Warren and Jean | Friday morning

[x-highflying.livejournal.com]

After a meeting at the Angels Clinic, Jean and Warren go for a walk - and then a flight - through District X.

Warren was adjusting to the attention he'd been getting. His wings were attention grabbing at the best of times, and very occasionally the gaze would flicker to his face, and recognition would dawn. Since his return to New York he'd appeared in his fair share of social pages, and even the occasional business article. Now he was showing up again in the gossip blogs of New York City, and he was trying not to feel uncomfortable about it. He had chosen to come out the way he did, and he just had to live with it.

District X was something of a safe haven at this point, even if the people he knew were surprised by the lack of incognito. Those at the Angels Clinic had been no less surprised when he'd shown up for a meeting there, but they'd all been very supportive.

"Coffee?" He said to Jean as they left, linking his arm through hers as he did. There was a wide grin on his face as he looked over at - Warren Worthington, at least for the moment, was happy. It had been awhile since he'd felt quite like this.

Jean grinned back. "I thought you'd never ask," she said as she strode with him down the street. She had noticed the enthusiasm almost right away, it almost radiated from him like light, and happened to be pretty infectious.

She'd been there to help out with some of the doctors at Angels Clinic, on consults and to get a sense of the needs of the community. Being one of the few places that took mutants openly made them a hot commodity for the residents so they were often busy. "So, I take it you're adjusting pretty well to suddenly having your wings in the spotlight?" she asked as the smile turned a tinge more serious.

"It's been great," Warren confirmed, the grin getting broader - if that was even possible. "I mean, it's a pain in the ass having to avoid the paparazzi at various points, and I completely apologize if they end up following us at some point. But I'm sure I'll stop being of interest sooner rather than later." Or at least he certainly hopes he will be. He wasn't so interesting or note-worthy that there was any reason as to why they would pay attention to him for long.

"I haven't spoken to my father as yet, but I'm sure he hit the roof about it." He shrugged. "But considering it means I'm not in constant discomfort bordering on pain at times, I think that's a small price to pay."

"Freedom comes with a price. You're brave," Jean said, her arm still linked with his.

In a way she was proud of him, standing up to the world, no longer being afraid to let people know what he was. But in the back of her mind she also feared the negative attention that could come with it: mutant haters putting a name and a face to the thing they despised.

"What brought on the decision?"

"It's been coming from awhile," he replied with a shrug. "I've never really enjoyed being, well, in the closet. And between something of a scare while we were in Europe and realizing I wasn't going to make my father happy what I did, it just seemed stupid to keep hiding when it wasn't what I wanted."

Jean glanced behind the two of them, studying his wings.

"So was your first act of liberation throwing out all of your trenchcoats?" she said, grinning.

"A lot of would-be detectives will be very happy."

"I haven't yet," he replied with a laugh. "But they will be donated to charity when it get around to it. I don't plan on wearing any of them ever again."

"Perhaps you should wait until around fall, that way they'll go pretty quickly," Jean said with shrug. Her pace suddenly slowed as her eyes momentarily took on an unfocused quality. She tilted her head.

~We should turn left now. We're being followed. They're planning to ambush us to take pictures in about 30 seconds when we get around the corner. ~

Warren's response was the equivalent of a mental "... huh", directing them left as suggested as he kept them at their strolling pace.

"That's true, there's not much call for overcoats at the end of spring." But part of him wanted to be free of them sooner rather than later.

"Unless we have a freak snowstorm...God, I hope not," Jean said as she caught the hint of a shadow at the end of the corner of where they were supposed to have turned.

~There are three of them...a reporter and two photographers...They're starting to suspect something, or at least they know we aren't about to land on their laps. Do you see anywhere we can hide?~

So far she mostly saw an open alleyway, leading to another street.

"Let's hope not. I tend to be earthbound when it starts snowing." He'd tried flying in the snow before, and it was unpleasant.

~When in doubt, the sky is a good bet.~ He grinned over to her, offering her a hand. He knew she could fly perfectly well by herself, but that didn't stop him from offering to carry her.

"And now I suddenly have the song Earth Angel stuck in my head now," Jean said with an amused grin as she nodded to his mental suggestion and took his hand. She found flying on her own and flying with someone else two completely different experiences.

~20 seconds....19...18...17....~

"Heaven help us," Warren said with a laugh, draping her arm around his neck. "Hold on." He bent slightly to sweep her up in his arms, cradling her in his arms.

"Don't tell Scott about this," he said with a wink, before his wings began to beat, and he launched them both into her air. "I'll be able to feel his look of judgement all the way across the country."

Jean smirked before drawing an imaginary zipper across her mouth. "My lips are sealed," she said with a grin, peering down over the three men as they came into view down below. They stared up at them with their mouths open before trying to snap pictures, the flashes glittering like a mirror catching in the light.

"Do you ever get tired of flying like this?" she asked with a wistful smile. It was almost rhetorical. She didn't. Occasionally she would fly for the feeling of it. It took some time to get her to that point, to feel comfortable with nothing but air beneath her, especially around water, but she gradually grew more confident in it.

Warren grinned as they escaped the glare of the cameras, carefully maneuvering through the buildings of the city. New York was always an interesting city to fly through - so many buildings, and he wasn't always the only person in the sky. Particularly near District X.

"Never." You would think after fifteen years a guy would get sick of flying, but given how long he'd had to keep it a secret, and not just fly whenever he wanted to, there was still that thrill every time he took to the sky.

"Besides, who would ever give up a view like this?" He grinned at her with a wink, looking at her directly before his gaze swept over the island of Manhattan that was getting smaller below them.

Jean looked down at the streets below, the traffic lined up in rows, little dots moving to and fro on their way to where ever they needed to be. It was different from that perspective, to be an observer but not a participant.

"Certainly not me," Jean said as she looked back to Warren and smiled. "I can see why you'd come up here a lot."

"The best view in New York, and I didn't even have to pay for it." He flashed her a slightly more subdued smile than before, angling to drop their height a little bit. He could take the thin air of the atmosphere he was climbing for, but most people couldn't. "You should come flying with me more often."

Jean had started to feel a bit dizzy, admittedly, until Warren dropped lower. She nodded after a moment or two.

"I think I'd like that, actually. Have you taken Vanessa yet?" She wasn't sure how she felt about heights, though.

"Not yet," he replied, something of a silly grin creeping onto his face at the mention of his girlfriend. He was still very much in 'giddy happy mode' when it came to Vanessa - sometimes he couldn't actually believe they were together. And that, at least so far, things were working out so well. "Though I have threatened to whisk her off to the beach somewhere so I can take her flying over the ocean."

Amongst other things, but he didn't think Jean needed to hear about those.

"She might like that," Jean said, then shook her head. "But I'm not sure. I don't know her that well yet," she admitted.

They'd known each other for awhile but only really spoke about meaningless things, save for the occasional life-altering event, such as break ups and get togethers. Still, she knew her, but didn't really know her. Vanessa was a private person, despite what she broadcast mentally, almost intentionally. She never really knew how to predict what she'd do.

"I think she would. Not exactly the hills of Wales, but I think I can find a secluded enough place that we can both kick back and relax." Warren was still surprised Vanessa had enjoyed Wales so much, but she'd returned so - both calm and energetic at the same time, in a way he thought only Vanessa could accomplish. "I believe I promised you coffee," he continued, changing the subject. "Shall we risk the streets again in our pursuit of a hot beverage?"

"For coffee? I would probably do almost anything. Almost," Jean mused, going along with the new topic rather easily.

"You pick the place."

Seemed only fair.