Love Songs in Age Pt. 2
Title: Love Songs in Age (formerly titled Art in the Night Time)
Pairing: Multiple because it is Truth or Dare
Rating: R, I suppose
Note: I split it into fourths because of the lenght, hence the four seperate posts. Sorry.
If you were to ask him, alone or otherwise St. John Allerdyce did not play truth or dare. Not because he can’t lie with a straight face, because he can and it’s not because he can’t take a dare because what kind of pussy can’t? It’s just that the last time John technically played truth or dare, he set the woods on fire by Amy Greco’s house and had the cops called on him.
Pt. 2
“Dare ok John?’ John shrugs.
“Take a shower together. No clothing. Five minutes.” John blinks. Crap. He hesitates and Bobby steps up down from the bed; John knows Bobby’s blushing and his ears are going red. John gets up and walks stiffly to the bathroom, chugging the last of the bottle and tossing it into the wastebasket. Rule fifteen- host cleans up, including disposing of the alcohol. Rule sixteen- if anyone finds the bottles, the host takes the blame. See Rule One for clarification. John stripped down, conscious in the ‘other people will be looking at him’ way of every scar and how he got it, every blemish, and every patch of acne. And Bobby, of course, being Bobby, looked like a freaking Greek God. It wasn’t that he didn’t have acne or little nicks and scratches too, but poise can make a person glow. And Bobby, no matter how bashful he tried to be could not deny his own self-confidence.
They stand in the shower not touching, Bobby with his back to the water and John still fairly dry, leaning against wall, trying to ignore the crowded throng of viewers or the way Bobby’s body looked wet. “Which one of you wants the next question?” Emma’s question breaks his concentration from a spot of mold above Bobby’s head and his eyes flicker down, catching a glimpse of Bobby’s groin and blond hair and his half-an-erection before he yanks his eyes back up.
“Rock paper scissor?” John shrugs and they tap their fists into their hands. Both rocks. Both scissors.
“Forget it, you ask.”
“But paper beats rock.” Bobby tries to play fair and John shrugs. “Ok… Emma. Truth or dare?”
“Dare.” She’s already smiling and Bobby can’t disguise his grin. John would drink to teases but Bobby isn’t exactly allowing a lot of the water to reach John. He sighs and stands straight, sliding forward and making sure not to touch Bobby or the glass door, grabbing the shampoo bottle and exchanging his place with Bobby’s.
“As long as I’m in here.” It’s easier with his eyes closed to imagine that perhaps there is no one else watching. For a fraction of a second, it is just he and Bobby, showering together.
“Dare you to get in.” She strips down, stepping in between them. Now John is sure she’s busy smiling at Bobby with doe eyes and he’s looking back with a dopey grin.
“Time?” John asks, opening his eyes for a moment. Piotr startles and looks down at his watch.
“Two minutes.”
“John, truth or dare?” Emma asks.
“Truth.”
“What’s something about Bobby you don’t think he knows you know?”
“He takes sleeping pills.” John chooses to ignore the fact that Bobby does know he knows because Bobby started getting Dr. McCoy to give him double the dosage, so there’s enough to last the month for John and Bobby. He asks before anyone can say anything, “Warren. Truth or Dare?”
“Dare.” John thinks for a moment and Bobby leans over, pressing against Emma for a moment to whisper, ‘lap dance’.
“You can get out now,” Piotr says. John shuts off the water, letting Emma and Bobby scramble for towels as he wraps Bobby’s around his waist.
“Can we get dressed by ourselves?” He motions for the door and gradually they all shuffle out. John dresses, careful not to look at Bobby, or to look up for that matter. He’d rather not watch Bobby make ‘please hump me’ faces at Emma at the moment. Once outside he opens another bottle. “Warren, give a lap dance to someone. Don’t care who.” He should have thought about that, he should have factored in the wings and if John were Bobby, he’d blush and apologize.
John never liked Boston anyway.
Marie puts on the music this time, sifting through the mass that is JohnBobby’s CD collection, which like so many other things, ownership is only recognized until they fight. Warren stands, his face flushed slightly but he can blame it on the alcohol. He waits, as if someone would call for his service, as if someone would save him from embarrassment or the truth. He finally walks to Jubilee and dances clumsily to the German discothèque beat, his face flushing with every passing moment until the song is done. Jubilee pulls on his arm and whispers something in his ear. He drinks long before he asks Kitty.
“Truth.”
“Who was the last person in this room you lied to and what was it?”
She blushes. ‘Marie. I… I borrowed your black skirt, the leather one you can’t find? And I kind of ripped it. I was going to give it back, but not till I got sewed up. Sorry.” Marie says nothing but perfects her glower. “Jubilee, truth or dare?”
“Dare.”
“Dare you… dare you…dare you to find Logan and get him to recite “Little Bunny Foo-Foo” for you. I’ll come to make sure he does.”
“Easy.” They left.
“How exactly does that go?” asked Piotr, voicing all of their thoughts.
“Little Bunny Foo-Foo, hopping through the forest. Scooping up the field mice and bopping them on the head,” said Bobby after a moment.
“Real masculine Bobby,” said John. Bobby blushed and chucked an empty apple pie wrapper at him. John ducked and they waited, silently, because it was hard to have a conversation like this, during this. After a moment, Jubilee came back in, standing in the doorway.
“Forgot, Remy, truth or dare?”
“Dare.”
“Dare you to make out with John until we come back.”
“Do I have to do anything or am I like a mannequin here?” John said to the closing door.
“Kiss him back dumb ass- on a bed.” John shrugged and drank again, swallowing hard as the door shut. He didn’t show alcohol like other people, he had learned a long time ago and it took more liquor than what was here tonight to break well-learned inhibitions. It was more of the things he would let himself think about. Like how tight Remy’s jeans were and how he almost, almost, smiled like Bobby. How he wasn’t thinking, but instead, I wonder if he kisses like Bobby, like he’s kissing his name into your mouth? John placed his bottle down; checking to make sure it’s not resting on the fringe of the rug. He sat on the bed, Indian crossed on Bobby’s bed, and Remy to his side, slightly in front.
John waited, and then felt Remy’s lips against his and his hand holding to his hip. John leaned back, pressing his head into Bobby’s pillow, Remy straddled him and they kissed, careful to keep everything and anything under the guise of the dare and its blanket protection. Remy’s hand swiped against John’s groin, and how could he have forgotten how much heat Remy gives off? He slid his hand the wrong way against Remy’s hair, pressed his ear to his lips and whispered, ‘not now.’ And Remy offered half a smile because he knows that relationships don’t always mean holding hands and ‘reminded me of you’ gifts, that relationships can exist solely on your ability to imagine with your eyes open. Erik got it. Christ, Mystique lived through that shit.
No one said anything as they kissed and Marie had never bothered to turn off the stereo after Warren’s lap dance; it played softly, covering up the slurp of lips and the sound of the door opening. “Jeez boys, don’t get too into it or anything,” said Jubilee as she came back in. Remy and John broke apart quickly and fighting the urge to wipe his lips with the back of his hand, John returned to his seat, playing with his bottle.
Pairing: Multiple because it is Truth or Dare
Rating: R, I suppose
Note: I split it into fourths because of the lenght, hence the four seperate posts. Sorry.
If you were to ask him, alone or otherwise St. John Allerdyce did not play truth or dare. Not because he can’t lie with a straight face, because he can and it’s not because he can’t take a dare because what kind of pussy can’t? It’s just that the last time John technically played truth or dare, he set the woods on fire by Amy Greco’s house and had the cops called on him.
Pt. 2
“Dare ok John?’ John shrugs.
“Take a shower together. No clothing. Five minutes.” John blinks. Crap. He hesitates and Bobby steps up down from the bed; John knows Bobby’s blushing and his ears are going red. John gets up and walks stiffly to the bathroom, chugging the last of the bottle and tossing it into the wastebasket. Rule fifteen- host cleans up, including disposing of the alcohol. Rule sixteen- if anyone finds the bottles, the host takes the blame. See Rule One for clarification. John stripped down, conscious in the ‘other people will be looking at him’ way of every scar and how he got it, every blemish, and every patch of acne. And Bobby, of course, being Bobby, looked like a freaking Greek God. It wasn’t that he didn’t have acne or little nicks and scratches too, but poise can make a person glow. And Bobby, no matter how bashful he tried to be could not deny his own self-confidence.
They stand in the shower not touching, Bobby with his back to the water and John still fairly dry, leaning against wall, trying to ignore the crowded throng of viewers or the way Bobby’s body looked wet. “Which one of you wants the next question?” Emma’s question breaks his concentration from a spot of mold above Bobby’s head and his eyes flicker down, catching a glimpse of Bobby’s groin and blond hair and his half-an-erection before he yanks his eyes back up.
“Rock paper scissor?” John shrugs and they tap their fists into their hands. Both rocks. Both scissors.
“Forget it, you ask.”
“But paper beats rock.” Bobby tries to play fair and John shrugs. “Ok… Emma. Truth or dare?”
“Dare.” She’s already smiling and Bobby can’t disguise his grin. John would drink to teases but Bobby isn’t exactly allowing a lot of the water to reach John. He sighs and stands straight, sliding forward and making sure not to touch Bobby or the glass door, grabbing the shampoo bottle and exchanging his place with Bobby’s.
“As long as I’m in here.” It’s easier with his eyes closed to imagine that perhaps there is no one else watching. For a fraction of a second, it is just he and Bobby, showering together.
“Dare you to get in.” She strips down, stepping in between them. Now John is sure she’s busy smiling at Bobby with doe eyes and he’s looking back with a dopey grin.
“Time?” John asks, opening his eyes for a moment. Piotr startles and looks down at his watch.
“Two minutes.”
“John, truth or dare?” Emma asks.
“Truth.”
“What’s something about Bobby you don’t think he knows you know?”
“He takes sleeping pills.” John chooses to ignore the fact that Bobby does know he knows because Bobby started getting Dr. McCoy to give him double the dosage, so there’s enough to last the month for John and Bobby. He asks before anyone can say anything, “Warren. Truth or Dare?”
“Dare.” John thinks for a moment and Bobby leans over, pressing against Emma for a moment to whisper, ‘lap dance’.
“You can get out now,” Piotr says. John shuts off the water, letting Emma and Bobby scramble for towels as he wraps Bobby’s around his waist.
“Can we get dressed by ourselves?” He motions for the door and gradually they all shuffle out. John dresses, careful not to look at Bobby, or to look up for that matter. He’d rather not watch Bobby make ‘please hump me’ faces at Emma at the moment. Once outside he opens another bottle. “Warren, give a lap dance to someone. Don’t care who.” He should have thought about that, he should have factored in the wings and if John were Bobby, he’d blush and apologize.
John never liked Boston anyway.
Marie puts on the music this time, sifting through the mass that is JohnBobby’s CD collection, which like so many other things, ownership is only recognized until they fight. Warren stands, his face flushed slightly but he can blame it on the alcohol. He waits, as if someone would call for his service, as if someone would save him from embarrassment or the truth. He finally walks to Jubilee and dances clumsily to the German discothèque beat, his face flushing with every passing moment until the song is done. Jubilee pulls on his arm and whispers something in his ear. He drinks long before he asks Kitty.
“Truth.”
“Who was the last person in this room you lied to and what was it?”
She blushes. ‘Marie. I… I borrowed your black skirt, the leather one you can’t find? And I kind of ripped it. I was going to give it back, but not till I got sewed up. Sorry.” Marie says nothing but perfects her glower. “Jubilee, truth or dare?”
“Dare.”
“Dare you… dare you…dare you to find Logan and get him to recite “Little Bunny Foo-Foo” for you. I’ll come to make sure he does.”
“Easy.” They left.
“How exactly does that go?” asked Piotr, voicing all of their thoughts.
“Little Bunny Foo-Foo, hopping through the forest. Scooping up the field mice and bopping them on the head,” said Bobby after a moment.
“Real masculine Bobby,” said John. Bobby blushed and chucked an empty apple pie wrapper at him. John ducked and they waited, silently, because it was hard to have a conversation like this, during this. After a moment, Jubilee came back in, standing in the doorway.
“Forgot, Remy, truth or dare?”
“Dare.”
“Dare you to make out with John until we come back.”
“Do I have to do anything or am I like a mannequin here?” John said to the closing door.
“Kiss him back dumb ass- on a bed.” John shrugged and drank again, swallowing hard as the door shut. He didn’t show alcohol like other people, he had learned a long time ago and it took more liquor than what was here tonight to break well-learned inhibitions. It was more of the things he would let himself think about. Like how tight Remy’s jeans were and how he almost, almost, smiled like Bobby. How he wasn’t thinking, but instead, I wonder if he kisses like Bobby, like he’s kissing his name into your mouth? John placed his bottle down; checking to make sure it’s not resting on the fringe of the rug. He sat on the bed, Indian crossed on Bobby’s bed, and Remy to his side, slightly in front.
John waited, and then felt Remy’s lips against his and his hand holding to his hip. John leaned back, pressing his head into Bobby’s pillow, Remy straddled him and they kissed, careful to keep everything and anything under the guise of the dare and its blanket protection. Remy’s hand swiped against John’s groin, and how could he have forgotten how much heat Remy gives off? He slid his hand the wrong way against Remy’s hair, pressed his ear to his lips and whispered, ‘not now.’ And Remy offered half a smile because he knows that relationships don’t always mean holding hands and ‘reminded me of you’ gifts, that relationships can exist solely on your ability to imagine with your eyes open. Erik got it. Christ, Mystique lived through that shit.
No one said anything as they kissed and Marie had never bothered to turn off the stereo after Warren’s lap dance; it played softly, covering up the slurp of lips and the sound of the door opening. “Jeez boys, don’t get too into it or anything,” said Jubilee as she came back in. Remy and John broke apart quickly and fighting the urge to wipe his lips with the back of his hand, John returned to his seat, playing with his bottle.