JPC & JPB - Sunday Night

[x-quebecois.livejournal.com]

Jean-Paul stops by to prod at Jean-Phillipe. Blushing ensues.


Jean-Paul had, ostensibly, arrived at the mansion to collect the rest of his books from Kevin's suite. He'd been making small trips because, well. Books were heavy and even with a slight resistance to blunt force trauma thanks to his mutation, the Quebecois wasn't interested in flying into a particularly tall tree while weighted down by Shakespeare. Instead, he found himself invaded Jean-Phillipe's suite once again, toeing off his shoes, and setting up shop on the couch after a friendly, "Bonjour."

At least he hadn't turned up empty-handed this time. He offered the Frenchman two bottles of wine and raised his eyebrows. "I have heard that these are very good. Perhaps you would like to try them, oui?"

"Bien sur," Jean-Phillipe replied with an indignant snort, as if he were insulted by the implication that he might turn down several bottles of very good wine. "The glasses are...oh very well," he muttered as Jean-Paul gave him an impish 'I brought the wine and I am comfortable, so you get the glasses' grin. He fetched the glasses from the suite's kitchenette and passed one to Jean-Paul as he deposited himself in one of the chairs near the sofa.

"Merci," Jean-Paul said, rolling the stem of the glass between two fingers as he waited for the younger man to open the first bottle. "You have not burned anything today? I am impressed."

After working the cork out, Jean-Phillipe flung it at Jean-Paul. "I have not attempted cooking anything today," he finally admitted with a somewhat grumpy and put-upon expression. "But that is the real secret of why I live in the mansion, so that I do not have to cook for myself." He pointed at Jean-Paul. "Tell no one."

Jean-Paul reached up and caught the little cork, then leaned his head back and balanced the clean end on the end of his nose for a moment. "Oui, I will tell no one. Because for a very long time, I ate nothing but take away and prepackaged foods until Kevin began feeding me."

Jean-Phillipe had actually not expected to hit the speedster with the cork, but he had hoped. "Certainly Laurie does not need to be told. That girl is enough of a busybody as it is." Not that he'd admit it, but he did actually get along fairly well with his suitemate.

The Quebecois grinned. "I bring her waffles and she is biddable." Leaning out, he offered his glass to Jean-Phillipe. "If you would, mon ami?"

"Certainment." Jean-Phillipe poured into the glass, twisting the bottle as he pulled it away at the end so that no wine spilled. Then he poured himself a glass and leaned back in his chair. He took a sip. "Ah, this -is- quite good." Not that he had doubted Jean-Paul's taste, but still.

"I pick my wines well," Jean-Paul agreed, sipping at his own glass even as he settled more comfortably on the couch. "Oui, and so - how have you been, since you have not been burning things in the kitchen?"

Jean-Phillipe waved his hand dismissively. "The usual. Schoolwork, the dozen little details of being a resident advisor, training..." Keeping busy and active was a nice thing, and he preferred it that way.

"Oui, and other things?" Jean-Paul quirked one eyebrow, wondering if he was going to have to specify that he was wondering about romantic attachments in particular. After all, they had good wine and would likely be ordering good food later. There were only so many interesting things a resident advisor could get up to while advising residents and none of it was particularly titillating.

"That is about it. My life, it is somewhat dull and routine these days." He went to clubs every once in a while, on less busy nights, but Jean-Phillipe couldn't remember the last time he had been on a date, much less gotten any kind of 'action'.

Jean-Paul fought the urge to look Heavenward. "Mon Dieu," he muttered, laughing softly. "More wine, mon ami. If your suitemate returns from her date any earlier than two, I would be surprised. If she returns at all. I think it is time you relax, oui? And also, that you should tell me who you have your eyes on that they are not wandering everywhere, since it sounds as though you are not going out every chance you can get."

"Well, that is rather direct." Jean-Phillipe poured them both more wine, as per Jean-Paul's suggestion, to lubricate the conversation some. "Why do I have to have my eyes on anyone in particular?" he asked, somewhat disingenuously, since there was at least one person...

"Because it is only when you are looking at one person that you forget to look at everyone else," Jean-Paul answered, grinning. "Oui, and so - who is this person?"

Jean-Phillipe made a loud noise of frustration, mostly consisting of r's and n's and g's. He even blushed slightly, and took a long pull at his glass of wine before responding. "...Warren."

"Worthington?" Jean-Paul asked, mind automatically shifting about so he could see picture the two men together. "Hm." He sipped at his wine as he mulled that over. "Oui, and what is holding you back?" Gesturing toward the younger man's blush, the Quebecois grinned. "Are you shy now?"

"I do not know," the younger man admitted. "I am not normally so...shy, when it comes to these things." He shrugged. "Perhaps it is that it has been some time since I have been on a date. Or perhaps fear of rejection. Or...a dozen other minor things all adding up." He took another sip of wine. "It has been difficult to tell if he would reciprocate, or whether the times that he has seemed flirty have been more...casual."

"Ah," Jean-Paul said, nodding. "Oui, I see. I do not know what to tell you about Warren himself, since he and I... we do not flirt." The Quebecois' nose wrinkled at the thought. Warren had dated Jay and Jay had dated Kevin. That was as much of a romantic connection as they were ever going to get, thank God. "But I think you should not worry so much. You will get nothing if you do not try for something."

"I know that, but matters of the heart are...not always so straightforward, n'est ce pas?" Jean-Phillipe reached for the second bottle. This absolutely required more wine.

Reaching over, Jean-Paul smacked the Frenchman's hand away from the second bottle. "Non, finish the first." Then he pointed a finger at Jean-Phillipe. "Know what you want and do not let others dissuade you. What is the worst thing that can happen?"

Jean-Phillipe grunted. "I can think of plenty of things. Knowing what you want does not always mean that you will get those things."

"And again I say, you will get nothing if you do not try." He shook his head. Maybe it was just because he was old enough to see the futility of not pursuing the things he wanted, but Jean-Paul thought his friend could use more nudging. "So say he is not interested - what have you lost? Are you very good friends, that you see one another all the time and he would avoid you? I do not think he would, if you said something. This is the worst that would happen, non?"

"Eh, c'est vrai," Jean-Phillipe replied, lapsing more and more into French as the wine had its effect on him. He waggled a finger at Jean-Paul. "That does not mean you should look so smug about being right."

"Oui, c'est vrai," Jean-Paul agreed, unable to keep the smugness from his lips. It helped, he supposed, that the wine had very little effect on him. "And so, you should tell him. I am wise. This is what I advise, mon ami. Tell him."

"If only so it will keep you from nattering at me about it." Jean-Phillipe covered his face with a hand so he did not have to see Jean-Paul's grin.