#mctchstick

JOHNNY sent DAKEN a photo.

They’ve got sexual tension practically bleeding from their pores every time they have an exchange -- that interest instantly rekindled upon touching up after a bridge long burned -- but Daken, frankly, doesn’t expect this. He even freezes with his eyebrows raised for a second, which basically invites all of X-Factor to look over his shoulder.

“Ohmygod,” goes Trevor, in all his fascination and infinite gaze. “Is that...”

“It is,” answers Rachel, apparently not resisting the urge to immediately peek at the top thought he’s throwing out.

Of course, Daken leaps from the stool and paces out of the kitchen with his phone held to his chest, snapping, “Mind your own business!”

Then with a bit of distance, Daken looks at all of the tan, abs, cock and that token panty-dropping grin another second, before texting back.

“Oh look, it’s Lumière.” Tony gestured for Johny to follow him into Avenger’s Tower where nearly every superhero in the city--and beyond--had gathered for what was supposed to be a party, instilling comradery between the many teams on the “good guy” side, but was quickly turning into the normal battle strategy debrief categorized into three distinct sectors: the military types in one corner, discussing city safety; the scientists in another, talking about medical and technological advancements to assist mankind; and the hard hitters in the other, deciding what next needed smashing. 

“Y’know you really don’t have to walk with me.” There was the slightest chill that came with the night air, though, Rain didn’t shiver. The walk back to her dorm building was a little bit long, and it was late out, and in the exact opposite direction of where Johnny was going. She didn’t mind walking by herself, because she could certainly take care of herself. She’d been doing it for years now, people didn’t usually even bother trying to look out for her. Unless they thought she was weak. Which, Johnny certainly didn’t.

At the time, Daken is Wolverine.

At the time, Daken is playing games with the Fantastic Four, dancing around their gullibility despite the intelligence of two of them. Personally, he totally thinks that he’s going to bag Sue and Reed and ruin their marriage any minute now. Please, as if they wouldn’t cave in individually.

Fuck Ben. He just has to ward the asshole off.

Johnny, well. It’s funny. Kind of delicate. He likes Johnny, enjoys him. He’s hot and passionate, and he can feel his affection. They have a... friendship. It’s almost a real one, though he’s not too sure.

He’s not too sure even when his head is partly caved in from a particularly bad exchange from Mac -- as Venom, of course -- crawling into their room, getting scooped up in Johnny’s warm, warm arms.

His skull drips across his arm, and his one eye rolls in his head to look at him.

‘I’m happy it’s you,‘ he’d tell him, if he had control of the part of his brain that regulates speech. Instead, he gurgles with appreciation; his hand, shaking, comes to touch Johnny’s shoulder before it slips back down.

When Johnny’s lips capture the bloody shreds of his, he can only hope that the sound he makes can be recognized for the appreciation and affection it is. He can only hope he’s meeting him, riding the wave of his emotions, Johnny’s concern.

In the midst of this, Daken falls unconscious.

"Sorry, but you owe me a drink. Because when I looked at you, I dropped mine." 

“Smooth,” Daken retorts, having to raise his voice above the din of the crowd. “But I’m pretty sure I saw you accidentally run into the girl over there.”

He gestures, holding unidentifiable licorice cocktail. Said girl is surrounded by her posse, frantically trying to dry out her sequined minidress with a napkin.

@mctchstick

@mctchstick: 9.  a  kiss  accompanying  Johnny  injuring  Daken

He’s better, now.

No, seriously, he is. Krakoa doesn’t offer him a choice: He doesn’t kill human beings anymore. Hell, he can’t even really maim them anymore without getting Krakoa’s iron boot shoved down his throat, with all its organized might.

This doesn’t mean that Daken is perfect, far from it. With the constant guillotine of social consequences over his neck for stirring any shit on Krakoa, he does enjoy the generally consequence-free bullying he can do to humans. After all, human courts don’t apply, and nobody’s keen on reporting rowdy mutants to Krakoa when they know they’ll just get a slap on the wrist.

So, yeah, he’s been having fun. A bit of a kind-of-sort-of date day with Johnny, and he can tell he’s seething with how Daken treats every person they interact with, from the cashier he tells to hurry the fuck up to the group of loud Insta-thots who he menaces with a snikt of his claws and then chases.

There’s one person who’s a witness who can hold him accountable, at least.

“Have I been a naughty boy, Johnny?”

He’s been dragged into the bathroom for a stern talking-to as if he’s a child throwing a tantrum, which... well, he is being a brat. Maybe he shouldn’t have tested Johnny’s patience when he jerks his head up and demands for a kiss and maybe a handjob, right here and right now.