Paul, Warren

[x-angel.livejournal.com]

To quote Ande:


A cool late evening breeze caught Warren's hair as he opened the door and stepped onto the flyer's platform. Nighttime wasn't his favorite time to fly, but he liked to keep his night flying skills sharp, and anyway he figured he could stand to get out and be alone for a while. He stretched his muscles, preparing himself.

Paul checked his watch as he streaked back towards the flight platform. Thirty-three minutes for the course he'd set for Shiro. He tried to do the math in his head, given how fast he figured he'd been going. He could have measured the distance on the map, but that would have been too easy. Habit told him when to set his feet down and come to a halt but habit hadn't counted on Warren Worthington stretching arms and wings wide in the middle of the flyer's platform. Really, it was a poster-moment for flight-deck safety.

Only Paul's inhuman reflexes and all those ballroom dancing lessons Phillipe had made him take kept him from knocking Warren flat. As it was, he got his arm around the other man's waist and turned the collision into the first three steps of a waltz. "Je m'excuse," he said, as he spun Warren around a half-turn.

"Ack," Warren said in surprise as the other man caught him. This platform really was too small sometimes. He stepped back out of Paul's arm and looked him over. "Paul. Where were you going in such a hurry?"

Paul ran his fingers through his hair and looked up at Warren. "I was going to turn around and go right back out once I'd calculated how far the last course I flew was. Why?"

"Why? Because you knocked into me," Warren said with a cool, slight smile. He didn't know Paul that well, but as Paul had been introduced as the person who would be taking over Warren's Flight class, he already felt some resentment toward him. That Paul had almost knocked him over didn't help. "Well, if you've got more work to do, please, don't let me stop you." Warren turned and resumed his stretches, careful not to get in Paul's way.

"Math's not my strong point," Paul said unapologetically, hopping up to sit on the railing while he tried to do the math in his head. Eighty kilometers. That sounded good. "Who do I talk to about getting permission for setting long courses for the flight class?" he asked, frowning and trying to convert to miles. Fifty? It seemed right. "You'll be joining us, yes? Haroun said something about that."

Thanks for reminding me, Warren thought. "I used to teach the class." He kept his voice perfectly polite but not particularly friendly. "I believe all flying mutants are required to take it, so yes, I will be joining you. And you can talk to the Professor about that."

"Thanks." Paul stood and stretched, then pulled a printed out map from his pocket and studied the red lines on it in the barely sufficient light by the door. "They didn't tell me I was teaching it," he grumbled. "What do they do, draw lots? It can't just be luck that they manage to be so irritating about it. I specifically asked not to teach French and they gave it to me anyway." He made a face and wandered back toward Warren, still looking at the map.

"That's too bad." Warren shrugged. He felt unsympathetic, and wondered why he and Paul were both still here, talking. It seemed rude to leave now, though, when Paul was standing right next to him. "I'm sure it won't be that bad. If you really want to change, though, you could probably bring it up with the Professor."

Paul gave Warren an arch look, stuffing the map back into his pocket. "You want me to go bother Charles Xavier because I'm not in the mood to hear my native tongue mangled by his precious charges? I'm not quite that arrogant. No, I think I'll take the schedule I'm given." He gestured vaguely, peering north and east to where a dim glow indicated the existence of more civilization beyond the trees. "Where's the safest place to fly in the day that would give us a good stretch?"

Part of Warren felt like witholding advice, but he knew it would be childish, so he reluctantly considered Paul's question. "Well, I like to circle around that way--" he pointed-- "over the bottom of the hills in the east and back into the forest there. It's a good distance, about ten miles, not too far for the less experienced flyers but long enough for everyone to get stretched out a bit before you start the real workout. There's a nice clearing somewhere in there, where you can stop and get everyone regrouped before starting again." After a moment, he added stiffly, "I can show you right now, if you like."

Paul picked up on the stiffness in Warren's tone and wasn't sure what it was about. Maybe he was upset about the course assignments, maybe he was annoyed about Paul having gone to Harry's with Piotr. Both seemed a little unworthy of the man, given what he knew about him, but people had their quirks. He nodded. "Yes please, thanks." He would make an effort to be polite. Warren was not only well-connected and a colleague, he was easy on the eyes and that made being pleasant a little more rewarding.

Warren nodded back. "Follow me." He pushed off the platform and set out into the sky, checking to make sure Paul was following him. He didn't go too fast, as this was more to show Paul around than to get a workout.

Paul followed, enjoying the night air on his skin. Warren was exceptionally pretty in the air. He wondered about how Warren actually flew and bit back questions. How maneuverable was he, were the wings for steering only or propulsion as well? And that was just the start.

Finally they completed the semicircle and Warren touched his bare feet down on the damp grass in the forest. The clearing was dark, but probably got a fair share of sunlight during the day. A large wooden crate stood off to one side. Warren reached in and pulled out a flashlight, which he switched on and handed to Paul. "We used to come here so often that I just brought this box over here to keep supplies in... you know, flashlights for night flying, some maps, sometimes a few bottles of water." He sat down, panting a bit. The flight seemed to have relaxed him a bit. He peered up at Paul. "So... What do you think?"

"Looks good." Paul scanned the area. The updrafts in the heat of the day would be steady out here, easy for young fliers to manage. "I suppose, as this is a school and not a training facility, that you've had to place more emphasis on control and safety," he said, trying to pick his words carefully for once. It was harder than some people made it look. "And less on speed and other performance."

Warren picked up what Paul was implying, but suppressed his irritation. He did appreciate how carefully Paul had chosen his words; clearly, the man was trying to be nice about it. "Well, Sam and myself had been working on speed and maneuvering, but we always emphasized control and safety first. So yes, a lot of the less experienced ones were still working on that."

Paul grinned, crouching down with his hands resting on his knees, in front of Warren. "Terrible habit, that," he said, half-teasing. "I understand you'd need to do it. It's a school. These are kids. But Sam and maybe even Shiro... I think it might be time for a little more. You too, if you haven't had real field training in the air, if you haven't been challenged enough. Maybe you haven't been?"

Warren eyed Paul and smiled back for the sake of politeness, but he could feel himself getting annoyed again. Who was this Paul guy to just waltz in and tell him what he was doing wrong? He'd never even seen Warren teach. "Shiro is probably ready to step up," he conceded after a pause. "I'd been planning on talking to him about that in the fall. But Sam is doing the best he can, and none of the other students are ready. As for myself, I train with Storm and in the Danger Room on a regular basis." Had that sounded too defensive? "Although it never hurts to improve," he added.

Paul could tell Warren was a little irritated, he was looking for it. Usually he didn't care at all. "There's something about pushing yourself in the air that you can't imitate," he said mildly, standing. "How old are you?"

Warren stood too, and hoped this meant the conversation would be ending soon so they could go their separate ways. "I'm twenty-four. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," Paul said, thinking back to being twenty-four. He winced internally. 1994 had not been a banner year for him. "How long with the X-Men?"

"About a year. Came here not long after I graduated college." He glanced at Paul, wondering if there was any particular point to the questioning.

Paul nodded. "I was just trying to get a feel for how long you'd been in the business, see exactly how much of your ego I'm stepping on. I was recruited when I was twenty. Fourteen years... well, there were some anomalies, so it's been even longer for me. I don't know about Haroun, but flying is one of the things I've devoted myself to." He shrugged. "I hope you'll join us for lessons and workouts with Sam and Shiro, but it's your call whether or not you're satisfied with where you are."

Warren raised his eyebrows. "I said I'd be joining you. Flight class is part of my training, whether I'm teaching it or not. And uh... You let me know if there's anything I can help you with. I know I don't have your experience, but I may be able to supply the odd bit of useful information here or there."

"Well, there's all levels of participation," Paul said, shrugging. "I didn't quite grasp that the class was manditory, since you seem perfectly capable of getting from point A to point B. I've never taught flight on a schooling level before. If there's students younger than Shiro, I'll be out of luck... or fired. Or better yet, this /is/ America, sued." He gave Warren a crooked grin.

Warren smiled back at him. "I'm sure you'll be fine," he said neutrally. "The kids are mostly very cooperative and smart, and you've got Haroun as well..."

Damn, he was irritatingly composed. It must be a side-effect of teaching at the school. Back in Ottawa, there'd have been a blowout already. Paul frowned direly in Warren's direction, dissatisfied. It wasn't healthy to be so reserved. "That's generous of you," he said. Or at least you're faking it well, I should say, which is more impressive.

"Uh, thanks." Warren frowned back, not sure why Paul was frowning at him all of a sudden. It was making him uncomfortable. "Hey, listen, I think I should get going now... Wanted to get some training done tonight, you know, and it's getting late."

"Go ahead," Paul waved him away, feeling more irritable by the moment. Forget sex, it was having someone to fight with that he really missed lately. "Haroun or I will be in touch about the class. I'll try to remember to check my mail more, in case he wants to discuss it there."