Morning Times

Who: Bruce and Jesse
When: mid-morning
Where: Jesse's house

Getting to sleep had been difficult, despite the exhaustion from drinking. He'd never actually slept with someone in the same room since his abilities kicked up; it wasn't like he'd been invited to an abundance of sleepovers as a kid. And as Bruce drifted off into sleep on the couch across the room, the murmurings from his subconscious drifted over into Jesse's ears. Memories came faster, easier, without the blockage of current conscious thought, and he felt like he learned a lot about the kid as he lay there awake. Yes, definitely a lot. Like about Daniel, that was ... more than a little interesting. In a pleasant-voyeur kind of way.

He drifted off for a few hours at least, the weariness in his body getting the better of his mind eventually, after the sun had come up. He was rather quickly entrenched in the wild dreams that weren't his and weren't necessarily anybody else's he knew. They were just there. Nightmares. He frowned reflexively in his sleep, grunting something unintelligible and rolling over to face the rest of the room, curling a bit in tangled sheets.

Falling asleep hadn't been a problem for Bruce, and he'd passed out nearly as soon as he'd stretched out on the couch. He was very used to sharing a room, sometimes with more than one person, and it didn't bother him in the least. The sleep had been heavy, likely thanks to the alcohol, and he'd woken up several times since the sun had come up, but it was easy to just roll over and half fall back asleep again.

Bruce finally really woke up when he heard what he thought was someone talking to him. He looked over, bleary eyed, and saw Jesse. Even blinking a few times didn't help him figure out if the other guy was awake or not. "You say something?" he asked, his voice sounding as groggy as he felt. And damn he wanted a glass of cold water.

The voice from outside of his head was enough to startle Jesse awake and he sat up abruptly, dragging in a breath that was more of a gasp than anything. He'd stripped his shirt off at some point during the night, and it took him a handful of heartbeats to realize that the multi-colored blur that wasn't usually on his couch was Bruce. "Fuck," he breathed, and reached up to rub at bleary blue eyes. "Morning, compadre." It was mumbled, but at least awake. And he knew there wouldn't be any passing out again for quite a while. At least he'd gotten some sleep. He leaned and groped for his glasses on the nightstand.

"Morning," Bruce said, then licked his lips. As he sat up on the couch, a blanket still pooled around him, he ran a hand through his hair to make sure it wasn't sticking up all over. Vague snippets of dreams were floating back to him, but nothing that made any real sense. Of course then he remembered how drunk his sister had been and the conversation they'd had. For the first time he was actually kind of worried she'd slipped up, to Gabe even, albeit it would've been an accident. And what the hell kind of conversations had he had with Jesse? Shit. At least he had alcohol as an excuse, even if it was a lame one. He yawned and slouched against the back of the couch as he reminded himself he was the only one in the room feeling awkward. "Thanks for letting me crash on your couch."

"Not even a thing, man," Jesse said and cleared his throat. He ran his hands through his own hair, though it did nothing but tangle it's way out of his face a bit. He felt vaguely like he'd been hit with a truck. Water, he probably needed to hydrate. Hell. Vodka was either his best friend or worst enemy, he couldn't decide which. He pushed covers aside and stood up, clad only in a pair of plaid boxers as he started to glance around on the floor for a clean(ish) shirt. "God, I feel rode hard and hung up wet," he muttered. "You hungry, Bruce? Eggs maybe?" And he was definitely not paying the least bit of attention even through his hungover fog to the face that Brucey boy looked cute all rumpled and sleep-puffy like that.

"I've never heard that one before." Bruce laughed a little, which turned into another yawn. And commence not staring. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, pushed the blanket aside and stood up. Looking down at himself he noted his undershirt and jeans were extremely wrinkled. He just hoped his mom didn't go crazy overboard trying to iron everything to crisp perfection if any of it still looked like crap after it was washed. For now he was a lot more interested in food and a non-alcoholic beverage than his appearance. "And, uh, yeah. Breakfast would be cool. I'm not picky or whatever," he said as he lifted up the blanket to see if his long sleeved rugby shirt was buried under it.

Jesse finally found a shirt to tug on, a baseball-jersey-looking t-shirt with Sonic the Hedgehog on it. He stepped into some loose-fitting pj pants as well and headed for the door. Once he was sure that Bruce was on his way with him, he opened it and stepped out in the hallway, leading the way downstairs to the kitchen they hadn't even vaguely passed through the night before. Hopefully his mom had made breakfast. Otherwise, it was probably frozen waffles or something. But he was starving and felt dehydrated, and he was sure Bruce was too. He poured them both big glasses of water and slid one of them over toward Bruce. "All hangovers are is dehydration," he said as he did. "They always say if you keep up with yourself, a glass of water for every drink, you won't feel like shit, but I've never managed to do it. Cheers," he said, clinking the glasses together.

"Cheers," Bruce said with a nod, then proceeded to take a long drink from his glass. He wiped his mouth off on the sleeve of his shirt, which he'd found and tugged on just before he'd followed Jesse down to the kitchen. Now he was wondering how the rest of Breezy's night had gone, but trusted that she hadn't done anything truly crazy. By Breezy standards anyway. Still, his mind went back to some relatively dumb shit he'd said and he knew he was going to keep thinking about it being taken the wrong way. Better to clear it up now in case Jesse hadn't been so drunk the night before that he wouldn't remember details of conversation. "I'm sorry if I was, uh, weird or whatever last night. I drink and then stupid shit just flies out of my mouth. I don't even remember half of what I said."

He wasn't really sure exactly what Bruce could've said that would've counted as 'stupid shit'. If anything, he kind of remembered going off on a tangent himself that he probably had no room to go off on. He kinda tended to do that. He blinked owlishly at the guy from behind his glasses and shrugged a shoulder, adding in a smile for good measure. "No stress, man, you weren't weird," he said. "That I can remember anyway. It was a good time, though, yeah? Waffles?" He moved to the freezer and pulled it open, fishing around for Eggos. He had become aware during the night that the guy was at least bi, and that was awesome, but that didn't mean he was going to push anything right off. Or ever. It was always best to just see how shit went. Not that he was some great sage or anything in that department.

"Waffles sound awesome. That and cereal are like the only breakfast things I can make," Bruce said with a smile. Cooking wasn't exactly a man's duty in the home, so he'd never been taught how. Even microwaving stuff was pretty hit or miss, especially considering they didn't have a lot of instant foods in the Barrow home. He took the liberty of grabbing a seat at the table and took another drink of his water. It was helping him feel more awake at any rate.

"I've been a latchkey kid for a long time, and lemme tell you. Waffles after school is like, the best thing ever," he said with a decisive nod. Taking the box down, he stuck four into their big toaster and pressed the lever down, then fetched some plates. And syrup, because a waffle without syrup was inexcusable. "So what'd you dream about last night?" he asked off-handedly, as though that was just a regular hungover-morning question. "Drunk dreams are always interesting."

"Uh, I don't know. Something about school, but I think it was my last school and the one here combined," Bruce said. He squinted up at the ceiling while he tried to concentrate on recalling his dreams from the night before. It was always annoying when he couldn't remember them. There were a lot of little snippets that didn't make much sense and feelings left over. Bruce shrugged. "Whatever it was I felt pretty damn lost. But Bree was there at some point, so it was cool I guess. It wasn't a bad dream. What about you?"

"I never remember," Jesse said. Which wasn't true and a cop-out, but it didn't really matter, since any dream he had wasn't his anyway, right? He just tended to get a mish-mash of fuckedupness from gods knew where, full of faces and voices he didn't recognize, and fears that weren't necessarily his. He squinted one eye as the waffles popped up. "I think there were pandas involved." Jesse dished out two for each of them, and shuffled over to the table to put the plates down.

"Pandas? I don't think I've ever had a dream about pandas," Bruce said, laughing lightly. As soon as the waffles were set down in front of him he dug in, not worrying about butter or syrup or anything else. None of that sounded great anyway. He held up the waffle he'd taken a bite out of. "Thanks for breakfast, man."

Jesse had to laugh as Bruce immediately started devouring, in a light, surprised way. "Well, guess I know now you're not too picky," he joked, spreading butter on his before he started to drown them in syrup. "No problem, homes, I've got more in the freezer if you're still hungry. Don't choke, dude, it's a little early for mouth-to-mouth." Even though that would be the Heim-whatever manuever. He really couldn't help himself, and he grinned.

Bruce instantly started cough-choking on the bit of waffle he'd been in the process of swallowing. He downed more water as soon as he was sure he wasn't really choking, then cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah. Obviously. But, uh, not too early for Halo?" It was the worst topic changing transition Bruce had likely ever come up with, but it had to happen. Video games were probably a lot safer conversation than wherever their current one was going.

Well okay, there had been no frozen waffle lobbed at his head, so Jesse counted that as a win. He could roll with the bad redirection without too much trouble. "Never too early for that, my friend," he said, and stood up with his plate and glass, upnodding to Bruce to follow. "Nothing like a little blood and guts over breakfast, c'mon. Lemme kick your ass into next week and then we'll go rescue your wheels and shit."

Bruce grabbed his stuff and followed after Jesse. He was really looking forward to playing against him if Jesse was as good as he said. "The only ass kicking that's going to take place is me kicking yours. I'm pretty sure I already established that much," he said with a broad grin. He knew he was being cocky about it, but this was something he was confident he could win at.

"You haven't established shit yet, boy, only that you know how to talk," Jesse countered with a laugh. He led the way back up the stairs -- careful of the plate, if he got syrup on the carpet again his mom would freak -- and back to his bedroom. The TV was kinda small, but he'd never been allowed to have a console downstairs. Which was totally fine in this situation. He settled on the floor, putting his stuff down, and leaned forward to turn everything on.

"I can back it all up. You'll see." Bruce settled down next to Jesse and finished off his first waffle. The tv he had at home in his room was about the same size as the one Jesse had, so it wasn't going to be much different. There was another thing he'd get as soon as he could once he'd moved out: a big screen tv. "So long as you're not a lame ass screen hacker."

Jesse handed off a controller and snagged up his own, chuckling a bit. "Don't need to be, man, don't need to be." Honestly? He wasn't sure whether or not he was good enough to beat Bruce, but it didn't really matter in the end. They'd probably have fun doing it regardless of the outcome, and that was what was important. There was just no way in hell he was going to say that.

Naturally Bruce chose red armor for himself when it came time to choose. But he definitely remembered the joking around he'd done about armor color the night before. "You sure you don't want pink armor?" he teased and nudged Jesse with his elbow. Of course, on the off chance Jesse really did kick his ass, he didn't really need any insult to the injury. Getting your ass handed to you by someone sporting pink armor would be pretty damn insulting to the ego.

Grinning a bit, Jesse went with green and nudged Bruce back. "Not feelin' quite that girly yet today, man. We'll see how it rolls," he said, glancing over. He picked the map when it was time and then it was on. He quickly came to find out that Bruce was good. Like, hours and hours of practice good. Jesse held his own to a certain degree, but the shit-talking more or less proved to be for naught as Bruce very firmly handed him his own ass. He had a good time with it, though, laughing every time his little green avatar got shot through the head. Eventually, once the time limit was up and the final score was displayed, he chuckled and shook his head. "Didn't even get into the double-digits. Dude, that's sad."

"Oh man, I forgot to tell you. I am Master Chief!" Bruce said and laughed. It had been a good game though, and that did count for something. Bruce knew he had an advantage since he'd been wasting so much time playing the game since he'd moved to Marquette. "No, seriously, you just need a little practice is all. Then you'll be kicking my ass across the map." He might've been a sore loser, but he wasn't an overly boastful winner.

"Yeah, yeah, that's just the pity talking," Jesse grinned at him, and elbowed him again. He didn't mind losing. He never did. He was just grateful that games and stuff usually took his mind off of everything else. He didn't hear as much in his mind when it was pre-occupied with running around a fake place and trying not to get shot. He picked up his plate to finish off the neglected second waffle that had turned cold and kinda soggy. But he didn't much mind that either. "I'll get practice, though, don't worry. If only to bring you down a couple."

"Hey, I'm up for a rematch any time," Bruce said and shrugged. Seeing Jesse finishing off his breakfast reminded Bruce he still had a cold waffle left too. He picked it up and took a bite, mulling over his victory in his head. Jesse was definitely better at the game than his little brother. And Devon was tired of Bruce always winning when they didn't play co-op.

"It's done, then," he said, once he'd polished off what was left of his food and wiped a stray bit of syrup off of his chin with the heel of his hand. Once Bruce seemed like he was finished too, Jesse stood up and stepped over their plates to head for his closet. He tugged the pj pants down and snagged some jeans from in there to replace them. He probably wanted to get home and check on his sister and everything, let his parents know he wasn't dead. Always a good policy.

"Just tell me when." Bruce finished off what was left of his drink, then looked over to see what Jesse was doing. He looked down at his watch, noted the time, and figured it probably was about time he grabbed his stuff and headed home. The last thing he wanted to do was overstay his welcome. He wasn't exactly worried about his parents worrying about him, but they'd want him to check in at least. He got up and went back over to the couch, shoved his phone and wallet back in his pockets and sat down to put his sneakers back on. "I bet Bree's got all kinds of shit to tell me about what happened after we cut out."

Jesse chuckled as he emerged from the closet, pulling a hoodie on down over his head. "I can only imagine," he said, thinking that any night involving Gabe Winters and a date had to be something to relate. Just not necessarily in a good way. But he was maybe just a tiny bit biased. Which kind of made him concerned again in a convoluted way about what might happen to Bruce's reputation if word of this got out. Not that anything had happened, but that didn't matter to most people. He looked at the other blonde guy for a moment and kind of felt like maybe he should warn him or ... something. "You know ... if you find later that you don't wanna hang out with me, it's cool," he said. "It's just that ... Winters and the dudes he runs with ... I know you're sporty and all, but ... " Jesse made a vague gesture, sort of failing on the expressing himself thing.

"Uh, what?" Bruce said, screwing up his face as he looked over at Jesse. He abandoned his shoelace tying for a moment and shook his head. No way. That might've been him a month ago, but it wasn't him now. "Fuck them if they don't like you. You and Nate are like the first friends I've made here. You're cool. I'm not some mindless zombie jock or whatever." He shrugged and finished tying his shoe.

He watched him for a moment. He did indeed want to believe that. A lot, for a few reasons. But part of him was skeptical. They'd just have to see once the gay rumors started flying around. After all, Winters knew that Bruce had come home with him, he was pretty sure. Bruce had told his sister the plan, after all. So time would tell. It was still nice to hear for the time, though. "Cool," he said, and stuffed his feet into some sneakers of his own. He ambled over toward the door, deciding not to read much into 'you're cool', because that never did anybody any good.

Bruce grabbed his hoodie and his other jacket off of the back of the couch and pulled the hoodie on over his head. He checked the pocket and was glad his keys were where he thought he'd put them last. He didn't really want to spend any time dwelling on what a jerk he'd been in the past, that only made him pissed off at himself for shit he couldn't go back in time to change. Which, in turn, just made him think about how he'd skipped out on telling Danny he was moving half way across the country. This town had to be about starting over and doing things right. But he needed a distraction from the heavy thoughts that threatened to bog him down. "D'you watch horror movies?" he asked as he followed after Jesse yet again. If he did, that would be kick ass and make Jesse even cooler than Bruce already thought he was.

Jesse gave him a Look over his shoulder and then laughed. "Does a bear shit in the woods? Fuck, man, what do you take me for?" He grinned and started down the stairs once more. Scott wouldn't mind him borrowing the car for just a few. Or he might, but Jesse'd deal with it later. He was fine to drive, he liked driving. And he kind of didn't want Bruce to think he relied on his parents for everything. "Of course I watch horror movies. I live on horror movies and old, bad sci-fi. Why, do you? I'm assuming yes, because you're awesome and awesome people don't say no to horror." He grabbed the keys out of a little ceramic bowl in the foyer and headed out the front door.

"Hell yes. We should have a horror movie marathon some time or something. Evil Dead or zombie flicks. Hellraiser. Saw. Anything, really. It's just more shit my parents ban from the house," Bruce said, skipping right past the fact that Jesse had said he was awesome. He'd try not to let that one get to his brain. And he'd try even harder not to tell his sister about it or else he'd never hear the end of it. That or she'd turn into a crazy matchmaker for real, which was ludicrous considering Jesse seemed pretty damn straight. And Bruce did not need any of that. Not now, not ever. He reminded himself he needed to give Drea a call about that one on one game, or just general hanging out. It would be cool if they could get to know each other while sober.

"That'd be cool," he said. "I've got plenty of it, so y'know ... anytime. Not like I've got a life or anything." Or he hadn't, up until really kind of just recently, it seemed like. He just kind of wondered how far any of it would go, or how long it would last. But that was sort of negative of him, wasn't it? He unlocked the car for them and slid in behind the wheel, starting the thing up and letting it warm for a minute. Winter was really starting to gain some momentum. "So anytime you wanna watch bad movies or play bad games, feel free to give me a call. I don't mind corrupting you," he said, looking over with a grin. He should probably stop that, but it was fun, goddammit.

After getting in on the passenger side, Bruce leaned forward enough to put his jacket on over his hoodie. When he sat back he looked over at Jesse with a smile. "I think I'm already corrupted enough with bad movies and bad games. But, hey, I can pretend otherwise or whatever if it makes you feel like a genuinely bad influence," he said as he buckled his seatbelt. "I'm always up for watching crazy shit I haven't seen before. Kind of sucks my parents give a shit about violent movies and violent games."

It was quite possible that he was a really bad flirt. After all, it hadn't ever really worked out for him the few times he'd given it a shot in the past, right? Either that or Bruce was oblivious, or some combination thereof. "Gotta do what I can to lower the number of white-collar douchebags in the future," he said with a chuckle. "Or at least pretend that I am making a true difference in the world, one of the two." He put the car in gear and backed down the driveway. Maybe the dude just wasn't attracted to him, that wouldn't be surprising. Or maybe it was just too soon and his mind could shut the fuck up, there was that too. He was going with that.

Bruce slouched down a little, his smile turning wry. "Hate to break it to you, but, uh, nothing you can do to change my future. I mean, sure, maybe I won't be a douchebag when I grow up, but my job might call for it. I can make out all my business cards to say 'Bruce Barrow aka Doctor Douchebag' or whatever. Give people a warning," he said. Cracking jokes about his ultimate fate in life was easier than just letting it eat at him. Even then what Jesse had said to him the night before came back to him, but now with a bittersweet kind of edge. It was nice to hear, especially outside of his own head, but that didn't make it at all possible to pull off without major consequences that Bruce did not want to incur.

Jesse looked over for a moment, then put his eyes back on the road and shook his head ever so slightly. The smile was still there, but it was faint. He hated hearing that kind of defeat out of someone his own age. That shit had to be reserved for people on their deathbeds, and them only. "Might not be anything I can do to change it, dude-ro, but there's everything you can do," he said. There was a quiet conviction in his tone, but it wasn't the intoxicated passion from the night before. It wasn't really the moment for that. "Just sayin'. Though Doctor Douchebag does have a nice parody-comedy-villain ring to it."

"I'd rather stick to being Batman, in theory. Playboy douchebag by day, kick ass vigilante by night. In my head anyway. Whatever," Bruce said and shrugged. The more he talked the more he felt he sounded like the loser he thought he was. Better to just shut up before Jesse decided he wasn't awesome anymore and was the one saying he'd rather not hang out again.

... wow. That was escapism if he'd ever heard it. But it was a hungover morning, they were still teenagers, and Jesse wasn't going to load him down with the vibrant joys of reality. Not today, not just yet. If he was going to make a difference anywhere -- and some part of his mind had already decided that he wanted to and should -- it wasn't going to happen all at once. "Then your card should totally say 'Playboy Douchebag' instead of Doctor. Unless it should be Dr. Playboy Douchebag. Like you've got a PhD in playboy-ology or ... something," he rolled with it with a grin.

Bruce laughed, relieved for the moment that Jesse wasn't calling him a weirdo or anything. The Batman thing was a metaphor in his own mind, living the dual life and having to make sure the two never mingled. Triple life, really if he was being ridiculously specific. It was all about hiding shit, and Bruce felt he was good enough at it. He just hoped it panned out for him. That in and of itself made him a bit afraid of the real unknown of the future, outside of those best laid plans that usually got wrecked anyway. "I guess a name change will be in order, huh? Not that I think anyone could get used to being called Playboy all the time," he said and chuckled again. He was glad for an amusing conversation. "People would expect me to have tattoos of naked chicks all over or something."

"Which would fit in with the douchebaggery quite nicely," Jesse put in, giving a sage not. "Because only dickheads have tattoos of naked chicks. Unless they are on chicks, in which case, that's kinda hot in a weird double-layered way." Which had him trying to picture that for a second, a girl with a pinup tat or something, but he blinked the thought away. "Not that that applies to you, being a dude. So. Maybe it could just be a tagline. Bruce Barrow, Playboy Doctor of Douchebaggery." Which was kind of a mouthful, but they were being ridiculous anyway, so it didn't matter. "What an ego-builder, huh?" he said with a sidelong grin, taking the turn that would lead them back to where the bonfire had been.

"That's why I have to be a vigilante or whatever. Balance out the douchebaggery with awesomeness," Bruce said with a nod of his own. It was almost too bad it couldn't work out like that, since it was more than likely he'd just become exactly what they were mocking. Only without the playboy bit.

Jesse was of the mind that people actually did such things, a lot more often than other people knew, but he wasn't going to clue Bruce in on that. He doubted the guy could ever live that lifestyle anyway, the majority of people weren't cut out for it. Including himself. "Think you're doin' okay with that minus the vigilante stuff," he said off-handedly as he headed down toward the water, and pulled up next to the van they'd abandoned last night.

"Yeah, so far anyway. Not exactly a great idea to tell people I'm trying to be friends with that I'm really just an asshole," Bruce said and shrugged. He eyed the old VW bus, glad it was still there. The weird warning Jesse had given him the night before about random murders in town had him already thinking the place was hiding other kinds of criminals. Not that he could imagine why anyone would want to steal the van, other than the cool factor. It wasn't in the greatest shape, but it was good enough for a bunch of teenagers to kick around town in. "Hey, at least the van isn't rocking or whatever. That's a good sign."

"No random vagrants breaking in your seats," Jesse agreed with a tiny smirk. "Or, y'know ... drunk and stupid teenagers. Though unless they're totally hardcore, they'd be very hungover teenagers by this point." He sat back a little in the seat, making no move to get out or anything. His plan was just to drop the Brucinator off and head home for a much-needed shower and maybe more bed. He was definitely feeling weary still.

"Yeah, that'd be way more hardcore than I am. Uh, thanks for... everything. I'll see you around." Bruce flashed Jesse a genuinely appreciative smile and unbuckled his seatbelt. It didn't really matter to him that they both still looked like they'd just rolled out of bed, he would've liked to hang out with Jesse a little longer. But there'd be a next time, he was sure of it. A sober next time.

"No problem at all, man," Jesse said, giving him an easy grin. He reached over to add in a hopefully-masculine-ish smack on the shoulder. Just to do it. "Watch yourself goin' home, and I'll definitely catch up with you later." Hell, if Bruce wasn't a fan of the lunchroom either, maybe the two of them could have a steady sort of hangout going. If he didn't give a rat's ass about rumors and everything.

"Later," Bruce said as he exited the car. He closed the passenger side door and waved, heading over to the van. It was time for him to figure out what Bree was up to and make an appearance at home. There was probably supposed to be some homework thrown in there too.