Pairing: Julio Richter/Jamie Madrox
Word Count: 376
Notes: No real spoilers.
Rictor has insomnia a lot since M-Day. One night, hot and nasty the way New York gets in August, with the air conditioning out because I'm-Layla-Miller-I-Know-Stuff didn't know enough to schedule a repairman before the damn thing broke, Rictor's on the roof trying to catch a breeze.
"You're not jumping again, are you?" Jamie asks from behind him.
"I didn't jump, you pushed me," Rictor says, turning around. He doesn't like to have his back to Jamie anymore. "And, no." Jamie looks tired, but also kind of smug. Rictor wonders if he's been fucking his way through the house again. "Which one are you?"
"Jeez. I see Pietro's gracious charm is rubbing off."
"It's a fair question." But he doesn't ask it again. He looks out at all the sleeping buildings, all the lights which are New York's version of stars, and Jamie stands next to him and looks too.
It's some time after three in the morning, and Rictor hasn't slept in so long that it's like he's asleep all the time, like the whole world's a dream. In dreams, things just happen, words just come out of your mouth, and Rictor says, "You ever get lonely? I mean, can you?"
Jamie stares at him for what feels like a long, long time. "Yeah."
"Oh." Jamie could make--literally--his own friends, if he wanted to. Hell, he could make his own army. But ten Jamies, or ten thousand, must feel pretty much the same as one Jamie by himself. Just more crowded. "Pietro wants to give me my powers back."
"You going to do it?"
"I dunno. I miss - " Rictor can't finish the sentence, because there are too many things he could finish it with. My powers. Being a mutant. Being a real part of a team. My old team. Shatterstar.
"I know." And all of a sudden Jamie's right there, kissing him on the mouth. Kissing him hard, holding him tight, and Rictor kisses back hard too. Until , just as suddenly, they're not kissing anymore.
"I know," Jamie says again, and walks away towards the door.
Rictor listens to his footsteps going down the stairs. He sits down on the roof, his back against the parapet, and waits for morning.