Color My World [Jon/Guy]
Mar. 13th, 2005 12:51 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
palace_jonTakes place a few hours after The Great Cafe Riot.
.
Guy grinned despite himself as he knocked on Jon's door, backing up to lean up against the wall opposite, kicking up his foot and resting it against the wall. It was a few hours since the hullabaloo in the cafeteria, and he figured that Jon should be calmed down enough by now to talk about it. Well, maybe.
Jon cracked the door open an inch and peered out, firmly convinced that someone was coming to give him a good talking to about what had happened downstairs. Somehow, it was supposed to have been his fault and he was suitably nervous, expecting the worst. He tugged his shirt down over his pants and peeked out from under the unruly mop of hair he'd been running his fingers through as he'd paced, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw who his visitor was. "Guy." he breathed, opening the door wider. "Thank goodness."
Dear fuck, what the hell is he wearing? Guy couldn't help thinking, staring wildly for a moment at the eye-melting combo of striped shirt and plaid pants. Then he shook it off. Not why he was here. "You started an orgy in the cafeteria and didn't even invite me," Guy said airily, pushing himself up off the wall and flouncing into Jon's room, plunking himself down on the couch with a grin. "Not polite at all."
"What? No. I didn't." Jon hurried after Guy, clueless as to why Guy was insisting on this, yet again. And why was he smiling? Jon sat down on the seat opposite, twisting his fingers together and plainly anxious. "Guy, I swear to you. I didn't do anything!"
"Sorry mate, but you did. You didn't mean to, but you did. Bloody Talent's, always causing mischief and mayhem." Guy said, shaking his head and sighing. "An' don't fuckin' swear, Jon- it's unbecoming to you."
"I . . . swear . . . I . . . what?" Jon shook his head in complete confusion and then couldn't see, pushing his fringe aside impatiently. "What about my Talent?" he asked. "It doesn't do anything."
"Does. You just never knew that it did because the last time you talked to anyone about it you weren't having orgasms and stuff. Talked to a mate of mine, and he said that Charisma radiates outward. Those closest to you are drawn to you, an' if they're further away, they're drawn to whoever's the one nearest to 'em at the time. It affects whatever the base existing emotion is- basic animal magnetism, essentially." Guy explained.
Jon's mouth opened and closed like a fish as he tried to assimilate Guy's words. "It does?" he gaped. "Oh . . . my." A mental picture of the man covered in ketchup crossed his mind. "Oh, goodness!" The lady, lying on the table with that man on . . . "Oh dear Heavens!" The three men who were . . . "Oh, shit!" Jon buried his face in his hands and refused to come up.
Oh, cunting fuck. He's swearing. "Jon- hey, c'mon, mate- it's not that bad. You were just amplifying what they already wanted at the base of things-- no one was doing anything they didn't want, at some level."
"But . . . but . . . but." Jon's head was shaking and he looked up at Guy from between spread fingers, his face scarlet. "It was my fault!" he insisted. "I was feeling so good, so happy and I was sitting there in the cafeteria wishing I could share my joy with the entire world! And look what happened! Oh my." He felt like crying. Whatever was he going to do now? Surely he'd have to return to the monastery, his tail between his legs, unfit company for the world at large. He couldn't possibly continue to inflict himself on decent people! "I'll have to go back." he mumbled miserably.
Guy cocked his head to the side, looking puzzled. "Go back where?"
"Why, to the seminary of course." Jon was astonished that Guy couldn't see that and he looked up, dropping his hands away, forgetting his embarassment for the moment.
Guy's eyes opened wide. "Wow- is that ever a stupid idea."
"No it's not!" Jon argued, his surprise complete. "I can't go around . . ." he waved his hands wildly in the air " . . . zapping people willy-nilly whenever I feel good! I'll have to retire to an Order somewhere." He considered the notion and nodded, "Yes. Perhaps a Noble Order of Silent Friars or the like. No visitors you see." He looked at Guy, encouraging him to understand.
"Jon... Follow along with me for a moment here. You're with the order of silent flowers or whatever, and you have a really good day. You're really happy. Start vibing away... " Guy paused, waiting to see if Jon would pick up on it or not.
"I . . . oh." Jon's eyes widened. The truth finally hit him. No matter where he went where there were people, even friars, his Talent would . . . "I'm doomed." he whispered.
"Now c'mon- don't go being overdramatic," Guy said, his voice softly chiding. "You're not the first person to have to deal with a Talent like this- not by a long shot. 'S easy- just have to get you trained up, bing-bang-boom, you only zap the willing!"
"Trained?" For a moment, Jon saw a glimmer of hope. Then it faded and he was bereft once more. He shook his head, seeing endless years of solitude and virginity looming solid in his future. "I'm too old." he lamented.
"Joooon," Guy lolled on the couch and whined at him. "Stop bein' so fuckin' negative already! This is Palace- land of the Talent misfits. A lot of Talent's are particularly applicable to pleasure service, so a large segment of the Talented population wind up here- if there's anywhere in Calera that they'll know how to help you- it's here. Plus- most Talent's manifest at twenty-five, so you're hardly over the hill at twenty-fuckin'-seven. Christ, mate- me mate just finished training up a thirty-two year old, and his mate just wrapped up a forty-five year old!"
Jon straightened, the burden of his virginity, err, his Talent, receding once more in the bright light of hope. "Really?" He crept over to the edge of his seat. "Forty-five? That's old!" He grinned at Guy, happy once more. "So, someone can teach me, yes? To make it . . . behave?"
"Yep! Spank it right down into behaving itself!" Guy nodded decisively.
"Wow!" Jon was bouncing on the cushion, his world-view turned rosy once more. He clapped his hands with delight. "Thank you, Guy! You're a wonderful friend!"
Guy grinned, glad to see Jon so happy again... really brought out the color in his lips... god those fucking- "Christ, Jon- dial it back- ummm- think of a smashed puppy!" Guy ordered, shaking his head, trying to get Jon's Charisma out of his head.
"What? Oh! Eww!" Jon stopped bouncing, took a few deep breaths and tried to imagine . . . Brother Charles in the wash-house. It worked and he felt the tingly sensation abating. "I was doing it, wasn't I?" he asked apologetically.
"Just a little bit, yeah," Guy said, taking a deep breath and adjusting his trousers. "But don't worry- they'll find you a tutor and it'll all work out fine." Guy said, smiling at Jon, trying not to actively shudder at his clothes. Speaking of which... "Hey Jon- do they pay you to work here? Something... anything at all?"
Taken aback by the sudden change in subject, Jon had to rapidly adjust his thoughts. "Umm, yes, of course. Why? Will I have to pay to learn?" He sat back just a little in his seat and folded his fingers together like a child trying to be good.
"No, don't think that's how it works at all... I just thought... well, maybe it'd be nice... if you had some- oh fuck it-- Jon, you look like you were dressed by a blind clown, mate. Sorry to say it, but we need to get you some new clothes." Guy finally gave up and went for blunt.
"Clothes?" Once again thrown into complete confusion by Guy's abrupt switch, Jon looked down at his trousers and shirt. "Why? What's wrong with them? They're perfectly servicable. Some are even almost new!"
"They don't match, Jon. They don't even belong on the same planet, let alone on the same body at the same time. C'mon, mate. Lemme take you shopping. Get you some stuff that really looks good." Guy wheedled.
"Match?" Jon's brow furrowed and he stared even harder at the fabric, trying to see whatever it was that was bothering Guy. Eventually he gave up and glanced up at his friend with a pleading look. "I don't understand." he said. "What doesn't . . . match?"
"Okay, first of all, you've got two different patterns going on here- you've got a striped shirt with plaid pants, which is just, god, so many levels of no, and the shirt is orange and blue striped, and the pants are kind of a teal... I'm really not sure what we call this, but I know those colors don't exist in nature. It's just bad-- think of how Jude dresses when he's off the books- now that's style- that's how things match," Guy said fervently, not realizing he'd mentioned Jude until a few beats after he'd finished speaking.
"It is? They are?" Jon looked down at himself once more and then shrugged. "I don't see colors." he said simply. "Is it important?"
Guy blinked. Several times. "You don't see colors? At all?" he said- stunned.
"No." Jon told him without emphasis. It was a fact, a simple truth and he'd never given it much thought really. "I have monochromatic color blindness." he said. "I see gray and black and white, nothing else."
"Huh. Never heard of that." Guy said, taking a moment to ponder this over. "Okay, then you definitely need new clothes- stuff that you can wear without worrying whether stuff matches or not- neutral pants probably- blacks and grays, some nice dark denim, then the shirts can mix it up a bit more." Guy cocked his head to the side and looked at Jon, narrowing his eyes. "I see you in a lot of blue, meself." he decided, nodding his head firmly.
"You do?" Jon blinked. "I, well, thank you. But . . . clothes?" he shook his head. "I don't know, Guy. I'm not good at clothes."
"Oh, you don't have to be. Believe me- you're not going to be doing any of the selection other then telling me if it fits well or not," Guy said, looking at Jon's current outfit with a shudder."
"I . . . Oh, that would be nice." Jon finally got what Guy was hinting at and beamed at him. "You wouldn't mind advising me? I mean, I have money saved." He flushed slightly. "Quite a bit since, well, since the refund."
Guy cut the wink to Jon. "Consider it a public service," he said solemnly.
Jon giggled and bit his bottom lip. "That bad, huh?" He'd enough confidence in his friendship with Guy to bat his eyelashes at him and say coquettishly, "Perhaps no clothes would be even better?"
Guy beamed, then pretended to wipe a tear away. "'M so fuckin' proud. Me little man's getting all grown up and sassy."
"And soon your little man will get laid." It just . . . popped out and Jon slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide and unable to believe he'd just said that! Out loud!
Guy stared at Jon for a solid few seconds, then lost it completely, rolling off the couch and landing on the floor with a loud 'thump', tears streaming down his face. "Jesus fuck, Jon- don't ever change, yeah?" he gasped out between rounds of giggles.
Jon was delighted that he'd managed to make Guy laugh. He dropped his hand away from his mouth and bent his head, watching Guy roll around on the floor. "But Guy," he said, his voice and manner completely innocent. "I thought you just said you wanted me to change. Make up your mind." he chortled.
"Your clothes- not your- oh you cheeky little BUGGER!" Guy snorted, losing it again
This was fun! Jon was excited once again, his brief depression over the contretemps in the cafe forgotten. He leaned down and tickled Guy's ribs. "You're so cute when you do that." he told him. "You sound just like one of Brother Erasmus's wee piglets."
"Hey- just you watch it, or I'll have you dressed like an Easter bonnet and you'll never know the difference," Guy threatened, swatting at Jon's hand and grinning.
"When can we go?" Jon asked, grabbing hold of Guy's fingers and hanging on. "The sooner the better if I'm such a walking disaster area." he advised cheekily.
"Oh, we can go right now," Guy said, wiping tears off his cheeks and boosting himself up off the ground. "But not dressed like that. Lemme take a look at your closet... actually, on second thought, I think I'll just dress you out of mine. Stick a belt on you, the pants might stay up long enough to get you a pair of yer own. Hey- did I ever tell you about the time Jude sucked me off in a public change-room?" Guy said brightly, turning over his shoulder and grinning at Jon.
"No." Jon happily followed Guy out the door, remembering at the last moment to grab his keycard and his wallet before closing it firmly behind him. "You can do that . . . .?"
.
Guy grinned despite himself as he knocked on Jon's door, backing up to lean up against the wall opposite, kicking up his foot and resting it against the wall. It was a few hours since the hullabaloo in the cafeteria, and he figured that Jon should be calmed down enough by now to talk about it. Well, maybe.
Jon cracked the door open an inch and peered out, firmly convinced that someone was coming to give him a good talking to about what had happened downstairs. Somehow, it was supposed to have been his fault and he was suitably nervous, expecting the worst. He tugged his shirt down over his pants and peeked out from under the unruly mop of hair he'd been running his fingers through as he'd paced, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw who his visitor was. "Guy." he breathed, opening the door wider. "Thank goodness."
Dear fuck, what the hell is he wearing? Guy couldn't help thinking, staring wildly for a moment at the eye-melting combo of striped shirt and plaid pants. Then he shook it off. Not why he was here. "You started an orgy in the cafeteria and didn't even invite me," Guy said airily, pushing himself up off the wall and flouncing into Jon's room, plunking himself down on the couch with a grin. "Not polite at all."
"What? No. I didn't." Jon hurried after Guy, clueless as to why Guy was insisting on this, yet again. And why was he smiling? Jon sat down on the seat opposite, twisting his fingers together and plainly anxious. "Guy, I swear to you. I didn't do anything!"
"Sorry mate, but you did. You didn't mean to, but you did. Bloody Talent's, always causing mischief and mayhem." Guy said, shaking his head and sighing. "An' don't fuckin' swear, Jon- it's unbecoming to you."
"I . . . swear . . . I . . . what?" Jon shook his head in complete confusion and then couldn't see, pushing his fringe aside impatiently. "What about my Talent?" he asked. "It doesn't do anything."
"Does. You just never knew that it did because the last time you talked to anyone about it you weren't having orgasms and stuff. Talked to a mate of mine, and he said that Charisma radiates outward. Those closest to you are drawn to you, an' if they're further away, they're drawn to whoever's the one nearest to 'em at the time. It affects whatever the base existing emotion is- basic animal magnetism, essentially." Guy explained.
Jon's mouth opened and closed like a fish as he tried to assimilate Guy's words. "It does?" he gaped. "Oh . . . my." A mental picture of the man covered in ketchup crossed his mind. "Oh, goodness!" The lady, lying on the table with that man on . . . "Oh dear Heavens!" The three men who were . . . "Oh, shit!" Jon buried his face in his hands and refused to come up.
Oh, cunting fuck. He's swearing. "Jon- hey, c'mon, mate- it's not that bad. You were just amplifying what they already wanted at the base of things-- no one was doing anything they didn't want, at some level."
"But . . . but . . . but." Jon's head was shaking and he looked up at Guy from between spread fingers, his face scarlet. "It was my fault!" he insisted. "I was feeling so good, so happy and I was sitting there in the cafeteria wishing I could share my joy with the entire world! And look what happened! Oh my." He felt like crying. Whatever was he going to do now? Surely he'd have to return to the monastery, his tail between his legs, unfit company for the world at large. He couldn't possibly continue to inflict himself on decent people! "I'll have to go back." he mumbled miserably.
Guy cocked his head to the side, looking puzzled. "Go back where?"
"Why, to the seminary of course." Jon was astonished that Guy couldn't see that and he looked up, dropping his hands away, forgetting his embarassment for the moment.
Guy's eyes opened wide. "Wow- is that ever a stupid idea."
"No it's not!" Jon argued, his surprise complete. "I can't go around . . ." he waved his hands wildly in the air " . . . zapping people willy-nilly whenever I feel good! I'll have to retire to an Order somewhere." He considered the notion and nodded, "Yes. Perhaps a Noble Order of Silent Friars or the like. No visitors you see." He looked at Guy, encouraging him to understand.
"Jon... Follow along with me for a moment here. You're with the order of silent flowers or whatever, and you have a really good day. You're really happy. Start vibing away... " Guy paused, waiting to see if Jon would pick up on it or not.
"I . . . oh." Jon's eyes widened. The truth finally hit him. No matter where he went where there were people, even friars, his Talent would . . . "I'm doomed." he whispered.
"Now c'mon- don't go being overdramatic," Guy said, his voice softly chiding. "You're not the first person to have to deal with a Talent like this- not by a long shot. 'S easy- just have to get you trained up, bing-bang-boom, you only zap the willing!"
"Trained?" For a moment, Jon saw a glimmer of hope. Then it faded and he was bereft once more. He shook his head, seeing endless years of solitude and virginity looming solid in his future. "I'm too old." he lamented.
"Joooon," Guy lolled on the couch and whined at him. "Stop bein' so fuckin' negative already! This is Palace- land of the Talent misfits. A lot of Talent's are particularly applicable to pleasure service, so a large segment of the Talented population wind up here- if there's anywhere in Calera that they'll know how to help you- it's here. Plus- most Talent's manifest at twenty-five, so you're hardly over the hill at twenty-fuckin'-seven. Christ, mate- me mate just finished training up a thirty-two year old, and his mate just wrapped up a forty-five year old!"
Jon straightened, the burden of his virginity, err, his Talent, receding once more in the bright light of hope. "Really?" He crept over to the edge of his seat. "Forty-five? That's old!" He grinned at Guy, happy once more. "So, someone can teach me, yes? To make it . . . behave?"
"Yep! Spank it right down into behaving itself!" Guy nodded decisively.
"Wow!" Jon was bouncing on the cushion, his world-view turned rosy once more. He clapped his hands with delight. "Thank you, Guy! You're a wonderful friend!"
Guy grinned, glad to see Jon so happy again... really brought out the color in his lips... god those fucking- "Christ, Jon- dial it back- ummm- think of a smashed puppy!" Guy ordered, shaking his head, trying to get Jon's Charisma out of his head.
"What? Oh! Eww!" Jon stopped bouncing, took a few deep breaths and tried to imagine . . . Brother Charles in the wash-house. It worked and he felt the tingly sensation abating. "I was doing it, wasn't I?" he asked apologetically.
"Just a little bit, yeah," Guy said, taking a deep breath and adjusting his trousers. "But don't worry- they'll find you a tutor and it'll all work out fine." Guy said, smiling at Jon, trying not to actively shudder at his clothes. Speaking of which... "Hey Jon- do they pay you to work here? Something... anything at all?"
Taken aback by the sudden change in subject, Jon had to rapidly adjust his thoughts. "Umm, yes, of course. Why? Will I have to pay to learn?" He sat back just a little in his seat and folded his fingers together like a child trying to be good.
"No, don't think that's how it works at all... I just thought... well, maybe it'd be nice... if you had some- oh fuck it-- Jon, you look like you were dressed by a blind clown, mate. Sorry to say it, but we need to get you some new clothes." Guy finally gave up and went for blunt.
"Clothes?" Once again thrown into complete confusion by Guy's abrupt switch, Jon looked down at his trousers and shirt. "Why? What's wrong with them? They're perfectly servicable. Some are even almost new!"
"They don't match, Jon. They don't even belong on the same planet, let alone on the same body at the same time. C'mon, mate. Lemme take you shopping. Get you some stuff that really looks good." Guy wheedled.
"Match?" Jon's brow furrowed and he stared even harder at the fabric, trying to see whatever it was that was bothering Guy. Eventually he gave up and glanced up at his friend with a pleading look. "I don't understand." he said. "What doesn't . . . match?"
"Okay, first of all, you've got two different patterns going on here- you've got a striped shirt with plaid pants, which is just, god, so many levels of no, and the shirt is orange and blue striped, and the pants are kind of a teal... I'm really not sure what we call this, but I know those colors don't exist in nature. It's just bad-- think of how Jude dresses when he's off the books- now that's style- that's how things match," Guy said fervently, not realizing he'd mentioned Jude until a few beats after he'd finished speaking.
"It is? They are?" Jon looked down at himself once more and then shrugged. "I don't see colors." he said simply. "Is it important?"
Guy blinked. Several times. "You don't see colors? At all?" he said- stunned.
"No." Jon told him without emphasis. It was a fact, a simple truth and he'd never given it much thought really. "I have monochromatic color blindness." he said. "I see gray and black and white, nothing else."
"Huh. Never heard of that." Guy said, taking a moment to ponder this over. "Okay, then you definitely need new clothes- stuff that you can wear without worrying whether stuff matches or not- neutral pants probably- blacks and grays, some nice dark denim, then the shirts can mix it up a bit more." Guy cocked his head to the side and looked at Jon, narrowing his eyes. "I see you in a lot of blue, meself." he decided, nodding his head firmly.
"You do?" Jon blinked. "I, well, thank you. But . . . clothes?" he shook his head. "I don't know, Guy. I'm not good at clothes."
"Oh, you don't have to be. Believe me- you're not going to be doing any of the selection other then telling me if it fits well or not," Guy said, looking at Jon's current outfit with a shudder."
"I . . . Oh, that would be nice." Jon finally got what Guy was hinting at and beamed at him. "You wouldn't mind advising me? I mean, I have money saved." He flushed slightly. "Quite a bit since, well, since the refund."
Guy cut the wink to Jon. "Consider it a public service," he said solemnly.
Jon giggled and bit his bottom lip. "That bad, huh?" He'd enough confidence in his friendship with Guy to bat his eyelashes at him and say coquettishly, "Perhaps no clothes would be even better?"
Guy beamed, then pretended to wipe a tear away. "'M so fuckin' proud. Me little man's getting all grown up and sassy."
"And soon your little man will get laid." It just . . . popped out and Jon slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide and unable to believe he'd just said that! Out loud!
Guy stared at Jon for a solid few seconds, then lost it completely, rolling off the couch and landing on the floor with a loud 'thump', tears streaming down his face. "Jesus fuck, Jon- don't ever change, yeah?" he gasped out between rounds of giggles.
Jon was delighted that he'd managed to make Guy laugh. He dropped his hand away from his mouth and bent his head, watching Guy roll around on the floor. "But Guy," he said, his voice and manner completely innocent. "I thought you just said you wanted me to change. Make up your mind." he chortled.
"Your clothes- not your- oh you cheeky little BUGGER!" Guy snorted, losing it again
This was fun! Jon was excited once again, his brief depression over the contretemps in the cafe forgotten. He leaned down and tickled Guy's ribs. "You're so cute when you do that." he told him. "You sound just like one of Brother Erasmus's wee piglets."
"Hey- just you watch it, or I'll have you dressed like an Easter bonnet and you'll never know the difference," Guy threatened, swatting at Jon's hand and grinning.
"When can we go?" Jon asked, grabbing hold of Guy's fingers and hanging on. "The sooner the better if I'm such a walking disaster area." he advised cheekily.
"Oh, we can go right now," Guy said, wiping tears off his cheeks and boosting himself up off the ground. "But not dressed like that. Lemme take a look at your closet... actually, on second thought, I think I'll just dress you out of mine. Stick a belt on you, the pants might stay up long enough to get you a pair of yer own. Hey- did I ever tell you about the time Jude sucked me off in a public change-room?" Guy said brightly, turning over his shoulder and grinning at Jon.
"No." Jon happily followed Guy out the door, remembering at the last moment to grab his keycard and his wallet before closing it firmly behind him. "You can do that . . . .?"
