ax_main | Jean-Paul and Yuri (backdated)

Yuri finds out that Jean-Paul's about to out himself, throwing away his career in the process. Yuri is convinced Jean-Paul has lost his damn mind.

Well, it seemed Jean-Paul was too busy to be seen around the school like normal, so Yuri would have to go to him. He marched down the hall and knocked, then stood there expectantly, hands shoved into his RUSSIA track jacket pockets, looking like someone with a lot on his mind--and none of it especially cheerful.

Jean-Paul opened the door, dressed down in work-out gear: a tank and cut-off sweats. He gave Yuri a tired look. "So. Is this going to be a repeat of your texts at higher volume?"

Yuri cocked an eyebrow. "Really, though, what the hell, man?"

"It was only a matter of time," Jean-Paul pointed out. "I decided to trade in the year I might have been able to keep my secret in exchange for keeping my self-respect."

"What? Because the angel-boy put a target on himself, you'll get found out?" Yuri frowned and shoved his hands further into his pockets. It bugged him. It bugged him because Jean-Paul had just thrown away a perfectly good career--for what? But it also bugged him because... what, like he was going to get found out, too? Like hell!

"I'm not indulging dramatics in the hallway," Jean-Paul said, and stepped aside so that Yuri could come into the room. "And you're smarter than that. Take two seconds to think."

Yuri brushed past Jean-Paul, face screwed up in annoyance. "You don't have to get found out. If this place is supposed to be so secret, how could anyone know? You take two seconds to think."

"It wouldn't matter where I was," Jean-Paul pointed out, closing the door behind them. "Because Magneto would have the question of mutants on everyone's mind. And excellence falls under suspicion in that kind of environment." He pointed to his ears, and tapped a fingertip against the left point. "Secondly, I have a physical mutation. It's not something that stands out at first glance. I can hide it without too much effort. But there's already photographic evidence out there." He sighed. "And there's also the nature of my powers. If I had the ability to shoot lasers out of my ears and got found out later, big deal. If the fact that I'm a speedster got out, say, after I'd made it to the Olympics? This would go from intrigue to scandal. At least this way, I can at least leave the question of how much I'm telling in the air."

Jean-Paul took a seat on his bed and waved Yuri to the desk chair.

"And the rest of it has as much to do with Simon as it does with Warren. Swear you will not tell anyone what I am about to say?"

Yuri had already opened his mouth to complain about the stupid haircut JP had gotten to show off that physical mutation, but that shut him up. He nodded and sat in the desk chair silently.

"Simon's father called as soon as Magneto was done speaking. He wanted to pull him out of the school. Not because things might get dangerous for mutants - the man didn't even know Simon was a mutant." Jean-Paul was grim and unsmiling as he spoke. "He just wanted to be sure his family name wouldn't be tainted by Simon's proximity to us. For that reason, he would have taken him from the school. Away from me. Simon came out to avoid that. And I wasn't going to let him do that alone, not knowing how his own family is likely to cut him off for it."

Yuri absorbed this, brow furrowed, eyes narrowed, frowning seriously. A few months ago, he would've called Jean-Paul a complete fucking moron for giving up his career for some stupid boy. Boys. Two boys? Whatever, Yuri had known there was something going on there and he didn't especially care how or why. What he cared about was: "You gave up your career not just because you think there's a high probability of being found out, but also because... of a boy." He sounded more like he was trying to work it out than anything else. Processing.

"My career had a very finite lifespan," Jean-Paul agreed. "I'm hoping what I'm building with Warren and Simon will outlast what little time I would have been able to wring out of it. Either way, it will be easier to live with myself than if I left the two of them to deal with the consequences alone."

"Oh." Yuri was still frowning as he processed some more. Would he give up his career for Beka?

Hell no. And he'd murder Beka if he tried anything that stupid, too.

And yet, "I guess it makes a little more sense, that way. I still think you're an idiot, though. Just less of one than I thought. Anyhow, you should stand by him."

"Glad to have your permission," Jean-Paul teased. "But that was the plan for both of them."

Yuri thought for another quiet second, face composed in a pout. And then he asked, "So what will you do now?"

Jean-Paul grimaced. "Be a student for a while, I guess. And figure out where to go from there."

"You need more," Yuri said, matter-of-factly. He didn't know much about many people and didn't care to, but that much, he was sure of. Jean-Paul was a real competitor. Like him.

Jean-Paul pretended to consider. "I could go home and learn to be a chef."

"What, and take your boy toys with you?" Yuri snorted.

"You'd be surprised how much easier immigration is when you have an in-demand skill set or fucking stupid amounts of money," Jean-Paul countered. "Maybe I could even get Warren to fund my poutine empire."

Yuri almost laughed again, but made a face. “What’s poutine?”

"Northern ambrosia that would cause your coach to drop dead if he ever saw you eating it," Jean-Paul teased.

“I want it,” Yuri decided, thought for all he knew Jean-Paul was full of shit. He was a ridiculous pointy-eared troll, after all. “After I win the Grand Prix Final.”

"You win the Grand Prix, and I'll make you a tarte sucre to go with it," Jean-Paul promised. "And I only bake for special occasions, I'll have you know."

"Get the oven warmed up. Next up is the Rostelecom cup--in Moscow. I'm gonna make the competition into borscht."