(X-Men) Soar

[salmon_pink]

Title: Soar

Fandom: X-Men (movieverse)
Pairing: Warren/Bobby
Rating: NC-17
Words: 3383
Timeline: Post-X3

Notes: For 50_smutlets, prompt "flying".

Summary: Bobby's learning, even when things move too fast for him.



Bobby’s exhausted, he aches in ways he didn’t know possible. He’s hungry all the time, which is probably a side effect from exerting his powers. The worst part is definitely the way he finds himself collapsing into a dreamless sleep every night, which kind of puts a damper on that whole finally being able to touch his girlfriend thing. They find time when they can, but Bobby usually falls asleep the second he’s in the vicinity of a bed. He’s not made it to the bed a couple of times, stumbling and tripping over and just passing out where he lands. Once he fell asleep whilst he and Rogue were, well, being intimate, and he doesn’t want to repeat that again, because the look on her face the next day had made him feel physically sick with himself.

But he reassures himself it’s worth it, with the wind whipping through his hair, ice under his feet, the endless sky stretching before him. That feeling of freedom, like he could just go anywhere, nothing to stop him. Except gravity, of course, so he’s having to train hard, perfect the technique, because he can’t use it in battle until he can be certain he won’t lose control. And control can be tricky with the kind of speed he can gather.

He’d discovered it by accident. A group of mutants calling themselves the Morlocks had been creating trouble in some of the seedier parts of the city, then disappearing without a trace, and the police had been unable to track them. So the X-Men had set to work, Logan’s senses tracking them underground, Kitty ducking her head through the floor to confirm his suspicions, and then they’d been wandering through the sewers, which wasn’t how Bobby had planned to spend his Sunday evening. The Morlocks hadn’t appreciated having their territory invaded, and the whole thing had quickly descended into a brawl, people and powers bouncing off the walls. And there’d been this one girl who’d been throwing spikes around, and Bobby had only found out later that they were her own bones, and she’d targeted him for no reason other than he was nearest. And he’d raced for cover, but he wasn’t moving fast enough, and he wasn’t even thinking as he raised his hands, ice flowing and creeping, creating his own path to skid down.

He may have crashed into the far wall, but he’d avoided the projectile spikes, and he’d certainly found a way to increase his speed.

Miss Munroe had picked up on it, which was impressive considering the way she’d been struggling with being trapped underground, and told him to work on it, so he had. Long evenings of creating paths of ice, learning how to go from sprinting across solid ground to skidding across the ice without stumbling, learning how to turn corners and stop himself, and it was kind of like skating, but without any of the precision and grace. Sometimes Rogue would come to watch him, giving him a different perspective on ways he could improve. And it just an offhand comment, he didn’t know how serious she was being, but she’d asked him if he could raise the icy paths off of the ground.

Miss Munroe liked the sound of it, and even Logan had seemed intrigued, eyes sliding over to them, even as he pretended not to be a part of the conversation. But trying to slide through midair was much more dangerous than skidding across the ground, and so Warren was brought in to be his safety net. Long hours of first creating paths that stretched to the ceiling on the Danger Room. Then longer hours of finding ways to propel himself in the sky, whether it was creating an elevator of ice beneath himself, or just getting enough speed that he could follow the gentler curves up.

And then even longer hours of trying not to fall, not to careen over the edge, often failing spectacularly, and being really glad that Warren didn’t seem to have any objections to helping him, swooping around the ice and diving underneath Bobby, arms ready to catch him when needed.

Eventually, Warren opens up to him, piece by piece. It makes training that little bit more enjoyable, especially on the nights where Bobby’s sense of balance just doesn’t want to obey him. Warren smiles more, and he cracks jokes, and he has a surprisingly dry sense of humour. As Bobby improves, Warren finds new ways to challenge him, whether it’s sharp remarks designed to rattle him, or looping around him and purposely flying in Bobby’s way. It turns into a battle, as gradual as the way they grow comfortable in each other’s presence. Bobby trying to concentrate on the curves of the path whilst still forming a snowball in his hand, aiming it for Warren’s face. Warren seeing how close he can fly to Bobby, close enough to reach out and flick at Bobby’s ear, but still managing to dive away when Bobby tries to punch him in the arm. Before, when Bobby had slipped and fallen, Warren would be there to catch him, arms wrapping securely around his chest, setting him gently back on the floor, slight blush on his face, always asking if Bobby was okay, if he wanted to continue. Now he’ll wait until the last possible moment, until Bobby thinks his face is about to smash into the floor, before Warren will catch Bobby by one ankle, and leave him dangling there, cackling far too evilly for somebody with such angelic wings.

Warren’s slowly getting used to living at the school, so different from the way he grew up, and the ease of their interaction has spilled out of the Danger Room and into the hallways, and Bobby can see everyone opening up to Warren, now he’s being more like himself. The teasing has followed them out of their practice sessions too, with snide comments and practical jokes becoming the norm, and Rogue laughs and calls them both cute, and Warren flirts with her outrageously, and the both of them seem to live to torment Bobby, but he loves it really.

It’s dark, the first time they practice outside of the Danger Room. As far from the Mansion as the grounds will allow, because Bobby suddenly feels self-conscious, doesn’t want to be watched. There’s more room, of course, but that just means a million different places Bobby can fall, and he knows Warren will have to try that bit harder to keep up with him. Neither of them acknowledges the change, but Bobby can see the determined set of Warren’s jaw, watches the way Warren stretches and flutters his wings before he pushes off from the ground. Preparing himself, and Bobby does the same, fingers icing over, eyes narrowing in focus.

There’s so much more to take into account when they’re outside. The breeze is gentle, but it’s still something Bobby has to be aware of. The moisture in the air is a factor too, he has to be careful not to make the ice too thick, and the night is slightly muggy, humid, and the ice is more slippery for it, melting more quickly than Bobby’s used to. Can’t double over his path without creating a new coat of ice over the wet surface, and he can see Warren swooping through the icy loops and curves out of the corner of his eye. Can see the melted ice dripping onto him, and it’s only seeing how wet Warren has become that makes Bobby realise that he’s soaked through too.

Bobby aims higher, higher than he’s used to, playing with angles and curves, using his own momentum to carry himself up. Like a rollercoaster, using dips to gather speed and propel himself, and a couple of times he almost doesn’t make it over the next ridge, has to hastily turn to one side, new path thrown out before him with frantic gestures of his hands. But the air is clearer the higher he goes, and he’s surprised at how addictive it is, Warren flying alongside him in silence. Pushes higher, and he’s sliding faster than he’s ever managed, and it feels too good to be true.

Mostly because that’s exactly what it is. Bobby doesn’t have the control for those kind of speeds, not yet, and he realises it the exact second he crests over another ridge, doubled back on his own path. He’d managed the slope earlier, but now he’s going too fast. Leans back, but overcompensates, and he yelps as his feet slip out from underneath him, landing on his back. And the ice is too wet, too slippery, but he can’t reach out at that angle. Tries to turn, to aim for his path, to create a fresh layer of ice, but he can’t, and he’s going too fast, and he can hear Warren, but he sounds too far behind him, and Bobby realises that he’s moving too fast for Warren to keep up, and then the ice stops, but he doesn’t.

Twisting in midair, kind of panicking, because he could reach out and try to create another path, could try to cushion his landing. But it’s the first time he’s realised that Warren won’t always be there to catch him, and the whole thing suddenly feels stupid, and he can’t believe he ever tried it in the first place, because Bobby was only meant to freeze, never meant to fly, and he’s not a pessimist, just a realist, and he knows it’s going to hurt when he lands.

The ground rushes up to meet up, and there’s a roaring in Bobby’s ears, and Warren’s hands grab at his sweater, arms around his stomach, and Warren jerks him back, and Bobby can practically feel the grass brush against him as Warren tries to pull him up. But now they’re both moving too fast, flying along at ground level, only an inch above the floor, and he can feel Warren struggling to right them, to slow them down. And he manages it, to a degree, but they still hit the ground hard and skid across the grass.

When they come to a stop, Bobby’s breathing like he’s just run a marathon, and Warren’s flat against his back, and Bobby can’t tell which one of them is trembling more.

They just lie there for a long time, Bobby taking the time to savour the fact that he doesn’t have any broken bones. His hands and arms have iced up out of instinct, and he wills them back to flesh. The grass tickles at his face, and he either has an impressive streak of mud over one cheek, or a really bad graze that he’s still in too much shock to feel. “You okay?” he asks quietly, because Warren isn’t moving, is still clinging to him. He can feel Warren nod, soft exhalation of warm air against the back of Bobby’s neck, but Warren still doesn’t move, only clings tighter. And Bobby wishes he wasn’t lying face down, because he really wants to hug Warren back, apologise for being so reckless and for wasting so much of Warren’s time, because his brain has now officially decided that Bobby Drake was not meant to fly.

Bobby hears the rustle and flutter of Warren’s wings, and then Warren’s pulling himself up, and Bobby rolls over to stare at the sky, and the twisting, melting ice paths that crisscross through it. When he eventually rolls to his feet, Warren’s carefully not looking at him, and he’s rubbing his own arms. “You okay?” Bobby asks again, slightly more panicked, because Warren’s wearing a t-shirt, and there’s mud and maybe a splattering of blood on his exposed skin.

“I’m fine,” Warren says, consciously letting his hands fall to his sides. He glances up at the ice as well, and when he turns back to Bobby there’s a wry smile on his face that looks a little too forced. “So, done for the night?”

Bobby smirks and wishes his heart would stop beating so fast. “Yeah, I think we’re done,” he replies, and doesn’t say he’s pretty much done with the whole thing, because he knows Warren won’t let him just give up, and Bobby isn’t in the mood to argue.

Warren nods, and laughs quietly, sounding kind of nervous, or maybe just relieved. He turns away, towards the Mansion, and Bobby doesn’t know why he does it, but the next thing he knows he’s wrapping his arms around Warren. Standing behind him, Warren’s wings thankfully settled at his back, but Bobby still gets a mouthful of feathers as they shiver and try to open under his arms. But he just hugs tighter, careful not to crush them, arms stretching around the wings and closing around Warren’s stomach, and those wings just keep trembling as Bobby presses his face to the junction of Warren’s neck and shoulder. “Thanks, man,” Bobby whispers, and Warren is rigid in his arms, and nods stiffly, and Bobby just sighs and doesn’t want to let go, because he’s never actually touched Warren’s wings, and he never realised they’d be so soft. Has to force himself to step back, trying to stop his hands from reaching to pet the white feathers, because they’re positively itching to do so. Warren gives him a confused look, the kind he used to wear when he first came to the Mansion and saw how openly everyone displayed their powers. And Bobby’s pretty sure physical displays of affection weren’t abundant in Warren’s family, so he just smiles and winks and turns back toward the Mansion.

Except Warren steps in front of him, expression dark and somehow distracted, like Warren isn’t really there, like he’s not thinking. And for a terrifying moment, Bobby thinks that maybe Warren was lying, maybe he’s really hurt, and his mind starts speeding through the visible signs for concussion when Warren effectively silences any train of thought by leaning forward and pressing his lips to Bobby’s.

There’s barely even a second for Bobby to process that he is, in fact, being kissed before Warren’s arms are around him, dragging him closer, and Bobby makes a startled noise that sounds a little too close to a whimper, but it’s instantly swallowed by Warren’s lips moving more forcefully over his own, tongue pressing forward, the slightest hint of teeth nipping at Bobby’s bottom lip. Warren’s clothes are still as soaked as Bobby’s own, the water appropriately ice cold despite the humid air, but underneath Warren is uncomfortably warm, hard muscle and strong arms, and Bobby’s just standing there and letting somebody he already considers one of his closest friends kiss him, because he doesn’t really know how else to react. Pulling away seems beyond him, because he’s beyond reason, beyond shock, until Warren’s hand suddenly drops down, gripping at his ass and pulling their hips into contact. Rational thought, or it’s distant cousin ‘panic’, snaps into focus, and Bobby struggles awkwardly and Warren doesn’t break the kiss. Just follows Bobby’s lips, and his arms are like steel around Bobby’s waist, and it hits Bobby that Warren is hard against him, followed instantly by the realisation that his struggling is probably making things worse, judging by the low noise Warren makes.

They’re standing in the middle of the grounds, an endless maze of iced bridges above their heads, water steadily dripping down Bobby’s back, and he should be running as fast as he can, he knows he can throw Warren off if he needs to. Except he’s just kind of writhing in Warren’s arms and making pained little noises, and there’s definite friction, and Bobby isn’t sure if he’s still in shock over the fact that he could have died mere moments ago or if it’s more to do with the way Warren moves his tongue.

And then Warren steps back, just like that, and Bobby wasn’t even aware that Warren’s arms were holding him up until he finds himself slumping gracelessly to the floor without their support.

The ground, which is pretty much as soaked as Bobby’s clothing, makes an unappetising squelching noise as he lands on his ass. Bobby takes a moment just to breathe, panting and shivering, and when he glances up, Warren’s staring at him, expression still dark and completely foreign, nothing like Warren’s usual control and confidence. His eyes are a little lost, a little frantic, even though his jaw is lined with determination, wings quivering behind him.

He takes a step towards Bobby, another, the ground making that wet sound with each footfall, and a portion of Bobby’s mind is telling him to back away, scramble through the mud if he has to, but he just stares up as Warren comes to stand between his sprawled legs. Watches open-mouthed as Warren kneels in front of him, doesn’t even flinch away as Warren’s hand reaches for his face.

“What are- ?” is all Bobby manages before Warren’s lips steal words from him again.

It’s a different kiss to the first, not just because Bobby’s slightly more aware, although no less surprised about what’s happening. It’s not as rushed, yet a hundred times more desperate, and Bobby feels the intensity radiating from Warren and his brain’s idea about running away suddenly seems very appealing. Except all he manages to do is flop backwards against the damp ground, Warren following him, and then there’s mud seeping into his sweater and Warren’s weight pressing down against him, between his legs, and Bobby’s starting to feel even more out of control than he did when the ice slipped out from under him.

It takes him a moment to realise that Warren’s not kissing him anymore, that he’s pulled back and he’s simply watching him, and Bobby feels his already flushed face flare with embarrassment.

“Don’t look at me with those eyes,” Warren whispers, and it seems like the most insane and nonsensical thing ever and Bobby has no idea what he means and no time to process the words before Warren’s kissing him again. Leaning more fully into him, and there’s friction again, and Bobby yelps, because his body responds, has been responding without his permission, and a shiver wracks him that has nothing to do with his wet sweater. The adrenaline from earlier returns, laced with something else, something that makes Bobby gasp, and it’s only when Warren echoes the sound that Bobby realises his hips are rolling into each movement. Can’t stop himself, isn’t even sure he’s trying, because Warren’s so warm above him, and he can feel the soft breeze as Warren’s wings flutter unconsciously, and Bobby still wants to touch them, but he can’t make his arms move. There’s mud on his neck and in his hair, and Warren’s panting against his cheek, and Bobby’s exhausted. Exhausted from earlier, exhausted from non-stop training and exhausted from confusion, suddenly tired of how everything isn’t making sense. Except the rocking of Warren’s hips, no denying how real it is, heat and sensation, and Bobby would surrender to it if he had the strength. Lies there instead, feet sliding in the mud as he struggles for the leverage to push up into it, and Warren holds him and presses into him, rough scrape of hardness and denim. Almost painful with it, and that edge is all that keeps Bobby conscious, all that stops him from imploding. Almost paralysed, by shock, by confusion, by the ice cold fire that builds within him, Warren’s movements growing jerkier and drawing the need in Bobby’s chest tighter. Instinct has him wrapping his legs around Warren’s waist, wetness making grip more difficult, accidentally kicking Warren’s wings, mud smearing over pure white, and Warren’s whispering something that Bobby can’t hear, because there’s that roaring in his ears again, only it’s infinitely more loud than when he’d been falling, infinitely more disorientating. A thought flashes through his mind, dismissed immediately, about how their training together is going to change, and Bobby isn’t sure if he likes the idea or not, but his body sings with it, pleasure surging through him, dragging him over the edge, and Bobby cries out, vision blackening, shimmering and streaked white with crisscross patterns that match the icy paths in the sky.

Comments

[ayumie.livejournal.com]

Wow. Not really my pairing, but you totally old me the Bobby/Warren thing. Great work!

[ayumie.livejournal.com]

Ooops, typo. I was going to say 'sold'.

[salmon-pink.livejournal.com]

To be honest, it's not really one of my favourite pairings, mainly because I'd never considered it. But the bunny bit me and refused to let go, and now I'm kinda hooked. ^___^

[ayumie.livejournal.com]

Well, I certainly won't mind if you write more fics featuring that pairing. I'll be awfully jealous for John, though :b

[salmon-pink.livejournal.com]

Yeah, poor John, those pretty angel wings make for stiff competition. ;)

[violent-rabbit.livejournal.com]

Ah this was gorgeous. The image of them kissing underneath the ice brisges was beautiful.

“Don’t look at me with those eyes,” Ahhh me.

[salmon-pink.livejournal.com]

I don't think many people could get away with that line, but for Warren, it works. ;)

[plotbunny-tiff.livejournal.com]

Perfect because it was so imperfect, and the limited viewpoint and confusion and desperation you weave through this...oh.

Bobby just sighs and doesn’t want to let go, because he’s never actually touched Warren’s wings, and he never realised they’d be so soft.

oh.

His eyes are a little lost, a little frantic, even though his jaw is lined with determination, wings quivering behind him.


I want to weep, but from joy and heartache and adoration...I really am in awe. Darling, don't you *ever* stop doing what you do.

And um...if you ever want to do what you do with Warren and Storm/Nightcrawler/Gambit...I wouldn't mind one lil' bit. Just putting that out there.

[salmon-pink.livejournal.com]

*mega blush* Aww, shucks. ♥ Hmmm, I don't think I've ever considered any of those pairings before, although the image of Warren and Storm soaring through the sky together is an interesting image ... *thoughtful chin stroking*

[4pawsonthefloor.livejournal.com]

Very enjoyable - as said previously it was great because it was a bit messy and imperfect. Awesome visualizations.

[salmon-pink.livejournal.com]

Yeah, I was trying to capture Bobby's personality and his confusion and exhaustion, so I'm glad if it worked. :)

[train-diskense.livejournal.com]

Amazing. :) And nooowww I really want to know what Warren was whispering to Bobby at the end, since Bobby was too lost to hear properly. ^^ Such a great fic.

[salmon-pink.livejournal.com]

Haha, I'll leave that up to your imagination. ;) Glad you enjoyed.

[lux-apollo.livejournal.com]

Nice job.

[salmon-pink.livejournal.com]

Thank you. :)

[blackstronghold.livejournal.com]

*kindly tilts to the left in euphoria* *____* You know, if this pairing wasn't so hard to find (in reasonably style to boot), I wouldn't go "8OOOOOO OMFG YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!" every time I see it. But therein lies the problem: XD I hyperventilant in happiness and go bonkers when I find it (going off like a rambling moron, like now), but I wouldn't have to if there was just more of this pairing out there.

8D Hee~ *takes her Warren/Bobby in whatever 'verse it may exists* I loves it. Very prettily done.

[salmon-pink.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much, glad to be of service. ;D