Jack freakin' Power (whysocirrus) wrote in mutanthaven, @ 2009-03-28 00:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | jack power, jean-paul beaubier |
LOG: Jack Power & Jean-Paul Baubier
SUMMARY: A couple days ago, before this stupid heat wave hit (so like mid-March) Jack and JP head out to the mountains for some fun in the snow! But of course, his car breaks down on the way and it just does not go well for the boys. Its a shame none of them remember that scene in Pineapple Express...
JEAN-PAUL: When Jack had informed him that he was taking him somewhere for the day, Jean-Paul was suspicious. He was a suspicious person by nature and nothing against Jack, but he wondered where the hell he could be taking him on such short notice. Sadly, one of his initial thoughts was why the hell he would be doing something like this in the first place, though that was understandable considering Jean-Paul's upbringing. He really wasn't used to people that could be vaguely considered friends let alone said people actually doing something that could be classified as nice. It was just how he rolled.
They made it roughly forty-five minutes outside of Santa Monica before Jack's Jetta decided to crap out on them. At least ten minutes passed while Jack tried to restart the fine German car, but to no avail. It was dead for the moment. "Perhaps we should call the car helper people?" AAA, Jean-Paul.
JACK: Jack has saved some cash to go skiing with and when he had gotten his car battery replaced, packed up the little purple Jetta and threw JP into the front seat, put on his leather coat and got the iPod out for background noise. Look, the car wasn't int he best of conditions: he bought it off a Mexican who had bought it off another Mexican who had brought it in from Mexico and it probably came from a couple others. When Jack got it, it smelled like tortilla chips. Now it smelled like tortilla chips, tequila, and CKone for men. Hot, right?
"What?" Jack was a man! and manly men did not call AAA. "No, fuck it, I'll just... I can flag someone down, right? It's just the battery. I just replaced it. I bet it was a bad one. We just need a jump start!" Nevermind it died while driving it. Jack was not a car guy. "Go outside and show some truckers your dick; they'll stop for that." He is serious.
JEAN-PAUL: Awwww. That was very nice of you, Jack. While Jean-Paul didn't know the first thing about skiing (har har), he had been missing snow lately and where there was skiing, there was most certainly snow. As for the car... the smell was not so hot. All three of those things were fine smelling on their own, but put them together and it was something not so hot. But it wasn't completely bad! Jean-Paul would still willingly get in the car, so that was a good sign.
Just like his friend, Jean-Paul didn't know much about cars other than they were supposed to go from Point A to Point B. Hell, he didn't even have a driver's license in this country and the one he did possess wasn't even in his current name. They were clearly screwed. "I am not showing my dick to strange men." Hahaha. "Strange men in large trucks." Jean-Paul doubted those type of men had good hygiene.
JACK: "You suck," he whined, getting back out of the car once again to go peer under the hood. If he glared at it enough, maybe it would work! But it wasn't the case and after kicking a clump of snow and dodging a mud splash from a passing SUV, Jack crawled back into the front seat and slammed the door. It was cold out there. Like, below forty cold! For a Californian, that was equal to freezing. But they had to get help, so Jack had a steely resolve: "You know what," he decided, clapping his hands together, "I'll go out there and shake it. I'll take one for the team."
And so Jack crawled back out of the car, shut the door and shuffled to the side of the road. With already chilled hands he unbuttoned his jean front and prepared to whip it out when a gust of wind came along and he shrieked from the cold hitting bare and sensitive skin, turning right back around and pounding on the driver door. "Let me in! It's cold!" He's forgotten how handles work. "Let me in!"
JEAN-PAUL: Yes, but not when it came to creepy truckers, Jack. Rolling down his passenger side window, Jean-Paul leaned far enough out of it so he could half see what Jack was trying to do with the car. Yup. They were really clearly screwed in this case and he had seen too many slasher movies to know this was always how the trouble started. If they're cellphones ceased to work as well, JP was going to start inwardly freaking out and any site of hillbillies would just send him over the edge. Yes.
"You don't have to --" His comment went unfinished as the driver's side door slammed and Jack was outside, apparently ready to take one for the team in the form of a burly trucker. Or not considering it took no more than five seconds to bring him back to the door, frankly complaining that it was cold, though Jean-Paul didn't think so. Sighing, he moved from the passenger seat to leaning over the driver's seat in a blink of an eye and opening the door, pushing it a bit so Jack could get back in the car. "I think we should give up on the dick idea for the time being."
JACK: Seriously, it's cold out there. Jack crossed his arms once he was back in the driver's seat, huffing and puffing at their failure to get rescued. Or, rather, his failure to buck up and get them rescued. "Wait---" he started, twisting his torso to look at JP, a thought forming in his mind. You could almost see the hamster wheels spinning. "You... you move fast. Can't you carry me somewhere and we can call a tow truck later? No one is going to steal this," and if they did, thank god for that, "so, yeah?"
His plan wasn't exactly fool proof but Jack was certain they could use JP like a mule and get the fuck out of there, maybe to some dive hotel twenty miles up the road. If he had to, he'd go buy them crappy diner food and get the little stick boy's energy back up once they landed safely. Grinning like a devil, Jack waggled his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders, "Please?"
JEAN-PAUL: Psssh. It wasn't very cold to him, but then again he has special powers that made him not very cold. Or not very hot for that matter. Once he had thought about it and Jean-Paul supposed it had something to do with flying, but it wasn't something he thought on for very long. Just like Jack apparently hadn't thought over his cunning plan very long, though it was nice he was trying. Maybe.
After the proposition of the plan was made, Jean-Paul just stared at him for a few moments, unsure of what exactly to say here. "I don't know if you are meant to go fast," was his final answer. Sure, Jack had that healing thing, but that didn't mean he could withstand the force of moving at whatever higher speed Jean-Paul can reach. And he wasn't a stick! He just wasn't as awesome muscular as he had been when he was swimming. "You might get hurt," he finally added.
JACK: But! He could go small, and be safe, or so he thought (and was willing to bet money on), so Jack pouted and poked JP in the arm. "Shit, son, I've got a healing ability. How bad could I be damaged after the trash can?" Or like last week when he tried to cliff dive and failed badly and did a belly flop into the ocean. Which actually never happened in reality because he thought he did it after he got too drunk at a beach party and, you know, made up shit.
Jack buttoned up his coat and grinned sadistically. "I'm getting cold. Put me in your pocket. I'll find something to hold onto." Yes, and swing to-and-fro with. He's a cunning lad, you know you want it.
JEAN-PAUL: Did he weigh the same when he was small? Because if he did, that would be a lot of weight in Jean-Paul's pocket. He had to admit it was a good idea though and would probably get them to some dump of a motel. "Healing is different from being able to go fast," he flatly answered. No amount of healing would repair your severed head, Jack! Also, never mention the trash can incident ever again. To this very day, Jean-Paul still felt a bit bad about it.
Sighing, he twisted his body around to face Jack and did his best to hide the scowl that so wanted to form on his lips. "All right. But I am not flying with you in my pocket." That would spell disaster.
JACK: Nope, Jack was miraculously low weight when he was six inches high, but he was finding he kept his strength when that size, so it was like being hit by a small, but sturdy, German vehicle. Or a small man. Either way, he was positive he couldn't be harmed that much whilst small and clinging to JP. "Uh huh." Not the same, sure, no, nope. None of it was attributed to mutant DNA.
But, that was OK! Because JP was on board. "Great!" chirped Jack, leaning to look into the backseat for anything important. Apart from the case of beer he had smuggled under a blanket back there, he had nothing that couldn't be stuffed into a backpack. His clothes being one of those things. "So, uh. Where are you putting me slash how are we doing this?" Does he have to take off his pants Now or can JP wait until Jack is wee? Wee would be better. It's cold out there and he's going to be shrinking enough as it is.
JEAN-PAUL: Oh. OK. If that was the case, this would probably work provided Jean-Paul didn't travel fast enough to destroy his clothes or at least he hoped. To be honest, he had never really traveled at higher speeds with a person in two, let alone a person who shrunk. There was a first time for everything?
"Ummm." Good question, Jack. "I think you can get your stuff ready and then you can..." Instead of saying it, he made a motion with his fingers to indicate that all of Jack was going to become teeny tiny. Relax, Jean-Paul. This was going to be easy and there were going to be no problems what so ever with this oh so wonderful plan. Possibly to reassure himself, Jean-Paul flashed a very quick smile at the other before moving to open the passenger side door and step outside. He then moved to the door behind him, through it open and started digging for his own stuff he would need.
JACK: This was pretty much, well, no, it is the more embarrassing part about his powers: shrinking down low. While his Canadian mate scrimmaged in the back for stuff he wanted, Jack huffed, puffed, and drew himself into himself until he was looking up at the world from inside his zippered jacket, standing up six inches high in the driver's seat. The interior of his clothing was warm, but Jack knew he'd be cold once his body hit outside temperature and that due to his reduced stature (and lack of body fat) his likely hood to freeze just increased exponentially.
So, in preparation for the icy bitterness, Jack rolled himself up in his shirt, putting it on like a zig zag around pot, before shouting at the top of his little lungs (in a nearly perfect human voice, amazing how the vocal chords managed that!) "I'm down here!" so that JP could extract him and pack him against his chest.
JEAN-PAUL: Jack. If you could shrink your entire body, that meant everything was going to shrink. You can't expect to be six inches tall and still have at least six inches of something else because that was not the way things worked around here. At least Jean-Paul wasn't going to judge you on that? For the record, he still found the whole shrinking thing rather funny, but he at least tried not to laugh for Jack's sake.
"All right." He finished shoving the rest of his and Jack's things into a book bag, eventually closing the door and walking around to the driver's side of the car. Then he opened the door and crouched down, sticking his hand out for Jack to climb on since Jean-Paul thought picking him up was a bit degrading. "Are you ready?"
JACK: A man could still dream, after all. Maybe he should invest in eXtenze while he was small, see if it really did work to enlarge his little man. And yes, picking him up was a bit degrading, but the blunt-wrapped Jack hobbled and hopped across the seat into JP's hand, where he fell on purpose and shifted his body weight so he rolled into a proper position. The cold mountain air struck his cheeks and he burrowed a little deeper, gesturing with his chin to the clothing left over, "Get that for me?" Please, if he so kindly would, Jack would appreciate having pants later on.
When the time came to prepare for the run, Jack braced himself and gripped tightly to the inside of the shirt, squeezing his eyes shut. This will either be the most awesome thing ever... or the last thing he does.
JEAN-PAUL: You don't need to be a tripod, Jack. You're perfectly fine when you are your normal height, so just be happy about that. And also be happy that Jean-Paul wasn't laughing at you and was about to do you a huge favor in the fact that you didn't have to walk the many miles to the diner/crap motel they passed a bit ways back.
"I will pack your pants away," he answered as he raised his hand up once Jack was situated. Yeah. This was totally weird. He then stuck Jack plus his shirt very carefully in the front pocket of his polo shirt, carefully making sure that the other was comfortable. Quickly, he packed the pants away before throwing on his hoodie and then informing Jack that he was about to start running. Once the car was locked, he took a few regular steps which were followed by a jog and then all the sudden Jack would have been hit with a sudden force as Jean-Paul broke into his speed.
JACK: Comfortable was kind of an understatement. Now he understood why baby animals liked being so close to heart beats: the thud-thud was relaxing and he clung with tiny fists to the knit shirt, only part of his body fitting but found that utterly alright. JP's heart beat lured him into a false sense of safety until he was pressed right tight against the muscle and felt his face slowly stretching with the centrifical force going on.
If anyone with super hearing had been listening, they would have heard a tiny and exuberant squeal coming from Jack as JP taxi'd them to their destination.
JEAN-PAUL: For the record, Jean-Paul's heart beat was surprisingly slow for how fast he was traveling and his breath remained relatively steady. Hey. He had to have an awesome heart and lungs in order to ensure he wouldn't die from moving at such speeds.
It didn't take him long to reach the crappy diner they had passed miles back, stopping behind the establishment just in case anyone was looking. Then he calmly walked around front, entered the building and asked a rather mean looking waitress where the bathroom was located. After giving him a scowl that matched his own, she pointed to a hallway which he scurried down to the men's room. Er. Ew. OK. He wasn't going to stay in the men's room. Jean-Paul quickly checked to make sure no one was looking and dodged into the ladies room, locking the door behind him. "Jack?" There were a lot of floral things in this single bathroom.
JACK: Jack felt like he was coming off either a really good high, or a really good sex romp. There was a slight ringing in his ears as they slowed and came to a stop, his hearing only returning in time for him to hear JP call his name. Eagerly, Jack jabbed him in the chest and crawled out of his pocket, removing his little body from the balled up shirt and crawling out of the jacket before JP could even stop him.
Launching his little body off the other man, Jack took the time in the flight towards the ground to twist like a cat and grow from six inches to six feet, landing with a sharp thunk on his knee and palm. Rolling onto his side, Jack's skin made complete contact with the bathroom floor and he groaned, realizing just how dirty this was. "Dude," he whined, picking himself up off the coldness, "What is this?"
JEAN-PAUL: Glad to be of service with that feeling? Speaking of feelings, when Jack started to crawl out of the shirt pocket, it tickled just a wee bit and Jean-Paul actually let out a little laugh. It didn't last long since there was a moment of panic as Jack did his launch thing, which was followed by a moment of what the fuck as he suddenly grew taller mid air. That was one weird power, Jack.
When he hit the floor, Jean-Paul bent down to offer a hand, completely ignoring the fact his friend was completely naked. "The men's bathroom was very dirty. I figured you wouldn't want to fall on it."
JACK: "Ye...ah..." Jack took the hand, coming to his feet and dusting off his rear. Long ago he learned to not be shy whilst nude. Pushing back his hair off his face and taking a look around, the lanky lad chuckled at all the sight of cheap pink and leaned over to pluck a fake flower off the dusty vase by the sink. Carefully he stuck it behind JP's ear, brushing the hair away from his pointy ear, before giving his handiwork a thumbs up and picking his crumpled shirt up off the floor. "So, where are we?" Natural curiousity and all that, says the man putting back on his shirt and holding out an expectant hand for the rest of his clothing. "Do they have omlettes?"
JEAN-PAUL: Ew. Jack best be taking a shower before Jean-Paul was touching that rear again. OH SNAP. As the flower was placed behind his ear, he shivered for a moment as a finger or two ran over the points, though whether or not that was by accident he didn't know. He did give the fake dusty flower a good look out of the corner of his eye and eventually, he decided to just leave it be for the time being. What a good sport he was being today. "That diner we passed and you made some comment about rats in the freezer," he answered as he swung the backpack off and placed it on the counter. "It was the first place I saw." And there are you pants, Jack.
JACK: "Oh, right, rats. It's like on Survivor." He recalled making that comment but you know, he just had to make sure it was what he thought it was. Grinning like the Devil was inside him (and it usually was) Jack took the pants and carefully pulled them on, keeping his foot away from the wet spot on the ground. Jack usually went commando, it was no shame in that, but it could bother some people. Still, he was an unashamed individual, standing in a ladies loo, putting on his trousers while his present bed buddy wore a girly flower behind his ear.
Shame, what's that? "Food times?" he finally asked, rubbing his belly and looking up with hunger in his eyes.
JEAN-PAUL: He made a face at the rat reference because it really didn't sound appetizing, Survivor or not. As for the commando part, it didn't bother Jean-Paul in the least bit because they were on extremely friendly terms here or the special variety. Hopefully, Jack would button them up so things were hanging out every which way by the time they reentered the diner, which was going to look bad to begin with here. Really now.
"Oui. I'm hungry." All that running made him tired thanks to all the energy it burned and Jean-Paul may have even looked just a wee bit haggered as a result. "But you need shoes." Let me get them out of the bag.
JACK: Oh, shoes. Jack supposed he did need those, you know, to keep his feet warm from the snow. Or just in general, so people didn't mistake him for a hobo more than he already is. When JP kneeled to go through the bag, a wicked thought crossed Jack's hamster-run brain and, with the fly of his jeans still hanging open (and other stuff vaguely visible) and stepped over until he was nearly right against JP's head, and when the boy eventually got up, would be right in line with something else.
JEAN-PAUL: Jack needed them because he was standing barefoot in a roadside diner's bathroom. Yes, it was a ladies bathroom and in theory it should have been a little cleaner, but it was still a public bathroom floor none the less. Don't be like Brittany Spears. Please.
He had located the first shoe by the time Jack had sauntered on over and stopped practically on top of him. Naturally, Jean-Paul turned his head to see what the hell the other was doing, but he was greeted with a familiar sight that he really wasn't expecting at the moment. Oh. Huh. Dropping the shoes onto the floor beside the bag, he slowly stood up so that his eyes were nearly level with Jack's, his gaze glancing back down for a moment. "Did you need a hand with something?" Perhaps his zipper was stuck?
JACK: Britney Spears has nothing on him! Jack looked down and grinned, showing some teeth. If it could have gotten cheesier it would have. "I do, yeah. I need a hand. Hand. I. Hand." Jack pointed his hips a little more forward, just a little, to make the 'hand' part a little more obvious if he could. Maybe us a flag or two.
Looking JP in the eye, he wiggled his eyebrows and his hips, enough that the top of the jeans slid down his boney sides a bit and revealed a little more. Bottom lip jutted out in a fake pout, and in a pleading voice he said, "Baby please?"
JEAN-PAUL: "Not right now, honey," he answered with a small smirk as he stood up, looking Jack right in the eyes. If he was really smart, Jean-Paul would have added a joke about having a headache in there. Alas, he was too hungry to think about things like that. "Put on your shoes. I will get us a table." And try to ignore the looks from the waitress because now there was two of them when only one went in the room.
JACK: Jack was looking right back, and cracked a grin of his own before leaning to get his shows. Laughing himself, he wiggled away from JP and turned the sink on, running some cold water on his hands to wash them a little after being in the bathroom for more than a minute (germs, ew) and then pushed JP towards the door. They can get the table together.
"So," he started, sticking his head under the faucet and getting his hair wet. "I kind of feel like sausage."
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