A/N: Sorry about Hank (or the lack thereof). I'm still not really confident writing him. Please read and review!
Warren's wings were growing sore. Whenever he was out in public he had to keep them bound, to stay safe. Mutants weren't exactly liked by the general populace. Populace. When did he start using words like that? Hank must be rubbing off on him.
Warren shifted in his seat, wincing as he did so. Airplane seats were not built with winged persons in mind. And speaking of air planes, this was taking too long. He could have flown there in 20 minutes, but noooo, he had to take an hour and a half long flight to DC to "keep up appearances", as the Professor had so eloquently put it. They couldn't even take the blackbird! This sucked, and Warren knew he wasn't the only one who felt that way. Across the aisle he could see Bobby freezing and unfreezing his complimentary orange juice while silently tapping his feet on the back of Scott's seat. It appeared to be to the tune of the national anthem, though Warren couldn't be sure. Scott didn't seem to notice.
They were going to Washington to watch the Professor testify before Congress regarding the Mutant Registration Act Senator Kelly was trying to push through. Of course, they would be going as human observers. It wouldn't bode well for them if their identities as X-men were revealed to the public during a time such as this.
Warren adjusted his wing straps under his jacket. He really, really hated the restraints. They hurt, and they reminded him too much of the days before he came to the mansion, when he had to keep his wings literally and figuratively under wraps at all times, lest his father yell at him, or worse, while his mother stood by and did nothing-
"Warren!" A familiar voice interrupted his thoughts. Warren looked up, startled to see a happy looking Bobby poking his shoulder. "We're here!" Warren looked out the window to see that that was indeed the case. The clouds in the sky were a dark grey, and a sense of foreboding hung in the air. It was as if the weather had planned perfectly for their arrival.
"Finally," Warren complained. "That flight took forever."
"Yeah, not exactly Blackbird speed, was it?" commented Jean, taking off her headphones. "I still don't get why Prof. wouldn't let us take it."
"Nothing like a black stealth plane landing in a civilian airport near a largely populated city to deflect suspicion," said Scott.
"Did I just hear what I think I heard? Did Scott Summers just make…a joke?" quipped Bobby loudly, causing a few older folks around them to glare.
"Oh no, his reputation is ruined!" Warren laughed. "Now we know he actually has a personality!"
"Hah, hah, guys. Let's go get our bags," said Scott. He was trying to be serious, but Warren could his lips quirking in a slight smile.
Their hotel was near the National Mall, in downtown DC. Their rooms were on the fifth floor, all offering a view of the Capitol Building. Bobby, Hank, and Scott were all sharing a room while Warren and Jean each got their own. After everyone put their bags down and settled in, they all met in Jean's room.
"What I don't understand," began Bobby as soon as they all had arrived, "Is why he," at this point he pointed at Warren, "gets a whole room to himself, and I'm stuck with these guys," motioning at Hank and Scott, "in one room!"
"We love you too, Bobby," muttered Scott.
"Tell you what," said Warren. "When you grow thirteen-foot-long wings, you can get your own room too."
"Hmph," went Bobby, flopping down into a chair.
"Perhaps we should find an establishment where we could consume foodstuffs," Hank suggested. They all stared at him blankly.
"Let's get dinner," he tried again, rolling his eyes.
"Should've just led with that," said Bobby, joyfully leaping up and grabbing his coat. Warren had to agree with him. Sometimes Hank could be a bit too intellectual. Warren was glad he had brought up food however, he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. He'd been too busy packing and helping Hank bring everyone's luggage out to his car. While Professor Xavier had arranged transportation from the Westchester airport to DC, as well as accommodations in the city, he has neglected to inform them of how, exactly, they were getting to the airport. Thus, began the saga of everyone packing into Warren's convertible for the drive. Luckily it wasn't far, and Jean used her telekinesis to keep the luggage from falling out of the trunk. It had seemed to work pretty well.