Jean and Warren: Rooftops and Reconciliations

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

Warren and Jean run into one another on the roof. They reconcile.



It was surprising how quickly time went by, and even more surprising how it felt like this was where he needed to be. Warren had never felt so comfortable, and so welcomed. Taking full advantage of it, he'd been spending quite a bit of time at the Mansion. Even while he was on his work trip to Los Angeles, he found his thoughts drifting to his new home away from home.

The roof was what had him wanting to stay the night. Once he'd been told about the flyer's platform, he'd been eager for the opportunity. A secluded manor with acreage was too tantalizing to pass up. Flying in secrecy was limiting.

Waiting until the middle of the night,when the cold winter's moon was high in the sky, he went up to the roof, assuming no one was there. He hummed to himself as he walked to the edge of the roof, peering over the edge. He had to admit -- he was always thankful that he wasn't afraid of heights.

As he stepped back, his fingers deftly unbuttoned his shirt,still humming a nameless aria. Before coming up, he'd taken the harness off so as the clothing fell, his wings sprang loose. Flexing them a bit, he stretched them out and felt, as always, a sense of relief. There was nothing more satisfying than being free.

After meeting so many people over the course of a few days, Jean was feeling a need for some quiet, for a little while. She had heard good things about the roof, so she had made her way up and was taking in the view. She hadn't seen this much open space since she'd lived on Muir. It was peaceful. At least, until the door had opened and Warren stepped out, clearly not paying attention. Jean's eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to say something, when he started to undress.

The awkward was there, but it had been shoved away quickly by the sight of Warren's wings. She found herself dumbstruck.

Wow.

Reaching around to reach for his shirt, Warren caught a glimpse of something in his eye. His keen eyesight narrowed and he was surprised to see someone else there. "Jean?"

He stepped towards her, forgetting about his shirt. The shirt, however, had entwined itself around his feet and he found himself quickly off balance. In an attempt to right himself, he over compensated and soon after had inadvertently launched himself off the roof. A few flaps of his wings, and Warren was back on the roof.

Smooth, Worthington, he thought. "Good evening," was all he said.

Jean blinked at Warren, reaching out on reflex before he caught himself, then slowly nodded at his acknowledgement.

"Uh huh," she said. She realized she was still staring, then shook her head in an attempt to clear the surprise and glanced away. She smiled softly.

"They're beautiful."

He knew she was staring at his wings, and that the comment wasn't for him per se, but for a moment he pretended it was.

Somehow they'd managed not to see each other in the last few weeks, during which time he'd kept himself busy getting to know the other inhabitants. And other random females,if he was honest.


Regardless of that, there was still a sense of longing he felt when he saw her.

As casually as he could, he straightened them out before folding his wings to tuck neatly on his back. "Thank you. I'm learning to be more open about them...but I can put my shirt back on if you'd like."

"Somehow I knew you'd wind up getting your shirt off around me one way or another," Jean said with a faint smirk.

"But I wasn't expecting by accident."

She glanced down, folding her arms as she waved away the comment. "I'm sorry. That was inappropriate. I...should go. I've had my time up here and should let other people enjoy it too."

"If it'll guarantee you'll stay up here, I'll gladly keep my shirt off," he blurted out. Warren had been trying to figure out how to talk to her since everything but hadn't found a way. This could be the opportunity he was looking for. "I don't mind inappropriate."

He gave her a wry grin. "I think we can both agree I'm fairly inappropriate myself. I wasn't very kind to you the last time we spoke. I apologize for it."

Jean shrugged, not having even attempted to make her way toward the door. He hadn't really given her a chance to leave.

"I...well, I can't say I'd blame you. I'd probably be pissed too," she said. She kept her arms folded. It still felt awkward, to talk like they were before, after everything had been so raw.

"I never meant..." She let out a breath. "I said that already. Sorry."

She didn't know what to say. She couldn't just pretend it never happened. He'd probably never trust her again. She didn't like that feeling. But she didn't give him any choice. Even if she had the best intentions. And he knew it now.

So for now she just stared back up at the mansion grounds, noticing the way the moonlight lit up the lake.

Warren truly had no idea what he was feeling other than the fact that he did miss talking with her. Going from regular texts, the occasional date to complete silence was stranger than he'd thought.

It was the whole implied betrayal piece that he wasn't sure how to deal with. Did the greater good outweigh the desires of one person? How long could he have lived in blissful ignorance?

He stepped close to her and looked out onto the courtyard with her. Breaking the silence, he spoke quietly. "It's calming here. The people have been genuine. I fear Luz will start to miss me considering I've spent most of my free time here. I should thank you for introducing me."

Jean nodded a little, smiling faintly. She kept her arms folded, rubbing them from the chill in the air. "You're welcome. They seem to be good people. Even Mr. North, despite his...specializations."

Not everyone could be a cavalier millionaire playboy who had a certain charm.

Warren gave her a look . He hadn't fully come around to North's part in the whole scheme of things, even if he did understand the necessity behind it. It had felt like overkill but at least he knew that his loft was secure.

Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to have the penthouse checked out.

The fact that she was cold hadn't escaped him. He had to quell the part of his brain that wanted to take her into his arms, wrap his wings around her and keep her warm and safe. Instead, he handed her his shirt. "I truly don't get cold. If you're planning on staying up here, you're not really dressed for it. Take my shirt. It's somewhat awkward to wear one when my wings aren't trussed."

Jean blinked, peering at him uncertainly before she took it and slipped it on over her shirt. It was somewhat oversized, and hung down past her waist nearly to her knees, even with her height. She was taller than most women. Her parents were tall as well, tall and lanky. She'd often got asked to play basketball in school.

"Thanks," she said graciously, then sat down on the edge, dangling her feet over the side.

"So why don't you? Get cold I mean. Has it always been like that? Or did it start when your powers manifested?" She knew some mutants had pre-manifestation traits, however. Some were born having a tail or fur. It was not gained during periods of heightened emotions or stress fueled often by puberty and raging hormones.

He looked more like an angel that had descended to earth than mutant, though. Like he'd always had those wings.

Warren had to stop and think about that. When did he notice that he never was cold? Was it before his wings grew in, or was it as a result of his mutation manifesting? He had no idea, so he said as much. "I don't know if I ever noticed," he confessed. "At least, not until these grew in fully. It's kind of hard to be cold when you're a walking duvet."

Jean had leaned in closer, arms wrapped around her but clearly curious, interested. "Do you molt?" she said. It was the question of a scientific mind. Her face blanched the moment she said it and she suddenly facepalmed.

"Sorry. I...might have minored in genetics in college. I've always been interested in mutation. I've treated a few mutants working at various hospitals and rescuing them for X-Corps but...never anyone with wings."

His wings had bristled at that comment, a direct result of the shudder he was trying to hold back. "Scientifically speaking," he responded dryly. "But I prefer to think of it as shedding. Sounds less animalistic."

Warren turned to look at her. "Are wings not common? How odd."

"Not that I've seen," Jean admitted, long tendrils of hair falling in front of her eyes like a curtain. "But there haven't been that many studies. The general population doesn't talk about it."

Blue eyes searched her face for a sign of anything other than curiosity. He didn't get the sense she was poking fun or anything, but he didn't know where he stood with her.

A few weeks ago, there would have been no hesitation. He'd have brushed the hair out of her face and leaned in for a kiss. In fact, there were times when he caught himself daydreaming, reliving that one moment on the roof.

At least now he knew why she'd run off crying.

Tearing his gaze away from her, he looked out into the night. "You can touch them if you want. You know. For Science."

Jean quirked a brow, curious, yet humbled. She had a feeling he was self-conscious about his wings. More often than not, those who displayed physical mutations were. And it was a natural reaction. She had felt the same way about her telepathy, knowing the moment people knew some often got that look in their eyes, like she were going to peer into their soul.

"Are you sure?"

He was as shocked as she was by the offer. Not only had he never shown another person his wings (his vigilante buddies excluded) but he'd absolutely never had another person touch them.

Warren found that he really wanted Jean to be the first.

Not trusting himself to talk, he nodded, capturing her gaze. His eyes were clear and determined. This was okay.

Giving them both a moment or two, Jean climbed to her feet. Circling around him in his oversized shirt, she studied his wings, taking in what felt like every feather with a glance of green eyes. Finally, she slowly reached out, and with the gentle touch of a doctor, ran her fingers along his feathers.Each feather appeared carefully constructed. She also noticed a bit of down peeking out under some of the stronger, exterior feathers when he moved.

His wings were aerodynamically designed for flight, just like a bird's.

And every bit of his wings were impossibly white. But that came with someone who rarely took them out. They would be clean, untarnished by the elements.

"Wow," she echoed her thoughts from earlier aloud, smiling softly.

"Yeah." That was all he could bring himself to say. He'd never realized just how sensitive they were. Or how different a person's touch was when compared to an air current.

"I do my best to take care of them, which can be slightly awkward considering they're on my back, but they're surprisingly flexible." He curled them around his shoulders, his wings meeting together at his chest.

Turning around to show her, he smiled, an actual true smile. "Soft, aren't they?"

He'd find her watching the way his wings moved when he looked, listening to the way they cut the air with a light 'woosh.' The range of motion seemed to cause one of the feathers to drop off, and Jean crouched down to pick it up, turning it over in her hands. She felt the bristles, light, yet strong.

"You're shedding," she said with a light smirk, then nodded.

"They are very soft."

He looked at the feather in her hand for a moment before looking up at her. "Yes, they are." This was so surreal to him, that in a strange way it brought him back to reality.

Because he couldn't take it anymore, he blurted out, "I know I asked this before, but..was there anything real between us? I keep playing all of this over and over in my head...and I was genuine. I think that's what bothers me the most. I didn't show you the person you were expecting to see, and you ended up being the opposite of what I thought." He shook his head. "And then no matter how much I play this through, all I really want to remember is that night on the roof, and how it felt to be kissed by you."

Reaching out, he covered her hand with his, the feather tucked within. "I'd very much like to kiss you again, Jean."

His question and comments hung in the air, having been momentarily unclaimed by the redhead on the roof as she took some time to process what she'd heard. To make sure she really heard it. Glancing up, she realized he was still staring at her, waiting for an answer. Her mind had given her so many thoughts all at once she didn't know how to sort them out. She thought there had been a moratorium on a relationship and had closed herself off on that possibility for now. She didn't think he'd be mad at her forever but she didn't think he'd ask this soon.

"I thought there was. But I..." She paused, wondering if that was the right thought to finish right about now.

"But what? The control has always been yours. I won't do anything you're not comfortable with." He'd told her once he'd never force her. He wasn't going to change that now.

It had to be to her level or else it wouldn't work.

Staring down at his hand in hers, she shook her head. "Before all this happened, before it was even a blip on my radar and it was just you and me...when I agreed to go out with you I thought it was going to be temporary. I'd be gone. It'd be quick and fleeting. And we agreed. But..."

She still didn't look at him. "I'm here now. And it's permanent. And I...don't know if you'd want to be that way. I just...wonder if you like the idea of me. And not the real me. Because I told you no. Because you like the challenge. And once you get to know me then the novelty will wear off."

That made sense. She'd mentioned a few times how things hadn't worked in the past, and he knew she was hesitant.

"Well, there's only one way to find out," he said, a soft smile forming on his face. "I am a patient man, Dr. Grey. I have all the time in the world, and it might be the other way around you know -- you could get bored with me." The smile intensified, revealing one dimpled cheek. "All I'm asking is for the opportunity to keep seeing you, the occasional kiss, and good conversation. Is that too much to ask for?"

Unable to resist, Jean laughed and shook her head. "I don't want to know how many times you've flashed that smile at a girl and her knees went wobbly."

She let out a breath. "I just don't want to be hurt. I don't want to fall for you and find that there's no one there to catch me. You've got this charmed life down to an art. And I...don't want to be the canvas you discard because it doesn't suit you anymore. I want...something real. I don't want games. Can you do that?"

Could he do that? He didn't actually know, but at this point, he'd say anything to hear that laugh again.

"All I can promise is honesty and my complete attention when we're together. I'm a very busy person, Jean, and there might be days when you don't hear from me but that doesn't mean you're not in my thoughts."

He reached out with his other hand and cupped her cheek lightly. "I will make you angry, and I will disappoint you, I'm sure of it. But I'm still asking for a chance."

Jean shook her head, turning away. "Warren, I don't want you to make me angry. And I don't want you to disappoint me. I enjoy spending time with you too. But I don't want to set myself up for it when you're telling me that you're going to do it. People who care about each other don't do that. They try to make each other happy. They try to make each other better. That's what I want from you. To try NOT to make me angry. To try NOT to disappoint me. And I would try to do the same. To better ourselves in each other's presence, not get on a ship knowing it's meant for disaster."

He had a comment to make about the Titanic, but he wisely kept it to himself. Raising his hands in front of him, he shrugged. "See? I'm already saying the wrong things. I will do my absolute best to not disappoint you, and I will do my absolute best not to make you angry, but you have to know that this is not something I've really done before."

Warren could almost feel his pride catching in his throat but honesty won out. Looking away from her, he started to speak. "I've...never...really....had a relationship before. Or ever. This is why I'm...fairly positive that I'm going to mess this up."

Jean fell silent for a few moments. From the sound of it, it took a lot for him to admit this fact. In that moment he looked vulnerable. She had seen it before, but it seemed strange on his face, something even he himself unconsciously recognized. Perhaps she took pity. Perhaps she saw something more in him, something beyond the layers of bravado. And she wanted to help him see it too.

"For someone who could sell oceanfront property in Nebraska...you don't seem to have that much confidence in yourself," she said with a smile.

He turned his attention back to her. "Yes, but Nebraskans actually need oceanfront property. I don't know if you actually need me. That's the difference." Warren sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, mussing it up slightly. "I will, of course, go along with whatever you decide. As long as I have you in my life, in whatever capacity, your presence can only enrich it."

Not knowing what to say to that, Jean found herself pausing a lot longer than she had anticipated, again. She was struck by his words. She hadn't heard them before. In all honesty, she hadn't let herself get truly close enough to someone to. She had friends, people she cared about, people who knew her. But when it came to someone who loved her...she was always afraid they'd find out who she was, what she could do, and run away.

"There's...something else you don't know about me. I don't know if that'll change your opinion. Usually...it's hard for people to hear," she said, glancing down.

"I can't just...move things with the power of my mind. I can also read minds too. I haven't read yours. I don't...I don't do that. But most people when they hear it...that's what they worry about."

Warren gave her an incredulous look. Putting up a hand, he gave her a sideways glare. "Wait a second. You mean to tell me you could've gone into my head and pulled out my thoughts?"

He didn't even wait for a confirmation nod before continuing. "Then why are we having this conversation? That would have been much simpler AND much less damaging to my ego." Warren flashed her a teasing smile. "Why would I care about what your powers are? I trust you, or else I wouldn't be here in the first place."

"Because moving things with your mind is different than hearing what you're thinking," Jean said, folding her arms self-consciously. "I've told someone before, outside my usual circle, and it...didn't end well."

He shrugged her comment off with a flippant wave of his hand. "I don't care. To be honest, there's not much in my head at most times anyways. Just a mad jumble of business figures, phone numbers and all the horrible things I wish I could do to you." He raised a finger in pause. "Wait. That last one. Maybe you want to stay away from that part of my brain."

"Wow, horrible, dirty thoughts about me. I would have never thought that about you.. You're purer than the driven snow," Jean deadpanned with a smirk. She shook her head.

"And I think you're smarter than you give yourself credit for. I just...think you lack focus."

He returned her smirk with one of his own. "I wouldn't be where I was if I didn't focus. And on that note, I'm afraid I still haven't received an answer to my question."

"There is a difference between focus and guided perspective," Jean said.

"You were raised a Worthington, to run the company. To die an old man surrounded by money at the top of your business game. You are your father's son. Your work ethic and general ideals come from careful cultivation. Your focus has been that for so very long that that world is all you saw. Until now. I could see it, before. Being your own person. But sometimes you let what your parents instilled in you cloud what you see. You run on auto pilot. But you can be so much more than that."

She offered him the feather back, closing it in his hand. The red haired woman with the bright eyes smiled.

"We can try."

"Good." A sense of relief washed over him. To.be honest, he didn't quite know what he'd agreed to, which was strange for him.

But trying sounded good, even without a frame of reference. "I still want to kiss you, but I'm not going to push it. In fact," he stepped back, closer to the edge, "I think I should quit while I'm ahead
Have a nice night, Jean."

Walking backwards into the air, his wings spread out instantly. With a quick flip in the air, he headed off into the night, a grin lodged tightly on his face.