Jean-Phillipe and Angelo: Miss Universe (backdated)

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Backdated to December 20th. Jean-Phillipe and Angelo watch the Miss Universe pageant together, and discuss the state of things between them.


"She", Angelo declared, gesturing loosely at Miss Argentina, "looks like an owl. Why is she a giant bird?"

Jean-Phillipe, for his part, snickered loudly. He'd recorded the Miss Universe 'national costume' segment, Laurie was out for the evening, and he was snuggled up with Angelo. "It gets worse," he proclaimed as seriously as he could manage, then took another sip of wine. When Miss Curacao, and her giant bird headdress, appeared, he fell over to one side laughing at Angelo's expression.

Angelo flopped over onto Jean-Phillipe's chest, careful not to spill his wine, then snorted as Miss Dominican Republic stepped out. "What, is she something out of Star Trek?"

"Non, I believe that was Miss Honduras. She is either that or an ambulatory coral reef." He snickered at Miss Denmark's 'grab the nose and snorkel' pose. "We also decided that Miss Denmark had taken shots backstage, to have so spectacularly abandoned her dignity."

"Or she decided being dressed as a mermaid already stole it all. What does Denmark have to do with mermaids anyway?" Without waiting for an answer, he gave in to the distraction of Jean-Phillipe's proximity to steal a long kiss - and then Miss Mexico was announced and he broke away to glance at the TV.

"...what. The hell. Is that?"

"There is a famous statue of The Little Mermaid in Copen..." Jean-Phillipe hadn't quite gotten through his explanation when Angelo saw Miss Mexico, and he fell backwards against the couch laughing heartily. "I had been waiting for this one," he managed in between wheezing. "I am a terrible person for not warning you."

Angelo reached over without looking to poke him hard in the ribs, seemingly unable to tear his eyes off the sheer terribleness of Miss Mexico's outfit.

"Yeah, you are. I can't... just... what."

The jab under the ribs didn't help Jean-Phillipe's wheezing, which was now half laughing and half actual gasping for breath. There was some horseplay and tickling, and when they finally settled down, Jean-Phillipe shrugged apologetically. "Desolee, I wanted to see your reaction for myself," he admitted.

Angelo had wound up comfortably lying half on Jean-Phillipe, half on the couch, head on the taller man's shoulder. He raised his head now and grinned at him, knowing it wasn't exactly a big deal in the scheme of things. "Hope you got your money's worth."

"Well, I did not spend anything on it...but I suppose I shall pay for it in some fashion later," Jean-Phillipe observed, knowing Angelo would get back at him. It might not be that evening, but it would be sooner or later, he was sure.

"You can pretty much count on that", he was cheerfully informed. "I'll think of something suitable when I'm not drunk."

Jean-Phillipe made a thoughtful noise. "Hm. I suppose perhaps I could keep you intoxicated all the time to forestall revenge? That might perhaps get expensive, though. Plus there would be gossip."

"Around here?" Angelo said, resting his head again on Jean-Phillipe's shoulder. "There's always gossip. The revenge won't be so terrible, anyway."

"You say that now," Jean-Phillipe observed teasingly. "I know just how out of hand pranks and revenges can get at this mansion." He had spent a while as an RA, after all. And he'd heard stories from back when Xavier first began taking on students, for that matter, so it wasn't like prank wars were a new thing in the halls of the mansion. "And gossip does not bother me, honestly."

"Out of hand but not usually harmful", Angelo pointed out with a teasing grin in return. "And... yeah, me either. Not about this, anyway, I wouldn't have started it if I was ashamed of it."

"You started this because you were high on painkillers, coeur," Jean-Phillipe teased gently. "And so you had no filter on things you were saying. Not that I am complaining either, of course." Miss Universe was rather forgotten in the background as they talked.

"No filter, in vino veritas, whatever." Angelo looked at him more seriously. "And that was only the first time."

Jean-Phillipe dropped the teasing and patted at Angelo's hand reassuringly. "I know. Certainly the painkillers or alcohol would not explain why we have continued on." And he was glad they had.

"Did you want to... make it official?" Angelo asked suddenly. "I mean, I'm not saying I'm in love with you or anything, if you want to keep going like we are, that's cool too, but... I like you. And I don't want you to feel like this is some kind of secret thing or less than you want it to be."

Jean-Phillipe gave the matter some thought before responding. He didn't want to give Angelo a glib answer, because that would be cruel. He'd shied away from 'official' ever since Mark, but maybe it was time for him to stop letting the past dictate his actions. "I would like that," he said quietly, almost shyly, if that word could apply to the brash Frenchman. "I like you as well. And you deserve better than to be a secret."

Angelo leaned over to give him a brief but decisive kiss on the lips, and nodded. "So do you. I wasn't actively hiding it, just... not telling everybody. But now we know where we stand."

Jean-Phillipe's hand slid comfortably into Angelo's and squeezed gently. "Yes, we do."