[For Bobby] Fear and Paranoia in London.

[prodigalflame]

After bumping into Em at the New Artist Fair, John thought about stalking around the streets of London for a while. He'd stayed to look at some of the other artists, but only as long as he thought necessary: now, especially now, he was just being a college kid again, just some irate doofus who made stupid comments about art. Nothing to see here, thank you very much.

If he hadn't have been so furious, he might have been concerned at how easily he dove into habits of a life gone by: checking where the CCTV was, keeping the collar of his jacket up, careful to cross roads in the thick of a crowd. Always assuming that someone might be watching. Just because that red-headed fascist hadn't shown up to put the word up him again didn't mean they weren't around.

Because now they were after Em, it seemed. And from Em, to him, and from him to Bobby.

In the end he'd moved from the fair back to the house with a predator's efficiency through the afternoon throng: kicking it around the streets wasn't the right thing to do. He was too intense for that, too cursed with dark thoughts and darker desires, and they kept stewing in his mind. And again, wandering around London while being stone cold sober was just asking for someone to wonder what the fuck he was up to.

So he let the gate latch close behind him with a clink, opened up the door like any normal person, and casually closed it behind him. Striding down the corridor, he was like a different man, in a different house; wary, coiled tight, the walking wounded, and practically hopped over the back of the couch to land there, knees pulled up, and didn't look at the TV or his boyfriend. Didn't especially care if he'd interrupted Bobby watching what the fuck ever.

"Some people came looking for Em," he announced, in a hard tone. "Possible kidnap attempt, possible damage intended." He wasn't sure which would be worse. Finally then, he pulled his lighter out, rubbed it across a palm. "I think someone's looking for us." And only then did he let himself look at Bobby.

Comments

[cold_blueeyes]

Bobby wasn't completely oblivious. The moment John hurdled the couch, he could pick up on the stress coming from him, and he looked away from the TV, concerned. Before he got a word out, though, John was talking, and his words sent a chill through him that had nothing to do with his mutation. He sat up straighter, frowning.

"What? Why? What happened? Is Em okay?" The questions spilled out right on top of each other as John's tension started affecting him, too. He didn't understand. Why would anyone be looking for them? They were nobodies now, just normal people going about their lives. They weren't in the news anymore, no one remembered what they were. He liked it that way.

[prodigalflame]

"Yeah, she's fine, she had help." Not that Em had told her who or what the help was. Other mutants? Possible. John didn't like to think about that, didn't like to think about someone else he had to measure himself against. Crossing his arms, the lighter absently dragged under his bottom lip, the metal cold against skin. "I invited her over for dinner sometime, make her feel a little more at home. Keep an eye out for her." He glanced up at Bobby, wondering if that would come too close to 'patrol' to not tweak some nerves.

There was something sourer as he looked at Bobby, disappointed at what he saw there. Some fucking hero his boyfriend had turned out to be. But even back in the day, Bobby hadn't really risen to the occasion. John had been the one to use his powers first and foremost, aggressively if needed. Hell, Rogue had had more initiative than Bobby.

"She doesn't think it's about us, but come on. She doesn't even exist in the fucking universe, how else is someone gonna just happen to find her in London?" His scorn was obvious.

[cold_blueeyes]

If John was expecting Bobby to have a problem with keeping an eye on their friend after she'd been attacked, he was going to be surprised. Bobby nodded curtly at John's words. "Yeah, good idea."

As much as he hated to admit it, John's logic did make some sense. "Wait, but how would they know she's a mutant, in that case?" he pointed out as the thought occurred to him. "Maybe it was just a random thing." Which didn't mean he wouldn't be on his guard going forward. He wasn't taking chances. If someone had found out what Em was, it wasn't at all a stretch to think they could know about him and John too, and wouldn't it be convenient? Two mutants at one address.

He glanced toward the front of the house, wondering if they were safe here, even.

[prodigalflame]

"I dunno. I've met mutants who could gauge other people's powers. What else distinguishes Em, she's a fortune teller from another damn reality. It can't be a random thing," John said, stubbornly, clinging to it like it was a mantra, something strong and dependable, a truth he needed. "It's always about us. It's always about someone coming after us." It was almost a monotone, drained of emotion.

And that was it, wasn't it, deep down. Not just the anger that had pooled in his gut all the way from the Fair, but the fear underlying it, the notion that all this could be taken away in an instant, that someone might chain him and cage him and dose him up with cure. He caught Bobby's backwards glance, and looked that way too: the corridor turned, so you didn't get a clear line of sight between the front door and the lounge. It seemed to echo, empty and dark, looming with possible threats. And the windows in the solid brick wall with the fireplace were high up and small, designed for winter. No way of seeing out that way.

Taking a ragged breath, he bit at his lip and curled up tighter, clutching at the zippo in his hand protectively. They weren't gonna take that from him again. No fucking way.

[cold_blueeyes]

"I don't think we should jump to conclusions," Bobby said, trying not to freak out at the thought that someone could be hunting them. "It's not like that anymore. You know that. I'm not saying it's not about us for sure, but it might not be." But John had made another good point. A mutant that could gauge other people's powers? He had never met one, but he wasn't entirely surprised by the notion that they existed. And there were psis, too. Hell, even someone with powers like Em's could potentially find them.

"We'll be careful. Take precautions. Be on guard until we know more," he said, hoping that might reassure John, even though it wasn't really reassuring him. "And we'll keep an eye on Em too, definitely. But...not overtly. I don't want her to think we don't think she can take care of herself, you know?" He knew he would be rather offended if someone started trying to babysit him. "If someone comes for any of us...we'll deal with it." He hated the thought of fighting again, of using his powers offensively, but if it came to it, he'd do it without hesitation. He'd trained as an X-Man. He could damn well take care of the people that mattered to him now, even if he wasn't playing hero anymore.

[prodigalflame]

Ever reasonable. Always dependable. Cautious, careful, sensible. For the first time in a long time, John felt some old insult about Bobby the good little corporal, Bobby the Boy Scout, Bobby Who Always Does What He's Told, rose again in the back of his head. So he breathed. He took one breath after another as he'd been taught to in prison and the thick, murky mix of fear and panic receded a little, at least until he could look at his boyfriend again without contempt.

"You're right. It's not the same. But that's part of the trouble." More acutely than ever, John missed the way things were, the way he was, and wiped the beginnings of tears from his eyes. "I know you didn't like it. I know you like...this. But you there were 5 countries with anti-discrimination laws about mutants, and Dr McCoy had been in the White House and United Nations, and college kids wanted to know what it was like to be a mutant. We were even kind of cool," he observed, wistfully - even if most of his fellow students had gotten everything wrong, the attempt had to mean something. "And if anyone attacked a mutant, you'd get protests and banners and people telling the Friends of Humanity to fuck off outta Manhattan." Sure, not everyone had been fun and welcoming, and there were always (sadly accurate) reports of all sorts of underground testing on mutants by governments and military, but Magneto had shut the fuck up, the civil strife had ended...it was better than it had been.

"Now if someone tries to put me in a cage and pump me full of cure, who the hell would know what was going on? Except you." And indirectly, Bobby had been responsible for his stint in prison the first time. Not that John held it against him. But he did remember.

[cold_blueeyes]

John's words made Bobby feel a wave of guilt. Sure, life was easier for him like this, but it was selfish of him to enjoy it as much as he did. What about the other mutants out there, that didn't have such a good life? What about the mutants that couldn't pass as human, that now had to hide?

He looked down and nodded. "No, yeah, I get that," he said softly, and then looked up at John again. "But I'm not gonna let that happen to you, John. Not as long as I'm still breathing." He wanted to move close to John, to hold him and share his strength, because John seemed like he needed it, but he hesitated. After that speech, he almost felt like he didn't deserve to comfort him right now. After all, here he was, enjoying their situation even though he knew it was upsetting to John. That John had lost as much as Bobby had gained when everyone had forgotten them.

In the end, though, his compassion and love was stronger than his guilt, and he sighed softly, shifting closer and slipping an arm around John's shoulders. "Whatever's going on, we'll keep each other safe. We may not have all of the other stuff anymore, but we have each other."

[prodigalflame]

John settled into that embrace with a weary sigh, feeling worn out and tired beyond his years. The sour mess of emotion in him had burst and left him empty and drained. "So I got to trade having an infamous reputation for having you, huh?" He reached to run a hand down Bobby's arm, entwining their fingers together. "Pretty decent trade."

Taking another breath, he mentally scouted around for something else to say, a way of reaffirming. "Yeah. We'll take care of each other. And Em, and any other wonderful freak who needs it. And I am definitely not gonna end up in a cell." That was certain, voice low and heavy with emotion. Part of him thought he'd burn down all of London before letting them do that to him - to any mutant - again. Except which other mutant had killed as many people as he had?

"Em does think it's to do with her dad. The one here, I mean." That was an admission, and one he knew probably would have saved them all a lot of bother if he'd mentioned it about five minutes ago. But he refused to reveal the exact depth of his fear and worry: Bobby didn't need to know that, didn't need to see him like that. He was the strong one now, wasn't he? He wasn't about to go blubbering about how prison had broken him, because he wasn't fucking broken.

[cold_blueeyes]

Bobby smiled a little and squeezed his hand. "I'm glad you think so," he said quietly, leaning his head against John's.

There was no way Bobby would let John up in a cell again, not unless he did something to deserve it, and even then...well, he wouldn't think about that. John wouldn't do anything to deserve it, he was pretty sure. He hoped.

"Yeah? Maybe it is. Maybe it's not. And even if it is, if they're after her..." he shook his head. "I don't like it when people attack my friends, no matter what their reason. We'll help her stay safe." He rubbed his arm over John's bicep, nuzzling his hair a little. "We both know how to fight if it comes to that." And if Em's safety was in danger, he would fight. Not to kill, not unless there was no other way, but he could disable quite nicely, thanks. Freeze a gun, lock someone in place with a nice block of ice for shoes, spray a blast of needle-sharp ice shards into someone's face to distract and disorient...he hadn't used those skills in years, but he knew they were right there at his fingertips if ever he needed them.

[prodigalflame]

If he didn't think so, he wouldn't be here. John didn't waste his time. Or other people's, really. If anything, that was somewhat terrifying: having to recognise every morning that he got up and studied and cooked food and lived a life and actually thought this would work, despite sense and fear and resentment and history. That the thing which kept him from pulling a massive fight and kicking Bobby to the curb was not blind faith, but genuine trust.

"We do," John observed after a pause, because everything else he could possibly say - a glib jibe about how Bobby was nice enough to dislike his friends being attacked, or assuming Em needed their help when Bobby wasn't even in the hero business anymore - would have made things worse. Oh, he still knew what to say, how to cut, but he'd learned to not say things. Instead he just knew he was capable of it, which was....the way things were. Blah blah, John Allerdyce was a horrible human being, blah blah blah.

And while John thought it might reassure Bobby in some way to know that he'd practiced enough in the years since Alcatraz to not just burn and blast away at things, detailing what he was capable of now would probably just bring up everything he had done with his powers. Oh, he was still a killer, he knew that. Certain stains could never be cleaned. But he could also disarm, capture, wound - depending on how callous he felt, he could be quite mean. Just like old times.

Instead he just snuggled in closer to his boyfriend and didn't say anything more. "Thanks. But like I said, she's got some other help." Was it really their job, come to think of it? Bobby was off the team, and John had never been on it. "It's not all up to us, you know?" John had run the moment the mansion had come under attack, washed his hands and tried to get out. Some things didn't change. And if Em didn't want to admit who her mysterious protector was, well. Fuck it. John wasn't gonna stick his neck out for someone keeping secrets from him.

[cold_blueeyes]

Bobby moved a hand up to John's hair, running his fingers through it slowly as John nestled against him. "I know it's not, but I'm not just gonna count on someone else to take care of her, you know? She's one of us," he said quietly, closing his eyes. He really hoped it wouldn't come to a fight, really hoped they weren't being hunted, but...he would be ready if they were.

But for now, he would just keep John close, cling to the sense of safety in his arms, in their little house together.