Gabriel & Clint | Fancy A Lift?

[x-velocidad.livejournal.com]

Gabriel gets caught in a rainstorm on a bike. Clint gives him a ride home.

Gabriel wiped his hand on his wet Levi's and sighed. It had been a beautiful summer day when he'd decided to borrow a bike from the Xavier's garage and head to town. He'd spent an hour or two shopping, buying only a new pair of shades before heading back. Even though he wasn't the strongest of bikers, he hadn't been too worried.

Then, out of nowhere, the rain came. A sudden summer shower - well, a deluge, really - one that had surprised him enough that he'd taken a spill, landing into a dirty puddle as the bike slid out from under him.

He wasn't too much worse for wear - a few scrapes and a sore muscle or two, plus the sunglasses he'd just bought were already cracked. But the chain on the bike had snapped, and there was no riding it back. And so now he was standing by the side of a back road, sticking his thumb out in the hopes of hitching a ride back to Xavier's. So far, he'd struck out.

Clint was heading back into town, his run to Pet Smart having ended with a lot more in the way of potential toys for PD than actual, important supplies. He'd managed the dog food, though, and the dog bed. So that was something. It was just - there was so much variety for dog toys.

He glanced in the rear-view mirror to check on PD, who was happily chewing a rawhide bone in the back. When Clint looked back toward the road, he saw someone with their thumb stuck out with a bike laying on the ground next to them. He wouldn't have slowed, usually, but he recognized the face as he drew closer.

Unlocking the doors, he put the car in park after drawing up next to Gabriel. He opened his door, the rain still coming down, though not as hard as it had been a little while ago, and asked, "You okay?"

"Define okay." Gabriel raised his arms, presenting himself to Clint and trying to ignore the shame that was threatening to replace the relief he felt at having someone pull over. "I'll make it," he finally said after a second. "Don't suppose you've got a towel or anything, though? I'm kinda..." He felt pathetic, standing there in a muddy T-shirt and a pair of damp jeans in front of Clint, and hating how much he was aware of it. "Don't want to ruin your car."

"It's fine, the leather'll wipe off easy. Go ahead and get in, I'll grab the bike," Clint said, already heading around the front of the car. "The trunk can be kinda finicky, but I think it'll fit."

"God, thanks." Gabriel slid into the passenger seat, the leather squeaking as he settled into it. It was now muggy and humid outside, and so Gabriel wasn't surprised that Clint had the air conditioning on at high blast. But he was shivering as soon as he shut the door. He glanced out at Clint, who was handling the bike, then turned to look at the dog in the backseat.

Goosebumps popped up on his arms as the air blew on his wet skin. "Fuck it," he muttered. The dog barked back in response, and Gabriel had to smile. "Sorry, I know, I know." He reached down to the hem of his shirt and pulled it off, then pushed the button to lower the window. When it had slid down, Gabriel leaned out of it and started wringing his shirt out onto the asphalt.

Clint closed the trunk, having had to take the front wheel off the bike, and then headed for the driver's side door again. His own shirt had gotten pretty wet at the shoulders, but it wasn't sopping like Gabriel's had been, so he didn't bother trying to wring it out. He just turned the AC down, the heat up a little, and the fans to a lower setting. "Hey," he said, wiping his face off on the hem of his own shirt before he looked over at the younger man. "Hell of a day for your bike chain to break, huh?"

"Yeah," Gabriel nodded. He pulled his shirt back into the car and raised the window back up before putting it back on. He frowned as it touched his skin, drier than it had been but still fairly wet. Oh well. "Probably should have checked the weather before I left, but," he shrugged. "Oh well."

"Shit happens," Clint said with a shrug. "Gabriel, meet PD. PD, this is Gabriel. Try not to drool on him too much." Not that PD was paying all that much attention to either of them. He just huffed and went back to his rawhide. "Watch out for him," Clint said to Gabriel, eyes crinkled at the corners as he checked his mirrors. "He's ferocious."

"I'm sure," Gabriel grinned. He turned over his shoulder to look at the dog again, who looked more content to be gnawing on his bone than Gabriel had ever looked to be doing anything. "I'm glad you drove by." He whipped back around and glanced at Clint. "Honestly, after the third luxury sedan sped by, I was giving up hope."

"To be honest, I probably wouldn't have if I hadn't recognized you," Clint said with a shrug. "Serial killers and all that or whatever. Gross over generalization and stereotyping aside, though, I'm glad I could help. This downpour was definitely unexpected."

"Yeah, I know." Gabriel shrugged back. "I kinda feel like a bum right now, though. Like, who even hitchhikes anymore? Especially in bourgie suburban New York. I don't know who I expected to pick me up, except for, like, the cops." He wrinkled his nose at the thought.

Chuckling, Clint asked, "Don't you have super speed? Why didn't you just run back to the mansion?"

"Doesn't work like that." Spotting an unopened bottle of water on the floor of the car, Gabriel leaned down to pick it up. "You mind?" At Clint's head shake, he opened it and took a swig. "Okay." He sat up a little straighter. "So, remember that whole 'more or less' thing I said a while ago?" Actually, he doubted Clint remembered the conversation as vividly as he did, but he kept talking.

"So, like, let's say we were a 30-minute run away from home. If I ran that distance, it'd still be like - like, okay, I'd feel like 30 minutes had gone by for me. Even if I made it home in three." He scratched the back of his neck. "I mean, maybe that's how super-speed works? I'm not sure. Don't know anyone else like me."

"Huh," Clint said, pulling back onto the road. "That... huh. Doesn't sound like super speed. Are you familiar with, like, the theory of relativity?"

"Not really." Gabriel turned toward the window, looking back at the spot of his fall as it receded from view. "Scott kinda explained it to me - something about a clock in the air and a clock on the ground."

"Right, time dilation," Clint said, nodding. "Hm..." He should probably have tried to do something like start small talk, but now he was thinking about physics in relation to the man sitting beside him. "I wonder how fast you move."

"Never had any complaints." He couldn't help the smirk that appeared.

Grinning despite himself, Clint cast a glance in Gabriel's direction. "I'm sure. Double entendre aside, though. Has anybody ever tried to track your miles per hour or anything?"

"Nah," Gabriel shook his head. "Not yet. But, like, I don't really want to be studied." He put air quotes around the last word.

"Of course not," Clint said. "But understanding your own mutation is pretty valuable, right? I'd be willing to help, if you wanted. In a totally not mad scientist sort of way. It's like people telling me to try shooting arrows while wearing drunk glasses."

"Do people legit ask you to do that?" Gabriel raised an eyebrow, turning his head to glance at Clint. "Can you?"

"Yeah, that's a thing people have really suggested. Along with blinders and weird goggles that only have tiny holes punched in them. Then people started suggesting I actually get drunk and try shooting arrows..." Clint trailed off, quirking a rueful smile. "I'd be willing to try a few things, just to push my mutation a bit. But sometimes their suggestions are absurd."

"So do a lotta people know you're a mutant, then?" Gabriel tilted his head a bit. "Nobody's really asked me to do anything, but the people at Xavier's are all kinda figuring their own shit out, so..."

"Not a lot," Clint said, shaking his head. "My dads. My brothers. My bosses at SHIELD. I suspect the Director of SWORD at least guessed, but no real confirmation. The mansion's the first place I've been where people are open about it. I didn't know until a few years ago, myself."

"How few years ago?" Gabriel looked back out the window. "I mean, you're - that's kinda late, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Clint said, nodding. "I mean, I'm not like. Visible, y'know? So..." He shrugged. "We just figured the colorblindness was regular colorblindness. And the spatial awareness stuff just... it was never a huge deal. I've trained in archery since I was seven, martial arts since I was... eleven, I think. It's just like a lot of things happened or didn't happen at the right time to keep me flying under the radar."

"That's lucky, though. Fortunate." Gabriel smiled at him. "And kinda good that you did things that helped you, like, hone your talent. Or at least make good use of it. Weird how life works out."

"Yeah," Clint said, nodding again. "What about you? When did you find out?"

"A couple of years ago." Gabriel stayed quiet for a while, turning back to look at PD while he considered the best way to answer that question. "I was home, and I was going... somewhere, and I was running, and the whole thing only took five minutes. It should have taken a lot longer."

"That doesn't sound so bad," Clint said, glancing over his shoulder to see PD with his ears pricked forward, tail smacking into the seat, his rawhide held between his teeth.

"I'm sure it could have been worse," Gabriel agreed. The mutation hadn't been the problem that night. It had been a gift. "I didn't destroy a school or hurt anyone or anything. But it's scary being a teenager and feeling kinda, like - well, it's hard enough already, and then to have this other thing you can't really talk to anyone about is..."

"Not awesome," Clint finished, nodding slowly. "Yeah, it's... high school was hard enough, like you said. And I had it relatively easy, compared to most. It's still not a period of time I'd ever willingly choose to relive. I don't think many people would." Something hit the floor in the backseat with a thunk. A quick look showed PD had dropped his rawhide and was now very carefully nosing his way over the seat divider so he could lay his head on the arm rest.

"Yeah, exactly." Gabriel shrugged. His hand moved to scratch PD behind the ears. "Being a mutant's kinda the cherry on top of the shit sundae, so to speak."

"The mansion's better, though, right?"

"Well, yeah." Gabriel nodded and gave Clint a small smile. "And I'm older now, and so, like, I don't totally give a shit about other people so much anymore." He said that with a lot of conviction, though it wasn't always true. But since Clint had died (which was a weird thing to be thinking about in a car with Clint), Gabriel had certainly started giving less of a fuck. "Plus, like, New York. You can kinda let your freak flag fly, mostly."

Grinning, Clint asked, "How long've you been in New York? Long enough to see Pride? My dads go all-out."

"Uh, yes," Gabriel grinned back. "I work at a gay bar, which you know, because you stumbled into it not too long ago. Seen Pride. Felt Pride. Lived Pride."

Clint laughed a little. "Right, but I didn't know how long you'd been here. The party this year's gonna be pretty big. It's my dad's like something-something anniversary of going to Pride, so. You should come, if you want. I dunno if many other people at the mansion would be interested, but I figured I'd put the invitation out there a little closer to the date."

"Oh, uh..." Gabriel glanced at the dog, then back up at Clint. "Yeah," he said with a smile that wasn't helping him ignore the uneasy feeling in his stomach like he'd hoped. "I mean, I'll probably have to work, because, duh. But if not, sure. That's really nice of you."

"No problem," Clint said, quirking another smile. "You're one of like three people at the mansion who don't think I'm attempting to infiltrate them and steal all their secrets or something."

"Oh god." Even though Clint's comment wasn't that funny, Gabriel couldn't help the small laugh. It had been a shitty day, and the unrestrained paranoia at the mansion was entertaining. "Should I be worried?" Now there was a loaded question.

"Not because of me," Clint said, shaking his head. "But that's what I'd say if I was sent to infiltrate the mansion or whatever." His smile turned rueful. "Guess you'll just have to wait and see like everybody else."

"Well, that's no fun." That smile was like a punch in the gut. Gabriel smiled back. "And it's exactly the kind of thing a spy might say..."