Mutants and Molotovs - Manuel and Terry - Hot Hands

[x-empath.livejournal.com]

While Seattle burns in the riot on Tuesday night, Manuel and Terry heat things up among themselves - aided by copious amounts of Jameson's. The next morning, things cool off rapidly.

WARNING: Long. Rated R for Adult Themes, Adult Situations.



Terry stood at the window, looking down at the city that continued to rage with riots though the streets that she could see were peaceful. "I should be down there. I should be helping," she remarked, talking more to herself than anything, chewing on a lock of hair. When the stone faced Secret Service agents had told her politely but firmly that she was not going to be allowed out to track down the Red X teams that she'd somehow managed to misplace, she'd made her way back up the floor with all their rooms on it and paced outside until Manuel had appeared and dragged her inside with him, his face grim and tight.

Manuel, on the other hand, had zero intention of going out into the riot proper. "Do you have any idea what they'd do to a pretty girl like you? Sure, you could scream at some of 'em, but there's too many of them, and only one you. And somehow, winding up raped and dead doesn't sound to me like it's your idea of a good time." he pointed out. "So come away from the window and have a little drink with me. Do you play cards?" he asked, pulling a deck from his pocket and waving it at her.

"I could be with Red X." Wherever they were. She knew that there must be some kind of relief out there but had no idea how to find it. With a sigh, she turned away from the window and walked back to the closer of the two beds and sat on the end. "I thought you swore you weren't ever going to drink with me again?" she said, holding out her hand for the alcohol. Might as well. She wasn't going to be of use to anyone in here.

"Why would I do that?" he said with a grin. "I swore that if I was going to _sing_ with you I'd warm up first. But tonight we're not singing, we're playing cards." he said, taking the cards from their box and shuffling them idly one-handed. "We've got a couple of choices here. Bourbon, whisky, vodka ... what's your poison?"

"It wasn't all that much of a sing-a-long. You just use your throat poorly. Whiskey, please." She accepted it with a half-nod and tilted it back like it was water. She sighed again as she lowered it, "So what are we playing?

Manuel poured the girl a drink, and the poured himself one. "I don't have any formal vocal training." he admitted. "Just sheer talent and what I've picked up on my own. And that's fine - music's fun, but it's not my thing. And ... hrm. Pretty girl like you, good drinks - do you play poker, perchance?" he asked with a grin.

Terry rolled her eyes, seeing where this was going. "A bit, aye. And what will you be suggesting that we're betting?" She frowned at the stingy amount he'd poured her and swallowed it down, intending on getting as drunk as possible in as short a time as possible in order to distract from the general uselessness of her situation.

Manuel just grinned at Terry. "Well, that depends. How much do you feel like losing?" he said with a small, thin smile. "Me, I'm up for just about anything you want."

Terry grinned and eyed their supply of drinks. "Shot per hand? We can change up later if we end up finishing it off." Safe enough that and she was only a little bit behind. Quickly, she switched to sitting on his bed instead so they would have some kind of playing surface.

Manuel yawned. "Boring, but OK." he said. "I thought you Irish were bold and daring." he said thoughtfully. "Well, all right then. We'll play it safe." He poured her a drink, and himself a drink, and then began to deal.


----15 hands later---


"I'm not a telepath but I know what yeh're thinking." Terry pointed an unsteady hand at Manuel, inadvertently flashing her cards at him. She was fairly sure that she'd won more hands than he had but was having trouble counting. "Yeh're thinking that we're running out of drink. And that's bad."

"That's absolutely terrible." he said pleasantly, as he was decidedly at the Feeling No Pain level of things. She flashed her cards at him, which he definitely noticed, but more to the point she was almost to the point of flashing _herself_ at him, which would be far more enjoyable indeed. At least she had crap for a hand this time around. "We have two choices. We can go downstairs and see if we can talk the bartender into giving us another few bottles, or we can ... change the stakes."

"Downstairs," Terry sing-songed as she tried to think about that. Given that she couldn't get her brain to get as far as standing, she decided that was a bad plan. Also, she'd fallen over. Damn. "No no. Door's locked. Riots. What's the new stakes?" she asked as she pushed herself back up.

Manuel grinned. "Once we're out of drinks, what else do you have that you could give up?" he asked, taking another sip of his drink. "I don't think we can play for money - I don't usually carry that much on me."

Terry giggled, "I don't have any on me. Nothing but the shirt on me back. And this isn't me room." Her room key, if she remembered right, was in Clarice's backpack. And who knew where Clarice was. "So I can't get anything to match yeh anyway."

Manuel got an Idea. "Well then. We'll have to think of something." And then he proceeded to throw the next few hands, until he was out of alcohol and facing down another losing hand. "Ut-oh. It seems I'm out of drinks." he said with great amusement - and then slowly unbuttoned his shirt before sliding it off his shoulders. "There. My deal, is it?" he said with a grin.

--- 3 hands later ---

Terry eyed him suspiciously, vaguely aware through her alcoholic haze that he was playing a bit unfairly. Her last hand had been trash but he'd folded which meant she won. She nodded slowly. Then continued nodding, enjoying the sloshing feeling of her head and the way the room wobbled. "Aye. So it is." She finished off her drink and pouted at the empty glass before setting it aside.

Manuel scooped up the cards - slowly, he was also definitely feeling the alcohol - and dealt the next time. Time to start winning - he wanted to see what she was hiding behind that more-Catholic-than-thou Irish exterior. From the little things she'd show, he doubted he was going to be disappointed.

Even (very) drunk, Terry was well aware that Manuel's sudden turn of luck was probably nothing of the sort. She told him so, though her accent was so thick it was nearly unintelligible by this point. "S'not natural. How'd yeh win five hands in a row? I had a straight." She gestured at her hand indignantly even as she shrugged her bra straps off her shoulders.

Manuel shrugged . "I read emotions, not minds." he said with only a hint of a slur. He was so hard it hurt, and she was _exquisite_. Freckled everywhere, creamy soft skin, and most of all, not a fucking scar in sight. Sheer bliss, even to a emotionally cripped bastard like him. At the rate they were going, she'd be going down on him in about five hands or so. "And I had a better straight."

Terry pouted and took the deck, shivering slightly. "I still say it's not fair. S'cold in here." She shuffled poorly then dealt them each a new hand. She look from her hand--very good--to Manuel who was still sitting across from her quite shirtless--even better. "Yeh aren't, I'll bet. Yeh still wearing clothes."

"Why, Terry. Are you asking me to get naked for you?" he asked, leaning back to give her a better view of the body he worked so hard to build back up. "Ask me again, and I just might." he smirked. He had every intention of getting as naked as she was for him right now - she was down to just her adorable little striped panties right now - and then see what happened from there. Being drunk always made using his power more difficult, but even from here, as bleary as he was, he could tell she had a serious lust thing going on.

Terry wretched her eyes back to his face with some effort and blushed prettily. "It's just cold," she mumbled and looked at her cards again, aware that after that little exchange she was feeling plenty warm. She shifted and leaned back against the headboard, stretching out her legs and crossing them at the ankle. "Cards?"

"Cold. Of course it is." he said with a laugh. He took another bleary look at her emotions, and got a lot of "Yum!" but not much past that. That's really all he wanted - any attempt to do something stupid like fall in love would have to be harshly punished. "My deal, is it?" he said, shifting positions so he could play cards and still be admired by Terry. One more layer to go for her - and, as it turned out, one more for him as well, as he never wore underwear if he could avoid it.

*** THE NEXT MORNING ***

The problem with an eastern exposure was that the sun had no respect for little things like late nights or hangovers. At the first touch of the sun on her face, Terry whimpered and rolled away, burying her face into the warm body next to her. Her bubble of irritation lasted only a few seconds before she was sleeping again.

Consciousness returned to Manuel bearing a blowtorch. His mouth tasted like something died in it, and he was definitely gross from head to toe. But speaking of heads and toes, there was one compensation. One extremely naked, still asleep Irish lass snuggled up to his torso. He didn't think he'd had her, but not for the lack of trying. ~Note to self: Stay away from whisky next time. It does bad things to your anatomy.~ he said to himself in Castillian before stretching just a litte. His bedmate was beautiful, there was no denying that, but then again so was ... no. Not going there, not today. Not now. A shower was what he needed. A shower, and a _lot_ of aspirin. And then maybe he'd see if the Irish lass was up for a little wakey-wakey, Empath-style.

The movement woke her again and she muttered irritably in Irish, poking her human pillow in the ribs. Opening her eyes was going to hurt, she knew that much already from the dull thudding in her skull. "Too early," she declared sullenly in English. "Don't get up yet." The pillow was dragged over her face as she continued to mutter, only a few words clear. "Mmmhph, Bobby, okay?"

Manuel felt what good mood, what good feeling he had managed to muster die away at her words. He got out of bed, peeling back the sheets roughly from both of them, exposing them both utterly. Stretching, he wandered towards the bathroom. "I need a shower." he said. "You may take one when I'm finished."

Not Bobby! Terry sat up much too quickly and instantly regretted it, clutching her head then grabbing for the sheet. "Mother of God...Manuel?" Oh, this was bad. Very bad. Where were her clothes? Why was she naked? Oh...fuck. There was a large chunk of time missing from the night before but...shit. Bobby was going to hate her for this.

Manuel could feel every twitch of her emotions - it was a chain he knew well. But he did linger for a few moments, to look at her and to let her look at him, if she was so inclined. He was proud of his body, and liked showing it off. And he got another good look at hers, and couldn't help but lick his lips just a little. With a laugh, he sauntered off to the bathroom to get that shower going.

Terry couldn't see much of anything with her eyes squeezed closed, trying desperately to remember the night before. There had been drinking...obviously. And cards. And more drinking. Then...they ran out of alcohol. Please, please, please let them not have had sex. Explaining this was going to be bad enough even without cheating that she couldn't remember. She was still curled up on the bed when Manuel re-emerged from the shower.

Manuel had moved up from feeling like the gunk under his shoe to something vaguely human. "Rise and shiny, Terry." he said, yanking the sheet out from over her. "Shower's free, lazy. Go get cleaned up - you _stink_." he said with as close to a friendly voice as he could manage these days.

She yelped, covering herself rather uselessly, considering. She just about located the rest of her memories though not the one she needed unfortunately. Obviously asking was out of the question, so Terry just blushed and scrambled out of bed, far too aware of his eyes on her.

Manuel leaned up against the wall to watch her scurry. He could do the decent thing and give her her dignity, but the 'decent thing' died when he had his heart ripped out. So instead he watched her vault for the bathroom and slam the door closed - and lock it. Silly girl. With a smirk, he went about the business of cleaning up the debris of last night's revelry - and gathering up Terry's clothes.

Showers were good. Mirrors were better because they gave her a chance to note that there was a sizable hickey on her collarbone which meant that her chances of pretending that nothing happened where now officially none. Which, okay, lying to her boyfriend would have been bad. But explaining could be much worse. With a sigh, Terry turned to grab a towel and froze. "Manuel, yeh fuckin' bastard!" The tiny towel he'd left barely went around her waist and there was no way it was going to cover the rest of her modestly. She made do as she could and decided that if he wasn't going to be embarrassed neither was she. Besides, it was a bad idea to mess with a hungover Irish lass.

Manuel grinned to himself as Terry yelped. She'd discovered the towel situation. Petty of him, but he couldn't resist the urge. Besides, he had a large fluffy clean towel right next to him here that she could have. But she'd have to walk all the way across the suite to come and get it. "Oh, I'm sorry." he said apologetically. "Here, I've got one here you can use."

Terry couldn't put her hands on her hips like she wanted to. Not with one hand holding the towel in place and the other crossed over her chest. Her hair was wet and sticking to her back and shoulders, dripping water down her torso and collecting in her increasingly useless towel. She was going to kill him. "Aye, that'd be kind of yeh." She stalked across the suite, keeping an eye out for her clothes which had performed some kind of mystical disappearing act.

Manuel took a moment to admire her in all her dripping wet tiny-towelled glory, and then handed her a large fluffy one to dry herself with properly. "Here, you're getting the floor wet." he said. He then moved his head to one side to display his own rather spectacular markings. "You got me good. I'm impressed." He wasn't mentioning where _else_ she got him - he had dim memories of some _very_ interesting positioning indeed on that topic, and he wanted to see if it was mutual or not.

Terry's jaw dropped. She didn't remember doing that. Of course she didn't remember getting hers...either of hers. But still. It took her several seconds to grab the towel away from him and wrap it tightly around her. She knew she had to be approximately the same colour as her hair. "I...did we...do anything?" she stammered finally.

Manuel just laughed. "You don't remember?" he asked incredulously. What a marvelous trait on her part! "How very tragic. I like to think that I'm quite memorable." he pouted before handing her her shirt and her skirt. Her underwear, however, he kept for himself.

Which wasn't any kind of answer to her question, damn him. Terry glowered at him and sorted out the bundle of clothes he'd handed her. Shirt, check. Skirt, check. Bra and panties? "Manuel, where are the rest of my clothes?" She was not in the mood to be playing this game. Not even close to it.

Manuel blinked, and then smiled up at Terry. "Oh, those! Sorry, they're right here." he said, handing them over with a secret smile. "Might want to look into finding a new pair to wear. These are still a little damp." he pointed out.

She could hardly believe he'd said that and had absolutely no idea how to respond to it. Instead she grabbed them away then turned on her heel and stalked back to the bathroom, slamming the door again, hurt that he was treating her this way and upset that she'd been stupid enough to get into this situation in the first place.

Manuel sighed to himself as she stomped off. She didn't deserve that. He wasn't so far gone as to twist the knife quite to that extent. He walked over to the bathroom door so he could talk through it. "We didn't, you know." he said through it. "Your virtue is still your own."

"Yeh couldn't have just said that?" she retorted, yanking her clothes on with unnecessary force. With a quick look in the mirror to make certain that she was presentable again, she yanked the door open and glared at him. "Sure and yeh remember that yeh're supposed to be my friend? Not some cheap wench yeh met in the pub and dragged home?"

"And I find that I'm much friendlier when I'm not being bombarded with suspicion and anger." he said to her. "I do have a sense of humor, despite what people say about me, but it doesn't extend to early-morning panics, especially when I'm hung over. Let's get some breakfast."

Okay, so he had a point. "I wouldn't have panicked if yeh had not woke me like that. Yeh aren't the only one hungover." She moaned and pressed her hands to her temples, "What am I going to tell Bobby? He's never going to forgive me for this."

Manuel shrugged as he picked up the hotel phone. "Your business, not mine." he said with a small laugh. "I'm sure you'll find something suitable. If you wish to demonize me, go ahead. I'm quite accustomed to it." he said, and then dialed for room service. "What do you want for breakfast? I'm having toast and tea. Don't think I could stomach more."

"Juice and water, tomato if they have it. Aspirin. No food." Terry sank into a chair, still holding her head. "Aye and how would I demonize yeh, then? Say yeh forced me? Manipulated my emotions? I'm not accustomed to lying so unless yeh did?" She raised her eyebrows in inquiry, at least a small part of her wondering if he had.

"People are accustomed to holding me in low regard." he said, feeling her curiousity and being a tiny bit saddened by it. But only a small bit - after Amanda, he did not feel much of anything positive. "So you could say just about anything you wished to explain away your own desires and be believed." He finally got through to room service and placed the order - dry toast, tomato juice, water, and a bottle of aspirin. A _large_ bottle.

It wasn't a 'no' but she didn't think that he would have missed the opportunity to rub her face in a 'yes' since he seemed so determined to upset her. "No. I'll not say what's not true. If yeh say yeh did not then I believe yeh." Terry sighed. That would have been much more convenient for explanation purposes but far too disturbing to contemplate. "So then I'll have to take me lumps."

Manuel hrmmed as an Idea came to him. Damn him, it seemed he was still vulnerable to a Damsel in Distress. Double-damn him! "As you wish." he said blandly. "If that's what would make you feel better, but I should warn you - Bobby won't like it at all, and he will not understand. I'm fairly sure he'll be angrier at me - after all, I'm the one who touched his precious Teresa." he said nastily. "So you won't have to worry too much about repercussions."

Terry liked to think she was complex and complicated but in truth, she wasn't. Threaten her and she'd accept it. Threaten a friend... "That's not right. Yeh did nothing wrong, twas my mistake." Bugger, he was right though. Bobby would be furious with Terry, of course. But he'd really have a go at Manuel who already has too much on his shoulders.
"How can I stop that?"

"You don't know that." he pointed out sensibly. "After all, I'm the empath. I knew what you were feeling even before you did." he said calmly. "You wanted it as much as I did. Don't try to lie, it's pointless and tedious."

Terry stared at him, baffled. "I just said that yeh weren't at fault. I'm trying to figure out how to make sure Bobby believes that so he's not taking it out on yeh." She blinked, was she going crazy? Or speaking a strange language? It didn't sound like Irish and she didn't speak anything else. "And I've already said, I made the mistake here."

Manuel looked at Terry with ice in his veins. "Leave Bobby to me." he said, and then shrugged. "Unless you fancy losing your relationship with the boy. In which case I can do nothing."

"Manuel, what are yeh talking about? What are yeh going to do?" The only possibility that presented itself simply didn't make any sense. "What do yeh mean, leave him to yeh?" Mother Mary, she did not want to lose Bobby over this but the grim look on Manuel face scared her.

Manuel was about to respond, but room service took it upon themselves to knock at that moment. Rising, Manuel tipped the bellboy and brought the toast and drinks into the room. Picking up a piece of toast, he took a small bite while pouring himself a glass of water from the pitcher. "You heard me. I will deal with Robert. You should be able to handle anything else that comes up, consequence-wise. I'm very persuasive."

Terry picked up her glass of tomato juice with hands that wanted to shake. She couldn't let him do this. It wasn't right or fair. But if it meant not losing Bobby... "Oh sweet merciful god," she murmured, mostly to herself then popped several aspirin and swallowed them down with most of her juice.

Manuel let the invocation of the Deity pass with nothing more than a slight reflexive sneer. "You think He will save you? I am giving you what you want, girl. You get to have your fun _and_ keep the respectable boyfriend on the side." he said.

"I want last night to have been a bad dream. Not to have to lie about it. There's nothing fun about a drunken night of cheating!" Terry finished her juice and grabbed the water pitcher, trying to keep her voice low so that she didn't feel like her head was going to explode.

Manuel let Terry's words etch another bleeding wound in the already bloody hole where his heart used to be. Instead, he forced himself to take another bite of toast, even if it tasted like ash in his mouth. "It's a little late for recriminations now, Terry." he said coldly, trying to contain his anger, his wild desire to crush her emotions like a grape.

"I'm not bloody BLAMING YEH!" Ow, ow, ow, too loud. Terry grabbed her head and whimpered, praying for the aspirin to kick in. She continued in a harsh whisper, 'I'm not blaming yeh. I'm just saying this would have been much better if we'd no done something so fucking stupid as all this."

Manuel fought hard to keep his hangover, which was pulsing in time with his thudding heart, from feeding his already spiralling out of control anger. "You say it, but I'm not feeling it." he said. "It was a night of fun. Nothing more, nothing less. You can't handle that, you want to get all guilty and shit, that's your business. Leave me out of it."

"I do feel guilty. And I'd think that yeh'd be a bit more understanding as to why. Or is it nothing to yeh if yer girlfriend had screwed around with someone else?" She kept her voice low this time, less angry now but nearer to tears. She'd utterly destroyed her fragile relationship with Bobby for a night she couldn't even remember. She didn't see that Manuel had any right to be upset with her.

"It's not the fucking, it's the violating of her sworn word." he muttered. "And it's none of your damned business!" he said harshly. "It was a night, not the end of the fucking world." he said, rubbing his forehead to try to soothe the pounding in his head. He felt awful, the drink catching up with him with a vengeance.

Terry caught the gesture and threw the aspirin at him with just a bit more force than was necessary. "For yeh, of course not. For me, I have to face my boyfriend who is possibly the world's most chivalrous teenager who will not understand that is was, as yeh say, just one night. So forgive me if I'm a wee bit upset that I've made a mistake, aye?"

Manuel caught the jar of aspirin and took two more, just to be on the safe side. "So which part do you truly regret - the act, or the reason?" he asked, dreading the answer for some reason. Terry was a friend, but at this rate it was likely that he'd fucked it all up with her.

"I can't remember the act," she reminded him then sighed. "Manuel, yeh know how I feel. Yeh're probably the only one who can tell so well. Yeh're my friend and if I wasn't dating someone else, I'd have never had a moment's worry. But I am and I regret it all. This was a really stupid thing for me to ruin a really great relationship over."

Manuel had heard enough. "I can fix that." he snapped. Something inside him had been set loose ... looser, anyway, with the snapping of his bond and the destruction of his heart. Standing, he walked over to where Terry sat huddled into her own misery. Taking her hand, he concentrated as his eyes flashed red. He cast his own mind back to the evening before, and what he could remember - flashes, really. Disjointed images, feelings, and sensations. But what he could bring forth, he shared with her.

She looked blankly at his hand on hers about to ask what he was doing when the memories hit her. Though thick and disorienting and, oh, is that what that felt like, it was plenty to remind her of what drink had obliterated and she wrenched away from him, flushed and breathing hard, gripping the chair to keep from flinging herself at him. A low moan escaped her lips as she sat trembling. It took her several tries to speak. "Why did you do that?"

"I was growing tired of your protestations that you couldn't remember. And I ... wanted to be sure you knew what it was you were regretting." he said tiredly. The effort had nearly split his head open, and he dug his sunglasses out from where he'd let them fall last night and put them on his face.

"In order to regret them with greater accuracy? Oh Mother of God, this is horrible." She had been doing fine with the notion that she'd done something with him. Remembering it vividly was a little too much reality for her. She burst into tears on the spot.

Manuel stared at the bawling girl, and then rolled his eyes. "This is pathetic." he said, grabbing for his wallet and his room key. Maybe the bar downstairs would be open. A little hair of the dog, and maybe he'd feel better.