So, Cable gets invited to an X-Men meeting and Wade doesn't. Cable makes the acquaintance of a certain doctor while he's having 'fun' with the adults.

It was minutes past breakfast of their second day on school grounds when Cable got an invitation to join the X-Men for some sort of meeting.
Via couriered letter.
Inside the mansion.
Geez.

At least, he was pretty sure, the courier was a student at the school, so it wasn't like they were throwing money away on something completely useless.
And besides that, it was probably a 'this should help you get ahold of your powers' type of training related job, Cable figured. On account of the scorch marks left behind when the head of auburn pigtails hightailed it back out of the quickly clearing mess hall.

It was over a minute of Wade complaining about several of the different, distinct, and hurtful ways in which the X-RoleModels continued their attempts to exclude and or distance him specifically from them and their precious team, before the guy who'd eaten enough for two realized he was whining out loud and closed his trap with a decisive nod.

"You should go. You never know, they could want your semen preserved so someday, when medical sciences have advanced, they can study it to figure out what exactly it is that makes you so hot."

There was very little aside from blink Cable could do in the face of that, so he blinked far slower than usual, and gave a solemn shake of his head.
"Never gonna happen."

"I don't know: the folks who run this place are nucking futs, man. Take this for example! Who serves country gravy in a crock?! Everyone knows you need a tiny spout thing to tip the delicious, fatty, white, flour based sauce out onto your biscuits!"

"Pretty sure that was supposed to be where the table refilled the many, many gravy boats," Cable pointed out. Holding up one of the funny little serving accessories as Wade looked up from where he was laying backwards and upside down off a chair.

"Wha? But- Aw, man!"

"They would have too, if you hadn't started breakfast by dunking your face in it and yelling that it was 'the perfect temperature'."

"Guess next time, temperature will have to be a surprise then," lamented a Wade who was somehow not looking any closer to vomiting despite the fact that he was still draped upside down off his chair.
But, before Cable had a chance to say anything more about the importance of table manners when eating with company, Wade made an 'Uh-oh' face and began flailing all four limbs around, not stopping until he was right side up again, and when his head was above the table, out came what sounded like an uncomfortably guttural burp.
"But, uh, yeah. You should definitely go."

And that was part of how Cable found himself at the guest seat of a giant-ass, probably solid oak, table wreathed in a majority of the world's most respected and highly regarded mutants. Plus some tiny guy everybody was calling Logan.

Now seated in the presence of historical greatness, Cable pretty much shut his trap and kept his peepers on 'memorize' mode as the cabal of world defenders went around in a circle doing introductions for his benefit.
When it was his turn, he just tried not to stutter.

The meeting went straight through lunch, which a team of telekinesis compelled trolleys made sure the earth's mightiest heroes—plus Cable and that short guy with the bad attitude—didn't go without, and by that point, Cable had been invited to be an official reserve member of the strike and recovery team. And he'd accepted, once they'd gone through exactly what that was.

Lunch itself, though rather brief, was treated as a perfect opportunity for a little stretch and a bit of friendly kibitzing. Which Cable considered himself to be absolute shit at, so he was glad when it wasn't a whole pack of them descending on him, demanding in deceptively cheery tones to know every detail of his entire life story.
It was just one of the most accomplished people at the table, a telepathic Dr. Jean Grey, hands busy with a plate filled with enough food to rival his own, who sidled up next to where he was standing, a bit away from the main schmoozing action, and then... just munched away in silence.

Being just a pinch 'telepath' himself, Cable recognized the smooth maneuver as the lady with the doctorate and the brightest red hair he'd ever tried not to stare right at's equivalent of an open invitation to chat.
After a few long, indecisive moments, he realized that Dr. Grey hadn't gotten where she was by being the type to breach the bonds of confidentiality, so he sucked up his stupid insecurities and let his obvious-as-fuck tight shoulders relax. Then Cable took advantage of his first opportunity for psychic exertion in longer than he'd like to admit by sending the woman who was actually dressed for the occasion the mental equivalent of a childish poke in the arm. Which she, with a fork concealed smile, correctly took as permission to establish nonverbal communication.

*Hello, Cable. Was there anything you'd like to talk about?* She thought straight into his mind. Mouth busy with an impressive chunk of exceptionally prepared lasagna.

*...You're a doctor of the mental/emotional stuff, right?*

*Psychology is among my degrees, it's true,* she impulsed into his mind. Looking for the world as if the only thing taking up her attention was the heap of food she was just starting to really dig into.

Cable made space for a mental pause before refilling his own mouth with a shovel of rice and well seasoned chicken. Wanting to be sure he couldn't accidentally say any of this stuff out loud.
*Grief, maybe?*

*Who's grief?*

*Mine.*

Dr. Grey nodded in a way that made it look, to anyone els, like she was just having difficulty swallowing her mouthful of mash. *Where would you like to begin?*

The 'conversation' lasted as long as the plates had food on them, and the two completely natural, nothing to be ashamed about tears Cable had shed through it all only added a little salt to the mashed potato side. And maybe a little catharsis to the chat.

"Can I take the plate for you?" The first words Dr. Grey 'spoke' to Cable as she held out her empty hand.

"Uh, yeah. Thanks, Doc," was all Cable could think to say as he handed over his nearly spotless dish and fork.

The answering, "Welcome," communicated perfectly exactly what Cable was 'welcome' for. And that he didn't owe anyone a thing for it.

It was approximately one speech about unity and world peace into their resumed meeting that Cable, belly full and mind more at ease than he'd felt it in... a while, began to feel a creeping sensation of unease. One he didn't recognize. One he was pretty sure was connected, somehow, to guilt.

Cable did his best to shrug off the shroud of black thoughts closing in around his conscious mind, threatening to shunt his ability to listen to what the head honcho sitting at one end of the table was still going strong about.

Unfortunately for him, the feeling got worse and worse the longer the message of peace and brotherhood went on and by the time the speech giver paused for a sip of water Cable was pretty sure it had something to do with the fact that he'd spent most of the day palling around with a bunch of mutants who were on a mission to save the world from itself, instead of spending time with the one mutant who mattered considerably more to him.
Figuring he really needed to get around to doing something about his stupid, broken time slider ASAP, he ignored his impending guilt trip best he could and continued forcing his ears into paying attention to what the cueball at the head of the table was going over.

That is, until the moment he couldn't listen any longer and he had to shake his head to try and clear some of the heaviness out of it. Which caught the attention of an expert of behavioral sciences who he'd been 'talking' with not so long ago.

"You feel it too?" Asked Dr. Grey from her seat halfway down the table. A table that went silent the moment she opened her mouth. At Cable's incredulous blink, the doctor with the flaming red hair went on. "I have a psychic suicide hotline of sorts I keep an eye on. I feel it if anyone on school grounds dips low enough." Small murmurs started up as Dr. Grey closed her mouth and switched over to their psychic's only, secret nonverbal language. *Seems you have a strong connection with Wade. And it seems he could use a friend right about-*

Before the good doctor could finish the sentence, Cable was out the giant-ass doors and halfway down the marble floored hallway. Following the feeling of hopelessness just as desperately as he fought not to let it effect his ability to function. For he knew that the depth of the grief he felt his mind terrified of being pulled down into would have immobilized him if he let it get its hooks in.

If this was what Wade was feeling? He had to hurry.

Pumping his arms hard as he could, legs flying at unsafe-for-the-halls-of-a-boarding-school speeds, Cable almost missed when the correct room rushed within reach.
Flinging himself both inside the open doors and to an abrupt stop at the same time, he took in the sight of his self appointed boyfriend laying on a coffee table, crying himself straight into an early grave.

Cable paused just a second and sturdied his mental defenses before affecting a relaxed posture and declaring his presence. After which the crashing waves of guilt, shame, and crushing, crushing loss which he knew weren't completely his receded from his poor head entirely.
He needed to handle that fucking time machine now.

But first, he had a boyfriend who needed comforting. And he had just the massage oil for the job.

"My favorite color is red, I prefer alphabet soup to non-alphabet soup, and yes, I have always been this handsome. Just, a little more conventionally before-"

"You don't say?" Cable asked, pushing a hint of doubt to the front of his tongue, where he was busy holding back a pleasured growl at the feeling of his boyfriend's shoulder muscles unknotting underneath his organic hand.

"I do say, and I'm not lying when I say it," Wade assured. Every ounce of bravado that should have been there, present and accounted for. "Just ask Ness-" Then the guy's visible eye went wide and the warm, fuzzy happiness of their private alone time vanished in a blink.

"You really miss her, don't you?" Cable asked. Against his more... selfish wishes. Pausing his massage for the 'serious shit' part of their evening.

"Yeah," Wade started with a big sigh. One Cable felt quite easily from where he was straddling the guy's bare waist. To better get at his pleasingly muscled upper back. "Yeah, we were going to-" A small frown cut off his words that time, and Cable knew he wasn't going to be hearing the rest of that sentence until such time as his masseuse turned massagee wanted him to.
"We made each other happy." Confided the man who'd only minutes ago slathered Cable up in luxurious, warming oils and proceeded to unmake and rebuild him from the ligaments out. Voice morose, to say the least.
To say the most, poor mutant sounded like he was two seconds away from death by pure, unadulterated grief alone.

Cable had to shut his mouth to keep from blurting his dirty, harder and harder to keep secret. Swallowing a pang of guilt before he could trust himself to respond properly.
"I'm glad you were happy."

"Yeah, but," Wade said, eyes going wide as he seemed to realize something, "I'm happy now!" Then, somehow, even with Cable's solid weight resting on his middle, the mutant getting his massage did one of the weirdest rolls the guy from the future'd ever seen and suddenly, Cable was straddling his boyfriend's well defined abs instead.

"What the f-"

"I'm happy now, Cabey-babey," Wade said, cutting him off with a look so sincere, there wasn't any doubting it. Then, he reached up with a hand who's skin was mottled by his past, and cupped the side of Cable's face in a way that screamed, 'I care.'
"I'm happy with you and I'm sorry if it ever seems otherwise."

Cable stared, stared down at the eyes brimming with adoration, and felt his face leaning into the still slightly massage-oily hand. Wishing he could bring himself to do more than turn his head and plant a kiss on the center of the broad, strong palm. But, with what he had yet to do about his broken time slider? There was no way in hell he was taking any more advantage of Wade's grief than he already had.

So Cable gave his boyfriend a cheeky smirk and took the hand against his face in his own hand instead. "I'll keep that in mind," he assured as he began kneading the space between the metacarpals. Once again holding back a pleasured growl when the man who'd claimed him as 'his' moaned in appreciation.

Yowza. Cable had it bad.

Did someone say 'erotic massage'? I'm pretty sure it was Wade but Cable's not shy either, so they let us get a peek at how that went. Anyone glad they did? ;D