Archive of Our Own ^beta

“There are times when you make me wonder if you do this on purpose.” The soft dabbing of a soaked cotton ball was accompanied by a tired sigh. Daken was drained from the mission today but more than that, watching Bobby put himself in danger - on purpose, in a training situation - that was what really drained his batteries. There were tiny cuts all over Bobby’s arms where sharp metal had cut into vulnerable skin. “Maybe it’s not me who is the masochist in this room.”

The cuts had been made by razor sharp flechettes. Bobby and Warren had spared, nothing to worry about. Just a little bit of exercise - that had turned into something just short of a death match because these idiotic children could not be trusted not to egg each other on! It was like two toddlers in the sandbox, trying to one up each others sandcastle. Except that in this case the toddlers were deadly powerful and the sandbox was a holographic training room. Daken had entered the Danger Room to the sight of Bobby falling and hitting ground, turning back to flesh and bones. It had made his heart stop for a moment before it beat so hard and fast Daken was sure everyone else had heard it.

Warren had seemed surprised but unbothered. Daken had contemplated teaching him how fun it was to be cut to pieces but Bobby had just sat back up, whined a little and then admitted defeat with a laugh. These were the moments when Daken had to question his decision to dating someone so recklessly good natured and humorous. One of these days, Bobby’s sweet and gentle nature would drive Daken to bloody murder in the need to defend him.

“I don’t like it.” The face Bobby made was half grimace, half pout. “Look, we got a little carried away. Warren wasn’t shooting knives at me after I turned flesh and blood. The ones that did this were fired while I was still ice. You know, you saw it. I just … I sort of got shocked out of ice form, that’s all.”

“Don’t you pout at me when I’m being a good boyfriend.” Tapping the tip of Bobby’s nose he glared at him half heartedly and set about stitching up one rather nasty cut. It was almost soothing, the rhythm of the needle going through soft skin and out again. Well, if it weren’t for the way Bobby winched at every stitch.

Once Daken had finished the stitches, covered them in gauze and wrapped it up, he said, “Maybe work on your startle reflex before you get into training sessions with the residential murder Angel again.”

“Warren would never hurt me.” The expression on Bobby’s face had changed, shut off, as had his posture. “Warren isn’t a murderer, he’s one of the most gentle people I’ve ever known.”

The sudden tension took Daken off guard and that made him react in kind, “Worthington was on Logan’s murder squad. What do you think he’s done there? Drink tea and chill while the rest went out on assassinations? Be realistic, Bobby.”

“That was the beginning of the end of my friend.” Bobby stood up and took a deep breath as he turned away from Daken. The tension in his shoulders was easy to see and not just because he was shirtless. The muscles were bunched up in a rictus of emotion. “Just drop it.”

“I didn’t think it would be such a problem to bring up murder.” Daken stood up and washed his hands as he continued speaking, “I suppose I’ll be sleeping in my own bed then.” He put the first aid kit back where it belonged and then left the small bathroom.

“What?” There was a hand on Daken’s arm, and urgency in Bobby’s voice, “Hey, what gives, Daken? I don’t want you to go.”

Shaking off the hand he looked away, refusing to meet these icy blue eyes. “If murder is such a big deal, you’re sharing your bed with the wrong person.”

“For the love of deductions Daken, that’s not …” The sound of Bobby taking a breath, holding it, and then letting go sounded louder than a bomb going off in the quiet room. “Look, you aren’t Warren. Warren isn’t even Warren. I’m not trying to make some big statement. You know how I feel about killing. I know who you are and where you come from. What I say about Warren … it’s got nothing to do with you. He gets murder happy and the actual spirit of Death gets a mutant avatar on earth. That, that’s a lot different from you just surviving okay?”

“You keep making excuses for what I am.” Turning his head he glared at Bobby, “I killed before I ever even met Romulus. It’s a part of me, it always will be a part of me. You think it’s always been about survival? Half the time I killed because it was more convenient than the other options. Faster, easier, less of an annoyance. It has nothing to do with survival. For fucks sake, I’ve been Death too. I was a Horsemen for years and years.”

“Before Romulus you were a confused child trying to survive. You’ve told me and I was shocked, but did I flinch away from you?” There was a moment of silence that stretched on till Bobby reached out and put his hand on Daken’s cheek, “I’m not afraid of what you are.”

“Then why the hell did you act as if I'd broken something just making a joke?” Despite wanting to, Daken didn't lean into the touch.

“I miss Warren, the real Warren. None of this is a joke to me. Yeah, I know, amazing. We found one of the few things I’m super serious about.” The touch continued as Bobby’s voice softened, “The first time, when Apocalypse took him and I thought he was dead, really dead, and then there he was all blue and metal winged, I was the one to break him out of it Daken. I let Warren think he’d killed me and it broke the conditioning enough for him to fight back and win. You hit too close to home … you found me out.” Bobby closed his eyes, “Sometimes I wonder if I can shock him back, if I can get my friend back for real.”

“You mean the one you were in love with.” This wasn't the first time they ended up in an argument over Worthington. It wouldn't be the last one either.

Bobby’s eyes opened and there was no guilt in them. Daken could see that, smell it. “Was that love? I was too afraid to say anything. Too afraid to even think about it. I know I cared about him, that I was attracted to him and that’s it.” The light shone in his eyes as he looked pleadingly at his boyfriend, “Daken, you know how I feel about you.”

“Then don't scare me like that.” Daken sighed and gave in, leaning into Bobby's touch and wrapping his arms around him. “I call him murder Angel, he calls me your murder kitten. It's how we are with each other. We are too similar in some ways and too opposite in others. The only reason we somewhat get along is because we both love you.”

“Ouch!” Their arms shifted till Daken wasn’t pushing on any of the sore spots. “Murder kitten, my murder kitten.” Bobby shook his head and kissed Daken’s cheek. “You catch spiders and set them free. Some murder kitten you are.”

“Spiders are useful for catching flies and other annoying things. I see no reason to kill them.” With a gentle nudge he guided Bobby toward the bed, “You need rest, Snowflake. No arguing with me over that, we know I’ll win the argument – if need be with dirty tricks.” Most of them involved physical intimacy to keep Bobby from leaving the bed.

“You just want an excuse to get your smell all over me.” There was no resistance. Bobby laid back and smiled warmly as Daken got into bed with him. The tension in the room had broken, or seemed to. There was still something lingering, something tight. Both men could feel it, but neither seemed to know how to touch on it.

“Can you blame me? You smell of him, of Warren. I can’t say I like that.” Daken made a soft sound and then drew Bobby into a kiss. Their lips met with a shared sigh and he pushed his hands up into Bobby’s curly hair. Let’s not dwell on that little hiccup. It’s normal for couples to argue, I think.

There was a low soft moan from Bobby, and then an answering passion. Daken felt hands on his back, beneath his shirt, eager and needy with desire. “Mmm, maybe there needs to be more skin to skin contact, you know, in order to get your scent all over me.”

“Bobby …” Giving his lover a look he sighed and took off his shirt with a huff, “Fine but you’re not getting any fun before you rested.”

“I promise to lay here and be good.” The way those thick brown lashes framed out the big icey blue eyes was unfair. Daken had a hard time imagining a prettier sight. “You know it’s just that I cannot get enough of you.”

“I know.” Another kiss and then his lips wandered down over Bobby neck, finding each little spot that Bobby liked best with practiced ease. They were new to sex but kissing? Intimacy in general? That was something that had been there from the start. “That’s why I like telling you to be good.”

“I’m always good.” Somehow Bobby managed to make the words sound naughty as he stroked Daken’s hair. The look on his face was somewhere between aroused and amazed, an odd expression which Daken had grown accustomed to seeing on his lover. “Oh careful, that’s a tender spot.”

“Here?” He asked it playfully and then kissed over the developing bruise with great care. Bobby could heal by turning ice but he didn’t always employ that option. Daken was not sure why and he wasn’t sure he wanted to ask either. Some things just were.

His lips continued their journey past the stitches and down to Bobby’s hand which he took into his own before kissing. There was something about this, about just being gentle and intimate without any pressure behind it that never got old. Daken could have spent hours doing this.

“Mmhmm right there.” The words were almost dreamy as Bobby continued to toy with Daken’s hair. The kisses moved and Bobby’s body reacted as expected, but there was no sense of urgency past their continued contact. “Daken … oh yes, that … feels so good when you kiss … mmm suck, oh god, Daken!”

Each small sigh and content gasp was a reward in and of itself. Daken savored the moment, loving the way Bobby started to smell of lust and want but the total lack of urgency for him to do something about it. That was still an incredible thing to him, the way Bobby didn’t push. Placing a soft kiss to the inside of Bobby’s thigh he looked up at him and smiled, “Sleepy, darling? You sound so relaxed …”

There was an answering nod before strong sure hands pulled Daken back up, “Come here. Promised you I’d be good.”

With a soft smile he let Bobby draw him up into a hug and held on tight. For a few minutes they just laid there kissing, and touching bare skin. It was only when Bobby had yawned softly that Daken said something with a chuckle, “Close your eyes, Snowflake. It’s time for a nap.”