this is a brand new problem, a problem without any clues
PROCRASTINATION TIEMZ.
Let's have a commentfic promptfest! :D
RULES:
-> Post prompts. (POST ALL THE PROMPTS. YOU ARE NOT SPAMMING EVEN IF YOU THINK YOU ARE.)
-> Fill prompts. (See above parentheses.)
-> Lather, rinse, repeat.
ETA: For ease of access, it would be great if you could mark fills in the subject line :)
FILL LIST:
( here )
Let's have a commentfic promptfest! :D
RULES:
-> Post prompts. (POST ALL THE PROMPTS. YOU ARE NOT SPAMMING EVEN IF YOU THINK YOU ARE.)
-> Fill prompts. (See above parentheses.)
-> Lather, rinse, repeat.
ETA: For ease of access, it would be great if you could mark fills in the subject line :)
FILL LIST:
( here )
--
alex's fourth letter arrives on a monday, postmarked france. the return address says, ruben mycock, ass crack, and the letter is filled with stories about erik pining for charles, ways the newly-christened brotherhood is way, way less interesting/effective than the team was when it was erik and charles and darwin and alex and raven and sean and beast; times that the alliance of mutants will be pulling shit in north america and darwin has to manoeuvre charles into speaking with erik so they can see that they miss each other.
at the bottom it says, i miss you.
darwin traces his fingers over the letters. something in his stomach flips: adaptation and mutation, he thinks. something's going to happen.
--
"hey, professor," darwin says. "i'm going to visit a friend this weekend, so i'll be out of touch."
charles blinks sadly at him. "sure, darwin," he says. "be careful." his eyes are limpid pools of woe.
(darwin considers saying, i'll be in the bronx if you need me, but he figures charles is still moping and not in the mood for being poked with a stick. plus, he's kind of worried charles will decide to ride along in his head, like that would be helpful ever.)
"i'll be back on monday," darwin adds. "uh, there's-- frozen stuff in the freezer. sean knows how to defrost it. remember to eat?"
ever since moira left, they've been kind of terrible at remembering to cook. (to be honest, it really started when erik left, because he had some concept of what nutrition meant. but at least moira said things like, guys you need to eat things that don't come out of boxes and fixed a glare at either hank or darwin until they boiled something green-- nobody trusts sean with cooking from scratch, like nobody. now that moira's-- gone, darwin's the only one with basic cooking skills, so he ends up doing everything. they get produce in and charles could probably afford a cook, but hank's blue and furry and sean flies all the time and darwin doesn't even want to know what hazard pay for that looks like.)
charles waves his hand lazily through the air. "of course, armando."
the light keeps catching on charles' wheels. darwin sighs; it's only a couple of days. "don't try to cook, professor. hank freaks out every time you almost burn the kitchen down."
--
back before cuba, alex was always getting lost. like all the time. not that it's-- hard, because the xavier mansion is giant and the grounds are worse, but alex has a serious talent for wandering off and not knowing how to get back. (personally, darwin thinks it's probably got something to do with alex's abandonment issues, wanting someone to come get him.)
darwin's happy to come find him, but it always takes fucking forever. alex is never in a reasonable place; he's always in like, the wine cellar that charles' grandfather bricked up and the rest of the family forgot about, or the neighbours' bomb shelter, which darwin still doesn't even know how he managed to get in there since the door was locked and they had to get erik to let them in.
the point is, sometimes darwin's mutation isn't just about survival, and sometimes darwin gets a little flash in his head: this is where alex is, this is how to get to him.
this time, it's more like a jump.
--
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alex is sprawled across the couch, hair paler, sun-bleached. he jerks around at the sound of darwin's breath. "holy shit," he says, suprise and joy rocketing through his voice, "what the--"
"hi," darwin says, hands in his pockets. "mutation." he shrugs, because it's as good an excuse for anything, these days. he doesn't move, just watches alex, drinking in the shape of him, familiar but slightly different.
alex shrugs back. his eyes are very bright, though there are tired bags underneath them and he looks worn out, wrecked in a way that darwin hasn't seen him since they first met him. "well," he says, "i'll take it." he grins, sliding to his feet.
his fingers tangle in darwin's shirt. it's good to see you, is the clash of his teeth against darwin's, the press of the length of his body: it's been too long.
darwin grins against alex's mouth and fits his hands against alex's hipbones. i'm here now.
--
later, they're crammed together in alex's tiny lumpy bed, alex's hair brushing darwin's earlobe, darwin's thumb running across alex's hipbone.
hey, alex mutters, sleepy, lazy. i'm glad you're here.
me too, darwin says, pressing a kiss to his hair.
"ugh," alex says, face muffled by darwin's shoulder, "i have a thing. azazel and raven-- mystique-- and i are supposed to be in barcelona."
before he can think too clearly about it, darwin says, "how would you feel about a kidnapping?"
alex props himself up on his elbows, gaze clear. he smirks. "you think erik-- magneto--" he makes a face, "would like, not kill us?"
darwin laughs. "we're cute," he says. "hey, he might have to talk to the professor about it, even. so it's good for the plan."
alex's grin splits his face. he leans up and kisses darwin. "this is ridiculous," he says. "i'm so in."
--
darwin sticks his hands in his pockets and pretends he isn't watching alex steal a car from a secondhand dealer. the sky is very blue and kind of cloudless. the one cloud at the edge of his vision is shaped a little like a rabbit.
alex says, "armando, get over here," and slides into the car; it's grey and sort of crappy so probably they're doing some old lady a favour.
"i feel ridiculous," darwin says, pulling his door open.
"relax," alex grins. "i'm on the bad guy team, remember? this one's on me."
darwin rolls his eyes, getting in. "if we get caught you know it'll be me." the vinyl squeaks under him.
alex's eyes shift, mercurial, a hint of crimson flickering under his skin. his mouth sets. "we won't."
--
they don't get caught. they drive, instead, pull over to make out in the backseat like teenagers even though alex just turned twenty. elvis is popular here, too; alex likes him and darwin doesn't mind so they pick up a cassette and wear it thin.
darwin's never been to europe. alex, despite having been on the continent for a month or so, is still shit at directions; he pulls out a roadmap from somewhere and they decide they're going to rome; they end up in portugal, which is apparently in completely the wrong direction.
people stare at them, occasionally, but it's not like they're not used to it already. we're mutants, alex whispers, we can take on anything.
darwin trails his fingers out the window, the air of a foreign land running across his fingerprints, and believes him.
--
(later, they find out that charles tracked erik down to demand where he'd taken armando, and erik snapped back, once you return alex, and they stared at each other for a long moment until raven said, well, and emma said, both of you are idiots.
for now, it is just this:
darwin's fingers linked with alex's inbetween their seats, and elvis on the radio. take my hand, take my whole life too.
you know this is our song, right, alex says, grinning wider than the atlantic.
oh god, darwin says, what is my life.
alex says, safety first, and pulls the car over, and kisses him.)
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darwin laughs. "we're cute," he says.
UGH, THEY ARE ADORABLE.
and lolol everything is an attempt to get the parents to talk again. I APPROVE.
idk what it is about roadtrip AU's but i am a sucker for them and you've somehow managed to hit all the notes so right! *curling up and staying here forever* thank youuuu~
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