THE X-MEN FIRST CLASS KINK MEME: PROMPT POST
You know why you're here. You've seen the movie. You're asking yourself, "So where was the gratuitous Emma Frost as White Queen in a corset? When did Mystique totally make it with Beast? WHY IN HEAVENS DID XAVIER AND MAGNETO NEVER MAKE OUT
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“They think you’re brilliant,” she says, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Fucking amazing.”
“You’re brilliant,” he says quietly. “It wouldn’t work if you didn’t understand everything, you know.”
She smiles at him, all bright teeth and yellow eyes.
“You know how much it means that you’re letting us see this, don’t you?” he arms are still on his shoulders, and there’s something about this nearness Hank would have wanted, once, but now they share DNA and it feels like Raven could be his sister.
He had only ever really liked the idea of Raven, he realizes: of being able to shift out of his mutation, of having a girl or anyone, really, look at him like he was something.
“It seemed fair,” Hank says after a moment. “It doesn’t give either group any advantage to know. You know, camaraderie. There are few of us as it is, and so on.”
“Turning my words back on me?” she says.
Hank is caught between a shrug and a grin, but mostly he’s glad to have Raven back--not Mystique, but Raven, who might be his friend and isn’t constantly caught up in the differences between the Brotherhood and the X-Men, but who instead just sees them, mutants.
“How’s the city?” he asks.
“Oh, you know--” she says. “After the meeting, I took the Bay Bridge in to ‘Cisco, right? They’re talking about mutants, out there. They want to meet us.”
“Meet us,” Hank echoes.
“Well, not us, precisely, but mutants in theory,” Raven says. “It’s a bit idealistic--I’m not entirely convinced, but it’s something.”
“I thought the Brotherhood didn’t trust humans,” Hank says, and Raven shrugs.
“It’s more--well,” Raven says. “We’re more than them. But don’t you want to get out of the house?”
“Yes,” Hank says, looking at the heavy curtains over the window. It’s cooling off, but not enough, and the house is still damp and weighted. When he peels back the curtains at night he can see strings of streetlamps, the curve of a hill shimmering wet. But it feels like too long since he’s seen the outside properly, and his image of San Francisco is replaced by something else--in his mind he holds the Professor’s School, the vast building, the rings of trees that will be turning red and gold now, shifting autumnal.
He knows that’s not what it looks like, here, but he rather wishes it did. Next fall he’ll be back--the Professor will come and fetch him, cloak him in an illusion of normalcy, and then he’ll be back at the School, in the lab that’s properly his, and he and Raven will go back to being on different sides.
Their Switzerland, in a way, is a return to the days before the beach, training and reveling in their powers, their brilliance. In the peripheral parts of his mind, Hank knows that nothing like that can last forever. And in the same way his life’s been bifurcated, between being human and being the Beast, he’s torn between wanting it to last forever and missing something else, something that’s back in New York.
11/5/1966
Beast:
I think the pape in San Fran’s called the Chronicle, man, I don’t know what bullshit you’re talking about. And you seem unusually interested in the legality of LSD. Didn’t a scientist invent that? Wasn’t you, was it?
Don’t think I’m going to be able to get you any of Darwin’s genetic material. We tried with, you know, a needle from the Professor and so on, but there’s not really anything to put the needle in? How to you mail that shit, anyway? Can’t just stuff it in an envelope. And have you taken a look at mine yet? I know I gave something before you left.
And what were you for Halloween? We did trick-or-treat with the kids at the School. I was--guess. Didn’t involve a gun, or hallucinogenic drugs, and I’ve never been to Reno.
-H.
p.s. We share an initial.
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