Log: Warren and Billy - High Times (Backdated to July 1)

[x-asgardian.livejournal.com]

Warren, Billy, and some very special brownies.


The best part about being boss was not being accountable to anyone. Besides -- his father was in Cuba with a mistress. Nothing was pressing,and Warren deserved a break, damnit.

Weekends didn't count. The looming deadline of Monday was always there. ‎It was better to take a random weekday off...and then another. It had probably been a few days since he'd seen the inside of his office, actually. He should probably call Jolene.

But he could do that later. He'd set up a stand alone hammock and was now happily rocking back and forth, a plate of brownies (special of course) balanced on his bare chest‎, his wings casually tucked on his side. This was the life....except his beer was slightly too far away. Why didn't he think of that before laying down??

"You there," he called out to a random passerby. "Help a brother out?"

The voice pulled Billy out of his thoughts, muddied though they were. Even for a speak-your-mind-to-reality guy, the past days had been overwhelming. Back to the now, though, he looked around for the source, his eyes widening as he located the man. At the wings, nothing else, of course. He caught himself, managing to get out a "What, me?"

Warren pumped a fist in the air, far too excited to have gotten the boy's attention. "Yes! Fantastic! I was given the short end of the stick in the mutation department and have no telekinetic abilities. As you can see, my beer is far away. This is unacceptable. Unfortunately, I'm very comfortable here. Can I trouble you to hand me my alcohol? If you're legal, you can have one too.". Warren tilted his head as he sized the boy up. "You look old enough. You can have one anyways, even if you're not legal. I'm cool that way "

"I hardly call those a short stick," Billy chuckled, making his way toward the leisure contraption. He snatched up two beers from the nearby table, popping the tops off before heading toward the hammock. "And yes, I'm definitely legal. Though I remember daydreaming about wings like those waaaaay before I was." He paused near the hammock, taking in the sight before finally shaking the reverie. "Sorry, here you go. Cheers."

Warren gave him an amused look as he gratefully accepted the beer. "Cheers indeed. I don't know what you just said about dreaming of wings, but considering how amazing I am, I don't blame you." Taking a generous sip, he stopped almost halfway. "Oh! I'm Warren. You're new."

"Actually, I'm Billy," he said, before taking a drink. He glanced around for someplace to sit and frowned at the lack. He spotted a chair across the lawn, squinting at it as he began an intense muttering. With a pop, the lounge appeared behind him, and he settled down. "Thanks for the beer."

Warren blinked a few times before grinning. "Either these brownies have entirely too much pot in them, or you did something amazing."

"Well, either I'm pretty amazing or you better share," Billy grinned back. "Or maybe that's one of those 'and's' not 'or's.' Math's not my thing."

"I pay people to math for me," Warren replied, passing the plate to Billy. "It's easier that way. And by the way, you're about to eat the greatest brownie known to man. Appreciate this moment. Remember it."

Billy's hand hovered over the play a moment before plucking one of the chocolate squares. "That's a pretty high claim, y'know," he challenged as he took a bite. "My mom's not much a cook but brownies....that's hard to screw up. Probably not like yours, but still delicious."

Warren shook his head. "Mine are better than your mother's because drugs are involved. Pay attention.". Taking a bite of his own, he chewed thoughtfully. "Sorry, who are you again? Why are you here?," the blond asked, gesturing aimlessly towards the mansion

"I'm Billy," he repeated, mouth half-full as he shifted up in his chair. "I actually am still trying to figure out why I'm here. I guess to get a better feel for what I can do. You?"

This question again. Not that he should be surprised, considering ‎ he asked it in the first place.

"Who knows‎ why any of us are here," Warren responded flippantly. "Serendipity placed my body right here for one reason or another. Is it to spice up the Mansion? Was there a dire need for edibles?" He shrugged. "All I know is I'm here, and don't seem to be going anywhere.".

"Well, the spice must flow, so that's probably it," Billy said, staring at the chocolate in hand. "And it seems you have no shortage of it, if this is any indication. And you're right, this could well be the greatest."

"I told you." Modest was not in Warren's vocabulary. He munched on his brownie, pondering the younger man before he had an a-ha moment. Loudly. "Oh!". He sat up, almost knocking over his dish. "You! Ass guardian! Protector of butts!" A conversation Matt and Warren had had months prior suddenly popped to mind. "That's you!"

Billy let a long sigh out, then reached for another brownie. "Gods, is everyone around here a twelve-year old boy?" he said, shaking his head. "It's Asgardian," he stressed the pronunciation. "Or it was. I'm working on a new name."

"Tomato, tomahto," Warren replied, paying closer attention to Billy. "We have similar stories, my friend. Although, I went with a more generic name for my exploits. So, what is it you do? What did Asgard have to do with you? Are you related to Thor?"‎

"Nah, it's just a name," Billy explained. "I didn't realize it was even real when I picked it. I just like the myths, and it seemed appropriate since..." Lightning suddenly surrounded the brownie-free hand, covering it like a glove. "...that's one of the things I can do. I do magic, so it's kind of hard to know what all it can do."

Warren watched in wonder at the magic. "Everyone has a cooler power than me," he mumbled.

"I don't know, wings are pretty amazing," Billy responded. "They work, right? I mean, doesn't everyone dream of flying at some point? I've been trying to see if I can get my magic to let me do that. I've had some success getting things to float, but nowhere near being able to actually fly."

"Oh don't get me wrong -- flying is great. Love it. I'd be in the air all day if I could. But these babies," he flapped his wings slightly, "they're not exactly retractable. I always have them. And it's complicated to hide them. It's why I like being here." Warren still grudgingly gave Artie credit for getting Warren to realize he could be himself at the Mansion. "A six pack like mine should never be hidden."‎

"Oh, I can get behind that," Billy responded, eyes drifting toward the topic of attention. The brownies were clearly starting to take effect, loosing up uncharacteristic double entendre. "They're very...impressive. Mine need hiding some days, and some things are just too risky to try to magic into reality."

"Airbrushing is an amazing thing," Warren commented, laying back down on the hammock, his wings wrapped around him for added comfort. He was completely clueless to the tone behind the comment. "You can be anything you want with make up."

"Well, maybe, until someone gets close," Billy shrugged. "I guess we should be happy with what we've got. You've got wings and abs, I've got lightning and free beer."

"No one gets close to me," Warren murmured, starting to doze off. "I can't hug, because wings. I can't take my shirt off because wings. I have women convinced I'm a never nude.". He sighed drowsily. "I want to be appreciated."‎

"I'm sure most people appreciate you," Billy commented mostly under his breath. Seeing the other starting to fade, he stretched before standing. "I think you've got the right idea. I might go find a shady spot for a nap myself. Thanks for the brownies and beer. Next round is on me."

The winged man nodded, his eyes already closing. ‎It was time to dream of unicorns, sexy librarians and spam.