xp_logs | A night like this: Jay & Shiro

Over an awkward dinner, wrong questions are asked and silence is pressing until the two reclaim why they were together in the first place.

Sitting across from Shiro should have put him in a better mood but all he could do was endure the prolonged silence between them. Shiro agreed to go outon a formal date with him but now that they were here, now that dinner was served, he was starting to think it was a bad idea. Moving his pasta aside, Jay sorted the things on his plate, fish to the left, meat to the right, veggies down below and tugged on the linguine, wondering why in the hell he got pasta in the first place and not a thick juicey steak like the man two tables away.

The stares they were receiving were bad enough, and though Shiro returned them with equal petulance, his appetite was gradually dissolving. Jay's own bad mood only made the situation worse, and he was half-tempted to shove the chicken in the blue man's face to get some sort of reaction out of him. "How is your training going so far?" he asked instead, although as soon as he spoke he knew that it was the wrong direction for conversation.

He stretched the linguine as far as it would go before dropping it back into his plate and setting his fork down before he did anything else that was deemed rude. He could sense Shiro's discomfort from miles away but ignored it. Instead, he opted to take a drink of his water because that was up there on the things to fidget and prolong the obligation of having to reply.

"Garrison's not back yet, so Ah ain't done any trainin' since, you know, us." It wasn't meant to point out the obvious but it did, point blank. "Yours?" he asked out of habit and as soon as he said it, he knew, especially from the face Shiro gave him. "Oh yeah, Ah mean, well... What ... have you been doing?"

Shiro hid his grimace behind a forkful of his meal. "Doing what I can to reobtain control without use of the Danger Room," he said after he swallowed, the perfectly-cooked and seasoned chicken ignored in favor of his own self-pity. "Meditating, mostly. That used to be what grounded me best."

"Don't you have any hobbies?" he asked and finally pushed his plate away. There was no point in pretending that he was going to eat when he wasn't. Jay was barely paying attention to the conversation and looked away, at another table who was staring at him, pointblank. "Like somethin' else besides meditatin'?"

There was that brand new Bachelor's of Fine Arts that was just gathering dust. "I have not felt particularly inspired to draw or paint recently," he admitted.

"Maybe you should make yourself, yanno? Sounds like writers block, but artist block? Ah dunno," he said, giving up. They were quite the pair, sitting there, pretending to have dinner, pretending to be interested.

"And I will end up producing more crap than I already have. I do not need to waste any more paper, and my pencils are expensive." Shiro finally gave in with a sigh, unable to continue this charade either. He gently placed his fork down on his plate and sipped the remainder of his wine. What recovery they'd thought they had made seemed to be just a blip in the radar, a false step forward that really was two steps back.

It was a painful realization that whatever they were, this was not it and Jay felt worse subjecting Shiro to this dinner. "You wanna get outta here?" he asked.

"Great idea." Shiro slapped some cash down on the table and followed Jay outside, and then up into the sky. The fresh air and emptiness beneath his feet helped to cleanse him of the anxiety from the failed date, and he even smiled a little. "This is better, I think."

Jay undid his shirt, loosening his tie and pulled it out from his jeans, pulling up the sleves to his elbows and howling all that pent up energy, cast into the night. "This is a whole lot better," he threw at Shiro and banked left, under his partner and off to the right, willing Shiro to give chase. They didn't have much but they had this.

Shiro was on him just a few seconds later, his smile wider. "Why did we even think that a fancy dinner would be fun, anyway?" he asked over the howl of the wind. "That was awfully dumb."

"Ah dunno!" he laughed with a hiss and curled his wings, spinning before he fanned them out, flying just above. "Just tryin' to dumb down the passion, yanno? Tryin' to be like everyone else, 'cept we're not. We can't be!"

"And that is acceptable to you?" Shiro flew up so he was only a couple of feet in front of Jay, close enough that Jay could feel the heat of Shiro's powers keeping him aloft. "Do you like us being different?"

Jay's smile turned into an impish grin and he grabbed his tie, holding it over his heart. "Actually, yeah, Ah like being different, don't you?" he asked.

Shiro grabbed Jay's tie out of his hand and used it like to a rope to pull himself forward. "I do not like being the same as everyone else, that is true, I suppose."

Jay angled and glided, holding Shiro's dark eyes. "Do you trust me?" he asked, his question balanced on a sliver of intimacy.

"That is a loaded question," Shiro replied, still hanging onto Jay's tie even as he followed him. "I suppose. Why?"

"Stop usin' your powers," he said. "Just stop, free fall."

Shiro hesitated. He wasn't sure what exactly Jay was trying to prove, and it's not like he couldn't catch himself if left to plummet. And besides, there was no sensation like letting it all go and allowing empty air to envelop him. So he nodded, let go of Jay's tie, and then let go of the superhot cloud that kept him in the air.

Jay dove and soft hands caught the smaller mutant and silver wings arched up, resuming his glide. He tightened his hold around Shiro, one arm around his waist to support his back, the other around his shoulders, keeping them level and the grin grew bigger, flapping his wings twice to bring them higher. "Perfect," he murmured against the dark, softer lips.

The kiss was eagerly accepted and returned, and a free hand roamed over the rough skin of Jay's chest. "You are a freak," he said, smiling. "What exactly was the point of that?"

Ever the poet, Jay dipped his wings, drawing the pair of them upright so Shiro woldn't have to strain his neck and it was another moment before could answer, gaining security of Shiro's body fitted snug against his own. They turned, spun slowly as they climbed, the pair dancing on faint clouds at their feet. "Just know Ah'll always catch you when you fall," he promised. And he would.

"You might get tired of carrying my weight." Shiro slipped out of Jay's arms and pulled himself up under his own power. "And you cannot hold fire with bare hands. I do not want to burn you." Again. Or worse than before.

"Maybe Ah ain't tired of lettin' go," he protested but his hands slipped away and whatever moment that had been there was immediately sobered by Shiro's comment. Instead of not knowing what to do with his hands, he pushed forward in flight, trying to get rid of the sudden weight that pulled on his heartstrings.