Fic - "Hestia" (1/7)
Title: Hestia (1/7)
Summary: Azazel and Riptide retire from the Brotherhood, with Magneto’s blessing. This multi-chaptered story chronicles their life together on their houseboat over a period of ten years. We will see a wedding, a birth, the relationship getting into trouble and getting out of it, and more. Angel, Mystique, Magneto and others will make appearances.
Word count: All together, the word count for the seven chapters comes to 16,000. Each chapter is around 3,000 words.
Rating: R
Pairing: Azazel/Riptide
Disclaimer: I don’t own X-men, unfortunately.
.
Hestia, Chapter One
Prologue
1964
Retirement definitely agreed with Azazel and Riptide. Both men would say that taking their leave of Magneto, bidding farewell on good terms at the time they did, was one of the best moves they ever made. Their retirement had been spurred on by numerous injuries they had received shortly after Magneto’s took over the Brotherhood. Each man had experienced a broken arm, Azazel had been treated for a gunshot wound to his side, and Riptide still nursed a gash in his leg that had barely escaped infection. Both knew their days would be numbered if they remained soldiers in the war.
Azazel and Riptide heard tidbits from Mystique and Angel about battles they missed, close calls they weren’t a part of. Occasionally one or the other felt a bit of bloodlust stir and recalled that he used to relish a good brawl. But both also vividly remembered plenty of battles that they had lost; they both bore scars and other painful remnants of their injuries. Azazel and Riptide now greatly preferred the life they made since leaving the Brotherhood.
They purchased a boat, which they named Sparta because they liked the connections to warfare (even though they had now retired from it) and to ancient Greece (where they understood men had been allowed to love other men). Sparta was not anywhere near as large as that old vessel they lived in together for so long during the eerie and bewildering years they had spent under Sebastian Shaw’s thumb. Azazel and Riptide could now both look back at their escapades as members of the Hellfire Club and experience mixed emotions. They would never have ever met nor fallen in love had it not been for their now-deceased megalomaniac boss. But he had kept them both with tight chains around their necks, and they had spent years closing their eyes to the chains, pretending that they were free and were being primed to be kings.
Now they truly were free. Sparta provided a comfortable home - not overly spacious but large enough with all the necessary amenities: kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, solid deck space, and even a lounge that could double as a guest room. The rooms weren’t any larger than their cramped quarters in Shaw’s long-destroyed vessel, but they were used to close quarters. Equally important, Sparta moved quickly, was in top-notch shape, provided them with enchanting views from their deck, and was small enough that Azazel could teleport it a short distance if needed (for example, if they ran low on fuel or encountered bad weather that was too difficult to outrun).
Sparta provided the haven they needed. They were two men together in a world that would cart them off to jail or force them to undergo barbaric “cures” for their love, they were mutants, and Azazel’s appearance alone was not acceptable in any society. So they lived on a boat, on the seas, citizens of no country.
“What in the hell do you do all day?” Mystique asked during one of her visits.
The answer was fairly simple.
Much of their day revolved around the preparation and consumption of food, along with after-dinner drinks following both lunch and dinner. Both became exceptional cooks; Riptide had to purchase a few suits one size larger. Azazel took to smoking the most foul-smelling cigars, though he was only allowed to do this on Sparta’s deck.
Azazel’s ability to steal so easily provided them with an abundance of distractions to pass the time: television, music, and movies on state-of-the-art equipment. English lesson books and tapes were studied daily with a fair amount of diligence; the two men need to keep their language skills current and even improve upon them if they wanted to communicate with each other well, let alone understand most of the movies they watched. It was still not unheard of for one of them to turn to the other during a movie and, feeling as though he missed a nuance, ask if the other fully understood the dialog that just took place.
Their days were rounded out by card games, board games, napping, and lazy afternoons sunbathing and reading on Sparta’s deck, looking at the sun sparkling on the water. Some days they spoke to each other a lot; other days they barely exchanged three sentences. And both found that acceptable.
When either Azazel or Riptide needed some time alone, they had options. Sometimes Riptide would sunbathe above deck while Azazel read or listened to music below deck. Azazel could teleport either of them away for some time off Sparta too. But usually, these measures were not needed. They had spent the last seven years - both “during Shaw” and “post Shaw” - moving in unison and coexisting happily.
Riptide sometimes craved a night on the town; he did enjoy a bit of nightlife. Azazel could fairly easily make that happen too, teleporting Riptide to meet up with either Angel or Mystique - or both - for a fun evening out, with Magneto’s approval of course.
And they had all day to play “Captain and Pool Boy” for as long as they wished.
***
Azazel lay on his back, still wearing his captain hat although Riptide’s “pool boy” shorts had long since been discarded onto the floor. It was a bright day with sun streaming in through the bedroom windows. Azazel liked being able to see, everything.
Riptide was on top of him, facing the opposite way, straddling him. Azazel lackadaisically stroked Riptide’s body but was content to lay back this time and let Riptide do the work. Azazel just enjoyed the visuals and waited for their climaxes. To that end, his tail tightened its grip on Riptide and began to work more firmly.
“Turn around,” Azazel requested after a bit. “I want to look at your face when you finish.”
Riptide was happy to comply. He repositioned himself, turning around and then letting Azazel re-enter.
Looking into those deep brown eyes, Azazel idly speculated about why he never did it this way before with any of his former lovers. It was too intense, he realized. Making love while facing your partner allowed for a lot of kissing, eye contact, and much more overall physical contact. Before, it was easier to just thrust fast and hard without concerning yourself with how your partner might want it. It was easier then but emptier, less fulfilling. He looked up again at the sweat streaming down Riptide’s face. His hair was damp. Riptide uttered a low groan and began to move faster just as Azazel’s tail moved faster.
“Is my pool boy satisfied?” Azazel asked when they were finished, panting and curled up together.
Riptide chuckled. “Am I not supposed to ask if my captain is satisfied? I thought that is how the game works.” He reached a hand over to rub against the bristles of Azazel’s goatee. They were very rough but Riptide liked the texture.
Azazel reached for Riptide’s fingers and thrust them inside his mouth. “The captain is more satisfied than he ever dreamed to be,” he murmured a moment later.
***
1965
Mystique hadn’t wanted to, but she snorted when she received the wedding invitation and a disquieting sensation rumbled through her innards.
Azazel and Riptide’s usual way of communicating with Mystique and Angel - the two members of the Brotherhood they kept in the most contact with - involved Azazel teleporting to Magneto’s main base of operations. If he found no one there, he would leave a note. He would subsequently return to see if either a note had been left for him or if Mystique or Angel had returned. Most of their communication revolved around scheduling dates for the ladies to pay Azazel and Riptide a visit on Sparta.
Mystique returned from a mission to find not an inquiry as to their schedules but rather wedding invitations. Magneto, Angel, and Emma had also been invited.
There had been discussion over whether or not to invite Emma. Truth be told, by the time Azazel and Riptide had left, they had had no love lost for her. She had invaded their minds one too many times; they had been required to fear and obey her just as they had been required to fear and obey her former paramour. But they had an uneasy truce with her now too, and she needed to be invited to the wedding as well.
The only other guest invited to the wedding aside from these members of the Brotherhood was a man named Ivan, an acquaintance of Azazel’s who was a doctor. He had patched both Azazel and Riptide up following various battles, over the years.
Mystique took a breath as she fingered the wedding invitation. She had to wonder how exactly Azazel and Riptide had managed to get such a lovely card printed. It had embossed gold lettering and the paper felt rich and soft to the touch. Azazel’s ability to dart in and out and steal whatever he needed was impressive, but how did they manage this? Did they put a gun to the head of a hapless employee at a stationary store?
Mystique scrunched her features together. It was so weird, she told herself, this notion of two men getting married. She could accept them being lovers, she could accept her own blue scaly skin, she could fight now to the death for a world where mutants would reign. But why would two men want to hold a ceremony and publically pledge their love to each other? She felt a shiver of something, perhaps embarrassment.
“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Angel said. She nearly startled Mystique; Angel’s moves were often silent and catlike. “We get to dress up in our best. I’m going to tell Azazel that he owes us more jewels and furs so we that we can look good at his wedding.”
“He’s sure given us a lot of those over the years. Although you have to wonder,” Mystique said, her thumb working back and forth over the invitation’s edge, “does this mean he’s not going to sleep with us anymore?”
With Magneto’s permission, Mystique and Angel enjoyed occasionally partying with the two men. They talked, ate, drank, listened to music, danced, and Angel smoked with Azazel. One or the other would also spend the night with Azazel.
Why did Riptide allow it? Riptide’s view was “Why not?” He knew that Azazel was attracted to some women and that he liked variety. Riptide wouldn’t have minded some variety himself but he didn’t know any other men who were similarly inclined - not any to whom he was attracted and who would visit him here. If Azazel wanted to fool around with the girls, Riptide was fine with it. Before one of Azazel’s trysts, Riptide used to occasionally grasp him in a sensitive area and caution him with, “Just remember who these belong to.” But he no longer even felt the need to provide such a warning.
Angel thought about Mystique’s comment. “I don’t know. I guess I’d better find a good time at the wedding to ask!”
***
There were other members of the Brotherhood whom Azazel and Riptide had met back when they had been on Magneto’s team, but they were not invited to the wedding. The others had deduced the truth of their relationship quickly enough; they had sneered at Riptide, thinking him an easier target than Azazel. They had been surprised when their nasty comments (starting off with “Nice suit, pretty boy,” but spiraling down quickly to the likes of “Oh, look, it’s Azazel’s bitch.”) had not gone unchallenged. They had viewed Riptide’s powers as subtle and indirect, until he had slammed them against a concrete wall so quickly that they hadn’t had time to react. One of them had required hospitalization as a result.
That type of disruption was one reason for Magneto’s willingness to let Azazel and Riptide leave the Brotherhood, although he had others. He didn’t believe in keeping anyone who didn’t want to be there. Truly, though he would admit it to no one, seeing two happy men in love brought back memories that he had to fight daily to contain.
It was a good thing that the only attendees of Azazel and Riptide’s wedding were Magneto, Emma, Angel, Mystique, and Ivan. It would have been a stretch to accommodate anyone else on Sparta’s deck. Each attendee was decked out in either a designer tuxedo or sparkling evening gown, the result of a gleeful, teleporting-enhanced stealing spree.
The wedding was a simple affair, with Magneto facilitating. The brave leader refused to admit to himself the pain caused by celebrating two men’s love, reminding himself again that principles were more important than love. He would never have been happy spending his life on a boat, sailing away in fear when any other ship got too close. Even if Xavier had been at his side, he told himself.
The evening was cool and pleasant with a gentle breeze. The waters were placid and the setting sun cast a pink hue over the gentle waves. Angel and Mystique each did a reading, Angel’s from Shakespeare and Mystique’s written herself. Then Azazel and Riptide exchanged vows in front of their friends.
“My love, if I had nine lives to live, I would live them all with you,” Riptide vowed.
Azazel spoke at much more length, praising Riptide’s good qualities (his agreeable nature, his being open to new experiences, his caring) and making light of his less-sterling qualities (his propensity to sleep in and do nothing all day). He promised to share his life and commit his body, soul, and heart to Janos.
Magneto bid them to exchange rings and kiss, and then the party began in the dark night. As usual, there was much food, drink, music and dance.
“Azazel, do you mind if your husband and I dance this one?” Angel asked, when a slower song came on. “I like the song.”
Azazel looked at Angel’s flushed face, thinking that a combination of alcohol and dancing was causing the color in her cheeks. “Please do,” he bid. “I am going to enjoy another cigar.”
“Those things are foul,” Riptide sniffed. “On the other side of the deck please, amour.” He pointed.
After planting a quick kiss on Riptide’s mouth, Azazel obeyed the order.
“Congratulations,” Angel said, as she and Riptide slowly stepped to the music. They held each other in a formal dance hold which minimized their physical contact.
“Thank you. And I must say that I am glad for the camera. Everyone looks so beautiful tonight; I know I will look at the pictures again and again,” Riptide replied. “You are lovely, and those diamond earrings are gorgeous on you.”
“Thank you. I don’t get to get dressed up too often anymore so this is really nice. And hey, since I’m drunk, I can ask this,” Angel said, her eyes twinkling. “Do you think Mystique and I will still be able to visit? You know, visit and get with Azazel….”
Riptide almost rolled his eyes but stopped. “You know my view,” he said, managing a brief shrug. “Azazel belongs to me. As long as you and Mystique know that and he knows it, I don’t concern myself with what you do for fun.”
“Thank you,” Angel sighed. “I like the tail. Thanks to that tail, I come when I’m with him - I don’t with any other guy and never have.”
“Okay, you really did have too much to drink,” Riptide laughed. “You never told me all this before, although I certainly agree that tail is wonderful. But if you had one drink too many, we should sit down.”
He looked towards the deck furniture where Emma sat next to Ivan, absentmindedly flirting with him though looking bored. It was hard, Riptide knew, for Emma to have gone from being the previous leader’s lover and right-hand woman to just another soldier in Magneto’s army.
“Baby, I can dance in my sleep. I was born to do it.” Angel pulled Riptide closer and continued with the steps. “I’m glad to see you so happy. I knew a guy once, he was queer like you. He hated it, kept going to these shrinks and doctors trying to get cured.”
“I’d never do that,” Riptide shook his head.
Her voice was raw from the alcohol, but soft as she asked a question. “Is there anything you don’t like about it? You know…about being this way.”
Riptide silently considered the question for a moment or two as he continued to slowly move to the music. “Just one,” he said, his voice distant and a bit hollow. “I wish I could be a parent someday. I would love to have a child. But it’s not possible.”
Angel missed a few steps and took a second or two to regain her footing. His answer surprised her. She assumed there would have to be other, worse, things about being a homosexual, such as societal disapproval or rejection by one’s family or just that it had to be really really weird to be a man and get into bed with another man when your parts don’t fit together.
Had Riptide known what was in Angel’s head, he would have protested that his and Azazel’s parts fit together just fine, thank you very much.
“That’s one gig I wouldn’t ever take,” Angel remarked flatly. “Being a parent. Besides, I can’t. This wedding reception is a nice break for us; Magneto’s got us running ragged.” Their leader had already been teleported off of Sparta and back to base, eager to get back to work.
When their guests had all been teleported back to their headquarters, Azazel and Riptide exchanged one more toast before hanging up their tuxedos and collapsing into bed. Riptide looked down at their rings and kissed them both. Azazel’s heart pounded.
“It is not possible to be this happy,” Azazel whispered. “To feel this good day after day. But that is how I am day after day here with you.”
“It is possible to be this happy,” Riptide insisted, agreeing. “We are proof.”
***
Click here to go on to Chapter Two
Summary: Azazel and Riptide retire from the Brotherhood, with Magneto’s blessing. This multi-chaptered story chronicles their life together on their houseboat over a period of ten years. We will see a wedding, a birth, the relationship getting into trouble and getting out of it, and more. Angel, Mystique, Magneto and others will make appearances.
Word count: All together, the word count for the seven chapters comes to 16,000. Each chapter is around 3,000 words.
Rating: R
Pairing: Azazel/Riptide
Disclaimer: I don’t own X-men, unfortunately.
.
Hestia, Chapter One
Prologue
1964
Retirement definitely agreed with Azazel and Riptide. Both men would say that taking their leave of Magneto, bidding farewell on good terms at the time they did, was one of the best moves they ever made. Their retirement had been spurred on by numerous injuries they had received shortly after Magneto’s took over the Brotherhood. Each man had experienced a broken arm, Azazel had been treated for a gunshot wound to his side, and Riptide still nursed a gash in his leg that had barely escaped infection. Both knew their days would be numbered if they remained soldiers in the war.
Azazel and Riptide heard tidbits from Mystique and Angel about battles they missed, close calls they weren’t a part of. Occasionally one or the other felt a bit of bloodlust stir and recalled that he used to relish a good brawl. But both also vividly remembered plenty of battles that they had lost; they both bore scars and other painful remnants of their injuries. Azazel and Riptide now greatly preferred the life they made since leaving the Brotherhood.
They purchased a boat, which they named Sparta because they liked the connections to warfare (even though they had now retired from it) and to ancient Greece (where they understood men had been allowed to love other men). Sparta was not anywhere near as large as that old vessel they lived in together for so long during the eerie and bewildering years they had spent under Sebastian Shaw’s thumb. Azazel and Riptide could now both look back at their escapades as members of the Hellfire Club and experience mixed emotions. They would never have ever met nor fallen in love had it not been for their now-deceased megalomaniac boss. But he had kept them both with tight chains around their necks, and they had spent years closing their eyes to the chains, pretending that they were free and were being primed to be kings.
Now they truly were free. Sparta provided a comfortable home - not overly spacious but large enough with all the necessary amenities: kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, solid deck space, and even a lounge that could double as a guest room. The rooms weren’t any larger than their cramped quarters in Shaw’s long-destroyed vessel, but they were used to close quarters. Equally important, Sparta moved quickly, was in top-notch shape, provided them with enchanting views from their deck, and was small enough that Azazel could teleport it a short distance if needed (for example, if they ran low on fuel or encountered bad weather that was too difficult to outrun).
Sparta provided the haven they needed. They were two men together in a world that would cart them off to jail or force them to undergo barbaric “cures” for their love, they were mutants, and Azazel’s appearance alone was not acceptable in any society. So they lived on a boat, on the seas, citizens of no country.
“What in the hell do you do all day?” Mystique asked during one of her visits.
The answer was fairly simple.
Much of their day revolved around the preparation and consumption of food, along with after-dinner drinks following both lunch and dinner. Both became exceptional cooks; Riptide had to purchase a few suits one size larger. Azazel took to smoking the most foul-smelling cigars, though he was only allowed to do this on Sparta’s deck.
Azazel’s ability to steal so easily provided them with an abundance of distractions to pass the time: television, music, and movies on state-of-the-art equipment. English lesson books and tapes were studied daily with a fair amount of diligence; the two men need to keep their language skills current and even improve upon them if they wanted to communicate with each other well, let alone understand most of the movies they watched. It was still not unheard of for one of them to turn to the other during a movie and, feeling as though he missed a nuance, ask if the other fully understood the dialog that just took place.
Their days were rounded out by card games, board games, napping, and lazy afternoons sunbathing and reading on Sparta’s deck, looking at the sun sparkling on the water. Some days they spoke to each other a lot; other days they barely exchanged three sentences. And both found that acceptable.
When either Azazel or Riptide needed some time alone, they had options. Sometimes Riptide would sunbathe above deck while Azazel read or listened to music below deck. Azazel could teleport either of them away for some time off Sparta too. But usually, these measures were not needed. They had spent the last seven years - both “during Shaw” and “post Shaw” - moving in unison and coexisting happily.
Riptide sometimes craved a night on the town; he did enjoy a bit of nightlife. Azazel could fairly easily make that happen too, teleporting Riptide to meet up with either Angel or Mystique - or both - for a fun evening out, with Magneto’s approval of course.
And they had all day to play “Captain and Pool Boy” for as long as they wished.
***
Azazel lay on his back, still wearing his captain hat although Riptide’s “pool boy” shorts had long since been discarded onto the floor. It was a bright day with sun streaming in through the bedroom windows. Azazel liked being able to see, everything.
Riptide was on top of him, facing the opposite way, straddling him. Azazel lackadaisically stroked Riptide’s body but was content to lay back this time and let Riptide do the work. Azazel just enjoyed the visuals and waited for their climaxes. To that end, his tail tightened its grip on Riptide and began to work more firmly.
“Turn around,” Azazel requested after a bit. “I want to look at your face when you finish.”
Riptide was happy to comply. He repositioned himself, turning around and then letting Azazel re-enter.
Looking into those deep brown eyes, Azazel idly speculated about why he never did it this way before with any of his former lovers. It was too intense, he realized. Making love while facing your partner allowed for a lot of kissing, eye contact, and much more overall physical contact. Before, it was easier to just thrust fast and hard without concerning yourself with how your partner might want it. It was easier then but emptier, less fulfilling. He looked up again at the sweat streaming down Riptide’s face. His hair was damp. Riptide uttered a low groan and began to move faster just as Azazel’s tail moved faster.
“Is my pool boy satisfied?” Azazel asked when they were finished, panting and curled up together.
Riptide chuckled. “Am I not supposed to ask if my captain is satisfied? I thought that is how the game works.” He reached a hand over to rub against the bristles of Azazel’s goatee. They were very rough but Riptide liked the texture.
Azazel reached for Riptide’s fingers and thrust them inside his mouth. “The captain is more satisfied than he ever dreamed to be,” he murmured a moment later.
***
1965
Mystique hadn’t wanted to, but she snorted when she received the wedding invitation and a disquieting sensation rumbled through her innards.
Azazel and Riptide’s usual way of communicating with Mystique and Angel - the two members of the Brotherhood they kept in the most contact with - involved Azazel teleporting to Magneto’s main base of operations. If he found no one there, he would leave a note. He would subsequently return to see if either a note had been left for him or if Mystique or Angel had returned. Most of their communication revolved around scheduling dates for the ladies to pay Azazel and Riptide a visit on Sparta.
Mystique returned from a mission to find not an inquiry as to their schedules but rather wedding invitations. Magneto, Angel, and Emma had also been invited.
There had been discussion over whether or not to invite Emma. Truth be told, by the time Azazel and Riptide had left, they had had no love lost for her. She had invaded their minds one too many times; they had been required to fear and obey her just as they had been required to fear and obey her former paramour. But they had an uneasy truce with her now too, and she needed to be invited to the wedding as well.
The only other guest invited to the wedding aside from these members of the Brotherhood was a man named Ivan, an acquaintance of Azazel’s who was a doctor. He had patched both Azazel and Riptide up following various battles, over the years.
Mystique took a breath as she fingered the wedding invitation. She had to wonder how exactly Azazel and Riptide had managed to get such a lovely card printed. It had embossed gold lettering and the paper felt rich and soft to the touch. Azazel’s ability to dart in and out and steal whatever he needed was impressive, but how did they manage this? Did they put a gun to the head of a hapless employee at a stationary store?
Mystique scrunched her features together. It was so weird, she told herself, this notion of two men getting married. She could accept them being lovers, she could accept her own blue scaly skin, she could fight now to the death for a world where mutants would reign. But why would two men want to hold a ceremony and publically pledge their love to each other? She felt a shiver of something, perhaps embarrassment.
“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Angel said. She nearly startled Mystique; Angel’s moves were often silent and catlike. “We get to dress up in our best. I’m going to tell Azazel that he owes us more jewels and furs so we that we can look good at his wedding.”
“He’s sure given us a lot of those over the years. Although you have to wonder,” Mystique said, her thumb working back and forth over the invitation’s edge, “does this mean he’s not going to sleep with us anymore?”
With Magneto’s permission, Mystique and Angel enjoyed occasionally partying with the two men. They talked, ate, drank, listened to music, danced, and Angel smoked with Azazel. One or the other would also spend the night with Azazel.
Why did Riptide allow it? Riptide’s view was “Why not?” He knew that Azazel was attracted to some women and that he liked variety. Riptide wouldn’t have minded some variety himself but he didn’t know any other men who were similarly inclined - not any to whom he was attracted and who would visit him here. If Azazel wanted to fool around with the girls, Riptide was fine with it. Before one of Azazel’s trysts, Riptide used to occasionally grasp him in a sensitive area and caution him with, “Just remember who these belong to.” But he no longer even felt the need to provide such a warning.
Angel thought about Mystique’s comment. “I don’t know. I guess I’d better find a good time at the wedding to ask!”
***
There were other members of the Brotherhood whom Azazel and Riptide had met back when they had been on Magneto’s team, but they were not invited to the wedding. The others had deduced the truth of their relationship quickly enough; they had sneered at Riptide, thinking him an easier target than Azazel. They had been surprised when their nasty comments (starting off with “Nice suit, pretty boy,” but spiraling down quickly to the likes of “Oh, look, it’s Azazel’s bitch.”) had not gone unchallenged. They had viewed Riptide’s powers as subtle and indirect, until he had slammed them against a concrete wall so quickly that they hadn’t had time to react. One of them had required hospitalization as a result.
That type of disruption was one reason for Magneto’s willingness to let Azazel and Riptide leave the Brotherhood, although he had others. He didn’t believe in keeping anyone who didn’t want to be there. Truly, though he would admit it to no one, seeing two happy men in love brought back memories that he had to fight daily to contain.
It was a good thing that the only attendees of Azazel and Riptide’s wedding were Magneto, Emma, Angel, Mystique, and Ivan. It would have been a stretch to accommodate anyone else on Sparta’s deck. Each attendee was decked out in either a designer tuxedo or sparkling evening gown, the result of a gleeful, teleporting-enhanced stealing spree.
The wedding was a simple affair, with Magneto facilitating. The brave leader refused to admit to himself the pain caused by celebrating two men’s love, reminding himself again that principles were more important than love. He would never have been happy spending his life on a boat, sailing away in fear when any other ship got too close. Even if Xavier had been at his side, he told himself.
The evening was cool and pleasant with a gentle breeze. The waters were placid and the setting sun cast a pink hue over the gentle waves. Angel and Mystique each did a reading, Angel’s from Shakespeare and Mystique’s written herself. Then Azazel and Riptide exchanged vows in front of their friends.
“My love, if I had nine lives to live, I would live them all with you,” Riptide vowed.
Azazel spoke at much more length, praising Riptide’s good qualities (his agreeable nature, his being open to new experiences, his caring) and making light of his less-sterling qualities (his propensity to sleep in and do nothing all day). He promised to share his life and commit his body, soul, and heart to Janos.
Magneto bid them to exchange rings and kiss, and then the party began in the dark night. As usual, there was much food, drink, music and dance.
“Azazel, do you mind if your husband and I dance this one?” Angel asked, when a slower song came on. “I like the song.”
Azazel looked at Angel’s flushed face, thinking that a combination of alcohol and dancing was causing the color in her cheeks. “Please do,” he bid. “I am going to enjoy another cigar.”
“Those things are foul,” Riptide sniffed. “On the other side of the deck please, amour.” He pointed.
After planting a quick kiss on Riptide’s mouth, Azazel obeyed the order.
“Congratulations,” Angel said, as she and Riptide slowly stepped to the music. They held each other in a formal dance hold which minimized their physical contact.
“Thank you. And I must say that I am glad for the camera. Everyone looks so beautiful tonight; I know I will look at the pictures again and again,” Riptide replied. “You are lovely, and those diamond earrings are gorgeous on you.”
“Thank you. I don’t get to get dressed up too often anymore so this is really nice. And hey, since I’m drunk, I can ask this,” Angel said, her eyes twinkling. “Do you think Mystique and I will still be able to visit? You know, visit and get with Azazel….”
Riptide almost rolled his eyes but stopped. “You know my view,” he said, managing a brief shrug. “Azazel belongs to me. As long as you and Mystique know that and he knows it, I don’t concern myself with what you do for fun.”
“Thank you,” Angel sighed. “I like the tail. Thanks to that tail, I come when I’m with him - I don’t with any other guy and never have.”
“Okay, you really did have too much to drink,” Riptide laughed. “You never told me all this before, although I certainly agree that tail is wonderful. But if you had one drink too many, we should sit down.”
He looked towards the deck furniture where Emma sat next to Ivan, absentmindedly flirting with him though looking bored. It was hard, Riptide knew, for Emma to have gone from being the previous leader’s lover and right-hand woman to just another soldier in Magneto’s army.
“Baby, I can dance in my sleep. I was born to do it.” Angel pulled Riptide closer and continued with the steps. “I’m glad to see you so happy. I knew a guy once, he was queer like you. He hated it, kept going to these shrinks and doctors trying to get cured.”
“I’d never do that,” Riptide shook his head.
Her voice was raw from the alcohol, but soft as she asked a question. “Is there anything you don’t like about it? You know…about being this way.”
Riptide silently considered the question for a moment or two as he continued to slowly move to the music. “Just one,” he said, his voice distant and a bit hollow. “I wish I could be a parent someday. I would love to have a child. But it’s not possible.”
Angel missed a few steps and took a second or two to regain her footing. His answer surprised her. She assumed there would have to be other, worse, things about being a homosexual, such as societal disapproval or rejection by one’s family or just that it had to be really really weird to be a man and get into bed with another man when your parts don’t fit together.
Had Riptide known what was in Angel’s head, he would have protested that his and Azazel’s parts fit together just fine, thank you very much.
“That’s one gig I wouldn’t ever take,” Angel remarked flatly. “Being a parent. Besides, I can’t. This wedding reception is a nice break for us; Magneto’s got us running ragged.” Their leader had already been teleported off of Sparta and back to base, eager to get back to work.
When their guests had all been teleported back to their headquarters, Azazel and Riptide exchanged one more toast before hanging up their tuxedos and collapsing into bed. Riptide looked down at their rings and kissed them both. Azazel’s heart pounded.
“It is not possible to be this happy,” Azazel whispered. “To feel this good day after day. But that is how I am day after day here with you.”
“It is possible to be this happy,” Riptide insisted, agreeing. “We are proof.”
***
Click here to go on to Chapter Two