Title: Possibly, Maybe: Chapter Six
Author: Blu_Eyed_Demon
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Uncanny X-men
Disclaimer: I don't own the X-men or any of the characters or this would have probably happened in the comics
Summary: Bobby's utterly miserable and no one but Jean Paul seems to be noticing...
Chapter Six: The morning after the night before.
A/N: Whilst 'Bon Matin' is not used by the French as a morning greeting, canadian friends have told me that in Québec, 'bon matin' can be used as an informal greeting which those you have a close relationship/friendship with
Chapter Six
When Bobby woke, his head was pounding and his vision swam as he opened his eyes to blinding light streaming in through the windows. With a small groan, he sat up and tried to suppress the urge to puke and fall back down into the pillows.
Taking slow deep breaths, he turned himself to ice since at least in ice form he could heal himself. Using the pure water vapour in the air, he could flush on the toxins and impurities out of him thus curing the hangover. As he stood and moved over to the mirror, de-icing as he moved, he thought distractedly about how useful knowing about that aspect of his mutation would have been during his colleges year, particularly the morning after his 21st birthday.
With a small smile, he turned his now clear and sober attention to his reflection. Standing in the pants he'd worn last night, he inspected it. It, the patch, hadn't seemed to have grown since the night before. Thank God.
For a moment he felt relief as he lightly ran his fingers over his abs, half warm skin and half cold ice. He swallowed hard as he recalled the way Jean Paul had caressed him there the night before.
Bobby had never been a black out drunk, no matter what quantity or combination of drinks he consumed. Unlike many of his friends, he'd never had the blissful oblivion of not knowing what he'd done the night or the terrifying void either. He'd always had to live with the memories of his drunken endeavours for better or for worse and that morning, he was thankful for it. Some of the exact happenings of the evening had a somewhat fuzzy haze to him but nothing was completely forgotten.
At least this meant he hadn't freaked out and made an idiot of himself after waking to find himself shirtless with Northstar asleep in his bed.
Thinking about Northstar, however, led him quickly to think about how he'd kissed the other man the night before, or at least tried to. What had possessed him to do it?
He shook his head at his reflection, it was stupid to try to play the innocent card especially with himself. He'd tried to kiss Jean Paul because he'd wanted to kiss him, it was as simple as that. There was no use in deny it to himself when the thought of kissing Northstar was right now sending a tingle down his spine and creating butterflies in his stomach. There was no more alcohol in his system and yet he still wanted to kiss Jean Paul, wanted it desperately. That was...interesting.
He turned to look down at the other man and smiled. He'd never seen Jean Paul look so open and unguarded before; his expression was utterly serene as he laying on his side facing the space that Bobby had recently vacated. As he'd slept, he'd curled up just a little and one arm had half reached out to Bobby. His hair, usually so neat and perfected, look tousled and out of place and his once pristine clothes were crumpled in a way that Bobby thought made him look even sexier.
He frowned a little at that thought, he couldn't go around thinking male team-mates were sexy or kissable because that would lead to trouble. After all, thinking those things about female team-mates had lead him to badness and heartache and eventual humiliation and a man would only be worse, especially a man like Jean Paul. Jean Paul was notoriously aloof and superior around others, cold and detached and anyway Bobby had never known him to have a boyfriend, or at least wasn't aware of him ever having one. Perhaps he just looked for sex and didn't make those kinda of attachments and then where would that leave Bobby?
But then, all that didn't sound anything like the man he'd gone to dinner with. Last night Jean Paul had been charming, courteous and actually interested in Bobby's opinions. He'd tried to shield Bobby from the harmful words of Lorna, not judged Bobby for not knowing about wine and had looked after him when he'd gotten drunk. In short he'd been a perfect date, until Bobby had derailed the evening and they'd descended into drunkenness. Only, Bobby scolded himself, last night hadn't been a date, it was just a meal between friends. Or was it? Jean Paul had sort of kissed him back before pulling back after all. Hadn't he?
Shaking his head, Bobby decided to shower. At least it would mean that when Jean Paul woke, he at least wouldn't smell like a brewery no matter what else happened.
He shut himself in his little en suite bathroom before stripping off hastily and dumping the clothes in the laundry basket. They were creased and stinking from various split drinks, causing Bobby to wrinkle his nose a little in disgust before hurrying into the shower. He turned on the water and simply enjoyed the cool spray raining down on him, unable to keep in the contented sigh that escaped.
Maybe if he was lucky, Jean Paul would sleep for a while yet and he'd manage to get his morning sugar and caffeine fix before the other man woke. Bobby had found it was always easier to make decisions on a buzz, though Jean and Storm had regularly told him that coffee and Lucky Charms were neither a nutritious breakfast nor good decision-making fuel. He supposed, on reflection, that none of the relationship decisions he'd ever made were ever particularly bright so it was hardly fair to blame it entirely on his diet.
The thoughts had brought him back squarely to the decision he was actively avoiding thinking about, let alone making: what to actually do about the sleeping man in his bed? Or would Jean Paul decide for him? Would he wake up horrified to find himself in Bobby Drake's bed and hurry out, thus removing all decision making from Bobby's hands? It was possible, definitely possible.
However, that didn't sound quite right to him, hadn't it been Jean Paul who'd said he should kiss him again whilst sober? But then, that may have been a kind way to turn down the advances of a drunk team-mate without causing offence or awkwardness. And any, he'd promised himself he'd never open up to the hurt a man could cause him so it didn't matter whether or not either of them wanted to kiss the other because Bobby wasn't going to let anything happen again. Was he?
"Screw this, I need coffee." Bobby muttered to himself as he shut off the water again. Yesterday, his problems only went so far as 'I'm turning to ice and no one will ever want me again' and now they went further to include 'I'm turning into ice and now really want to kiss a man which is currently scaring me slightly more than the ice thing.'
He wrapped a towel around his waist before shaking his head, dispersing droplets of water from his hair around the room. He actively avoided looking down, or looking at a mirror: whilst it may not be the top worry on his list right now, he still didn't have any desire to see or think about the patch.
Looking around, he cussed to himself as he realised he'd made one fatal error in the showering plan. He'd left all his clothes in his wardrobe, which was on the other side of the room to the door of the en suite bathroom and between the two locations lay a sleeping Canadian that he really didn't want to face in a towel right now.
Slowly, he cracked open the door. Jean Paul was still lying on his side in the same position Bobby had left him, fast asleep still. So maybe if Bobby was very lucky, he could get to the clothes and back into the safety of the bathroom to redress.
He took a deep breath and then walked out softly, holding the towel to himself tightly. As he moved around the bed, he was barely breathing. He was nearly there, then all he'd have to do would be to creep back and then he'd be home dry. He reached out for the wardrobe and-
"Bon matin, Robert."
Bobby froze in position at the sound of Jean Paul's voice, accent strong and thick with sleep. He'd been so close to avoiding this situation but, clearly, God just wasn't that kind to him.
Slowly, he turned on his heels to face the bed as he swallowed hard. Suddenly his heart was pounding violently in his chest though he desperately didn't want it to. He couldn't react to Jean Paul like that, it would just complicate things too much.
He was acutely aware of the way Northstar's eyes were following a droplet of water running down his chest heading slowly but surely further and further south.
"Uh, hi." Bobby choked out causing Jean Paul's eyes to jerk back up to his. There were as many questions in those blue eyes as there were in Bobby's own mind.
"I, uh, I should go get dressed." He mumbled, feeling his cheeks heat up as they flushed with embarrassment. He felt like a clumsy teen in front of Northstar as he scrambled to gather some clothes and then hurried into his bathroom once more.
Once dressed, he stood before the mirror and ran the cold tap. He splashed his face several times before grabbing a towel and muttering to himself
"Get a grip, Drake."
Jean Paul sat up slowly, stretching his back and arms with a loud yawn. After sleepless nights full of tossing and turning whilst being haunted by desperate dreams, he'd slept utterly peacefully beside Bobby. He wiped the sleep from his eyes as he smiled to himself. Even if Bobby was going to deny the kiss, or at least deny truly wanting it, he'd slept by his side. It wasn't much but it was more than Jean Paul had ever thought he'd get.
"Enough," He murmured softly, feeling a sense of contentment "That's enough."
He knew that he perhaps should feel pity for himself that he'd been reduced to being grateful for these scraps of attention but he didn't, he couldn't. Sleeping beside Robert, in Robert's bed, had brought a peace to him that he hadn't felt in a long time. Even as he caught a glimpse of his creased and shabby appearance in the mirror, his good mood couldn't be squashed. He had enough money to have them well dry cleaned and ironed, if not completely replaced if he wished.
Eventually, Bobby re-emerged dressed in black cargo short and a purple t-shirt bearing a slogan that Jean Paul didn't recognise off-hand. His hair and face were still damp as he stood in the doorway, looking at Jean Paul like he didn't know whether or not he should cut and run. So this would be the 'I really am straight, it was just the alcohol' talk. He could handle that, he'd had a few such conversations in the past. Never with someone he loved, though.
"Why don't you sit down, Robert?" He suggested gently, trying not to order Bobby around in his own room but the younger man didn't complain. He sat down in his desk chair, a 'safe' distance away from Jean Paul, who was still sat on the bed.
A silence lulled between them as they each waited for the other to speak first. Clearly uncomfortable, Bobby broke first as he fidgeted in his seat.
"I'm sorry." He said, to which Jean Paul quirked an eyebrow. Sorry for what exactly? "I'm sorry for being such a drunk idiot last night. Musta been a bit of an embarrassment for you..."
"Not at all," Jean Paul waved a hand dismissively and tried to give a friendly smile and pretend that he wasn't already hurting from the news he was expecting to hear. "At least you, uh, didn't do anything I would call embarrassing. Mostly we talked."
"I remember." Bobby nodded, his expression still clouded over in obvious turmoil. Jean Paul wanted to reach out to him, hold him and reassure him that the spreading ice wasn't the end of the world, that Lorna's cruel words weren't true. He couldn't do those things though because once Bobby had insisted he was straight and denied ever wanting the kiss, no matter what may or may not have been implied the night before, he would push Jean Paul away again and he'd never be allowed this close again. Bobby was about to drive him away forever and he didn't know what he could do, if there was anything he could do, to stop it.
So, he tried to say the things he was thinking before Bobby could speak again, before Bobby could push him away forever.
"I should'nt have told you what Lorna said." He began, running his fingers through his hair nervously "It was meaningless. Just the nasty comments of an attention seeking harlot."
Bobby smiled very slightly "I thought you were friends?"
"Hardly!" The Canadian scoffed "She want a token gay at her hen party and I needed a good drink, besides I'd heard about the stripper that was planned and couldn't resist." He ended the sentence with a small smirk that seemed to amuse Robert a little.
"Me and Annie were invited to rub our noses in it." He needlessly stated the obvious as the amusement faded into nothingness again.
"Naturally, women like Lorna can't have fun unless someone else is miserable." Jean Paul agreed, hoping that he might bring back Robert's smile if he continued to insult Lorna. "If she only invited actual friends it would have been a very small party indeed."
Jean Paul studied Bobby's face in the silence that followed, he seemed to be thinking hard about something as he stared unseeingly, his brow very slightly furrowed. Jean Paul suddenly noticed he, himself, was fidgeting with the sheets and forced his hands to still. He couldn't help thinking about the softness of the sheets and comfort of the mattress. It was a well-worn, well-loved sort of softness instead of the bought kind that Jean Paul's own bedding had.
"If that's your opinion of Lorna," Bobby began slowly, moving his head so that he was looking at Jean Paul but still not meeting his gaze. "Then why did you say you were surprised when she said she and me had never, well you know." A pink tint was rising in Robert's cheeks as he spoke.
Jean Paul's mind raced, trying to find an answer besides the obvious 'I couldn't understand how anyone could date you and not want to have sex with you'. His mouth was going dry as he tried to think of an explanation.
"She made it sound as though..." He trailed off, taking a deep breath as he cursed himself for not having thought of anything plausible other than the truth. "As though there was something wrong with you or, uh, something amusing about the idea. I thought it was ridiculous." Hopefully the statement was vague enough that he hadn't implicated himself too badly.
"You probably wouldn't think it so ridiculous if you'd had to suffer through the 'immature and inexperienced' fumbles of Bobby Drake." The tone was self-deprecating and though he was obviously trying to make light of the comment there was still an underlying bitterness to Bobby's words.
"I highly doubt that." Jean Paul replied before he thought it through. Mentally scolding himself, he bit his lip, worrying it between his teeth as he stared at Bobby who was staring right back.
"Well, you didn't exactly seem impressed by my kissing abilities last night." The blonde ran his fingers through his wet hair again with a small, nervous grin in place.
"There was barely enough of a kiss to judge ability, Otterpop," He chuckled before adding with a more serious tone "You were very drunk and I wouldn't take advantage of anyone like that. Why would I want to kiss anyone only to have them to regret it or worse deny it later?"
"That's why you stopped me? Not because you didn't want to kiss me?" Jean Paul felt a pang in his chest as he saw a light in Bobby's eye, was that hope the other man was feeling? Hope that Jean Paul wanted him? Could that actually be true?
"That is why I stopped." Northstar nodded, unable to bring himself to lay all his cards out for Bobby. He wasn't ready to be that vulnerable just yet, not while there was still even a chance Bobby could turn him down.
"I...I tried to kiss you because," Bobby was blushing as his eyes focus on anything but Jean Paul. "Because I wanted to, not because I was drunk...um...Oh God, this is embarrassing."
"It doesn't have to be." Jean Paul shifted gracefully to the end of the bed, this new position meant that he was face to face to Bobby with their knees almost touching. Bobby's words, the way he wore his emotions on his sleeve, they had finally tipped him to make a move. He reached out a hand, lightly cupping Bobby's cheek as the other man's eyes widened in obvious surprise.
The Iceman's hand came up to grip Jean Paul's wrist tightly as their eyes stay locked. Jean Paul could feel the other man's breath, which was noticeably cooler than the average person's, on his skin as his own heart pounded a samba in his chest.
"You still want to, don't you Robert?" He asked softly, searching for an answer in those soft brown eyes.
"I'm..." Bobby's voice was soft, he seemed utterly torn. "You could destroy me more than she ever could."
He didn't ask who 'she' was because in the end the 'she' didn't matter right now.
Jean Paul sigh softly, thumb gently stroking the younger man's cheek. "Robert, you could easily hurt me just as badly. Any time you let someone close it can hurt but some people are worth that risk, non?"
He lightly lent his forehead against Bobby's, eyes never leaving him as his silently pleaded with the other man to listen. "Is that really a reason to never try?"
Bobby felt emotionally and physically drained. He wasn't sure for how long they'd talked but they'd covered pretty much everything that Bobby had been freaking out about in the past 24 hours. He'd shared and Jean Paul had shared too. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so open and frank with anyone, he found himself telling the other man things that he'd never said out loud, things he'd never truly admitted to himself. To his surprise, Northstar had been just as open to him as he had been.
As they'd talked, they had moved and were now sitting on the floor side by side with their backs up against Bobby's bed. He felt exposed and open but he found he also felt relieved. He'd never truly realised what a burden it had become to ignore the part of him that scared him most. The real him. Right now he felt closer to Jean Paul than he'd ever felt to anyone else.
"Might I make a suggestion, Robert?" Jean Paul asked, his face turned to look at the Iceman as his fingertips lightly brushed over the back of Bobby's hand. As they'd talked, casual touches seemed to have become just part of their normal interaction, as though in talking and sharing they had gradually broken down walls between them in more ways than one.
Bobby smiled, a soft tired sort of a smile. "You know, I've always liked the way you say my full name like that. It just sounds so much cooler when you say it." The 't' was dropped and the 'r's rolled lazily in the Quebecois accent that made it sound so much more attractive. "When Storm or Emma say 'Robert' it always sounds like I'm being told off..."
"I'll take that as a 'yes', shall I?" Jean Paul seemed amused rather than annoyed by Bobby's less than linear thought patterns. Bobby nodded, turning his hand over so that the Canadians fingers trailed over his palm.
"Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps you think men would hurt your more than women in dating because, deep down, some part of you knows that a relationship with a man would mean more to you than one with a woman. That perhaps it's what you've wanted all along and that's scared you?" His tone isn't at all judgemental or accusing, it sounds much like Hank does when suggesting a hypothesis.
"You're giving me a lot of credit for layers and depths I'm not so sure exist." Bobby joked self-depreciatingly. Jean Paul said nothing, merely watched him. He'd already twice in their talk called Bobby out for avoiding topics with humour, it wasn't a secret that sometimes he deflected but usually he wasn't called out on it. Jean Paul did though, and he wasn't going to let Bobby hide any more. Not from him, anyway.
"Ok, so I guess some of that made sense. Doesn't mean I'm not still scared." Bobby told him more seriously, his eyes trained on their hands, Jean Paul still lightly tracing patterns on his skin.
"It's ok to be scared, Cher." Northstar assured him, and Bobby wondered if he was imagining the accent being stronger or if Jean Paul was doing it deliberately now that he knew Bobby liked it. "So long as the fear doesn't prevent you from being happy."
Bobby smiled at him softly and very slowly took Jean Paul's hand in his and entwined their fingers. For anyone else it was probably a small gesture but to him it was momentous. The way Jean Paul smiled at him told him the other man knew it too but still, Bobby found he couldn't quite match the smile. Now they'd sat and talked for so long, there was only one glaring subject that they'd skirted around: the issue of Bobby's secondary mutation and the fact that it puts a halt to the possibility of a relationship between them.
This had all been either forgotten or looked over by Jean Paul apparently because he was leaning in, eyes closing slowly as he grew closer. Bobby felt panic flood him as he grabbed the older man's shoulders and pushed him back. Pushed him a little harder than intended, causing Jean Paul to fall back in surprise as Bobby scrambled up.
"I-I want to kiss you, Jean Paul." He told the other man, his voice wavering with emotion as he did so. "And I don't want to be afraid to any more but...but, it's not fair on you. I'm turning into a giant ice cube and if we kissed it would lead to dating and it would screw us both up instead of just me."
Bobby had barely finished the sentence when he suddenly realised that Jean Paul was no longer on the floor. It felt like a sudden breeze in the room and then Jean Paul and he were standing face to face.
"You are an idiot, Drake." Northstar informed Bobby with exasperated affection, holding him by the shoulders tightly to prevent him from leaving and looking like he was seriously considering shaking him. "We're not even dating yet and you're planning the break up. Mon Dieu! And people say that I am the pessimist!"
Bobby jerked back, the anger that had stemmed from his months of fear and isolation suddenly rearing it's ugly head.
"Ice, Jean Paul, ice! Solid, cold ice! The cold would hurt you so bad you'd never be able to touch me without it hurting you. Go ask Gambit what that's like to date some one you can't even touch. Go ask him what it's like to never be close no matter how much you wantit, go on! Then come here and say you actually want to date a walking popsicle."
He expected Jean Paul's famously quick temper to flare in response, yell back at him so he could yell again, start an argument and send him running out of the room, running away from Bobby, but instead he was met with absolute calm.
"You've never paid attention to my powers, have you Robert?" He kept a tight hold as Bobby tried to move away.
"You're super fast and can fly," Bobby replied, irritated beyond belief that Jean Paul wasn't doing as he'd expected. "What's your point?"
"How do you think I can fly up so high and not freeze, crétin?" He strokes Bobby's cheek gently tenderly as he shakes his head "I am invulnerable to extremes of temperature. The cold doesn't hurt me, in fact I love it. Ice or flesh, your appearance or temperature will not drive me away. And I will not allow you to push me away." He began to closed the gap between them and Bobby stayed stock still, feeling foolish as he mulled over the information. "You're so convinced you're destined to live out your life alone and cold, so scared it will happen, that you're actively pushing away a real chance of happiness to guarantee it will happen. Don't you see that you are fulfilling your own prophecy, cher?" He ran over hand over the patch of ice on Bobby's torso, just to prove his point.
"God, I'm really acting nuts, aren't I?" Bobby murmured, closing his eyes as he leant his forehead against Jean Paul's. He felt the other man's fingers lightly brush over his hair before coming to rest over the back of his neck softly. Eventually, he slowly opened his eyes to meet blue ones so very close to his own. "Why are you fighting so hard for me when all I've done is be an absolute asshole?"
"I clearly have a weakness for mental instability." There was a small chuckle in the Canadian's voice. "You're not crazy, you're scared. It's understandable but my patience will only go so far so how about we cut to the chase and kiss? We both know it's going to happen."
"I've never kissed a guy before." Bobby warned with a nervy smile as his cheeks became tinged with pink.
"Then we'd better make this a good one," Jean Paul grinned and then added "No more excuses Robert. You're not going to scare me away."
"I guess I'll just have to kiss you then." Bobby jokingly groaned before grinning and leaning in. This time he was sober and very, very nervous. Lorna's claim of his 'inexperience' echoed in his mind as their lips finally touched. He was inexperienced when it came to men, when it came to kissing men and when it came to...doing other things with them and Jean Paul wasn't. That could be a good thing, Jean Paul could teach him but what if he didn't like it or wasn't any good? There was a huge leap between finding a man attractive and actually going to bed with him. If he was so terrible with women, would he be worse with men? Or would he be better because maybe, like Jean Paul had suggested, this is what he was always meant to be doing?
Then all thoughts stopped because Jean Paul was kissing back and he was very aware of the stubble from the other's man's unshaven face. That was new, though not entirely unpleasant. Definitely something he could adapt to.
The hand on the back of his neck gripped gently but firmly as another arm snaked around his waist, pulling his body up against Northstar's. His own arms coiled around the older man's body, clutching at his back and feeling the taunt muscles under the rumpled shirt.
A little tentatively, he opened his mouth into the kiss and lightly brushed his tongue against Jean Paul's lips as their chests pressed together. Jean Paul made not sign of recoiling from the cold ice, on the contrary he let out a soft groan as his lips parted to grant Bobby's tongue access and his hands clutched tighter and pulled him closer.
As Bobby's tongue began to explore Jean Paul's mouth, duelling with the other man's tongue, he was aware of small sighs and gasps coming from the Canadian. He'd been informed in the past by certain lovers that at times his mouth was several degrees colder than normal, usually after he'd de-iced, though since the ice was spreading he wasn't surprised that his general body temperature was lower too. At least, unlike many women, Jean Paul seemed to be enjoying the contrast of temperature. In fact, it seemed to be spurring him on as he returned Bobby's kiss with even more passion than before.
Lips crushed together brusingly hard and Bobby's hands roamed over Northstar's back, one hand moving steady south toward his ass as his confidence grew. He could hear desperate, needy noises coming from him that he'd never known he could make before.
This was good, better than good, he'd go so far as to say it was one of the best kisses he'd ever had. Eventually, as oxygen started to become a real issue, he reluctantly pulled back. He opening his eyes and groaned as Jean Paul took his lower lip in his teeth and tugged not too gently before releasing. Their arms stayed wrapped around one another, their bodies pressed together as they breathed raggedly and their chests heaved.
That was definitely the best kiss he'd ever had. He grinned at Jean Paul as the older man slowly opened his eyes and met his gaze.
"Hi," He panted, mostly because it was the only syllable he could muster right now.
"Hello, Robert." Jean Paul grinned back with amusement, running his thumb lightly over Bobby's swollen lower lip "Still thinking of running from me?"
It took several more seconds for Bobby to regain control of his breathing and then to put his thoughts in enough order to respond. "Not if you're planning on kissing me like that again!"