Part Twenty-Three
A/N: Jono, of course, having come back from Mutant X is possessed of a mouth. Hence the talking and the eating. He really likes being able to eat again.
Bobby stared at the turkey in front of him with some trepidation. Warren smirked at him.
"Parents fed you?" he asked.
"So much," Bobby admitted. "So, so much."
"I told you to go sooner," Warren shrugged, stealing a turkey leg from Bobby's overheaped plate. "Neither Man nor Mutant is built for two huge turkey dinners in as many days."
Bobby took his turkey leg back. "I am," he said. "I so am."
Warren cocked an eyebrow. "Hang out with any younger cousins while you were at home?"
"Yeah, how'd you, like, know?"
Jean Paul poked at his cranberry sauce with an expression of distaste, keeping half an eye on Bobby's antics while pretending to himself he wasn't. Jono sat opposite him with a sigh and a smirk.
"Gotta stick together," he said.
Jean Paul laughed and smiled at him. "I most definitely agree."
"Don't doubt Kurt'll be joining us," Jono said, starting to cut up the turkey. Jean Paul remembered that the boy had little need to eat, but his plate was piled fairly high regardless. "S'weird," the English boy went on, "I keep looking for brussel sprouts."
"Do not tell me you actually like them," Jean Paul grinned, shaking his head.
Jono pulled a face. "Hell no. But they're meant to be there all the same. I mean, they're brussel sprouts. Yer gotta have 'em to make you feel like yer deserve yer pudding." He paused. "What is fer pudding?"
"Pie," Jean Paul said dryly. "Many and various types of pie."
Jono chuckled. "Yer say pie, I immediately think meat and gravy. Think I'll skip it."
"I do not mind the dinner so much," Jean Paul said, "but it feels like the wrong day to me."
"Yeah, well," Jono shrugged, mouth full. He swallowed, Adam's Apple bobbing. "I missed Guy Fawkes' night." He pouted, anarchy in his eyes. He seemed to have taken to Jean Paul as strongly as Jean Paul had taken to him, freer with him than other acquaintances, sharing the same dry sense of humour and just occasionally, flirting with him a little. At least, Jean Paul was fairly certain that was what the younger man was doing, though he behaved differently around Paige. He wondered if Jono feared Paige's disapproval.
Jean Paul glanced over to where the students were sitting, and started to tap his knife on the table in thought. Jono continued to eat, turning his nose up at the sweet potatoes and devouring the stuffing with relish. Jean Paul's dinner began to get cold.
"What would you say to a school trip?" Jean Paul asked.
"School or class?" Jono asked, shovelling mashed potatoes onto his fork.
"Class," Jean Paul acknowledged. "Into the city." He leant his chin on his fist, and stared across the room.
Jono nodded thoughtfully as he chewed. "Yeah," he said, "I'm up for that. Just our lot, or yer thinking of dragging someone else's classes into this?" He turned his head to follow Jean Paul's gaze, and Jean Paul realised with a faint horror that he had been staring at Bobby again.
"Maybe," Jean Paul admitted. "It will not be worth it unless we fill a whole coach anyway."
"What sorta teacher-student ratio do we need?" Jono asked.
"One to seven, I believe," Jean Paul replied. "If we were to include Bobby's class, we would need one more 'adult', I believe."
"I thought he had more students than that," Jono said, frowning.
"Yes, but there is some overlap."
"Oh, of course." Jono started to mop up with gravy with his remaining turkey, and asked, "Do you want me to ask Bobby now?"
"Can y-" Jean Paul checked himself. Just because Jono wasn't confined to telepathy didn't mean he couldn't still use it. "S'il vous plait," he said.
Bobby froze, fork halfway to his open mouth. His eyes crossed.
Warren leant back in his chair and watched him, waiting to see whether he should be amused or concerned. Scott, who had joined them, bent forwards and frowned.
Bobby blinked, and put his fork in his mouth, gravy dripping down his chin.
"Well?" Scott asked.
"Jean Paul wants to know if we want to organise some sort of educational trip," Bobby shrugged. "At least, that's what I think Jono said. Is it just me, or is his accent actually getting thicker?"
"Where?" Scott had the look he wore when he was at his most headmasterish, which made Warren and Bobby share an amused look.
"In the city. Either Jean Paul isn't sure where, or Jono doesn't know enough about New York to have any clue where he was talking about," Bobby smiled. "Just a day trip, an end of semester treat."
"How many students?" Scott asked.
Bobby's eyes rolled upwards as he counted, lips moving. Warren snorted, and Bobby's faced creased up as he failed to keep up the pretence.
"Twenty six," he said. "I've got twelve, Jean Paul's got eighteen. Four student overlap."
"You might get away with three members of staff, but since Jono's still young and inexperienced, I'd rather there were four of your there." Scott's mouth twitched, and he added, "Sorry, did I say Jono? I meant you."
Bobby stuck his tongue out at Scott. "Sure you did. Hey, can I have a TA? I promise I'd house train it, and look after it ever so well."
"You were deprived of a dog as a child, weren't you?" Warren asked wryly.
"You don't need a TA, Bobby," Scott sighed. "You haven't even got any troublemakers in your class."
Bobby grinned and shrugged. "So, any suggestions for a fourth?"
"I'd really rather know where you're planning to go before I agree to anything," Scott said. "And I don't want to find myself in a week's time plagued with thirty different requests for trips, all hoping for subsidising. We don't have the money to spare."
"Yeah we do," Bobby argued, a frown beginning to form between his eyes. "We should be several thousand dollars under budget this semester. It's in the rebuilding fund. The school is, in fact, intact."
"We have a specific fund for when people destroy this place?" Warren raised his eyebrows.
"You should see the yearly budgets," Bobby said. "There's money going all over the place, in event of regularly occurring emergencies. We can afford to put everyone in the school - I mean everyone, we're talking right down to the dinner ladies here - in a hotel for up to six weeks. A nice hotel, too. That doesn't actually get touched that often, oddly enough. Oh, and we can afford to replace approximately half of our vehicles should something take them all out at once."
Scott stared at Bobby, eyes wide. "Where did we get all this money?" he asked. "Why don't I know about it?"
"Most of it's not to be touched until required," Bobby shrugged. "Some of the more obscure eventualities have been building up interested for over a decade now. Most of the rest comes from investments and stocks. We've still got quite a few companies, and even individuals, that donate money on a regular basis." He nodded his head at Warren. "I bet feathers doesn't even know how much he's giving us annually any more."
Warren shrugged and frowned. "Just don't tell Jean Paul that."
"How about Remy?" Bobby suggested. "He's been floating around, stuck for something to do."
"As a fourth, or as a TA?" Scott asked.
"I was thinking fourth," Bobby admitted. "Is he still blind?"
Scott nodded. "But I think he's a good choice regardless. I'm not too concerned about the students getting the better of you, and to be honest in the event of an attack between you, Jean Paul and Jono you've got enough fire power to deal with most problems."
"He won't take kindly to being asked just out of pity," Warren said.
"The kids love him. He's cool," Bobby said with a dismissive wave. "If it's just about making up numbers, he's perfect. Plus, he and Jean Paul can speak patty French at each other."
"Patois, Bobby."
Bobby wasn't quite sure how he (or maybe Jean Paul, or Jono, or even Remy, who knew?) had talked Scott into letting them get away with a whole weekend's worth of trip. How they'd ended up in DC instead of New York. How he'd gone from sharing a room with Remy to sharing a room with Jean Paul, listening through the wall to Jono and Remy have very enthusiastic sex.
"It was almost inevitable," he said, thinking out loud as much as making small talk.
Jean Paul snorted, and nodded. He was reading a French book. The only word in the title that Bobby could translate was 'le'.
"They're both too pretty to be with any one else," Bobby sighed. "Easily the two most attractive men at the institute."
He realised what he'd said, and blushed. Jean Paul did not look up.
"I mean, two of three," Bobby mumbled. "Of three. If you were in there it would be... oh god."
He slumped over the desk. He was mortified, but he was also turned on. Which was mortifying. Jean Paul in there too. Like Jean Paul and Remy hadn't been a favourite fantasy for weeks now. And Jono.
He was not leaving this desk. Ever.
"Of four."
"What?" Bobby twisted in his seat, hoping the chair was sufficiently tucked under the desk that he wouldn't embarrass himself.
"Two of the four most attractive men," Jean Paul elaborated.
"Oh." Bobby turned back to the desk. He knew he was blushing. With a sigh, he let his head drop to the cool veneer, and wished it would all just go away.
He was right there. Right there. A couple of yards. The ex he had almost killed. He ex he couldn't get over. Right there, in a pair of silk pyjamas. Navy blue. A size too small, chosen deliberately. The top three buttons undone. Ankles crossed, feet bare. Leaning against the pillows. White cream against the navy blue, soft, bulging around his slim back. The fold of a white sheet beneath his butt. Silk stretched tight across his hips. Light blue fleece covers. Like he'd chosen the pyjamas to match the bed. French book so carefully balanced, held just so.
Bobby risked a quick glance around. Jean Paul was turning the pages as though he was counting them, rather than reading. Very carefully held. The pages snagging occasionally. Brief winces, every now and then. Pages being turned carefully, bent a little.
Oh god.
- Ooooh, fuck -
Oh fuck.
Jean Paul's shoulders twitched and he raised his head. Caught Bobby looking. Too late to look away, Bobby forced a smile.
"We could go to the bar," he suggested.
"I would not say I am dressed for it," Jean Paul said dryly.
- Fuck, I love having a mouth. -
Bobby blinked.
"I believed Jono might enjoy fellatio," Jean Paul said. "I have noticed something of an oral fixation with that boy."
Bobby groaned and pressed his head into the desk again.
"You're not helping either," he said.
"I am sorry. What would you rather I did?"
Come here, Bobby thought. That's all. You can stay cold and angry. You can keep hating me for what I did to you. Just come here.
"Why didn't you fuck him then?" Bobby asked, voice hoarse. "He was there."
"I will not deign to answer that." The 'that' was spat. Bobby heard Jean Paul slam the book down, and the sound of covers moving.
"That's probably a good thing," he said softly. "Sorry."
"So... so am I. I am aware that you are finding this as hard as I am. I should not have deliberately aggravated you."
"I am never talking to either of them again," Bobby announced. He sat up, peeling hotel-monogrammed notepaper from his head.
"I would agree, but that might make my classes a little difficult," Jean Paul said.
Bobby turned to look at him. Tucked up in bed. Like all of the students ought to be, though he heard the occasional giggle and running footsteps past the door. It was late.
The bathroom. He should go to the bathroom. Jerk off, change, sleep. Easy.
Jean Paul sighed heavily. "I know what you want, Bobby. I want the same. But we can not."
Bobby laughed, a high, hysterical giggle. "You're no good for denial, you know," he said. "Can't we pretend that at least one of us isn't interested?"
"It will not be me," Jean Paul said. He was smiling slightly. "I refuse to refuse to acknowledge my desires."
"You what?"
"I will not pretend I do not feel what I feel," Jean Paul said. "I grew tired of that years ago."
"Yeah, well, I only quit recently. I'm due for a relapse any day now. So, well. I'm not thinking about jumping your bones. At all."
And it was true, on some level. He just wanted to be close to him. Climb into the bed. It would almost certainly result in sex, but it wouldn't end there. They would be lying together. Warm. Touching. Talking.
"So you will stand up at some point soon then?"
"Fuck you," Bobby said, with no real malice. "I'm going to sleep in the bath."