The morning after... Quiet Sunday in Thunderblinkland.
John wakes up even earlier than usual beside Clarice, the morning after their date. Spending the night is a strange bed, in a strange apartment, and not alone for the first time in months has not done him any good, however much he enjoyed their evening up to the moment they both fell asleep in each other's arms. He tried not to let himself fall into a deep enough sleep to allow his usual nightmares−which means he barely dozed off at all.
Lying on his back, Clarice's sleeping head resting on his arm, John wishes he'd had the forethought to put his painkillers closer than in the pocket of his jeans, abandoned on the floor. He breathes through the pain instead, trying to focus on Clarice's relaxed features. He walked too much yesterday, even beside the trip up the stairs, and he's paying for that now.
He picks up the change in Clarice's breathing long before she opens her eyes. He rubs lightly at her arm when she does. "Hey," he murmurs.
"Hey yourself. How long have you been awake?"
"Couple hours," John answers. "Just watching you sleep."
"You could have woken me, you know."
"I know. But you needed the sleep."
And John needed time to get his body to cooperate. The pills he did manage to dig out of his jeans without waking up Clarice did their job, and he feels marginally more ready to face the day, but it took this long to get there.
Clarice rubs at her eyes, looking adorably young, and yawns. "What time is it? Do we have to do anything today?"
"Nothing," John answers. "Though I'll probably have to get back home at some point. It's almost eight."
"That's way too early," Clarice decides, snuggling closer to him. "I want to sleep more."
"Do you mind if I get up?" John asks her.
"Well, you make a good bed warmer, though you're about as soft as a brick. But I'll forgive you if you need to go. You're not leaving yet, though, right?"
"Not if you don't want me to. But I'll need my arm back, if you don't mind."
Clarice lets go of his arm, curling up tighter under the covers, and John pushes himself up. His back protests the move, but the pain is dampened enough that he doesn't even wince.
He picks up his jeans and shirt from the floor and puts them on before standing up, helping himself with the corner of the desk close to the bed. He's suddenly thankful for the small size of Clarice's apartment, since it means there's a piece of furniture he can lean on almost everywhere.
His leg braces are still in his shoes in the living room, so John doesn't bother with them and heads for the bathroom instead. He's thankful to find a stool there he can drag in front of the sink to wash up. He'll have to go back home for a shower, but it can wait.
When Clarice rises blearily half-an-hour later, John is sitting on a bar stool in front of the kitchenette, watching a pan of eggs. He's fully dressed except for his shoes and braces, and their abandoned warm beers from yesterday have been moved for the low table to the sink.
"You're making breakfast?" Clarice asks, surprised.
"I found some eggs," John shrugs. "Coffee's ready too."
"Oh thanks God. I swear, waking up before eight on a Sunday is just wrong," Clarice says, dropping onto another stool.
John carefully shares the eggs between two plates, and puts one in front of her, as well as a mug of steaming coffee. "You know what they say about early birds," he says.
Clarice looks up at him, blinking. Her eyes are still heavy with sleep, and she clearly needs time to process this.
"Right," she says after a while. "But who even wants worms, anyway?"
John snorts. "You're not wrong," he says. "I guess you'll just have to share your secret for sleeping this long."
"You call this long? I could have slept until ten easily!"
"You didn't have to get up for me," John says.
"I have a really handsome man in my apartment, making me breakfast. You really think I could sleep through that?"
"I would have waited for you," John shrugs.
"And I'm glad," Clarice says. "But I'm up now. And this is good," she nods toward her eggs.
"I'd better warn you, this is about as far as my culinary skills go."
Clarice shrugs. "I've been told mine are abysmal, so don't count on me to make you nice little dishes."
"I wasn't," John smiles. "I guess we'll just have to rely on takeaway."
Clarice laughs. They haven't talked about the future, or even about officializing their relationship yet, and neither of them currently earns enough to eat takeaway every day, so it's just an offhand comment they can joke about. But John realizes he does want to know where they stand with each other.
"So," he starts. "Last night was−"
"Really nice," Clarice says enthusiastically.
John nods. "It really was. Does that mean you want to−"
"Do it again?"
They both laugh when they realize that Clarice is finishing John's sentences without thinking.
"Do you?" John asks.
"I'm in if you are," Clarice says.
John smiles and leans in to kiss her. She smells like eggs and morning breath−he couldn't tell what she tastes like if he tried.
"Definitely," he says when they pull apart.
"More coffee?" John offers when he notices both of their mugs are empty.
"Sure."
John stands up to get the pot from the counter, using the bar as a crutch, and he doesn't miss Clarice's curious glance to his legs.
"You don't have your braces on," she remarks.
"No. They're not practical without shoes on, and I didn't want to track dirt all over your apartment."
"You could've. I wouldn't mind."
"I didn't really need them anyway," John says.
"You're in pain, though," Clarice says.
"How−"
"I've seen you wince every time you move since I got up."
"Yeah," John admits. "But there's not much to do about it, and the braces wouldn't help."
"Is it because of something that we...did?" Clarice asks almost fearfully.
"No, no," John reassures her. "My back just acts up sometimes." He leaves out his nearly sleepless night, because it's certainly not Clarice's fault.
Clarice nods thoughtfully. "You were acting like this at the party, too. I can see it now. How did I miss it?"
"You know what to look for now," John answers. He's not very comfortable talking about this, but it was bound to come up.
"I don't even know what I was thinking, trying to hide it from you," he adds. "I mean, it obviously wasn't going to last, and I know I shouldn't be ashamed of it."
"We can't always control what we're ashamed of."
"No. But I guess...I was always taught, one way or another, to hide any vulnerability, anything that made me different, so that's probably where that comes from. I don't know."
"What do you mean?"
John hesitates, then takes a breath. "As a kid, I grew into my mutation early on, at least the tissue density part, but my parents always made me hide I was a mutant at all. And later...in the Marines, they used my tracking, but I had to hide all of the downsides of, you know, enhanced senses. As a mutant in the military, you're not allowed to have any weaknesses, or they just...crush you."
"It was that bad?"
John shrugs. "It was...complicated. Anyway, I guess that's why I thought I could just not tell you."
"I hope you feel that you can share this with me now, that you know it's not going to...scare me away, or make me think less of you, or whatever it is that you're afraid of."
"I'm not afraid−" John starts, automatically defending himself. He realizes how pointless that is and tries again. "It has very little to do with you, you know that? You've been incredibly accepting and great about this. I don't want you to think that you're not doing enough or something."
Clarice nods. "You need time, I can understand that."
"Something like that," John answers. "Lorna said you probably have questions."
"Really? She told you that?"
"She wanted me to know that she's told you she's bipolar and I didn't have to worry about skirting around it with you."
"Yes. I'm honored she trusted me with that."
John smiles. "Lorna doesn't give her trust or her friendship easily. But when she does, she's like...a bottle of ketchup. It comes all at once."
Clarice snorts. "That's your analogy? A bottle of ketchup?"
"She'd probably try to strangle me if she heard," John laughs. "But anyway, I wanted to say you can ask me. My legs, my disability and what it entails, it's something that I'm open to talk about. I don't want it to become some kind of taboo between us."
"Thank you," Clarice says. "For saying that. I don't want to...be insensitive, or make you dig up things that you don't want to."
"I can tell you if that happens. But don't worry too much."
"Okay," Clarice nods. "I'll try. We talked about it with Lorna because I saw the article in the backroom. The one about the center."
"Ah. Yes. I try to take it down and it keeps reappearing."
"You probably have Lorna to blame for that. I got the feeling that she's quite attached to it."
"I know," John says. "So am I, to be honest, but it doesn't need to be on the wall."
"You were afraid of me finding it?"
"At first, when I didn't know you, it was just a piece of my history that I didn't really want on display. But this article… On bad days, it reminds me that I haven't been completely useless since I came back, that I'm not just a burden on everyone. I mean, Lorna would probably have kept the center afloat even if I hadn't been there, but−"
"You're not a burden, John."
"So they keep telling me. But let's face it, I've been crashing at my friends' for nearly ten months, they even had to modify their apartment for me, I still don't have a real job, I'm spending my days in their café bingeing on free coffee… It's not where I thought I'd be a year ago."
"You've also been working hard to get back on your feet, literally, you've saved the center, you give classes to mutant kids to learn to control their powers… It's a lot, John. It may not feel like it, but it is."
John sighs and leans back into his seat. "I guess," he says, still doubtful.
"You're not a burden," Clarice repeats.
"Fine. Are you done eating or do you want more eggs?"
Clarice lets the blatant change of subject slide, and John is grateful. "I'm good," she says. "Thank you. Do you want to take a shower?"
John only hesitates briefly before he tells her the truth. His first instinct is to evade, but it's not what he wants their relationship to be. "I would, but I can't use your shower," he says. "I need a seat, or at least shower bars."
"Oh. Of course, I didn't think of that," Clarice says, without missing a beat. "Do you want to go to your place so you can take one?"
John thinks about it. "Spending the night at your place after a date… Marcos and Lorna are going to be insufferable. Or Lorna will anyway. But I guess there's no point in delaying the inevitable."
"Want me to come? We could spend the day together somewhere."
"Now how can I say no to that?" John smiles.
"You aren't supposed to say no," Clarice replies with a smirk. "It's settled then. I'll take my shower and we can go."
She disappears into the bathroom, so John busies himself with clearing the dishes. It doesn't take long, fifteen minutes later Clarice emerges fully dressed, with clothes more relaxed than yesterday's.
John puts on his braces and shoes and doesn't hesitate long on leaning on his cane. It's here now, she's seen it, so there's no point in trying to hide, and his back is sore enough that he needs it today.
"I'm not making you walk down the stairs this time," Clarice says, gathering her keys and sunglasses.
"I can do it," John answers almost reflexively. It's a terrible idea. Going up the stairs was painful, but going down, he's more likely to fall than anything. The braces and his legs' lack of coordination don't give him enough flexibility to do stairs safely.
"But you don't have to," Clarice points out. "And again, I won't think any less of you because of it."
"Okay," John relents.
"Just let me run downstairs, and I'll make a portal for you to come through," Clarice says.
"You can't do it from here?"
Clarice falters. "I could−" she starts.
"You want to check first that the lobby is empty," John understands. "Okay, let's do it that way."
"It's just that… The landlord is mutant-friendly, but the other tenants already give me a wide berth because of my...you know, my appearance, so I'd rather not give them more reason to−"
"Clarice, it's fine, I understand. Plus it's your place, so we do things your way."
"It's not about you," Clarice still rambles on nervously. "It's about the portals."
"I know." John takes Clarice's shoulder, trying to snap her out of her anxious loop. "I get it. I really don't mind."
Clarice looks up at him. "Thank you," she mutters, embarrassed.
"No, thank you," John corrects her. "For doing this for me."
She nods, gives him one more look, then puts on her sunglasses and walks out.
John waits for several minutes, frowning at his watch, before he sees a purple ring form into the air. He looks into it curiously, and finds himself staring at the entrance to the lobby.
"Sorry. I'm a bit out of practice," Clarice's voice says. John can't see her, so he assumes she's on the other side of the portal somehow. "Wait until it's larger than you to come through."
John waits obediently, watching the ring grow until it reaches his height.
"Now you can come," Clarice says. John steps through carefully. He turns back just in time to see Clarice with her hands stretched out, and the purple loop disappear.
"Well, that was impressive," he says.
"No, it wasn't. It took me way too long."
"It looked impressive to me," John says. "You got me from your apartment to here, instantly...I knew you could do it, but seeing it is amazing."
"It's easier when there's...danger. Adrenaline," Clarice says.
"Yes, it makes sense. You've always used it to get out of bad situations, so that's when it comes naturally. You need to associate it with positive emotions if you want it to get easier."
John realizes a little belatedly that he's started talking to her like to one of his students. "Sorry," he adds. "I'm not trying to tell you what to do."
Clarice nods. "You think I need training," she says.
"I think it could help, yes. There aren't many mutants with a power as strong as yours. If you could hone it−"
"Then what? What am I supposed to do with it?"
John deflates, and sighs. "I don't know," he says. "I...I still tend to think in terms of combat situations, but you're right. It's your power. It shouldn't be used for anything you're not comfortable with."
Clarice nods. "I'm sorry, but for now I've got other things to think about than training."
"Of course. But thank you. For going to the trouble just for me," John says. He turns and starts walking toward the exit, unsettled by the conversation.
"John!" Clarice calls, easily catching up with his slower pace. "I'd do it a thousand times for you."
John stops and turns back toward her. "Would you?" he asks, a smile on his lips.
"All things considered, a thousand might be more than I can handle. At once, anyway. But...a few more times..."
I hope you liked this chapter! A bit of fluff with a few serious conversations interspersed can't hurt. There will be a little more drama soon.
Please tell me what you think!