Title: Freak on a Leash
Author: Askani'daughter / Eruntalince (newloverboys@yahoo.com)
//thoughts//
~foreign language translated into English~
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Freak on a Leash 2 - Background Noise
By Askani'daughter
"Professor, this is Warren Worthington III. Warren, this is Professor Charles Xavier."
"Hello, Warren. I am pleased that Scott was able to convince you to join us," Professor Xavier smiled, his blue eyes twinkling at the handsome youth. It had been five days since Warren had awakened. The Professor had felt that Warren needed to adjust to his new life before meeting himself and stepping up his membership to the X-Men.
Warren narrowed his eyes slightly, and crossed his arms. He remained silent, reviewing the fact that this man had told perfect strangers of his rape. His wings fluttered, which Cyclops had learned over the past few days meant that Warren was anxious or nervous.
"Warren's still a little unsure, he just wants a probationary period, to see what all this is like-"
"Why bother telling him, Scott? He's a telepath. I'm sure he already knows," Warren said smoothly, not bothering to hide his venom.
The Professor steepled his hands, looking seriously at Warren. "Despite what you may think, Mr. Worthington, I don't make it a habit to look into people's minds unless I have to. When you first came here, I doubt you remember how badly off you were. You almost killed Dr. Jean Grey, not to mention myself, in your confusion and rage. It was necessary that I do psychic surgery, to heal your mental wounds. I understand why you would be upset with me, Warren, but I honestly did it only to help you. I am also sorry that you dislike the fact that I told the X-Men, but two of them already knew, and it was necessary that the other two know, so they knew exactly what they were dealing with. Perhaps I overstepped my bounds, which is why I am apologizing to you. But you'll find that none of us make judgments on others' pasts. We all have some sort of skeleton in our closet, I assure you," he said evenly, his tone adopting equal parts regret and assurance.
Warren stared at him. "Damn, you're *good*," he said.
"Thank you," the Professor smiled. "Does this mean that you're not so angry with me, you want to reach across my desk and choke me anymore?"
Scott's eyebrows raised and Warren smiled. "I suppose. Muck around with my head a second time, and I guarantee you that not even little Scotty here could stop me," he said dangerously. Warren found the bald man before him overly-righteous and mildly arrogant. And yet, Warren found himself almost instantly placing a guarded trust in Charles Xavier. The Professor's eyes held compassion, which was something Warren was unused to until he met Scott.
"Fair enough," the Professor answered calmly, even when Scott turned to Warren in mild apprehension. "I can offer you therapy twice a week, if you're interested. If you're still upset with me, Dr. Grey can also be your therapist, and even Scott has a degree in psychology."
"The woman? No thanks," Warren sighed. "You'll be fine. As long as you keep your mouth shut this time."
"I assure you, Warren Worthington III, that your secrets are safe with me."
The tension between Warren and the Professor almost instantly disappeared. In Charles Xavier's was an honesty that Warren had never seen in anyone else. The similarities in bearing and personality between the wheel-chair bound man and Scott Summers were uncanny. Perhaps it was the many traits Professor Charles Xavier shared in common with Scott that put Warren at ease.
"So, have you picked out a code name to use while on the team?" the Professor continued, bringing out papers from one of his drawers.
"Not really," Warren shrugged, leaning back into his chair.
"Angel," Scott interrupted. Warren blinked. Why did Scott insist on calling him that? Perhaps he looked like one, but Warren knew he was no true angel. But why ruin Scott's favorable perception of Warren?
"Angel. Appropriate. Do you agree, Warren?" Professor Xavier smiled.
"That's fine," Warren said, glancing at Scott with an odd expression. He wondered what Scott would think of him if he knew the Warren Worthington III that existed before Callisto came along.
"You won't go out on any combat missions for a while, as it is necessary that you receive some intense combat training first. I ask each of the X-Men, those who graduated college, to join in teaching the younger students. I understand you have an MBA, and were working on your PhD. Teaching business to some of those students who wish to rejoin humanity would be excellent, and even useful to those who wish to stay on," the Professor patiently explained.
"That's fine, I can teach. I know things other than business, though," Warren shrugged.
"Are there other classes you'd be interested in teaching?"
"French. I was always good with that language. I can teach foreign languages, but I'll go for French, since it was always my strongest."
"How many do you know?"
"Five. English, French, German, Russian, and Japanese."
"Very impressive," the Professor said approvingly. "You'll be a fine addition to the faculty here."
"Heh. I'm not good with little kids. I can't tolerate teenagers. Don't get too happy too soon," Warren said sourly.
"I'm sure you'll do fine. Teenagers are quite tolerable once you get to know them. I'll assign you to the older groups, and I'm sure you'll get along with them fine. Especially our oldest class."
"You have a lot of confidence in me, old man."
Charles Xavier smiled. "I know people, Warren, and I have faith in them. People tend to be better than they think they are," he replied.
"Including Magneto and his Brotherhood?"
Charles' face darkened slightly, and he stared down at his paperweight with a troubled expression on his face. "They were all better than that. But Eric refused to see it," he sighed.
"I see," Warren said quietly.
Silence filled the room and Scott stood up. "Well, I wanted to introduce the two of you. Now that we've gotten things established, we should be on our way," he said, trying to erase the uncomfortable emotions that had arisen.
Both Warren and the Professor exchanged a glance, and smiled knowingly at each other. Good old Scott. Always there when you needed him. "You probably should. You two should get out and have some fun. Young men such as yourselves shouldn't lock yourselves away from the world constantly. Warren, on Mondays and Thursdays, I'd like to see you in my office, at seven every night," he said.
"That's fine, but where would we go?" Warren asked.
"Scott's a bit bigger than you are, and I'm sure you'd like some clothes of your own, rather than his. Here, go buy some clothing and treat yourselves to dinner. It'll be good for both of you," the Professor said, pulling a credit card out and handing it to Scott.
"Thank you, sir," Scott beamed.
Warren worked his jaw. Having to rely on others' generosity, especially after having been the son of one of the richest men in the world did not rest well with him. "So it's Wal-Mart and Target for me, eh?" Warren sighed. Once he was able to have his own tailors, with clothes all made just for him...
"Actually, they have some rather nice stores in the mall. Perhaps you would like to shop where Scott does," the Professor offered.
"So I can dress up in turtlenecks meant for men twice my age? No thank you. Scott can go shopping with *me*, and I'll make him develop a sense of fashion," Warren smirked, eyeing the green sweater Scott wore. He wondered again why Scott always got cold so easily.
"I should like to see that. It's sad when I give Scott the clothes I wore when I was his age, and he likes them," the Professor said snidely.
"Hey, why are you ganging up on *me*? I'm the good guy here, remember?" Scott bristled, looking at his sweater.
"Which is why I have to pick on you. C'mon, Scooter, we'll get you something that doesn't make you look like the return of the Beatles," Warren grinned and snatched the credit card away. He sauntered towards the door, smirking at the confused expression on Scott's face.
"Scooter? Return of the Beatles? What is that supposed to mean?" Scott asked.
"Don't worry about it, Scott. Just go, go have fun and don't even worry about a spending limit. Just go," the Professor laughed, shooing Scott and Warren out of his office.
Warren snickered at his friend as they left.***
The meeting had gone better than Scott expected. He had learned over the past few days that Warren shared a few traits in common with Logan. They both had a bad temper and an instant dislike for authority. And yet, those traits in Warren never bothered him like they did in Logan. Unlike Logan, Warren easily resolved his issues. He didn't seem to hold grudges, at least not with men.
Scott yawned as he leaned against the doorway. Warren was still primping and preening after two hours. Granted, it might have been the first time he was going out in public in over two weeks, but Scott couldn't understand why someone as good-looking as Warren would need that much time to get ready.
Scott grew tired of waiting for him and wandered away, to go see if his girlfriend wanted to come along. He wandered down the hallway in a relatively good mood. Warren was fun to be around, a reminder of the youth Scott possessed but never relished. Warren was like fresh air in a room left closed and boarded for years. It was nice to have a friend, a friend his own age, and with close interests to his own. Scott had never had a friend his own age before, and he found himself enjoying Warren's company immensely.
Scott found Jean in one of the rec rooms, watching an old movie with Logan. He paused, not making his presence known, and just peeked through the doorway. Jean was laughing loud and had just swatted Logan with a pillow for some comment or another. Logan was laughing as well, an expression rarely found from him. She swatted him once more for luck, and placed the pillow on Logan's lap, so she could rest her head on it and finish the movie. Scott withdrew quickly, before Jean could sense him, and headed back to Warren's room.
Was Jean's attraction to Logan the same reason Scott was growing so close, so quickly to Warren? Was it the age thing? When he thought about it, Scott couldn't think of anything he and Jean really had in common, other than their love of the Professor and devotion to The Cause. They didn't even like the same music. They would tolerate the other's likes out of respect, but did Scott ever have *fun* with Jean? He couldn't remember. He enjoyed her company, but fun wasn't a word he'd use to describe it. Even the sex had cooled off, becoming comfortable and pleasurable, rather than driving and consuming.
But Logan was different from Scott. He was dark and mysterious, and had this air of sensuality about him that women seemed to like, even if just put other men like Scott, Warren, and even Bobby Drake off. And Logan was older, older than even Jean. Scott wondered if she enjoyed playing the younger, more inexperienced part to Logan's older and wiser. A complete role reversal with her relationship with Scott.
And then there was Scott himself. Did he not try his best to act and even look older for Jean? Even when Jean would suggest something "fun", would Scott just try something safe, thinking she might think he was just a little boy? How often did he and Jean watch an old movie, and then have a pillow fight? Try never.
Warren came out of the bathroom, smiling. Scott stopped breathing for a moment, seeing Warren in something other than his old sweats. Scott had asked St. John and Bobby for clothing, since Warren was closer to their size. St. John's blue cargo pants looked nice on Warren, hugging his thighs appropriately. It was Bobby's blue shimmer shirt he wore, and the baggy black coat he wore hid his wings, as he'd harnessed them down. His hair was styled forward into his face, giving him an almost seductive look. Wearing clothes that suited him pointed out Scott's first impression of Warren.
Beautiful. Absolutely perfect.
Scott cleared his throat and turned his face. "You look nice," he said awkwardly.
"Thank you. Where did you get this outfit, anyway?"
"Those teenagers you're already griping about, and don't know yet. You really will like them once you get to know them. The pants are St. John Allerdyce's. He's a pyrokinetic troublemaker. The shirt is Bobby Drake's. He's a cryotechnic dufus. They have better taste in clothes than I do, though," Scott smiled.
"You sound fond of them," Warren said, cocking his head to the side.
"I am. See, I found both of them. Bobby had been abandoned, and I found him in an abandoned old house in California, where he came from. It was the middle of summer, but around the house it was so cold everything had frosted over. He was starving to death, and had put himself in cryogenic sleep. St. John, well he was on the run from the Brotherhood. Magneto tried to force him to join, but Johnny didn't like him. Pretended to light his cigarette, and instead used the tiny lighter flame to attack Magneto with a dragon made from fire. We came just in time. I guess they're like the little brothers I... don't have anymore," Scott said quietly.
"Replacements for Alex?" Warren said gently, sitting down beside Scott and gently stroking a finger over Scott's fingers. Over the past few days, Scott had talked more about his past to Warren than anyone else. Scott started at the touch and turned to stare at Warren.
"I guess. It's easy to imagine Alex would act like Bobby. He really is a goofball. And St. John looks just like Alex would. Blonde hair, and he's a bit smaller than the other boys. Of course, Alex is older than they are, but I can't help but seeing him as a kid. I miss him," Scott confessed.
Warren's fingers closed over Scott's and he smiled sadly at the dark-haired man next to him. "I never had a little brother, but I always wanted one. Just think about how nice it was to have him, even for a little while," Warren whispered.
"Yeah, I guess. It's funny that I miss him more than my parents. Even more than my mom. My father was a hard-ass, and my mom always seemed kinda out of it, but Alex was always there. It was my job to protect him and... I didn't..." Scott choked, wondering why he would let these emotions out for a man he'd known less than a week, and couldn't even begin to voice them to Jean, the supposed love of his life.
Warren rested his head against Scott's shoulder. "You were ten, Scott. How could you save your brother when you were ten? You both had the same parachute, you said. It was just fate. Just let it go. He wouldn't want you to dwell on this," Warren said gently, squeezing Scott's hand.
They had been over this before. Warren would share his pain, and Scott would share his. And they both would feel a little better for letting it out, and being supported.
Scott put an arm around his friend, feeling the odd lumps of the blond beauty's wings beneath his hands. "I know, I know, but I just... I just can't stop thinking about him," he sighed.
"I can't think of anything to say other than the cliche answers I just gave you, Scott. But you know you can cry on my shoulder. Fuck, I've cried enough on yours over the past few days. You are the nicest guy I know, and have nothing to be guilty about, okay?" Warren said, moving his arms around Scott, emboldened by the other's hug.
"You're right. But sometimes the cliche answers are what people need to hear, so it doesn't hurt to say them, Warren. So, thanks," Scott said, squeezing his friend and then detaching himself.
Warren withdrew, watching Scott thoughtfully. Scott closed his eyes and lifted his glasses a little to wipe his eyes. Warren remained silent.
"Alright, let's go shopping. Maybe you'd like Old Navy? Johnny and Bobby swear by them," Scott said, standing up.
Warren stood up as well. "Well, I've never really bought clothes from a mall before, so we'll start there, okay?" he smiled.
"Why do I have a feeling that I'm not going to enjoy this?"Despite his doubts, Scott actually did enjoy himself.
Shopping with Jean- or worse yet, Jean *and* Ororo- was sort of torture for Scott. He most often wound up carrying all their bags and trying to find a way to get out of answering questions like 'Is this my color?' or 'Does this make me look fat?' These questions embarrassed him, particularly when they picked outfits that really did make them look fat or too sallow, and he couldn't say what he thought, because then one or both of them would be mad at him. Scott could easily identify with Warren's frustration with women.
But shopping with Warren was actually fun. Warren was very confident of his looks, and knew what he looked good in. There was no consulting Scott on the matter, who didn't really notice things like clothes or hair. And Warren carried his own stuff.
However, when it came time for Scott's clothing, Scott was extremely embarrassed. Warren fussed and cooed over him like Jean and Ororo did with the younger girls when they went shopping. And Warren kept running through the entire mall, buying a thing here or a thing there, and then putting them together. All the fuss over Scott was something he was just not used to. Warren treated him like a Ken doll.
But it was sort of nice to be fussed over, and hear how nice certain colors complimented him. It was just strange to suddenly have no say about what he liked. The moment he made for the turtlenecks, sweatshirts, and pullover sweaters, Warren would drag him away. Scott just felt like a fish out of water, hearing a man tell him he should wear tight pants to show off his ass was weird, even when the man in question was as androgynous and as beautiful as Warren, was just downright odd. Men just didn't fuss over other men, at least in Scott's limited experience. Hell, *women* didn't fuss over men.
"Okay, I now have five Worthington-approved outfits. You have about a dozen, last I checked. You shop like a woman, but at least you're not as annoying. Can we *please* go eat now? I'm starving, Warren," Scott finally interrupted, looking longingly at a Ruby Tuesday's receding in the distance.
"One more store. This one is really interesting looking, too. I like the mall, I think. Cheap, but kinda cool," Warren commented, dragging Scott into Hot Topic.
Scott was assaulted by alternative, gothic, and just plain weird items. Warren headed straight for the jewelry, while Scott gawked at one of the shoppers, who had to have at least ten piercings in her face alone. Scott vaguely connected St. John to this store, noting many of St. John's clothing and various accessories on sale here. Even Bobby must pick up a few things from here.
Warren's fear of people seemed to have abated for the day, and Scott noted Warren was engaged into a deep conversation with a short, fat young girl wearing a peasant shirt and a pair of bell-bottoms. They seemed to be rifling through the jewelry together. Warren found all the generically made and imitation jewelry at the mall delightfully tacky. Scott found everything to be over-priced and expensive.
Scott found himself in the back, between the make-up and the gothic clothing, looking at fuzzy dice and miniature disco balls to hang off a car mirror. Fuzzy wheel covers and Scooby Doo memorabilia caught his eye and Scott wondered if maybe nobody would notice if he got one of those funny stickers with smart-ass remarks on it for his motorcycle. Warren seemed fascinated by the fact that Scott not only had a motorcycle, but had built it himself.
Warren walked over to a rack near Scott. The chubby girl Warren was talking to waved good-bye to him, and left with another girl. Scott didn't pay much attention to what Warren was doing, as he was seriously considering buying a pair of leather platform boots he found.
Scott grabbed the boots and turned to ask Warren's opinion, when he noticed that Warren was holding something odd in his hand. It was a very small collar-like circlet, far too small for a cat or dog. It had little spikes on it, and Scott wondered if it was a collar for maybe a pet ferret or something.
Warren was staring at it in morbid fascination, like the way you would stare at a dead body. And then pure horror crept across his face. Warren dropped the bags he was carrying, and backed away from the rack. He turned around and looked ready to run. Scott noted with alarm that Warren's back was *moving*, which meant his wings were trying to get free. Scott didn't know what set Warren off, but he grabbed the blond from behind before someone noticed, and started to freak out about mutants in the mall.
"Warren, I don't know what's wrong, but calm down, right now. We're out in public. Calm down. Nothing bad is going to happen to you," Scott whispered, lowering Warren to the floor, as a clerk with dyed magenta hair and plaid stockings approached them carefully.
"Sir? Is everything okay? Do you want me to call 911 or something?" she asked.
"We're fine, we're fine," Scott said quickly. "He's just sick. I'll take care of him."
"Are you sure?
"Yeah, it's fine, miss. He hasn't eaten yet, so he's a little faint. We're gonna go eat now. He's so dramatic," Scott grinned, trying not to notice the fact that Warren was whimpering.
The woman seemed to understand *something*, and she just grinned. "I know, I know. He probably just wanted you to hold him," she said wickedly.
"Heh heh," Scott said weakly, picking Warren's bags up and ushering the blond out as fast they could go.
Scott dashed towards the men's bathroom, and not caring what anyone said or thought, he pushed Warren in one of the stalls and locked them both in. There was only one man in the bathroom, washing his hands, and he just rolled his eyes, as if seeing two men rush into the same stall happened all the time.
"Warren. Warren, what's wrong?" Scott asked, holding the beautiful man against him.
Warren was trembling, and Scott knew he was trying very hard not to cry. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'll be okay. I'll be okay," he whimpered.
"What happened? Warren, please tell me what's wrong. What was that thing you were holding?" Scott asked apprehensively.
Warren swallowed, clutching Scott's arms, trying to calm himself. He closed his eyes, breathing too quickly. "It was... it was... a cock ring, Scott," he breathed.
Scott blinked. His sexual experience was limited to Jean, and their sex life was rather monotone. If Jean was adventurous, Scott never knew it. "I, um, well, see..." he said, still clueless.
"You put it around the base of your cock when you're hard. It cuts off the blood flow, and you can't cum as easily, so you stay hard a lot longer," Warren said blandly, as if he was reciting a textbook.
It dawned on Scott.
"Callisto..." Scott began and then cut himself off. Like Warren needed someone else to remind him of what he was obviously trying to forget.
Warren nodded and then turned his face away, looking angry now. Scott had learned very quickly that Warren hated crying or appearing weak in front of others. Scott grabbed the blond again and hugged him tight. It seemed to calm Warren.
Scott wondered at his ability to show affection to Warren so easily. Even with Jean, Scott had trouble expressing himself. Maybe it was because Warren reminded him of his dead brother. Maybe it was because Warren was the last person on earth to pass judgment on any of Scott's actions. Maybe it was because Warren reacted just like Scott wanted someone to react, by snuggling against him, and breathing into his collarbone.
Weird.
After a while, Warren pulled back. His eyes were dry, and Scott was impressed. Even Scott himself couldn't refrain from crying that well. Scott smiled down at him.
"Better?" he asked.
Warren nodded, his hands still resting on Scott's chest, playing with his sweater. "Why are you always so cold...? You feel warm," he said, changing the subject.
Scott shrugged. "The Professor said it's because I absorb ambient solar energy, which my body translates into my optic beams. I'm not getting all the warmth I should because my body is directly funneling it out. So I get cold easily. No biggie," he answered, letting everything pass. Warren would talk to him when he was ready.
"We'll buy you a couple jackets to go with your new outfits after dinner, okay?" Warren said, looking up at Scott, and dropping his hands.
"Fine, fine. You sure you want to eat out? We can go back to the mansion."
"I'm fine, Scott. I want to eat here. With you," Warren said seriously, looking at Scott oddly from underneath his blond bangs. Scott swallowed, feeling uncomfortable under that stark blue gaze.
"Okay, then let's go," Scott smiled, and turned to open the door to the stall, finding a couple of startled men outside in the bathroom, who gave both Scott and Warren the eye for emerging from the same stall together.
Warren smiled at them pleasantly, and even slipped an arm around Scott's arm, flouncing his hips just to make them gape. Scott was startled, but realizing what Warren was doing, he just grinned, and like any gentleman, he opened the door graciously for Warren. The pair burst out laughing once they exited the bathroom.
"Did you see the look on their faces? It was hilarious!" Warren snickered.
"Priceless, truly priceless," Scott chuckled. Warren didn't bother to detach himself from Scott, however, and Scott made no effort to detach him, so they walked into the restaurant, arm in arm, receiving some interesting stares from people.
They were seated by the hostess, and another girl came to take their order, staring at them oddly the whole time. Warren demanded to sit in smoking, and to Scott's surprise the man pulled out a box of clove cigarettes.
"Didn't know you smoked," Scott commented after Warren returned from the salad bar, muttering under his breath about cheap salads.
Warren picked up his cigarette and took a puff. "Only when I'm upset," he smiled.
Scott didn't smile back. "I see. I thought you said you were okay," he sighed.
"I am. I just want some nicotine to help me out, okay?" Warren said testily.
Scott just sighed, and said nothing as their appetizer was placed in front of them. Warren finished the cigarette and stared at Scott, his expression guarded, dangerous now. Warren could switch moods faster than Logan could pop his claws.
"Why are you so nice to me anyways? Xavier needed you to baby-sit the crazy new boy, so he told you to be my friend, so I'd want to join your stupid little mutant band or something?" Warren asked petulantly.
Scott looked up and met his eyes, instantly frustrated that he could never look anyone in the eye. "The Professor asked me to look out for you, Warren. But he didn't ask me to be your friend. You did. And I am, and that has nothing to do with Professor Xavier. I like you because you're interesting, and fun to talk to and be with. I'm nice to you because you're my friend," Scott said clearly.
Warren seemed to relax. Scott was nothing if not candid, and Scott had already learned that candor was something Warren appreciated. "Wish I could see your eyes," Warren said distantly.
"So do I, trust me," Scott sighed, munching absently on a mozzarella stick.
"So your girlfriend, Jean, how long have you two dated?" Warren asked nonchalantly, though his gaze was intent. Not for the first time, Scott wondered why Warren always brought up the subject of Jean, at least once a day. Probing for information about her and their relationship.
Scott shrugged. "About six years. Since I was eighteen," he answered, knowing how bad that sounded.
"Well, at least she waited until you were legal," Warren said sourly.
Scott sighed. "For the record, I asked *her* out, not the other way around. I do love her, you know," he sighed, sensitive about Jean. Their relationship had lately turned into friendship with an occasional bout of sex. She spent more time with Logan, and of late, he spent more time with Warren. Where was the heat he used to feel for her? The passion? And why the fuck was she distancing herself from him for Logan?
And why would Warren not leave it alone?
"Are you *in* love with her?" Warren pressed. Scott winced.
The big question. The one he had been avoiding asking himself. Was Scott in love with Jean? Was Jean in love with Scott?
Silence.
"I... don't know anymore," Scott sighed. He couldn't blame it on Logan, not really. They'd been dead-ending since before Logan showed up.
Warren actually looked pleased, and his eyes lit up. Scott was mildly confused by Warren's reaction. Warren couldn't possibly like him, could he?
"Oh," was all Warren said, trying to hide his smile.
The main courses arrived, and Scott dove into his burger with relish, noting that Warren was delicately nibbling on soup and a potato. Scott instantly felt uncouth again, but Warren never said anything about the mustard dribbling down Scott's chin, or the onions hanging out of his burger, or the fact that Scott shoveled things into his mouth.
Scott offered Warren some fries, which Warren gracefully took with a fork, delicately dipping it into the ketchup and daintily eating it. The man's table manners astounded him. How could anyone be neat with French fries? He'd probably eat his burger with a fork and knife. Scott stared with shame at his hand that was covered in burger and fry grease. There was ketchup under his nails.
"Scott, it's not a society dinner. Don't worry about it," Warren snickered, noting how Scott was acting.
Scott grinned sheepishly and finished his dinner. They split a dessert, and Scott was even pleased that Warren was not afraid to spoon fight with him over the last few bites. Scott gave up under Warren's vicious spoon assault, and let the winged mutant have the last of it.
As promised, Warren purchased two new jackets for Scott and his new clothes. Scott wondered if the Professor could afford all this. Warren apparently knew nothing about budgets. But, what the hell.
Both men were relatively content when they got onto Scott's souped up motorcycle. Scott firmly attached their purchases to the back of the bike, and hopped in front, speeding away from the mall and the people. An instant sense of relief flooded both men once they entered the long tree-lined drive to the mansion. It seemed as if they were alone. Warren's arms tightened around Scott's torso, and Scott found himself enjoying the sensation of Warren's face buried in the back of his shoulder.
"You like going fast?" Scott asked, shouting to be heard over the wind.
"Sure!" Warren shouted back.
Scott grinned and pressed a button on his bike, sending both men into speeds well into the two-hundred realm. Warren whooped and clung to Scott for dear life, as Scott clung to his bike, grinning happily. He loved taking his motorcycle to the limit.
He slowed down as they approached the mansion, not wanting to accidentally go through one of the walls at this speed. Warren was grinning ear to ear. "When my wings are better, I'll match you on your bike!" he cried.
"Like hell you can fly that fast!" Scott shouted.
"Like hell I *can*! You'll see!" Warren said with glee.
Scott pulled up to the mansion drive near midnight, and realized that Jean was standing out there waiting for him, a frown on her pretty face. Logan stood beside her, and he wore a sort of smirk on his face. Scott slowed down, the smile wiped from his face.
"Scott Summers! Why didn't you tell me you left? I went crazy looking for you! We had a training session this evening with the kids, and you never showed! And we were supposed to have dinner!" Jean scolded, sounding frighteningly maternal.
Warren stiffened behind Scott and stepped off the bike, looking between Jean and Scott. "Good night, Scott. See you tomorrow," he said in a subdued voice, his good mood erased. Warren crept away, and Scott watched him leave wishing *he* could avoid this little lover's quarrel as easily.
Scott sighed and stepped off his bike as well, facing Jean and hanging his head. He had actually *forgotten* about the training session and dinner with Jean. Scott was the type of man who even remembered anniversaries and birthdays.
"Jean, I'm sorry," Scott began, turning red, noting Logan's insufferable smirk. He felt instantly ashamed of his day with Warren, a day spent being the young man he really was, rather than the old man everyone thought he was.
"Sorry?? Scott, how irresponsible can you be? All those kids were depending on you! I was depending on you! This isn't like you, Scott. You're acting like, like..." Jean said sharply. A look of mild rebellion crept across Scott's face.
"Like a twenty-four-year-old who wanted to go out and hang out with his friends? Fuck off, Jean, that's what I am. The training session was extracurricular, and I'm sure you did fine on your own. As for dinner, I'm sure Logan filled in quite well for me. From what I've seen, the only thing he hasn't done in my place yet is fuck you, unless you've started that already, too," Scott spat, instantly angry. All the doubts that had been brewing came to the forefront of his mind, and Logan's insufferable smirk over Scott's absences just rubbed him the wrong way.
"Scott, I..." Jean's eyes opened wide. "Scott, we're not... We're just friends. That's like saying Warren and you are sleeping together."
"Maybe I should start," Scott replied, enjoying the shocked look on Logan's face. "At least Warren enjoys my company enough that I don't have to schedule a damn dinner with him just to get some attention."
And with that rejoinder, Scott stalked away from Jean.***
"She kick you out?"
"I kicked myself out," Scott said darkly, flipping the television channels with the remote. His pillows and blankets were spread about on the couch he was sitting on.
Warren moved aside one of the pillows and sat beside Scott. "Why didn't you go to one of the spare bedrooms, instead of camping out in the rec room?" Warren asked.
"I had to leave my TV in the room with her. And I want to watch Leno." Actually, Scott wasn't sure if he wanted to be gone the whole night, much less do something drastic like move out to another bedroom.
"You're in a pissy mood. Did you two fight?"
"To put it mildly. We've been fighting since you left. She followed me to our bedroom, even when I tried to walk away. She's really pissed. Says I'm acting like a child," Scott breathed, frowning deeply.
"Well, you are. You should talk to her about your problems, Scott. Exploding at her all of a sudden, and with no warning, will take you nowhere. You need to calmly discuss what the problem is, so you can work it out," Warren replied.
"How am I supposed to talk to her when she spends all her damn time with Logan?" Scott growled, his temper flaring as he sat next to Warren, Leno forgotten.
"Maybe you're not giving *her* enough attention."
"But I do. I try. I don't know. I don't know if I'm in love with her anymore, Warren, and I don't know if maybe I just want her to leave me and be with Logan. Maybe I just want it all to end. I just don't know," Scott breathed, turning to Warren, his only confidant in the whole mansion. All the other X-Men were at least five years older than he was, and expected him to be the rock-solid leader. He had to be, if he wanted their respect. Otherwise he'd just be some stupid kid who was in charge and shouldn't be. And all the others were too young, and Scott had to be their role model on top of everything else.
But with Warren, there was no expectations. He didn't have to be perfect for Warren.
"Then you need to find out, Scott," Warren said calmly, turning to watch the television.
"Yeah. I guess I do. You'd think I'd be good at introspection, but I'm not. Don't have time for it," Scott sighed.
"Make time. Take a walk. Be by yourself for a while. No Jean, no me, no X-Men. Then if you need me for a sounding board, you know where I am," Warren offered.
"I guess. I guess I do need to think about it, but I don't want to right now. I'm still pissed."
"Understandable."
"So what are you doing in the rec room this late at night?"
"Trying not to go to sleep."
Scott turned to the man beside him, studying Warren's perfect profile in the light of the television screen. There was pain in that beautiful face, a pain Warren was trying to hide.
"Nightmares again?" Scott asked gently. Warren had been having nightmares every night, and the sound of him screaming would often wake Scott up. He would only calm down when Scott came in to comfort him. And after having an episode like today, Scott knew Warren would be afraid to sleep.
It was awkward for Scott, at first, to hold a grown man like a child, and try to soothe him, but the awkwardness quickly wore off. Scott understood how much Warren needed comforting, more than maybe anyone else in the mansion. Logan had come running, his claws popped out and ready for battle, the first night. But for the past few nights, Scott would often find Logan crouching near Warren's door when he arrived, listening to Warren cry and scream, almost as if he was making sure that Scott would go in there to comfort the winged mutant. Scott wasn't really sure what to make of that.
Warren shrugged in answer, his lips tightening. Scott felt an instant surge of sympathy for Warren. Scott, himself, knew how bad nightmares could get.
"Do you want me... to sleep with you tonight?" Scott asked tentatively.
Warren turned to Scott, raising a delicate eyebrow. Scott blushed, suddenly realizing what he just said.
"Um, er, I mean, well, not like-"
"Yes."
//So much for making up with Jean tonight,// Scott thought, wondering if he should be bothered by this fact. Part of him felt he should make up with her, but part of him just wanted to leave it like it was, and let it fall apart. He was a man who could make a decision about life or death, but he couldn't decide what he wanted with Jean. But now he had more important things to worry about.
Like comforting a friend.The step from Scott coming in the middle of the night to offer comfort to all out sharing a bed him was rather disconcerting for Warren.
Scott was huddled under three blankets and Warren's comforter, and yet he was still shivering. He slept on his side of the bed, not touching Warren. It was rather like sleeping with one's brother.
Of course, now that Scott was in bed with him, Warren couldn't sleep. But he didn't mind. He dreaded the nightmares. And the only thing that ever seemed to make them go away was Scott.
Having someone sleep in his bed, with no prospect or even a desire for sex was very odd to Warren. But having Scott on the other side, away from him, made Warren feel alone anyways. He wanted warmth, human contact. He wanted Scott's comfort. He might be able to sleep then.
Warren rolled over against Scott's shivering form, and drew his arms around the dark-haired man. Scott stiffened, surprised, but relaxed, letting Warren draw their bodies together. Apparently he didn't mind being Warren's make-shift teddy bear, and even rolled around to face him.
"Cold?" Warren asked, stretching out against Scott's lean, firm body, wrapping his arms around Scott and drawing a wing over him.
"Yes, thank you," Scott breathed. He felt so warm to Warren, and the fact that he was cold was so odd. But then again being a mutant was odd. Having wings sprout from your back was certainly odd.
Warren snuggled against Scott, burying his face in Scott's neck, pleased at how well he fit against him. He could definitely get used to sleeping beside this warm, comforting man. Very used to it. Learn to need it even.
"Nice to have a friend," Scott mumbled absently, half-asleep.
"Yes, it's very nice to have a friend, Scott," Warren whispered, as Scott drifted off, snoring ever so lightly.
Of course, falling in love with said friend could complicate matters.***
"Well, this will be your classroom."
Warren looked around, approving of his surroundings. His room was large, filled with glass windows, and very classic looking. He liked rooms that left you room to breathe and to spread your wings. Literally.
"Not bad, Scott. So who's my first class?" Warren asked, placing his books and the curriculum he had been writing on his large oak desk.
"The older kids. Jubilee, Kitty, Fred, St. John, Bobby, Dominic and Rogue," Scott answered dumping the box of stuff Warren needed on his desk. "You'll be teaching them French first, business last. The Professor said it'd be better for you to deal with the older kids, so you'll only have to worry about them this term, that way you have time for training in the Danger Room with us."
"Rogue?" Warren asked, noting the code name entered into the list of real names. Well, assuming Jubilation Lee was a real name, which Warren had severe doubts about.
"She's refused to give a real name. Keep an eye on her. She has the ability to absorb people's powers and personalities at a touch. Uncontrollable. Sometimes the kids will get rough, and if they touch her..." Scott shrugged. Warren could fill in the blanks.
"Damn. And I thought I had it rough," Warren said with sympathy. He didn't think he'd have been able to cope with the past month if it hadn't been for Scott's willingness to offer him affection when he needed it. It had been tentative and rare at first, but lately, Scott had even taken to sleeping with him constantly, to help with the nightmares he had often. Hugs and caresses were freely given, but only in private. But Warren took no offense, because Scott was a very private man.
Of course, Scott's indecision about Jean, and Jean's indecision about Scott was driving him nuts. Despite Warren's talk with Scott, neither one of them wanted to take responsibility to work out their problems, so they were stuck with the status quo, which was quickly deteriorating. Scott had decided to move out to his own room, even though he spent most of the nights holding Warren. While Warren enjoyed having Scott to himself, he wanted there to be a sense of finality between Scott and Jean. He wanted to press Scott, to question him. To ask him, maybe, possibly, if one of the reasons Scott found it so easy to share a bed with him, a gay man, was because... if maybe he might...
It was hard to nail Scott. Scott was not affectionate by nature, except to Jean in the past, so how quickly their comfort level of hugs and being held had developed led Warren to believe maybe that there was hope for some sort of romance. Of course, Scott could just think of him as a brother, another proxy for his long-lost and much-yearned-for Alex Summers. Nothing past cuddling and snuggling had ever progressed in the bed they shared. But there were reasons for that, as well. Warren wasn't ready to handle sex, even if it was with a man. And Scott might not be interested. Did Scott care for him like a brother? Or as a potential lover? Warren wanted to know, wanted to peg Scott for what he really was, but he couldn't just come out and ask. He might scare Scott off, and that was the last thing Warren wanted. He'd rather Jean and Scott get married and have children than potentially lose the only real, true friend he ever had.
"-and she seems to have a crush on Logan. Christ, does every woman in this place have a thing for him? I think even Ororo likes him, for crying out loud," Scott was saying when Warren tuned back in.
"He has some sort of animal magnetism to match his powers, I'd wager. Attracts the women, but puts men off. Even Professor Xavier, if you noticed," Warren noted. Logan was attractive, but something about him just made Warren dislike him. And just about every other man who met him.
"Lucky bastard," Scott sighed.
Warren stiffened. "But if you had that sort of animal magnetism, then I wouldn't like you."
"A point. Aw, he can keep his fucking animal magnetism," Scott groused, obviously in a foul mood this morning. No doubt to do with him running into Jean and Logan at breakfast. Together. As always.
"That's pretty much what it amounts to. 'Fucking animal magnetism'," Warren quipped.
Scott snickered and Warren pulled out a pair of glasses and put them on. They were delicate and gold-rimmed, and suited his face.
"What's with the four eyes, War?" Scott asked.
"Thought they made me look more intelligent. Now that I'm a teacher and all, I have to act the part, see," Warren smiled. Between Scott and therapy with the Professor, he'd come a long way.
Scott snickered and at that point, students came pouring in. Scott got off Warren's desk, taking on his usual stern look. Various youths in their late teens took seats, and after one look at Warren, all the girls started fighting over the front row.
"They didn't fight over the front desk with me," Scott commented wryly, watching Jubilee, Kitty, and Rogue fight over the same seat, the one directly in front of Warren's desk.
Warren grinned, looking over at Scott. Scott was *gorgeous*. Dark brown hair, and a face chiseled to classic masculine beauty. A pretty boy without loss of masculinity, unlike Warren. He was of average height, but his body looked sculpted by Michelangelo, full of lines and curves and toned muscles that Warren could only admire. Warren, while stronger than most humans, had very little visible muscle tone, tending towards the slender, "angel" look. How could these girls not fight over the front seat of Scott's class?
And then Warren noted the imposing look on Scott's face. He was like stone, and wouldn't budge an inch. He didn't look like the type of man who would tolerate girls and their ridiculous infatuations.
Warren smiled, noting that the dark-haired Chinese girl, Jubilee no doubt, had won. "That's because I don't look at them like I'm considering which one of them I'm going to feed piece by piece to Sabretooth," Warren whispered.
"See, and you say you haven't gotten any better," Scott smirked.
An overweight youth with sandy hair came in, rubbing absently at his flushed face. He took a seat in the back, looked over at Warren and dropped his Twinkie on the ground doing a double take. Next was a burly-looking young man, who had more hair on his body than Wolverine. And then two teenage gods walked in the door, making Warren's eyebrows rise.
One was almost as tall as Scott, filling in *very* nicely in the muscle department, and who would probably grow more. He had dark blonde-brown hair, and sparkling blue eyes set in a beautiful face. Beside him was a smaller, slender youth with an almost feminine face and blond hair. He looked definitively sly to Warren, with a certain undeniable smirk on his pretty face. The pair of them were drop-dead gorgeous, and were leaning close to each other, whispering fervently. Their whispering ceased and they stared at Warren as they picked their seat in the middle row.
Rogue and Kitty reluctantly sat to either side of Jubilee, all three with identical looks of infatuation. Warren sighed inwardly, but offered a smile to the whole class. A month ago, these three looking at him like this would have caused him to tear off in fear, but now it was easily ignored.
"Good morning, class. I'm sure you've seen him around, but I would like to officially introduce you to Angel, the newest addition to the X-Men. In class you will refer to him as Mr. Worthington, and the same rules for disobedience or misbehavior, St. John, apply to him as with any other teacher. He will be teaching you both French and Business, so listen up. And don't worry about him punishing you. I'll deal with it, personally," Scott said sternly, causing Warren to look at him. Scott was protecting him. How cute.
It seemed to have the desired effect, because all the students looked properly chagrined at the idea of Mr. Summers reading them the riot act. Scott nodded to Warren and mouthed the words "good luck" and headed out the door, leaving Warren facing a group of teenagers.
//Oh joy,// he thought.
"So... can we see those wings of yours, Mr. Worthington?" one of the teenage gods asked him, the same cool smirk on his face. He reminded Warren of how he used to act, long ago, before Callisto.
Warren spread his wings, which he had folded behind his back. The class gasped at their size and beauty, and even the arrogant blond looked suitably impressed. He leaned over and whispered something to the other teenage god, who just grinned, revealing dimples.
"Well, I'd like to get to know all of you first. This will be the French class, which is slightly more personal than the Business course. After all, it is the language of love." The girls all giggled and blushed. Warren cleared his throat, wishing they would stop doing that.
"Well, my name is Warren Worthington III. My father is Mr. Worthington, so call me Warren, no matter what Scooter says," Warren grinned, noting the class busted up at his reference to Scott as "Scooter". The sly blond's eyes in particular twinkled at that.
"So tell me what your names and your powers are, going around the room. Let's start with you, young lady," Warren said, pointing to slim girl with shoulder-length brown hair. He found referring to a girl only three or four years his junior as "young lady" amusing.
"Kitty. Kitty Pryde, sir. I can phase through solid objects... become intangible, like a ghost," the girl blushed and giggled and would no doubt gloat later to her friends about being the first he called on.
Warren nodded and motioned for them to continue naming themselves. The girl who had won the prized seat grinned. "Jubilation Lee, though my friends call me Jubilee. I can create small plasma bursts, kinda like fireworks, and they're real pretty like, too. I like to-"
"That'll do, Jubilee. Next?" Warren interrupted.
"Rogue. I absorb the powers and personalities of anyone I touch with my skin," the brown-haired girl with a white streak replied. She didn't seem too thrilled by it, either.
Warren nodded, giving her a look of sympathy. The next one was one of the teenage gods.
"My name's Bobby Drake, and I can create and control ice," the taller boy with the incredible blue eyes and heart-breaking smile said.
Warren turned to the second teenage god. "St. John Allerdyce. I can do this," he smirked, pulling out a lighter and shaping the fire to look like Warren himself, to size and everything. Warren was duly impressed by the boy's power. He couldn't create, but he could manipulate, and apparently increase. But Warren knew something about arrogant teenagers and showing off.
"Pyrokinetics. Lovely. Two demerits for disobeying me, by displaying your power, rather than telling, and for risking a fire that could burn down this classroom. Any other tricks like that, Mr. Allerdyce, and I'll give you detention. With Mr. Summers," Warren smirked. St. John looked startled, not expecting the beautiful new teacher to be strict.
"Next?" Warren asked blithely, noting how St. John and Bobby instantly conferred quietly on this.
"Fred Dukes, sir. I, um, well, I'm kinda strong and my... fat... makes me pretty invulnerable to everything," Fred said with a blush, and Warren didn't miss the cruel smirk on the burly boy's face. No doubt Fred was invulnerable to everything but his classmate's jibes about his weight.
"What a useful power, Fred. To be invulnerable. I envy you," Warren said smoothly, which caused a surprised and happy smile to spread across Fred's features.
"And you, last but not least?" he asked, turning to the last student.
"Dominic Petros. I can make the earth move, and shake, and create landslides, avalanches, and tremors, and such-like," said the burly young man in the back.
"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you all. I'll suppose I'll start by asking if any of you know any French. Any of you know even a little?" Warren asked.
St. John spoke up, his smirk starting to wear on Warren's nerves. Something needed to take the blond youth's ego down a notch or two. The constant reminder of Warren's selfish and arrogant teenage years was not improving his temper.
"I can understand French, but I only speak a little. So I don't think I need to do as much work as the others," he said blithely. Bobby's eyes widened and he grinned at St. John's attempt to get out of work.
"Really now? So let's try this out, then," Warren said, narrowing his eyes. St. John was very sly. Scott was right. Not a bad kid, just stuck on himself. And showing off. For who? Warren's eyes were inevitably drawn to Bobby, wondering, but no, that was just his own personal feelings, he really should stop looking at everyone and wondering if they're gay, or have gay tendencies, too. That was his problem with Scott. He needed to stop imagining things.
~"Go... for... it..."~ St. John said haltingly. Well, he did know a little French.
Warren smiled. ~"Do you understand what I'm saying?"~ Warren said quickly, as fluent in French as any native.
"Oui," St. John replied.
~"Do you like football?"~ Warren asked, impressed. Maybe St. John wasn't showing off this time.
"Oui."
~"Do you like Hot Topic?"~
"Oui."
~"Do you like taking advanced mathematics class with Cyclops?"~ Warren asked, trying out something more advanced.
"Oui."
//Somehow I doubt he enjoys math with Scott,// Warren mused, positive he had caught St. John now. ~"Do you like dancing around in nothing but socks and a lamp shape on your head?"~
"Oui."
It was definitely fishy. Warren would get him now. ~"Do you have hot, wild, freaky sex with Bobby Drake on a constant basis, with no end in sight?"~
"Oui."
Oh, Warren had him now. ~"And you and Bobby are going exclusive, and have every intention of retiring to San Francisco to live the life as a couple together for the rest of your lives?"~
"Oui."
Warren couldn't help himself, he had to laugh. And try not to think of the two teenaged gods having hot, wild, freaky sex, which was admittedly an interesting mental portrait, and one he'd treasure later on. The class looked at him in confusion. Except for St. John, who was grinning ear to ear.
"Somehow, Mr. Allerdyce, I think you need to take this class and study as hard as everyone else. I won't needlessly embarrass you, but I assure you that you just admitted to some pretty scandalous things," Warren chuckled, and ordered them to open their French books.
The class was actually fun for Warren, and he had to admit, he enjoyed teaching both classes to the teenagers. They were interesting in their own ways, even the girls. Business could have easily lost the entire class, but Warren used a sense of humor, and his own strong experience to keep it interesting. The class paid attention, even St. John, who would offer smart-ass comments on a regular basis. Despite the smirk, Warren found himself liking St. John. You just couldn't be annoyed with him for long. The class liked Warren, finally having found that rare and treasured teacher who would let a student speak their mind, but didn't take any bullshit.
So Warren gratefully sank into his chair when both classes were over, pleased that it went well. The students filed out, waving good-bye to him. He was almost working his way past the girl's silly infatuation with his looks, and considered that progress. At least they weren't air-headed. If they were air-headed, he'd never work past it.
Warren went to lift his books, knowing he now had an intense combat training session with both Cyclops *and* Wolverine ahead of him. A shadow fell over him, and Warren looked up into St. John's grinning face. Bobby stood just behind him, smiling.
"By the way, Mr. Worthington," St. John said slyly, emphasizing Warren's position on purpose, "were those questions something a teacher should ask his underage students?"
Warren raised an eyebrow. "Of course," he said, wondering if St. John was trying to bait him somehow.
"Oh, okay. Just checking. You won't tell anyone about my and Bobby's little secret, will you? I couldn't bear my fellow classmates to think I was exclusively gay with him. It would ruin our retirement to San Francisco," St. John asked smugly.
Warren's eyes widened. So St. John *had* understood him. "Your secret's safe with me," he grinned. St. John and Bobby both flashed him an impish grin and left the classroom, leaving Warren with very inappropriate mental imagery.
Warren wondered idly if St. John was serious or not.***
Outside the mansion grounds...
The purple-haired woman known only as Psylocke smiled grimly, packing her notes away. She had quite a bit of information about the mansion now, thanks to her telepathic invisibility.
She headed back a mile away, to where Domino, and the rest of strike team awaited her. Domino was waiting calmly by the stealth plane they were using. The pale assassin offered the violet-haired telepath a feral smile.
Speaking of feral...
A low growl, and a nasty gleam of yellow cat eyes caught Psylocke's attention for a moment, but she ignored Feral, who was swishing her tail anxiously.
"Where's the rest of the team?" Psylocke asked. She knew better than to fuck around with Domino's head.
"Scouting. What do you have?"
"No good to attack the mansion. You wouldn't believe the amount of alphas they got in there, Dom. That Professor alone gives me the creeps. We're going to have to wait until the mark comes out," Psylocke answered.
"The boss wants him dead, but I think we could make more money if we sold him to a private owner. You've seen what a beauty he is. Unless Callisto fucked him up when she was having her fun with him," Domino said calmly.
Psylocke shrugged. "No, he's still quite a prize. Fetch a damn high price. The problem is now that he has friends..." she sighed.
"I know. So we zero them. No big deal. Money's worth it," Domino shrugged. "And if it doesn't work out, we'll just kill the little angel. No skin off our backs either way."
Psylocke knew better than to argue with Domino. Arguing with Domino was always a Bad Idea. She just nodded her head. Smile and nod and you'll be paid well, that was the drill.
But she couldn't shake the nasty feeling that they were over-looking something.