(Untitled)

[__jack]

May 1994

Jack loves to take the kids out so close to the end of the year, when they're so excitable. The girls have formed primped little perfumed groups, paying little attention to the colourful please touch! displays depicting the insides of active volcanoes and layers of the planet. The boys, looking disturbingly like young men at fourteen,

Comments

[depper]

Johnny spots him right away - anyone's eye would naturally be drawn to him, he's rather beautiful in an unformed way - but it's not until the boy looks at him, eyeballs him, really, that Johnny himself really looks. What's the age of consent in Britain? he wonders. Sixteen, isn't it? Is this boy even sixteen? Johnny thinks he might find out, and is prepared to be lied to when he asks the question; thinks, if the boy wants to be molded that badly, he might even accept the lie

[__jack]

It's not supposed to happen like this, you see. He's not supposed to be there among the kids, on a school trip, on a bright April afternoon, looking like he does. This is all wrong.

Jack's supposed to meet him down at the pub, bump into him on his way back from the bar and spill his drink on his shirt. He's supposed to meet him at the grocery store, reaching for the same orange. He's supposed to see him at a friend's garden party, maybe he's someone's cousin, someone's ex. This is all wrong. But it's so right.

Jack smiles, a little too widely maybe (the kids stare and look at each other, puzzled), and raises a distracted index finger at the man who raised his hand. Not his type. Not at all. Jack's voice shakes a bit but his smile does not falter.

"Yes. Sir. You know about crystals?"

[depper]

Johnny lets his hand fall to his side now that the teacher has called upon him; now that the teacher is looking at him - and in the blurred periphery outside his focus, Johnny can see the schoolkids have all turned to look too (probably gawking, but his focus doesn't widen to include them; he blurs them more) - Johnny lets his hand fall, slides it into his pocket

[__jack]

Heat.

Yeah.

Jack clears his throat, listens to the room's noises rush back into his ears in the absence of the man's voice. His class looks back at him, still puzzled; Jack smiles at them reassuringly. Or maybe he's smiling for an entirely different reason.

"Very good. I'm all out of gold star, but... yeah. Very good." The smile morphs into a grin and he covers it by turning to his kids, spouting the first thing that comes to his mind. "Now here's a bloke who pays attention."

Natasha bristles. "He read the plaques," she intones in her best shot at a bored sigh.

But Jack isn't paying attention, lets his gaze wander back to the man at the back of the room. The students are scattering again, friends grouping together at different displays, probably not talking about crystals at all.

Jack hushes Natasha to her friends and casually walks over. Smiles.

The man is all sleek grace, dark skin, sharp jaw, smooth eyes. His smile is.

Heat.

"Hi." Thrusts his hands out of his coat pockets. "Jack Davenport."

[depper]

Johnny takes the proferred hand, curls his fingers around it, meets the warm, firm grip with his own. "Very nice to meet you, Jack Davenport," glides the full name over and off his tongue, memorizing the vibration of the syllables. He smiles; aware he was already smiling, smiles more. "I'm Johnny Depp." The handshake is lingering. Johnny squeezes gently, feels Jack's hand close around his in return, and then their fingertips are sliding across each other's palms, fingers, and free.

[__jack]

To keep them from doing anything too telling, Jack shoves his hands back in his coat pockets. Fights back the urge to say something that would sound a little too much like 'come here often?'.

"Spend a lot of your time in this museum, do you? Or do you just happen to know a lot about crystals."

Dark, longish hair, darker eyes, prickly cheeks and chin, and a smile Jack never, ever wants to look away from.

Jack knows this smile he's smiling right now. Knows himself well enough to know he's in trouble.

Big trouble.

Shite.

[depper]

"No," Johnny smiles. "This is my first time here. I woke up this morning, left the maps and guidebooks in the hotel room, sallied forth. Hopped on the Tube, thought I'd just let the city take me where it wanted. And it brought me," he opens up as he gestures expansively, smiles to match it, "here."

And then he refocuses from the whole wide world onto Jack; his eyes come back to Jack's, his arms comes in and his hands meet themselves, and he's still open, he's still smiling: "How about you? Is this just for your kids, or do you come for fun too?"

The way Jack Davenport is looking at him, Johnny thinks he might get to find out what the man does for fun. Johnny certainly hopes so.

[__jack]

Jack laughs, and sees a few of his students turn to him, watching him warily. Jack tones down his laugh, but can't help the grin.

"No, I come here twice a year with them, that's plenty. Haven't been to a museum on my own for years. Professional hazard, I suppose." He pauses, wants to bring the conversation away from him and back to Johnny. "Where are you from? Are you..." Oh, hell. "Are you in town for long?"

[depper]

"At least for today," Johnny grins (and he's not being coy - or not intentionally; he just hasn't made plans for himself and his European travels beyond the day. Wanted to see if London would take a shine to him or spit him out). "And tonight." And his grin opens, flickers between soft and sharp, brightens. "So what does one do for fun around here at night, when the museums are closed?"

[__jack]

Jack is about to forgo propriety and just ask the man out, but as he opens his mouth to do so suddenly they are both surrounded by eager adolescents looking up (and in some freakish instances down) at them.

"Can we go to the next room?"

"Mr. Davenport, Matthew's touching the displays..."

"Is it lunch yet?"

"Who's he?"

Jack grins at Johnny apologetically then turns his attention to his students, deftly putting out fires until all of them wander away satisfied (albeit with curious looks in their direction).

"Sorry about that. Um. I should probably go. But... could I-- could I maybe call you later?" Smiles, puts himself out there, hopes he won't land flat on his ass.

[depper]

"Yeah," Johnny says. "I'd like that." He reaches into his back pocket for the black felt pen that is always there because you never know when you'll need to write something, or what you'll need to write on. He uncaps it with his mouth, the worn grooves fitting familiarly to his teeth, his lips cushioning around it; reaches for the hand he's so recently shaken. Takes it again, cradles beneath it as he slides it to him, drawing it farther from its protective sleeves, exposing the wrist

[__jack]