Chapter Nine: "Drifting into the Delta"

"Drake, hand me the grease rag."

Bobby grabbed it off the counter and passed it over to Scott as he slid out from under the car.

"I swear Hank has the worst luck with cars. I won't be able to finish this today." He scrubbed at his hands ineffectually, the rag so mucked up already that he was really just spreading the grease around. He handed it back to Bobby.

"I can change the oil on the BMW so you'll have more time tomorrow."

Scott nodded. "Thanks. I was probably going to put it off anyway." He stood up, a little stiff from lying under the car for so long. "I'm glad you came out here, Bob. I feel like I haven't seen you outside class in ages."

"If you'd lighten up on the homework load, maybe I'd have more time." Bobby gave him a cheeky grin. "Plus, between the extra training and tutoring Cal, it's been kind of crazy."

"How's that going? Tutoring Cal, I mean."

He shrugged. "He's having a hard time. He's really behind, but I think mostly it's that he hasn't done the school thing in so long. He gets frustrated with it pretty easily."

Scott nodded. The kid wasn't doing so well in classes. His homework was rarely on time. "And how's he doing other than that? Are you doing okay rooming together?"

"Yeah, sure. He's a little rough around the edges, but he's a really nice guy. He's still having a hard time with…well, what happened before he came here. He doesn't talk about it too much."

He frowned. "Has he told you anything?"

"Just that his boyfriend died."

Scott sighed and leaned against Hank's truck. "Well, it's good you're getting along, anyway." He hesitated. "It's not weird for you, is it?"

Bobby looked confused for a second, and then got it. "Oh, no."

"That's good. And, hey, at least you two won't be fighting over girls like you and John."

He flinched at the name. "What do you mean?"

"Rogue. Come on, Bobby, I'm not that out of touch. You and John started having problems after Rogue came into the picture. He was jealous, right?"

Bobby was quiet for a moment, weighing his words in his head. "Yeah, he was jealous."

Scott studied him for a moment. He wouldn't make eye contact and he was chewing on the inside of his cheek. "What? Was there something else?"

He took a deep breath and glanced at Scott, then back at the cars behind him. "I just…I don't think it was Rogue he was jealous about."

It took Scott a moment to catch up with his meaning. "You mean?"

"Yeah."

"I never would have guessed."

"He wasn't too open about anything, you know. And he liked girls, too." He hated that he was speaking in past tense, like John had died or something.

"Well, you've got some luck with roommates."

Bobby flinched a little. "It didn't bother me or anything. I mean, he was still just John."

"Yeah, and we see how well 'just John' worked out."

"Does that change how you think of him?" Scott misinterpreted the tremor in his voice, thinking Bobby was afraid he'd forgive John for leaving.

"I'd be lying if I said it didn't, at least a little bit. It changes how I think of him leaving. I don't know if it's for the better or the worse, though. I thought his ego was bruised because she'd picked you over him. But, if it was you he was after, then he was probably more hurt than angry. At the same time, though, he was resenting you for who you are. You could never return those feelings, Bobby."

He nodded quietly, picking some grease from under his thumbnail. "I should get to training, I guess." He headed for the door. "It was nice talking, Mr. Summers."

As soon as Cal put on the red shirt, they decided that it wasn't right. After ten minutes of rifling through his closet, they went back to the black t-shirt. Cal went for the scarf again, but Bobby lunged up behind him and snatched it out of his hands. Chest to Cal's back, he pretended to strangle him with it. "No scarves! You are going to dial it down if it kills you!"

"Oh my God, you are being so weird."

Bobby stepped back and flung the scarf around his own neck. "Am not."

"Are too. What's wrong with you today?"

He clutched a dramatic hand to his chest. "Why, Calin. I'm hurt."

"Seriously, are you high or something?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, Cal, I am not high. I'm saving you from yourself."

"Sure."

He finally found a gray vest that Bobby approved of and put it on over the t-shirt. Bobby laughed at him and was entirely unhelpful while he fought his way into a pair of absurdly tight pants. "I'd say you're probably making yourself sterile, but I guess it's a non-issue."

"Hey, I could still have kids. It's called artificial insemination."

"No, it's not that. I just don't think you'd ever have the patience to wait nine whole months for something." He made a face at Cal and leaned against the wall by the mirror.

Cal reached for some consealer to put over the faint remaining bruises and the cuts, but Bobby grabbed it away, insisting, "No, no, no, you are not wearing make-up on a first date." He then proceeded to drape himself over Cal's bed and give himself light/medium-tone war paint.

"I worry about you sometimes."

"Mascara would probably work better. Got any of that?"

Cal lobbed a shoe at him. "What am I, the Avon lady?"

"So do I get to meet this guy? Make sure he's not some creeper?" Bobby rolled onto his stomach, propping his chin in his hands, making a show of his nosiness.

"No. Absolutely not, you psychotic little man-child."

Bobby stuck his tongue out. "You're mean."

"You love me anyway." Cal stopped, afraid he might have overstepped some bound, but his roommate just grinned at him.

"Okay, okay. Go have fun with your hunky date." He shooed him off.

John pulled up in a black Toyota just a few minutes after five. He smiled at Cal and unlocked the door. "Come on, let's get out of here, huh?"

He slid into the passenger seat. "My thoughts exactly. Where are we going, anyway?"

"A restaurant just outside Chelsea." They drove off toward the highway. "You got your bandages off. How's it doing?"

Cal shrugged. "There's a lot of scar tissue, and I lost my, uh, my per…per…" He twirled a finger in the air, searching for the word. "Side-thingy?"

"Peripheral?" John volunteered.

"Yeah, that. Peripheral vision. In the left eye."

"Sucks."

"Could have been worse, I guess."

"Still, it sucks."

He let himself stare at John a little longer than necessary. He really was gorgeous. His hair was slicked back like before, but a bit looser, lighter on the product. He'd worn a long sleeve shirt in the garden, but his short-sleeved button-up today showed off some pretty impressive arms. "So, have things gotten any more exciting for you this week?"

"One of my teammates accidentally ripped one of the bathroom sinks out of the floor." He said it casually, as if recalling a good cup of coffee. "He's crazy strong. It happens sometimes."

"I never thought about how nuts it could get, putting a bunch of mutants all together. Last week, this kid Blink had the hiccups, and all the electronics in the mansion were going on and off every thirty seconds for over an hour."

John smirked and glanced over at him. "I like the vest."

He laughed, and John gave him a questioning look. "My roommate and I had an interesting time agreeing on what I was allowed to wear."

"Allowed to?"

"He's a little up in my business sometimes. In a good sort of way, though. And he has a serious prejudice against scarves."

"Sounds like a fun guy to live with."

"For picking out clothes, yes. But with homework, curfew, and misbehavior, not so much."

"I'm getting déjà vu by proxy." Cal raised an eyebrow, but John just shook his head. "Nevermind. Do you smoke?"

"I used to, but Matt was all I'm-a-doctor about it, so I quit."

John pulled out a pack of Camels. "Mind if I do?"

"Go ahead."

John rolled down his window and put one in his mouth. He pulled out a lighter, but instead of holding it up to the cigarette, he sparked it once in his hand, and pulled up a small flame, suspended above his thumb. Cal watched with rapt interest as he sucked until it was lit, then shook his hand, the flame disappearing. He heard himself laugh quietly.

"What?" he asked, cigarette hanging from his lips.

"Nothing, just a small world is all. You've got fire, I do water, and my roommate's thing is ice."

John started, eyebrows shooting to his hairline. He pulled the cigarette from his mouth. "Ice?"

"Yeah. He can freeze things or he can pull water from the air or something and make stuff out of ice. He's really good with it, too."

He took a drag on his cigarette to give himself a moment to think. "Sounds cool," he agreed.

The drive from the mansion to New York usually took over an hour, but with John's driving, they got there in just over forty-five. Cal looked around at the buildings, feeling latently homesick. "God, I missed the city."

"You lived in Chelsea, right? Near the club where you worked?"

Cal nodded. "When I was living with Matt, yeah."

"And before that?"

He traced his finger along the outer seam of his jeans, near his knee. He considered lying or being vague about it, but what the hell. "Uh, Hunt's Point, mostly," he mumbled.

John looked over at him, a sympathetic frown on his lips. "So Chelsea was really an upgrade."

"Yeah."

"When did you move in with Matt?"

"I was almost sixteen."

"Shit."

"Yep."

"I was on my own for a few years before Xavier found me."

"Yeah?"

John smiled at him reassuringly. "Yeah. You do what you've got to, right?"

Cal bit his lip to stifle a smile.

The restaurant was only two blocks away from the nearest parking garage. It was a fairly warm evening, the weather slowly gearing up for a sweltering New York summer.

John had made reservations, although it wasn't the sort of place that was impossible to get into on a walk-in basis. The waiter led them to a booth near the back and went off to fill their drink orders.

They had just a glass of wine each. John needed to drive, and Cal was supposed to avoid blood-thinning substances until the stitches came out. Cal let John pick something out for him—a pasta dish with sautéed mushrooms—and their conversation stayed light until they were finishing their soup. And then Cal brought up a seemingly innocent question.

"So what's the name of your group anyway?"

John set his spoon down and looked across the table uneasily. "Uh, well that's sort of the thing, Cal. I need to be sure you won't go blabbing or freaking out or anything. I can trust you for that, right?"

Cal frowned. "I think so? Yes. Yeah, I won't freak out. Why?"

"I'm in the Brotherhood."

"Oh. Shit."

"Look, I don't know what you've heard at the mansion…"

"I haven't heard much, but I know your reputation."

"And? Are you freaking out?"

"No."

"I know you probably don't believe in the sort of thing we believe in."

"I don't know what I believe right now."

John looked a bit relieved. "Well, in any case, I do believe in it. I do care about it, but at the end of the day, it's my job. It's sort of frowned upon by most Brotherhood members, but I consider myself an individual first. Call me self-interested or whatever."

"Do you kill people?"

He drummed his fingers on the table. "I have, yes."

"A lot of people?"

"Almost all of them were in combat-type situations. Or evil people that needed taking out. People who were hurting mutants."

Cal thought quietly for a moment. "But there have been, like, collateral damage killings, right?"

"Yeah. It happens. I don't like it, but it happens."

They fell into an uncomfortable silence. Finally, Cal spoke up again.

"Well, no wonder you didn't freak about me killing Matt."

John laughed, but reeled it in quickly. "So, is this okay with you? I'd understand if you wanted to stay away from that sort of thing."

"It's fine. Kind of, I dunno, weird or something, but it's fine."

He smiled at Cal—what Toad snidely referred to as his 'panty dropper smile.' "Good. I'm glad."

Their entrees came soon after that, and John amped the charm up about a hundred and ten percent. He may have been a royal class fuck-up, but if there was one thing he knew how to do, it was how to make someone want him. Cal couldn't finish his meal, so John gladly helped him, periodically insisting, "Oh, you should have another bite of this," and feeding it to him across the table. It should have been sickeningly cutesy and way too much for a first date, but it was just playful with John.

John paid, and Cal didn't argue, and they headed back out onto the street. The sun had sunk behind the buildings. They found the car and John turned to him without unlocking it. "So, where to now? I'd say we could go for drinks, but I have my car and you have your stitches. We'll need to leave by ten if you want to make curfew…do you?"

Cal stepped in close, a wry grin on his face, nearly backing John against the car. "John, I would be really disappointed if you took me back to the mansion tonight."

With a triumphant smirk, John leaned forward to catch Cal's lips in a kiss, a hand cupping his jaw. They tugged themselves toward one another and fell against the side of the car, hands grasping hips, tongues sliding together.

John pulled back after a few heated moments, ego doing a little victory dance in his head. "There's a Brotherhood apartment in Manhattan Valley. Everyone else is at the base or out of the area."

Cal nodded and got into the car once it was unlocked. The drive was silent, almost tense. Once John had parked in the lot behind the building, he tugged Cal inside and up the stairs to the apartment.

From what he could see around John while pushed up against the door, the place wasn't the greatest. There was a TV and a lumpy couch, a kitchenette and a single bedroom. The carpeting was faded and threadbare, but it seemed clean and he had John's shirt unbuttoned now. The apartment was forgotten. He ran his hands down the hard planes of John's stomach as he shrugged off his vest, letting it pool on the floor with John's shirt.

He pushed Cal's shirt off and kissed down to his collarbone, sucking and nipping. His hands gripped Cal's ass, pulling their groins flush together. Cal made a little gasping moan and he tugged them toward the couch. The five feet to the bedroom seemed much too far. Shoes and pants were shed and he pushed Cal long-ways onto the couch. He stopped to retrieve the condom and lube packet he'd put in his pocket 'just in case.'

Cal snickered breathily when he saw them. "You came prepared. How Boy-Scout of you."

As Cal scooted back across the couch, John kneeled in the vacated space between his legs. He didn't spend long on his chest or stomach, moving his mouth quickly down to Cal's cock. He pulled it into his mouth, feeling fingers grasp his hair, and gave it a few enthusiastic sucks before pulling off and making his way down lower.

Cal lifted his hips accommodatingly, draping his right leg over the back of the couch. He groaned out John's name as he ran his tongue across his hole. John worked it with his mouth for a bit, building up enough spit to slip a finger in comfortably.

"Fuck, John, more."

He tore the lube packet open and slicked it on his fingers, fitting in a second, and then a third. His teeth grazed along the line of Cal's hipbone. He sucked a mark onto it. He thrust his fingers in and out steadily. And then he did this thing with his fingers that had Cal bucking and crying out.

"Come on, please, fuck me."

And John had never been one to turn down a request like that. He slipped the condom on, smeared on the remaining lube, and lifted Cal's left leg over his shoulder. He pressed in, nearly bending Cal in half and barely restraining himself from thrusting in all at once. Cal rolled his hips in encouragement, and he pulled out most of the way before bucking back in. He picked up a rhythm, turning to press his mouth to the calf resting on his shoulder. His hands ran down the thin thighs in front of him.

Cal had closed his eyes, hands gripping the couch arm behind his head.

"Open your eyes."

They opened obediently, pupils blown so wide, the bright blue was just a thin ring around them. He rolled his hips and moaned, biting on his lower lip. Blonde hair was mussed up and sticking to his forehead.

"Fuck, you look so good like this. You have no idea how sexy you look right now."

Cal pressed back against him with a mindless whimper, which turned to a near shout when John thrust roughly into his prostate.

"Come on, baby." He moved his hand down to grip Cal's cock, jerking it in time with the harsh snap of his hips. "Come for me. Let me hear you come."

With one more roll of his hips, Cal cried out, hands gripping the couch desperately. John thrust into him twice more, and then swore and came.

Once he'd caught his breath, he pulled back and tied the condom off. Cal's legs curled back in slowly. He rubbed at the tired and stretched-out backs of his thighs, grinning like an idiot. "Can I use your bathroom to clean up?"

He nodded and pointed it out. Cal disappeared through the door, not bothering to close it. The sound of running water came from the bathroom. John got up and tossed the condom out in garbage in the bedroom. He looked up and saw Cal leaning against the doorframe.

"I feel so classy."

John smirked. "Why's that?"

"Because you bought be dinner first."

He laughed and walked over, tugging Cal into the room. "You're welcome. Really." John kissed him and fell back on the bed, dragging him down on top. "Do you mind if I wait 'til tomorrow to drive you back?"

"I should hope you would wait. There's no way I'm done with you yet."