Jonathan Michael Bennett (jon_bennett) wrote in immune_ic, @ 2012-08-29 11:34:00 |
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Entry tags: | # 2012 [08] august |
WHO: Jon and Marcus
WHAT: Finally meeting each other.
WHERE: Jon's normal circuit.
WHEN: 29 August 2019; Morning.
RATING: I can't really say M for Marcus, because it's actually fairly low.
STATUS: Complete.
Jon loved running. He’d loved it for as long as he could remember. Even when he was found to be Immune and they had him running errands, he lavished in the fact that he was allowed to use that particular skill.
Nearly every morning, Jon went for a jog. It helped clear his mind sometimes, or gave him time to think other times. This particular morning, his mind was on Lulu. Things were going great between them and he couldn’t be happier. It was also on the zombies outside the wall. Jon wasn’t sure how long they could really keep them out. Had himself convinced that they were living under a false sense of security. But until he had more reason than just a feeling to say something, he’d keep his concerns to himself.
He’d rounded a corner as the song on his iPod ended. Slowing to a light walk, he paced across the grass. Cooldown. Stopping abruptly was not a good idea. His lungs burned, but it was a good burn. Exhilarating. He pulled the earbuds from his ears and wrapped them around his music player as he eventually stopped pacing, and began his after-run stretches.
--
Marcus had come out intending to run for at least a good forty-five minutes. He’d had to stagger his schedule a bit when he’d injured his hand. Boxer’s fractures and weights didn’t really mix, so he’d started running more often to make up for the lack. However, when he saw the other man out on the field finishing up before him, he decided to take an unscheduled break. It wasn’t that the guy was stop-in-his-tracks gorgeous, but he looked about his own age, and Marcus had a no stone left unturned policy he’d been neglecting lately in his pursuit of his little bird. He hadn’t been batting a great average, and he couldn’t allow that to be for lack of trying. So he cut his run a bit short in order to go introduce himself.
“Hey, hombre,” he called, jogging over to where Jon was stretching. Actually, the guy wasn’t half bad-looking at that. The exercise obviously wasn’t a recent hobby, given by the muscle tone in the man’s legs. Nice. Marcus smirked, though he tried to have a more friendly, less predatory expression on his face by the time Jon turned around to face him. “I see you out here a lot. Que bien te ves. You training every fucking day or what?”
--
He'd been in a quad stretch when Marcus addressed him. Was that Spanish? It'd been awhile since he'd been addressed in Spanish. Or even Spanglish for that matter. His mother would kill him if she found out he was starting to get rusty. Or so he thought.
"Hey, extraño," Jon replied with a nod. He would have commented on Marcus' height, but chose not to as Marcus probably heard it every single time he met someone. One glance over told Jon that Marcus worked out, on a fairly regular basis. Never mind the fact that Jon had seen him in the gym on more than one occasion. Just never the same time Jon was there. They'd both managed to not actually cross paths until today. And that was probably more on Marcus than Jon, as Marcus was the one who had done the approaching.
He let go of his leg, to swap for the other, turning to face Marcus more squarely. "Gracias, but no, I just like to run," he shrugged. "And keeping a routine is nice." He pointed at his head.
"Keeps things together in the cabeza, ya know?" His Spanish accent was creeping out. It didn't take much. That meant that most of the English that followed would be at least slightly accented. Well, at least he wasn't attempting Mandarin. Lulu always laughed at that. Jon set his other leg down and reached for a water bottle that had been stowed by his windbreaker. He made a motion of offering it to Marcus, just in case. "What about you? You don't seem the running type. No offense."
--
The second the other man started speaking Spanish, Marcus’s smile widened into a full grin. He hadn’t conversed with a native speaker since Helena left. “Heh, sí, I hear that.”
He waved off the water with his injured right hand, and then kept in the air for a few beats, since it was already lifted. “Mostly stick to the gym, but can’t exactly lift weights right now. Ni modo, right? Used to run three, four nights a week, but my schedule got all fucked up lately. They made that fucking curfew, and I haven’t gone back to old habits. You got a name, hombre?”
--
Jon nodded. “Sí, you strike me more as the type to focus on weights. Maybe a little boxing? You look like you could take a couple decent sized hombres on and not lose too much sleep over it.”
He took a drink and dropped the bottle back on top of his windbreaker. “What happened? If you don’t mind my asking,” he motioned to Marcus’ hand. He nodded again when Marcus mentioned the curfew. Jon had spent most of the curfew hours either in his own room, or watching late night chick flicks at Lulu’s demand. He’d probably seen every old timey romantic movie she could find. If she hadn’t let him watch some Bond in there, Jon would most likely have forked over his man card.
“Oh, yeah,” he smiled. “My name’s Jon.” He offered his left hand to Marcus, since shaking an injured hand wasn’t a good idea in the slightest. “Yours?”
--
"Heh. Could take a couple pendejos in my sleep," Marcus bragged, in a goodnatured way. He enjoyed comments about his size or the way he looked, possibly a little too much. He liked to know that the work he put into his appearance didn't go unnoticed, so generally that kind of comment put him in a good mood straight away. He shrugged. "Boxer's fracture. Lost my temper when I shouldn't've. Don't worry," he flashed his teeth in his signature wolfish grin. "I fucking apologized."
He took Jon's extended left hand in his own, giving it a quick shake and a slight squeeze. Not too firm, but testing the grip a little. "Marcus Caravahlo. So... a que te dedícas? Besides running, that is."
--
“Man, I’d hate to see the other guy,” Jon’s eyebrows raised a bit, not really in shock but for emphasis. Marcus definitely had some power behind what Jon was assuming was his non-dominant hand. So yeah, he’d definitely not want to be on the receiving end of the other man’s temper. Especially once his fracture completely healed.
"Ah, um," Jon's eyebrows furrowed. "As far as here at Sing Sing? Mostly that group Brandon put together. If Lulu's cleaning crew ever gets off the ground, I'll probably be on my hands and knees scrubbing hallways." He rubbed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose for a second, and let out a bit of a laugh. "I don't know why I let her talk me into being a part of that." Actually he did. It was because it was Lulu and Jon had a hard time telling her no. Except when he'd set his mind on moving to Springville pre-outbreak. But that had lead to a nasty breakup.
And then he turned the question back on Marcus. "Y tú?"
--
When Jon said the name, Marcus started to laugh. He couldn’t help it. That had been when of the oddest introductions he’d ever had. He’d never forget the almost haughty asian chick with the silly name. “Oh, man. Lulu. Heh. You a friend of hers?”
He was far more interested in that than he was going into details about his own life, so he just shrugged after asking, and said, “I do a lot of shit. Just not the social type, usually.” This was a blatant lie, of course, given that he’d been very quick to approach Jon just moments before he said it.
--
"Friends. Formerly engaged. Recently reunited?" Jon replied, rubbing at the back of his neck. He was still getting used to having her around again. He laughed a bit, worried his lip slightly. “I take it you two have met?”
He nodded toward Marcus at the “not the social type” comment. “You seem more social that I usually am.” He wasn’t surprised that Marcus had approached him first. That was the way things usually happened. Jon would get lost in his head, and it took someone else to reel him back into reality.
--
“Oh, yeah?” Marcus considered the other man more carefully with that. He was trying to recall the details she’d given to him in their conversation, but it had every appearance of looking Jon over in appraisal. Sizing him up. After a few seconds, he had it. “The schoolteacher, right? Heh. Yeah, she mentioned that. That’s fucking something, you both ending up here.”
That this information probably meant that the other man was straight didn’t put Marcus off his initial goal at all. He was of the opinion that everyone was bisexual until proven otherwise, and those that claimed not to be one way or the other were just liars who hadn’t been properly motivated. “Yeah, sometimes I can be real fucking friendly. Depends on the day.”
--
“I know. Small world,” Jon chuckled. “Even smaller nowadays.” And he nodded as Marcus mentioned that Lulu had mentioned his former profession. “Yeah. Though when you put it like that, ‘schoolteacher’, it makes me kind of sound like a girl.” He hadn’t lost his man card just yet. He was going to do everything in his power to hold on to it. “I coached track and field too. I don’t know if she mentioned that or not.” That last bit shouldn’t have surprised anyone that knew how much Jon ran, as Marcus seemed to.
“Apparently today is one of those days. I feel honored to have one of your more social days,” he nodded again. Jon was thinking about it now. He now had someone that spoke Spanish that he could brush up on his own with, granted Marcus didn’t mind. He didn’t seem like the type to mind an awful lot, so that was a plus. And with the amount of time Marcus spent in the gym, if Jon needed pointers --which he did more often than not, weights were most definitely not his strong suit-- he now had a familiar face to ask. Jon was grateful that Marcus had decided to come over and strike up a conversation. He seemed like an alright guy.
“You into any sports? Playing or watching. Doesn’t matter to me,” he shrugged. He was looking for conversation pieces, if not for this particular one, for some later down the road. Maybe Marcus was interested in that baseball team O’Brien had mentioned putting together?
--
“She didn’t talk about much,” Marcus said, leaving it at that. He hadn’t pressed Lulu for too much information about her former fiance, at the time being more interested in her. All she’d done was given him the impression that the ex had jumped through hoops, been willing to put in a lot of work at the time, and that maybe it hadn’t been enough for her. That implied that either she had an amazing pussy, or he was one of those meek intellectual types who responded well to minimal attention. Jon didn’t seem too nerdy, or desperate for contact, so it was possible that Lulu just gave ridiculously good head. Of course, maybe the schoolteacher transformed into a desperate lickspittle the second a pair of tits was in the vicinity. Marcus had known guys like that.
Marcus snorted when Jon said he was honored, and didn’t disillusion the guy. No reason to tell him that he wasn’t special. Hell, maybe he was special. Marcus didn’t actually go out of his way to talk to everyone. Just... anyone who happened to cross his path and catch his eye. Which wasn’t an insignificant portion of the population, granted, but there were people Marcus wouldn’t have stopped for. He chuckled. “Heh. Yeah, sure. Used to play football. Other shit, too, as a kid. Followed some, before the world went to shit. Not much to watch these days, hombre, ‘less the dead motherfuckers outside’re doing something I haven’t heard about.”
Actually, if the zombies were engaging in team sports, Marcus would buy tickets. That had to have at least some amusement value. He smirked. “I’m into a lot of different sports. You got one in mind?”
--
It didn’t surprise Jon one bit when Marcus mentioned football. Guy was huge and solid, there was no doubt about that. Any decent football coach would have been crazy not to use him, especially if he had been that built most of his life. Had Jon played football, and been faced with Marcus on a defensive line, he would have feared for every bone in his body. Put Marcus in a Linebacker position, and he would have bet money that the hombre would have been the best blitzer they had. But that was solely on looks, and Jon’s limited knowledge on how football worked.
“You going to join that baseball team O’Brien keeps talking about getting together?” Jon paused for a moment. “If it ever gets out of the ‘we’re just talking about it’ stage. Seems like shit just keeps coming up to hinder it. I really do hope that it gets off the ground though. I miss baseball.”
He laughed again when he realized the ridiculousness of mentioning watching sports. Being inside Sing Sing’s walls sometimes resulted in Jon forgetting that the world had ended. But he was glad that Marcus seemed to have a decent sense of humor and ran with it. “Apparently someone seems to think that zombie paintballing is a good idea. Or at least what I gathered from the network. Who knows, that might be come a post-apocalyptic sport.”
He grinned now. “Zombies and the Olympics, that could be amusing.”
--
"Fuck, I'd put bets on that," Marcus laughed. Because he wasn't immune, he didn't go anywhere near the zombies, and usually tried not to do too much that would put him within view of them. He also hadn't been paying much attention to the talk of zombie-painting, but that seemed like good, wholesome fun. If a waste of paint, maybe. "Better than nothing."
O'Brien had mentioned the baseball team on the network once, and it honestly seemed like a good idea. Something that wasn't purely focused on survival. Baseball wasn't really his sport, but Marcus wasn't in a position to be picky, and it was bound to be healthier than his other hobbies. That there were other people interested was incentive enough. That meant it might not be just a pipe dream of the detective's. He nodded.
"Yeah, told him if he gets enough guys together to do it, he can count me in. Heh. Always looking for ways to blow off steam." He gave Jon a steady, pointed look. Like a cat watching something moving from across the room. It was a look that conveyed I'm not gonna pounce on you, yet... but I'm definitely thinking about it fairly well, and if Marcus had been a cat, his tail might be twitching. Because he was a mere human being, not blessed with an expressive tail of any kind, he just casually rolled his shoulders into a shrug. "Place like this, fucker goes crazy if he lets himself get too bored, you know?"
--
"It sounds like the interest is there, it's just a matter of getting it off the ground," he sighed and shrugged. "But with recent events, that might not happen anytime soon. So I've been focusing on running."
Speaking of running, with Marcus now looking at him the way that he was, Jon was getting rather self conscious all of a sudden. "So, uh, I'm going to go get a shower in." It was time to get out of there before Jon's introverted side took over and reared it's ugly head again. He really didn't feel like trying to hold a conversation when he wasn't sure how to keep it going. He reached for his windbreaker, pulling it around his back and onto his shoulders before reaching for his water bottle, and looking to Marcus again. "Hasta luego?”
--
"Heh. Que la pases bien," Marcus said, smirking again. He didn't offer to join the other man in the shower, however, or anything so brash as that. He wasn't that hard up. Though he did want to stack the odds a little more in favor of seeing the guy again. "Hey, quieres juntarte? Not right now, obviously, but you know, when you do get bored. Let me give you my number."
It was almost always the best tactic to take with new acquaintances. Let me give you my number put the ball in their court, made them more at ease. They didn't have to call him, and sometimes they never did. His heart certainly wouldn't be broken if Jon didn't take him up on the offer of hanging out. Some people were skittish, however, and would actually respond better if they were allowed to make up their own minds about something. They might see giving out their own number as a sign of trust, something that could lead to an invasion of privacy if given too hastily to a stranger. Marcus wanted his privacy to be invaded, so it wasn't an issue. Easy enough. He grinned. "We can go have a drink sometime. Talk about all kinds of shit nobody does anymore, if you want."
--
Jon was very happy that Marcus didn't offer to join him in the shower. He wouldn't have stopped Marcus. He was used to showering with other guys. But there was just something that made Jon feel as if it would be the most awkward shower he'd ever taken. Another reason Jon was happy that showers were usually short lived.
He nodded at Marcus' inquiry about getting together later. "Sure." And with that, he reached in his windbreaker pocket for his phone, and started putting Marcus' information in. "Drinks sound great." He hadn't gone for a drink with anyone in a while. Solo? Sure. He'd gone to the Four Horsemen on occasion, sat long enough to finish a drink, and left. Not the most social, and it was something that didn't happen much. Jon was definitely a social drinker despite his penchant for hermiting. He also liked the idea of hanging with another guy for a change, rather than on his lonesome, or spending all his free time with Lulu.
After pocketing his phone again, Jon waved at Marcus. Leaving him to finish his own run, or whatever it was Marcus had been doing before he got distracted, as he made his way back inside.