Log: Matt & Frank

[x-daredevil.livejournal.com]

Backdated to June 17 since we forgot to post :(

Matt and Frank work on self-defense then take a summer's dip in the pool. Some of Frank's issues come up, but Matt is less than helpful



"Your wood form is hard, but you still gotta watch what I'm doing," Matt said, using an arm to block Frank's punch, deflect it, then move in to the other teen's personal space. "See? I got right up in your face. You need to not let me do that." They were working on some of Frank's blocks and counter attacks by the pool since it was a gorgeous summer day. Matt could practically feel himself freckling, but oh well. It happened.

Frank nodded, not bothering to reply verbally. He ducked back instead, hooking one foot behind Matt's as he went to try and take him to the ground. His wooden muscles creaked with exertion. It had been a long session, and he was feeling good about the work. "So what, block more?"

Falling, Matt bent backwards into a back bend and tumbled back onto his feet, "Yep," he agreed. "You're letting me get too close," that invited problems. He tugged his shirt off and tossed it off to the side then grabbed his water bottle. It was hot out and he was drenched and ready to cool off, "You're doing good though. Lots of progress."

"Sure," said Frank, stepping out of his defensive stance and cracking his shoulders. "Still not as good as you though." He said it like a joke, but if he was honest, it did rankle a bit. Still. That's what they were fixing. Frank stretched again, wincing, and his body melted into flesh.

Matt had a lot more practice than Frank, it was unrealistic to expect Frank to be able to do the same things Matt could in less than a quarter of the time. "You will be," Matt assured him. Even starting self defense, Matt had had gymnastics behind him and a familiarity with boxing and some street fighting. "Enough for now though. It's hot and I think my freckles and freckling," which was not a bad thing, he didn't care at all how many freckles he did or didn't have, but he remembered freckling horrible as a child.

"You say that like it's a bad thing, dude. Your pale ass could use a tan," said Frank, smirking. He walked over to the small ice bucket they'd brought out with them and pulled out a soda and a water, handing the latter to Matt. "I mean, you'll have to take my word for it, but..."

"Hey, if the freckles all connected, I'd have a tan!" Matt laughed, taking a bottle. "Pretty sure I don't tan. It's part of being a ginger," he was okay with that. "I dunno. You tan when you're wood or what?"

"Nope. Just get the weather beaten bark look. Not that the weather beaten bark look is bad," mused Frank, sipping his drink. "And you ain't the only one who doesn't tan, man. I'm a natural blond. You don't even want to know what happens when I try tanning."

Matt had no idea what a weather beaten bark look was, but he assumed it was suitably dark and odd looking. "I'm gonna guess you turn the colour of my hair," and it was truly a guess. At this point, Matt was not entirely sure of colours except in a more theoretical sense. "Any big plans this summer?"

Frank drank, considered, shrugged. "Honestly, not really. I'm doing some stuff with X-Corps these days- you know, interning and stuff. Angelo's pretty cool." Which was a relatively understated way of calling someone a compassionate badass with a nice taste in suits, but Frank didn't quite feel like fanboying again. "Maybe I'll stay here. You?"

Angelo was pretty awesome, Matt had to agree. "I'm running away to join the circus," he replied, only half joking. He was taking aerial acrobatic classes this summer in the city. It wasn't quite running away and whatnot, but whatever. It was a good way to spend his summer since he didn't really have much to do to prepare for college. No dorms for him!

Frank smirked. "Yeah, I saw that on the journals. You realise if you can't juggle by the time you come back, I'm gonna be pissed."

Laughing, Matt poked Frank with a finger, "I'm not taking a juggling class!" He laughed, "I'm focusing on aerial stuff." Maybe he'd learn to juggle. It depended on if he could get enough beeping balls.

"Oh, come on, man! You're a crazy flexible jumpy fuck anyway!" said Frank, jokingly ranting. "Think of it. We could get you juggling balls that said 'fuck you!' in Braille! You could juggle at everyone who was ever a douche and they wouldn't even be able to see the passive aggression!" He paused, pulled off his cooling, sweat-soaked shirt. "Then again, flexible is cool. 'Hey baby,'" he said, putting on a Barry White voice, "'I can love you from eeeeeeevery direction.'"

"Don't ever make that voice again!" Matt laughed, seeing his water bottle down, "There's a beeping ball in the closet with the other equipment. Wanna toss it around in the pool?"

"Oh, you just trying to get me wet, baby," replied Frank in his Barry White Voice, smirking. "Yeah. Screw it. Why not. Back in a minute." He sprinted off to get the ball, conveniently out of range of any response.

Matt didn't have to see to flip Frank off. He also didn't care if Frank saw it or not. Jumping in the pool, he resurfaced shaking his head. Damn the water was cold! It felt good!

Frank followed him in a moment later, coming up a few feet away, spluttering. The beeping ball was clenched under one arm. "Oh, dude, we should do this more often!"

He flicked the ball at Matt, grinning.

"It was too cold before!" Matt caught the ball with a splash, tossing it back at Frank. The water felt so good.

"Ah, you wimp," said Frank, catching it again. The ball made a loud buzzing sound in his hands, and he eyed it for a moment before sending it back. "Cold never killed anyone."

"Says you!" Matt didn't mind the cold in the winter, but then he didn't go swimming outside in it either. It was better to go swimming in the summer when it was warm! He caught the ball and tossed it back easily, "Do you even feel it when you're wood?"

"Not really," Frank replied, catching the ball. He just managed not to fumble it. "I mean, I guess I do, but... not really in the same way, you know? Things can be hot, or soft, or cold, or... well, whatever, but they don't effect me so much. What about you? Heightened senses must be a pain."

Matt caught the ball when it came back at them diving for it in the water, "Can be," he agreed, "Used to get migraines all the time from being overstimulated and then they put me on all sorts of medications to help it, which didn't much work," they kinda did, in an addictive, habit-forming way. "Learning to use my powers helped a lot more. And my room is set up to minimize everything so I don't get overloaded," Frank had seen some of those changes when he had taken over Matt's old room.

"Ah," said Frank, nodding sagely. "This would be why the old Matt-cave had a boarded-up window, huh?"

"Sound proofed tiles," Matt agreed. "and an air scrubber and white noise generator. And super soft sheets," it had all made a world of difference with his powers.

"Yeah, I kept the last one," said Frank, smirking. "Got to be some advantages to this place." He paused, looking around for the ball, and tossed it again.

Laughing, Matt was just glad that he had those sheets, or their cousins, on his new bed. He'd gone to a larger bed too when he had moved to the grad suites, which worked out nicely for him. This time Matt missed the ball completely and had to retrieve it. Thank goodness for the beeping. "Oh, I see how it is!" he joked. "Hopefully you washed them first!"

"Oh hell yeah. What, you think I was gonna go nest in your filth?" Frank steadied himself, waiting for the ball to come back. "How creepy would that be?"

There had been a time where Matt would have thought nothing of something like that. He and his dad weren't complete pigs, but sometimes there wasn't money for stuff like laundry and bedding often got skipped because it was so bulky and heavy to take to the laundromat. Even in foster care he didn't care about these things, they weren't important. Now though, Matt knew the power of clean clothes and bedding on his powers. It made a difference. Shrugging, Matt tossed the ball to Frank, "I dunno. You are in my old room and all that."

"Well yeah," replied Frank, a lifelong suburbanite with all that entailed, "but a room and a pile of sheets are kind of different things, man. It'd be creepy. And not the fun, "hot chick in a Halloween costume" kind of good, either. The bad, "collection of lampshades made of human skin" kind of creepy."

He paused before throwing the ball back. "The 'real magic' kind of creepy," he added quietly, before throwing back the ball.

Matt couldn't disagree. "Maybe it's because I have to take it on blind faith," quite literally, "but it doesn't bother me that much. I can't see most peoples powers, I just have to trust."

Frank looked at him for a moment, face unreadable. "I think I'm gonna climb out," he said eventually, pulling himself out of the water and toweling at his hair. Matt would probably find that weird, but right now he just didn't want to talk.

There was a time to press and a time not to, this was definitely a time not to. "And what? Do something else?" Matt asked.

Frank shrugged before he remembered who he was talking to. That was the thing about Matt; you could have whole conversations with him without once remembering he was blind. "I don't know," he said instead. "It's the summer. Gotta be something to do."

Following Frank, Matt went over to the grass and turned into a handstand, holding himself up on his arms, "Talk to me, man," he requested, "Something's bugging you. I don't need to hear the change in your breathing to know that."

Frank glared at him a moment, and then turned back to the pool. After a moment, he sighed, and the fight went out of him. "I don't know," he muttered, looking down. "I'm just-" a pause. A growl. "Magic fucking sucks," he said, finally. "And so do mutations. And combined, they fucking suck squared."

Only at Xavier's and Mutant High was standing on your head while having a conversation normal. Matt didn't stay that way for more than a minute or so though before he resumed being upright. "Yeah, it does. And can. Lots of things do. So...I dunno. Pick your battles?"

Frank shrugged. Sighed. "This one came and found me, man," he muttered. Then he stood up. "Fuck it, though, right? We all deal with shit. You wanna go back in?"

"Yeah, sure," Matt agreed. So much for trying to get Frank to talk, "No one asks for the shit they get in life. That's just...part of life, I think. Happens to everyone and always sucks. We can go in though. I'm ready for a nap."