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WHO: Josh Foley, David Alleyne, Joseph Kavinsky
WHERE: Josh and David's house
WHEN: November 25th
WHAT: Kavinsky comes to scope out his potential new digs.
WARNINGS: Will update as needed.

It's probably a bad idea.

Anyone with any sense will tell him it's a bad idea. He barely knows this guy. A few heart to hearts and an in-person deep dive into their most traumatic memories shouldn't have him throwing his doors open to give him a place to stay, but...

Well, that wouldn't be the mutant way, would it? You see someone struggling with their demons and you can't help but throw out a hand to help them. And if those demons eat you alive, so be it.

It's as close as Josh can get to remote as one can find in suburbia. Scraggly trees make up the back yard. A nice little place in need of some work. New shingles probably. An overall design update - it's not ideal, but for something bought mostly on a whim before the end of the world it's pretty decent. Four bedrooms -- well, three, one has been converted into and office -- and two bathrooms. A sad excuse for a kitchen and a decent-sized living room that could be better. They barely have any furniture - and what they do have is pretty far from classy. The nicest thing in the living room was Josh's yoga mat, and that was absolutely covered in dust from disuse. And he's doing yoga for the first time in nearly five years to try to recenter himself.

Kavinsky turns up and Josh cartwheels out of a downward dog and makes for the door, opening it with a grin. There's a shout over his shoulder for David, letting him know he's here and to chillax for like five seconds.

"Hey man, you ready for the grand tour?"

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"Yeah I'm down."

Kavinsky is wearing his usual 'weirdly similar to Richard Gansey' threads, a blue wool shirt with buttons, corduroy slacks, rubber boots as proof against the possibility of inclement weather. His coat has a narrow fit, tailored lines; his neck tattoo peeks out of his folded collar. Despite the ink, he looks like money, which is mostly just because he's supposed to dress like Hannibal Lecter, but also a little bit, maybe, because

because he didn't want to look like a charity case. He helped to save the whole fucking world just now, you know. He can figure out his living situation all by himself. He can do anything. He's Joseph fucking Kavinsky.

"Good location," he observes, stepping in, peeking around. He slants Josh a smile. While he may be averse to pity, he is receptive to having fun with new people. It's definitely a good idea. Definitely. "How you been, Foley?"

Money is a foreign concept to Josh. Money is a luxury that he's had for over a year now and hasn't quite figured out how to handle, other than just stockpiling it for a rainy day.

"Excellent. David's upstairs being a mad genius, he'll be down in a sec," he leans back from the door to let Kavinsky in- the opposite of money, wearing cheap yoga pants and a tanktop that's absolutely inappropriate for anything other than the dead of summer. He spins on a foot and gestures towards their kitchen - he might as well get the guy a tea or something while they wait.

"I'm good. The world didn't end and everybody's still in one piece. I'm gonna call that a hell of a win. How about you?"

Kavinsky looks around the house, once he's far in enough from the door to actually see anything. And he beholds the living room, in passing, with its yoga mat, which is peculiarly decrepit considering that no doubt Josh, like most ImPorts, has only been here a few years. Hmm. There's no couch.

He follows Josh into the kitchen. Likewise, incredibly... spartan. What are people who don't money, even? "Same," he said. "We did it. And Batman probably ain't ever gonna talk to me again, but that's probably good for everybody involved."

He stops by the kitchen counter, leans an elbow on it. Looks around the space, the stove, the walls. Cabinets. He would guess that if he opened them, or the refrigerator, there would be little if anything inside of it. Kavinsky manages, in general, not to look rich person judgy. But he is definitely a little 'don't you even like blowing your money on unnecessary boy shit' judgy. "Yo," he says. "Looks like you really want the home renovation TV people to do all the heavy-lifting, right?"

That has to be the explanation. It is reasonable explains.

"Actually, I was supposed to be putting this place together. Design and furniture and everything, but Josh decided to do this."

That's the line David enters the kitchen on, a large and empty mug of coffee, dressed like a college professor between classes. He moves right to a cabinet, opening it up and pulling down a french press. And yes, that cabinet is full. All of them are. Mostly because David had been seriously investing in cookware since he arrived.

"He's decided that we're going to let strangers make the decisions for us. He doesn't get to talk to them about designs."

"I decided David would have more fun bossing around a design team and having an unlimited budget," Josh says without missing a beat, flashing Kavinsky a grin and a look that says told you he was a dork. "After he lectured me about how much a renovation would cost."

A shrug, then a light elbow to David's side. He hates it now but Josh is sure in the moment he'll have a blast

"David, meet Joseph Kavinsky. Kavinsky, meet David Alleyne."

Oh, will you look at that. Kavinsky beholds the cabinet, its rich and assorted contents, and he grins. This all makes more sense in context now. Which is good and important, you see. As far as Kavinsky is concerned, you need belongings to feel like a man. He may have some issues, but interviewing (?) for a position as a roommate is definitely not the time to be honest about those.

"What up, David."

That's not a very Hannibal thing to say, but he is a fine blend, you see. He reaches over to shake the little professor's hand, very mature, very adult, definitely not anticipating any kind of psychometry or reading into gloves, if they currently exist. "Nice to meet you. Sorry if we was interrupting whatever you were doing upstairs." Saving the world, one sweater vest at a time possibly?

What up? The man, yes wearing gloves because of course he can't even risk bare skin in his own home, raises a single eyebrow at this particular form of greeting. He does shake the hand presented, before returning his attention to getting down things for coffee.

"It's not a bother. I'm going to take some parts to Jane soon. Meanwhile, there is an important question you need to answer," he says as he measures grounds and pulls down a kettle to heat water.

"Best form of pizza."

"Oh no, here we go again."

He has nothing of value to add. Nothing. Because the Pizza Fight will be the chasm between them forever and it's very dumb, because the answer is clearly dessert pizza.

Okay what's happening. Friendly shenanigans? Kavinsky is truly a visitor to a foreign land, his eyes tennis matching between the boy in yoga pants and gold skin, and the tiny African American professor who clearly was responsible for the well-stocked kitchen. He is obviously in the wrong genre of fiction. On so many levels.

Most people are terrified of him. For reasons. Or at least knowingly cautious.

"Usually I'm a plain cheese man," mostly because, in his original identity, he was extremely conservative about food. Beer, Coke, hard liquor, two or three types of candy and the plainest possible American bastardizations of standard fare were his go-to. "But some tomato and basil never killed anybody." A beat. A smile peeks out on his pale face. "Although you guys look like you might."

Too bad tiny isn’t fully accurate. But David does appreciate the misperception. Works hard to maintain an idea of tall and lanky and not able to care for himself. And he pours hot water into the French press and smiles before turning to face the newcomer.

“I mean, Chicago versus New York. Your decision affects what parts of the chore wheel you will have the luck of falling onto,” David says, tilting his head.

From his accent? Definitely the one on the side of Chicago.

"Dude that's not even fair! You can't fall your pizza better if you're threatening the voters!"

Josh rolls his eyes - imperceptible unless you know what you're looking for, and leans on the counter, grinning at Kavinsky despite the tone he's taking with David.

"I won't kill him over pizza, but if he says something about New York fried all bets are off."

As David gets closer, and imposes himself onto the hot beverage making process, it becomes apparent that he's not as little as previously supposed. Tres problematique. Why does Kavinsky always have to be the puny one! He doesn't like it. (And the worst part is how into it he is.) He raises a discreet eyebrow at no one in particular, and ends up peering down into his cup o' tea that Josh here gave him.

Ah right. Chicago versus New York. God.

"I'm from New Jersey," he announces. "New York is a little wet, it's weird when that shit doesn't crack when you fold a slice in half." Is this what people do. Banter with their new roommates? He hasn't said anything deliberately rude, casually homophobic, obliquely racist, or elegantly cutting in... five minutes? The dream scratches his tattooed thumb against the cup he's holding. He can do this. This is fine. He also hasn't murdered anybody in five minutes.

That's kind of the same thing. Right? "I have a confession to make, with regard to said chore wheel," he adds, drinking tea.

Of course he's taking over. He needs coffee. Lots of it. Yay coffee.

"So what you're saying is that you're tactfully not coming down on the side of either. That's fine," David answers. But he does offer a more serious look, arms crossed over his chest, as the man makes the comment over the chore wheel.

"It's not a literal wheel. But everyone pulls their weight here. Period. You do your own laundry If you can't do dishes, I'll teach you. Can't cook? You're responsible for ordering an agreeable dinner for everyone or being my runner for buying groceries. Everyone helps on keeping the house clean. That includes bathrooms. Understood?"

That's David's main concern.

"Your own room can be as much of a disaster as you want or need. I won't be in there to clean it, I'm not your nanny. Unless you abscond with all of our dishes. Then I go in there to reclaim those, and I make no guarantees that I leave the room alone once I'm in there."

What? If Josh is bringing someone into the house, David's laying ground rules. Which mostly amount to 'I am not your fucking nanny or maid'. Something it took a WHILE for Josh to learn. Perhaps he was still learning it.

"Last rule? No ragers."

"How dare you," Josh says without any venom, taking a sip of his tea and resting his elbows on the counter. "I invite you into my house and you insult the food of my homeland."

He stretches out, there's a reason why David's in charge of putting things in order. Josh's everything is kind of a mess. The only time anything he has is kept in order is when he doesn't have anything to mess it up with.

"He's being a hardass because you're my friend and he's expecting you to be as messy as I am. It's not that strict," he adds helpfully, spinning his cup between his hands. "I don't even need to eat but he's got me doing grocery runs and ordering, like, actual proper food and whatever."

Kavinsky listens to the conversation. Feels out the balance of energy, between the surprisingly tall nerd and the healer physician bimbo, who suddenly seems rather small in comparison. Very interesting vibes in here, extremely different to what he remembers of the adorable poly pile living in the Meadows.

"My confession," he says, picking up where he'd left off before David went on his whole thing, "was I used to just pay people to show up once a few times a month to do most of the stuff you're describing, Dave."

There's just a slight edge of extra articulation when he says Dave. It's not really in his nature, to accept being told what to do. In that, on a deep-rooted Freudian level, he's really into it, and on every other plane, the natural chaos of his personality tends to grow against it, like a badly set bone or a mountain swallows up seams of gold. Better yet, a mountain swallows up a city. But he thinks better than to compare dicks too obviously at the moment, looking at David but watching Josh out of the corner of his eye.

'Friends.' That's what this is, right?

"No ragers," he says. "I got it."

What did he just get called? Just when he wants to chide Josh for accusing him of being a hardass, his attention is on Kavinsky again. And yeah, this is his unimpressed face. He takes half a step forward. Just enough to bring the tall into play. To silently underline that he does have a bit of size on the other guy.

"David," he corrects, voice firm. "And if you want a maid to clean your room, pay for one. You want someone to take your turn at cleaning the bathroom? Well, you're going to have to find something REALLY good to bribe Josh or me with. Because I'm not okay with a maid toddling around this place, for a number of reasons. Most of which start with the fact that we're imPorts, continue into my specific set of powers, and conclude with the fact that letting some stranger have keys to your house when you're in heroics is just ASKING to get kidnapped or a bomb placed in your basement, or any other number of things."

Paranoid? Yes. But he has dangerous tech in their house that he's created, and he's seen people get blown up before. Paranoia is an inherent state of mutants.

"If they're trying to kill us they're going to come through the door whether they have a key or not," Josh points out. "I'm cool with having someone come by every once in a while to clean so long as there's someone home to make sure they don't go anywhere they're not supposed to."

David is a lot, especially when first getting to know him, relaxation only happens once he's fairly certain you're a decent person... or he's decided to help make you into one.

"People treat people with powers a lot shittier where we're from," he does shoot Kavinsky an apologetic look. The least he can do is offer some kind of explanation.

Being here is an adjustment goes unspoken. You saw a fraction of what it was like is kept deliberately silent. He might have noticed David in that vision - but that entire thing had gone so badly off the rails that Josh hadn't been sure where anyone was.

It's some good good copping from Josh Foley over there-- Kavinsky isn't accustomed to having people push him, when motivated by genuine concern for safety. In general, he perceives the world as a series of threats or prizes. People to beat, stuff to steal.

But it makes sense -- he does remember. He had seen a glimpse of Josh's world in twilight zone Jeopardy, after all. Reaver types! Cyborg hate groups. And he can imagine the cost of heroism.

He reminds himself prudently, that he'd only dunked Batman last week out of actual, apocalypse-averting necessity. Getting into the shit with Prodigy would be extremely unnecessary; a waste of potential that he's infamously wasted for years already. Kid's just worried about his house. He looks up (and up, and up, and up) at the black boy for a long moment, weighing up his options. Then he says:

"The guy who made the house I used to live in, he built it with his powers so it only lets people in if they don't mean to harm anybody inside. If you want, I can try to work something out like that for this one."

Nope, that's not enough. David snorts and shakes his head.

"I'm building a custom security system. I'd sooner rely on that than some form of magic," he answers. Magic that relies on intent to harm can fail to protect against lack of intent. No, watching is better. And locks. As for the rest, he looks at Josh.

"Some people might come through the door. Some people might just be Quentin fucking Beck and find other ways to fuck with you. I'll pass. Hard."

"There's nothing saying we can't do both," Josh offers, feeling oddly off-kilter to be playing any sort of compromise. "If one fails then we've got the other, right?"

The rest just earns a shrug.

"Again, my experience says that if they're gonna fuck with you they're going to draw you out of your safe spot to blow your head off. But I get your perspective and maybe we could try to set up a magical barrier and a state of the art security system, because most people who can get through one can't get through the other."

It feels as if it's on cue: the golden boy's noble effort to play peacemaker. Very cute. Kavinsky has literally never seen anybody attempt to do this on his behalf before.

Unsure how these things normally go, Kavinsky gives Josh a slap on the arm. "I was just trying to show your boy I'm willing to play ball," he says. "No big. Surveillance, locks, and chores sound great. David's way or the highway. I'm picking up everything you guys are putting down. It's your house, man. I'm just sleeping in it. Maybe. Probably.

"Can I check out the bedroom?"

Tadaa. He isn't secretly planning to kidnap any twins today, either. Or otherwise flout David's edicts. Very compliant! Best housetrained supervillain. He even dutifully puts his empty teacup in the sink, and then very briefly Will Smiths at it.

Actually, Kavinsky, though you'd never guess it, Joker is a pretty good house-trained supervillain. Even paid David to cook for him. But that's another matter entirely.

"You are more used to powered villains. And you can't tell me that was always true. The first time I was shot was inside the mansion," he chides Josh and then finally moves to pour his cup of coffee. This is good, very good.

"By all means, see the room. One final note? Don't be Josh and 'forget' to wear pants around the house. I have a... I have a friend who comes by sometimes. He doesn't need to see that."

"No? I'm used to assholes with guns. The powered assholes are actually a lot easier to deal with because they're grabbable." He wiggles his fingers and downs the rest of his tea, setting the cup in the sink and rolling his eyes at David's next statement. "And I wear a towel!"

Whatever! David! Kavinsky seems to have passed the test, so he grins and points towards the stairs.

"Ignore him, I'll show you the room."

"I have a lot of internalized homophobia and self-loathing," Kavinsky reassures David, because -- it's getting to be a punchline to him, really. The meticulous, if slightly insulting nature of these house rules! "I'm not gonna take off my pants outside my room. Don't worry about it."

He punctuates this with a wink.

(But in reality it's only funny because it's true. :( Breezing past that though--)

"Good to meet you, David not Dave." He throws the Prodigy a little wave, and then proceeds to saunter in the direction that Josh had indicated. "Foley, do you need a bathrobe? I can get you a bathrobe." He will dream you a bathrobe. It will be, on a subconscious level, extremely creepy and representative of private opinions about how he feels about your skin.

"Yeah, the internalized homophobia is likely to be replaced by hitting on any guy that comes your way if you hang out with Josh too much," David dismisses as the other two walk away. It's a suitable parting shot.

After all, he had Josh had definitely gotten from closeted bi or internalized homophobia to really not being picky in their sex lives. Surely they can be a guiding path.

"Dude, I would love a magic dream bathrobe. And hey, David, that worked out for you, didn't it?" Josh calls over his shoulder, lifting a hand in a wave as they trot off.

But, ah. Shit. He glanced at Kavinsky and once they're upstairs he turns to The other man with an apologetic look. He's not going to bring this shit up in front of David.

"Hey -- by the way, just - I'm really, really sorry for all that. In the - whatever that was." He scratches the side of his face. "

Kavinsky laughs as David drifts out of earshot. Hmm. To be more sexually indiscriminate than he currently is. Would that be a problem? ImPorts can't catch diseases, so probably not, right? That being the main problem.

"He wasn't that bad," Kavinsky says to Josh. This is not actually a deliberate misunderstanding; it's a temporally confusing moment. "Although they say that at the heart of controlling and/or narcissistic personalities is a deep-rooted insecurity and/or fear." He puts his hands in his pockets, winks at Josh to assure that this was not a sincere criticism. He's noticed similar dynamics at the Meadows, actually. People telling each other what to do. Invariably out of love.

He's very bad at listening. "I thought you said he has a boyfriend. Is it just semantics?"

"Nah, he's got a boyfriend. Or at least I think they're official?" It's not like he can check to see if they're facebook official here or anything. David's not that kind of guy, and he doesn't think Damian is either. "David's a good guy. I give him plenty of cause to worry, so like, don't take it too personal if he starts acting like a mother hen. He just wants the best for the people in his life."

He could just drop it at that, the misunderstanding would make it easier. And the old Josh probably would, but those kind of doubts fester. Or at least they do in his head. Joshua "I need people to like me" Foley might not crave acceptance as hard as he used to, but he still feels it.

"I meant more," he pivots on his heel, walking backwards as they head towards the empty room. "With the - with my past, y'know? That was shitty. I'm not that guy anymore, but that guy was still really shitty to you and I gotta own it, y'know? This is a safe space for everybody."

A pause.

"I mean, everybody but people like the OTO."

Oh the baby serial killer would have worried for a minute, but if the only people we're excluding is OTO, then we're fine.

(David is so right to worry.)

"Oh, that," says Kavinsky, who suddenly feels-- awkward. Obscurely embarrassed. How does one 'accept' an 'apology,' even? Is that a kind of sandwitch? A Tahitian liquor? He glances at Josh quickly then looks around the house. The house turns out to be still a house, not much having changed since the last time he looked around it, which was zero point two seconds ago. "No big, man. I knew it was all a fuckin' shared hallucination.

"And I used to be kind of a dick too." He is only a serial killer now. Not as much of a dick. (Also false.) "I'm just playing." (Kind of.) (How many lies can he tell consecutively at once. Only wizard Jesus knows.)

Welcome to friendship. We apologize for our fuckups in this house.

"Well, congrats on the character growth. Let's hope we're never that shitty again." There's maybe a conversation to be had about how feeling shame, so long as it isn't debilitating, isn't the worst thing in the world. But that's some Advanced Theory right there.

Josh spins back around in time to narrowly avoid bumping into the door, getting it open and gesturing to the room with a flourish. It's a decent-sized space - nothing huge, but not a shoebox either. David grabbed the biggest room, and Josh took the two smaller ones for his bedroom and office.

"Anyway! Here it is."

"Yeah."

Standing in the doorway of the bedroom, Kavinsky is struck by the strangest sense of disquiet: this feels way too fucking normal. Maybe he would have experienced something like this when Ronan took him into the Meadows last year, but that is lost to him now. He assumes it had been merely uneventful. Clotho knows better, and she isn't going to say anything.

Or maybe it's Josh's fault for whirling around and looking all cute and excited, like a gold-plated retriever puppy, resplendent in yoga pants and optimism.

At the Meadows, they all knew what he was like. They'd taken him in anyway. Josh has no idea, right? Kavinsky walks into the room, looking around the windows, restlessly up at the ceiling. He just saw Proko die, heard about some other shit on the Internet. Or maybe it's not even that, really; the real difference, the only one that ever really matters, is Kavinsky hasn't hurt Josh yet. Or anyone he loves. Yet.

Yet.

This is a really bad idea. "I like it," Kavinsky says. "You sure this is cool?"

It might be a bad idea. An exceptionally bad one. What does he actually know about Kavinsky? What does Kavinsky know about him? He's been selective with the truth - letting out the worst parts, but never the full context. He doesn't know how dangerous Josh can be, not really, no one ever does until it's too damn late to regret extending the chance to him.

But Josh shrugs, flashing a smile.

"Yeah, dude." With certainty. Because you need certainty when giving someone a second chance. Xorn had taught him that, and Exodus wasn't exactly the best mentor you could possibly choose. He was Brotherhood, loyal to mutants - and he guesses that loyalty extends to imPorts too, even if they're far from the same thing. "I've kinda missed living in a place with a buncha other people. It'll be fun."

His smile widens.

"And David'll keep things from getting too crazy."

That is a lot to put on David Alleyne's shoulders. Even though he has really huge beautiful shoulders.

"Dope."

A smile spreads over Kavinsky's face. Slow but bright. It makes him look younger, a little at odds with his preppy outfit. He lopes back toward Josh, sticking out a hand to shake. To make it Official. "I can probably put a bed in here tomorrow. That's okay, right? I'm uh, allowed to have a bed before your people roll in for the remodel?" A beat. "I don't have to run that by David, yeah?"

What is asking permission about things. Back at the Meadows, he grew freakish trees that bled when cut, shot up a kid's pillow with real bullets, and creeped Ronan in his bed a few nights a week. Learning curve, activate.

It's a nice look on him. Josh takes the extended hand and gives a firm shake, his healing powers making the touch warm and soothing.

"Yeah, dude, you can have a bed in here. David's not the boss of beds." David is the boss of beds, David is the boss of everything. "He can help you put it together. We don't have a date for the TV crew just yet, but they'll like, come in and renovate the whole thing to your liking and whatever."

"Cool." Kavinsky doesn't know why the handshake feels nice, but it does. He'd guess at abilities, if he were more suspicious, or if it felt anything other than kind.

As a general rule, Joseph Kavinsky has no idea what to do with that.

"Thanks, Foley."

The moment after he says it, Kavinsky realizes that he'd already said thank you, at some point. When he does his fancy philanthropy shit, he doesn't go overboard with that shit either. Contracts some PR people to manage the nitty gritty, just shows up at party, throws some money around. This is weird. But he just grins at Josh, decides not to take any of it back. "I'll uh. See you tomorrow."

"No prob. That's what friends are for." Because they are friends. Mutant friendships form quickly, intensely, because their lives are often too short and too brutal to allow for second guessing. They're friends, and their allies, and really that's everything you need right there.

He draws his hand back.

"Just gimme a call a few hours before and I'll be up to help you move your stuff in."

On impulse-- that's worn out of habit mostly because Kavinsky really spends less time with his contemporaries than you'd expect, he reaches out and grabs Josh's hand. Drags him over for an obstructed chest bump. It's weird with Ronan and the rest of the Meadows kids; giving dap. He would've said he'd almost forgotten how, really.

"Appreciate it."

And as casually as you like, Joseph Kavinsky then releases Josh's shiny golden hand again. Takes a last look at the kid's face -- so earnest. Kavinsky takes his leave. It'll be fine, he tells himself. This is the right thing to do, for the Meadows, for himself, haunted by the memory of his ex and ever out-of-place among the Raven Boys. Josh tolerates him, or better; likes him. Healthy option all around.

What could possibly go wrong.

(Don't answer that.)

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mild powerpose