could not can, you'd lose your hand now if you did - but still...just 'cause your fingers ain't long enough for you to feel my ovaries don't mean they ain't there."

"I am not listening to you," Jean-Paul said, blindly sticking his coffee on the bedside table and then sliding his hands beneath the pillow to plug his ears. Juvenile? Perhaps. But at least it would keep him from hearing about Kevin's ovaries.

Kevin was pretty sure Jean-Paul was covering his ears, but he couldn't quite see if the other man was or not. He kept talking anyway and even tried to raise his voice a bit. "Ah feel like you don't appreciate the things that make me unique."

"La la, la la," Jean-Paul said, just to block out any noise that might have otherwise made it through his fingers. He paused, though, and lifted the pillow so he could look at Kevin. "Oscillate."

Holding up his bandaged hand, Kevin rotated it at the wrist so it mimicked a portable fan. "Like a fan?"

"I think you are on the part of your percocet cycle that makes you say very odd things about bleeding," Jean-Paul said, nodding to himself. Then he shifted the pillow over so it was resting atop Kevin's head, carefully balanced.

Eyes narrowing, Kevin grabbed the pillow off his head and set his coffee cup down. Then he tossed the pillow onto Jean-Paul and laid down mostly atop the other man. "You're on teddy bear duty for your unsupportive remarks about my cycle."

"Oof." Jean-Paul reached over for the pillow Kevin had been laying on and tried to edge it under his head. "At least I did not say I had to break up with you now that you told me you had ovaries."

"That's 'cause you ain't stupid," Kevin answered simply. "You already tried breakin' up with me once and look how good that went."

"I was very unsuccessful," Jean-Paul conceded, nodding. "Ovaries make things very complicated."

"Don't worry, the fluff cycle'll take care of 'em anyway. Gets hot durin' that."

"Fluff cycle?" Jean-Paul didn't even know which part of the actual menstrual cycle that was referring to. He was very certain he didn't want to. "Non, do not explain it." Shifting a bit, he wriggled one hand beneath himself so he could get the gloves out of his back pocket. Then he had to work to get them on without making Kevin move. "There is a recipe in the book of Southern cooking that I would like to try. May I use your bottle for beating the meat?"

There was a little bit of a stare going on at first. "You need my tools so you can beat your meat?" No amount of innuendo in his voice was subtle.

"Oui," Jean-Paul said, nodding. "The one you used, it was glass. In the kitchen? Downstairs?" He trailed off, though, at the look on Kevin's face. "What?"

Kevin erupted in laughter and immediately began to struggle to keep it under control. Laughing was probably not good for the ribs. He was pretty sure of that. It was just that it was almost cute the way things flew over Jean-Paul's head sometimes. "Sure, you can beat your meat with my bottle," he managed in gasps.

"Merci?" Jean-Paul wasn't sure he should be thanking Kevin, considering the amount of laughing the Southerner was doing.

When the laughing subsided Kevin's expression turned a bit more wary. "Is your cookbook gonna get it right this time?"

"Probably not," Jean-Paul admitted. "It is for the chicken fried steak. But I thought you might be able to help, if you sat closer to the stove. Or, you might write the correct directions in the book, if that is better."

"Ah could correct the book, yeah." And there was no microwave involved in chicken frying steak. It was funny how Kevin had full confidence in Jean-Paul to not catch his kitchen on fire but not to not blow up the microwave.

"Then we will see how it turns out," Jean-Paul said, nodding. "I will need to get the ingredients, but it will be best for you to make sure the listed ones are correct in the book."

Kevin nodded. "Fair 'nuff. Does this mean Ah gotta get up, though? 'Cause Ah'm comfortable."

"Not right now. Later, I think."

"Alright then."