He felt like shit. John knew he had to look like shit too. He couldn't move without grunting in pain, so that meant he just lay in the bed Hank had set up for him down in the infirmary and didn't actually protest anything. He didn't argue when tests were done, or when bandages were changed or applied. His voice came out husky, and low like he hadn't used it for a long time, but it was mostly from damage to his throat. Underneath all the pain, all the helplessness though, there was just a sheer sense of relief. He had never been scared of the Brotherhood until they'd taken him. He would have happily fought any of them one on one, but to be locked up and tortured, it had just been too much.
And to be left with nothing but thoughts of Warren, and the fight...
John's brain broke. How could it not? Something that he'd invested in so quickly, something that had taken him by surprise was over before it had even started. He'd tried to go to that club to wash the other mutant from his mind and body, and all it had done was to land him in trouble. He didn't even remember much of how he'd actually been rescued. He could remember hearing Emma's refined tones echoing in his mind, and he could remember the smell of scorched metal from where Cyclops must have blasted holes in the cell John was being kept in. And unfortunately there was a memory of Wolverine carrying him like he was some goddman damsel in distress, but he assumed that Logan would be just as willing to pretend it didn't happen as John was. Denial really was his best friend sometimes.
But still, under it all, there was Warren. John coughed as he tried to let out a slow breath, and winced as he tried to hold his hand against his chest to stop the way his ribs kept feeling like they were going to burst apart whenever he moved. "Shit..."
"Oui, you fucking are," Remy commented with a smirk. He was sitting beside John's hospital bed with his feet up on the side of it crossed over at his ankles. The team had taken to having turns at keeping watch on John to make sure he didn't kick the bucket, and whilst Remy had managed to get out of his first two turns, this time Rogue had pretty much viciously blackmailed him with a lot of interesting things that if he didn't do his bit to take care of John, there would be dire consequences. That didn't even particularly bother Remy and they ended up in an amusing argument, followed by angry sex. The only reason he was here now was because he decided it would be fun to pull the piss out of John for a little while, and Remy was bored after the hot sex. It was either this, or some mission to collect a snotty brat from Jersey, and Remy was over kids. Stupid little sprogs who just got in the way and kept springing him and Rogue in various classrooms. "Love the makeover. Vast improvement. Way better than botox."
John managed to flip off Remy as he grunted, still trying to find a comfortable position even if there wasn't any way he could lie other than on his back. "You know, I always did want to spend a good solid chunk of time in bed, but this isn't the kind of flat on my back I had in mind. Don't you have Rogue to do, or somewhere to be other than a pain in my ass?"
"Admit it. You want my ass. You've wanted my ass for years," Remy taunted and drummed his fingers on his arm from where they were crossed over his chest. "You want me to literally be a pain in your ass. I'm flattered, mon ami, but the only cock I want catered to when I'm being fucked is mine." Maybe Rogue had actually also threatened Remy to not give John too hard a time, but that was boring and Remy very rarely did what he was told anyway. This was more fun, and too much of a prime opportunity to pass up. It was very rare that John was completely and utterly useless.
John snorted in disbelief. "No, I think you just wish I wanted your ass. Then you really could be the big stud you think you are. Hate to say it, but Rogue's the only one with any patience for your annoying bullshit. And really, you're not that hot. The Cajun accent's a huge turn off. Not to mention the fact that I don't need you doing me in front of a mirror only to be staring at yourself the whole time. I'm still a hell of a lot better looking than you are, man." He ran his tongue lightly over his lips before he turned his head slowly to look at Remy. "Where's Warren?"
Remy shrugged, still smirking. "Oui. Of course I would. It's not like you would have anything to keep me interested for too long. I saw you naked. Really. I had to have it pointed out to me. I was starting to think those darling Brotherhood colleagues of yours had cut it off, in all honesty. You're very senstive, you know. Did they knock you up, or are you really just the chick in the relationship with Angel? Just don't start talking to me about dry-weave topsheets or tampons. Leave that for Magneto. I'm sure he loves it." But he stopped and let out a sharp breath, pressing his lips together. "No idea. He fucked off without word when you went missing. He hasn't been keeping in touch."
John bared his teeth when he was about to fire back at Remy, but he just turned his gaze back up to the ceiling and sighed. "Fuck you, Remy. Seriously. I didn't want to go back to them. I went out to fuck my brains out, and I got kidnapped instead. I was locked up in a cell, beaten daily. Yeah, this is awesome. I am still incredibly fucking loyal to Magneto and the Brotherhood. Yay Brotherhood..." He snorted again. "Just fuck off. What do you mean he hasn't kept in touch? Isn't anyone looking for him? Has Emma even tried to use Cerebro?"
Remy stayed silent, watching John closely. "Oui, she did. Just not so sure you're gonna like hearing what she saw," he admitted with a shrug. Nor was he sure he wanted to be the one to tell John about it. It would probably go down like a led balloon, though it wasn't like John and Warren were engaged, right? "He was at a bar. Not your average bar, and it wasn't near any Brotherhood fuckers."
"That's something, I guess," John mumbled as he tried not to let the anger flare up inside him. What right did he have to judge? It wasn't like Warren was going to be particularly thrilled to hear what had happened to him either. "Is he at least alright?" After a moment, John looked at Remy again. "What do you really think about me and Angel?"
"Dunno. She cut off when it looked like he was about to get friendly with this dude in leather. She figured he'd want his privacy on that, and it seemed to be enough to assume he was okay and didn't need chasing like you did. I mean, fuck, do we even want you two hooked up? It's like a disaster waiting to happen. What, you had all of two fucks, and the world explodes around you? Was his cock not hard enough for you, or something?" Remy just shook his head and shrugged. "Fucked if I know. Everyone else has been analysing it more than I have. I always knew you were gay."
John arched an eyebrow. "Because I liked Rogue? Dude, that's cold. And saying more about your own sexuality than mine. We exploded because we were still fucking arguing about the Brotherhood. And his dad. I can't help it, alright! Warren Worthington Senior did a bang up fucking job of creating a weapon against mutants even if he meant it as a 'cure'. Nothing fucking voluntary about being shot at with darts of the stuff by the military. He can't get off the Brotherhood thing, so we argued. It had nothing to do with his cock. His cock's fucking awesome."
Remy just blinked and put it down to the head injury that John was making no sense at all and his insults were actually quite boring. He scrunched his nose up. "Merde, I thought you would be way more entertaining than this. Arguing about the Brotherhood. Ironic, considering they did everything to you but fuck you up the ass. Perhaps wondering if he had a point now, are you?" He quirked an eyebrow at his old friend/frenemy/now probably more just pain in the ass than anything else. "Are you even listening to yourself. Last I looked, Angel was Worthington Junior, not Senior. Fuck, I'd be pissed off too if you kept thinking I was my father. Dude is still his father, but Warren ain't him. And again, pretty sure he had a point on the Brotherhood thing, mate. Unless you like looking like Freddy Krueger and Jason gang-banged you." He smirked. "I always knew he and I had something in common."
Pyro pressed his lips together, really wishing Remy had a smoke in his hands so that he could burn off his eyebrows. "Hey, I came back, didn't I? I'm here. I learned my lesson, and I left them. Yeah, I went to Magneto in the first place, but I was fucking seventeen and the only thing more interesting than my dick at that point was lighting shit on fire. Magneto could see a use for me. It's not like I can use fire to save anyone, is it? It's hardly a defensive mutation. I was hoping they'd come after me another way, but no. They came after me like this. Probably to draw you guys out, but the X-Men always win. Now you're still stuck with my battered ass." John touched his hand to his chest when it started to twinge with pain again. "It's not like me and Warren's daddy are gonna have any great conversations at the dinner table. That's what the argument was about. I think. I can't even remember. It was just stupid, and pretty much nipped anything that might have happened in the butt."
"So, you did want something to happen?" Remy asked, raising his eyebrow slightly in question. It wasn't like he could actually talk. His own mutation was still AWOL for some reason, and he was still trying to talk Hank into some sort of electric-shock treatment to get it back. Remy himself hadn't actually gone to collect John, it would have been too risky. Not to mention Magneto and posse would have gotten wind that Remy had a weakness. Never a good thing to let your opponents see your hand. He had stopped sulking and moved onto just being pissed off his powers weren't back yet, and he was sick of people telling him he had pretty blue eyes. Fuck blue eyes, he wanted his own eyes back. "Has he even asked you to have dinner conversations with his daddy, or was all that you just typically blowing shit out of proportion? Warren's one of the only good dudes left, homme. Ain't many of those in the world. He's the one with angel wings for a reason. You screw him over again and I will fucking kill you with my bare hands, you got it? Or Rogue's bare hands. That would be way more fun to watch. I'll just piss on your dead body when she's done. Don't think I'm joking, ami. Oui, you came back, but you came back to a tight group of friends. You want in, you gotta fucking work for it."
John stayed quiet through Remy's threat and just shifted his legs slowly under the covers. He was pretty sure there was a large bruise on his thigh. He vaguely remembered being hit in the leg by the Blob. That fat jerk always seemed to want to aim below the belt. "Of course I fucking wanted something to happen. It's not like a guy discovers he likes his friend's cock and not want something more. I know I can be a jerk, but I care about Warren. Always have, and maybe now I know why. Shit, I mean... fuck. I was dealing with that discovery as well as everything else. I guess shit just got too much, too soon. I don't know, okay? I thought we were about to decide we were dating, and then it all blew up." He tried to reach up to touch his hair, but he couldn't move his arm higher than his chest. His hand dropped back to his side, and he huffed out a breath. "Piss on my dead body? Real fucking nice, LeBeau. Guess I know you and me won't ever have a bromance."
Remy was just listening, head tilted as he watched John evenly while he spoke. His face was mostly unreadable, but he was taking it all in. He might not have the mutant powers, but he still had strength and pristine combat skills. He could hurt John enough to make a point if he needed to. The point was, he would still belt the shit out of him if he deliberately hurt any of his friends. There was no reason why they couldn't be civil so long as John kept his dickhead attitude at a minimum. Remy had no issues if their personalities kept clashing, hell his personality clashed with most people, but he wouldn't tolerate anymore dickish behaviour that put his friends in danger. The thing was, he knew when he went back that Rogue would pump him for details about anything John said. The whole team was reeling with the notion that Pyro and Angel had probably gotten it on, and it was a lover's spat that led to this mess. But he didn't have a chance to actually respond. The sound of the clinic door slamming loudly behind them caught his attention and he turned in his seat just in time to see, of all things, Warren coming stumbling up the clinic towards John's bed. "Well, fuck," Remy commented, eyebrows raising in surprise.
Warren's wings were dragging along behind him, the feathers sticking up in all directions. Their usual clear white was gone in favour of dirt and grime, and he had blood trickling down the side of his face and from his nose, with one eye turning increasingly more purple and swollen by the minute. He had a hand nursed to his chest as he limped - or rather half limped, half stumbled - to the end of John's bed. "You're a fucking asshole! Fuck!" he cried, though his voice was choked and hoarse, like he was trying not to cry. It seemed like the best and most easiest thing to abuse John, the fear, panic and worry he had pulsing through him for days coming out in a wave of anger.
John wanted to pull himself up into a better sitting position, but he was just stuck in the stupid bed. He stared at Warren, his blue eyes flitting over every detail of his appearance, and taking in every bit of damage he seemed to have done to himself, or had done to him. "If that fuck in the leather fucking hurt you, I will hunt him down and toast his sorry fucking ass," was John's response as his anger flared. Perhaps it was lucky that Remy hadn't been holding a cigarette after all. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the bed covers tightly and then he seemed to go to jelly the next moment. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
It was lucky Warren had maintained a grip on the end of John's bed, because he swayed woozily when John seemed to turn into two Johns all of a sudden. "Who's in leather?" he asked, the words slurring on the tip of his tongue as they fell from his lips. He barely even noticed when he was suddenly caught in a pair of strong arms and shoved into a chair. The smell of cigarette smoke and some cologne caught his nose and he glanced up to find Remy standing over him, holding him in the seat. Warren was trying to remember what the hell happened, but the truth was, he had taken a firm hit to the side of the head when he decided being a prick and verbally abusing a biker in a bar was a good thing. It was true, he had seriously contemplated fucking another man in a grimy back alley of the bar, but thoughts of John caused him to get cold feet and that was when he started losing his temper. Seemed his other prospect had mates, and when Warren had started throwing abuse at anyone who would listen, it just was never going to end well. He could taste blood on his lips when he spoke and his head felt hard to keep upright, but the recollection of what actually happened was fuzzy, at best. "Where the fuck were you? I looked fucking everywhere," he complained, touching at his lips and then nose, putting two and two together where the blood was coming from. He had also bit the inside of his lip when the fist connected to the side of his face, and that hurt like a bitch.
"They never told you?" John asked slightly with a frown as his gaze flicked to Remy to search his face for confirmation. "Or you just didn't want to find out? Trust you to fly off half-cocked. Then act like a fucking cock and wind up in a bar brawl. That's what happened, isn't it? Emma should have kept watching. She thought you were trying to fuck the guy. She really has lost touch with her signals. Sooner she and Cyke get it on, the better for all of us. Maybe she'll remember what flirting looks like." He gripped at the bed sheets again, and pulled his mouth to the side as he watched Warren's nose drip blood helplessly. It wasn't like he could get up to help. "I was locked up in a fucking cell having the shit beaten out of me. That's where I was."
"I was trying to fuck him. It wasn't like you could get your head out of your ass long enough to help me out, was it? You were too busy picturing fucking my father over," Warren spat, the anger of the fight still bubbling under the surface. The truth was, he was about two seconds away from starting to bawl his eyes out. His emotions had been frayed with worry for John when he had tried to search for him, and out of everything that was hurting, his damaged wings were always his weakness and they were fucking sore. Not to mention all the feathers out of place. "At least, I think I was trying to fuck him. I don't know! I can't remember! Stop asking me stupid questions I don't know the answers to!" He was vaguely aware of Remy moving behind him, but if he moved his head too much, he was going to throw up. Remy said something about getting help... or telling them to fuck off. Warren wasn't paying much attention. His eyes were basically all-but half open, the swelling making it too hard to open them all the way up, but he managed to focus woozily on John as he continued. "You what? They just said you were here! And hurt, but here! But I... fuck." Maybe they had said. Warren just hadn't really been listening to their rambling. As soon as they said John was in the hospital wing, he was heading in that direction.
John tilted his head. "Remy said you were looking for me. You must have known, Warren. Only you looked in the wrong places. If only I was out getting a goddamn beer. I'm sorry I couldn't help you out, but you were too busy flying the fuck off to let me help you out. I just got the hell out of here, but I would have come back. I would have gotten over my prickishness. There's just... Shit, I just need to tell you something okay?" John really was glad that Remy was out of the room now. He needed to be alone with Warren, even if it somehow led to more fighting. "I went into New York, and I found this gay club. It's not like I've had reason to go to one before, but hey... shit happens. And I just wanted to get you out of my head. The fight was pissing me off, and I thought you were pissing me off. I just had to stop thinking about you, so I tried to hook up with a guy. He, ah... He gave me a blowjob. I thought I wanted more, but I didn't. The blowjob wasn't even that fucking good, and all it did was leave me wanting you even more. I wanted to come back, to find you and just apologise but the Brotherhood got to me first."
Warren akwardly managed to fold one arm across his chest when it was impossible to cross them both. He wasn't entirely sure he hadn't broken his wrist when he got a good right hook back at his attacker. The guy had a really hard face, but Warren just didn't know if this was what actually happened, or he was hallucinating. He just knew he was in pain. He averted his eyes with a snort, that was even lacking the usual impact considering his nose was bleeding. "Well, remind me to never forget our anniversary in the future, or you might walk the fuck out and punish me with a gay fucking orgy!" He looked back and flipped John off. "Now I'm outta your head. Congratu-fucking-lations. It's not like I didn't fucking tell you they would get you if you were cocky little prick."
"Hey!" John bellowed before he started with a coughing fit. His throat still hurt like a bastard, and if he didn't know otherwise, he might have assumed it was from too much deep-throating. Something that had never been a possibility until now. "You're not out of my fucking head. Do you not listen, do you not fucking get it? All I fucking want is you! Fucking bastard." He reached for a plastic cup of water next to his bed and managed to get his lips as he took a sip. "And Congratu-fucking-lations on being right. Too bad you can't do the I Told You So dance to go with that high horse."
"Well, at least I'm fucking hung like one, despite the rest of this bullshit!" Warren snapped, until he lost his steam and actually realised what was coming out of both their mouths. Before he could stop himself, he gave a snort of a laugh and then clutched at his arm. "...ow, fuck. Screw you for all the things I can't think of right now. I think I have amnesia or contractions. No, wait. Not contractions. Concussion. It's all your fault, you know. Asshole." There was no bite behind his words now. He just sounded plain tired. "I looked everywhere for you. These fuckers wouldn't get off their asses straight away, either. They just thought you were off being the dick you always are. I had to go myself."
John finally cracked a smile too, and wished Remy could have just moved Warren's chair that little bit closer. "Look at us, man. Face it, we're fucked if we're not fucking. We get into all kinds of shit. We might be stuck with each other. Fuck you for going out and getting yourself banged up. Just go and steal my macho thunder why don't you. I wanted to be the one with the scars. What's the point of hurt and comfort if we're both hurting and we can't give comfort, huh?" He fell quiet again for a minute before he just shook his head. "I'm sorry, Warren. I really am."
Warren made an attempt to get some of his feathers back in place, but his wings really were hurting. They had been strapped down during the whole thing, they must have taken some sort of blow. He couldn't remember what happened in the wake of the brawl, but he must have gotten back to Xavier's some way. He had been so intent on John, that was all he had been able to think about. He sat forward a little in the seat, stiffly and slowly, grunting in pain until he managed to find an okay position sitting hunched forward with his wings draped over the back of the chair. "You really fucking scared me, you know. I didn't expect you to just walk out. I was pissed off, sure, but I thought you had gone back to the bastards. I was trying to find you to convince you not to. Then I couldn't find you, and I knew something was wrong."
John drew his eyebrows together. "You really think I'd go back to them? Thanks for the vote of confidence, Warren. I wasn't going to go back to them. I was pissed off, and I needed to clear my head. I might have intended to move out into a place of my own, but I wasn't about to go back to the Brotherhood. I wasn't really sure where the fuck I was going to go. Just that I honestly thought I'd pissed all over what could have been a good thing. It was easier to stay angry at you, than at myself. After all, I can do no wrong, right?" he added with a smirk. "They had all kinds of fun beating the shit out of me. I didn't actually think I'd get out."
"I didn't know what to think! I thought we were fine, and then you were suddenly on at me about my father again. And see? You were talking about moving out on your own. What the hell signals am I supposed to take from that, because all I'm getting is a serious 'go fuck yourself'." Warren paused and sighed, finally trying to wipe some of the blood from his nose with the back of his hand. He was a mess. He was going to need a really fucking long shower after this. "Look. I know, alright? I know what you were thinking and feeling. I was there, remember? I spent my whole life thinking pussy was the be all and end all too, and I was freaked out. Of course I was. But you didn't have to be a prick about it. You didn't have to get up in my face about my father. All he ever wanted to do was protect me and stop me getting more hurt, alright? If you can't deal with that, then anything between us, even friendship, is never gonna work. The rest of the team accept me for still being the son of Warren Worthington II, you're going to have to too, or nothing."
"Funny thing about getting locked in a cell is that you have a lot of time to think," John started quietly, "and I know I was a dick. Of course I do. How could I not? All I could think about was us and that fight, and I don't want nothing. I want something. If it means accepting you're the son of your father, then okay. I accept. Look, I couldn't even get a relationship to work with a chick. It's gonna take me some time with a guy, okay? Clearly I've been single all this time for a reason, but I still am willing to try and put the effort in. I just wanna try with you if you'll still put up with me."
Warren was just sitting there feeling fragile and sorry for himself as he listened to John talk. It was probably good they were both already banged up, or there would have been a frustrated thump or two. "You're a bastard. I'm only going to agree to anything if you make an effort to stop being such a bastard with me. I don't care about anyone else. They can deal with themselves. If this is going to work, I don't want to constantly feel like I want to belt you all the time. I actually like my relationships to be something I enjoy when I get up in the mornings, not wondering if we'll make it to ten am without a fucking fight. I don't even care if you're just nice in private and put up the facade outside. That's all I ask. And just for the record, it's gonna be a few days before I can even think about fucking. I need to know, though, are you still gonna move out?"
John gave a small shake of his head, or at least his best imitation of a shake. "No, I'm not. It was stupid to try and move out in the first place. It was a fucked up knee-jerk reaction. I'm hot-headed... ha, ha. And yeah, look, of course... I can be nice in private. I am actually capable of it. I can be nice outside too, but I just need time to adjust. Not that being nice is hard, it's not. I'm just used to being a dick. How sad is that, huh? Warren, I care about you. You're the last person I wanna be an ass to."
Warren blinked slowly and then peered at John through half-open eyes. At the thought of John actually being nice, he gave a slight laugh. It would have to be something he saw to believe, but it wasn't like they didn't have time. If John was back and serious about being on the team again, then maybe things might have a chance of working out. He cleared his throat softly, trying to ignore the fact he had a full-body ache by this point. "So, what's the plan, then? Are things with the Brotherhood resolved, or are they going to keep trying to get revenge? And I did tell you. I'm not sure I can even scratch myself, so there'll be no dances, but I did tell you. You were so fucking cocky, though. I wanted to belt you."
"Are you sure belting me isn't some kinda sadistic foreplay for you? You look like I feel. Hank's gonna be loving both of down here laid up on bed rest. I can barely move. Everything just fucking hurts. I don't want the shit belted out of me by you, or anyone else. Okay? Look, I don't know if it's the end. I don't know what happened after I got rescued. For all I know I got handed over to someone so that Logan, Cyke and Emma could finish the job. They're the only ones I remember being there, only now I'm kinda remembering Rogue's voice."
Warren held up a hand. "Nope, I assure you, it's a complete and total result of me being extremely frustrated and pissed at you, that's all. Hey, just be fucking thankful you can lie on your back. I don't have that luxury. I hardly fit in these asshole beds. I'm telling him I'm going back to my room. He can like it, or stick it up his big furry butt. I need my own bed. I have a process in there that works. If he's offering painkillers, though, I'm totally there. I think everyone was there but Remy. At least, that's what it seemed like when they were banging on at me when I got here. I wasn't exactly listening. I really just wanted them to shut up. Some of them really screech, you know? Should I be worried you're remembering Rogue's voice?"
John huffed out a few breaths when he lacked the energy to actually laugh. "Are you kidding? You telling me you want to belt me is a compliment compared to the stuff coming outta Rogue's mouth. I think she's been spending way too much time around the Cajun. Our Southern Belle ain't exactly a lady anymore. She's a dirty-mouthed scary bitch. What I'm remembering is exactly why I just kept my eyes shut the whole time and tried to play dead." John pressed his lips together as he looked down at his hands on the sheets, and then looked at Warren. "If you're in your bed, and I'm down here, then how are we gonna see each other?"
Warren couldn't help if he was going to have a flash of jealousy at the way John was talking about Rogue. Outwardly, he just raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. John's past feelings for Rogue really weren't something he particularly wanted to visit right now. Especially not hearing that he was more concerned what Rogue would do than Warren. Some basis for a relationship that was, being more fearful of your ex's feelings. Of sort of ex. Whatever. "I guess we'll just have to wait 'til your better. Maybe Rogue can visit you. More scary threats to make you be a good little boy."
John stared at Warren for a long moment before he just held his hand up. "Hey, hey. Wait. Back up, okay? I don't need Rogue to visit me, and I don't need her to keep me in line. You wanna know what scared me more than her? Not seeing you again, and even after I came back, knowing that I probably fucked it up enough to not even warrant a second chance. Hell, we're both so busted and broken we don't even get the make-up sex, but I'm still here putting my heart on the line and asking for another chance."
Warren just gave a tired sigh and hunched that little bit further forward. His back was really hurting and he couldn't help looking forward to going back to his own bed and hibernating for a few days. This whole thing with John felt like it had dragged on for months, but it was only a few days, really. At least, as far as he could remember. He had lost track of time. It was when it looked like the team weren't going to do anything, just assuming it was John being a dick again, that Warren had really lost it. He had shouted at both Scott and Emma, with an extreme amount of cursing, before he had just left and took off to search himself. He didn't know why he had a bad feeling, he just knew that Magneto was involved. He would never have taken it lightly that John came back to the X-Men. There was always going to be some sort of revenge, and Warren had been unnerved about that from the start. "I think we just need to wait and see what happens over the next few days, when Hank is finished anal probing you or whatever it is he is doing to counteract Magneto's bullshit. I need to know you aren't just off your face on drugs and feeling schmoopy right now. Although, I would probably worry more if you were cuddling Remy. That's at least one plus."
"Yeah, the day I'm schmoopy and cuddling Remy, you can just shoot me. Seriously. I won't wanna live after something like that." John smirked slightly before he just gave a tired nod. "Yeah, okay. Waiting works. It's not like we had much time to get used to it before, is it? And this way we don't have the novelty of sex to keep us from looking at it more deeply. 'Course I don't actually remember what drugs I'm pumped with, so hopefully I'll at least remember this conversation. I'm just glad I'm... I'm home. And I'm glad you're here. Even if you look like shit."
Warren cleared throat again. His hand came up to rub at the back of his neck, but he could even feel bruising there, so the gesture didn't last long. "I feel like shit, so yeah, I won't take that as an insult. It probably didn't help I was half drunk either, so I'm probably half hungover. Can't tell between all the other things aching. Fucking assholes," he complained, scrunching his nose up. "Everyone knows about us, you know. I dunno how they know, but they do."
John's eyebrow went up slightly and maybe he should have felt angry about it, but he didn't. He felt relieved. "Figured since Remy was trying to tell me he always knew I was gay. I didn't even really notice, I just assumed he knew. Did he know? Everything's muddled in my head. It's alright. I don't mind them knowing. In fact, it makes things easier. Are you okay with them knowing? If you're not, then I guess we're kinda stuck between a rock and a hard place."
Warren shrugged. "I dunno. Haven't exactly been anyone's first best friend around here, lately. I was sort of pissed that they were pissed at you. I've been quite pissed lately," he realised with a wry smirk. "That's all your fault. I'm supposed to be the sweet innocent one around here, remember. I figured it was either Emma spying in Cerebro, or maybe Betsy and Lorna didn't buy our cover story. Pretty sure Lorna was still pissed I didn't reciprocate, but it wasn't like I was just being a cock about it. Havok's back anyway, so I'm sure she'll be well-occupied. I don't really care what anyone thinks. Pretty sure most of the world already thought I was gay anyway because I'm rich and pretty, as they say. Obviously all the girls I was fucking were just beards."
John's nose crinkled. "Yeah, well, I'm not rich and pretty. Must just be the homophobe in me. Only I've never been homophobic. Just never felt an urge to try it before. But you and me, we had a hell of a bromance. Guess it was just hinting at something else under the surface. I don't think Betsy and Lorna bought the cover story. Just saying. Maybe Lorna wasn't pissed at you, but it could have made her all the more confused. I didn't see Havok rushing to jump back into bed with her either. Everyone's got problems. Nothing is smooth sailing in this place. Remy and Rogue have the most functional relationship around here, and that's saying something."
"Come on, I would have had no hope once Alex came back, anyway. Too much unresolved shit going on there. Not to mention Betsy shifting from me to Bobby. Seriously, is it any wonder I didn't move onto cock before now?" Warren snorted and rested his head down in his hand when it felt too heavy to hold up with his neck. "I just seem to be where the pussy radar falls when chicks get tired of their first choice, and you know what? Screw it. I'm sick of being sloppy seconds. It's like, lose interest in one dick, and discovered wings. It's like some bad Red Bull commercial. I was starting to wonder why I even bothered with relationships. If it wasn't the wings they were drooling after, it was my bank account."
John reached out and managed to just get his fingertips to Warren's hair as he touched it lightly. "In case you haven't noticed, you're kind of my first choice in dick. I know I'm not a chick, but it's something, isn't it?" he asked the mutant quietly. "I'm really not gonna judge on your track record. I'm hardly a pin-up boy for serious dating. I haven't been able to hold a relationship down. Not ever. Pussy radar and me? I'm the blip in the road on their way to something better. I'm a one night stand and that's it."
Warren pressed his lips together in thought. Seriously, if he didn't have wings, he would probably be trying to shove John over in the bed right now to lie down next to him. "I thought about it on and off. You know, before I got my face smashed in. I'm pretty sure I swing both ways. I never minded sex with chicks, and I've had relationships that weren't too bad. Cock was just never on the menu until you. I guess that's why I figured I would test out the theory on some faceless dickhead in a bar. Similar sort of circumstances to you, only I was already primed and frustrated. It was never going to end well. I wouldn't have gone through with it. I'm not foreign to casual sex, but I felt like I was... I dunno, betraying you."
John pressed his lips together as he got a guilty look. "I'm sorry for the club... The blowjob. It wasn't you, and I hated every fucking second. I really did. All I could keep thinking was that it wasn't you, and I wanted only you and you seriously have a better fucking mouth than this other douche. But I knew I liked cock, and I think that's what I was really doing there. I just had to know for sure..."
Warren nodded stiffly. He knew it would be hypocritical for him to get completely pissy about the blow job, but that didn't mean he had to like it. It wasn't like he and John had officially agreed to date or anything. All it had been was a few fucks, and then super confusion about the whole thing. Then the fight. Which led to all this bullshit. He couldn't help but wonder if this was what it would be like with two cocks in a relationship and two servings of testosterone. What if they just always clashed? No doubt, that was what the rest of the team were wondering. Warren and John did both come back beaten and bloody. He wondered how long it would take for one of the team to try and warn them off each other. His forehead had creased up a little as the thoughts passed through his aching brain. "Do you think we can even fucking pull all this off? What if we just keep fucking it up?"
John ran his tongue over his lips again as he tried to moisten them, and grunted softly as he had to reach for the cup of water again. "I don't know. I wish I did. Part of me feels like if we fuck up together, then at least there's a chance for us to work it out together. We won't be alone in the fuck ups... Isn't that something? I don't want to fuck up like this again, Warren. I really don't. I don't need it to end with us both banged up again. I hate this. I hate knowing that I'd rather just be able to spend time with you trying to make it up, and trying to figure out what we are. Instead I get this."
It was slow and it was stiff, and he nearly spilt the whole fucking thing, but Warren managed to sit forward and hand John the water. Hopefully he wasn't about to expire from dehydration, because it really was snail's pace and involved balancing one butt cheek on the edge of the chair to pull it off. "Yeah. Only thing is, I really don't want to be fucking up again like this any time soon because I'm in fucking agony. It's not like I haven't been beat up before, but fuck. You and your emotional rollercoasters. I swear it feels like I was beaten ten times as worse than I actually was. In saying that, I can't actually remember the beating, just yelling a hell of a lot at a bunch of angry dudes. You're just going to have to wait for Hank to give you the all-clear. I'll probably be in bed wishing the rest of the world would fuck off and die."
John accepted the water with a small smile, raising his other hand to catch Warren's. He curled his fingers around, keeping a hold of his hand for a long moment. "I ever find out who did this to you, and you realise that the whole fucking bar will go up in flames and not just his sorry leather-clad ass, don't you?" he said in a low, threatening tone. He couldn't stop himself. Some dickwad beats up his sort-of-boyfriend, and he'll get his ass toasted. "Go and get some rest, Warren. Seriously. I'll be alright. It's not like I can go anywhere right now."
Warren gave a small, strained snort. "Keep it in your pants, Pyro. You think I'm going to let you go out there and get into anymore trouble than you already managed? You don't think it will look suspicious if a bar suddenly goes up in flames. You're like a walking fucking firework. Magneto will have a field day. No fucking way. You can stay here, and stay put, and be a good boy until Scott and Emma decide you're alright to work on the team again. If you go insane from boredom, so friggen be it." He dropped his head forward, letting it hang there for a minute. "You mean, I've got to damn well walk? Shit. Fuck my life."
John huffed out a breath, but he didn't argue. "This boy scout routine's gonna take some practice. And if I get bored, guess who's gonna be on the receiving end of all the texts, calls and IMs once my fingers feel like they're capable of typing? Don't think you're getting out of this just because you're gonna be in your fancy big bed. And seriously, if my future's in the hands of Scott and Emma then I'm gonna be waiting a hell of a long fucking time. They can't even get their shit together to just fuck each other and get it over with." John's eyebrow kicked up in amusement. "You could fly, but I'm pretty sure your wings aren't going to cooperate."
"I'd stay here if I could, but you'll end up lighting my feathers on fire when you get sick of hearing me bitch about how annoying the beds are. I really don't want to think about Scott and Emma's sex life. Ever. At all. Not even in passing. They can just keep that all to themselves and out of my presence. I put up with enough being in between Remy and Bobby's rooms. Fucking going to get my own back one day, I swear." Warren curled one of his wings in closer to him in response, shooting John a wounded look. "They might just be decorative from now on. They fucking hurt."
John smirked, his eyes lighting up a little as his mind kicked in with all kinds of devious thoughts. "The second I'm healed enough, I'm definitely going to help you get your own back. We'll let them know what loud sex really is. That bed's gonna get a fucking workout and a half." His expression shifted and he looked at Warren apologetically. "I'm sorry, man. I was just... Let them get some rest, too. And don't forget to hit Hank up for some painkillers. They'll give everything a rosier shine."
Warren gave another small huff of a laugh and he did try to make a move to stand, but he regretted it. It was good timing when they were suddenly joined by Hank, who carefully rested a huge furry hand on Warren's shoulder and told him he wasn't going anywhere until he had treatment. Somewhere off the the side, Warren was sure he could hear Remy sniggering too. "I'm fine. I can go. Ask John. He'll tell you I'm fine," he insisted, shooting John a put-out look.
John just held his hand up as he took a sip of water and pretended like there was nothing he could do to stop Hank. "Hey, don't look at me, man. At least you didn't have him anal probing you." That comment naturally earned another snigger from Remy, but a disapproving look from Hank, and John slid down in his bed a little more. "Just remembered I'm the one that got tortured, and for once it wasn't because I was a dick. It was because I defected back to the good side."
It was probably a good thing Warren's head was pounding too much or his usual open honesty would probably have him asking if John had regrets by that comment. Instead, he was trying to turn John back into one John instead of two as he looked at him woozily. "You did have your dick out, though," he had to add. Maybe there would be a bit more to visit on that whole subject before Warren let it drop. He somehow had to figure out how he was going to tolerate sucking John's dick again knowing some other dude's mouth had been there recently.
Word Count | 8,239