Doug and Marie-Ange, on the phone.

[x-tarot.livejournal.com]

Marie-Ange calls Doug. Aren't they cute? Really, this is a lot of fluff. :)



Marie-Ange had retreated to the safety of the room that she used to think of as hers - it still was, she thought, just not as much. It had seemed very quiet and empty without roommates, withuot Rahne's books, without Clarice's pile of oddly coloured laundry, without her own art supplies. Home wasn't feeling quite so much like home anymore. Too many chattering voices in French, not nearly enough loud voices in English, and ...

She sighed, sat back heavily on her bed, and stared at the portable phone in her hands for a minute before pulling out a calling card and dialing -very- carefully. As it was, she had to redial the numbers twice, and as the extension she dialed finally began to ring, she tried to force down the fluttery, nervous feeling in her stomach.

Doug, for his part, had been puttering around on his laptop, feet kicked up on his desk. He dropped them, startled by the ringing of the phone. He quickly set his laptop carefully on the desk and picked up his phone. "Westchester chapter of the Alison Blaire Fanboy Club, Ramsey and Madrox, co-presidents, what can I do you for?" he asked whimsically.

A quiet voice greeted his, sounding just a little jittery, but mostly just ... happy and amused at the greeting. "Oh, I'm sorry. I was looking for the Westchester chapter of the People Covered in Fish fangirl Club..."

Doug blinked as he recognized the soft voice on the other end. He did his best to cover his surprise and joy, and kept his tone light. "Oh, see, that's just next door. You wanted 215, not 214. Easy enough to fix."

"Oh. I seem to be mistaken again. I thought that was just for the drummer. I was more interested in their.. .. " Angie's voice paused for a second as she tried to remember the term she had heard.. "front man. The one with the leather pants?"

Doug blushed rosily, but he struggled to keep the joke going. "Now, see, I wasn't aware of such a group. Perhaps I should put them on the directory. You happen to know which room they're based out of?"

"I think it might be room 225." Angie tried to cover the giggle in her voice, and failed, the last of her lingering nervousness fading as she laughed.

Doug chuckled in reply. "Actually, I was betting on that being the most likely headquarters, but I didn't want to assume anything."

"I think the president of that club is rather public about it, actually. " This talking in the almost third-person was far more amusing than it should be, Angie decided. "From what I understand, she's actaully very public about it lately, after having kept the club secret for a while."

Doug grinned. "That _is_ true. I guess I hadn't thought about just how public the president had been. I heard that she was even so bold as to ask said front man on a date, striking a blow for gender equality and fanboys and fangirls everywhere."

The absurd nature of the conversation grew far too silly for Marie-Ange to continue, and she did not respond for a minute, laughing quietly. "Really? That's the same rumor I heard. I wonder what he said?", she finally answered, in a dry, not-as-innocent-as-I-sound tone.

Doug was bubbling over with laughter himself, and he took a moment to respond. "The way I hear it, he said yes. Even agreed to let her pay for dinner. I think he was a little shell-shocked, truth be told."

"Shell-shocked? Really?" The dry tone had completly left Angie's voice, and she sounded genuinely curious.

Doug caught himself nodding at the phone, then shook his head at himself. "Yeah. See, even though he's somewhat charismatic on the stage, just letting it all go, that's not the way he is _off_stage. So he's not used to attractive girls thinking of him like that. Bad track record, you see."

"Somewhat charismatic? I think you underestimate yourself." Angie answered, almost automatically. "Both on and off stage, you're one of the most likable people I know." She shook her head, smiling wistfully. "He needs to get used to being thought of like that. From what I hear, the president of that club is vey stubborn."

Doug laughed, amused. "I'm beginning to get that impression, yes."

"I heard that she called him, all the way from France. I think that's definitly evidence of how charismatic he is off the stage, no?" Angie asked, through a series of giggles.

At this, Doug broke down in a fit of chuckles as well. "You're probably right, Angie. I...still don't understand it, but I'm trying to at least accept it."

"Good. I would hate to think I wasted all the nervous staring at the phone I did.. " She leaned back against her wall, and dangled her feet over the edge of her bed.

Doug flipped his feet up onto his desk again and leaned back in his chair. "Nervous? Why? I don't think you have any reason to be nervous, Angie. You asked me, I said yes."

"I just . am.. nervous. I think maybe in part because you are nervous... " Marie-Ange started to shrug, than remembered that she was on the phone, and Doug couldn't see it. "I feel so silly telling you all this. That.. I am nervous, I mean."

Doug smiled gently and spoke, his voice smooth and reassuring. "It's okay, Angie. I like that you tell me what's on your mind. I like that you trust me enough to tell me what you're feeling. And yeah, I'm a little nervous too, but look at how well Jamie and Kitty worked out. And to hear them tell it, they both practically puked in their bathrooms beforehand, I think."

Without thinking, Angie made a small Mming noise. Doug did have such a nice voice. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered how much of that was his power, but honestly wasn't sure she cared. It was still Doug. "I think puking might be a bad idea.. " she said, almost half to herself.

Doug blew out his breath explosively. "Yeah, I'm not a big fan either. But it's how I tend to deal with stress. Either puke, or spend the better part of an hour choking it back. Neither are all that much fun."

"No, they aren't. Neither is not sleeping.. " Angie paused for a moment. "You.. aren't so nervous that you're getting sick, are you?", she asked, a great deal of concern in her voice. "I don't want you to be that scared."

Doug leaned back even further in his chair and rolled his head back and forth. "Well, I haven't puked yet, anyway. Ask me again on Monday, though." He chuckled wryly.

"I really don't want you to be that scared, Doug." Angie curled her legs up on the bed, and wrapped her free arm around them. "The last thing I want to do is make you upset."

Doug sighed. "I'm not upset, Angie. Just very very nervous. It's the way I am, especially as regards cute girls that I'm interested in."

"Oh, Doug. What am I going to do with you?" Angie asked

Doug grinned whimsically. "I have a list."

"A list? Really?" Angie sounded -far- more than surprised, and well into openly shocked. He has a list? Doug.. had.. a list. No, he had to be joking, because it was that or he was possesed, and that was -not- a place she was letting herself go.

Doug chuckled. "Okay, maybe not really. But I could probably come up with one if I tried. Item one, dinner at the nicest place Guido knows in Minneapolis. Item two, dancing at same. Item three, staying up half the night talking...oh wait, we've already done that one a couple times. Item four..." He trailed off and blushed furiously.

"I have insomnia. I still do not know what your excuse for staying up all hours is." Marie-Ange grinned into the phone, not caring if she looked absolutly goofy, which she was fairly sure she did. "I think.. I like that list. Espically the dancing part. You're a good dancer."

Doug grinned back, knowing full well he looked goofy, just glad that Jamie wasn't around to rib him about it. "My excuse is missing you terribly, and the time difference."

Angie didn't respond, blushing furiously, not caring to try to supress it, and not sure what to say in response.
Doug blinked at the silence coming from the other end. "Angie? Still there?"

"I am.. I ... " she got quiet for another moment. "you miss me?"

"So very much, Angie. I thought you knew. I thought I'd told you quite a bit how much I miss you right now." Doug smiled gently, his tone tender.

"You did. I .. just like hearing it." Angie ducked her head, and smiled. "I ..am not sure I understand it, but I like hearing it."

Doug smiled goofily again. "Well, I like saying it. I can't wait until you get back. I'm nervous, but missing you is worse, I think."

"It needs to be Monday. This would be so much easier if I was there, and not here. I hate the Atlantic Ocean."

Doug sighed. "Me too, Angie. Me too." He paused, trying to think of something else to say. "So, what's the plans for today?"

"Mostly, my relatives are visiting. I am avoiding them at the moment, and hoping my mother does not explain WHY I go to school in America." Angie sounded, not quite distressed, but more annoyed than anything.

Doug kept his voice soothing. "Would they react badly, do you think?"

"No. Not at all, to be honest." She sighed. "I .. my cousin is a ... I think he -wants- to be a mutant. He hasn't stopped asking me about my cards since he got here, and all I want is to not have to explain why I have them. My mother was strange enough."

Doug grinned. "Your very own mutant groupie? Awesome. Tell him he'll have to be Groupie Number Two, though."

"Doug, he listens to .. the most awful music. Bauhaus, and ... I think he owns more black clothing than Jono and Amanda together. I do not want any more groupies, thank you." Angie shuddered, then rolled her eyes. "He spent half an hour trying to tell me I was reading my cards wrong."

Doug grimaced. "Okay, never mind. Guy sounds pretentious and stupid. Guess you'll have to make do with just one groupie."

Angie nodded at the phone, frowning. "He is in a stage. Everything is so tragic and painful and life is horrible. I would laugh at him, but I am afraid he would ask me -why- I have tarot cards in my pocket and I would have to avoid his questions. Again." she paused, then laughed. "I can't have groupies, silly."

Doug chuckled. "Yes, you can, Angie. You're bringing your cello back and joining music class. Besides, if you can be a fan of my pants, I can be a fan of _yours_..."

The noise Marie-Ange made at the idea of having to play that cello again was... pained. Not a whimper, just.. a noise of irritation. "It is.. not .. quite just the pants I like, Doug."

Doug blushed again. "I know, I know. Um..." He stammered. "I kinda like yours too." He blinked, mortified that he had actually said that.

For a second, Angie tried to push back the blush creeping up her cheeks, then decided that her reasons for wanting to not blush hadn't been so good anyway, and she was probably better off not thinking about -not- blushing, and what it meant that she could -not- blush, and just how she had learned that in the first place. She grinned, and shook her head. "My pants? I think I knew that, Doug."

Doug's mouth moved without making any sound. He sat there, incredibly embarassed, and hoping Marie-Ange maybe hadn't guessed what he meant, but sneakingly suspicious that she had.

The quiet on the other end of the phone lingered for a moment, as Marie-Ange waited for Doug to regain what composure he could. She felt a little bad, like she really shouldn't enjoy making him blush quite so much, but it was -so- -damned- -cute-.

Doug took a while before he could speak again. "Hey," he said quietly, feeling kind of lame. "Still here."

"I know." Angie answered, just as quietly.

Doug sat quietly, just listening to Marie-Ange's soft breathing, at a loss for what to say. Finally, he managed to speak. "Okay, subject change time."

"Because we're both going to blush to death if we don't?" she asked, quietly.

Doug chuckled dryly. "I think so, yes."

"So.. tell me about .. Minnesota? Or.. Guido, or .. something?" Angie leaned against her wall, and fidgeted with the deck of cards in her pocket.

Doug sighed slightly, glad for the change in subject. "Minnesota. It's kind of a big state. On the border with Canada. Gets cold in the winters. Matter of fact, I think the coldest spot in America is in Minnesota. Or at least, the forty-eight contiguous states. Guido goes to the University of Minnesota, which is in Minneapolis, which is the capital of Minnesota."

Angie made a small grumbling noise. "Is it still going to be cold when we get there?"

Doug leaned toward his computer and brought up the Weather Channel website. "Looks like. It's just above freezing right now in Minneapolis."

"So.. very cold, but not quite snowing?" Angie frowned, and grew quiet while she thought for a moment. "And we're leaving first thing Tuesday morning?"

Doug thought for a moment himself. "Right. And yeah, I think Jamie wants to leave Tuesday morning, because he has this thing for driving rather than flying. I think we're going to wind up taking two days, stopping in Chicago on the way."

"So.. we're driving for two days? I .. think that'll be nice. I am going to be a little sick of airports. Though, I .. am going to have to pack very fast Monday evening. Ick." Marie-Ange frowned. She could possibly do some laundry now and bring it back. She hadn't considered the need for more packing when Doug asked her to go along, and she wasn't going to back out -now-.

Doug wrinkled his brow for a moment. "Hm. Um...what if I got one of your roommates to help pack for you? Are any of them still in the mansion?"

"Rahne is, I think. I am .. not sure if she would. She's been odd lately." Marie-Ange's voice grew very quiet. She and Rahne hadn't spoken much at all lately.

"I'm sorry," Doug replied quietly. "Um, what about one of the other girls around, as long as they could get into your room?"

"I suppose Kitty could. She, at least, would not be likely to die of blushing. Some of I will just have to pack myself though. I have this dinner date... " Angie's voice grew more confidant as she spoke, ending in a slight teasing tone.

Doug blushed slightly. "But I could at least get Kitty to pack up most of your stuff, which would mean you only needed to pack a little bit, so you could get some sleep Monday night. And then I'm sure you can get some sleep in the van Tuesday, also. Matter of fact, if anyone has a problem with you sleeping off jet lag in the van, they can take it up with me." Not that he forsaw it being a problem, but still.

"Merci. I appriciate it. .. I am looking forward to a quiet vacation after this one. No parents, no clubs, no Jubilee popping her gum every fifteen seconds."

Doug made a mental note to talk to Jamie about some peace and quiet for the first leg of the trip, as well as to steal every stick of gum in the van before Marie-Ange got in.

"I feel a bit bad about that, actually.. "

Doug blinked. "About what, Angie?"

"Jubilee was... rather irritating Thursday and I think I scared her off. I am not even really sure what I said.. "

"Find her and ask? Can't try to fix things unless you know what's wrong."

Angie shook her head, then remembered she was still on the phone, and sighed. She had gotten used to Doug reading her body language, she thought. And wasn't that just a disturbing, yet oddly comforting thought. "I suppose. "

Doug hurried revised himself. "Only if you're comfortable with it, though. I'm sure it's not anything major."

"I just .. I don't know how to explain it. She was popping her gum, and it was irritating, and I could not just let her mouth off like she normally would, and Amanda looked like she was one half in her grave, and Friday I just did not have any patience for ... " Angie's words tumbled out before she could stop them.. "and ... that collar and I know she is having a hard time, but she acts like she's the only one!"

Doug shushed soothingly. "Shh. It's okay, Angie. I know she's not the only one, but it's hard to see that when all that crap is happening to you.

"Still. .. She saw that post Kwannon made, she ... " Angie curled, clutching at the phone with one hand, the other balled into a fist around a handful of blanket. "she couldn't be sympthaetic, she just had to go threaten people, and then had the nerve to get upset with me when I told her not to mouth off at Amanda!"

Doug cradled the phone with both hands, wishing Marie-Ange were there to hold in his arms and reassure. The phone and IM were better than comments on the journal system, but cold comfort at a time like this. "Shhh. Okay, Angie, it's okay. Just relax," he murmured, hearing the tension in her voice.

"I... just don't know what to do. She ... Doug, I don't even want to ask her how much she knows, and .. I would have to tell her to explain, and ... "

"Oh, Angie..." Doug murmured, lost for what to say. "I don't know how much she remembers. Unfortunately, the way things tend to go at the mansion, I'd probably guess too much."

"Probably. .. I hate this." Angie let herself fall back onto her bed, and sighed. "Why us? Why can't other people have to deal with these things instead of us?"

Doug leaned back in his chair again. "I don't know, Angie," he sighed. I don't have any easy answers."

Marie-Ange grew quiet, just listening to Doug's breathing, and trying to decide if it would be really inappropiate to tell him she just wanted to come home now, instead of Monday and that she was starting to think of the school as -home- rather than school - and that she was feeling like a guest in her own bedroom, and several dozen other things she'd been thinking for days.

Doug listened to Marie-Ange's breathing, and wrinkled his eyebrows worriedly. "Angie? You can tell me whatever it is that's on your mind."

Angie didn't answer for a short while, not sure how to phrase what she was thinking. "I .. just want it to be Monday. Even with everything that happens, I want to come back. .. I cannot talk about any of it here. At least at school, everyone listens."

Doug sighed. "I'm only a phone call away if you need to talk. We can talk about it now if you want to. I want it to be Monday too. Heck, if I could talk someone like Alison into it, I'd hijack the X-Jet to come get you. You just sound so down. I don't like that."

"It is just a few days.. I did not think I would ever stop missing home when I first left, and now that I am back, it just seems that I do not want to be here anymore. " Marie-Ange smiled sadly, and shook her head. "I do not think taking the jet would be a good idea, cheri. Mister Summers would be so mad. "

Doug grinned. "That's why I'd ask Alison. I'd tell her you're miserable at home, and that she can get early access to you and your cello. I bet she'd go for it. Especially if I wheedled really pitifully."

"I ... would be lying if I said I was not tempted, but it wouldn't be fair to anyone else. I think I will be okay. I go back to London tommorow, and then it is the weekend. Not so many days, no?" She paused for a moment. "Also, Doug? If you came and rescued me, you would avoid my evil plan, and I cannot let you do that."

Doug smiled. "Okay. If you're sure. You know that I would do that for you if you asked, though, right? I just want you to be happy, not stressed out by your family."

"I know. I do not understand it, but I believe you. I am not that stressed out by my family. They are just annoying.."

Doug made a noncommital noise. "Okay." He sighed. "I should probably go now, Angie. Don't want to wear out your phone card, or your parents' phone bill. Besides, I should go be productive or something." He grumbled. "Miss you."

"It is a phone card, but.. . I should probably go be a little social before my cousin tries to find me again. " Angie sighed into the phone. "I miss you too. "

Doug bit back an "I love you," judging the timing not nearly right. Patience wasn't his strong suit, but he was trying. He didn't want to mess this up before it even began with inappropriate declarations. "I'm sure I'll talk to you before Monday, Angie."

"I will call before we leave, if the time difference does not make it too early or late.. " Marie-Ange's voice trailed off, not quite wanting to stop talking, but knowing she had to, because eventually one of her family would come looking for her.

Doug didn't want to stop talking either. "Call anyway, cherie. I'll wake up for you, even if I'm not that coherent."

"Jamie might not be too happy with me if I do." Angie frowned. "I .. " she paused for a second. "Email me?" she asked, hopefully.

"Jamie wouldn't wake up if a freight train came rumbling through the room some nights. I'll ask him, though. And of course I'll email you. Heck, I'll get my laptop right after I go and email if you want." Doug smiled another goofy smile.

"You are so silly. But, yes, I would. .. and.. . I am going to go now, because I could stay on the phone for another hour, but I fear my cousin will poke his nose in here looking for me if I do not come out and talk.. " she sighed into the phone. "I will call. Au revoir. Je vous verrai bientôt."

"Au revoir, Angie. Monday will be here before you know it." Doug smiled sadly and made himself hang up before leaning back in his chair and sighing wistfully. Then, he plucked up his laptop and began typing the promised email.

Comments

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*sends Doug to Remedial Geography*

St. Paul. St. Paul is the capital of Minnesota, not Minneapolis. The way you can tell them apart is, Minneapolis isn't the one that was laid out by a drunken mental patient.

Somebody on the trip is going to get lost in St. Paul. :)