Mousetrap Heart

Rory and Pearl’s friendship was never a usual one. In fact the first time they met, Rory and Pearl had their eyes on the same pickpocketing target. That had never happened to Pearl before and it hasn’t since, so in that moment, she stopped to watch Rory from the sidelines. Rory clearly had a few tricks Pearl had never seen, too, so when she finally revealed to Rory that she saw what she had done, Pearl offered to not turn her in so long as she taught her some of her tricks. They’ve been fast friends ever since. 

“Come on.” She smirked and nudged her friend. “You know you wanna. Besides, next time you can make me do whatever you want.”

It was obvious that about half of Rory’s pick-pocketing skill came from her power. It definitely helped that she could reach into someone’s pockets without them feeling a thing. The other half came from the fact that people, especially older men, tended to not at all suspect a petite, innocent looking woman. She sighed, glancing over at the man once again. “Fine! I’ll do it but, you have to buy me some top shelf rum, okay?”

Rory sauntered over to the man, letting her hair down so it would fall across her shoulders. She was gone for maybe ten minutes, sweet talking the stranger, brushing her fingers against the fabric of his sleeve.  It took a while of ridiculous complimenting and ego boosting, but finally he let his guard down enough that she was able to press her body close to his as a distraction. It wasn’t difficult to slip his watch off and put it into her pocket. She pressed a quick kiss to the man’s lips, another distraction, before scampering away, passing the shiny watch to Pearl. “Easy. Guys are idiots anyway.”

Mason was a romantic; no doubt about that. But now, he was questioning everything. Even though his personal life was a whirlwinded mess, his relationships scrambled and hazy, his goals always traced back to the slack, gooey-warm feeling of intimacy. God, he missed it. There was something about better utterly in… … that made him emotional, his muscles unwounded, his whole perspective on life less… pessimistic. He’d been that way as of late, but as he slid the charger slowly into the plug, almost releasing a moan, Mason could only think about what he had - what was in the past.

His eyes watered as he thought about it. Damn, he was drunk. Utterly drunk.

But when Rory quirked a brow at him, said the words with such impunity, Mason turned towards her, fully giving his attention.

Mason was never sure of his sexuality all his life. It was a constant source of passive stress in his life. Most of the people he liked were men, but this - Mason licked his lips, holding tension between their eyes, licking his lips as he looked at hers. “Okay,” he said, cautious but still open to trying new things. He leaned in, alcohol on his breath, his face ghosting over hers. Mason moved his mouth to her ears, whispering “I haven’t had sex in a long time” as he pulled back.

He never knew what he wanted, anyways; he merely acted in the spur of the moment, crashing his lips against hers, pressing against the floor underneath the table.

It was safe to say that Rory had not been expecting Mason to accept her half-joking offer. Sure, he was drunk and adorable, but he seemed like the kind of person who would have a stick up his ass regarding sex. Still, she didn’t mind. Sex had never been a big deal to her. It was just something fun that didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t some crazy romantic gesture. There were no sparks, no fireworks, nothing crazy. It was just... sex.

His sudden proximity shocked her. She couldn’t believe this was happening, but hell, she was going to enjoy whatever it was. Was she really drunk enough to fuck a near-stranger underneath a table in a room full of people? The answer was definitely yes. She had done way worse. Plus she could always use it as a way to one up Xavier when ever he talked about his sexual exploits. There really weren’t any consequences anyway.

She was suddenly pressed against the cold floor, her arms wrapped around him tightly. She bucked up against his hips, not for a moment stopping to think whether or not she would regret this later. The taste of alcohol on his lips was strong, and she was sure that he would be able to taste alcohol on her own lips. It felt normal. Sober sex wasn’t her idea of fun. There were too many emotions involved. At least being drunk she could blame her actions on the alcohol. She pulled her lips away from his for a moment, her breathing already heavy. “Fuck, uh, lesson one... slow and steady can fuck off. That shit is boring,” She spoke, moving to trace her lips over his jawline, her hands clinging at his shirt, desperate to pull it off.

“That’s not worse. I could punch myself through it, somehow…” He wasn’t sure if he could punch is way through a brick or concrete wall, but it sounded cool to say it. Xavier grinned, brushing his nose along her cheek. “Like you don’t want to show them your tits. They’re above average, anyway.” The brunet teased, letting a hand slide down so he could playfully grope her for a moment. Hoisting her further onto his lap to prevent her from falling off, Xavier tightened his arms around her. Maybe he should stop letting her see how much he cared – all their interactions were playful banter, nothing too serious.

They didn’t get attached. And yet they had.

“I know,” His voice was quiet as he breathed the words against her skin. He could blame the alcohol all he wanted, but he knew he had never been drunk enough to believe he cared for someone when he didn’t. “When we get out, we’re going to re-explore our house. Or get a new one, a bigger one, with all the rooms we can drink and dance and smoke and fuck in.” He wasn’t sure if that was a good idea, given the fact that the reason they had a pretty shitty apartment right now was because he was trying to lay low. But it didn’t hurt to make empty promises. Not to Rory.

He smirked against her lips, one of his hands sliding down to rest on her ass, pulling their bodies closer together. He briefly wondered if he was too sober, because he was feeling so… protective all of a sudden. He wanted to comfort her, wanted to make sure nothing bad would ever happen to her. He knew fully well he didn’t have that kind of power, but he was willing to try.

Kissing her, with all these stupid emotions messing with his head, it was different. So naturally, he pulled away from her lips for a moment to take another couple of gulps from the booze. Alcohol was his medicine. Hell, it was basically his oxygen at this point. It was the only thing he truly needed in his system in order to function and though he made it out like it was all a big joke, sometimes it scared him.

For a second, he wanted to ask Rory if she would be sad if he died. But he caught himself in time and swallowed the question. This wasn’t the right time and place to talk about death, with Rory already being on edge and his attempts to distract her seemingly starting to work. So instead, he rubbed his hand along her back until it was warm enough to slip it underneath her shirt, his fingers teasingly brushing up and down her spine. “What would you do if I told you that I la la la loved you?” He playfully hummed against her lips, before capturing them again in another rough kiss.

“Calm down there, Terminator.” She chuckled as he tried to show that little bit of bravado, “If you can punch your way through a brick wall then I’m the Queen of fucking England.” She tapped on his chest lightly. They were always teasing each other, that was just how they were. If anyone asked if she cared about Xavier she would answer with a joke, or deflect the question entirely. But even though he was just as unstable as she was, he was something good in her life that kept her in place. As he playfully touched her she squirmed, her nose scrunching “Uhm, my tits are great, excuse you. All the people here would be lucky to even catch a glimpse of them.“

She nuzzled against his neck, desperately trying to hide her face. He didn’t need to see how being trapped was affecting her, well at least not any more than he already had. It was hard to hide her emotions from him, and she wished she didn’t have to but she was scared that if she let go, let him see all of her that he would run the other way. “A big house sounds nice.” She mumbled against his skin, pressing kisses down his neck. “We should have a bar in this big house, I’ve always wanted to fuck on a bar.” She knew that they probably wouldn’t end up in some lavish place, they were smarter than that, but it was nice to dream anyway.

God, why did she feel so fragile? Even with Xavier’s arms around her she felt like she could fall apart at any moment. It was probably the alcohol, or the fact that she wasn’t used to so many conflicting feelings running through her. She just wanted them to stop. As his fingers brushed against her spine she let out a soft sigh. She lifted her shirt, discarding it to the side. She felt his words on her lips and for a second she considered an honest answer. She did love him, even if she didn’t want to admit it. “That’s gross!” She replied, pulling a disgusted face until his lips pressed against hers again. It felt right. She pressed against him, keeping him pushed against the wall so that she could pretend to keep some control in the situation.

          “I’ve got an idea. You get me that gold watch danglin’ from that rich dude’s wrist and I’ll buy drinks tonight.” | @roryxmulligan

Rory glanced over at Pearl, a newer friend in her life. The woman had caught her pick-pocketing in the subway station, and surprisingly hadn’t turned her in. She rolled her eyes, taking a second to look at the man she was speaking about. “You just want to see me use my womanly wiles for evil, huh?”

As Rory laid across him, showing him the cadence by jamming the charger into the plug, Mason’s eyes just hovered above her with a mix of a slight grin and raised brows. “No, no,” he disagreed playfully, reaching for the plug like he were a small child. “Mr. Charger and Mrs. Plug like slow and steady.” He inserted his charger gently, sliding it in out, making passionate circles with the charger and concentrating tightly to make sure he was doing it right.

The people above him had stopped arguing, probably knitting a look of astonishment as they heard: “See, they like it like this, slow and steady.” Mason moaned softly, inhaling deeply before crackling a smile at Rory, chuckling to himself. “But then… after their first time…” He jammed the charger in, and a tiny spark shot out from the plug, fading into the ground.

Looking back at Rory, Mason merely passed her a smile. But it quickly returned to a neutral expression as he looked at her, a small blush spreading over his already red face. He held his breath, returning the charger to his side before handing it to Rory. “Do you want to show me how you’d do it again?”

Rory was not at all what people would call subtle, the conversation with Mason had been as close to her version of subtle that she could get. Feeling concerned over how precious other people tended to be about sex had never been at the top of her list of priorities. She watched him as he played with the charger and reached for her flask, wiggling on his lap. “Ew, you’re saying they’re married? Marriage kills sex. Could you imagine? It would be all missionary position all the time, thinking about fucking someone else because you’re bored as shit.”

A spark flew out and she chuckled, watching it fall and fizzle away. “See, no sparks when you’re being boring.” She sat up finally, only to take another swig of alcohol. And then he passed the charger back to her and she raised her eyebrows, obviously amused. His blush showed her that this wasn’t his usual topic of conversation and it was nearly hilarious how they were tiptoeing so poorly around it. “I mean I could show you with this ooooooor...” She wiggled her eyebrows, “You could ask me for sex lessons? Platonic fucking, of course, because this is all cute and shit but it sounds like you need to get laid.”

Like taking ice? Shit is bad. Don’t take ice, kids. Instead do coke like the rest of us.

I’m solidly pansexual.

He’s a shithead and I hate him.

Or y’know, he is my partner in crime and has an above average ass. He’s pretty alright.

Xavier couldn’t help but laugh softly at Rory’s words. “The day I allow you to get drunk without me, just fucking kill me, because I’ll have lost my mind.” He reminded her, taking the flask and demonstrating by taking a swig of the alcohol. “Besides, I brought some shit, too. We’ll just be dancing and fucking through this whole thing.” He grinned and nudged his friend. “So you’ll still get to fuck me.”

Kissing Rory was nice – he didn’t have to worry about being too drunk or too rough. They just became one being, fighting for dominance, no matter what they were doing. Honestly, she kept him sane. He wouldn’t know where he’d be without her and the potential answers frightened him. He didn’t believe he would become a bad person or anything, but he was always afraid to lose his mind, to fuck up and get himself killed, one way or another. Rory gave him a reason to try and be somewhat careful, to not throw his life away. Because he wanted to come home to her.

“Hmm, are you saying we should fix that?” He teased, pulling Rory flush against his body once she had settled herself onto his lap. He was tempted to move his hand up underneath her shirt, but knew his hands were probably too cold for that. Why couldn’t he have a power that granted him warmth? Though he figured he didn’t need one, since he could use his body (and Rory’s), which was much more fun.

Smirking, he pressed his lips against Rory’s again, more gently this time. When he spoke, he mumbled his words against her mouth. “I think you’re just a lightweight. How sad.” He chuckled and pulled away for a moment so he could take another drink from the flask. “Also, you’re a cheater, because you started without me.”

Rory nuzzled against him for a moment, just seeking comfort. Xavier tended to make her feel more grounded, even if she didn’t want to admit it. Before she had met him she was in a constant state of flux, moving from place to place to avoid getting attached to anyone, and Xav ruined that. It didn’t stop the fact that she had a bag on essentials under her bed, just in case she needed to leave.

“I won’t kill you, but I might put you in a wall or something. Pretty sure that is worse.” She raised her eyebrows, knowing that being stuck through a wall was definitely way more of an inconvenience. “Geez, Xav, you’re gonna be the reason every mutant in New York sees my fucking tits.” She steadied herself, the alcohol making her feel like she could fall over any moment. “Why can’t we just get drunk, and dance, and fuck anywhere but here? I hate it, Xav. I hate this.” Her voice was soft, shaking. It wasn’t easy for her to admit that she wasn’t a complete hardass. Xavier was probably the only person who would ever see that side of her.

She pulled him even closer, her hands reaching for the back of his head. She didn’t want to feel so out of control and maybe kissing him, pretending to be normal, would make everything better. “I’m not a lightweight, you asshole.” She mumbled, her lips brushing against his with every word, “Shhh, not cheating, just getting a head start.” It felt normal to shut him up with a rough kiss, and she could taste the alcohol on his lips. Her body rolled against his, desperate for any distraction to keep her solid.

Mason was rarely affectionate. He’d been so calculating and intellectual with his body, as if he were a robot speaking in binary code. But as Charles Shaw slid down his throat like lava, he could feel his insides heating up, warmth pooling over his cheeks as he swayed back and forth into the other. His face blazed alight with a slack grin as he rested his head against Rory’s. “Rory, yo,” he stuck his tongue out playfully, elated to see her. “I saw my co-workers do this, it’s legal I think.” He chuckled to himself, holding the bottle to his mouth and let his mouth fill with bitterness.

When Rory asked about the phone charger, Mason didn’t even miss a beat plugging his charger into the wall, sliding it in and out of the hole in slow movements, back and forth. “If you keep doing it, maybe electricity will pour out. And voila. An energized phone. That’s what I’m hoping.” He winked at the other, nudging his head against hers before pulling back to belch. Turning towards her, Mason bursted in laughter at himself before handing her the cord. “You try now. It’s so much fun.”

Rory wasn’t really the cuddly kind, even when drunk, but something about the whole situation had her drunken self just aching for something that made her feel something more than the anxiety that she was suffering through. Her usual response to feeling trapped was to run, as fast and as far as she could. But that would probably just lead to someone from ASH catching her. She clinked her flask against Mason’s bottle, taking a mouthful of cheap alcohol. “Good to know it’s legal for you to drink and stuff. I thought you were just a stuffy lawer-y guy.”

She frowned as he demonstrated his “technique”. “You’re doing it wrong. That’s not how you get anything done.”  She snatched the charger from him, laying across his lap to show him. A look of deep concentrated showed on her face, her brows furrowing as she lined up the plug. “You gotta start a little bit slow, then just slam in.” She punctuated her point by pushing the charger in roughly, “That’s how electricity happens. Boom, I just taught you the proper way.” She wasn’t being even a little subtle with her euphemisms anymore.

“Rawr. Calm down, kitty.” Xavier grinned and sat himself down next to Rory, ignoring her words. As if she was going to send him away. He knew this was hard for her – it wasn’t easy for him, but he wasn’t feeling nearly half as panicked and uncomfortable as Rory appeared to be. He could feel how tense she was (the perks of being best friends and roommates, he supposed) and felt a little guilty for knowing he was the reason she hadn’t disappeared through a wall yet. Maybe he was the rational one of the pair, which was a strange thing to consider. But he knew it was important to be here now, to stay put and wait. Because even though he had the power to talk himself out of trouble, he wasn’t willing to risk it, not with his best friend’s life on the line, not when he’d never tried to influence large groups of people before. No matter how hard they loved to believe it was them against the world, they could never win against such an army.

“You know, it’s kind of rude to hog the booze like that, but you probably need it more than I do right now.” He attempted to joke. “Just give me some when I start to show withdrawal symptoms. I’d hate to die in a dump like this. Opposed to the dump that is our apartment, of course.”

He looked at her, hazel eyes taking in her body language. He’d probably never admit it – because Rory would call him a loser anyway – but he truly loved her. (Sure, he said it teasingly, but never like that.) Though he’d promised himself not to get attached to anyone and it was easy to live by that, Rory had made her way into his heart, with the same ease she had stepping through a wall. They fought and called each other names and were each fucked up in their own miserable way, but Xavier knew he would die for her and it didn’t scare him as much as he knew it should. 

It wasn’t even romance. Rory was his family, his best friend, his adoptive twin. One that he could have sex with. Anyway.

The three words were on the tip of his tongue, right in that moment, while he tried to think of a way to make her feel better, to comfort her. But he wasn’t sure if he would get slapped, laughed at or if Rory would just panic and never talk to him again. So instead, he did what any amazing best friend would do. Shifting closer, he pulled her in and roughly pressed his lips against Rory’s, his arm snaking around her waist, while his free hand cupped her cheek.

Rory knew she had to calm down. Strong emotions tended to make her lose control of her power. There had been more than one occasion where she had been upset, or drunk, and she had lost control and fallen through a building, which was never fun. Maybe she was hiding away just to make sure that nobody saw her panicking. It was a sign of weakness and she refused to let people see something more vulnerable in her.

A pout appeared when Xavier spoke to her. She wanted to be alone, but he was also the only person who she hadn’t kept at a distance. He was her partner in crime and she was pretty sure that he could see through the act she was trying to keep up. It was weird, having someone like that, and she was pretty sure he cared about her, which was more than she could say for anyone else in her life. What was worst was that she cared about him and that was terrifying. It would make things hurt even more when he inevitably abandoned her. Everyone left in the end.

“Fuck you.” She mumbled, taking another swig before handing the flask out to him, “If ‘m drunk, you gotta be drunk as well. It’s not fair if I’m the only drunk.” She waited for him to sit with her before admitting, “I have two more of these in my bag... and a bottle of rum under the bed I claimed. I’m not gonna survive this sober.”

Xavier’s hand felt warm. It was nice. Especially considering that her body was not handling the lack of heating well.  She wasn’t surprised by his lips on hers. It was just a thing they did. People probably thought that they were in a relationship but it was never like that. What they did together was just their way of coping. Well, at least that’s what it was for her. It just took her mind off everything. For a while she was just happy to sit there, their lips pressed together in a rough kiss. It was nice. Eventually she pulled away, moving so she was sitting in his lap. “You’re just taking advantage because I’m drunker than you right now.” She chuckled, poking his nose.

The longer this dragged on, the more Mason was inclined to just stow himself away into a closet, drink away his post-exams anxiety in solitude. He never considered himself a drinker, always sitting bored at the counter with his co-workers looking at the bottles in low-light technicolor. He’d sip drinks and writhe at the bitter tastes. But as he sat under a high table with good ol’ Charles Shaw and a seat cushion he’d taken from the couch, he could get used to this - the taste was still undeniably bitter in his mouth, but now he was… calm. His limbs were relaxed, the heavy thoughts eased, his body buzzed with warmth. Things were good.

Somewhat, at least. The two people sitting at the ends of the table were slamming it from above, fervently engaged in an argument; Goddamit, Harold, it’s people like you who started this mess. Now, we’re all screwed if we get caught, and we’re all going to jail. 

Mason resisted debasing to their level - or, rather, raising - and doing something stupid like pull out a business card and talk about the law, how they wouldn’t go to jail without due process. Rather, he just sat below the table, content with himself. But there was also a growing sense of isolation. Here people were, nattering about and flinging complaints everywhere. And with the alcohol settling in, Mason wanted to do that too.

When someone walked up to the table, within reach, he began to paw their feet. “Pssst, down here. Come join me. There’s an outlet down here, even if there’s no power, you can still use it.”

Rory was definitely not sober. She had a flask in her pocket, two flasks in her bag, and a secret bottle of cheap, stolen rum hidden under the bed she had claimed. There was no way she was going to survive a lockdown sober, she barely survived her day to day life sober. She had been wandering the apartment building, sick of staying in the same room, desperate to just find somewhere to get drunk and maybe watch a few people bicker. It’s what people inevitably did when they were forced into staying somewhere.

It took a while, but she eventually found a long table to lean on, some older couple arguing about something boring. She was about to chime in, call them idiots or something, but before she felt a little tug at her feet. She frown and leaned down, noticing that a familiar face was sitting under the table. It would be obvious to anyone that she was definitely intoxicated, and she could tell that Mason was probably the same. “Mason! New fancy friend!!” She ducked under the table, her head resting on his shoulder, “Are you drunk? You’re too lawyer-y to be drunk. That’s not even a word.” She laughed and pulled out her flask, taking a long swig, “How do you even charge a phone if the outlet doesn’t work?”