Disclaimer: All of these characters are the exclusive property of Marvel Comics, and I make no profit from writing them. Written for zeelee penguin.
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Norway
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This time, it's Norway. Last time, it was Sweden, the time before that, Greenland, but tonight, tonight it is Norway.
"Norway," Jean-Paul mutters with a slight shake of his head.
"Norway," Bobby repeats with forced cheerfulness, surveying the vast landscape of empty white ahead of them. He raises his hand as if to add to the ice by his own means, but he lets it fall to his side. He doesn't see the point.
His back is to Jean-Paul as he unbuttons his shirt. Bobby doesn't like anyone to see the icy mass of his chest, especially not since it's been growing. Half of his upper torso is a dull, translucent blue now, encroaching onto one shoulder, encasing a nipple. Jean-Paul politely averts his gaze as the shirt falls to the ground, but only a split second after the muscled planes of Iceman's back are bared.
As Bobby drops to his knees in the snow, he tries to remember what soup tasted like, or how a hot shower felt, or what it was like to sunbathe on a summer day. But all he can grasp, really, is the memory of being cold enough, fleeting, only just graspable after all the months his second mutation has been growing. He lets himself fall face-up, basking in the snowflakes that sweep over him like butterflies.
It's not enough. It never is.
Eventually he stands, walking back to Jean-Paul, who stands motionless nearby, a hand clenching the collar of his jacket. Bobby brushes himself and picks up the shirt that's half-buried by snow.
"I hear North Alaska's nice this time of year," he says casually, tears threatening at the corners of his eyes.
"Yes," Jean-Paul answers, for once without sarcasm.
He holds out his arms, and Bobby steps into, carefully staring away. A heartbeat meets his frozen one and, for an instant, he remembers warmth with fondness.