Rekindling
Mar. 11th, 2020 07:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
queenkatyastarTitle: Rekindling
Author: Katya Starling
Fandom: X-Men
Characters/Pairing: Beast/Iceman
Rating: Soft R/M
Challenge/Prompt: Fan-Flashworks 292: Coincidence and All Bingo Food Fest: Espresso
Word Count: 1,717
Date Written: 4 March 2020
Warnings: None
Summary: It wasn't quite the coincidence Hank wanted to make it appear.
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
Bobby tensed as he heard the door slide open. The intruder made not a sound as he padded into the kitchen on big, furry feet. He paused when he saw Bobby with his back stiffened toward him. He rubbed a hand down his equally furry jaw before speaking in a cautious whisper, "It -- It is merely a coincidence, Robert."
"You know," Bobby complained, stirring his coffee, "I really don't see what the big deal is. So I add some fresh snow to the creamer? Big deal! They all liked it until they found out what's in it!"
"I think they find it . . . odd, in part because some of the younger minds feel as though the snow is a part of you. But do you recall," Hank spoke gently, moving closer to his most cherished friend of all, "when during the hot Summers we were first here, everyone liked your ice cream? Even the Professor would ask for it."
"I do," Bobby said. He started to smile but then frowned again. "That is exactly," he groused, "why I don't see why they all make it into such a big deal now!"
"It's not," Hank assured him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. He almost snatched his hand away, but he knew his beloved Bobby was always cold to the touch. He was cold, yet he warmed him like no other ever had or would. "I . . . " He paused, gathered his bravado, and tried again. "I miss your ice cream," he whispered.
The spoon fell with a clatter onto the kitchen counter. Hank moved closer, sealing the distance between them. He opened his mouth, sharp fangs peeking out from his blue lips, and blew hot breath across Bobby's neck. His hairs stood on end in instant response.
Hank laid his package on the counter. "I brought doughnuts," he whispered, his voice edging on a purr. "Your favorite."
They were too, not just his favorite flavor but the prized Krispy Kreme brand as well. "I thought you said it was a coincidence?"
"It was. I thought I'd beat you back."
"I started getting up this damn early so I could enjoy my coffee in peace."
"I also bought an espresso machine," Hank whispered, his ears perking up. "It's in my room."
Bobby grinned, his brown eyes shining with anticipation. "Am I allowed to make my own creamer?"
Hank slipped his massive arms around Bobby, and when the younger man did not push him off or pull away from his touch, he embraced him fully. He placed a kiss on the arch of his neck and licked a damp spot on his skin. Bobby jumped in delight as Hank's teeth grazed him. "You'd better," he whispered, then turned and left, whisking the doughnuts along with him.
A huge grin was finally shining on Bobby's face, which had been Hank's intention ever since he'd noticed that the younger mutants were teasing him about adding snow from his fingertips to the public creamer. Hank had felt that snow many times before, but it had been far too long since he'd felt the Iceman's cold and sensual touch that both chilled and thrilled every inch of him. It had been far too long, he thought, since they'd cuddled, since they'd been close as friends and especially as more . . . It was far past time they rebuilt their relationship, even if they had to start with an abrupt, early morning encounter.
It didn't matter what time of the day or night it was. It shouldn't have taken coffee and teenagers to make them reconnect. It should not, Hank thought, have taken anything. He'd never stopped loving Bobby, though they'd each left the team numerous times. His feelings for him had never once changed. He had always admired and adored him since the first time Bobby had made him laugh with some silly knock-knock joke. It had just seemed so completely out of place at the time, when danger and possible death had loomed everywhere, that for him to utter any kind of a simple joke had just somehow seemed hilarious at the time. Hank remembered that moment and the laughter that had ensued not just from himself and Bobby but Scott, Jean, Warren, and the Professor as well, and longed for those tender moments again.
Jean, Scott, and Charles were all dead, and God only knew where Warren was these days. They still had each other, though. Hank turned and watched as Bobby glided into the room behind him. "You know," he teased, brown eyes finally alight with mirth again, "you didn't have to buy me with coffee and doughnuts."
"No, but I should have bought you far more long ago." He should have bought him a ring. He should have taken him on dates, or at least out to dinner more often. There had been so many missed opportunities over the years, and he was as much to blame, if not more, for letting them slip by them as Robert. They still had each other, and they still had whatever time God allotted to give them. He would not miss another opportunity, he swore as Bobby walked up to him.
"So where do we start?" he asked, and Hank was pleasantly surprised to see pink tingeing his high cheek bones.
"We had the joke," he murmured, though he'd not laughed. Laughter didn't come anywhere nearly as easily as it had so many years earlier, not even with his cherished Robert this close. "I suppose we start where we always did." He cupped Bobby's cold cheek and trailed sharp fingernails very gently over Bobby's lips. "With laughter and a kiss."
"And coffee."
Hank did laugh at that time. It whispered out of him at first but then built into a large, booming chuckle that echoed through his room, into his laboratory next door, and down into the hallway. Bobby grabbed Hank's face in his hands, holding to both cheeks, and urged him, "Not so loud, Big Blue. We don't wanna wake 'em."
"Let them get their own coffee," Hank spoke, and Bobby roared with laughter. His arms grabbed around Hank, holding to him to keep from falling.
"I forgot you know how to be funny!"
"Of course I do." Hank's bright, blue eyes sparkled. "I learned from the best after all."
They had learned from the best, but the best were all gone, all but them. Bobby sobered suddenly. "We really have missed out on a lot," he observed aloud.
Hank gingerly stroked his cheek, feeling the stubble underneath his furry palm. "Yes," he admitted, "but we do not have to miss even a second more."
"We won't," Bobby vowed and then remembered himself. They both could have made the first move to rekindle the fire that had always burned between them, but he hadn't tried because . . . Well, if he was honest, because he'd become convinced that nobody wanted him. Nobody could ever like him in that special way, as Hank had before and clearly still yearned to do so if he didn't still. "At least I won't if you won't."
"It's a deal," Hank agreed, his fang-filled grin broadening, "my sexy Snowball."
He had not called him that in years. Joyful recognition lit Bobby's eyes. He tilted his head back just as Hank brought his down. Their lips met as their arms wrapped around each other. Suddenly, despite the blizzard outside, it was warm enough in Hank's room to melt every bit of snow and ice Bobby had ever made. He let the warmth envelope him, relished Hank's big, warm, and strong arms enveloping him, and finally felt assured not just that he was loved but that he would never go without loving or appreciation again.
Hank kissed Bobby hungrily and passionately. He knew they could never make up for all that they had missed, and he kicked himself for being such a fool as to let their separation go on for as long as it had. Scott and Jean had both once told him, at separate times and each by themselves, that for such a genius of intellect, he could really be a dummy sometimes. Oddly enough, in both cases, they had been referring to his feelings for Bobby and his failure to act on them. He was an idiot, he thought, but he'd never be one again, at least not where Robert was concerned. He'd made a great many promises in his careers as Scientist, doctor, and X-Man, but from this moment forward, he would never break the most important promise he'd made in a very long time. He'd not let them be separated again until death did come calling for one of them, and starting this very morning, he'd never again let a chance pass them by to show Bobby with every action in his arsenal just how much he loved, cherished, and valued him.
And, he thought as he lifted Bobby onto the nearest piece of furniture which just happened to be his desk, the next time those children started complaining about Bobby's snow, he'd have Bobby make an entire arsenal of snowballs and silence their protests once and for all. Nobody knew how to make snow or cream like his beloved Robert, just as nobody knew how to love him right. Hank's mouth flew open in roars of elation, but Bobby was right there to silence him even as he thrilled him. He brought his head back down to him, buried Hank's face into his shoulder, and filling his mouth with his own, thrusting flesh. "Don't wake the kids," he whispered to him. "We don't want to be disturbed."
If they disturbed them, Hank swore silently with language he'd picked up long ago from Logan, they'd never get to be real X-Men. They would never get to be real X-Men regardless for as with so many other things, they no longer made X-Men the same as they once had. None were as good as the classic. None were as good as his, Hank thought and roared his passion and pleasure into Bobby's shoulder. They never had been, and they never would be, and he'd never let his lover think again, for even a second, that anyone, especially these spoiled children, was above him.
The End
Author: Katya Starling
Fandom: X-Men
Characters/Pairing: Beast/Iceman
Rating: Soft R/M
Challenge/Prompt: Fan-Flashworks 292: Coincidence and All Bingo Food Fest: Espresso
Word Count: 1,717
Date Written: 4 March 2020
Warnings: None
Summary: It wasn't quite the coincidence Hank wanted to make it appear.
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
Bobby tensed as he heard the door slide open. The intruder made not a sound as he padded into the kitchen on big, furry feet. He paused when he saw Bobby with his back stiffened toward him. He rubbed a hand down his equally furry jaw before speaking in a cautious whisper, "It -- It is merely a coincidence, Robert."
"You know," Bobby complained, stirring his coffee, "I really don't see what the big deal is. So I add some fresh snow to the creamer? Big deal! They all liked it until they found out what's in it!"
"I think they find it . . . odd, in part because some of the younger minds feel as though the snow is a part of you. But do you recall," Hank spoke gently, moving closer to his most cherished friend of all, "when during the hot Summers we were first here, everyone liked your ice cream? Even the Professor would ask for it."
"I do," Bobby said. He started to smile but then frowned again. "That is exactly," he groused, "why I don't see why they all make it into such a big deal now!"
"It's not," Hank assured him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. He almost snatched his hand away, but he knew his beloved Bobby was always cold to the touch. He was cold, yet he warmed him like no other ever had or would. "I . . . " He paused, gathered his bravado, and tried again. "I miss your ice cream," he whispered.
The spoon fell with a clatter onto the kitchen counter. Hank moved closer, sealing the distance between them. He opened his mouth, sharp fangs peeking out from his blue lips, and blew hot breath across Bobby's neck. His hairs stood on end in instant response.
Hank laid his package on the counter. "I brought doughnuts," he whispered, his voice edging on a purr. "Your favorite."
They were too, not just his favorite flavor but the prized Krispy Kreme brand as well. "I thought you said it was a coincidence?"
"It was. I thought I'd beat you back."
"I started getting up this damn early so I could enjoy my coffee in peace."
"I also bought an espresso machine," Hank whispered, his ears perking up. "It's in my room."
Bobby grinned, his brown eyes shining with anticipation. "Am I allowed to make my own creamer?"
Hank slipped his massive arms around Bobby, and when the younger man did not push him off or pull away from his touch, he embraced him fully. He placed a kiss on the arch of his neck and licked a damp spot on his skin. Bobby jumped in delight as Hank's teeth grazed him. "You'd better," he whispered, then turned and left, whisking the doughnuts along with him.
A huge grin was finally shining on Bobby's face, which had been Hank's intention ever since he'd noticed that the younger mutants were teasing him about adding snow from his fingertips to the public creamer. Hank had felt that snow many times before, but it had been far too long since he'd felt the Iceman's cold and sensual touch that both chilled and thrilled every inch of him. It had been far too long, he thought, since they'd cuddled, since they'd been close as friends and especially as more . . . It was far past time they rebuilt their relationship, even if they had to start with an abrupt, early morning encounter.
It didn't matter what time of the day or night it was. It shouldn't have taken coffee and teenagers to make them reconnect. It should not, Hank thought, have taken anything. He'd never stopped loving Bobby, though they'd each left the team numerous times. His feelings for him had never once changed. He had always admired and adored him since the first time Bobby had made him laugh with some silly knock-knock joke. It had just seemed so completely out of place at the time, when danger and possible death had loomed everywhere, that for him to utter any kind of a simple joke had just somehow seemed hilarious at the time. Hank remembered that moment and the laughter that had ensued not just from himself and Bobby but Scott, Jean, Warren, and the Professor as well, and longed for those tender moments again.
Jean, Scott, and Charles were all dead, and God only knew where Warren was these days. They still had each other, though. Hank turned and watched as Bobby glided into the room behind him. "You know," he teased, brown eyes finally alight with mirth again, "you didn't have to buy me with coffee and doughnuts."
"No, but I should have bought you far more long ago." He should have bought him a ring. He should have taken him on dates, or at least out to dinner more often. There had been so many missed opportunities over the years, and he was as much to blame, if not more, for letting them slip by them as Robert. They still had each other, and they still had whatever time God allotted to give them. He would not miss another opportunity, he swore as Bobby walked up to him.
"So where do we start?" he asked, and Hank was pleasantly surprised to see pink tingeing his high cheek bones.
"We had the joke," he murmured, though he'd not laughed. Laughter didn't come anywhere nearly as easily as it had so many years earlier, not even with his cherished Robert this close. "I suppose we start where we always did." He cupped Bobby's cold cheek and trailed sharp fingernails very gently over Bobby's lips. "With laughter and a kiss."
"And coffee."
Hank did laugh at that time. It whispered out of him at first but then built into a large, booming chuckle that echoed through his room, into his laboratory next door, and down into the hallway. Bobby grabbed Hank's face in his hands, holding to both cheeks, and urged him, "Not so loud, Big Blue. We don't wanna wake 'em."
"Let them get their own coffee," Hank spoke, and Bobby roared with laughter. His arms grabbed around Hank, holding to him to keep from falling.
"I forgot you know how to be funny!"
"Of course I do." Hank's bright, blue eyes sparkled. "I learned from the best after all."
They had learned from the best, but the best were all gone, all but them. Bobby sobered suddenly. "We really have missed out on a lot," he observed aloud.
Hank gingerly stroked his cheek, feeling the stubble underneath his furry palm. "Yes," he admitted, "but we do not have to miss even a second more."
"We won't," Bobby vowed and then remembered himself. They both could have made the first move to rekindle the fire that had always burned between them, but he hadn't tried because . . . Well, if he was honest, because he'd become convinced that nobody wanted him. Nobody could ever like him in that special way, as Hank had before and clearly still yearned to do so if he didn't still. "At least I won't if you won't."
"It's a deal," Hank agreed, his fang-filled grin broadening, "my sexy Snowball."
He had not called him that in years. Joyful recognition lit Bobby's eyes. He tilted his head back just as Hank brought his down. Their lips met as their arms wrapped around each other. Suddenly, despite the blizzard outside, it was warm enough in Hank's room to melt every bit of snow and ice Bobby had ever made. He let the warmth envelope him, relished Hank's big, warm, and strong arms enveloping him, and finally felt assured not just that he was loved but that he would never go without loving or appreciation again.
Hank kissed Bobby hungrily and passionately. He knew they could never make up for all that they had missed, and he kicked himself for being such a fool as to let their separation go on for as long as it had. Scott and Jean had both once told him, at separate times and each by themselves, that for such a genius of intellect, he could really be a dummy sometimes. Oddly enough, in both cases, they had been referring to his feelings for Bobby and his failure to act on them. He was an idiot, he thought, but he'd never be one again, at least not where Robert was concerned. He'd made a great many promises in his careers as Scientist, doctor, and X-Man, but from this moment forward, he would never break the most important promise he'd made in a very long time. He'd not let them be separated again until death did come calling for one of them, and starting this very morning, he'd never again let a chance pass them by to show Bobby with every action in his arsenal just how much he loved, cherished, and valued him.
And, he thought as he lifted Bobby onto the nearest piece of furniture which just happened to be his desk, the next time those children started complaining about Bobby's snow, he'd have Bobby make an entire arsenal of snowballs and silence their protests once and for all. Nobody knew how to make snow or cream like his beloved Robert, just as nobody knew how to love him right. Hank's mouth flew open in roars of elation, but Bobby was right there to silence him even as he thrilled him. He brought his head back down to him, buried Hank's face into his shoulder, and filling his mouth with his own, thrusting flesh. "Don't wake the kids," he whispered to him. "We don't want to be disturbed."
If they disturbed them, Hank swore silently with language he'd picked up long ago from Logan, they'd never get to be real X-Men. They would never get to be real X-Men regardless for as with so many other things, they no longer made X-Men the same as they once had. None were as good as the classic. None were as good as his, Hank thought and roared his passion and pleasure into Bobby's shoulder. They never had been, and they never would be, and he'd never let his lover think again, for even a second, that anyone, especially these spoiled children, was above him.
The End
