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xp_logsHaller and Gabriel ponder the oddness of reliving the good-old-days they never actually had.
This assignment was giving Jim a new respect for Arthur, and even Warren -- how did anyone cultivate the stamina to be on all the time? He had less than 48 cumulative hours in a high school environment and all he wanted was a moderately large hole into which he could crawl. There was nothing more exhausting than socialization. No wonder David had other people for that.
He almost jumped out of his skin when he turned the corner of the supply shed and nearly ran into yet another person he'd have to pretend to know before realizing, to his relief, that that might not be necessary. His near collision had been Gabriel -- plus or minus a decade, anyway.
Almost too late, Jim remembered there was a procedure to follow. Leaning against the shed in something approximating a casual fashion, the counselor gave the wall a two-fingered tap.
"Hey."
Gabriel kept his face neutral, scanning the basketball jock as he took a drag of a cigarette. "Office hours are closed," he said dryly, blowing smoke away from Haller and then flicking ash on the ground. "Though I might be willing to cut my break short," he added with a smirk, "just to find out what you, of all people, are doing here." His eyes flicked to the shed. "With me."
The telepath froze. No tap of acknowledgement, no sign of recognition.
Great. He'd just voluntarily initiated conversation with a stranger.
"Oh, uh . . ." Jesus, what was he supposed to talk about? Straightening up, Jim went as broad as possible. "I heard you can hook me up."
"Oh, that I can." Gabriel's smirk widened into a smile as he gave the other teenager a once-over. "Never expected you'd ask, though. I mean, I know you jocks all talk, but I didn't think that was your thing." He looked away, focusing again on his cigarette as he brought it again to his lips, took one more puff and then subbed it out against the shed's wall. "My knees are a little sore," he said, examining the black nail polish on his right hand as he matched Haller's posture against the shed. "But I think for you, I can suck it up."
He let those words hang in the air. Then, he leaned toward Haller somewhat slowly, studying the other man's expression and never breaking his gaze as the seconds stretched out, the air growing more charged until he finally gave the shed's wall his own two-fingered tap.
In that moment Jim was wholeheartedly grateful that Gabriel had just been fucking with him. Whatever reputation his host body might be enjoying would not have survived the expression its counterpart had just put on its face.
"Congratulations," said Jim, "you almost gave an 18-year old a stroke."
"I think I almost gave an 18-year-old the time of his life," Gabriel fired back. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, handing them to Haller without the other man even needing to ask. "I'd say I'm sorry, but it was worth it for the look on your face. Let it be said that I can commit to a bit."
"Asshole. Be glad we're not in a reality where I can set you on fire with my mind." The cigarette was already lit when Jim remembered himself -- or rather, the fact that he was currently occupying the body of a student athlete with a pair of pristine lungs.
Jim did manage to stop mid-inhalation, but only because it wasn't possible to complete a drag with the cigarette was halfway down your throat.
Gabriel laughed, unable to help himself and particularly enjoying that he'd had the upper hand for most of this conversation, a feeling he rarely had either in the mansion or in his own high school experience. "Imagine what would have happened if I actually sold you weed." He returned the lighter and smoke to his pockets. "Interesting that you went straight to trying to buy drugs off the Latino, by the way. Probably ought to interrogate that."
Jim balled the wasted cigarette in his fist and tossed it at Gabriel's head. "Leave my white guilt out of this. Besides, I couldn't buy pot if I wanted to. The team has random drug testing, and this kid is going to college on a sports scholarship. Plus I have to worry about his dad. I genuinely can't tell if the man is overbearing or if this is just what active parenting is like."
"Maybe a little of both." Gabriel wrinkled his nose as he swatted the cigarette to the ground. "Your kid sounds boring. In my high school, jocks had fun, even the ones that were trying to dribble their way into college."
"I wouldn't know, I never went." Automatically, Jim stooped down to pick up the cigarette and stuff it in his pocket. He quirked an eyebrow at Gabriel. "How is this stacking up to your experience?"
Gabriel shrugged, considering how best to answer this. "Better, I guess?" He pushed an errant strand of long hair off of his face. "I mean, I never finished, so I guess it's hard to say how it might have turned out? But, like, this ain't Texas. And this kid seems to be having fun. Although, I had fun, until, you know... I didn't. So..."
"Sorry, didn't mean to bring down the mood." Jim sighed and leaned his back against the shed, letting his head rest against the siding. "What's it like? Spending time in your own personal what-if, I mean."
“I’m not thinking of it like that,” Gabriel said quickly, snapping one of the plastic bands on his wrist. “I don’t live in what ifs. I had to stop doing that.”
Now he was the one bringing the mood down. “But it’s… curious? Comfortable?” He stared at his polished nails again. “High school with no pressure, and it’s kind of — well, not fun, but it’s interesting. Like, he’s in a band, and he’s got a good crew. Plus this isn’t me, so I don’t have any of the teenage social anxieties.” He smiled a little.
Jim took note. It wasn't often he saw a smile out of Gabriel that didn't have just a hint of an edge. It made him look very young, and not just because of the body he was in. The older man felt the corners of his own mouth rise, just a little.
"Guess it's the opposite for me. I'm anxious because it's not my life. Though I admit that may just be how my brain works." Jim laughed. "I will say it's nice not to end up in the worst possible timeline for once. A world where the biggest thing that can go wrong is failing a drug test? Perfect. Great. I'm there. I'll take nightmares about showing up late to class over a world where we lost World War II but with mutants or whatever."
"I mean, I told you, I think, that the other versions of me I've met have mostly sucked. Pretty hard. And I haven't gotten to 'be' them or whatever it is we're doing, but it's not like I would have even wanted to."
"Same here. Not a lot going for them." Jim thought for a moment longer, then pushed away from the shed.
"Okay. Show me something."
"What?" Gabriel tilted his head, eyeing him. "Show you what, exactly?"
Jim gave him a one-shouldered shrug. "How to have fun. You said the jocks at your school knew how to have it. Be the bad example you want to see in the world."
"You're asking me to teach you how to have fun?" Gabriel tried his best to keep his expression neutral, but the corners of his lips twitched. "I think — I mean..." He could not come up with a polite way to tell the other man that he could not engineer personality changes. "Okay, so, like the jocks. Yes, the most serious jocks care about sports but, like, nothing is that serious? Go to a party. Have a drink. Relax."
Jim gave the other man a look even blander than his preferred mode of dress. "'Relax.' I'm sorry, I thought we'd met."
"We have," Gabriel said, sounding every bit the sullen teenager. He instinctively glanced at his watch, but this version of himself didn't wear one, and he didn't have a phone. "Fine," he said after a second. "Come on. I'm sure we can get you into some non-life-ruining trouble somewhere."
"Lead the way. And don't tell Arthur. He might think I'm taking his advice."
This assignment was giving Jim a new respect for Arthur, and even Warren -- how did anyone cultivate the stamina to be on all the time? He had less than 48 cumulative hours in a high school environment and all he wanted was a moderately large hole into which he could crawl. There was nothing more exhausting than socialization. No wonder David had other people for that.
He almost jumped out of his skin when he turned the corner of the supply shed and nearly ran into yet another person he'd have to pretend to know before realizing, to his relief, that that might not be necessary. His near collision had been Gabriel -- plus or minus a decade, anyway.
Almost too late, Jim remembered there was a procedure to follow. Leaning against the shed in something approximating a casual fashion, the counselor gave the wall a two-fingered tap.
"Hey."
Gabriel kept his face neutral, scanning the basketball jock as he took a drag of a cigarette. "Office hours are closed," he said dryly, blowing smoke away from Haller and then flicking ash on the ground. "Though I might be willing to cut my break short," he added with a smirk, "just to find out what you, of all people, are doing here." His eyes flicked to the shed. "With me."
The telepath froze. No tap of acknowledgement, no sign of recognition.
Great. He'd just voluntarily initiated conversation with a stranger.
"Oh, uh . . ." Jesus, what was he supposed to talk about? Straightening up, Jim went as broad as possible. "I heard you can hook me up."
"Oh, that I can." Gabriel's smirk widened into a smile as he gave the other teenager a once-over. "Never expected you'd ask, though. I mean, I know you jocks all talk, but I didn't think that was your thing." He looked away, focusing again on his cigarette as he brought it again to his lips, took one more puff and then subbed it out against the shed's wall. "My knees are a little sore," he said, examining the black nail polish on his right hand as he matched Haller's posture against the shed. "But I think for you, I can suck it up."
He let those words hang in the air. Then, he leaned toward Haller somewhat slowly, studying the other man's expression and never breaking his gaze as the seconds stretched out, the air growing more charged until he finally gave the shed's wall his own two-fingered tap.
In that moment Jim was wholeheartedly grateful that Gabriel had just been fucking with him. Whatever reputation his host body might be enjoying would not have survived the expression its counterpart had just put on its face.
"Congratulations," said Jim, "you almost gave an 18-year old a stroke."
"I think I almost gave an 18-year-old the time of his life," Gabriel fired back. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, handing them to Haller without the other man even needing to ask. "I'd say I'm sorry, but it was worth it for the look on your face. Let it be said that I can commit to a bit."
"Asshole. Be glad we're not in a reality where I can set you on fire with my mind." The cigarette was already lit when Jim remembered himself -- or rather, the fact that he was currently occupying the body of a student athlete with a pair of pristine lungs.
Jim did manage to stop mid-inhalation, but only because it wasn't possible to complete a drag with the cigarette was halfway down your throat.
Gabriel laughed, unable to help himself and particularly enjoying that he'd had the upper hand for most of this conversation, a feeling he rarely had either in the mansion or in his own high school experience. "Imagine what would have happened if I actually sold you weed." He returned the lighter and smoke to his pockets. "Interesting that you went straight to trying to buy drugs off the Latino, by the way. Probably ought to interrogate that."
Jim balled the wasted cigarette in his fist and tossed it at Gabriel's head. "Leave my white guilt out of this. Besides, I couldn't buy pot if I wanted to. The team has random drug testing, and this kid is going to college on a sports scholarship. Plus I have to worry about his dad. I genuinely can't tell if the man is overbearing or if this is just what active parenting is like."
"Maybe a little of both." Gabriel wrinkled his nose as he swatted the cigarette to the ground. "Your kid sounds boring. In my high school, jocks had fun, even the ones that were trying to dribble their way into college."
"I wouldn't know, I never went." Automatically, Jim stooped down to pick up the cigarette and stuff it in his pocket. He quirked an eyebrow at Gabriel. "How is this stacking up to your experience?"
Gabriel shrugged, considering how best to answer this. "Better, I guess?" He pushed an errant strand of long hair off of his face. "I mean, I never finished, so I guess it's hard to say how it might have turned out? But, like, this ain't Texas. And this kid seems to be having fun. Although, I had fun, until, you know... I didn't. So..."
"Sorry, didn't mean to bring down the mood." Jim sighed and leaned his back against the shed, letting his head rest against the siding. "What's it like? Spending time in your own personal what-if, I mean."
“I’m not thinking of it like that,” Gabriel said quickly, snapping one of the plastic bands on his wrist. “I don’t live in what ifs. I had to stop doing that.”
Now he was the one bringing the mood down. “But it’s… curious? Comfortable?” He stared at his polished nails again. “High school with no pressure, and it’s kind of — well, not fun, but it’s interesting. Like, he’s in a band, and he’s got a good crew. Plus this isn’t me, so I don’t have any of the teenage social anxieties.” He smiled a little.
Jim took note. It wasn't often he saw a smile out of Gabriel that didn't have just a hint of an edge. It made him look very young, and not just because of the body he was in. The older man felt the corners of his own mouth rise, just a little.
"Guess it's the opposite for me. I'm anxious because it's not my life. Though I admit that may just be how my brain works." Jim laughed. "I will say it's nice not to end up in the worst possible timeline for once. A world where the biggest thing that can go wrong is failing a drug test? Perfect. Great. I'm there. I'll take nightmares about showing up late to class over a world where we lost World War II but with mutants or whatever."
"I mean, I told you, I think, that the other versions of me I've met have mostly sucked. Pretty hard. And I haven't gotten to 'be' them or whatever it is we're doing, but it's not like I would have even wanted to."
"Same here. Not a lot going for them." Jim thought for a moment longer, then pushed away from the shed.
"Okay. Show me something."
"What?" Gabriel tilted his head, eyeing him. "Show you what, exactly?"
Jim gave him a one-shouldered shrug. "How to have fun. You said the jocks at your school knew how to have it. Be the bad example you want to see in the world."
"You're asking me to teach you how to have fun?" Gabriel tried his best to keep his expression neutral, but the corners of his lips twitched. "I think — I mean..." He could not come up with a polite way to tell the other man that he could not engineer personality changes. "Okay, so, like the jocks. Yes, the most serious jocks care about sports but, like, nothing is that serious? Go to a party. Have a drink. Relax."
Jim gave the other man a look even blander than his preferred mode of dress. "'Relax.' I'm sorry, I thought we'd met."
"We have," Gabriel said, sounding every bit the sullen teenager. He instinctively glanced at his watch, but this version of himself didn't wear one, and he didn't have a phone. "Fine," he said after a second. "Come on. I'm sure we can get you into some non-life-ruining trouble somewhere."
"Lead the way. And don't tell Arthur. He might think I'm taking his advice."
