Laura stripped off her uniform top and let it drop to the tile floor, the fabric a wet, sticky mess of blood stains and tears that could barely be called a shirt anymore. After the battle with the would-be goddess, Laura actually felt a little...tired. Almost sore, even. Apparently getting punched by a deity was a bit much even for her healing
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This wasn't the same. That dream had died a long time ago, and Utopia was nothing but a shadow of that. They weren't secret heroes anymore, they were holed up and fighting for survival all the time. That wasn't what he had wanted to be. But these days, he couldn't imagine being anything else. When Laura was around, things were different for him. He liked her in a genuine way. He wanted to spend time around her.
When she asked him to stay he looked up at her, trying to read her face. He failed, as usual. He never knew what she was thinking, could never even guess at it. She gave so little away. And what did she mean, if that would help? Help what? Help him not to miss her? He'd learned that was a given, no matter what else was going on ( ... )
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"You may stay, then." She echoed her previous offer after he spoke, giving a little unnecessary bob of her head that she probably didn't realize she had done. She didn't react at all when he stepped closer, just watching him, her eyes slightly narrowed. When his jacket wrapped around her shoulders, there was a momentary unconscious shiver at the warm material against wet skin.
"It is going to get wet." She pointed out. Not that she tried to take it off. Her arm shifted slightly to draw it around her some, though it didn't cover enough to make the towel unnecessary.
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"Best I can do, I didn't exactly bring a suitcase." He found her eyes, because looking anywhere else was quite frankly dangerous. "You should probably dry off, though. I'll give you space."
He was giving himself space, too. She'd made him think about a lot of things, not all of which he liked. And the part he liked least was that absolutely none of it changed the fact that he didn't want to leave her without--
Without what? Whatever it was he wanted her to understand, he couldn't even name it to himself. Couldn't articulate it. And he was thinking too much. He moved to the door. He'd wait in the hall till she was ready.
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God, what was he doing? Seriously. He hadn't even thought this through properly. He'd come here with no goal in mind other than to just see her. Make sure she was okay. Because he was sick and tired of not doing anything, and he'd heard she'd been in trouble. Now that he knew she was fine, what was he supposed to do? He shouldn't be here. He hated it every single time Cyclops was right ( ... )
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Laura looked good. Any guy would think so. That he was dwelling on it was not only natural, it was basically expected. And had she been another girl, he'd have been trying to see more than that. He'd probably be trying to be in that bathroom with her.
But it wasn't some other girl. It was Laura, and that made a difference to how much of a womanizing lout he was. The thing making that difference was very simple. It was that he cared about her. She was one of the few people left on this God forsaken planet that he still did care about. That was why he'd sneaked off in the night to make sure she was okay, and it was why he didn't want to leer at her ( ... )
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He briefly wondered when he'd last given anyone his shirt. He couldn't remember, because he didn't do that. He wouldn't even normally give a girl his jacket the way he'd done with Laura, unless he was trying to charm her or something. That kind of sharing had an associated intimacy which he tended to avoid.
But on Laura, he liked how it looked. And his eyes were very much on her, even though he knew he should look away. He moved to the couch again and leaned back on it, running a hand through his hair to feign a nonchalance that he didn't feel.
"I can deal. I don't care about the cold." Lie. He was from California. He hated the cold. "Anyway you wear about this much on missions. Doesn't bother you."
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