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 Interlude - Strange Valentines
By Askani'daughter
He hadn't been expecting a Valentine.
Granted, it was Valentine's Day, but Bobby Drake couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten a Valentine. What was it second, third grade?
Regardless, when Bobby woke on February 14th, he was very pleased to discover a Valentine's Day card slipped under his door. It was nice to know somebody was thinking of him. The fact that it was probably some girl he had no interest in was pointless. *Any*one with an interest in him was a much needed ego booster.
It was made of very pretty heart-shaped red foil, and when Bobby opened it, there was a rather unusual message contained within:I don't know how, I don't know why,
But I can't stop myself from dreaming of you.
I want you close to me, any way we can.
I see your sweet face, your lips, your eyes,
I want to tell you how I feel, but no matter how true,
The fact of the matter is that I'm a man.Bobby blinked. Well, at least that narrowed down who his secret admirer was, right? It didn't phase him that it was a guy. What's the point of being gay if you're going to get freaked out when another guy sends you a Valentine? No, what phased Bobby Drake was that of all the men at Xavier's Institute, he couldn't think of one who could string a sentence together in a pleasing fashion, much less form a small poem. The fact that it was corny as hell was of little consequence. It still qualified as poetry.
Bobby tried to reflect on all the men in the mansion while he took his shower and dressed. There was St. John Allerdyce, his best friend, but St. John only liked girls, at least Bobby thought he only liked girls. There was Remy LeBeau, the new guy, but the self-styled Don Juan couldn't be more heterosexual if he was Scott Summers. There was of course Mr. Summers, but Bobby couldn't even begin to fathom the strict X-Men leader as anything but completely straight. There was Dr. McCoy, but not only was he not there, but he had a girlfriend. There was the new X-Man, Logan, but not only did he come off as the last bastion of macho heterosexuality, but the thought of someone like Logan liking Bobby was mildly terrifying. There was Fred Dukes, but not only was that a little gross, but Fred obviously had a huge crush on Rogue. There was Dominic Petros, but Dominic rivaled Logan for the Machismo Prize. There was Warren Worthington, his new French and business teacher, but as nice as the thought of someone as beautiful as the blond man liking him was, it was out of the question. He doubted the blond angel knew there was life outside of Scott Summers. There was Mr. Cassidy, but Mr. Cassidy had a wife, and was old enough to be Bobby's father.
Well, that didn't leave him with a whole lot of viable male options. There was the younger classmen, but Bobby didn't think any of them were old enough to even understand homosexuality, much less have a crush on him.
Okay, this line of thinking was taking him nowhere. If he assumed that all the men in the mansion were straight, how did he explain his valentine? *Somebody* had to be gay, bi, whatever. He needed to review this *again* and more closely.
Bobby pulled on a pair of jeans, and blue Deftones t-shirt he swiped from St. John's stash of clothing. He slapped some mousse in his dark blond hair, styling it into his customary spikes. All the while he made himself presentable, he reconsidered the men in the mansion.
Okay, let's start with St. John. John was his best friend. They constantly joked about being gay, and would often carry on, and fool people, but was St. John really interested? As close as they were, wouldn't St. John be able to *tell* Bobby that he liked him, and not play this silly mysterious Valentine game? They'd been best friends since John had been brought into the mansion a few years ago, his clothes burned and charred, his hazel eyes wide in fear. Inseparable, like twins. Every form of mischief they got into, they did together. If St. John burned something, Bobby froze something, and vice versa, on pure principle. They even took turns flirting with Rogue, despite the fact that Bobby had no real sexual interest in the girl, and when it came down to it, he'd let John have her. Somehow, John was the guy who made Bobby feel human, right when his mutant powers had left him feeling like an abandoned freak. Bobby and Johnny, the incredible duo. Bobby knew he wouldn't be able to cope with the distancing, the abandonment of his parents, or anything else if John wasn't there to support him, and vice versa. So couldn't John just come out and *say* he liked Bobby?
No, that didn't wash. Bobby certainly liked St. John, but *he* couldn't come out and say it. It was fun to joke with John, but the one time they had kissed in front of Jubilee, just to gross her out, had convinced Bobby that sort of activity was not conducive to a platonic relationship. Bobby would give his right testicle to be with John, but he couldn't *say* that. If John rejected him, Bobby knew he'd be crushed, and he couldn't risk their friendship like that. So St. John was an option, and a very pleasant one at that. In fact, he was Bobby's favorite option.
But he couldn't just stop there. There were others. There was definitely the new guy. Remy LeBeau had yet to be put into any classes, or join the X-Men. He was older than Bobby by two years, being nineteen, but obviously too young and not educated enough to be a teacher. Remy seemed to be Ms. Munroe's pet project. While Mr. Summers spent all his time with Mr. Worthington (what was up with that anyway?), and Dr. Grey spent all her time with Logan, Ms. Munroe devoted herself to Remy. She had found Remy about ready to be shot just for shoplifting some food, because of his odd, mutant eyes. She saved him, and brought him back to the mansion. Remy seemed out of the group, living on the fringes, which seemed to suit him just fine. And he flirted with Ms. Munroe, who was ten years older than he was, shamelessly. He flirted with Rogue just as bad.
But he flirted with Bobby and John, too, come to think of it. Of course, he could just be one of the flirtatious types who loved people. But maybe he was bisexual? He wasn't so bad. In fact, Remy, even with his sinister red irises set in black eyes, was drop-dead gorgeous. He seemed to have this ability to make people like him, which made Bobby a little suspicious. *And* the Cajun thief spoke French, and wasn't that supposed to be the language of love? Which would go with the poetry thing.
Well, John spoke French too, not very well, but he understood it. Enough to screw around with Warren Worthington's head. Bobby grinned and whistled mischievously as he walked towards the dining room for breakfast. Warren, no doubt, had a very interesting image of Bobby and John in his head by now. What was surprising was that the blond teacher had not acted disgusted, just surprised, and a little intrigued. Bobby wondered about him. And he wondered about Warren and Mr. Summers. But, no, Mr. Summers couldn't possibly be...
Well, that took him to another level. What if it was one of his teachers? Mr. Summers was *gorgeous*, but he was also in a position of authority over Bobby. As nice as the idea of Mr. Summers naked was, the thought of *doing* anything with him was a little disconcerting, and it made Bobby nervous. Even though he doubted Mr. Summers was into that sort of thing, it conjured up images of chains and whips, and Bobby did *not* like that sort of thing at *all*. And Bobby considered Mr. Summers as father material, even if the guy was only seven years older than himself. Mr. Summers was *that* mature.
Of course, it didn't discount the *possibility* that his Valentine was one of his teachers. But Mr. Summers? No, if Mr. Summers *did* like men, Bobby was positive it wouldn't be for him. No, Bobby was confident that if Mr. Summers ever wanted to go to bat for the other team, it would be with Warren. As it was, they seemed awful close, and Bobby had heard they were *sleeping* together. He wondered if maybe Mr. Summers and Warren really were...
Argh! Now the idea of Warren and Mr. Summers was screwing with *his* head. He and John had played tricks on Warren, but now the table was turned, and Bobby often wondered about those two. Nice imagery, though. Very nice imagery. Bobby could easily imagine them...
As he entered the dining room, he decided now was not the time for conjuring up the mental picture of Warren and Mr. Summers getting their freak on. Bobby grinned at everyone, paying special attention to the male faces at the table. St. John grinned at him, and motioned him over, and Remy flashed him one of those charming smiles. Dominic didn't even look up from chowing down, and Fred gave him a sad smile.
"Happy Valentine's Day, sugar!" Rogue said cheerfully. She was wearing a red dress, and had a little heart necklace on. St. John was giving her the eye, which caused Bobby to frown momentarily, before flashing the Southern belle a grin.
"Happy V-Day, girl. Who's your Valentine?" he asked politely, sitting next to Jubilee and Kitty, who were conversing about whether Mr. Summers or Logan was sexier. Bobby silently put in his vote for Mr. Summers. Logan terrified him.
Rogue's face fell, and she nervously mashed her eggs with a fork. "Um, well, no one really," she said quietly.
"Well, don't feel bad. I got an anonymous Valentine. I'm so undesirable, no one wants to tell me to my face they like me," Bobby said quickly. John snapped his head over to Bobby, studying him intensely. Remy raised an eyebrow. Fred frowned, and Dominic looked like he didn't care.
Rogue smiled weakly, and took a bite of her squished eggs. "They'll probably tell you later, sugar. In private," she said mischievously.
"Riiiiiight. In private," Bobby grinned. He then turned to Johnny and wrapped his arms around his best friend. "Right, Johnny? You and me? In private?"
Normally, John would laugh and hug him back, saying something incredibly risque`. Their relationship was an old joke between them, and they loved messing with everyone's head, making people wonder if they were really gay or not. But St. John shrugged him off angrily.
"Get off me, man," John snapped, looking cross. Bobby withdrew, blinking in mild shock. Since when did John get all hyper-sensitive about Bobby hanging off of him?
Okay, so that ruled John out. Bobby frowned. He had been hoping it was John, too. He tried not to be hurt, and failed. Who was John trying to impress? Rogue? He couldn't even touch her!
Jubilee and Kitty conferred with each other quietly, and Rogue blinked, so used to Bobby and John's flirting. Remy raised an auburn eyebrow, and Fred choked on his orange juice. Dominic alone looked relieved. He hated homosexuality, even in jest.
Bobby tried to pretend he wasn't hurt, and started joking with Rogue, flashing her his best grin. Dimples and all. She looked between him and Johnny for a moment before joining in. Bobby ignored his best friend the rest of the meal. John was sulking about something. He was almost as good at that as Mr. Summers.
When breakfast was over, they started classes. Bobby half-listened in Ms. Munroe's class, her droning voice boring him to near sleep. He hated history. Instead of the Renaissance, Bobby was thinking about who else could have sent him a Valentine.
John was no longer a possibility, and Bobby had ruled Mr. Summers out. On the same merit, he could rule Warren out. Bobby wondered about Warren's sexual preference, because during class he unconsciously paid more attention to the boys than the girls. Unconsciously called them first, remembered their names first, listened to them more intently. Looked at them differently. But if Warren was really gay, and if he liked anybody, it would be Mr. Summers, without a doubt. In fact, Bobby would have placed money on the fact that Warren had a thing for Mr. Summers. But Bobby was *so* not going to go there. At least not in class. Maybe when he was alone, in private, he could imagine...
"Bobby!"
Bobby snapped back to reality and grinned foolishly at Ms. Munroe. Dominic sat beside him and was grinning nastily. John didn't even glance back at him. This was the only class he and John didn't sit together in, because Ms. Munroe didn't let them, knowing their tendency to talk to each other rather than listen.
"Yes, Ms. Munroe?" Bobby asked innocently.
"For the third time, I would like you to answer why Michelangelo sculpted the statue of David," Ms, Munroe asked, her nostrils flaring in irritation.
Bobby tried not to hate Ms. Munroe. Not only did he hate history, but why did she ask him such a loaded question? As if he wanted to embarrass himself by saying he privately thought Michelangelo was gay, and wanted to make sculptures of hot naked guys. Other than that, he had no clue. Even advanced mathematics with Mr. Summers was more enjoyable than Ms. Munroe's boring history lessons. Even though Mr. Summers was just as strict, if not stricter, Bobby enjoyed the view. Like when Mr. Summers would turn around and stretch up to write some difficult equation on the board, flexing his back muscles, leaving his perfect curve of an ass for all to view. Oh, yes, even mathematics had its perks, but history-
"Bobby!! What's wrong with you today??" Ms. Munroe cried.
Damn, his mind wandered again. What was he supposed to say now? I'm sorry, Ms. Munroe, but my hormones are overactive today, and instead of answering your question, I was picturing Mr. Summers' ass. Yeah, that would go over well.
"Um, I don't know, Ms. Munroe. On both accounts," Bobby said sheepishly.
"Two demerits. Now pay attention!"
The pretty black woman prattled on about Michelangelo, and Bobby completely tuned her out, but made the scribbles on his paper, pretending he was an attentive, good little student. Who was actually drawing St. John in anime style, completely naked, and-
Bobby crumpled up that paper. No sense in that now. John obviously was tired of their little games. He just hoped John wasn't tired of their friendship.
Much to Bobby's annoyance, Ms. Munroe had taken over one of Mr. Summers' classes. The leader of the X-Men had an important mission to take care of with Professor Xavier. Mr. Cassidy had taken over the others. Bobby slogged through the rest of the classes, not even being able to enjoy seeing his favorite teacher. Even Warren, his second favorite, seemed distant and preoccupied, giving them a lot of bookwork, rather than getting involved with the class, or lecturing. The blond angel kept fidgeting with his shirt, and staring out the window, as if waiting for something... or someone.
Bobby went back to wondering who could have given him his Valentine. John, Mr. Summers, and Warren were completely out of the question. Dominic had to be out of the question as well. Anybody that homophobic wouldn't be writing Valentine poetry to Bobby. Fred was a possibility, but Bobby wrinkled his nose in disgust. Maybe it was shallow, but Bobby had no desire for someone *that* obese. And besides, Fred really *did* seem to like Rogue, because he'd been making eyes at her *all* day long.
The other potential suitors seemed ridiculous. Logan? Gay? Please. The guy obviously had the hots for Dr. Grey. Much to Rogue's jealousy and disgust. Of course, there were moments when Bobby wondered if Logan maybe liked Rogue, too, but that just led to a very confusing love triangle, and when you threw Mr. Summers and Warren into the mix, it made Bobby's head want to explode. Anybody else seemed out of place, or preposterous.
It seemed most likely to be Remy then. It *had* to be. Once classes let out and the group conglomerated around the dinner table, Bobby turned all his attentions to Remy LeBeau.
The Cajun thief was certainly handsome. He was tall, lanky, and had an incredible build. He was good-looking enough to be classified as pretty, but the little bit of stubble on his chin, and the sly look on his face kept him from any sort of feminine description. The words "sensual", "sexy", and "seductive" sprung to Bobby's mind to describe Remy appropriately. Remy noticed the attention he was receiving and flashed Bobby a wicked grin.
And yet, despite Remy's beauty, Bobby couldn't force away his disappointment about John. Short-lived, but it had been such a *nice* fantasy...
Bobby wondered if he should approach Remy, but before he got into any serious internal discussions on the matter, he felt St. John grab his elbow.
Bobby looked down at his best friend, flashing him a dimpled grin, determined to choke down his disappointment. He wasn't going to let it ruin his friendship. He wasn't. So John didn't like him. He had to deal with that, or risk losing the person who meant more to him than anyone else in the whole world.
"Hey, Bobby... sorry I got so upset with you earlier. I was... I just get tired of playing around, you know?" John said staring at the ground, rather than Bobby. Bobby hadn't even realized how much taller he'd grown than Johnny until this moment, staring down at Johnny's blond head and idly wondering what it would feel like to touch his hair.
"It's okay. I understand. It's just juvenile pranks, Johnny. We never mean anything by it," Bobby shrugged. He wasn't going to get upset, he wasn't going to think John hated him now.
John bit his bottom lip, looking almost like a little kid. His normal weasel-like expression was gone, and he suddenly struck Bobby as looking a lot younger than he really was.
"Yeah... it means nothing. It's funny, but sometimes, Bobby, I just wish we could... stop playing around... and be serious... do you know what I mean?" John asked, looking up at Bobby with his rather pretty hazel eyes.
"Uh, sure. It's fine, Johnny. No big deal," Bobby said slowly, getting the distinct impression that he was missing something important.
John let out a deep breath and smiled. "I'm so glad you understand me, Bobby," he grinned.
Bobby grinned back, even though he didn't understand at all. So John didn't want to pretend they were gay anymore. Why was he making such an issue of it?
Bobby hugged John. "Hey, Johnny, you're my best friend. Nothing comes between us, ever, okay?" he said.
"Aw, isn't this a Kodak moment?" Jubilee grinned wickedly. Bobby and St. John separated instantly, and Bobby suddenly wished had the power to make Jubilee spontaneously combust. St. John quickly made excuses to leave Bobby and began chatting with Jubilee.
Bobby went back to his room after dinner, and played a few videogames alone. John seemed awkward, so Bobby left him alone. Why was St. John acting so oddly today, anyway? Did maybe he have a crush on one of the girls, and was trying to get rid of Bobby? It was the only thing that made sense. Bobby frowned and took another shower, trying not to conjure up angry images of John and Jubilee doing the nasty.
God, wouldn't his life be so much easier if he was straight? Bobby wondered idly what his bible-thumping parents would make of their mutant freak of a son being gay on top of everything else. The fact that their bloodline would most likely not be carried on made Bobby happy in a twisted sort of way.
Bobby put on his pajamas and headed back over to his bed to turn back on Metal Gear Solid 2, when he noticed another heart-shaped red foil Valentine's Day card slipped under his door. Bobby gleefully picked it up.If you're interested in me,
meet me in the rec room
at midnight.Just the idea made Bobby breathless. Remy wanted to meet him! Suddenly, he couldn't concentrate on his videogame, and took to walking around the mansion, smugly anticipating finally losing his virginity, and to someone as handsome as Remy. Never mind St. John. He could run off with Jubilee if he liked. At least Bobby wouldn't be alone.
Bobby checked his watch. It was 10:00. He couldn't wait until midnight. He just kept walking, and walking, trying to burn off his excess energy at the thought of meeting his Valentine.
And promptly found himself lost.
Bobby didn't normally wander much past his area of the mansion. He knew he was in one of the other wings, where the adults slept, but he couldn't remember which one. He looked around the darkened hallways, chewing his bottom lip. Everyone was asleep but him.
The sound of screaming made him jump. Bobby fell back and crashed into one of the tables, knocking over a vase. His blood ran cold as the screaming continued. It sounded like someone was being tortured, murdered, raped, something.
Bobby huddled against the wall, listening to the sounds of the horrible screaming. It was male, he could tell that much, but not which male. He heard running footsteps, and doors slamming. Someone must have opened the door to the room where the man screamed, because he could suddenly hear words.
"Don't touch me!! Please God, please, don't touch me!! Oh, God, I don't want to!! Please, please stop touching me!! It hurts!! IT HURTS!!!"
Bobby choked, feeling more terrified than he ever had in his entire life. He drew his knees up to his chest, and wrapped his arms around himself, trying not to listen, but unable to move away.
"NO!! Don't come near me!! Don't you touch me!! SCOTT!! Scott!! Scott, please save me!! Don't let her touch me!!"
The sound of Mr. Summers' name jolted Bobby from his terror, and he suddenly realized that was *Warren's* voice screaming in terror. But Mr. Summers... Mr. Summers was off on a mission with Professor Xavier. Bobby came to his feet and rounded the corner, peering down the hallway.
The screaming became muffled and stopped altogether, and Bobby stared as he watched Dr. Grey exit the room, with Logan right behind her. Dr. Grey looked tired, and sad. Logan was tight-lipped and pale.
"When's Summers coming back?" Logan asked.
Dr. Grey cast a glance at Logan. "Sometime tonight. I don't know when. The medicine will calm Warren down," she said in an odd voice.
"But it won't take away the nightmares. Only Summers can do that," Logan said evenly. Ms. Munroe was clutching her robes, standing just outside, her face drawn in concern. The look alone proved she wasn't the ice princess she acted like during class, and Bobby instantly felt bad for mentally calling her a bitch for riding him during history class.
"The Professor... he can help him when he gets back?" Ms. Munroe asked.
"Scott... Scott does a better job of it. Warren will be fine until Scott gets back," Dr. Grey said in an odd voice.
"Poor thing," Ms. Munroe said sadly, shaking her head.
"I'm going to... go work in the lab," Dr. Grey said oddly, and drifted away. Nobody had noticed Bobby at the end of the hallway yet. He suddenly felt bad for Dr. Grey. As an empath, she no doubt had felt at least part of what Warren had been feeling, and if it was half as bad as the screaming indicated...
Logan seemed to be standing guard in front of the door when everyone else left, his face an impassive block of stone. Apparently, this was his Mr. Summers impression. Bobby took a deep breath, and after a few minutes, he approached the tall, dark-haired X-Man.
Logan flicked his eyes casually to where Bobby stood. "Didn't figure you'd have the balls to come this close, kid. Kudos. I'm impressed," he said in his normal snarl of a voice, but it seemed his words fell flat.
"What... what's wrong with Warren...?" Bobby asked softly, staring at the closed door, wondering what was behind it.
Logan looked away from the teenager and stared hard at the carpet. "Nightmares," he said shortly.
Bobby put a hand on the door, still staring at Logan. "Nightmares... don't last when you wake up," he replied.
"They do when they're memories."
Bobby swallowed and pushed the door open, peering inside. Logan made no move to stop him, didn't even seem to notice the teenager was making his way into Warren's bedroom.
The blond angel was twisted up in his sheets, naked but for a pair of soaked silk boxers. He was covered in his own sweat, his shoulder-length blond hair stuck to the side of his face. His hands were clawed into the bed sheets, and his mouth was open, as if he wanted to scream, but couldn't make any noise. But what truly disturbed Bobby was the tortured look in those wide blue eyes. Bobby gulped.
"Warren...?" Bobby asked softly. Warren didn't look at him, continuing to stare at the wall, motionless. He was completely out of it, lost inside his own mind.
Logan moved behind him and Bobby realized the Canadian warrior was staring at him. Bobby turned and met the troubled look in Logan's eyes.
"What... what happened to him...?" Bobby gasped. This was horrible. That anyone, *anyone* should ever look like that.
Logan looked away, staring blankly at one of the pictures at the wall. "You don't wanna know," was all he said.
Bobby sat on the edge of the bed, and put a tentative hand around Warren's hand, frozen in mid-claw. He stared at Warren's face, trying to fathom the terror, the repulsion, and the pain in the depths of the blond's blue eyes.
"Tell me, Logan. I want to know."
"He smelled of blood, of unwashed woman, and of sewer stench when Scott brought him back. His wing was all ripped up, slashed like a kite with a razor. All the cuts, abrasions, and lacerations on his body. He had teeth marks on his cock, and pieces of metal broken off in his ass. She did a real number on him. A *real* number. There were bruises from where the cock ring got pulled too tight, and where his manacles were latched to tightly on his wrists and ankles. Part of his skin had been ripped on his arm, from where the manacle caught on his flesh. She'd taken a razor to his genitals, carved her name in his balls. Jeanie healed all that. Not even a scar. Like it never happened. His flesh may not remember, but his mind will never forget," Logan said numbly.
Bobby choked, and resisted the urge to vomit. He didn't want to hear any more. His grip on Warren's hand tightened.
"She fucked with his head, too. Played mind games with him. Made him think she'd let him go. Promised him if he came, if he did as she said, she'd let him go. No telling what she made him eat, what she made him crawl through, just to get her to stop the pain. He escaped, but she found him. Her little freak on a leash. The collar had dug into his throat. Jeanie had to surgically remove it. I had to give him a blood transfusion, just so his body could heal, and recover. She was a trained assassin. He was no match for her. But she made him angry, when she went for the wings. His wings... are everything to him. I think he'd kill himself if he lost those. He wrestled the knife away from her and killed her. End of story."
Bobby absently stroked Warren's arm, almost checking for the scars, for the bruises. But they were gone. Between Jean's skill at healing, and Wolverine's mutant healing factor transferred in the blood, Warren had no physical memory of what happened to him.
Logan's voice was choking. "You want to know what the worst of it was?" he asked Bobby, but in retrospect, Bobby doubted Logan even realized he was talking to a real person.
"He thinks he deserved it," Logan answered himself. Bobby closed his eyes. How could things like this happen to people...?
"I know what's it's like," Logan continued, his voice odd. This was so unreal to Bobby. "I know what's it's like to be controlled, and dominated... to be tied up and not be able to stop the pain. To get your head fucked with. I wonder if what she did to him hurt as much as the adamantium being poured into my veins, coating my bones.
"And I know what it's like... to think you deserve it."
Tears were pouring down Bobby's face, and he couldn't stop them.
"And then I met someone who changed all that. A pretty woman, with pretty auburn hair, and a pretty smile. She looks at me, and she doesn't see what I see. She sees a man... a man worth her time. She doesn't think I deserved that. I don't know how I made it so long without her."
Bobby looked over at Logan, and saw the odd, torn expression on Logan's face. He was so much more than the macho, tough guy everyone thought he was. He wasn't just the group fighting machine, or the meanest mother in the mansion. He was a man. A real person who had suffered through unimaginable pain.
"He met someone who changed it all for him. A nice guy, with nice brown hair, and a smile that doesn't come so easy, but when it does, it can light up a room. That guy looks at Warren, and doesn't see what Warren sees. He sees a man... a man worth his time. He doesn't think Warren deserved that. I don't think Warren knows how he made it so long without him."
It was a bad night. A surreal night. Bobby understood that, like he never understood anything else before. Logan was reliving his pain as much as Warren was. Logan was caught up in the moment, his surface cracked, his polished tough guy exterior crumbled, if only for just a moment. A single tear escaped Logan's eye, and Bobby felt out-of-place, uncomfortable.
"You stay with him. He likes you kids, you know. I can tell. He's never had to take care of anyone before, and you guys mean something to him. You stay with him until Summers gets here. Summers makes the pain go away for him. He'll be alright when Summers gets here," Logan said, still sounding odd, and he withdrew back to standing outside the door.
Bobby stroked the bent fingers of Warren's hand, trying not to cry, trying not to get caught up in others' pain. He didn't understand completely the pain and the torture that people like Warren and Logan had gone through, but Bobby understood what it was like to suffer.
"I was twelve, when they left me, Warren," he said distantly after a while, closing his eyes and remembering his past like it happened only moments ago. Bobby stroked Warren's hand as he spoke.
"I was twelve years old when they found out about the ice. And how I could freeze things. They drove me to this old house out in the middle of nowhere. My father shoved me out of the car, onto the ground. It froze beneath my hands. My mother was quoting things from the bible. My father called me the spawn of Satan. And then they drove away.
"They weren't bad parents, not until they found out I was a mutant. Strict, and very fundamentalist, but they weren't bad. I missed them. I cried a lot, but my tears froze on my face. I wanted to die. So I curled up on one of the old, rickety beds, and froze myself.
"I didn't die. Dr. Grey said it was cryogenic hibernation. The next thing I remembered is a man leaning over me, murmuring to me. He was just a couple years older than I am now back then. He was nineteen, and wearing those funny visors. I could feel his hand running over the ice. Telling someone there was a little boy inside the ice. Me.
"He kept talking to me. He promised me he would take care of me. Help me. So I unfroze myself. And he picked me up. I was little back then, when I was twelve. He told me his name was Scott. Scott Summers. And he kept his promise. He took care of me. And I have a family now, a family who doesn't care if I'm a mutant freak.
"St. John didn't come along until a year later. He came from the streets, you could tell. He smoked cigarettes, and talked trash. He was tough. But he was scared when Mr. Summers brought him back. His clothes were burned, and I remember those big hazel eyes staring at me.
"We were instant best friends. We did everything together back then, still do. Ate, played, showered, even slept in the same bed, to help with the nightmares. It was funny, because when my parents abandoned me, I kept wondering if they were right. If maybe I was the spawn of Satan, if I deserved it because I was a mutant. But Johnny didn't think so. Johnny took care of me. He didn't care if I was a mutant. He thought I was good, good enough to be his best friend. So I know how you feel, Warren. I really do..."
Bobby started, and realized that Mr. Summers was staring down at him. The handsome man smiled down at Bobby, putting a hand on his head, flattening his spikes. For just a moment, it seemed Mr. Summers was an angel, an angel that helped Bobby up and sat beside Warren, rubbing the blond's back. Bobby bowed his head.
"Thank you for staying with him, Bobby... but... you shouldn't have seen this. Logan shouldn't have let you in here," Mr. Summers said gently.
"I heard Warren screaming... I asked Logan why... so he told me..." Bobby said awkwardly.
"You shouldn't know. He shouldn't have told."
"But I do know. I won't tell anyone. Not even John."
Mr. Summers nodded, looking a little relieved. "Don't think any less of Warren. He... has his bad nights..."
"I don't. I think more of him. To be able to function at all..."
"He's a survivor. Like the rest of us. We're all survivors, Bobby. And *none* of us deserve what's happened to us."
Bobby nodded, and then suddenly, Warren seemed to come to life, staring up at Mr. Summers for a moment before reacting.
"Scott!" Warren cried in relief, and sat up, clutching Mr. Summers tightly, sobbing into the other man's shoulder.
Bobby escaped before Warren would notice he was in the room.Bobby collapsed in the rec room. He'd never felt so bad before in his life.
Sympathy, and human compassion ached through his being for Warren, for Logan, even for Mr. Summers, who was even now soothing away the blond's nightmares. He felt guilty for even thinking untoward thoughts about Warren and Mr. Summers earlier. Whatever the nature of their friendship, it was vital, vital to Warren's existence.
Bobby was so busy mulling over what he had seen and heard, that he had completely forgotten about his Valentine. His mind was wrapped in thoughts of others' suffering, and how much people that were close to *him* meant. How important John was to him, no matter what the nature of their relationship.
So Bobby was mildly surprised when Remy's shadow fell over him.
Bobby looked up, jumping slightly. "Remy...?' he asked, trying to grasp his earlier mood, and failing.
"Bonjour, cher. Is somethin' de matter?" Remy asked, frowning at the serious expression on Bobby's face.
Bobby forced himself to smile. "No, not really," he lied.
Remy saw through him. "If dat's how you wan' play it, mon ami. You know, Remy leavin' tomorrow. Came t' say goo'bye t' all his hommes," Remy said. His habit of referring to himself as third person was simultaneously irritating and endearing.
Bobby blinked. The sudden Valentine made sense. Remy had wanted to... have a final goodbye before he left. Bobby frowned slightly. It seemed he was doomed to never have a real relationship. He glanced at his watch. It was 11:45. Remy was early, but then, he *was* leaving.
"Why are you leaving already? You've only been here a few weeks."
"No place f'r me. Remy out of place. But Remy might come back an' visit."
"Oh."
Remy sat down beside him on the couch, touching his shoulder. "You okay, mon ami? You look down. Somethin' happen?" he asked gently.
Bobby didn't feel like playing around. Remy obviously wanted something from him, and Bobby wanted it just as bad. He turned to the Cajun and wrapped his arms around the slim shoulders, placing a firm kiss on Remy's sensual lips.
Remy pulled away, breathless. His odd, sinister eyes were wide in surprise. "Remy no' expected you t' be so forward, cher. You like Remy, then, oui?" the Cajun asked.
"Would I be here if I didn't?" Bobby asked, and leaned back in for another kiss. "Make me forget, okay? Can you do that for me before you leave, Remy?"
Remy kissed back, responding eagerly. "Remy happy t' oblige, mon ami," he said vaguely, pulling Bobby closer. "Wan' take dis t' your room?"
Bobby nodded, and they quickly escaped to his bedroom, pulling Remy behind him. He pulled out the Valentines when he got to his door, wondering if he should say anything about him. Remy looked at them but said nothing, leaning over to kiss Bobby gently on the back of the neck. Bobby let them slip to the floor, forgetting about the heart-shaped red foil cards. Bobby stepped inside his room, and locked the door behind Remy, feeling the Cajun gently guide him towards the bed. Bobby closed his eyes and let himself be guided.
He wanted to forget. To forget about tortured blue eyes, and fallen angels. To forget about metal being poured onto living men's bones, and screams in the middle of the night. To forget about sadistic women, and razors on smooth flesh. To forget about families leaving you in the middle of the night, and wondering if you deserved what happened to you. To forget about being frozen in ice, and best friends that didn't love you like you loved them.
He had a lot to forget about.
Bobby moaned quietly into Remy's mouth as he was pushed into his mattress, his clothes quickly being divested. He could feel Remy moving above him with the ease of experience, removing his own clothes. Their kiss didn't break. Maybe Remy wanted to forget about a few things before he left as well.
Bobby could feel the surprisingly smooth hands run over his chest, inciting thrills as they traveled. Fingers brushed against Bobby's nipples, and caused little tremors of pleasure to wash across Bobby. Remy was definitely good at this.
They didn't talk. There was no need. They both knew what they wanted. They'd never really talked before, or were particularly close. Which was why this worked.
Remy moved away from Bobby's hungry lips, and kissed a slow, sensual trail down the boy's chest, making Bobby shiver the lower he went. The Cajun paused over Bobby's belly button, deftly flicking out a tongue and licking out Bobby's navel. Bobby moaned appreciatively above him.
Then, without preamble, Remy enveloped Bobby's aching cock with his warm mouth, sucking gently. Bobby gasped at the shock of it. Remy was very good at this sort of thing, and Bobby was indeed quickly forgetting what he wanted to forget.
Remy was quickly stepping up the suction, his tongue rubbing vigorously on the underside of Bobby's cock. Bobby began to mewl, arching at the incredible blow job. Remy's hand came up to grip Bobby's balls, rolling them deftly in his hands, making Bobby cry out in ecstasy. He squeezed his thighs around Remy's head, gripping the Cajun's shoulder-length auburn hair tightly.
Remy dipped a finger inside Bobby, searching for the boy's hot spot, finding it quickly, and exploiting it expertly. Bobby practically screamed when he came, tugging violently on Remy's hair as he bucked once and stilled against Remy's face.
Bobby slumped against his bed, his eyes closed, his hands slipping away from Remy's head. He felt Remy bend over him, nipping at his nose.
"Like dat, cher?" Remy asked.
Bobby nodded, not trusting his voice to speak. Remy kissed him long and hard, their tongues slipping against each other like snakes in heat. Remy pulled away, and reached down into his cast-aside trenchcoat, and pulled out a small tube.
"You still good?" Remy asked. Bobby nodded again.
Remy leaned down and kissed him while reached down and spread Bobby's legs, wrapping them around his own waist. Bobby instinctively reacted, lifting his hips up as Remy's hand slid underneath, coating the other boy's opening with whatever lubricant he squeezed out of the tube. Bobby giggled slightly at the odd, squishy feeling.
Remy chuckled in response, apparently familiar enough to know what Bobby was laughing at. Bobby's fantasy life was very active, and he was far from innocent. The younger boy grabbed the tube from Remy's hand and squeezed some of the jelly out and worked it into Remy's impressive length. Remy kissed him gratefully while he did this.
"It gon' hurt a bit, cher," Remy whispered, as he tossed aside the tube and positioned himself at Bobby's opening.
"S'okay," Bobby shrugged, leaning back, and closing his eyes, knowing enough to relax without being told.
It did hurt at first, and Bobby had serious doubts if Remy was actually going to be able to get in. Bobby instinctively clenched, and gasped in pain. He heard Remy murmuring over him, rubbing his cock gently, bringing Bobby back to full arousal. Bobby relaxed again, breathing heavily. Remy slid in deeply, pausing long enough to give Bobby time to adjust.
It didn't hurt so much anymore, and it was easy to forget the pain with Remy working his cock expertly, and sliding deeply in him. In fact, it was starting to become downright pleasurable. Bobby gasped when Remy found his spot, hitting it repeatedly as he thrust inside Bobby. Bobby was quickly lost to the pounding rhythm, the unusual pleasure. The two teenagers' gasps and moans of pleasure filled the room.
Bobby could feel the twitch in his body, the overwhelming demand for release. He pressed his head back in the pillow, crying out as he came, his back arching like a cat. His internal muscles clenched as he came, and Bobby could hear Remy cry out, say something in French, and then fill him with hot liquid. Remy slumped against him, murmuring platitudes and satisfaction. Bobby wrapped his arms around the other warm body, closing his eyes.
"Mind staying here for the night...?" Bobby asked softly. Pain was still too fresh and near in his mind. He didn't want to be alone.
"No' at all, cher," Remy whispered, holding Bobby tightly, snuggling against the other boy. Bobby was under the impression that Remy was almost grateful for the affection, as if he didn't receive it very often.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Remy," Bobby whispered.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Bobby."
************
He hadn't shown.
St. John moped away from the rec room, cursing himself for even thinking Bobby would show an actual real interest in another guy, much less him. Bobby probably thought he was kidding, as usual, if the dufus even understood what he was trying to insinuate.
It hurt, but John wasn't going to let it get to him. No, Bobby was still his best friend and John couldn't risk the only tether to humanity he had. Bobby made him feel worthwhile, like he wasn't some street rat who deserved everything life dished out on him. So they couldn't be lovers, and Bobby didn't like him in that way. No big deal, right?
The blond teenager paused as he walked beside Bobby's bedroom to get back to his own. The Valentine's Day cards he'd sent Bobby were on the floor outside, as if cast aside. John felt his stomach drop, and tried to force himself not to be hurt. He bent over and picked them up.
The sounds of two boys having sex filtered out of Bobby's room, and slammed into St. John's ears like a Mac truck, despite the softness of the noise. St. John felt hot tears spring to his eyes, but he made, *made* himself not cry. He could make out Remy's voice, and Bobby's, moaning in pleasure.
St. John took a step back from the door, as if someone had just shot him through the heart. So he and Bobby were really were just friends after all. Bobby didn't think of him like that, because the whole time he was fucking Remy LeBeau. Bobby didn't want him, because he had Remy. Bobby didn't love John, because John was just his friend, nobody special. John resisted the urge to light a fire and burn Bobby's room down.
John calmed himself down. No. Not even this. He couldn't let it get to him. Bobby was his friend, his *best* friend. As much as it pained John, he had to admit he needed Bobby. So Bobby was shacking up with another guy. He could learn to live with that. If it made Bobby happy...
John felt his heart bleed, and he crushed the Valentine's Day cards he'd written in his hands, focusing his rage, his pain on the harmless pieces of paper. Bobby was his friend. As long as Bobby stayed his friend, everything would be okay... wouldn't it?
St. John was shocked to open his hands and discover only ashes remained of the paper. He was a pyrokinetic, not a pyrotechnic. Sure, his body temperature could rise in unbelievable rates, but how upset could he have gotten to focus that much body heat into his hand?
Did it matter? Did it change anything?
St. John Allerdyce poured the ashes of the Valentine's Day cards from his hands onto the floor in front of Bobby Drake's door, and walked away.
To his credit, he didn't cry.
Owari.