Happy July 4th to all my American readers!

:::

The night was quiet as Warren and Cameron crossed the near-empty street into Sternberg Park. The basketball court and soccer field were empty, and no one milled under the tall lamps around the park. Warren wasn't sure if it was always like this or due to the current mutant news, which often made people paranoid enough not to stay out late.

Cameron clutched his arm tight, her head pressed against his shoulder as they made their way to one of the wooden benches set up between the gated field and court. She finally loosened her hold then, allowing him to be comfortable.

Neither said anything for a while, hadn't said anything even after Magneto had left. One of the mutants at the meeting took hold at the altar, but it was obvious that his pleads for organized protests were unwelcome, as most of the church occupants start to leave or hackle him. Warren had let go of his arm around her then, mindful of her personal space, but to his surprise, Cameron had latched on to his arm, holding him close. She didn't say a thing, completely unlike earlier, and her lips were pressed into a firm line, eyebrows furrowed.

And here they were, sitting on this bench in the cool night, both in their own thoughts.

"I should get going," mumbled Warren, glancing over at Cameron who had now completely retreated to her side of the bench. She had wrapped her jean jacket even tighter around herself, and had her hands tucked into the pockets as she watched the empty soccer field. Warren slowly stood up, one hand moving to undo the buttons of his coat. It was a cool night, but he wanted to fly back, his wings stiff against the makeshift belt harnesses.

"You still owe me for the jacket." Cameron turned to look up at him, her lips pulled up in a small smile. Warren grinned.

"Right. That seemed so long ago," he mused, thinking back to their first meeting. "How much did I say I would pay you?"

Cameron shook her head, slowly standing up, hands still in her coat pockets.

"I don't remember. It doesn't really matter anyway," she said, giving him that same small smile, the lamp to his side lighting up her face in the dark. Warren realized in that moment that Cameron was beautiful. Not in a conventional way, no, not with the scar from a broken nose, or the blemishes that she hadn't covered up and her almost too square jaw, with her dishwater blonde split ends and chapped lips. But she was beautiful.

"Come with me."

Cameron's smile slowly vanished and she raised an eyebrow, an expression she often did.

"What?"

Warren finished up the buttons of his coat, and shrugged off the long garment, placing it on the bench.

"Where else do you plan on going tonight? Not home, I assume," he commented, hands fiddling with the belt harnesses. Cameron grinned, looking away.

"You know me well. You gonna carry me to your place?" she asked, slowly removing her hands from her pockets to readjust her backpack straps. Warren nodded, finally letting his wings free, and they spread out behind him, stretching in anticipation.

"It's a nice night. And I owe you," he said casually, folding the belts into the coat, now a neat pile easily carried. He didn't know why, as he tucked the the clothing under his arm, but his heart was hammering in his chest. Old Warren never asked girls over, never could, not with his mutation. But this wasn't just a girl from class or one of his father's parties, this was Cameron. Whether or not she said yes, he realized, would make or break his night. Because, as he could now freely admit, he liked her. She had become his friend, maybe one of the closest he's ever had, and he couldn't imagine leaving her, not like this. Not in the middle of a park at night, allowing her to return to whatever she had been doing before he found her that morning in the alley. He didn't even know much about her, her favorite foods or shows, or her biggest pet peeves, how her childhood was, what she wanted to do with her life, but he felt connected now, connected to the brash young woman who he had once only seen as a means to an end.

Cameron shook her head. "No you don't, Birdboy. I was an ass to you this entire day, and you still put up with me. I should be the one that owes you. I," she paused looking away, down at her boots. "I don't have much friends, you know? Real ones." Warren slowly reached over, his free hand settling on her shoulder. The woman looked up, catching his eyes.

"Me neither. Now, put this in your bag." He handed her the coat and belts that were tucked under his arm, sharing a smile with her.

"I have to warn you, I'm not a big fan of heights," she said nervously, taking the neatly folded clothing and securing it within her backpack. Warren nodded in understanding.

"I'll try to fly a bit lower than usual. It's going to be a bit cold, though." With that, he placed one hand around her back, her backpack held to her chest instead, and the other to the back of her bare knees, before lifting. She was lighter than he expected, and he easily shifted her in his arms, earning a yelp, as Cameron pressed her palms to her backpack resting on her chest.

"I'm glad I wore shorts under this," she tried to joke, but the worry was evident in her voice. Warren just smiled.

"You'll be fine, just put your arms around my neck." Hesitantly, the blonde raised her arms from her bag and held tightly to his neck. Ready, Warren spread his feet a bit, crouching, and-

"You better not drop me-eeeeeeeee!" Warren launched into the sky, wings flapping with vigor after hours of being bounded.

:::

By the time Warren had reached his father's estate is Harrison, he was exhausted. In hindsight, taking the train might have saved him a lot of effort, but at the moment, he was glad to arrive at the secluded mansion in upstate New York. Cameron's hold had slackened quite a bit since they had taken off, and now she seemed to be coming in and out of sleep, mumbling about the chill in the air and how he should be wearing a shirt.

The balcony of his room was a more than welcome sight, barely noticeable in the moonlight. He couldn't help but notice the entire home was dark, and his father's favorite car was missing from the driveway. He guessed it was too late for much of his father's staff to still be housekeeping, and Warren Worthington II no longer kept staff overnight, not since his son's wings started to grow out completely.

Catching sight of where to land, Warren braced himself before feeling the solid ground below his feet. He let out a sigh of relief, easing Cameron down as he relished in the quiet of the trees around him, the muted sound of cicadas in the night. Cameron wobbled a bit on her feet, letting out a breathy "finally", and allowed Warren to keep a hand around her waist to steady her.

"Almost there," he assured, feeling about ready to collapse himself, barely able to grope for this keys in his pocket. In a minute, the balcony door was unlocked, and Warren pushed the curtain aside to allow Cameron to walk in, now steady after brushing off her earlier lethargy.

"Where's the light?" Cameron mumbled quietly in the dark room, standing still, lest she bump into something.

"I got it," Warren said, closing the balcony door but leaving the curtain open to let in the moonlight. With a click, the room was bathed in light, and Cameron squinted as her eyes adjusted. Warren's room was large, yet minimalist, a king sized bed in the middle, the headboard against the wall, and two nightstands on either side, one with an alarm clock reading 9:32 PM, the other with a framed photo of his father, himself, and his late mother. Next to one nightstand, farthest from the balcony was a door slightly ajar, leading to a walk in closet. An expansive desk was opposite the bed, a swivel chair neatly tucked in. Only a few items occupied the desk, including a sleek desktop computer and lamp amongst a day calendar and miscellaneous office supplies. Next to the balcony door was a plush loveseat and tall bookcase, nearly completely filled with not just books but few trinkets, particularly neatly polished snow globes, and one model airplane, crude looking and obviously made by a child at the top of the shelf. The walls held the most character, lined with movie posters, things that Cameron had not expected a man such as Warren to like, though the colors and designs were simple. There was one painting too, above the bed, a mix of blues and greens, white splashed across, like seafoam.

As Cameron took her time to examine the room, Warren let out a sigh and pulled his chair out from the desk, taking a seat, wings settling against his back. He had not been home in months, busy with school, but everything looked just as he had left it. He heard Cameron open the door to the hall, peeking out into the dark and silent house.

"I can stay here?" she asked, almost in disbelief, before glancing back at the shirtless man. Warren nodded.

"Of course. Make yourself at home," he offered, making his way to the closet to search for his towel. He was in desperate need of a shower. He heard Cameron giggling, and stepped out, towel in one hand, to see her jumping up and down his bed, her boots kicked off into the corner. The dress went up with each jump, revealing more of her long legs and the tight spandex shorts underneath, causing Warren to avert his eyes.

"I feel like a princess," she grinned, and Warren returned it, keeping his eyes on her face. "Come up here!" Warren shook his head, holding up his towel.

"Shower first. You wanna join me?" Warren realized how wrong that sounded as soon as the words left his mouth, and blushed, though he noticed Cameron's grin grow.

"Er. I mean do you want to shower too? We have three bathrooms." He gestured to the door to the hall, looking over his shoulder. If he had been paying attention, he would have noticed Cameron's grin slightly falter as she stopped jumping on the bed.

"Yep," she responded, voice still bouncy nonetheless, and stepped down from the bed. "Can I have clothes too?" Warren gave a quick "yeah", his heart starting to beat quickly again just as when he was in the park. He quickly went to search his closet for anything that would fit her, trying to ignore the feeling. Cameron was his friend, he placated. There was no need to feel anxious or embarrassed, he assured himself, picking out a t-shirt and a pair of clean shorts that he hoped would fit her.

"Come on," he said hurriedly, flicking off the closet light, passing Cameron the clothing. "There're towels in the bathroom." With that, he led the young woman out into the hall, trying not to catch the smiles she sent him, his stomach twisting into knots.

:::

This story is starting to wind down, so enjoy it while it lasts! :)