fic: The Hush of Falling Leaves (X-Men: First Class)
Title: The Hush of Falling Leaves
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Rating: teen (for language)
Pairing(s): Alex/Darwin
Summary: Alex feels kind of pathetic, but he’s okay with that. There are worse things he could be. Worse things he’s been. 1,400 words.
There’s a word for what he is, Alex thinks as he kicks fallen leaves from his path through the woods, a thermos of coffee clasped between his gloved hands: fucking pathetic.
Okay, that’s two words.
Still, what he feels isn’t shame but a sort of rueful self-awareness. He’s fucking pathetic, but he’s okay with that. There are worse things he could be. Worse things he’s been.
He smiles to himself as he continues along the half-hidden path, tucking his chin into a fold of his scratchy woolen scarf, glad he let the professor talk him into wearing it. Yeah, it itches, but he’s pretty sure he’d be freezing without it. It’s late November and the woods are cold and damp. Flecks of black mud cling to the soles and toes of his boots, and the wind seems to get in through every seam of his coat and jeans, raising goose flesh.
The woods are quiet. He hasn’t gone that far from the mansion - technically he’s still on Professor X’s property, which kind of boggles his mind - but he might as well have wandered for miles. When he last came this way, about a week ago, he could still hear birds in the mostly bare branches; now even the geese seem to have fled. There’s no rustling in the underbrush, giving away the furtive movements of squirrels and chipmunks. From the trampled yellow leaves to the clouds piling up in the gunmetal sky, everything seems to have turned inward, or lost itself in a deep slumber. The only sounds come from Alex himself: his harsh breathing, and his plodding footfalls.
So, he’s fucking pathetic and he’s fucking freezing.
And it’s okay. He’s actually smiling.
At least, he thinks he is. His jaw muscles are frozen and his lips are so wind-chapped that it’s getting hard to tell what shape they’re actually bent in. But he’s pretty sure.
In another universe, this would be a lonely walk, self-inflicted punishment for being what he is - a mutant, a criminal, queer - though he probably wouldn’t call it that. The professor’s changed him in a lot of ways, from helping him control his power to making him understand that when he isolates himself, he isn’t just trying to protect people.
Wasn’t, he thinks as he continues through the trees. That was the past. Another universe.
In this universe, the reason for Alex’s smile is just coming into view now. He’s standing with his back to Alex, just a little beyond the upcoming twist in the path, his hands deep in the pockets of his coat. Darwin doesn’t turn around as Alex approaches, but he doesn’t act at all surprised when Alex elbows him playfully.
“Hey,” says Alex. A puff of white vapor hangs in the air in front of his lips for a second, before dissipating.
“Hey.” Darwin’s voice is low, almost gruff.
They stand in silence for a few moments, shoulders just nudging. Alex doesn’t want to bother Darwin until he’s ready; he knows that Darwin came out this way to be alone for a while. It’s just something he does - something he’s started doing, rather, since he came back from … whatever it was that wasn’t exactly death, but wasn’t exactly life either.
While Alex waits, the clouds thicken and the wind picks up, causing the last leaves in the branches overhead to twirl madly. It’s going to snow soon, he thinks. Very soon.
Now that he’s no longer moving, he starts to shiver. He clenches his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. The tips of his ears and nose are numb with cold, and he wants to bury his face in the curve of Darwin’s neck, the way he sometimes does in the safety and privacy of their bedroom, which is technically Alex’s, but Darwin spends so many nights there that the other guys have started joking, and actually, it’s pretty amazing how little anyone seems to care, especially Hank, who has every reason to give Alex shit for...
Alex almost jumps when he feels a puff of warm breath against his cheek. Darwin has half-turned toward him, and his lips are barely two inches from Alex’s skin. He can feel the flush creeping up his neck and hopes it doesn’t get any higher than the collar of his coat because he is fucking pathetic and while he isn’t ashamed of the fact, he doesn’t really want Darwin to know.
“Wanted to show you something,” Alex mumbles thickly. “Here.” He thrusts the thermos of coffee at Darwin, who takes it wordlessly. “Sip it, okay? It’s cold.”
While Darwin wordlessly unscrews the thermos cap and takes a sip, Alex peels off his gloves and stuffs them into his coat pockets.
“It’s cold, right?” Alex says, watching Darwin’s face but avoiding his eyes.
“Yeah, it’s cold,” says Darwin, lowering the thermos with a slight grimace.
“Give it back to me. I’m gonna show you something.”
Holding the thermos between his bare palms, he focuses the way Professor X taught him, searching inward first, for something calming, something serene. He finds it in the small store of good memories he’s slowly building up: an early morning jog he took about a month ago, when the trees looked like paintbrushes that had been dipped in gold and scarlet pigment, and the earth was still soft and yielding beneath his footfalls. Curls of mist shimmered around him and he felt at peace for the first time in a long time.
Holding that memory in his mind, Alex concentrates on his power. He can feel the heat building in his chest, but he isn’t worried. He can channel that heat, control its course. He can feel it in his veins and arteries, that slow burn. His skin begins to tingle and the hairs on the backs of his arms stand up. A thin ribbon of steam rises from the thermos.
This level of concentration still takes a lot out of him. Professor X says it’ll get easier and Alex hopes he’s right because by the time the coffee’s good and hot, his knees are shaking and his words come out breathy, almost as a gasp. “It’s cool, right?” he says, finally lifting his eyes to Darwin’s, seeking approval and maybe something more.
“It’s cool,” Darwin agrees. Something flickers in his dark eyes. It might be a trick of the deepening shadows - in certain lights, Alex sometimes catches a quicksilver gleam behind the brown - or it might be a sign of his understanding.
There’s something Alex wants to say, but can’t.
He holds the thermos toward Darwin again, but instead of taking it, Darwin slips his hands over Alex’s and presses them gently.
“I was coming back,” he says, his voice low. He leans a little closer and now Alex can almost taste his breath. “I was about to come back.”
I’d always come back for you.
Darwin doesn’t have to say it. Alex knows. He knows, though he can’t quite believe that he does, which is just one of the many reasons he’s so fucking pathetic.
Fortunately, Darwin would never call him that. Nor would he ever mention the real reason Alex walked all the way out here in the cold, which wasn’t to show him a stupid trick he learned.
Darwin rests his forehead briefly against Alex’s. Then he tips his head and the flutter of his short, curly lashes tickles Alex’s cheek. Their lips meet, and it’s all Alex can do to hold onto the thermos as the trees, the storm clouds, and the leaf-strewn path recede like morning mist.
They seek shelter in each other’s mouths, probing with hot tongues, shuddering but not recoiling when their teeth scrape together. It lasts for a minute, maybe two, and in that time, Alex doesn’t feel pathetic at all. He’s warm and safe, and he was right to follow Darwin. Everything he’s ever done to get himself to this point has been right.
Doubt begins to lap at him the instant Darwin breaks the kiss. But it doesn’t last. Darwin grips the collar of Alex’s coat and tugs him closer so he can nip playfully at his earlobe and whisper, “Let’s go home.” And everything is okay again.
11/11/11
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Rating: teen (for language)
Pairing(s): Alex/Darwin
Summary: Alex feels kind of pathetic, but he’s okay with that. There are worse things he could be. Worse things he’s been. 1,400 words.
There’s a word for what he is, Alex thinks as he kicks fallen leaves from his path through the woods, a thermos of coffee clasped between his gloved hands: fucking pathetic.
Okay, that’s two words.
Still, what he feels isn’t shame but a sort of rueful self-awareness. He’s fucking pathetic, but he’s okay with that. There are worse things he could be. Worse things he’s been.
He smiles to himself as he continues along the half-hidden path, tucking his chin into a fold of his scratchy woolen scarf, glad he let the professor talk him into wearing it. Yeah, it itches, but he’s pretty sure he’d be freezing without it. It’s late November and the woods are cold and damp. Flecks of black mud cling to the soles and toes of his boots, and the wind seems to get in through every seam of his coat and jeans, raising goose flesh.
The woods are quiet. He hasn’t gone that far from the mansion - technically he’s still on Professor X’s property, which kind of boggles his mind - but he might as well have wandered for miles. When he last came this way, about a week ago, he could still hear birds in the mostly bare branches; now even the geese seem to have fled. There’s no rustling in the underbrush, giving away the furtive movements of squirrels and chipmunks. From the trampled yellow leaves to the clouds piling up in the gunmetal sky, everything seems to have turned inward, or lost itself in a deep slumber. The only sounds come from Alex himself: his harsh breathing, and his plodding footfalls.
So, he’s fucking pathetic and he’s fucking freezing.
And it’s okay. He’s actually smiling.
At least, he thinks he is. His jaw muscles are frozen and his lips are so wind-chapped that it’s getting hard to tell what shape they’re actually bent in. But he’s pretty sure.
In another universe, this would be a lonely walk, self-inflicted punishment for being what he is - a mutant, a criminal, queer - though he probably wouldn’t call it that. The professor’s changed him in a lot of ways, from helping him control his power to making him understand that when he isolates himself, he isn’t just trying to protect people.
Wasn’t, he thinks as he continues through the trees. That was the past. Another universe.
In this universe, the reason for Alex’s smile is just coming into view now. He’s standing with his back to Alex, just a little beyond the upcoming twist in the path, his hands deep in the pockets of his coat. Darwin doesn’t turn around as Alex approaches, but he doesn’t act at all surprised when Alex elbows him playfully.
“Hey,” says Alex. A puff of white vapor hangs in the air in front of his lips for a second, before dissipating.
“Hey.” Darwin’s voice is low, almost gruff.
They stand in silence for a few moments, shoulders just nudging. Alex doesn’t want to bother Darwin until he’s ready; he knows that Darwin came out this way to be alone for a while. It’s just something he does - something he’s started doing, rather, since he came back from … whatever it was that wasn’t exactly death, but wasn’t exactly life either.
While Alex waits, the clouds thicken and the wind picks up, causing the last leaves in the branches overhead to twirl madly. It’s going to snow soon, he thinks. Very soon.
Now that he’s no longer moving, he starts to shiver. He clenches his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. The tips of his ears and nose are numb with cold, and he wants to bury his face in the curve of Darwin’s neck, the way he sometimes does in the safety and privacy of their bedroom, which is technically Alex’s, but Darwin spends so many nights there that the other guys have started joking, and actually, it’s pretty amazing how little anyone seems to care, especially Hank, who has every reason to give Alex shit for...
Alex almost jumps when he feels a puff of warm breath against his cheek. Darwin has half-turned toward him, and his lips are barely two inches from Alex’s skin. He can feel the flush creeping up his neck and hopes it doesn’t get any higher than the collar of his coat because he is fucking pathetic and while he isn’t ashamed of the fact, he doesn’t really want Darwin to know.
“Wanted to show you something,” Alex mumbles thickly. “Here.” He thrusts the thermos of coffee at Darwin, who takes it wordlessly. “Sip it, okay? It’s cold.”
While Darwin wordlessly unscrews the thermos cap and takes a sip, Alex peels off his gloves and stuffs them into his coat pockets.
“It’s cold, right?” Alex says, watching Darwin’s face but avoiding his eyes.
“Yeah, it’s cold,” says Darwin, lowering the thermos with a slight grimace.
“Give it back to me. I’m gonna show you something.”
Holding the thermos between his bare palms, he focuses the way Professor X taught him, searching inward first, for something calming, something serene. He finds it in the small store of good memories he’s slowly building up: an early morning jog he took about a month ago, when the trees looked like paintbrushes that had been dipped in gold and scarlet pigment, and the earth was still soft and yielding beneath his footfalls. Curls of mist shimmered around him and he felt at peace for the first time in a long time.
Holding that memory in his mind, Alex concentrates on his power. He can feel the heat building in his chest, but he isn’t worried. He can channel that heat, control its course. He can feel it in his veins and arteries, that slow burn. His skin begins to tingle and the hairs on the backs of his arms stand up. A thin ribbon of steam rises from the thermos.
This level of concentration still takes a lot out of him. Professor X says it’ll get easier and Alex hopes he’s right because by the time the coffee’s good and hot, his knees are shaking and his words come out breathy, almost as a gasp. “It’s cool, right?” he says, finally lifting his eyes to Darwin’s, seeking approval and maybe something more.
“It’s cool,” Darwin agrees. Something flickers in his dark eyes. It might be a trick of the deepening shadows - in certain lights, Alex sometimes catches a quicksilver gleam behind the brown - or it might be a sign of his understanding.
There’s something Alex wants to say, but can’t.
He holds the thermos toward Darwin again, but instead of taking it, Darwin slips his hands over Alex’s and presses them gently.
“I was coming back,” he says, his voice low. He leans a little closer and now Alex can almost taste his breath. “I was about to come back.”
I’d always come back for you.
Darwin doesn’t have to say it. Alex knows. He knows, though he can’t quite believe that he does, which is just one of the many reasons he’s so fucking pathetic.
Fortunately, Darwin would never call him that. Nor would he ever mention the real reason Alex walked all the way out here in the cold, which wasn’t to show him a stupid trick he learned.
Darwin rests his forehead briefly against Alex’s. Then he tips his head and the flutter of his short, curly lashes tickles Alex’s cheek. Their lips meet, and it’s all Alex can do to hold onto the thermos as the trees, the storm clouds, and the leaf-strewn path recede like morning mist.
They seek shelter in each other’s mouths, probing with hot tongues, shuddering but not recoiling when their teeth scrape together. It lasts for a minute, maybe two, and in that time, Alex doesn’t feel pathetic at all. He’s warm and safe, and he was right to follow Darwin. Everything he’s ever done to get himself to this point has been right.
Doubt begins to lap at him the instant Darwin breaks the kiss. But it doesn’t last. Darwin grips the collar of Alex’s coat and tugs him closer so he can nip playfully at his earlobe and whisper, “Let’s go home.” And everything is okay again.
11/11/11