Chapter 7

Crap.

Warren Worthington III, heir to the Worthington Empire, only son of Katherine and Warren Jr., philanthropist and connoisseur… could only think one word.

Crap.

This was going to burn, and he knew it. It was… difficult for him. Yes, he wanted to do this. He wanted to be an X-Man, to find a way to make it work. Apocalypse had shown him that he had to do this. The Avenging Angel could only do so much. The X-Men could make things better.

And Jean. He'd be lying if he said, at this point, that he didn't know. She'd be proud of him for this. Jean, who knew how to do the right thing. Jean, who wouldn't get the hell out of his head.

And Scott. Which was what the "crap" was all about.

Warren closed the door of his TT and took off the jacket, stretching his wings behind him. The freeing sensation of his tense wing muscles being allowed to move again was almost too good to be true, and almost made him forget, for just a second.

But… crap.

He threw his coat back inside the car through the window, and started down the walk. The door opened and his stomach jumped. Please, say it was…

Crap.

Scott Summers stepped out onto the front porch, and waved to him.

Warren put on his best businessman smile, reminded himself that he wasn't a bad guy, because he hadn't done anything wrong, and walked toward his friend.

Today had to be different. Today wasn't about his silly fantasies. Christy may have agreed that there was something there… but there wasn't, in truth. The girl had only been picking up on his attraction for Jean. Which was not worth ruining friendships over. And, temporarily, chances to do a little good in the world.

So he held out his hand to Scott and smiled at him as he stepped up on the porch. "Scott, good to see you."

The other boy took his hand, smiling back. Even his eyes smiled behind his ruby red shades.

There was no reason for him not to smile. Warren wasn't the bad guy. Even if Scott was the good guy.

"You too, Warren. I'm really glad you decided to do this. Jean is downstairs with Wolverine, their training is running late. I know I'm less scenic company, but if you don't mind I'll go ahead and show you the top secret stuff. She'll meet up with us later."

Warren followed him inside, careful not to comment on the "less scenic" observation. Christ. Hadn't he said something similar... something about the view in his apartment, with her there...?

Jesus. Please don't let it be this hard all day... "Danger Room," he managed to smile through his internal monologue, "I'm impressed. That sounds appropriately dramatic."

"The Professor has an interesting sense of humor," Scott was still smiling, this time a bit wryly. "You'll figure that out pretty quickly. I think you've seen all the upstairs stuff, right?"

"Yes," Warren nodded. He was actually fairly surprised as he followed Scott through the foyer toward a door he'd never been through before. Maybe his prayer of only moments ago was about to get answered, because… well, this was getting easy now. In fact… his stomach wasn't bothering him at all. The other boy's instant, friendly enthusiasm for the X-Men was… heartening.

Perhaps it would be okay, after all.

Perhaps.

Putting all thoughts of the other day at the coffee shop (… or seeing her wearing his giant sweatshirt to school… or the box in his nightstand with the emerald charm in it…) out of his head, Warren steeled himself for the tour.

XXX

Son of a bitch, Jean griped silently, dodging a blow from Wolverine as he lunged at her. She dropped to a roll and leapt up, balancing on the balls of her feet.

"Not bad, but yer gettin' slow, Red," Logan chuckled as he continued his attack.

"Well what do you expect?" Jean asked as she evaded another blow. Her breathing was getting more and labored, making the running commentary they'd been carrying on progressively difficult to maintain. "You've had me at this for more than an hour."

She had been less than impressed when Logan had appeared at the end of her workout with Scott, dismissing him and asking Jean to stay. The original plan had been for her to get cleaned up right after the workout so that she was showered and good to go for when Warren arrived. Jean felt horrible that she wasn't going to be ready, and hoped that Scott would take good care of her friend until she could escape.

No, their friend. Warren was just as much Scott's friend as hers, if not more so. Scott had known him much longer, had stayed in touch after their first meeting in New York. Jean reminded herself that she had absolutely no claim on Warren's friendship, and she'd better not forget that.

"Tough," he replied, offering her a wolfish grin. "You've been slackin' with school. You need the extra training."

"Bite me, Logan," the redhead growled, spinning and connecting with a powerful round-house kick to the man's lower back. She grinned triumphantly and shook her head, trying to get her ponytail to fall out of her eyes where it clung to her in damp ropes.

"Nice," Wolverine conceded before turning on her again.

"Thanks," Jean told him, dancing away from him on the sparring mat. "You know, you're making me late. I hate being late."

"An' that'd be my problem how?"

She grunted as she ducked and blocked a quickly-delivered combination of kicks and punches. "Well, that depends," Jean panted as she faked to the right then attacked from the left, her taped fist connecting with the older man's throat. "You've got a choice of Avril Lavigne or Justin Timberlake. Whose song would you rather have implanted in your head for the next month? 'Cause if you don't let me out of here, it's going to be either Girlfriend or Sexy Back. Your choice."

"That's playin' dirty, Jeannie," Logan observed as he lunged at her and wrapped his arms around her from behind, his arms like steal bands. "Good girl."

Letting her body go limp, she sagged in Wolverine's arms, gravity helping to pull her down. A well-aimed heel to his instep, her head butting back against his nose, and she was free. "What can I say? You've taught me well."

Jean rolled away and scrambled to her feet just in time to catch his foot in her stomach. Her breath was forced out of her in a rush, and she was suddenly on her stomach, Logan's knee digging into her back as he twisted her arms behind her.

"Gotcha, kid."

Fuck. Jean lightly thumped her forehead against the mat in frustration. Goddammit she hated it when Logan consistently kicked her ass in these matches.

Chuckling, Logan released her arms and climbed off her, letting her up. Jean rolled over quickly and got to her feet, rubbing her shoulders to ease the muscles that Wolverine had pulled when restraining her.

"Once more, Red, then you can go."

Glaring at him, Jean took her position on the sparring mat. Wiping the sweat off her face, she pushed her ponytail back out of the way. This had better be over quickly, or she really would be implanting those songs in his mind.

XXX

"She should be in here." Scott led Warren toward the gym, after having given him the full tour of the oh-so-dramatically titled Danger Room.

Warren had to admit things had been really... alright. Yeah, flashes of guilt here and there. But this was just Scott. Scott, leader of the X-Men, recruitment specialist, and all around Nice Guy. Hell, Warren was halfway wondering just why the hell he'd expected things to be so damn difficult in the first place...

When Scott opened the door to the gym, and led him inside.

He took a few steps in. And Jean was in there, indeed, with Wolverine. Long, red ponytail hanging down her back, little pieces of hair that had escaped clinging to her skin, dark with sweat. She wore a pair of small black workout shorts and a matching black sports bra. And tennis shoes.

And that was it.

Desperately, Warren tried to remove his eyes from her ass, which was looking even better at the moment than it had in those jeans he'd seen her in not so long ago. God, the way she moved... every curve on her was evident in this little get up... and she was just... so divine...

Stop looking at her ass, stop looking at her ass, her boyfriend is standing right next to you.

Oh shit. He couldn't stop.

"Ah... um," he stuttered, trying desperately to tear his eyes away and finally succeeding with something that honestly did resemble actual physical pain very closely. "So he works everyone out pretty hard?"

Scott looked over at him, smiling. He didn't look nearly as impressed as he should've, but he didn't look like he hadn't noticed the... scenery, either. His grin was a bit stupid.

Warren, for one, was simply glad he hadn't gotten "caught." Now that might've been awkward...

"Definitely. And he takes pleasure in it, believe me."

Warren smiled and gave a short laugh as Scott turned his attention back to the sparring match. Warren followed his gaze almost greedily...

And had to admit... he'd probably take pleasure in it too, from the looks of things.

XXX

The final match had just begun when Jean finally felt it – two familiar presences tingling in her mind. And while she should have been able to take notice of them and continue on as normal, as tired as she was by this point it was enough to distract her. Especially the sudden flash arousal that flared from the spot in the back of her mind where she could detect them.

Well, that was… intriguing.

Taking just a split second to cast a quick, surprised glance in the direction of Scott and Warren, she created enough of a window for Wolverine to make his move. He crouched and expertly swept her feet out from under her, and the next thing Jean knew she was on her back, having hit hard, the wind knocked out of her.

Oh God. Kill me now.

Lying on the mat, eyes closed, legs bent and the knees, feet flat on the floor, Jean stayed there for a moment while she tried to catch her breath... and rid herself of the burning embarrassment of going down so quickly in front of the boys. Oh hell, who was she kidding? In front of Warren. Scott had seen her taken out on countless occasions. But this would hardly impress their visitor. And damn but she was angry with herself.

"What happened, Red?" Wolverine demanded, standing over her, straddling her legs.

"I lost focus," she admitted, knowing it was pointless to try to come up with excuses.

He snorted. "No shit." After a few seconds, Jean opened her eyes and met the feral man's piercing gaze, and he extended his arm to help her up. Grasping his hand, and grateful at this point for the assistance, she let Logan pull her to her feet. "Other than fuckin' the dog on that last match, not a bad session," he told her, patting her on the shoulder and motioned toward Scott and Warren with his chin. "Go play with yer friends."

Nodding in acknowledgment of the compliment (and for Logan that was, indeed, a compliment), Jean turned and gave the boys a wave before heading over to the bench along side of the mat to pick up her water bottle and towel. Draping the towel behind her neck, she used one end to dry her face, then took a long drink of water. She was stalling, she knew, and she couldn't put it off any longer.

"Hey," Jean greeted with a smile as she approached Scott and Warren, her breathing still a little bit labored from the workout, body still covered in sweat. She hoped that they would just chalk up her burning cheeks to being flushed from the workout.

"Hey," Warren smiled stupidly. He kept his eyes on hers with an extreme amount of effort. Admittedly, he'd managed to swipe them over her once or twice while she'd been walking their direction...

But damn. It was just wrong.

"You look...," good. Shit. Scott. Right. Okay, now things were about to get hard. "Great out there," he finished honestly enough, directing the compliment to her skills rather than her fine ass in that cotton/spandex blend. "Almost makes me excited about the fact that I too could have my ass kicked every day, if only I joined up."

He smiled and thought maybe he should look over at Scott. But he couldn't. Jean was here now.

Jean laughed, pleased by the compliment, but embarrassed by the fact that yes, she had had her ass kicked out there. "Thanks," she told him, then paused to take a drink of water. Her mouth seemed very dry all of a sudden. "You get used to it after a while. You make friends with the mat, get used to seeing it up close and personal – and often – as Logan demonstrates time and time again why you need more training."

She then turned accusatory eyes on Scott. "And you. How come you didn't have to stick around for an extra hour of abuse?"

Scott shrugged and grinned first at Jean, then at Warren. "Guess I'm just in better shape," he said smugly, mostly joking. "Logan didn't think I needed it. From that last display, you obviously did."

In spite of how tired she was, Jean demonstrated just how fast she could be by whipping her leg out to the side and kicking Scott on the ass. It was a hard enough blow to make him stumble a few steps as he laughed, but not hard enough to actually hurt him.

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry," Scott said with a laugh as he reached out and tugged gently on her ponytail, earning a scowl from the redhead. "It wasn't fair of Logan to single you out, and I won't let it happen again. And you really did look great out there, especially considering how hard he'd had you working. Happy?"

Jean cocked an eyebrow at him, then looked to Warren for his opinion.

Warren's opinion was delayed, however, by sheer surprise.

Not that he thought it was in the least disrespectful or inappropriate, the way they were behaving. In fact, it was really very sweet, and it was perfectly clear that the two of them were extremely close...

But not in a way that inspired jealousy. In a way that reminded him, very much... of a brother and a sister.

Not that he and Jean didn't mess around like that themselves. He remembered attempting to subdue her redheaded rage on the couch with quite a great deal of fondness, in fact. Particularly the part where it ended with her in his lap.

But that... they had been flirting. Harmlessly, yes, to her. But flirting.

Tugging a girl's ponytail was only flirting if you were nine years old. Warren knew-- he'd done it many, many times as a child.

"I ah...," he stuttered, then smiled, holding out his hands as if in surrender. "I'm not gonna get in the middle of this one. But he definitely sounds sorry to me."

Of course, he meant that in a different way than it sounded. Because... damn. If he had Jean... he would never...

Again, not that it was bad. But... damn. When he'd been talking to Christy about how Scott never seemed like a real boyfriend, or whatever she'd said... he had actually expected that it'd just be a theory. Not something that extended into practice.

Jean rolled her eyes in mock annoyance. "I should have guessed you'd side with him," she complained to Warren, lips twitching into a smile just to let him know she wasn't really upset with him.

Turning to Scott, she swatted his arm lightly. "Be nice or I'll tell Warren just how many times I've dropped you on that thing," Jean told him, motioning back at the mat.

Scott laughed and his hand moved from her pony tail to the back of her neck in spite of the fact that sweat was still trickling down her skin, squeezing gently. "Aw, c'mon, Jean, I've got a reputation to maintain here. You wouldn't want to embarrass me like that, would you?" he jokingly pleaded.

Shrugging Scott off (she hated being touched when she was all sweaty and gross, and he knew it), Jean took a step away from him and closer to Warren. Scott rolled his eyes at her, behind his glasses. "Try me," she told him, smiling sweetly.

"Anyway," Jean turned to Warren, crossing her arms over her chest as she suddenly realized how little she was wearing... and feeling self-conscious in her workout clothes for the first time ever. Although she suspected that was in part due to that spike of intense attraction she'd felt from… well, to be honest, she couldn't be sure who it had been from, short of doing some prying. Which she wouldn't do. She would have assumed it was from Scott, but… well, he'd never reacted that strongly to seeing her working out before. The possibility that it had been Warren's reaction was something she really didn't want to think about.

"Sorry I got tied up down here. I'd wanted to be ready when you got here, but Logan apparently had other plans. Have you been given the grand tour yet?"

"Yeah, actually," Warren answered, smiling down at her, his battle to pay attention having been won for the moment. "Scott did a good job with that," he made himself look over at the other boy now, half relieved, half in pain. "At least, of the downstairs. Most of the upstairs stuff I remember from after Apocalypse."

And then back to Jean. "And no worries about being 'late'. I don't think I'd argue with Logan either," he raised his eyebrows once. And let himself stare. This time at her eyes. Just for a second.

It felt... comfortable. Scott wouldn't think anything of it. After all, they were talking...

Jean held his gaze and smiled back. It was so good to see him. And to see him here, of all places. Finally on her own turf, so to speak.

"Logan's not really as scary as he likes people to believe," she told Warren with a wink.

"Well, unless you make him mad," Scott interjected with a chuckle. "Then... yeah, run."

With a laugh, Jean reached out and squeezed Scott's hand briefly. "What are your plans for the next little while?" she asked him.

"I figured I'd show Warren some of the equipment we've got in here," Scott replied, glancing over at Warren to see if the plan sounded ok to him and continuing when he got a nod of agreement, "then head back upstairs and see if anyone else is around."

Jean nodded. "Ok, I'm going to go get cleaned up. I feel gross," she said with a grimace, then smiled over at Warren. "So give me half an hour, and then I'm all yours." To Scott, she said teasingly, "Try not to scare him off with your hard core Fearless Leader routine, ok?"

Jean then took Warren's large hand in hers and squeezed it like she had Scott's, smiling at her friend. "I'm glad you finally made it," she told him. "I'd hug you but...," she glanced down at herself and made a face, "ugh. Sorry."

Warren managed a smile. Somehow. And then he forced himself not to watch her retreat. To follow her boyfriend up the stairs instead.

It wasn't the easiest thing he'd ever done in his life. But he could do it. Really, he could.

XXX

"And you may or may not remember our lovely kitchen," Scott led him into the brightly lit room, waving his hand around with mock-magnanimity. "Feeling hungry?"

Warren smiled. "Yeah, a bit."

Things had been... back to okay. With the notable absence of Jean. Oh-so-notable.

This obsession was so far out of control. Jean had grabbed Scott's hand, after all, before she'd left. That had been really sweet, and girlfriend-like. He was overreacting to the kicking in the ass... and the ponytail pulling... and all the other ridiculously sibling-like interaction he'd just witnessed.

After all, they had sort of grown up together.

That was it. Surely.

... and now he was creeping himself out. Moving on.

"Hey hey, it's Superchicken!"

Warren closed his eyes, and shook his head. He'd know that voice anywhere. The two times he'd met the kid, he'd been nothing but trouble.

Yet... he had to admit, he kind of... liked Bobby Drake anyhow.

"Wings in the hizzy, yo," the boy in question appeared beside him with a mullet-toting blonde boy in tow. "What's up?"

Warren cocked an eyebrow and looked down into brown eyes. "Grand tour."

"Warren's thinking he might be spending more time here," Scott started toward the fridge now. "So no scaring him off."

"Moi?" Bobby looked appalled, and elbowed his accomplice, a boy Warren was pretty sure was called Sam. Cannonball, either way. "I'm so not scary."

"Ya scare me," Cannonball informed him with a crooked grin before following Scott to the fridge.

Bobby ignored him and looked to Warren again. "So, gonna hang out. Be an X-Man. Join the crowd. Be Scott's wing man--"

"Bobby!" Scott's voice came from inside the fridge.

Warren was laughing though. Interesting, anyhow. Even if he had no clue how to respond to this kid...

"The walking snow cone machine would be smart to watch himself," Jean warned, half joking, as she entered the kitchen, showered and clean, and feeling much better than she had 35 minutes ago. Her hair was still a little damp, but she'd dried it as best she could. She'd caught the tail end of that little exchange as she'd approached, rolling her eyes at Bobby's behavior.

"Aw, c'mon, Jeannie," Bobby complained loudly, adopting a face of pure innocence as he turned pleading brown eyes on her. "I wasn't doing anything."

"Sure you weren't." She ruffled his hair as she passed him, and the younger boy moped off, chattering to Sam and Scott now as he added his head to theirs inside the fridge.

Jean shook her head, chuckling slightly as she crossed to where Warren was standing. She stopped close to him, then hopped up onto the counter, sitting close enough that her knee was just brushing his hip.

"So what'd I miss?" she asked, nudging Warren gently with her knee.

Warren very nearly brought his hand up to rest on her thigh. Why that seemed to be an acceptable compulsion, initially, he had no idea, but he was vaguely disturbed by the ease with which he could've executed the action. But she was just barely touching him with her knee... and she was smiling so happily.

She was happy to see him.

The thought sent a rush of adrenaline through his system, made his entire circulatory system speed up just slightly. She really was happy to see him.

Not that she'd seemed so unhappy before, downstairs. But she'd been distracted. Right here, now, it was like there was no one else in the world.

"Other than Scott threatening Bobby," he grinned and leaned on the counter with his hip, turned toward her, tucking his wings up carefully out of the way, "nothing much. Just hanging out. You know. The guys. Doing guy stuff."

His grin became slightly crooked as he said it.

But he was happy to see her too.

Jean raised her eyebrows in amusement, the corners of her mouth twitching as she tried (and failed) to look serious. "Guy stuff, huh," she nodded her head. "Sounds ominous."

Bracing her hands behind her, Jean leaned back slightly, careful not to smack her head against the cupboard. From her perch, she could pretty much meet Warren eye to eye, and she cocked her head at him, curious and teasing. "So what did that entail – belching contests, crushing beer cans on your foreheads, that kind of thing?"

"Everyone ok with roast beef sandwiches?" Scott asked, pulling his head part way out of the fridge and looking back at them with a questioning smile.

Jean pulled her eyes away from Warren's, glancing back at Scott with a smile. "Sounds good to me," she replied, then cocked her head at Warren, inquiringly.

Warren nodded, not really too concerned about what he was going to eat. He'd been hungry before, but now… well he could take it or leave it. He went back to the conversation, quietly enough that not everyone in the room could hear what he said. "I'm great at the beer can thing. See, you've only been around me when I'm drinking wine. There's a whole other side to that, you know…" He was teasing her. Sort of. But she was smiling and he couldn't resist the urge to make her smile… well, more. Hell, maybe he'd even get a laugh.

Jean rolled her eyes, but it was obviously half-hearted and completely for show. She reached out and flicked a lock of blonde hair out of his eyes as a grin suddenly broke through her attempts at mockery. And she laughed, letting her hand come to rest on Warren's shoulder.

"I'm so going to make you crush a beer can against your forehead the next time we get together," she informed him, still laughing.

Warren beamed. There it was! That was exactly the thing he'd wanted, that laugh. Just the sound of it…

"Mayonnaise?"

Jean stopped laughing and looked up at the source of the slightly… curt question. Never before had she heard the name of a condiment sound quite so unpleasant, in fact.

She shrugged. "I'd eat Kitty's cooking right now, so whatever," and hopped off the counter to help her boyfriend arrange the fixings. He always got irritated when people didn't pitch in with every little thing. Excuse her for trying to entertain the guest!

Warren, however, was frozen.

Scott's eyes were on him now, and Warren was fairly sure that even if those ruby shades hadn't been there, they would've been blazing bright red anyhow.

Smooth, Worthington. Imply that you've been drinking with his girlfriend, sidle up to her incredibly gorgeous legs while she's on the counter and then let her play with your hair and lean on your shoulder. Really, just bloody brilliant.

Jackass.

"Oh you did not just take the last pudding cup!" Came the explosion from the fridge.

Just like that, Scott was back to Scott—calm, big brother half entertained while wearing that expression that said he knew he shouldn't be. He turned his attention to the fake fight breaking out nearby, where Bobby was… well, slapping at his blonde friend. Sam joined in till it was an all out girl fight over the pudding cup (which was nowhere to be seen at first, but Warren later spotted on the counter).

"Take it outside, or the pudding is mine," Scott announced in his best Calm Fearless Leader voice.

This sent the younger boys running, still faux-slapping and kicking at each other like five year old girls. And left Warren to realize that he hadn't been breathing for the last minute or so. He felt a little faint. You know, because he was a jackass.

"Come and get it," Jean looked over her shoulder at him and smiled brightly, waving him toward the table. She caught his eye and noticed he looked… a little off. She cocked her head at him questioningly. He looked a little pale.

Warren forced a smile out and started toward the table, but he couldn't give her anything else. She hadn't seen it, which was something to be grateful for. Something big, actually. He flicked his gaze back to Scott nervously, but the other boy was back to smiling at him, holding out a loaf of bread.

"Help yourself to Xavier's home cooking," Scott even cracked an almost-joke.

Smile painted painfully onto his face, Warren accepted the bread with what he hoped was an amused-sounding, "thanks." And proceeded to make a sandwich while the other two chattered away like nothing was wrong.

How he could face down a Board of Directors, several hostile investment firm CEOs and single-handedly convince dogged mortgage bond salesmen to leave him the hell alone and come up smelling like roses, he'd never know. But whatever it was, it didn't extend to his own peers.

And even if it had only been a flash he'd seen in Scott's eyes… Warren was left with a sick feeling in his stomach. That feeling that said things would never be the same.

Just because he wanted to make her laugh.

And things had been going so well.