Welcome to Gaia! ::

Finn Derouen, from what he could remember, had always thought Marie Glapion was the coolest babysitter. He'd been an only child when they'd still lived in New Orleans, and a young one at that, but he could recall with clarity small details about her - the way she always let him watch The Lion King and played Tonka trucks with him and how they always ordered pizza. Even after his parents up and moved the whole family to Destiny City, no summer vacation was complete without two weeks spent Bayou fishing and daring his little sister to eat things like gator tail. Finn remembered Marie from those trips, too - a confident older girl who let him ride on the handlebars of her bike. Still the coolest.

So when he'd heard Marie had relocated to Destiny City, Finn jumped at the chance to take her a housewarming gift. It wasn't anything fancy - a foil-wrapped loaf of pumpkin bread - but it had smelled so good in his Jeep on the way over that it was taking all of his self-control not to rip a piece off. Gwen Derouen never baked for her children: just for people she wasn't directly related to.

By the time he parked in front of Marie's little bungalow, Finn had made up his mind: he was going to invite himself inside and get himself a slice of pumpkin bread before he went home because, god damn it, he hadn't just driven all the way over here for nothing.

Finn scooped the package out of the passenger seat and bounded to the front door. He knocked cheerfully and put on his best grin - a bit goofy. "Hey, Marie," he called. "You home?"

Finn gladly let her hug him, holding the pumpkin bread at a careful angle so it wouldn't get squished. Her heavy Cajun accent was reassuring, like his father's but thicker and less tempered by academia - the kind of accent that sounded like childhood, and he was certain he'd have grown up talking with if they hadn't moved and become total Yanks. (Well, as Yank as you could be and still live in Virginia.)

"It's good to see you, too!" he beamed, holding up the foil-wrapped offering. "Mom sends her love," he added. "And by love I mean baked goods, but that's just how she operates." Didn't all mothers express their love with baked goods?

The smell of something cooking inside the house wafted out the front door, and Finn found himself intrigued. It smelled delicious! He resolved to get himself invited inside and find out what was what - and maybe get himself a helping of it!

"So these are your new digs?" he asked, peering around her into the house. "Wanna give me the grand tour?" Marie couldn't possibly be a slouchy decorator, not with how fashionable she was! Maybe it was a hasty conclusion, but Finn felt good about it. Now all he had to do was get inside...

"Oh man," he gushed. "I still can't believe you took the plunge and moved here! I mean! No one moves here! Sorry, babbling, I'll shut up, I bet you got a great deal on the house."

Finn practically bounced along behind her, looking eagerly around the house. He couldn't lie - he was gleaning ideas for his own sadly spartan apartment. "This is awesome!" the boy exclaimed, running his fingertips along the back of the couch. "It's like you brought a piece of the Bayou to Virginia! Did you bring this stuff from home, or get it here, or what?" His parents' house had some decorative elements along these lines, but hardly to the degree that Marie had implemented it. And if his enthusiasm was anything to go by, Finn was loving it.

Moving into the kitchen, he let out an astonished gasp. "You," he declared, clapping his hands together excitedly at the site of lunch, "Are the most fabulous person on the planet. The end. Hands down. No contest."

What had he done to deserve such a good meal? And of one of his favorite foods, too! Finn paced back and forth in front of the counter, uncertain of where to begin. "Which plates can I use?" he asked, after a moment. "Where do you keep your silverware?" He paused for a second to salivate. "Marie, this looks and smells amazing and I believe you me I have been living on spaghetti-os and scrambled eggs and hotdogs since the start of the semester."

Between school and superhero work, he just didn't have time for anything fancier. (Also, he didn't know how to make anything fancier.)

Finn did as he was told and made himself a plate. Everything looked so good, though! It was hard to know where to start, and he'd just barely gotten a forkful into his mouth before Marie started asking him about his relationship status. That was complicated, because while Babylon might have a boyfriend, Finn Derouen was single and pathetic for as much as anyone could tell.

Also, as open and free as he was in Destiny City, Finn hadn't yet broached the topic of his sexuality with his dad's Catholic relatives, and he didn't have any immediate plans to do so. Marie was the one who'd even suggested it, though, so he figured she should be okay. (Marie? Warm, loving, let-me-cook-for-you Marie? She'd accept anything, he figured!)

So, Finn choked, spent the next thirty seconds coughing, and finally sputtered, "A boy." Finally regaining his ability to breathe normally, he grinned at her. "Surprise." In case she hadn't seen it coming (which, to be fair, plenty of people hadn't.)

"But he doesn't cook," qualified Finn. Really, he wasn't quite sure what Vindemiatrix did outside of uniform. Even for as much time as they spent patrolling and making out, he was still tight-lipped about his civilian life. "Nineteen's too young to be cohabiting, anyways!" he protested, before turning his attention back to the plate of food in front of him.

"This is really, really fantastic," he assured her between bites. "You're too good to me!"

If Finn had known what kinds of fashion Marie was planning for him, he'd have run in the other direction and never come back. But he didn't.

"Hey, I like Spaghetti-o's," Finn assured her defensively, even if he would welcome cooking lessons. Surely there was more to life than canned noodles, and his epicurean horizons needed broadening. He pushed some sauce around on his plate with his fork, at least grateful that Marie seemed overjoyed over his sexual orientation. (Would she have been disappointed if he was straight?!)

"Well," added Finn, trying to put off describing his aforementioned boyfriend for as long as possible on the grounds that it was classified information. "Just don't tell Grandma and Grandpa Derouen. I think they might disinherit me. Mom and Dad are cool with it, though. And Leah... Leah's fifteen. She slurs like it's going out of style." Which it was. But kicking her out of the car in the middle of the night for calling him a f** was out of the question, given recent experience.

Which left him nothing to talk about but his Boy. Finn shoved more food into his mouth, but was only postponing the inevitable. While he chewed, he steeled himself on what bare minimums and lies he could tell her.

"He is the nicest boy," said Finn, swallowing a mouthful of fish. "The best boy. It was actually just a bizarre coincidence meeting him? But then it turned out we've got some friends in common so that's cool." He would love to tell her about how Vin had saved his life, a superhero in an awesome hat and shiny white tights, but that would probably raise some eyebrows. "But he doesn't cook. And there is nothing wrong with that!"

"No!" replied Finn, a bit too quickly, sending spittle flying across the table with the force of his objection. "No sparkly pants." He would go to Pride. He would wear the purple 'legalize gay' shirt and paint a rainbow on his cheek and allow his hair to be sprayed with glitter... but Finn Derouen would never, ever wear sparkly pants. He had to draw a line somewhere. "I've got standards, Marie."

Introducing Marie to Vin was a whole different story, though. Finn pushed a piece of fish skin around on his plate. "You will, eventually," he assured her, trying to think of a reason why he couldn't invite his boyfriend over right this second. Well, besides the fact that he'd mostly been sending one-sided letters to Vin lately while the other was someplace nebulously defined as out of the country.

"It's just - he's on a trip right now," admitted Finn. "This isn't some kind of girlfriend in Canada thing," he added. "I do have a boyfriend and he exists and he is real and he is literally out of the country but when he comes back I will drag him over here and you can stuff him full of Cajun food, the end, okay?"

"If they're so fabulous," asked Finn, spearing the last of his vegetables with his fork, "Why don't you wear them?" It was a moment of sass he instantly regretted, mostly for the mental image it generated; Marie in tight, sparkly pants was too much for Finn's mind to wrap itself around. He stifled a laugh and redoubled his efforts to focus on chewing, keeping his eyes firmly trained on his plate. Do try to not imagine the large Creole woman stuffed into metallic skinny jeans, Huckleberry.

Which was easier said than done, so of course the invitation to keep talking about Vin was a welcome one. "You will," he assured her, setting down his fork. Look, ma, I cleaned my plate! "He's great," he repeated emphatically. The greatness of Vin could not be overstated enough - but, then again, Finn was probably biased. He was still excited to have someone who was happier kissing him than punching him in the face.

Leaning back in his chair, Finn patted his stomach animatedly. "Marie, I'm stuffed," he declared, grinning at her. However, there was still the matter of the baked good that had brought him over in the first place. "How about you give me a slice of that pumpkin bread and send me on my way?"