Irvine & Mort (backdated to July 12)
Jul. 12th, 2014 08:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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om_mainIrvine does his best to give Mort some advice on talking to girls, by starting with respect and mutual interests. He thinks he does a great job about it. That makes one of them.
Just because it was summer was no excuse to let the girls in the stable feel neglected -- the horses, of course. Even without a class to attend, Irvine and Alice still went out for regular rides, which suited Irvine just fine. She had been so cool about his disentangling from where their relationship had been headed, and even if Irvine felt kind of awkward about it sometimes, he didn't want to stop hanging out with her. It wasn't often he met someone with the 'anything goes' attitude that he had toward life, and besides, Alice was a good friend as well as ridiculously hot.
After another easy afternoon ride, they strolled back up to the house, and parted with a quick hug before Alice headed back to her room and Irvine made off toward the kitchen in pursuit of a pre-dinner snack. On the way, he caught sight of one of the other guys he didn't know too well -- though it wasn't real hard to remember the name of a guy with green skin. "Hey, Mort. How's it hangin'?"
"Loose 'n green," Mort replied, watching with undisguised interest as Alice turned out of the hallway. "How're you?"
"Damn good," replied Irvine jovially, casting a glance back over his shoulder with a crooked grin. "Any time spent with Miss Alice there leaves a fella feelin' mighty energized, 'f you know what I mean."
Mort's eyes went a little wide. "Wait, bro, are you tappin' that?"
"Hey now," Irvine laughed, leading the way down to the kitchen, because a snack was still his first order of business. "'That' is no way to refer to a very fine young lady. But, uh... depends on your definition of 'tap,' I reckon. Mostly, me 'n Alice is good friends."
The other teen hopped along after him. "Mostly? What's mostly mean?"
Now, Irvine wasn't hardly one to kiss and tell, and he'd perfected a grin that was downright enigmatic. "Means that every now and then we're a little more. When we're both okay with that."
"How'd you manage that, player?" Because anyone that could get with Alice? Must have some mad skills. She was a goddess.
Irvine took the question maybe a little more seriously than Mort had meant it, because he took a second to think about it. "Oh, the usual, I guess. We hung out, went on a few dates, went to a party... and she didn't cold-cock me when I was an idiot, so that helped."
"But how?" That was what Mort wasn't getting. He spent lots of time with Alice, too! Whenever she'd let him! He couldn't convert it, though.
"Huh." Irvine thought about it further, wandering into the kitchen and looking through the cupboards for some of the snacks he'd stashed there. Most of the time, he didn't have to try real hard when it came to girls. It all came pretty natural. "Well, to be honest, I think it was takin' things slow, y'know? I like her, a lot. I didn't wanna screw shit up by gettin' all up in her business right away. She's a hot girl, she probably got guys pawin' at her all the time. That ain't my style."
Mort frowned slightly, and hopped up to crouch on top of a chair. That wasn't really helpful at all, was it? "She's right gorgeous, it's true," he agreed, "lot of the birds here are. But how do you get from worshipping to...anything else?"
Only after three times being asked did Irvine finally get what Mort was really asking about. So maybe he was a little slow. He plunked down the bag of pretzels he'd been digging for, with his name helpfully scrawled over the brand's, and turned to Mort with a cocked eyebrow. "Man, are you askin' me how to score?"
It was only his greenish, greyish skin tone that kept Mort's blush from being that obvious. "What, can't players talk to players?"
Shit, that was cute. Irvine did his best not to break out into a big grin. Mort had the instincts to be a charmer and cover for himself, for sure. Irvine just bet he got tongue-tied (maybe kind of literally considering his mutations) around girls.
Breaking open the bag of pretzels, Irvine scooped a handful and set it down on the counter between them with a gesture that Mort could help himself. "First off, I ain't a player. Leastaways I don't think of it that way. Girls ain't like a prize you get at the county fair, y'know?"
"Yeah, I know, bro." Mort flicked out his tongue and snagged a pretzel.
The tongue thing was a little startling, but Irvine still found it kind of cool. You had to expect that kind of thing around a guy with a prehensile tongue. Irvine set the heels of his hands on the counter top and hauled himself up to sit. This seemed like it might be a long talk. "Second thing is, most girls don't wanna be worshipped. They wanna be liked for who they are. No different from you 'n me, right? It's cooler to hang out with somebody who thinks you're cool and interesting."
"How's that different?"
Irvine wasn't sure if his first thought was helpful or cruel, but he couldn't seem to keep himself from saying it anyway. At least it came with a crooked little smile and a meaningful look from those big Bambi eyes. "Difference between 'that hot chick I wanna get with' and 'Alice' is the difference between 'that guy with the green skin' and 'Mort.'"
Mort didn't look altogether pleased with that comparison. "Goddess and green-skinned bloke are not the same thing, mate."
"Not that different, when you look at it," Irvine insisted, though gently. "You're more than your looks, right? You didn't pick how you looked. You wanna be noticed for the things about you that you decided on. What you're into, how you act, what you believe in. That kinda thing. Same goes for anybody else, even goddesses."
"Who's to say that I'm not including all of that in my descriptions, eh?"
Irvine spread his hands with a little shrug, then reached for another handful of pretzels. "You're the one who wanted to know 'how,' man. I'm just tellin' ya what works for me."
"Right. So. You find out things about them, not just how they look," Mort prompted. He wasn't entirely sold, but it was at least worth hearing the guy out, right? Because whatever Irvine had did seem to be working for him.
Irvine gave him an odd look. "Like you would with anybody, right? Hang out, have fun, shoot the shit. Girls are people, man. You care about what they're into, you show 'em what you're into. And then you quit thinkin' about when you're gonna get to the kissin' part."
Kissing?! Mort would take just tolerating his presence, he hadn't really thought all the way up to actually touching anyone. "Er...right."
Assuming that Mort was coming around to what Irvine was talking about, the cowboy relaxed and nodded. "Right! Otherwise, all them weird expectations and hangups is just gonna fuck everything up. Gettin' closer isn't just about you or her, it's a thing you figure out together. Y'know?"
Mort was pretty sure his luck with girls had an awful lot to do with him, rather than something that got figured out 'together.' But of course Irvine didn't know how to fix that, attractive motherfucker. "Gotcha."
As far as Irvine could tell, Mort really got it. Which was awesome. In Irvine's way of looking at things, everybody would be a lot happier if they just chilled out and appreciated each other person-to-person. You got what you gave, after all. "So you got your eye on someone?" he asked, with a leading half-grin. "I mean, you don't gotta tell me, if it's private."
All of them? Anyone? Not gonna say that. "Well, Wanda Maximoff, man...she's something special."
Irvine whistled softly in appreciation. "You got good taste, man. She's beautiful, and she don't even seem to realize it. I hear she's pretty cool, too?"
Mort nodded so rapidly that his brain might have sloshed around a little. "Gorgeous, and nice, and brilliant," he listed, sounding enthralled. "Wanda's the best."
It was kinda cute, how enthusiastic Mort got. Irvine's adopted mom would've called him twitterpated, but, Donna was kind of sweetly ridiculous. "You guys 're friends already? Nice goin', man, I barely talked to her," he encouraged. At least, he hoped it was encouraging.
"You gonna ask her out? Or... in," Irvine added, after half a thought. "There's plenty 'f shit to do around here without even goin' out."
The look that Mort gave Irvine pretty clearly told him how not happening that idea was. "She is so far out of my league, bro." Of course, pretty much everyone was.
Irvine made a little 'pff' sound and shook his head. "Might as well aim for the stars, my man! You gotta chase your dreams. Dreams is what makes life... y'know, alive. They're one of the only things we come up with for ourselves," he extemporized, with an illustrative lifted finger for emphasis. He thought he sounded pretty good, too.
Mort was still skeptical. "But she's Wanda."
"And yer Mort," Irvine answered with that crooked, confident grin. "Nobody else like you in the world. Nobody else got your dreams, either."
"...you're mad, you know it?" Mort asked.
"I ain't heard that one before, actually," Irvine answered.
"Really?"
Irvine shook his head, hopping down from the counter he'd been perched on. He offered the pretzel bag to Mort for a last handful -- or tongue-ful -- before he put them back. "Nah, usually it's 'Irvine's got a unique outlook on the world, but he oughtta apply himself more in class,'" he joked with a wink.
Mort chewed on his most recently captured pretzels. "Got ya." Guess if you weren't so stupid, that was the sort of thing teachers said about you?
It was the number one thing on his parent-teacher conference forms, though Irvine wasn't considered particularly bright. He tossed the bag back in the cupboard. "Sweet. Good luck, man, I wanna hear all about how it goes with Wanda."
Irvine had every confidence that Mort could find his way.
Just because it was summer was no excuse to let the girls in the stable feel neglected -- the horses, of course. Even without a class to attend, Irvine and Alice still went out for regular rides, which suited Irvine just fine. She had been so cool about his disentangling from where their relationship had been headed, and even if Irvine felt kind of awkward about it sometimes, he didn't want to stop hanging out with her. It wasn't often he met someone with the 'anything goes' attitude that he had toward life, and besides, Alice was a good friend as well as ridiculously hot.
After another easy afternoon ride, they strolled back up to the house, and parted with a quick hug before Alice headed back to her room and Irvine made off toward the kitchen in pursuit of a pre-dinner snack. On the way, he caught sight of one of the other guys he didn't know too well -- though it wasn't real hard to remember the name of a guy with green skin. "Hey, Mort. How's it hangin'?"
"Loose 'n green," Mort replied, watching with undisguised interest as Alice turned out of the hallway. "How're you?"
"Damn good," replied Irvine jovially, casting a glance back over his shoulder with a crooked grin. "Any time spent with Miss Alice there leaves a fella feelin' mighty energized, 'f you know what I mean."
Mort's eyes went a little wide. "Wait, bro, are you tappin' that?"
"Hey now," Irvine laughed, leading the way down to the kitchen, because a snack was still his first order of business. "'That' is no way to refer to a very fine young lady. But, uh... depends on your definition of 'tap,' I reckon. Mostly, me 'n Alice is good friends."
The other teen hopped along after him. "Mostly? What's mostly mean?"
Now, Irvine wasn't hardly one to kiss and tell, and he'd perfected a grin that was downright enigmatic. "Means that every now and then we're a little more. When we're both okay with that."
"How'd you manage that, player?" Because anyone that could get with Alice? Must have some mad skills. She was a goddess.
Irvine took the question maybe a little more seriously than Mort had meant it, because he took a second to think about it. "Oh, the usual, I guess. We hung out, went on a few dates, went to a party... and she didn't cold-cock me when I was an idiot, so that helped."
"But how?" That was what Mort wasn't getting. He spent lots of time with Alice, too! Whenever she'd let him! He couldn't convert it, though.
"Huh." Irvine thought about it further, wandering into the kitchen and looking through the cupboards for some of the snacks he'd stashed there. Most of the time, he didn't have to try real hard when it came to girls. It all came pretty natural. "Well, to be honest, I think it was takin' things slow, y'know? I like her, a lot. I didn't wanna screw shit up by gettin' all up in her business right away. She's a hot girl, she probably got guys pawin' at her all the time. That ain't my style."
Mort frowned slightly, and hopped up to crouch on top of a chair. That wasn't really helpful at all, was it? "She's right gorgeous, it's true," he agreed, "lot of the birds here are. But how do you get from worshipping to...anything else?"
Only after three times being asked did Irvine finally get what Mort was really asking about. So maybe he was a little slow. He plunked down the bag of pretzels he'd been digging for, with his name helpfully scrawled over the brand's, and turned to Mort with a cocked eyebrow. "Man, are you askin' me how to score?"
It was only his greenish, greyish skin tone that kept Mort's blush from being that obvious. "What, can't players talk to players?"
Shit, that was cute. Irvine did his best not to break out into a big grin. Mort had the instincts to be a charmer and cover for himself, for sure. Irvine just bet he got tongue-tied (maybe kind of literally considering his mutations) around girls.
Breaking open the bag of pretzels, Irvine scooped a handful and set it down on the counter between them with a gesture that Mort could help himself. "First off, I ain't a player. Leastaways I don't think of it that way. Girls ain't like a prize you get at the county fair, y'know?"
"Yeah, I know, bro." Mort flicked out his tongue and snagged a pretzel.
The tongue thing was a little startling, but Irvine still found it kind of cool. You had to expect that kind of thing around a guy with a prehensile tongue. Irvine set the heels of his hands on the counter top and hauled himself up to sit. This seemed like it might be a long talk. "Second thing is, most girls don't wanna be worshipped. They wanna be liked for who they are. No different from you 'n me, right? It's cooler to hang out with somebody who thinks you're cool and interesting."
"How's that different?"
Irvine wasn't sure if his first thought was helpful or cruel, but he couldn't seem to keep himself from saying it anyway. At least it came with a crooked little smile and a meaningful look from those big Bambi eyes. "Difference between 'that hot chick I wanna get with' and 'Alice' is the difference between 'that guy with the green skin' and 'Mort.'"
Mort didn't look altogether pleased with that comparison. "Goddess and green-skinned bloke are not the same thing, mate."
"Not that different, when you look at it," Irvine insisted, though gently. "You're more than your looks, right? You didn't pick how you looked. You wanna be noticed for the things about you that you decided on. What you're into, how you act, what you believe in. That kinda thing. Same goes for anybody else, even goddesses."
"Who's to say that I'm not including all of that in my descriptions, eh?"
Irvine spread his hands with a little shrug, then reached for another handful of pretzels. "You're the one who wanted to know 'how,' man. I'm just tellin' ya what works for me."
"Right. So. You find out things about them, not just how they look," Mort prompted. He wasn't entirely sold, but it was at least worth hearing the guy out, right? Because whatever Irvine had did seem to be working for him.
Irvine gave him an odd look. "Like you would with anybody, right? Hang out, have fun, shoot the shit. Girls are people, man. You care about what they're into, you show 'em what you're into. And then you quit thinkin' about when you're gonna get to the kissin' part."
Kissing?! Mort would take just tolerating his presence, he hadn't really thought all the way up to actually touching anyone. "Er...right."
Assuming that Mort was coming around to what Irvine was talking about, the cowboy relaxed and nodded. "Right! Otherwise, all them weird expectations and hangups is just gonna fuck everything up. Gettin' closer isn't just about you or her, it's a thing you figure out together. Y'know?"
Mort was pretty sure his luck with girls had an awful lot to do with him, rather than something that got figured out 'together.' But of course Irvine didn't know how to fix that, attractive motherfucker. "Gotcha."
As far as Irvine could tell, Mort really got it. Which was awesome. In Irvine's way of looking at things, everybody would be a lot happier if they just chilled out and appreciated each other person-to-person. You got what you gave, after all. "So you got your eye on someone?" he asked, with a leading half-grin. "I mean, you don't gotta tell me, if it's private."
All of them? Anyone? Not gonna say that. "Well, Wanda Maximoff, man...she's something special."
Irvine whistled softly in appreciation. "You got good taste, man. She's beautiful, and she don't even seem to realize it. I hear she's pretty cool, too?"
Mort nodded so rapidly that his brain might have sloshed around a little. "Gorgeous, and nice, and brilliant," he listed, sounding enthralled. "Wanda's the best."
It was kinda cute, how enthusiastic Mort got. Irvine's adopted mom would've called him twitterpated, but, Donna was kind of sweetly ridiculous. "You guys 're friends already? Nice goin', man, I barely talked to her," he encouraged. At least, he hoped it was encouraging.
"You gonna ask her out? Or... in," Irvine added, after half a thought. "There's plenty 'f shit to do around here without even goin' out."
The look that Mort gave Irvine pretty clearly told him how not happening that idea was. "She is so far out of my league, bro." Of course, pretty much everyone was.
Irvine made a little 'pff' sound and shook his head. "Might as well aim for the stars, my man! You gotta chase your dreams. Dreams is what makes life... y'know, alive. They're one of the only things we come up with for ourselves," he extemporized, with an illustrative lifted finger for emphasis. He thought he sounded pretty good, too.
Mort was still skeptical. "But she's Wanda."
"And yer Mort," Irvine answered with that crooked, confident grin. "Nobody else like you in the world. Nobody else got your dreams, either."
"...you're mad, you know it?" Mort asked.
"I ain't heard that one before, actually," Irvine answered.
"Really?"
Irvine shook his head, hopping down from the counter he'd been perched on. He offered the pretzel bag to Mort for a last handful -- or tongue-ful -- before he put them back. "Nah, usually it's 'Irvine's got a unique outlook on the world, but he oughtta apply himself more in class,'" he joked with a wink.
Mort chewed on his most recently captured pretzels. "Got ya." Guess if you weren't so stupid, that was the sort of thing teachers said about you?
It was the number one thing on his parent-teacher conference forms, though Irvine wasn't considered particularly bright. He tossed the bag back in the cupboard. "Sweet. Good luck, man, I wanna hear all about how it goes with Wanda."
Irvine had every confidence that Mort could find his way.
