A/N: Thanks to Linda Ku, my amazing beta who always puts so much amazing work into this fic!

"Sean," Fern murmured into his neck, "Make him go away."

The redhead sighed. Completely and utterly relaxed, he shifted a deeper into the woman's arms. Nuzzling his chin against the top of her head, he didn't bother to open his eyes. He didn't need to; the sun was shining bright enough through the thin curtains to tell him it was morning. "Who?"

"Charles."

"I'm not going away," Charles snapped. Huffy and indignant, he crossed his arms. "I'm literally at the foot of your bed. Now get up, we have training."

Ignoring him, Fern clung tighter to Sean. One of the long legs that had been resting over his moved up to hook around his waist. Boneless, the redhead let her drag him deeper into her embrace with only a quiet, audibly pleased, hum.

Charles didn't seem to like that. Gaze sharp and lips pursed, he put his hands on his hips. "Fern, do not make me get the broom."

The girl bolted up. Ignoring Sean's whine as his head bounced from her shoulder to the mattress, she demanded, "Who told you?!"

"I called your mother." Smug, the Professor squared his shoulders and clasped his hands behind his back. "Josie may have given me some pointers on handling you."

Fern's scales shimmered with rage as she bared her teeth. Handling her. Handling her?! He had fucking promised he wouldn't invade her privacy, and at the first chance he got, he called her mother?! Who the fuck did he think he was?! "You're fucking dead, Xavier."

"Now, now, Ms. Ailey, there's no need for profanity."

Still scowling, she ripped the pillow Sean had replaced her with from the redhead's arms and smacked the Professor with it. Once again completely indifferent to Sean's annoyance, she got on her knees and began to wail on their mentor. "We're! Not! Friends! Any! More!"

With a tiny shriek, Charles grabbed the corner of her makeshift weapon. Or at least tried to. His nose wrinkled as he tried to pry it from her grasp. "Now, now-"

"Stop saying that!"

"Guys, come on." Sean sat up. Latching onto the back of his bedmate's jockeys, he tugged her into his arms. As the grey skinned girl struggled and squirmed, he closed his eyes and pressed his cheek to her shoulder. Her swirling scales scraped at his skin. Ignoring them, he kiss the back of her neck. "Let's go back to bed."

Finally able to yank it away from the slim brunette, Charles heaved the pillow above his head and slammed it down on both of theirs. "No! No more sleeping! I expect you both down for breakfast in ten minutes." He tossed the pillow to the ground. After he calmly righted his navy suit vest, fixed his shirt cuffs, and smoothed his hair back, the Professor told them, "Don't make me come back up here."

Fern glared after him as he sauntered out of the room. Behind her, Sean sighed and fell back onto the mattress. For a moment, he was quiet, before a tiny giggle left him. The young woman glared over her shoulder at him.

Smile wide and eyes closed, he teased, "You got in trouble."

"Shut up, Sean."

"Hey, don't get mad at me 'cause you're mad at him, babe." Lanky freckled arms stretched over his head as his back arched. When it cracked, a pleased groan left his throat. "It's too early to be mad."

Disappointed, Fern huffed and wrapped her arms around her knees. "I can't believe he called my ma."

"Well...you were in a coma," the redhead reminded her with a hint of casual concern as his fingers found the small of her back.

"So?!"

Leaning up on his elbow, Sean nosed at the thin cotton that rested between her shoulder blades. At her sigh, he looped an arm around her waist and gave the outside of her thigh a rub. Enjoying the swells and valleys of her scutes and glands, he kissed her neck again. "He was probably just worried about you. We all were."

Agitated, more at the situation than at him, Fern rolled her shoulders. When Sean backed off, she was quick to pull him back into place. With him more or less splayed out in her lap, she tried to mimic his affections by rubbing his chest; not totally unlike how she might pet Bruno. Sean didn't seem to mind, canting his hips up to get comfortable and sliding a hand around her waist to brace her lower back as she replied, "It was just a little coma. It wasn't even a twenty four hour coma."

The redhead opened his mouth, but from somewhere outside the door, a decidedly British voice shouted, "Seven minutes!" before he could say a word.

The couple glared in the voice's general direction, but complied. Neither of them paid each other any mind as they went about their morning routine. Yawning, Sean followed her into the bathroom and quickly made his way to the toilet.

Fern pursed her lips as he lifted her toilet seat, but only rolled her eyes back to the mirror. That boy has too many siblings, she thought absently, before she began to wash her face.

"What do you think they're gonna make us do today?"

"Seriously, Cassidy?"

"What?" He glanced her way. At her chuckle, he smirked. "You've seen my dick before."

"Yeah, but not like-" A scoff left her before she ordered, "just stop talking."

"Why?"

"Because it's weird!"

He shrugged and finished up. Flushing, he kissed her cheek and reached for her tooth brush. "It's only weird if you make it weird."

Her large eyes narrowed on him, but her skin shone with mirth. "I hate you."

"Not even a little bit."

She frowned as he all too casually applied a liberal amount of toothpaste and stuck the brush under the facet. "You could at least wash your hands."

Obediently, he stuck the brush in his mouth, stuck his hands under the water, and dried them on his white tee-shirt.

Fern just stared at him.

"What?" He asked around a mouth full of suds.

Sighing, the young woman wet her hair down and tried to mold it into something more manageable. It was a futile process. The short strands were thick and unruly, but still, with Sean's bedhead, at least she wouldn't be the only one unpresentable. Tugging the toothbrush from his mouth, she stuck it into her own. Reasoning that she already had his tongue in her mouth, she set about brushing her teeth.

He beamed and spit into the sink. "Can I use some of your deodorant?"

"I don't wear any."

"What?" He asked, glancing away from her medicine cabinet. When she shrugged, he blinked. "Really?"

She shrugged but didn't stop scrubbing the plaque from her sharp pearly whites. "No sweat glands, no body odor, babe."

"Seriously?" At her nod, the redhead pouted. "Lucky."

Fern chuckled and spit. Rinsing out her mouth with some water, she spit once more and jerked her head to the door. "I know you ain't much on privacy, Cassidy, but I gotta take a leak."

"So?"

"So go put on some deodorant and let me pee in private." She paused before adding, "Like a lady."

"Ugh, fine." Reluctantly, Sean threw his head back, whined, and dragged himself out of the room.

The girl scoffed at his dramatics, but couldn't keep the smile from her mouth.

After finishing her business, the young woman dressed and went to her bedmate's door. Not bothering to knock, Fern opened the door and scowled at the sight of the redhead. Fully dressed in casual sweats and sneakers and sleeping soundly on top of his bed.

"No."

He gurgled and rolled onto his stomach.

"No," She repeated, louder this time. "If I have to be up, so do you, Cassidy."

When he ignored her, Fern took that as an invitation to flop down onto the bed beside him. Huffing, the skinny redhead covered his head with his hands as she began to prod at him with sharp fingertips. Shimmying away from them, he griped, "You're worse than Charles."

"How dare you."

When he continued to ignore her, she decided it was time to use the method her mother had perfected over the years and gave him a stern slap on the ass.

"Fe!" Sean yelped, jumping back to look at her with wide eyes.

Voice booming and stern, she ordered, "Up and at 'em, Cassidy!"

He gaped as she popped off the bed. As she strolled casually out the door, his shriek followed after her. "You can't just do that and leave!"

Her head poked back into the room. Grinning, her scales shimmered. "Yes, I can." The girl nodded toward the hall. "Come on. Let's get this done so you can tell me what hand stuff is."

Sean couldn't hurry after her fast enough after that.

The first thing Fern did when she entered the kitchen was greet Charles was a blunt, "I hate you."

"Me?!" The Professor gasped at her as she snatched the papers from his hands. "What did I ever do to you?"

"Really?" Sean asked dully, not pausing as he moved toward the refrigerator. Popping it open, he stuck his head inside. His blue eyes flickered over various vegetables and leftovers before landing on a container of orange juice. "I can think of at least five things you've done to me in the past fifteen minutes."

Hank shook his head. Puzzled, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Gaze shooting between the visibly disgruntled couple, the young doctor frowned. "The Professor's been helping me go over my semantics for the Black Bird for the past hour."

Head cocked, realization dawned on Fern's black skin as it stilled, then spasmed in an array of color. Standing, she slammed the stolen papers down on the table. The dinnerware clattered as she growled out, "I'm gonna wreck her."

"Fe, babe, calm down." Sean slipped his hands over her shoulders and pushed her gently back onto her stool. "Kill her later. Breakfast now, murder later, okay? Okay."

"Don't just say okay-"

He tipped her chin up, kissed her soundly on the mouth, and nodded in a manner he thought made him appear sage, but really just made him look condescending.

Her large blue eyes narrowed on him, but she appreciated the affection, and frankly the sentiment. She was still hungry from the night before and without a word, Fern waved his hands away and reached over to steal Hank's forgotten plate of eggs and fruit. She did this while completely ignoring how the two men across the table stared, slack jawed by the casual intimacy they had just witnessed.

Hank's mouth opened and closed a moment before he demanded, "When did you two...?"

They ignored him.

After a long moment, Charles held up a finger. He pointed it sternly at the girl. "Do not get pregnant. I will not send you back to your mother pregnant."

"Don't tell me what to do, Chuck."

"Don't call me Chuck." The man bristled. His finger fell. "I didn't go to school for upwards of ten years to be called Chuck."

"Don't infringe on my rights, Professor." She took the cup of orange juice Sean set between them and took a sip. He shot her a wink and slipped a piece of cantaloup off her (Hank's) plate. Dismissing this, Fern asked, "Did Raven really call her or did you just tell her about the broom thing?"

"Hm." The Professor smirked as he watched Sean squeeze her knee under the table. "I plead the fifth."

"Sounds like an admittance of guilt to me."

Charles chuckled and shook his head at her caprice. "You'd make a wonderful lawyer."

Instead of verbally responding, the girl shrugged and began to shovel Hank's discarded, cold eggs into her mouth.

"Okay, but when-" Hank started once more, only to be interrupted by Alex's casual entrance and greeting of, "What's up, nerds?"

Irritation played on the bespectacled man's face, but he said nothing as the convict slid into the seat beside him. Jaw clenched and head back, Hank said nothing as the redhead greeted him brightly.

"You're up!"

The blond nodded. "Yeah, no shit."

Undeterred by his friend's casual vulgarity (unlike Hank, who's scowl deepened), Sean continued to beam. "How're you feeling?"

A limp shrug was his answer. Grabbing an apple from the bowl between them, Alex turned to Hank. "So, when do we get to check out these suits of yours?"

Hank clenched his jaw briefly, before telling him, "I was just going to ask Fern if she'd like to have another fitting, actually."

"Why does she get to go first?"

"Because I like her better than you," Hank replied primly. He stood, gathered his semantics, and nodded to Fern. "Whenever you're ready, I'll be in the lab."

She offered him a feeble smile. Her clawed fingers tugged idly at the cuff of her grey shirt. Beside her, Sean eyed her subtly. Her skin was an array of color over her cheeks and neck. He sipped at their orange juice, but said nothing. Just slipped a hand over hers to stop her fidgeting as Alex spoke.

"That ain't fair." The young man pursed his lips. "I wanna see my fancy get up."

"Why Alex," Sean teased, squeezing his bedmate's fingers under the table as she laced them together. "I had no idea you were such a fashionista."

He scoffed. "Yeah. I'm a real diva."

Fern forced another smile, but couldn't keep looking at him. She was glad to see he was okay, glad to see he didn't hate her for leaving him stranded on the toilet, but it was still hard for her; looking at her lack of control in the face. Swallowing, she offered the boys a quiet excuse and left the kitchen.

"What's her problem?"

Charles offered a shrug. "I think she's still a bit sensitive about the...ordeal."

"What? You mean the coma thing?"

"Yes, Alex." The man rolled his eyes. "The coma thing."

"What? What?! I was in a coma! Hank said she was, too! That makes it a thing!" Alex scowled as his friend laughed. Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms over his chest. "Me and Fern are cool. We're already over it."

"Maybe you are," Charles amended, "But guilt is a complicated emotion. One moment she may be, uh, over it, the next she may not be."

"So, what? She's just gonna avoid me forever?"

"Doubtful. But some space might be appreciated."

Alex considered for a beat, then pushed his chair back. "Fuck that. I wanna see her suit."

"Me, too," Sean agreed. His gangly legs got caught in the legs of his seat, but he managed to shake them away without tripping. Grabbing his glass, he followed after the blond.

"Well…" Xavier huffed. "Why don't I just sit here and talk to myself, then?"

Upstairs, Fern was beaming. The suit Hank had presented her with was a vast improvement over the last and she held it out in front of her with pride. Her bright eyes drifted over the zippered sleeves and the removable panels on the legs and she felt her heart swell. Sure, it wasn't the prettiest thing, what with the yellow piping along the chest and stomach, that clashed terribly with the overall navy material, but it was beautiful (at least in a symbolic way).

He had listened to her, taken her advice, and seemed ready to take more, given his curious, but not anxious, "Better?"

The girl nodded and hugged the suit to her chest. As she checked to make sure the panelling matched up with the glands along the outside of her arms. "Much." Her gaze returned to his as her skin shimmered with delight. "Thanks, Hank."

A grin of his own stretched across his mouth. Pleased, he nodded and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Would you mind trying it on? I'm a bit worried about the fit, given the, uh, inconsistencies we had in the chest area last time."

"Sure." Throwing it over her shoulder, the girl turned on her heel and sauntered into the closet.

With a blink, Hank followed her. As he waited outside the door, he smirked. "You know, you could've gone into the bathroom. You don't have to change in there?"

"It's closer."

"Yeah, but isn't it, I don't know, cramped?"

Fern looked around the tiny closet. She had slept in places smaller than this when she was little, hiding from the nice, but overprotective, nuns at the Convent or locked in toy chests at the orphanage by people who were...less nice. Shrugging off her moment of morbid nostalgia, she slid her grey sweats off. "It's not as small as it looks. I mean, you probably couldn't change in here, but I'm okay."

"Why can't I change in there?"

"Well, for starters because I'm in here now, and I don't need to see that." She had seen enough penis in the last hour to last her at least until she and Sean could be alone again. "And two, well, you're like...what? 6'2"?"

"About."

The suit squeezed tightly across her chest and with a huff, the young woman squirmed in an attempt to tug it back. Clawed fingers buried in the slippery spandex, she began to yank. Her elbow smacked off one of the shelves behind her. Growling, she bared her teeth at the offending object a moment before calming herself (and mellowing her tone), "Then you've got arms proportionate to a 6'2" frame."

Outside, Hank nodded and arched an eyebrow as Alex slid into the room. "Can I help you?"

"I wanna see my gear." Alex's gaze flickered around the room. "What'd you do with Fern?"

The taller man ignored the question. "I'm not done them yet."

"You're done Fern's," The words were barely out of his mouth before Sean came sauntering in behind him.

Hank glared at the glass of orange juice in his hand. "No food in the lab."

"It's not food," the redhead replied, tapping the side of the glass with his index finger before taking a sip. "It's a beverage."

The door opened behind him and the trio turned to look at the young woman. Fern frowned at the sight of them. Or more accurately, at the wide smile on Sean's face.

Without missing a beat, he lifted the glass to his lips once more and ordered, "Give us a spin, babe."

"Get out!"

"What?" Sean laughed as she scowled, her scales twisting in embarrassment. "I'll show you mine!"

Hackles high, she snapped, "I don't want to see yours!"

"Yes, you do."

Okay, she totally did, but he didn't have to be such a cocky bastard about it. "I don't need to see it. I already saw your wings."

"Hey, yeah," Alex cut in. His furrowed brow suggested annoyance, but his crossed arms and dropped hip screamed pouting. "Why does Sean get wings? I mean, why did he get his wings before I got my thing?"

Hank pursed his lips as Sean set his glass down on his desk. Without so much as a cursory glance at the young doctor, he slipped over to Fern. Hank rolled his eyes at their mooning. "Because it's easier to work a sewing machine than a soldering gun."

The redhead tugged at the zippered panels along her thighs. Scowling, Fern smacked his hands away.

"You had time to make two suits-"

"Four, actually." Hank smiled smugly. "I finished Moira and Raven's this morning."

"Stop that," the girl hissed as pale fingers lifted to fiddle with the collar of her suit.

His nose brushed hers. "Kiss me."

"I'll kill you," She warned, blue eyes sparkling with frustration and skin with mirth. "And I'll bury you in this suit."

Willfully ignoring the couple not a yard away from them, Alex snapped, "You've made four suits?! Four?! What about me?!"

"Well, considering you were in a coma, you weren't exactly high on my priorities." Hank's eyes narrowed even further at Alex's scoff. "You know, because I was keeping you alive."

"So was she!" The blond pointed an accusing finger at the black scaled girl who was trying so futily to keep Sean from unzipping one of the panels on her leg.

"I already had hers done."

"They just come right off!" The redhead tilted his head, but when he noticed her puckered expression, he quickly zipped it back up. Instead of fiddling with it, like he so desperately wanted to, Sean rose a hand to tug at the bottom of her sleeve.

At his change of location, Fern beamed and straightened her arm to show it off. "Yeah, I know! Pretty neat, huh?"

"I want a sexy suit." His head rolled over to Hank. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip to contain his grin. "Hank, why isn't my suit this sexy?"

Slightly hysterical, Alex turned on him. "At least you have a suit!"

Glaring at the shorter man, Hank licked his teeth before letting out a sigh. "I'll try to get to it today after Sean's session."

"Session?" The couple repeated; the woman dubiously, the man with excitement.

"Yes, I believe Charles wants you to try flying again."

"No way in hell."

Sean glared at the young woman beside him. "He was asking me."

"Doesn't matter." Fern crossed her arms. "He got his answer. A no's a no, Cassidy."

He rolled his eyes. The Ailey girl could puff up all she wanted, but he recognized the swirl of concern in her skin. Sliding his hand over her back, he offered her shoulder a squeeze. "I'll be fine."

"I know you will," She said. "Because you'll be on the ground. Right, Hank?"

When her sharp, stern gaze turned to the doctor, Hank visibly faltered. "Uh-"

"He shouldn't be flying so soon after falling, right?"

"Well-"

Alex slowly backed out of the room.

"I mean, look at this!" Fern yanked her bed mate's shirt up. An accusing finger pointing at the yellow bruises that were scattered on lily white skin, she ignored Sean's indignant, "Fe!" and how he twisted away from her. Confused by his blush, and how firmly he was keeping his sweatshirt pulled down. Fern snapped, "What? You're hurt. Stay on the ground."

"I don't go around lifting your shirt up!"

"Yeah, because I'd maim you."

"Hm." Hank raised his fingers to his lips. "She's not wrong."

The girl beamed as Sean's shoulders slumped.

"I'll have to examine you before we go out." The taller man offered them a limp smile and turned back to his desk.

The redhead scowled at her. "Thanks a lot, Fern."

Ignoring his tone, she slid a hand up his chest to cup his jaw. She planted a firm kiss on his cheek as he caressed her waist. It was really very disturbing how easily affection was beginning to come to her. With a nod, she smirked. "You're welcome."

A hum slipped from his throat as she nuzzled against his cheek. It warmed under the affection. "I'm still mad."

"Be mad," She pulled back to sidestep him. "Just be mad on the ground. Now, if you don't mind, I'm gonna get dressed."

"Aw."

"Sorry, skinny," Fern winked at him from the closet doorway. "My foot's got a date with Raven's ass."

Hank frowned as she disappeared from sight. "She didn't even let me check the new measurements."

"She can move okay, but it's a bit tight in the chest." When McCoy shot him an unimpressed look, he shrugged. "I know how she moves, okay? And her boobs were flat."

The young doctor dropped his voice slightly, "Fern's flat-chested."

"Slander and lies." He crossed his arms. Shooting a glance at the door, he lowered his voice, "She just binds her chest sometimes."

"I know."

Sean frowned, before realization dawned on him and he nodded. "Right. Well, I'll get the right measurements for you."

"I still have the originals Raven gave me." Hank shrugged. His hands slipped into the pockets of his white lab coat. "I'll make the adjustments."

The redhead offered him a tight smile.

"Ready to try flying again?"

Anxiety made Sean's shoulders twitch. "Of course."

"Really?"

"What?"

"Nothing, you just seem a little...nervous."

"I ain't scared!"

"I didn't say scared." Hank smiled, clearly enjoying taunting the younger man. "I said nervous."

"You said it'd work!"

"It would've if you had screamed like I told you to." His gaze flickered behind him as Fern opened the door.

She offered him a wink and held up her suit. After giving him a thumb's up of approval and setting it carefully on desk, she slipped out of the room, leaving her bedmate none the wiser.

"Scream harder isn't exactly constructive criticism, McCoy!"

Outside the lab, Fern snickered. Her bare feet soundless on the hardwood floor, she made her way downstairs to the workout room.