Fic: "It's Complicated" (1/?) Sniktfamily, X-23, Daken/Johnny Storm - R
Title: It’s Complicated (1/????)
Characters: X-23, Daken, Johnny Storm, Logan
Pairing: Daken/Johnny Storm
Rating: R
Warnings: So many. Shameless sentimentality, crimes against Daken, romantic nonsense, general crackficcery. Some sex-in-public and voyeurism, but nothing major.
Summary: While under house arrest at Utopia, Daken forges some unlikely relationships.
A/N: I usually dislike AU “Daken gets redeemed” stories, but after enjoying this art and mozzarellaroses ’ suggestion that Daken and X-23 need to go shopping together (not that I’m passing blame here or anything!), and after squeeing about Daken and Johnny Storm, I just wrote this. Um, if you’re looking for the great Daken/Johnny Storm porn fic, sorry.
It’s Complicated
Every day since he’d been on the island, Daken came downstairs for one thing only: the mail call. The USPS made their airdrop at approximately two p.m.; Daken emerged from his room usually between 2:15 and 2:20 and occasionally as late as 2:45. One time he didn’t come down until 3:12-and only after Noriko called up to him: “Daken, you’ve got a bunch of shit down here! If you don’t come get it we’re going to throw it in the water!”
“Do it,” Daken called back. And then he said something else-something in a different language. When he finally came downstairs, his face was bland and relaxed, his lips parted just enough to make him look defiant. But Laura saw in his eyes that he was fuming-searching, maybe, for a means of avenging his honor, or for a way to assuage this humiliation. He stooped over to pick up his packages from where they lay in the front hallway. Then he retreated to his room, three boxes stacked against his body.
Laura inspected one of these boxes once. She’d gone out to the spot where the plane had dropped the mail, pretending to look for a letter. Daken’s box was near the bottom of the pile. The return address said Switzerland. She shook it. Sniffed once along the taped crease. It smelled harmless enough-like leather. And wool.
That night he found her in the coatroom. He stood in the doorway, his body blocking the light.
The room was dark (she’d just gone in there to look for her shoes) and all she could see was Daken’s outline.
“You touched my mail,” he said.
“I was looking for my own mail.”
“You don’t get mail.”
Laura stood in the center of the room, her shoes dangling from her fingers.
“Nobody’s ever sent you a letter,” he said. “Or a present. Am I right? Tell me I’m not right. If I believe you, I’ll drop the whole matter.”
Laura’s eyes adjusted. Even though it was dark, she could see Daken’s hair sticking up and his belt buckle glinting. “No one sends you anything, either,” she said. “You merely receive what you have ordered-clothing from online catalogs, I think. I am guessing that you haven’t received anything unbidden in a very long time.”
In the doorway Daken was still and quiet and tall. He seemed to stop breathing. Then, suddenly, his scent disappeared.
Wolverine had told Laura that Daken could do that; still, she wasn’t prepared for how completely and quickly his scent could go away. It was as though he ceased to exist. Live people had a smell, and dead people had a stench, but Daken smelled like nothing. Like someone who had been erased. She felt uneasy.
“I do not trust you,” she said.
“I do not care.”
“I think Logan is foolish to believe that you have changed. I think that his emotional ties to you have obscured his judgment. He loves you and this prevents him from seeing what you are.”
“And what am I?”
“A very bad person. A killer.”
In the dark he didn’t move; then, Laura heard him smile. “You’re not a nice little girl. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“Yes, on occasion.”
“Open and honest, too. I like that.”
She approached the doorway. She wanted to leave the room and go back upstairs. But he simply leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms, making it so that she couldn’t go past him.
She wondered if they would fight. She hadn’t fought Daken in a long time, and she knew that she would best him. Her thoughts on the issue weren’t self-aggrandizing but matter-of-fact. They both had a healing factor, but she suspected that hers was slightly stronger because of her youth. She had adamantium claws; he did not. He was bigger, but she was faster. At one time he had possessed the Muramasa claws, but those were now gone, so he had no tangible advantage over her.
But he could hide from her, and this made her nervous. If he ran and hid, she would not be able to track him.
And then she had the paranoid notion that he knew about the trigger scent. What if he was able to get access to it? What if he poisoned her and she killed everyone on Utopia?
“I do not want to fight you,” she said.
“Oh sweetheart, I don’t want to fight you, either.” He paused. “I want your open, honest, careful, blunt opinion on something. It’s very important.”
“What?”
Hands in his pockets, he eased up from the doorframe as if peeling his body from sleep. “Come with me. I’ll show you.”
***
Daken lived in the smallest room in Utopia, and all the way on the top floor. It was a single. He didn’t have a roommate, and Laura suspected that that was a very good thing. First of all, he didn’t get along with anyone. Second of all, he had a lot of things. His room wasn’t messy, but it was stocked with various accessories. Bookshelves lined the room. A small black Ikea desk was squeezed into one corner. His bed was pushed against a wall-probably, Laura guessed, to make room for the makeshift clothes rack. (His closet was evidently not large enough to hold his clothes and shoes.)
Two open books lay side-by-side on the white bedspread. His laptop computer sat open on the desk. The internet was on, and the window showed a picture of a young man named “Federico.” Hi, let’s chat, the caption read. Federico was smiling and his hair was spiked and his shirt was open, and he was not Laura’s type, but she found the boy attractive. He had a symmetrical face that reminded her of Julian’s.
It dawned on Laura that Daken was using an online dating site. She had heard, from various sources (Logan included), that Daken was promiscuous, and that he slept with both men and women. “You’re using the internet to look for a date,” she said.
“Excuse me?” He turned around and looked at her. Then he turned again and saw what she was looking at.
“People on Utopia are not allowed to have online profiles of any kind. Blogs, Twitter, and online dating or networking sites are off limits. Perhaps you do not know this, but it is one of the rules.”
“I’m not-” He made a small noise that sounded like a cross between a sigh and a grunt. He reached over and closed the laptop. It clicked shut. “I don’t do online dating. Please. Don’t insult me.” He pulled the chair out from his desk and turned it around. He sat down and then gestured for her to sit on the bed. “I’m simply doing research, dear. I was looking up some of our ‘friends’ on mutantmatch.com. People here aren’t allowed to use online dating sites? Well, a lot of people have them. Apparently there are a lot of desperate mutants here who don’t have time to hit the bar scene. And who list traveling, baseball, and yoga as hobbies.”
She smoothed the bedspread and sat down.
“I always want to know about the people with whom I’m living,” he continued. “Google tells you so much, and it’s free, and you don’t have to risk blowing your cover by bribing somebody or asking around. Did you know that Emma Frost has been investigated by the SEC five times?”
“I have seen things about you on the internet, too.”
He raised his eyebrows and gave her a tiny smile. “Interesting stuff, yes? Well, don’t believe everything you read on the internet. On the internet, Deadpool’s dating Lady Gaga.” He spun around in his chair and opened the laptop again. “Let’s see what we get when we google X-23. Very nice things, I’m sure. Or should I put your first and last name in quotes? There are probably a few Laura Kinneys out there.” He clicked into another window. “Oh, here’s another thing that’s interesting. That Keller kid?” Daken glanced at her over his shoulder. “The one without-” He held up his hands. “Apparently he doesn’t follow the rules. Three thousand friends on Facebook. Are you one of them?”
Julian actually had two thousand, six hundred, eighty-one friends on Facebook as of two weeks before. And no, she was not one of them. Emma Frost had told them they were not allowed to have Facebook, and Laura didn’t understand why so many people broke this rule. Emma had talked to Julian twice about his excessive internet use, and instead of obeying her he simply made his profile invisible. Now Laura depended on Megan to keep her updated on Julian’s status and number of friends. Megan also broke the rules. “He friends everybody,” Megan told her. “He’s a friend whore.”
She wondered how Daken was able to access Julian’s profile. Probably he made a fake account and friended him. Which meant that he already knew that she was not one of his friends. “I do not have a Facebook,” she said. “It is-”
“Against the rules. Right.” Daken closed his laptop again and swiveled around. “You know what else is interesting?” He got up from his chair and edged past her and headed to his closet. After pausing for a brief moment, he pushed open the sliding door. “Wolverine’s new wrecking crew.” He found his ties and took three from the hanger. One was blue, one was black, and one was a deep red.
“Wrecking crew?”
“Killing squad, band of brothers, traveling sideshow, whatever. His secret little team.” He held the black tie against his pants. “No,” he said, tossing it onto the bed. “Okay, this is where I need your opinion.” He the blue and red ties against his shirt. “Which one goes best?”
She pointed to the red. “The Avengers are not a secret. They are commissioned by the federal government. You should know this. You were once an Avenger too.”
Daken tossed the red tie onto the bed and looped the blue one around his neck. “Come now. I’m talking about X-Force.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Laura said, which was the answer she was supposed to give if someone asked. She watched as Daken knotted the blue tie beneath his chin. No one was supposed to know.
He looked down at her, tilting his chin forward. “I know all about your involvement. I know about your bout with the Legacy Virus, your romp with the Purifiers, and the time you got yourself into a little jam with the facility. I know about your teammate who got herself knocked up, too. Tough luck, that. But that’s all old news. What’s fascinating is that X-Force still exists, and you don’t know this.”
“X-Force does not exist. Logan said that there is no need for it.”
“He told you this and you believed him?”
Laura crossed her legs. Of course she believed Logan. She had no reason to doubt his word or even suspect that he might be lying-he never lied to her. But she had many reasons to doubt Daken. For one thing, he was putting on the blue tie when she told him the red. “I recommended the red tie,” she said. “Why are you wearing the blue?”
He paused and looked down at her. Then he laughed and went back to adjusting his tie.
“X-Force does not exist.”
“I’ve been told it does,” Daken said. “So I guess one of us is being lied to.” He turned around to look in his closet again. After pushing seven garments out of the way, he found a gray pin-striped vest. He slipped it on. He turned to the side. “You know another thing? I’ve gained five disgusting pounds since I’ve been here. It’s revolting. This place is revolting.”
“You’ve gained weight because you live a sedentary lifestyle,” Laura said. “You consume more calories than you expend. You will continue to grow larger if you don’t start exercising or curtail your food intake.”
“Really?” Daken said. “Is that why? I had no idea. I’m sixty-five years old, give or take a few months, and I’ve lived in thirty-two different countries and speak fourteen distinct languages, and I had no idea that metabolism operates along such lines.”
Sarcasm. That was sarcasm. Laura often missed it. It usually wasn’t until two hours after a conversation that she realized she’d been made fun of. Sometimes another person-usually a friend-had to explain the joke to her. She didn’t understand why people said things when they weren’t serious, and what motivated them to do that. Why waste so much time by saying the opposite of what you meant?
But with Daken sarcasm was easy to detect. He was still suppressing his scent, but his body language was condescending. He folded a shirt in front of him and then put it in his closet.
“Well, I’m off,” he said. “Don’t wait up for me.”
“I won’t. But where are you going?”
“I’m meeting a very important person,” he said. He moved to the door and held it open for her. “Off you go now. Sayonara. Ciao.”
“Utopia has a curfew,” she said, stepping into the doorway.
“That’s tough shit for people who believe in curfews.” He closed the door behind her.
She went back downstairs into her room. Five minutes later, she heard Daken jog down the stairs and leave through the front door. She wondered how he was going to get off the island. Then she wondered if he’d ever come back.
***
Logan came to Utopia once a week, sometimes twice. If he visited once he stayed for three days. If he visited twice he stayed two days, or sometimes two nights and one day. When he came to Utopia he was very busy, so he usually didn’t talk to her. Sometimes he never even saw her. But these days he talked to Daken.
“You have got to do something,” Logan said one evening. “You can’t just sit around and take up space.”
“Oh yes I can,” Daken said. “Watch me.”
Logan was up in Daken’s room. Laura was near the landing, sitting on the steps and pretending to read a book. Most people wouldn’t have been able to hear a word of what Daken and Logan were arguing about.
She wondered if they knew she was nearby. Probably. There was a decent likelihood that they had picked up her scent, or that they had heard her on the steps. In either case, they evidently didn’t care.
“If you don’t pull your weight around here,” Logan said, “well, we’ll have to talk about other options.”
“Like kicking me out? That’s fine. That would be fine.”
“Don’t tempt me, son. I used every favor I banked in the last twenty years to keep you out of prison. You know the deal.”
“What do you think this is? This is prison. Christ, you told me to teach. I don’t teach.”
“So don’t become a teacher. Become the cook instead.”
“Now you’re talking my language. Adolescents are made so vulnerable by their appetites.”
Silence. “Never thought I’d have a son who was scared of a little thing like work.”
“Nice try, Wolverine. But I’m not going downstairs to take out the trash just to prove to you that I’m a man.”
This conversation went on for a while. Daken said he was not going to work at Utopia. He reasoned the compound had functioned long before he had arrived, and that it would continue to function after he left. Logan said that Daken was whining and stalling and acting like a child. Daken said that he was thinking about moving to Hollywood and becoming a producer. Logan said, with what skills and experience? Daken said that it was funny Logan should mention skills, because he knew exactly what Daken’s skills were and what they were good for. “You and I know that there is one thing I can do pretty well,” Daken said. “Probably even better than you.”
“You can forget whatever little thought just crossed your mind. It ain’t gonna happen.”
“This is what I’m talking about,” Daken said. “This is why you and I can’t watch baseball games together and drink beer together and chase tail together and have little heart-to-hearts. This is why we can’t be best friends.”
“Son,” Logan said. There was a pause. Laura could tell that Logan was moving around the room. “I know what you’re feeling. I know. I can’t tell you anything different. All I can tell you is that it gets better. But joining a team like . . . well, it isn’t the answer. Not right now. Not when your decision-making process is still-”
“This conversation is over, Wolverine. Get the fuck out of here before I change my mind about wanting to kill you again.”
And Logan said that Daken should at least show him some decency if he wasn’t going to give him any respect, and that the only reason Daken wasn’t rotting in federal prison was because Steve owed him. And Daken said he didn’t give a shit. “You picked a bunch of degenerates and desperados for your new X-Force,” Daken said. “Maybe someone should get a handle on your decision-making process.”
“Keep your mouth shut,” Logan said. “You will not repeat what you know to anyone.”
“Maybe that’s what I’ll do. Maybe I’ll drop someone a line.”
Laura stood up and quickly and quietly as possible and descended the steps. Logan and Daken wouldn’t hear her sneak away now-they were fighting too loudly.
And she didn’t want to listen anymore.
That night Logan didn’t stay. He left Utopia and went somewhere else, and he didn’t say goodbye to her. Laura was tucked away in bed when he left, knees pulled to her chest. She was glad he didn’t look in on her, glad he didn’t take as much interest in her as he did in Daken. She knew that he loved Daken more-Daken was his son, not a clone-and she had accepted that. And besides, when someone took interest in you? It was exhausting.
But what she couldn’t stop thinking about-what kept her awake-was that Logan had lied to her. And Daken had told her the truth.
***
Each morning she thought of Julian. He was the first thing that came into her mind after she awoke.
She still loved him. She didn’t care that he didn’t have hands; he was still beautiful.
He wasn’t taking as many classes this term because he was in physical therapy, and it was very demanding. He also had a special new computer that operated with voice commands. She often saw him in the common room working on his Spanish. ¿Dónde está la dueña? Fue a la farmacia. He ate at six p.m. with the second shift. Then he watched TV-sometimes alone, and sometimes with other people. With other people he watched ESPN and Glee and Jersey Shore. Alone he watched Top Chef. He went to bed at eleven. Someone-one of his friends or one of the grownups-helped him lay out his clothes.
She wanted to say so many things to him. You’ve lost your hands but you are still beautiful. I love you so much, Julian.
Without his hands Julian was sad. He didn’t talk very much anymore, but he still spent time with Alani and Josh. He had lost weight.
She wished she could give him her own hands. Hers would grow back.
One afternoon she was in the library. She was supposed to be studying, but she was thinking about Julian. Nori walked in. “Laura, you got something in the mail. It’s in the common room.”
She stiffened. “A letter?”
“A package.”
“What is it?”
Nori shrugged. “It’s a big box, and it’s addressed to you. I didn’t open it.” She turned and shuffled out of the room.
Laura felt sick. She had always known that this day was coming; she had always suspected that someday she’d receive a letter or package in the mail that would contain the trigger scent. It would get past special inspection because no one would pick up the smell except her.
She thought about taking the package and throwing it into the water.
No. If someone from the past was targeting her and her friends, she needed to know. She needed to tell Logan. She fished through her bag for her cell phone, found Logan in her contacts, and pressed send. The phone rang five times. Then it kicked into his voicemail. She hung up. She waited three more minutes and called again. This time it went right into voicemail.
So Logan could not help her. She knew she could ask someone else to open the package for her, someone like Cessily. But if it contained the trigger scent then Cessily would be contaminated, and Laura would attack her.
She had only one option.
Three minutes and twenty-nine seconds later, she knocked on Daken’s door.
He opened the door a crack. Then he closed it. “Give me a minute.” Shuffling. He opened the door again. He was wearing a white terry cloth bathrobe with a puffy collar. He had just washed his hair. Everything smelled like shampoo and body wash.
She thrust the box into his arms.
He groped for it and then inspected the label. “This isn’t addressed to me.”
“I need you to open it and tell me if it smells in a way that it shouldn’t.” She took a breath. “I will leave now. I will go as far away as possible. If the package smells unusual, you must dispose of it by taking it outside and burning its contents and throwing the remains in the water.” She paused. “You will not be affected by the smell, but I will. If I happen to get a whiff of it, you must kill me.”
“Well, damn. This all sounds like it has the potential to be very entertaining. Burning things, throwing them into the water, chasing you around. But can we just skip to the part where I kill you?”
Laura took the box from him and set it on the bed. “Please. I do not trust you, but you are my only option. You must promise to kill me if terrible things begin to transpire.”
“Oh for pity’s sake, Laura,” he said. (It was the first time he’d said her name.) “Aren’t you so very dramatic.”
“I will wait outside this bedroom. If you-”
He unsheathed one claw and tore through the tape that sealed the box shut.
She felt her heart slow down. She now understood that Daken had orchestrated this. He was the one. How stupid she had been to go to him! Without thinking, she popped her claws.
“Hey!” he said. “Calm down.” He pried the lid from the box and set it on the bed. “Nothing. See? Nothing. Why don’t you take a little breather and then come over and see what you’ve got.”
Laura let her arms drop to her sides. She felt her claws ease back into her hands. She sniffed. Then she waited. Nothing. Nothing except the smell of wool. She peered into the box. “What is it?”
Daken pushed past her and went to his desk. “Something for you. Open it and find out.”
She reached into the box and pulled out a bundle encased in plastic bubble wrap. She found the tape and unsnapped it and pulled a coat from the bag. The coat was tan colored and had a collar and small black buttons.
Daken wasn’t watching anymore. He was sitting at the computer, surfing the internet.
“It is a coat,” she said.
“Mmm.” He turned around.
“Do you know where it came from?”
“Why don’t you try it on?”
She shrugged into it. It reached to the middle of her thighs.
“Button it.”
She obeyed. He came over and inspected it, pulling at the sleeves and adjusting the collar.
“I’m surprised, quite frankly,” he said. “I thought I’d have to make some adjustments. You have such wide shoulders for a girl. And disproportionately long arms. Long torso and short legs. I suppose you take after Logan, which is rather unfortunate. But anyway, this fits you quite well.”
“You bought this for me,” she said. “You had it sent.”
“I couldn’t look at the coat you were wearing, that early-nineties leather jacket. Please tell me it was a hand-me-down. Or that you got it at a yard sale. I can’t stand the thought that you actually paid for it. Ah well. What matters is that this fits, so we can be seen together. I won’t have to cringe when you meet my special friend.”
“Who is your special friend?”
“Run along now. I have to get dressed.”
That evening she showed the coat to Cessily. “Oh my God,” Cessily said, touching the sleeves. She laid the coat on her bed and checked the tag. “A hundred percent lambs wool. It even has a silk lining. The stitching is so high quality. The lines. This must have cost a fortune.” She turned her head and grinned at Laura. “Having Daken for a brother might work out for you.”
“He is not my brother. He is the son of my genetic twin. This makes him more like my nephew than my brother.”
“Can I try it on?”
For the next three minutes, Cessily strutted around the room as though walking on a runway. She paused in front of the window, threw her hip out and smiled.
***
Later that week she received a pair of shoes and three tops-a sweater, a blouse, and a short button-up jacket with wide sleeves. She went to Daken’s room and knocked on the door, clothes in her arms.
“Have you tried them on yet?” he asked after opening the door.
“Why are you doing this?”
He opened the door wider and gestured for her to come inside. In one hand he held a wine glass. “Why am I doing what?”
“Buying me things.”
“Just try those things on. Here.” He turned around and went back to his desk. “I won’t look. Would you like a glass of wine?”
“I’m only sixteen.” She pulled her sweater over her head and slipped into the blouse, hurriedly doing the buttons. “Okay,” she said.
He turned around and stared at her. “That looks nice. We might have to take it in at the waist, but that’s not a big deal. A smaller size would just be too small. Try the other things.”
In the end, Daken advised her to keep the blouse and sweater but to send back the jacket. The shoes fit perfectly. They were brown with a heel and had a small strap sealed with a bow.
“You haven’t answered my question. Why are you doing this?”
He just shrugged. “I’m hoping it fulfills my community service requirement. Let me tell you, probation is no party.” He lowered his voice. “I used to have big dreams. But why dream when you can have all this? Alright,” he said calmly, rising to his feet. “It’s time for you to go now.”
Laura always felt a certain measure of disappointment when Daken asked her to leave. It wasn’t that she wanted to stick around. Not really. She didn’t want to hang out. But she hated the idea that she had made a pest of herself. She knew that she often made a pest of herself-around Logan, around her roommates, around the other kids-and it was completely unintentional. She never knew that she’d been annoying until she was experiencing the fallout: the friend snapping at her, the classmate rolling his eyes.
“Thank you, Daken,” she said as she ducked out of the room.
“Don’t mention it,” he said.
***
The temperature dropped a little, and the weather turned balmy. Julian withdrew from physics and started taking all his classes with a private tutor, which made Laura even sadder for him. And sad for herself, too. Physics was a class they shared, and sometimes they used to talk about things. The formula for calculating the acceleration of a moving object, sure. But other things, too. One time Julian asked her if she had plans for the weekend. (She did not.) She waited for him to share his own plans, but instead he just looked straight at the front of the room, and then class began.
One afternoon she was supposed to be studying for an upcoming test (but of course she was thinking about Julian) when Daken appeared in the threshold of the library. He motioned to her.
She left the books on the table and went to see what he wanted
“Get your things,” he said. “Put on your coat. We’re going out.”
“Out? Where? I have to study.”
“You have to come with me. It’s important.”
“But physics-”
“Are you going to become a physicist? Don’t take this the wrong way, but I doubt it.” With his arms crossed in front of his chest, he looked knowing and defiant. “I’ll meet you downstairs in five minutes. It’s-” He lowered his voice. “A mission.”
With the word mission came a certain thrill. Her first thought: she needed to dig out her old X-Force clothes and gear. Then she realized that Daken was kidding. Hyperbolizing. She thought about turning away and going back to her books. But he’d piqued her curiosity. She wondered what he wanted. More pressingly, she wondered why he had suddenly taken such an interest in her. How did he see her?
When she left Utopia, she always followed the proper procedure of signing out. With Daken, she didn’t bother.
***
Downtown they rode a trolley and ate at a café. Laura ordered a chicken pita and pasta-it seemed innocuous enough-and Daken ate a salad. “Why are we here?” Laura asked.
“Because it was either kill myself or spend the afternoon with X-23. You seemed like the better option at the time. And more significantly, my special friend is coming to town and I need to buy a gift.”
“Who is your special friend?”
He stared out the window of the café and took a sip of his coffee. “Look at this. San Francisco. All these people with nothing to do. Such soft, easy people. These women would never last a hot minute in New York. I’d like to change my surroundings.”
“You know you can’t leave. If you leave town, the Avengers will rescind your deal, and you will be hunted and arrested and imprisoned.”
“I’d love to see them try,” Daken said, but with no real passion or spite. He swallowed the rest of his coffee and glanced at her. “We need to get you a hat and gloves to go along with that coat.”
“San Francisco isn’t so cold that I need a hat and gloves.”
“This is true. But I think you should go to college back east. Don’t let Logan talk you into going to Berkeley simply because it’s cheap. It’s so pedestrian, so public . . . and so tragically hip and middling. It’s for the kids who can’t get into Stanford. And then there’s San Francisco State. God forbid.”
She pushed aside her pasta. “I am not planning to attend college.” College was something she’d never considered. Her leg twitched and her knee bounced under the table.
He narrowed his eyes. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
She set her fork down. “Why did Logan lie about X-Force? I do not understand.”
“Oh.” Daken sat back in his chair and folded his napkin in front of him on the table. “You mean, why is he leaving his two best starters on the bench while a bunch of psychopathic short-bus kids play first string? No idea. But leading and strategizing certainly aren’t two of his strengths.” He undid the top button of his vest and looked at her. “I think he believes he’s safeguarding our moral purity. I don’t know, perhaps he didn’t get the memo that I’m not a virgin. What about you, Laura dear? Are you a virgin? Do you need to be protected from your own appetites?”
“Logan told me that he wants me to make my own decisions. He told me that if I want a mission I should give it to myself.”
Daken laughed. “That’s the Wolverine-speak I’m so tired of. A Wolverinism. ‘Give yerself a mission, bub! Take yer head outta yer ass and pull yerself together!’” He motioned to the waiter to bring the check.
“How do you have so much money?” she asked when she saw him pull out his credit card. Immediately she felt bad for asking-for making a pest of herself again (she had been told by others repeatedly that asking about money was impolite)-but Daken didn’t answer. When he didn’t like a question, he skipped over it and acted as though it had never happened.
In downtown San Francisco, she and Daken ducked in and out of the small shops. He bought her a pair of gloves and a hat. “You never know,” he said. “It could snow. Strange things happen every day.” Then he bought a sweater. And a bottle of red wine. He signed the credit card receipt in bold, plain script.
***
Johnny Storm. Johnny Storm, a.k.a. the Human Torch and a member of the Fantastic Four, was outside. “Oh, it’s Johnny Storm!” somebody said. The sound of feet hitting the ground. Running. “Good God! Sit back down!” Emma Frost said.
After class was over, several kids went outside to see him, mostly boys, Julian included. They stood in a tight semi-circle with Johnny Storm in the center. In the misty, cloudy afternoon, Johnny held court. He did a slow jog around Santo and announced he’d just run a mile. He told a story, held his arm out and made a fist. “I was like, what the hell? And dude’s all, ‘That’s my hair. You took my fucking hair.’ And I’m like, ‘If that’s really your hair, then your life’s so fucking unfair that you need to get a refund. Here, never mind.’” He opened his fist as though setting something free. “‘I’m not gonna press charges. Just . . . take your hair and go back to Albuquerque and we’ll forget that this ever happened.’ Shit, he made Norman Osborn look like he could be in a Hair Club for Men commercial.”
Laura sat inside near the front window. She pretended to be reading a book. She wanted to be outside with everyone else, but something told her that she wouldn’t be welcome. She would end up pissing people off. And normally she didn’t care, but right now she just wanted to watch.
“Speaking of hair,” Johnny said.
Laura set her book down and peered out the window. Daken approached. He’d evidently been at the recreation center. He strode up to the group unapologetically, hands in his pockets. He stood next to Johnny and said something that even Laura couldn’t hear. Everyone laughed, but the laughter was different from the genuinely ecstatic kind that Johnny elicited. Not uncomfortable or forced, but sort of respectful.
She knew that Johnny Storm was the special friend that Daken had been talking about, and she figured they’d already said hello to each other when Johnny had arrived on the island.
The kids started to peel off. Victor said he had to go, and he tugged at Santo’s arm. Julian turned and left and soon the others followed.
Daken and Johnny stood there for a few minutes, talking quietly-too quietly for Laura to hear. Then Daken snorted back a laugh and leaned into Johnny and threading one arm through his while nudging him away from the building. Sides pressed together, they headed in the direction of the north side of the island.
Laura put her book down.
Utopia was always windy, and this either worked for or against her. Today it worked for her. It carried Daken and Johnny’s scents and pushed hers out to the ocean. She followed them to the look-out, hiding behind the boulders and generators. They sat on one of the flat formations, legs dangling over the edge, and looked out over the water. Laura couldn’t hear what they were talking about.
Daken put one arm around Johnny’s waist and tilted his head to the side. He was smiling. Not smiling the way he usually smiled-like he was enjoying a private joke at everyone’s expense-but because he genuinely thought something was funny. He laid his head against Johnny’s shoulder. Then, a minute later, he put his head in Johnny’s lap.
Laura figured she should leave, but instead she hoisted herself up on the boulder. Daken’s hand traced Johnny’s waist, and then he shifted his weight so that he was sort of half-kneeling, his head still in Johnny’s lap. Johnny was still sitting, but he leaned back a little bit and quivered involuntarily. With one hand he supported his weight. With the other hand he touched Daken’s head, his hair. She could see Daken’s head moving up and down.
Laura blinked and looked away. She turned to head back to the building. She wasn’t embarrassed-not for herself, and not for Daken and Johnny-and why should she be? Sex and was what it was, and they were doing it in a public place. They obviously didn’t care if anyone saw. She never understood why people clung to the veil of secrecy, why they acted as if sex didn’t exist, why Logan tensed and became uncomfortable when she asked him things. Then again, she knew that her own experiences with sex weren’t exactly normal and that she wasn’t supposed to talk about them. In the end, that was why she looked away. She knew that if one of her classmates caught her, they would think she was even stranger than they already did. They would think she was a pervert. And what could she say to prove otherwise?
Minutes later, Daken and Johnny returned to the compound, muffling their laughter as they bounded up the stairs to Daken’s room. Laura kept her own door open slightly so she could hear. The door slammed shut. Then, more laughter. Then, quiet. Minutes later, a loud moan. And then, quiet laughter.
Laura skipped dinner and went to bed early. She didn’t really sleep. She dozed a few times, waking when Hisako came in to get ready for bed.
“What’s wrong?” Hisako said. “Are you sick?”
Laura squinted from the light. She was never sick. “I am tired.”
At 1:13 a.m. she awoke again, hungry and completely alert. She knew she wouldn’t sleep for the rest of the night. And it had been stupid to skip dinner. She was starving. Then she realized it was because she could smell food coming from downstairs. She moved slowly and quietly, keeping close to one side of the hallway.
The kitchen was lit up. She could smell pancake batter. And she could hear voices and an old rap song she hadn’t heard in a long time.
“So I told Tony Stark that he could keep his lousy hundred dollars,” Johnny said. “I wrote him a check right there.”
“Did he cash it?”
“Did he cash it? It was fucking deducted from my account before I made it to the next ATM.”
Daken laughed. “Miserable. Well, the rich are rich for a reason.” He stopped laughing. “Who’s there? X?”
Laura dropped her arms to her sides and walked straight into the kitchen.
“Were you spying on us?” Daken said, but he smiled, and for a brief moment Laura wondered if he was referring to before. Outside.
Daken was sitting at the counter. Johnny was behind him, spatula poised over a frying pan. He was wearing jeans and a shirt but no socks or shoes. He turned his head and also smiled.
“I was hungry,” she explained. “I smelled food.”
“Hi Laura. Daken’s little sis. Do you like your pancakes sweet or savory?”
She thought for a moment. Her stomach was empty and she felt almost light-headed. “Both.”
“Wow, she likes them both ways, Daken,” Johnny said. “She wants it all. How about that?”
“How about it,” Daken said impatiently, and immediately Laura could sense that he wanted to steer the conversation away from her. That was fine. Laura was tired of playing the supporting part in others’ conversations.
Johnny sang along to the song, chanting the words as he flipped the pancakes.
“Please excuse my friend’s musical tastes,” Daken told her. “Johnny likes to party like it’s 1999.”
Johnny brought the frying pan over and slid a pancake onto Daken’s plate. “Coming from a guy who looks like he gets his wardrobe inspiration from Duckie from Pretty in Pink, that’s harsh.”
Daken surprised Laura by saying nothing. He raised his cup of coffee and looked straight ahead. His expression was tired but comfortable, as if he’d just come home from a long mission. He gave her a quick glance.
When she was finished eating, she excused herself and went back upstairs.
The next morning she awoke late to find that Daken and Johnny were gone. Daken’s room was quiet and empty. Puzzled but not worried, she made her way to the main floor. Logan was walking along the corridor. “Hey kid,” he said.
“Where is Daken?” she said.
He stopped in front of her and scratched the back of his head. “With Johnny at my place in the city. I’m staying here for the weekend. I think they need a little . . . space.”
She peered at Logan. She thought he might be annoyed-and on the surface, he seemed to be projecting irritation-but she could see that underneath that he was clearly relieved. “I hope they don’t get into some kind of fuck-up,” he said. He turned away. “You know Daken.”
She didn’t, though. Who did? Certainly not Logan. But she had a feeling that nothing would happen. Daken wouldn’t fuck it up. He was being careful now. Of this she was certain.
TBC???
BTW, Daken and Johnny Storm are right now using Logan’s apartment for either a threesome or a foursome. I can’t decide.