'John'. Just 'John.' (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
prodigalflame) wrote2014-11-14 05:50 pm
prodigalflame) wrote2014-11-14 05:50 pm
Entry tags:
[Bobby and John] Meet and uh, Greet. (December 16.)
The roommate search wasn't completely awful. There were two possibles John thought he could bear to live with, and two others who were so inoffensively bland as to be offensive.
Emily was a bubbly little thing, all blond tips and cheeky giggle; and Tim was tall, pleasant, with a strong handshake and just the hint of a knowing smirk. Either of them could do, would do; neither had clued into his cheesy 'X marks the spot to your new place' in-joke he'd put on the poster, with a very distinctive X-symbol. And well, that just meant some more hiding, another day spent under the radar and with his head down - and John had never done particularly well at 'low key.'
So he'd fobbed the both of them off for another few days and lo, some 'Drake' had texted him. Hence why John was plumping couch cushions in the middle of the afternoon, with dishes clean and stacked, pizza boxes all in the recycling and his notes and marking neatly organised on the coffee table - people wanted to live with model students, didn't they?
"What else, what else...?" he muttered to himself, looking around the place. Porn was stashed, bathroom cleaned, laundry stuffed in the hamper: everything as tidy as it got with him. Which wasn't half-bad, these days.
Emily was a bubbly little thing, all blond tips and cheeky giggle; and Tim was tall, pleasant, with a strong handshake and just the hint of a knowing smirk. Either of them could do, would do; neither had clued into his cheesy 'X marks the spot to your new place' in-joke he'd put on the poster, with a very distinctive X-symbol. And well, that just meant some more hiding, another day spent under the radar and with his head down - and John had never done particularly well at 'low key.'
So he'd fobbed the both of them off for another few days and lo, some 'Drake' had texted him. Hence why John was plumping couch cushions in the middle of the afternoon, with dishes clean and stacked, pizza boxes all in the recycling and his notes and marking neatly organised on the coffee table - people wanted to live with model students, didn't they?
"What else, what else...?" he muttered to himself, looking around the place. Porn was stashed, bathroom cleaned, laundry stuffed in the hamper: everything as tidy as it got with him. Which wasn't half-bad, these days.
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"It's been a while since I had good ice cream." John gave a slow nod, meeting Bobby's eyes as he weighed his words - and started thinking about what the hell was defrosted. "And I like good ice cream the way you like Sinatra." Pausing to bend down and slide open one of the cupboard's in the little kitchen island, all ass-up and horribly awkward, John got out one of the better saucepans and a frypan and popped them on the benchtop before feeling like he'd left something unsaid, and jogged towards the front door to catch Bobby.
"Drake!" he called, and then found he'd caught him in time, breathing a bit heavy. "I forgot to say 'Welcome home'," he explained, looking at Bobby with a deliberately guarded expression, all too bland. "I'm glad you answered the ad," he finished, eyes on Bobby for a few seconds before he turned around and went back to the kitchen.
no subject
He laughed at himself and shook his head as he turned again and started on his way. This was going to be...interesting, that was for sure.