fifthcurriculum | INTRO LOG

It isn't either, jeez, my hair isn't that ridiculous!

[He rolls his eyes and gives John a light little nudge with his elbow. This isn't too clear to him either, how they got to this after initial awkwardness and having fucking fire thrown at him and a near-argument-- but it's still good, he thinks. It's the first time he's really hung out with anyone here since he arrived a little over a year ago, uncertain and more than a little terrified.]

So what'd you want, anyway? Just going to poke around and see?

[He smirks and stops in the hallway, just outside the door to the kitchen.]

Crouch down for a sec.

[He wants to get a closer look at this. He's never seen hair quite like Ryan's before.]

Um, okay?

[He does, a little hesitantly- not quite uncertain, just... not really getting what's going on here. That smirk's met with a curious glance, and he's stooped down to roughly John's eye-level.]

[John has no room or time for being touched himself, aside from fleeting things like the little nudge Ryan gave him, but he finds himself carding through Ryan's hair curiously as soon as it's at eye level. Tugging on a curl here, digging down to the roots to see where it starts being so bouncy, trying to push it down.]

It just does whatever the fuck it wants, huh.

[Oh. That's why.

Ryan absolutely wasn't expecting it. Sure, he gets this a lot, but John just didn't strike him as the handsy type-- and besides, most people feel it up and then let go faster than this. For a moment he very nearly just shorts out, and his face is definitely a little flushed.

Things he doesn't know how to handle: attractive guys playing with his hair.]

Yeah, it, uh. It always does that.

(that feels nice-)

[He can't tell if Ryan meant to share the second thought or not, but either way, it makes him jerk his hands back out of Ryan's hair quickly. That wasn't - he didn't -

Nah. Naaaaah. Ryan's not a weirdo about it like Petre, and Petre is really John's only obvious experience with guys who enjoy the company of other guys in that manner, so it's his baseline. It makes him assume the attention would always be blatantly apparent to the point of being lecherous.

Whoops.]

Rebel hair. [He laughs, only sounding slightly uncomfortable, and gives Ryan a nudge in return.] Alright. Time to see what they've stocked up for snacks this year.

(what'd I do-)

[He straightens up when John jerks his hands away, quickly running over it in his head--

Oh, god, he'd thought that out loud. The faint flush deepens, cheeks a brighter shade of pink as he reaches up to comb his fingers through his hair (as well as he can, anyway) in an anxious gesture.]

Shit- I'm sorry, that wasn't supposed to... I didn't mean. Um. Forget that?

[Oh, oh no, he was right. What the fuck did he just do.

And he can't say any of this out loud either, because someone could be around and realize that he just accidentally flirted with a guy. A guy who was receptive to it, which made it flirting when he just wanted to understand his goddamn hair. Shit, what is his life becoming, why are these the only guys who'll stick around?]

Didn't happen. None of that happened. I did not mean - it didn't happen.

[And he barges past Ryan into the kitchen, just barely able to keep himself from running.]

[Well, fuck. He fucked that one up, he's pretty sure, and he's not certain how to take John's response; was it really that bad? Is he the type that's not going to want to talk to him again, or is he really going to completely set it aside-- or, worse, is John just going to be forever weird about it around him?]

(the telepathy thing turned out okay but what about this?)

[Ryan lets him pass without following, staying at the doorway.]

--right. Definitely didn't happen. Should I, uh...

I should probably just- get back to my room or something.

[The thing is, they were getting along, in their own way. And John's not lonely, he doesn't need anyone, but that felt - okay.

And Ryan's backing off. Completely backing off. It's not the same.

Eventually John appears at the door again, holding it open for Ryan in an obvious conciliatory gesture.]

There's this guy here, alright. I thought we were friends. [W o w, no, that sounds way too vulnerable without a follow-up.] Turns out he's the world's biggest bag of dicks, so no loss. But he hit on me. Constantly. Worse when he figured out it pissed me off, like that was the fun of it.

[He's looking up at Ryan, not ready to say he was wrong to assume, not ready to say it's alright between them or anything of the sort. But still holding the door open, with a tiny shade of guilt across his features.]

[John might not be saying it, but it's enough for him. Ryan can read the sort-of-apology well enough, that admission and the little hint of guilt on his face; he's not relaxed again just yet, but he is relieved, following John through the door with a nod and a tiny smile.]

...promise I won't, okay? I mean, I don't really hit on people to begin with, but- ...you know what I mean.

Yeah, I should've figured. Dunno what the fuck about you made me think you had any kind of game.

[And there's all the proof Ryan will need that they're approaching fine again. Meanwhile, John's disappearing into a huge pantry.]

Just wait and see what I'm after. Wouldn't be my first choice for a snack, but it'll be worth it to see their faces.

Hey, maybe I do. And you'll just never know.

[...yeah, no, he absolutely doesn't. Ryan huffs out a breath, trailing after him; god, but this is weird, he really shouldn't find a little jab like that reassuring. It's mutual banter, at least, but that dynamic is still something strange to him.]

Should I be worried, here?

Yeah. Good luck.

[Eventually he comes out with something wide and flat in his hands - a giant sheet cake, with a few tubes of frosting on the tray beside it.]

You remember this, right? Or did you come mid-year? Always the best part of arrival day. [Welcome to Xavier's is written in pretty, scrolling cursive across the cake, with a basic line drawing of the mansion behind it. He picks up a tube of red frosting once the cake's set down on the island.] I just wanna make it a little better.

--oh, my god, are you kidding me-

[His eyes go wide, and he looks almost panicky.]

I am so not getting detention for fucking up the cake, okay-- d'you think I have reasonable deniability if I didn't know?

Who would ever think you were a part of it? [Mocking, yes, but encouraging at the same time.] C'mon. Live a little, just this once.

Uh, anyone who heard me think about it? Seriously, John, this is a really bad idea.

[Ryan bites his lip, fidgeting with the lining of his pockets. Maybe he could keep it quiet, but he's not sure enough of that to stay out of trouble.]

[He's opening his mouth to offer up an objection to that, but he's seen just how leaky Ryan's thoughts really are.

And then he realizes the full ramifications of that.]

Well, fuck. Now I can't even do it. Everyone at dinner would know before the cake even showed up.

Which is why you probably shouldn't talk me into this kind of thing.

[Come on, he figured that was obvious.]

It would've been fine if we were actually gonna just grab something and go.

[All that is obvious to him is trouble. He didn't think this far ahead.]

You are gonna cramp my style way harder than I thought.

[He grabs the cake and bundles it back into the pantry, and it probably looks like he's ready to write Ryan off entirely based on his expression and tone, but he comes back out with two cokes and a bag of chips.]

This gets a roll of their eyes at the very worst. Better?

Edited 2014-09-12 02:11 (UTC)

But you're keeping me around anyway, apparently.

['Gonna' cramp his style. He'll take that as an admission of semi-friendship-- and then he takes one of the cokes with a grin, a grateful little nod.]

Much better. ...thanks.

I'm not kicking you out of the kitchen, which is communal space. Don't get ahead of yourself.

[But he is talking like they'll spend more time together, isn't he? He chooses not to think too much about that and hope it just passes by.]

There's more flavours in there, but if you don't like sour cream and onion then you really can get the fuck out, honestly. [He drops the bag on the island and pulls up a stool, cracking his coke open.]

[It's not exactly just passing by, but Ryan lets it go without comment-- he doesn't want to push too hard, risk ruining anything. He's turning out to be decent company, after all.]

Don't worry, I'm fine with it. Just don't try to give me salt and vinegar ones, those are pretty disgusting.

[He takes a stool next to him, popping his own drink open and taking a quick sip. John can have at the chips first, he dug them out.]

[Alright, once he's had a sip of his drink, he'll open the bag and grab a handful before spinning the bag in Ryan's direction.]

They hurt. Actually hurt your mouth. Masochism shouldn't be part of eating, man.

Exactly!

[Ryan just takes a few, popping one of them into his mouth- and then demonstrating one of the actual benefits of telepathy. You can talk whenever you want if you don't need your mouth for it.]

So d'you make a habit of raiding the pantry, or is this just an occasional thing for you?

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