Fic - "Henchmen" (1/1)
Title: Henchmen (1/1)
Summary: Now that Shaw is gone, his former henchmen Azazel and Riptide work for Erik. Can they adjust to a different leader, especially one who feels strong emotions and painful memories every time he observes the two of them together? Azazel/Riptide, with references to past Cherik.
Inspired by a prompt from a friend who requested a fic with Erik walking in on Azazel and Riptide.
Beta Testing: Thank you to RD for beta testing this entire fic!
Word count: 4,500
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Azazel/Riptide
Disclaimer: I don’t own X-men, or Azazel or Riptide, unfortunately.
Henchmen
***
November 1962
The Brotherhood had settled in an old motel, one suggested by the former members of the Hellfire Club. Not the prettiest of surroundings - paint peeling on walls, small rooms with chipped furniture, faucets that didn’t always produce warm water - but the Persian couple who owned it gave them the run of the place and no questions asked. It was so much better than living in the crushing, dark depths of the sea in the now-destroyed submarine.
Magneto wasted no time. He had jettisoned the name Erik, interviewed those members of the team he had not known previously, moved their operations base to this motel, and declared their group a brotherhood of mutants. They were no longer an exclusive club but rather a brotherhood open to any mutants who shared their goals and would fight for them.
Azazel and Riptide had to bite their tongues to keep from referring to their new group as a club. They stood back, as they always had, observing Magneto plot, strategize, and plan with Emma. As they would have under Shaw, when not needed they stayed out of the way and awaited orders.
They also enjoyed each other’s company, something Shaw had allowed as well provided it didn’t interfere with their duties. And so it was one rainy afternoon when Magneto had something to run by them. Neither man’s door opened after Magneto had knocked so he went in search of them. His intuition told him that Azazel liked dark and secluded places, Magneto needed an item from the basement supply room anyway, and so he headed downstairs.
Magneto heard them before he saw them. When the moans and grunts reached his ears, Magneto knew he should turn right back for the stairs and leave the couple in peace, but his emotional and irrational side refused to obey. He told himself that he had to determine if they were truly doing what he thought they were doing. Anything that reminded him of the loss of Charles felt like the electric shocks Shaw used to torture him with, yet Magneto had the need to pick at that scab.
Moving silently, he rounded a corner and came upon the two men. There they were, Azazel having bent Riptide over a stack of boxes, having his way with him in the one act that Charles had refused Erik. Magneto wondered what possessed them to do this here when either of their rooms would have certainly provided more comfort. Were they overcome with lust and just couldn’t wait? But surely not; Magneto had long since gathered that Azazel and Riptide had already been together for a while. Perhaps, then, the pair’s longevity provided the explanation for their coupling in this unorthodox location; a change of scenery could spice things up.
Magneto had been ready to turn on his heel and leave when he observed something else. Azazel leaned forward and smothered Riptide’s ears, back of the neck, and shoulders with kisses. Words were murmured in Russian, and Magneto knew enough of the language to pick up the terms of endearment. For one so brutal and deadly in combat, Azazel apparently was a tender lover and this was obviously more than a physical release for him. For both, Magneto guessed, based on Riptide’s intense expression, his closed eyes, his trembling lips.
Rage, loss, and sadness threatened to overtake Magneto. He rapidly turned towards the staircase, muttered an obscenity or two, made no efforts to silence his movements, and left the basement.
***
Angel had asked Magneto for an update, for an idea of when they’d be making their next move. Slightly injured in her first battle with the X-men, the young woman was now fully recovered, bored with sitting around the motel all day, and eager for action. Magneto called the team together and briefed them, Emma at his side. They sat inside the motel’s one meeting room, a windowless room that contained a table, ten chairs which didn’t all match, and a credenza.
Azazel watched his new leader and listened to his words. He turned to glance at Riptide several times, wondering if his lover observed the same things he did. Magneto gave too much away. Azazel had never before worked for a boss who so openly shared so many of his plans. But that wasn’t all that Azazel observed. As he spoke, Magneto looked at everyone except Azazel and Riptide. It was painfully obvious given that there were only a total of six people in the room. As Magneto spoke about the need to recruit more mutants, learn the X-men’s plans, and look for an opportunity to make a strike against the non-mutant side of humanity, he made eye contact with Emma, Angel, and Mystique. Azazel and Riptide may as well not have been in the room.
Azazel again turned his head towards Riptide. His lover gave a slight nod, his expression mirroring Azazel’s.
***
“You are smart woman, Emma. What do you think?”
Azazel and Riptide sat with Emma inside their room. (Each man had, on paper, his own room but as had been the case for years no matter where the Hellfire Club had resided, they had shared a room). Azazel poured her a drink and handed it to her. She sat in the one chair inside the room as Azazel and Riptide faced her, now sitting on the edge of the bed.
Emma looked around the room and wrinkled her nose.
“What is it?” Riptide asked, leaning forward.
“Nothing,” Emma sighed, her eyes hurting as she looked at the same drab wallpaper which had been slapped onto the walls of her own room . “Nothing, just that I miss our old yacht with a passion.”
“Me too,” Riptide said. “The sun and the sea. We never stayed in this place for more than a week under Shaw.” Riptide spoke their deceased leader’s name without concern for hurting Emma. Her mind and feelings may have been impenetrable but Riptide simply knew that Emma had never loved Shaw.
“But back to topic at hand,” Azazel prompted. He didn’t miss the yacht other than for the pleasure it had given Riptide, a pleasure which Azazel himself shared only on rare occasions.
Emma shrugged. “It does seem that he doesn’t like you two. That meeting hasn’t been the only time he’s acted like you’re not there.”
“We know. So, why is it?” Riptide asked. “We’ve been nothing but respectful towards him and he has to know that we are very good fighters. Is it…do you think it’s because Azazel and I are…are -“
“Queer?” Emma finished for him. This was not a topic easily discussed, even among people who knew each other well, but Emma knew that her teammates understood there was no keeping a secret from her and never could be.
Azazel nodded. “Shaw never seem to have problem with it,” he said, lines forming on his brow.
It was true. Shaw had once simply pulled them aside, told them to “keep it discrete” (there had been no need to even say what “it” referred to), and left it at that. He had apparently soon realized that he could trust them to be discrete - when they were not on the submarine or in one of the Hellfire Club’s other remote bases, Azazel and Riptide would hardly even look at each other. The subject had never again been mentioned with their former boss.
“And Magneto,” Riptide continued, “well, I would think he would be even more tolerant than Shaw. He is younger. He is passionate about mutant rights. And he is, well, he’s a Jew.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Riptide observed Azazel’s eyes involuntarily narrow at reminder that their leader was Jewish.
Riptide also wanted to say to Emma something that he and Azazel had discussed earlier; Magneto was obviously not a sociopath as Shaw had been. So far he appeared to be the sanest man that either had worked for - not that that was saying much. But Riptide pressed his lips together; Emma might not have loved Shaw but no need to remind her that her former paramour had been a sociopath.
Emma took a breath. “Someone can be passionate about mutant rights but still uncomfortable with queers. You two know there aren’t a lot of places on this planet where you could go and be accepted for that.”
Azazel’s fingers traced the rim of his glass. “Are you sure that is why Magneto acts like this with us? Is there another reason? Something we don’t see?” He took a swig of his drink.
“There might be,” Emma said, her face expressionless as always. “But I don’t know what it is. And you know I don’t invade other people’s minds without their consent.”
At that declaration, Azazel and Riptide turned to look at each other and burst out laughing. Emma nearly jolted backwards at this unusual display but caught herself in time to maintain her rigid posture. She sat there and observed the men laugh.
“Emma,” Azazel said, when he could again keep his tone even. “Please.”
“Let me amend that statement,” she responded, eyebrows slightly raised. “I don’t invade others’ minds without…an incentive.”
In truth, Emma knew the entire situation, the whole background that explained Magneto’s discomfort. But she certainly wasn’t going to reveal it to Azazel and Riptide without some form of payment.
“An incentive?” Azazel asked. “Well, of course we can help with that. I can easily get my hands on large sums of money.”
“So can I. I’m a telepath, remember?” she said harshly. Emma went on to lay out her terms. Given that Magneto lacked Shaw’s love of finer things, Emma needed new clothing and some far better furniture and decorations for her room. As a telepath, she could set out and steal these things herself. But taking over the minds of every salesperson, security guard, and fellow shopper was taxing and it distracted her from her “shopping”. However, a teleportation-enhanced shopping spree where others could worry about fending off any trouble - well, that would allow her to keep her mind free so she could focus and select the clothing, jewels, furs, and artwork that she liked.
Azazel chuckled and reached up to shake her hand. “We have deal,” he said.
***
“So, this is the story,” Emma began. She wore a new dress and new shoes - unbeknownst to Azazel and Riptide, she also wore new lingerie despite the fact that she had no one to appreciate it nowadays. “Magneto and Charles Xavier used to be lovers.”
Azazel and Riptide turned to face each other. Neither man could mask his expression - eyes were wide, Riptide’s mouth open.
“It was pretty serious too. They loved each other.” Emma paused and shook her head. “I really had no idea there were so many queers in this world.”
Although Emma had taken great pains to hide her origins, due to quite a bit of sleuthing over the years, Azazel and Riptide had learned that Emma grew up on a farm in the Midwestern United States. She was not the worldly young woman she pretended to be. So no wonder she was surprised to have made the acquaintance of three (four, if one counted Xavier) men who had loved other men.
Of course, years ago neither Azazel nor Riptide had known there were so many queers in the world either. Each had grown up thinking that he was the only man who had these bizarre and condemned feelings and urges.
Emma rose to leave. “So there you have it. Every time he sees you - especially when he runs into you two rutting in the supply room - he remembers what he and Xavier used to have,” she said with an eyebrow raised. Then she concluded with, “Thank you for the shopping spree.”
Early 1963
“Have you considered leaving the Brotherhood?”
Azazel restrained the urge to respond with a shocked ‘What?’ He knew things were not going well between them and their new boss - no, he silently corrected himself, leader - but this question truly took him by surprise. He didn’t even need to turn and look at Riptide; out of the corner of his eye he could see Riptide’s eyebrows raised.
The three men sat inside Magneto’s office, in the Brotherhood’s new headquarters. Azazel liked the freezing Antarctica base. Perhaps, he told himself, it reminded him of home or perhaps he occasionally liked extremes.
“Have we disappointed you in some way, Magneto?” Riptide asked. His voice was low and, as much as Azazel suspected that Riptide had tried to keep it neutral, one could detect the hurt in it.
“Please tell us,” Azazel added, looking from Riptide to Magneto. “We have had battles with X-men and I think that Riptide and I fight against them very well.”
Magneto had never been effusive before but in the last few months he had perfected the art of being expressionless better than Emma had. He did not move as he said, “You both fought well in the skirmishes. But I believe that this is not the right sort of group for you. Sebastian Shaw was used to having henchmen who didn’t question his orders - I want a brotherhood of mutants.”
A line appeared on Azazel’s forehead. “So…you want us to question you?”
“That’s not what I’m saying,” Magneto answered, again his voice and face like a stone. “I just think that this isn’t the group for you.”
“We must have done something to anger you,” Riptide spoke up, leaning forward. “We are strong fighters. I am sorry if I have done something to upset you.”
Azazel turned towards Riptide and tried to convey a look of warning. They knew perfectly well why Magneto didn’t want them there, and Azazel didn’t like Riptide’s conciliatory tone. On the other hand, he could understand Riptide’s bewildered plea; Magneto’s asking them to leave seemed a bit extreme.
“I agree with Riptide.” Azazel turned one of his palms upwards as he spoke. “We share your goals. We want to take over world, just as you do. Have world where mutants are in charge. We want this. We fight for it.”
“That may be so,” Magneto said. “But you should still think about leaving. Have you ever considered what you would do if not for the Brotherhood? Some other options for your life?”
Again another look between the lovers was exchanged. “No,” Azazel answered. “We work for Sebastian Shaw, we like his vision, we plan to take over world with him. Then you come along. We like your vision. We want mutants in change of everything.”
“What about,” Magneto asked, spreading his hands, “an easier life? One without fighting and injuries. A nice, secluded retirement somewhere.”
“I like to fight,” Azazel said simply.
“Me too,” Riptide answered. “I want to take revenge on humans.” Riptide had never been treated particularly badly by non-mutant humans; he looked ‘normal’. But whenever Azazel spoke of how he had been treated due to his unorthodox appearance, Riptide would fill with rage and vow revenge.
“I see,” Magneto spoke, getting to his feet. Apparently the meeting was over. “Think about it anyway. Perhaps in the long run you will find a place you like better than the Brotherhood.”
He gestured to the door. Azazel wanted to ask more questions; this conversation left their status more than a little unclear. But they had clearly been dismissed.
***
“He needs - what do you call it? - a shrink? Someone to help him get over Xavier,” Azazel declared once the two men were in the privacy of their own room.
“Maybe he just needs a new lover,” Riptide said simply. “Someone to replace Xavier.”
Azazel scoffed. “Magneto never relaxes or has fun. Works all the time. I don’t know if he would ever take another lover.”
Riptide shook his head. “I do not understand it. You and I are nothing like Charles Xavier. Do we really remind him so much, of what he lost?”
Azazel crossed his arms over his chest. “And it has been long time since he was with Xavier. He still mourns him?”
Riptide took a step closer to Azazel. “He must have really loved him.” Riptide placed his hands on Azazel’s chest. “You understand that,” he said quietly.
Azazel reached for the perfectly-manicured hands and kissed them. “I do,” he said. He placed more kisses on the hands. The thought of losing Riptide was unbearable. “I do,” he repeated. Azazel then tilted his head upwards, almost abruptly. “Perhaps he wants you! Maybe that is why he wants us gone.”
Something between a smile and a smirk found its way to Riptide’s pleased face. “Well, I certainly couldn’t blame him if that was the case.”
Azazel’s eyes began to narrow, but Riptide continued, “But it is not so. He has never given any indication that he feels that way about me. He doesn’t even look at me.”
“Good,” Azazel said, pulling Riptide closer and covering his lips with his own. “I should be only one to see what is under these fancy suits.”
“You are,” Riptide assured Azazel, reaching one hand around to squeeze Azazel’s rear as Riptide returned his lips to Azazel’s.
***
Spring 1963
A new mutant joined the Brotherhood. He went by the name Sabretooth.
Azazel and Riptide were away on a mission when Sabretooth settled into the headquarters. Mystique, who had struck up something of a friendship with the two men and especially with Azazel, sent them a message warning that the newest addition to the Brotherhood was “the most unpleasant yet.”
They first saw him when they entered the new training room of the headquarters. Magneto had spared neither time nor expense to have it built; he had once sent Azazel on an intelligence-gathering mission, Azazel had returned with reports about the X-men’s Danger Room, and Magneto knew that the Brotherhood needed one of its own.
Sabretooth had already been inside the training room when the door slid aside allowing Azazel and Riptide to enter. He turned his head in their direction and sniffed the air. He pointedly sniffed again. His enhanced sense of smell clearly indicated what Azazel and Riptide had been up to earlier that day.
Sabretooth strode towards them, his fists clenched. Azazel and Riptide took a few seconds to register the scenario as their new teammate rapidly approached them in a posture that conveyed aggression.
“Is this what I think it is?” Sabretooth asked. He sniffed the air once more. “It is! A pair of queers! Right here, in the Brotherhood.”
“It looks like someone wants a fight,” Azazel said smoothly, unsheathing his sword. “Good,” he smiled devilishly. “I didn’t get enough action on last mission.”
The battle was an intense one. Sabretooth was strong as an ox and healed rapidly. But Azazel and Riptide could more than hold their own, especially given Azazel’s teleporting and skills with the sword. Whenever Azazel appeared to tire, Riptide would step in and blast Sabretooth. He enjoyed sending Sabretooth hurling towards the nearest wall. However, Riptide soon grew perplexed and worried as it became apparent that no matter what how many times Riptide slammed him or Azazel slashed him with the sword, Sabretooth didn’t tire and didn’t stop.
Within minutes, the training center was nearly demolished. It had been built to take abuse but not to this degree. Magneto soon rushed in, Mystique at his heels.
“Stop it! All of you. I order it!”
Magneto rarely raised his voice. When he did, it commanded attention. Good henchmen that they were, Azazel and Riptide ceased immediately. Both men hoped that they successfully hid their relief. Sabretooth cursed and spat, but a few more words from Magneto silenced him.
“You didn’t say that I’d have to work with a pair of filthy cocksuckers!” Sabretooth spat out.
Azazel and Riptide were both panting. A glance at Sabretooth revealed that he didn’t even look winded.
Riptide used every bit of his strength to get the sentence out and keep his voice from revealing any strain. “Magneto, we truly can’t be this desperate for help that we will accept any pathetic creature who wants to sign up.” He wanted to say more but needed desperately to take another deep breath.
“You little fairy, I’m gonna break your pretty face,” Sabretooth sneered in reply.
“We don’t fight our own kind,” Magneto said, directing his gaze towards Sabretooth. “My friend, save your venom for the X-men.”
“These are not ‘my kind,’” Sabretooth said, pointing a finger. “If the X-men don’t have scum like this on their team, maybe I should join them,” he growled.
“Come with me,” Magneto said, his tone genial. He gestured towards the door. “Let’s talk.”
***
Mystique meanwhile quietly ushered Azazel and Riptide into the room that served as the Brotherhood’s lab and infirmary. Despite their protestations, she set about tending to their injuries. The three didn’t speak much though Riptide grumbled about the tears in his brand-new suit.
Soon the doors to the infirmary slid aside and Emma strode through determinedly. “I don’t wish to alarm you,” she began, without preamble, “but you are both in mortal danger.”
“Is that so?” Riptide asked, unsuccessfully feigning indifference.
“Magneto’s talking to him right now but Sabretooth isn’t listening to a word he’s saying. He’s planning.” As Emma spoke, she sounded nearly out of breath as if she had rushed to the infirmary. “His plan is to get you, Riptide, alone - and kill you.” She paused, and continued, “You’re a good fighter but alone against Sabretooth, you don’t stand a chance.” She then turned to Azazel. “Once Riptide is out of the way, he’s counting on you being insane with grief so he’ll have an easier time finishing you off.”
Azazel and Riptide looked at each other. There was no reason to doubt Emma’s words.
Azazel gritted his teeth. “I am not going to leave because this son-of-a-bitch comes and thinks he---“
Riptide placed a hand on Azazel’s arm. “Maybe this isn’t the right time to…dig in our heels, as they say. Our pride isn’t worth losing our lives over.”
“That’s right!” Mystique cut in, taking a few steps closer to the two men. “And I don’t want to see you two killed because you’re too stubborn to back down from a fight. I could see how out of breath you guys looked after the fight. Sabretooth looked like it had no effect on him.”
“It didn’t,” Emma confirmed. She tilted her head slightly. “Perhaps Sabretooth won’t last long here. Perhaps he will get tired fighting the X-men. He seems impatient and it’s obvious that defeating the X-men is taking longer than any of us had thought.” She turned towards the door, took a few steps, and then said, over her shoulder, “But mark my words. He is dead serious about killing both of you. If you value your lives, go. Now.”
***
Early 1964
Riptide ran a bare foot along the warm sand. He leisurely played with the grains, enjoying the feeling against his toes.
“Here is your pina colada,” Azazel said as he approached and seated himself next to Riptide.
Riptide turned to appraise Azazel’s drink as well. “You are having one too? I thought you hated sweet and fruity drinks.”
Azazel reached for his sunglasses with one hand and put them on. “Time to try something new.”
Riptide nodded and took a sip. “Nice.” He liked the smooth feel of the coconut sliding down his throat. The sunset had begun, and Riptide took in the array of colors in the sky.
“How’s your shoulder?” he asked Azazel.
“The same. I will be back to normal soon. That X-man’s blast was strong but not enough to cause any real trouble.”
Riptide leaned over and placed a kiss on Azazel’s bare shoulder. “It is good to fight occasionally, keep our skills strong.”
Azazel and Riptide loved their semi-retirement. Magneto called on them occasionally to play a role in a mission, to fight - but they were no longer members of the Brotherhood. They found the occasional skirmishes ideal for getting the bloodlust out of their systems. They only fought on missions that didn’t involve Sabretooth so that they could steer clear of any contact with him. Their location was carefully kept a secret from Sabretooth.
Azazel set his drink down on the side table. He reached for Riptide’s free hand.
“I see maybe you don’t like the sweet drink after all,” Riptide observed.
“Is not bad.” He changed the subject. “We have enough in the safe to pay our staff for the month?”
“More than enough. You don’t need to teleport anywhere for a while. Just sit back and enjoy the sound of the waves hitting the beach.”
Azazel smiled. He liked the sound better than he would admit. His system was starting to adjust to the slower pace. His muscles felt so much less tense nowadays, and he enjoyed that.
The island on which the couple now lived was a remote one. A well-paid staff helped maintain their dwelling. Although Azazel’s appearance had initially been shocking to the people, a combination of cash and threats kept their lips sealed.
“Are you ever bored, Janos?” Azazel asked, after several moments of silence. He searched his lover’s face for the answer.
“Not really,” he replied, meeting Azazel’s gaze. ”Are you? You know Magneto will have another mission for us soon,” he said flatly.
“It is not mission that I want.” He paused and took a breath. “You ever think of having a child?”
Riptide’s eyes widened but only briefly. He reached for his glass and took another sip of the drink. This was not the first time Azazel had mentioned the idea of a child. “I would be open to it,” he said at last.
“Maybe it is because I am getting older,” Azazel commented. A warm breeze ruffled his hair. It would be an hour or so before the island cooled off for the evening. “But I would like one. Mystique has mentioned wanting one - she told me it several times. So I get this idea. Maybe we share raising child with her. She can have him part of the year, we have him other part.”
Riptide took a breath. “Like I said, I would be open to considering it. I need to think about it some more.” He then smiled and patted the front of Azazel’s shorts. “But don’t go getting any crazy ideas about how this baby will get started. There are ways we can get your seed into her without you two in the bedroom together. This area,” he gently squeezed, “belongs to me.”
“Of course, my dear,” Azazel said, pleased that Riptide was obviously giving serious thought to the notion of fatherhood.
THE END
Summary: Now that Shaw is gone, his former henchmen Azazel and Riptide work for Erik. Can they adjust to a different leader, especially one who feels strong emotions and painful memories every time he observes the two of them together? Azazel/Riptide, with references to past Cherik.
Inspired by a prompt from a friend who requested a fic with Erik walking in on Azazel and Riptide.
Beta Testing: Thank you to RD for beta testing this entire fic!
Word count: 4,500
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Azazel/Riptide
Disclaimer: I don’t own X-men, or Azazel or Riptide, unfortunately.
Henchmen
***
November 1962
The Brotherhood had settled in an old motel, one suggested by the former members of the Hellfire Club. Not the prettiest of surroundings - paint peeling on walls, small rooms with chipped furniture, faucets that didn’t always produce warm water - but the Persian couple who owned it gave them the run of the place and no questions asked. It was so much better than living in the crushing, dark depths of the sea in the now-destroyed submarine.
Magneto wasted no time. He had jettisoned the name Erik, interviewed those members of the team he had not known previously, moved their operations base to this motel, and declared their group a brotherhood of mutants. They were no longer an exclusive club but rather a brotherhood open to any mutants who shared their goals and would fight for them.
Azazel and Riptide had to bite their tongues to keep from referring to their new group as a club. They stood back, as they always had, observing Magneto plot, strategize, and plan with Emma. As they would have under Shaw, when not needed they stayed out of the way and awaited orders.
They also enjoyed each other’s company, something Shaw had allowed as well provided it didn’t interfere with their duties. And so it was one rainy afternoon when Magneto had something to run by them. Neither man’s door opened after Magneto had knocked so he went in search of them. His intuition told him that Azazel liked dark and secluded places, Magneto needed an item from the basement supply room anyway, and so he headed downstairs.
Magneto heard them before he saw them. When the moans and grunts reached his ears, Magneto knew he should turn right back for the stairs and leave the couple in peace, but his emotional and irrational side refused to obey. He told himself that he had to determine if they were truly doing what he thought they were doing. Anything that reminded him of the loss of Charles felt like the electric shocks Shaw used to torture him with, yet Magneto had the need to pick at that scab.
Moving silently, he rounded a corner and came upon the two men. There they were, Azazel having bent Riptide over a stack of boxes, having his way with him in the one act that Charles had refused Erik. Magneto wondered what possessed them to do this here when either of their rooms would have certainly provided more comfort. Were they overcome with lust and just couldn’t wait? But surely not; Magneto had long since gathered that Azazel and Riptide had already been together for a while. Perhaps, then, the pair’s longevity provided the explanation for their coupling in this unorthodox location; a change of scenery could spice things up.
Magneto had been ready to turn on his heel and leave when he observed something else. Azazel leaned forward and smothered Riptide’s ears, back of the neck, and shoulders with kisses. Words were murmured in Russian, and Magneto knew enough of the language to pick up the terms of endearment. For one so brutal and deadly in combat, Azazel apparently was a tender lover and this was obviously more than a physical release for him. For both, Magneto guessed, based on Riptide’s intense expression, his closed eyes, his trembling lips.
Rage, loss, and sadness threatened to overtake Magneto. He rapidly turned towards the staircase, muttered an obscenity or two, made no efforts to silence his movements, and left the basement.
***
Angel had asked Magneto for an update, for an idea of when they’d be making their next move. Slightly injured in her first battle with the X-men, the young woman was now fully recovered, bored with sitting around the motel all day, and eager for action. Magneto called the team together and briefed them, Emma at his side. They sat inside the motel’s one meeting room, a windowless room that contained a table, ten chairs which didn’t all match, and a credenza.
Azazel watched his new leader and listened to his words. He turned to glance at Riptide several times, wondering if his lover observed the same things he did. Magneto gave too much away. Azazel had never before worked for a boss who so openly shared so many of his plans. But that wasn’t all that Azazel observed. As he spoke, Magneto looked at everyone except Azazel and Riptide. It was painfully obvious given that there were only a total of six people in the room. As Magneto spoke about the need to recruit more mutants, learn the X-men’s plans, and look for an opportunity to make a strike against the non-mutant side of humanity, he made eye contact with Emma, Angel, and Mystique. Azazel and Riptide may as well not have been in the room.
Azazel again turned his head towards Riptide. His lover gave a slight nod, his expression mirroring Azazel’s.
***
“You are smart woman, Emma. What do you think?”
Azazel and Riptide sat with Emma inside their room. (Each man had, on paper, his own room but as had been the case for years no matter where the Hellfire Club had resided, they had shared a room). Azazel poured her a drink and handed it to her. She sat in the one chair inside the room as Azazel and Riptide faced her, now sitting on the edge of the bed.
Emma looked around the room and wrinkled her nose.
“What is it?” Riptide asked, leaning forward.
“Nothing,” Emma sighed, her eyes hurting as she looked at the same drab wallpaper which had been slapped onto the walls of her own room . “Nothing, just that I miss our old yacht with a passion.”
“Me too,” Riptide said. “The sun and the sea. We never stayed in this place for more than a week under Shaw.” Riptide spoke their deceased leader’s name without concern for hurting Emma. Her mind and feelings may have been impenetrable but Riptide simply knew that Emma had never loved Shaw.
“But back to topic at hand,” Azazel prompted. He didn’t miss the yacht other than for the pleasure it had given Riptide, a pleasure which Azazel himself shared only on rare occasions.
Emma shrugged. “It does seem that he doesn’t like you two. That meeting hasn’t been the only time he’s acted like you’re not there.”
“We know. So, why is it?” Riptide asked. “We’ve been nothing but respectful towards him and he has to know that we are very good fighters. Is it…do you think it’s because Azazel and I are…are -“
“Queer?” Emma finished for him. This was not a topic easily discussed, even among people who knew each other well, but Emma knew that her teammates understood there was no keeping a secret from her and never could be.
Azazel nodded. “Shaw never seem to have problem with it,” he said, lines forming on his brow.
It was true. Shaw had once simply pulled them aside, told them to “keep it discrete” (there had been no need to even say what “it” referred to), and left it at that. He had apparently soon realized that he could trust them to be discrete - when they were not on the submarine or in one of the Hellfire Club’s other remote bases, Azazel and Riptide would hardly even look at each other. The subject had never again been mentioned with their former boss.
“And Magneto,” Riptide continued, “well, I would think he would be even more tolerant than Shaw. He is younger. He is passionate about mutant rights. And he is, well, he’s a Jew.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Riptide observed Azazel’s eyes involuntarily narrow at reminder that their leader was Jewish.
Riptide also wanted to say to Emma something that he and Azazel had discussed earlier; Magneto was obviously not a sociopath as Shaw had been. So far he appeared to be the sanest man that either had worked for - not that that was saying much. But Riptide pressed his lips together; Emma might not have loved Shaw but no need to remind her that her former paramour had been a sociopath.
Emma took a breath. “Someone can be passionate about mutant rights but still uncomfortable with queers. You two know there aren’t a lot of places on this planet where you could go and be accepted for that.”
Azazel’s fingers traced the rim of his glass. “Are you sure that is why Magneto acts like this with us? Is there another reason? Something we don’t see?” He took a swig of his drink.
“There might be,” Emma said, her face expressionless as always. “But I don’t know what it is. And you know I don’t invade other people’s minds without their consent.”
At that declaration, Azazel and Riptide turned to look at each other and burst out laughing. Emma nearly jolted backwards at this unusual display but caught herself in time to maintain her rigid posture. She sat there and observed the men laugh.
“Emma,” Azazel said, when he could again keep his tone even. “Please.”
“Let me amend that statement,” she responded, eyebrows slightly raised. “I don’t invade others’ minds without…an incentive.”
In truth, Emma knew the entire situation, the whole background that explained Magneto’s discomfort. But she certainly wasn’t going to reveal it to Azazel and Riptide without some form of payment.
“An incentive?” Azazel asked. “Well, of course we can help with that. I can easily get my hands on large sums of money.”
“So can I. I’m a telepath, remember?” she said harshly. Emma went on to lay out her terms. Given that Magneto lacked Shaw’s love of finer things, Emma needed new clothing and some far better furniture and decorations for her room. As a telepath, she could set out and steal these things herself. But taking over the minds of every salesperson, security guard, and fellow shopper was taxing and it distracted her from her “shopping”. However, a teleportation-enhanced shopping spree where others could worry about fending off any trouble - well, that would allow her to keep her mind free so she could focus and select the clothing, jewels, furs, and artwork that she liked.
Azazel chuckled and reached up to shake her hand. “We have deal,” he said.
***
“So, this is the story,” Emma began. She wore a new dress and new shoes - unbeknownst to Azazel and Riptide, she also wore new lingerie despite the fact that she had no one to appreciate it nowadays. “Magneto and Charles Xavier used to be lovers.”
Azazel and Riptide turned to face each other. Neither man could mask his expression - eyes were wide, Riptide’s mouth open.
“It was pretty serious too. They loved each other.” Emma paused and shook her head. “I really had no idea there were so many queers in this world.”
Although Emma had taken great pains to hide her origins, due to quite a bit of sleuthing over the years, Azazel and Riptide had learned that Emma grew up on a farm in the Midwestern United States. She was not the worldly young woman she pretended to be. So no wonder she was surprised to have made the acquaintance of three (four, if one counted Xavier) men who had loved other men.
Of course, years ago neither Azazel nor Riptide had known there were so many queers in the world either. Each had grown up thinking that he was the only man who had these bizarre and condemned feelings and urges.
Emma rose to leave. “So there you have it. Every time he sees you - especially when he runs into you two rutting in the supply room - he remembers what he and Xavier used to have,” she said with an eyebrow raised. Then she concluded with, “Thank you for the shopping spree.”
Early 1963
“Have you considered leaving the Brotherhood?”
Azazel restrained the urge to respond with a shocked ‘What?’ He knew things were not going well between them and their new boss - no, he silently corrected himself, leader - but this question truly took him by surprise. He didn’t even need to turn and look at Riptide; out of the corner of his eye he could see Riptide’s eyebrows raised.
The three men sat inside Magneto’s office, in the Brotherhood’s new headquarters. Azazel liked the freezing Antarctica base. Perhaps, he told himself, it reminded him of home or perhaps he occasionally liked extremes.
“Have we disappointed you in some way, Magneto?” Riptide asked. His voice was low and, as much as Azazel suspected that Riptide had tried to keep it neutral, one could detect the hurt in it.
“Please tell us,” Azazel added, looking from Riptide to Magneto. “We have had battles with X-men and I think that Riptide and I fight against them very well.”
Magneto had never been effusive before but in the last few months he had perfected the art of being expressionless better than Emma had. He did not move as he said, “You both fought well in the skirmishes. But I believe that this is not the right sort of group for you. Sebastian Shaw was used to having henchmen who didn’t question his orders - I want a brotherhood of mutants.”
A line appeared on Azazel’s forehead. “So…you want us to question you?”
“That’s not what I’m saying,” Magneto answered, again his voice and face like a stone. “I just think that this isn’t the group for you.”
“We must have done something to anger you,” Riptide spoke up, leaning forward. “We are strong fighters. I am sorry if I have done something to upset you.”
Azazel turned towards Riptide and tried to convey a look of warning. They knew perfectly well why Magneto didn’t want them there, and Azazel didn’t like Riptide’s conciliatory tone. On the other hand, he could understand Riptide’s bewildered plea; Magneto’s asking them to leave seemed a bit extreme.
“I agree with Riptide.” Azazel turned one of his palms upwards as he spoke. “We share your goals. We want to take over world, just as you do. Have world where mutants are in charge. We want this. We fight for it.”
“That may be so,” Magneto said. “But you should still think about leaving. Have you ever considered what you would do if not for the Brotherhood? Some other options for your life?”
Again another look between the lovers was exchanged. “No,” Azazel answered. “We work for Sebastian Shaw, we like his vision, we plan to take over world with him. Then you come along. We like your vision. We want mutants in change of everything.”
“What about,” Magneto asked, spreading his hands, “an easier life? One without fighting and injuries. A nice, secluded retirement somewhere.”
“I like to fight,” Azazel said simply.
“Me too,” Riptide answered. “I want to take revenge on humans.” Riptide had never been treated particularly badly by non-mutant humans; he looked ‘normal’. But whenever Azazel spoke of how he had been treated due to his unorthodox appearance, Riptide would fill with rage and vow revenge.
“I see,” Magneto spoke, getting to his feet. Apparently the meeting was over. “Think about it anyway. Perhaps in the long run you will find a place you like better than the Brotherhood.”
He gestured to the door. Azazel wanted to ask more questions; this conversation left their status more than a little unclear. But they had clearly been dismissed.
***
“He needs - what do you call it? - a shrink? Someone to help him get over Xavier,” Azazel declared once the two men were in the privacy of their own room.
“Maybe he just needs a new lover,” Riptide said simply. “Someone to replace Xavier.”
Azazel scoffed. “Magneto never relaxes or has fun. Works all the time. I don’t know if he would ever take another lover.”
Riptide shook his head. “I do not understand it. You and I are nothing like Charles Xavier. Do we really remind him so much, of what he lost?”
Azazel crossed his arms over his chest. “And it has been long time since he was with Xavier. He still mourns him?”
Riptide took a step closer to Azazel. “He must have really loved him.” Riptide placed his hands on Azazel’s chest. “You understand that,” he said quietly.
Azazel reached for the perfectly-manicured hands and kissed them. “I do,” he said. He placed more kisses on the hands. The thought of losing Riptide was unbearable. “I do,” he repeated. Azazel then tilted his head upwards, almost abruptly. “Perhaps he wants you! Maybe that is why he wants us gone.”
Something between a smile and a smirk found its way to Riptide’s pleased face. “Well, I certainly couldn’t blame him if that was the case.”
Azazel’s eyes began to narrow, but Riptide continued, “But it is not so. He has never given any indication that he feels that way about me. He doesn’t even look at me.”
“Good,” Azazel said, pulling Riptide closer and covering his lips with his own. “I should be only one to see what is under these fancy suits.”
“You are,” Riptide assured Azazel, reaching one hand around to squeeze Azazel’s rear as Riptide returned his lips to Azazel’s.
***
Spring 1963
A new mutant joined the Brotherhood. He went by the name Sabretooth.
Azazel and Riptide were away on a mission when Sabretooth settled into the headquarters. Mystique, who had struck up something of a friendship with the two men and especially with Azazel, sent them a message warning that the newest addition to the Brotherhood was “the most unpleasant yet.”
They first saw him when they entered the new training room of the headquarters. Magneto had spared neither time nor expense to have it built; he had once sent Azazel on an intelligence-gathering mission, Azazel had returned with reports about the X-men’s Danger Room, and Magneto knew that the Brotherhood needed one of its own.
Sabretooth had already been inside the training room when the door slid aside allowing Azazel and Riptide to enter. He turned his head in their direction and sniffed the air. He pointedly sniffed again. His enhanced sense of smell clearly indicated what Azazel and Riptide had been up to earlier that day.
Sabretooth strode towards them, his fists clenched. Azazel and Riptide took a few seconds to register the scenario as their new teammate rapidly approached them in a posture that conveyed aggression.
“Is this what I think it is?” Sabretooth asked. He sniffed the air once more. “It is! A pair of queers! Right here, in the Brotherhood.”
“It looks like someone wants a fight,” Azazel said smoothly, unsheathing his sword. “Good,” he smiled devilishly. “I didn’t get enough action on last mission.”
The battle was an intense one. Sabretooth was strong as an ox and healed rapidly. But Azazel and Riptide could more than hold their own, especially given Azazel’s teleporting and skills with the sword. Whenever Azazel appeared to tire, Riptide would step in and blast Sabretooth. He enjoyed sending Sabretooth hurling towards the nearest wall. However, Riptide soon grew perplexed and worried as it became apparent that no matter what how many times Riptide slammed him or Azazel slashed him with the sword, Sabretooth didn’t tire and didn’t stop.
Within minutes, the training center was nearly demolished. It had been built to take abuse but not to this degree. Magneto soon rushed in, Mystique at his heels.
“Stop it! All of you. I order it!”
Magneto rarely raised his voice. When he did, it commanded attention. Good henchmen that they were, Azazel and Riptide ceased immediately. Both men hoped that they successfully hid their relief. Sabretooth cursed and spat, but a few more words from Magneto silenced him.
“You didn’t say that I’d have to work with a pair of filthy cocksuckers!” Sabretooth spat out.
Azazel and Riptide were both panting. A glance at Sabretooth revealed that he didn’t even look winded.
Riptide used every bit of his strength to get the sentence out and keep his voice from revealing any strain. “Magneto, we truly can’t be this desperate for help that we will accept any pathetic creature who wants to sign up.” He wanted to say more but needed desperately to take another deep breath.
“You little fairy, I’m gonna break your pretty face,” Sabretooth sneered in reply.
“We don’t fight our own kind,” Magneto said, directing his gaze towards Sabretooth. “My friend, save your venom for the X-men.”
“These are not ‘my kind,’” Sabretooth said, pointing a finger. “If the X-men don’t have scum like this on their team, maybe I should join them,” he growled.
“Come with me,” Magneto said, his tone genial. He gestured towards the door. “Let’s talk.”
***
Mystique meanwhile quietly ushered Azazel and Riptide into the room that served as the Brotherhood’s lab and infirmary. Despite their protestations, she set about tending to their injuries. The three didn’t speak much though Riptide grumbled about the tears in his brand-new suit.
Soon the doors to the infirmary slid aside and Emma strode through determinedly. “I don’t wish to alarm you,” she began, without preamble, “but you are both in mortal danger.”
“Is that so?” Riptide asked, unsuccessfully feigning indifference.
“Magneto’s talking to him right now but Sabretooth isn’t listening to a word he’s saying. He’s planning.” As Emma spoke, she sounded nearly out of breath as if she had rushed to the infirmary. “His plan is to get you, Riptide, alone - and kill you.” She paused, and continued, “You’re a good fighter but alone against Sabretooth, you don’t stand a chance.” She then turned to Azazel. “Once Riptide is out of the way, he’s counting on you being insane with grief so he’ll have an easier time finishing you off.”
Azazel and Riptide looked at each other. There was no reason to doubt Emma’s words.
Azazel gritted his teeth. “I am not going to leave because this son-of-a-bitch comes and thinks he---“
Riptide placed a hand on Azazel’s arm. “Maybe this isn’t the right time to…dig in our heels, as they say. Our pride isn’t worth losing our lives over.”
“That’s right!” Mystique cut in, taking a few steps closer to the two men. “And I don’t want to see you two killed because you’re too stubborn to back down from a fight. I could see how out of breath you guys looked after the fight. Sabretooth looked like it had no effect on him.”
“It didn’t,” Emma confirmed. She tilted her head slightly. “Perhaps Sabretooth won’t last long here. Perhaps he will get tired fighting the X-men. He seems impatient and it’s obvious that defeating the X-men is taking longer than any of us had thought.” She turned towards the door, took a few steps, and then said, over her shoulder, “But mark my words. He is dead serious about killing both of you. If you value your lives, go. Now.”
***
Early 1964
Riptide ran a bare foot along the warm sand. He leisurely played with the grains, enjoying the feeling against his toes.
“Here is your pina colada,” Azazel said as he approached and seated himself next to Riptide.
Riptide turned to appraise Azazel’s drink as well. “You are having one too? I thought you hated sweet and fruity drinks.”
Azazel reached for his sunglasses with one hand and put them on. “Time to try something new.”
Riptide nodded and took a sip. “Nice.” He liked the smooth feel of the coconut sliding down his throat. The sunset had begun, and Riptide took in the array of colors in the sky.
“How’s your shoulder?” he asked Azazel.
“The same. I will be back to normal soon. That X-man’s blast was strong but not enough to cause any real trouble.”
Riptide leaned over and placed a kiss on Azazel’s bare shoulder. “It is good to fight occasionally, keep our skills strong.”
Azazel and Riptide loved their semi-retirement. Magneto called on them occasionally to play a role in a mission, to fight - but they were no longer members of the Brotherhood. They found the occasional skirmishes ideal for getting the bloodlust out of their systems. They only fought on missions that didn’t involve Sabretooth so that they could steer clear of any contact with him. Their location was carefully kept a secret from Sabretooth.
Azazel set his drink down on the side table. He reached for Riptide’s free hand.
“I see maybe you don’t like the sweet drink after all,” Riptide observed.
“Is not bad.” He changed the subject. “We have enough in the safe to pay our staff for the month?”
“More than enough. You don’t need to teleport anywhere for a while. Just sit back and enjoy the sound of the waves hitting the beach.”
Azazel smiled. He liked the sound better than he would admit. His system was starting to adjust to the slower pace. His muscles felt so much less tense nowadays, and he enjoyed that.
The island on which the couple now lived was a remote one. A well-paid staff helped maintain their dwelling. Although Azazel’s appearance had initially been shocking to the people, a combination of cash and threats kept their lips sealed.
“Are you ever bored, Janos?” Azazel asked, after several moments of silence. He searched his lover’s face for the answer.
“Not really,” he replied, meeting Azazel’s gaze. ”Are you? You know Magneto will have another mission for us soon,” he said flatly.
“It is not mission that I want.” He paused and took a breath. “You ever think of having a child?”
Riptide’s eyes widened but only briefly. He reached for his glass and took another sip of the drink. This was not the first time Azazel had mentioned the idea of a child. “I would be open to it,” he said at last.
“Maybe it is because I am getting older,” Azazel commented. A warm breeze ruffled his hair. It would be an hour or so before the island cooled off for the evening. “But I would like one. Mystique has mentioned wanting one - she told me it several times. So I get this idea. Maybe we share raising child with her. She can have him part of the year, we have him other part.”
Riptide took a breath. “Like I said, I would be open to considering it. I need to think about it some more.” He then smiled and patted the front of Azazel’s shorts. “But don’t go getting any crazy ideas about how this baby will get started. There are ways we can get your seed into her without you two in the bedroom together. This area,” he gently squeezed, “belongs to me.”
“Of course, my dear,” Azazel said, pleased that Riptide was obviously giving serious thought to the notion of fatherhood.
THE END