Crushed It

Posted on Sat Jan 27th, 2024 @ 6:48pm by Bobby Drake & Warren Worthington III

1,621 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Episode 0: X Lang Syne
Location: X-Mansion
Timeline: 1983

Warren ascended the mansion stairs with loud angry steps. The very act of walking rather than flying only added to his rage and he made no effort to hide it as he stormed through the school. He was fuming and humiliated, the only idea that gave him some solace was the opportunity to beat Scott into a bloody pulp during drills tomorrow morning.

Making his way up to the Solarium, Warren retreated to the sun filled room made of glass, the one space in this school that gave him comfort. He examined his face first, there was already a welt across his cheek bone that would turn into a sickening bruise and maybe a black eye. Fucking Scott Summers had given him a black eye. Warren prided himself on his good looks and to be marred like this, even for a short period of time, was a blow to his ego in more than one way. He spread out his right wing and examined the broken primary feathers. He needed those feathers to take off and maintain flight, without them he couldn’t take to the sky. Another indignation provided by Scott, flying was his greatest attribute and his greatest love.

Warren would have to pluck the broken feathers if he wanted new ones to come in, a painful but necessary act. He decided it was better to do it now while his adrenaline was high and the discomfort would be dulled, so Warren began rummaging through his things, looking for the pair of pliers he kept.

Bobby had been pulling laps around the mansion, trying to control his ice slide. It was difficult to maintain balance with all the directions he had to consider on the fly. Speeding up had been surprisingly difficult, not without dumping himself onto the ground. And then slowing down was a challenge all in itself. Just going in a straight line required high peaks and valleys.

But he'd made it to the Roost all the way from the ground. Looking outside, Bobby saw the trail he'd taken through the air. It looked like a frozen rollercoaster without a cart. As much pride as he felt in getting all the way up here from the ground, that still looked funky. And not in the good way. He snapped his fingers and let the entire edifice dissolve into fine, misty particles.

When he turned around, he expected to be alone. Instead he saw Warren. Tall, blonde, glorious Warren.

No. Bobby shook his head free from those thoughts. “Hey, Warren, how's it–”

Bobby blinked, realizing Warren was sitting there jerking off his…feathers? Oh, thank fuck! That could've been more awkward than when Scott walked in on him. “Whoa! You okay?”

Warren looked up at Bobby after he plucked the first damaged feather, a grimace of pain on his face along with the start of an impressive black eye. He attempted to downplay his umbrage over what had just happened. He turned on a touch of charm before he replied. “I’m fine. Nothing a night on the town with a pretty girl can’t fix.”

He grabbed the next broken feather with the pliers and with a forceful yank ripped it from his skin. “Fucking Summers.” Warren barked in annoyance from the spike of pain.

“Ooookay…” Bobby’s eyebrows shot up as Warren’s words went from a night on the town with a girl to fucking Scott. Maybe if he wasn’t equal parts confused and aroused at the moment, he would have interpreted those statements entirely apart from one another. Still, mental images being what they were…

“What are you doing?” It looked intense. Just one reason why a transfixed Bobby couldn’t look away.

Warren dropped the mangled feather onto the title floor, his bare chest still heaving from the pain the feather removal caused. Bobby was always wide eyed and full of questions for Warren. He interpreted this as Bobby idolizing him, because why wouldn’t he?

“Do you see the broken feathers?” Warren raised his wing, the soft white feathers shone in the mid morning sun. “I need to grow new feathers to replace them. I can wait for them to naturally fall out, which will take forever, or I can remove them now, which hurts like a son of a bitch, but they’ll grow back faster.”

“Do you want help?” Bobby asked. This was one of the weirdest things he’d ever seen and he really had no way to process it. “I could… freeze them off or something.” Warren’s heaving pectorals and blonde locks flanked by his Icarus wings were doing something to Bobby, a sensual androgyny arrayed before him in a confusing surge of attraction. “Or not…”

“From you? No thanks, cold touch.” Warren shook his head and smirked from the audacity of Bobby’s questions. “If you could get Jean up here, that would be a different story.”

Warren plucked the third feather with a wince and then immediately moved to the fourth and final broken feather. Once the task was over he stood up and examined his wing once again. Warren soon lost himself, in a moment of personal inspection that would make Narcissus envious, he completely ignored Bobby as he flexed and preened. Taking the time to admire himself and confirm what everyone knew, that he was beautiful. Once finished he finally noticed that a gawking Bobby was still standing in the room, his jaw almost on the floor.

“If you lifted more you could put on some muscle.” Warren attempted to offer him the advice he was obviously searching for with his staring. “Girls like muscles.”

“Dude, I hit the gym all the time!” Bobby lifted his shirt to show Warren his six pack. “I just can’t bulk up for whatever reason.” Feeling stupid and a little inadequate, he lowered his shirt. “Girls like other things though. Like… like jokes. And feelings and stuff.” Taking a stab, Bobby said, “Maybe Jean would notice you more if you were funny. I could teach you a few jokes?”

Warren snorted a laugh from Bobby’s advice, he had no problem getting girls, just this one in particular and that’s what bothered him the most. “I’m not the problem, it’s Summers and his bullshit that’s causing the problem. Acting like he’s in charge and we all have to listen to him just so he can impress her.”

“What?” Bobby looked as confused as he felt. “Jean won’t give you the time of day because Scott leads the drills? Yeah, I don’t think that’s it, dude.” He gave a shrug and tried to think of a way to articulate his meaning. “Just… Jean is a smart chick and kinda’ does what she wants. Maybe act like you don’t care and make her come to you?”

Not that Bobby had much experience to speak from. In fact, Warren was his main inspiration and role model for the ladies. The fact that Bobby never had any luck didn’t distract from that. Warren was peak masculinity. Bobby just had to work harder at being more like him.

“Or you could, I dunno, figure out what she likes and give it to her.” Bobby shrugged again. It was weird seeing Warren so out of sorts. Usually the guy was smooth as silk and sharp as a tack. Watching him sulk over another guy because of a girl was… well, it gave Bobby ideas that he didn’t fully understand.

“She’s not worth it.” Warren sneered “Besides she’s the only tail around here, it’s easy to be number one when you’re the only competitor. Shit Bobby, you could put on a dress and you’d be in second place.” Warren ran his fingers through his shaggy blonde hair, the strands returning to their natural curl afterwards as he laughed at his own suggestion. “You’ll understand when you’re older and your balls finally drop.”

“Stop talking about my balls or… or… you’ll wake up with them on your face some morning!” Bobby might admire Warren but he wasn’t going to take that kind of shit off him. His hands balled up into fists, which had the unfortunate effect of exciting other parts of his body as well. “Between your longer hair and bigger tits, you’d pull off a dress better than me anyway!”

Warren let out a brisk laugh in response to Bobby’s retort, perhaps a more insulting reaction than one of anger or outrage.

“You’re alright, Bobby," he said before slapping him across the back, the intent behind the gesture had been comradely but it stung a little. “I guess we’ll all have a score to settle in drills tomorrow.”

Warren made his way towards the door, he figured he would take a shower and give Candy a call, she always made him smile. “Bring your A-game tomorrow Iceman, we’ll work it all out, you, me and Summers.”

“Whatever, fag.” Bobby smirked at the insult. If crass banter was what got him on Warren’s good side, then he’d double down on it. So what if his back and loins were still tingling from the slap? “Enjoy looking up from the ground tomorrow.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Warren continued to laugh at Bobby but offered him a casual middle finger as he exited into the hallway, enough of an acknowledgment of Bobby’s attempts at insults to encourage him to do it again. Bobby was an idiot most of the time but he still managed to make Warren smile with his pissant spunk.

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