Miles & Gabriel, Wednesday afternoon

[x-otoxic.livejournal.com]

Miles bumps into Gabriel after a DR run and get to know each other better. Then Miles makes an uncomfortable offer that Gabriel can't turn down.


Gabriel was hardly a tactician, but he could spot the holes in Miles' game.

The thought surprised him. He was seated in a chair in the Danger Room's observation deck, watching the kid shoot venom blasts and dodge fake opponents. He could tell Miles was working hard to please whoever was down there, some training expert who he couldn't quite identify. And he was doing a good job of things, really.

But Gabriel kept seeing opportunities. Openings. Places he'd be able to rush in and strike, using his speed to counteract any danger sense that was firing in the battle. That kind of thing could get a guy in trouble. It's how zombie speedsters found their way toward–

Gabriel closed his eyes and clenched his fists. He concentrated on his breathing. What happened had happened. And once Miles was done, Gabriel (and a surprisingly late Scott) would get a chance to work some of that out.

For Miles, it was an easier routine than last time. No obstacle course, just dummies popping up that required swift maneuvering to discharge venom blast after venom blast to knock them out. Still, "easier" didn't mean it wasn't challenging, and when he was finally done, he was panting and covered in sweat.

He took a breather against the wall outside of the Danger Room when he was dismissed. It was good that he'd worn the Gen X training uniform instead of his own because that was a pain in the butt to clean, especially when he didn't want anyone to know that he even had it. He couldn't wait to take this thing off, shower away the grime, and take a nap before dinner.

"Nice job." Gabriel appeared, as if out of nowhere, at Miles' side. "Way better than my first time." It wasn't, but that was a thing Gabriel figured he should say. Anticipating a good deal of running in the near future, he leaned one shoulder against the wall and started stretching his calves. "A shoe-in for superhero status, if that's what you want."

"Hey, homes." Another good reason to not have gone the Spidey route today. He'd never be able to explain that away. "Thanks. You were watching me? Don't you have better things to do?"

"Nah, not really." Gabriel deadpanned. "I'm nosy and my life lacks meaning." He switched legs. "Just waiting my turn, mijo. Danger Room's the best workout anyone can get around here. Nothing like fear of a giant saw or flamethrower or whatever to get your heart rate up."

"The obstacle course is hell of fun," Miles agreed, twisted ankles and other minor injuries notwithstanding. An acceptable alternative to swinging from building to building through the Manhattan skyline on silk threads. ""Sup with you lately?"

"Not too much," Gabriel admitted. "Some days, it's gym, work, sleep. Other days, it's gym, fun, sleep. Spending a lot of time on the train, which is just kind of a drag." There was also some therapy with Xavier, a hell of a lot of pot, and an occasional sleepover. But Gabriel wasn't sure he wanted to corrupt Miles just yet. "Being an adult is pretty routine."

"Sounds lame. No offense. Partial offense," Miles amended. "I have a ton of AP homework if you'd like to keep yourself busy. Some essays to write. You ever read Their Eyes Were Watching God? I start falling asleep every time I open that book so I could use the help."

"No." Gabriel wrinkled his nose. He hadn't made it that far in the curriculum, and the reading he'd been doing on his own hadn't led him down that path. "You get to the Sound and the Fury, though, let me know." Gabriel leaned against the wall and began stretching his arms. "Hey," he said after a few seconds, "how do you feel about ink?"

"I prefer toner. Why?"

Gabriel snorted and rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "God, dude, come on." He jabbed Miles in the shoulder. "Even for you, bad."

It was mega-lame in the sort of way that would have made Peter proud, so Miles refused to apologize. "What about ink? You mean like tattoos? I don't really know. Never thought about it. I'm too young to get one, anyway. How come?"

"No, I don't know." Gabriel shrugged. "I got another one, and I was just wondering." He eyed Miles. "I was gonna say that if you wanted one, I could probably make that happen, but I'm thinking we might be a year or two away from that."

"Another one? I didn't know you had one in the first place. What is it? Doesn't it hurt? My parents would literally murder me if I got one."

"Ha, I've got four." Gabriel grinned. "Honestly, they hurt less each time. And I bet your parents'd get over it." Actually, Gabriel had no idea how parents reacted to supposedly rebellious things like tattoos. But on the grand scheme of potential fuck-ups, body art didn't seem so bad. "It's just kind of a thing, you know? They get used to it."

Miles shook his head. "I'm an only child. I've got two generations of high expectations riding on me. Gotta be perfect! But, you know, no pressure." He was still smiling, though. He was always mommy's little boy, even though he'd never let that slip to anyone, especially Gabriel. "What're your tattoos of?"

"Yeah, expectations are tough." Gabriel nodded in solidarity, the corners of his lips turned up to show that he was more amused than anything. "Oh, well, I've got a few, so let me..." He tried to slide his shoulder out of his shirt, but it didn't quite work, so with a shrug, he just took it off. "So, this one's a small equals sign, because, duh." His finger went toward his left pec. "And then I've got this bird on the other side." He turned around, showing Miles the bird that perched atop his left shoulder blade. "That one was more impulsive."

"And then, uh." He turned back around but didn't quite meet Miles' eyes. "You can see the new one too." Near his waist, on the right side, he had the top of an arrow pointing somewhat toward his heart. He'd taken care not to make it too big or too obtrusive, and the direction was mostly a conscious choice to have the thing point away from his crotch, because he wasn't that trashy. "And then there's one under that. Stars."

Miles had no psychic powers, but that was the first thing that came to his mind, too. "You really avoided the trashy look by having that one point up instead of down," he teased. He looked up at Gabriel and, perhaps sensing the other man's unease, looked away as well. His eyes briefly fell back to Gabriel's bare hip before he looked up at past Gabriel again. "Does that one mean something?"

"Nah." Gabriel shrugged. "Kinda? It's, like..." He scratched the back of his neck, then started to put his shirt back on. "Orion." That was what the tattoo artist had thought, and he decided it was a convenient excuse, even if Gabriel didn't know shit about mythology. Or astronomy. "You know, the stars are the belt, and then the arrow because... hunter." He wasn't sure why he'd thought he wanted to have this conversation, except that it felt good to tell Miles things.

"Okay then, Neil deGrasse Tyson." Because it was easier for Miles to fall back to teasing than to acknowledge the weird bit of discomfort he'd just felt. He couldn't tell himself why, but he felt like he'd just intruded on something private, even though Gabriel was the one who'd brought up the topic in the first place. "Well, I'm sure if I put one there, my parents would never find out so I'd be safe from them."

"I'm not trying to pressure you." Gabriel threw his hands up in deference. "Far be it from me to do anything that leads me to a lecture from Big Daddy X about corrupting the students." He tried to slip into a fake British accent. "'Gabriel, while I believe that all my students ought to be free spirits, they can't really be free until they're 18.' Ugh."

"Now you're starting to sound like my uncle," Miles laughed. "Just with a Nuyorican accent. Hey, I just had an idea. You're not doing anything for Easter, are you?"

"Yeah, right." Gabriel snorted.

Miles nodded knowingly. "That's what I thought. You wanna maybe come to my place for dinner? You don't have to come to mass or anything, but, you know, pernil, rice, alcapurrias. There's usually wine."

"Oh, um." Gabriel was a little taken aback. An Easter dinner wasn't really his scene, especially one that came after mass. And it didn't sound like Miles' parents were the most open-minded people in the world, which made him a little nervous. Still...

"Yeah," he said after a second. He smiled. "Sure - sounds fun. What's pernil?"

Miles couldn't have smiled wider if he tried. Besides Ganke, he'd never invited a friend over before. Not even Peter had ever gone to his home. He clapped Gabriel's shoulder, maybe a tad too roughly in all the excitement. "Pernil's a roasted pork. It's a Caribbean dish, I think. My mom makes the best, I swear. We usually go to the afternoon mass so come over around 5:30? I can text you the address."

"Yeah, sure," Gabriel nodded, his grin widening upon seeing Miles so exuberant. "Sounds awesome, man."

"Sweet. I should go clean up. Good luck in there!"

"Hey, thanks." Gabriel bounced on his heels. "I'll try not to fuck up too badly." He gave Miles a quick wave, then headed into the Danger Room.