Disclaimer: I don't own X-men in any of it's incarnations; the original character, and the concept, are mine, but Quicksilver and the X-verse belong to whoever. : ) I am not making any money off of this.
He fidgeted, bored already. Why had she brought him here? She had promised him something interesting, something that could hold his attention, but he didn't see anything but an empty field.
"Okay, here we are. Time to stop." He twisted to look at her, brows drawing together in an unmistakably grumpy scowl. Stop? Stop? There was nothing interesting about stopping. He didn't want to stop. He wanted to find something to do. Like seeing how long it would take him to rip out every itty bitty strand of grass in this stupid, boring field.
She caught his scowl, and laughed. "Oh, ye of little faith! You'll see in a moment." His glower darkened. A moment to her, maybe. A million moments to him. A million moments of monotony, of nothing, of waste. A million moments that he could have been using to do something interesting.
He fidgeted wildly as she turned in a small circle, examining the field, and then quirked an eyebrow as she caught his hand in hers and led him several steps deeper into the grass, nearer to the center of the field. When her soft, cool fingers clasped his, his hyperactive mind put on the incorporeal brakes and then galloped wildly off in another direction. Perhaps this wouldn't be a total waste of his time, after all.
She sat down in the grass and tugged him down beside her, kicked her sneakers off, and then—to his surprise—reached over with a set of nimble toes and pushed his running shoes, then his socks, from his own feet.
Hm. Removal of clothing. Even more interesting than hand holding.
She flopped down on her back with a breathy sigh, then yanked him into a reclining position as well. He stopped fidgeting, his attention abruptly fixated on his current situation with an intensity rarely seen from him. She didn't seem to notice, though; to his indignation, she stretched her toes out, closed her eyes, and ignored him.
He stared at her, waiting. Any moment, now, she was going to tell him what this was all about. She was going to explain why she had dragged him all of the way out to this infernally dull stop in the middle of nowhere; she hadn't even let him pick her up and run to shorten the trip. She'd made him walk at her speed, even going so far as to hang on to the back of his coat to prevent him from doing laps to stave off the boredom. For all that he'd put up with, this had better be good.
He waited.
And waited.
And waited a little longer.
Unable to simply lie still for another second, he sat up again.
"Well? You promised to entertain me. I'm not entertained. I'm bored. Why are we here? What's the point?" Her eyes drifted lazily open again, and her lips curved up into a grin.
"I think that's more of a question for Aristotle than for me, hm? I would say chocolate, but—"
"Youknowthat'snotwhatImeant!" He barked out, his temper flaring up. "I mean, why are we here in this dumb field in the middle of the boonies? I could be doing something else right now!" She sighed, sitting up.
"No, no. See, that is the point. You could be doing something else, but you're not; you're doing this." She eyed him for a moment, the corners of her smile turning down slightly. She heaved another, significantly less content sigh. "Oh, here; I suppose I'll have to explain it, as you're obviously not getting it on your own." He bristled; just what did she mean by that? Was she saying he was stupid? Why was he doing this, anyways? He could be working, doing something useful right now, but he wasn't, he was out lying in a dumb field like a frigging pansy.
His increasingly irritable inner monologue was interrupted as a hand planted itself in the middle of his collarbone and pushed him firmly back into a prone position.
"Just—stop, for a moment." She murmured, sprawling onto the grass next to him. "Stop thinking about everything else in the world, stop thinking about what's next, and just think about what's here." He blinked, to surprised to swat her hand off of his chest and storm off. He opened his mouth to demand why she meant, but her hand snapped up and clamped over his face.
"No. Just feel."
He stopped. He felt.
The earth was warm against his back, soft and loamy and deep. The grass had taken on a sweet alfalfa scent after baking in the sun, which shone high above him, creeping into his muscles and bones. He could feel himself relaxing, sinking back into the summer's gentle embrace. A large iridescent butterfly curved lazily past his face, its soft, powdery wings glimmering a lurid blue. A small corner of his mind wondered how something so fascinating had escaped his notice, but that was a silly question.
He had never taken the time to notice anything like that before.
The grass stirred lazily against his cheek, and he took a deep breath of the sweet, warm air, his eyes drifting across the meadow. A vague memory of being irritated about being there swept across his mind, but was replaced by a slow appreciation of how many different types of wildflowers had sprung up in this tiny, welcoming little place. Soft bird trills permeated the air, warbles and coos and twitters buzzing in his ears. He stretched his bare feet, brushing his arches across the feathery grass and then wiggling his toes down into the spongy dirt, enjoying the sensation.
And hand squeezed his wrist, and he slowly turned his head to the side, meeting his companion's eyes. She was smiling at him, her lids at half mast and a content, kind look glimmered from behind her lashes.
"See what I mean, now?"
He nodded slowly. It felt like there wasn't anything but this little field. Nothing to do, nothing to worry about. He felt better than he had for years; his heart beating slowly and steadily, his muscles releasing their constantly ready-to-move grip on his bones as the feeling of the place seeped into his very core.
"Yeah. I see what you mean."