"Hey, John, over here." John looked up at the sound of Marcos' voice, seeing that he and Lorna were sitting over at a small table in the corner of the room. Lorna lifted a dented metal bowl, shaking it slightly in John's direction. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, John walked over to them, murmuring greetings to the others as he went. When he reached the table, Lorna kicked out the chair opposite her and Marcos, setting the bowl down in front of it with a half-smirk.
"Thanks," John said, sitting down, though he didn't move to eat any of the watery oatmeal that appeared to be for breakfast.
"Well, you were late," Lorna said, her grey eyes weighing him curiously. "Usually you get here before everyone else so you can lie and say you already ate and no one can argue with you." John looked at her balefully, to which she just gave a sweet smile in return.
"Guess I just didn't realize what time it was," John said, shrugging. It wasn't a lie, per say. He really hadn't realized what time it was. Lorna nodded, though she made no effort to hide her skepticism.
"Isn't that the same shirt you were wearing yesterday?" she asked, cocking her head. "Looks wrinkled."
"Well there isn't exactly a laundromat around here," John retorted, picking up the camp spoon and stirring at the oatmeal, hoping that would dissuade Lorna from asking anymore questions. "Sorry I'm not fancy fresh, Your Majesty." Lorna grinned at that, making Marcos roll his eyes.
"Your hair's a mess, too," Lorna continued, running her eyes up and down John, taking in every detail. "Like someone was running their hands through it and you didn't have time to comb it."
"I never comb it," John replied, forcing down the sudden urge to run his hand through his hair.
"Yes you do," Lorna retorted, rolling her eyes. "You used to hog the bathroom in that little crappy motel we stayed at all the time, primping. In fact, the only time I ever saw you look like this was... well." Her smirk grew into a cheshire cat grin. "Who's bed did you sleep in last night, hmmm, Proudstar?"
"Leave him alone, babe," Marcos cajoled, nudging Lorna affectionately. "John was up late last night reading the reports, I'm sure he just fell asleep at his desk. Wouldn't be the first time."
John returned Marcos' affectionate grin with a nod, grateful for his friend's alibi, even if Marcos didn't know he was providing one. It wasn't that he felt that he and Clarice had done something wrong. It was just that he knew people would... jump to conclusions. And Clarice didn't need that, not with having just lost her family. John knew she still was dealing with the false memories and the thought of taking advantage of her, even unintentionally... it made him sick to his stomach.
"See, I'd believe that, if I hadn't walked by there this morning," Lorna replied, pulling John out of his thoughts. "And you weren't in your room, so don't try that one. And I know it wasn't Sonia's either because, well, she'd look a lot happier if you had been."
"Ew, gross, babe," Marcos protested, wrinkling his nose.
Lorna rolled her eyes, shifting so that she was leaning on the table, looking John directly in the eye. "Come on, Proudstar, fess up." John met her stare for stare, not flinching. He had known Lorna for years, longer than any of the others, even Marcos, and he was immune to her tricks.
Black-violet hair flickered in the corner of his vision. Clarice was standing in the doorway, Zingo at her side. John leaned back, pretending to suddenly become interested in his oatmeal, but his eyes were on Clarice. There wasn't any red around her eyes John noticed gratefully. She was slightly tense, but not the rigid, ready-to-run flightiness that he had been used to during her first stay at Headquarters. She looked almost relaxed, or as relaxed as one could be surrounded by total strangers and with the threat of imminent death hanging over your head.
"Holy shit," Lorna hissed, drawing John's attention away from Clarice abruptly. "It was Clarice, wasn't it? You totally banged Clarice!" John's head whipped back to Lorna, who was grinning like a cat who had eaten the whole damn birdhouse.
"No," John said firmly, leaning forward so his words wouldn't carry passed the table. "I'm serious, Lorna. Yes, I slept in Clarice's room last night, but that was only because I had been talking to her, about her family and everything, and accidentally fell asleep."
"You accidentally fell asleep?" Marcos asked, finally looking interested in the conversation taking place. "You?"
"Yes, me," John retorted, looking at his friend balefully. "She was upset and I sat with her, that's it."
"Well I think it's sweet," Lorna said, grinning, a glint in her grey eyes that suddenly made John very nervous.
"Lorna..." he said warningly, but she just smirked at him, winking as she turned in her seat and raised her hand.
"Clarice!" she shouted, waving her hand slightly, attracting the other girl's attention. "Over here, we've got a seat."
Clarice, who had just scooped some of the oatmeal into a chipped ceramic bowl, looked up, surprised. Lorna smiled encouragingly at her, gesturing her over. Clarice began to move towards their table hesitantly, one hand curling reflexively into a fist. Her eyes landed on John and she slowed, almost stopping. John smiled at her, thanking his ancestors that his brown skin hid the blush he knew was starting to form on his cheeks. Clarice gave him a shaky smile back, continuing to thread her way through the now mostly empty tables until she reached theirs.
"Hey," Lorna greeted, smiling up at the other girl genuinely. John knew Lorna was mostly messing with him, but he also knew that the smile, and her kind intentions, were real.
"Hey," Clarice replied, nodding, her eyes still guarded, like she knew something was going on and she wasn't quite sure she was going to like what it was.
"Come on, have a seat," Lorna invited, gesturing to the chair next to John. "We're still waiting for slowpoke here to finish." Clarice nodded, but didn't move to sit, instead looked at John.
"You mind?" she asked, glancing down at the chair. There was a hesitation in her eyes, a worry that made John's heart twist.
"Not at all," he said firmly, smiling up at her, letting his eyes go soft. He hoped she could read what he was trying to say, even if he couldn't say the words themselves. Clarice looked at him for a moment, then smiled, some of the tension running out of her shoulders. She moved to pull the chair back, but John got to it first, sliding it out for her.
It took Lorna's barely contained snort for him to realize what he had done. John purposefully didn't look across the table at his friends, though he could see them looking at each other out of the corner of his eyes. Clarice was looking at him, slightly puzzled, but then she grinned, a real, honest smile, and sat down.
"Thanks," she said, looking at him with that gentle, teasing humor he had seen when they were working on her portals that first time. "I guess chivalry isn't dead after all."
"Nope, just a mutant," John replied, smiling at her. She snorted, shaking her head, but there was a grin tucked into the corner of her eyes that just made John's smile grow wider. He knew Lorna and Marcos were watching them, Lorna with a smirk on her face, but he couldn't bring himself to care. It felt good to smile, to feel like the weight of the war had been lifted off his shoulders, even if it was just for a few moments.
It's easier with you.
His words from this morning came back unbidden to his mind. He remembered how Clarice had looked, head propped up on her pillow, hair pulled out behind her, leaving her sharp, angular face exposed. She had looked beautiful, eyes soft with laughter, body laying close enough that he could feel every beat of her heart, could feel the warmth radiating off of her as he had brushed his fingers against hers. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so... content. So at ease. From the moment the X-Men had disappeared everything had been a fight, a battle. Even Sonia, with her drug-like temptations. He had known so many soldier who had fallen prey to allure of numbness, of the bottle or the needle. He had known that if he didn't get away from Sonia, from Dreamer, she would ensnare him just as easily as the drugs and alcohol took his brothers. He didn't have that fear with Clarice. She cleared his head, not muddied it. She was his opposite, but also his equal. She made the dark a little less deep, and the war a little less endless. She was –
"Hey." John jerked out of his thoughts. Clarice was looking at him, her eyes crinkled in concern. "You gonna eat?" John looked down at his still full bowl, the food long gone cold. He opened his mouth, not sure what he was going to say, but Clarice nudged him with her elbow.
"C'mon," she said, her voice light, though her eyes held understanding, a knowledge of what he was doing. "Can't have our fearless leader collapsing right in the middle of one of his new age hippie self-help speeches." John looked at her for a moment, then shook his head, smile creeping onto his face once more.
"I guess not," he allowed, picking up his spoon and stirring his oatmeal. Then, ignoring Lorna and Marcos' completely unsubtle glances and grins, he began to eat, Clarice's heartbeat a steady murmur at the edge of his mind.