Fic: An Idiot or Just Stupid (Bobby/St. John) X2
- Title: An Idiot or Just Stupid
Pairing: Bobby/St. John
Rating: PG-13, at most
Summary: Bobby misunderstands
A/N: Fluff. Stop me, please. Completely unbeta'ed. All mistakes are
solely my own (except for Bobby's. I had nothing to do with those).
Other notes at the end.
"So, are you an idiot, or are you just stupid?"
"Huh?" Is the only coherent response Bobby can come up with as his
head whips around and he sees John leaning against the TV-room door.
The tone of his voice and the stance of his body are casual, nearly
friendly, but his right hand is jiggling his Zippo up and down and
back and forth, and his eyebrow is cocked in that particular way that
means he's actually quite pissed off.
And Bobby has no idea what about, but apparently it has something to
do with him.
"What are you talking about?" he asks in an attempt to be
understanding. Or rather, in an attempt to understand.
Now John gives him a look like he's decided the idiot or stupid
question, and the decision is not in Bobby's favor, and straightens
up. "Never mind. It's not important," he says with a roll of his eyes
and walks off, lighter clicking in his hand.
Jubilee looks at Bobby from the other end of the couch and
grins. "Trouble in paradise?"
"Huh?" His head whips around in the other direction and again,
there's something he's apparently not getting.
"You stand him up or something?" she asks.
"Stand him up? How could I stand him up?" Bobby's not so good with
the declarative statements at the moment, but since all of a sudden
all he has are questions (which could really be summed up as "What
the fuck?") he's just going to keep asking them for a while.
"Didn't you guys have a date or something?" Jubilee asks, leaning
forward to snag the remote off the coffee table by his feet.
A date? No, they didn't have a date. But--oh, shit, they *did* have
plans for that afternoon. They were going to catch the bus to the
train station and take the train into the city. To Queens, actually,
to the television museum there. John had mentioned it last week. The
museum had a room where they let you play old--like 20-year-old--
video games in their original arcade setup. They had Pac Man,
Centipede, Galaga, Pole Position--that was the game John had been
really psyched about. Bobby and John were supposed to take the 11:30
bus so they'd have a few hours to play the games before the museum
closed. And it's now--12:45. Shit. There's no way they'll make it now.
But--that still didn't make it a *date*. "It's not a date; we were
just going into the city," he explains, at last finding a non-
interrogative phrase in his arsenal.
She raises one eyebrow at him (and why, he wonders, can everyone do
that but him?) and comes back with: "Uh-huh. You sure about
that? 'Cause he was looking a little dressed up for just hanging out
in the Virgin Megastore."
"We're not dating--" he begins to argue, because they're not. A
couple of gropes in the shower and one ill-timed and abbreviated
makeout session do not constitute "dating," even in Bobby's confused
and rather blank book.
But--and now the pieces are coming together and Bobby begins to
wonder whether he's an idiot or just stupid. Because while he's
pretty sure what they've been doing doesn't count as "dating" as far
as John's concerned either, maybe John wants it to. And maybe this
excursion today was supposed to be a step in that direction. And
maybe Bobby's just fucked it all up by being, well, an idiot. Or
stupid. Because the idea of this being a date doesn't actually seem
like a bad idea at all, now that he thinks about it. In fact, it
sounds--it sounds like he'd better go try and apologize before John
decides that dating Bobby *is* a bad idea.
"Um, I'd better--go, and--" he mumbles, getting up off the sofa and
heading for the stairs, Jubilee's amused, "yeah, you better"
When he gets to their room, he finds John sprawled on his bed,
listlessly clicking the Zippo open and closed. He's not even lighting
it, just spinning the wheel. As Bobby walks in, John's eyes flicker
up and then back to the lighter. That's all the acknowledgement he
bothers with. Bobby hangs back by the door and looks, carefully. New
(er) sneakers, clean, dark jeans, one of his less-ugly shirts over a
t-shirt that actually belongs to Bobby. Hair slicked back, yes, it
looks like John thought of this as a date. Well, hell.
"Um, look, I'm sorry. I completely forgot that was today," he begins,
not knowing how to go about saying, "sorry I didn't realize this was
a date, because I obviously wasn't paying attention when your tongue
was in my ear the other day."
"Whatever. It's no big deal," John says, still staring at the lighter
like it's the most fascinating thing ever. Which isn't all that
helpful since to John his Zippo *is* the most fascinating thing ever.
Bobby thinks he'd like it if John looked at him like that some time.
"No," he says, coming over and sitting down on the side of the
bed. "It is a big deal. And I'm really sorry. I...I'd like--" and he
*can't* say "I'd like to make it up to you" because that sounds
cheesy and lame and way too grown-up. But he puts his hand on John's
knee and leans in, because he *does* want to make it up to John, he
just isn't sure what he's doing.
At his touch John looks up at him, finally, and Bobby sees what he's
pretty sure John would *really* *really* like to keep hidden. Fear,
and hope, and a lot of uncertainty. And he's suddenly got an idea
about how to at least *start* to apologize. So he leans farther
forward and his hand slides up John's leg a little. John's breath
catches for a second and his eyes get big and his hands actually stop
playing with the damn lighter.
And yes, here's the final confirmation that John thought this was a
date, because he's either just brushed his teeth or had a mint, or
both. But he had a cigarette too, not too long ago, and Bobby loves
that. His mouth tastes smoky, and sexy, and just a little bit
dangerous, which is perfect, because it's exactly the way he thinks
of John. And then John's tongue is in his mouth and he panics for a
moment, wondering what the last thing *he* ate was. Chocolate ice
cream, right, which isn't too bad he decides, especially since he has
a weakness for mint chocolate chip. All this flashes through his head
in the second before he feels John's tongue run along the roof of his
mouth and then he groans and sucks John's upper lip into his mouth.
John's fingers twine themselves in the short hair at the back of
Bobby's head and pull, just enough to sting a little. He lets John
use his grip to pull him down onto him, and then their legs are
tangled up and their cocks are brushing against each other through
their jeans, and they're still kissing. John's other hand is around
Bobby's waist, and both of Bobby's hands are running through John's
And as he pulls back for a breath and looks at John, eyes at half-
mast, smoky and sexy like the taste of his mouth, lips wet and
swollen and tongue caught between his front teeth, Bobby decides that
if this is what misunderstandings lead to, he might have to
misunderstand more often from now on.
"I really am sorry, and I'd like to make it up to you," he manages to
get out this time.
John just grins and tugs on his hair again. "Oh, don't worry. You
can. I'm sure you'll think of something." And then pulls him down for
another kiss and Bobby doesn't think of much of anything for quite a
Note: The museum Bobby and John are going to is actually the American
Museum of the Moving Image.
(http://www.queensnewyork.com/cultural/moving/image.html) It's been a
few years since I've been there, but back in '99 or 2000 they had an
exhibit of old arcade-style video games (Pac Man! Ms. Pac Man!
Centipede! The original Star Wars video game!), and visitors could
get a certain number of tokens to play the games. I don't know if
they're still on display. I hope so. It was neat.