xp_logs | Nathan and Paul, Sunday morning

Paul wakes up to find Nathan sitting by his bed reading. Nathan shares the good news about Shiro, they talk about assumptions, pointy things, and Harry Potter, and how devastatingly attractive they both are. Then the fireworks start upstairs, and Paul has to restrain Nate from running off like an idiot to get in the middle of it.

It was hard to wake up; waking up meant awareness and that wasn't an appealing prospect right now. At least, Paul told himself, he'd be looking at things that were ugly and real instead of ugly dreams. He rolled over, or tried, and whimpered as his skin pulled from where it had stuck to his clothing in the night. He was awake now, damnit. That was easy. He blinked against the low lights in the room and became aware that he wasn't alone. "Nate?" he rasped.

"Hey," Nathan said quietly, turning the page of the book in his lap. There was just enough light to read, and the painkillers were working well enough this morning that reading wasn't too much of a strain. "Need any water or anything?"

"Ice," Paul said, raising a hand to took at the condition of his skin. Still ugly; a few of the blisters had broken in the night. "Not allowed more right now. Please." He narrowed his eyes, focussing on Nathan. "Why are you here?" Had something happened he couldn't remember?

Nathan closed the book and got up to get Paul some ice. "Moira's working, so she told me to find something quiet to do and stay out of trouble. So, here I am."

"Fair enough." Paul tried to uncurl himself and get comfortable while Nathan was getting him some ice. The effort left him sweating and exhausted, feeling almost ready for sleep again. He tried to run his fingers through his hair, only to find it hurt too much. "Merde." He settled for sulking bitterly, looking like a pitifully misused elf.

Nathan came back over to the bed with the requested ice. "Speaking of Moira, she went to retrieve my bird last night and found her, your cat, and Clarice all curled up in a pile. There are pictures. They're almost obscenely adorable."

That got a contented smile out of Paul as he took the cup of ice chips from Nathan. "I'm glad she settled down. I mean Clarice. I knew Delphine would." He popped a piece of ice in his mouth and sighed with relief. "I can't wait to see them."

Nathan smiled back as he sat back down, picking his book up again. "Shiro's awake," he said quietly, not sure if anyone had told Paul yet.

Paul almost dropped the cup, recovered it, and put it down in a nest of blankets beside him. "How is he?"

"From what I've heard, tired, but clear-headed. He's already had visitors - I gather his sister broke land speed records getting down here when Hank announced Shiro was awake." Nathan opened the book again, unable to help a sigh. "They're not sure about his powers yet. Time will tell."

Paul nodded slowly. "I saw Charles' post Friday before my sight got wonky on me." He looked down at his hands in his lap; they were trembling a little. "I don't blame him, Shiro... I understand. I think we all do."

"Yeah." Nathan opened the book, then, after a moment, closed it. "He'll get the help he needs," he said finally, tiredly. "We didn't lose him, so he's around to get it."

"We all hit that point." Paul tried to shrug and winced. He fished out some more ice and sucked on it for a moment, thinking. "It's good we caught him. I might have seen it coming, if I'd bothered to stop and think about it. But it's not in me to be like that. So used to the team up north and our horrendous dramatics; we all survive, I just assume everyone else will."

"Assumptions," Nathan murmured. "I think we're all guilty of making them at times." He rubbed at a smudge on the dust jacket of the book.

"It's part of life." Paul tried to flip the pillow behind him over, it was damp with sweat and had chilled while he'd been sitting forward. "Everybody cracks."

Nathan started to reach out to do it telekinetically and caught himself, this time. His jaw clenching, he leaned forward to help Paul do it the normal way. "Yeah, there's one of those universal truths..."

"Good boy." Paul noted the pause and patted Nathan's arm. His amused smile split his lip a little and he reached for a tissue. "Don't make me call Moira on you."

Nathan snorted softly, leaning back in his chair. "Never took you for a tattle-tale," he said, smiling.

"Only when it matters," Paul said, dabbing his mouth. "Besides, you think I want to anger the Keeper of the Morphine?" He managed to wink at Nathan. "I didn't survive this long without knowing who to suck up to."

"Sound strategic thinking," Nathan complimented him, the smile threatening to turn into a grin. "This is my 'I'm making a mental note' face."

"Hmm. It's suspiciously like your 'I'm plotting mischief' face. I wonder why that is?" Paul threw the tissue into the garbage across the room and made a small pleased noise when it dropped in neatly.

"I have a limited range of facial expressions?" Nathan suggested innocently. "And nice shot. You know, I'm absolutely terrible at basketball. One of those things I can just not do."

"I think you're just habituated to getting in trouble," Paul said, leaning back with a sigh. "And I can't fence. For the life of me. I cannot be trusted with pointy things. Ask Clarice. She's very kind not to fall over laughing at me while trying to teach me to fence, unlike the last person who tried to teach me to fight with a sword."

"Maybe you just haven't found the right pointy thing," Nathan suggested mischievously, relaxing a little. "I've thought of trying to pick it up, you know? Fencing, I mean. The Askani were fond of pointy things."

"Hmm. Maybe not, or maybe you just want to see me make an idiot of myself on a regular basis. We should get Clarice and Shiro to teach us," Paul said, amused at the idea. "God knows, I have no pride left."

"Pride is highly overrated, I've always thought," Nathan said. "Although I have to confess I find the line between it and stubbornness a thin one, sometimes."

"Oh, me too." Paul sighed and ran his fingers over his cheek. "Though I think I may have had the last of my pride burnt out of me this time. I look like that... Dobby thing from Harry Potter. My sister made me take her to those movies." He looked a little distant and wistful at the memory of it.

Nathan tilted his head, just watching Paul and the way his thoughts shifted at the mention of his sister. Not scanning - he didn't want to chance that, even if it wouldn't have been another appalling display of poor manners - but just watching. As he reached a certain level of concentration, though, his perceptions started to shift again and Paul, the whole room began to glow, then gained that curious interior sparkle.

"I've never seen them," he said dimly. "Read the books. Dom liked them."

Paul saw Nathan glazing over and sighed. "Don't make me use the pillow on you again, Dayspring. And I didn't want to read the books. I was informed that I was reading them. Firmly. With veiled threats. And not so veiled threats like 'books are for reading or throwing, which do you want?'"

Nathan blinked at Paul's mention of the pillow and shook his head a little. All that eerie light bled away, and he smiled a bit as he absorbed the rest of what Paul had said. "I thought they were cute. Not something I'd have picked up on my own, but I can see the appeal."

"They were cute, yes," Paul conceded. "Doesn't change the fact that I look like a very tall house elf now."

"The Dobby look won't last," Nathan said with a perfectly straight face. "You'll be back to making ninety percent of the student body drool before you know it."

Paul gave Nathan a narrow look to see how much he was teasing. "Hush. Making the student body, as aesthetically pleasing as some of it may be, drool does me no good at all. Honestly, it's a bit of a pain."

Nathan gave it some serious thought. "You know," he admitted, "I can see where that would be the case." He grinned suddenly. "Wouldn't trade places with you on that score for the world, by the way."

"I wouldn't think so," Paul said, amused. "You're quite handsome the way you are. The kind of handsome that mature people can appreciate. Throw in your 'mental notes' type expressions and you're a hell of a good looking scoundrel."

The conversation was getting a little surreal. But Paul's thoughts seemed a little brighter, which was unquestionably a good thing. "Scoundrel," Nathan said, the grin widening. "I think I like that particular euphemism."

"You are one. Just ask Moira." Paul laughed at Nathan's grin and then winced. "...maybe I should let her check out my ribs. Talk about insult to injury. Didn't know you could crack your own ribs by throwing up. Guess if you do it enough..." He sighed.

"Pulled muscles, maybe?" Nathan said, his grin disappearing into a concerned frown. "I know I've done it coughing before."

"I hope that's all it is. I've never done it coughing." Paul sobered more. "Everything hurts, though. I'm just going to say it's because I'm screwed right now and not in any kind of happy way." There was a definite pout there and Paul crunched an ice chip vengefully.

Nathan smiled, opening his mouth to respond to that - and stopping, his eyes widening. Something upstairs, something... "Shit!" he said, agitated, starting to rise instinctively from his chair.

Paul, even in his state, knew exactly what was going on; at least what was going on in front of him. "Nate!" he warned, lunging forward to grab at Nathan's wrist. It was going to be the pillow incident all over, and then some. Nathan forgot his limits faster than a two-year old on pixie-sticks.

"Paul, let--" Jubilee and Amanda. Angry thoughts, flashes of Manuel... he tried to reach out, to Amanda at least, and sank back down into the chair with a stifled cry at the backlash of pain. His shoulders hunched, he sat there for a moment, shivering, barely registering the surprising strength of Paul's grip.

Paul cursed under his breath in French, grabbing tissues with his free hand in case Nathan's nose was bleeding. "Damnit, Nate," he growled, ignoring the split skin on the hand that still held Nathan fast. "Let it go. Whatever it is. Breathe."

The girls' thoughts were in turmoil, raging... powers? They were using their POWERS at each other? Nathan instinctively started to reach out again, but the pain in his head swelled and he nearly doubled over in the chair. #Stop it,# he thought feebly at them, knowing they'd never hear him. But then the feverish hot-spot in the psychic atmosphere flickered suddenly, fading if not entirely dying as a third presence was there. Stopping things.

Paul resisted the urge to hit him. He jerked on Nathan's wrist to get his attention. "Nathan. Stop it." He was going to kill himself like this. "Nate." He reached over with his free hand, trying not to notice the strange crackling sensation along the skin of his shoulders as he did so, and touched Nathan's cheek. "One of these days I'm going to clock you for this shit."

The awareness that Paul was hurting himself, moving around like this, was what first snapped Nathan out of the pained, panicked haze. Then he felt the touch on his cheek and looked up, blinking rapidly as the multiple Pauls swum in and out of focus.

"Someone stopped them," he said, his voice hoarse, tired, no energy behind it at all.

"Just proof that you have to learn to mind your own fucking business sometimes, Nate." Paul sounded rough and pained. "Goddamnit, is your nose bleeding again?"

"Yeah." Nathan took the tissues Paul was holding - it took him a few tries to actually figure out where his hand was. "Lie back down," he said raggedly, holding the tissues to his nose. "You're hurting yourself."

Paul didn't budge. "It's okay for you to do it and not me? I'm going to get you your own cross when I go to buy Scott his. Where is it fair that you're allowed to be a dumbass and I'm not?"

Cross? What the hell did crosses have to do with... oh. Nathan glared rather feebly at the Pauls. "Fine. I'm a dumbass, you're a dumbass. Why don't we b-both stop?" Blood soaking through the tissues again, already. Amanda, he thought almost despairingly. Oh, kiddo, what happened...

"I will if you will. Damnit, Nate," Paul said again. He figured he'd be saying it a lot at this rate. He gave Nathan some more tissues and grabbed some to sop up some of the mess on the back of his hand. "What happened?"

"Amanda and Jubilee fought. Over Manuel, I think." Nathan swallowed, grimacing at the taste of blood. "Upstairs. Powers and all. Someone stopped them... Lorna, I think."

"Amanda?" Paul made himself settle back. "What the hell..." He didn't even know who Jubilee was but he was furious with her already.

Nathan tried to sort out what he'd gotten from the two of them, why they'd... "Oh, fuck," he groaned, and would have buried his face in his hands if not for the nosebleed. "Manuel, you stupid..."

Paul needed Amanda to get better. Moreover, he owed her and owing a witch was serious business. Hell, witches were serious business all by themselves. Something wet was running down his back and he pressed into the pillows to make it stop. "What did he do?" His voice was flat and angry.

"Shit. Shit!" Nathan took a deep, shaky breath, trying to organize his own scattered thoughts. "The three of them... stupid teenaged triangle, but Amanda and Manuel are linked. I told them... I told them how dangerous it was to play around with this fucking idiocy about an open relationship..." He tried to breathe more deeply, stifling a coughing spasm. Oh, no. Not starting with that. "He slept with her," he went on, his voice ragged. "Jubilee. When he knew... he knew how afraid Amanda was, how threatened she felt..."

Paul took a deep breath and let it out through his nose, trying to set a good example. He reached out and rubbed Nathan's arm, hoping to quiet him, worried about the cough. "Life's long. Until someone steps in," he noted vaguely. "But these are our students, can't forget that. And they're going to screw up. Done is done, Nate. It is what it is. She'll be okay. It'll be okay." Maybe he was lying, no one could say for sure right now, could they?

Focus, Nathan told himself. No falling apart. Pull yourself together, Dayspring. Still... "All summer," he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut. "All fucking summer, letting him crawl around inside my head, playing his fucking guinea pig... all because I was trying to help him, when what I really wanted to do was run the other way... and I thought he was learning. I really thought he..." He swallowed, tasting blood again, and opened his eyes with a ragged sigh. "Kids," he said with a ghastly smile. "What do you do?"

"Avoid them," Paul said dryly. "Usually. As much as possible, at least the problematic ones. I've got my own troubles to wrestle without adding theirs. So do you." He was lying limp against the pillows, wrung out from the adrenaline surge.

"You hurt yourself," Nathan said heavily, sensing the edge of fresh pain to Paul's thoughts. "I'm sorry. I'll get Hank," he went on, starting to rise from his chair. "Or... whoever's not looking after the girls."

"No you won't, I'm fine," Paul said. "It's okay, it's part of the healing. It's going to happen. You're going to go rest, or something. I'm serious, Nate." He bit his lip. "You're looking bad. And that's coming from me, knowing exactly what I look like right now. Look at me. I'm telling you you're not okay."

Nathan blinked, meeting Paul's eyes. "You're sure you don't need Hank?" he asked uncertainly.

"I have a little button I can push if I need Hank," Paul pointed out. "And I will if I need to, if only to set a good example for my very stupid friend."

"Okay. I'll..." He stopped, swallowing, and reached out for more tissues. "Go up and lay down, I guess." Couldn't check on Amanda right now anyway. They'd be looking after her, and Jubilee... He tried very hard to smile at Paul, didn't quite manage it. "I'll... see you later?"

"You'd better," Paul said, managing to sound stern for all that his voice was fading. "And cut out the heroics, Dayspring. Your brains running out your nose kills your scoundrelish good looks."

"Point. You've got a point..." Nathan moved towards the door, looking back over his shoulder at Paul. "Get some rest," he said more softly, and went out, closing the door quietly behind him.