Short Ficlet
Title: Training (And Why Forge Hates It Slightly Less These Days)
Rating: PG
Pairing: Mort/Forge
Word Count: 938
Summary: Pure fluff ficlet for Sylverlining’s birthday.
As a blast from a laser sent him flying painfully to the floor, Forge remembered exactly why he had stopped going to danger room sessions.
He scrambled to his feet just seconds before another shot hit the ground where he’d been laying and darted to find cover. Cyclops shouted an order that may have been aimed at him but he could barely hear it over the noise of the battle around him. Forge crouched down behind a low wall and glanced around, trying to get his bearings in all the chaos.
The first thing he did was try to find Mortimer. That was the only reason he’d come to the session at all, to help Mortimer. The other mutant had been having a… less than easy time of it in training sessions. Forge knew the feeling, the others worked so well together that the addition of anyone else only seemed to make things harder for everyone. Forge had hoped that having someone closer to his own level would make Mortimer fell a little less useless.
Frankly, it had seemed like a much better idea that morning, back when everything had been safely not trying to kill him.
Finally, he managed to find Mort, crouched down in a safe spot of his own across the room. He seemed to be doing better than Forge was, panting but not exhausted, just trying to get his own bearings and get back into the session. He’d come farther than Forge had realized over the past few months. Pride surged up for a moment and he smiled.
Unfortunately, watching Mortimer meant that he wasn’t watching the lasers, which meant that he didn’t quite see the shot heading towards him until it took out half his cover. Forge was thrown to the floor for the second time that day, head hitting the metal hard.
The world swam for a long moment, sending a sick feeling straight down into his stomach. It subsided once the colors stopped swirling together and Forge’s eyes finally focused enough to see Logan standing over him, the simulation briefly stilling around them.
Logan helped him to stand and Forge wobbled. Though he managed to steady himself, he could tell he was going to be even less help than before. Logan clearly agreed as he quickly began leading him towards the door. “Just… go sit outside for a while.”
Forge really didn’t have it in him to protest.
***
The throbbing in his head didn’t stop when he leaned against the wall, if anything it got worse. Sliding down into a sitting position, Forge propped his head in one hand with a small groan. Distantly, he heard the door to the danger room open again but it didn’t really register through the ache until he felt someone kneel beside him. An icepack pressed gently against the growing bump on his forehead.
“You okay, man?”
Slowly, Forge lifted his head to glance over at Mortimer, forcing a small smile on his face in an attempt to ease the worry he saw in the other mutant’s eyes. “Yeah, it’s fine. Just a headache, no big deal.” The worried look didn’t subside with the reassurance; Mortimer only looked more concerned. “I swear, Mort, I’m okay.”
Mort fell silent, biting his lip, but seemed to accept the answer. He let Forge take the icepack from him and pulled his hand back, twisting his fingers together nervously. Forge reached out his free arm to tug him down to the floor, wrapping it tight around Mort’s shoulders to calm him.
Automatically, Mort curled closer to him, leaning his head onto Forge’s shoulder. He almost relaxed, but those wide eyes were still fixated on Forge’s face, as if he expected him to keel over from brain damage at any moment. “I’m taking you to Hank if you start to fall asleep or something.”
“Come on I didn’t hit that hard.” Mort didn’t look the least bit convinced and Forge sighed softly. “Will it make you feel better if I promise to tell you if I start feeling woozy?”
Somehow, Mortimer managed to move even closer to him, practically sitting in his lap. “A little.” Finally, he stopped the intense staring and relaxed further against Forge’s side. His hand dropped down to twine his fingers together with Forge’s. “What made you come down today anyway? I didn’t think you liked the danger room sessions.”
“Well, I don’t really. I just…” He trailed off and Mort glanced up at him curiously, waiting for him to elaborate. Forge felt a blush beginning to spread over his face as his previous reasoning suddenly became the most embarrassing thing in the world to admit to. “Well, you said you were having some trouble in training so I thought…”
Mortimer blinked up at him slowly, taking in the spreading blush, and then smiled. “So you came down to help me out?”
“I… yeah, I guess so.” The flush still wasn’t going away. It only seemed to deepen as Forge continued. “I mean, I know I wasn’t exactly all that helpful, really. I kind of just got slammed around the whole time, but I thought that-“
Mort cut him off with a quick kiss to the cheek. “Thanks. Really. It just helps to have someone else there for you, you know?” After a second, Forge nodded. His blush started to subside only to return when Mort gave him a kiss on the lips, this one long and lingering. Forge couldn’t help but feel disappointed when it finally broke.
As Mortimer settled back into position beside him, Forge decided that this had been worth the headache.
Rating: PG
Pairing: Mort/Forge
Word Count: 938
Summary: Pure fluff ficlet for Sylverlining’s birthday.
As a blast from a laser sent him flying painfully to the floor, Forge remembered exactly why he had stopped going to danger room sessions.
He scrambled to his feet just seconds before another shot hit the ground where he’d been laying and darted to find cover. Cyclops shouted an order that may have been aimed at him but he could barely hear it over the noise of the battle around him. Forge crouched down behind a low wall and glanced around, trying to get his bearings in all the chaos.
The first thing he did was try to find Mortimer. That was the only reason he’d come to the session at all, to help Mortimer. The other mutant had been having a… less than easy time of it in training sessions. Forge knew the feeling, the others worked so well together that the addition of anyone else only seemed to make things harder for everyone. Forge had hoped that having someone closer to his own level would make Mortimer fell a little less useless.
Frankly, it had seemed like a much better idea that morning, back when everything had been safely not trying to kill him.
Finally, he managed to find Mort, crouched down in a safe spot of his own across the room. He seemed to be doing better than Forge was, panting but not exhausted, just trying to get his own bearings and get back into the session. He’d come farther than Forge had realized over the past few months. Pride surged up for a moment and he smiled.
Unfortunately, watching Mortimer meant that he wasn’t watching the lasers, which meant that he didn’t quite see the shot heading towards him until it took out half his cover. Forge was thrown to the floor for the second time that day, head hitting the metal hard.
The world swam for a long moment, sending a sick feeling straight down into his stomach. It subsided once the colors stopped swirling together and Forge’s eyes finally focused enough to see Logan standing over him, the simulation briefly stilling around them.
Logan helped him to stand and Forge wobbled. Though he managed to steady himself, he could tell he was going to be even less help than before. Logan clearly agreed as he quickly began leading him towards the door. “Just… go sit outside for a while.”
Forge really didn’t have it in him to protest.
***
The throbbing in his head didn’t stop when he leaned against the wall, if anything it got worse. Sliding down into a sitting position, Forge propped his head in one hand with a small groan. Distantly, he heard the door to the danger room open again but it didn’t really register through the ache until he felt someone kneel beside him. An icepack pressed gently against the growing bump on his forehead.
“You okay, man?”
Slowly, Forge lifted his head to glance over at Mortimer, forcing a small smile on his face in an attempt to ease the worry he saw in the other mutant’s eyes. “Yeah, it’s fine. Just a headache, no big deal.” The worried look didn’t subside with the reassurance; Mortimer only looked more concerned. “I swear, Mort, I’m okay.”
Mort fell silent, biting his lip, but seemed to accept the answer. He let Forge take the icepack from him and pulled his hand back, twisting his fingers together nervously. Forge reached out his free arm to tug him down to the floor, wrapping it tight around Mort’s shoulders to calm him.
Automatically, Mort curled closer to him, leaning his head onto Forge’s shoulder. He almost relaxed, but those wide eyes were still fixated on Forge’s face, as if he expected him to keel over from brain damage at any moment. “I’m taking you to Hank if you start to fall asleep or something.”
“Come on I didn’t hit that hard.” Mort didn’t look the least bit convinced and Forge sighed softly. “Will it make you feel better if I promise to tell you if I start feeling woozy?”
Somehow, Mortimer managed to move even closer to him, practically sitting in his lap. “A little.” Finally, he stopped the intense staring and relaxed further against Forge’s side. His hand dropped down to twine his fingers together with Forge’s. “What made you come down today anyway? I didn’t think you liked the danger room sessions.”
“Well, I don’t really. I just…” He trailed off and Mort glanced up at him curiously, waiting for him to elaborate. Forge felt a blush beginning to spread over his face as his previous reasoning suddenly became the most embarrassing thing in the world to admit to. “Well, you said you were having some trouble in training so I thought…”
Mortimer blinked up at him slowly, taking in the spreading blush, and then smiled. “So you came down to help me out?”
“I… yeah, I guess so.” The flush still wasn’t going away. It only seemed to deepen as Forge continued. “I mean, I know I wasn’t exactly all that helpful, really. I kind of just got slammed around the whole time, but I thought that-“
Mort cut him off with a quick kiss to the cheek. “Thanks. Really. It just helps to have someone else there for you, you know?” After a second, Forge nodded. His blush started to subside only to return when Mort gave him a kiss on the lips, this one long and lingering. Forge couldn’t help but feel disappointed when it finally broke.
As Mortimer settled back into position beside him, Forge decided that this had been worth the headache.