Tommy and Fatale | Brotherhood party
Oct. 14th, 2017 10:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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ax_mainTommy and Pam dance, then seek out some privacy. A fade-to-black is involved.
The music wound down, and Fatale watched as her teammates dissipated, laughing. She was still feeling the buzz from it all, herself, and she grinned up at Tommy, who was actually a pretty decent dance partner, all things considered. Granted, he wasn't Alex - but hell, unlike Alex, he actually knew how. It was more than she could say for herself. "Want to stick around for another one?" she asked with a smirk, eyebrows rising as she watched his face.
Because yeah, he'd been caught up in it all, too. If he'd thought about it and decided dancing with the psycho blue girl wasn't for him, no harm.
The whole evening had been too much for Tommy to process all at once, so a good part of whatever he might be feeling had been parked, marked 'to deal with later' in the back of his head. So he wasn't thinking about Wanda, or Billy, or mutant supergroups and choosing up sides. He probably should have, but fuck it. He raised an eyebrow instead, glancing back over his shoulder. "Where's your boy?" he asked, returning her smirk with one of his own. "Because I'm down for just about anything except causing drama." Alex was cool, and poaching wasn't Tommy's style.
"No drama," Pam promised, her fingers toying across his shoulder. "Alex wasn't kidding at the mall. We're..." she groped for a word and shrugged when she came up short. "He won't mind." Sometimes, she wondered if he maybe should, but it was enough to know he wouldn't.
Her expression told him enough to believe her; that kind of complicated - weirdly enough - made a lot of things simpler. "In that case." A grin flashed bright across his face and he followed the trail of her fingertips, stepping in closer as the music picked up again. His powers weren't sound related, but the vibrations and the buzz of a steady backbeat soothed a lot of his raw edges and dancing felt as natural as running. He settled his hand on Pam's hip, a single new point of contact.
Pam hummed and shifted in closer, perfectly happy to follow his lead as they moved with the music. "So, what do you think of the party?" she asked with a grin. "Having fun?"
"Always. Pietro's got -- well. I don't know if I'd call it style,, exactly..." he teased, glancing up at the glo-stick lights. "It's definitely something."
"That...yeah. That pretty much sums up Pietro," Pam conceded. "You guys talked to him and Wanda?" She grimaced. "Sorry we didn't. It was a bad week."
He shrugged. "It's not your circus. I didn't let on that you knew, so they won't ask. But yeah. We talked, and apparently magic can do that, so there you go." His brow furrowed. "Bad week?"
Pam shrugged. "They happen." She didn't want to think about it right now, though - not when she was still riding high on the beer, the music, and the feeling of Tommy's hand on her hip. "How've you been doing?"
He really didn't feel like going into half the stuff that he'd been thinking about lately, especially with the music loud and Pam's body warm and so close to his. So he grinned again, his eyes bright. "I hit close to Mach two the other day. Got a friend who can make ice, and we hit a four-story ice ramp on a skateboard," he related gleefully, the terror of the memory long gone in favour of the sheer exhilaration. "Damn near flew halfway to the city when we came off the end of that thing. I ended up in detention for wilfully endangering the lives of other students," he admitted with absolutely no chagrin or shame, "but it was still awesome."
"No fucking way." Pam's eyes brightened and she grinned, and it was obvious her words were meant as an expression, not disbelief. "On a skateboard? How the hell did you stay on?"
That was more like it, someone who appreciated creative thinking. "Excellent balance, sweet moves, and a little help from a universe that appreciates the absurd. At least until we took flight," Tommy added, preening a little. "Fuck knows where the skateboard ended up, mind you."
"Fuck. I should watch the news more often - if it shot through someone's window at that speed, you know they'd be reporting on it." Pam reached back and wrapped her arm around Tommy's neck, still making a valiant effort at moving with the music - or at least, at moving with him moving to it, which was easier. "So does your friend fly or something? Because, y'know, you're here. And not bug goo on the side of a building."
"Our other speedsters can fly," Tommy admitted. "They caught up as we slowed down. More twins, weirdly enough. I haven't met one of us that hasn't come in a pair."
"Weird how that works." Pam frowned, wondering just why twins came in speedster pairs, then shrugged and grinned. "Anyway, you're not bug goo, so awesome high speed 'boarding. If you want to try it again, you should take a teleporter along."
She had her arm around him and he tugged her in closer, relaxing under the feel of her hand. "Is this your way of inviting yourself along?" he teased. "Because any time you wanna risk your life on ridiculous stunts, I'm your guy."
"I..." she paused to consider that, more intrigued than she'd been by anything outside the team in...fuck. Ever, maybe. Eileen had maybe had a point after all, damn her. "I could be talked into that," she decided. And grinned as she melted in against him.
Tommy hesitated, but only for a fraction of a split second. There was Tamara, but she'd been busy and distant lately, friendly as ever but not swinging by his room nearly as much as before. Maybe the novelty had worn off. And it wasn't like they were actively dating. No, if Tamara was bored with him, so be it. He apparently had other options.
So when Pam pressed up against him like that, all curves and soft, what else could he really do? Tommy slid his arm around her waist and splayed his hand out against the small of her back. If she was going to fry him for getting handsy, she'd have done it by now. "See, I knew I liked you."
Pam's eyebrows rose and she grinned. "Yeah? When did that happen, exactly?" Her fingers played their way lightly over his back.
He pretended to think about it. "Probably about the point where you didn't stab Billy, even when he was clearly asking for it."
"He was asking for it." Pam scowled and looked sulky. "But you'd have been upset, and Alex would've made me feel guilty about it, after. Not worth it." She looked up at Tommy, curious. "You knew it was that close?"
Tommy actually laughed at that one, more out of surprise than anything. "Not until just now," he admitted. Not that it would have mattered one way or the other. Unless she'd teleported the knife into him, Tommy would have been able to get rid of either the knife or Billy before the two intersected. He was pretty sure, anyway.
"Well, now you know." Pam smirked, then shrugged, took a breath, and exhaled slowly. "Six months ago, if he'd fucking scared me like that, he'd have been dead, and I might or might not have felt bad about it after. Three months? I'd have felt bad at least. So, progress, right?"
"Definite progress. At least as far as the 'plays well with others' ticky-boxes are concerned. But I'm gonna make a wild guess," he said, eyeing her, his teasing grin not fading. "And say that you've still at least... three? knives hidden under your pillow." If she and Alex were anything at all like him, they'd be having the same kinds of nightmares. At least, he didn't like to think that he was the only loser who couldn't shake them.
"Two," she admitted grudgingly. "And one in Alex's bed frame. Or - well, none at the moment. Alex hid all of them so I wouldn't accidentally stab anyone at the damn party." She shrugged and smiled up at him. "But hey, I'm here. Took half the team to talk me into it, but whatever. Lance said I could leave after one beer, and I drank that a couple of hours ago."
Alex's bed -- Tommy's brain immediately served up a hot image of Pam and Alex getting down and dirty, replacing the much worse thoughts about the nightmares. Thank you, brain. "Look at that, you're a regular party animal. I take it you weren't into the scene, before?" Before our lives flipped upside down, before They got a hold of you.
"Some. It's been a while, though." Pam's smile faded. "I'm not great with crowds. I keep wanting to fade out." Disappear. Become the ghost she'd honestly believed at one point she was becoming. She pushed those thoughts away, before she could sink further into them, and forced a smile in place. "How 'bout you? You seem pretty together. Storing backup WMDs in any unlikely places?"
"If you've got a line on any, let me know." A few strands of her hair had fallen into her face and he tucked them aside, brushing her cheek with his finger. But that hadn't been the real question. "The go-bag's still packed, in case I end up needing to jet after all. And when I need to, I can just... reach out and take myself some thinking time. Or outrun my problems. One way or the other."
Pam leaned into the touch on her face, letting her eyes slip half shut. Nice. "I'm not good with thinking time. Thinking too much takes me back. But running?" She reopened her eyes and smiled. "I can get on board with running. Or other things." She reached up to tease her fingers through his hair, eyes asking a question.
He tipped his head into her touch, stole that frozen moment he'd been talking about to consider his options. It was highly unlikely that she was offering what he figured she was offering as part of some long con. If she'd wanted to stab him or take him hostage, the meeting in the park a few weeks ago would have been a much better opportunity. Pam was still an unknown in a lot of ways, but what was life without risk? It wasn't like he was going to have that many more years to enjoy, not the way their lives all seemed to be going. Plus, she was hot and pressed up against him, and that alone short-circuited the rest of his ability to think clearly.
Time started up again and he smiled, choice made. "Distractions are good too," he agreed, making eye contact and holding it. "You have something particular in mind other than dancing and getting shitfaced on cheap beer?"
"I think I can make you a better offer than that. Especially since I can't dance worth a damn," she admitted, lips curling up in a smirk. She tilted her head a little. "I've been told I'm pretty damn distracting, though. If you're interested?"
"With a recommendation like that, I'd be an idiot not to. Especially since I can't get shitfaced worth a damn." His pulse had picked up speed, anticipation starting to fizz in his veins. "Is there an upstairs to this place, or did you have somewhere else in mind?"
"There's an upstairs." Granted, it was old offices that looked like crap, but whatever. She figured they'd be too busy to notice, anyway. Pam pulled back and reached for Tommy's hand. "Coming?" She smirked. "Or, y'know, want to be?" Because honestly, if there was a better distraction from everything you didn't want to remember, she hadn't found it.
He linked his fingers in hers and let her tug him along towards the door. He fell in step beside her in the next stride, splaying his hand out against the curve at the small of her back. "I've got a pretty strong policy on that one," he leaned in closer so that the others milling around would have to work to hear them over the music. "Ladies first." It was a stupid line and he knew it, but it seemed to be the right kind of evening for stupid things. That and she was so damn intense all the time -- it would be worth the challenge to see if he could eventually coax out an honest smile or laugh.
It worked. Pam looked at Tommy, surprised, then let out a genuine laugh. "You won't hear me complaining," she promised.
He flashed a brilliant smile, feeling frankly pretty smug. "I've been known to swipe material from old Bond flicks," he 'confessed' laughingly. "Don't tell anyone."
"No promises." Pam grinned back at him, then winked and led the way to a dimly lit staircase. "Not exactly a palace upstairs," she warned him. "If you want comfortable, we're gonna have to go somewhere else."
He took a quick look around. They were out of sight of pretty much everyone, and he set his hands on her hips. He backed up against the wall -- blocking her in couldn't possibly end well -- and tugged her in against him. "I can go supersonic and you're a teleporter. If we wanted the Hilton Times Square we could be there in a heartbeat." All this and he still hadn't kissed her yet, the contact still feeling somehow forbidden and dangerous. He moistened his lips, gaze lingering on her mouth. "I'm sure we can figure something out."
"Not really sure we need the Hilton Times Square," Pam pointed out, smiling as she pressed in against him, her lips brushing over his jaw line. "Do you mind just staying here? I'm not big on the idea of just leaving Alex here and taking off."
All the blood in his brain was busy relocating itself at the feel of her breasts against his chest, the heat of her mouth on his skin, her long legs tucking up by his. 'Where' was immediately much less important than 'right now,' and he shook his head. "I shouldn't bail on Billy either. Here's good." His fingers flexed on her hips and he couldn't help himself, rocking up against her as he caught her mouth with his. He might not be the most experienced ever, but kissing was something he liked to think he was pretty good at.
Definitely good. Pam moaned as she moved her hands to his back, urging him closer as she deepened the kiss. When she finally pulled back, breathless, she smirked and jerked her head towards the stairway. "Upstairs. I'm not getting naked in a stairway. Not wearing my own face, anyway."
"I can fix that." He tucked one hand under her knees. He had her in his arms and speeding up the stairs in less time than it took her to blink. A bunch of doors, one of them partway open which meant no-one else was in there yet. Awesome. The room wasn't much to look at, a desk and a couple of pleather chairs, but oh hey, a couch. Not worth thinking about the details too hard. "How's this?" he asked, letting her down.
"This..." Pam blinked and grabbed onto his arm. And blinked again, still feeling vaguely disoriented. "Fuck. Fair warning next time, okay? I'm not good with surprises." She looked around the room, caught sight of the couch, and grinned. "Good choice, though."
"Sorry about that," he apologized, unrepentant. He kicked the door and it swung closed, and he reached out for her again. "And I figured this would work." He kissed her again, slipping his hand into her hair and keeping it back from her face. He tasted the corners of her mouth, grazed his teeth over her full lower lip. She felt amazing and tasted better, and his pulse raced at a hundred miles an hour.
Without breaking the kiss (because fuck, why would she want to do that, when what they were doing felt that good?) Pam reached between them and tugged his shirt up, fingers exploring the warm skin of his abs before moving to the waistband of his jeans. He was a speedster, right? No point in taking it slow when it was already seeming like forever to him, anyway.
That was more like it. Tommy hauled his shirt up and over his head, breaking the kiss only long enough to get the dumb thing off. He'd given up trying to hide the scars on his arms over the last couple of months, and he sure as hell didn't need to be self-conscious about them around her. And if shirts were fair game- he ran his hand up along her side, over the soft cotton of her loose t-shirt, and cupped her breast in his palm. She wanted distraction; he wanted to hear her breath catch, feel her shiver because of something he'd done.
Pam moaned, gold-tinted eyes slipping half shut, and pressed into his hand, her forehead tipping forward into his shoulder. Right. This was a thing they were doing, definitely. Deftly, she unbuttoned his jeans and slowly - really fucking slowly, just to drive him nuts for a minute - pulled down the zipper, then slid her hand in over his erection and rubbed.
"Cruel," he groaned, and he jerked up into her touch, the already-slow tease a thousand times worse/amazing thanks to the way his mind was already racing. "Definitely cruel." Tommy dropped his hand and slid it up underneath her clothes this time, exploring, touching, teasing lightly over her ribs, the heavy curve of her breast, and further. A little shiver of anxiety ran up his spine, fighting with the burn and ache in his gut, the heady anticipation. Making out was one thing - Pam was offering a lot more, had obviously done this before, and hell if he was going to let her see that he was nervous.
He ducked his head and kissed his way down her throat, gaining his confidence back with every new soft sound she made.
"Well, yeah. Trained assassin. If you're looking for nice, wrong girl." Pam smirked, but couldn't hold it long - not when Tommy was doing that and it felt as amazing as it did. Her breathing already shallow, she tilted her head in to kiss along his shoulder even as she started urging his pants down over his hips.
Yup. He was about to lose his virginity (for real this time) to a trained assassin who was also another guy's girlfriend, in the upstairs of a club filled with the mutant versions of the Jets and the Sharks and almost as much neon as the Las Vegas strip.
Yolo.
"I didn't say it was a bad thing." Nope, the way she was touching him now was the absolute opposite of bad. Tommy tugged her shirt up, desperate to see her, to follow the path of his hands with his mouth as well.
"Better not." Pam pushed his pants down, figuring he could kick them out of the way himself, and raised her arms just a little self-consciously to let him pull off her shirt. Not because she was body shy - fuck, she was very definitely not body shy, and she wanted the top off pretty badly at this point - but because of the scars he hadn't seen yet. Granted, he had a collection of his own, but...
Fuck it. If he couldn't deal with it, then he couldn't. She'd know soon enough.
Tommy trailed his fingertips down from her shoulder to her waist, skimming her breasts (holy shit), and drifting over some of the more vicious scars that crossed her skin. Ignoring them was an option, but why the fuck should they have to pretend? It was long past time for him to start owning it.
"You're bad-ass," he declared like he was continuing the conversation, somewhat more seriously than his usual. He managed to drag his eyes up from -- yeah, mostly from her chest (seriously, holy shit) -- to meet her gaze. "And unbelievably hot. You make anything look good." His hands moved on, downward, thumbing open the button on her jeans.
"Liar," Pam retorted, but the smile that replaced her apprehensive look and the way her cheeks darkened suggested his words had hit home. So much so, in fact, that she arched an eyebrow, grinned, and unzipped her own pants slowly, then shimmied them and her panties down before kicking them both aside. He obviously liked looking - she might as well give him something more to look at.
Tommy's brain ran out of appreciative curse words long before her clothes hit the floor, his vocabulary replaced by a bright static hum. He needed, and he wanted and his whole body was on fire with it. He pulled her toward the couch, kicking his boxer-briefs off as he went. His body was absolute proof that he wasn't lying, and he crushed his mouth against hers again in a searching, desperate kiss.
*** Some time later ***
Pam grinned up at Tommy as she fingered his hair back from his face, feeling boneless, relaxed, and completely and totally un-thinking. Which was, bar none, the best thing about sex. Not, admittedly, that she could think of any bad things about it, especially not right now. "So...am I distracting, or what?" she teased.
He leaned into her hand, following her touch like he was needy, like they weren't still tangled up together and naked, skin against skin all the way down. It felt -- how did it feel? Unbelievably good. Overwhelming. Like too much had happened all at once and his system was on overload. A little bit like he wanted to cry (but only a little, and he didn't). His brain felt naked along with his body.
He traced a pattern down between her breasts, still fascinated by the varying shades of blue of her skin. "You are," he said entirely honestly, "the best I've ever had. Consider my mind well and truly blown."
"Wow, mindblowing. That's a new one." Pam smiled and leaned up to capture his lips and kiss him slowly, her fingers still toying with his hair. "You're not so bad yourself," she whispered against his lips once she broke the kiss.
He smiled against her mouth. "Sounds like high praise," he laughed softly, relief flooding him to boost the rush that was slowly starting to recede. "Does that mean you might be up for this again sometime?"
"Oh, I think I could be talked into that," she assured him. Her fingers teased down over his shoulder. "Are you gonna be around?"
Tommy settled his head on her shoulder, aware somehow that he was stealing some closeness he hadn't earned, maybe didn't deserve. But she wasn't pushing him off of her, so he'd take whatever this feeling was and hang on to it a little longer. "Around' is all relative. But yeah, I'll be sticking around upstate for a while. Unless something deeply stupid happens."
"Sounds like a place where deeply stupid shit happens regularly," Pam observed. She moved her hand to his back and traced slow circles, completely content to have him there, despite feeling some disappointment at his words. "I figured Wanda'd talk you into joining up with us. But like you said, I teleport and you run. Not like upstate is far."
"She didn't bring it up." Did he want her to? 'Family' was a meaningless label in the end. All it did was force people who hated each other to pretend like they cared -- as long as someone else was watching. At the same time, a faint inner voice whispered, it would feel good to know that someone, somewhere, actively wanted him around regularly. His inner voice was a moron.
Whatever. Didn't matter. Tommy shrugged. "Even carrying Billy's dead weight it took less than a second to get here tonight. On a bad cell reception day I could be here before the 'hell yeah' text showed up on your phone." He tipped his head back and glanced at the dingy room. "Maybe not here, here. Though the company more than makes up for the decor."
"I think we can do better than here," Pam agreed. She brushed her fingers up and down his back slowly, wondering why Wanda hadn't brought it up. Probably, she decided, because she figured she should talk to the boss, first. In any case, it wasn't up to her one way or the other.
Even just that soft touch was good, the trail of her fingers a curling line of warmth against his skin. That and the feel of her skin against his cheek, the way she curled into him – it all soothed raw edges he hadn’t known he’d had. And at the same time, he could feel the restlessness building again in the back of his mind, that constant faint itch that tried to keep him moving. He flattened his hand out against her belly, then slipped it sideways to curl his fingers around her hip. “How long have we got before people come looking for you?”
"Depends on who notices I'm gone, and whether they figure I bailed or I'm off shanking someone," Pam decided after a moment's thought. "If they figure I got fed up and went home, we've got ages. But Alex'd probably check at some point, just to make sure. Why?" She grinned at him, eyebrows rising. "You want to go again or something?"
He stroked his thumb over the hollow of her hip, letting his gaze range down her body again. His grin flashed bright in reply to hers. "I wouldn't need a whole lot of convincing."
Pam shivered a little, then laughed. "Later, okay? We should probably get back down there before someone figures I murdered you and hid the body." She eyed him up and down with undisguised approval. "Which would be a hell of a waste."
"I should be calling you out for appealing to my ego, but to hell with that," he replied cheerfully, then leaned over to steal a final kiss. "But as much as I hate to admit it, you're probably right."
"Wish I wasn't." Reluctantly, she sat up and stretched, as much for effect as anything, then got to her feet.
Tommy groaned dramatically and slid down to the floor, his eyes on her. "You're killing me, just for the record." Then, point made, he stood and started to look around for their clothes. His jeans, her shirt- where'd his boxers go?
"Kinda the idea." Pam smirked over at him, then turned her attention back to hunting for her clothes, pausing to throw him a pair of boxer-briefs.
He grabbed them out of the air and hauled his clothes on, ignoring the prickling feel of drying sweat up his back. Socks? He was pretty sure he'd been wearing socks when he came up the stairs. One was stuck in the leg of his jeans, the other... under the couch. Finally put back together, he ran his hands through his hair and shook it back into place. He didn't feel any different than he had at the start of the evening. More relaxed, yeah. But the real world was pressing back in on the edges of their little bubble, and it was time to let it go. "Have you got everything?"
"Can't find my left shoe." She was down on her hands and knees, trying to see under the couch, but shook her head and got to her feet. "Screw it, I'll find it later."
"Are you sure?" he looked around quickly, but nothing jumped out at him. "There's no need to play Cinderella; I already know how to find you."
"Pretty sure the blue's a lot better identifier than my shoe size anyway." Pam shrugged and set the shoe she'd found down on the couch. "But yeah, it's no big deal. I'm used to barefoot. I'll come back and dig for it tomorrow when there's more light."
Tommy shrugged. If she didn't care, he didn't see much point in caring either. He waited for her by the door, catching her hand when she got close. "One question. I know you said there wouldn't be drama, but that was when we were just dancing. I don't plan on skywriting anything, but if someone asks - do I lie? When I cause problems for people I prefer it to be intentional," he added with a crooked grin.
Fatale squeezed his hand and smiled, but shook her head. "Nah. The only one who'd care is Alex, and I'll tell him anyway. He won't mind." She smirked a little. "Now, your teammates? That I can't speak for. They haven't exactly been real great to Pyro."
"Different issue. Smuggling you into my bedroom at the school might cause more of a stir, but given that Xavier's at least laid some of his cards on the table," he shrugged. "I think everyone's past that by now. Mind you, my roommate's a crackpot. It could be fun to freak him the hell out one day." Inu-yasha versus Fatale? Yeah, he knew who he'd be putting money on.
Pam snorted a laugh. "Please. I could have shown up in your room at any time since you first texted me," she pointed out. "Other than your roommate, who'd know?
“Consider that an open invitation then.” He opened the door and held it for her. “Anyway, you know what I mean.”
"I know what you mean. And I may just take you up on that." Pam grinned, leaned in, and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Catch you later, Tommy. Call me if you need...anything." She winked, then took off down the stairs. Time to go find Mort. She was in an awesome mood to kick some ass at darts.
Tommy watched her go, the swing of her hips, the shape of her as she vanished down the stairs. Thinking was overrated. He stopped time around himself and sped ahead. By the time she'd make it back down to the party he'd already be there, mingling with his team -- it was a stupid term, they weren't a team at all -- and living his best life.
The music wound down, and Fatale watched as her teammates dissipated, laughing. She was still feeling the buzz from it all, herself, and she grinned up at Tommy, who was actually a pretty decent dance partner, all things considered. Granted, he wasn't Alex - but hell, unlike Alex, he actually knew how. It was more than she could say for herself. "Want to stick around for another one?" she asked with a smirk, eyebrows rising as she watched his face.
Because yeah, he'd been caught up in it all, too. If he'd thought about it and decided dancing with the psycho blue girl wasn't for him, no harm.
The whole evening had been too much for Tommy to process all at once, so a good part of whatever he might be feeling had been parked, marked 'to deal with later' in the back of his head. So he wasn't thinking about Wanda, or Billy, or mutant supergroups and choosing up sides. He probably should have, but fuck it. He raised an eyebrow instead, glancing back over his shoulder. "Where's your boy?" he asked, returning her smirk with one of his own. "Because I'm down for just about anything except causing drama." Alex was cool, and poaching wasn't Tommy's style.
"No drama," Pam promised, her fingers toying across his shoulder. "Alex wasn't kidding at the mall. We're..." she groped for a word and shrugged when she came up short. "He won't mind." Sometimes, she wondered if he maybe should, but it was enough to know he wouldn't.
Her expression told him enough to believe her; that kind of complicated - weirdly enough - made a lot of things simpler. "In that case." A grin flashed bright across his face and he followed the trail of her fingertips, stepping in closer as the music picked up again. His powers weren't sound related, but the vibrations and the buzz of a steady backbeat soothed a lot of his raw edges and dancing felt as natural as running. He settled his hand on Pam's hip, a single new point of contact.
Pam hummed and shifted in closer, perfectly happy to follow his lead as they moved with the music. "So, what do you think of the party?" she asked with a grin. "Having fun?"
"Always. Pietro's got -- well. I don't know if I'd call it style,, exactly..." he teased, glancing up at the glo-stick lights. "It's definitely something."
"That...yeah. That pretty much sums up Pietro," Pam conceded. "You guys talked to him and Wanda?" She grimaced. "Sorry we didn't. It was a bad week."
He shrugged. "It's not your circus. I didn't let on that you knew, so they won't ask. But yeah. We talked, and apparently magic can do that, so there you go." His brow furrowed. "Bad week?"
Pam shrugged. "They happen." She didn't want to think about it right now, though - not when she was still riding high on the beer, the music, and the feeling of Tommy's hand on her hip. "How've you been doing?"
He really didn't feel like going into half the stuff that he'd been thinking about lately, especially with the music loud and Pam's body warm and so close to his. So he grinned again, his eyes bright. "I hit close to Mach two the other day. Got a friend who can make ice, and we hit a four-story ice ramp on a skateboard," he related gleefully, the terror of the memory long gone in favour of the sheer exhilaration. "Damn near flew halfway to the city when we came off the end of that thing. I ended up in detention for wilfully endangering the lives of other students," he admitted with absolutely no chagrin or shame, "but it was still awesome."
"No fucking way." Pam's eyes brightened and she grinned, and it was obvious her words were meant as an expression, not disbelief. "On a skateboard? How the hell did you stay on?"
That was more like it, someone who appreciated creative thinking. "Excellent balance, sweet moves, and a little help from a universe that appreciates the absurd. At least until we took flight," Tommy added, preening a little. "Fuck knows where the skateboard ended up, mind you."
"Fuck. I should watch the news more often - if it shot through someone's window at that speed, you know they'd be reporting on it." Pam reached back and wrapped her arm around Tommy's neck, still making a valiant effort at moving with the music - or at least, at moving with him moving to it, which was easier. "So does your friend fly or something? Because, y'know, you're here. And not bug goo on the side of a building."
"Our other speedsters can fly," Tommy admitted. "They caught up as we slowed down. More twins, weirdly enough. I haven't met one of us that hasn't come in a pair."
"Weird how that works." Pam frowned, wondering just why twins came in speedster pairs, then shrugged and grinned. "Anyway, you're not bug goo, so awesome high speed 'boarding. If you want to try it again, you should take a teleporter along."
She had her arm around him and he tugged her in closer, relaxing under the feel of her hand. "Is this your way of inviting yourself along?" he teased. "Because any time you wanna risk your life on ridiculous stunts, I'm your guy."
"I..." she paused to consider that, more intrigued than she'd been by anything outside the team in...fuck. Ever, maybe. Eileen had maybe had a point after all, damn her. "I could be talked into that," she decided. And grinned as she melted in against him.
Tommy hesitated, but only for a fraction of a split second. There was Tamara, but she'd been busy and distant lately, friendly as ever but not swinging by his room nearly as much as before. Maybe the novelty had worn off. And it wasn't like they were actively dating. No, if Tamara was bored with him, so be it. He apparently had other options.
So when Pam pressed up against him like that, all curves and soft, what else could he really do? Tommy slid his arm around her waist and splayed his hand out against the small of her back. If she was going to fry him for getting handsy, she'd have done it by now. "See, I knew I liked you."
Pam's eyebrows rose and she grinned. "Yeah? When did that happen, exactly?" Her fingers played their way lightly over his back.
He pretended to think about it. "Probably about the point where you didn't stab Billy, even when he was clearly asking for it."
"He was asking for it." Pam scowled and looked sulky. "But you'd have been upset, and Alex would've made me feel guilty about it, after. Not worth it." She looked up at Tommy, curious. "You knew it was that close?"
Tommy actually laughed at that one, more out of surprise than anything. "Not until just now," he admitted. Not that it would have mattered one way or the other. Unless she'd teleported the knife into him, Tommy would have been able to get rid of either the knife or Billy before the two intersected. He was pretty sure, anyway.
"Well, now you know." Pam smirked, then shrugged, took a breath, and exhaled slowly. "Six months ago, if he'd fucking scared me like that, he'd have been dead, and I might or might not have felt bad about it after. Three months? I'd have felt bad at least. So, progress, right?"
"Definite progress. At least as far as the 'plays well with others' ticky-boxes are concerned. But I'm gonna make a wild guess," he said, eyeing her, his teasing grin not fading. "And say that you've still at least... three? knives hidden under your pillow." If she and Alex were anything at all like him, they'd be having the same kinds of nightmares. At least, he didn't like to think that he was the only loser who couldn't shake them.
"Two," she admitted grudgingly. "And one in Alex's bed frame. Or - well, none at the moment. Alex hid all of them so I wouldn't accidentally stab anyone at the damn party." She shrugged and smiled up at him. "But hey, I'm here. Took half the team to talk me into it, but whatever. Lance said I could leave after one beer, and I drank that a couple of hours ago."
Alex's bed -- Tommy's brain immediately served up a hot image of Pam and Alex getting down and dirty, replacing the much worse thoughts about the nightmares. Thank you, brain. "Look at that, you're a regular party animal. I take it you weren't into the scene, before?" Before our lives flipped upside down, before They got a hold of you.
"Some. It's been a while, though." Pam's smile faded. "I'm not great with crowds. I keep wanting to fade out." Disappear. Become the ghost she'd honestly believed at one point she was becoming. She pushed those thoughts away, before she could sink further into them, and forced a smile in place. "How 'bout you? You seem pretty together. Storing backup WMDs in any unlikely places?"
"If you've got a line on any, let me know." A few strands of her hair had fallen into her face and he tucked them aside, brushing her cheek with his finger. But that hadn't been the real question. "The go-bag's still packed, in case I end up needing to jet after all. And when I need to, I can just... reach out and take myself some thinking time. Or outrun my problems. One way or the other."
Pam leaned into the touch on her face, letting her eyes slip half shut. Nice. "I'm not good with thinking time. Thinking too much takes me back. But running?" She reopened her eyes and smiled. "I can get on board with running. Or other things." She reached up to tease her fingers through his hair, eyes asking a question.
He tipped his head into her touch, stole that frozen moment he'd been talking about to consider his options. It was highly unlikely that she was offering what he figured she was offering as part of some long con. If she'd wanted to stab him or take him hostage, the meeting in the park a few weeks ago would have been a much better opportunity. Pam was still an unknown in a lot of ways, but what was life without risk? It wasn't like he was going to have that many more years to enjoy, not the way their lives all seemed to be going. Plus, she was hot and pressed up against him, and that alone short-circuited the rest of his ability to think clearly.
Time started up again and he smiled, choice made. "Distractions are good too," he agreed, making eye contact and holding it. "You have something particular in mind other than dancing and getting shitfaced on cheap beer?"
"I think I can make you a better offer than that. Especially since I can't dance worth a damn," she admitted, lips curling up in a smirk. She tilted her head a little. "I've been told I'm pretty damn distracting, though. If you're interested?"
"With a recommendation like that, I'd be an idiot not to. Especially since I can't get shitfaced worth a damn." His pulse had picked up speed, anticipation starting to fizz in his veins. "Is there an upstairs to this place, or did you have somewhere else in mind?"
"There's an upstairs." Granted, it was old offices that looked like crap, but whatever. She figured they'd be too busy to notice, anyway. Pam pulled back and reached for Tommy's hand. "Coming?" She smirked. "Or, y'know, want to be?" Because honestly, if there was a better distraction from everything you didn't want to remember, she hadn't found it.
He linked his fingers in hers and let her tug him along towards the door. He fell in step beside her in the next stride, splaying his hand out against the curve at the small of her back. "I've got a pretty strong policy on that one," he leaned in closer so that the others milling around would have to work to hear them over the music. "Ladies first." It was a stupid line and he knew it, but it seemed to be the right kind of evening for stupid things. That and she was so damn intense all the time -- it would be worth the challenge to see if he could eventually coax out an honest smile or laugh.
It worked. Pam looked at Tommy, surprised, then let out a genuine laugh. "You won't hear me complaining," she promised.
He flashed a brilliant smile, feeling frankly pretty smug. "I've been known to swipe material from old Bond flicks," he 'confessed' laughingly. "Don't tell anyone."
"No promises." Pam grinned back at him, then winked and led the way to a dimly lit staircase. "Not exactly a palace upstairs," she warned him. "If you want comfortable, we're gonna have to go somewhere else."
He took a quick look around. They were out of sight of pretty much everyone, and he set his hands on her hips. He backed up against the wall -- blocking her in couldn't possibly end well -- and tugged her in against him. "I can go supersonic and you're a teleporter. If we wanted the Hilton Times Square we could be there in a heartbeat." All this and he still hadn't kissed her yet, the contact still feeling somehow forbidden and dangerous. He moistened his lips, gaze lingering on her mouth. "I'm sure we can figure something out."
"Not really sure we need the Hilton Times Square," Pam pointed out, smiling as she pressed in against him, her lips brushing over his jaw line. "Do you mind just staying here? I'm not big on the idea of just leaving Alex here and taking off."
All the blood in his brain was busy relocating itself at the feel of her breasts against his chest, the heat of her mouth on his skin, her long legs tucking up by his. 'Where' was immediately much less important than 'right now,' and he shook his head. "I shouldn't bail on Billy either. Here's good." His fingers flexed on her hips and he couldn't help himself, rocking up against her as he caught her mouth with his. He might not be the most experienced ever, but kissing was something he liked to think he was pretty good at.
Definitely good. Pam moaned as she moved her hands to his back, urging him closer as she deepened the kiss. When she finally pulled back, breathless, she smirked and jerked her head towards the stairway. "Upstairs. I'm not getting naked in a stairway. Not wearing my own face, anyway."
"I can fix that." He tucked one hand under her knees. He had her in his arms and speeding up the stairs in less time than it took her to blink. A bunch of doors, one of them partway open which meant no-one else was in there yet. Awesome. The room wasn't much to look at, a desk and a couple of pleather chairs, but oh hey, a couch. Not worth thinking about the details too hard. "How's this?" he asked, letting her down.
"This..." Pam blinked and grabbed onto his arm. And blinked again, still feeling vaguely disoriented. "Fuck. Fair warning next time, okay? I'm not good with surprises." She looked around the room, caught sight of the couch, and grinned. "Good choice, though."
"Sorry about that," he apologized, unrepentant. He kicked the door and it swung closed, and he reached out for her again. "And I figured this would work." He kissed her again, slipping his hand into her hair and keeping it back from her face. He tasted the corners of her mouth, grazed his teeth over her full lower lip. She felt amazing and tasted better, and his pulse raced at a hundred miles an hour.
Without breaking the kiss (because fuck, why would she want to do that, when what they were doing felt that good?) Pam reached between them and tugged his shirt up, fingers exploring the warm skin of his abs before moving to the waistband of his jeans. He was a speedster, right? No point in taking it slow when it was already seeming like forever to him, anyway.
That was more like it. Tommy hauled his shirt up and over his head, breaking the kiss only long enough to get the dumb thing off. He'd given up trying to hide the scars on his arms over the last couple of months, and he sure as hell didn't need to be self-conscious about them around her. And if shirts were fair game- he ran his hand up along her side, over the soft cotton of her loose t-shirt, and cupped her breast in his palm. She wanted distraction; he wanted to hear her breath catch, feel her shiver because of something he'd done.
Pam moaned, gold-tinted eyes slipping half shut, and pressed into his hand, her forehead tipping forward into his shoulder. Right. This was a thing they were doing, definitely. Deftly, she unbuttoned his jeans and slowly - really fucking slowly, just to drive him nuts for a minute - pulled down the zipper, then slid her hand in over his erection and rubbed.
"Cruel," he groaned, and he jerked up into her touch, the already-slow tease a thousand times worse/amazing thanks to the way his mind was already racing. "Definitely cruel." Tommy dropped his hand and slid it up underneath her clothes this time, exploring, touching, teasing lightly over her ribs, the heavy curve of her breast, and further. A little shiver of anxiety ran up his spine, fighting with the burn and ache in his gut, the heady anticipation. Making out was one thing - Pam was offering a lot more, had obviously done this before, and hell if he was going to let her see that he was nervous.
He ducked his head and kissed his way down her throat, gaining his confidence back with every new soft sound she made.
"Well, yeah. Trained assassin. If you're looking for nice, wrong girl." Pam smirked, but couldn't hold it long - not when Tommy was doing that and it felt as amazing as it did. Her breathing already shallow, she tilted her head in to kiss along his shoulder even as she started urging his pants down over his hips.
Yup. He was about to lose his virginity (for real this time) to a trained assassin who was also another guy's girlfriend, in the upstairs of a club filled with the mutant versions of the Jets and the Sharks and almost as much neon as the Las Vegas strip.
Yolo.
"I didn't say it was a bad thing." Nope, the way she was touching him now was the absolute opposite of bad. Tommy tugged her shirt up, desperate to see her, to follow the path of his hands with his mouth as well.
"Better not." Pam pushed his pants down, figuring he could kick them out of the way himself, and raised her arms just a little self-consciously to let him pull off her shirt. Not because she was body shy - fuck, she was very definitely not body shy, and she wanted the top off pretty badly at this point - but because of the scars he hadn't seen yet. Granted, he had a collection of his own, but...
Fuck it. If he couldn't deal with it, then he couldn't. She'd know soon enough.
Tommy trailed his fingertips down from her shoulder to her waist, skimming her breasts (holy shit), and drifting over some of the more vicious scars that crossed her skin. Ignoring them was an option, but why the fuck should they have to pretend? It was long past time for him to start owning it.
"You're bad-ass," he declared like he was continuing the conversation, somewhat more seriously than his usual. He managed to drag his eyes up from -- yeah, mostly from her chest (seriously, holy shit) -- to meet her gaze. "And unbelievably hot. You make anything look good." His hands moved on, downward, thumbing open the button on her jeans.
"Liar," Pam retorted, but the smile that replaced her apprehensive look and the way her cheeks darkened suggested his words had hit home. So much so, in fact, that she arched an eyebrow, grinned, and unzipped her own pants slowly, then shimmied them and her panties down before kicking them both aside. He obviously liked looking - she might as well give him something more to look at.
Tommy's brain ran out of appreciative curse words long before her clothes hit the floor, his vocabulary replaced by a bright static hum. He needed, and he wanted and his whole body was on fire with it. He pulled her toward the couch, kicking his boxer-briefs off as he went. His body was absolute proof that he wasn't lying, and he crushed his mouth against hers again in a searching, desperate kiss.
*** Some time later ***
Pam grinned up at Tommy as she fingered his hair back from his face, feeling boneless, relaxed, and completely and totally un-thinking. Which was, bar none, the best thing about sex. Not, admittedly, that she could think of any bad things about it, especially not right now. "So...am I distracting, or what?" she teased.
He leaned into her hand, following her touch like he was needy, like they weren't still tangled up together and naked, skin against skin all the way down. It felt -- how did it feel? Unbelievably good. Overwhelming. Like too much had happened all at once and his system was on overload. A little bit like he wanted to cry (but only a little, and he didn't). His brain felt naked along with his body.
He traced a pattern down between her breasts, still fascinated by the varying shades of blue of her skin. "You are," he said entirely honestly, "the best I've ever had. Consider my mind well and truly blown."
"Wow, mindblowing. That's a new one." Pam smiled and leaned up to capture his lips and kiss him slowly, her fingers still toying with his hair. "You're not so bad yourself," she whispered against his lips once she broke the kiss.
He smiled against her mouth. "Sounds like high praise," he laughed softly, relief flooding him to boost the rush that was slowly starting to recede. "Does that mean you might be up for this again sometime?"
"Oh, I think I could be talked into that," she assured him. Her fingers teased down over his shoulder. "Are you gonna be around?"
Tommy settled his head on her shoulder, aware somehow that he was stealing some closeness he hadn't earned, maybe didn't deserve. But she wasn't pushing him off of her, so he'd take whatever this feeling was and hang on to it a little longer. "Around' is all relative. But yeah, I'll be sticking around upstate for a while. Unless something deeply stupid happens."
"Sounds like a place where deeply stupid shit happens regularly," Pam observed. She moved her hand to his back and traced slow circles, completely content to have him there, despite feeling some disappointment at his words. "I figured Wanda'd talk you into joining up with us. But like you said, I teleport and you run. Not like upstate is far."
"She didn't bring it up." Did he want her to? 'Family' was a meaningless label in the end. All it did was force people who hated each other to pretend like they cared -- as long as someone else was watching. At the same time, a faint inner voice whispered, it would feel good to know that someone, somewhere, actively wanted him around regularly. His inner voice was a moron.
Whatever. Didn't matter. Tommy shrugged. "Even carrying Billy's dead weight it took less than a second to get here tonight. On a bad cell reception day I could be here before the 'hell yeah' text showed up on your phone." He tipped his head back and glanced at the dingy room. "Maybe not here, here. Though the company more than makes up for the decor."
"I think we can do better than here," Pam agreed. She brushed her fingers up and down his back slowly, wondering why Wanda hadn't brought it up. Probably, she decided, because she figured she should talk to the boss, first. In any case, it wasn't up to her one way or the other.
Even just that soft touch was good, the trail of her fingers a curling line of warmth against his skin. That and the feel of her skin against his cheek, the way she curled into him – it all soothed raw edges he hadn’t known he’d had. And at the same time, he could feel the restlessness building again in the back of his mind, that constant faint itch that tried to keep him moving. He flattened his hand out against her belly, then slipped it sideways to curl his fingers around her hip. “How long have we got before people come looking for you?”
"Depends on who notices I'm gone, and whether they figure I bailed or I'm off shanking someone," Pam decided after a moment's thought. "If they figure I got fed up and went home, we've got ages. But Alex'd probably check at some point, just to make sure. Why?" She grinned at him, eyebrows rising. "You want to go again or something?"
He stroked his thumb over the hollow of her hip, letting his gaze range down her body again. His grin flashed bright in reply to hers. "I wouldn't need a whole lot of convincing."
Pam shivered a little, then laughed. "Later, okay? We should probably get back down there before someone figures I murdered you and hid the body." She eyed him up and down with undisguised approval. "Which would be a hell of a waste."
"I should be calling you out for appealing to my ego, but to hell with that," he replied cheerfully, then leaned over to steal a final kiss. "But as much as I hate to admit it, you're probably right."
"Wish I wasn't." Reluctantly, she sat up and stretched, as much for effect as anything, then got to her feet.
Tommy groaned dramatically and slid down to the floor, his eyes on her. "You're killing me, just for the record." Then, point made, he stood and started to look around for their clothes. His jeans, her shirt- where'd his boxers go?
"Kinda the idea." Pam smirked over at him, then turned her attention back to hunting for her clothes, pausing to throw him a pair of boxer-briefs.
He grabbed them out of the air and hauled his clothes on, ignoring the prickling feel of drying sweat up his back. Socks? He was pretty sure he'd been wearing socks when he came up the stairs. One was stuck in the leg of his jeans, the other... under the couch. Finally put back together, he ran his hands through his hair and shook it back into place. He didn't feel any different than he had at the start of the evening. More relaxed, yeah. But the real world was pressing back in on the edges of their little bubble, and it was time to let it go. "Have you got everything?"
"Can't find my left shoe." She was down on her hands and knees, trying to see under the couch, but shook her head and got to her feet. "Screw it, I'll find it later."
"Are you sure?" he looked around quickly, but nothing jumped out at him. "There's no need to play Cinderella; I already know how to find you."
"Pretty sure the blue's a lot better identifier than my shoe size anyway." Pam shrugged and set the shoe she'd found down on the couch. "But yeah, it's no big deal. I'm used to barefoot. I'll come back and dig for it tomorrow when there's more light."
Tommy shrugged. If she didn't care, he didn't see much point in caring either. He waited for her by the door, catching her hand when she got close. "One question. I know you said there wouldn't be drama, but that was when we were just dancing. I don't plan on skywriting anything, but if someone asks - do I lie? When I cause problems for people I prefer it to be intentional," he added with a crooked grin.
Fatale squeezed his hand and smiled, but shook her head. "Nah. The only one who'd care is Alex, and I'll tell him anyway. He won't mind." She smirked a little. "Now, your teammates? That I can't speak for. They haven't exactly been real great to Pyro."
"Different issue. Smuggling you into my bedroom at the school might cause more of a stir, but given that Xavier's at least laid some of his cards on the table," he shrugged. "I think everyone's past that by now. Mind you, my roommate's a crackpot. It could be fun to freak him the hell out one day." Inu-yasha versus Fatale? Yeah, he knew who he'd be putting money on.
Pam snorted a laugh. "Please. I could have shown up in your room at any time since you first texted me," she pointed out. "Other than your roommate, who'd know?
“Consider that an open invitation then.” He opened the door and held it for her. “Anyway, you know what I mean.”
"I know what you mean. And I may just take you up on that." Pam grinned, leaned in, and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Catch you later, Tommy. Call me if you need...anything." She winked, then took off down the stairs. Time to go find Mort. She was in an awesome mood to kick some ass at darts.
Tommy watched her go, the swing of her hips, the shape of her as she vanished down the stairs. Thinking was overrated. He stopped time around himself and sped ahead. By the time she'd make it back down to the party he'd already be there, mingling with his team -- it was a stupid term, they weren't a team at all -- and living his best life.
