Clear the Air
Title: Clear the Air
Fandom: X-Men
Characters: Victor Borkowski/Jean-Paul Beaubier
Prompt: 54. Air
Word Count: 2321
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Slight spoilers for X-Men #190
Disclaimer: I own NOTHING.
Author's Notes: Five years after wreaking havoc on the mansion, Jean-Paul Beaubier returns to some unexpected changes.
"Cyclops to Anole. Do you read?"
"Affirmative. I've got the location of the generator. I'm right on top of it."
"Do you see Blindfold or the Cuckoos?"
"They're fifty feet to the west of me. They all appear to be unconscious. I think I can get the generator offline and get the girls out."
Victor pressed his hand to the warm metal of the psi-inhibiting generator, wishing that Network was still alive and here. She could have just told the thing to stop while he played White Knight.
But she'd been gone for five years, and unlike Jean Grey, she wasn't going to come back.
"Ah'd say you're good to go," Rogue drawled over the radio. "Mah team is in position for extraction."
"We are go," Cyclops pronounced.
Victor nodded, and he started ripping open the generator. He could hear the fighting going on outside, but he concentrated on his job. Wreck the generator, rescue the girls.
The thing groaned in protest and the stench of burning machine filled the air. Now the psychics could join the fight.
Anole hurried to the four psychics, lifting Blindfold as easily as he might a child. Someone had taken her blindfold away, leaving the mutant looking at the blank expanse of skin where her eyes should have been. "Katie? Blindfold, can you hear me?"
The precog's face turned towards him, a smile spreading across her face. "Ooh... you are in for a surprise..." she whispered.
***
"I do not know why I am even hear," Jean-Paul Beaubier grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring.
"Because," Emma Frost said, "you love the sound of your own voice, and there is no better way to hear your own voice than to teach."
"Harpy."
"Shrew."
"Bitch."
"Yes."
The two exchanged very small smiles as they entered the school. Theirs was a friendship born out of bitchiness and former villainy. Emma and Jean-Paul understood each other the way no one else seemed to.
It was Emma who talked Jean-Paul into returning to the school to teach. It had been five years since the Canadian had been at the school. Five years since the Children had used him to try to get Sabertooth, only to be stopped by Rogue.
It was Emma who had helped him find his way back to sanity, like she was still trying to help Jeanne-Marie.
Emma paused, her eyes unfocused in the way that Jean-Paul had come to associate with the use of telepathy. She smiled ever so slightly. "We're just in time, it seems, to join the victory celebration." There was a decidedly mischievous spark in her eyes.
"What have you done, you evil cow?"
"Not a thing. I was picking you up at the airport, as you may recall." Emma sashayed through the doors, and Jean-Paul arched an eyebrow at her as he followed.
The Xavier Institute smelled of wood polish, chalk dust, and teenagers. It always had, and Jean-Paul suspected that it always would, even if you took all the teenagers out and let the building stand empty for years.
Emma lead the way to the formal dining room. The oak doors had been left open, and the party had spilled out into the hall. Julian Keller was hanging off Cessily Kincaid, waving a drink cheerfully and singing a song about a girl from Madripor. Jean-Paul's lip curled. The boy was old enough that he could do as he wished, and still young enough to revel in getting drunk. A look in the room told the older Canadian that the same was true with much of the rest of the party. Most of the revelers were young, young enough to have been his students last time, though he spotted a few older faces in the bunch.
Emma surveyed the scene with an amused smirk. "They stopped some ridiculous terrorist group. Silly things."
A cheer rose up from the center of the room, and Santo heaved a chair over his shoulders, tumbling the occupant out and sending him rolling into Jean-Paul's legs. They went down in a tangled heap of arms and legs. Jean-Paul swore as he went down, and continued to swear as he tried to untangle himself from a pair of long, strong legs. Now, he didn't object to being pressed against some young thing, but not under these circumstances. He braced his arms on the floor and hissed, "Hold still."
"Yes, Mr. Beaubier."
Jean-Paul finally looked at the erstwhile bowling ball and froze. "Victor?"
The green skinned boy grinned up at him, his breath smelling strongly of beer. "Hi." He wriggled a bit, and Jean-Paul got off him. Victor got his feet back under him and shot up, almost knocking Jean-Paul over again as he staggered. The speedster put a hand on the younger man's shoulder to steady him.
The last time Jean-Paul had seen Victor, he'd broken the boys nose.
And yet, the young mutant looked delighted to see him. At least, if the unexpected hug was any indication. "Welcome back, Mr. Beaubier." He smiled brightly and staggered away.
"See?" Emma said. "I told you people would be happy to see you."
***
Victor was swearing under his breath as he dashed across the campus. His head ached abominably, and it felt like something had crawled into his mouth and died. "Never again," he groaned. "Never again am I listening to Julian. Ne-" He would have continued along that line if a student hadn't dropped on him.
"Oww... sorry Mr. Borkowski."
"Joshua!" A familiar voice cut through the young flyer's apology.
"Sorry, Mr. Beaubier!"
"Rejoin the rest of the class, Joshua." Jean-Paul landed lightly beside the boy and Victor, and the young flyer took off. "Are you alright, Victor?"
"Peachy," Victor groaned.
Jean-Paul took his arm and pulled him to his feet. "I do hope this is not going to be a common occurrence," he said dryly.
"I usually don't fall down this often," Victor admitted sheepishly. "I've got to run. I'm supposed to be in class."
"I would have thought you'd have graduated by now."
"Oh. Yeah. I did. Student teacher." He grinned, rubbing the back of his head. "I've got my BA in English, and I'm working towards my Masters, and I've got Usage of Prehensile Appendages." Victor unrolled his tongue and waggled it, then drew it back in quickly. "And I'm late. I'll see you around, Mr. Beaubier!" He waved over his shoulder as he dashed off.
Jean-Paul watched him run for a long moment before rejoining his students, wondering what he had gotten himself into.
***
Jean-Paul was on his way to lunch when he heard someone sobbing in one of the classrooms. He was giving serious thought to passing on when he heard Victor say, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
Jean-Paul peered through the partially open door to see Victor leaning against the teacher's desk. A girl from the older mutant's flying class stood in front of him, looking absolutely miserable. She sniffed, chafing her feather covered arms as she announced, "I t-tried to tell Momma about Regina... and... and..." The girl let out a heart broken sob, and Victor drew her into a gentle hug.
"It's alright," he murmured soothingly, letting the girl cry on his shoulder. "It's going to be okay."
Jean-Paul stepped away from the door and waited until the girl left, a tissue clutched in a feathered hand, then peered back inside. Victor was wiping snot off his shoulder with a faintly repulsed look on his face. "Is it safe to enter, or would I be subjected to the sobbing of teenage girls?"
Victor looked up, then around. "Enter freely and of your own will." Jean-Paul stepped over the threshold, looking around with mild curiosity. "I'm her advisor," Victor explained. "She just came out. Her mom's..." He shrugged. "She'll be alright. Her girlfriend's an empath."
"One would not think one small girl could produced so much snot."
"Yeah,” Victor made a face. "I seem to recall you used to keep several boxes of tissues in your office."
"And I didn't let people cry on my actual shoulder."
Victor shrugged. "Sometimes, the only thing you can do is hold them when they cry. There's nothing to be done for the shirt. I'll see you around, Mr. Beaubier." He smiled crookedly and slipped out of the room, leaving Jean-Paul staring after him for the second time since his return. He watched the younger man tug his shirt off as he walked and swallowed very hard, his mouth going dry.
***
"Vic! Get your green ass out here!"
"Absolutely not."
"Why not?"
"Because the last time I let you talk me into drinking with you, I made an ass out of myself in front of Ms. Frost and Mr. Beaubier."
"What are you, twelve? They've got first names. We're their colleagues, not their students!"
"That does not change the fact that I made of an ass of myself."
"Vic, Vic, Vic. You so need to get laid."
"You offering, Julian?"
"Get dressed and get your green ass out here. We're going out."
"I am doing no such thing."
***
There's nothing wrong with finding him attractive, you know, Emma said from her office as Jean-Paul glared at his bedroom ceiling. He's perfectly adorable, polite, and sweet. He's a nice boy, and you could do worse.
Emphasis here: boy. He's half my age.
A bit less than that.
Not by much.
He's twenty-one years old, Jean-Paul. He's old enough to make his own decisions about these things, and old enough that you can safely pursue him without running into any of those nasty statutory rape laws. Jean-Paul could feel the leer in her voice. While being just young enough to be malleable.
Pervert.
Jean-Paul? Could you be a dear and run into town? We have two lost little lambs in need of a ride home.
I'll consider it
***
Victor had his head between his knees, not even looking up as the car pulled to a halt in front of the wall he was perched on. Julian was propped up against the wall, sleeping the sleep of the drunk. Victor himself was still feeling rather tipsy, but he was almost sober enough that he could manage the drive home. Ms. Frost had said she was sending someone to get them, but that had been two hours ago. It did not take two hours to get from the school to here. He raised his head, and the acidec words he had been about to spit out died on his tongue.
Jean-Paul leaned against the dark blue sedan, dressed impeccably in dark slacks and a cream colored long sleeved shirt. He looked like he could have stepped right out of an add, and his face was totally unreadable.
Victor let his head drop again, and he climbed off the wall. He could feel heat rising to his face, and silently swore that he was never going to listen to Julian again. "Mr. Beaubier," he said quietly, picking Julian up and staggering a little under his weight. The speedster was at his side in an instant, a steadying hand on the small of his back, the other one on his shoulder. "I got him."
"I'm sure you do," Jean-Paul said dryly, guiding him towards the car. Victor was almost sorry when the older mutant took his hands away to open the back door.
"Thanks for coming to get us," Victor mumbled, sliding Julian into the back.
"I was given the impression that this was a fairly common occurrence," Jean-Paul stated emotionlessly. Victor flushed again, making sure Julian's legs were safely inside before shutting the door.
"Julian likes to party," the mutant said, resting his hands on the roof of the car. He wasn't going to look at Mr. Beaubier. He didn't want to see the disappointment -- or worse, disgust -- that he was sure was written on his face.
The passenger door popped open, startling Victor. "Get in." Jean-Paul circled around and got into the car. Victor slid in, pausing to appreciated the smell and sounds of leather seats. He closed his eyes and just concentrating on breathing. He swallowed hard. It smelled like leather and aftershave in the car.
A quick peek told Victor that they were moving. He ran his palms over the dark leather seats.
God, this was a nice car.
"Sorry."
"For having the good sense to call for a ride rather than attempt the drive in your condition?"
Victor felt his blush rising to his face once again. "Um."
Jean-Paul held up a warning finger. "Don't be."
"Yes, sir." Victor watched the older mutant out of the corner of his eye. Inappropriate thoughts kept popping up in his mind, only to be quickly squashed down. He was too old to be crushing on a teacher.
But he's not your teacher, a little voice whispered, not anymore. You're colleagues. Equals.
I, Victor told the little voice, will never be equal to him.
Mr. Beaubier was everything Victor wished he could be. Self-assured, comfortable in his own skin, sexy... everything he wanted to be.
And everything you want, that voice whispered. Everything you've ever wanted in a lover.
Which, Victor was forced to admit, was true.
They pulled through the school gates, and up to the front. Jean-Paul let out a small sigh and turned to face him. "Victor-"
Victor leaned across the seat and kissed him, his tongue wiggling into the older man's mouth as one hand locked in his dark hair. He kissed Jean-Paul like he needed him to keep breathing.
And just as suddenly as it had started, it was over. Victor bolted from the car like a startled deer.
In the back seat, Julian groaned and made a what's going on? kind of noise.
"Get out of my car, Keller."
Fandom: X-Men
Characters: Victor Borkowski/Jean-Paul Beaubier
Prompt: 54. Air
Word Count: 2321
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Slight spoilers for X-Men #190
Disclaimer: I own NOTHING.
Author's Notes: Five years after wreaking havoc on the mansion, Jean-Paul Beaubier returns to some unexpected changes.
"Cyclops to Anole. Do you read?"
"Affirmative. I've got the location of the generator. I'm right on top of it."
"Do you see Blindfold or the Cuckoos?"
"They're fifty feet to the west of me. They all appear to be unconscious. I think I can get the generator offline and get the girls out."
Victor pressed his hand to the warm metal of the psi-inhibiting generator, wishing that Network was still alive and here. She could have just told the thing to stop while he played White Knight.
But she'd been gone for five years, and unlike Jean Grey, she wasn't going to come back.
"Ah'd say you're good to go," Rogue drawled over the radio. "Mah team is in position for extraction."
"We are go," Cyclops pronounced.
Victor nodded, and he started ripping open the generator. He could hear the fighting going on outside, but he concentrated on his job. Wreck the generator, rescue the girls.
The thing groaned in protest and the stench of burning machine filled the air. Now the psychics could join the fight.
Anole hurried to the four psychics, lifting Blindfold as easily as he might a child. Someone had taken her blindfold away, leaving the mutant looking at the blank expanse of skin where her eyes should have been. "Katie? Blindfold, can you hear me?"
The precog's face turned towards him, a smile spreading across her face. "Ooh... you are in for a surprise..." she whispered.
***
"I do not know why I am even hear," Jean-Paul Beaubier grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring.
"Because," Emma Frost said, "you love the sound of your own voice, and there is no better way to hear your own voice than to teach."
"Harpy."
"Shrew."
"Bitch."
"Yes."
The two exchanged very small smiles as they entered the school. Theirs was a friendship born out of bitchiness and former villainy. Emma and Jean-Paul understood each other the way no one else seemed to.
It was Emma who talked Jean-Paul into returning to the school to teach. It had been five years since the Canadian had been at the school. Five years since the Children had used him to try to get Sabertooth, only to be stopped by Rogue.
It was Emma who had helped him find his way back to sanity, like she was still trying to help Jeanne-Marie.
Emma paused, her eyes unfocused in the way that Jean-Paul had come to associate with the use of telepathy. She smiled ever so slightly. "We're just in time, it seems, to join the victory celebration." There was a decidedly mischievous spark in her eyes.
"What have you done, you evil cow?"
"Not a thing. I was picking you up at the airport, as you may recall." Emma sashayed through the doors, and Jean-Paul arched an eyebrow at her as he followed.
The Xavier Institute smelled of wood polish, chalk dust, and teenagers. It always had, and Jean-Paul suspected that it always would, even if you took all the teenagers out and let the building stand empty for years.
Emma lead the way to the formal dining room. The oak doors had been left open, and the party had spilled out into the hall. Julian Keller was hanging off Cessily Kincaid, waving a drink cheerfully and singing a song about a girl from Madripor. Jean-Paul's lip curled. The boy was old enough that he could do as he wished, and still young enough to revel in getting drunk. A look in the room told the older Canadian that the same was true with much of the rest of the party. Most of the revelers were young, young enough to have been his students last time, though he spotted a few older faces in the bunch.
Emma surveyed the scene with an amused smirk. "They stopped some ridiculous terrorist group. Silly things."
A cheer rose up from the center of the room, and Santo heaved a chair over his shoulders, tumbling the occupant out and sending him rolling into Jean-Paul's legs. They went down in a tangled heap of arms and legs. Jean-Paul swore as he went down, and continued to swear as he tried to untangle himself from a pair of long, strong legs. Now, he didn't object to being pressed against some young thing, but not under these circumstances. He braced his arms on the floor and hissed, "Hold still."
"Yes, Mr. Beaubier."
Jean-Paul finally looked at the erstwhile bowling ball and froze. "Victor?"
The green skinned boy grinned up at him, his breath smelling strongly of beer. "Hi." He wriggled a bit, and Jean-Paul got off him. Victor got his feet back under him and shot up, almost knocking Jean-Paul over again as he staggered. The speedster put a hand on the younger man's shoulder to steady him.
The last time Jean-Paul had seen Victor, he'd broken the boys nose.
And yet, the young mutant looked delighted to see him. At least, if the unexpected hug was any indication. "Welcome back, Mr. Beaubier." He smiled brightly and staggered away.
"See?" Emma said. "I told you people would be happy to see you."
***
Victor was swearing under his breath as he dashed across the campus. His head ached abominably, and it felt like something had crawled into his mouth and died. "Never again," he groaned. "Never again am I listening to Julian. Ne-" He would have continued along that line if a student hadn't dropped on him.
"Oww... sorry Mr. Borkowski."
"Joshua!" A familiar voice cut through the young flyer's apology.
"Sorry, Mr. Beaubier!"
"Rejoin the rest of the class, Joshua." Jean-Paul landed lightly beside the boy and Victor, and the young flyer took off. "Are you alright, Victor?"
"Peachy," Victor groaned.
Jean-Paul took his arm and pulled him to his feet. "I do hope this is not going to be a common occurrence," he said dryly.
"I usually don't fall down this often," Victor admitted sheepishly. "I've got to run. I'm supposed to be in class."
"I would have thought you'd have graduated by now."
"Oh. Yeah. I did. Student teacher." He grinned, rubbing the back of his head. "I've got my BA in English, and I'm working towards my Masters, and I've got Usage of Prehensile Appendages." Victor unrolled his tongue and waggled it, then drew it back in quickly. "And I'm late. I'll see you around, Mr. Beaubier!" He waved over his shoulder as he dashed off.
Jean-Paul watched him run for a long moment before rejoining his students, wondering what he had gotten himself into.
***
Jean-Paul was on his way to lunch when he heard someone sobbing in one of the classrooms. He was giving serious thought to passing on when he heard Victor say, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
Jean-Paul peered through the partially open door to see Victor leaning against the teacher's desk. A girl from the older mutant's flying class stood in front of him, looking absolutely miserable. She sniffed, chafing her feather covered arms as she announced, "I t-tried to tell Momma about Regina... and... and..." The girl let out a heart broken sob, and Victor drew her into a gentle hug.
"It's alright," he murmured soothingly, letting the girl cry on his shoulder. "It's going to be okay."
Jean-Paul stepped away from the door and waited until the girl left, a tissue clutched in a feathered hand, then peered back inside. Victor was wiping snot off his shoulder with a faintly repulsed look on his face. "Is it safe to enter, or would I be subjected to the sobbing of teenage girls?"
Victor looked up, then around. "Enter freely and of your own will." Jean-Paul stepped over the threshold, looking around with mild curiosity. "I'm her advisor," Victor explained. "She just came out. Her mom's..." He shrugged. "She'll be alright. Her girlfriend's an empath."
"One would not think one small girl could produced so much snot."
"Yeah,” Victor made a face. "I seem to recall you used to keep several boxes of tissues in your office."
"And I didn't let people cry on my actual shoulder."
Victor shrugged. "Sometimes, the only thing you can do is hold them when they cry. There's nothing to be done for the shirt. I'll see you around, Mr. Beaubier." He smiled crookedly and slipped out of the room, leaving Jean-Paul staring after him for the second time since his return. He watched the younger man tug his shirt off as he walked and swallowed very hard, his mouth going dry.
***
"Vic! Get your green ass out here!"
"Absolutely not."
"Why not?"
"Because the last time I let you talk me into drinking with you, I made an ass out of myself in front of Ms. Frost and Mr. Beaubier."
"What are you, twelve? They've got first names. We're their colleagues, not their students!"
"That does not change the fact that I made of an ass of myself."
"Vic, Vic, Vic. You so need to get laid."
"You offering, Julian?"
"Get dressed and get your green ass out here. We're going out."
"I am doing no such thing."
***
There's nothing wrong with finding him attractive, you know, Emma said from her office as Jean-Paul glared at his bedroom ceiling. He's perfectly adorable, polite, and sweet. He's a nice boy, and you could do worse.
Emphasis here: boy. He's half my age.
A bit less than that.
Not by much.
He's twenty-one years old, Jean-Paul. He's old enough to make his own decisions about these things, and old enough that you can safely pursue him without running into any of those nasty statutory rape laws. Jean-Paul could feel the leer in her voice. While being just young enough to be malleable.
Pervert.
Jean-Paul? Could you be a dear and run into town? We have two lost little lambs in need of a ride home.
I'll consider it
***
Victor had his head between his knees, not even looking up as the car pulled to a halt in front of the wall he was perched on. Julian was propped up against the wall, sleeping the sleep of the drunk. Victor himself was still feeling rather tipsy, but he was almost sober enough that he could manage the drive home. Ms. Frost had said she was sending someone to get them, but that had been two hours ago. It did not take two hours to get from the school to here. He raised his head, and the acidec words he had been about to spit out died on his tongue.
Jean-Paul leaned against the dark blue sedan, dressed impeccably in dark slacks and a cream colored long sleeved shirt. He looked like he could have stepped right out of an add, and his face was totally unreadable.
Victor let his head drop again, and he climbed off the wall. He could feel heat rising to his face, and silently swore that he was never going to listen to Julian again. "Mr. Beaubier," he said quietly, picking Julian up and staggering a little under his weight. The speedster was at his side in an instant, a steadying hand on the small of his back, the other one on his shoulder. "I got him."
"I'm sure you do," Jean-Paul said dryly, guiding him towards the car. Victor was almost sorry when the older mutant took his hands away to open the back door.
"Thanks for coming to get us," Victor mumbled, sliding Julian into the back.
"I was given the impression that this was a fairly common occurrence," Jean-Paul stated emotionlessly. Victor flushed again, making sure Julian's legs were safely inside before shutting the door.
"Julian likes to party," the mutant said, resting his hands on the roof of the car. He wasn't going to look at Mr. Beaubier. He didn't want to see the disappointment -- or worse, disgust -- that he was sure was written on his face.
The passenger door popped open, startling Victor. "Get in." Jean-Paul circled around and got into the car. Victor slid in, pausing to appreciated the smell and sounds of leather seats. He closed his eyes and just concentrating on breathing. He swallowed hard. It smelled like leather and aftershave in the car.
A quick peek told Victor that they were moving. He ran his palms over the dark leather seats.
God, this was a nice car.
"Sorry."
"For having the good sense to call for a ride rather than attempt the drive in your condition?"
Victor felt his blush rising to his face once again. "Um."
Jean-Paul held up a warning finger. "Don't be."
"Yes, sir." Victor watched the older mutant out of the corner of his eye. Inappropriate thoughts kept popping up in his mind, only to be quickly squashed down. He was too old to be crushing on a teacher.
But he's not your teacher, a little voice whispered, not anymore. You're colleagues. Equals.
I, Victor told the little voice, will never be equal to him.
Mr. Beaubier was everything Victor wished he could be. Self-assured, comfortable in his own skin, sexy... everything he wanted to be.
And everything you want, that voice whispered. Everything you've ever wanted in a lover.
Which, Victor was forced to admit, was true.
They pulled through the school gates, and up to the front. Jean-Paul let out a small sigh and turned to face him. "Victor-"
Victor leaned across the seat and kissed him, his tongue wiggling into the older man's mouth as one hand locked in his dark hair. He kissed Jean-Paul like he needed him to keep breathing.
And just as suddenly as it had started, it was over. Victor bolted from the car like a startled deer.
In the back seat, Julian groaned and made a what's going on? kind of noise.
"Get out of my car, Keller."