Haller, Jess, and a special guest star
Aug. 22nd, 2023 09:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xp_alias posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsJess has to do laundry. Again. She makes it Haller's problem (in more ways than one).
Note: NSFW due to Warren (language only)
The door to the office banged open, and an irate woman in a coffee-stained t-shirt stomped in, her arms full of what appeared to be thoroughly cat-haired clothes. The front of the t-shirt she was wearing was covered not in cat hair, but in what looked like a blood-spatter pattern of coffee. "You," she said to the tall man currently minding his business at his own desk, in his own office. "Give me your shirt."
Jim, who had been mid-coffee and whose own shirt had narrowly avoided the same fate, spent a few precious seconds trying to convince his heart to stop trying to pound its way through his sternum before he replied.
"Sorry?"
"You let the cat in here," she said, meaning you in general, in charge of this place, not you, Haller, specifically, though she wouldn't put it past him. "The cat who broke into my room, slept on my clothes, scared the shit out of me, and got purple fur all over my laundry. Plus the fucking coffee. Which I now have to do, again. Shirt." She held out a hand, losing what was indeed a thoroughly purple-furred Xavier's Institute t-shirt to the floor.
"Cat? -- Oh, right." Jim tactfully declined to mention he had yet to meet this version of Catseye due to his preoccupation with a certain someone's psychic trauma. He sighed. "You don't have any more shirts?" he asked, already undoing the buttons.
"I do not," Jess said flatly, declining to remind him of the many shirts she had donated to Sooraya very recently. "And since that asshole Warren lives here, nevermind whatever various perverts I haven't even met yet, I also am not walking around here without one."
"Okay, okay." She didn't have to remind him of the specifics. The specter of Lululemon still loomed large between them. Jim shrugged out of his shirt and handed it over. "There you go. I guess I should see if we happen to keep a few hundred lint rollers around here, too."
"Thanks." Unceremoniously dropping the rest of her laundry after the t-shirt, Jess had just enough modesty to turn her back to him before pulling the shirt on. Fortunately for Haller's modesty, she was in fact wearing a cropped camisole underneath in place of an unneeded bra, so the only thing exposed were still-impressively-dark bruises.
Truthfully there wasn't much of a difference between Jessica's front and her back -- a fact that did absolutely nothing to stop Jim reddening at a relative stranger partially disrobing in the middle of his office. He didn't know what part of David had made it to forty without the slightest idea of how to deal with even remotely suggestive situations, but he was afraid it was him.
Hurriedly, Jim turned to the Keurig. "Do you want me to replace that coffee?" he asked, hoping that if Jessica were distracted by the scent of fresh coffee she wouldn't be able to smell weakness.
Jess, now clad in a shirt that dwarfed her in every dimension, paused in picking up the laundry to consider this, suspiciously. "Sure," she said, finding no reason to refuse, and bundling up the clothes until they were somewhat carryable under one arm.
Jim plugged the pod into the Keurig and watched it disgorge a stream of coffee, shaking his head at himself. The knee-jerk shyness really was something he should work on, he reflected, but he'd spent the majority of his life ignoring the existence of human sexuality in general and he wasn't going to stop now.
"You can keep the mug," he said, handing it to Jessica. "You know, since I assume you weren't going to ask anyway."
She narrowed her eyes at him, then vented an irritated hm, acknowledging the direct hit, and took her laundry, stolen coffee cup, and dignity out of the office.
It wasn't that Warren hovered per se -- that would be uncouth to do. At least while standing. But sometimes, when he wandered around, he found himself wandering past choice areas: the kitchen, the library, one of the rec rooms, the solarium and now Haller's office. At times, Warren came with baked goods that he would put on the other's man desk; usually though, their visits consisted of Warren leaning on the door frame, coffee mug in hand, while he chatted. Warren never noticed that Haller puposefully kept his mouth full of goodies and that the conversation was almost entirely one-sided.
Now though .... Warren stood in the hallway, watching Jessica walk in the opposite direction, clad in only Haller's shirt ... and no pants. He lifted his mug and took a long sip while he watched her saunter away, pleased to note that her ass was exactly as he remembered it. Still. The wheels were now spinning in his mind, and when she turned the corner, Warren entered Haller's office. "My man," he said with a shake of his head, "you're going to have to start going after girls I haven't been with yet. I want to know everything but at the same time, I don't know if you'll tell me anything I don't already know."
Jessica's entrance might have nearly given him a heart attack, but somehow Warren's casual saunter was even worse. It was like being a Jurassic Park employee who had just evaded the tyrannosaurus rex only to turn around and find a raptor standing directly behind him -- and that raptor was taking note that he was wearing only an undershirt.
"What?" Jim stuttered, aware this was an encounter his brain was entirely unprepared for. Foolishly, he defaulted to the truth. "Uh, no, that wasn't what it looked like. Her shirt was just covered in stain--"
The final syllable was already out of his mouth before Jim realized this was almost certainly the worst collection of words he could have uttered.
Even if Haller had continued to explain himself, Warren had already stopped listening. He smirked and lifted his mug. "Cheers, buddy. I mean, far be it from me to tell you where to aim but a little advice: if this is going to happen regularly, you need a stash of women sized clothes, instead of sending Jess out there doing a very obvious walk of shame. It's all about respect and dignity. A toothbrush drawer would also be nice, but since this is a work space, you probably should just invest in gum."
In a move of true self-preservation, Cyndi shouldered her way past Jim and took control of the interaction. She pushed the rolling chair back and put her feet up on their desk, ankles crossed, and linked her fingers behind her head so she could regard Warren from a posture of relaxation.
"Look, I'm not saying anything happened between us," said the pyrokinetic, "'cuz that would be inappropriate. I have a professional reputation to uphold. That said," Cyndi continued, warming to the narrative as Jim started frantic signals of what are you doing, "if things like that did happen in my office, I'd need to keep it on the down-low. But, if I could be so bold, I also have some advice. From me to you."
That definitely piqued Warren's interest. "Oh?" Taking the cue from Haller, Warren entered the office, closing the door behind him. He could understand the need to ensure appearances were on the up and up. If nothing else, all his crazy past had taught him that at least. "I am always up for a meeting of minds, so to speak." He sat down on the chair across from the desk and tilted his head. "Let's do this."
"You sure? Because it might hurt. But if it does, I want you to know it's because I care enough to be honest with you." Cyndi removed her feet from the desk and leaned forward, all seriousness now.
"It's about Jessica. Again, I'm not saying you saw what you thought you saw, but if you did -- it has to raise questions, right? Like, she says she doesn't remember hooking up with you, and the minute she's out of the Medlab, where is she? Trying to rediscover that once-in-a-lifetime bang with a man of obvious wealth and taste like yourself-"
stop
"-or here, taking a walk of shame in broad daylight while carrying out her own laundry?"
STOP
"So you gotta ask yourself: what am I putting out there? What's my vibe? Why was I less appealing than the human equivalent of a pair of khakis? My secret sexual magnetism aside, 'course."
STOP HELPING
Cyndi smiled at Warren, caringly.
"I just don't wanna see you lose your edge, is all."
Warren nodded knowingly. "I see," he responded, taking it all in. What Haller said made sense; however, it was very contrary to Warren's own style of things. "I'm honestly not that offended that Jessica doesn't seem to want to speak to me. Some women like to look forward and not go backwards. I get it. I'm the same way sometimes. I also have zero interest in swooping in and taking her from you, so to speak. I may be a prick, but that's a low move."
He tapped his forehead and smiled. "I am here to support you now. If that's the conquest you want, I am 100% in your corner."
Cyndi was in awe. This was ego on a scale never before seen. She had done her worst, and Warren had deflected it without even breaking a sweat. It was like watching a world-class tennis player returning a serve while blindfolded. There was so much she could learn from this man.
Gravely, Cyndi returned his nod. "I appreciate your respect for the bro code-" What the fu- didn't he cheat on Jean with Jessica?! --Shhh, Jimothy, don't ruin our moment "-so I can say this with total honesty: on that front, you have absolutely nothing to fear from David Haller."
"Oh, I mean, Bobbi is her own person so feel free to approach her if that's what you're saying. She rarely says yes, but between you and me, I think she enjoys being asked."
"It's true, sometimes a girl just likes to feel wanted. Thanks for the head's up. I'll keep it in mind." And she would. The very next time Jim annoyed her, in fact.
What was Jim's problem, anyway? This really was a beautiful friendship.
Note: NSFW due to Warren (language only)
The door to the office banged open, and an irate woman in a coffee-stained t-shirt stomped in, her arms full of what appeared to be thoroughly cat-haired clothes. The front of the t-shirt she was wearing was covered not in cat hair, but in what looked like a blood-spatter pattern of coffee. "You," she said to the tall man currently minding his business at his own desk, in his own office. "Give me your shirt."
Jim, who had been mid-coffee and whose own shirt had narrowly avoided the same fate, spent a few precious seconds trying to convince his heart to stop trying to pound its way through his sternum before he replied.
"Sorry?"
"You let the cat in here," she said, meaning you in general, in charge of this place, not you, Haller, specifically, though she wouldn't put it past him. "The cat who broke into my room, slept on my clothes, scared the shit out of me, and got purple fur all over my laundry. Plus the fucking coffee. Which I now have to do, again. Shirt." She held out a hand, losing what was indeed a thoroughly purple-furred Xavier's Institute t-shirt to the floor.
"Cat? -- Oh, right." Jim tactfully declined to mention he had yet to meet this version of Catseye due to his preoccupation with a certain someone's psychic trauma. He sighed. "You don't have any more shirts?" he asked, already undoing the buttons.
"I do not," Jess said flatly, declining to remind him of the many shirts she had donated to Sooraya very recently. "And since that asshole Warren lives here, nevermind whatever various perverts I haven't even met yet, I also am not walking around here without one."
"Okay, okay." She didn't have to remind him of the specifics. The specter of Lululemon still loomed large between them. Jim shrugged out of his shirt and handed it over. "There you go. I guess I should see if we happen to keep a few hundred lint rollers around here, too."
"Thanks." Unceremoniously dropping the rest of her laundry after the t-shirt, Jess had just enough modesty to turn her back to him before pulling the shirt on. Fortunately for Haller's modesty, she was in fact wearing a cropped camisole underneath in place of an unneeded bra, so the only thing exposed were still-impressively-dark bruises.
Truthfully there wasn't much of a difference between Jessica's front and her back -- a fact that did absolutely nothing to stop Jim reddening at a relative stranger partially disrobing in the middle of his office. He didn't know what part of David had made it to forty without the slightest idea of how to deal with even remotely suggestive situations, but he was afraid it was him.
Hurriedly, Jim turned to the Keurig. "Do you want me to replace that coffee?" he asked, hoping that if Jessica were distracted by the scent of fresh coffee she wouldn't be able to smell weakness.
Jess, now clad in a shirt that dwarfed her in every dimension, paused in picking up the laundry to consider this, suspiciously. "Sure," she said, finding no reason to refuse, and bundling up the clothes until they were somewhat carryable under one arm.
Jim plugged the pod into the Keurig and watched it disgorge a stream of coffee, shaking his head at himself. The knee-jerk shyness really was something he should work on, he reflected, but he'd spent the majority of his life ignoring the existence of human sexuality in general and he wasn't going to stop now.
"You can keep the mug," he said, handing it to Jessica. "You know, since I assume you weren't going to ask anyway."
She narrowed her eyes at him, then vented an irritated hm, acknowledging the direct hit, and took her laundry, stolen coffee cup, and dignity out of the office.
It wasn't that Warren hovered per se -- that would be uncouth to do. At least while standing. But sometimes, when he wandered around, he found himself wandering past choice areas: the kitchen, the library, one of the rec rooms, the solarium and now Haller's office. At times, Warren came with baked goods that he would put on the other's man desk; usually though, their visits consisted of Warren leaning on the door frame, coffee mug in hand, while he chatted. Warren never noticed that Haller puposefully kept his mouth full of goodies and that the conversation was almost entirely one-sided.
Now though .... Warren stood in the hallway, watching Jessica walk in the opposite direction, clad in only Haller's shirt ... and no pants. He lifted his mug and took a long sip while he watched her saunter away, pleased to note that her ass was exactly as he remembered it. Still. The wheels were now spinning in his mind, and when she turned the corner, Warren entered Haller's office. "My man," he said with a shake of his head, "you're going to have to start going after girls I haven't been with yet. I want to know everything but at the same time, I don't know if you'll tell me anything I don't already know."
Jessica's entrance might have nearly given him a heart attack, but somehow Warren's casual saunter was even worse. It was like being a Jurassic Park employee who had just evaded the tyrannosaurus rex only to turn around and find a raptor standing directly behind him -- and that raptor was taking note that he was wearing only an undershirt.
"What?" Jim stuttered, aware this was an encounter his brain was entirely unprepared for. Foolishly, he defaulted to the truth. "Uh, no, that wasn't what it looked like. Her shirt was just covered in stain--"
The final syllable was already out of his mouth before Jim realized this was almost certainly the worst collection of words he could have uttered.
Even if Haller had continued to explain himself, Warren had already stopped listening. He smirked and lifted his mug. "Cheers, buddy. I mean, far be it from me to tell you where to aim but a little advice: if this is going to happen regularly, you need a stash of women sized clothes, instead of sending Jess out there doing a very obvious walk of shame. It's all about respect and dignity. A toothbrush drawer would also be nice, but since this is a work space, you probably should just invest in gum."
In a move of true self-preservation, Cyndi shouldered her way past Jim and took control of the interaction. She pushed the rolling chair back and put her feet up on their desk, ankles crossed, and linked her fingers behind her head so she could regard Warren from a posture of relaxation.
"Look, I'm not saying anything happened between us," said the pyrokinetic, "'cuz that would be inappropriate. I have a professional reputation to uphold. That said," Cyndi continued, warming to the narrative as Jim started frantic signals of what are you doing, "if things like that did happen in my office, I'd need to keep it on the down-low. But, if I could be so bold, I also have some advice. From me to you."
That definitely piqued Warren's interest. "Oh?" Taking the cue from Haller, Warren entered the office, closing the door behind him. He could understand the need to ensure appearances were on the up and up. If nothing else, all his crazy past had taught him that at least. "I am always up for a meeting of minds, so to speak." He sat down on the chair across from the desk and tilted his head. "Let's do this."
"You sure? Because it might hurt. But if it does, I want you to know it's because I care enough to be honest with you." Cyndi removed her feet from the desk and leaned forward, all seriousness now.
"It's about Jessica. Again, I'm not saying you saw what you thought you saw, but if you did -- it has to raise questions, right? Like, she says she doesn't remember hooking up with you, and the minute she's out of the Medlab, where is she? Trying to rediscover that once-in-a-lifetime bang with a man of obvious wealth and taste like yourself-"
stop
"-or here, taking a walk of shame in broad daylight while carrying out her own laundry?"
STOP
"So you gotta ask yourself: what am I putting out there? What's my vibe? Why was I less appealing than the human equivalent of a pair of khakis? My secret sexual magnetism aside, 'course."
STOP HELPING
Cyndi smiled at Warren, caringly.
"I just don't wanna see you lose your edge, is all."
Warren nodded knowingly. "I see," he responded, taking it all in. What Haller said made sense; however, it was very contrary to Warren's own style of things. "I'm honestly not that offended that Jessica doesn't seem to want to speak to me. Some women like to look forward and not go backwards. I get it. I'm the same way sometimes. I also have zero interest in swooping in and taking her from you, so to speak. I may be a prick, but that's a low move."
He tapped his forehead and smiled. "I am here to support you now. If that's the conquest you want, I am 100% in your corner."
Cyndi was in awe. This was ego on a scale never before seen. She had done her worst, and Warren had deflected it without even breaking a sweat. It was like watching a world-class tennis player returning a serve while blindfolded. There was so much she could learn from this man.
Gravely, Cyndi returned his nod. "I appreciate your respect for the bro code-" What the fu- didn't he cheat on Jean with Jessica?! --Shhh, Jimothy, don't ruin our moment "-so I can say this with total honesty: on that front, you have absolutely nothing to fear from David Haller."
"Oh, I mean, Bobbi is her own person so feel free to approach her if that's what you're saying. She rarely says yes, but between you and me, I think she enjoys being asked."
"It's true, sometimes a girl just likes to feel wanted. Thanks for the head's up. I'll keep it in mind." And she would. The very next time Jim annoyed her, in fact.
What was Jim's problem, anyway? This really was a beautiful friendship.
