Rictor stopped dead and glared at the table in the far corner.
Well. This was no good. No good whatsoever. This was what he got for showing up early. A bunch of French speaking people--which, granted, was expected when living in Paris--and an occupied table. An occupied table that should be distinctly unoccupied.
Damn Jamie. Or his dupes. It was hard to tell which this was.
He needed a plan. Rictor retreated to the bathroom so he could plot.
Damn Monet anyway. This was all her fault. He finally admitted to someone that he was gay--after she figured it out and badgered and blackmailed him into the truth, but what did that matter?--and the first thing she does is set him up. Not only does she set him up, but she sends him to the one café in Paris where, apparently, Jamie frequents. And was sitting at the very table he was supposed to meet his date at.
Well, she just sucked.
Rictor glared at his reflection in the little mirror. As much as he liked thinking about ways in which Monet sucked, this wasn't helping. The fact remained that he had to get Jamie away from that table, and fast. Good thing he'd shown up early.
Taking a deep breath, Rictor walked back out of the tiny bathroom and into the café. Jamie was still sitting at the damn table in the damn corner, reading a damn book. A Sherlock Holmes book, of all things.
Rictor stalked over to the table, put his hands on his hips, and smiled painfully. "Hi, Jamie."
Jamie jumped and looked up. "Rictor," he said after a minute. "Hi."
They stared at each other.
"Um, Strong Guy called. Looking for you," Rictor lied.
"Guido? Weird--he didn't call my cell . . ." Jamie said with a frown, checking the phone in question. "Was it important?"
Rictor came very, very close to saying yes. But if Jamie called Guido and found out he hadn't called and it wasn't important, it would be hard to explain that. And then there would be questions about why he was lying, and it would all get complicated. "No," he said finally.
They regarded each other, Jamie still with a book in one hand, Rictor still standing.
"What are you doing here?" Jamie asked, finally.
Rictor ground his teeth. "Nothing. You?"
"Nothing."
Oh, crap, if Jamie asked him to stay--
But the man didn't. They just kept staring at each other.
"Aren't you supposed to be filing things?" Rictor asked finally.
"A dupe is doing it."
Damn.
Around them, people wandered in and out, pausing to buy pastries and coffee, occasionally sitting at an unoccupied table. Someone called for someone else, and there was a cheerful greeting.
They ignored it all.
"Look, Ric, I'm meeting someone here, so if you--"
Rictor straightened. "What? Who?"
Jamie hesitated. "A girl."
"Look," Rictor finally ground out, "I'm supposed to be meeting someone, too. Can't you wait somewhere else?"
Jamie set his book on the table, folding his arms over his chest. "We're supposed to meet here."
"Well, so am I. I mean, us. I mean--whatever. Madre de Dios, Jamie, would you just move?"
"I can't move!" Jamie snapped. "I don't know what she looks like!"
"Well I don't know what my date looks like, either!" Rictor barked back.
They glared at each other.
"All right," Jamie said finally. "We'll both move over to that table," he jerked a thumb, "and wait. When someone shows up, we'll introduce ourselves, explain things, figure out which of us they're here for, and whoever is supposed to be going with them will go sit somewhere else."
Rictor hesitated. Then, finally, not knowing what else to do, he agreed.
They both moved over to another table and sat, uncomfortable.
Dios, what if his date showed up first? How was he supposed to admit to Jamie that he was meeting another guy? If a guy showed up, he just wouldn't get up. That would work. He would stay seated, and apologize to M later. Yes.
They sat there.
Outside, people chattered through open windows and rode bicycles down the street. It was entirely annoying. Rictor should have insisted on a night meeting. Then he wouldn’t have run into Jamie, and there wouldn't be bicycles out. Annoying bicycles. Annoying people on the annoying bicycles.
And stupid Jamie would blab to everyone. Rictor could only hope his date didn't show up first.
"Sooo . . . what's your date look like?" Jamie asked.
Rictor frowned. "I don't know. Brunette, I think." That was a safe answer.
"Mine, too," Jamie sighed.
They continued staring at the empty table.
The clock against the far wall ticked slowly on. A minute passed. Then another. A third.
"I was early," Jamie said.
"Me too," Rictor responded.
"But at this rate, I think I might be stood up," Jamie groaned. He folded his arms on the table and laid his head on them, sighing. "I even wore a clean shirt."
Rictor leaned way back, legs crossed at the ankles, arms crossed. "Me too."
They stared at the table.
Three more minutes passed.
"You know what I really hate?" Jamie asked.
Rictor looked at him expectantly.
"When people just don't show. It's so rude. Is it so hard to at least call and say, 'Hey, I'm not gonna make it. Gotta wash my hair'?"
"You get a lot of people washing their hair rather than dating you?" Rictor asked, snorting.
"Oh, sure," Jamie said breezily. "'Jamie, I have to wash my hair. Then braid the stuff on my back,'" he said in a squeaky voice.
Rictor barked a laugh.
"It happens all the time." Jamie was grinning.
"Yeah, well, when Shatterstar and I were with X-Force, he used to actually say that to people. Of course, he was serious, but man." Rictor shook his head, lost in the memory. "I remember this one chick who hauled off and tried to slap him."
"Tried?" Jamie asked.
Rictor grinned. "Well. It was Shatterstar."
"Right," Jamie said. He sat up and turned, peering at Rictor. "Rahne thought he was hot."
Rictor just stared. "Rahne?" he squeaked finally. "Cute little Rahney?"
Jamie nodded, grinning.
"He would have eaten her!"
Jamie laughed, and Rictor grinned in response. He could feel himself relaxing, comfortable in the other man's presence. They got along well, he realized suddenly. He wasn't sure why they didn't hang out more.
"Look, Ric," Jamie said, abruptly serious, "there's something I need to tell you. Before my date shows up."
Rictor sobered almost instantly. "What?"
"My date is . . . well, it's a he."
Rictor stared. "You're gay?" he yelped.
"Keep your voice down," Jamie muttered, looking around. None of the Parisians were even looking their way. "I might be bisexual," he murmured. "So, y'know, M said she knew this guy she thought I'd really like, and--"
"Wait," Rictor said, a sneaking suspicion entering his mind. "M said? Monet?"
Jamie looked confused, and only nodded.
Rictor was going to throttle her. He really was. Wrap his hands around that skinny little neck and just squeeze. And shake. And then squeezeandshake.
"What?" Jamie asked.
Rictor glowered. "Nothing." He couldn't admit to Jamie that he suspected M had set them up.
Meeting each other. Of all the sneaky, underhanded--as if he was going to tell Madrox he was gay.
Except, Jamie had just admitted as much to Rictor. And they did get along.
"What?" Jamie asked again, starting to sound nervous. "I haven't just totally screwed up, have I?"
Rictor eyed him. "I don't think so. See, M told me to meet my date here."
Jamie just looked at him.
"My male date," Rictor clarified.
Jamie just looked at him. Then light dawned; Rictor could see the realization spread over the other man's face, as if someone had painted him with the color of 'Oh, no.' "You're kidding," he said. "If you are, it isn't funny."
"Not kidding," Rictor said softly. "But, look, maybe this could stay between us?"
Jamie nodded enthusiastically. "I'm really not ready for the whole team to know anyway," he said.
"Me neither," Rictor agreed, relieved.
Madre de Dios. M had set him up with Jamie.
They sat in silence. It stretched, awkward and long, between them.
"So . . . what now?" Jamie asked.
Rictor sighed. "I dunno."
"I haven't had dinner. Kind of planned on going out," Jamie said hesitantly.
Rictor eyed him again. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
They stared at each other. Jamie slowly turned red, but ignored it.
"We could go get dinner," Rictor said finally. "I mean, y'know, we'd both planned on it . . . "
"And I'm starving," Jamie agreed, a smile breaking out across his face. "Food, then?"
Rictor nodded. "Yeah. And later, we need to figure out something nasty to do to M."
"Yeah."
Rictor grinned and stood, following Jamie out of the café.
--end