couples_therapy 27.1 Clueless
ooc: John used with permission!
They're on a field trip which, in those days, literally meant a trip to a field for the teenagers of Xavier's School for Gifted Students. Officially, the reason for their less-than-enthralling excursions is a lack of funds, but everyone knows it's because old man Xavier is worried that they'll blow up the Smithsonian. Even Doug, who's generally keen on believing the teachers, admits that it must be true: they have so much at the school. How could money possibly be a problem?
Still, he doesn't mind the field too much. It's an opportunity to get outside the school campus, and it reminds him a bit of his old school, which definitely wasn't rolling in money. He crouches down to examine an interesting-looking flower, pencil between his teeth.
"Excuse me? Douglas?" Peter Rasputin, the new student from Russia, has nearly flawless English, but he's always far too polite to be a native speaker. Then again, Doug's chatted to him in Russian, and he's unfailingly polite in that language too.
Peter, his notebook full of sketches already, is poking a giant finger at a plant. "What is the correct name for this? I know it only in Russian."
"Um." Doug flips through his notebook, crammed with words. "I don't know, Pete. I think you've found a new one. Maybe Dr. Grey can..." He looks around for the teacher, but she's lost in a scrum of eager junior students. And, off to one side, is John, leaning against a fence, snapping his lighter open and closed. "Hey, maybe John knows."
Peter, fortunately, is far too polite to say anything.
"Hey John? John?"
John Allerdyce, despite having lived on the other side of a dormitory wall from Doug for six months, still looks utterly blank when Doug walks up to him. It's always like that. Peter? Sure - everyone knows who Peter is. Terry's the cute redhead. Bobby can ice up your drinks. But Doug? Dorky Doug who's always the first to put up his hand in class? John, who always sits in the back, probably only sees the back of his head 95% of the time.
"Yeah, what?"
He'd thought that the pretence of having a question would help. But now he just feels like even more of a dork, stringy blond hair in his eyes. Doug points a pencil back over his shoulder. "Um, you're not looking for flowers?"
John raises his eyebrows and wrinkles his nose in a, "are you kidding me?" sort of way. And then he looks at Peter. Big, tall, muscular Peter who could pass for 25 already and really fills out his gym shorts. Doug might as well have evaporated.
He sighs softly, and trudges back through the mud.
-----
"Are you kidding me?" John is sitting on the edge of the couch, Dr. Pepper can in hand, looking about as incredulous as it's possible for anyone to look. "I did that? Me?"
Doug, his blond hair now rather more stylish, with his tight blue jeans hugging his ass (and various other parts of his anatomy), gulps down a mouthful of milkshake and nods. "I had such a crush on you. I don't think you even knew I existed. But, you know, I guess it's understandable. We had Peter, and Bobby, and even Mr. Summers..."
"I was never crushing on Mr. Summers," John objects. "But... Listen, babe. You don't still feel bad about it, right? I was just a dumb kid. Couldn't see what was right in front of me."
Doug grins and slides onto his lap. "Well, I don't feel bad about it now..." He leans forward and kisses John's neck just under the jaw, stubble tickling his lips. "But fair's fair. I should make you pay."
He springs back up to his feet. "What do you say... field trip to the bedroom? See how many strange and exotic things we can document?"
John knocks back the rest of his Dr. Pepper. "Does JP count?"
Doug licks his lips and pulls John towards the door. "JP definitely counts."
They're on a field trip which, in those days, literally meant a trip to a field for the teenagers of Xavier's School for Gifted Students. Officially, the reason for their less-than-enthralling excursions is a lack of funds, but everyone knows it's because old man Xavier is worried that they'll blow up the Smithsonian. Even Doug, who's generally keen on believing the teachers, admits that it must be true: they have so much at the school. How could money possibly be a problem?
Still, he doesn't mind the field too much. It's an opportunity to get outside the school campus, and it reminds him a bit of his old school, which definitely wasn't rolling in money. He crouches down to examine an interesting-looking flower, pencil between his teeth.
"Excuse me? Douglas?" Peter Rasputin, the new student from Russia, has nearly flawless English, but he's always far too polite to be a native speaker. Then again, Doug's chatted to him in Russian, and he's unfailingly polite in that language too.
Peter, his notebook full of sketches already, is poking a giant finger at a plant. "What is the correct name for this? I know it only in Russian."
"Um." Doug flips through his notebook, crammed with words. "I don't know, Pete. I think you've found a new one. Maybe Dr. Grey can..." He looks around for the teacher, but she's lost in a scrum of eager junior students. And, off to one side, is John, leaning against a fence, snapping his lighter open and closed. "Hey, maybe John knows."
Peter, fortunately, is far too polite to say anything.
"Hey John? John?"
John Allerdyce, despite having lived on the other side of a dormitory wall from Doug for six months, still looks utterly blank when Doug walks up to him. It's always like that. Peter? Sure - everyone knows who Peter is. Terry's the cute redhead. Bobby can ice up your drinks. But Doug? Dorky Doug who's always the first to put up his hand in class? John, who always sits in the back, probably only sees the back of his head 95% of the time.
"Yeah, what?"
He'd thought that the pretence of having a question would help. But now he just feels like even more of a dork, stringy blond hair in his eyes. Doug points a pencil back over his shoulder. "Um, you're not looking for flowers?"
John raises his eyebrows and wrinkles his nose in a, "are you kidding me?" sort of way. And then he looks at Peter. Big, tall, muscular Peter who could pass for 25 already and really fills out his gym shorts. Doug might as well have evaporated.
He sighs softly, and trudges back through the mud.
-----
"Are you kidding me?" John is sitting on the edge of the couch, Dr. Pepper can in hand, looking about as incredulous as it's possible for anyone to look. "I did that? Me?"
Doug, his blond hair now rather more stylish, with his tight blue jeans hugging his ass (and various other parts of his anatomy), gulps down a mouthful of milkshake and nods. "I had such a crush on you. I don't think you even knew I existed. But, you know, I guess it's understandable. We had Peter, and Bobby, and even Mr. Summers..."
"I was never crushing on Mr. Summers," John objects. "But... Listen, babe. You don't still feel bad about it, right? I was just a dumb kid. Couldn't see what was right in front of me."
Doug grins and slides onto his lap. "Well, I don't feel bad about it now..." He leans forward and kisses John's neck just under the jaw, stubble tickling his lips. "But fair's fair. I should make you pay."
He springs back up to his feet. "What do you say... field trip to the bedroom? See how many strange and exotic things we can document?"
John knocks back the rest of his Dr. Pepper. "Does JP count?"
Doug licks his lips and pulls John towards the door. "JP definitely counts."