xp_logs | Kevin & Jean-Paul

After spending the night with Kevin so he didn't have to be alone following the events of the previous night, Jean-Paul packs some of his stuff up that is still in Kevin's suite and asks the younger man to dispose of one of his least favorite pieces of clothing. It doesn't go as easily as either of them think it will. Banter hijinks ensue as well as a sort of defining of their relationship to one another post-committed romantic relationship.

Jean-Paul held up the fabric of one of his oldest Alpha Flight suits and frowned at it. Heat from friction had no impact on it. In point of fact, heat in general had no effect on the fabric, though it could certainly make him more than uncomfortable while he was wearing it and that plasma in India had been one of the more unpleasant experiences he'd had during his life... but he was having trouble getting rid of the things and Jean kept expecting him to turn up to their sessions in one.

He had a bag on the bed that he was putting a few items in so he could carry them into the city and this was meant to be one of them... but the Quebecois had no desire to actually pack it. Walking out into the living room, he paused for a moment and then headed into the room Kevin used for his art. "If I asked you very nicely," he said, arm fully extended to hold the suit away from him, "Would you help me be rid of this like you did the other after the fires?"

Kevin stopped mid-brush stroke and quirked an eyebrow up at the other man. "Remind me again why you don't just throw it out? Or burn it? Or donate it to be used for bungee jumping rope? Eventually they'll arrest me for mysterious ash hanging around and the suspicious disappearance of really ugly catsuit things."

"I would have to press charges, would I not?" Jean-Paul asked, letting the fabric hang from one finger now to illustrate a little more thoroughly his utter loathing of the thing. "Or report it missing, at the least? And I will not do this." He wiggled his finger a little. "S'il vous plaît?"

"You skipped over why you insist on reducing it to ashes," Kevin pointed out and pulled off a glove. After setting his brush down the glove went into a pocket. "You're not gonna want to keep touching that after Ah grab it." Decay would spread to any organic matter it could, sort of the way a rotting corpse would rot the grass beneath it. If the suit was reduced to ashes and Jean-Paul was still touching it then Jean-Paul would begin to decay as well.

The Southerner took the suit from where it hung in the air and...nothing happened. His brow furrowed while he stared at it. Nothing continued to happen.

"It was not so bad when you got rid of the one I was wearing," Jean-Paul pointed out, though he slipped his fingers away from the fabric as soon as Kevin had taken it. He tipped his head to the side at the expression on the younger man's face, though, and raised an eyebrow when he realized that nothing was actually happening.

"Ah think you're stuck with this one." Kevin actually tried to hand it back to Jean-Paul and everything. He knew nothing was going to happen because that's how this went. Maybe if he sat here, braided its hair and shared secrets it would like him enough to decay but Kevin was pretty sure whatever was wrong with his mutation wasn't dependent on share time and girl bonding rituals.

Jean-Paul took the suit back, head still tipped to the side just a bit. "May I?" He asked, tossing the fabric over his shoulder and extending his hand toward Kevin's. He wasn't sure what made the younger man's mutation stop functioning, but he thought he might take advantage of it, even if just briefly.

"Probably shouldn't. It starts and stops whenever it wants to." Which was sort of annoying really. Kevin had just kept functioning as if his mutation was constantly on as he always had. He also tried to ignore the fact that it could be off instead. It would've been nice to be able to predict when was on and when was off. "But Ah guess it's your hand you'd be risking." Obviously his mutation was messing with his head if he was leaving the risk up to someone else to decide.

Quirking a small smile, Jean-Paul slid his hand into Kevin's and held it for just a moment before giving it a squeeze and letting go again. "You have not spoken to Doctor McCoy yet? Or Jean?"

"Uh, no. If Ah tell them then they've got to tell the Professor who has to tell the court and then my chances at freedom are gone. Poof! Cloud of dust and no more. Nah, Ah'll tell 'em after the case is done. If Ah lose then Ah got nothin' else to lose by telling them and if Ah win there's no one to have to report it to." Kevin snagged the suit off of Jean-Paul's shoulder. "Ah'm cool with my mutation playin' peek-a-boo, it ain't like Ah like the dang thing anyway. But it's sort of annoying that Ah can't even make it work when Ah want it to." But, damn it, he was going to sit here and try to stare a damn hole through that suit until it did work.

Jean-Paul relinquished the suit without even the slightest indication of a fight. He tugged Kevin's hood up, though and then walked around behind the younger man so he could peer at the suit over his shoulder. "I think they could help, at the least." Which wasn't entirely true. "Though... it is not their fault, I think, that I am having no success with my own powers." That was more honest.

"No one could help before, ain't expecting it now. Ah just wanna see if it's something Ah can figure out how to control potentially or not. It's not like Ah'm not used to functioning with full time decay ability." He tried to will it to spontaneously combust, but then that wasn't even his mutation in the first place. His general frustration with not knowing what was going on came bubbling to the fore pretty quickly. Mutation and agitation seemed to go hand in hand for the Southerner these days.

Kevin was so focused on his internal monologue about his annoyance that he couldn't even get rid of a catsuit thing that he didn't realize when the material began to decay in his hand.

"Kevin," Jean-Paul said, resting his chin on Kevin's should and nudging it a bit. "Very much longer and there will be nothing left, oui?" It was obvious from his tone that he didn't mind. "I am not so sure that helping is the right word - but perhaps the doctors, they could offer some ideas about why your mutation does not work the way it did before."

Snapping out of insulting his mutation in his head, Kevin focused on the garment and promptly swapped it to his other hand. Breaking contact with his bare hand allowed all the ashes to fall. What was left was both threadbare and full of holes. "So, you wanna keep it now?" He held it up with a smile and ignored the whole bit about the doctors.

"Non, merci," Jean-Paul said, smiling in return even though Kevin couldn't see it. "Also, it is soothing to see it disappear into ashes. I have had them for so long ..." When he stopped to think about it, Jean-Paul did the rough math and snorted. "Each of these I have had for almost seventeen years."

"So, not old enough to keep, huh?" Kevin turned his head enough to quirk a brief smirk at the older man. "More a twenty to twenty-five kinda guy, ain'tcha?" The suit went back into his bare hand. At first there was nothing but the silent curse under his breath. Then he felt that tug low in his stomach and the decay spread again until the fabric had been seemingly enveloped by ashes and vanished.

"Not always," Jean-Paul said, laughing a little. "Only in very special cases, oui?" Stepping back, he went into the living room to get the miniature vacuum cleaner so he could take care of the mess his suit had become. "I have been called 'cradle robber' a great deal, though. I think I do not mind so much."

"Ah resent that." Kevin even tried to make some sort of indignant sound, except he wasn't really sure what indignant sounded like. He settled for an annoyed huff and pulled his glove back on. "Ah at least qualify for the toddler bed."

Barely managing to keep his face straight, Jean-Paul looked Kevin up and down and then shook his head. "Non, I think you are not big enough for the toddler bed and so I will stay a cradle robber. Also, 'toddler bed robber,' it does not have the same ring."

Kevin tried to keep a straight face in order to reply to that but he only ended up laughing. "Darn. Ah was really lookin' forward to graduating from Pull Ups to underoos, maybe ones with Batman. He's got a gadget for everything and if you're gonna have a miniature man on your ass he should have gadgets."

Jean-Paul had to turn the vacuum cleaner off so he could laugh without worrying about what it might start sucking up. "And have you had many miniature men with gadgets near your ass, as you say?"

"What, you never found out about that kink?" he asked in an utter deadpan.

"Mon Dieu, the secret is revealed," Jean-Paul said, hand rising to his chest over his head. "You let me believe gadgets were not allowed."

"That's 'cause they're not allowed for you." His hand made a sweeping motion as if to indicate Jean-Paul's height. "You're not mini."

"Discrimination!"

"Welcome to America, Frenchie. Home of the free, land of the prejudice. Full sized men just don't get my gadgets going like mini men do."

"Heightist," Jean-Paul said, pointing accusingly at Kevin. "I will not stand for this. My gadgets are just as good as a small person's."

"Well, you could lay down for it instead," Kevin suggested quite reasonably.

Jean-Paul opened his mouth to argue that no, in fact, he could not... only then he thought about it and let his hand fall to his side. "I could, I think. But only if you come with me."

Well then. That wasn't the reply he'd been expecting. A witty retort maybe. Or something contrary for the sake of being contrary. But no, Jean-Paul squashed their exchange flat and invited him for a lay down. So what did Kevin do? He pointed at the remaining pile of ash on the floor. "You get the ash spot."

"Or what? You will not go with me?"

"Well, Ah'm not laying in your ash. So if anyone's stuck with the ash spot it's you."

"But you made it," Jean-Paul said, frowning a little.

"But it's your fault," Kevin argued.

"Non, I did not make it, so it is not my fault."

Kevin pointed a finger at him and poked Jean-Paul in the chest. "You asked me to make it. Brought me the suit. Caused me to ash all over the place for you. Your fault."

"You did not have to do it! I brought the vacuum, also." Jean-Paul flipped the button on said vacuum and pointed the now-operational machine at the younger man.

Kevin narrowed his eyes at the little hand held vacuum. "You had that pathetic look, how could Ah not do it? That's like kicking an old lady who's down and can't get up."

Jean-Paul let the vacuum suck at the fabric of Kevin's shirt near his stomach. "Build up your resistance to my very convincing good looks?"

An eyebrow rose as Kevin watched the material of his shirt get eaten up by the suction. "Ah've been resistant for months." That was a lie. "Is this your new method for strippin' me? 'Cause Ah gotta say, Ah think the old way was better."

The grin that spread over Jean-Paul's face was wide and bright, a rarity even during these better times. He flipped the vacuum off and set it aside, then reached for his back pocket and pulled out the gloves he usually carried there. Then, very slowly, he pulled them on. "You mean this way?"

Reaching for the hem of Kevin's shirt, the Quebecois let his thumb slide beneath it, along the younger man's waistband. "Or," he leaned in enough so he could whisper against Kevin's cloth-covered ear, "When I tell you to take it off?"

The younger man's throat was suddenly tight and not particularly prone to allowing speech to pass through it. Jean-Paul was too close to look at with him whispering into Kevin's ear so the Southerner's eyes remained on the gloved hands at his waist. His throat was cleared several times before he could manage to answer. "Either of those work, yeah."

"It is a shame, then," Jean-Paul murmured, thumbs stopping at the button on Kevin's trousers, "That you have become so resistant to me..." He popped the button and quirked an eyebrow, pulling back just far enough for Kevin to see. "I think I would not have minded kneeling instead of laying down, you see."

That suggestion, blatant as it was, was enough to supply Kevin's mind with a myriad of images. Very, very happy images. "Resistant ain't the same as immune," he pointed out after some delay of getting caught up in his own little happy land. Apparently there wasn't much of a difference between being in a relationship with one another and not being in a relationship with one another. And Kevin was okay with that.