The Enemy of my Enemy, part 1 (After-Dinner MNTs)

[Warren Worthington III]

> " We’re jumping it? Can we even do that? Wait… I’d honestly rather not know. "

Actually, I was wondering whether we’d have to swim the rest of the way… he replies after the car has safely touched asphalt. If it were anyone else, he’d add a confident grin to the end of that, to imply that really he’d known what he was doing all along. With Josh, it’s not only pointless to try, it also isn’t in the least tempting… it would be like lying to himself.

Besides, the kissing after the landing is far more satisfying than the moment’s smugness he gave up, even if it does sting a bit… or, well, OK, a lot. That part doesn’t matter, though… on the short-but-growing list of important things Warren has learned since leaving his father’s company (in more ways than one) is that the memory of pain fades a heck of a lot faster than the regret of having avoiding the possibility of it.

> " You’re the most amazing driver I’ve ever seen! And you’re all mine! "

Well, some parts may have to go into the shop for a while before you can – both the comment and the feeling of victory that inspired it are cut off by their pursuers’ appearance at the end of their half of the bridge, and Warren nearly screams in frustration. Mother of God, what is it going to take to get rid of these guys?!? They’re worse than television producers!

He floors the accelerator again, listening to Josh’s directions, then veers left a moment before another police car comes around a corner to block his path, then right again to avoid a second one. But traffic is congealing a block further ahead: perhaps a roadblock, perhaps just Paris airport traffic, either way it will slow them down unacceptably.

At least it will if they stay in the car, and suddenly it occurs to Warren that, now that he’s had a chance to rest and recuperate a little, doing so is actually pretty foolish. Forget the directions, hon… we’re going as the crow flies. No way they can drive through these streets faster than we can fly, right? So get ready to bail out fast… Another quick turn into another ubiquitous narrow Parisian side-street, and Warren is unsurprised that the van stays on his tail… whoever is driving seems to know what he’s going to do almost before he does… but if this plays out the way he has in mind it won’t matter.

Sure enough, behind the van come several police cars, sirens blaring… and Warren can hear another racing for the far end of the alley to cut him off. Way ahead of you, Inspector! A quick twist of the wheel and his car makes a quarter-turn, blocking the alley as he unsnaps his seat-belt and squirms over Josh and out the passenger-side window, dragging Josh with him as he launches into the air. This’d be a good time to try that bullet-proofing trick again…

[Josh Dalton Worthington]

Josh feels Warren’s frustration course through their link, and silently sends soothing thoughts back. It’s difficult, because keeping his own frustration at bay is getting more and more impossible. The car’s driver seems to anticipate their moves, but as the chase continues, Josh is becoming more and more certain that whoever it is, isn’t a telepath.

>Forget the directions, hon… we’re going as the crow flies. No way they can drive through these streets faster than we can fly, right? So get ready to bail out fast…

He’s even able to keep his eyes open when Warren pulls another impossible-except-in-the-movies trick with the car, effectively blocking their pursuers from following them down the alley. Warren wriggles over him - which would be hot in any other situation - and pulls him out the door. Who am I kidding… it’s still hot. Josh is sure to keep a firm grip on the puppy throughout the maneuver. The last thing he wanted was to leave it in the crossfire…

Though it’s possible we’re going to be ground zero very quickly. The two of them launch into the air, Warren’s wings propelling them into the sky. Josh takes a moment to be suitably impressed by the Parisian skyline, once again, and then quickly turns his attention to the task at hand. It’s beautiful…

>This’d be a good time to try that bullet-proofing trick again…

Right. Let’s see if I can get that up again… I’ve only done it once. Josh concentrates as before, stretching out with both of his powers at once. The telepathy effortlessly brings their minds closer together, necessary for the cooperation. He weaves their telekinetic energies together, and once again, he feels his own range shrink down to an arm’s length. Josh pushes outward, creating the bulletproof shield that worked so well before. I think I’ve got it! He grins, the wind whipping through his hair.

Almost as soon as their protection materializes, gunfire rips through the space they’d been previously occupying. It quickly shifts direction and spatters against the shield. Josh can feel small impacts against the invisible bubble, but they’re somewhat like pinpricks. How is this even possible? His mental voice is slightly awed.

When they bank around a taller building, the gunfire ceases momentarily, and allows Josh to direct his concentration from the shield to improving their speed and aerodynamics. Which way to the airport? Can you see it from here? He squints in vain, conceding that Warren’s eyesight is much better than his own. He shifts the puppy in his arms, suddenly worried about dropping it at their elevation. Stop squirming! A bark punctuates the air.

[Warren Worthington III]

Behind them, Warren is aware of police cars skidding in from both sides of the alley, and some confusion as the police call on their pursuers to drop their weapons. A moment later they’re out of gunfire range altogether – though not before a stream of bullets bounces off of the telekinetic shield Josh has put up around them.

> How is this even possible?

Warren doesn’t exactly shrug – it’s hard to do so when his wings are pushing him forward as fast as they can – but the sentiment gets across nevertheless. Beats me… you’re the brains of the outfit, I just get by on wealth and charm… He grins. But I guess it’s basically my friction-reducing field thingie being supercharged by your TK, right? How complicated is that?

The last thought is saturated with irony; he’s not dumb, but anything having to do with the mechanics of telekinesis is more complicated than Warren is prepared to think about. Heck, he only learned to solve air resistance and mechanics problems because Hank insisted it would help him predict flight-patterns (which, mostly, it doesn’t); field-effect physics and psionics is way out of his league. So really he has no idea how their joint-TK shield is possible, he’s just glad that it is, and that Josh had been able to make it happen.

> Which way to the airport? Can you see it from here?

It’s a little disturbing, in retrospect, how easily he lets Josh through the barriers around his mind to let him see, through Warren’s eyes, the airport in the distance. That sort of sharing gets easier every time he does it, and increasingly it’s been happening without his explicit intention. Not that he objects… it’s actually pretty amazing being that close to another person… but he can’t help but wonder if it has negative side-effects.

Well, if it does, they’re worth it. If for no other reason than he doubts their joint-TK shield would have been possible otherwise – and there are plenty of other reasons – and besides, this really isn’t the time to be thinking about any of that.

It takes a little longer than he’d anticipated to reach the Blackbird, since he’s sticking close to rooftops and weaving between buildings to avoid potential missiles and being spotted by police and civilian news helicopters (and, likely as not, radar from the airport). But he’s still gotten ahead of their pursuers by the time he lands next to it.

OK… guess you’re handling the flying from here on in, right?

Puppy barks in outrage as they land, apparently at the ride ending. Heh… apparently the pup likes to fly, huh? Still, it’s probably best to send him off, now that it’s safe… or, well, safer than staying with us is likely to be.

[Josh Dalton Worthington]

The two of them arrive without much incident in front of the Blackbird’s position at Orly Airport, Josh letting go of Warren in midair and dropping rapidly to a landing on the tarmac.

> OK… guess you’re handling the flying from here on in, right?

Thanks for the lift, cutie. Josh gives Warren a kiss. I’m in a committed relationship, though. After a second, his serious face breaks into a grin. "Yeah, let’s see if I can get things moving." His eyes wander over to the Blackbird, as if he’s staring through it.

Let’s see… In sequence, a variety of buttons depress and levers flip on board the ship, in the empty cabin. The turbines roar, and the boarding ramp lowers. The two of them walk towards it, sirens in the distance. It’s going to be a minute before we can take off, though. The last thing we need to do is damage the engines.

>Heh… apparently the pup likes to fly, huh? Still, it’s probably best to send him off, now that it’s safe… or, well, safer than staying with us is likely to be.

“I guess he does. He’d probably enjoy the Blackbird, too. But you’re right. It’s time to say goodbye.” Josh bends over and places the puppy on a pile of crates stacked near a low wall. “Puppy, it was fun while it lasted, but Warren and I have to go off and finish playing James Bond.” He lovingly pets the puppy’s head for a moment, scratching behind the ears. The two of them turn to leave, and take a few steps.

Whimpering stops Josh in his tracks, and he turns around. The puppy has hopped off the crate and is whimpering piteously. Its face even seems to be scrunched up in a ‘woe-is-me’ sort of look - though Josh isn’t sure whether he’s inferring too much from a cold nose and those adorable little eyes…

“You can’t come with us. It’s too dangerous…” You know, you’re undoing all that confidence I put in the two of us without even trying. Way to go, puppy. He pets it once more, and tries to scootch it away towards the crate, but it whimpers sadly. Its eyes are dark and brooding. Josh looks over at Warren, and then bends over, concentrating on the puppy.

The animal’s mind is simplistic, but otherwise similar to a human’s. Josh supposes one mammalian brain isn’t that different, structurally, from another. You have to stay here. Where it’s safe. He’s not sure whether the message gets through… but miraculously, a tiny voice echoes through his head.

Mon amour! Mon amour! Mon amour! Ne me laisses ici! The puppy hops, placing its forelegs on Josh’s knee, wagging its tail madly. Josh begins to laugh, but attempts to dig below the linguistic level, imploring the puppy to stay behind with his emotions. Mere? It barks happily, and licks at Josh’s hand.

Josh glances disbelievingly up at Warren. “Mommy? Why am I the mother?” As if in response, the puppy ambles over and begins chewing on Warren’s shoe. Pere! “Um. What do we try now?” A smile tugs at his lips.


[Ne me laisses ici! - Don’t leave me!]

[Warren Worthington III]

> I’m in a committed relationship, though.

Ah, come on, cutie… what’s he got that I ain’t got? Besides, how can you resist this face? Except that given the swollen-jawed, gap-toothed, bruised and blood-encrusted state of his face at the moment, that probably wasn’t as funny as Warren had intended. Not to mention the persistent odor of sewage. Well, OK, let me rephrase that… He doesn’t actually laugh, since that would hurt altogether too much to be worth it, but the idea gets across. Actually, we should get a picture of this, it’ll make all those death-threat sending stalkers change targets…

> It’s going to be a minute before we can take off.

Warren nods, frowning. Well, I hope it takes everybody longer than that to catch up with us, then… I’m really tired of fighting these guys. Next time we keep the engine on standby even if we’re just on a date, right? He hops up a few dozen meters to scan the area while Josh deals with the puppy, then drops back down to avoid drawing attention… just in time to have his shoe assaulted by the Puppy Menace, which he shoos away gently with a wingtip.

> " Mommy? Why am I the mother? "

Oh, I’m so not going there, laughs Warren. Let’s just say you’re more of a dog person than I am and leave it at that, shall we? Which was true enough… adorable as the puppy indisputably is, it’s clear that Josh has far more succeptibility to “puppy eyes” than Warren does.

Which is sweet in and of itself, he admits to himself fondly… but still, taking the dog with them wasn’t a good idea. Not only was it likely to get squashed against something on the flight – because really, what are the odds that they won’t end up pulling high-G maneuvers to avoid fighter-jets or missiles on their tail? – but the notion of a curious puppy nosing around the Institute just doesn’t bear thinking about. Logan would probably eat it, or something.

> "Um. What do we try now?"

Well, adorable as it is to watch you try to reason with an infant, never mind the species, we could just go. The pup is bound to give up following us when it reaches the ocean, if not before. Besides -- whatever he was about to add is cut off as he picks up a familiar sound at the edge of his hearing. You know, I am getting very annoyed with those people. How long before we can take off?

A moment’s thought makes it clear that the van will be here before the Blackbird’s engines are ready. Never mind… I’ll see if I can distract them, he adds, and takes off in the direction of the van.

In some ways more disturbing than the van itself is the half-dozen police vehicles that appear to be escorting it… Warren had heard the sirens, of course, but hadn’t realized their attackers now had police backup. You have got to be kidding me. These guys are official?!? That opens up a whole new arena of worries… fighting Brotherhood soldiers or whatever those commandos are is one thing, but the last thing the X-Men need is official warrants out for their most visible members.

Well, it’s not like we have any choice in the matter… they didn’t give us any chance to cooperate or surrender, even if we would have. Still… probably better not to have to fight the cops if we don’t have to. He winces from the pain as he unconsciously tries to grit his mostly-missing teeth, then dives to meet the approaching caravan.

The trails of machine-gun fire that stream from the van are almost trivial to avoid, which is a little disturbing in and of itself – when did he get so blase about people shooting at him?!? – as he swoops past the van and level with one of the police-cars behind it. Let’s see how good a chicken-player you are, officer!

The driver loses his nerve and swerves hard, about a second before Warren would have had to pull out to avoid a crash, and sideswipes the car next to him, causing both of them to fishtail. They’ve almost recovered when Warren loops around and repeats the exercise with a third car, forcing the first to swerve again to avoid a collision, causing the second to lock front fenders with it… which, at the speed they’re going, causes both to spin out of control into the third, which flips a few times before landing on its back.

The other three cars brake to a stop about thirty meters away, clearly intending to deal with Warren; unfortunately, the van ignores him and continues to speed towards the Blackbird. Damn… so much for distracting them all.

Incoming, hon! It’ll take me a minute to catch up… sorry. You know what Moltke said about battle plans…

Dealing with the police themselves is no challenge, compared to what he’s already faced today, but he doesn’t want to injure them if he can avoid it. <You’ve got it wrong, officers, we’re the good guys!>, he thinks at the police in French, before remembering somewhat embarrassedly that he can only communicate telepathically with Josh. Oops. Easy habit to get into, I guess.

He wishes he could explain the situation to them, but even at the accelerated rate his jaw is healing speech is still beyond him, and he doubts they’ll sit still while he writes them notes.

Well, when you only have one choice, you have to take it. A line Warren Jr. used all the time; it’s a little disturbing to Warren how often he’s ended up quoting his father in this fight, but this is hardly the right time to worry about that. The cops’ gunfire is hardly worth worrying about either as a quick swoop-and-slap takes one of the cops down and a dextrous wingtip with a telekinetic assist nets Warren his gun, which he begins firing methodically.

Less than twenty seconds later, leaving no tire unflattened behind him, Warren is winging his way back to the Blackbird. Well, at least none of them will get hurt, he consoles himself, by the time they catch up, it will all be over. He tries, and fails, to avoid the trailing thought: one way or another.

[Josh Dalton Worthington]

> Ah, come on, cutie… what’s he got that I ain’t got? Besides, how can you resist this face? […] Well, OK, let me rephrase that…

Josh grins, despite Warren’s injuries. I know what you meant. He becomes more serious after a second. As soon as we get on board, I’m going to dig the medical kit out. See if we can’t patch you up a little. Neither of them had life-threatening wounds, but it would be a good idea to begin treating what they could.

> Well, adorable as it is to watch you try to reason with an infant, never mind the species, we could just go.

“But…” What? The puppy will miss us? It’s a dog. A dog we almost ran over! It was extremely cute, despite the conditions of their first encounter. Josh stops himself after a second. "Yeah, you’re right. He’ll probably forget about us as soon as we get out of view." He takes one last look at the puppy, and turns to begin heading towards the plane.

> Never mind… I’ll see if I can distract them

Seeing the van again was bad enough, especially without the relative armor of the police car they’d borrowed. It was beginning to feel like they’d never see the end of it. The array of French police speeding in behind it was also not a good sign. Before he can respond, Warren takes to the air and flies in towards the vehicles. Be careful. I want you in one piece when this is over.

As bullets begin flying in, Josh takes his own advice and ducks behind the pile of crates. Belatedly, he glances over at the tarmac - the puppy is gone. Just as well. This is a bad situation. He can’t help but feeling an odd sense of loss, though.

From his safe vantage point, Josh continues to finish preflight operations on the Blackbird. Most of it is fairly simple. He’s sitting so close to the ‘Bird that it’s not even much of a challenge - thankfully. Between the battering his body had taken that evening, and the continued usage of his powers, his head had begun to ache fiercely in the last half hour. Quickly, Warren is able to delay and divert all of the police, leaving only the van itself.

> Incoming, hon! It’ll take me a minute to catch up… sorry. You know what Moltke said about battle plans…

He doesn’t, but along with the telepathic apology comes Warren’s surface thoughts, which causes him to laugh a little. Storm would disagree, I bet. Let’s see what I can come up with, though… Josh casts a glance around frantically for something, anything to use against the rapidly approaching van.

Flat tarmac. Crates. Fuel tanker… he dismisses this last after a moment’s hesitation. If John was with him he’d risk it, but he had no clue on how large the explosion would be. It was very possible it’d take out the cops too, which Josh wanted to avoid at all costs. He glances up from his position and groans. Obviously you don’t date me for my brains, because I can’t see something that’s looming over me.

As the van approaches, Josh judges the timing carefully. It needs to be just right or they’ll avoid it like everything else tonight. When the van crosses a specific point, he reaches out with his powers to tap a sequence of controls at the pilot’s station, above and to the side of him.

Abruptly, the Blackbird lifts off its landing gear and spins 180 degrees, aiming its rear section towards the oncoming threat. As the van begins to swerve, Josh slams the throttle, and the engines fire with a huge boom. As soon as he ramps it up, he cuts it out - only a burst is necessary. The van is caught in the backblast, and is thrown backwards, rolling over several times before coming to rest on its roof.

With a quick flip of a switch, Josh retracts the landing gear and dashes over to the bottom of the hovering ramp. Let’s get out of here, Warren.

[N.P.C]

(( Narrator: Scanner ))

As she directs the van driver onto the tarmac, Scanner sees the Blackbird and feels stupid: We didn’t really need a psychic to predict that they’d run to their airplane, did we? A simple database search would have turned up the Blackbird’s location, but she’d never bothered to check. She makes a mental note to remember this – having psychic intuition doesn’t mean she can safely ignore common sense.

It doesn’t matter, though – this is the end of the line for their quarry, and she allows herself to relax mentally as they close the distance. In the month or so that she’s had her powers, she’s never pushed them this hard, this constantly, and she’s been feeling the pressure build up in the back of her skull; she almost leans back into her carseat and sighs when she lets it go.

When Worthington strafes the van, she concentrates again – only this time the experience is like nothing she’s ever had before. Instead of hunches and intuitions, vague senses of “go right” and “head there”, the entire chase seems to freeze in place around her, as if she’d stopped time.

She tries to move, to fire her gun, but she’s no more capable of moving her body in this instant than she was before. Her perceptions change, though… instead of seeing the scene through her own eyes, it’s like her point of view pulls back, outside the van, away from the Blackbird… but not, she realizes, to reveal the airport or the city. It takes her a moment to make sense of what she’s seeing, but finally she gets it – it’s a series of frames, like looking at a spool of film, stretching into the future.

Wow. She’d been aware that her intuition was growing stronger the more she relied on it – the other MGH recipients in the program had reported similar effects – but real precognition was a quantum leap forward! She hadn’t entirely believed it was possible, and here she is doing it!

As she focuses on the next few seconds’ of action, the frames seem to blur and ramify… many possible futures, she realizes. In many of them, their targets escape – ah, using the Blackbird engines themselves as a weapon! That’s clever. In others their targets die… or are taken prisoner. She turns her attention onto one of those and smiles… ah! How simple!

She sees Worthington catching up with their van, evading streams of machine-gun fire… and it becomes clear to her that he does this, in a sense, the same way she would. Not that he anticipates the future, but he senses the positions of the guns and hears the rifling and the trigger-squeezing and assembles it all subconsciously into a predicted-obstacle grid, evading the entire projected flight-path of the bullet almost as soon as the trigger is squeezed. No wonder they’ve never hit him! Firing at where he is now, or where he seems to be going, is almost guaranteed to miss.

But against her ability, she realizes, “almost guaranteed” is no defense. There… that future contains the pattern she needs. A bullet there, and there, and there, and there, and he is forced to veer there, into the path of that tranq dart – with an extra-heavy load, enough to cause brief unconsciousness even in his metabolism. And once Worthington is in the van and at their mercy, Dalton surrenders rather than risk his life.

She smiles as time starts up again, preparing the special tranq as Worthington approaches the van in the real world this time… then frowns, as the timeline she’s chosen seems to fast-forward through her mind. Worthington’s death at Charlie’s hands… Dalton’s vengeance… No, no… that will never do. Try again… Ah, better. Charlie subdued, prisoners taken relatively peacefully… the Xmen attempt a rescue, easily repelled. And, it crashes in on her suddenly, in a month Scanner and every other MGH recipient in the world dies, their powers grown out of control. Dear God! No, that can’t be right…

She shuffles through futures more frantically, growing more confident in her powers with every moment but finding no timeline that suits her, on the edge of panic.

Finally, one thing becomes clear. She can subdue her targets, thereby distracting the X-Men’s attention into a hopeless rescue and sacrificing herself and her companions to a pointless death. Or she can let them escape, giving them and their companions a chance of finding a solution. But no future within her power to effect contains both.

She nods, her decision made; fires her pistol at Worthington as he flies by, ignoring the correct pattern, letting him evade her. She relaxes her mind again, as well as her body, preparing for the impact, and buckles her seat belt. When the Blackbird’s engines send the van rolling over the tarmac, it’s almost anticlimactic, as if she’d done this a dozen times… and when the impact sends her reeling unconscious, she does not lose the small enigmatic smile that will, for the rest of her life, be her trademark.

[Warren Worthington III]

> Obviously you don’t date me for my brains, because I can’t see something that’s looming over me

Warren actually laughs out loud at that, then winces a little at the pain in his jaw. It’s significantly reduced from what it was when this sewer-climbing missile-dodging car-chase police-fighting bridge-jumping shoot-out James Bond craziness started, but it still smarts.

Yeah, you got me. Really I’m just boiling-over hot for your tight sexy ass, but you seemed like the type who wants to be appreciated for more intellectual attributes, so I made up all that stuff about you being smart and funny and all that other stuff. I'm devious that way. Anyway, what’s looming over – oh. Warren isn’t sure if he’s getting the reference on his own, or if it’s Josh’s insight leaking over, but he’s used to not being able to tell the difference at this point, and it doesn’t really matter. That’s brilliant. Biggest damn gun they’ve ever seen, huh? Couldn’t happen to a nicer bunch of folks.

He’s about to ask if Josh needs him to do anything, but realizes he doesn’t have to ask… the whole plan is unfolding in his mind as Josh works it out. And mostly the answer is “no,” but distracting the van while Josh sets them up can’t possibly hurt, so he does. And dodging their gunfire while flitting around them like a gadfly is actually starting to be fun, psychotic as that sounds, especially as he’s starting to realize that they really, really, aren’t going to hit him as long as he has room to maneuver in. He hasn’t been lucky all this time – he’s actually that good. Wow. Wonder how that happened.

He drops in front of the van with wings extended for a moment as Josh aligns the Blackbird with its target, blocking their view of it, then zips out of the path of the blast as it fires… YEEEEEHAH! The temptation to land on the knocked-over van and kick it or something petty like that is not trivial, but fortunately easy to overcome, and Warren makes it through the entry hatch mere seconds behind Josh.

> Let’s get out of here, Warren.

And you’re waiting for who, exactly? Warren knows they aren’t quite out of the woods yet, but their odds are looking pretty good as he straps himself into the copilot’s seat and the plane takes off. Next stop, Institute. Shower. Then our room. And sleeping for week. Or… well, mostly sleeping for a week. This whole "roommate" thing has unexpected advantages...

As he scans the Blackbird’s monitors for pursuit, he pulls off his sewage-encrusted shoes and generally examines the remains of his tux in dismay. And burning this outfit. Outside. In a stiff wind. Yeesh!

It occurs to him suddenly that Josh’s birthday gift, which he’d sent ahead to the hotel, is no doubt lost by now… they certainly aren’t going to land and go back for it. Which is disappointing – he can get another one, of course, but it had been custom-made and it will take time, and he’d wanted to make Josh’s birthday as perfect an experience as his own had been. Which, when he thinks about it, may very well be the most ridiculous thought he’s ever had in his life, given how they actually spent the evening. He shakes his head in amusement. Oh, and… um... going to need a raincheck on your birthday gift… sorry about that… He almost laughs out loud again, but resists the impulse this time.

It’s only after he’s relaxed slightly and settled in for the flight that Warren becomes aware of a third heartbeat in the room, a third set of lungs inhaling and exhaling… quiet, small, discreet, but definitely present. Oh, for the love of God, can’t they leave us alone? How did they even get in -- he trails off as sight, hearing, common sense, and (most unfortunately) smell combine to reassure him that no, their stow-away isn’t a threat… at least not a traditional one.

He extends a wing to wrap around their unexpected passenger and pull it out of its cramped cubbyhole… and the pleased pulse he gets from Josh when he sees it is enough to change his mind about what he was going to say. Actually, I take it back, he adds, dropping the pup carefully in Josh’s lap. Birthday gift’s right here, after all…

[Josh Dalton Worthington]

> Yeah, you got me. Really I’m just boiling-over hot for your tight sexy ass, but you seemed like the type who wants to be appreciated for more intellectual attributes, so I made up all that stuff about you being smart and funny and all that other stuff.

Josh supposes some couples are unable to joke around the way the two of them do. Some people are just too insecure to bring up certain topics - which is certainly not the case with the two of them. It’s hard to be offended when Josh can feel Warren’s humor and fondness streaming at him over their mental connection. Ooh, you’re in so much trouble! See if you get any tonight! After a moment he adds: Well, maybe if you make it up to me… He sends over the mental equivalent of a wink, and begins manipulating the Blackbird controls.

> Next stop, Institute. Shower. Then our room. And sleeping for week. Or… well, mostly sleeping for a week. This whole "roommate" thing has unexpected advantages...

“It definitely does. I can finally stop sneaking back and forth in the early hours of the morning…” Josh shakes his head. “Your bed is much more comfortable than my old one was - probably because you’re in it. When I get back I’ll have to finish unpacking.” As he quickly makes his way over to the console, the Blackbird seals up the gangway, and the throttle control glides smoothly into cruise position. The ship leaps forward into the sky just as he locks his seat into flight position. “I’m going to take us up to full speed as soon as we’re over the ocean.” He glances at the console. “We should be back in New York in about two hours.”

> And burning this outfit. Outside. In a stiff wind. Yeesh!

By this time they’re safely out of French airspace, and in response Josh unlocks his seat and moves to the rear of the cabin. “We keep spare flight suits in this compartment.” He pokes around for a second, and extracts two sets. One he throws at Warren, and the other he keeps for himself. Josh pulls off his destroyed dress shirt and begins to change. No peeking! “I suppose we’ll have to wait for that shower until we get back…”

> Oh, and… um... going to need a raincheck on your birthday gift… sorry about that…

You know I don’t care about that. I’m just glad we made it through. Josh runs a hand tenderly along the side of Warren’s face. “We should get you fixed up. Hank will do a better job than I will, but even I know how to administer painkillers and put on bandages.” He unlocks a side panel and pulls the kit out. “It’s a good thing that no one hurt your wings, because there aren’t any of those really really big bandages left…” Josh rummages through the container absentmindedly, finding it hard to pull his gaze from Warren. God, I’m so happy you made it through all right. I don’t know what I would do without you.

After they’ve finished with the kit, Josh places it aside and settles back into his chair. ...Bucket seats ruining a perfectly good cuddling opportunity. He turns his head, beginning to arch an eyebrow seductively…

> Oh, for the love of God, can’t they leave us alone? How did they even get in --

Josh startles, jerking in his chair. Oh, no, no. Not now. Not in here. The story Bobby’d told him of the missile strike on the way back from Boston flashes through his mind - - -

Keyed into Warren’s mental state, Josh relaxes unconsciously when Warren himself does.

> Birthday gift’s right here, after all…

The puppy stares up at him with a satisfied, if slightly confused, look on its face. “How did you make it in here? I left you in France!” Cuteness overload! “Oh, Warren! Are you really sure?” Josh can tell Warren’s not nearly as attached to the thing as he is… but deep down he can tell there’s something there. Maybe it’s more that he knows how attached I am to it… “We’re going to have to find a puppy bed for you when we get home!” The puppy barks joyfully at this. “What are we going to name him?”

Josh places it in the seat behind him after a few minutes. Thank you… really. His expression changes from happy to slightly feral. Bucket seats be damned, come here… Josh gently pulls on the front of Warren’s flight jacket, lifting him partway out of the seat. As he leans in for a kiss, he looks over in the puppy’s direction.

“Don’t watch, okay? It’s not time for that talk yet.”

[Warren Worthington III]

(( OOC: Camera turns tastefully to look out over the ocean... cue James Bond music... and... CUT! Ready to archive. ))