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 Posted: Tue Nov 30, 2010 8:57 pm
It had been a long, cold night and Ladon was hitting the hay. He had spent the better part of the night patrolling only to grab 2 starseeds and miss out on finding a senshi to bother. He had seen a fuku further off in the distance only to follow it 3 blocks and find out it was just some girl in a really slutty miniskirt. Seeing as he didn't feel much else would be done tonight, he changed into Ladon, tired civilian, and made his way home. By this point, he knew enough to always be dressed for the weather before he went off to patrol, and was dressed in jeans, black shoes, long-sleeve shirt and turtleneck sweater of deep green. He wore a pea coat over this, gloves, and a scarf. In short, Ladon hated the cold and made sure to dress against it. It had already snowed, and he cursed himself for forgetting his hat.
Rubbing his hands together, he decided to forgo the hot chocolate tonight from the 24 hour café he visited and just decided warming up at home would be best. He found out that if he was rather quiet, he could make himself a late night snack, make some hot tea or hot cocoa, and go to bed without his mother noticing. It wasn’t until he started sneaking into the kitchen at night that he noticed what a heavy sleeper she was. Thank the stars too seeing as he often times needed to take a shower after a patrol and she had yet to wake up over the sound or running water.
Lucky for him, he wasn't covered in blood or dirt, and he marched his way home. At this time of night, there was barely anyone outside. People who hated the cold, who were paranoid about terrorists, or who were just normal people not crazy enough to be out this late all were indoors sleeping as they should be. The only plus side was that there wasn't anyone around to be surprised by a boy his age walking the streets at night.
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Posted: Wed Dec 01, 2010 4:26 pm
Paris shivered against the cold, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his red wool coat as he stumbled down the street. Somewhere along the way he'd lost his mittens, or perhaps he'd left them behind at school. Either way, he didn't have that extra protection for his hands, nor had he thought to bring a scarf, just his coat, and his coat wasn't enough to shield him from the winter temperatures. His face stung from the freezing air, his breath puffing out as white vapor. He could only be glad he'd decided to wear jeans that night -- dark and tight and paired with a frilly, bright pink top that admittedly wasn't helping matters, considering the thinness of the material and the lack of sleeves. Otherwise, he'd have been freezing his legs off out in the cold in the middle of the night in a skirt.
He blinked sluggishly, fighting against a mind made hazy with alcohol. His evening hadn't quite measured up to what he'd been hoping for when he'd turned his back on Hillworth and escaped to the pounding music and floor of dancing bodies at one of his favorite clubs. He'd spent all night looking for a suitably good time, but had been unsuccessful. By the time he was ready to leave, his only potential company had been socially inept and smelled as if he hadn't bathed in days. Paris was nowhere near that desperate tonight -- and nowhere near that drunk -- and so he'd left, alone.
He should have drank more, he thought, wandering around and trying to decide where he wanted to go now. Back to Hillworth was not an option. He supposed he could go home, but he knew his father wouldn't be pleased to see him, and he wasn't in the mood for insults and an argument. He could always hit up another club or bar, have a few more drinks, and then find out where he ended up when he woke up in the morning. If he was lucky, someone would take him home. If he was blessed, that someone would be pleasantly handsome and good in bed.
So lost in hopeful thoughts was he that Paris didn't notice the icy patch he'd just come across, and so when his heeled boot landed upon the slippery surface there was nothing he could go to regain his balance in time. Tired, disappointed, and slightly uncoordinated from he few drinks he'd already consumed, Paris tumbled and landed on the cold, hard ground in a heap of blond curls and red wool. He didn't bother trying to get up, just cursed under his breath and sat there, miserable and achy, and didn't notice the figure approaching.
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Posted: Wed Dec 01, 2010 5:07 pm
The same plus side for him being left alone was not the one working for Paris, though it probably did some good that the blonde didn't have anyone to laugh at him for falling or that the police weren't patrolling right now to pull him over for underage drinking and public drunkenness. As for Ladon, he had been watching a lone figure walking ahead of him and wondered what they were up to. He always thought to himself at random times when he saw people walking by if they were senshi, or if they h ad some great story to explain why they were out. It was a sort of playful daydreaming he did to create stories for them, but tonight he was too tired and he simply saw that this person was clumsy. They seemed to be unable to walk on the ice that well, and then when they flipped, he smacked his gloves over his mouth to keep him from laughing. The bad thing about snow and a late night meant his laugh could have traveled and he did NOT want to get someone yelling at him. Sure, it would be another starseed for the Nega-bank, but it was such a hassle that he didn't want to deal with it right now.
Instead, he kept walking, but when he noticed the make of the coat and the curly hair, he felt that a girl had fallen and that was never a thing he could ignore. If it had just been some ugly guy, he would have walked to the other sidewalk across the street, pretending that was where he was heading, but he sighed and moved up. The girl hadn't even bothered getting up, and he wondered if she had cracked open her skull.
Moving over, he softly called out to them. "Are you okay?" He asked, and when he got beside them, he offered his hand, before pausing. Slowly, he tilted his head to get a better look and then frowned. "Paris…..is that…………is that you?" Why the HECK was Paris out this late, not to mention laying on the sidewalk like this. She – Uh, HE should have picked himself up.
Why did he feel that he would never meet Paris in a normal, bland, average way?
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Posted: Wed Dec 01, 2010 6:10 pm
Paris looked up when he heard a voice speaking to him, staring at the figure for a few moments before realizing he looked familiar. The dark hair, the eye patch, the prissy face...
Paris's mouth stretched into a wide smile. "I remember you. You're the guy I haven't slept with," he said, proud of himself for coming up with the correct memory. He reached out to grab Ladon's extended hand, using it to haul himself up. He slipped a bit on the ice and snow, but grabbed Ladon's shoulders to keep himself steady. "Maybe I had a little more to drink than I thought."
He felt mostly clear headed, if not a little groggy, but his balance obviously wasn't at its best, and considering he was usually so graceful, that was saying something. However, he was still very much aware of what was going on, and his speech hadn't been affected as far as he could tell.
"Hi, Ladon," he greeted him happily. "Ladon the Lady. Mind if I call you 'Lady'? Who am I kidding? Of course you do," he decided on his own. Was it really so insulting if he meant it fondly instead of teasingly? "What are you doing out here so late? Shouldn't you be at home and in bed like a good little boy?"
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Posted: Wed Dec 01, 2010 6:42 pm
He nearly toppled over when he was held onto, but he realized that for today, Paris had not worn heels and she – DRATS! HE wasn't so tall. In fact, they weren't that different in size, though once again, he was the shorter of the two. He offered his hands to steady the other boy as he went back on his feet, and then was used as a anchor as they moved off the ice patch and into a more stable part of the sidewalk.
As far as introductions went, it wasn't your typical hello, and Ladon's face pressed into a frown when he was called Lady. "I'm not a lady. If anything, you are." The boy dressed in skirts after all! In fact, his clothes, though he was wearing jeans (Thank the stars! – He did not need to see the boy fall in a skirt and find out what sort of undergarments he also chose to wear!) were, his clothes were still not suited for a guy. Not all the way. In fact, they weren't even suited for the weather.
As for why he was out, he blinked a moment and threw out an excuse. "I'm……..out for a walk! I get restless you see, and ..sometimes can't sleep. I'm actually heading home right now, like you should be." Ah, it was good to divert the conversation to someone else. "What do you think about dressing like this? You're going to catch a cold or lose a finger. Your hands are freezing!" He said, noticing as he held Paris up that they were white with the faint pink of being out for too long in the cold.
Not waiting, he pulled off his gloves and handed them to the boy. "And getting drunk at this hour. Getting drunk at all. What sort of person gives you alcohol?" He was underage after all! "Who am I kidding? You probably have a fake ID, don't you?" He shook his head, pulling off his scarf and handing that off too. The boy needed to be warmer than he did. His coat was so thin!
"Can you even walk home?" Maybe he should call a cab for him?
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Posted: Wed Dec 01, 2010 8:37 pm
Paris was about to question Ladon's explanation concerning his presence in town so late at night, but he couldn't get the inquiry out before the other boy began to fuss about the state of his clothing. "Oh, I lost my mittens somewhere," he explained, then smiled when he was offered Ladon's gloves and scarf. "You're so sweet, Lady."
He pulled the gloves over his cold hands and draped the scarf around his neck. "Of course I have a fake ID. You think I'd be able to have any fun otherwise? I also have a tattoo if you're interested in seeing it. And who says I'm drunk? Because I'm not. Tipsy, maybe, but not drunk. Believe me, if I was drunk I'd be wearing even less clothes."
And he'd probably be hanging all over him, at least more than he already was. He thought he was acting rather tame, himself. Ladon should feel honored that he was attempting to mind his behavior around him. Paris still hadn't forgotten that he owed him some baked goods in payment for being so mean to him the last time they'd run in to one another, and in the absence of any cookies or cupcakes, he could at least be nice to the other boy and be a little more polite.
"Thanks for the help," he said. "I'll be fine walking. I've just gotta find some place to crash for the night. I can't go back to school, and I'd rather not go home. I'll probably find a cheap motel or something." Or wander around town until he found someone to take him along to their place, but he wouldn't tell Ladon that.
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Posted: Wed Dec 01, 2010 8:49 pm
"No. No. I'm not interested. Keep your tattoo for yourself." He had a tattoo? He couldn't even begin to imagine what it would be, and he wondered if it was one of those horrid types that did things when you flexed a muscle. He very much doubted that it was of a boyfriend's name considering Paris would have to keep getting those removed every so often. From the way the boy talked, he doubted he would even bother to place anyone's name on him.
Okay, WAY too much time thinking about Paris' tattoo…or possibly where it could be.
DO NOT think of that.
"It's good you're not drunk and having less clothes because then you'd really catch your death." And probably be laying half-naked somewhere because he was too unsteady of his feet to get up. He wondered how Paris even lived this long without losing a finger or toe to the elements. Still, as sober as Paris confessed to be, Ladon was still very concerned with him wandering the streets at night and just waiting for a place to get to.
"So you're going to wander around at this house hoping that some place is open. With your luck, you'll fall on another patch of ice and just lay there until your dead and frozen come morning." Seeing as Paris had made no attempt before to get up after he'd fell down, he could see it happening again.
Sighing, he looked around. There was no traffic. No cabs in sight. Did the boy even have any money on him for it, and what about the trip back home? Who knew what hotel he would find? Some filthy place where you rented by the hour and where you'd probably want to scrub your body over after just touching anything in the room. The very thought made his skin crawl.
"Come on. I'll drag you home with me, and that's not an invitation for something else. At least I will be able to go to bed knowing you're not dead in a ditch because you couldn't find a decent place to stay in." he helped Paris along. "It's not that far at least." While he couldn't let Paris wander around – especially since he looked like a girl – he wondered how he was going to pull this off. Bringing random cross-dressing strangers to his room. If his mother knew, she would have died of a stroke then and there.
Luckily for the both of them, she was fast asleep and never doubted her son was up to such nasty business. Now he just had to keep her thinking that way.
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Posted: Thu Dec 02, 2010 12:57 pm
Paris wouldn't be caught dead getting someone's name tattooed anywhere on his body. That was just tacky and unimaginative. He'd decided when he'd gotten it that if he was going to spend the money and go through the trouble of getting a tattoo underage, then it was going to mean something -- even if it only meant something to him. There was not a man in the world worthy enough to earn their name inked onto Paris's body.
"You have no faith in me," he whined, sticking his bottom lip out to pout at Ladon, who didn't appear convinced that he could look after himself. And he wouldn't be surprised if the other boy didn't believe he wasn't drunk either. Jerk. Prude. Prissy little--
Paris brightened immediately when Ladon offered to let him stay at his house, following him when he began to lead him along. "Really? Wow, and we barely know each other. You're the best, Ladon!" Even if Ladon didn't seem all that interested in getting something from him, at least he'd have a place to stay for the night, and it would no doubt be warm. It was better than camping out in a trashy motel.
He clung to one of Ladon's arms as they walked, treating the other boy to a smile. "You know, I don't think I've ever stayed at someone's house over night before. I mean, I have, but not without... you know..." he said, trying not to offend him too badly since he was being so nice. "Not without doing that," he settled on Ladon's word, innocent as it was.
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Posted: Thu Dec 02, 2010 6:50 pm
While it was nice of Paris not to use the F-word, Ladon still closed his eyes a moment at the word 'that' only because it meant that Paris got around much too often. It wasn't something he liked to think about, both because he was uncomfortable when people talked about sex and also because he started to worry about what sort of dangers Paris placed himself in when sleeping around. The only reassurance that he was somewhat safe was the condom he showed him once. The boy probably have some with him right now.
"I..don't need ..that[." He said, finding it hard just to state that simple fact. "Maybe you should see about working to find more friends who don't just want ..that from you, because letting a friend sleep over without …sleeping with them is what friends do." Which more or less said that he was Paris' friend – even if they had only met once. Well, twice now.
He continued to move, looking at the arm around his and looking back up. He'd…try not to think about it…that someone was actually linking arms with him. Nope. Not going to think about that.
His house was only a few blocks away, which was probably lucky for Paris in the long run. The Shepard household was a quaint little house, two stories, with a small yard. Walking up the steps, he went to the door and opened it. "Okay, my mother is sleeping upstairs. Don't worry about making a little bit of noise, but speak quietly and try to be quiet. If she knows I'm running around at night, she's going to flip a lid. Not to mention the fact I'm bringing you home. She'd probably have a stroke if she saw you – and she's already worried since I lost my eye." He let Paris in, shutting the door behind him and welcoming them into a warm of warmth and quiet. He took the scarf, gloves, and coat and hanged them up, and told Paris to hold onto his coat. Seeing some strangers' coat on the rack would really alert his mother that a stranger was in the house.
He gestured for Paris to follow, stepping off from the hallway and leading him up the steps. At the top was a long hallway. "My mother is at the end of the room. She's usually dead tired, so we can get away with some light talking. I'll go set up my room. You can clean up in the bathroom." To which he opened a door in the hallway and turned on the light.
With that, he turned and went to his own room. When he was sure Paris had shut the door to the bathroom, he breathed out and looked around his room. It was a boy's blue, with a bed at the center with a heavy quilt. Elliot, the stuffed dog plush (worn and loved), sat on the pillows. The room was neatly decorated with plush animals, and on his desk was his project table.
This was not the room he wanted to show Paris. If he had done enough lecturing about what boys and girls were suppose to appear and behave, this place would make him a hypocrite. Well, by normal standards. He didn't see anything wrong with it, but it was his secret from society and he wanted to keep it that way. He had only met Paris twice. Who knew what sort of person he was.
Opening his closet, he frowned at the two sets of clothes divided at the center. Normal boy clothes – typical – to the right and more lacey, decorative – in short what could be described as the male equivalent of Lolita – to the far left. Ladon shoved the left side further back, and then went around picking up 4 stuffed animals, all of which he set in the closet. It was times like this he forgot just how many plush animals he had. He hoped Paris would take a while.
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Posted: Thu Dec 02, 2010 9:15 pm
"I never said they were my friends, just that I slept with them," Paris said as he continued to be led down the sidewalk. He went with Ladon to the quaint house, examining the facade before following him inside. It was nice. Much nicer than his own house, which he often time felt was nothing more than a pit of despair. His dad didn't help matters much.
Keeping hold of his coat, Paris lagged behind Ladon up the stairs, taking his time to look around. He smiled when he was directed toward the bathroom. "Thanks," he said, and entered, peering around this room as well. He didn't think it would take him very long to wash up, in any case.
He yawned after shutting the door, turning on the tap to let warm water rush into the sink. He looked at his face in the mirror for a moment or two, then bent over the sink to splash it with water, but he didn't have his usual face wash with him and he doubted Ladon would have anything similar. The water was refreshing enough on its own, and he felt a little more clear headed when he straightened up and turned the faucet off. Next, he began to discard some of his clothes. He didn't have any pajamas either, but he sure as hell wasn't going to sleep in his jeans. That would be uncomfortable.
Ladon was just going to have to deal with it.
He paused long enough to use the toilet before leaving the bathroom, carrying his jeans and boots with him and wandering the hall in nothing more than his bright pink shirt and lacy black panties. Where was Ladon's room? He didn't think the boy had shown him before he'd been ushered into the bathroom.
He eventually found it on his own (it wasn't like there were too many to choose from, since he knew his mother's room was the one at the end of the hall) and he peeked in around the door. "You could have told me which room was yours, you know," he said, waltzing in when he spied the other boy by what appeared to be his closet. "What are you doing?"
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Posted: Fri Dec 03, 2010 6:44 am
It had been a suppressed thought that Ladon had in wondering just how far Paris decided to dress as a girl. For comfort, he believed that he wore boxers when he wore pants, and white underwear when he was in a skirt. There was something about retaining at least masculine clothes even while in a skirt that didn’t make it seem that bad, and he would had felt better if he just saw the boy in boxers. He went to gym. Plenty of boys without shirts or pants on. It was a completely different thing to see a boy in lacey panties, and when Ladon jerked in surprise at tossing a few more stuffed animals in his closet (which was getting pretty full with his collection), he turned to jerk back at the sight of Paris not only free of his pants, but wearing what had to be the girlish panties he ever saw. Sadly, these were probably the only girl underwear he ever saw. Sadly, they were not a girl.
His head almost swam with how quickly the blood rushed to his face, and he felt his breath caught somewhere in his throat. “Wh-What are you wearing?” His forced whisper breaking at the sight of the other boy just standing there watching him.
Maybe it was just because his underwear was a girl’s underwear added to the image of looking like a girl with a pink shirt, but he suddenly felt indecent for looking and shot his eyes to the side, to the ceiling, and decided just to let them look up at the far upper corner of his wall. “I..I thought you’d wear boxers. I didn’t think you went that far.” Black lace. He’d never get that image out of his mind. Did Paris shave too? OH GOD! He just had too many dirty images in his head. Why didn’t they invent mental bleach yet?!!
Breathing a little harder, he noticed his open closet and started to shut it. Done, he moved to find some sweat pants for the boy. "I'll...let you borrow some PJs."
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Posted: Fri Dec 03, 2010 11:15 am
Paris set his discarded pants, coat, and boots aside and looked down at himself when Ladon started to freak out. He didn't understand what the big deal was. It's not like anything was showing. "I wouldn't wear boxers with tight jeans," he said. "They'd get all bunched up or whatever, and then what if you could see it through my pants? They make skimpy underwear for men, too, you know, not just boxers and briefs. Talk about bland and boring."
Ladon was just lucky he wasn't wearing a thong, which he'd considered while he'd been getting ready earlier that evening. And as a matter of fact, he did shave. He didn't have to, but he wasn't that big of a fan of body hair, at least not on himself. It kinda ruined the look he was trying to go for.
"So what if they're girly looking? They're my favorite pair," he told him, quite happy to announce it, and stepping a bit further into the room. "You never answered my question, by the way. What were you hiding in your closet?" He paused to show him a broad smile. "Is there something you don't want me to see? Does Lady have a secret~?"
Paris bounced over to him to grab onto his arm and cling. "Show me, show me!" he cheered. "I want to know~!"
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Posted: Fri Dec 03, 2010 3:35 pm
Ladon had pulled out a pair of sweat pants from his dresser. They were gray, warm, soft as he often loved things that felt as if they were well worn, and had the smallest detail of a small paw print on the upper right where the pockets were. It was so small that he hoped Paris' didn't have an eye for detail and would ignore them. He pulled out a soft, green t-shirt to go with it. The quilt on the bed would be warm enough for Paris, and he felt that his clothes would fit the boy.
As Paris talked, he shook his head. Skimpy underwear for men. Insane attire like underwear with kissy lips right on the crotch or 'Sexy Thang' written on the butt. He liked small detail, but not THAT type. He wondered if he should be glad that Paris was wearing something with lace (he did prefer lace over vulgarities) than something just downright dirty. Then again, girl's underwear on a guy wasn't exactly clean either.
Just as he was about to make his opinions known, Paris had caught on that he hadn't mentioned the closet and grabbed him, bouncing and looking at the closet. Startled, he held to the clothes he had for his friend and looked at the closet and back at the excited, prying boy.
He had a boy bouncing on him, and he was showing more and more of those lacey underwear.
Swallowing hard, he started to move back to the closet and pressed his back against it, looking at Paris as he jumped around. "It's…nothing. It's just my clothes and some…things that were cluttering the room." He was clearly choking down this lie, and watched Paris with that mix of worry and a strong guard. He reflected that, for a boy who was wearing girl's underwear, he might not think poorly of him for his stuffed animals and secret attire. He also knew that saying something wasn't a secret and not showing was more or less saying something was a secret. He just wondered if Paris would drop it…and wondered if he should let it go.
Instead of decinding what to do, he was left being indecisive, holding the clothes he still had to offer Paris and looking at the boy.
"…….you're…not going to make fun of me if I open the closet….cause if you are…. I'll…….throw you out." It was a very empty threat.
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Posted: Fri Dec 03, 2010 4:02 pm
Paris stopped his bouncing for a moment to look at Ladon as if he were strange. "Why would I make fun of you? Is it really that bad?" Ladon was so straight laced, he doubted he had anything naughty to hide, unless he'd shoved an inflatable doll in there or something, which seemed unlikely. "You don't keep jars of toe nail clippings in there, do you? 'Cause that's gross. Is it where you keep all your porn?"
He peered around Ladon as if he hoped to be able to peek inside, and reached out to try and open it on his own, but Ladon had his back against it and seemed intent on blocking his way. "The more you hide it from me, the more curious I'm going to be," he warned him. "If it's just that it's messy, you don't have anything to be embarrassed about. I've seen worse. My closet could definitely use a good cleaning, and you've seen the sorts of clothes I wear, so it's not like I can say much about yours, right?"
Paris clung to him a bit tighter, trying to tempt the other boy with a sweet smile. "Come on~!" he needled him again. "Please? Just a quick peek? You can't have anything too bad in there. I'd be surprised if you did. You're such a goody-goody."
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Posted: Fri Dec 03, 2010 4:26 pm
He frowned, deeply considering just to forget the whole thing and telling Paris straight off that his closet was forbidden and that if he peeked, he'd stop being his friend. It was then a followed up thought that he didn't have enough or any friends to start making demands and being choosy. While he might appear high and mighty to Paris, he really had no place to be so. True, he had thoughts he wished to pass on for the other boy to consider. Thoughts on dressing a bit more modestly for starters, but he felt nervous when those jeopardized keeping him from at least waving to someone he sort-of knew – be it as a friend or whatever Paris wanted to call him. (Just not Lady.)
Weighting the pros and cons, he drummed his fingers on the door and knew that with each seconds, he was letting Paris' mind run wild with all sorts of dirty thoughts of what someone like him could be hiding. To show that this wasn't severed body parts or porn, he made a face, and shook his head, but still didn’t say anything.
Then, slowly, he creaked the closet door upon a millimeter, than an inch. "It's not that. Just, ……I don't tell people unless I can trust them." The look he gave Paris was clear. I hope I can trust you.
And he slowly opened his closet.
What came out was a small pile of stuffed animals, not just one type of animal, but the old fashion sort that lacked the clear signs of being mass produced or the plastic clothes and neon color schemes. They were in natural tones, some with fur a little worn, but all with delicately handmade outfits. Circus animals with harnesses and tassels, a mouse dressed as a musketeer, a rabbit with a pocket watch, pinstripe vest, and wire glasses. There were more, all dressed for wholesome professions or dainty outfits. All had been repaired in some way by Ladon. And then there was the divided clothes, one half normal, typical, and the other half more frilled, more laced, more "cute".
And Ladon stood by the side, clutching the clothes he had yet to offer Paris, looking at the pile, the clothes, and slowly, with hesitation, at Paris.
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