Bri (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
brbsoulnomming) wrote2009-02-23 01:02 pm
brbsoulnomming) wrote2009-02-23 01:02 pm
Entry tags:
Something Borrowed, Something Blue (Part 2 of 2)
Title: Something Borrowed, Something Blue (Part 2 of 2)
Author: Bri
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 6,433
Pairing: John/Bobby, Bobby/Rogue, hints of Gambit/Kitty and Logan/Rogue
Summary: He figured he would have learned that when he was drunk, he should stay far, far away from anyone who wasn’t Bobby. Actually, Bobby, too. But apparently, just like in a whole mess of other things, John hadn’t learned his lesson.
Notes: This fanfic was inspired by the Placebo song Every Me and Every You, if only because I got the idea while listening to it on the bus. The title is also lifted from the song.
Part One
Two days before the wedding. Jubilee was the maid of honor, Dani, Storm, and Remy were going to be bridesmaids. Remy had quickly recanted his refusal to walk down the aisle on Rogue’s side when Kitty started threatening to stop putting out, and then had even more quickly said he was only doing it because he was just that secure in his masculinity. John suspected that last addition had something to do with the way Bobby was glaring and cracking his knuckles at Remy at just the mention of him and Kitty having sex.
John was still the best man, and Kitty, Sam, and Pete were the groomsmen. Logan was going to be the one to walk Rogue down the aisle, since neither the bride nor the groom’s parents were going to be attending. Privately, John thought that was fucking weird, since there was no mistaking the way Rogue still looked at Logan sometimes and by now, Rogue looked old enough that she could only maybe pass for Logan’s younger sister, but whatever. Everyone connected to the Institute was invited, plus the friends Bobby had made at college. The hall for the reception was booked, the caterering was taken care of, the wedding band set, the beach for the actual ceremony reserved, everything was ready and done.
Bobby was a nervous wreck. In a way, that made it easier. John spent all his time mocking Bobby for being a girl, getting him mad or making him laugh, calming him down. It left little time for John to think, for him to remember that he could never win, not at anything.
As the best man, John was supposed to have some kind of toast to give, but he hadn’t even started working on it. He’d mostly been planning on making it up as he went, but he knew that was a really bad idea, because he was planning on being very drunk at the reception and he’d probably let something slip. Which was why he was sitting in their usual restaurant, drinking a cup of coffee and staring at a blank notepad in front of him. He still didn’t have anything written when Rogue slid into the seat across from him.
“Hey,” Rogue greeted.
He glanced up, looking at her warily. “Hey.”
“Writing a new story?’ she asked.
John shook his head. “Working on my fucking speech.”
“Oh.” She picked up a bottle of ketchup and toyed with it. “Thanks for doing that.”
“I’m doing it for Bobby,” John said immediately.
She nodded. “Yeah.” There was a pause, then she sighed. “What do you want me to do here, John?”
John raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re the one who came in and sat next to me.”
“I was waiting for you to bring this up. But I figured if you haven’t done it now, you’re not going to, so I will,” Rogue said. “We both know you’re in love with Bobby.”
John stiffened. “You don’t fucking know anything.”
“I know enough. I know what you told me yourself,” she said.
He rolled his eyes. “That was a long fucking time ago, and I was really drunk.”
“And yet you still knew exactly what I was talking about,” she pointed out.
His eyes narrowed slightly. “I have two words for you: Fuck. Off.”
“You’re such a dick, John,” she told him.
“Duly noted. How about now you take my suggestion?” John suggested.
Rogue’s eyes narrowed. “Look, I’m here for Bobby’s sake. You’re his best friend.”
“Yeah. I am. Which is why I’m sitting here, writing a fucking speech. You’re the one who’s causing problems,” John said.
“So you’re going to be perfectly okay when Bobby moves out, and we find a place together? When he starts spending more time with me than he does with you? We’re getting married, John. That means now I’ll be the one he comes home to every night, and you’ll be the one he goes out with on occasion. I don’t want you getting pissed off and leaving him again because you can’t handle that,” Rogue said.
John reached into his pocket for his lighter, fingers closing around it though he didn’t pull it out. He wanted so badly right then to just torch her, but he figured Bobby’d probably never forgive him if he did. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, and you have no fucking right to say anything to me. I’m not the only one who’s ever left, and at least I didn’t leave because I wanted to be normal so badly that I’d abandon my friends in the middle of a war.” He said it because it was true, and because he wanted to hurt her. Bobby’d told him the reasons why he was so unsure of Rogue after she came back, and knowing Bobby he’d told Rogue them, too. Let her be reminded of it. “So fuck off, and go get ready for your stupid fucking wedding.”
She looked at him for a long moment, and then she smirked, something that didn’t look quite right on her face. It belonged more to Logan, or maybe to John himself. “At least I already have my something borrowed, don’t I?”
John’s hand clenched around his lighter so tightly that he was pretty sure it was cutting into his skin. “You’ve got your something blue, too.”
She frowned in confusion. “What?”
John smirked. “Bobby’s balls. Let’s see how much he likes being married to the girl who can’t fuck.”
Her confusion vanished and the smirk was back. “Bobby’s more creative than you give him credit for.” She stood up. “I’ll look forward to your speech,” she told him, then walked out.
That night, John got drunk again. And considered just leaving, skipping out, because he’d left the first time, when Bobby got really serious about Rogue and John just couldn’t deal with it. John didn’t fall in love, he didn’t, he’d carefully guarded himself against that, so it was only fitting that the only person he’d ever fallen in love with didn’t love him back. Oh, there were other reasons, and yeah, those reasons had been more important, but John still knew that he’d been running away from having to deal with being in love with someone who could never love him back.
And he’d gotten over Bobby. He’d turned into Pyro and Bobby had turned into Iceman and Pyro and Iceman hated each other and that was easier. Except it wasn’t, because he was still John and Iceman was still Bobby and then things got more confusing, because John loved Bobby and Pyro hated Iceman and John was Pyro and Bobby was Iceman, so John was in love with Bobby and hating him at the same time. He still hated him. Hated him because he was the only person that had managed to work his way into John’s thoughts, was the only one who’d managed to make John love him. And Bobby was the only one who loved John back, because John knew Bobby loved him, he just wasn’t in love with him, and that was the one fucking little word that made all the difference.
John had gotten over Bobby, except he never really had, he’d just pushed him away until he could pretend he had. And even if John left now, he’d never get over Bobby, and it was really fucking pathetic, but just the thought of leaving Bobby now was too much to stomach. Leaving Bobby at the altar. It’d be just like that, because Bobby would be stuck without a best man and, in all honesty, Bobby’d probably cancel the wedding. Or maybe he’d just go on, try to be happy even though his best friend was a selfish jerk, and John couldn’t leave, anyway, because he didn’t want to be the one to hurt Bobby or the one to prove Rogue right.
He could handle it. He could handle it when Bobby packed up his things and moved in with Rogue, when John had to move into a one-bedroom apartment because he couldn’t afford rent on the place he and Bobby shared. He could handle it so much that he picked up a Real Estate pamphlet and began looking for one bedroom apartments and even found the perfect fucking one, the one he’d move into and have Bobby over every once in awhile. And then Bobby would go back home to Rogue, and John would be alone, and he could handle that.
Except no, he really couldn’t, and that made his stomach turn almost as much as the thought of just leaving.
“I am so royally fucked,” John announced, earning weird looks from the people who were in the same café as him. He’d gone in there for coffee, but he couldn’t remember what he ordered, and when he took a sip it tasted disgusting.
And for some reason, he decided right then that he was going to have to tell Bobby everything. Lay it all out on the table, let Bobby decide what to do, and then John wouldn’t have to decide between two choices when he couldn’t live with either.
It was morning by then, and John wasn’t really drunk anymore, but he was slightly tipsy and mind-fucked from staying up all night, just enough that it really seemed like a good idea to go back to their apartment and tell Bobby everything.
Bobby was sitting on the couch when he got back, looking even more worried than he usually was lately, and there was a phone in his hand.
“Who’re you calling?’ John asked as he closed the door behind him.
Bobby stood up, and instantly looked relieved. “You. Again. Dumbass. Answer your phone, I was freaking out.”
“Oh,” John said, fishing around in his pocket and pulling out his phone. “Sorry. I put it on silent so I could work on the speech.”
“You were working on it all night?” Bobby asked.
“Uh. No, forgot to turn it back on. Listen, Bobby, there’s something I need to tell you,” John said. He needed to do this before he completely sobered up and realized it was a very bad idea.
Bobby’s eyes got concerned again. “What is it? Are you okay?”
“Depends,” John said, then decided to fuck with trying to find the words for this. Bobby’d moved close enough that John could just take a few steps, grab Bobby’s shirt, and pull him down for a kiss. For a brief moment, the kiss was amazing, cool lips soft and pliable against his, but then Bobby pulled back.
His eyes were wide, and he looked nervous. “Johnny? Are you drunk?”
“Kind of,” John admitted. “But that doesn’t change anything.”
“Um, yeah, it pretty much does,” Bobby said. “Because I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t grab me and kiss me if you were sober.”
“No, because I’d convince myself not to,” John replied. “But it doesn’t mean I wouldn’t fucking want to.”
“You want to kiss me?” Bobby asked, blinking rapidly.
“No, I kissed you just now because I’m completely disgusted at the idea,” John retorted.
Bobby’s eyes were wide again, and darting around like he expected someone to jump out with a camera yelling, “Gotcha!” or something like that. “But. You. We. You’re my best friend.”
“And I want to fuck you,” John informed him.
Bobby’s eyes darkened slightly. “That’s exactly what everyone wants to hear. Wow, John, thanks. I’m so flattered.”
Bobby called him John. He never did that. John winced. “Well, then what do you want to hear? That I’m in love with you? Because I am. I really fucking am. I tried not to be, but you kept fucking pulling me back in. This is all your fault, you know.”
“For a writer, you really fail at romantic love confessions, Johnny,” Bobby said, his voice shaking slightly.
“Yeah, well, it’s fucking easier to think of things when you get to edit and haven’t stayed up all night drinking,” John replied. “I fucking love you. Is that better?”
“No,” Bobby said. He started pacing. “You fucking pick now to tell me this? Fuck, Johnny! I’m getting married tomorrow. To Rogue. To the woman I love. You couldn’t have maybe, maybe done this sooner? Like, any time in the past four years?”
“Fuck, Drake, arrogance much? How do you know that I’ve been in love with you this whole time?” John demanded.
Bobby stopped, standing still. “How long?”
John didn’t say anything.
“Before or after you left?” Bobby pressed.
“Before,” John said quietly.
Bobby nodded. Then he picked up a textbook from the coffee table and chucked it against the wall.
John blinked. “You’re taking this a lot better than I thought.”
“Me throwing shit is a lot better than you thought?” Bobby asked.
John shrugged. “I figured you’d completely freak out and be too uncomfortable to be around me anymore. Instead you’re just complaining that I didn’t tell you sooner like it would’ve made a difference if I did.”
Bobby hesitated. “Maybe it would have.”
John told his hopes to fucking stay where they were, but they didn’t listen to him and started to creep upwards. “What?”
“I don’t fucking know,” Bobby said. “You just, you can’t just come in here the day before my wedding and tell me you’re in love with me. What did you think was going to happen? What’s this supposed to do except make things really awkward and give me yet another fucking thing to worry about and, and I can’t be here right now.”
Without another word, Bobby walked out the door. John looked around the apartment. He was starting to sober up now, enough that he knew he should have just fucking kept his mouth shut. Because now Bobby couldn’t be there and he couldn’t be there, either. John looked down and saw the Real Estate ad still clutched in his hand, and pulled out his cell to make a call.
~*~
The one bedroom apartment was just as perfect as John thought it would have been. It was a little bit expensive for him to pay on his own, but he could manage it, and he signed the paperwork and could move in to the place in a month. Armed with this, John headed back to the apartment he was sharing with Bobby. He could show him that he really was okay with Bobby getting married to Rogue, that he’d gone and gotten his own apartment so Bobby and Rogue could move in together, that everything he’d said was just because he was drunk. And it fucking tore at him to think about saying that, but when he wasn’t drunk he realized it would be better than trying to leave and start over.
Bobby was sitting on the same couch as he had been that morning when John walked into the apartment. He was holding something again, too, although this time it was too small to be a phone.
“Hey,” John said quietly.
“Hey,” Bobby returned.
“I’m an ass,” John admitted.
“Yeah, you are,” Bobby agreed.
“And I just wanted to-” John started, but this time Bobby was the one who cut him off.
“The wedding’s off,” Bobby told him.
John froze, not entirely sure he’d heard Bobby right. “What?”
“I talked to Rogue. Pretty much all day. I love her, I do, but…It’s pretty much always been you,” Bobby said.
John kept staring at him. He really should have a fucking response for this, but all he could think was that this was all some big cosmic joke. “What?”
“I’m in love with you, too,” Bobby said.
Big. Cosmic. Joke. That really wasn’t fucking funny. “Are you serious?”
Bobby scowled at him. “No, I’m just telling you this to fuck with you.”
That shook John enough to wake him up a bit. “But you’re straight. Aren’t you?”
“Kind of. I don’t know.” Bobby shrugged. “Can you just, say something that’s not a question?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, is this fucking inconveniencing you? When the fucking guy I’ve held a torch for, for fucking years, who’s never shown the slightest bit of interest in more than a platonic relationship with me and is fucking engaged to a really hot chick tells me that he’s in love with me, I think I’m fucking allowed a few minutes to ask questions,” John retorted.
“I had a crush on you, for a little bit. But it was confusing and I didn’t actually wonder if maybe I sort of loved you until you left and I realized just how much I missed you. But I loved Rogue, too, and she loved me back and you didn’t, so.” Bobby bit his lower lip. “And then when you came back I just convinced myself that it was all platonic and you weren’t interested and I really did love Rogue, so it worked pretty well.”
“So basically what you’re telling me is that if you hadn’t been a fucking dumbass and spoke up before, all of this could’ve been avoided and we could be having sex right now?” John asked.
Bobby glared at him. “You could’ve said something, too.”
“I did,” John replied. “Remember? This morning and you yelled at me about timing.”
“You had shitty timing,” Bobby protested.
John shook his head. “No, shitty timing would have been during my speech tomorrow, because the way things were going that’s what would have happened. Besides, I’d say this is-” And Bobby cut him off for the second time that night, but this time John didn’t really care, because Bobby shut him up by kissing him.
John expected Bobby to pull away too soon, but he didn’t, and he didn’t even object when John deepened the kiss. Something fell to the floor with a soft clatter, but John was too preoccupied to care what it was, especially when cool fingers curled gently around the back of his neck. John grabbed Bobby’s shirt and pulled him closer, pressing their bodies together. It still wasn’t as close as John would have liked, but Bobby seemed content to just stand there. John might’ve wondered if Bobby was really as interested in this, but Bobby seemed pretty damn into the kissing and when John took a chance and rocked his hips against Bobby’s, he got solid proof that, yeah, Bobby was fucking interested.
Bobby gasped softly into his mouth and broke the kiss, but he didn’t pull away and just panted slightly, lips barely an inch away from John’s.
John wracked his brain, searching for something to say, and for some completely unknown reason decided to settle on, “How did Rogue take it?”
Bobby gave a slightly disbelieving chuckle and rested his forehead against John’s. “Are you seriously asking me that question right now?”
Yeah, apparently John was seriously fucking asking him that question when what he really should be doing was kissing Bobby again before either of them came to their senses or something. “Hey, I’d like to know if I should be ready for her to fucking charge in here and touch me or something.”
“She was pissed,” Bobby admitted. “A lot. But we talked, and then Logan called, and he seemed pretty pleased at the news.”
John snorted. “I bet. Is he going to be gunning for you?”
“I don’t think so,” Bobby said. “He was on his way over to her place when I left.”
John smoothed his hand down Bobby’s shirt, toying with the hem. “Heh. They make one fucked up pair.”
“Like we have room to talk?” Bobby asked.
Huh. Good point. “So let’s not talk,” John suggested, and kissed Bobby again.
This time, though, John wasn’t content with just kissing, and he slid his hand under Bobby’s shirt, fingers playing along cool skin and firm muscle. He tugged impatiently at the fabric, like he could get Bobby’s shirt off without having to break their kiss if he just pulled hard enough. Unless he ripped it, though, that was sadly impossible, and John doubted Bobby’d be very pleased with him if he ripped his shirt. So he pushed the shirt up a bit, and then realized that he really needed to fucking pay more attention to what Bobby was wearing because there were buttons and he could undo them.
John probably should have waited until after he was done unbuttoning Bobby’s shirt, but John fucking hated waiting and he flicked his tongue out, running it across Bobby’s lips until they parted. Bobby’s mouth was cool, just enough that John could feel the temperature difference, and he swirled his tongue around Bobby’s. Bobby made a soft sound, low in his throat, and the next thing John knew, Bobby’s tongue was in his mouth. Bobby must have lowered his temperature a little bit, because his tongue was almost cold as he stroked it across the sensitive roof of John’s mouth. John’s hips rocked involuntarily, grinding against Bobby’s, and his hands fumbled hurriedly at the buttons on Bobby’s shirt, popping a few of them off as he pushed Bobby’s shirt open.
Bobby’s hand was still on John’s neck, so he couldn’t pull the shirt completely off, but it was open enough to reveal plenty of bare skin for John to run his hands over. Bobby’s muscles were slightly tense under his touch, but relaxed the more John traced his fingers across them. Bobby pulled away, panting again, but this time instead of saying anything John just pushed Bobby’s shirt over his shoulders and the rest of the way off, tossing it aside. Bobby hesitated for a moment, then his hands were pulling at John’s shirt. John helped him, chucking off his shirt and dropping it on the floor as well.
It landed on top of his foot and he glanced down as he went to kick it off. Something sparkly caught his eye, and he saw an open ring box with what used to be Rogue’s ring in it. Must have been what Bobby was holding, what had fallen when they started kissing. In a moment of stupid, pointless pettiness, John kicked his shirt in its direction and was pleased when the shirt landed on top of it and covered it.
Bobby was staring at him, looking kind of unsure, so John hooked his index finger under the waistband of Bobby’s pants and tugged.
“My room?” John asked, starting for it without waiting for an answer.
He wasn’t quite confident enough to go without looking, though, and was gratified (not fucking relieved, damn it) when he saw Bobby immediately going with him, nearly tripping over his fallen shirt before catching himself. John kicked off his shoes while Bobby closed the door behind them. John wasn’t fucking sure why, because no one else lived there, but whatever the hell Bobby wanted to do was fine, and then Bobby was suddenly kissing him again.
John moved them backwards, towards the bed, and when he pulled them both down onto it, Bobby climbed on top of him. For a moment, John considered asking Bobby if he even knew what the fuck to do on top, but didn’t because he didn’t really want to know exactly how creative he’d gotten with Rogue, and anyway, Bobby straddling his hips was enough to make his higher brain functions pretty much completely shut off.
Bobby leaned down towards him, and John expected another kiss, but Bobby stopped with their lips a few inches apart. John was ready to voice a complaint, but then he felt Bobby’s cool hand against his cheek, his thumb stroking along his jawline. John tilted his head into the touch, and Bobby moved his hand to trace his thumb across John’s lower lip. The touch was light, teasing, and John retaliated by parting his lips and swirling his tongue across the tip of Bobby’s thumb.
Another soft, pleased sound escaped Bobby’s throat and then Bobby pulled his hand away, scraping short fingernails down the side of John’s neck and then across his collarbone. He smoothed his hand down John’s chest, his thumb brushing over one of John’s nipples. Bobby pinched it softly and John arched upwards. Bobby grinned as his hand traveled lower, fingers playing down the center of John’s stomach, hovering around his navel and drawing tantalizingly close to the waistband of his pants. Bobby’s thumb slid under John’s jeans, rubbing in small circles against his skin, closer and closer until he stopped and moved back up to repeat the process in reverse.
Bobby ran his hands over every inch of John’s bare skin, exploring, soft ghosting touches that were hesitant at first and then moved with more confidence as John reacted, squirming when he reached sensitive spots and arching into his hands. God, Bobby’s fucking hands, and John nearly made a comment about Bobby being all hands, but thinking that made him realize that Bobby still hadn’t kissed him. Which was only a problem because John had a suspicion that he knew why, and it had to do with the main thing he really didn’t want to think about right then; Bobby and Rogue together.
“You can fucking kiss me, you know,” John informed him.
Bobby blinked, and John didn’t have to be a telepath to know that he was thinking something along the lines of shit. “Sorry.”
“Quit apologizing and do it,” John replied.
Bobby obeyed, and in his eagerness, his teeth scraped slightly across John’s lower lip. John bucked his hips against Bobby’s, and Bobby must have taken that as encouragement, because he did it again. John decided right then that it was really fucking past time for their pants to be gone and he reached down to unbutton and unzip his. He’d gotten them undone and was shifting around to try and push them down when Bobby hesitated and pulled back.
“What?” John asked, wavering between being fucking pissed off and slightly worried that Bobby was freaking out.
“Nothing. I just. Are we going too fast? I mean, yesterday I was engaged to Rogue and I was pretty sure I was mostly straight and I didn’t even know you liked me and –”
“You are such a fucking girl, Bobby,” John told him, reaching up to fumble with Bobby’s zipper and brushing his hand against Bobby’s erection through his pants. “I like you. I think this proves you’re not completely straight. If you say Rogue’s name again, I’ll punch you, and if we don’t start going faster I’ll kick you out and finish myself. That answer your questions?”
Apparently it did, because Bobby shifted so he could take off his pants and boxers and John took the opportunity to push his jeans the rest of the way down. Bobby leaned down again, kissing his mouth once before trailing kisses along his jaw.
“I’m not,” Bobby murmured against John’s skin.
“Not what?” John asked.
“Thinking of anyone but you.” Bobby pressed his lips against the spot just under John’s ear and began sucking on it.
John groaned and thrust his hips upwards, which prompted another moan as his bare erection slid against Bobby’s. Bobby’s breath hitched and his sucking faltered, and John grinned. Bobby may have been on top, but that didn’t mean John couldn’t take charge. He doubted Bobby’d ever been with another guy, after all. John slid his hand between them and wrapped his fingers around Bobby’s cock, giving it a long, slow stroke.
The reaction was instantaneous. Bobby gasped, jerked, and thrust against John’s hand. John stroked him again, still slow, despite the fact that Bobby’s hips were thrusting in quick, jerking motions. Bobby made a frustrated noise and his hand slipped between their bodies as well. John was ready to slap Bobby’s hand away and continue on as he pleased, but instead of reaching for his own cock, Bobby slid his fingers around John’s. Bobby’s grip was slightly hesitant, his fingers cool against John’s heat, and now it was John’s turn to buck as Bobby moved his hand.
Fuck. Oh, fuck. That had so not been part of the plan. Fuck Bobby and his stupid taking things into his own hands (fucking literally, which would have been amusing if John was thinking about anything but Bobby’s hand around him and the feel of Bobby’s cock in his own hand) and now John was moaning, thrusting his hips upwards in time with Bobby’s.
Bobby kissed him again, and this time when John stroked his tongue into Bobby’s mouth, Bobby caught it with his teeth and dragged them down it. This was accompanied by another stroke of Bobby’s hand and John almost lost it right there, but he held on, just long enough for Bobby to go back to the spot under his ear and start sucking again. John pumped his hand down Bobby’s erection, hard and fast. Bobby paused to murmur, “Fuck, Johnny,” and then maybe he’d intended to go back to sucking but had been a little too eager, or maybe he’d intended exactly what he did, but his teeth grazed sharply on the skin he’d just been sucking at.
Maybe it was that, or maybe it was Bobby saying his name the way he’d said it a few times in John’s best dreams, or maybe it was something of both, but John bucked his hips one last time and came, hard, hard enough that he didn’t even know exactly what he said. He was positive it was “fuck” and hoped it was just that, but he was pretty sure Bobby’s name was somewhere in there, too. Bobby thrust against him a few more times and John made an attempt at moving his hand again, but it didn’t matter because it was only a few seconds before Bobby was caught in his own orgasm.
Head tilted, muscles straining, and Bobby was fucking gorgeous and John wanted to keep looking and never stop, but then Bobby’s too-fucking-blue eyes locked on to his and John couldn’t look anywhere but at them. For a long moment, they stayed frozen like that, then Bobby collapsed down, half on top of him and half on top of the bed.
They were both breathing heavily and they stayed quiet, just laying there and waiting for their breathing to return to normal. It was only when John felt himself start slightly that he realized he’d been drifting off to sleep. Which, fuck, made a lot of sense when he remembered that he hadn’t slept last night.
“If we fall asleep like this, we’re going to be fucking pissed when we have to clean up tomorrow,” John murmured, despite the fact that his eyes were starting to close again.
“Mmm-hmm,” Bobby replied, sounding just as tired as he was.
Which made John wonder if Bobby’d been up all last night, too. Maybe John should apologize for worrying him. Or maybe not. John was never very good at apologizing. Then again, there were other ways of apologizing. John smirked slightly at the thought.
“What’s so funny?” Bobby asked.
John tilted his head to find Bobby staring at him. “You. Or maybe me.”
Bobby frowned slightly. “You’re not still drunk, are you?”
“Nope,” John replied.
“Kay. Good,” Bobby said, closing his eyes again. “Hey, Johnny? I wouldn’t let Rogue touch you.”
Yeah, it was definitely sleep time for Bobby. “Yeah, well. I wouldn’t let Logan come gunning for you, either,” John replied. “Go to sleep.”
Bobby settled against him and let out a soft, happy sigh, and John’s eyes slid shut. A few seconds later, just as John was falling asleep again, Bobby asked, “Hey, Johnny?”
“What?” John asked, not bothering to keep his annoyance out of his voice.
“Love you,” Bobby said.
And just like that, the annoyance was fucking gone. Not all of it, but enough. “Love you too, Frosty.”
~*~
For a little while, things were awkward. They all still had the same friends, and people weren’t quite sure what to say when Rogue, Bobby, and John were all in the same room. But Rogue began spending more time with Logan, and gradually became completely okay with things, and Bobby was obviously totally happy, and John, well, John was pretty much the same, although now he could kiss Bobby whenever the fuck he wanted.
Both John and Bobby ended up having to move out of their apartment anyway, though, because John’d signed a year long lease at the other place and couldn’t get out of it. And eventually Bobby’d said that, well, they only needed one room anyway, so it wasn’t cost-effective to keep paying rent for a place with two bedrooms. Fortunately, their old apartment managers had been very willing to let them out of their lease, since they had people lined up who were so eager to have the place that they were willing to pay more than what Bobby and John were paying.
So they were back to sharing a room again, which it turned out was infinitely better when they were also sharing a bed. Bobby was very near to graduating, and John was still slowly taking classes, but he had a nice stack of things he’d gotten published in their bookcase, and they still both taught at the Institute every now and then. And John didn’t think too much about his current situation, because when he did, he realized it was way too fucking much like the kind of shit he thought about doing whenever he and Bobby discussed the future as teenagers, the kind of shit he’d still sometimes thought about during his stint with the Brotherhood and gotten pissed at himself over.
Occasionally, John thought about the conversation he’d had with Rogue. He always figured he’d regret that conversation. And sometimes, he did. He didn’t have to have been such a dick to Rogue, after all. He could have been nicer to her and shit (he felt more charitable towards her now that Bobby was pretty damn safely and securely his). But then he thought about how it was probably one of those fucking chain reaction things. Like, if it hadn’t been for that conversation, maybe Rogue wouldn’t have come to bitch at him and he wouldn’t have gotten completely fucking drunk and come up with the brilliant (and that wasn’t a sarcastic brilliant) plan to tell Bobby everything. And since that brilliant plan was what lead to Bobby being his, completely fucking his, well. He wasn’t willing to risk it. For once, he’d gotten back something someone had borrowed, and he was never going to let go.
Someone nudged his arm, then, and he looked up with a glare.
“What?” he asked.
“You want a refill?” Bobby asked.
John glanced over to the waitress standing next to their table. “Oh. Uh, yeah, rum and Coke.”
She took his glass, along with a couple of others, and walked away.
“What were you spacing off about?” Kitty asked.
“Nothing,” John replied. “Just thinking about people who borrow things.” Okay, he was still a dick.
He glanced over at Rogue, expecting her to be pissed, but he couldn’t read her expression. She might not have even been paying attention. The group had gotten together at their favorite restaurant, but Rogue had already told them she’d be leaving early. She was meeting Logan.
“You’re so weird, John,” Jubilee informed him.
He just grinned at her, more a baring of teeth than a smile.
“And that’s why we like you,” Dani added.
John turned his smile onto her. It was mostly a real one this time, though sometimes he wondered if Dani, Sam, and Remy would like him half as much as they did if they’d been around before Alcatraz. John glanced next to him and saw that Bobby was smiling at her, too, in a way that would have made John jealous if Bobby hadn’t just spent fifteen minutes eating his salad with his left hand so he could hold hands with John under the table. Which was stupid and cheesy, and John only put up with it because Bobby’d pout if he didn’t, but still.
The conversations around the table picked up again, and John half-paid attention to some of them but wasn’t particularly motivated to join in. He rarely felt excluded from the conversation, something which had changed from his days at the Institute (especially when Rogue had been there), but sometimes he just didn’t feel like talking, and no one forced him to. Instead, he set up the drink and desert menu as a barrier, and flicked open his lighter behind it. He began playing with the fire, absently forming shapes and figures as his mind wandered.
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed (probably not much, since their food still hadn’t come) when he heard Bobby comment, “Don’t draw a heart around them, use a circle.”
John blinked at him. “The hell are you talking about?”
Bobby pointed and John glanced down to see that he’d formed the fire into a pencil shape and burned JA BD into the wooden table. He’d even started to draw a heart around them. Fuck.
“Why a circle?” John asked, pissed at what his stupid brain did when he let it do whatever it wanted.
“Because,” Bobby replied. “Hearts can break, but circles go on forever.”
John stared at him, then smirked. “Seriously, Bobby. You are such a girl,” he said, but he went back to the line he’d started to draw for a heart and turned it into a circle.
“Says the guy who just doodled our initials in the table,” Bobby replied, grinning at him.
Damn it, John was not going to blush. He was pissed, not embarrassed. And tipsy. Yeah, that was it. Even though he’d only had a drink and a half. Fuck logic. “Yeah, well. You know what else our initials make?”
Bobby stared at the drawing, then shook his head. “No. What?”
John smirked again and picked up his fire pen, writing BJ in the table. Bobby stared at it again, and John watched his face go from confused to surprised understanding. John let go of Bobby’s hand to run his fingers up Bobby’s thigh. Bobby looked up at him, eyes wide, and John winked.
“Gotta go to the bathroom,” John said, standing up. “If the food comes, no one touch mine.”
He sauntered off, and had only taken a few steps before he heard Bobby stammer that he had to go, too, and then Bobby was following him. Obviously, John still needed to teach him a little thing called subtlety. Oh, well. They’d have plenty of time for that. After all, circles went on for fucking ever.
(Cross-posted to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
dry_ice)
Author: Bri
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 6,433
Pairing: John/Bobby, Bobby/Rogue, hints of Gambit/Kitty and Logan/Rogue
Summary: He figured he would have learned that when he was drunk, he should stay far, far away from anyone who wasn’t Bobby. Actually, Bobby, too. But apparently, just like in a whole mess of other things, John hadn’t learned his lesson.
Notes: This fanfic was inspired by the Placebo song Every Me and Every You, if only because I got the idea while listening to it on the bus. The title is also lifted from the song.
Part One
Two days before the wedding. Jubilee was the maid of honor, Dani, Storm, and Remy were going to be bridesmaids. Remy had quickly recanted his refusal to walk down the aisle on Rogue’s side when Kitty started threatening to stop putting out, and then had even more quickly said he was only doing it because he was just that secure in his masculinity. John suspected that last addition had something to do with the way Bobby was glaring and cracking his knuckles at Remy at just the mention of him and Kitty having sex.
John was still the best man, and Kitty, Sam, and Pete were the groomsmen. Logan was going to be the one to walk Rogue down the aisle, since neither the bride nor the groom’s parents were going to be attending. Privately, John thought that was fucking weird, since there was no mistaking the way Rogue still looked at Logan sometimes and by now, Rogue looked old enough that she could only maybe pass for Logan’s younger sister, but whatever. Everyone connected to the Institute was invited, plus the friends Bobby had made at college. The hall for the reception was booked, the caterering was taken care of, the wedding band set, the beach for the actual ceremony reserved, everything was ready and done.
Bobby was a nervous wreck. In a way, that made it easier. John spent all his time mocking Bobby for being a girl, getting him mad or making him laugh, calming him down. It left little time for John to think, for him to remember that he could never win, not at anything.
As the best man, John was supposed to have some kind of toast to give, but he hadn’t even started working on it. He’d mostly been planning on making it up as he went, but he knew that was a really bad idea, because he was planning on being very drunk at the reception and he’d probably let something slip. Which was why he was sitting in their usual restaurant, drinking a cup of coffee and staring at a blank notepad in front of him. He still didn’t have anything written when Rogue slid into the seat across from him.
“Hey,” Rogue greeted.
He glanced up, looking at her warily. “Hey.”
“Writing a new story?’ she asked.
John shook his head. “Working on my fucking speech.”
“Oh.” She picked up a bottle of ketchup and toyed with it. “Thanks for doing that.”
“I’m doing it for Bobby,” John said immediately.
She nodded. “Yeah.” There was a pause, then she sighed. “What do you want me to do here, John?”
John raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re the one who came in and sat next to me.”
“I was waiting for you to bring this up. But I figured if you haven’t done it now, you’re not going to, so I will,” Rogue said. “We both know you’re in love with Bobby.”
John stiffened. “You don’t fucking know anything.”
“I know enough. I know what you told me yourself,” she said.
He rolled his eyes. “That was a long fucking time ago, and I was really drunk.”
“And yet you still knew exactly what I was talking about,” she pointed out.
His eyes narrowed slightly. “I have two words for you: Fuck. Off.”
“You’re such a dick, John,” she told him.
“Duly noted. How about now you take my suggestion?” John suggested.
Rogue’s eyes narrowed. “Look, I’m here for Bobby’s sake. You’re his best friend.”
“Yeah. I am. Which is why I’m sitting here, writing a fucking speech. You’re the one who’s causing problems,” John said.
“So you’re going to be perfectly okay when Bobby moves out, and we find a place together? When he starts spending more time with me than he does with you? We’re getting married, John. That means now I’ll be the one he comes home to every night, and you’ll be the one he goes out with on occasion. I don’t want you getting pissed off and leaving him again because you can’t handle that,” Rogue said.
John reached into his pocket for his lighter, fingers closing around it though he didn’t pull it out. He wanted so badly right then to just torch her, but he figured Bobby’d probably never forgive him if he did. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, and you have no fucking right to say anything to me. I’m not the only one who’s ever left, and at least I didn’t leave because I wanted to be normal so badly that I’d abandon my friends in the middle of a war.” He said it because it was true, and because he wanted to hurt her. Bobby’d told him the reasons why he was so unsure of Rogue after she came back, and knowing Bobby he’d told Rogue them, too. Let her be reminded of it. “So fuck off, and go get ready for your stupid fucking wedding.”
She looked at him for a long moment, and then she smirked, something that didn’t look quite right on her face. It belonged more to Logan, or maybe to John himself. “At least I already have my something borrowed, don’t I?”
John’s hand clenched around his lighter so tightly that he was pretty sure it was cutting into his skin. “You’ve got your something blue, too.”
She frowned in confusion. “What?”
John smirked. “Bobby’s balls. Let’s see how much he likes being married to the girl who can’t fuck.”
Her confusion vanished and the smirk was back. “Bobby’s more creative than you give him credit for.” She stood up. “I’ll look forward to your speech,” she told him, then walked out.
That night, John got drunk again. And considered just leaving, skipping out, because he’d left the first time, when Bobby got really serious about Rogue and John just couldn’t deal with it. John didn’t fall in love, he didn’t, he’d carefully guarded himself against that, so it was only fitting that the only person he’d ever fallen in love with didn’t love him back. Oh, there were other reasons, and yeah, those reasons had been more important, but John still knew that he’d been running away from having to deal with being in love with someone who could never love him back.
And he’d gotten over Bobby. He’d turned into Pyro and Bobby had turned into Iceman and Pyro and Iceman hated each other and that was easier. Except it wasn’t, because he was still John and Iceman was still Bobby and then things got more confusing, because John loved Bobby and Pyro hated Iceman and John was Pyro and Bobby was Iceman, so John was in love with Bobby and hating him at the same time. He still hated him. Hated him because he was the only person that had managed to work his way into John’s thoughts, was the only one who’d managed to make John love him. And Bobby was the only one who loved John back, because John knew Bobby loved him, he just wasn’t in love with him, and that was the one fucking little word that made all the difference.
John had gotten over Bobby, except he never really had, he’d just pushed him away until he could pretend he had. And even if John left now, he’d never get over Bobby, and it was really fucking pathetic, but just the thought of leaving Bobby now was too much to stomach. Leaving Bobby at the altar. It’d be just like that, because Bobby would be stuck without a best man and, in all honesty, Bobby’d probably cancel the wedding. Or maybe he’d just go on, try to be happy even though his best friend was a selfish jerk, and John couldn’t leave, anyway, because he didn’t want to be the one to hurt Bobby or the one to prove Rogue right.
He could handle it. He could handle it when Bobby packed up his things and moved in with Rogue, when John had to move into a one-bedroom apartment because he couldn’t afford rent on the place he and Bobby shared. He could handle it so much that he picked up a Real Estate pamphlet and began looking for one bedroom apartments and even found the perfect fucking one, the one he’d move into and have Bobby over every once in awhile. And then Bobby would go back home to Rogue, and John would be alone, and he could handle that.
Except no, he really couldn’t, and that made his stomach turn almost as much as the thought of just leaving.
“I am so royally fucked,” John announced, earning weird looks from the people who were in the same café as him. He’d gone in there for coffee, but he couldn’t remember what he ordered, and when he took a sip it tasted disgusting.
And for some reason, he decided right then that he was going to have to tell Bobby everything. Lay it all out on the table, let Bobby decide what to do, and then John wouldn’t have to decide between two choices when he couldn’t live with either.
It was morning by then, and John wasn’t really drunk anymore, but he was slightly tipsy and mind-fucked from staying up all night, just enough that it really seemed like a good idea to go back to their apartment and tell Bobby everything.
Bobby was sitting on the couch when he got back, looking even more worried than he usually was lately, and there was a phone in his hand.
“Who’re you calling?’ John asked as he closed the door behind him.
Bobby stood up, and instantly looked relieved. “You. Again. Dumbass. Answer your phone, I was freaking out.”
“Oh,” John said, fishing around in his pocket and pulling out his phone. “Sorry. I put it on silent so I could work on the speech.”
“You were working on it all night?” Bobby asked.
“Uh. No, forgot to turn it back on. Listen, Bobby, there’s something I need to tell you,” John said. He needed to do this before he completely sobered up and realized it was a very bad idea.
Bobby’s eyes got concerned again. “What is it? Are you okay?”
“Depends,” John said, then decided to fuck with trying to find the words for this. Bobby’d moved close enough that John could just take a few steps, grab Bobby’s shirt, and pull him down for a kiss. For a brief moment, the kiss was amazing, cool lips soft and pliable against his, but then Bobby pulled back.
His eyes were wide, and he looked nervous. “Johnny? Are you drunk?”
“Kind of,” John admitted. “But that doesn’t change anything.”
“Um, yeah, it pretty much does,” Bobby said. “Because I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t grab me and kiss me if you were sober.”
“No, because I’d convince myself not to,” John replied. “But it doesn’t mean I wouldn’t fucking want to.”
“You want to kiss me?” Bobby asked, blinking rapidly.
“No, I kissed you just now because I’m completely disgusted at the idea,” John retorted.
Bobby’s eyes were wide again, and darting around like he expected someone to jump out with a camera yelling, “Gotcha!” or something like that. “But. You. We. You’re my best friend.”
“And I want to fuck you,” John informed him.
Bobby’s eyes darkened slightly. “That’s exactly what everyone wants to hear. Wow, John, thanks. I’m so flattered.”
Bobby called him John. He never did that. John winced. “Well, then what do you want to hear? That I’m in love with you? Because I am. I really fucking am. I tried not to be, but you kept fucking pulling me back in. This is all your fault, you know.”
“For a writer, you really fail at romantic love confessions, Johnny,” Bobby said, his voice shaking slightly.
“Yeah, well, it’s fucking easier to think of things when you get to edit and haven’t stayed up all night drinking,” John replied. “I fucking love you. Is that better?”
“No,” Bobby said. He started pacing. “You fucking pick now to tell me this? Fuck, Johnny! I’m getting married tomorrow. To Rogue. To the woman I love. You couldn’t have maybe, maybe done this sooner? Like, any time in the past four years?”
“Fuck, Drake, arrogance much? How do you know that I’ve been in love with you this whole time?” John demanded.
Bobby stopped, standing still. “How long?”
John didn’t say anything.
“Before or after you left?” Bobby pressed.
“Before,” John said quietly.
Bobby nodded. Then he picked up a textbook from the coffee table and chucked it against the wall.
John blinked. “You’re taking this a lot better than I thought.”
“Me throwing shit is a lot better than you thought?” Bobby asked.
John shrugged. “I figured you’d completely freak out and be too uncomfortable to be around me anymore. Instead you’re just complaining that I didn’t tell you sooner like it would’ve made a difference if I did.”
Bobby hesitated. “Maybe it would have.”
John told his hopes to fucking stay where they were, but they didn’t listen to him and started to creep upwards. “What?”
“I don’t fucking know,” Bobby said. “You just, you can’t just come in here the day before my wedding and tell me you’re in love with me. What did you think was going to happen? What’s this supposed to do except make things really awkward and give me yet another fucking thing to worry about and, and I can’t be here right now.”
Without another word, Bobby walked out the door. John looked around the apartment. He was starting to sober up now, enough that he knew he should have just fucking kept his mouth shut. Because now Bobby couldn’t be there and he couldn’t be there, either. John looked down and saw the Real Estate ad still clutched in his hand, and pulled out his cell to make a call.
~*~
The one bedroom apartment was just as perfect as John thought it would have been. It was a little bit expensive for him to pay on his own, but he could manage it, and he signed the paperwork and could move in to the place in a month. Armed with this, John headed back to the apartment he was sharing with Bobby. He could show him that he really was okay with Bobby getting married to Rogue, that he’d gone and gotten his own apartment so Bobby and Rogue could move in together, that everything he’d said was just because he was drunk. And it fucking tore at him to think about saying that, but when he wasn’t drunk he realized it would be better than trying to leave and start over.
Bobby was sitting on the same couch as he had been that morning when John walked into the apartment. He was holding something again, too, although this time it was too small to be a phone.
“Hey,” John said quietly.
“Hey,” Bobby returned.
“I’m an ass,” John admitted.
“Yeah, you are,” Bobby agreed.
“And I just wanted to-” John started, but this time Bobby was the one who cut him off.
“The wedding’s off,” Bobby told him.
John froze, not entirely sure he’d heard Bobby right. “What?”
“I talked to Rogue. Pretty much all day. I love her, I do, but…It’s pretty much always been you,” Bobby said.
John kept staring at him. He really should have a fucking response for this, but all he could think was that this was all some big cosmic joke. “What?”
“I’m in love with you, too,” Bobby said.
Big. Cosmic. Joke. That really wasn’t fucking funny. “Are you serious?”
Bobby scowled at him. “No, I’m just telling you this to fuck with you.”
That shook John enough to wake him up a bit. “But you’re straight. Aren’t you?”
“Kind of. I don’t know.” Bobby shrugged. “Can you just, say something that’s not a question?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, is this fucking inconveniencing you? When the fucking guy I’ve held a torch for, for fucking years, who’s never shown the slightest bit of interest in more than a platonic relationship with me and is fucking engaged to a really hot chick tells me that he’s in love with me, I think I’m fucking allowed a few minutes to ask questions,” John retorted.
“I had a crush on you, for a little bit. But it was confusing and I didn’t actually wonder if maybe I sort of loved you until you left and I realized just how much I missed you. But I loved Rogue, too, and she loved me back and you didn’t, so.” Bobby bit his lower lip. “And then when you came back I just convinced myself that it was all platonic and you weren’t interested and I really did love Rogue, so it worked pretty well.”
“So basically what you’re telling me is that if you hadn’t been a fucking dumbass and spoke up before, all of this could’ve been avoided and we could be having sex right now?” John asked.
Bobby glared at him. “You could’ve said something, too.”
“I did,” John replied. “Remember? This morning and you yelled at me about timing.”
“You had shitty timing,” Bobby protested.
John shook his head. “No, shitty timing would have been during my speech tomorrow, because the way things were going that’s what would have happened. Besides, I’d say this is-” And Bobby cut him off for the second time that night, but this time John didn’t really care, because Bobby shut him up by kissing him.
John expected Bobby to pull away too soon, but he didn’t, and he didn’t even object when John deepened the kiss. Something fell to the floor with a soft clatter, but John was too preoccupied to care what it was, especially when cool fingers curled gently around the back of his neck. John grabbed Bobby’s shirt and pulled him closer, pressing their bodies together. It still wasn’t as close as John would have liked, but Bobby seemed content to just stand there. John might’ve wondered if Bobby was really as interested in this, but Bobby seemed pretty damn into the kissing and when John took a chance and rocked his hips against Bobby’s, he got solid proof that, yeah, Bobby was fucking interested.
Bobby gasped softly into his mouth and broke the kiss, but he didn’t pull away and just panted slightly, lips barely an inch away from John’s.
John wracked his brain, searching for something to say, and for some completely unknown reason decided to settle on, “How did Rogue take it?”
Bobby gave a slightly disbelieving chuckle and rested his forehead against John’s. “Are you seriously asking me that question right now?”
Yeah, apparently John was seriously fucking asking him that question when what he really should be doing was kissing Bobby again before either of them came to their senses or something. “Hey, I’d like to know if I should be ready for her to fucking charge in here and touch me or something.”
“She was pissed,” Bobby admitted. “A lot. But we talked, and then Logan called, and he seemed pretty pleased at the news.”
John snorted. “I bet. Is he going to be gunning for you?”
“I don’t think so,” Bobby said. “He was on his way over to her place when I left.”
John smoothed his hand down Bobby’s shirt, toying with the hem. “Heh. They make one fucked up pair.”
“Like we have room to talk?” Bobby asked.
Huh. Good point. “So let’s not talk,” John suggested, and kissed Bobby again.
This time, though, John wasn’t content with just kissing, and he slid his hand under Bobby’s shirt, fingers playing along cool skin and firm muscle. He tugged impatiently at the fabric, like he could get Bobby’s shirt off without having to break their kiss if he just pulled hard enough. Unless he ripped it, though, that was sadly impossible, and John doubted Bobby’d be very pleased with him if he ripped his shirt. So he pushed the shirt up a bit, and then realized that he really needed to fucking pay more attention to what Bobby was wearing because there were buttons and he could undo them.
John probably should have waited until after he was done unbuttoning Bobby’s shirt, but John fucking hated waiting and he flicked his tongue out, running it across Bobby’s lips until they parted. Bobby’s mouth was cool, just enough that John could feel the temperature difference, and he swirled his tongue around Bobby’s. Bobby made a soft sound, low in his throat, and the next thing John knew, Bobby’s tongue was in his mouth. Bobby must have lowered his temperature a little bit, because his tongue was almost cold as he stroked it across the sensitive roof of John’s mouth. John’s hips rocked involuntarily, grinding against Bobby’s, and his hands fumbled hurriedly at the buttons on Bobby’s shirt, popping a few of them off as he pushed Bobby’s shirt open.
Bobby’s hand was still on John’s neck, so he couldn’t pull the shirt completely off, but it was open enough to reveal plenty of bare skin for John to run his hands over. Bobby’s muscles were slightly tense under his touch, but relaxed the more John traced his fingers across them. Bobby pulled away, panting again, but this time instead of saying anything John just pushed Bobby’s shirt over his shoulders and the rest of the way off, tossing it aside. Bobby hesitated for a moment, then his hands were pulling at John’s shirt. John helped him, chucking off his shirt and dropping it on the floor as well.
It landed on top of his foot and he glanced down as he went to kick it off. Something sparkly caught his eye, and he saw an open ring box with what used to be Rogue’s ring in it. Must have been what Bobby was holding, what had fallen when they started kissing. In a moment of stupid, pointless pettiness, John kicked his shirt in its direction and was pleased when the shirt landed on top of it and covered it.
Bobby was staring at him, looking kind of unsure, so John hooked his index finger under the waistband of Bobby’s pants and tugged.
“My room?” John asked, starting for it without waiting for an answer.
He wasn’t quite confident enough to go without looking, though, and was gratified (not fucking relieved, damn it) when he saw Bobby immediately going with him, nearly tripping over his fallen shirt before catching himself. John kicked off his shoes while Bobby closed the door behind them. John wasn’t fucking sure why, because no one else lived there, but whatever the hell Bobby wanted to do was fine, and then Bobby was suddenly kissing him again.
John moved them backwards, towards the bed, and when he pulled them both down onto it, Bobby climbed on top of him. For a moment, John considered asking Bobby if he even knew what the fuck to do on top, but didn’t because he didn’t really want to know exactly how creative he’d gotten with Rogue, and anyway, Bobby straddling his hips was enough to make his higher brain functions pretty much completely shut off.
Bobby leaned down towards him, and John expected another kiss, but Bobby stopped with their lips a few inches apart. John was ready to voice a complaint, but then he felt Bobby’s cool hand against his cheek, his thumb stroking along his jawline. John tilted his head into the touch, and Bobby moved his hand to trace his thumb across John’s lower lip. The touch was light, teasing, and John retaliated by parting his lips and swirling his tongue across the tip of Bobby’s thumb.
Another soft, pleased sound escaped Bobby’s throat and then Bobby pulled his hand away, scraping short fingernails down the side of John’s neck and then across his collarbone. He smoothed his hand down John’s chest, his thumb brushing over one of John’s nipples. Bobby pinched it softly and John arched upwards. Bobby grinned as his hand traveled lower, fingers playing down the center of John’s stomach, hovering around his navel and drawing tantalizingly close to the waistband of his pants. Bobby’s thumb slid under John’s jeans, rubbing in small circles against his skin, closer and closer until he stopped and moved back up to repeat the process in reverse.
Bobby ran his hands over every inch of John’s bare skin, exploring, soft ghosting touches that were hesitant at first and then moved with more confidence as John reacted, squirming when he reached sensitive spots and arching into his hands. God, Bobby’s fucking hands, and John nearly made a comment about Bobby being all hands, but thinking that made him realize that Bobby still hadn’t kissed him. Which was only a problem because John had a suspicion that he knew why, and it had to do with the main thing he really didn’t want to think about right then; Bobby and Rogue together.
“You can fucking kiss me, you know,” John informed him.
Bobby blinked, and John didn’t have to be a telepath to know that he was thinking something along the lines of shit. “Sorry.”
“Quit apologizing and do it,” John replied.
Bobby obeyed, and in his eagerness, his teeth scraped slightly across John’s lower lip. John bucked his hips against Bobby’s, and Bobby must have taken that as encouragement, because he did it again. John decided right then that it was really fucking past time for their pants to be gone and he reached down to unbutton and unzip his. He’d gotten them undone and was shifting around to try and push them down when Bobby hesitated and pulled back.
“What?” John asked, wavering between being fucking pissed off and slightly worried that Bobby was freaking out.
“Nothing. I just. Are we going too fast? I mean, yesterday I was engaged to Rogue and I was pretty sure I was mostly straight and I didn’t even know you liked me and –”
“You are such a fucking girl, Bobby,” John told him, reaching up to fumble with Bobby’s zipper and brushing his hand against Bobby’s erection through his pants. “I like you. I think this proves you’re not completely straight. If you say Rogue’s name again, I’ll punch you, and if we don’t start going faster I’ll kick you out and finish myself. That answer your questions?”
Apparently it did, because Bobby shifted so he could take off his pants and boxers and John took the opportunity to push his jeans the rest of the way down. Bobby leaned down again, kissing his mouth once before trailing kisses along his jaw.
“I’m not,” Bobby murmured against John’s skin.
“Not what?” John asked.
“Thinking of anyone but you.” Bobby pressed his lips against the spot just under John’s ear and began sucking on it.
John groaned and thrust his hips upwards, which prompted another moan as his bare erection slid against Bobby’s. Bobby’s breath hitched and his sucking faltered, and John grinned. Bobby may have been on top, but that didn’t mean John couldn’t take charge. He doubted Bobby’d ever been with another guy, after all. John slid his hand between them and wrapped his fingers around Bobby’s cock, giving it a long, slow stroke.
The reaction was instantaneous. Bobby gasped, jerked, and thrust against John’s hand. John stroked him again, still slow, despite the fact that Bobby’s hips were thrusting in quick, jerking motions. Bobby made a frustrated noise and his hand slipped between their bodies as well. John was ready to slap Bobby’s hand away and continue on as he pleased, but instead of reaching for his own cock, Bobby slid his fingers around John’s. Bobby’s grip was slightly hesitant, his fingers cool against John’s heat, and now it was John’s turn to buck as Bobby moved his hand.
Fuck. Oh, fuck. That had so not been part of the plan. Fuck Bobby and his stupid taking things into his own hands (fucking literally, which would have been amusing if John was thinking about anything but Bobby’s hand around him and the feel of Bobby’s cock in his own hand) and now John was moaning, thrusting his hips upwards in time with Bobby’s.
Bobby kissed him again, and this time when John stroked his tongue into Bobby’s mouth, Bobby caught it with his teeth and dragged them down it. This was accompanied by another stroke of Bobby’s hand and John almost lost it right there, but he held on, just long enough for Bobby to go back to the spot under his ear and start sucking again. John pumped his hand down Bobby’s erection, hard and fast. Bobby paused to murmur, “Fuck, Johnny,” and then maybe he’d intended to go back to sucking but had been a little too eager, or maybe he’d intended exactly what he did, but his teeth grazed sharply on the skin he’d just been sucking at.
Maybe it was that, or maybe it was Bobby saying his name the way he’d said it a few times in John’s best dreams, or maybe it was something of both, but John bucked his hips one last time and came, hard, hard enough that he didn’t even know exactly what he said. He was positive it was “fuck” and hoped it was just that, but he was pretty sure Bobby’s name was somewhere in there, too. Bobby thrust against him a few more times and John made an attempt at moving his hand again, but it didn’t matter because it was only a few seconds before Bobby was caught in his own orgasm.
Head tilted, muscles straining, and Bobby was fucking gorgeous and John wanted to keep looking and never stop, but then Bobby’s too-fucking-blue eyes locked on to his and John couldn’t look anywhere but at them. For a long moment, they stayed frozen like that, then Bobby collapsed down, half on top of him and half on top of the bed.
They were both breathing heavily and they stayed quiet, just laying there and waiting for their breathing to return to normal. It was only when John felt himself start slightly that he realized he’d been drifting off to sleep. Which, fuck, made a lot of sense when he remembered that he hadn’t slept last night.
“If we fall asleep like this, we’re going to be fucking pissed when we have to clean up tomorrow,” John murmured, despite the fact that his eyes were starting to close again.
“Mmm-hmm,” Bobby replied, sounding just as tired as he was.
Which made John wonder if Bobby’d been up all last night, too. Maybe John should apologize for worrying him. Or maybe not. John was never very good at apologizing. Then again, there were other ways of apologizing. John smirked slightly at the thought.
“What’s so funny?” Bobby asked.
John tilted his head to find Bobby staring at him. “You. Or maybe me.”
Bobby frowned slightly. “You’re not still drunk, are you?”
“Nope,” John replied.
“Kay. Good,” Bobby said, closing his eyes again. “Hey, Johnny? I wouldn’t let Rogue touch you.”
Yeah, it was definitely sleep time for Bobby. “Yeah, well. I wouldn’t let Logan come gunning for you, either,” John replied. “Go to sleep.”
Bobby settled against him and let out a soft, happy sigh, and John’s eyes slid shut. A few seconds later, just as John was falling asleep again, Bobby asked, “Hey, Johnny?”
“What?” John asked, not bothering to keep his annoyance out of his voice.
“Love you,” Bobby said.
And just like that, the annoyance was fucking gone. Not all of it, but enough. “Love you too, Frosty.”
~*~
For a little while, things were awkward. They all still had the same friends, and people weren’t quite sure what to say when Rogue, Bobby, and John were all in the same room. But Rogue began spending more time with Logan, and gradually became completely okay with things, and Bobby was obviously totally happy, and John, well, John was pretty much the same, although now he could kiss Bobby whenever the fuck he wanted.
Both John and Bobby ended up having to move out of their apartment anyway, though, because John’d signed a year long lease at the other place and couldn’t get out of it. And eventually Bobby’d said that, well, they only needed one room anyway, so it wasn’t cost-effective to keep paying rent for a place with two bedrooms. Fortunately, their old apartment managers had been very willing to let them out of their lease, since they had people lined up who were so eager to have the place that they were willing to pay more than what Bobby and John were paying.
So they were back to sharing a room again, which it turned out was infinitely better when they were also sharing a bed. Bobby was very near to graduating, and John was still slowly taking classes, but he had a nice stack of things he’d gotten published in their bookcase, and they still both taught at the Institute every now and then. And John didn’t think too much about his current situation, because when he did, he realized it was way too fucking much like the kind of shit he thought about doing whenever he and Bobby discussed the future as teenagers, the kind of shit he’d still sometimes thought about during his stint with the Brotherhood and gotten pissed at himself over.
Occasionally, John thought about the conversation he’d had with Rogue. He always figured he’d regret that conversation. And sometimes, he did. He didn’t have to have been such a dick to Rogue, after all. He could have been nicer to her and shit (he felt more charitable towards her now that Bobby was pretty damn safely and securely his). But then he thought about how it was probably one of those fucking chain reaction things. Like, if it hadn’t been for that conversation, maybe Rogue wouldn’t have come to bitch at him and he wouldn’t have gotten completely fucking drunk and come up with the brilliant (and that wasn’t a sarcastic brilliant) plan to tell Bobby everything. And since that brilliant plan was what lead to Bobby being his, completely fucking his, well. He wasn’t willing to risk it. For once, he’d gotten back something someone had borrowed, and he was never going to let go.
Someone nudged his arm, then, and he looked up with a glare.
“What?” he asked.
“You want a refill?” Bobby asked.
John glanced over to the waitress standing next to their table. “Oh. Uh, yeah, rum and Coke.”
She took his glass, along with a couple of others, and walked away.
“What were you spacing off about?” Kitty asked.
“Nothing,” John replied. “Just thinking about people who borrow things.” Okay, he was still a dick.
He glanced over at Rogue, expecting her to be pissed, but he couldn’t read her expression. She might not have even been paying attention. The group had gotten together at their favorite restaurant, but Rogue had already told them she’d be leaving early. She was meeting Logan.
“You’re so weird, John,” Jubilee informed him.
He just grinned at her, more a baring of teeth than a smile.
“And that’s why we like you,” Dani added.
John turned his smile onto her. It was mostly a real one this time, though sometimes he wondered if Dani, Sam, and Remy would like him half as much as they did if they’d been around before Alcatraz. John glanced next to him and saw that Bobby was smiling at her, too, in a way that would have made John jealous if Bobby hadn’t just spent fifteen minutes eating his salad with his left hand so he could hold hands with John under the table. Which was stupid and cheesy, and John only put up with it because Bobby’d pout if he didn’t, but still.
The conversations around the table picked up again, and John half-paid attention to some of them but wasn’t particularly motivated to join in. He rarely felt excluded from the conversation, something which had changed from his days at the Institute (especially when Rogue had been there), but sometimes he just didn’t feel like talking, and no one forced him to. Instead, he set up the drink and desert menu as a barrier, and flicked open his lighter behind it. He began playing with the fire, absently forming shapes and figures as his mind wandered.
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed (probably not much, since their food still hadn’t come) when he heard Bobby comment, “Don’t draw a heart around them, use a circle.”
John blinked at him. “The hell are you talking about?”
Bobby pointed and John glanced down to see that he’d formed the fire into a pencil shape and burned JA BD into the wooden table. He’d even started to draw a heart around them. Fuck.
“Why a circle?” John asked, pissed at what his stupid brain did when he let it do whatever it wanted.
“Because,” Bobby replied. “Hearts can break, but circles go on forever.”
John stared at him, then smirked. “Seriously, Bobby. You are such a girl,” he said, but he went back to the line he’d started to draw for a heart and turned it into a circle.
“Says the guy who just doodled our initials in the table,” Bobby replied, grinning at him.
Damn it, John was not going to blush. He was pissed, not embarrassed. And tipsy. Yeah, that was it. Even though he’d only had a drink and a half. Fuck logic. “Yeah, well. You know what else our initials make?”
Bobby stared at the drawing, then shook his head. “No. What?”
John smirked again and picked up his fire pen, writing BJ in the table. Bobby stared at it again, and John watched his face go from confused to surprised understanding. John let go of Bobby’s hand to run his fingers up Bobby’s thigh. Bobby looked up at him, eyes wide, and John winked.
“Gotta go to the bathroom,” John said, standing up. “If the food comes, no one touch mine.”
He sauntered off, and had only taken a few steps before he heard Bobby stammer that he had to go, too, and then Bobby was following him. Obviously, John still needed to teach him a little thing called subtlety. Oh, well. They’d have plenty of time for that. After all, circles went on for fucking ever.
(Cross-posted to
dry_ice)
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