Jay and Forge, Saturday
Dec. 4th, 2004 09:04 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsForge and Jay take breaks from doing homework and meet up in their common room. After some initial snarkage, Jay surprises Forge with some personal information, and Forge promptly introduces his foot to his mouth. But it all works out nice in the end.
"Okay, okay, food." Forge scolded his growling stomach. He'd spent the last hour typing and retyping his damned music homework. One more listen through the CD and he'd probably get a better handle on it. Definitely not his usual taste, but not bad for what it was.
Hauling himself out from behind his desk, Forge recalled the stack of Hot Pockets in the kitchenette. Perfect heat-and-eat sustenance, he figured. He opened the door and made a beeline for the fridge before he saw the door already open and a pair of wings sticking out. Huh, he thought. Jay eats..
"Uh, hey."
Whoever had stocked their fridge with ham was a Godsend, as far as Jay was concerned. It may have been Oscar Mayer, but he was hungry enough that he wouldn't turn down mediocre quality meat. He was humming some tune he'd heard on the radio to himself, and didn't realize his roommate was there until he turned around. "Oh, hey." Leaving the fridge door open for Forge, Jay took the package of deli to the table to make a sandwich.
Forge walked around to the fridge, taking a look at Jay's wings as he did so. The fact that Jay was walking around with his shirt off in December - even indoors - raised a few questions in Forge's mind. But then again, it was probably more convenient with the wings. As he tossed the Hot Pockets in the microwave, Forge watched Jay make his sandwich. He was picking up anatomy slowly - an area his mutant gift didn't translate to at all - but Jay's wings were amazing. Span and spread easily could provide enough lift to get him off the ground, and the muscle tone it took to keep them beating obviously showed in his shoulders and chest.
Thankfully the microwave beeped just as Forge became aware of how clinically he was looking at his suitemate. He shook his head, not wanting to give Jay any wrong ideas. "So," he announced by way of small talk, "too hot in your room, or are you just trying to give the girls some eye candy if they drop by?"
Jay was a musician, after all, so he was no stranger to people leering at him. But the last person he expected to look at him that way was Forge. And he was just as thankful as Forge was when the microwave went off, because it was growing disconcerting. "S'uncomfortable," he replied, spreading ketchup on a slice of bread. "And Ah ain't really no source of eye candy for the ladies." What kind of comment was that anyway? "Besides, the only girl who comes on by is Catseye, and she's Kyle's problem anyway."
Forge laughed self-consciously. He'd come to like Catseye, or at least her company. When she wasn't being a pain. But Jay's self-deprecating attitude grated at him. The popular kids were always like that, fake humility. The whole "Oh, I'm nothing special" facade when deep down Forge knew they always had that smug, superior attitude.
"Well, it's not like there's no shortage of attention with the ratio here. And come on - musician? Wings? The whole 'ooh, I'm sullen and mysterious' vibe? You've probably got to have the girls take a number at the door," Forge tried to keep the derision out of his voice, but found himself failing.
Jay readily picked up on it, and after returning everything to its proper place, turned to face Forge, wearing an incredulous expression. "Y'all aren't serious, are ya?" Did Forge really not know? Upon that realization, Jay couldn't help but inwardly grin. This would be interesting. "Ya think Ah'm goin' 'round here tryin' ta get in the pants of every girl Ah can?" he asked, put emphasis on the word "girl."
Forge blinked. "Well, everyone ELSE seems to be, and--" Realization hit him like a snowball in the head. "Oh. OH." Forge immediately coughed into his hand and tried not to look across the kitchenette at Jay. "Well, that's uh... wow, I didn't... how's that working out for you?"
Tact 1, Forge 0, he thought.
Jay, however, looked intently at Forge. "And mind you Ah still ain't lookin' ta get into anyone's pants. So whatever ya thought of me ain't so true now, is it?" Rolling his eyes, he took his sandwich over to the couch and sat down to eat. "Ah'm a lot more complex than the lot of ya are willin' ta give me credit for."
Forge stammered, realizing he'd jumped to the completely wrong conclusions. Jay was his suitemate, for crying out loud. Not someone out to get him, or anyone he had to assume had something in for him. "Yeah, sorry about that. It's just - well, you're the last person I expected to be - well, you know. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I mean, not that my opinion ought to matter to - well, I don't really have an opinion about - I mean, it's none of my business..." He let out a loud exhale, ending in a chuckle.
"Okay, hit reset, start over. My name's Forge, and I'm a complete ass." He pantomimed two other mouths with his hands, echoing "Hi, Forge!" in a falsetto. Sitting down in the chair across from Jay, he took a bite out of one of his Hot Pockets and shrugged apologetically.
"I'm queer, okay? S'not a big deal," Jay said peevishly. "And no, your opinion really doesn't matter much 'bout this. Just because Ah ain't a walkin' stereotype wearin' all those expensive ugly clothes an' speakin' with a lisp and callin' everyone 'girlfriend' doesn't mean nothin'." Despite his apparent exasperation with his suitemate, Jay was actually amused to a degree. Sam hadn't flipped out when he came out to him, and everyone else who knew here so far had taken it in stride. And really, where was the fun in that? "Why'dja assume Ah'm straight anyway?"
Forge thought. "Because, well... okay, because you DON'T fit the stereotype. Which I suppose is where the Professor would do that stern look thing he does and ask why I put stock in stereotypes. Conclusion - I shouldn't make assumptions." He shrugged, scarfing down the last of his meal, washing it down with a swig of soda. "I mean, it's not
like you're coming on to me or anything like that, I--" Forge looked over at his shirtless suitemate again. "You're NOT coming on to me, are you?"
Jay wasn't sure whether to laugh or be offended "You have got ta be kiddin' me," he replied. "Ya don't really think Ah'm hittin' on ya, do ya? Sorry, man, butcha ain't mah type. Iffn Ah had any interest whatsoever in anyone here, ya wouldn't be high on mah list at all." The gall of this kid. He should have been expecting this, though. Straight guys are always so concerned about being hit on, probably because they were afraid of giving in, or at least Jay liked to think. "Sorry ta disappoint."
"Oh no!" Forge blurted, holding his hands up. "I'm not disappointed. Kind of relieved. Okay, really relieved. Because that just - not me, y'know. I don't even have time for the girls. Not that they've been breaking the door down. Well, not for me, anyway," he amended, remembering the two girls from the music store the other day who'd been less than subtle about Kyle.
Jay sat back in his seat and raised an eyebrow, measuring Forge up. Obviously, someone had skipped the lessons on social skills, because Forge appeared to be freaked out. "Would it've been such a bad thing if Ah was?" he inquired. "And y'all know what they say about fellas who spend lotsa time and energy wiggin' out 'bout this . . ."
"Well, what am I supposed to say?" Forge snapped back. "It's not like they hand out a 'so your suitemate's gay' pamphlet when you walk in the door here. I mean, ordinarily I wouldn't care but - you know, we've got to sort of live together so I figure that if I'm going to be going around pissing people off, my suitemates ought not to be first on the list, right?" He shrugged, starting in on his second Hot Pocket. "You know," he mumbled through a mouthful, "I'm pretty sure you're the only gay guy I've ever met. Well, that's been open about it anyway."
Jay shook his head and took a large bite of his sandwich. "Well, don'tcha worry none 'bout it. Ah ain't in the market anyway," he said, a touch mournfully. Jay stared off into space for a minute, his mind sent back to the place it always was whenever he thought about such things. But thankfully he caught himself before Forge started staring, and shook his head again. "Ya went to some city school before ya came here, right? Then your class was probably filled with gays. Ya think bein' a mutie is hard? It ain't nuthin' sometimes."
Forge nodded, then paused. "No one gives you shit here, though? I mean, dude. When you've got wings or purple skin or, y'know," Forge knocked on his false leg for emphasis, "why bother with something that's really no one's business?"
"With all the shit that goes on in folk's lives, bein' a fag really doesn't measure up high on people's radars," Jay agreed. "There's enough psychos and thieves and murderers here as it is. No one seems ta think twice 'bout no one's sexuality, y'know?"
Forge shuddered at the comments about the other students. He'd done enough trawling through the journal system to pretty much identify who he figured were the students to avoid, the ones Jay was obviously referring to. "Got a point there. Seems like a lot of folks around here just want to get some and get lots of it. Sorry about lumping you in with them."
"Whatever," Jay mumbled, shrugging, which was his way of accepting the apology. "Those freaks were probably all abused as children and're just tryin' ta make up for it by findin' a substitute for love. Or some psychobabble bullshit like that. S'not what Ah'm lookin' for at all." That is, if he was looking for anything at all, but no need to share anything more with Forge than he really needed to. He'd probably said enough as it is already.
"No arguments there," Forge gave a small salute with his soda can. Man, he figured, I sure had him figured out all wrong. "Well," he said with a frown, "pre-finals homework calls. Despite having no Music teacher for the last umpteen weeks, we still get homework. Where is the justice, I ask?"
Jay smirked at Forge after taking the final bite of his sandwich. "Ah think that if we got off scot-free every time a teacher got 'emself hurt, we'd never get anythin' done here. 'Specially iffn ya take one of Dayspring's classes. You'd be stuck on the same chapter for months." Getting up from his seat, he took his plate over to the sink and briefly rinses his hands. "Good luck with your stuff, then."
"Okay, okay, food." Forge scolded his growling stomach. He'd spent the last hour typing and retyping his damned music homework. One more listen through the CD and he'd probably get a better handle on it. Definitely not his usual taste, but not bad for what it was.
Hauling himself out from behind his desk, Forge recalled the stack of Hot Pockets in the kitchenette. Perfect heat-and-eat sustenance, he figured. He opened the door and made a beeline for the fridge before he saw the door already open and a pair of wings sticking out. Huh, he thought. Jay eats..
"Uh, hey."
Whoever had stocked their fridge with ham was a Godsend, as far as Jay was concerned. It may have been Oscar Mayer, but he was hungry enough that he wouldn't turn down mediocre quality meat. He was humming some tune he'd heard on the radio to himself, and didn't realize his roommate was there until he turned around. "Oh, hey." Leaving the fridge door open for Forge, Jay took the package of deli to the table to make a sandwich.
Forge walked around to the fridge, taking a look at Jay's wings as he did so. The fact that Jay was walking around with his shirt off in December - even indoors - raised a few questions in Forge's mind. But then again, it was probably more convenient with the wings. As he tossed the Hot Pockets in the microwave, Forge watched Jay make his sandwich. He was picking up anatomy slowly - an area his mutant gift didn't translate to at all - but Jay's wings were amazing. Span and spread easily could provide enough lift to get him off the ground, and the muscle tone it took to keep them beating obviously showed in his shoulders and chest.
Thankfully the microwave beeped just as Forge became aware of how clinically he was looking at his suitemate. He shook his head, not wanting to give Jay any wrong ideas. "So," he announced by way of small talk, "too hot in your room, or are you just trying to give the girls some eye candy if they drop by?"
Jay was a musician, after all, so he was no stranger to people leering at him. But the last person he expected to look at him that way was Forge. And he was just as thankful as Forge was when the microwave went off, because it was growing disconcerting. "S'uncomfortable," he replied, spreading ketchup on a slice of bread. "And Ah ain't really no source of eye candy for the ladies." What kind of comment was that anyway? "Besides, the only girl who comes on by is Catseye, and she's Kyle's problem anyway."
Forge laughed self-consciously. He'd come to like Catseye, or at least her company. When she wasn't being a pain. But Jay's self-deprecating attitude grated at him. The popular kids were always like that, fake humility. The whole "Oh, I'm nothing special" facade when deep down Forge knew they always had that smug, superior attitude.
"Well, it's not like there's no shortage of attention with the ratio here. And come on - musician? Wings? The whole 'ooh, I'm sullen and mysterious' vibe? You've probably got to have the girls take a number at the door," Forge tried to keep the derision out of his voice, but found himself failing.
Jay readily picked up on it, and after returning everything to its proper place, turned to face Forge, wearing an incredulous expression. "Y'all aren't serious, are ya?" Did Forge really not know? Upon that realization, Jay couldn't help but inwardly grin. This would be interesting. "Ya think Ah'm goin' 'round here tryin' ta get in the pants of every girl Ah can?" he asked, put emphasis on the word "girl."
Forge blinked. "Well, everyone ELSE seems to be, and--" Realization hit him like a snowball in the head. "Oh. OH." Forge immediately coughed into his hand and tried not to look across the kitchenette at Jay. "Well, that's uh... wow, I didn't... how's that working out for you?"
Tact 1, Forge 0, he thought.
Jay, however, looked intently at Forge. "And mind you Ah still ain't lookin' ta get into anyone's pants. So whatever ya thought of me ain't so true now, is it?" Rolling his eyes, he took his sandwich over to the couch and sat down to eat. "Ah'm a lot more complex than the lot of ya are willin' ta give me credit for."
Forge stammered, realizing he'd jumped to the completely wrong conclusions. Jay was his suitemate, for crying out loud. Not someone out to get him, or anyone he had to assume had something in for him. "Yeah, sorry about that. It's just - well, you're the last person I expected to be - well, you know. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I mean, not that my opinion ought to matter to - well, I don't really have an opinion about - I mean, it's none of my business..." He let out a loud exhale, ending in a chuckle.
"Okay, hit reset, start over. My name's Forge, and I'm a complete ass." He pantomimed two other mouths with his hands, echoing "Hi, Forge!" in a falsetto. Sitting down in the chair across from Jay, he took a bite out of one of his Hot Pockets and shrugged apologetically.
"I'm queer, okay? S'not a big deal," Jay said peevishly. "And no, your opinion really doesn't matter much 'bout this. Just because Ah ain't a walkin' stereotype wearin' all those expensive ugly clothes an' speakin' with a lisp and callin' everyone 'girlfriend' doesn't mean nothin'." Despite his apparent exasperation with his suitemate, Jay was actually amused to a degree. Sam hadn't flipped out when he came out to him, and everyone else who knew here so far had taken it in stride. And really, where was the fun in that? "Why'dja assume Ah'm straight anyway?"
Forge thought. "Because, well... okay, because you DON'T fit the stereotype. Which I suppose is where the Professor would do that stern look thing he does and ask why I put stock in stereotypes. Conclusion - I shouldn't make assumptions." He shrugged, scarfing down the last of his meal, washing it down with a swig of soda. "I mean, it's not
like you're coming on to me or anything like that, I--" Forge looked over at his shirtless suitemate again. "You're NOT coming on to me, are you?"
Jay wasn't sure whether to laugh or be offended "You have got ta be kiddin' me," he replied. "Ya don't really think Ah'm hittin' on ya, do ya? Sorry, man, butcha ain't mah type. Iffn Ah had any interest whatsoever in anyone here, ya wouldn't be high on mah list at all." The gall of this kid. He should have been expecting this, though. Straight guys are always so concerned about being hit on, probably because they were afraid of giving in, or at least Jay liked to think. "Sorry ta disappoint."
"Oh no!" Forge blurted, holding his hands up. "I'm not disappointed. Kind of relieved. Okay, really relieved. Because that just - not me, y'know. I don't even have time for the girls. Not that they've been breaking the door down. Well, not for me, anyway," he amended, remembering the two girls from the music store the other day who'd been less than subtle about Kyle.
Jay sat back in his seat and raised an eyebrow, measuring Forge up. Obviously, someone had skipped the lessons on social skills, because Forge appeared to be freaked out. "Would it've been such a bad thing if Ah was?" he inquired. "And y'all know what they say about fellas who spend lotsa time and energy wiggin' out 'bout this . . ."
"Well, what am I supposed to say?" Forge snapped back. "It's not like they hand out a 'so your suitemate's gay' pamphlet when you walk in the door here. I mean, ordinarily I wouldn't care but - you know, we've got to sort of live together so I figure that if I'm going to be going around pissing people off, my suitemates ought not to be first on the list, right?" He shrugged, starting in on his second Hot Pocket. "You know," he mumbled through a mouthful, "I'm pretty sure you're the only gay guy I've ever met. Well, that's been open about it anyway."
Jay shook his head and took a large bite of his sandwich. "Well, don'tcha worry none 'bout it. Ah ain't in the market anyway," he said, a touch mournfully. Jay stared off into space for a minute, his mind sent back to the place it always was whenever he thought about such things. But thankfully he caught himself before Forge started staring, and shook his head again. "Ya went to some city school before ya came here, right? Then your class was probably filled with gays. Ya think bein' a mutie is hard? It ain't nuthin' sometimes."
Forge nodded, then paused. "No one gives you shit here, though? I mean, dude. When you've got wings or purple skin or, y'know," Forge knocked on his false leg for emphasis, "why bother with something that's really no one's business?"
"With all the shit that goes on in folk's lives, bein' a fag really doesn't measure up high on people's radars," Jay agreed. "There's enough psychos and thieves and murderers here as it is. No one seems ta think twice 'bout no one's sexuality, y'know?"
Forge shuddered at the comments about the other students. He'd done enough trawling through the journal system to pretty much identify who he figured were the students to avoid, the ones Jay was obviously referring to. "Got a point there. Seems like a lot of folks around here just want to get some and get lots of it. Sorry about lumping you in with them."
"Whatever," Jay mumbled, shrugging, which was his way of accepting the apology. "Those freaks were probably all abused as children and're just tryin' ta make up for it by findin' a substitute for love. Or some psychobabble bullshit like that. S'not what Ah'm lookin' for at all." That is, if he was looking for anything at all, but no need to share anything more with Forge than he really needed to. He'd probably said enough as it is already.
"No arguments there," Forge gave a small salute with his soda can. Man, he figured, I sure had him figured out all wrong. "Well," he said with a frown, "pre-finals homework calls. Despite having no Music teacher for the last umpteen weeks, we still get homework. Where is the justice, I ask?"
Jay smirked at Forge after taking the final bite of his sandwich. "Ah think that if we got off scot-free every time a teacher got 'emself hurt, we'd never get anythin' done here. 'Specially iffn ya take one of Dayspring's classes. You'd be stuck on the same chapter for months." Getting up from his seat, he took his plate over to the sink and briefly rinses his hands. "Good luck with your stuff, then."
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Date: 2004-12-04 07:33 pm (UTC)Hah bloody hah.
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Date: 2004-12-04 08:21 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2004-12-04 09:11 pm (UTC)And speak for yourself. I'm not the one musing about setting someone on fire.
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