Warren & Shinobi, Friday evening
Jan. 25th, 2013 03:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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om_mainTwo old friends reunite and things go hideously well.
The walk from the room Shinobi shared with Damon to Warren's was not any considerable distance, but Shinobi sooner would have made the trip naked than without music. (In fact, he had given some serious consideration to the former, but eventually decided that it might be a bit too soon for casual nudity, childhood friend or not.) He danced cheerily down the hall in his slippers and a glossy emerald yukata patterned with vivid crimson, gold, and orange chrysanthemums, singing softly to himself.
"I'm feeling rough, I'm feeling raw, I'm in the prime of my life
Let's make some music, make some money, find some models for wives
I'll move to Paris, shoot some heroin, and fuck with the stars
You man the island and the cocaine and the elegant cars ... "
To say that he was excited would have been a profound understatement. Shinobi had, as he'd grown through childhood into adolescence, been given a great deal of time to learn how to live without friends. And, if asked directly, he probably would have asserted he had no particular need of any. Even so, the prospect of seeing Warren again after so many years filled him with a sense of anticipation that could not simply be chalked up to quaint nostalgic indulgence.
"This is our decision, to live fast and die young
We've got the vision, now let's have some fun ... "
He wondered how the intervening years had changed the blond-haired, blue-eyed boy with whom he had been so fascinated, once upon a time. Would he remember how they used to entertain each other at their fathers' endlessly tedious social gatherings? The trouble he'd occasionally allowed Shinobi to drag him into? Had the passage of time hardened him, or was that charming earnestness still intact?
"Forget about our mothers and our friends
We're fated to pretend ..."
Exhaling those last lyrics like a sigh, he set a winning grin in place and rapped on Warren's door.
Unlike some of the other students in the school, Warren didn't pay too much attention to who was coming and going in the place, especially if they were brand new and still settling in (and what was with everyone coming in here in, like, herds? It seemed like it was always a bunch at one time, so far). He figured he'd meet them all in time and to let things happen naturally without overwhelming anyone.
So, naturally, he hadn't expected to open his door to find a childhood friend or a barely familiar face staring back at him.
In fact, Warren hadn't anticipated company at all and he was still fussing with himself in front of his mirror post-shower when the knock came---what? Making perfection out of himself and having some 'me time' were fond hobbies of his. If anything, the knock got a slight grunt of annoyance out of him and Warren didn't even bother pulling on some pants before swinging the door open. So he stood there, clad in only his black boxer-briefs, wings out and damp hair brushed perfectly in place to greet Shinobi. Who he didn't immediately recognize as Shinobi, but damn did the face look familiar!
"Can I...help you?" Warren asked slowly, blonde eyebrow raised. But then, "nice kimono."
Under the circumstances, Shinobi's reaction was quite restrained. When Warren opened the door, still damp from the shower, golden blond hair immaculately groomed and white wings spreading out behind him, looking for all the world like an angel of chiseled marble made flesh, there simply was nothing else to be done. "Warren!" he fairly squealed, leaping forward to squeeze his old friend around the middle in a suffocating ambush-hug, cheek pressed enthusiastically to the taller boy's broad chest. "It's so nice to see you again!"
He glanced up through his fringe of carefully disordered black locks. "And it's a yukata, you uncultured gaijin devil. I only wear the kimono for funerals, weddings, and other sad occasions."
Having a body thrust at you in such a way almost ensured that a quick, ungraceful 'oomph!' sound would always come blurting out of you. In this case, that did happen. However, the sudden shock of limbs being around him also made it click.
"Shinobi!?" Warren exclaimed, eyes wide as he gaped down at the (now) familiar face. "When the hell did you get here!?"
Warren didn't hug back with quite the same enthusiasm, but his childhood friend did get arms around the shoulders---and Warren was always pleased to see a familiar face. However, he was starting to wonder if maybe he should go home and look up more of his father's contacts to see if all of their children were somehow ending up here!
Shinobi snuggled into Warren's chest at the feeling of the arms around his shoulders. Yes, that was more like it. "Only recently. Apparently, I'm part of the latest crop. Good timing, hm? I just had to wait for Daddy to sign off on a few things. You know what a high priority I am for him." Reluctantly, he disentagled his arms from the other teen's waist and took a half-step back--not willing to let his friend completely out of arm's reach just yet, in the event he felt another hug coming on.
"Look at you," he purred, taking the Worthington scion in from the tops of his folded wings to the bottoms of his feet, openly admiring every well-toned inch. "You're magnificent. But then, I always suspected you would be. How long has your father had you locked away here?" For the moment, he could not imagine that Warren could possibly want to be there of his own volition. Shinobi imaged that, like him, he must have been left with little alternative.
Ugh. Warren had a really hard time turning people away who showered him in compliments, lets be real here. Shinobi definitely won some points for that, and he had to remind himself not to start preening. Again. Warren moved his hands to either side of Shinobi's shoulders and studied his face thoughtfully.
"Dad's only known since November, to be honest," Warren admitted. "The wings sprouted after I turned thirteen, so I did make it quite a ways without him noticing. Thank boarding school for that."
Being away from his father, even due to boarding school, was always good enough for Warren.
"Thirteen, hmm? It was about the same time, for me. But I was only outed recently." Shinobi made a face. "Ugly business. There were French people involved. Anyway, tediously long story short, somebody told Daddy about this place, and here I am. I never imagined I'd run into somebody I actually knew here, though. I mean, what are the odds? Astronomical, right?"
He was rambling more than a little, he knew, but he was happy. Not in his usual, casually teasing way, either. This was a bit closer to a feeling of genuine excitement. He stood on tiptoes to look over Warren's shoulder and around his wing. "Is that your room? Can I come in?" Without really waiting for an invitation, he phased through the winged blond and hurried inside, seemingly trying to look at everything at once.
Warren was about to make a comment about odds or douchebag daddies but then Shinobi walked right the fuck through him and it took everything in Warren's power not to scream.
Because that was fucking weird.
"Sure, come right in," Warren all but squeaked, and felt around himself to make sure that Shinobi didn't go and take any vital parts along with him, or something. Once he was remotely satisfied that he hadn't, Warren closed the door and watched his old friend; this was pretty surreal, he had to admit. "Careful with what you touch...my roommate has some sort of psychometry thing he does."
Shinobi was, in fact, right on the verge of touching everything when Warren's warning brought him up short. He glanced back over his shoulder, nose wrinkling at having his enthusiasm thus curbed. "Psychometry, hm?" he thought for a moment. "I have no idea what that is, but it sounds impressive. If it means I'll spontaneously combust if I touch any of his belongings, then I suppose I'll have no other choice than to keep my hands to myself."
Even so, he studied every inch of the room up close and in minute detail, seemingly fascinated with every minor decoration and unique personal touch. "Are those big, beautiful pinions just for show, or can you actually fly?" he asked suddenly, glancing back in the direction of his old school chum. "Because if you can, you may just add a whole new level of meaning to the phrase 'view from the top'." Flying patricians. What wouldn't they think up next?
For some reason it did not come as a surprise at all that Shinobi's excitement had prompted a lot of energetic jumping from topic to topic, but Warren still had to give each thing Shinobi said some thought before he decided what to answer and in what order. He was far too blonde for this level of prioritizing, he swore it.
Dropping down to sit on his bed, Warren glanced over and let his gaze run down the long flight feathers at the tip of his wing. "Oh, they work all right. It's what I spend most of my mornings and late evenings doing, actually." There was a pause before he shrugged loosely. "If I may be honest, I fucking love it."
"You may always be honest with me, Warren. Provided you don't make a habit of it; deception is much too valuable a life skill to give up on it entirely." Grinning, Shinobi backed onto the bed next to Warren--not as close as he'd like, since he had to accommodate those great, beautiful wings. "I must admit, I'm having trouble guessing at what there could possibly be not to love. It's the ultimate freedom, right? Soaring over the heads of all us lesser mortals."
Now those wings had his full attention, and they really were exceedingly lovely. Pristine white feathers, rustling silkily at his every slightest movement. Suddenly, the impulse was too much--but he did have the presence of mind to ask before acting, if only because it was Warren. (And as much as Shinobi adored him, Warren could get fussy over the oddest little things.) "May I touch them?"
Yeah, Warren could very much get fussy over stupid things (people wrinkling his clothes up, for example? Murderous!). Fortunately for Shinobi, touching wasn't something that did get him fussy. Er. Unless they were talking his hair--that was another matter entirely. So Warren shifted slightly so that he was facing Shinobi more, giving him room, and making it so that the wing was positioned in a way that more or less circled behind the other boy gently.
"Yeah, go ahead. Everyone likes to ask, anyway, and I don't mind so much as long as there's no feather plucking! Feels worse then getting your hair pulled." But he'd still watch just because he liked to see people's reactions to them.
Shinobi stared in wonder at the clean white wall of feathers surrounding him, reaching out gingerly to run his fingertips down along the outside edge. Warren's wings felt even softer than they looked; it was the most luxurious, silky texture he had ever encountered--and that was saying a great deal!
"This is the most magnificent thing in the long history of magnificent things," he breathed contentedly. "I can't imagine how the other student's keep their hands off."
"It's been a test of will for certain individuals," Warren explained with a bit of a chuckle but, again, he didn't mind. It was always positive attention that he received when it came to the wings, and an ego like his couldn't help but bask in such attention. Not to mention the other obvious factor in that touch was nice and always well received. Sue him!
Shinobi's fingers, in fact, caused a small chill to run through him, and Warren's base feathers ruffled up slightly as he shifted. "Test of will for me, too, I think; I kept them strapped down for so damn long that the whole showing them off thing is still quite the adjustment."
For his part, Shaw hadn't failed to notice Warren's reaction to his touch--and something like that was definitely not going to discourage him from continuing his gentle exploration. "Oh, Warren, hiding something like this--it's a crime. Like burning a Matisse, or defacing a Rodin. This is the kind of beauty that was meant to be shared ..."
Shinobi sighed. "Pity our fathers have been so close-minded about this whole mutant business. Can you imagine what a stir you would make at the Club? For all those stuffy plutocrats to be in the presence of something so perfect, something none of them could ever buy, for all their wealth and reach. I can see it all so clearly. If only." But that day wasn't coming any time soon, he realized. Warren was even less likely to defy his father than Shinobi--at least, when it came to something like this.
"Speaking of the old goats, Daddy had no idea you were here," he reported. "And I don't think I'm going to tell him." Let those fossils jockey for influence among themselves, play their games. It didn't have anything to do with them.
"My father doesn't want anyone to know. Suddenly, just shipping me off to school wasn't enough, he wanted one that would mutually be willing to hide me within its walls," Warren explain with a definite hint of distaste in his tone. "You know how those bastards can be with their reputations and any possibility that they may start losing funds and support."
The idea, like usual, made Warren roll his eyes and shake his head. Disgusting they were, sometimes. Though as much as Warren voiced his displeasure, Shinobi was very much correct in assuming that Warren was unlikely to defy his father. That was why he agreed to come and stayed.
Back to watching Shinobi's fingers again, Warren hummed. "You're right, though. I do feel like it's a shame to hide them. They may have been a nuisance at first, but I've come to be very fond of them." And, fuck, was he still liking getting them touched! Four years of no contact to now was like heaven.
Shinobi chuckled, tracing a light path along the inside surface of the soft avian appendage. "Warren, Daddy shipped me to the other side of the planet to keep me from embarrassing him. Believe me, I know how you feel." This was nice, the two of them commiserating, like they had when they were children and their fathers couldn't be bothered to think of them as much more than accessories underscoring their respective successes. The chance to enjoy something as sumptuous as this angelic wings was certainly nice, too.
"I really rather keenly hate those old bastards, you know," he said suddenly, his typically sweat voice heavy, just for a moment, with unaccustomed venom. "We're the ones that should be ashamed of them, hiding us away like this. As if just by having the bad taste to be born less than perfect, we'd committed some unforgivable sin."
But it was a short-lived outburst, and he quickly went back to his careful petting. "I'm glad you're here, though. And I have to say, I've been enjoying myself so far. Your presence simply makes me that much more optimistic for the fun yet to be had."
That sounded very appealing, Warren had to admit. He raised an eyebrow and smiled a little deviously at his old friend. "What's your idea of fun these days, hmm?"
"Oh, the usual," Shinobi drawled. This could become another minor addiction of his, the feeling of these airy-soft pinions. "Drinking, womanizing, manizing. Staying out too late and spending too much money. The usual unrestrained hedonism the tabloids can never get enough of. Although," he paused, giving Warren a look that was positively perplexed, "since I arrived here, I've mostly just been talking to people. And enjoying it! Can you imagine? Don't get me wrong," he added quickly, "I did have a positively delicious moment with that silver-haired sulky speedster boy, but otherwise my behavior so far has been completely ... undisruptive."
He sighed, and went back to mapping the contours of Warren's wings with his hand. "Do you think this means I'm becoming boring?"
"Hardly." Warren tipped his head back slightly and let out a laugh. Well then. It was nice to hear that Shinobi was open minded about his brand of fun, as Warren hadn't given himself a chance to let loose in so long now. Maybe having a friend around who did just that would be some good motivation.
"You want to talk about boring, that's been me for, like, ever now. I hate it." Warren wrinkled up his nose comically. "You're making me jealous with all that talk."
"Jealous?" Shinobi repeated, mock-amazed. "Never! We just need to explore your yet-unplumbed potential for depravity." Shinobi grinned, scooting closer in proper conspiratorial fashion. "We might not be able to take you out without having to bind up those breathtaking wings of yours, but there's plenty of fun we can have right here in the school, believe me. What I've seen of the student body so far has been positively mouthwatering. All we really need to do is get you out there and let you be your charming self."
Despite the fact that Warren was rolling his eyes again, this time the gesture came with a big smirk. It wasn't like it was particularly difficult to get himself out there again--he just had to go and do it. Stop getting uptight about bullshit and just start having fun again. Four years of hiding and distancing himself from people didn't have to keep going now; he just had to get back into the swing of things, Shinobi was right.
"I suppose you're right about that; there are a select few jawdroppers wandering around," he responded with shameless honesty. "No surprise that you seemed to have them sniffed out."
"I have a nose for these things, it's true," Shinobi nodded sagely. "Honestly, I'm amazed I've managed to be so well-behaved. There's a part of me," which part, exactly, probably did not require explicit mention, "that thinks it would be a fantastic idea to make a few calls and pump this place full of liquor and ecstasy until the giant beautiful mutant orgy even I was never quite debauched enough ever to dream of before comes true. But ... I think maybe it's more interesting to leave it the way it is. For now." Another sign that he was possibly becoming boring, but one he was presently choosing to ignore.
"You know the Braddock twins are here, right?" he inquired idly, tracing the outline of one of Warren's larger feathers. "They both certainly filled out nicely, don't you think?"
"Mmmm, yes, I know. Actually, Betsy and I arrived around the same time," Warren explained with a bright smile of his own. Yes, it was nice to see Brian as well, but Betsy was simply phenomenal. Best looking female under this roof, hands down. Ahem. Moving on...
"da Costa is here as well. Did you ever meet him?"
"The name sounds familiar," Shinobi replied vaguely, "but I can't say I can connect it to a face. Venezuelan football prodigy, yes? Something like that?"
But he hadn't missed that radiant smile Warren had given at the mention of the fairer Braddock sibling. Well, well. Wasn't this interesting? "How is Betsy these days, anyway? As poised and delectable as ever, I trust? And I just mentioned to Brian the other day in the journals that we should do lunch at the Club sometime--perhaps we ought to consider making it a foursome?" With Shinobi running interference to head off any protective elder brother impulses the brawny Brit might be harboring. "It would be a delight."
He hadn't been to the club in ages, but an outing among old friends couldn't have gone too awry, right? Warren would have looked very much interested in the idea.
"She is...doing well, considering the circumstances, I would say." You know. New body and all that complicated jazz. "But, yes, actually, I think that sounds like a fantastic idea. It's been literal ages since I've been to the club, but why not? Unless you're planning on going in the tacky get up. Then I might have to reconsider."
That was a joke. Mostly.
"But I like the tacky get up!" Shinobi whined, throwing his arms desperately around Warren's neck and burying his face in his shoulder. "Come on," he wheedled, fingers teasing their way from the base of his wing to the crook where it folded up behind him. "I never get to wear brocade. And my calves look fantastic in hose."
A new tactic suddenly occurred to him. "Besides, just imagine how flattering the Club's standard attire would look on Betsy. Tell me that's not an image to die for!"
God dammit, Shinobi.
Now Warren felt himself getting a little warm in the neck, feathers ruffled up to signify that, yes, maybe that thought got him a little flustered. Shinobi was figuring him out a little too fast! "Fine, fine, you win! But only because I want to laugh at you in it." Lies, lies, lies.
"I will be your perfect little clown," Shinobi purred. Bullseye. Now he definitely wanted this girl, if the mere suggestion of her in something a bit provocative could make Warren reverse positions so readily. "I'll give the Club a call, make the necessary arrangements. You extend our invitation to the Braddocks--they like you better, anyway." Old World aristocrats just didn't seem to appreciate his cavalier approach to life, for the most part.
He could be so tragically misunderstood, sometimes.
"If you say so," Warren chuckled and patted Shinobi on the back in a playful 'there there' type manner. This was so bloody ridiculous, but Warren couldn't help but be thoroughly amused thus far. "Are you sure you weren't already planning this well ahead of time?"
Shinobi settled himself more comfortably against Warren's side and continued his idle feather-stroking. "Come now," he laughed, "you make me sound like some sort of diabolical mastermind. Perish the thought."
"Oh, you mean that you're not?" Warren asked with a smirk, and ended up settling his arm around Shinobi's shoulders, not at all minding the casual contact. "I might have to reevaluate the way I think about you then."
"As long as you're thinking of me," he agreed, contented as a lapcat.
The walk from the room Shinobi shared with Damon to Warren's was not any considerable distance, but Shinobi sooner would have made the trip naked than without music. (In fact, he had given some serious consideration to the former, but eventually decided that it might be a bit too soon for casual nudity, childhood friend or not.) He danced cheerily down the hall in his slippers and a glossy emerald yukata patterned with vivid crimson, gold, and orange chrysanthemums, singing softly to himself.
"I'm feeling rough, I'm feeling raw, I'm in the prime of my life
Let's make some music, make some money, find some models for wives
I'll move to Paris, shoot some heroin, and fuck with the stars
You man the island and the cocaine and the elegant cars ... "
To say that he was excited would have been a profound understatement. Shinobi had, as he'd grown through childhood into adolescence, been given a great deal of time to learn how to live without friends. And, if asked directly, he probably would have asserted he had no particular need of any. Even so, the prospect of seeing Warren again after so many years filled him with a sense of anticipation that could not simply be chalked up to quaint nostalgic indulgence.
"This is our decision, to live fast and die young
We've got the vision, now let's have some fun ... "
He wondered how the intervening years had changed the blond-haired, blue-eyed boy with whom he had been so fascinated, once upon a time. Would he remember how they used to entertain each other at their fathers' endlessly tedious social gatherings? The trouble he'd occasionally allowed Shinobi to drag him into? Had the passage of time hardened him, or was that charming earnestness still intact?
"Forget about our mothers and our friends
We're fated to pretend ..."
Exhaling those last lyrics like a sigh, he set a winning grin in place and rapped on Warren's door.
Unlike some of the other students in the school, Warren didn't pay too much attention to who was coming and going in the place, especially if they were brand new and still settling in (and what was with everyone coming in here in, like, herds? It seemed like it was always a bunch at one time, so far). He figured he'd meet them all in time and to let things happen naturally without overwhelming anyone.
So, naturally, he hadn't expected to open his door to find a childhood friend or a barely familiar face staring back at him.
In fact, Warren hadn't anticipated company at all and he was still fussing with himself in front of his mirror post-shower when the knock came---what? Making perfection out of himself and having some 'me time' were fond hobbies of his. If anything, the knock got a slight grunt of annoyance out of him and Warren didn't even bother pulling on some pants before swinging the door open. So he stood there, clad in only his black boxer-briefs, wings out and damp hair brushed perfectly in place to greet Shinobi. Who he didn't immediately recognize as Shinobi, but damn did the face look familiar!
"Can I...help you?" Warren asked slowly, blonde eyebrow raised. But then, "nice kimono."
Under the circumstances, Shinobi's reaction was quite restrained. When Warren opened the door, still damp from the shower, golden blond hair immaculately groomed and white wings spreading out behind him, looking for all the world like an angel of chiseled marble made flesh, there simply was nothing else to be done. "Warren!" he fairly squealed, leaping forward to squeeze his old friend around the middle in a suffocating ambush-hug, cheek pressed enthusiastically to the taller boy's broad chest. "It's so nice to see you again!"
He glanced up through his fringe of carefully disordered black locks. "And it's a yukata, you uncultured gaijin devil. I only wear the kimono for funerals, weddings, and other sad occasions."
Having a body thrust at you in such a way almost ensured that a quick, ungraceful 'oomph!' sound would always come blurting out of you. In this case, that did happen. However, the sudden shock of limbs being around him also made it click.
"Shinobi!?" Warren exclaimed, eyes wide as he gaped down at the (now) familiar face. "When the hell did you get here!?"
Warren didn't hug back with quite the same enthusiasm, but his childhood friend did get arms around the shoulders---and Warren was always pleased to see a familiar face. However, he was starting to wonder if maybe he should go home and look up more of his father's contacts to see if all of their children were somehow ending up here!
Shinobi snuggled into Warren's chest at the feeling of the arms around his shoulders. Yes, that was more like it. "Only recently. Apparently, I'm part of the latest crop. Good timing, hm? I just had to wait for Daddy to sign off on a few things. You know what a high priority I am for him." Reluctantly, he disentagled his arms from the other teen's waist and took a half-step back--not willing to let his friend completely out of arm's reach just yet, in the event he felt another hug coming on.
"Look at you," he purred, taking the Worthington scion in from the tops of his folded wings to the bottoms of his feet, openly admiring every well-toned inch. "You're magnificent. But then, I always suspected you would be. How long has your father had you locked away here?" For the moment, he could not imagine that Warren could possibly want to be there of his own volition. Shinobi imaged that, like him, he must have been left with little alternative.
Ugh. Warren had a really hard time turning people away who showered him in compliments, lets be real here. Shinobi definitely won some points for that, and he had to remind himself not to start preening. Again. Warren moved his hands to either side of Shinobi's shoulders and studied his face thoughtfully.
"Dad's only known since November, to be honest," Warren admitted. "The wings sprouted after I turned thirteen, so I did make it quite a ways without him noticing. Thank boarding school for that."
Being away from his father, even due to boarding school, was always good enough for Warren.
"Thirteen, hmm? It was about the same time, for me. But I was only outed recently." Shinobi made a face. "Ugly business. There were French people involved. Anyway, tediously long story short, somebody told Daddy about this place, and here I am. I never imagined I'd run into somebody I actually knew here, though. I mean, what are the odds? Astronomical, right?"
He was rambling more than a little, he knew, but he was happy. Not in his usual, casually teasing way, either. This was a bit closer to a feeling of genuine excitement. He stood on tiptoes to look over Warren's shoulder and around his wing. "Is that your room? Can I come in?" Without really waiting for an invitation, he phased through the winged blond and hurried inside, seemingly trying to look at everything at once.
Warren was about to make a comment about odds or douchebag daddies but then Shinobi walked right the fuck through him and it took everything in Warren's power not to scream.
Because that was fucking weird.
"Sure, come right in," Warren all but squeaked, and felt around himself to make sure that Shinobi didn't go and take any vital parts along with him, or something. Once he was remotely satisfied that he hadn't, Warren closed the door and watched his old friend; this was pretty surreal, he had to admit. "Careful with what you touch...my roommate has some sort of psychometry thing he does."
Shinobi was, in fact, right on the verge of touching everything when Warren's warning brought him up short. He glanced back over his shoulder, nose wrinkling at having his enthusiasm thus curbed. "Psychometry, hm?" he thought for a moment. "I have no idea what that is, but it sounds impressive. If it means I'll spontaneously combust if I touch any of his belongings, then I suppose I'll have no other choice than to keep my hands to myself."
Even so, he studied every inch of the room up close and in minute detail, seemingly fascinated with every minor decoration and unique personal touch. "Are those big, beautiful pinions just for show, or can you actually fly?" he asked suddenly, glancing back in the direction of his old school chum. "Because if you can, you may just add a whole new level of meaning to the phrase 'view from the top'." Flying patricians. What wouldn't they think up next?
For some reason it did not come as a surprise at all that Shinobi's excitement had prompted a lot of energetic jumping from topic to topic, but Warren still had to give each thing Shinobi said some thought before he decided what to answer and in what order. He was far too blonde for this level of prioritizing, he swore it.
Dropping down to sit on his bed, Warren glanced over and let his gaze run down the long flight feathers at the tip of his wing. "Oh, they work all right. It's what I spend most of my mornings and late evenings doing, actually." There was a pause before he shrugged loosely. "If I may be honest, I fucking love it."
"You may always be honest with me, Warren. Provided you don't make a habit of it; deception is much too valuable a life skill to give up on it entirely." Grinning, Shinobi backed onto the bed next to Warren--not as close as he'd like, since he had to accommodate those great, beautiful wings. "I must admit, I'm having trouble guessing at what there could possibly be not to love. It's the ultimate freedom, right? Soaring over the heads of all us lesser mortals."
Now those wings had his full attention, and they really were exceedingly lovely. Pristine white feathers, rustling silkily at his every slightest movement. Suddenly, the impulse was too much--but he did have the presence of mind to ask before acting, if only because it was Warren. (And as much as Shinobi adored him, Warren could get fussy over the oddest little things.) "May I touch them?"
Yeah, Warren could very much get fussy over stupid things (people wrinkling his clothes up, for example? Murderous!). Fortunately for Shinobi, touching wasn't something that did get him fussy. Er. Unless they were talking his hair--that was another matter entirely. So Warren shifted slightly so that he was facing Shinobi more, giving him room, and making it so that the wing was positioned in a way that more or less circled behind the other boy gently.
"Yeah, go ahead. Everyone likes to ask, anyway, and I don't mind so much as long as there's no feather plucking! Feels worse then getting your hair pulled." But he'd still watch just because he liked to see people's reactions to them.
Shinobi stared in wonder at the clean white wall of feathers surrounding him, reaching out gingerly to run his fingertips down along the outside edge. Warren's wings felt even softer than they looked; it was the most luxurious, silky texture he had ever encountered--and that was saying a great deal!
"This is the most magnificent thing in the long history of magnificent things," he breathed contentedly. "I can't imagine how the other student's keep their hands off."
"It's been a test of will for certain individuals," Warren explained with a bit of a chuckle but, again, he didn't mind. It was always positive attention that he received when it came to the wings, and an ego like his couldn't help but bask in such attention. Not to mention the other obvious factor in that touch was nice and always well received. Sue him!
Shinobi's fingers, in fact, caused a small chill to run through him, and Warren's base feathers ruffled up slightly as he shifted. "Test of will for me, too, I think; I kept them strapped down for so damn long that the whole showing them off thing is still quite the adjustment."
For his part, Shaw hadn't failed to notice Warren's reaction to his touch--and something like that was definitely not going to discourage him from continuing his gentle exploration. "Oh, Warren, hiding something like this--it's a crime. Like burning a Matisse, or defacing a Rodin. This is the kind of beauty that was meant to be shared ..."
Shinobi sighed. "Pity our fathers have been so close-minded about this whole mutant business. Can you imagine what a stir you would make at the Club? For all those stuffy plutocrats to be in the presence of something so perfect, something none of them could ever buy, for all their wealth and reach. I can see it all so clearly. If only." But that day wasn't coming any time soon, he realized. Warren was even less likely to defy his father than Shinobi--at least, when it came to something like this.
"Speaking of the old goats, Daddy had no idea you were here," he reported. "And I don't think I'm going to tell him." Let those fossils jockey for influence among themselves, play their games. It didn't have anything to do with them.
"My father doesn't want anyone to know. Suddenly, just shipping me off to school wasn't enough, he wanted one that would mutually be willing to hide me within its walls," Warren explain with a definite hint of distaste in his tone. "You know how those bastards can be with their reputations and any possibility that they may start losing funds and support."
The idea, like usual, made Warren roll his eyes and shake his head. Disgusting they were, sometimes. Though as much as Warren voiced his displeasure, Shinobi was very much correct in assuming that Warren was unlikely to defy his father. That was why he agreed to come and stayed.
Back to watching Shinobi's fingers again, Warren hummed. "You're right, though. I do feel like it's a shame to hide them. They may have been a nuisance at first, but I've come to be very fond of them." And, fuck, was he still liking getting them touched! Four years of no contact to now was like heaven.
Shinobi chuckled, tracing a light path along the inside surface of the soft avian appendage. "Warren, Daddy shipped me to the other side of the planet to keep me from embarrassing him. Believe me, I know how you feel." This was nice, the two of them commiserating, like they had when they were children and their fathers couldn't be bothered to think of them as much more than accessories underscoring their respective successes. The chance to enjoy something as sumptuous as this angelic wings was certainly nice, too.
"I really rather keenly hate those old bastards, you know," he said suddenly, his typically sweat voice heavy, just for a moment, with unaccustomed venom. "We're the ones that should be ashamed of them, hiding us away like this. As if just by having the bad taste to be born less than perfect, we'd committed some unforgivable sin."
But it was a short-lived outburst, and he quickly went back to his careful petting. "I'm glad you're here, though. And I have to say, I've been enjoying myself so far. Your presence simply makes me that much more optimistic for the fun yet to be had."
That sounded very appealing, Warren had to admit. He raised an eyebrow and smiled a little deviously at his old friend. "What's your idea of fun these days, hmm?"
"Oh, the usual," Shinobi drawled. This could become another minor addiction of his, the feeling of these airy-soft pinions. "Drinking, womanizing, manizing. Staying out too late and spending too much money. The usual unrestrained hedonism the tabloids can never get enough of. Although," he paused, giving Warren a look that was positively perplexed, "since I arrived here, I've mostly just been talking to people. And enjoying it! Can you imagine? Don't get me wrong," he added quickly, "I did have a positively delicious moment with that silver-haired sulky speedster boy, but otherwise my behavior so far has been completely ... undisruptive."
He sighed, and went back to mapping the contours of Warren's wings with his hand. "Do you think this means I'm becoming boring?"
"Hardly." Warren tipped his head back slightly and let out a laugh. Well then. It was nice to hear that Shinobi was open minded about his brand of fun, as Warren hadn't given himself a chance to let loose in so long now. Maybe having a friend around who did just that would be some good motivation.
"You want to talk about boring, that's been me for, like, ever now. I hate it." Warren wrinkled up his nose comically. "You're making me jealous with all that talk."
"Jealous?" Shinobi repeated, mock-amazed. "Never! We just need to explore your yet-unplumbed potential for depravity." Shinobi grinned, scooting closer in proper conspiratorial fashion. "We might not be able to take you out without having to bind up those breathtaking wings of yours, but there's plenty of fun we can have right here in the school, believe me. What I've seen of the student body so far has been positively mouthwatering. All we really need to do is get you out there and let you be your charming self."
Despite the fact that Warren was rolling his eyes again, this time the gesture came with a big smirk. It wasn't like it was particularly difficult to get himself out there again--he just had to go and do it. Stop getting uptight about bullshit and just start having fun again. Four years of hiding and distancing himself from people didn't have to keep going now; he just had to get back into the swing of things, Shinobi was right.
"I suppose you're right about that; there are a select few jawdroppers wandering around," he responded with shameless honesty. "No surprise that you seemed to have them sniffed out."
"I have a nose for these things, it's true," Shinobi nodded sagely. "Honestly, I'm amazed I've managed to be so well-behaved. There's a part of me," which part, exactly, probably did not require explicit mention, "that thinks it would be a fantastic idea to make a few calls and pump this place full of liquor and ecstasy until the giant beautiful mutant orgy even I was never quite debauched enough ever to dream of before comes true. But ... I think maybe it's more interesting to leave it the way it is. For now." Another sign that he was possibly becoming boring, but one he was presently choosing to ignore.
"You know the Braddock twins are here, right?" he inquired idly, tracing the outline of one of Warren's larger feathers. "They both certainly filled out nicely, don't you think?"
"Mmmm, yes, I know. Actually, Betsy and I arrived around the same time," Warren explained with a bright smile of his own. Yes, it was nice to see Brian as well, but Betsy was simply phenomenal. Best looking female under this roof, hands down. Ahem. Moving on...
"da Costa is here as well. Did you ever meet him?"
"The name sounds familiar," Shinobi replied vaguely, "but I can't say I can connect it to a face. Venezuelan football prodigy, yes? Something like that?"
But he hadn't missed that radiant smile Warren had given at the mention of the fairer Braddock sibling. Well, well. Wasn't this interesting? "How is Betsy these days, anyway? As poised and delectable as ever, I trust? And I just mentioned to Brian the other day in the journals that we should do lunch at the Club sometime--perhaps we ought to consider making it a foursome?" With Shinobi running interference to head off any protective elder brother impulses the brawny Brit might be harboring. "It would be a delight."
He hadn't been to the club in ages, but an outing among old friends couldn't have gone too awry, right? Warren would have looked very much interested in the idea.
"She is...doing well, considering the circumstances, I would say." You know. New body and all that complicated jazz. "But, yes, actually, I think that sounds like a fantastic idea. It's been literal ages since I've been to the club, but why not? Unless you're planning on going in the tacky get up. Then I might have to reconsider."
That was a joke. Mostly.
"But I like the tacky get up!" Shinobi whined, throwing his arms desperately around Warren's neck and burying his face in his shoulder. "Come on," he wheedled, fingers teasing their way from the base of his wing to the crook where it folded up behind him. "I never get to wear brocade. And my calves look fantastic in hose."
A new tactic suddenly occurred to him. "Besides, just imagine how flattering the Club's standard attire would look on Betsy. Tell me that's not an image to die for!"
God dammit, Shinobi.
Now Warren felt himself getting a little warm in the neck, feathers ruffled up to signify that, yes, maybe that thought got him a little flustered. Shinobi was figuring him out a little too fast! "Fine, fine, you win! But only because I want to laugh at you in it." Lies, lies, lies.
"I will be your perfect little clown," Shinobi purred. Bullseye. Now he definitely wanted this girl, if the mere suggestion of her in something a bit provocative could make Warren reverse positions so readily. "I'll give the Club a call, make the necessary arrangements. You extend our invitation to the Braddocks--they like you better, anyway." Old World aristocrats just didn't seem to appreciate his cavalier approach to life, for the most part.
He could be so tragically misunderstood, sometimes.
"If you say so," Warren chuckled and patted Shinobi on the back in a playful 'there there' type manner. This was so bloody ridiculous, but Warren couldn't help but be thoroughly amused thus far. "Are you sure you weren't already planning this well ahead of time?"
Shinobi settled himself more comfortably against Warren's side and continued his idle feather-stroking. "Come now," he laughed, "you make me sound like some sort of diabolical mastermind. Perish the thought."
"Oh, you mean that you're not?" Warren asked with a smirk, and ended up settling his arm around Shinobi's shoulders, not at all minding the casual contact. "I might have to reevaluate the way I think about you then."
"As long as you're thinking of me," he agreed, contented as a lapcat.
