Gabriel & Namor | Sunday Evening

[xp-submariner.livejournal.com]

Gabriel educates Namor on some of the pop culture he'll need in the modern world.

The light from the television flickered lazily, illuminating the dark of the late night in the rec room with the images of something John Hughes. The figures on the couch, however, were already several bottles into a variety of somethings alcoholic, so it was a little less Sixteen Candles and a little More Late Night Banter.

Of course, given the two figures, it was also a bit of judgement.

"Youthful rebellion," Namor scoffed with the tiniest slur, "How twentieth century to have no other outlet for this passion."

Gabriel snorted mid-sip, spraying a little whiskey on the couch. He coughed a bit, then wiped his mouth. "That might have been the most cynical thing you've ever said," he said once he'd recovered. "Just wait until we finish the movie." He stared at the screen. "Jake Ryan, though," he said appreciatively.

"We hold," the Atlantean corrected with almost a sly grin around the royal We, "That an outsider cannot be labeled a cynic if Our observations are true."

That moment didn't last long, or at least Namor didn't dwell -- instead he squinted at the television again like it had personally offended him. "Which one is this Ryan? You people all look the same."

"Okay, add this to the lessons: That's not something you say in public." Gabriel's eyebrow was raised as he turned back to Namor, but he was smiling. "Would have thought that'd been in Emma's brain dump. Guess I see your point though. I mean," he looked at the TV, swirling the whiskey in his glass, and then back at Namor, "he and I are both certainly similarly dreamboat-y."

"Your White Lady put many thoughts into my head. What of it. Regardless, you are far more 'dreamboaty.' You have seen battle and boast the scars to match. This Ryan would faint at the sight of a bloody weapon."

"Probably true," Gabriel replied. He was quiet as he sipped from his drink, letting Molly Ringwald's voice fill the room. "Is that what it takes to be, like, desirable in Atlantis? I guess we haven't really talked about it much."

There was a long, somber pause in which several conflicting emotions moved across the only one qualified to answer those question's features. Perhaps it was too painful to answer, or perhaps it was the alcohol, but Namor simply responded, "Something like that. It was a different time."

"Oh." Gabriel wasn't entirely sure what else to say, but he wasn't one to dig up people's painful past memories. His inquiries would lead to Namor's inquiries, and then they'd both be half-discussing things neither of them wanted to talk about. "We don't have to talk about it." He set his glass on the coffee table, reaching for the bottle of rye he'd brought from his room. "Just, you know, if you ever want to." He shrugged, avoiding Namor's gaze as he screwed the cap off the bottle. "I'm your man."

"No."

Namor shifted in his seat to better face Gabriel. "I have been avoiding this like I naively believe my Atlantis is still thriving somewhere. We were an empire. There is no reason to be so quiet unless..."

He broke eye contact back toward the television. "It is good to have a brother at arms."

Gabriel was quiet as he poured more liquor into his glass. He swirled it, trying to surreptitiously watch Namor watch the movie. "Yeah," he finally said with a small smile, his eyes drifting back toward Anthony Michael Hall's latest predicament. "Lest you get inspired, nobody has hair like that anymore."

This got Gabriel a Look, which was then passed between the speedster and the television. "It seems to me that you are trying."

Namor quickly waved this remark off as a matter of course, and moved the topic back to himself. "More importantly, tell me why any of this was popular. If I am to gain 'perspective,' why am I to do it with decade old adolescent drivel?"

"Huh? Well..." Gabriel kept his eyes on the screen, trying to decide if his hair looked Jake Ryan-esque, and whether that could be interpreted as a compliment. "I dunno," he shifted to Namor. "Consider it part of your acculturation. I mean, you live with teenagers now, and these are basically the stereotypes. And mostly," a hint of a smile came to Gabriel's face, "I just wanted to hear your running commentary."

"More people should. I task you with getting on that. My word was once law, the least it can be now is righteous judgement."

"Yes, trust me," Gabriel said with a full grin. "I will be sure to shout your name from the rooftops after going to battle for your honor." The clink of ice cubes against the class made it clear how likely this might be. "Gonna get right on that."

"Good, good," Namor agreed, "But I approve of this 'boombox.' Be sure to do that all with a good beat."