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The ramp leading off the jet rattled with every thump of your boots. Determined to get away from your team as quickly as possible you don’t notice Alex hurrying after you. The mission was successful, none of you were majorly injured, in fact Charles would probably do a rousing and unnecessarily long speech about how proud he was. But all you could think about was the bruises that were certainly littering Alex’s body right now, his ribs that were definitely fractured and how he had flinched when trying to straighten his fingers.
“I can’t believe you’re mad at me.”
You don’t respond.
“I saved your ass and you know it! You were about to be taken out ok, we all need help sometimes.”
Shaking your head, you manage to croak out “I was fine.”
“Oh sure, I guess you were just being choked out for fun. Kinky.”
He finally catches up to you and stands directly in your way and his arm reaches out to touch your shoulder.
“Listen…”
Huffing, you stop but can’t meet his eye. “Alex please, I just want to get out of these filthy clothes and have a fucking shower. I feel disgusting.”
You feel his arm drop as he moves out of your way.
“Yeah ok, but we’ll talk about this later.”
You swiftly pass him. Walking straight through the changing rooms, intent on heading to your room. You felt bad, it’s not his fault you messed up. Not his fault you needed to be rescued, it was yours. You were the sole person to blame for his injuries. For the smattering of cuts on the right side of his face, for his split lip, for his limp. Goddamn it! You could feel the tears welling up. Your hands shaking and the sound of blood filling your ears. You knew the adrenaline was affecting your thought processes, but you couldn’t help it. All emotions were heightened after a fight. You just needed a few minutes to calm down, and a shower. Definitely a shower.
Stepping swiftly into your room you push the door behind you and began to methodically strip out of your combat gear. Stupid Alex. Getting himself injured. All he had to do was wait. You totally had it handled. You get stuck for a moment removing your sports bra, thoughts turning to curses. Until you finally pull it over your head.
“Ha! Take that, I will not be bested today!”
Throwing it in the general direction of your laundry basket you realise that you still have your boots to remove, and your fingers are aching from ‘unnamed bad guy #4’ stomping on them. Deciding they would be easier to remove sitting down you slowly begin your descent to the floor. Groaning like a 90-year-old with a bum hip you make it most of the way, before falling harshly on your butt. Wow, that fight had taken it out of you more than you thought. You were suddenly craving a nice, relaxing bath to sooth your poor muscles. But you knew you would pass out immediately and it would be your luck to survive all these missions, to then go and drown in a damn bubble bath.
You could see it now; your gravestone would read: ‘The only mutant in history to die through relaxation’. Alex would never let you live it down… or not live. Whatever.
Finally pulling the first boot off you began on the second. Spending approximately 30 seconds fruitlessly tugging on the strings you realise you really did not have the patience for this right now and reach over to one of your knives and slip it under the lace. The guys in charge of equipment wouldn’t be too mad at you right? They would understand your need to be out of the stupid, heavy, sweaty thing… probably.
You awkwardly shimmy out of the rest of your clothes and go to stand up. Your body then reminds you that it was, on no uncertain terms, not happy with moving fast. Or moving in general really. But you are determined to get to the bathroom, so you grit your teeth and slowly slowly work your way forwards. You had been hoping for the pain to wait until the morning before hitting you. But nope, you’re just that lucky.
The water was amazing. You let out a frankly sinful groan when you finally step in. The shower feels like thousands of tiny hands giving you the best massage of your life. Your brain stuttered at that thought, momentarily creeped out by the imagery. But you wouldn’t let your overactive imagination ruin this moment for you. Instead you let your mind wander to other things.
Summers.
You sigh and reach for the body wash.
He wasn’t going to let this go. Ok, so maybe you shouldn’t have shouted at him and called him a moron for stepping in. But you were freaking out ok? He was all crumpled over and looked like he had been hit by a damn bus. You were not thinking straight.
Your fingers slip on the bottle and it falls from your grasp.
Ever since Jean accidentally let slip that his thoughts had been very loudly projecting his plans to kiss you, you had been a mess. That was two months ago! There had been plenty of moments, totally not orchestrated moments, for him to do so. But no, it turns out Alex Summers was a wuss. At least when it came to you.
The “Fuck” that slips past your lips was 50% due to your annoyance at him and only 50% a reaction to your body protesting you reaching down and picking up the bottle. (Okay maybe, 40-60….20-80).
You swallow, feeling it catch in your throat. (ow). You were going to have to apologise for your outburst. He really did save you, if he hadn’t intervened you would have most definitely been choked unconscious (or worse). You shudder at the thought, then swiftly turn the shower off and step out. Grabbing your towel, you shuffle back to your room you stare at your wardrobe, deciding on the best combination of clothes to A). not aggravate your injuries further and B). looks at least a little flattering in case you run into a certain Summers sibling.
Getting dressed was a more relaxed affair after the shower, plus the clothes you chose were loose and flowy so much easier to pull over your battered body, a simple shorts and t-shirt combo. You look around the room, at the explosion of combat gear on the floor and decide you don’t have the energy or pain threshold to be bending over and picking that mess up. Before anything you are going to take some painkillers and a soothing cup of tea. But before you reach the door you hear a gentle rapping. Stepping over the mess in your room you pull the door open.
“He-” You clear your throat, wincing. “Hey Scott, what’s up?”
“Hey, just wanted to come check on you. Hank was worried you didn’t get your injuries looked at. Plus.” He pauses and grins, gesturing at the cart behind him with soiled combat gear. “Laundry.”
“You’re a fuckin’ saint, you know that? Um, if I kick my gear to the door would you pick it up? Bending down isn’t really a smart move for me right now…” You gesture vaguely to yourself. “I was just heading down to find some painkillers.”
“I can come in and grab them if you want, no need to over-exert yourself. I can also grab some liquid ibuprofen, save your throat and save you from Hank and his mother-hen qualities if you want?”
Doing a mental check to make sure there’s no underwear or anything lying about obviously you nod and step aside to let him in.
“Seriously thanks, I’ll make sure to bake you that cheesecake you like so much soon. I’ll probably be in the kitchen, gonna grab some soothing tea.”
“Yeah sure, shouldn’t be long.”
You delicately step into the hallway and start distractedly moving towards the kitchen. There was something scratching at you, something was off. Scott was lovely, nothing was out of character. He would be the kind of thoughtful person to get everyone’s laundry after a mission, anything to help. And checking up on you, you were friends. So, what was it?
You get to the kitchen, turning on the too bright fluorescents that assault your tired eyes. Note the kettle already has water in it and flick it on.
Hank.
Didn’t he take Tuesdays off? And it’s way past his normal bed time.
Grabbing a mug, you went to stretch for the tea you wanted when you were reminded Scott still hadn’t returned with the ibuprofen. Ouch.
“Need a hand?” You turn around to see Alex awkwardly standing at the door.
“Yeah, thanks.” You shuffle out of the way and spot something in his hands. Is that? “Are those for me?”
“Oh yeah, Scott mentioned you were looking for some painkillers, so I grabbed my stash. I also brought some arnica for the bruising, it’s a topical cream that helps um, yeah. So here.” He puts them down on the counter and pushes them over.
You were right, Hank definitely didn’t send Scott.
“You sent Scott to check on me, didn’t you?”
Your gaze was intense, waiting for him to lie, pretend he didn’t care. Brush you off and hide his feeling behind the wall that keeps him safe. To run out the door and spend another night pretending you were like anyone else.
He pauses his reach into the cupboard, his lip disappears under the worrying of his teeth. Grabbing a box he huffs out a breath and uncoils, slumping, defeated he turns to you, head angled to the floor. He smiles softly, “Figured you’d work it out.” His eyes flick to yours, filled with trepidation, “I guessed if I came to you myself you probably wouldn’t even open the door. We probably woke the whole mansion with our shouting. I’m sorry, I should have been kinder on the flight back. I was just so worried about you.”
That was unexpected, Alex Summers admitting a vulnerability? Unheard of. You decide to give him a break and turn your back to the counter, removing your gaze and leaving him looking at your profile. You could feel heat in your cheeks, you had been acting childish earlier and here he was…You weren’t used to him being the mature one in your relationship, guess he’s forced your hand now, you refuse to be out done.
“Yeah, I was going to apologise for my outburst. It was out of line.” You glance at him. He was shaking his head. “It was. Seriously.” You turn and reach over, putting your hand on his arm. “Thanks for saving my ass, I owe you.” You squeeze. Totally not feeling up his bicep, nope, no way. The man shoots destruction circles from his chest, does he really need to be so goddamn built too?
You are standing so close now, you can hear his breath hitch as he looks down at you. “You don’t need to thank me, I’d do anything to keep you safe.”
Your eyes drop to his lips. He’s finally going to do it; you can feel all your nerves alight in anticipation. He’s about to bring his arms up around you, move his head down to yours, push into your space and finally, finally kiss you. Your eyes start sliding shut. The kettle clicks off and he abruptly steps away. Backing out of the kitchen, stumbling on air.
“I’ll see you in the morning then.” His arm stutters as he points to the medicine he brought you. “Hope that helps-”
“Wait.”
Your foot takes a half step forward.
You cannot believe he’s pussying out, when you were so close. If he leaves this kitchen you may not get another chance for weeks and you really can’t wait that long. You see where his wall had started to crumble in your presence, and you refuse to let him rebuild it. Any excuse to get him to stay, to stop him pulling away from you again.
“Uhm, the-” Your throat is dry. Your tongue flicks out to wet your lips, you do a dry swallow. Notice he has stopped. “The arnica, I- I don’t know how to use it. Can you show me?”
“Oh.” He falters forward. “Sure, yeah, I guess.”
But you see his reluctance, how his body is straining to get away. To get somewhere safe. Get away from the precipice, prevent him falling further into you, into the next stage. Back to what is known and comfortable. But he steps forward, unable to deny you.
You hold the tube out to him, smiling softly. “My throats been killing me for hours, help a gal out?” Testing your muscles, you decide to push yourself up onto the counter.
He nods dumbly, fiddling with the cap. His brows are drawn together in uncertainty, he’s chewing on his lip again. You reach up to stop him. “You’re going to re-open that cut if you’re not careful.” You tap below where the break is, not daring to touch his lip directly.
He flinches back. But stops, then hums. “This might be a bit cold, ok?” You nod and pull your head back, exposing your throat to him as he steps forward. “Promise I’ll be careful.”
You make eye contact with him, needing him to hear you when you say this. “I trust you Alex, you couldn’t hurt me if you wanted.” Your move your legs so he can step in-between them. Then stare at the ceiling, you couldn’t push him to much. Let him come to you. Kind of like dealing with a wild animal, one who’s trust you have to gain slowly and-
All thought processes are stopped when he finally touches you.
It was cold, but your initial shock at the sensation is pushed aside when he starts rubbing it in. His touch is so gentle you can barely feel it. You look at him, you can’t help it. His eyes on your throat, his body so tense, full of worry that he might hurt you. His other hand lands on your thigh, warm, skin on skin. Your shorts having been pushed up. You feel a warm rush push up through your body. Heat washing over you, causing a scattering of goose bumps appear up your arms and on the back of your neck.
“There, done.” His words are soft, whispered into the small space between you. He moves to step back, but you stop him. Your arms snapping out to grab his shirt. Anything to stop him, to keep him here, wrapped up in this moment.
“No, not quite.” You pull him forward. “I think you forgot something.”Your eyes are on his lips now, projecting your intentions clearly. He leans down. His hand tightening on your leg, the other slipping up behind your head, holding you in place.
When he finally reaches you, when the gap between your bodies is removed. When his lips touch yours you finally understand his power. You can feel the fire raging under his skin. How he holds himself back every moment of everyday. His lips fit against yours like they were made to be there. The kiss is gentle, soft, undemanding. Not wanting to push you away. Not wanting to you fear the fire in his soul. But you know him, you know Alex, and he could never scare you. You push forward, unafraid, pushing against his gentleness into a kiss that is indulgent and scorching. Your hands move down and pull, your legs moving up to trap him against you. Only moving back when he hisses.
A reminder of both of your injuries. Your eyes open and dip to his lips, to his cut and you smile apologetically. “Sorry, you ok?”
His hand on your thigh pushes up, ending when it’s resting against your lower back. Under your top. His forehead leans against yours and he smiles, the light behind his eyes dancing. “Never better.” The fingers against your spine tap three times and his lips find yours once more.