[Jean-Paul opens the door, and one thing may be apparent: he's older. Physically he looks much the same, but it's there in his eyes for anyone who cares to see it.
His face cracks into a brilliant smile before he practically launches himself at Logan, wrapping his arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.]
Merci. Come on, come in.
[He ushers Logan inside, returning to his spot on the old worn couch. There's a blanket there which he tucks his feet under as he waits for Logan to get him a beer and lumber over.]
He really doesn't know what he was expecting to see, but so long as the other man seems in good health the fact that he might look a little more tired doesn't register as anything worth commenting on.
And when he breaks into that smile concern dissolves. He could have stayed there with the younger man locked in a bear hug for ages.
The bottle hisses as he opens it up and passes it off to Jean-Paul. "You look... great." He attempts to shake off his confusion with a little chuckle. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You always look great. I just didn't know what you'd been up to and. Well. You know this place. I never know what to think when you boys aren't right where I can see you."
"I do know," he says softly. He sips his beer and then carefully holds it with both hands. He regards Logan with his startlingly blue eyes, waiting for him to settle in.
"I went back." There it is, stated bluntly.
"Your kid is trying to fuck my husband."
Maybe not the best thing to lead with, but it's what comes out.
Sitting back and stretching his arm around Jean-Paul, he moves like he still expects the other shoe to drop. There has to be something worse than this quiet scene to have kept the man away so many days.
"Back? Back to— home?" It doesn't feel quiet right to call it that after the promises they've made here, but nonetheless a better word escapes him. And then so does a cough and a sputter when he struggles to swallow his beer.
Jean-Paul stares and then laughs. He laughs until his stomach aches, barely managing not to spill his beer. He finally tapers off into hiccups of giggles, wiping his eyes with one hand.
"What a question," he says finally. "Daken. He's on my team, now. He sure takes after you, you ho." Jean-Paul leans over and kisses Logan's cheek. "Sorry for dropping that on you. It's just what came to mind first."
He drops his chin to the heel of his palm while Jean-Paul collects himself from that bout of unbridled amusement. He's willing to tolerate being the butt of that particular joke though. If only because it really does seem to bring a rare sort of joy to a man he came here out of concern.
The answer, however, only furthers his confusion. "Daken," he mumbles. He never loved the name. "He's not... he shouldn't be anywhere. He's dead."
"Akihiro, ouais," Jean-Paul says. He plays idly with Logan's hair.
"Got a surprise for you, love: a LOT of us come back in the future. There's a resurrection process. Before I came back I had literally just gotten my sister scheduled to be brought back."
He sighs and takes a long swallow of beer.
"Chrisse, you're so... solid. I think I missed that."
Having access to his Deerington memories, Jean-Paul at least knows that using the man's given name is important. And that he probably ought to play down how annoying he thinks he is, at least for a while.
"Mm. Who do you think? There's a council. Xavier and Magneto, Storm, Jean, Emma, Kurt... others. We have a sovereign nation, there's new rules." He shrugs lightly.
He stays quiet for a while, then nods, smiling softly. "I did. He's... really something."
"It's... good. It's good that he's ok. Or. You know. Breathing at least." It's not exactly a realization that should take as much uncertainty as it seems to plague him with. "I'm not sure if I should feel less guilty about it. 'Cause I don't."
"We? Mutants?" Even if there are a couple of names on there who probably the kind of people you want in charge of a nation the whole idea sounds like a nightmare on repeat. They've done this before. People ended up dead.
"And..." He looks expectant of something. The last time they talked about Kyle, Jean-Paul didn't love the idea of willfully engaging in some kind of adultery. Resurrections and high councils aside, the thing that makes him worry for their future is anything that might have changed Jean-Paul's mind about life as they know it here. "Does that... change this?"
"Breathing all over anything attractive," Jean-Paul snorts. "You shouldn't feel guilty at all, Logan."
He nods. "It's not like Utopia. But... well. You know me, I'm not an optimist. But it's a lot better."
Jean-Paul sets his beer aside so that he can take Logan's face in his hands. "I remember everything that's happened here," he says softly. "I remember every moment I've spent wit' you. The forget-me-nots and the poetry and the fantastic sex." He leans in and kisses Logan firmly on the mouth.
"I feel a little weird, sure. But if anything has changed, I hope it's for the better. I've learned more about what love takes." He smiles. "Just forgive me if I start to yell at the wrong man for leaving his shoes out?"
He winces at the speed at which Jean-Paul assumes the best of him. He takes long drink and fixes his eyes on the bottle like there's something there worth scrutinizing. "I'm the one who took his life, Johnny. I'll always feel guilty for that."
Jean-Paul's right. He's not an optimist. But that's what makes his remarks all the more interesting. It's hard not to be hopeful that they've maybe finally learned from their own mistakes. Yet, it's hard to picture what that looks like without seeing it for himself.
With his attention swept up in Jean-Paul's hands, that glib but not in the least bit inaccurate assessment of their time together here turns him bashful. Though it's not often he's on the receiving end of such tender reassurances— because it's not often he locks his pride far enough away to permit himself to request them— not even his best attempt at casual can hide the joy and relief of knowing what they found here is at least as real as the places they used to call home.
Reaching around blindly to abandon his own drink without spilling it, he doesn't hesitate to gather Jean-Paul up in his arms. "Darlin', you can yell at me for anything you want so long as yer not goin' anywhere."
There really isn't anything to say to that - in Logan's place, he'd feel the same. Instead Jean-Paul just nods. "Well... he's doing good now." It may or not matter, but he believes it to be true. "Aside from not seeming to know what a fucking shirt is."
Jean-Paul kisses Logan again. He feels a momentary pang the second before his mouth opens - until a few days ago, he'd been used to kissing another man entirely. But as his lips part he is relieved to find Logan still feels like home and his hands move naturally to run through his hair, relearning the texture.
He breaks the kiss to bump his forehead against Logan's. "I feel like I've been gone forever, but you still taste exactly how I remembered."
It's not the kind of confession he expects anyone would know what to do with. Himself least of all. But knowing the boy isn't just alive again, he's actually better in some ways, provokes a strange sort of solace he'll spend no small amount of time thinking about.
The blurry vision of the other man at the end of his nose is a comfort he didn't know he'd been craving. Waking up to the image of the other man too close to be in focus has turned into a habit he's not prepared to quit. "Nothing's changed. Nothing that matters. I missed you." His parted lips graze Jean-Paul's just long enough to stoke his sense of anticipation before he caves for the taste of him. "I thought this place was really gonna take you from me this time."
"I must have come back for all of you," Jean-Paul replies. He kisses Logan again, over and over, until he finally pulls away enough to see Logan's eyes.
"I know for a fact that the heart remembers things that the mind forgets. I have proof of that." He wonders how much the ghost of his husband will haunt him from this moment on.
His eyes close in the glow of Jean-Paul's attention. There's a kind of being wanted that's hard to come by. It's as necessary to the heart as sunlight to the leaves but, in Logan's experience, it can't be found by asking for it or chasing after it. So when he does come across it, it's all he can do to balance his desire to drink it in with the composure it takes to keep from looking starved for it.
"What kinds of things?" he asks, even as he lets himself imagine, he still wants to know what they are for Jean-Paul. What of this place he was able to hang onto while he was away. And what of everything he had there that's weighing on him now.
"You better not. I need you. You're special t'me, you know? I'm always trying to... make changes. Do better." If he looks sheepish it's because trying is the operative word there. "There's not a lot of choices in life you never wonder about makin' right. But you've felt like I must be doin' something right since the start.'
"The shapes of people," Jean-Paul says after some thought. "You wake up in the middle of the night and you reach over expecting a form, but it's not there. You can't consciously remember who you're missing, but you know there's someone."
He curls closer. "I understand. That's why I came to the apartment, to figure out how to be better. Which I have, although not in the way I was expecting." He inhales slowly. "You do right by me."
"Oh. Yeah. I know that feeling." With a sigh he opens his arms to invite Jean-Paul closer until the younger man's weight rests against him. "Sometimes I never figure out who it is. I just figure it's one of the missing bits."
Putting his feet up on the coffee table he sinks lower into the couch and lets his fingers piece idly at Jean-Paul's hair. Despite his reputation for being less than conversational, he does like hearing his partner's talk. "What were you expecting? Before your little trip home."
Logan in uniquely suited to any discussion of memory loss, of being forced into a life you didn't ask for. Jean-Paul knows he'll have to talk to him about it again soon, but for the moment he's content to melt against him instead.
"I was expecting a lot of introspection," he says, vaguely amused. "A lot of stern self talking tos. Then probably a lot of awkward conversations before I'd finally come home." Already the cabon is 'home.' "At least I got the last part right."
When Jean-Paul relaxes Logan smiles into his hair. Planting a kiss against the younger man's temple. It's all uncharacteristically doting to anyone who's never been this close to him, but the man undeniably loves being the thing his partner's come to rest against.
"Heh, you sound pretty introspective to me too," he smiles to hear the man consider this place here home. "And calm. Like. Weirdly calm for you. Which, I mean, I'm takin' for a good thing, but if you're high or something you better tell me before I start wondering if I'm taking advantage of you or something here."
Jean-Paul snorts and swats Logan's arm lightly. Apparently, some things never change. "Oh, like I'm a fucking spazz most of the time?" He nestles back even closer somehow. "Non, I'm not high. I got painfully drunk the other day but that was then. And you're hardly taking advantage, I'm still dressed."
He points at Jean-Paul with intently narrow eyes as if to point out the reactionary nature of that very remark as some kind of point in case. "Your words not mine, bub. I woulda said somethin' nice. Like anxious."
If he was so recently drunk and Logan can't smell it on him, he has to imagine the man must have somewhat recently showered. And as if to test that theory he drinks in the smell of him with his nose all but buried in Jean-Paul's hair. "You think I needta get your clothes off to do somethin' dirty t'you?"
His chuckling rumbles against Jean-Paul's ear before he takes a gentle little bite of the pointed top. "Love you too, darlin'," he murmurs like it's the worst kept secret ever.
"Speakin' of clothes. You or Kurt gonna help me figure out how to dress for this... wedding thing."
Jean-Paul whines, not having any words the second those teeth meet his ear. He hugs Logan tightly.
"I'd like that," he says." "Chrisse, that's soon. I'll have to coordinate wit' Kurt so we can make sure it's all decorated..." His mind is already trying to seize on details. "Ouais, yes, I'll dress you. You'll look gorgeous."
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His face cracks into a brilliant smile before he practically launches himself at Logan, wrapping his arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.]
Merci. Come on, come in.
[He ushers Logan inside, returning to his spot on the old worn couch. There's a blanket there which he tucks his feet under as he waits for Logan to get him a beer and lumber over.]
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And when he breaks into that smile concern dissolves. He could have stayed there with the younger man locked in a bear hug for ages.
The bottle hisses as he opens it up and passes it off to Jean-Paul. "You look... great." He attempts to shake off his confusion with a little chuckle. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You always look great. I just didn't know what you'd been up to and. Well. You know this place. I never know what to think when you boys aren't right where I can see you."
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"I went back." There it is, stated bluntly.
"Your kid is trying to fuck my husband."
Maybe not the best thing to lead with, but it's what comes out.
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"Back? Back to— home?" It doesn't feel quiet right to call it that after the promises they've made here, but nonetheless a better word escapes him. And then so does a cough and a sputter when he struggles to swallow his beer.
"My? Wait. Which one?"
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"What a question," he says finally. "Daken. He's on my team, now. He sure takes after you, you ho." Jean-Paul leans over and kisses Logan's cheek. "Sorry for dropping that on you. It's just what came to mind first."
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The answer, however, only furthers his confusion. "Daken," he mumbles. He never loved the name. "He's not... he shouldn't be anywhere. He's dead."
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"Got a surprise for you, love: a LOT of us come back in the future. There's a resurrection process. Before I came back I had literally just gotten my sister scheduled to be brought back."
He sighs and takes a long swallow of beer.
"Chrisse, you're so... solid. I think I missed that."
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"Resurrection process? Scheduled?" He raises an eyebrow suspiciously. "Who's playing god now?"
He shuffles a little closer and his arm pulls Jean-Paul in a bit more before hesitation comes over him. "So. You met him? Kyle."
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"Mm. Who do you think? There's a council. Xavier and Magneto, Storm, Jean, Emma, Kurt... others. We have a sovereign nation, there's new rules." He shrugs lightly.
He stays quiet for a while, then nods, smiling softly. "I did. He's... really something."
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"We? Mutants?" Even if there are a couple of names on there who probably the kind of people you want in charge of a nation the whole idea sounds like a nightmare on repeat. They've done this before. People ended up dead.
"And..." He looks expectant of something. The last time they talked about Kyle, Jean-Paul didn't love the idea of willfully engaging in some kind of adultery. Resurrections and high councils aside, the thing that makes him worry for their future is anything that might have changed Jean-Paul's mind about life as they know it here. "Does that... change this?"
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He nods. "It's not like Utopia. But... well. You know me, I'm not an optimist. But it's a lot better."
Jean-Paul sets his beer aside so that he can take Logan's face in his hands. "I remember everything that's happened here," he says softly. "I remember every moment I've spent wit' you. The forget-me-nots and the poetry and the fantastic sex." He leans in and kisses Logan firmly on the mouth.
"I feel a little weird, sure. But if anything has changed, I hope it's for the better. I've learned more about what love takes." He smiles. "Just forgive me if I start to yell at the wrong man for leaving his shoes out?"
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Jean-Paul's right. He's not an optimist. But that's what makes his remarks all the more interesting. It's hard not to be hopeful that they've maybe finally learned from their own mistakes. Yet, it's hard to picture what that looks like without seeing it for himself.
With his attention swept up in Jean-Paul's hands, that glib but not in the least bit inaccurate assessment of their time together here turns him bashful. Though it's not often he's on the receiving end of such tender reassurances— because it's not often he locks his pride far enough away to permit himself to request them— not even his best attempt at casual can hide the joy and relief of knowing what they found here is at least as real as the places they used to call home.
Reaching around blindly to abandon his own drink without spilling it, he doesn't hesitate to gather Jean-Paul up in his arms. "Darlin', you can yell at me for anything you want so long as yer not goin' anywhere."
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Jean-Paul kisses Logan again. He feels a momentary pang the second before his mouth opens - until a few days ago, he'd been used to kissing another man entirely. But as his lips part he is relieved to find Logan still feels like home and his hands move naturally to run through his hair, relearning the texture.
He breaks the kiss to bump his forehead against Logan's. "I feel like I've been gone forever, but you still taste exactly how I remembered."
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The blurry vision of the other man at the end of his nose is a comfort he didn't know he'd been craving. Waking up to the image of the other man too close to be in focus has turned into a habit he's not prepared to quit. "Nothing's changed. Nothing that matters. I missed you." His parted lips graze Jean-Paul's just long enough to stoke his sense of anticipation before he caves for the taste of him. "I thought this place was really gonna take you from me this time."
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"I know for a fact that the heart remembers things that the mind forgets. I have proof of that." He wonders how much the ghost of his husband will haunt him from this moment on.
"I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
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"What kinds of things?" he asks, even as he lets himself imagine, he still wants to know what they are for Jean-Paul. What of this place he was able to hang onto while he was away. And what of everything he had there that's weighing on him now.
"You better not. I need you. You're special t'me, you know? I'm always trying to... make changes. Do better." If he looks sheepish it's because trying is the operative word there. "There's not a lot of choices in life you never wonder about makin' right. But you've felt like I must be doin' something right since the start.'
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He curls closer. "I understand. That's why I came to the apartment, to figure out how to be better. Which I have, although not in the way I was expecting." He inhales slowly. "You do right by me."
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Putting his feet up on the coffee table he sinks lower into the couch and lets his fingers piece idly at Jean-Paul's hair. Despite his reputation for being less than conversational, he does like hearing his partner's talk. "What were you expecting? Before your little trip home."
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"I was expecting a lot of introspection," he says, vaguely amused. "A lot of stern self talking tos. Then probably a lot of awkward conversations before I'd finally come home." Already the cabon is 'home.' "At least I got the last part right."
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"Heh, you sound pretty introspective to me too," he smiles to hear the man consider this place here home. "And calm. Like. Weirdly calm for you. Which, I mean, I'm takin' for a good thing, but if you're high or something you better tell me before I start wondering if I'm taking advantage of you or something here."
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If he was so recently drunk and Logan can't smell it on him, he has to imagine the man must have somewhat recently showered. And as if to test that theory he drinks in the smell of him with his nose all but buried in Jean-Paul's hair. "You think I needta get your clothes off to do somethin' dirty t'you?"
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He has to smile - he's being sniffed and it's weird that it feels so comfortable. "Okay, point. You're depraved, no wonder I love you."
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His chuckling rumbles against Jean-Paul's ear before he takes a gentle little bite of the pointed top. "Love you too, darlin'," he murmurs like it's the worst kept secret ever.
"Speakin' of clothes. You or Kurt gonna help me figure out how to dress for this... wedding thing."
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"I'd like that," he says." "Chrisse, that's soon. I'll have to coordinate wit' Kurt so we can make sure it's all decorated..." His mind is already trying to seize on details. "Ouais, yes, I'll dress you. You'll look gorgeous."
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