multiversallogs | you load sixteen tons, and what do you get

Who: Remy & Tommy.
What: Awkwardness.
Where: House of TBA (it's like House of M, but with less horror!)
When: Presently.
Notes: Knowing is half the battle.
Warnings: None/TBD.

In between bouts of cheerful networking and the things he does under cover of (sometimes literal, sometimes metaphorical) darkness, Remy has a whole host of miscellaneous activities - some he's gotten used to living with Wanda out there in the nexus, others he's only ever had passing experience with. Things that can be skewed as 'domesticity' have always been elusive for him, or colored with a very unique shade. Yes, he's worked at a school - but he taught field combat, primarily, and when he subbed in phys ed they played neuron laser tag. He's rebuilt homes, mansions, redone plumbing, but only ever with the help of people who could move whole walls at a whim.

So it's weird, but in a nice way, to sit outside in the garden and smoke cigarettes and watch chicken slowly change color on the grill. Remy's always been mindful to only smoke outdoors, and the chicken was going to go bad soon, and it's warm enough out for it, and he's got a couple of beers, and... it's really, painfully mundane, and sometimes he wishes he could turn the nervous readiness that exists like a subtextual hum in the back of his head off. Sometimes he wonders if people do this sort of thing and no worry about, hell, Sentinels, at the same time. Must be interesting.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

There's no particular reason for Tommy to be walking at normal speed, except that he feels like it. It's nice outside, and when you're going at superspeed, you can't feel the breeze on your face.

Granted, the moment he steps out into the garden, he realizes why normal speed sucks: Gambit is sitting out in the open. And he's probably seen Tommy.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

It's not like Tommy's been- okay, he's totally been purposefully avoiding Gambit. But he's been pretty subtle about it! And also, he's had good reasons. After all, what do you say to the guy who your mom is dating when you've only just realized that she's your mom and she's alive and she doesn't hate you? It's just plain awkward.

But now Tommy's walked into the garden and turning around would just make him look like a tool.

"Um." He shuffles and waves awkwardly in Gambit's direction. "Heeeeeeey there."

Because Tommy's been purposeful with his avoidance, Remy's been letting him - and pretending not to notice. Even in normal situations where one parent starts dating again, things are bound to be uncomfortable (at least), so he's not about to go deliberately making things worse. He's just been carrying on, saying hi when the opportunity calls for it, and letting the boys do their own thing. He's nobody's father.

"Hey man," he says, leaning forward on his elbows, and making sure to hold his cigarette at an angle where Tommy will be the least assaulted by second-hand smoke. In contrast, he's as calm and casual as can be. "I know it's early to be settin' in on dinner but I was concerned this might grow legs and leave the house if I didn't char it a bit."

Even though he's trying to play it cool, if you're looking, it's obvious that Tommy's on edge. There's a certain blurring around the edges of his body, a tension in his form that goes past the natural high-energy of a speedster.

"Yeah, well, I like food, so early dinner's not really a problem over here."

That's an understatement. Tommy hasn't been full since his powers really kicked in. He manages to hit "not hungry" most of the time, but there's always room for more. Always. It's given him a bit of an obsession with food, and the fearless, impulsive part of him wants to zip over to the grill to check out the chicken and estimate just how much of it he can eat while leaving enough for everyone else to have dinner too.

He almost does it, but just as his feet are about to move, he remembers that Gambit is there and he doesn't want to get too close to him yet. What if the dude tries to go all fatherly bonding? That... no. Not chancing that, thanks. So Tommy hangs back where he can run if things get weird.

Remy assumes he's going to bolt, and so he gives him a moment in which he can do so, masked by taking a drag of his cigarette. He's a little surprised when Tommy stays where he is, though he doesn't let it show. This one's the wild card, he knows. Growing up under circumstances like that will do it to a person - something he is intimately familiar with.

"I'll probably throw somethin' else together, too." For Billy; there's really no way in hell this grill is kosher. "You been keepin' busy?"

"Yeah, I guess so." If by busy, you mean causing random acts of mischief because he hasn't really figured out what he wants to do here. He never does anything particularly harmful, but man, that chick down the street is getting pretty pissed off about the fact that she can never find her keys.

Tommy crosses his arms and continues to look decidedly stiff. Remy hasn't done anything wrong at all... which is exactly why Tommy is slowly getting more and more ready for something to explode. He just doesn't have enough good experiences with older male figures to expect anything different.

"If that something else's for Billy, it better be kosher."

So in the absence of anything to be offended about, he's decided to be pre-emptive. And hey, big brothers are supposed to look out for their little bros, right?

"That's the idea."

Sorry, Tommy. It's not quite so easy to rile him - a couple of people alive can, but they're super villains, not teenagers who have every right to be wound up about him. Remy puts his cigarette out and then moves to stick some more of whatever mystery sauce he's using to cook on the chicken. "It's been a while since I paid much attention to what I put in anythin' - Cajun cooking's like that - but I lived with vegans before, so." He shrugs, easy. The Southern kick to his voice makes everything he says sound mellow, which is helpful in this moment; even the smallest of edges can't hurt.

Besides, he gets along pretty okay with Billy already, it's not like he's going to spontaneously turn evil and start making inedible food.

"Hmph. Yeah, well. Okay."

He's trying hard to stay cold, but Tommy's curiosity gets the better of him. After a couple seconds of watching Remy tend to the chicken, he unfolds his arms and zips up close to try and nab a taste of the sauce.

"So what's in this?"

Because it smells hella good and his stomach is starting to growl unhappily at him.

"Uh... stuff."

It's spicy, anyway, and smells good, but Remy's methods of cooking veer more towards memory and what he feels like throwing together at the time versus silly things like recipes or good sense. "If you wanna get a plate, it should be about dead by now."

IT'S A JOKE. Also, hopefully Tommy likes his chicken blackened. Remy starts pulling pieces off the grill, feeling a little bit like some kind of wilderness outback documenteer leaving bribes out for wild animals...

you load sixteen tons, and what do you get

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;lkajsdlkf sorry D:

<333

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