John had the door open after the second knock, still with a handful of junk mail from the sidetable that he tossed into a vase as he was speaking, keeping the door open with a foot. "Sorry, still tidying up, but-"
Glancing at the prospective roommate, the colour drained from his face just a bit and the door felt odd, insubstantial as John just stared at Bobby and took in a deep, open-mouthed breath. He felt like someone had knocked the wind out of him and parked a truck on his gut. Worse, he felt hopeful, eager, emotions that he instantly clamped down and sealed away. "Drake. Of course." Because this was exactly what he deserved: his own private purgatory, just John and Bobby Drake rattling around in a house.
He had no idea what Kitty or Ms Munroe or anyone might have told the other young man - the admittedly fucking handsome young man, hoy fuck, even looked good with facial hair that wasn't nearly as scratchy and half-assed as John's effort. Indeed, John suddenly felt naked, exporsed there in his jeans and t-shirt and jacket.
"You uh," John started, stepping away from the door, subdued, "you wanna come inside? I'll show you the room, if you're still interested." In other words: Bobby could walk away if he wanted, but John wasn't going to push him. "Besides, maybe you can explain how the world did a 180 a while back," some of his old grumpy nature seeping into the words.
no subject
Glancing at the prospective roommate, the colour drained from his face just a bit and the door felt odd, insubstantial as John just stared at Bobby and took in a deep, open-mouthed breath. He felt like someone had knocked the wind out of him and parked a truck on his gut. Worse, he felt hopeful, eager, emotions that he instantly clamped down and sealed away. "Drake. Of course." Because this was exactly what he deserved: his own private purgatory, just John and Bobby Drake rattling around in a house.
He had no idea what Kitty or Ms Munroe or anyone might have told the other young man - the admittedly fucking handsome young man, hoy fuck, even looked good with facial hair that wasn't nearly as scratchy and half-assed as John's effort. Indeed, John suddenly felt naked, exporsed there in his jeans and t-shirt and jacket.
"You uh," John started, stepping away from the door, subdued, "you wanna come inside? I'll show you the room, if you're still interested." In other words: Bobby could walk away if he wanted, but John wasn't going to push him. "Besides, maybe you can explain how the world did a 180 a while back," some of his old grumpy nature seeping into the words.