thisavrou_log | X-Mansion mingle

LIVING TOGETHER

Now, J's never been great when it comes to sharing her living space with others. Even though on Moira she had been rather close with her previous roommate it still had taken months before she could sleep there comfortably and have a talk in civil manner.

But then again it had been just one person and generally quite harmless situation. Here? It's a school full of young and confused teenagers. Well, to be fair, the age difference isn't so bug between them as she's only a year or two older than the other students. But that still didn't mean that she considered herself as their peers. And school as an environment has never been a pleasant for her as she had always been the one to not fit in, in a way or another. There's a reason why she had dropped out all those years ago.

So with all those considered it's really no surprise that J doesn't spend too much time in the house. She more or less treats it as a place to sleep until she has money saved up for something else. But still somehow her personal belongings and stuff manages to be all over the place. Her coats and other clothing can be found lying around on couches and chairs, there's half drank coffee cups with lipstick marks in the weirdest places (on middle of stairs, inside bathrooms, out next to entrance) and most of time there's used cigarette butts stuffed inside the said cups. So, while it was somewhat rare to actually see J around there's no mistake that she doesn't live in there.

Another thing that makes it obvious that she's not used to paying attention others around her or respect their spaces is the way how she keeps going and coming. Just like right now:

It's only an hour or so away from the sunrise and majority of the residents are no doubt in deep sleep, or at least they should be, when J comes back to mansion after spending two nights away. Her make up is spot on just like her hair that's combed straight and braided back and she's wearing a dress that makes her look like nothing but a movie star. And of course she doesn't even try to be quiet or watch out from waking up anyone as she pulls the door closed behind her and marches to the kitchen, her high heels clicking sharply against the wooden floor.

When she's in the kitchen the goes straight to the fridge, opens it and eyes at the contents for a quick second before grabbing a beer and pudding that neither are hers. Then she goes to sit on the chair next to kitchen counter uncaps the beer along the lid of the pudding, lights a cigarette for herself. She pushes the round sunglasses with white frames that she's been wearing over her face to rest on top of her head and begins to enjoy her meal.

Edited 2017-02-13 13:57 (UTC)

[It all really had started from the usual light flirtation between them. Small jokes and teases about their current living space and how she never had chance to see his room back on Moira even though he get to visit her. Funny how after that one thing had led to another and ended up with her laying on his bed next morning on her stomach and lipstick in her hand. On another hand she's holding up a small mirror that aids her with spreading the makeup over her face.

The messy mop of curly hairs is pushed back and tucked behind her ears as well as possible away from her face and the only cloth that's covering her body is a wrinkled blanket. But things like that, hair and clothing, could wait. She's painting her lips with well-practiced and careful movements, making sure that none of the color spreads over the thin line she had drawn earlier with lining pen. She had already done her eye makeup and was now just adding some of the finishing touches. This is absolutely one of her favorite in day, dolling up and casting a layer of glamour on her.

Once she's done with her lips she quickly rolls the stick back inside the holster and caps it, then turns to look on her side where her partner is lying, giving him an alluring smile.]

Say, has your brain awoken yet? [She teases.]

[He's been watching her work, for once enjoying the slow silence. Some part of him had believed this wouldn't happen again, not beyond all the fighting and drama and worry of going home. Selfishly, he's glad to have her like this again. Not just the sex, though he's not sure there will ever come a day he'd turn her down for that, but for the feeling of something right to fall back between them. And for this chance to do the morning after over. No more accusations. No more anger.

It's nice.]

Please. I'm pretty sure I'm always up before you.

[A terrible side effect of his powers; he never slept long or well. He hasn't bothered to move much this morning, just enough to make sure the blanket covered the scars on his abdomen. She's seen them before, but the light makes him far more uncomfortable about their presence than he was in the night.

He smiles at her, reaching out to play with the end of a lock.]

I could say something really cheesy right now. About how seeing something this pretty makes me think I'm dreaming. Or something. I'm still working on it.

Uhhuh. [She hums in return and rubs her lips together gently to even the color. Then she parts them again with a quiet 'pop'-sound, an amusement filling her eyes and smile.

He's certainly not the only one who didn't think they'd find themselves like this again. Laying side by side with their hairs in mess and feeling boneless from overwhelming euphoria. Of course, she hadn't closed this door from him entirely, as she rarely did with anyone else either, but a lot of things had been said bot good and bad. Words that had only complicated things between them.

But guess things have way to balance out. Since they always found each other falling back to this learned, natural routine of flirting and affection.]

I'm going to take that as no. Just because you're up before me doesn't mean your mind is. [She leans in closer to the touch and that's when her eyes catch sight of something pink on his jawline. It's from the lipstick she had last night.

Chuckling softly she shifts a little on the bed so that she can reach out properly, grabbing his chin carefully between her fingers and starts rubbing the color off with her thumb.]

[Some things were simply ingrained. It was their nature, maybe, to keep falling apart and then back together again. Over and over, a predictable cycle in it's unpredictability.]

Ouch, J. Insulting me so early in the morning?

[He laughs, only quieting when she reaches out. He at first takes the touch as an intimate gestures. A little show of affection. He smiles warmly, a lightness in his eyes. He likes this peace between them.

When she pulls back with stained fingers, he starts laughing again.]

Did you paint me up last night?

Right. Like you didn't play any part in that. [She jokes, laughing with him as she rubs the color off on the blanket.]

But sorry to say, pink isn't exactly your color. I'd use different lipstick if I were you.

Who me? Nope. I'm totally the innocent bystander.

[As if anything about him could be called innocent.]

Oh? And what exactly should I be using? I'd hate to become some fashion disaster.

Oh, definitely. You were the most innocent last night.

[That draws another teasing laughter from her. She brings her fingers back to his jaw, gently swiping her thumb right beneath his lower lip. Now, this is interesting. Peter's so pale looking as if the color had been sucked out of him that coming up with a suiting palette does take some thinking.

Also, is he just joking or does he really not know that he's already a fashion disaster?]

I'd go with classic red. Though it does depend on what else you have on your face.

[He bats his eyelashes at her, playing up the picture of school boy innocence.]

What can I say? You seduced me.

[He runs a thumb along his bottom lip and hums.]

Red, depending on what else? I'm not much of a makeup expert. Even if I am used to living with girls.

[Well, there's some truth in that.]

Maybe, but I didn't see you put up any fight nor do I remember hearing any complaints. So I don't think anything too valuable was lost.

[But even with all jokes she starts to think about this more, coming up with color combinations and the palette what to use to make it work. And the more she keeps thinking about it, the ideas mulling and growing in her mind, the more does it sound like a challenge.

Or a very good opportunity to prank.]

I'm one and I grew up around with nothing but boys. Funny how that works out, huh? But I could show you, if you'd like? Paint you for real.

I never said I was complaining.

[Would anyone when they had the sole attention of the person they were enamored with?]

Yeah, but you're a girl. Girls like that kind of thing. [Except River never showed an interest in it, nor did half the women residing in their current home.

Peter's eyebrows raise at J's proposal. He can't help a quick look toward the door, a reassurance that no one else it watching. He'd been the test subject of his baby sister's nail polish and hand-me-down eye shadows, but that had been between him and an eight year old. Not someone he's half in love with.]

You want to do my face? I know I'm pretty J, but I'm not sure I'm that pretty.

[It's token resistance at best. Any little push from her and he's ready to cave in.]

[There's a brief, barely longer than a heart beat, pause when her gaze raises up to meet his eyes and corner of her lips slightly curling upwards in appreciation.]

True. But I wouldn't take that as obvious thing. Back in New York I used to know someone who was so unsightly and looked more like a teenage boy than grown woman.

[Oh, she catches that quick glance towards the door. It only works as a fuel to her, making her grin more wider like a wolf.]

I think that's my job, Peter. Or do you not trust in my skills enough? Or are you perhaps scared.

Scared? Of you? Of makeup? Come on.

[He laughs, sits up straighter.]

I'm not scared of anything.

[She has to know that's a terrible boast; she's seen him terrified. She knows the sort of things that get under his skin. But Peter just grins at her, already resigned to his fate with her attempt at goading him.]

Go ahead. Let's see how good you are at this.

[And when the permission is granted she quickly turns around and reaches down to grab her small makeup bag from the floor. Then, she turns back to him, leans in and grabs his chin between her fingers again. She turns his head slightly first to left and then to right before letting him go.

Unfortunately she doesn't have nearly as much makeup with her right now as she'd like -- or need to make him actually look presentable. The pale skin doesn't itself bring that much difficulty but way it highlights his sunken eyes and the tired darker spots underneath it is another story. She opens the back and takes a small tube out. From the tube she squirts a small amount of cream to tip of her finger and then looks back up to him.]

Now try to be still, tough guy.

[And with that she starts spreading the cream underneath his eyes. Hoping it to hide the spots and make the color more even.]

[He fidgets on the bed while she gathers her things, not bothering to hide that he's staring at her form wile she's moving. He grins, quick and cheeky, when she turns her attention back to him but tries to school himself so that his expression won't mess up her work.

He's not really sure what she's pulling out to use- his baby sister had mostly just experimented with broken eye shadow and finger nail polish, and he has watched his mother get ready to go out since he was nine and whining about babysitters- but he's sure expressing doubt now would only fuel her need to mock him.]

Still as a statue.

[He mutters through grit teeth, trying not to flinch away from the cool temperature product. He grabs and squeezes at his own wrist in distraction to try not to fidget so much.]

One would hope. [She jokes and keeps spreading the cream, blending it carefully with her fingertips. Even though she doesn't quite understand it she knows that staying completely still is difficult for him. As long he's putting effort she's not going to complain if he twitches a little.]

I've never done this to anyone else before, you know. [She speaks again once she's done with the cream and takes out brush along with face powder. There's hoping that he could focus on listening her voice and make it easier for him to stay put.] It makes me think of the movie Some Like it Hot. Did you ever see it? It's about two men who accidentally get in trouble with Chicago's mafia and then dress up as women and hide in female band. Marilyn is of course in it! She's playing the love interest, a poor woman who's been mistreated by men in the past. [She keeps adding the powder on his face as she speaks. After she's done with that she picks up eye shadow and eyeliner]

Close your eyes. Anyway, but the weirdest part of the movie is when this old rich guy actually fells in love with one of the main characters. He even tries to pursue a marriage with him after finding out he's a man. Ha! Can you imagine. [She takes a quick moment to laugh at the thought. Of course, the idea of marriage between two men isn't anything unheard of anymore but she can't help but keep finding it just strange.]

But then again, you could say that I owe some of my success to that movie. It was a big hit and pinged public's curiosity. Suddenly idea of nellies wasn't so gross anymore and people wanted to see a real deal, if you know what I mean. [Now that she's done with the eye makeup J pulls away a little to take a better look at her hand's work. Satisfied with the outcome she decides to move on to work with his lips.]

I think I was sixteen when I saw it. I was still in school and I met this handsome and rich stranger in pub where I used to sing. He saw me and invited me out. Sounds pretty romantic, right? He would actually be the one to take me to New York later.

No one?

[He's a little surprised about that. It's the kind of thing he just imagined girls got together and did, like how they all ran to the bathroom together or played with each other's hair. Maybe it's just unfair to be comparing her to the high school girls he was used to in his time.]

I think Mom's watched it before. I know she's put on some Marilyn movies. But, me? No.

[He shuts his eyes dutifully. It's a little harder to stay still with a sense cut off. He picks at the thin skin of his wrist, muscles twitching.] You said he fell in love. Maybe he just didn't care, long as he thought the guy would say yes.

[It wasn't a thing where he was from either. But he thinks of Billy and is glad some things change.]

That's-hm. [He wants to frown, but doesn't. He doesn't want to mess up her work or have her take it the wrong way. She just makes it sound like the public wanted a spectacle. Knowing her now, for so long and so well, he doesn't quite like the idea of people lining up to make her a curiosity instead of admiring her.

At the same time, he wonders if he'd be thinking that if he wasn't so invested in her already.]

A boyfriend? [He wonders if it sounds as jealous as he think it does and wills himself not to turn red.] I mean, did you move with him? He get you a job there or something?

Your mom has a good taste, then. Though I must say I'm jealous that she gets to see her later movies. God knows how many I've missed while being here. [Though little does she know that there weren't any new ones after her time. Ignorance is a bliss, or so they say.]

Now part your lips just a bit and try not to talk. [She warns as she begins to spread the red lipstick on him. The color palette she has on the hand isn't the best one for him but it's still not too bad. Now that she thinks of it she should have gone for more colder colors.

And she definitely would have noticed the jealousy or at least teased him for it if the suggestion didn't make her laugh.]

Boyfriend? Please. I'm not going to pretend we didn't fuck regularly but it was far from relationship. At least in sense you'd think. [It's a bitter memory. She had been Arther's and J had liked to think he was hers. They both used and used each other, taking everything and mocking the affection. In the end she had been nothing but a merchandise to him and she had known it from the beginning. An object to sell and rent.

The system had been far from perfection or glamour she liked to tell, but she'd still take it any day if it allowed her to be herself.]

He owned the club where I worked. He helped me to get my own place and change my name. [She draws the last stroke with the lipstick and pulls away.]

There all done. Now rub your lips together carefully to make the color even.

[It takes a lot not to smile at the implication. He sort of wishes his mom was actually around. He wonders if she and J would have gotten along.] Some, probably. I didn't keep up with her enough to know how many she made.

[He sighs and does as she asks, trying not to move from the strange feeling of the slick substance she's spreading on. It feels different from when the lipstick that rubs off when they kiss, thicker and awkward.

He almost smiles when she shoots down the relationship idea, lips twitching in the urge. He can't help but be a little relieved. He doesn't really have a right to jealousy or much reason. If she was hanging to a relationship from her own world, she probably wouldn't spend so much time with him. And it's not like he's had much success actually asking her out. Still, he's glad.

He presses his lips together before speaking.]

He gave you a new life. That was nice of him. I mean, giving you a place to sing. A bed. You must have liked him?

No? [It's her turn to hold back a frown. Marilyn was basically a goddess back in her time, shining bright in headlines and in people's minds. It's unheard that someone would miss her news about her movies.] Now I'm not sure whether I should be worried about her or then concerned about your lack of taste.

[She clicks her tongue in mock scolding. It must be the latter, right? Peter's never been one to show that much of sense of style or class. And if his weird taste of music is any indication his opinions about movies shouldn't be taken too seriously.]

Oh, he sure did give me a bed alright. But in the end I ended up doing more for him than other way around. [She snorts, obviously not thrilled that Peter decided to pick him out from her ramblings and stubbornly keeps the conversation on him.

Her attention goes back to her bag again as she starts going through it. After a quick moment she pulls out a small hand mirror and offers it to him.]

Now, take a look. It's too bad that all of my dresses are too small for you.

I've got great taste. [He smiles quickly, tamping down the urge to grab at her. Kiss her. He doesn't want to be yelled at for ruining her work.] I'm here with you, aren't I?

[A little flattery never hurt anyone, after all.]

That's-oh. [He leans back as she moves away.] I'm sorry. You deserved better.

[And better still now, but he doesn't dare mention it.

He takes the mirror gingerly, giving her one last look. When he checks his reflection, his eyebrows shoot up. His first thought is that he looks ridiculous, the second is that it's far better than any attempts his little sister had made.]

I don't see how you have the patience for this everyday. [He touches under his eye, winking to look at the smears of color.] It's interesting. I'm not sure I've got the face for it.

You want to see me in a dress?

And for that you should be grateful. [She teases, tapping his chin playfully with her finger. He's right that flattery never hurts, especially with J.] Having me with you makes you redeemable.

And please, no need for frown. It wasn't perfect but my life would have been much worse without him. Besides, it's in the past. [That's the last what she's going to say about Arthur F. Justus, ending the discussion. There are deep and bitter scars and the topic itself is enough to bring a bad taste of dislike into her mouth. And none of those are things she wants to drag into here to ruin the mood for them.]

Actually most of people don't really have a face for this. But you know, it's not really the makeup that matters but the attitude. Before New York I had only few dresses, a wig and some used lipstick that I got from one wall flower in the pub. Nothing too grand but I still was the most glamorous thing that town had ever seen. [Her finger slides down from his chin to under it, grabbing him once again but this time with more gentleness as she observes her work again.]

Maybe. It'd be like cherry on the top for all of this, you know.

Yeah? So you're what? Making me better? [He's teasing, reaching over to touch her elbow briefly.]

No point in dragging out the past, I guess. [He can hear the finality in her tone. He doesn't want to start a fight about it. He'd rather have her talking to him than try to force anything else out of her.]

I can imagine it. Makeup or not, you're still pretty. [She's right about the attitude. J can make heads turn, finery on or not. Peter used to make heads turn too. But it was the powers, the strangeness, not anything inside.] Probably the most glamorous thing in New York too.

[He smiles at her gentle touch. He imagines for a moment he probably resembles a love sick puppy, but his need to laugh breaks eye contact.]

Yeah. Well. Maybe someday we'll find something in my size. Something black maybe. Or gray. I'm not a big fan of color.

Obviously, idiot. I'm making you look much better.

[Satisfied that he took the hint and let the subject to be, J shifts on the bed and moves closer, almost straddling him. His dorky face making her grin widely.]

Aren't you sweet during the mornings. Maybe I should come here more often? [She laughs, voice full of affection and moves her free hand behind his neck, toying with his hair strands.] But you're right. I was the biggest and greatest diva out there. Got even interviewed for magazine for that.

And actually, I saw a lovely dress with a flower pattern the other day. It came in blue and purple. Both could look good on you. [And with that, she presses in close and kisses him on the lips. Because he's not exactly been too subtle with his urge to do that himself.]

X-Mansion mingle

J | OTA | will match the format!

closed to peter + kurt. cw: implied sexy times

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kurt could appear after few tags? c:

Yes!

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closed to jean