RP: Friday Night Bowling
RP with the magnanimous tm_northstar. Backdated to last Friday evening.
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"The thing about bowling," Doug says, concentrating on the pins at the end of the alley, "is that it's really just physics. Anyone with half a clue about Newtonian laws should be able to score a strike every single time." He leans back a little, and then rolls his ball. It lazily knocks down only four pins.
"But," he continues, rounding on JP, "no one does. Therefore I conclude that bowling is a game created by aliens that deliberately circumvents the laws of nature. Your turn."
Jean-Paul, seated comfortably with a beer in one hand and his feet propped up, is busy inspecting his shoes. "These are kinda cool," he says. "Gross, but cool. I should steal them." He stands, placing the beer on the score table (technically you're not supposed to take any food or beverages into the playing area at all, there's tables set up behind the guardrails, but nobody seems to be paying much attention) and hops up to the lane, passing Doug as he does so. He selects a ball and poses at the front of the lane. "What do you think? Is it me?"
The burly league players the next lane over give him an odd look.
Doug examines his own feet, and steals a sip from Jean-Paul's beer, working under the assumption that a mild alcoholic buzz might help his appreciation of bowling shoes. "They've got a certain retro appeal," he hazards. "You saw Mystery Men, right? I'd kill to be The Bowler. Although, probably not with a real skull in the ball. That's a little gross."
"If the skull was clean that might be okay," Jean-Paul says. "Like, no decaying brains hanging to the inside or whatever."
He lines himself up, eyes the lane, moves, winds up, and... manages to hit the center pins, leaving the ones on the ends. This earns a very loud 'tabarnak!' and an angry stomp back down to the ball station.
"Bowling sucks," he announces darkly. What that means, of course, is , 'I'm not very good at bowling, Doug, why did you bring me here? I want to WIN.'
From the looks of the bowlers from either side of them, Doug surmises that they're the worst bowlers ever. He picks a ball. "So that we can talk, which we can't do at the movies, and so J. can be reasonably sure we're not having sex. I know we wrote all those rules out, but I'm still kind of worried his head might explode from the jealousy." He lets the ball go, and takes out a grand total of one pin. There's still one, on the far right, standing defiantly.
"So your sister's A-OK with all of this, then? I heard Kelly isn't too into J."
"I think she's a little sad I didn't wind up with the clean-cut son of a preacher who sings in the choir every Sunday," Jean-Paul replies, smiling softly. "But then again, he's not Catholic, so he's not perfect ANYway. But seriously, she's fine. She likes you guys, and she knows you mean a lot to me. She knows you'll treat me well." He sips at his beer, thinking.
"Kelly likes YOU," he says. "And I think he likes John as a person, just... well. I think in his head it's like when Beth turns sixteen and her first date pulls up on a Harley or something." He shakes his head, watching Doug carefully.
"Are YOU okay with the jealousy? Because if you're not, you need to tell me right now. I'm perfectly happy fucking the two of you. I don't actually need one-on-one time if it messes you guys up."
The burly league members look over again at that.
Doug looks over at the burly league members. Then he looks at their crotches. "Dude. I dated John when he was a wanted terrorist. I dated John when he was a superhero. I even dated John when he was dead. If he wants to have sex with you that's fine with me. You were practically fucking verbally anyway, and I really know what that's like." He's tempted to make 'cunning linguist' jokes, but stops himself.
The burly league members decide not to look at them anymore. "Beth totally has her head screwed on, all right. But, yeah, she'll probably end up with some guy who wears spandex for a living. Not sure if that's better or worse than the Harley. Hell, maybe she'll wear spandex. Puberty must be kind of weird if you know you've got wonky mutant genes. It's kind of weird anyway. Whoa, breasts! Periods! Laser beams shooting out of my eyes!"
Jean-Paul chokes on his beer, laughing. "Oh, Doug," he sighs. Then he blushes a bit and looks down. "Uhm. Sorry about the verbal thing. I mean... I dunno. That was probably pretty crass, even for me."
"'Sokay," Doug tells him. "I get it. Just figure we should get to know each other a bit better now that you've sucked my cock. Which was very nice of you to do, by the way." He nods at the remaining pin. "Are you getting that?"
Jean-Paul rolls a gutter ball, but honestly he barely notices. "You're welcome," he says, shrugging and grinning a little shyly. "Happy to do it anytime you like. You taste good." He bites his lower lip and shrugs again, uncharacteristically at a loss for words.
"And you," Doug points out, taking down the last pin. "Are very good at Twister." He's going to take a celebratory sip of beer (what? it had only taken them about six shots to take down nine pins), but JP has the bottle, so instead he takes the direct route and kisses JP.
The burly league members are, by now, denying their very existence.
It takes all of a second for Jean-Paul to relax into the kiss, mouth softening under Doug's and lips parting gently. His nerves calm at once, and his mind clears as their tongues brush. Jean-Paul is an extremely verbal creature, true, but the best way to reassure him of anything is still with touch.
When he pulls back he's smiling. "Merci," he says, then kisses Doug gently below each eye. "You're a wonderful friend, Doug, and very dear to me." He nods at the pins, which have been reset. "I'm aiming for a strike," he says. "Watch and learn."
JP approaches the balls again, self-assured once more. "So. The new place is nice. You have any ideas what it is you wanna do with yourself?"
"Still not sure," Doug says. "You probably saw all those prospectuses - prospecti? - all over the place. Thinking of applying for the Fall semester. Maybe get in through clearing even though it's late. I just don't want me applying for college to wind up being a big political issue again. I was sort of thinking about maybe journalism too? Doing some freelance stuff? See how it works out..."
Jean-Paul nods as he lines up his shot. "I think the journalism idea is fantastic," he says honestly. "Real reporting is admirable. And as I think I mentioned before, I can introduce you to Rosa and maybe she can help you out. And school is good. Heh. You'll be the hot new thing on campus... A million gay dudes and probably some sexy older professors... THAT will make John's jealous head explode." He chuckles.
He actually manages to get half the pins this time. JP turns to face Doug, still smiling. "You feel pretty good though, no? I mean. Things are looking up." He looks up at the ceiling and adds quickly, "although God only knows how long that will last, it probably won't, we shouldn't PRESUME."
Because God punishes Catholics who presume.
"Things are very cool," Doug agrees. "And we've all had enough angst for the year. I declare the next six months angst-free." He picks up a ball and, by some miracle, knocks down the rest of the pins. He high-fives JP. "So what's the deal with your choirboy Peter? Nothing happening there?"
Jean-Paul shrugs. "He's adorable. He has dimples, Doug. And he's really nice, and just... yeah. But he's still hung up on this ex of his, and I'm still screwed up over Peter and... yeah." He sighs and grabs another ball as the machine resets the pins. "It's too soon," he says. "It hurts too much. You and John, I already know I can trust you. You already know me. I dunno. Maybe down the road, or something. But trying to start something totally new right now? I think I'll just hurt us both. He's sweet, he deserves better than that."
He snickers. "John's such a jealous ASS. how on earth do you put up with that? Chrisse."
"I'm very sweet and patient," Doug says with a completely straight face, and then winks. "Want to get out of here and have a real drink? I think the other bowlers are trying to decide if lynching is still in style or not."
"A real drink? You mean with fruit and umbrellas in it?!" Jean-Paul gasps, clapping his hands together. He drops the act and glares snottily at the league bowlers. "Yes, Doug, that sounds great."
The two collect their stuff and head to the counter to drop off their rental shoes, Jean-Paul seriously considering stealing his pair for a moment or two. Once outside the bowling alley, JP slings an arm around Doug's waist, walking easily beside him.
"This still feels weird," he comments. "Not having to look up to, you know. Kiss and stuff." Jean-Paul kicks at a stray pop bottle, the hand on Doug's waist moving absently. "It's nice," he clarifies. "Just. You know. Different."
"I could wear stilts," Doug suggests, his mind still on fruit and umbrellas because, joking aside, there are no real drinks that do not have liberal amounts of both in them. "So, hey, if you put me in touch with your friend Rosa, I'd really appreciate that. I might talk to Kelly, too, even though I know he doesn't have too many friends in the press. How's John doing at the Center?"
"I'll call her on Monday," JP promises. "She's cool. You'll get along. And John? He's doing good. he's smart, which helps, and amazingly he has no issue taking orders from Terry and I. I kind of expected we'd fight every day, but no. And we're stayed professional so far." He grins. "No filing cabinets."
"Yeah, like I believe that," Doug says, smiling. "I think you're a good influence on him, you know? Maybe we're all good influences on each other. We stop each other getting emo."
They carry on walking for a bit. "Do you want to go to a club instead?" Doug asks. "I feel like..." - he almost says making out, but he's not sure where that might go - "burning off some energy."
"Fine with me," Jean-Paul says, shrugging. "We can find some place with gay pop music and wriggle around and get hit on a lot." He grins. "The usual for you, no? Unless of course we both get turned away at the door for being underage. But you know... I doubt that'll happen."
JP elbows Doug and smiles, easy in his company.
"Heaven forbid we're turned away from anything," Doug replies, and flings an arm around Jean-Paul's shoulders. "Bring it on."
-----
"The thing about bowling," Doug says, concentrating on the pins at the end of the alley, "is that it's really just physics. Anyone with half a clue about Newtonian laws should be able to score a strike every single time." He leans back a little, and then rolls his ball. It lazily knocks down only four pins.
"But," he continues, rounding on JP, "no one does. Therefore I conclude that bowling is a game created by aliens that deliberately circumvents the laws of nature. Your turn."
Jean-Paul, seated comfortably with a beer in one hand and his feet propped up, is busy inspecting his shoes. "These are kinda cool," he says. "Gross, but cool. I should steal them." He stands, placing the beer on the score table (technically you're not supposed to take any food or beverages into the playing area at all, there's tables set up behind the guardrails, but nobody seems to be paying much attention) and hops up to the lane, passing Doug as he does so. He selects a ball and poses at the front of the lane. "What do you think? Is it me?"
The burly league players the next lane over give him an odd look.
Doug examines his own feet, and steals a sip from Jean-Paul's beer, working under the assumption that a mild alcoholic buzz might help his appreciation of bowling shoes. "They've got a certain retro appeal," he hazards. "You saw Mystery Men, right? I'd kill to be The Bowler. Although, probably not with a real skull in the ball. That's a little gross."
"If the skull was clean that might be okay," Jean-Paul says. "Like, no decaying brains hanging to the inside or whatever."
He lines himself up, eyes the lane, moves, winds up, and... manages to hit the center pins, leaving the ones on the ends. This earns a very loud 'tabarnak!' and an angry stomp back down to the ball station.
"Bowling sucks," he announces darkly. What that means, of course, is , 'I'm not very good at bowling, Doug, why did you bring me here? I want to WIN.'
From the looks of the bowlers from either side of them, Doug surmises that they're the worst bowlers ever. He picks a ball. "So that we can talk, which we can't do at the movies, and so J. can be reasonably sure we're not having sex. I know we wrote all those rules out, but I'm still kind of worried his head might explode from the jealousy." He lets the ball go, and takes out a grand total of one pin. There's still one, on the far right, standing defiantly.
"So your sister's A-OK with all of this, then? I heard Kelly isn't too into J."
"I think she's a little sad I didn't wind up with the clean-cut son of a preacher who sings in the choir every Sunday," Jean-Paul replies, smiling softly. "But then again, he's not Catholic, so he's not perfect ANYway. But seriously, she's fine. She likes you guys, and she knows you mean a lot to me. She knows you'll treat me well." He sips at his beer, thinking.
"Kelly likes YOU," he says. "And I think he likes John as a person, just... well. I think in his head it's like when Beth turns sixteen and her first date pulls up on a Harley or something." He shakes his head, watching Doug carefully.
"Are YOU okay with the jealousy? Because if you're not, you need to tell me right now. I'm perfectly happy fucking the two of you. I don't actually need one-on-one time if it messes you guys up."
The burly league members look over again at that.
Doug looks over at the burly league members. Then he looks at their crotches. "Dude. I dated John when he was a wanted terrorist. I dated John when he was a superhero. I even dated John when he was dead. If he wants to have sex with you that's fine with me. You were practically fucking verbally anyway, and I really know what that's like." He's tempted to make 'cunning linguist' jokes, but stops himself.
The burly league members decide not to look at them anymore. "Beth totally has her head screwed on, all right. But, yeah, she'll probably end up with some guy who wears spandex for a living. Not sure if that's better or worse than the Harley. Hell, maybe she'll wear spandex. Puberty must be kind of weird if you know you've got wonky mutant genes. It's kind of weird anyway. Whoa, breasts! Periods! Laser beams shooting out of my eyes!"
Jean-Paul chokes on his beer, laughing. "Oh, Doug," he sighs. Then he blushes a bit and looks down. "Uhm. Sorry about the verbal thing. I mean... I dunno. That was probably pretty crass, even for me."
"'Sokay," Doug tells him. "I get it. Just figure we should get to know each other a bit better now that you've sucked my cock. Which was very nice of you to do, by the way." He nods at the remaining pin. "Are you getting that?"
Jean-Paul rolls a gutter ball, but honestly he barely notices. "You're welcome," he says, shrugging and grinning a little shyly. "Happy to do it anytime you like. You taste good." He bites his lower lip and shrugs again, uncharacteristically at a loss for words.
"And you," Doug points out, taking down the last pin. "Are very good at Twister." He's going to take a celebratory sip of beer (what? it had only taken them about six shots to take down nine pins), but JP has the bottle, so instead he takes the direct route and kisses JP.
The burly league members are, by now, denying their very existence.
It takes all of a second for Jean-Paul to relax into the kiss, mouth softening under Doug's and lips parting gently. His nerves calm at once, and his mind clears as their tongues brush. Jean-Paul is an extremely verbal creature, true, but the best way to reassure him of anything is still with touch.
When he pulls back he's smiling. "Merci," he says, then kisses Doug gently below each eye. "You're a wonderful friend, Doug, and very dear to me." He nods at the pins, which have been reset. "I'm aiming for a strike," he says. "Watch and learn."
JP approaches the balls again, self-assured once more. "So. The new place is nice. You have any ideas what it is you wanna do with yourself?"
"Still not sure," Doug says. "You probably saw all those prospectuses - prospecti? - all over the place. Thinking of applying for the Fall semester. Maybe get in through clearing even though it's late. I just don't want me applying for college to wind up being a big political issue again. I was sort of thinking about maybe journalism too? Doing some freelance stuff? See how it works out..."
Jean-Paul nods as he lines up his shot. "I think the journalism idea is fantastic," he says honestly. "Real reporting is admirable. And as I think I mentioned before, I can introduce you to Rosa and maybe she can help you out. And school is good. Heh. You'll be the hot new thing on campus... A million gay dudes and probably some sexy older professors... THAT will make John's jealous head explode." He chuckles.
He actually manages to get half the pins this time. JP turns to face Doug, still smiling. "You feel pretty good though, no? I mean. Things are looking up." He looks up at the ceiling and adds quickly, "although God only knows how long that will last, it probably won't, we shouldn't PRESUME."
Because God punishes Catholics who presume.
"Things are very cool," Doug agrees. "And we've all had enough angst for the year. I declare the next six months angst-free." He picks up a ball and, by some miracle, knocks down the rest of the pins. He high-fives JP. "So what's the deal with your choirboy Peter? Nothing happening there?"
Jean-Paul shrugs. "He's adorable. He has dimples, Doug. And he's really nice, and just... yeah. But he's still hung up on this ex of his, and I'm still screwed up over Peter and... yeah." He sighs and grabs another ball as the machine resets the pins. "It's too soon," he says. "It hurts too much. You and John, I already know I can trust you. You already know me. I dunno. Maybe down the road, or something. But trying to start something totally new right now? I think I'll just hurt us both. He's sweet, he deserves better than that."
He snickers. "John's such a jealous ASS. how on earth do you put up with that? Chrisse."
"I'm very sweet and patient," Doug says with a completely straight face, and then winks. "Want to get out of here and have a real drink? I think the other bowlers are trying to decide if lynching is still in style or not."
"A real drink? You mean with fruit and umbrellas in it?!" Jean-Paul gasps, clapping his hands together. He drops the act and glares snottily at the league bowlers. "Yes, Doug, that sounds great."
The two collect their stuff and head to the counter to drop off their rental shoes, Jean-Paul seriously considering stealing his pair for a moment or two. Once outside the bowling alley, JP slings an arm around Doug's waist, walking easily beside him.
"This still feels weird," he comments. "Not having to look up to, you know. Kiss and stuff." Jean-Paul kicks at a stray pop bottle, the hand on Doug's waist moving absently. "It's nice," he clarifies. "Just. You know. Different."
"I could wear stilts," Doug suggests, his mind still on fruit and umbrellas because, joking aside, there are no real drinks that do not have liberal amounts of both in them. "So, hey, if you put me in touch with your friend Rosa, I'd really appreciate that. I might talk to Kelly, too, even though I know he doesn't have too many friends in the press. How's John doing at the Center?"
"I'll call her on Monday," JP promises. "She's cool. You'll get along. And John? He's doing good. he's smart, which helps, and amazingly he has no issue taking orders from Terry and I. I kind of expected we'd fight every day, but no. And we're stayed professional so far." He grins. "No filing cabinets."
"Yeah, like I believe that," Doug says, smiling. "I think you're a good influence on him, you know? Maybe we're all good influences on each other. We stop each other getting emo."
They carry on walking for a bit. "Do you want to go to a club instead?" Doug asks. "I feel like..." - he almost says making out, but he's not sure where that might go - "burning off some energy."
"Fine with me," Jean-Paul says, shrugging. "We can find some place with gay pop music and wriggle around and get hit on a lot." He grins. "The usual for you, no? Unless of course we both get turned away at the door for being underage. But you know... I doubt that'll happen."
JP elbows Doug and smiles, easy in his company.
"Heaven forbid we're turned away from anything," Doug replies, and flings an arm around Jean-Paul's shoulders. "Bring it on."