ax_main | Jean-Paul, Warren, and Simon

Jean-Paul gets back after his trip to Montreal and tries to clear the air with Simon and Warren.

Jean-Paul was back at the school the evening of the second day. The trip from Montreal went faster than the trip to, at least; he had much less chance of being recognized leaving Montreal than entering it and didn't have to be quite as indirect in his flight plan. He didn't bother landing, but flitted right to the window of his dorm room. He could see a light on, which meant Simon was awake. So he knocked.

Everything else aside, he had missed Warren and Simon. He'd even missed Simon's scoldings.

Despite living with Jean-Paul for months already, the knock on the window nearly scared Simon out of his skin. For half a second had to simply sit there on the couch and take a deep breath, just reassuring himself that yes, there were fliers at the school, and yes, his roommate was one of them, and no, it wasn't a serial killer trying to break in the school on the second floor.

Then, after that jolt of fear came a flood of relief. Jean-Paul was back.

He pushed his laptop aside and jumped to his feet, throwing the window open with a hopeful, but careful expression. "Hey."

"Hey yourself." Jean-Paul looked mussed and slightly damp, but that was normal for when he'd been high flying. "Can I come in?"

Simon blinked at him, then frowned. "Of course you can. It's your room. You've never needed my permission before."

Jean-Paul grinned. "Well, you're usually not so happy to see me that you linger and block the window."

Flushing, Simon stepped away from the window, itching to pull him inside with his own hands, but valiantly managing to keep them by his sides. "I was worried about you and the long flight. Have you eaten? I could order in." Which was, honestly, all he really knew how to do.

"Starving," Jean-Paul admitted. "I've never done this much flying in just a couple of days before." He climbed in, attention on Simon. "Are you OK?"

"Am I okay?" Simon huffed. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I just had to go home and talk some stuff out." Jean-Paul dropped his pack by the window, then sat heavily on the bed. "Raymonde sends his best. And he wants to meet you and Warren. Maybe once we have all this shit behind us, I'll take you up to Montreal with me."

Simon already had his phone in hand, pulling up the local Italian place, intent on loading Jean-Paul with carbs. "I'd like that." Then he paused, looking up. "I mean, I would honestly like that. I've heard Montreal is beautiful, and I would like to meet Raymonde."

There was silence in the room while Simon ordered for both of them. Jean-Paul rose to his feet, then came up behind to wrap his arms around him. The embrace was not at all unusual, but the hesitancy was entirely out of character for Jean-Paul.

"You didn't answer me," he murmured. "Are you OK?"

Simon closed his eyes and lowered the phone to his side, taking a slow breath. He'd been having to do that a lot lately. And not only was he dealing with everything having to deal with the press conference, but there'd been that incident with Lil too, that still haunted him a bit. Not to mention his Limbo nightmares had picked up again ever since he'd heard rumors about what had happened to Pryde and Kaplan. "I'm. No. No, I'm not any version of 'okay'," he admitted. "But I'm not sure anyone in this house could say they are."

"You're the one I'm concerned with at the moment." Jean-Paul's hesitance fell away, and he firmed his hug. "What can I do?"

For the first time, Simon lost some of his decorum and shuddered in Jean-Paul's arms. His breathing threatened to pick up and he forced himself to steady. No panic attacks. Not until after the press conference. "I uh, I need to. I need to sit down."

"Yeah, that I can help with." A moment later, Jean-Paul had scooped Simon into his arms and was hovering a few inches above the carpet. Hauling Simon around was not something he could have pulled off without the aid of his powers, but in service of distracting his boyfriend, this was something he was willing to cheat at.

"Where to?"

Simon started to protest, then gave in, nodding across the room. "Your bed?"

"Best of all possible answers." Jean-Paul stole a kiss. He knew he probably should have asked, and he did feel bad about forgetting that so often... but there was something about Simon than invited touch. Romantic, protective, friendly, whatever. And he was probably one of three on the planet who thought that, he decided as he settled onto his mattress again, Simon practically on his lap. "I didn't worry you, did I?"

Simon started to settle himself politely on the bed, but Jean-Paul's hands were on him, and his warmth was there. The question pushed him to twist and turn, straddling Jean-Paul's lap, arms sliding warmly around his body. He rested his head on his roommate's shoulder, breathing in the crisp damp air still lingering on his clothes and hair. God, if only he'd had this the night he'd been plagued by demon dreams. "Yes," he admitted quietly.

Jean-Paul kissed him again, this time nuzzling into his hair. A muffled apology followed.

"I thought the texts would be enough," he murmured, hugging Simon against his chest. "So you knew I wasn't in trouble."

"Words can lie," Simon corrected softly. His touch didn't. Here, he could connect his skin to Jean-Paul's and know - really know - that he was okay, and healthy, and that he wasn't descending into a pit of depression or anxiety. He skimmed his fingers across the small of his boyfriend's back, just under his shirt, soaking him in. "I missed touching you."

Though, that was somewhat selfish, all the way around. Simon missed feeling Jean-Paul, even the small, casual touches of roommate life and a small room, but he also missed touch in an of itself, and even though he'd spent the last year trying not to touch others very often, this week, he'd learned more than ever that he had to close himself off from others. His touch was dangerous and intrusive, and he'd genuinely hurt Lil. So really, Warren and Jean-Paul were all he had. He would never admit it aloud, but Simon craved contact - had been starved of it most of his life, except when it came to his sister. Being able to have Jean-Paul here, beneath him, against him, it was more comforting than he'd like to admit.

Jean-Paul's heart knotted at that, a painful check so unexpected that it took his breath away. He'd just been gone a couple of days, not even two full days. That wasn't enough time to miss him... hell, he'd have bet that Simon wouldn't have minded having the room (or Warren) to himself as a change of pace. The idea that Simon would have missed him or needed him - for anything! - hadn't occurred to him.

"Desole," he murmured again. "I thought you'd be all right with Warren." Better with Warren.

"I was," Simon agreed quietly, finally lifting his head, sitting back a little. "I am. I think we've all got our own strengths." Jean-Paul was very good at making terrible things seem manageable.

"That's good." Jean-Paul cupped Simon's cheek briefly, just long enough to press an apologetic kiss to his lips. "I had some time to think things over. I don't think there's any dodging this. So I want to come out when you two do."

Simon stared at him quietly. "You don't want another season?"

"More than almost anything. I've worked hard for this." He had to clear his throat to keep going. "And I know you and Warren want me to have it. But I would be looking over my shoulder the whole time. And anyway... I don't want it as much as I want to stand with you two against the world."

Nodding slowly in understanding, Simon leaned in and pressed their foreheads together. "Trifecta. Corporations, politics, celebrities. It should be some show."

"Lights, camera, bloodbath." Then it was Jean-Paul who had his face hidden against the warmth of Simon's neck. "I'm not going to be sorry. No matter what happens."

Simon slipped his fingers into Jean-Paul's hair. "I think I will be. At low points," he admitted softly. "But I also know that it needs to be done. "We can't let Magneto be the only one to tell his story."

Jean-Paul nodded, breathed deep, then lifted his head. "Mind if I tell the featherbrain one-on-one? If I worried you, then he's got to be low-key losing his mind."

Simon huffed a soft sigh. “He is, I think. So no, that’s fine. You two have a lot to work out.”

Jean-Paul sighed and reluctantly unwrapped himself from around Simon. "If the food gets here before we're done, keep it warm for me? I'll probably have Warren with me when I get back."

“I ordered enough for an army, so yes, bring him with you,” Simon agreed, sliding off of him reluctantly.

------

When Warren worked, he couldn't listen to music with lyrics. The temptation was too much to screw around and start singing, and he didn't have time for that. Between his parents recent threats, Jean-Paul's absence (which should at least be coming to an end soon), and needing to prep this speech for the weekend, he couldn't afford to screw around.

So a Liszt piano concerto played at a reasonable volume while he worked, head bent over his desk, clacking away at his laptop. His wings twitched now and then, either with something exciting in the music or with a thought he had, rustling gently.

He wasn't actually focused. He was just pretending to be and hoping that'd make it real eventually.

Jean-Paul's ringtone chimed at him a moment later, and an instant after that there was a familiar, high-speed knocking at the door. No prize money for guessing who would mess with him like that.

Warren grinned and stood. "Come in!" He was halfway to the door, arms wide open, before JP got inside.

Jean-Paul almost paused at the unmistakable invitation to affection. He knew why he tended to check himself when people reached for him, and he hated it. He forced himself to keep moving until he was wrapped in an embrace of arms and wings and having the breath kissed out of him.

Once breathlessness had been accomplished and Warren's fingers had thoroughly mussed JP's hair, Warren pulled back just enough to settle his forehead against Jean-Paul's. "You'd never guess I missed you, right?"

Jean-Paul breathed out a content little sigh and leaned in. "I thought you two you might be a little too preoccupied to miss me. Especially since you knew where I went."

"I've been preoccupied with you." But Warren chuckled, chest bouncing against JP's. "I mean, I'm glad you went--if that's what you needed--don't get me wrong. But for totally selfish reasons, I missed you." He pulled back a little to look JP in the eye. "How was the visit? How's the bistro?"

"Everything's mostly as I left it. Raymonde's lost weight, so I'm going to need to keep on him about that." The uncomfortable thought that Raymonde might have been worrying over his absence kept surfacing, but Jean-Paul kept telling himself he was being stupid. "How were things here?"

"Mad," Warren said with a snort. "And we haven't even gotten started. Mostly I've been trying to arrange things and just--be with Simon. Trying to remind him positive things could happen too." His smile went softer and fond. "Not just apocalyptic ones.

"Fending off my parents. You know. The usual."

Jean-Paul made a sound of disgust. "I'm just going to kidnap you both and spirit you to Montreal. At least the worst Raymonde will do is embarrass me."

Warren chuckled and tugged at the front of Jean-Paul’s shirt. “Did he embarrass you this time? Or were you spared?”

"Only in his stubborn refusal to step into the present day." Jean-Paul let himself be tugged over to Warren's bed. "But I think the two of you there would be too much temptation to resist. He takes this parenting thing seriously."

Warren sat JP down and climbed into his lap, straddling him so his wings could scrape down behind him unchecked. He rested lightly on Jean-Paul’s thighs, just in the middle, warm and comfortable. “He sounds kind of adorable,” he admitted.

"I take it back; you two are never going to be in the same room." Jean-Paul ran his hands lightly up Warren's spine. "Hey. Are you really all right?"

Even as he chuckled again, warren’s feathers shuddered pleasantly at that touch. “Fine. Better now.” He stole a quick kiss. “What about you? Feels like it helped but—

“I’m sorry if I made it weird, or made you feel like you had to get away to think it through.” Warren frowned thoughtfully, idly ruffling Jean-Paul’s hair. “I was being obnoxious. Excited to to think you might, feeling bound to ask you not to...” he smiled apologetically.

Jean-Paul pushed lightly at Warren's chest. "Switch up. I want you on your belly." One common thread between his two boyfriends: touch was the most reassuring thing he could offer. And Jean-Paul was really OK with that. It was something he couldn't mess up.

Without another word or the slightest question, Warren lifted, turned, and collapsed into his stomach, face down on the bed, face pillowed on his hands. He wasn’t done with his questions by a long shot, but hey. First things first.

Jean-Paul straddled Warren's hips, careful of his lighter bones, and undid the tabs of his soft, tan sweater to get at Warren's wings and back.

"I was getting mixed signals from you guys," Jean-Paul admitted. He leaned forward and slid his fingers into the downy warmth of Warren's feathers where they met his back. "It felt like you didn't want me standing with you. Then you seemed so eager about it, and I thought it might be a front. Once I had some distance to calm down and think, I figured it out, though."

Warren groaned in embarrassment even as his back arched at the sweet, sweet feeling of familiar hands on his wings and anchoring warmth on the back of his legs. "I'm so sorry. I was being an idiot--kind of manic actually. Between that and trolling Simon..." He sighed. "I'm sorry I was useless. I'm glad you have Raymonde. I'll do better. I just want you to have whatever is best for you--whether it aligns with my wildest dreams or not. I swear."

"I don't know that this is best for me, but it's what I want to do." Jean-Paul kneaded his way carefully over Warren's back, exploring with fascinated adoration the muscle groups unique to his boyfriend. "And I don't think I could look at myself in the morning if I let you two face the firing squad alone. Another season isn't worth that." Jean-Paul leaned in and gripped Warren's chin, turning him just enough for a kiss. "And you may be an idiot sometimes, but you're mine and I'm keeping you. No arguments."

Twisted up slightly so he could keep looking at JP after the kiss, Warren felt... relieved and happy. And he wasn't sure he had a right to it, but he wasn't about to bring it up now. Jean-Paul's loyalty had always been part of what Warren admired about him... but this was just... wow. "No arguments. You're the literal best, you know that? Are there hearts in my eyes? I feel like there are hearts in my eyes."

"Call it romantic pragmatism." Jean-Paul kissed him again. "And I'd like to keep you here and put stars in your eyes instead, but I'm starving to death and Simon just ordered enough Italian to last us through an extended siege. Want to meet up and brainstorm over pasta?"

"Hell yeah." Warren chuckled. Once they disentangled, he ruffled his wings to settle them again, adjusted himself (what, having JP on top of him with hands in his feathers did things okay), and then said, "I mean it, though. I'll do better. I'm sorry I lost my shit too much to be helpful to you. Or Simon, probably."

"Talking each other down after some fuckhead ruins things for mutants as a whole wasn't something we'd drilled for." Jean-Paul gave Warren a quick, one-armed hug, then let him get dressed. "We've all got more practice for next time now."

"Right." Warren planted a quick kiss on JP's forehead before replacing his sweater and velcroing it under the wings. He ran his hands through his hair, fluffed his feathers, and said, "Let's eat. And maybe plot to take over the world."

"I think we're all on the same page now." Jean-Paul slid an arm around Warren's waist and steered him toward the door. "Let's go get Simon."