Disclaimer: Having become recently rich (ie, I dug through the couch cushions...) I now have only several more billion dollars to go before I can skip this bit
//grovels on stomach// I know, I said this would come sooner... I know, I know //sniffles// I will try to do better
Chapter Twenty-One
I close my eyes, squinting the lids shut and pulling the surrounding skin tight in frustration.
This. Is. Not. Fair.
Warren turns his head to look at me as I reopen my eyes, his own blue orbs somewhat glazed. The lean muscles are still taut, wings partially spread as Angel half-crouches in frozen confusion. The rapid change from passion to imminent discovery seems to have left him even more disconcerted than me. I click the lock open on the door with a twist of telekinesis, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed to stand. Rubbing my hands along the rough inseams of the somewhat wrinkled jeans I'm wearing, I try to grind away my feelings of impatience and anger. Why, when we've been alone for an hour, would Logan choose this time to come up? Why?! I was so far beyond beginning to enjoy myself it wasn't even funny.
The OCD1 hand-wiping doesn't help. I still want to pull handfuls of Logan's thick black 'ears' out by the roots. Wonder if the Wolverine could grow hair back at super speed?
My room looks precisely the same as it did a few minutes ago, if a bit gloomier. Warren's book is the only thing out of place, having fallen from its perch on the covers onto the floor when my teammate lunged off the bed. The spine twists back into shape as I bend to pick it up, trying not to wince as my diaphragm muscles bunch together over the tender rib. Standing, I nervously straighten to see Warren and Logan staring at each other, Wolverine with one hand on the doorknob and face twisted in a freeze-frame of his mid-sniff grimace.
The muttonchops jut outwards, following the line of the square jaw beneath them as Logan deliberately sniffs again and clenches his teeth together.
"You... flyboy... ge' ou'. I nee' ta talk wit' Tris."
For some reason, the muscles on the back of Warren's neck become tighten at the nickname. I narrow my eyes at the level of contempt in Wolverine's voice. What side of the den did he wake up on this morning? And here I was thinking I was in a bad mood earlier.
"I'll.. just... erm..." Warren's voice is confused, with an edge of shock. He steps towards me, and Logan allows him, still standing partially in the door. He turns a confused look from Angel to me, the furious mask dropping to reveal indecision
"Tris... di' Hank give y' any more pain-killers?"
I shake my head, and watch as Logan relaxes. What was that all about? Whatever it was, Warren and Logan seemed to have corrected the misunderstanding with a single cryptic look, overtones of apology on Wolverine's face. Men, mutant or otherwise, are beyond me at times.
Warren moves to stand just behind my left shoulder. He nudges the back of my elbow with his forearm, jostling my arm for attention. Logan stares at the offending appendage. I try to set him straight with a return glare and pivot my head to glance at Angel. Lips twitch as my team mate raises a single expressive eyebrow.
"I'll head downstairs. See you at dinner?"
I nod, and watch the blue eyes soften as he smiles. Flicking his eyes towards Logan, he touches my cheek briefly before heading briskly towards the doorway. Sidling around Wolverine, who still has his eyes fixed suspiciously on Warren's face, he grins cheekily back at me and walks from sight. His quiet footsteps fade on the stairwell before Logan says anything.
"So... you an'..." The stress of actually saying 'flyboys' name seems to be beyond his irate vocal cords, no matter how calm he appears. He settles for approaching me, waving his hands vaguely.
"Warren?" I shrug. A thrill runs through me, slow warmth jumping from cell to cell, starting somewhere around those brief touches on my cheek and ending up in the vicinity of my ankles. I impulsively hug Logan, who freezes. I hold on, waiting, and as the feel of his hands on my back in a return embrace is all the 'permission' I need.
Pulling away, I reach up and pull at his hair, lightly. "You do realize how much I wanted to put a permanent dent on your adamantium skull, right? Not very polite, barging in like that."
Logan smirks and rolls his eyes, needlessly running a hand through his naturally styled hair. I back away from him, idly picking up a brush from the dresser and rotating it in my hands.
"So, you said you had good news?"
Logan nods. "No need t' have... him... bring up th' dinner. Hank says y' can come down."
I close my eyes. Leaving this room... getting out... I think I may have to dance a happy pagan dance2.
"Now?" I manage to choke out the single word. Logan nods in response, his slow smile spreading across the expressive lips, eyes squinting slightly. I smile back, allowing the breath I've been figuratively holding back for the last two days to escape. Picking up a sweatshirt hanging lopsided over the desk chair and tossing the brush into the void of my magazine rack, I bolt out the door before Logan can stop me. Calling over my shoulder to Logan, I feel my bare feet gripping the hard floor as I trot towards the stairs.
"Shut the door for me, Wolvie?"
Pulling on the sweatshirt, I stop at the head of the stairs and stare down the long and partially dark stairwell apprehensively. No matter how bubbly my feelings are right now due to a combination of freedom and Warren, I still balk at the idea of blithely tripping down something that only days ago tried to kill me.
Alright, so maybe it wasn't the stairs themselves, but the feeling is still there. I'm actually worried about walking down a flight of stairs that I used to run up and down twenty times a day. Hell, I seem to remember skipping up them a mere week ago. And now I'm standing here, wondering if I should turn around and climb out my window instead.
wWw
Warren paused in the corridor below the dormitories, listening intently. He could have sworn he just heard Tris say something.
There it was again.
Sliding his feet carefully along the floor, comprising of the same burled oak boards as Xavier had put in everywhere there wasn't carpet or stone, Warren turned his head, listening intently with first one ear, and then the other. This time he gleaned a piece of conversation.
"Truly... as if I would be... not fair... think the window..."
Confused, Warren poked his head around the corner to see Tris standing indecisively at the top of the dorm stairs. One foot was frozen above the first the step, the other planted firmly on the landing. She was muttering to herself, the hovering bare appendage now dodging down to touch the step, now pulled up and balanced as a cat holds a wet foot.
Warren couldn't help it, he honestly couldn't. The snort of laughter he tried to hold in brought Tris' bright eyes to focus on him, the slitted pupils narrowing until all he could see from the bottom of the dark stairs was an expanse of bluish-green iris.
"It's not funny."
Tris' snap of anger made him blink. She blinked in return, seeming as surprised as he by her outburst. "I mean... sorry." She dodged her head to the side in a sharp movement, reminiscent of a bird, before decisively placing her foot down on the stairs. Clutching at the railing, she descended slowly and painstakingly.
Warren stood in his position at the foot of the stairs, watching her descend. Something about the hard line of her jaw and the flash of her eyes when he started to extend an assisting hand warned him from helping her. In fact... she was determined to do this on her own. He could feel it.
Feel it?
Was he empathing? Was this what it was like?
Warren, oblivious to the fact that he was staring at Tris as she descended, tried to catch the fleeting feeling before it faded. He grasped after it, like a memory from childhood dimly remembered, catching only the aftertaste of pride and fear. It actually tasted, physically tasted, well, metallic. But he instinctively knew it was fear, this sharp tingling in his mouth and cheeks, just as he knew it was pride that made the muscles in his abdomen burn with sudden warmth.
It took Tris touching his wrist gently to remind him to return to the present. She was watching him inquisitively.
"You 'kay?"
He could feel her again with the brush of her slender fingers against his bare flesh. This time the feelings were stronger, with an overtone of apology that made his nose itch. Was this what empathy was like, this physical manifestation?
It was bloody irritating.
And then, just as inexplicably as their intrusion, the emotions disappeared, leaving him with a nagging sensation in the pit of his stomach. Tris looked upwards at him, her brows drawn together, the black lines striking against her pale skin in the gloom of the stairwell. Her lips were partially open, about to ask a question.
So Warren kissed her again.
It wasn't so much a decision as a reaction, he mused as Tris' hand moved from his wrist to the back of his hand with startling speed, her lean and almost femininely hard body standing on tiptoe and pulling him downwards. Unlike most popular depictions, Warren preferred to keep his eyes open when he was kissing, although Tris seemed to follow the general population in closing hers. She was less aggressive than he might have expected from her, even barring the tight contact of her hands with his hair and shoulder. Her lips moved along his carefully, delicately, skimming with tantalizing grace against his skin as she broke the kiss and move to nuzzle her mouth against his jaw.
Warren found he was having trouble keeping his breath even. He seemed to be examining the situation both dispassionately, from an objective distance that noted the precise texture of Tris' lips against his skin as she lightly grazed her teeth against his earlobe, while another piece of his mind reacted with a burning fire that ran throughout his body. He moved his head to reclaim her lips, pulling her against himself. One hand curled possessively in the small of her back as the other gripped her upper arm lightly, his wings curling around them again. Something about her made him reckless.
It scared him, the depth of his commitment he felt towards a slip of an unknown girl.
This sudden switch in their relationship, from hidden longing to passionate embraces in the public corridors, was on the verge of disturbing him.
But it was so very hard to be disturbed when she was turning her head and opening her mouth just so, in just the right way, God, where did she learn this?
Without contemplating the results, Warren moved his palm from the small of his team mate's back to her side, meaning to encompass the thin ribcage and pull her more closely against him. He wanted to feel the softer flesh of her stomach and breasts, coupled inexplicably with the hardened muscles in her shoulders and back. Instead, Tris winced away from his touch, breaking the kiss and incidentally maneuvering herself out of his embrace.
Angel instantly released her, his hands flying away into an innocent gesture, palms outward and facing Tris. This entire flying apart from each other in the midst of full-on lip lock was becoming bothersome.
"Ow! Sorry, Warren, my rib..." She shrugged helplessly, moving back to hug him loosely, looping her arms around his waist. Warren, startled from the swift reaction and even faster withdrawal, tightened his arms around her carefully.
She scared him sometimes, only her, all by herself and smiling frozen in the portrait gallery of his mind. She was so changeable, and so unknown. He really didn't know much about the person he was currently embracing, did he? A few sordid details about her past, preferences in music, allergies or lack thereof. So very little.
But had he ever known any more about former lovers?
Logan's snort of disgust broke them apart yet again as he clomped noisily down the stairs and brushed past the couple to continue down the hallway, casually avoiding all eye contact.
Tris hung her head, laughing softly. Warren joined her after a moment, the empathy question now once again prevalent in his mind. He rubbed his neck self-consciously in a habitual gesture as he tried to think of the right words to approach Tris about the subject.
After all, she was a touch-empath, right? She should know something about the phenomenon.
"Nothing against your kissing skills Warren," and she reached out and brushed her fingers down his arm in one of those casual caresses she seemed to give without thinking about it, "but I'm starving."
Warren nodded and grinned. Time enough later for questions. Now they could reassure everyone that Tris was recovered.
xXx
I couldn't help it. I stared with longing, with pure love evident in my eyes.
There are simply so few words that can truly describe Storm's lasagna.
wWw
Warren picked lightly at his food. While he was certain it was good, if Tris' enthusiastic and rapid eating was any indication, Angel wasn't terribly hungry.
Scott, Aurora, Beast, Logan, Kitty, and for first time he could remember, Xavier, were all stuffed companionably together. The dining room, with its spacious seating, had been vetoed in favor of the trestle table in the much smaller kitchen. He felt like he might either knock somebody over or catch himself on fire from the lit stove if he extended so much as one feather.
Besides the mild claustrophobia, the silences scattered midst the chatter made him feel like he was being strangled, an undertone of companionship and bonding that he felt excluded from.
Until Kitty turned and accidentally dropped a piece of bread in his lap, when the table's eyes were drawn to him and his seatmates. Tris, sitting on his right, giggled and made some comment on the valley girl's aim, which was speedily rewarded by Kitty phasing her hand through Warren to drop the roll on Tris' head instead. Tris tossed the bread onto her plate, and lightly elbowed Warren, telling him to pass it on to Shadowcat. And just like that, he was included. He hadn't been overlooked, merely assumed to understand his acceptance.
His hand curled around the handle of his knife convulsively. The empathy was getting worse, an itch that wouldn't go away. What the hell had happened to those impenetrable shields he was supposed to have?
Warren began to raise his arm to rub at the muscles in his neck, taught and painful, only to remember the sharp utensil still clutched tightly in his hand. Looking down, he released the smooth metal finger by finger, trying to ignore the bombardment of feelings around him.
His rebellious mind had a sudden thud back to reality when Tris accidentally touched his hand, reaching past him to snatch the butter from Hank. The world around him abruptly switched off, leaving Angel alone with his thoughts.
If he hadn't know what empathy and telepathy were, if he hadn't already gone through having enormous wings sprout from his back, Warren thought wryly that he might have turned himself into the nearest hospital and begged for treatment. How did Jean and Xavier deal with the unexplainable voices in their heads, at the beginning, before the school?
Xavier stopped in mid-conversation and turned to face Angel. The lights shone reflected from his bare skull as he stared thoughtfully at Warren. Simultaneously, Tris choked on her water.
"Profes..."
Logan stopped, watching Tris and Xavier watching Warren, who tried to look like he didn't know why the two telepaths at the table would be staring at him. It had to be his errant empathy, they must have noticed it. From the growing anger on Wolverine's face, he wasn't succeeding very well. What had he done today to make Logan so angry... well, besides kiss Tris? He had thought that the Canadian and him had a compact of sorts - he wouldn't hurt Tris, and Logan would let him live.
He noted that the two mutants will still staring at him. "What?"
The telepaths abruptly looked away, becoming occupied with their food. Jean came through the doorway, a welcome distraction in a crimson skirt, cloth rustling as she bent to get something out of the refrigerator. Logan looked away.
"Nothing."
Tris' belated answer to his question drew his attention back to her and away from a lethargic examination of Jean's calves. How did these women put on so much muscle without steroids?
"Hm."
Angel returned to his aimless rearrangement of the food on his plate. Tris glanced at him out of the corner of her eye before sighing as the last piece of lasagna disappeared down the slender throat.
"Warren, I'm off to the boathouse. Coming?"
The question, which would have sounded pretentious and nearly commanding if Warren hadn't know her better, was instead a friendly invitation. He nevertheless glanced at Beast first. The blue mutant nodded, lifting a napkin delicately to the fanged mouth.
"Tris is sufficiently recovered, but should not immerse the wrist in unsanitary aquifer for some time yet."
Tris nodded. "Kay." Hank tucked his chin down to stare at the telepath over the rim of his glasses before looking up at Warren.
"You'll ensure her compliance, won't you Warren? I would appreciate it."
Warren, with a lingering foreboding that compliance was not something he could ensure in the matter of Tris, nodded anyways. He could try, after all.
1 Actually a symptom of more advanced OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) along with fidgeting with buttons to get them just right, obsessively rearranging place settings, or smoothing out pants/skirts to perfection. I think OCD people must have an attack just looking at me walk by in my sweatshirt, jeans, messy bun hair, partially untied shoes, and on occasion, mismatched socks. What can I say? You get up at 4:30 and hair and socks lose whatever interest they might have once had.
2 If you've never danced the happy pagan dance (also known as the hpd, not to be mistaken for the Harry Potter dance, HPd, which is performed as you are in line buying the next Harry Potter book that has finally come out), you've never fully lived. It generally involves a great deal of jumping up and down, twirling, and hugging of random people for me, but to each their own... I had a bf who simply sat there and thought about dancing the hpd when something good happened. //coughlosercough:p
Arden... I hum thy praises to the sky. I would sing, but giving y'all a headache isn't much thanks for reading, is it:-) The lovely Skysender is so wonderfully amazing for continuing to beta this fic, despite my unending inability to understand the English language when it comes to grammer and paragraph construction. I honestly don't know how I would get along without her. //glomps with chocolate// But there's still more to my gratitude...
In fact, I want to announce a new holiday... Arden-day. On this day, we will all bow down to the gracious, brilliant, and brilliantly sparkly Arden and bring her gifts of chocolate and Beast fanfic. Henry can be the usher; I imagine he'd look smashing in a tux... I'd try to get Logan into a suit, but I have this creeping feeling that the poor broadcloth would never make it to his closet without being shredded. Still, there's a good deal that can be said for those jeans of his. //thinks// Maybe as my Arden-Day gift, I could get a pair for Henry...
Alright, so I'm going to try a new tactic... I get you lot more chapters sooner, but they will be shorter. I am so sorry about the lateness of the update - I'll really really really try not to let it happen again :-(
And now to your lover-ly reviews.
Lady of the Plains: Oh, you definately should read them. Herriot has a way with stories, and some of them are great for kids as well... Vin Diesel. Don't kill me, but I just didn't see the fuss over him. Thought he was decent in the Pitch Black series tho.
LorrieDriver: I got the compliment, and it gave me warm fuzzies. :-) I do try very hard to avoid Mary-Sues... I sort of went through this Sue-stage a few years ago, and have been trying to avoid a repeat ever since. //winces// I'm black and blue from that stick, tho its my own fault for not updating sooner... :-( Hope you like this chappie as well!
Arden Skysender: Almost?! I loved that story, so I'm greatly flattered. Of course, your continued and beautiful beta-ing flatters me to the point of blushes. You DO write the story to a certain extent without your pokes (and LorrieDrivers Stick!) I wouldn't be nearly as unpromptly prompt about updating as I am. Logan will be visiting soon, and he's bringin' chopsticks. Don't know why but he is. And tell Henry he's welcome any time - I'll stock up the Twinkies!
BMade: So, since it took me so long to update this has sorta lost it's relevance... //sigh// Blood and Chocolate was interesting, but I think it was mostly because me and my guy friend were the only two in there... it was fun to be able to talk and yell during the movie without anyone shushing us. Hope you liked it tho, since I'm sure you've seen it since!
Okay, so I'm already started on the next chapter... Just a little preview, I'll (or rather Henry, if he'll condescend to do it for me, the lovable blue teddy bear) be talking about phages and viruses and fun infectious stuff like that. If you aren't into all that, don't worry, it'll all be expained. If, however, you know about them already, brownie and chocolate-covered cherry points to you!