Timebomb (Open)

[Tanner Larson]

Who was that boy with the fiery eyes, who stood center stage amidst a small crowd of drunken, love-torn faces? Who was he, whose blonde hair stood spiked on end, lithe frame cloaked in a tight black tee shirt and dark, well-fitting jeans? Who was this man, whose smooth, sultry crooning elicited cheers from the audience, and whose gaze could distract any of these women from their drinks? Who was he, who was so comfortable here under the spotlight, seeming to enjoy, more than anything, being in the middle of all this?

Surely it was not Tanner Larson, the shy, scholarly pyrokinetic enrolled at Hammel Institute. Surely not he, who stammered in front of strangers, tripped over his own toes, and generally preferred the comfort of his bedroom to the chaos of the nightclub. Surely not Tanner, whose grade point average was higher than the number of times he'd ever been kissed. Surely not him.

And yet there he was, standing behind a microphone stand, surrounded by a brilliant light shining down from above, two backup singers in tow behind him. Music was blasting in his ears as he sang of love won and love lost, and most in the room were simply enamored. This was not the sort of thing Tanner ever would have seen himself doing - not in a million years - but after Zac had anonymously passed his name off to Madame Cynthia, who owned La Maison Magnifique, and after said Madame had ultimately convinced him to give performing a try on her new "Ladies' Nights" every Thursday evening, the blonde had found that he actually, well, kind of enjoyed it. Singing, dancing, it all gave him an opportunity to release that which he usually held inside. Not to mention the applause which always made him blush, yet still he loved it.

"It's only love, give it away;
You'll probably get it back again..."

Tanner had never been in love, no, but he could sing like he had. He could emote, and that was a skill Cynthia had been most proud to teach him. It had taken her a long, long time to train him to really perform, to really wow an audience, but her hard work had paid off, and he was quite a draw.

"It's simple, it's a silly thing;
Throw it away like a boomerang..."

He didn't usually pick his own songs; rather, Cynthia or one of the stage managers chose for him based on the theme of the night, or what they thought he would be able to sing well. But P!nk's "Timebomb," a relatively new song, had caught his attention the first time he'd heard it, and he'd all but run to Cynthia's office with the album, begging her to give it a chance. She'd been so happy to see him excited about performing that she didn't dare put up a fight. The song was a bit more high-intensity, and a bit less sensual, than what most of the singers performed at the House, but this crowd was getting a kick out of it.

"I wish we all could lighten up;
It's only love, not a timebomb."

And with a few more funky dance moves, the song was over, the boy's face turning bright red as cheers welled up around him. With a nod of his head, he all but dashed offstage, reaching first for a bottle of water - the boy, whose body temperature was higher than normal people's due to his abilities, usually got extremely hot under the spotlight - before heading out into the crowd to get something else to drink. He was underage, and Cynthia didn't make exceptions, but he did like to hang out at the bar after he was finished to watch the other acts.

Asking the bartender for a simple glass of sprite, the boy sat back on his stool. Most of the kids at school didn't actually know he did this - many of them were under eighteen and thus couldn't come in unless they had a fake ID - but he was always interested in seeing if anyone he did know had come.

[Ethan White]

[/IMG][/right]

With the NHL Lockout still in effect, Ethan’s suddenly found himself with way too much time in his hands. (He did take a leave from university when he got drafted into the Bruins; oh how he loves his timing). At first, he was pretty happy about it; with the amount of practices they had during the summer, he barely had time for anything else. It didn’t help that them newbies had to stay a few extra hours just to make sure they’ve already memorized the various formations. Needless to say, the lockout, though unfavourable to some, was a boon in disguise. (Thank goodness his agent had the foresight to include some clause about him still getting paid in case of lockouts; sure it’s a fraction of what he’d be getting should he be playing, but it’s still a rather generous amount).

Lately however, Ethan’s found himself wishing more and more than he hadn’t quit school just yet. He’s not wishing he’d be forced to write those damn finals, no, but more along the lines of he needed something to keep his mind preoccupied. Recent developments (read: Braxton apparently getting a girl pregnant) had gotten the brunette into quite the funk. Sure he hasn’t gotten hold of Cherry-Charice-Charlie-whatever-her-name-is to confirm himself if she’s carrying a baby Carson in her womb, but her friends have been saying that she’s been experiencing some sort of morning sickness lately. And while he’s rather sure pretty blonde has a reputation of getting around – he doesn’t want to stereotype sorority girls, but hey, he distinctly remembers waking up one morning and seeing her beside him too; the next day she came out of Robin’s room, then out of Jeremy, Logan, Paolo, and the list goes on – so the father (if she is indeed pregnant) could be anyone, but the thought of his best friend possibly being tied to someone because of it was just eating him out. He himself knows it’s weird to feel this down because of it. They’re just best friends after all, and sure he’s allowed to be concerned, but not this affected.

And no, he insists that this has nothing to do with the one-sided romantic(?) tension between them.

With no one to really talk about it with (since he couldn’t verbalize his problem himself), he’s been frequenting a few bars around town for some time now. Mostly those where he knows none of his frat brothers would find themselves in. He loves them to bits but he’s fairly sure their teasing about him being a ‘Mrs. Carson’ would do him more harm than good.

He was just halfway through his drink (a simple lime margarita; the night’s young and he feels like he should take it slow) when he felt someone sit beside him, effectively cutting him off his thoughts. “You’re the one who was just on stage right?” he asked with a grin after checking out who it was, “Nice voice you have; I liked it. What’s the title of the song?” He made a little chuckle when he saw what the blonde was drinking. “Sprite? Alcohol hasn’t been known to impair one’s vocal cords right? Want me to buy you a drink?” Ethan then realized the implications of such a question, and while the blonde might be a looker, he swears his intentions are all innocent. “To show my appreciation, nothing more,” he added quickly.

[Tanner Larson]

Tanner had been aware, upon claiming a spot at the bar, that there was a man sitting beside him; it was fairly crowded that night, as it was, so he'd expected no less (although usually Thursday nights drew a more feminine crowd). He hadn't given the other much thought, however, until the man spoke up. He had a low, gentle voice, inviting him to lean in to hear better, as his question was scarcely audible over the general buzz of the busy room.

"Yeah," replied the young blonde, and it wasn't until after he'd uttered this word that he actually turned to meet the man's gaze. Hopefully it wasn't obvious that his eyes widened almost instantly: here was a very attractive man. He had a sort of cool confidence about him that Tanner sensed immediately, like a quiet, calming force. It was alluring, if for no other reason than that it was fairly different from everything else that was going on around them.

"Thanks," he continued, hoping that he was coming off as cool as he was trying to make himself seem. Honestly, guys didn't normally just talk to him, so it wasn't as though he really knew how to act around a strange, attractive man. "'s called Timebomb," he added, to answer the man's next question, as the bartender set a glass down in front of him and he ran a finger gently around its rim. "It's... a new favorite." This enigmatic, relaxed response surely betrayed the abject excitement with which he had brought it to Cynthia earlier that week, not to mention how often he rocked out to it in an exceedingly humiliating way while driving around town late at night.

Ignoring the throbbing in his chest as this extremely handsome young man offered to buy him a drink, Tanner simply lifted a hand to decline the offer. "Thanks, but I'm good with what I have. I'm-" He stopped himself, deciding this man didn't necessarily need to know that he was underage. "...driving home tonight." There, that was a good enough reason. He brought the glass, dripping with condensation, up to his lips and took a small sip, as a single drop trailed down just below his lower lip.

"And what brings you here tonight?" He asked, changing the subject. "It's Ladies' Night, you know." Okay, so that wasn't the most tactful thing to say, but Tanner stunk at small talk, was even worse at flirting (which he was trying to do, if it wasn't obvious), and was genuinely a bit curious on top of that. The whole reason Cynthia had allowed Tanner to start performing on Thursdays was so that she could start drawing in the female demographic. Hence the Ladies' Nights. Not that men weren't allowed, but there were certainly fewer that night than all the others. This man either had no idea about that, or was interested in men. But he had said this with a grin, so hopefully it had sounded more teasing and less accusatory.

Deciding that, even if obviously facetious, this remark perhaps wasn't the best way to leave off, the young man extended his hand towards the other. "Tanner, by the way," he stated in introduction. "Tanner Larson." He might have known that already from the introduction to his act, but he figured it was only polite. And while Tanner had no idea how to talk to men, he definitely knew how to be polite. As it was, it had taken a long time and a lot of performances to grow comfortable enough to even talk to another man like he was doing now. My, how he had grown.

[Ethan White]

[/IMG][/right]

Tanner shouldn’t really worry about Ethan seeing his supposedly embarrassing “pleasantly surprised” reaction when the brunette went forward and started a conversation with him – the mixture of the establishment’s relatively dim lights and the four (or has it been five already?) drinks the twenty-one year old had had already begun impairing the boy’s eyesight. It hasn’t gone to the point where everyone looked like a Sports Illustrated model yet (Ethan can hold his liquor after all; living in a frathouse increased his tolerance a good notch or two) but it did cause him to unconsciously blink and shake his head a little as he leaned in closer and tried to trace the outline of the blonde’s mouth when he spoke.

“Timebomb,” he repeated, nodding slightly as he took a sip of his drink, “Sounds pretty heavy.” The way Tanner sang it on stage earlier only served to strengthen Ethan’s little hypothesis. “Must be tough singing a song like that. I mean, it’s just so…loaded.” And Ethan felt every bit of emotion in it. Whether it be because Tanner’s singing was just superb or because of the cocktails he’s consumed, well, that’s one of the mysteries in life we’d never really know. “It’s great.”

“Oh. Cool.” Driving. He forgot about that. If he left now, maybe he could still sober up and be able to drive home before sunrise. But that would be incredibly ridiculous, not to mention rude. Seems like he’d just be hailing a cab home again. Fifth night in two weeks. Great. Just great.

He let out a small chuckle when Tanner pointed out what night it was. “Was it? I didn’t even know.” That would explain the inordinate amount of women in the place tonight. He swore he’s been getting looks ever since he came. One even offered to buy him a drink. Why he hasn’t approached anyone and refused the generous offer was beyond him. (Or at least that’s what he’s telling himself now). “This is one of the few places in town where I’m pretty sure I won’t see a few of my friends,” he continued, shrugging his shoulders, “And I didn’t feel like going to Culture or Purple tonight.” Ethan absentmindedly swirled the cup in his hand then shook his head, turning to Tanner and sending him a cheeky smile. “I think I’ve made a right choice though, don’t you think?”

“Ethan,” he answered, shaking Tanner’s hand, “Was that your first time singing on stage though? I’ve been here a few times and I swear this is the first time I’ve seen you.”

[Tanner Larson]

If this man was inebriated, Tanner couldn't really tell. As it was, his only interactions with drunk people were mostly tipsy women cat-calling him while he was performing. He didn't mind, necessarily, although he often didn't consider himself worthy of such attention (Cynthia was still working on that part). That said, the man's subtle gestures to keep himself in the moment were altogether lost on the blonde.

"I guess I can't relate," the pyrokinetic replied, taking another sip of his own drink as he responded to the man's statement about the song's high intensity. "It's good pop-rock," he agreed, shrugging his shoulders somewhat as he turned his body to more properly face the other boy. He seemed to have a fairly solid, well-structured body (a rather academic compliment, Tanner realized). An affractive young fellow, to say the least.

The blonde nodded his head. He didn't want to brag, but ladies' nights had actually sort of been his idea - he'd come up with it as an excuse to get himself onstage after Zac had convinced him to audition at the House - and already it was something of an institution at this establishment. They weren't quite as big as the other weekend nights, but there was still usually a pretty good crowd. "Do your friends not usually come to a place like this?" They were missing out, as far as he was concerned.

Tanner's ears perked up as he heard the man mention Culture and Purple. Were those gay bars? They sounded like they were. He didn't go clubbing enough to know for a fact, but he was pretty sure. That would explain why he was here now, though, and it would certainly explain why he'd struck up a conversation. Tanner didn't want to be presumptuous, but he supposed it was now within reason to assume that the brunette was interested. This all, of course, was completely in Tanner's own mind. "I think you're exactly where you ought to be," he replied, returning the boy's smile. Okay, was this going too fast? Was Tanner being too flirtatious? He never really did this, so he wasn't sure what the proper etiquette was. Was there proper etiquette?

"Ethan," he repeated. He had a strong hand and a firm handshake, which he liked. "Nice to meet you." He shook his head as he took another dip from his glass. "Not quite," he replied, running his finger along the glass's rim. "I've been singing here Thursdays since August," he added as explanation. Not quite his first time, indeed. But if this was Ethan's first time here on a Thursday, that would account for not having seen him before.

"So, you know what I do," he said, nodding towards the stage, upon which a few male dancers were entertaining the crowd, without taking his eyes off the man. "What do you do?"

[Ethan White]

[/IMG][/right]

Ethan simply shook his head and chuckled slightly when Tanner asked about his friends visiting La Maison. “Nope. I went here once with them, we only lasted half an hour I think? Then they started whining about all sorts of things.” He could barely remember the reasons they’ve managed to think of, but they were pretty ridiculous at best. Nate’s the only one decent enough to keep his mouth shut and probably was the only reason Ethan didn’t flare up. Because seriously, Ethan felt like he’s with a crowd of loud three year-olds and not adults who should’ve known better. “They got pretty loud too, and everyone was sending us death glares already. I was actually surprised they let me back in again when I came here alone a few nights after actually.”

The blonde was right though; those two were gay bars yeah. It was rather surprising that a quaint town like Pilot Ridge would have one, much less two, gay bars but then again, the town did have a proportionately large gay community. (Ethan’s even heard rumours that a lesbian club’s in the works even).

“That explains it. It’s the first time I came here on a Thursday. I’m usually on Venue with my buddies on Thursdays.” Thursdays are theme nights for the place. Unfortunately, Ronnie’s boyfriend was sick with the flu and she’s stuck taking care of him, Max still had three essays to write and Nolan took in a shift at work (‘cause it’s for this hot blonde he’s been trying to get on with for the past three months now), among others. “I might just start reconsidering the whole tradition though,” he added, turning to the stage briefly and smiling involuntarily on what he just saw.

He was a little dumbfounded when Tanner asked him what he did. Not because it’s illegal or anything like that, but more because in all honesty, he honestly’s still confused about the whole thing. “Well I’m a student down by UVM. English Lit. Or at least was,” he said as he finished his drink, motioning to the bartender for another one, “I took a leave since I (finally) got drafted to the NHL, with the Bruins. You know, hockey.” Just in case Tanner wasn’t exactly sports-savvy. “This year was supposed to be my first season but then the lockout happened.” Hooray for being in limbo.

His new drink arrived and Ethan took a quick sip. “So, since you’re now in the bar chilling with me, I’m guessing your shift’s over? Or will you be performing another number within the next hour or so?”

[Tanner Larson]

Tanner was a bit surprised with this man's response. "A half hour?" He asked incredulously, eyebrows lifting slightly at this information. "No wonder you keep coming back," he added with more than a hint of sarcasm, but the light smile dressing his features made it clear he was just teasing. "Well, I'm glad you decided to give it another go. It's a pretty fun place," he said, swirling his fingertip again around the outside rim of his glass as the house band struck up a light jazz tune.

When Ethan mentioned he was enjoying the Thursday night lineup, Tanner blushed, a reaction unseen thanks to the dimmed lights in the room. He blushed because he had figured Ethan was complimenting him, but when he looked up from his glass he saw the older boy looking at the stage. Oh.

Rude.

The blonde tried to hide his amazement as Ethan told him he had been drafted into the NHL. Yes, he knew what NHL stood for, and yes, he knew what the Bruins were. "Wow," he said, betraying an air of disinterest as he thought about this. So a professional hockey player was talking to him. No big deal. He'd just turned towards him and struck up a conversation. Totally normal.

He was vaguely aware of a lockout but didn't know much about it. He wondered if it was anything like the referee strike that had been going on over at the NFL. "Have you gotten a chance to play at all?" He asked. He imagined what it would be like sitting in the arena, watching Ethan dash across the ice. Maybe he'd become some sort of hockey star. Maybe Tanner could sing the national anthem at his games, and they could go out for hot chocolate afterwords.

Bring it in, Larson.

Tanner nodded. "I'll be back up in..." He looked over at the stage, seeing that it was just the band performing a couple of numbers for now; waitresses darted around the large room, refreshing the patrons' beverages. "...fifteen minutes or so." He looked back towards Ethan expectantly; he hoped the man would stay for his next performance - it was sure to be a good one, as he had been working on it for quite a while - and didn't want that to be the end of their conversation. "I usually do two performances a week. Three if it's a special night," he added with a wink.

[Ethan White]

[/IMG][/right]

Ethan certainly didn’t mean for his supposedly innocent statement to be taken in like that; he argued that it was a case of a right statement said at a wrong time. While it was true that the current performance did make him smirksmile (because he was a guy and his hormones knew exactly what he liked), should the situation be different and such a performance wasn’t on when he was about to reply to Tanner’s remark, he wouldn’t have changed a thing about his statement. It was fun enough talking to the blonde; the tantalizingamazing dance routine was just icing on the cake, as it were. (If his amusement with the conversation he’s having with Tanner was simply a product of his slow descent to inebriation or not though, well that’s a whole new thing entirely).

Lucky for both of them (probably) that the lights were dim though, and Tanner’s subtle reaction was all lost. Ethan did mistake his simple ‘Wow’ response to the revelation that he’s been drafted into the NHL as disinterest, and made a mental note to, well, not talk about it much. Unfortunately for him hockey wasn’t worshipped as much as football in the States. Maybe moving to Canada wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“Nope, unfortunately,” answered the brunette with a shrug, “We had a few weeks of training camp, so yeah I did get the chance to play with my teammates on the ice but against other teams, no. And the way the talks are going, I feel like we won’t be having a season this year.” A bummer really. He was so looking forward to it. “Do you play any sports? You look like you’re someone to be in track or something,” he added after giving the Tanner another quick look (he’s usually subtle, but the drinks and the touches the blonde’s been giving might’ve made his technique a little bit sloppier).

“Oh cool. Glad you’re not leaving me yet,” he grinned, subtly brushing his hand against Tanner’s, “So if this is Lady’s Night, you’re doing two more performances then? Care to give me a hint on what you’ll be doing?”

[Tanner Larson]

Tanner listened with affected interest as Ethan told him about his experiences with the Bruins. He thought it was, frankly, awesome that he was talking to a professional hockey player, but he just couldn't convince himself to be all that interested in the sport itself. "Ah, sorry to hear that," he said as he took the last sip of his drink, letting the glass settle back down onto the bartop before pushing away with two fingers.

The blonde resisted the urge to laugh as Ethan asked whether he ran. Tanner, being athletic? Yeah, that was a good one. He went to the gym every so often just to keep in shape, but he really didn't have to work too hard at it, as he inherently had a high metabolism and just didn't eat all that much. "Me? Nah," he replied, shaking his head loosely. He had seen the other boy's look but had assumed he was just sizing him up. "I'm just naturally... lithe." Ugh; Tanner made a mental note to stop trying to be sexy. It just didn't work when it was coming from him.

He blushed reluctantly as Ethan voiced his satisfaction and getting to spend a bit more time with him. "You're a lucky guy," he said, cheeks deepening in color as he forced himself to look up at the man. His eyes darted down towards the bar as he felt the brunette's hand against his own; he knew it was completely lame to do so and diminished the point, but he couldn't stop himself. "You're a lucky guy..."

Tanner smirked; a hint? He couldn't imagine what he would say. "Well now, I said I only perform three times on special nights. Is tonight special?" He asked, grinning. Hell, it could be if he wanted. Frankly, he could walk into Cynthia's office, ask to go again, and she would let him. He wasn't sure he wanted to or was prepared, though. "All I'll say is that you'll want to stick around," he said with what was probably a very mechanical wink. He had been preparing this number for quite a while - Cynthia had been helping him out a lot with it - and was very excited about it. And if Ethan paid attention, perhaps he really would be happy he'd come.

[Ethan White]

[/IMG][/right]

Well, he tried.

While it’s not exactly the same response he got two nights ago, Tanner’s response was – disappointingly – similar to those he’s gotten for a few nights now when he’s brought up the whole topic of hockey to, well, strangers in a bar. They’re all amazed at first yes, and while a select few would ask him how the game worked out and what he actually did, the majority would just go ‘Oh. That’s cool. Moving on’. It’s not exactly a bad thing, but it did get Ethan down just a tad bit. Took it as a sign that maybe the blonde wasn’t really that interested. Shucks.

If only he could show him – and the other ‘nonbelievers – the skating rink. And him in full hockey gear. Playing and moving on the ice. Because like his teammates said before, it’s one thing to tell about it and a whole other to see it happen. Clearly Ethan’s not that gifted with his tongue. (At least with this aspect of tongue work, he adds).

“Oh, it happens. Just sucky timing, that’s all.” It’s a gift. He’d been caught (jokingly) telling people that it’s his meta ability. Just that Hammel hadn’t recognized it as an official power just yet. “Makes me wish that I still stayed in university though. Put off the whole pro-career for another year like I’ve done for the past two years.” He wouldn’t want to go through finals and all those crappy papers all over again (his friends had been complaining over and over about how hard their Econ classes were), no; but having nothing to do was getting a little too tiring.

As he felt his head getting a little bit heavier, the brunette shifted his position slightly, settling with propping an elbow on the bar and putting his chin on his knuckle. (He also made a mental note to slow down with the drinks. And probably order some food. They do have food in Magnifique right?). He absentmindedly grabbed his glass with his free hand as Tanner spoke, realizing how good of a view his new position afforded him – not only was he supporting his head (albeit not as comfortably as he would’ve liked it), he had a clear view of Tanner and the stage. God why didn’t he think about this earlier?

“You don’t? Really?” he asked in disbelief and amazement, “Damn. So that’s all through dancing?” Ethan remembered wishing to have the same built as the blonde was when he was his age. (Not that he already figured that Tanner’s still in high school though; in the brunette’s mind, Tanner just had a baby face). He’s more comfortable with his current build now (if he’s any smaller he’d be pushed easily by his peers) but he does find himself oddly drawn to guys of the said type. “How old were you when you started dancing?”

He simply smiled when Tanner said that he was a lucky guy. “Well the star of the night’s talking to me during his break instead of resting backstage. What could be luckier than that?” he winked, finishing his drink and putting it back on the bar. “Well I don’t know, aren’t Ladies Nights special?” Ethan was confused. Just a little bit. “Though I actually am torn. As much as I’d like to see you perform…” He slowly leaned towards Tanner, not enough to fully invade the blonde’s personal space but enough to, well, hopefully deliver his interest just a bit more, “…I’d get a little lonely.”

Too forward?

[Tanner Larson]

Tanner couldn't help but betray his disinterest. It wasn't that he wasn't impressed that this boy was in professional sports - quite the contrary, he was practically swooning inwardly due to this fact - but he knew next to nothing about hockey and thus could not speak intelligently on the subject. The idea of seeing him on the rink was certainly appealing to the blonde, but it wasn't as though that option was on the table at this point.

The boy nodded as Ethan mentioned college; he still wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do once he graduated from Hammel. He had sent in applications to various Ivy League schools around the country, from Harvard to Brown to Stanford, and he would just have to see who was interested in him. The thought of leaving town made him a bit uneasy, but he figured it was for the best academically speaking. "Well, I guess everything happens for a reason," he mused, shrugging his shoulders slightly. "Perhaps if you'd put it off, you wouldn't have been given this opportunity." He had no idea what he was talking about, but he was a bit of a fatalist, he supposed, and really did believe that there was a reason for everything. Like this chance meeting, perhaps.

The pyro blushed profusely at the man's next question. "What is that exactly?" He asked through an uncharacteristic laugh. He knew it had been meant as a compliment, but he didn't really think it was anything special. "I think it's mostly metabolism," he added; he worked out occasionally, but it was fairly infrequent and probably not a very effective regimen. "Eighteen," he added with a second laugh in answer to the boy's question about when he started to dance. "If you can call it that. I don't exactly dance." And it was true: he had to take extra rehearsals just to feel comfortable moving his body somewhat onstage. And while it was certainly better now than it had been when he started, he knew there was room left for further improvement.

Tanner shook his head. "No, sorry, I meant, like, special occasions or something," he corrected. "There's a Ladies Night every Thursday," he added, before grinning. "So I expect that I'll be seeing you more frequently now that I know that." That was about as far as Tanner went in terms of actual flirtation. He certainly noticed when Ethan leaned into him and remarked that he would feel lonesome without Tanner there, and for once, the academic blonde didn't have much in the way of a response: he would have to spend some more time with Zac and work on that. "Well, I won't be gone long," he replied simply, subconsciously leaning in a bit as well. Hey, the place was getting pretty loud, had to make sure the guy heard him, no?

((I'll have him perform in the next post.))