2010-01-12: Confusion to the Enemy


Dallas_icon.jpg Lucas_icon.jpg Rashmi_icon.jpg

Summary: Watching a hockey game takes an unexpected turn.

Date: January 12, 2010.

Log Title Confusion to the Enemy

Rating: PG-13

Xavier Mansion - Recreation Room

What was once the Parlor has been turned into a Recreation Room for the students. A nice plush carpet meets the light blue walls giving it a homey feel. A pool table at one end, a foos ball table at the other, and entertainment center with video game systems, movies, and of course, cable TV. Big comfy chairs and couches surround a coffee table for comfortable loafing. Long glass windows with a pair of French doors line one side of the room bringing in plenty of light during the day. The main rule in here is to clean up after yourself.

Lucas is sitting on the edge of the couch. The large screen television is showing a hockey game, looks like the Nashville Predators versus the Maple Leafs. Lucas is rather engrossed, not surprising, since he's wearing a pair of khaki shorts with a baggy Predators jersey on over it.

Dallas is passing by the rec room when he sees the hockey game on and he blinks. He doesn't recognize Lucas from just the back of his head, but the rest of the couch seems open. And Dallas is taking that 'enjoy yourself' advice from Cyclops to heart. He plants a hand on the back of the couch and vaults over, plopping down opposite Lucas with a display of youthful energy and then his eyebrows raise as he realizes who it is. He nods. "Hey. Who's winning?"

Lucas doesn't look away from the game. "Nashville." He sits a moment longer, and then asks, "Do you like hockey?"

Dallas grins and settles in to watch. "Going fast, smacking people with sticks, crazy competition… what's not to like?" He leaves out the fact he was in a junior hockey league back home because that sort of thing seems to irritate Lucas for some reason.

Lucas furrows his brow a little, and looks at Dallas. "Okay, that's surprisin'." He stares at Dallas then, studying him.

Dallas watches the game and then looks back to Lucas and says, "What's a surprise?" He's dressed for the unseasonably warm weather, in shorts and t-shirt, tennis shoes propped up on the coffee table. He's slouched on the couch, fingers interlaced behind his head as he watches. "If it's a surprise that I like sports, you /really/ need to work on your observation skills."

Lucas shakes his head, "No, Ah mean, it's a surprise you like hockey." He looks back at the screen, and then shouts, "Oh come on! Hit the fucker!" He shakes his head, "He totally let that go…" He sighs, and looks back at Dallas. "You just struck me as a stupid sport liker. Like football. Or… B-ball…" He emphasizes the b, making fun of the way people shorten basketball.

Rashmi slips into the Rec Room, dressed in a much lighter loose shirt and long skirt, ever-present book bag swinging at her hip. Pausing at the door, her dark eyes flick immediately to the TV and the hockey game, nose wrinkling. With a sigh and a shake of her head, she trots across the room toward the couches, smiling at the boys. "So is this one of those guys' nights, or can I stay?"

Dallas blinks at Lucas and says, "Those aren't stupid sports. And I play both. But I also don't think that things are 'stupid' just because I don't like them." His tone is just faintly exasperated. He gives Rashmi a nods when she arrives. "Hey. And, um, I don't think we're bonding or anything." There is a certain tone of resignation in that.
Lucas looks offended, "We ain't?" He makes a mocking sad face, "But Ah done thought for sure you was finally startin' to be ready to share stories about exgirlfriends and that one time you played with a neighbor kid at summer camp!"

Rashmi glances from Dallas to Lucas, eyebrow rising. With a grin, she winks at Dallas. "Oh, I'd say you definitely are…" Dropping onto the couch next to Lucas, she arranges herself against the arm, dragging a rather large political science text from her bookbag and tucking her legs underneath her. "I've been here a couple minutes, and I haven't heard a single 'Whatever' yet! Practically brothers!"

Dallas blinks at that first comment and then blushes at the second. He starts to say something to Lucas when Rashmi interrupts, probably forestalling an argument. He swallows his comment and says, quietly, "Ok, I'm done with you." And he turns to Rashmi as though Lucas doesn't exist, "So, what's up?"

Lucas just stares at Dallas. "Hey. Dallas." he calls.

"Studying," Rashmi replies airily, pointedly turning her attention to her textbook. "Listening to you talk to my boyfriend. Ignoring the game. You know, stuff." Never has a single page been turned with more visibility, then in this moment.

Dallas pauses and sighs, obviously considering pretending he didn't hear that. But then again, he already knows Lucas well enough to know that if he ignores him, it will just get worse. And kicking him across the bay is against school rules. As Rashmi turns out to be pointedly no help. He turns back to Lucas and says, "Yeah?"
As Dallas turns, Lucas leans forward, so that once Dallas turns his head, Lucas is right there, and he presses his lips onto Dallas' mouth. He gives the other boy a good kiss. There's not really any invasive tongue, but he definitely tries to give a little lick and a nibble to other lad's lower lip before pulling away. "Ah wasn't done with you."

Watching out of the corner of her eye as she ostensibly studies, the move takes Rashmi by utter surprise. The book is clapped shut, and the girl turns on the couch, eyes leveled at the back of the Tennessean's head with laser-tight focus. Silent, motionless, expressionless, she waits for Lucas to turn around.

Dallas makes a startled noise and just freezes in place for a moment. On the one hand …that's rather nice. On the other hand, it's also public. On the third hand it's Lucas. And on the forth …. He just stops thinking about it for a second. When Lucas pulls away, Dallas's expression is wide-eyed and …thoughtful. He blushes, belatedly. More in reaction to being seen than the kiss itself. "Ah." A pause. "Um." He doesn't dare look in Rashmi's direction, just resolutely turning back to the game. "The Predators suck.
Lucas slowly grins, "Ah thought so." He leans back on the couch, and looks at Rashmi. "Did you say Ah was your boyfriend?"

"Well I hadn't seen you kiss anyone *else* like you did me," Rashmi says, slowly. "…Maybe I was mistaken…?"
Dallas sinks deeper into the couch, as though trying to manifest a new mutant ability that lets him merge with furniture. He fights the urge to grab one of the throw pillows and beat Lucas to death with it. Or hide his face. After a moment he says, still not looking at either one of them. "Okay. Let's pretend that didn't happen." He's trying for a level, cool tone there and failing.

Lucas tilts his head a little to the side. "Rash, that," he says, gesturing with his thumb back at Dallas, "was NOT how Ah kissed you in the elevator last night." He smirks, and glances at Dallas, "Sure. Ah reckon it's easier to forget for some of us…"

Rashmi's eyebrow rises. "No… no, it wasn't. But it *did* remind me of the one by the pool… You know, the *first* one?" With a pointed look, she rearranges herself on the couch, presenting most of her back to the blond. "Next time, *warn* me before you try and give Dallas a heart attack like that, okay? Now you get to make it up to me." A moment's rummaging in her bag, and a largish hairbrush is held up over her shoulder, all but stabbed toward Lucas. Dallas, whether by accident or design, left to stew as Rashmi takes out her displeasure on the higher-priority target.

Dallas tries not to follow that conversation at all. But he can't help but be interested. He looks between Rashmi and Lucas and finally asks, "Wait. You did that get her pissed?" There is a dangerously quiet undertone to that question, easy to miss. His brows lower and his jaw sets.

Lucas looks at the brush, and then looks back at Dallas, "No Ah didn't do it to piss her off, ya dumb jock strap." He rolls his eyes, and looks back at Rashmi, "What am Ah supposed to do with that?" he asks, about the brush.

By way of answer, the redhead's fingers fly over her plait, combing it free with the speed of long years of practice. The resulting curtain of hair, easily long enough to scrape the floor if she stood up, is tossed carelessly into Lucas' lap. "Brush," is all she says, looking over her shoulder at Dallas. "No, no. The kiss you and Robyn walked in on? The really *special* one that made me want to date him? *That* one. Complete," she says, looking at Lucas with a momentary glare of exasperation, "with the teeth on the lip. Hmp. Brush."

Dallas starts to snap back at Lucas and then Rashmi's comment sinks in. He watches her try to turn Lucas into her chamber maid and says, "That matters? Kissing is pretty much like a pass play. If you find one that gets through the D, why change it?" There. Everything is much easier to handle when there is a sports metaphor involved.
Lucas turns around, and glares at Dallas. "Wow. You're a virgin, ain't ya?" He looks back at Rashmi. "Ah don't… um…" He slowly takes the brush from her, which is practically enveloped by his enormous glove. "Um…" He looks at the brush, which he can't really hold right to actually use, and then at her hair. He seems a little nervous, and then gets a bit of an angry look as he stares at his glove.

"Hold it by the top," Rashmi says gently. "It'll be easy, once you get used to it. Trust me." Glancing back over her shoulder, she simply favors Dallas with a withering look, turning over enough to carefully rearrange the brush in Lucas' hand, the fat end of the brush cupped in his palm to fit into the glove easier. "Don't *ever* say it out loud, but think of it like a brush you'd use on horses."

Dallas blushes again and says, forcefully, "No!" And then, "Not that it's any of your business. But totally not. No. I'm on the /football/ team!" Another pause, "Was." And then a glare, "Shut up and play barbie already." That look from Rashmi gets a totally confused expression and he shrugs as though asking 'What did I do?!'

Lucas sighs, and slowly begins to brush her hair. He sighs, and says to Dallas, without looking back at him, "Relax, D. Your secret is safe with me." He smiles, running the brush through her long hair. "So… What did you play? Tight end?" Then he starts laughing.

Rashmi watches Lucas' first few attempts at brushing, nodding to herself and smiling. Turning herself back over, she leans back against Lucas' shoulder, cracking her book open again. There's a small, choked sound heard from behind her hair at Lucas' quip, one hand swiftly reach back to give his shoulder a light smack. "Be nice."

Dallas reaches out a hand to throttle Lucas. Or break his neck. Or something. He hastily crosses his arms and says, "Cute." He seems to be searching for something more scathing and can't find it, just turning back to the TV and pretending to watch as he tries to figure out what the /hell/ is going on here.

Lucas sits the brush down when Rashmi leans back into him, and he gently wraps his arm over her shoulder, the warm glove resting snugly over her midsection. He looks back at the hockey game. "Relax, D. Ah'm just fuckin' with ya."

Rashmi gently pats the glove, making a small, appreciative noise. "Keep brushing, please?" Indeed, by the sheer politeness of the request, all seems to be forgiven.

Dallas blushes again as the intimacy of Lucas and Rashmi's grooming begins to sink in. He says, "Ah, yea." A pause and then a gruff, "If either of you say anything about this to anybody? I swear to god, I'll wait until you're asleep and then hurl your bed into the bay. From here." He's not that great at making threats yet. He stands, obviously getting ready to flee.

Lucas grumbles a little, and then begins brushing again. He glances at Dallas, "Why would Ah tell someone about this? That was totally our moment, D. It belongs only to us. Why would Ah ruin that and make it everyone's?" He smiles. It's a rather charming smile, but it's hard to tell if it's genuine or smart ass at this point. "Do you wrestle?"

Rashmi chokes again, the back of her head falling forward. "We won't say anything, Dallas," she says just a bit louder than necessary. "So, don't worry."

Dallas's right hand balls into a fist at the first part of that comment from Lucas but oddly enough, his shadow doesn't manifest as it usually does when he's stressed out. "Well enough to kick the crap out of you." Any innuendo that might be attached goes right over his head. He nods to Rashmi and says, a bit stiffly, "Good."

Lucas rolls his eyes, "Whatever." He looks back at the screen, and watches the game for a minute. "Oh come ON!" he shouts at it, as something he clearly didn't approve of occurs. He shakes his head, and then looks at Dallas. "Sit. The game's still on."

"Dal-las?" The voice that floats up from behind Rashmi's curtain of hair is almost syrupy, the 'sweetie' left unsaid, but more than apparent. "Please, sit down. Watch your ice boxing."

Dallas rolls his eyes at that play and says, "Goalie's got a hole in his glove." He starts to argue but frowns. Pretty much anything is just going to make things more uncomfortable at this point, including fleeing and giving Lucas more ammo to work with. And something for the two of them to talk about. His thoughts are almost transparent as he hesitates and then shrugs, sitting back down. "Whatever. And it's not boxing. It's more like ice brawling."

Lucas nods, "When it's done right, anyway," he adds to Dallas. He looks at Rashmi, and gives her forehead a kiss. "So, do Ah get special treatment on the team since we make out?"

Rashmi tilts her head back, grinning widely. "You do! I don't have the Professor kick your butt up and down the Danger Room for asking, aren't I sweet?" Patting Lucas' cheek, she looks to Dallas. "What's the difference? Two grown men beating the crap out of each other, on ice."

Dallas shakes his head, still watching the two of them warily. "Boxing is a sport. Brawling is just something that happens when sports gets rough." He frowns faintly and says, "And besides, nobody boxes on ice. Maybe Russians. You should ask Waterboy. He probably knows."

Lucas sighs, and watches the next play on the television. "Regardless, hockey's the greatest sport on earth. Ya can't—" and then the sound of Nirvana's Heart Shaped Box begins blaring from the cell phone hanging on Lucas' hip. "Grr…" He gives Rashmi a little push so she sits up and he can take the call. He nabs the phone off it's clip, and looks at the ID, which reads, "Erlanger." His face gets serious, and he stands, "Ah'll be back." He begins to head for the door, flipping the phone open, "Hey maw!" he says, suddenly sounding like the world is beautiful and filled with smiles.

Rashmi squeaks as she's pushed up off Lucas, eyes wide and confused as she watches the Tennessean head for the door. Her eyebrows come together, a slow question mouthed toward his back. Looking in Dallas' direction, she shifts over to sit up straight, pulling one of her hair-ties halfway up the curtain, pleating her hair back again. "…Silly question… but… d'you have any idea what that's about…?"

Dallas shakes his head and says, "His mom?" And then a pause and a plaintive tone as he asks, "Do you any idea what all /this/ is about?" He sighs faintly, looking perplexed and worried.

Lucas laughs into the phone, "Nah. Just chillin' at the house watchin' the game… Yeah, sure… heh, no, Ah can swing by this weekend…" And then he's around the corner, out of the room, and out of earshot.

Rashmi's eyes narrow slightly as Lucas rounds the corner, lips pressing together. "…This?" she says, dropping back into the couch, shrugging. "He just wanted to mess with you, I guess. Looks like he struck a nerve, though. But," she says before Dallas can get offended, holding up a hand, "we won't say anything. That's not for us to gab about, anyway."

Dallas sighs and runs his hands back through his hair. "Freak school. Full of freaks." He sounds more resigned than anything else and just sits back, crossing his arms again, trying to decide if he's more upset or disappointed or just plain confused. His attention is still on the game enough for him to say, "Wow. His team /does/ suck."

Rashmi looks back up at the door, her worried frown deepening, and lets loose a slow sigh. "I wouldn't know… like I said, I don't know this from soccer."

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