[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]

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.