The Blame Game
This, like most things, Alex thinks to himself sulkily as he heads to his room along one of the long corridors in the quiet mansion, is all Hank’s fault. Whatever, this is exactly.
It all started the night before, when the Professor had managed to introduce the topic of genetic mutations into a group discussion they were having at dinner. Alex had groaned, having already heard most of the theories before (not from personal choice) while Hank had perked up, eager to confer with the Professor. Erik had leaned over in his seat to hear better, because he seemed to be intensely interested in whatever the Professor had to say. He would probably hang off of his every word even if the Professor had been talking about the merits of a teaspoon. So Alex had ignored the conversation going on around him, to save his own sanity, and amused himself by pushing the remaining peas around his plate. He frowned at them as they rolled around the white china. He had never been fond of eating anything that was remotely green.
Alex’s boredom continued to grow as the conversation continued to progress sluggishly. Idly, he thought of retreating to the quiet of his room or maybe the bunker, away from the unwanted science lecture. That was until Hank, decided to deviate from the topic and talk about other inherited characteristics instead. Alex listened vaguely, barely understanding the scientific terms Hank was throwing around because he had never really paid in any attention in Biology. He had better things to do. And then Hank decided to use the fiery colour of Sean’s hair as an example, and Alex found himself cursing Hank under his breath.
Sean grinned lazily, pleased to be have selected as an example for Hank’s explanation, and the conversation moved back to mutations and the manifestation of their own powers. Except, except Alex couldn’t quite pull his eyes away from Sean. His eyes studied the way Sean’s lethargic curls were set alight by the soft glow of the lights above his head, how it nestled and tickled the side of his chin, so delicate. He imagine his hair matted and tangled across his pillow in the morning, coppery in the morning light.
And then Alex realised that he had turned into a twelve-year-old girl. Because seriously? Sean’s hair?
When Alex finally gets back to his room, remembering the previous evening he slams his door a little harder than necessary and glares at his bed. Stupid, soft red hair. This is all Hank’s fault.
*
After three days of silently brooding, Alex has almost forgotten about his fascination with Sean’s hair. It was just a moment of temporary insanity- nothing worth thinking about. He trains longer in the bunker, aiming and firing at mannequins continuously until exhaustion forces him to stop. He lets a small smile flit across his face every time he hits his target, decimating it. Faux limbs fly through the air before hitting the wall with a heavy thud. Hank has almost perfected Alex’s plate, only a few minor things need to be altered and then Alex can finally get his hands on the final product.
The anticipation of being in full control of his own abilities, finally being able to be useful tingles down his spine as he leaves the bunker, after dutifully putting out any errant flames.
It’s only when he gets outside into the murky air of the mansion’s grounds that he realises that maybe his fascination with Sean might not just be limited to the untamed mop sitting rebelliously on top of his head.
Hank and Sean are a few yards ahead of him, stretching on the gravel ready for an afternoon run in their sweats. Sean swings his arms high over his head, and the grey fabric of his hoodie rides up, exposing milky white skin. Alex can’t see any freckles from this distance, but he imagines them peppered across Sean’s stomach, before realising how precariously low Sean’s sweatpants are sitting on his hips and shit. The bones of Sean’s hips protrude out obscenely angling down sharply before disappearing ominously below the waistband of his sweats. It takes Alex a minute to realise that he is blatantly staring, and another to realise he’s actually salivating.
Cheeks flushed red (from the exertion of training, not for embarrassment, Jeez), Alex storms back into the mansion determined to lock himself away playing video games, after a seriously cold shower.
If his teasing and jabs at Hank get more snappy and hard-edged, it’s only because he deserves it.
*
By the time it happens again, Alex has already resigned himself to the fact that yes he is going to hell. He’s only thankful that Sean hasn’t actually caught him gawping yet. He tries to avoid the red-haired mutant for a week but eventually gives up because it seems to be impossible. Sean seems to be everywhere, around every corner, in every room, lounging lazily against every doorframe. Maybe he has a secret ability to teleport that he’s no telling anyone about, Alex thinks to himself suspiciously.
He ends up hiding in the library because he doesn’t think anyone will ever discover him there. And well, the only people who ever actually venture into the room are Hank and Charles (and occasionally Erik, when he and Charles have intense ‘chess matches’ that Alex thinks is code for dirty time). Lured into a false sense of security he relaxes into one of the leather armchairs near the fire, not daring to move the chess pieces sitting on top of the board in front of him. He dreads to think what Erik would do if he found that his and Charles’ game had been meddled with without their permission.
Relaxing against the chair he lolls his head back, and allows himself to let his eyes drift shut. A rare sense of serenity floods his system, and the tension slips from his body leaving him limp and lethargic. It’s not until he hears the sound of footsteps coming up the corridor that he realises he actually fell asleep. Feeling strangely exposed, he pushes himself up into a less comfortable position, wiping the sleep from his eyes as Sean pops his head around the door.
Alex groans inwardly because seriously? This is the last place he expected Sean to end up. Sean grins easily at him, oblivious to Alex’s inner turmoil and strolls into the room.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere man!” Sean exclaims, looking mildly pleased that he was successful in his task, but then again it’s easy to please him. Alex desperately tries not to think of the sexual connotations of that fact. “Hank says he’s finished your plate thing, wants you to go and try it on this afternoon.” He slumps into the armchair on the other side of the board, opposite Alex and reaches out to pick up a knight, twirling it between his fingers.
And Sean has fingers. Okay, so Alex isn’t actually surprised that Sean has fingers. Its not like he hadn’t realised they were there before. It’s just, he never noticed how long, and slender they were before. He watches mesmerised as they bend elegantly, twisting the chess piece effortlessly in circles, moving fluidly like the motion of water. Until, they stop moving completely, and Alex glances up to find Sean looking at him, head tilted slightly to the side in thought, expression amused. “What?”
Alex feels the colour creep to his cheeks unbidden and tips his head down to hide the spreading flush. He blames it on the stuffiness in the library, choosing to ignore the jolt in his stomach that might be the mortification of being caught staring. He shakes his head to clear his thoughts and offers Sean a half-hearted smile as the heat slowly starts to ebb away. “Nothing.”
Deciding to make his escape before he does something completely stupid, Alex clambers out of the armchair, brushing off the ache in his limbs. “Better go and see Hank”.
He walks out the room purposefully in the direction of Hank’s lab. Sean doesn’t stop him.
*
Things just seem to get infinitely worse after that. Alex becomes fascinated with every inch of Sean’s anatomy: the gentle curve of his neck, the hollow of his collarbone, the thinness of his wrist, his arms, his thighs, his chest, his ribs, his ass (especially his ass), everything. Only his mind doesn’t seem to be content with obsessing over just the physical aspects of Sean. No, he starts noticing other things too. Sean’s laugh; loud and carefree, rising out from somewhere deep in his chest, laughter gasping out like air from his lungs. Sean’s voice, happy, sated and lethargic, like he just rolled out of bed, no matter what time of the day it is. His sense of humour; dorky and sometimes bordering on obscene. The wicked glint that appears in his eyes when he’s just thought up a mischievous plan. Hell, even his smell, the combination of sweat, the fresh outdoor air and something undeniably Sean can capture his attention and leave him half-hard and incoherent.
He never used to be this pathetic.
“This is all your fault!” he growls accusingly in the lab one day, violently pointing a finger into the centre of Hank’s chest as the young scientist dutifully adjusts Alex’s plate for the final time. Alex knows he’s definitely going soft when Hank barely bats an eyelid at his threatening tone. When did he stop being a badass?
Hank pulls the vest a little harder than necessary, rolling his eyes when Alex wheezes. “I’m sorry. You’ll have to be a little more specific. What is my fault exactly?”
Alex grumbles to himself about how no one understands him, glares at a row of test tubes lined up, filled with brightly coloured liquid and sighs like the weight of the world is resting on his shoulders. “Never mind, bozo.”
He doesn’t even sound insulting.
*
“Dude, are you okay?” Sean asks from Alex’s doorway, moving into the room without invitation so that the door falls shut behind him. “You’ve been acting a little weird lately. Something eating at you?”
Alex wants to say yes there is, but thinks of something better to say, witty and sharp. The words die on his tongue though, and he nearly chokes on thin air as he turns to face Sean. The flame-haired mutant is wearing a dark green sweater about a thousand sizes too big for him. It falls off one of his shoulders, leaving his freckled alabaster skin exposed down to the tantalising hollow of his collarbone and the colour contrasts sharply against the natural red of Sean’s wild hair. He looks gorgeous.
He startles when Sean’s snaps his fingers right in his face, the annoyingly familiar blush reddening his cheeks. In attempt to hide his embarrassment he turns to look down at the covers on his bed, and pulls on a couple of loose threads by the seam. Above him, Sean lets out an affected sigh (Alex knows he’s rolling his eyes) and the red head plops down onto the mattress next to him, slinging a long arm around Alex’s shoulder, shaking him slightly.
“Dude, if you go all weird on me I won’t have anyone to share my stash with,” Sean jokes lightly, knocking their knees together to try and get Alex’s attention. Alex just doesn’t trust himself to look up.
“ ‘M not acting weird,” Alex mutters moodily into his left shoulder, inches from Sean’s limp hand. A very, very small part of him is tempted to brush the side of his cheek against the pliant fingers. He doesn’t.
There’s silence for a moment, stretching out between them and heightening the tension building in Alex’s muscles. The energy in his chest churns uncomfortably but he forces it to disperse, in control. Sean seems to be thinking, which is usually a dangerous occurrence, but Alex can’t think of anything to say that doesn’t sound remotely like the script of a chick flick so he keeps his mouth firmly shut and waits.
Sean pokes him in the ribs and says, “You know, if this is about you staring at me like a sex crazed stalker then its cool, man. I already know.”
“What?!” Alex demands, his head whipping around so fast that the world blurs for one dizzying moment. When his vision comes back in to focus he’s surprised to see Sean’s face so close. He can see every freckle dusted across his nose and cheeks.
The grin Sean gives him in response is borderline pornographic. If anything it’s more of a smirk. “C’mon, I’m not stupid. I mean, I’m a hot piece of ass. You were bound to fall for my charms eventually”.
Alex barely manages to grumble, “Asshole,” before he’s reaching for the collar of Sean’s stupidly hot sweater and dragging him in for a kiss, all hopes of self-control forgotten. Their mouths collide messily, and Alex can feel the vibration of Sean’s muffled laughter under his palm. He uses this moment to take advantage of the fact that Sean’s mouth is open to slip his tongue in. They kiss lazily for a while, slow and deep. Sean’s hand curls around Alex’s hip, thumb methodically stroking the skin their and Alex shivers at the light contact. He’s definitely lost all hope of being badass. His owns hands sink into the thick curls on top of Sean’s head, the start of all his problems, and he tugs gently at them. They feel soft and smooth under his calloused fingers. Alex is secretly relieved that his craziness hasn’t sent Sean running (or flying) for the hills.
When they break apart for air, Alex thinks how much better Sean’s sweater will look strewn across his bedroom floor. Stretching out to rid Sean of the offending article of clothing he stops halfway, hand floating in the air when he notices the other mutant’s expression. Sean beams at him, and says smugly, “Wait ‘til I see Hank. I owe him big time”.
Comprehension dawns on Alex, and he reaches for the nearest pillow, throwing it. It hits Sean in the centre of the forehead but he just chuckles. Alex can’t bring himself to actually care.
“You little fucker!”
A/n: I've never written any X-Men slash before so I'm completely new to this. Be kind? Con/crit welcomed :)
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