Archive of Our Own ^beta

Julian kinda hates seeing David with Tommy Shepherd. Not in a vindictive way. And definitely not in a jealous way. It’s just that David’s different when he’s with Tommy. Or maybe he’s just different since coming back to life. Or, it’s the shots the two of them had downed with Roxanne right at arrival.

Apparently drunk David is touchy-feely. And new David has no qualms about dressing as Emma fucking Frost, Julian’s once-mentor, for Halloween. It’s her first suit as an x-man, one she’d worn—if only occasionally—while they were at school. Complete with impossibly short zip up shorts, x emblazoned thigh highs, and an adhesive wrap around top that Julian is pretty sure defies the laws of gravity, and stops short of covering anything that isn’t nipple.

Yea.

Frankly, it makes Julian and his B rated vampire costume feel lame.

He’s not ashamed to admit he gets a little lost in the patch of dark skin peeking out under the shorts. Emma (and her costumes) had undeniably been a major player in his teenage sexual development and David was…

Well, David is stretched out on the floor, back pressed against his boyfriend’s side. They’ve sequestered a corner of the main room, opposite Cess and Roxanne, who are entangled on a tiny bright pink loveseat, one of the few bits of furniture that’d made it from NY. Not to be outdone, one of Speed’s hands rests in David’s hair, and it doesn’t seem to bother him at all as he waves his beer around in the throes of an impassioned speech Julian tries hard to ignore.

He’s familiar with the David that’s prone to lecturing after a few drinks. He’s not familiar with the David that plans couples costumes—while Speed’s look is understated, those red glasses (a visual gag half the room can’t appreciate) are unmistakable—and leaves his legs on showcase.

David’s eyes meet his, and Julian realizes he’s been staring. Well, hell if he’s loosing by looking away first. The impromptu staring contest doesn’t stop David from finishing his point, voice rising perceptibly.

“I’m just saying if there’s ever a time to just strap in and enjoy the ride, it’s if Apocalypse offers to fuck you.”

Julian guffaws. What the hell had he just missed?

Prodigy: 2. Hellion: 0.

Cess asks, “Is that was that was? I thought it was, like, a father-son thing?”

“Is he even bisexual?” Tommy asks.

David pouts, “You weren’t listening.”

Nori, having been pulled into the conversation by David’s exclamation, says, “He’s been alive for, like, 1000 years, he’s not straight.”

“4,793,” David says. “And no, he’s not straight, as Rictor can attest.”

“I think we’re getting away from the point.” Roxy says, “David, he’d destroy you.”

“I think I could handle it.”

A collective exhale of skepticism ripples through the group.

David sits up fully. Under the sparse light his smoky white eyeshadow seems to glow. His face is flushed dark beneath the glitter brushed over his nose. “You’re telling me that if Apocalypse were to proposition you, right here, right now; you’re saying no?”

“Don’t look at me.” Roxy says, hands raised in the universal signal for ‘I’m not in it’, “He’s not my type.”

David turns to his boyfriend. “Tommy?”

“Well, I… I mean, I’d have a few—“

“Ah-da-da,” David waves his hand in Speed’s face, effectively shutting him up. Which doesn’t make Julian grin into his stale beer. “Julian, back me up.”

“What?”

“Back him up, Julian,” Cess smirks.

David shushes her. It’s not just his eyes on Julian, but his are the only ones that feel like they matter. “Yea, um… Apocalypse is pretty badass… so.”

“So, you’d let him fuck you?” Nori asks.

“I don’t know about his dick penetrating any holes, but I… I think we could have a good time.”

“And that’s fine.” David says. “Sex is what you make it.”

Speed says, “You’re kinda changing the goal post, Davey.”

“No, I am not.”

“He isn’t,” Roxanne says at the same time. “Fucking doesn’t have to involve a dick.” Cess nods enthusiastically, and Tommy says something that might be a rebuttal, but Julian can’t quite make out from his vantage point.

“Okay, let’s settle this, anyone who wouldn’t fuck Apocalypse, drink.” David crosses his legs and the shorts ride up, fabric stretched taut against his crotch. Which is kind of fascinating, because holy fuck, where did he even put his dick.

Julian looks away, straight into Cess’ appraising gaze. He mouths “Fuck off,” at her and the ridge above her eyes quirks up. That makes two times he’s been caught already tonight. Shit.

Prodigy: 2, Hellion: -1.

“Are we doing drinking games,” Vic asks, wandering over.

“We can be.” Nori says, making space so he can join the (already overcrowded) love seat.

“We have to finish this one first,” David says. “I’ve yet to see anyone drink.”

“I think you’re the only one that needs to drink.” Roxanne says.

“No, I said drink if you wouldn’t.” David’s tone makes it clear he’s getting annoyed. Roxanne’s makes it clear she finds that amusing.

“It kinda makes more sense to drink if you would.” Nori says.

David sighs, “Whatever, let’s just do it.”

“Julian come play, too.” Cess says.

“I was already going to,” he replies, but he does move closer, settling on the floor, near-ish David (and his boyfriend).

“Wait,” Vic says, “what’s the question.”

“Drink if you would fuck Apocalypse,” Cess says.

“3, 2…”

“Fuck, let’s just do it.”

David takes a drink. Julian drinks in solidarity. Cess takes a drink.

It’s Roxanne’s turn to gape at her girlfriend. “Seriously?”

Cess shrugs, “It is once in a lifetime dick. Besides, physical limitations aren’t really a thing for me.”

“Exactly,” David rocks forward, standing on his knees to offer Cess a high five. Julian didn’t get a high five. “It’s once in a lifetime dick. And Vic,” he adds, settling back, “it’s a no?”

“Solid no.” Vic says, “But if we’re talking ex-quiet council members, Magneto—“

Tommy slams his hands over his ears, almost frighteningly fast, “La, la, la, la, la, la, la. I can’t hear you!” he shouts.

“God, how did we get here,” Nori moans into her empty beer.

“I think we could all use a refill,” Cess stand, kicking Julian lightly in the side. “Come help me?” she phrases it like a question, but it isn’t one. As if Julian couldn’t float them over some drinks from here.

In the kitchen, Cess corners him.

“Is it some of this…” Julian turns his nose up at the smoking green concoction in the punch bowl. “Or should we just grab 7 beers.”

“Dealer’s choice.” Cess kicks herself up, perching on a spare bit of counter. As if she intends to stay awhile. “So…”

“So?”

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

“That thing with David that?”

“I have no idea—“

“Please, Jules, you were practically dying of thirst. And seven shades redder than I’ve ever seen you.” she tilts her head, considering. “Thought you could use some air.”

“We’re still inside.” Julian taps a melody into his thigh. “Is it really that obvious?”

“Eh, I’ve kinda suspected for awhile.”

Julian pauses, “How long is awhile?”

She shrugs, “Utopia?”

“I…” He could admit that he had felt something even way back then. But he’d been too fucked up, and stupid, and angry to identify what any of it might have meant. Feeling David die had maybe intensified his feelings a little bit. In a I’ve had my fill of living without him, and I never ever want to do it ever again, kind of way.

Cess hums, “What’s the temp on this? Is it an endlessly pining thing, or more of a lusty relapse?”

“I don’t know.” Julian says honestly. “I guess I always wondered if, you know, in a perfect world, what we could be?”

“Look around, Jules. Your surrounded by mutants getting blasted, making stupid decisions, and doing whatever the hell they want. I say go for it.”

She makes it sound easy. As if David didn’t already have Tommy. As if he’d ever shown anything that could be even remotely construed as interest.

“He’s my soulmate.”

Cessily opens her mouth, but doesn’t say anything before closing it again.

“Cess?”

“I’m processing.”

A wave of air ripples into the kitchen and Tommy materializes in front of them. “Kind of hard to start a drinking game without any drinks.”

“We’re coming.” Cess says, grabbing a bottle and some tiny cups—some sort of organic Krakoa made alternative to solos—and jumping off the counter.

Julian telekinetically lifts 6 beers, and floats his hand over to Tommy, poking him in the chest. “How much of that did you hear?”

Tommy looks at him strangely. “I was literally in the other room ten seconds ago. Super speed.” And then he’s gone.

“To be continued.” Cess sings, before leaving.

“It’s truth or dare, if you don’t want to do it you have to drink.” Roxanne explains as they join. “It’s Nori’s turn.”

“Classic rules,” Cess adds, “No equals shot. You only get one before you’re out of the game, pick wisely.”

Nori nods emphatically, “Vic?”

“Dare.” Vic says.

“You pushed so hard for spin the bottle. Pick one person in the circle to kiss. One minute minimum. With tongue.”

“Oh, easy,” Vic says. Julian blinks and he’s in Tommy’s lap. “This good?” he asks.

Julian barely sees Speed’s nod before Vic’s open mouth is smashed against his. Various shouts and jeers erupt across the circle.

Julian watches David watch his boyfriend kiss someone else. He doesn’t seem all that bothered by it. Maybe because Tommy’s right hand remains entangled with his, even as the left grips the back of Vic’s tank top.

“Did anyone set a timer?” Julian asks.

They pull apart on their own. Vic returns to his seat, and David whispers something in Tommy’s ear that makes him grin and kiss David on the cheek. So, yea, they’re obviously fine. Still as obnoxious as five minutes ago.

Vic clears his throat, “Cess, truth or dare?”

Cess opts for truth, and Vic asks her what’s the weirdest way she’s used her morphing ability. Her expression doesn’t twitch as she downs her shot. Then, her eyes lock on Julian.

“Truth.” he says, before she can ask.

“Best costume here—“

“Prodigy.” Easy. Not just because David is David either. Speed’s got his lame ass glasses, Cess has bulked up in an imitation of armored skin that could be anything from Indra to a regular degular shining knight. Vic is a basketball player, Roxanne a character from some chick flick he hasn’t seen (he’d heard her say the name of it multiple times tonight); and he doesn’t know what Nori is at all. Either she went costume-less, or its a deep cut. He’s not exactly in the position to throw stones, but still.

“Thanks,” David smiles and, bastard that he is, his eyes sparkle with it. “I like yours too.”

Julian looks away. “Whatever.” he’s decided to stop keeping track of points.

“Okay,” Cess says, “But you didn’t let me finish. That wasn’t actually my question.”

“You asked a question, I answered it. Next turn.”

“But you cut her off.” Roxanne says, “That’s a foul play.”

Nori says, “I vote move on. Julian—“

“I kinda wanna hear the question,” David says.

“Actually,” Speed to the rescue. He holds up his phone showing David something on the screen. “Home?”

Julian figures he means New York. From context.

David presses a hand to his face, “I’m tired, Tom.”

Speed speaks quietly, but Julian is close enough to make it out. “I know. We can stop by for just a few minutes, then we can spend the rest of the night at mine.”

“A minute is never a minute.”

Cess nudges Julian, prompting him to stop eavesdropping and ask the next question. He makes up a dare for Roxanne quickly, and keeps listening.

“I kinda promised Billy, he’ll kill me if—“

“So, go.”

“Seriously?”

Julian chances a glance at them. He can’t see David’s face, but the man has few expressions that don’t give ‘seriously’.

Speed’s eyes flit quickly to him, and then he’s gone.

David becomes stiffer. Quieter. He drinks his Cessily-approved straight before the game gives him an opportunity, and pours another into the stupid organo-disposable cup. No one comments on it.

After a few more rounds of questions, he stands up to excuse himself. Julian watches him through the chorus of good nights. Then stands up himself. “I’m gonna head out too.”

“Don’t you live here?” Vic asks. Julian glares him silent.

He catches up with David outside. “Can I join you?”

David looks at him sideways, always suspicious, when it’s just them. “To where?”

“Boneyard?” he says. “Unless your planning to walk to New York.”

David chuckles. “Not tonight. I don’t need an escort.”

“Your blood alcohol level might beg to differ.”

“I’m an expert at walking while drunk,” he spins in place to prove his point. It’s slightly wobbly, but not unimpressive. “I’m an expert at everything.”

“How nice for you.”

Julian turns his face towards David who is… no longer walking beside him.

“Alleyne?”

He’s standing in place, mouth pursed in concentration. “Am I still spinning?”

Julian walks back to David biting down a grin, he rests a hand on his arm. They’re covered in goosebumps, and Julian rubs his thumb in circles absentmindedly. Of course David wouldn’t admit to something like being cold.

Julian pulls off his cloak, it’s cheap and synthetic, made of flimsy blood red material, but better than nothing. David shuffles minutely back as it’s draped over his shoulders. “I’m not cold.”

“Whatever.” Julian focuses on doing up the clasp. David’s tall on his own, but he towers over Julian in heels. At this distance, he has to tilt his head back to look at him properly.

“It doesn’t match.”

“Not that long a walk, princess.” Julian steps away, clasp done. “You good?”

“I’m fine.” David says, “You can go back to your party.”

“It’s not my party.”

“Still.”

“Making up dares hasn’t been fun since I was 16, and Nori’s playlists are mostly noise to me. If I wanted to be there, I’d be there.”

“Wow,” David (honest to God) giggles. “You’re an old man.”

“That actually hurts, coming from you.”

“I think the pot is most qualified to call the kettle.”

“You were pretty fun tonight.”

David raises an eyebrow at him. “I was obnoxious tonight. There’s a difference.”

“Speed seems fun.” Julian drags out the vowels in speed, raising his shoulder for emphasis.

David hums.

“Are you two cool?” Julian chances an ask. “Was kinda tense for a second back there.”

“You think?” his voice lifts like he’s genuinely curious.

“I mean, yea. He did run off without saying goodbye.”

“He does that sometimes. His brain will be 20 conversations ahead and his feet are just racing to catch up.”

“You kinda checked out after he left.”

“Because I could.” David asserts. “Tommy and I are fine. Though, he might be a little annoyed once he reaches the edge of the Pacific and realizes the glasses I gave him are red not yellow.”

Julian snorts, “You know, I thought that felt like an odd choice for him. How’d you pick… all this anyway?”

“I walked by a pop-up selling… altered superhero fits in the west village. Figured I could do one better.”

“And Emma?”

“I considered a few options.”

“And your outstanding collection of ruby tinted glasses won out?”

David giggles, again, as they reach the threshold of the boneyard. They both pause, for a moment.

“Do you wanna come up?” David asks.

Julian agrees and follows David inside. It isn’t his first time there, but the receiving feels larger now, empty, and in the dark.

David falters, again, at the bottom of the staircase.

“Princess?”

“Stairs are seeming a little… complicated right now.”

Oh. Julian lifts his arm and David rises slowly. “Easy fix.” he hovers over the stairs until David catches up to him, then they both fly together.

“I would have figured it out.”

“I’m sure.” Julian drawls. “Whose idea was it to build this place as a giant phallus, anyway. This is more steps than anyone should ever have to walk. Don’t,” he interrupts as David opens his mouth. “tell me the number. I don’t wanna know.”

Once they reach his bedroom, David enters a tussle with his boots, while Julian surveys the space.

“Fuck,” David whispers, sitting flat out on the floor and tugging at his heels. It’s interesting how his fine motor skills seem more affected by his alcohol consumption than his mental acquity. Julian handles the boots with tk, finding the hidden zipper compartment and pulling them off with ease.

David encounters similar resistance from the zip nestled directly beneath his chin. Julian steps closer, appraising how the pull has twisted sideways, tangling the zipper’s teeth against his adam’s apple.

In a spark of green, he takes care of the tangle, floats the straightened collar straight to the hamper tucked neatly into David’s closet.

His eyes dip lower, to the final zipper, “I trust you can take care of that one.” he turns as he says it, not waiting for an answer.

With his tk, Julian can reach out to feel everything, decently beyond this room, sightless. It made the show of respecting privacy slightly useless, but he found most people appreciated it. “You’ll tell me when?”

He’s pretty sure David nods, remembering only belated Julian can’t see him. There’s a beat, before he says, “Um, yea. I just have to untuck.”

“Cool.” Julian says, mostly just to have something to say.

David hisses, and Julian fights the urge to spin around. Slower than usual or not, he definitely can handle it. Still, he asks, “You good? Pretty sure it’s not supposed to hurt.”

“From your myriad of experience?” David asks. “I’m decent, by the way. You can turn around now.”

Decent, is a word certainly, but Julian isn’t sure it’s the one he’d have picked. He’s put on sweats, but remains shirtless, and barefoot. At some point, he must have rubbed at his eyes, because the make-up there is smeared.

“I’m gonna go wash my face.” David says. “You can borrow something, if you want to change.”

“Am I… staying?”

“Yea?” he doesn’t wait for an answer before shutting the bathroom door between them.

Julian perches on David’s desk, listens to the shower run, and twiddles his thumbs until David reemerges.

He’s fresh. Dewy, and newly moisturized, face and skin scrubbed bare. He’s wearing the same sweatpants, but goes to grab a t-shirt to put over top.

As he gets close, Julian stands. Then immediately feels stupid for doing it. David falters, shifting weight between his feet. “Um,” he points behind him, “bathroom’s free.”

Julian nods, but stays rooted to the spot. David nods back, and continues on.

“I hate drinking.” David says, opening his bedside table. He pulls out a bag of weed and rolling paper.

“Is that a good idea, right now?”

David shrugs, “Won’t kill me.” he plops down on the bed, and Julian sits gingerly opposite him.

“We could share?” David offers, rolling deftly. Julian watches his hands, solid and nimble. At Julian’s silence, he adds. “Sorry I should have asked, do you mind?”

“Oh, no. Nah, you’re fine. Your house, so…”

David looks up at him. “But will it bother you?”

“No, it won’t. Let’s share.”

“I don’t want you to feel like I’m… pressuring you?” There’s a question in it, like he’s not entirely sure himself if that’s what he’s doing.

“You’re not.” Julian telekinetically seals the joint, then lights it, floating it over to himself he takes the first hit, leans close after blowing it out. “Promise.”

Davis lies down, and Julian follows his lead. They lapse into silence, passing back and forth lazily. Julian watches David. David watches the ceiling.

The David Julian remembers was always in motion. Back when they’d shared a room, David was only paused while sleeping. He was always pouring over something, reading, note-taking, editing, perfecting. He’d bring work back to their room, encrypting mutant communication networks, then anxiously repeating the process. He’d listen to podcasts at 3x speed while tinkering on devices with functions Julian could hardly begin to wrap his head around. He busied himself, basically, all the time.

Julian had spent most of his time, then, lying around, or messing around. Living in Utopia, before everything went to shit again, had been a constant combination of anxiety and boredom. There was nothing to do really, but work; which David threw himself into wholeheartedly. Neither of them had been living though, not really. None of them had been living then.

“You’re awfully quiet.”

David lays flat on his back, head turned to stare at Julian. His eyes are glassy, unprotected by his usual tinted glasses, and even now, with all the makeup scrubbed off his face, he’s just so fucking pretty.

“There’s literally nothing in my head right now.”

Julian snorts, “I’ll try not to take that as an insult.”

“It isn’t one.”

“Okay,” Julian pushes himself up to reach for the joint that David’s frankly been hogging.

Sensing the movement, David holds it out in the opposite direction, smirking, as his arm stretches over the edge of the bed.

Julian’s hands can detach, and he has telekinesis, so there’s definitely a more efficient way to win than crawling on top of David. But maybe he’s still a little more guided by his impulses than he’d like to admit.

David goes slack underneath him. Allows him to take the joint without fuss. One quick drag, and David chuckles as Julian exhales in his face.

“I think that’s enough of that.” Julian blots it out before abandoning the remains on David’s bedside table, to surprisingly little protest.

He’s not expecting the intensity of David’s stare when he looks back. Eyes unwavering, burning as he matches Julian’s gaze. Julian’s breath catches.

“You can kiss me,” David says. “If you want.”

Julian’s mouth goes dry, “I, uh… um,” his heart has never beat faster. His tongue peeks out to wet his lips, as he tries to gather his thoughts. But David’s eyes track the movement and…

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, princess.”

David blinks up at him, dark eyes full, doe-ish, and God help him, he kinda wishes he could take it back.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Julian rolls back over, burns the ceiling into his retinas. He waits, to see what David will say next. But the other man remains silent.

“Should I go?”

“No.” David says quickly. “Not unless you want to.”

“Okay.” he whispers.

“I’m going to sleep.” David says. “Feel free to put on a movie or something.”

Julian closes his eyes, listens to David breath in the dark.

He almost never sleeps with his prosthetics on, but he feels just awkward enough that he quibbles over leaving them on David’s bedside table. Comfort ultimately wins out, and he sits up slightly as he floats them over the other man.

He stays propped up, once his hands are squared away, watching the line of David’s body in the dark.

His eyes are closed, but he’s still awake. Julian can tell from how he tenses when Julian reaches around him, the light exhale of breath. He rests one arm over David’s waist, and presses his nose to the nape of David’s neck. He smells nice. A vanilla-ey musk clings to him tighter than anything else from tonight.

After a few breaths, David’s hand comes up to rest on Julian’s forearm.

Yea.

This is good. It’s perfect.

This is more than enough.