Fic: "Leaving" (X-Men Movieverse, Bobby/Johnny)
Title: "Leaving"
Fandom: X-Men Movieverse
Characters: Bobby Drake/Johnny Allerdyce
Word Count: 3416
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Johnny has something Bobby wants, but it's not all that simple. Phone calls lead to motels which lead to surprises which lead to complications.
Disclaimer: Not mine, and most likely never will be.
Author's Notes: Post X3. Many thanks to the wonderful M. for the splendiferous beta.
They say spring is a time for change, but summer is a time for fun. For a mutant like Bobby Drake, summer was a season he never paid much attention to, until it reminded him of things he'd rather leave forgotten.
Seasons change, people change, but the past never does.
Bobby wasn't entirely surprised to get a phone call three days after Johnny escaped from Riker's. It came through the private line in his room, just as he was lying down. Moonlight poured through his window in a rectangle over the ringing phone. Bobby wondered if it was Johnny before he even reached out. When he pressed the smooth plastic to his ear, the first thing he heard was the clicking of a lighter being flipped, and he knew.
"Heard your girlfriend took the 'cure'."
"Hello, Johnny," Bobby said, trying to sound as reasonable as possible. For now.
"So how was she? Everything you dreamed? Or -"
"You know," Bobby said in the same conversational tone, "if we were still friends, I might have even told you. Now, what do you want?"
"It's not what I want. I have something you're gonna want."
"Really."
"You're as cold as your name, Iceman. I'll let the thought stew with you for a while, then I'll call back."
Sometimes, when Rogue touched people, they'd feel a little zap, and get a little weak. Just enough to let everyone know the cure was temporary.
Just enough to keep Bobby from ever touching her again.
They didn't talk much anymore. What was there to say after she'd sacrificed everything to be with him, and it hadn't worked out? "Sorry" didn't seem to cover it.
They still watched TV together, but they didn't sit as close as they had when her powers were at full, ironically enough. She tucked back her hair as the late show host gave his monologue, only for a few strands of white to fall across her face. Bobby had the urge to brush them back as well, but he knew the touch wouldn't be welcome. The light from the screen reflected onto her face, making weird, moving patterns of light and dark. Somehow, they reminded him that he was an asshole for being the reason she'd even taken the cure.
He hadn't wanted it, but he had. His behavior with Kitty was proof enough of that. All this drama for a piece of ass. He hated that about himself. He was supposed to be better than that.
"Someone's phone is ringing," Logan said as he walked into the quiet TV room. He was gulping at a beer - he had a stash now, kept in a small refrigerator in his room. He counted them every day, so if one was missing, there would be hell to pay.
And somehow Bobby just knew again. He stood up and ran up the stairs, his bare feet pounding into the carpet. He could feel Logan and Rogue's gazes on his back, full of open curiosity, but he ignored them. He had to answer the phone.
He tried to pretend he wasn't out of breath when he picked up.
"Hello, Bobby."
"Johnny."
"You sound a little winded. You weren't running, were you?"
Fuck. "No."
"Did I catch you with your dick halfway in Rogue, then?"
"What do you want?"
"Told you. Not what I want."
"Then what do I want, Johnny? I don't have time for games."
"Been missing anyone lately?"
Bobby thought of the Professor, who was inside the body of a comatose man in Scotland. He could only speak for ten minutes at a time before lapsing into the same coma the man had been in.
"Maybe."
"Then I'll call back tomorrow. Same time. Don't keep me waiting."
Bobby didn't even bother to go downstairs and watch television the next night. Rogue didn't seem particularly disappointed. She just shrugged her shoulders, looking as blank as ever as she turned around and headed downstairs without him. He watched her walk, wishing he knew a way to let her go without breaking her heart more than he had already. Her powers were slowly returning, but her energy seemed to be leaving, as if they were sucking her own life away.
The phone rang ten minutes late. Trust St. John Allerdyce to never be on time.
"Hello, Johnny," Bobby said immediately. "Now, what do you have that I'm missing?"
"Something about six-foot-one, blue eyes, leader-type…"
Bobby gasped. "You found the Professor's body?" Stranger things had been known to turn up.
Johnny snickered. "Not exactly. Meet me at the train station tomorrow at three pm. Alone. I'll show you."
"Why should I trust you?"
"For old times' sake."
Bobby listed to the dial tone for half an hour before setting the phone down in its cradle.
The thought had occurred to Bobby that it was a trap. Yet, there he stood in the middle of the near empty train station, all alone. He'd told Storm that he was leaving for a breath of fresh air. She hadn't questioned him; he was an adult, and furthermore, an X-Man now.
He didn't know why he trusted Johnny to show up and not kill him, other than the fact that Johnny had never been known for his subtlety. Bobby was confident enough that if it was a trap, he'd see it coming and could leave. After all, he'd kicked Johnny's ass once already. He had a cellphone, and besides - this was Johnny.
His best friend, once upon a time.
His… fuck buddy, once upon a time.
Bobby shook the treacherous thought free. It was dangerous to think about those times. It had just been stress relief because he couldn't touch Rogue. It didn't mean anything. Just two friends helping each other out.
The train station was quiet, but the beige platform still had trash and muddy footprints on it, giving it the impression of a field trampled by a circus. The wooden roof kept out most of the summer rain, though the benches were still wet. Most people Bobby's age were at the beach, or in New York City, partying. It was summer, a time to relax. A time to have fun.
For Bobby, it was just another season, only a little warmer than the others. When he was a kid, he'd gone home on summer vacation, but that seemed like a lifetime ago. Fun wasn't something X-Men had very often. He didn't like the heat - it weakened his powers - and he hadn't been home in two years. It was pretty clear that he was no longer really wanted.
Click, click, click.
"I wasn't sure if you'd come."
Bobby whirled around, muscles tensing. Johnny stood in the middle of the platform, flipping the top of his lighter. Sandy blond hair spilled in front of his face, and he grinned. "What's the matter, Bobby? Scared I'm gonna turn you into a puddle of water?"
"You can't get hot enough to melt me, Johnny. Now, what do you want?"
"I told you -"
"Yeah, yeah. Show it to me, then."
Johnny smiled. "You'll have to come with me. I wasn't sure if I could trust you to come alone, so I left him back at the motel."
"Go where?" asked Bobby, immediately suspicious.
Johnny waved a hand at the train, sitting quietly in the station. "There. The motel's outside North Salem."
"Why should I trust you?"
"For old time's sake, I suppose." Johnny sauntered towards the train. He grinned as he paused by the door. "You'll have to pay at the front."
Bobby grumbled, but he paid. He had to.
For old time's sake.
The rhythmic sound of a train running over its tracks was soothing, like a tuneless song. The sun broke through the rain clouds high above, reminding Bobby again of the summer he wasn't able to enjoy, in case he was called away on a mission. His life was for the X-Men now, and after all the losses they'd suffered, he wasn't going to back down.
Johnny sat beside him, quiet but for the click of his lighter. He stared at the empty bench across from them, as if trying to set it on fire with his gaze. Bobby watched him for a few minutes, then turned back to the window. He counted nine poles flashing past before Johnny spoke.
"What are you going to do with your life?"
"That should be obvious. What about you? You're the one who's a fugitive from the law."
"I don't know yet. I know I'm not going to spend my life in school, trying to save a world that doesn't give a fuck about me."
"Then why did you call me?" Curiosity burned brighter than ever inside Bobby. Did Johnny really have Professor Xavier's body? Was that even possible? Bobby wasn't sure exactly how the Professor's original body died, but something about disintegration had been mentioned.
He tried not to think that it had been Jean Grey who killed him. No one wanted to think about Miss Grey or the Phoenix anymore. Too much had been lost because of her. Them. Whatever.
"I wanted to give you something that doesn't belong to me."
"Since when did you care about being honest?"
Johnny stopped clicking the lighter and shoved it into his pocket. "Since I can't afford dead weight anymore."
It suddenly, inexplicably, occurred to Bobby that Johnny was giving up something he liked. Maybe it was that "anymore" Johnny had tacked onto the end of his answer.
White Plains was a decent-sized city, enough that someone could get lost in it if they were so inclined. Johnny had the taxi driver take them to a small motel on the outskirts of town. In glowing neon letters, it proudly proclaimed to be Westchester's greatest motel. The chipping paint on the doors and the dingy curtains hanging from the large windows told a different story.
Never once was Bobby nervous. Perhaps he was being overconfident, arrogant, or even naïve, but he thought Johnny was telling the truth. There was something in the closed off look on his face, the gleam in his eyes. When Johnny lied, his lips twitched too much, but they hadn't once. Bobby quietly followed Johnny to Room 6, wondering what was inside and somehow doubting it was anything too dangerous.
It was dark inside when Johnny entered. He flipped on the lights without a single word, staring at Bobby's face, as if for a reaction. Bobby scanned the room, but saw nothing. At least, not at first.
Then his gaze settled on an auburn-haired man lying on the bed. His back was to the door, but there was something about the way he was lying that was eerily familiar. Bobby combed his memory for a match, but it was soon a moot point. The man rolled over to look at him.
It was Scott Summers.
Bobby couldn't move or speak at first. He just stared. Scott sat up and rubbed his eyes - oddly like a child would - and then looked at Johnny blankly.
"I'm hungry," he said in dull monotone.
Johnny dumped a box of donuts in front of Scott that he'd picked up at a Krispy Kreme on the way. Scott opened them up and shoved a powdered one into his mouth whole. He made no acknowledgement of Bobby's presence at all.
"Cyclops?" Bobby asked, his head spinning from the revelation. "Mr. Summers?"
"I call him Scott," said Johnny, the corner of his mouth turning up. "And he doesn't even respond much to that, do you, Scott?"
Scott only shoved another donut in his mouth. His blue eyes were as dull as a twilit sky. Bobby walked over to Scott and sank to his knees beside him. To call the X-Men's former leader - a man he'd hero-worshipped - by his first name didn't feel right. At least not out loud.
"Mr. Summers, don't you remember me?"
Scott paused, a donut halfway in his mouth, and stared up at Bobby. Something flickered in his eyes, then died as quickly as it had appeared. He finished eating his third donut.
Anger suddenly burst across Bobby's senses, hot as if Johnny had set off a fireball behind his eyes. He stood up and whirled on Johnny. "How could you not bring him to us sooner? How dare you keep him like this? What did you do to him?" he demanded.
Johnny only stared at him, cold as ice. Now, that was a switch.
"What did you do to him?"
"I saved his life, is what I did."
Bobby didn't believe him. He'd trusted Johnny enough to come here, to risk his own life, but he didn't trust him with anyone else. Bobby struck out, his hands turning to ice as he grabbed Johnny by the wrists.
Johnny didn't have time to light a fire. He made a soft cry as Bobby slammed him against the thin motel wall, holding a hand to his throat. Bobby squeezed, watching frost ride along the surface of Johnny's skin from where he touched him. He rather enjoyed the power switch - before, Johnny had always been the one in control, but now, it was him.
"You bastard," Bobby spat. "You were my friend. My best friend. How could you do this?"
And just like that, it wasn't about Scott anymore. He'd forgotten all about Scott.
Johnny grabbed Bobby's wrists and twisted. The pain made Bobby turn back to flesh, and Johnny rolled them over. Suddenly, Bobby's back was pushed against the window, with only a layer of unwashed white curtains to separate him from the glass. It frosted over; he could hear the crackle as Johnny pressed himself against Bobby.
"I'm not sorry," Johnny hissed. "I did what I thought was right. So fuck off." He pressed against Bobby, grinding his erection against Bobby's hips. "Fuck off."
It was like old times, only angrier. Bobby didn't say anything. He just grabbed the back of Johnny's head, pulling him in for a kiss, as fierce as any roundhouse punch. It seared like fire on his lips, quickly traveling down the length of his cool body to his cock.
This was insane. This was dangerous. This was just what he wanted.
Johnny had already managed to unbuckle his pants and was pulling them open. Bobby remembered the routine, stretching up against the window, the cool of the glass working its way through cloth. He was as hard as Johnny now, excited to be touched, to be wanted, to have something so alive, so on edge.
Bobby fumbled at the nightstand next to them, grabbing a bottle of hotel lotion. Johnny had Bobby braced with his thighs and was opening his own pants. Licking his lips in anticipation, Bobby got enough lotion to prepare himself and shoved the bottle at Johnny so he could do the same. He flipped around, pressing his stomach against the frozen glass. The cold only excited him more - he was the Iceman, after all.
The moment his own fingers entered him, Bobby wanted more. The hurt and stretch wasn't enough. He wanted Johnny, and he wanted him hard. The thunk of the lotion hitting the dirty carpet brought Bobby's attention upwards. He could feel the press of Johnny's fingers on his thighs and the tip of Johnny's cock against his opening.
Johnny pushed himself in one painful jolt. Bobby gasped, pressing hard against the glass. He could feel the frost riding across his cock; it felt like a gentle caress. Johnny drove into him, hot, hard, and fast, his breath heavy and audible. Bobby thought he heard the window crack.
"God, fuck," Johnny grunted, over and over until God and fuck became one word.
The last time they done this, they'd been friends, helping each other out. Now, Bobby didn't know what they were. But they were doing it, and he wanted it harder.
"More," Bobby moaned. The slide of Johnny's cock went right against his prostate. Stars and comets burst behind Bobby's closed eyelids, his body lighting up with a heat he normally wouldn't feel thanks to his mutant powers. Only here, only now, could he feel fire. That it was Johnny giving it to him just seemed even more right.
Johnny stiffened and groaned loud. Bobby reached behind himself and grabbed Johnny by the t-shirt. A moment later, he felt Johnny come. "Missed you," Johnny whispered.
Bobby grabbed his own cock and jerked it a few times. The pleasure lit up all the nerves in his body as he came all over his fingers and the window. He flipped back around after a moment, making no noise.
His gaze fell on Scott, who was lying back down on his bed, his arms curled around the empty donut box.
Only then did reality set in.
Bobby was sore when he sat down on the edge of Scott's bed and stared down at the older man. "What happened to him?"
Johnny was smoking a cigarette in the bathroom, examining the bruise on his throat that Bobby had left him in the mirror. His shirt lay in the sink, soaking in hot water to defrost from Bobby's icy touch. He was naked from the waist up. Bobby ripped his gaze off Johnny and onto Scott, who appeared to be sleeping. He didn't want to stare at Johnny. It might was too tempting to fuck him again.
"I dunno. Magneto sent me to Alkali Lake to see if there was anything there to help him with Jean right before… well, you remember." Johnny paused. A glance told Bobby he was rubbing something on the bruise. "I just found him there. He was wandering around naked, with no clue who or what he is. You guys aren't very good at looking for people, you know. I didn't even have to try."
Bobby licked his lips. "He has amnesia?"
"He has brain damage or something. I don't know. Maybe you can fix him with a telepath. I can't do anything more for him. I can't even afford him."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I'm living like any good fugitive should, from motel to motel. Scott's powers still work, you know. He can control them now, is all. But he got scared one night - nightmare, I think - and blew a hole in the roof. We had to skedaddle quick." Johnny came to the doorway and leaned against it. He took the cigarette from his mouth and blew a smoke ring. "I figured you could take care of him from now on."
"This whole time, you've been… taking care of him?"
Johnny scowled and mashed the cigarette into the wall. "Yeah."
Bobby touched Scott's arm. He was warm to the touch; Bobby remembered something about Scott being full of solar energy that he stored in his cells.
"So Phoenix didn't kill him." Bobby withdrew and sighed. "Of course I'll take him home. But, I…" He stared at Johnny's bare feet on the brown shag carpet. Johnny needed to cut his toenails. "You can come with us."
"No, I can't. You know that. I don't even want to."
Bobby watched as Johnny found a clean t-shirt, put it on, and slipped his shoes back on. He squeezed the water out of his dirty shirt and shoved it into a bag full of clothes.
"So this is good-bye?"
Johnny stared at Scott, rather than Bobby, and licked his lips. "Yeah, I guess it is. Take care of him, okay?"
Bobby knew there was something he should say, something he should do, to stop Johnny, but he didn't want to. It was better this way. Easier. Let Johnny go. Let things be simple back at the mansion, where his largest problem was a girlfriend he couldn't touch. Not a former best friend that he could touch all he wanted.
Johnny stared at Bobby for a moment, looking as if he were waiting for something. Then he turned and walked out without a good-bye, his bag hanging over his shoulder.
Scott turned towards the door as Johnny walked out, a single tear streaking down his face. He seemed to look at Bobby for a moment as if Bobby were a coward, then turned away, as vacant as before.
Bobby almost wished he could do the same.
Bobby always hated summer after that. It reminded him of things he didn't want to want, but wanted all the same.
Funny how a season that meant nothing to Bobby before, suddenly meant all things Johnny.
Fandom: X-Men Movieverse
Characters: Bobby Drake/Johnny Allerdyce
Word Count: 3416
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Johnny has something Bobby wants, but it's not all that simple. Phone calls lead to motels which lead to surprises which lead to complications.
Disclaimer: Not mine, and most likely never will be.
Author's Notes: Post X3. Many thanks to the wonderful M. for the splendiferous beta.
They say spring is a time for change, but summer is a time for fun. For a mutant like Bobby Drake, summer was a season he never paid much attention to, until it reminded him of things he'd rather leave forgotten.
Seasons change, people change, but the past never does.
Bobby wasn't entirely surprised to get a phone call three days after Johnny escaped from Riker's. It came through the private line in his room, just as he was lying down. Moonlight poured through his window in a rectangle over the ringing phone. Bobby wondered if it was Johnny before he even reached out. When he pressed the smooth plastic to his ear, the first thing he heard was the clicking of a lighter being flipped, and he knew.
"Heard your girlfriend took the 'cure'."
"Hello, Johnny," Bobby said, trying to sound as reasonable as possible. For now.
"So how was she? Everything you dreamed? Or -"
"You know," Bobby said in the same conversational tone, "if we were still friends, I might have even told you. Now, what do you want?"
"It's not what I want. I have something you're gonna want."
"Really."
"You're as cold as your name, Iceman. I'll let the thought stew with you for a while, then I'll call back."
Sometimes, when Rogue touched people, they'd feel a little zap, and get a little weak. Just enough to let everyone know the cure was temporary.
Just enough to keep Bobby from ever touching her again.
They didn't talk much anymore. What was there to say after she'd sacrificed everything to be with him, and it hadn't worked out? "Sorry" didn't seem to cover it.
They still watched TV together, but they didn't sit as close as they had when her powers were at full, ironically enough. She tucked back her hair as the late show host gave his monologue, only for a few strands of white to fall across her face. Bobby had the urge to brush them back as well, but he knew the touch wouldn't be welcome. The light from the screen reflected onto her face, making weird, moving patterns of light and dark. Somehow, they reminded him that he was an asshole for being the reason she'd even taken the cure.
He hadn't wanted it, but he had. His behavior with Kitty was proof enough of that. All this drama for a piece of ass. He hated that about himself. He was supposed to be better than that.
"Someone's phone is ringing," Logan said as he walked into the quiet TV room. He was gulping at a beer - he had a stash now, kept in a small refrigerator in his room. He counted them every day, so if one was missing, there would be hell to pay.
And somehow Bobby just knew again. He stood up and ran up the stairs, his bare feet pounding into the carpet. He could feel Logan and Rogue's gazes on his back, full of open curiosity, but he ignored them. He had to answer the phone.
He tried to pretend he wasn't out of breath when he picked up.
"Hello, Bobby."
"Johnny."
"You sound a little winded. You weren't running, were you?"
Fuck. "No."
"Did I catch you with your dick halfway in Rogue, then?"
"What do you want?"
"Told you. Not what I want."
"Then what do I want, Johnny? I don't have time for games."
"Been missing anyone lately?"
Bobby thought of the Professor, who was inside the body of a comatose man in Scotland. He could only speak for ten minutes at a time before lapsing into the same coma the man had been in.
"Maybe."
"Then I'll call back tomorrow. Same time. Don't keep me waiting."
Bobby didn't even bother to go downstairs and watch television the next night. Rogue didn't seem particularly disappointed. She just shrugged her shoulders, looking as blank as ever as she turned around and headed downstairs without him. He watched her walk, wishing he knew a way to let her go without breaking her heart more than he had already. Her powers were slowly returning, but her energy seemed to be leaving, as if they were sucking her own life away.
The phone rang ten minutes late. Trust St. John Allerdyce to never be on time.
"Hello, Johnny," Bobby said immediately. "Now, what do you have that I'm missing?"
"Something about six-foot-one, blue eyes, leader-type…"
Bobby gasped. "You found the Professor's body?" Stranger things had been known to turn up.
Johnny snickered. "Not exactly. Meet me at the train station tomorrow at three pm. Alone. I'll show you."
"Why should I trust you?"
"For old times' sake."
Bobby listed to the dial tone for half an hour before setting the phone down in its cradle.
The thought had occurred to Bobby that it was a trap. Yet, there he stood in the middle of the near empty train station, all alone. He'd told Storm that he was leaving for a breath of fresh air. She hadn't questioned him; he was an adult, and furthermore, an X-Man now.
He didn't know why he trusted Johnny to show up and not kill him, other than the fact that Johnny had never been known for his subtlety. Bobby was confident enough that if it was a trap, he'd see it coming and could leave. After all, he'd kicked Johnny's ass once already. He had a cellphone, and besides - this was Johnny.
His best friend, once upon a time.
His… fuck buddy, once upon a time.
Bobby shook the treacherous thought free. It was dangerous to think about those times. It had just been stress relief because he couldn't touch Rogue. It didn't mean anything. Just two friends helping each other out.
The train station was quiet, but the beige platform still had trash and muddy footprints on it, giving it the impression of a field trampled by a circus. The wooden roof kept out most of the summer rain, though the benches were still wet. Most people Bobby's age were at the beach, or in New York City, partying. It was summer, a time to relax. A time to have fun.
For Bobby, it was just another season, only a little warmer than the others. When he was a kid, he'd gone home on summer vacation, but that seemed like a lifetime ago. Fun wasn't something X-Men had very often. He didn't like the heat - it weakened his powers - and he hadn't been home in two years. It was pretty clear that he was no longer really wanted.
Click, click, click.
"I wasn't sure if you'd come."
Bobby whirled around, muscles tensing. Johnny stood in the middle of the platform, flipping the top of his lighter. Sandy blond hair spilled in front of his face, and he grinned. "What's the matter, Bobby? Scared I'm gonna turn you into a puddle of water?"
"You can't get hot enough to melt me, Johnny. Now, what do you want?"
"I told you -"
"Yeah, yeah. Show it to me, then."
Johnny smiled. "You'll have to come with me. I wasn't sure if I could trust you to come alone, so I left him back at the motel."
"Go where?" asked Bobby, immediately suspicious.
Johnny waved a hand at the train, sitting quietly in the station. "There. The motel's outside North Salem."
"Why should I trust you?"
"For old time's sake, I suppose." Johnny sauntered towards the train. He grinned as he paused by the door. "You'll have to pay at the front."
Bobby grumbled, but he paid. He had to.
For old time's sake.
The rhythmic sound of a train running over its tracks was soothing, like a tuneless song. The sun broke through the rain clouds high above, reminding Bobby again of the summer he wasn't able to enjoy, in case he was called away on a mission. His life was for the X-Men now, and after all the losses they'd suffered, he wasn't going to back down.
Johnny sat beside him, quiet but for the click of his lighter. He stared at the empty bench across from them, as if trying to set it on fire with his gaze. Bobby watched him for a few minutes, then turned back to the window. He counted nine poles flashing past before Johnny spoke.
"What are you going to do with your life?"
"That should be obvious. What about you? You're the one who's a fugitive from the law."
"I don't know yet. I know I'm not going to spend my life in school, trying to save a world that doesn't give a fuck about me."
"Then why did you call me?" Curiosity burned brighter than ever inside Bobby. Did Johnny really have Professor Xavier's body? Was that even possible? Bobby wasn't sure exactly how the Professor's original body died, but something about disintegration had been mentioned.
He tried not to think that it had been Jean Grey who killed him. No one wanted to think about Miss Grey or the Phoenix anymore. Too much had been lost because of her. Them. Whatever.
"I wanted to give you something that doesn't belong to me."
"Since when did you care about being honest?"
Johnny stopped clicking the lighter and shoved it into his pocket. "Since I can't afford dead weight anymore."
It suddenly, inexplicably, occurred to Bobby that Johnny was giving up something he liked. Maybe it was that "anymore" Johnny had tacked onto the end of his answer.
White Plains was a decent-sized city, enough that someone could get lost in it if they were so inclined. Johnny had the taxi driver take them to a small motel on the outskirts of town. In glowing neon letters, it proudly proclaimed to be Westchester's greatest motel. The chipping paint on the doors and the dingy curtains hanging from the large windows told a different story.
Never once was Bobby nervous. Perhaps he was being overconfident, arrogant, or even naïve, but he thought Johnny was telling the truth. There was something in the closed off look on his face, the gleam in his eyes. When Johnny lied, his lips twitched too much, but they hadn't once. Bobby quietly followed Johnny to Room 6, wondering what was inside and somehow doubting it was anything too dangerous.
It was dark inside when Johnny entered. He flipped on the lights without a single word, staring at Bobby's face, as if for a reaction. Bobby scanned the room, but saw nothing. At least, not at first.
Then his gaze settled on an auburn-haired man lying on the bed. His back was to the door, but there was something about the way he was lying that was eerily familiar. Bobby combed his memory for a match, but it was soon a moot point. The man rolled over to look at him.
It was Scott Summers.
Bobby couldn't move or speak at first. He just stared. Scott sat up and rubbed his eyes - oddly like a child would - and then looked at Johnny blankly.
"I'm hungry," he said in dull monotone.
Johnny dumped a box of donuts in front of Scott that he'd picked up at a Krispy Kreme on the way. Scott opened them up and shoved a powdered one into his mouth whole. He made no acknowledgement of Bobby's presence at all.
"Cyclops?" Bobby asked, his head spinning from the revelation. "Mr. Summers?"
"I call him Scott," said Johnny, the corner of his mouth turning up. "And he doesn't even respond much to that, do you, Scott?"
Scott only shoved another donut in his mouth. His blue eyes were as dull as a twilit sky. Bobby walked over to Scott and sank to his knees beside him. To call the X-Men's former leader - a man he'd hero-worshipped - by his first name didn't feel right. At least not out loud.
"Mr. Summers, don't you remember me?"
Scott paused, a donut halfway in his mouth, and stared up at Bobby. Something flickered in his eyes, then died as quickly as it had appeared. He finished eating his third donut.
Anger suddenly burst across Bobby's senses, hot as if Johnny had set off a fireball behind his eyes. He stood up and whirled on Johnny. "How could you not bring him to us sooner? How dare you keep him like this? What did you do to him?" he demanded.
Johnny only stared at him, cold as ice. Now, that was a switch.
"What did you do to him?"
"I saved his life, is what I did."
Bobby didn't believe him. He'd trusted Johnny enough to come here, to risk his own life, but he didn't trust him with anyone else. Bobby struck out, his hands turning to ice as he grabbed Johnny by the wrists.
Johnny didn't have time to light a fire. He made a soft cry as Bobby slammed him against the thin motel wall, holding a hand to his throat. Bobby squeezed, watching frost ride along the surface of Johnny's skin from where he touched him. He rather enjoyed the power switch - before, Johnny had always been the one in control, but now, it was him.
"You bastard," Bobby spat. "You were my friend. My best friend. How could you do this?"
And just like that, it wasn't about Scott anymore. He'd forgotten all about Scott.
Johnny grabbed Bobby's wrists and twisted. The pain made Bobby turn back to flesh, and Johnny rolled them over. Suddenly, Bobby's back was pushed against the window, with only a layer of unwashed white curtains to separate him from the glass. It frosted over; he could hear the crackle as Johnny pressed himself against Bobby.
"I'm not sorry," Johnny hissed. "I did what I thought was right. So fuck off." He pressed against Bobby, grinding his erection against Bobby's hips. "Fuck off."
It was like old times, only angrier. Bobby didn't say anything. He just grabbed the back of Johnny's head, pulling him in for a kiss, as fierce as any roundhouse punch. It seared like fire on his lips, quickly traveling down the length of his cool body to his cock.
This was insane. This was dangerous. This was just what he wanted.
Johnny had already managed to unbuckle his pants and was pulling them open. Bobby remembered the routine, stretching up against the window, the cool of the glass working its way through cloth. He was as hard as Johnny now, excited to be touched, to be wanted, to have something so alive, so on edge.
Bobby fumbled at the nightstand next to them, grabbing a bottle of hotel lotion. Johnny had Bobby braced with his thighs and was opening his own pants. Licking his lips in anticipation, Bobby got enough lotion to prepare himself and shoved the bottle at Johnny so he could do the same. He flipped around, pressing his stomach against the frozen glass. The cold only excited him more - he was the Iceman, after all.
The moment his own fingers entered him, Bobby wanted more. The hurt and stretch wasn't enough. He wanted Johnny, and he wanted him hard. The thunk of the lotion hitting the dirty carpet brought Bobby's attention upwards. He could feel the press of Johnny's fingers on his thighs and the tip of Johnny's cock against his opening.
Johnny pushed himself in one painful jolt. Bobby gasped, pressing hard against the glass. He could feel the frost riding across his cock; it felt like a gentle caress. Johnny drove into him, hot, hard, and fast, his breath heavy and audible. Bobby thought he heard the window crack.
"God, fuck," Johnny grunted, over and over until God and fuck became one word.
The last time they done this, they'd been friends, helping each other out. Now, Bobby didn't know what they were. But they were doing it, and he wanted it harder.
"More," Bobby moaned. The slide of Johnny's cock went right against his prostate. Stars and comets burst behind Bobby's closed eyelids, his body lighting up with a heat he normally wouldn't feel thanks to his mutant powers. Only here, only now, could he feel fire. That it was Johnny giving it to him just seemed even more right.
Johnny stiffened and groaned loud. Bobby reached behind himself and grabbed Johnny by the t-shirt. A moment later, he felt Johnny come. "Missed you," Johnny whispered.
Bobby grabbed his own cock and jerked it a few times. The pleasure lit up all the nerves in his body as he came all over his fingers and the window. He flipped back around after a moment, making no noise.
His gaze fell on Scott, who was lying back down on his bed, his arms curled around the empty donut box.
Only then did reality set in.
Bobby was sore when he sat down on the edge of Scott's bed and stared down at the older man. "What happened to him?"
Johnny was smoking a cigarette in the bathroom, examining the bruise on his throat that Bobby had left him in the mirror. His shirt lay in the sink, soaking in hot water to defrost from Bobby's icy touch. He was naked from the waist up. Bobby ripped his gaze off Johnny and onto Scott, who appeared to be sleeping. He didn't want to stare at Johnny. It might was too tempting to fuck him again.
"I dunno. Magneto sent me to Alkali Lake to see if there was anything there to help him with Jean right before… well, you remember." Johnny paused. A glance told Bobby he was rubbing something on the bruise. "I just found him there. He was wandering around naked, with no clue who or what he is. You guys aren't very good at looking for people, you know. I didn't even have to try."
Bobby licked his lips. "He has amnesia?"
"He has brain damage or something. I don't know. Maybe you can fix him with a telepath. I can't do anything more for him. I can't even afford him."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I'm living like any good fugitive should, from motel to motel. Scott's powers still work, you know. He can control them now, is all. But he got scared one night - nightmare, I think - and blew a hole in the roof. We had to skedaddle quick." Johnny came to the doorway and leaned against it. He took the cigarette from his mouth and blew a smoke ring. "I figured you could take care of him from now on."
"This whole time, you've been… taking care of him?"
Johnny scowled and mashed the cigarette into the wall. "Yeah."
Bobby touched Scott's arm. He was warm to the touch; Bobby remembered something about Scott being full of solar energy that he stored in his cells.
"So Phoenix didn't kill him." Bobby withdrew and sighed. "Of course I'll take him home. But, I…" He stared at Johnny's bare feet on the brown shag carpet. Johnny needed to cut his toenails. "You can come with us."
"No, I can't. You know that. I don't even want to."
Bobby watched as Johnny found a clean t-shirt, put it on, and slipped his shoes back on. He squeezed the water out of his dirty shirt and shoved it into a bag full of clothes.
"So this is good-bye?"
Johnny stared at Scott, rather than Bobby, and licked his lips. "Yeah, I guess it is. Take care of him, okay?"
Bobby knew there was something he should say, something he should do, to stop Johnny, but he didn't want to. It was better this way. Easier. Let Johnny go. Let things be simple back at the mansion, where his largest problem was a girlfriend he couldn't touch. Not a former best friend that he could touch all he wanted.
Johnny stared at Bobby for a moment, looking as if he were waiting for something. Then he turned and walked out without a good-bye, his bag hanging over his shoulder.
Scott turned towards the door as Johnny walked out, a single tear streaking down his face. He seemed to look at Bobby for a moment as if Bobby were a coward, then turned away, as vacant as before.
Bobby almost wished he could do the same.
Bobby always hated summer after that. It reminded him of things he didn't want to want, but wanted all the same.
Funny how a season that meant nothing to Bobby before, suddenly meant all things Johnny.