| [closed to young!stonewall] |
[Apr. 8th, 2008|09:52 pm] |
Spairn had nearly sicked himself when he'd finally come to the realization that this younger and less female version of Stonewall was in fact who he said he was, and this wasn't a joke. But sometimes even in such a surreal world as this, he still managed to find himself doubting what all the facts pointed to without a little more solid proof. He needed that solid proof.
What a way to push his melancholy on its ass for the month, right? He was shaped up, shaven, wide-eyed and full of anticipation as he took the steps four at a time through the stair well, breathing hard by the time he reached the floor he was addressed to.
God in heaven, his hands were already shaking. Why was this man's name James? Why was he so young, and where did he come from? Was this a possible key to pieces of his life he never knew? Spairn would never use a person for information, but perhaps if he made James understand.. anyhow.
There was a small knock on the door when he found the correct number, and while he waited for the kid to answer he found himself shifting from one foot to the other, awkward in his own body as he pushed the hair from his eyes and smoothed his t-shirt down like he was about to go on a sodding date, or something quite like it. |
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| Out on the Town |
[Apr. 5th, 2008|02:45 pm] |
Who: Luci and Spairn
What: Sightseeing et al
Where: London and possibly elsewhere
When: now-ish
Warnings: ... we're going to go with 'hellz effin' yes' and I'll edit for specifics once we get to them.
Luci had found his room easily enough and returned the laptop to it, refreshed his makeup, made sure his stocking seams were straight, and headed back downstairs to wait.
The initial paranoia had already passed, though it might come back given enough time to think. He wasn't used to this, not at all, but he was willing to roll with it until it got sorted out.
In any case, he was perched in one of the plush chairs in the lobby, leafing through one of the magazines on the table, just catching up, trying to spot any major differences between where he was now and where he'd been when he woke up that morning. So far? It all looked about the same. |
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[Jan. 28th, 2008|11:39 pm] |
who: Stonewall and Spairn
what: Um . . . naked wrestling? XD
where: Stone's apartment in NYC
when: late night
rating: NC-17, clearly.
warnings: mansex, possibly language.
Okay, so the naked thing had worn off, but that didn't mean they couldn't have a little fun, right? Stone was starting to wonder if things were ever going to go the way they needed to, in this place. He'd been trying to get Spairn here for a while now, and it was making the former combat teacher a little antsy. What was so fucking interesting wherever the hell Spairn was living nowadays, anyway? Sure, this place wasn't Lindeburgh - they didn't have their students or any of the others they had come to know from Stratford and Banks-Mullis, but that didn't mean things couldn't be salvaged here. If only he could get Spairn over here . . .
There had to be some way. There HAD to be.
Of course, he never suspected he might be in for a surprise. |
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[Jan. 16th, 2008|08:12 pm] |
Who: Gilbert and Spairn
What: Pizza delivery to a naked man!
Where: Gilbert's flat.
Warnings: Not sure. Uh, language? Nudity.
Spairn was definitely not the person to send out for pizza when the only stipulation on what Gilbert wanted was 'no anchovies'. He'd come away with extra cheese, sausage, pepperoni, mushrooms, black and green olives, bell peppers, bacon and red onions to top it all off. There was probably more, but by the time he was in the tiny foyer of the man's apartment building he had forgotten. Anchovies were gross anyway.
There was a security lock on the second door in, but some very sweet little old lady had let him in when she went out looking for her cats. So much for attempting to remember Gilbert's last name - and did he really have to call the guy Gilbert? Couldn't he say 'Gil'? Totally unprofessional, of course, but that was Spairn all over.
He took the stairs two at a time, reading the address off of his palm just to make sure he had the location down and quickly turned into the door with the large number eight stenciled on. Someone was cooking with the door open, or something, because he could smell it all the way down the hall the moment he stepped in and - hey, that was convenient, Gil's door was a short distance away. Closed. Probably for the best.
"Pizza boy!" He called out as he rapped his knuckles along the door, grinning to himself. He'd said this was like a bad porn, hadn't he? All he needed was the baseball cap with the slice of pepperoni on the front. |
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[Jan. 14th, 2008|06:50 pm] |
Who: Stonewall and Spairn
What: A phone call. A possibly frantic and maybe a little tipsy.
Where: Brixton and The East Village
When: Last night
Warnings: Language and who the heck knows what else.
This was so not the note Spairn wanted to begin the new semester on. There was no reason whatsoever for such tomfoolery, thanks very much, and if this was a prank from that one reality-warping child who sat in the back of the class day to day.. well, they were going to have words once he woke up from this bad trip.
Yes, he had promised Stone a call, but before he could do that Spairn needed a drink or three to loosen his bones a little. Okay, maybe four, but that was his limit. Four very large drinks, and he was on his way out the door of the liquor store with the bags in his hands. Ha, he hadn't said for glasses, now had he.
Fumbling around with his phone while attempting to juggle around said bags wasn't all that difficult, and with quick fingers he punched in the right combination for Stone's speed dial and settled the phone between ear and shoulder, cracking open a can of beer as he waited for the man to pick up. |
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