xp_logs | Doug and Kyle - you got beat up by a squid?

x-wildchild.livejournal.com posting in

Kyle drops in to ~~pester~~visit Doug after Doug returns from Russia and the two of them are guys and give each other crap.

Doug was laying down on his couch, reading idly and trying his best to stay more or less sedentary so that he could heal more quickly from the injuries Bucky had given him. He was just extremely glad that the recovery of Mr. Barnes' daughter hadn't required him to use the rifle that he'd been stationed with. And not just because it meant that Rebecca Barnes was more or less in one piece - he didn't want to think about what the kick of the rifle would have done to aggravate his injuries.

Of course, just as he got settled in with a few books, a netbook, and snacks, the tap on his window that said 'Kyle Gibney' came, and he had to lever himself up gingerly and cross the living room to let the other man in. "What's up?" he asked as the feral bent his lanky frame to come in from the fire escape.

"Uh. I was gonna see if you wanted to work out, but ... Jesus dude..." Kyle asked as he shut the window behind him. He looked Doug over, wincing slightly. "Man, is part of your job description like, get your ass kicked? Because this is dude, what, the third or fourth time you've been ass-beat this year?" The bruises were that ass-nasty ochre color that on Kyle meant a day old and on anyone else meant a couple of days.

Lovely. Not only did he have to deal with having gotten beaten up by a wily old guy, now he was going to have to admit it to Kyle and then get harassed about it. "Yes, my job description is 'get my ass beat'." Doug rolled his eyes. "I got beat up by an octagenarian." He sighed.

Kyle's expression was entirely the picture of complete idiocy - anyone else might have bought into it. "Dude, you got beat up by a squid? Suck. Was it at least a Nazi squid?" He sat down in the armchair by the window and kicked his legs over the arm. "Seriously dude, don't fuck with me here. What happened?"

Doug closed his eyes and covered his face with a hand. Kyle was so believable, it was almost easy for Doug to buy into it, and he knew better. "Yes, Kyle, I got beaten up by a squid," he said slowly and sarcastically, with an eyeroll for good measure. Then he belatedly remembered the slang meaning of 'squid', and shook his head. "Actually, I think he was in the army."

Kyle sat up, confused. This wasn't how this conversation was supposed to go. "Wait, what?" He was supposed to say the stuff that didn't make sense, not other people. "You got beat up by a military squid? Seriously, dude, I was kidding, but what the fuck?"

Doug snickered. Turning Kyle's schtick back on him felt kind of good. Of course, snickering hurt... He pressed a hand to his side. "'Squid' is a slang term for a guy in the navy. I got beat up by Mr. Barnes, the older guy who lives downstairs. I think he was in the army in World War II."

"You got beat up by your neighbor, who's an old army dude?" Kyle repeated. "'Kay. Your life sucks, you know that, right?" He spent another couple of seconds sitting up in the chair and then slouched back over, legs cocked up over the arm. "So, I buy you burgers cause your life sucks, you tell me why your neighbor beat you up?"

"It's...complicated." Of course, when weren't things complicated in his job. "But yes, I am all for you buying me heroic amounts of cow." And it wasn't like he needed to keep secrets just for the sake of keeping secrets. Besides, Kyle was much more circumspect than he let on. Doug looked around the apartment. "Now if I could just remember where I put my damn shoes."

Kyle waved a bare foot at Doug. "Eff shoes, dude. I know like two places in DX that don't give a crap about shoes anyway, because hey, some of us can't even wear shoes." Like Yvette, who barely wore socks. "One of 'em even does bi-vegetarian-sexual, or whatever you are these days. Which bee-tee-dubs, does not mean I am into you. Warren, yeah. Jay before he was a transformer, yeah. You, no. Not into dudes."

"Eh. You're not my type, dude," Doug shot back easily. "Too much hair." He rummaged around. "And shoes are more necessary for those of us with more average feet. I walk too far on hot asphalt and I start hopping around like a popcorn kernel."

"What, your ideal dude is like that hairless creeper from that Fringe show you like?" Kyle asked. "You've got a sneaker over here, I can smell it." He offered.. The shoe wasn't even rank, it just smelled like Doug, so hair product but less than Marius and a genericly sort of people smell, and that weird dust smell that came with computers. "So what, are you a veggo this week or is it gonna be really for real burgers?"

"Ew, no. Been there, done that. Just sayin', you've got hair enough for like...four other guys," Doug said, casting a sidelong glance at the feral. "Ah, and there's the other one." As he put on his sneakers, he thought about Kyle's question. "Not sure, probably won't make up my mind until we get there," he replied with a shrug.

Kyle got out of the chair by rolling over and standing as he twisted. "Yeah, that's what you say every week." Which was fine by Kyle, really. There were weeks he couldn't eat bacon, thinking about the Chamber of Secret Pork, and there were weeks he ate half a pig without thinking about it. "So, wait, been there done what, a dude? A hairless dude?" He scratched at his head as he followed Doug out the door. "Actually, don't tell me. Don't wanna know. Seriously. No. Just no."