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xp_logs2011-02-10 05:36 am
x-copycat.livejournal.com) wrote in xp_logs2011-02-10 05:36 am
Vanessa & Jean-Paul | Thursday morning
Vanessa wakes up most unpleasantly and finds herself in strange surroundings only to find out she's with Jean-Paul and apparently he only lives a few blocks from the office.
Stirring slightly, Vanessa floated close enough to consciousness to decide resolutely that she did not want to be awake yet. No matter the hour, she wanted more sleep. Naturally, she rolled over to bury her face in the pillow and fall back to sleep. Unfortunately, there was no bed there. There was only the edge of whatever she was on and then there was the floor.
Vanessa hit with a resounding thud on the floor. "What the-?" She peeled her face off the floor and opened an eye to figure out where she was since she clearly wasn't in her bed. Nothing looked familiar and that immediately put her on alert. Her head was throbbing a bit, but she was fairly sure that was from thwacking it against the floor more than from drinking the night before. Soon she was on her feet, looking around with wide eyes and trying to figure out where her knife was because it wasn't on her belt.
Jean-Paul sat up in bed when he heard the thunk, but nothing in his room was overturned and for a moment he couldn't figure out what would have made that sound. He hadn't had a nightmare, so it wasn't his powers acting up again. Then he remembered bringing Vanessa home and putting her on the couch and he let himself collapse against the pillows, half burying himself beneath the blankets. His voice was somewhat muffled when he yelled, "You did not break anything, did you?"
The metamorph's head snapped toward the direction of the voice, half spinning around in the process as if ready to be struck from there. She said nothing for several long moments until she finally realized the voice was very familiar sounding. Hesitantly and prepared to have to defend herself even in her half-asleep stupor she asked, "Jean-Paul?"
"Oui," the speedster called, making an effort to free his mouth from the blankets still mostly covering him. "Who else would I be?"
The confirmation made her relax and Vanessa's shoulders slumped. "Some guy I went home with in a drunken stupor but passed out on before he could fuck me?" Feet shuffling along the floor, Vanessa slunk across the room until she got to the room where Jean-Paul's voice seemed to be originating. The place they were in looked barely lived in if lived in at all. He had bought a flat months ago, maybe even closer to a year ago. Any place lived in that long would look, well, lived in. Which meant that this wasn't his place.
Vanessa crawled onto the bed Jean-Paul was face down in and squirmed her way under the covers. An arm and a leg got slung across his body and she settled in tucked in close to his side without so much as asking if he minded. If he minded then he'd just have to suffer. "Where am I?" The question held an entirely earnest tone.
"My apartment," Jean-Paul answered, burying his face in his pillow again for a moment. The bedroom was the only place that looked like he'd spent a great deal of time in it and even that had only happened recently. The rest of the apartment... well. It was getting put to more use now. He had all sorts of people camping out on his couch. "It is closer to the bar, oui?"
"Oh, okay." The answer was acceptable and reasonable so Vanessa buried her face in Jean-Paul's arm and relaxed. Until she realized, "Wait. Where do you live?"
"Here," Jean-Paul muttered, voice mussed. Then he realized he should probably clarify. "In District X. I am not so far from X-Factor, truly. But this was closer and my bed is comfortable."
She flicked his ear for being totally not helpful with the information. "And I have you working as an investigator," she muttered. "Why did I not have any idea where you lived when it's apparently within blocks of where I live?"
"Because... I only got here a little while ago?" Jean-Paul asked. That didn't make any sense, though. Yawning, he rethought his answer. "I stayed with Kevin at the mansion most, you see? And so now I stay here." Unless he went and killed somebody, in which case he totally drank about twenty-four cans of Red Bull and commandeered Kevin and Kevin's bed for the night. Then he definitely stayed with Kevin still.
"Oooooh." She nodded sagely, or what she thought was sagely. Going off the defensive had her growing more groggy. "So lack-o-booty-call makes you sleep here and since you just got all unattached or whatever you just now started sleeping here. Riiiight. So why are you always sleeping on my couch or the office futon?"
"Because Laurie brings me food," Jean-Paul answered. "Or I bring her food. It is a good arrangement." He wasn't actually all that bothered about the 'unattached' comment, since it was true. That was odd. Part of him really felt like he should be upset. He just... wasn't. "Oui, and it is not a lack of booty call, as you say." The corners of his lips turned upward. "He is off enjoying freedom, though. And so that means no booty call."
Did that make sense? Did it only not make sense in her head? "So there is a booty call but there's not a booty call? Is there a conditional booty call? Why do you make my brain hurt when I wake up lost, confused and clothed but de-weaponed?"
Reaching around behind himself, Jean-Paul patted whatever part of Vanessa he could find. "If the booty was in the city or at the mansion, I would call him. He was not. He was somewhere celebrating with sunrises instead of sunsets. It... could be conditional. But I do not know. We have not discussed this. You ask questions. I only answer. It is your fault if your head is hurting."
"No s'not. Your fault." She poked him in the elbow, which Vanessa found to be quite fitting since he was patting her knee rather consolingly. "You've got a maybe booty call and you haven't discussed it? How do you not discuss these things? See, you make my head hurt."
"If he needs me, I am here," Jean-Paul mumbled. "If I need him, he is there. What is there to discuss?" He tried to bat her hand away from his elbow, but that required more moving than he was willing to do.
"People get hurt feelings when they don't have definite boundaries." Maybe she was projecting. Or maybe she was just making this shit up. Vanessa had pretended to be lots of people in marriages or relationships but she'd only ever had two of her own.
Shifting around until he could pull the collar of his shirt down a bit so Vanessa could see the scar on his neck, Jean-Paul shrugged. "This is a very definite boundary, oui?"
She blinked at the scar. She'd seen it before and she'd known Kevin had given it to him but it had just become part of Jean-Paul's neck. She didn't even register it anymore. Until he brought her attention back to it. "Mm," she nodded. "But what boundary is that when you're not dating him? You guys were in a relationship when he gave you that." And, to be honest, she wasn't entirely sure what the original boundary that signified even was.
"Oui, and we are... friends now." Jean-Paul's own head was beginning to hurt. "More than friends. It is very complicated, mon ami. Far too complicated for the morning."
Friends who were more than friends and who had permanent scars and booty calls? Vanessa groaned. Well, she tried to groan. Mostly it sounded like a whine. "Too complicated. At some point, when not half asleep, I will ask you to explain."
"I will try to explain for you," Jean-Paul agreed, yawning again. "Food?"
Another whine, which Vanessa was fully prepared to deny had ever happened. She shook her head and buried her face in his shoulder. "Sleep." The word was muffled against his shirt but she was mostly certain it was understandable.
"Mm... oui, sleep," Jean-Paul said, though he made himself blink a moment later because he really shouldn't go to sleep with Vanessa laying on him. He'd have to keep himself awake while she slept. He could catch up with a nap later.
Stirring slightly, Vanessa floated close enough to consciousness to decide resolutely that she did not want to be awake yet. No matter the hour, she wanted more sleep. Naturally, she rolled over to bury her face in the pillow and fall back to sleep. Unfortunately, there was no bed there. There was only the edge of whatever she was on and then there was the floor.
Vanessa hit with a resounding thud on the floor. "What the-?" She peeled her face off the floor and opened an eye to figure out where she was since she clearly wasn't in her bed. Nothing looked familiar and that immediately put her on alert. Her head was throbbing a bit, but she was fairly sure that was from thwacking it against the floor more than from drinking the night before. Soon she was on her feet, looking around with wide eyes and trying to figure out where her knife was because it wasn't on her belt.
Jean-Paul sat up in bed when he heard the thunk, but nothing in his room was overturned and for a moment he couldn't figure out what would have made that sound. He hadn't had a nightmare, so it wasn't his powers acting up again. Then he remembered bringing Vanessa home and putting her on the couch and he let himself collapse against the pillows, half burying himself beneath the blankets. His voice was somewhat muffled when he yelled, "You did not break anything, did you?"
The metamorph's head snapped toward the direction of the voice, half spinning around in the process as if ready to be struck from there. She said nothing for several long moments until she finally realized the voice was very familiar sounding. Hesitantly and prepared to have to defend herself even in her half-asleep stupor she asked, "Jean-Paul?"
"Oui," the speedster called, making an effort to free his mouth from the blankets still mostly covering him. "Who else would I be?"
The confirmation made her relax and Vanessa's shoulders slumped. "Some guy I went home with in a drunken stupor but passed out on before he could fuck me?" Feet shuffling along the floor, Vanessa slunk across the room until she got to the room where Jean-Paul's voice seemed to be originating. The place they were in looked barely lived in if lived in at all. He had bought a flat months ago, maybe even closer to a year ago. Any place lived in that long would look, well, lived in. Which meant that this wasn't his place.
Vanessa crawled onto the bed Jean-Paul was face down in and squirmed her way under the covers. An arm and a leg got slung across his body and she settled in tucked in close to his side without so much as asking if he minded. If he minded then he'd just have to suffer. "Where am I?" The question held an entirely earnest tone.
"My apartment," Jean-Paul answered, burying his face in his pillow again for a moment. The bedroom was the only place that looked like he'd spent a great deal of time in it and even that had only happened recently. The rest of the apartment... well. It was getting put to more use now. He had all sorts of people camping out on his couch. "It is closer to the bar, oui?"
"Oh, okay." The answer was acceptable and reasonable so Vanessa buried her face in Jean-Paul's arm and relaxed. Until she realized, "Wait. Where do you live?"
"Here," Jean-Paul muttered, voice mussed. Then he realized he should probably clarify. "In District X. I am not so far from X-Factor, truly. But this was closer and my bed is comfortable."
She flicked his ear for being totally not helpful with the information. "And I have you working as an investigator," she muttered. "Why did I not have any idea where you lived when it's apparently within blocks of where I live?"
"Because... I only got here a little while ago?" Jean-Paul asked. That didn't make any sense, though. Yawning, he rethought his answer. "I stayed with Kevin at the mansion most, you see? And so now I stay here." Unless he went and killed somebody, in which case he totally drank about twenty-four cans of Red Bull and commandeered Kevin and Kevin's bed for the night. Then he definitely stayed with Kevin still.
"Oooooh." She nodded sagely, or what she thought was sagely. Going off the defensive had her growing more groggy. "So lack-o-booty-call makes you sleep here and since you just got all unattached or whatever you just now started sleeping here. Riiiight. So why are you always sleeping on my couch or the office futon?"
"Because Laurie brings me food," Jean-Paul answered. "Or I bring her food. It is a good arrangement." He wasn't actually all that bothered about the 'unattached' comment, since it was true. That was odd. Part of him really felt like he should be upset. He just... wasn't. "Oui, and it is not a lack of booty call, as you say." The corners of his lips turned upward. "He is off enjoying freedom, though. And so that means no booty call."
Did that make sense? Did it only not make sense in her head? "So there is a booty call but there's not a booty call? Is there a conditional booty call? Why do you make my brain hurt when I wake up lost, confused and clothed but de-weaponed?"
Reaching around behind himself, Jean-Paul patted whatever part of Vanessa he could find. "If the booty was in the city or at the mansion, I would call him. He was not. He was somewhere celebrating with sunrises instead of sunsets. It... could be conditional. But I do not know. We have not discussed this. You ask questions. I only answer. It is your fault if your head is hurting."
"No s'not. Your fault." She poked him in the elbow, which Vanessa found to be quite fitting since he was patting her knee rather consolingly. "You've got a maybe booty call and you haven't discussed it? How do you not discuss these things? See, you make my head hurt."
"If he needs me, I am here," Jean-Paul mumbled. "If I need him, he is there. What is there to discuss?" He tried to bat her hand away from his elbow, but that required more moving than he was willing to do.
"People get hurt feelings when they don't have definite boundaries." Maybe she was projecting. Or maybe she was just making this shit up. Vanessa had pretended to be lots of people in marriages or relationships but she'd only ever had two of her own.
Shifting around until he could pull the collar of his shirt down a bit so Vanessa could see the scar on his neck, Jean-Paul shrugged. "This is a very definite boundary, oui?"
She blinked at the scar. She'd seen it before and she'd known Kevin had given it to him but it had just become part of Jean-Paul's neck. She didn't even register it anymore. Until he brought her attention back to it. "Mm," she nodded. "But what boundary is that when you're not dating him? You guys were in a relationship when he gave you that." And, to be honest, she wasn't entirely sure what the original boundary that signified even was.
"Oui, and we are... friends now." Jean-Paul's own head was beginning to hurt. "More than friends. It is very complicated, mon ami. Far too complicated for the morning."
Friends who were more than friends and who had permanent scars and booty calls? Vanessa groaned. Well, she tried to groan. Mostly it sounded like a whine. "Too complicated. At some point, when not half asleep, I will ask you to explain."
"I will try to explain for you," Jean-Paul agreed, yawning again. "Food?"
Another whine, which Vanessa was fully prepared to deny had ever happened. She shook her head and buried her face in his shoulder. "Sleep." The word was muffled against his shirt but she was mostly certain it was understandable.
"Mm... oui, sleep," Jean-Paul said, though he made himself blink a moment later because he really shouldn't go to sleep with Vanessa laying on him. He'd have to keep himself awake while she slept. He could catch up with a nap later.