A/N: This story takes place between X-Factor issues 208 and 209.
Well, Monet St. Croix mused with her usual bluntness, the little bitch (and she meant the slur in all the aspects that mattered with that particular mutant lycanthrope) certainly knows how to make an entrance.
She was standing outside of the X-Factor Investigations building looking up at the broken window above the front doors that, until last night, had marked Rictor and Shatterstar's bedroom. From the sounds of things, that was no longer the case anymore. She could hear Julio Richter and Rahne Sinclair arguing back and forth in there from her position down on the sidewalk. Nor was she alone. Shatterstar was nearby sweeping up the broken glass and pointedly not trying to eavesdrop and failing miserably at the pretence. Monet knew that the Mojoworlder's sense of hearing was only less superhumanly acute as her own. And it wasn't as if the two in the building were whispering.
The anger in Rahne's voice had intensified her Irish brogue while she was shouting: "-and whut about Leviticus 20:13? Do ye not know that the Bible states; 'If a man has sexual relations with a man as one does with a woman, both of them have done a detestable act'?"
"Lay off with sermonizing, Rahne." Rictor managed to finally cut in, his voice rising in anger. "It's pissing me off."
Rahne was apparently on a roll as if she hadn't been interrupted. "'They are to be put to death and their blood will be on their own heads'."
"So what's that supposed to mean? Huh? You wanna kill me?"
"Nay. Not ye!"
There was a sound of glass falling to the pavement and Monet turned around and saw that 'Star had dropped the dustpan of broken glass. He was looking up at the window in obvious shock. He noticed Monet staring at him and went back to cleaning up the mess of the previous night, his usual effortless coordination now reduced to a ghost of its natural grace. He might have been angry or embarrassed, it was difficult to determine. His face was carefully neutral and Monet didn't know him well enough to make a judgement call one way or the other.
She had completely slept through the fracas the night before; recovering from her mental manipulation of Baron Mordo that had left her drained and weak (she still wasn't feeling up to snuff, not that it was anyone else's concern). She hadn't had any clue that anything was wrong until she had shuffled downstairs before the sun had barely risen above the horizon and found Shatterstar lying on the sofa in the rec room watching television. It wasn't an uncommon sight and she didn't bother to question him about it. Guido had told her what happened during breakfast, looking unusually amused about the whole affair.
Standing out here now, Monet didn't hear anything amusing. Not one bit.
"-and how about Romans 1:27? It clearly says how 'Men committed shameful acts with other men, and received in themselves the due penalty-'"
"Oh, shut up! You're a hypocrite, you know that? None of that bullshit stopped you from screwing me and we weren't even married. That's a sin somewhere in that Holy tome you're waving around or did you conveniently forget about that?"
Rahne's voice cried out in anguish, "I came back to be with ye! I came back from-from, ye wouldn't believe what I've been through and I came back t'see ye with him! How could ye do that to me?"
"I- Rahne, you and I were never a couple. You said I was just a pity fuck! 'Star and I have been- We were ... We're ..."
"See? Ye canna even say it!"
"We were-were together near the end of X-Force and while we were in Mexico fighting my relatives. Now he's back and-and he's working with us. Okay? Is that what you want to hear?"
"NO! Ye bloody id'jit! 'Tis not what I want tew hear!"
It clearly wasn't what Shatterstar wanted to hear either. He carefully deposited the last of the glass into a plastic waste can, set the broom aside and walked away, head down and hands hidden in the pockets of his coat. Terry or Layla probably would have called out to him or joined him to try and lift his spirits, but that wasn't Monet's style. She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted up at the window instead. "Would the two of you morons keep it down? The whole city block can hear your ridiculous squabbling!"
Rictor came over to the window first. He looked down at her in surprise and then saw Shatterstar some distance down the road. He looked like he was going to call out to him before Rahne grabbed his shoulder and whirled him back around, shouting: "Do ye have any idea what the Bible says about the sodomites-?!"
Monet, a Muslim, really didn't need to hear anything more of the skewed perspectives of Rahne's particular religion and went inside to escape the sermon. She found most of the X-Factor staff in the main office, milling around Jamie Madrox's desk. Not missing a beat their boss immediately noted she was alone and asked her, "Where's 'Star?"
"He didn't want to hear any more of Dumb and Dumber and walked off."
"Which direction?"
She gave an absent nod to the west and Jamie's brown eyes went immediately to Theresa Cassidy. Before she could take one step, Layla Miller pushed herself off of her spot on the desk. "I'll go."
"Why you? Because you know stuff?" Theresa quipped.
Sidestepping the obvious sarcasm, the blond responded with, "Maybe because I think the last person Shatterstar needs to talk to is another Irish redhead. The one upstairs has caused enough trouble." She went outside to chase after their errant teammate without another word. Madrox cast her a veiled glance long after she was out of sight. Like the others he often wondered just what Layla and 'Star had gotten up to during their prolonged 'vacation' in Latveria. He had a feeling the pair had done more together than taste the local wine.
"Am I missing something?" Monet asked the rest of the group in frustration.
"You didn't know Shatterstar before he joined X-Factor," Theresa told her. "He used to be... uhm-"
"Crazy." Jamie said, remembering a frenzied warrior who had once taken Wolverine's claws to the stomach and was still eager to fight even as he had been holding his guts back with one hand while brandishing a sword with the other.
"Girly." Guido decided to add his two cents to the conversation. He remembered the garishly colored costume and long red ponytail.
"Alien." Longshot said in his fellow Mojoworlder's defense.
"I was going to say intense," Theresa said, flashing them a glare with her bright green eyes. "I joined X-Force shortly after he came to Earth. He was a completely different person to how he is now. All he wanted to do back then was fight. And kill. I don't want to see him slip back to that state."
"I can grab Rahne by the scruff of her neck and haul her furry ass back to Utopia if you'd like," Monet said, adding a vocal shrug on the subject.
"M! Ya've known Wolfsbane fer years!" Guido said in disbelief. "Ya've only known Mr. Fancypants fer a couple'a freakin months." It was pretty clear which camp his loyalty lied. He had never completely shaken off the shock of Rictor outing himself as a gay man when 'Star had made his dramatic appearance during a mission in Vermont. As far as Strong Guy was concerned, Julio had been straight as long as Rahne had been around. Maybe with her back his old friend would revert to being 'normal' again.
"Shatterstar is quiet and polite and his French is virtually flawless. Besides, I don't relish the experience of being forced to endure hearing a baby screaming all through the night." She realized what she had said and had the sense to tip her head to Theresa in a gesture that wasn't quite apology (Monet St. Croix didn't do apologies) and more of spare recognition. "No offense."
Theresa's lips thinned to a straight, bloodless white line and didn't answer. Offense clearly taken, her blazing eyes said. Monet sniffed and looked away from her, clearly not caring. The only thing that spared a possible confrontation between the two was the sound of her cell phone ringing and that immediately had precedent over any other crisis. She left the office to talk in private.
"I'm glad that Rahne is back, really I am," Jamie said, as if trying to convince himself. "But the timing could have been better. I want to head out to Vegas and undo that business with Pip and Hela as soon as possible."
Darwin's face was grave. "I don't think 'Star's in any mood to teleport."
"An' I'm barred from commercial flight," Guido said unhappily, shrugging his huge shoulders. He didn't fit in coach and Jamie's operation didn't exactly make enough to buy him his own aisle in first class. It was a long drive from Manhattan to Nevada.
"Gaveedra rebounds from such setbacks quickly," Longshot said, flashing them his usual 100-watt grin. "Give him a day to process this. He'll be alright."
"I guess we can hold off for a day or so. Let things settle down around here," Jamie said, the disappointment plain on his face. He wanted to believe that the other Mojoworlder had some sort of unique insight into his red-haired compatriot (as well as something else that was possibly far more personal than either man was willing to give voice to at this point in time). Unfortunately, Longshot had the bad habit of basing his opinions on his fleeting, often impulsive moods and Jamie feared that this was just another example of that.
He wasn't wrong.
Layla easily caught up to Shatterstar who wasn't travelling to any specific destination; simply wandering around aimlessly. She tried to offer her friendship and support but she always had to be careful when she spoke to the others, lest she betray some ingrained kernel of knowledge of the future that could do more harm than good. Where Rahne's pregnancy was concerned she had some suspicions and misgivings, not quite sure how much of her foresight she dare give voice to. As a result, most of what she said came across as unconvincing and forced. 'Star was incredibly intuitive and Layla knew that she had failed in her objective when, in a Starbucks several blocks east, he had excused himself to go to the bathroom and hadn't come back. No knowledge of the future prepared her for little nuances like that, so she was genuinely surprised that he had given her the slip so easily. Then again, the magical part of his origin occasionally fogged her precognitive ability just as it did when she was around Longshot. It was one of the reasons why she liked hanging around the Mojoworlders. Their motivations and actions weren't always open books to her.
When it became clear that 'Star wasn't coming back, she stayed where she was. Despite this little blip on her mental radar she knew what was coming next and running after him wouldn't alter that particular course of events. She decided to sit this one out and went back to sipping at her grande caramel macchiato.
Instead of returning to the X-Factor building, 'Star went to a bookstore where his haunting otherworldly good looks immediately garnered assistance from eager staff (both male and female). He asked a few questions and purchased one book. He spent the rest of the afternoon on a bench in Central Park speed-reading through a New International Version of the Holy Bible, seeking out the passages Rahne had been quoting during her mad rant of self-indulgent Presbyterian fury. Her speech had been startlingly accurate. There were also many other references along a similarly prejudicial vein.
At the end of his examination 'Star threw the book into the nearest trash bin and scrubbed his hands on his leather pants, as if he had touched something loathsome. Much of what he knew of the various Earth religions' skewed perspective on homosexuality he had learned watching the television, and from Rictor's own unique, personal perspective. Julio was Catholic but had stopped going to church long before he had publicly outed himself. He explained it to 'Star one evening shortly after they had become intimate: "Why should I bother going to church to support a belief system that hates me?" Then he went on to explain what he meant by that. At that point in time the pair had been in their late teens and 'Star had been on Earth barely a year. He hadn't really understood what his partner was saying but acted as his sounding board because it appeared that Julio was really trying to console himself.
In the four years since their break-up, Shatterstar kept a close eye on the media devices he was so attracted to and studied Earth politics and religion, analyzing the data in his usual methodical manner. It always seemed to come around to the same thing: That humans went out of their way to discriminate against all things against the norm. What made it complicated was that there didn't appear to be any visible clue what specific trigger might set a person off on a particular tangent: Mutants. Gender. Ethnicity. Sexuality. Politics. Disabilities. Sports. The list was as unending as it was perplexing. In Rahne Sinclair's case, the sight of her long time friend ("Not boyfriend. We might have slept together a couple of times but we were never a couple", Julio had told him) in the arms of another man had been unacceptable.
Shatterstar's own unique alien status really didn't fall under Earth classifications of sexual orientation but he identified himself as bisexual simply because it provided the best description: He enjoyed sex equally with either gender. With Julio, however, he had a far deeper connection than the physical and it went beyond the telepathic tether of the Latino being his teleportational anchor. Simply stated: 'Star loved him and, right up until he had heard his partner trying to sooth Rahne's rant by sidestepping accusations, he had thought that love was reciprocal. Now he wasn't so sure. He did not like uncertainties. Emotionally, he was not designed to deal with them.
Sitting in the park trying to puzzle it all out was doing him no good and he could feel that unfocused, desperate anger slipping back into his thoughts. Back in his X-Force days, it had been purely a defensive measure against the alien mutants he had been forced to work with. He hadn't liked any of them and their only true thread of commonality had been their young age. Julio had made the overture of friendship first, uniting their similar interests in rap and heavy metal before their partnership become more personal and finally intimate. Reuniting in Vermont had been an unexpected, wonderful thing but it was apparent that Rictor had changed in many ways just as he, himself, had, but not in any positive way. The depowering of M-Day had been the worst of it. Only recently had Julio started to come around to the person 'Star almost recognized; sarcastic, full of passion, even capable of laughter (although it still sounded wrong to the alien's flawless memory). 'Star liked to pride himself that he was the person responsible for those changes but now Rahne Sinclair was back, and he didn't know where that placed him in the order of things.
He got his first clue when he returned to the X-Factor building and saw a plastic shopping bag sitting outside of the closed door of the bedroom he shared with Rictor. Picking it up, he saw that it contained his few possessions: iPod, training clothes, a spare belt. He had come back to earth with just the clothes on his back and still chose to travel lightly as a personal rule. He opened the door and saw Rahne lying in his bed. He blinked twice to process this unexpected sight. "What the fekt-?"
She whirled around and pulled the sheets up to her chin. "Get out of here!"
"What are you doing in my bed?" he shouted at her.
"¿Qué pasó? Ay, chale.Yo noquiero que veasesto," Rictor said, stepping out of the bathroom with a damp washcloth. "I was hoping to meet you downstairs before you came up here." He brushed by the taller man and gave the damp cloth to Rahne who placed it on her forehead and slumped back into the pillows as if in a swoon.
"Get him out of here, Julio. I dinna wanna argue anymore. My head hurts," she moaned.
"Sure, sure, corazón," the Latino said and shoved 'Star outside so he could close the door and give her privacy.
Clearly, 'Star was having problems processing this turn of events (and small wonder). "She is in our bed," he said, speaking the words slowly and carefully.
"Yeah, I know. Look, Theresa and Darwin are getting one of the mortuary storage rooms cleared out."
"So she will go live there once it is ready."
Julio bit his lower lip. "Uhm, no ..."
"You and I will-"
"No, 'Star. I've got an air mattress set up in the room and I'm going to stay in there with Rahne. She's not feeling so hot and I wanna keep a close eye on her. The room that's being fixed up is for you." He stood his ground as he said those words, but there was a muscle jumping nervously in the corner of his jaw as he tried to maintain eye contact with the taller man.
"So, just like that. You are back with her," 'Star concluded. His voice was amazingly calm.
Julio gripped his arm. The muscles he felt beneath the white leather coat were as hard as granite. "That's not what I'm saying."
"[Then elaborate further,]" 'Star barked in Cadre. "[What does her presence mean to you?]"
"[She's pregnant with my kid. She's not feeling well. I have to stay near her.]" He offered a lame shrug. "[It's the least I can do. We can still, y'know, hook up when we get the chance-]"
"[Ironic,]" 'Star sniffed. "[It sounds to me just like the argument we had outside of the shooting range yesterday-]"
"Ah can still hear the two of ye!" Rahne shouted from the other side of the door. "Keep it down. Ah need my rest. Fer the baby!"
Shatterstar flashed the door a look of such withering fury that Julio grabbed his arm again and tried to pull him down the hallway. They made perhaps a few feet before he wrenched his arm free and snarled into his face, "Are we done? At least it tell it to my face this time instead of taking the coward's way out like you did in Mexico."
Mentioning Mexico was like pouring gas on a fire and always put Rictor on an immediate defensive. That was when he checked his brain at the door and let his mouth run away with shit like: "We never really started anything serious. Remember why? You're the horndog who wanted us to have an open relationship so you could go screw around."
"And yet you're the one with the pregnant female in our bed. It would appear that you have more experience in this practice than I do."
"Oh, fuck off, 'Star. You don't get what's happening here and I don't have the patience to bother explaining it to you. Not right now. Just ... leave, okay? We'll talk later."
"I think you have said all the words that are necessary," 'Star concluded and pivoted on his heel, marching down the hall. Julio called after him once, his voice hoarse with emotion before Rahne began complaining about something else. The Latino immediately went into the bedroom to see what her problem was.
Shatterstar made it to the end of the hall and looked down at the stairwell before he glanced back the way he came. His face was alarmingly pale except for two bright spots of color high on either cheekbone. Clenching his teeth, he turned again and this time he snapped the twin swords out of the gauntlet around his right forearm.
Before he managed two steps, a hand dropped down on his shoulder and the fingers dug in with almost painful force. Looking around in surprise, he saw Monet standing beside him. "Do you own a tuxedo?" she asked in a conversational tone.
'Star had been hit with so many conflicting scenarios lately that he could only look down at her in stunned silence.
"See, it's so rare that my father is in New York and, considering this recent threat to his life, he wants to throw a party at one of his penthouses," she continued in that same neutral, slightly bored tone of voice. Her hand was like a vice clasped on the Mojoworlder's right shoulder, holding him firmly in place. "Normally I hire a male escort to these type of functions, when I bother to attend them at all. I'm thinking tonight I'd like some company who has some brains as well as the looks. How many Earth languages are you fluent?"
Caught completely off guard by the nature of this intervention, the alien said dully. "Six. English, Spanish, German, French-"
"You'll be kept busy tonight, I guarantee that. It'll be a far more enjoyable experience than brooding over Rictor and his knocked-up wolf, that's for sure." She released her hold on him. "Or you can go back to whatever it is you were about to do. It doesn't matter to me one way or another." She might have said the words but her tense body posture said something entirely different. She glanced down at the exposed swords and he followed her gaze. At some mental command, he sheathed them.
"I do not own a tuxedo," he told her, unable to make eye contact. All at once he felt confused and hurt and miserable. He did not want to be alone in this fragile state.
Even without her telepathy, Monet realized that. She spared the alien as close to a sincere smile as she graced anyone and led him down the steps. "I know a great shop in Fifth Avenue that can suit you up. Hell, they might even let you have it for free if you do some modeling for them."
Curiosity began to replace his fading rage. "Modeling? Really? You must tell me more of this."
As it turns out, it was a subject Monet was eager to talk about. She found, to her relief, that 'Star was equally receptive to the conversation. She wasn't quite sure what might have happened if she hadn't intervened but she was glad to get him out of the building for the night. Truth to tell, she was happy to be out of that particular nuthouse herself.
Despite the late hour, one phone call from her was all it took for a high-end clothes shop to open up for some private business and two hours later, she and 'Star were in a limousine heading up to what was still informally called "The Silk Stocking District", where elegant marble faced townhouses were a common sight. They were traveling up the Upper East Side along Park Avenue to one of the high-end estates her father, Ambassador Cartier St. Croix, owned and lived in the penthouse the few times a year he was actually in the city.
Monet wondered if she was going to have to explain what was going on to Shatterstar, who had been mildly curious throughout the suit fitting and car ride but seemed unusually composed. "You act as if you've done this before," she remarked, filling a fluted crystal glass with champagne from the limo's bar.
"I was a famous star on my world before I joined the rebel forces. I was expected to entertain my master and devoted throng when I wasn't fighting for my life in the arena." He declined her offer of champagne and looked at her seriously. "This is strictly a non-combative function among humans, yes? I will not have to perform or take my clothes off?"
Not for the first time, Monet looked at him like he wasn't quite sure he was joking. She resolved that she was going to have to get to know him better after this night was over. It sounded like his childhood had been almost as skewed as her own. "You can watch from the sidelines or you can interact with the guests. It's completely up to you to do whatever you want tonight." She took a sip from her glass and tried to hide a small smile. "If you find someone who you want to take your clothes off with, I won't tell anyone. It's not X-Factor's business. We're off the clock."
"Julio would not like it," 'Star muttered under his breath.
"To hell with him. I heard what he said to you in the hallway. He as much as kicked you out on your ass with absolutely no explanation or consideration of your feelings. You don't even have a bed waiting for you back at the building and you deserve better than the rec room sofa. I think you should pair off with someone tonight. It might make Ric realize he's handling this situation with Rahne all wrong."
'Star looked at her curiously, his silver-blue eyes dropping to her high-heels, to the dark red dress with the provocative slit up one dark thigh and the deep cleavage she displayed. She was provocative, highly intelligent, and extremely attractive. He opened his mouth and she immediately brandished a finger in his face. "I'm not volunteering for the duty. I'm just stating a fact."
"With our heightened stamina and similar superhuman attributes, I think we would make wonderfully compatible sexual partners."
She had to admit he looked absolutely drop-dead gorgeous in his tailored tuxedo but she had learned the hard way just how humiliating fraternizing with a teammate could be. "I repeat: I'm not volunteering for the duty."
He made a subtle expression with his face; Ah fekt, it was worth a shot, and went back to considering the view without further comment. Monet found herself almost disappointed by how quickly the issue was dropped and then spent the remainder of the trip wondering why she even cared.
Even though it had been less than two days since she had last seen her father, the Ambassador immediately left the group he had been entertaining and made a grand show of greeting Monet when she and Shatterstar stepped out of the elevator. "Daughter! You actually made it!" he said enthusiastically in French, kissing her on either cheek. "You so rarely attend these functions I wasn't entirely sure you were going to show. And who is your companion this evening?"
"Gav Russell. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir," 'Star responded in the same language, extending a hand.
"A pleasure, Mr. Russell," St. Croix responded, shaking the hand even as his eyes slid to Monet. "A co-worker?"
It was a diplomatic way of stating his displeasure that she hadn't appeared with a real date, but she side-stepped it easily by saying, "Baron Mordo may still be in the city. We only want to ensure your safety and ... Gav, here, is a skilled fighter."
The smile was back. "Welcome to my home. Please enjoy yourselves," he said and, just like that, he was off to make conversation with some other group.
"That's probably all we'll see of him tonight," Monet said, heading over to the buffet table with her teammate in tow. "Dad will use any chance he can get to ingratiate himself to a potential backer or business partner. That's what parties like these are all about; exchanging gossip, making contacts, business and politics. It's one of the reasons why I hate attending them. It's just deceit and greed hidden in designer clothes and gourmet food."
'Star was listening as he observed the crowd. There appeared to be over fifty people in the large main room, with an unknown number out on the balcony which overlooked Central Park. "We appear to be the youngest ones present."
She grabbed a glass of wine from a passing waiter and sipped from it. "Yes, that's another inconvenience. More for me than for you."
"What makes you say that?"
"Because this is a room full of cougars and you're the fresh meat." She flashed him the semblance of a wink. "Happy hunting."
Before 'Star could ask her what she meant, he was suddenly besieged by a group of older women who were all trying to talk over each other in their haste to capture his attention.
"Well, your presence certainly breaks the monotony! So nice to see a young, handsome face in an otherwise dreary-"
"-know I've seen you before. That tattoo is so distinctive. Are you on television or-"
"-name is Dorothy Pereaux. Please excuse my rude, desperate friends and let me introduce you properly to-"
By the time Shatterstar managed to look around the over-flowing cleavages, flashing jewelry, and highly-styled coifs he saw that Monet was long gone. Momentarily flummoxed, he mused that she was right. This was the perfect opportunity to forget about Julio and Rahne for the time being. "Ah ladies." He immediately broke out into a broad smile that could give even Longshot's patented grin a run for its money. "There is plenty of me to go around. I'm confident I will get to know all of you tonight in due course."
When Dorothy Pereaux brazenly wrapped an arm around his waist, he didn't object. And when another ran her manicured fingernails along the collar of his coat, he didn't mind that either. He disappeared in the growing throng while Monet watched from a corner, nursing another drink and betraying a hint of a smile at the sight.
She watched him make the rounds for the next hour while she negotiated her own small courts of idle conversation. 'Star rarely had the opportunity to use his vast linguistic skills and he appeared to be basking in the attention as he effortlessly slipped from one conversation in German before switching gears to address another in Mandarin. His pockets were becoming full of business cards and phone numbers and not just from horny divas, either. This was a room full of wealthy bureaucrats and politicians who instantly recognized charisma and talent which Shatterstar emanated in waves. It would probably make Jamie's head spin to know 'Star had been offered several jobs with starting salaries that put X-Factor's meager revenues to shame, and the alien turned them all down cold. Each and every one.
It was when the throng of cougars appeared to be thinning out that Monet finally managed to catch his attention. "I'm heading back to X-Factor. I've had enough fun for one night."
It had barely been two hours since they had arrived but he immediately passed her a nod. "All right, we can-"
She put a hand on his chest. "No, 'Star. You stay put. To be perfectly honest, I don't think you should come home tonight."
He passed her a confused look and then glanced uneasily over to Dorothy Pereaux who was never far from his side. At his glance, she passed him an adoring smile that displayed a perfect line of bright white teeth. It looked hungry and reminded him uneasily of Mojo's crazed grins. "There is nobody here I am interested in engaging relations with," he confided to Monet in a low voice.
"That's not what I mean. Spend the night in a hotel and come back to work late in the morning."
"Why are you telling me this?"
She sighed. "Look, when Rahne took off seven months ago it really bothered Rictor. Far more than he ever let on. Not because he was in love with her but just because they were close friends. When Rictor sees me come back alone, and trust me he'll be waiting up, he'll realize that you stayed behind. It should be just the thing to slap some sense into his thick skull."
'Star had done quite well tonight without being reminded of Julio and their disastrous conversation outside of what had once been their bedroom. Now he looked morose and angry. "I don't think so, Monet. It appeared to me that Julio made his intention to reunite with Rahne very clear."
"I've known Rictor longer than you have. He's hot-tempered, selfish, and immature. Also, most of what he says in the heat of the moment comes out as bullshit. You play your cards right tonight and he'll be apologizing to you by morning."
The pitiful hope on 'Star's face would have probably broken the heart of someone more stoic than Monet. "Do you really think so?"
"He owes you one. Big time."
"If you're right, I will owe you one as well," he said.
"You were a perfect date. I couldn't have asked for anything more. Stay and have some fun, okay?"
"Okay," he parroted and watched her leave the penthouse after she said goodbye to her father.
When a limousine pulled up to the curb before the front doors of the X-Factor building, Julio breathed a sigh of relief when he looked at his watch. Only eleven-thirty. "Gracias a Diospor los pequeños favores," he murmured, closing his eyes for a period longer than a blink.
He'd been sitting on the roof watching the back and forth traffic pass by on the street ever since Jamie had told him that Monet had left the building with Shatterstar in tow. That conversation had been three hours ago. He had to wonder just what M's motives might have been, but it was clear that wherever they'd gone it had been just a simple night out. Dinner maybe. Perhaps a movie. Not a date (because so far as Rictor knew, Monet didn't view anyone in X-Factor being worthy enough to bother getting close to on anything other than a strictly professional level), but just a night out because she didn't have any friends. And 'Star had gone along because, well ... Julio had much as given him a kick to the balls and slammed the door in his face. He'd felt miserable about it all evening. So much so that he'd even told Rahne to stop her damned whimpering (which, remarkably, she did). That made him start to wonder if it all wasn't some kind of act to pull on his heartstrings for some perverted reason. He didn't know for sure. All he did know was that he hadn't gotten any sleep since the day before, and he was exhausted and mentally used up and the only person he wanted to be near right now was Shatterstar. It had only been a couple of months, but 'Star had managed to ground him while they'd been together, keeping those dark thoughts and impulses at bay (even if some of what 'Star said and did drove him absolutely bugshit at times). There was love and light and magic to 'Star and being without him for one day found Rictor pining for it, almost as badly as he did his missing powers.
The driver got out and opened the passenger door and Rictor leaned over the ledge ready to call to his best friend (and really, 'Star was so much more than that by now, wasn't he?). He saw Monet get out and blinked when the driver closed the door and returned to the cab. He was still blinking when the limousine pulled away and drove off. "¿Qué chingados?"
He sprinted down the roof stairwell and found Monet in the downstairs kitchen. She had taken off one of her high heel pumps and was leisurely massaging her foot. It never even occurred to Ric that she might have been there waiting for him. Wasting no time on preamble, he asked bluntly, "Where's Shatterstar? Why wasn't he in the limo with you?"
"He didn't want to come back," she said, fixing him with a withering glare. "Can you blame him? He was having a good time at a party I took him to and insisted on staying there. Said he deserved better than being relegated to some cold storage room like an exile." She got to her feet and was starting to make for the exit and found him standing in her way. "Do you mind?"
"Was he ..." Ric swallowed and had to force the words out. "Did he meet anybody?"
"I wasn't really paying much attention," she said, boldly pushing him aside. "You're the one who told him to fuck off, Rictor, and you know how literal he takes things. This whole mess is your fault. You're going to have to deal with it. I'm going to bed."
She wasn't surprised by the string of cursed Spanish she heard coming from the kitchen as she went upstairs, permitting herself a small smile of accomplishment. What did surprise her was the sight of Layla Miller standing at the top of the landing, and she was a person who Monet really disliked.
"Is it true? You left Shatterstar alone at the party?" she asked, staring at her with unusual concern in her blue eyes.
Monet passed her an absent wave of dismissal. "I just wanted to give Rictor a slap of reality. 'Star's alright where he is. Probably bored out of his mind by now and apt to go to a hotel like I told him to." At the blond's continued scrutiny, Monet sharpened her gaze. "Why?"
"You shouldn't have left him alone," Layla said in a low voice. But, damn it all, no matter how much Monet pushed demanding an explanation, the blond would only repeat that same, vague admonition.
"You shouldn't have left him alone."
After Monet left, she appeared to have taken most of Shatterstar's spirit with her and he was left with simply going through the motions of keeping up with the conversations circulating the gathering which was thinning out as the time went past midnight. Dorothy Pereaux was his ever-constant companion but that finally (mercifully) changed when she lured him out onto the balcony where there was still a surprising cluster of people gathered to the side surrounding someone 'Star could not see.
"Ohhh, do you smell that?" Dorothy suddenly said. She looked toward the group of men and women and began to drift towards them. "It makes my legs all tingly and ... Oh my-!" Her full hips twitched in an almost orgasmic spasm.
Frowning in confusion, 'Star raised his face to the downwind current and breathed in deep though his nose. The effect was instantaneous. He started sneezing and then froze, his eyes widening in recognition.
The crowd was immediately shoved aside and a medium-sized man dressed in an expensive sports coat and slacks appeared. Those harsh, exotic features and black Mohawk were instantly familiar. "Shichi?!"
'Star sighed. "Konban wa, Akihiro."
Daken immediately left his personal groupies and stalked over. "Oshisashiburi desu.Kono goro dou desu ka?"
'Star made a see-saw gesture with his left hand. "Maa-maa desu. Anatawa? Amerika ni kite dono kurai ni narimasu ka?"
A sly grin crossed the half-breed's face. "I'm just passing through. You know I never stay in any one place for very long."
A ghost of a smile crossed 'Star's handsome face. "I remember."
Dimly, it occurred to the pair that Daken's entourage was still following him closely. He released a low growl and said, "Party's over. Get away from me."
"But you smell so-"
Barely aware of it, Daken changed the pheromones he was releasing into something mildly repellant, causing the euphoric, vacuous expressions of his personal throng to clear and make them back away to give the pair their space. It also sent Shatterstar off into another paroxysm of sneezing. Daken waited until the assault was over before commenting, "Sucks that you never got that nose of yours fixed. Then again, I never would have recognized you otherwise, eye tattoo notwithstanding. You sure have changed, Seven."
'Star extended his arms and exclaimed, "Product redesign courtesy of Mojoworld Interdimensional Entertainment Incorporated. All rights reserved. Patent pending."
"What?"
His lips twitched. "Slave humor and a poor attempt at that. You haven't changed one bit." His eyes glanced over to the disturbed cluster of people who looked like they were debating leaving. It was getting awfully late. "And I mean that in all the ways it matters."
"Oh, don't mind those bozos. I was siphoning off some insider stock tips to play on the market. I think I got a few good hits, too." Daken flashed his trademark smirk. "I'll even let you in on them if you'll tell me what you're doing here."
"Guest of Ambassador St. Croix. I work with his daughter."
"You're not on Utopia with the rest of those holier-than-thou Chosen Mutants?"
"No, I work for X-Factor Investigations here in Manhattan. We're a small group-"
"Yeah, Jamie Madrox's motley crew. The only bunch to publicly stand up to that whole mutant registration bullshit. I'll be damned. Last time I saw you-"
'Star's face immediately tightened up. "I don't want to talk about that."
Daken shrugged. "You ever reconcile with that beaner? Whassis name. Julio?"
This time, the alien's face darkened alarmingly. "I don't want to talk about him either."
"Sounds to me like you're right back to square one," the mutant said, releasing a bark of cruel laughter. "Idiot. You never learn."
'Star abruptly spun on his heel to leave. "It was nice to see you again, Akihiro."
Daken watched after him for a minute, mulling something over in his mind, and then suddenly vaulted over the balcony railing so fast that no human eye could track the movement. By the time 'Star emerged from the building's front door, the half-breed was standing on the sidewalk waiting for him. "Peace. I'm not ragging on you, man. Believe me when I say that it's good seeing you again, too."
'Star didn't look very moved but had to admit, "Given the events of M-Day and what followed after, I'm relieved to see that you appear unharmed. We have history, you and I."
Daken eyed him from his polished shoes all the way up to his short red hair with much of the same prurient interest 'Star had shown Monet in the limousine earlier. "Yes we do," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "You heading back to X-Factor?"
"No, I don't believe I'll go back there tonight. I don't want to face another confrontation."
"Who with? Your wetback buddy?"
'Star said nothing, but he set his jaw and that was really answer enough.
A slow, knowing grin spread across Daken's tanned face. "Let's get out of here."
"And go where?"
"I've got a nice suite at a five star hotel a couple of blocks away."
"To what end?"
"To fuck."
"Ah, honesty. It is refreshing," 'Star said under his breath, casting a veiled glance southeast in the direction of X-Factor. He thought about what Julio had said to Rahne while he had been outside cleaning up the results of being unjustly attacked the night before. Ric hadn't been able to admit to her they were lovers. Couldn't even say they were in a relationship. Or even friends. Just colleagues, was how he described it. Rahne was now in his room and Julio was staying with her. Probably lying with her in their bed right now. Most vividly 'Star thought about that conversation with Julio in the hallway and his eidetic memory played it back like a merciless video recorder, reminding him of every word, every nuance, right down to the cruel inflection of tone. That blind anger in the pit of his subconscious threatened to rise again and he fought the impulse back before it eclipsed rational thought. He could not endure a repeat of that performance and expect to maintain his sanity. He needed a diversion.
"Seven?" Daken prompted, struggling to keep the impatience out of his voice.
'Star looked down at the ground, and then turned his head marginally to the other mutant. "Lead the way."
Unsurprisingly, Daken had a suite at the Hotel Wells on Madison Avenue between 92nd and 93rd and the doorman opened the door for them the instant he caught sight of Daken's approach. The mutant's hairstyle and tattoos weren't exactly a common sight at such an illustrious establishment (unless a famous rock band was on tour), but the half-Asian had established himself as a person of wealth and shady connections that a hotel like the Wells wanted to keep on their good side at all affordable costs.
The elevator up to Daken's room was spent largely in silence. 'Star was lost in thought while the older man's mind was a whirling dervish of carnal impulses and old memories. "So what's the plan?" he finally asked when he unlocked the door to his grand suite and stepped inside with the other mutant close behind. "Am I going to have to sit around and endure your sad tale of love and betrayal pretending that I actually give a shit before we can get it on?"
"I'm no better talking about my feelings than you are playing pretence to listen," 'Star said, pulling his bow tie loose. "We both know why I'm here. I see no sense to drag it out."
Daken betrayed a shake of the head but he couldn't hide his smile of amusement. "I like this new you, Seven. I don't know what happened to you since Madripoor, but I definitely like it."
"Life happened," 'Star said, following him into the master bedroom and casting the king sized bed a vague glance as he unbuttoned his coat to hang it on the backrest of a chair and then slipped out of his shirt. He revealed two white six-inch long gauntlets that encircled either forearm.
Mesmerized by the play of muscles highlighting the tall redhead's impeccable physique, Daken was intrigued by the new hardware. "What are those?"
"Something you would appreciate," 'Shatterstar said and snapped out both sets of duel swords directly in front of the curious mutant. Shak! Daken didn't so much as flinch at their appearance but he did release a low whistle of surprise. "Nice hardware. I didn't think someone like you would be walking around unarmed. I'm curious, though. How the hell do you get those two foot-long blades to come out of a six inch-long scabbard?"
"Mojoverse refit of my original swords. They're folded in a flux pocket encased inside of either gauntlet," 'Star said dismissively, as if discussing technology fused with magic was a common thing for other people to understand. He retracted the blades again at some mental cue and then took them off, placing then on the table where a flat screen monitor sat. Daken extended a hand out to pick one up and received a hefty shock that made him drop it in a hurry. "They're tuned to my DNA. No other can touch them," 'Star said, stepping out of his shoes and socks and taking his black slacks off.
"Thanks for the tip," Daken grumbled but his mood brightened when he saw the warrior standing in the bedroom in a simple pair of black briefs. "You look good. Not so muscle-bound anymore. Maybe there's something more to that crack about 'product redesign' than you're willing to admit."
"Perhaps there is," "Star said vaguely, watching the other man undress and seeing that startling black tribal tattoo that covered the left side of Daken's upper body and arm come into full view. He had seen his fair share of Mojoverse ownership brands like his own as well as some simple Earth tattoos, but nothing so startling as the body art that Daken proudly sported. The half-breed wasn't tall and his half-Asian features were sharp and rugged, but his body was absolute perfection. When he removed his underwear, his cock stood up against his lower belly, swollen and ruddy with desire. "Get on the bed," he barked impatiently.
'Star removed his briefs and complied, but there was an expression on his face that stopped the older mutant's eager advance. It almost looked like disappointment and that was certainly never an expression Daken ever saw in his bedroom. "What?"
'Star rolled over and went to his knees, resting his chin on a pillow and staring vacantly at the headboard. "Nothing. Do what you will."
Daken had been appreciating the sight of that muscular ass and now looked at him sharply. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"This is what you want. I'm what you want. Go ahead and indulge yourself."
"You really know how to set the mood," the mutant grumbled as he settled beside the prone alien on the bed. He was fiercely erect. Shatterstar, he noticed with irritation, was not.
"I'm a slave created to submit. Sex or battle, I'm used to being used."
"I'm not trying to rape you, Seven. You're supposed to enjoy it. Not treat it like a fuckin chore!"
"You know full well that your pheromone-generating ability has no affect on my libido. If you expect me to willingly participate, you'll have to do more than just order me to get on the bed."
"I'm not gonna take sexual advice from some kid!" Daken raged. He kicked the alien in the hip and knocked him off the bed. "I've fucked thousands of people. What makes you think you're so goddamned special?"
Rubbing his shoulder where he had collided with the nightstand, a flicker of anger crossed Shatterstar's face. Some old remnant of fury from his childhood when he had been similarly berated and forced to comply. His frustrated anger at Julio and Rahne didn't help his mood. "You have relied on your powers to do the work of foreplay for so long it's clear to me that you've forgotten how to actually pleasure someone anymore."
Daken's slanted eyes widened almost comically. Without a word (he was actually incapable of formulating words at this point anyway) he leapt over the bed and tackled the waiting alien. The two collided against the wall hard enough leave a deep indentation in the plaster and then plowed into the dresser, knocking it against the balcony doors and shattering the glass.
Daken grabbed a handful of 'Star's short hair and hauled him in close to yell in his face: "You're paying for that! You hear me, freak?"
"Ghei fekt, vehjka!" 'Star shouted, punching him across the jaw and losing a chunk of hair in the process, which only enraged him further. By the time Daken tumbled down the corridor and was back on his feet, the warrior plowed into him, driving them into the living room suite. They began senselessly brawling in the nude amidst expansive sitting area. The leather couch went over on its side, shattering the wall-high mirror beside it. A chaise was sent flying across the room, smashing the wall-mounted flat screen television.
In the midst of the scrap neither fighter thought to use the unique weapons at their disposal. Daken never popped his claws and 'Star didn't retrieve his blades. This was a battle of wills and egos and something far more personal and intimate that was unique to this particular pair. One end table went through the air and crashed into the bar, smashing most of the mutant's collection of rare spirits.
With a livid curse in Japanese, Daken delivered a kick directly into 'Star's stomach driving him against the desk and reducing it to kindling. As 'Star struggled to get back to his feet, Daken leaped over the debris and backhanded him as hard as he could. When the alien hit the floor, he jumped on top of him and drew his fist back for a punch. At the sight, 'Star suddenly started laughing. Faltering, Daken looked at his fist and saw that there were swathes of short red hair snarled up between his fingers. He straddled the Mojoworlder's waist and cracked a semblance of a smile as he looked down at the younger man. "If this is your idea of foreplay, Seven, I'm gonna have to rob a bank to pay for what's to come next."
"I have money to-"
"Oh, shut up," Daken snapped. When he leaned down the alien responded to the movement, lifting his head up and opening his mouth in expectation. Their kiss was slow and deep, tongues touching and fencing against each other in eager lust. Daken took the kiss like he was starving. He sucked on 'Star's tongue and stroked it with his own. When he reluctantly pulled back, he licked his lips and inhaled the alien's distinctive scent in hungry, desperate snorts. "Besides, it's been awhile since I've robbed a bank anyway. Does hearing that shock you?"
'Star shook his head. "I know who I'm with. I know why I'm here. It is the first time I've known anything for ... a while."
Daken raked his nails across the alien's chest hard enough to create scratches and watched the marks fade as soon as they were made. He ran his calloused hands along the hard, muscled flesh and when he finally spoke it was more to himself than who was beneath him. "I'm not a patient man. I'm not kind or gentle. But I haven't forgotten how to pleasure a person and I'll fuckin prove it to you."
Sex with Daken was rough and gruelling and occasionally painful but, altogether it was actually satisfying to Shatterstar. There was nothing in the acts he and the mutant shared to remind 'Star of Julio; the Latino didn't cross his mind once, which was probably why he surrendered whole-heartedly to a sexual liaison that was more of a power struggle for sexual dominance than any kind of display of intimacy. While he was normally the passive one in a liaison, he found he was more than willing to participate in acts as rough and as forceful as Daken gave to him. Perhaps because of their similar battle skills, enhanced abilities, and healing factors. 'Star was far stronger but Daken had decades of experience as his edge and, in all areas, the alien was eager to learn new things. 'Star discovered that sex could be more than a display of love or just some impersonal liaison. It could simulate combat, perhaps even replace it, as he and the mutant grappled and groped and cursed at each other while they fucked like a pair of wild animals squabbling over territory. It was a purely physical union. It was instinctual on a base level that 'Star surrendered to with amazing ease because he didn't want to think anymore; he was tired of doing it. He was a warrior designed to react on a hair-trigger to physical stimuli and his actions were mirrored by the man he had chosen to be with tonight. For a few hours his concerns and worries about Julio and Rahne were deliberately suspended in favor of a far more selfish need for companionship and release.
By the end of it Shatterstar's healing factor was not as efficient as Daken's, not anywhere close, so when the alien finally fell into an exhausted slumber the mutant let him be. Daken left the bedroom to take a shower. After that, he got dressed and then stood in the ruined living room taking inventory of the broken furniture, glass, and electronics for a few minutes. Muttering curses under his breath, he started cleaning things up. His healing factor made him a chronic insomniac and the constant lack of proper REM sleep was one of the main reasons for his highly unstable nature. That, and the raging testosterone coursing through his system, intensifying his violent and sexual nature to unimagined heights.
Daken was a narcissistic psychopath. Hell, he would be the first to admit that; probably with pride. Humans were lesser creatures to be used for his amusement and there were no such things as allegiances with fellow mutants. He was a true free spirit and if he had any gripe, it was his rivalry and hatred of his father: The infamous, larger-than-life X-Man known as Wolverine. Logan was the only person on earth of any of note in Daken's life, the emotions overwhelmingly negative, and it had been that way for the half-Asian for decades. The hatred had festered into a dark, ugly taint that was now on a sociopathic level that had desensitized the mutant to everyone and everything around him.
So he liked to believe ...
He eventually wandered back to the master bedroom and leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms, looking at the younger man asleep in his bed. Seven wasn't human. He wasn't from this planet, dimension, or time. It was doubtful he was even a mutant. His scent was unique and it had been imprinted in Daken's subconscious, lying dormant for the last few years until he had picked it up again this evening at the party. His body's instant reaction to the alien's close proximity had been entirely uncharacteristic to the emotionally-detached mutant. They had a few things in common but it was their shared unapologetic sexual identity as bisexuals that impressed Daken the most. Seven might be confused by his body's reaction to humans but he refused to shy away from it, earning him a modicum of respect from a person who had, by personal choice, absolutely no respect for anyone. What he felt for the young Mojoworlder was such a rare sensation that he had to actually puzzle out what it meant. He thought it might be something akin to friendship. It had been so long since he'd given a damn that he wasn't entirely sure.
Reacting to his presence on some unconscious level, 'Star stirred and opened his eyes. He regarded the silhouette in the doorway for a few seconds and then reached down to pick up the clock radio that had been knocked to the floor during their crazed rut, staring at the display as if the sun beginning to climb the horizon wasn't enough of a hint of the time. He put it carefully back down and then got out of bed and silently stalked to the bathroom, closing the door on Daken's silent regard.
He was gone again when 'Star was finished with his shower. The redhead snapped his sword gauntlets around either forearm and got dressed, opting to pocket the bowtie and keep his shirt collar unbuttoned. He left the bedroom and saw the mutant sitting on the righted sofa, obviously waiting for him. The two stared at each other for a long moment. There wasn't regret in Shatterstar's face but there wasn't any degree of gratitude there either. What happened had simply happened. Chalk it up to opportunity, luck, or fate.
Wordlessly, Daken got to his feet and unlocked the hotel door, pulling it open. He might have offered the alien a bare nod that 'Star might have returned; a vague acknowledgment of equals or an expression passed between kindred spirits. Whatever the case 'Star took his leave of the sumptuous suite without so much as a backwards glance, but that was fine. Daken didn't look back at him either when he closed the door.
That was the nature of warriors.
Rahne came downstairs to the kitchen and found Guido there early, fixing himself an enormous breakfast of fried eggs, bacon, and hash browns. At her surprised expression, he bawled, "Hey! A guy like me has ta maintain his manly physique, don'cha know. Ya think a bowl of bran flakes is gonna do it? Leave that crap for the constipated tight-ends like Madrox."
Smiling, she grabbed a couple of slices of bacon from the growing pile beside the stove and sat down with a glass of juice. "I was looking for Julio."
Strong Guy grunted. "Still on the roof would be my guess."
"He spent the whole night up there? Seriously?"
"Yep. Waitin fer 'Star to come back. It's pathetic, ya ask me."
The lycanthrope lapsed into silence, watching her friend cook his huge breakfast and shelved the questions until he had settled down opposite her to begin eating. "Are they really-?"
"Aw jeez, Rahney. Don't start. I don't wanna lose my appetite."
"I need to know! Are they dating?"
Grabbing a bottle of ketchup, the large mutant squirted the contents all over his plate, giving everything a good coating of red sauce. Rahne's stomach twisted uneasily at the sight, even though she had never been plagued by morning sickness or nausea. What was on Guido's plate now looked like some crimson nightmare and she had seen too much of her share of crimson when she had worked with Wolverine. She carefully averted her eyes.
"Yeah." Guido finally stopped stalling and answered her question. "Not so sure where that stands anymore, tho'."
"It'll stop if I have my way!" she snapped and was surprised when Strong Guy just dropped his head and started eating. She had been around the other man long enough to know how his mind worked and could hardly believe that he didn't have her back on this one. He was a practising Roman Catholic.
Guido remarked instead, "When you came back, how'd you think Rictor looked? Appearance wise, I mean."
"Julio looked good, actually. Healthy," she admitted.
He confided in a low voice, "After you left, Ric started slipping into a depression again. When Theresa went into labour three months ago, O.N.E. showed up in force to take her to some sorta safe-house. Rictor grabbed a gun and started shooting at them. He was goading 'em into shooting back. Would've gotten plugged fer sure if Terry hadn't used her power to deflect the bullets, although Val got hit by a ricochet. I think he was trying to commit suicide." He swallowed a mouthful of runny eggs and then added in a low voice, "... again. Death by cop."
Rahne's normally pale face faded to the color of sour milk. "Oh Lord Jesus..."
"He started to do a serious fade after that whole business with Madrox and the baby. It was really startin to worry me. Then we met up with Shatterstar in Vermont. He was under control of a rogue dupe named Cortex and Ric somehow snapped him back to his senses. They kissed. I mean, really kissed. Then Rictor came out of the closet on the drive home and told me that they'd been involved long before you and him ever hooked up. It really knocked me for a loop."
"I know exactly what yuir talking about," Rahne said, her voice little more than a growl. She thought about the sight that had greeted her when she walked into Rictor's room two nights ago: Him and Shatterstar standing bare-chested with the flies to their pants pulled down, locked in an amorous embrace.
"I couldn't handle it," the huge man said, looking down at his plate. His cheeks had colored a little, but more in shame than anything else. "When Madrox chose to head out to New York to set up this satellite office, I went with him. I couldn't watch Ric and 'Star together. I thought I was a pretty progressive guy, live and let live an all that, but I couldn't stand to see them y'know, like that. It weirded me out too much."
"So whut happened? Why are ye all back here?"
"Terry closed the Detroit office down due to lack of business. Let's face it; there's few if any super groups based out there and they're our bread and butter. New York is a magnet for the shit we do. Anyway, they all came back and- honestly Rahne- only a month had passed but Ric looked good; the best I'd seen him since X-Factor got rollin. He gained some weight back, looked more healthy, even started takin better care of his appearance. It was pretty clear why."
"Shatterstar." Rahne wished the name didn't sound like a curse word every time it left her lips, but it did. She just couldn't seem to help it.
Guido offered her a reluctant nod. "It was pretty clear they were close, sharing a room an all. I got in a few digs but 'Star, he's pretty clueless to sarcasm and I really didn't want to push things too much with Ric. He looked happy. The happiest I've seen him since, well... since ever. He was smiling again, for one thing. And laughing. He hadn't really done either since M-Day stripped him of his powers. Being with 'Star revitalized him or somethin. Gave him a purpose to keep on living. I tried to not like 'Star, to think that that he wuz somehow responsible fer changing Ric, but I know ain't the case. I think it was living a lie that wuz eatin away at Rictor and now with 'Star back, he can finally relax and be- well ... himself."
"Julio isn't gay. I should know. I've slept with him!" the redhead snapped.
"There was nothin that tripped my radar either, babe. We've been on stakeouts til all hours of the mornin, gone clubbin together, hung out and talked fer hours. He had playin it straight down to an art form." The huge mutant passed her a look. "Rahney, there're guys who get married and have kids even though they're gay. I've seen it on Dr. Phil and on the Steve Wilkos show. Happens alla time. These guys somehow stay in the closet and yet manage to have successful family lives, but deep down they're miserable. They don't wanna let their friends and family down so they go on living a lie. Ric stopped doing that when 'Star showed up. It still makes my guts twist when I see them kiss, but I also see how happy Rictor is now. He's my friend and I just want what's best for him. I just never imagined 'what was best' would turn out to be a bisexual alien teleporter with a penchant fer swords." He shrugged his massive shoulders and went back to eating.
Rahne rubbed her stomach uneasily. "What do I do?" she whispered, more to herself than to the other man. "Oh God, what did I do?"
Before Guido could compose some sort of response (he pretty much figured what she was babbling about was rhetorical anyway) there was a flurry of footsteps coming down the stairs and the brief flash of a brown leather jacket as Rictor ran past the kitchen, heading for the front door. "Guess 'Star's found his way back," was all the mutant had to say of it. It wasn't a reunion he wanted to watch, not if he wanted to keep his food down, so he stayed where he was, intent on finishing his breakfast.
Rahne debated staying for maybe all of thirty seconds and then curiosity got the better of her. She went to one of the front windows and looked outside. Standing on the sidewalk, Rictor was hugging Shatterstar and the taller man had his arms loosely wrapped around him. They each had their forehead resting on the other's shoulder and that was enough for her. Hugging her stomach, she backed away from the sight and returned to her room, wracked with doubt and guilt. She was unaware that she had been watched by Layla Miller who was standing in the doorway of the laundry room, studying her every move with suspicious, distrustful eyes.
Rictor gripped onto 'Star's tuxedo jacket with a death grip and his words came out in a rushed jumble: "Lo siento, estrella. Lo siento por lo que dije. Se chingó la cosa. Ares mi mejor amigo.¡Te quiero-!"
"Julio, it's okay. I love you, too," 'Star said, stepping back and brushing his thumbs along both of Rictor's cheeks, scrubbing away the trails of tears. He was close to breaking down himself and kissed him instead, letting them share the taste of salt and worry and sadness. When he broke it off, he held him tighter. "I'm also sorry."
"You've got nothing to apologize for, Gav. You hear me? Nothing! I swear, I was about one shit away from finding out how aerodynamic I am. I thought you might have left for good."
"And go where, silly vehjka? You're my teleportational anchor. I don't do so well with the bitch-hiking."
"Hitch-hiking," Ric corrected with a well-needed laugh. At tense moments like these, he suspected that 'Star messed up Earth idioms on purpose just to get him to lighten up and it never failed to work. "And back then you looked like you always wanted to kill someone and never kept your swords out of sight. Small wonder people put the pedal to the metal."
"Whatever the case, I'm not going anywhere. We will see through this dilemma with Rahne somehow and-"
"I don't want to talk about her," Ric said, cutting him off. He stepped back and wiped his face with the forearm of his jacket. "I don't even want to know what you did last night or where you went. Consider the last twenty-four hours null and void, okay?"
Despite the casual dismissal, 'Star still felt that he should explain his actions of last night. Especially of who he had been with (Daken was a name that was often passed around the undercurrent of office chatter like some mutant variety of boogie-man). Then he remembered how Rahne had looked in his bed and how Ric had told him to fuck off. The word that ended up coming out of his mouth was easier than he would have thought. "Agreed."
"I'm just glad you're back," Ric admitted, noticing what his friend was wearing for the first time. "¡No mames! That must have been some swanky party M took you to. You look great!"
'Shatterstar didn't share the opinion and looked down at himself with a frown. "The clothing place that gave me this suit is holding my leathers hostage. The shop was still closed when I went by this morning to retrieve them."
"Hostage? How come?"
"I would not give the owner an answer on whether I would agree to be his model for some Fall show."
"Dude, you were built for modeling. Why didn't you jump at the chance?"
'Star levelled him with a sincere look. "Because you are my boyfriend and I wanted to consult the matter with you first before I took action."
Rictor flushed with shame. He didn't think the alien had meant his statement as a dig, but he'd be well within his right to do so. Ric had been so sideswiped by Rahne's return (and confession) that he hadn't been able to think of much else. He was not a man who multi-tasked very well, especially when it came to matters of the heart. "Yeah, some boyfriend I am. I really dropped the ball there, amigo. You can tell that suit dude that I think having a boyfriend who's a model would be totally hot."
"You can tell him yourself," 'Star said. He wheeling Ric around and travelled back the way he came. "I want my clothes back, but first we will stop someplace for breakfast. You look peckish."
"I waited up all night for you," Julio confessed, trailing along beside him and not wanting to let him out of his sight.
Submerging a pang of guilt, the alien said, "When we get back, the team and I will go to Vegas. You will stay behind and get some rest. You are clearly exhausted. If you need to, use my room if Rahne-"
"Our room."
'Star glanced at him. "What?"
"It's going to be our room," Rictor confirmed, flashing him a look that buoyed 'Star's spirit. It was that flash of passion and resolve that he had seen at the shooting range two days ago. "Rahne can stay where she is. That damn window let in too much light anyway and the sound of traffic always woke me up. We'll make your room our own private love nest."
"Rahne will not like that."
"Rahne's convinced that every time two dudes get it on, an angel gets an anal fissure or something. I'm sick to death of hearing about it. I'm gay. You're my lover. She's going to have to deal with it. End of story."
Smiling in relief 'Star wrapped an arm around Rictor's shoulders and pulled him close to his side, giving his cheek a noisy smooch. Ric kissed him back and hugged his partner's waist, for once not caring about the looks they got on the street.
And if a pregnant, red-haired woman with a wolf's possessive nature watched their passing from the broken upstairs window, Rictor deliberately ignored it.
And if a medium-sized man who called himself a mongrel in another language was watched them from his hiding place across the street, Shatterstar took no notice of him.
They were too swept up in their love for each other to care about anyone else.
~End.
Translations (Spanish):
Ric: "¿Qué pasó? Ay, chale. Yo no quiero que veas esto." - What happened? Oh, damn it. I didn't want you to see this.
-"¿Qué chingados?" - What the fuck?
Translations (Japanese):
Daken: "Shichi?" - Seven?
'Star: "Konban wa, Akihiro." - Good evening, Akihiro.
Daken: "Oshisashiburi desu. Kono goro dou desu ka?" -Long time no see. How are you these days?
'Star: "Maa-maa desu. Anatawa? Amerika ni kite dono kurai ni narimasu ka?" - So-so. And you? How long have you been in America?
Translations (Spanish):
Ric: "Gracias a Dios por los pequeños favores." - Thank God for small favors.
-"Lo siento, estrella. Lo siento por lo que dije. Se chingó la cosa. Ares mi mejor amigo. ¡Te quiero!" - I'm sorry, star. I'm sorry for what I said. Things got screwed up. You're my best friend. I love you!
-"¡No mames!" - Holy shit!