Jamie, Illyana, and a plate of chocolate chip cookies

[x-crowdofone.livejournal.com]

Because some things stay the same. :) They talk about some of those things, and also some of the things that haven't, and inasmuch as Illyana does friendship, they revive theirs.


Jamie knocked on his neighbors' door, a steaming plate of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies in his other hand. He wasn't, surprisingly enough, looking for Kitty.

"Illyana? You around?" he called through the cracked-open door. ". . . It's Jamie," he added after a moment, in case she didn't recognize his voice.

A moment later, the door opened, revealing a somewhat surprised-looking blonde. "Jamie!" Illyana said, blinking as though she were somewhat stunned. "Uh -- hi," she added, after a moment spent searching for the proper greeting.

"Still very not used to you being tall." He grinned. "But I brought cookies. Figured you probably hadn't had 'em in a while."

"At least you've only got me to get used to," she returned dryly. "You've all become a good deal shorter. Cookies -- no, haven't had them in a while." She smiled, with a very nearly covetous glance at the plate in Jamie's hand, then remembered her manners and stepped aside. "Come in," she added, awkwardly, as though the 'polite' part of her conversation was an oft-forgetten afterthought.

"Well, I brought chocolate chip--you can see if they're still your favorite." Jamie set the plate down on somebody's desk and hooked a chair over with one foot. "I could probably rig some stilts if that'd help. There'd be chandelier issues, though. Is it--no, strike that. How weird is it, being back? And are you starting to get used to it, and can I help at all?"

"Thank you," Illyana said, leaning against the desk opposite and tilting her head, as though wondering if Jamie were serious before discarding the thought. "As for weird -- I think 'very' describes it pretty well. For me and everyone else." Her lips quirked sardonically. "I'm getting more used to it now that I'm out of the infirmary, I think, meeting people." She paused, gestured at Jamie with one hand. "Meeting them again, that is."

"Well, if it helps, 'very weird' is kinda par for the course around here. Any day that doesn't start with aliens landing on the front lawn and declaring it the sovereign territory of Mars is . . . well, it's a place to start. Have a cookie?"

She looked at him strangely. "Aliens?" She took a cookie carefully, as though she were half-expecting it to disappear through the sheer spite of fate, and took a bite. She stopped for a moment, then half-grinned. "I think it's safe to say they're still my favourite," she said, looking a little bit sheepish, as though this kind of admission was not something she usually owned up to.

"Well, there could be aliens. You never know. I didn't think people could walk through walls two years ago, and now I'm dating one." He grinned. "But I'm glad to see _some_ things stay the same. You used to extort those things out of me like no tomorrow, remember?"

She assumed an expression of innocence. "Extort is a very strong word. I seem to remember services rendered." She paused, then smiled back. "Most of the time, anyway."

"You jacked up your prices all the time, though. Cutest mercenary seven-year-old I ever did meet. Not bad with a snowball, either--too bad it's spring, we could have a rematch."

"I remember that," she said, with a smile that was trying not to turn into something sadder, even angrier. It passed after a few seconds. "The weather's nice now, though. I haven't had mild weather -- well, since I was young, obviously. Limbo's not much for moderate temperatures."

"And hey, they'll probably be setting up the pool soon." Jamie's own smile fell a little flat. "I'm glad you got out of there. I wish . . . You deserved better."

The comment took her off-guard, and she shrugged, obviously in uncomfortable territory. "No, I don't suppose I did," she said, searching for the right response and coming up short. Her fingers twisted in a stray strand of long hair, in an unconscious nervous habit that she barely noticed. "But I did get out, which is more than I expected for a long time."

"That's worth celebrating." Jamie tapped his half-eaten cookie against Illyana's, as if toasting. "You had the chance to do anything just for fun, yet? Or to try things, and see what is fun?" He chuckled. "Somehow I get the feeling Pokemon isn't one of the things that kept its charm."

"For fun?" She considered this carefully. "Not -- in particular, I think, the way you mean. But then, I think 'fun' has a different meaning when you haven't had running water or electricity for eight years. You should have seen me at the sink when I first got back. It was a sad, sad thing. I think it might even have traumatised Piotr."

"Heh. No, that counts, that definitely counts. Fun is fun, wherever you find it. I read a book once . . . this kid gets stranded in the middle of Alaska, or someplace, with nothing but a hatchet, and it said in the epilogue that after he got back, he'd go to the supermarket just to stand in the aisles and look a all the different kinds of food. Always good not to take things for granted." He grinned. "I wish I'd seen it, though. That 'kicked in the stomach by a perturbed cow' look he gets is hilarious."

"A good description," she said graciously, a smirk hiding at the corners of her mouth. "He was fairly comical for a while -- wouldn't leave the bloody room, even when the doctors asked him to. Poor man."

"Well, he was worried about you. I woulda been too, if it was my sister." He smiled wryly. "Was, actually. You were in there a long time, and it's not every day people grow up in five minutes. But hey, you're okay now." He grinned. "And once you're sick of marveling at modern inventions like plumbing, we can get working on the more traditional fun venues."

"Don't knock it 'till you've spent eight years digging your own toilet," she retorted, but gently, and without a trace of self-pity evident in her tone or expression. "Traditional fun venues could be interesting compared to the miracle of contemporary building standards, though," she conceded, voice dry.

"I'll give you that. Digging my own toilet doesn't sound fun in the least." He raised his eyebrows mischievously. "Picking on Doug, on the other hand, is still just as good as it used to be. Better, even--you can be a bigger part of the plans now. Although I suppose you'll want to raise your rates accordingly."

She half-grinned. "Well," she said deliberately, "Business is business."

"Gouger," Jamie replied affectionately. "Have another cookie."