om_main | Paul and Midnighter

Paul and Midnighter keep working on the latter's self control, with unexpected results.

It was a little fucking insane how much Midnighter was still looking forward to seeing Paul, on each of their middle of the night dates. Not that kind of date. Just two people agreeing to meet up. Not to go see a movie or have dinner, but to work on Midnighter's triggers around Paul. It wasn't pleasant work. In fact, it was fucking frustrating sometimes. There were nights when Midnighter could hardly let Paul come within three feet of him. But they had been making progress, little by little, and now, some nights, Midnighter's discomfort at letting Paul stand an inch from him had more to do with what he wanted to do with him than what his brain wanted to do to him.

Some nights, they just sparred, making certain not to go for situations that would risk triggering Midnighter too badly. What was even more insane about this whole thing was how easy Midnighter found it to interact with Paul, by now. No bullshit, but shared enjoyment of their spars, and Midnighter appreciated that Paul wasn't making a big deal out of any of it.

He was early again tonight, as he often was, but ignored the punching bag to move through a kata, trying to focus on something that wasn't the now familiar thrill of anticipation that came before meeting up with the other teen.

It was good to have something to do with his nights. Paul had never developed the habit of watching TV - rarely in the same place long enough for any of the series to make any sense - and there were only so many movies he could watch in the common room without worrying about waking other people up. He wasn't the only one to be awake at night, he knew that, but it was still unexpectedly satisfying to know that the other boy would be there when he went to the gym.

Not always before him. Never, he was sure, actually waiting for him, but Midnighter would be there when they'd agreed, and the challenge of sparring or whatever else they did to train Midnighter's reactions was weirdly addictive.

He let himself in, closing the door quietly behind him, and moved across to the mats to stretch. No challenge before Midnighter was aware of his presence, which was why he was doing it somewhere in Midnighter's eyeline, but at enough distance not to risk any kind of accidental touch.

This was the kind of ease of interaction that Midnighter reveled in. Paul didn't need to say hi, he could just walk in and get to stretching without a word, letting Mid finish his kata. Midnighter moved through the blunt forms easily, muscle memory taking over as his attention focused on Paul. He didn't need to look at him for that, although he was in his peripheral vision, and he certainly didn't mind that he was. At all. Pretty much fucking ever.

This would have been fucking ridiculous if what they did wasn't so very useful to Midnighter.

He finished the kata and stood into a normal stance, now turning fully towards Paul. Didn't need to say hi, or ask how his fucking day had gone. Didn't really need to say anything until Paul was ready, either. Easy.

Paul wasn't going to interrupt Midnighter with unnecessary small talk while he was going through whatever he was doing. Hadn't asked, honestly, but whatever it was seemed to help Midnighter, so he wasn't going to push at it. He finished his stretches, shook out his arms, swung them loosely to check on his shoulders, and nodded, at ease and grounded as he turned his attention back to Midnighter. "What are you in the mood for, then?"

"Proximity training?" Midnighter answered, checking that it was fine by Paul as well. Just because his moods could get him more homicidal than your next guy didn't mean he didn't give a shit about Paul's state of mind. "Quick spar to loosen up first, if you like?"

"Need me to keep distant for that?" Proximity training could mean all kinds of things, and if Midnighter wanted to loosen up first, it probably meant not getting in too close until he was prepared for it.

"Relatively," Midnighter confirmed. Paul would know what he meant, as in no proximity training during the spar. They'd learned to balance that just right, walking that thin line between challenging enough that they both came away from it satisfied, but not so much so that Midnighter would have to struggle with the scenarios his brain suggested. And they'd both made progress already, since that first spar when they barely knew each other. Not only did they know each other better - the way they moved, the way they fought, what strategies they preferred - but challenging each other on such a regular basis could only lead to personal improvement.

Enough not to deliberately trigger Midnighter's reactions, then. Paul nodded, considering, and let himself lift from the ground. Just a couple of inches, enough to make movement easier. He'd learned that much - the leverage of pushing against the ground wasn't worth the lack of manouverability that came from being earthbound when he could be in the air. Plus, height was always an advantage.

That nod, and the fact that Paul was now in the air, was all that Midnighter needed. They knew each other well enough by then. He was immediately in motion, moving within range to try to land a first strike on the airborne mutant.

The first strike - in sparring, at least - was one that Paul trusted not to be hard enough to lay him out. He'd learned how to ride them, too, letting the force propel him back and twisting to let it lift him as well, lips stretching into a grin. "Hi to you, too."

Beautiful bastard. Mid's lips quirked into a darker, thinner smile in answer, but he didn't let himself get distracted and followed Paul's movement, not letting him get out of range, so he could follow that up with one of the most efficient moves against Paul, given his relationship with gravity: what he had come to think of as a grab-and-hit. Any punch - or kick - would have a greater impact if Mid was holding on to him, stopping him from just letting the momentum of the strike push him away. Of course, that left Midnighter open while he went through with it, but it was worth it.

And it was an advantage that Paul didn't shy back from taking advantage of, jack-knifing in the air to use Midnighter's hold on him as a counterbalance to kick towards him. So freeing to realize that he didn't have to worry about losing his balance, that balance wasn't even really a thing any more, that "upright" was just one possible orientation and not one that had any advantage over the others.

There was the chance that Midnighter could grab his ankles, of course, but he'd been having some thoughts about that.

Midnighter parried the kick with his arm, feeling the blow (but not the pain) up to his shoulder but not letting that stop him as he moved, letting go of Paul even as he twisted around to give his own kick more momentum, and so, more force when it connected with Paul's midsection.

More force, but Paul had been learning, reactions fast enough to turn Midnighter's own moves against him as he grabbed for Midnighter's ankle. Breath rushed out in a sound somewhere between a sigh and a grunt, but he didn't need that any more, didn't suffer from the lack of it beyond the immediate shock of impact.

The eventuality had been present in a corner of Midnighter's brain; now the scenarios unfurled, and he picked easily, using Paul's hold as the pivot point for the roundhouse kick he aimed at his jaw with his other leg, hands going forward to catch himself on the floor - unless Paul decided to take them up, of course.

Up was the plan. As long as he'd got a good hold on Midnighter's leg, Paul could take both of them up and out of reach of the floor. Didn't for a moment believe that Midnighter wouldn't have the core strength to turn on him in midair, but that calculation had to take into account the results of being dropped, and he was relying on Midnighter's hesitation for up-close contact to keep him from a full body lock.

Didn't stop Midnighter's kick connecting, though, or Paul's head snapping around with a breathless curse as he tightened his grip on Midnighter's leg.

Paul might not need to breathe to survive, but breathing was still a habit, especially given how he needed to to speak. Midnighter's next kick was aimed straight at his sternum, with enough strength to make it really hurt, if his brain was correct. The idea was to get dropped, the sooner the better.

Dropped was going to happen. Dropped wasn't going to happen for a couple of seconds, though, extra height enough that if Midnighter didn't grab onto him before hitting the ground, he'd be out of reach and have enough time to regather his composure.

Another foot, one more, and he let go.

A couple of seconds was more than enough for Midnighter to aim another, stronger kick at Paul's chest. When he was dropped, he rolled easily and was back on his feet the next moment, looking up at Paul, ready for his next attack.

There wasn't going to be a next attack, not for a few seconds. Midnighter's kick landed solidly on Paul's chest and propelled him away, upwards, back slamming into the ceiling and that was something to hold to, staying out of reach, chest working as his heart pounded, flesh warmed as muscles knitted back together, ribs reformed, tissue swelled and pulsed and smoothed as bruises faded. "What happens now?"

When Paul remained by the ceiling, Midnighter straightened up out of the fighting stance he had been in. He would have more than enough time to get back to it in case of a sudden attack, given the other mutant's position. And his question - right. The spar wasn't the main event today, just something to loosen up. Midnighter would gladly have forgotten about that and kept going for a while.

"You get back down here, I work on letting you in close?" Midnighter offered up towards the other kid.

"Sparring close or general close?" He pushed a hand through hair that had grown longer than he'd ever let it get at school, didn't know how things worked at Xavier's for haircuts or where he could get clippers. At least he didn't have to worry about shaving yet.

"General close," Midnighter stated firmly. Sparring close, much as he wanted to be able to answer that, was still not a good idea, for all the progress they'd made.

Paul nodded, and descended carefully, staying at a distance, one hand pressed against his sternum for a moment. "You're holding back less."

"You're getting better," Midnighter replied, cause and effect. And he was still not breaking him, far from it.

Not breaking, but definitely giving his healing abilities a workout. Paul nodded, let his hand drop, and rolled his shoulders back to settle into place. "Want to expect me or not?"

"I'm pretty sure I can't not, right now," Midnighter stated, because it was true. Between his brain's response time, the fact that it was constantly on, and the fact that he knew they were doing proximity training, there was no way he could do anything but expect Paul. But he could still be surprised, he supposed, as to what kind of proximity Paul went for - and there were certain images he was pushing out of his mind. "But you wanna try and surprise me, knock yourself out."

Paul nodded, considering. "Maybe we should switch it up a bit. Try you getting close to me. Or doesn't that work? Is it only a threat if someone comes into your space?"

"No, the threat's still there," Midnighter confirmed, and could already feel the resistance in his brain. It wasn't right, putting himself in danger, but he ignored it, letting the scenarios file through his mind without picking any. He walked forward, forcing himself not to stop until he was in Paul's space. Tension was thrumming through him, but he had found, before today, that focusing on Paul helped. Of course, that meant other side effects, the sort that didn't affect his brain, but it was worth it for being able to grow slightly less tense. So he did just that, focusing on what his senses were giving him in a way that had nothing to do with threat assessment and combat scenarios.

Paul nodded again, bit his lip, and kept watching Midnighter. Didn't know what would make him more or less of a threat in that situation, looking or not, crouching down or not, so he stayed where he was, arms down, still and steady and feet firmly on the ground, trying to ignore the way his heartbeat picked up as Midnighter drew closer. Didn't matter, didn't make sense, the way his breathing shallowed out, but it still was. "Anything you need me to do?"

"Not yet," Midnighter answered, a quiet murmur as his eyes locked with Paul's. Gold flecks in their blue, and Midnighter now stood as close as possible without actually leaning against the other boy. Touch was the next step, but he wanted a second, first, to acclimate.

"Not yet," Paul repeated quietly. Crap, he was nervous, it made sense, it was logical, it was sensible to be nervous of Midnighter that close when he knew what Midnighter could do. That was all it was. Nerves making him restless, making his skin prickle at the softness of Midnighter's breath, close enough to feel on his skin where his t-shirt gaped low and loose at the neck.

After a few more seconds, Midnighter looked away - down, since Paul had a few inches on him. The things he had been considering - he didn't even know if he could do them, and he was pretty fucking certain that he shouldn't, anyway. He swallowed, unnecessarily, and focused back on the scenarios, making sure that he was fully aware of them, and in control. "Okay," he finally allowed, looking back up at Paul. "Touch."

No idea what was going through Midnighter's brain, what kind of threats he could be presenting, what Midnighter was struggling to control, but there was something. There had to be something, watching the way Midnighter held still, the tension in his shoulders, in his neck when he looked down, and why, why was Paul even looking at Midnighter's neck? He wasn't going to bite it or anything and it wasn't something he'd use for a target, not for sparring. Not for anything that didn't involve fighting for survival. "You or me?"

Touch. God.

"You," Midnighter replied, holding his gaze. Like hell he was touching Paul without being invited to - and he was inviting him, with that one word. It made more sense to him anyway - forcing himself not to react to contact initiated by somebody else. Somebody dangerous. Somebody... Paul.

Paul nodded again, lifting his hand slowly, not making contact. Not yet. Not sure why he wasn't. "Safe zone or potential threat?"

"Let's start with safe," Midnighter replied, forcing himself not to look away - or as safe as it got. Everywhere was a potential threat, if you asked him, or rather, his brain - some places less so than others.

Everywhere was a potential threat, but some places were more vulnerable than others, even on Midnighter. Some places would restrict movement, some places would restrict vision. Paul slowly, steadily, brought his hand in to rest against Midnighter's bicep - not holding, not gripping, not squeezing. Just touch.

Just touch. Fuck. Midnighter didn't need to breathe all that often, and he instinctively held his breath when Paul laid his hand on him. It was fucking insane, but beyond the scenarios - the many ways in which Paul could use the contact to his advantage, the many ways his brain suggested he countered those ways, either preemptively or not - there was just a touch. And it couldn't be just touch. It was Paul touching him, and it came with that same sensation that Midnighter could only guess was right to identify as warmth. Still holding Paul's gaze, because looking away felt like he would be admitting something. Conceding defeat, maybe, somehow. Who the fuck knew, he was so out of his depth around the other boy.

Just touch. Direct contact, his hand resting against Midnighter's skin, heat spreading from that, and still, he wouldn't bend his fingers enough to make it into a hold, into anything that restricted. Didn't shift his balance, not to lean back, not to push more firmly, leaving the next move to Midnighter. "Still want to snap my neck?"

"Always," Midnighter replied, the abrupt truth of the matter. The other half of the answer was never, but even Paul's gaze wasn't enough to make him fess up to that. He wasn't moving, though, just taking the touch. The real truth was, he wanted more of it, for all that he knew that it would be no easy feat. "But I'm good. Make it worse?" He trusted Paul not to go overboard. He trusted Paul, full stop, or he wouldn't be here, doing this.

"Do you want to?" Paul repeated steadily. "Or is it just what your instincts are telling you to do?" God, he hoped those were two different things. Instinct, mutation, fine, one thing, but he wasn't sure what he'd do if Midnighter actually wanted to kill him. Wasn't sure what he'd feel, either, but that was something different. Something not to examine too closely. He curled his fingers slowly, turning the touch into a light hold.

Midnighter had started breathing again to speak, and now his breath caught in his throat before he could exhale an answer Paul's question. He was barely tensing up anymore than he already was, for what it was worth, but he definitely took a few seconds to get used to that touch - on several levels. "No," he eventually breathed out. "I don't want to." The emphasis, low though his voice was, escaped him, saying more than he had decided to about how it was the very fucking last thing he wanted. Or so it seemed to him. He could've followed it up by something else, try to alleviate it, but nothing that came to mind would do the trick, so he stuck with this. The truth, and nothing but the truth.

"Okay, then." Paul let out a slow, unnecessary breath, emotion and relief still driving physical reactions. Relief and something else, something he wasn't going to dissect. Enough that Midnighter didn't actually want to kill him, which was a definite advantage, even if Midnighter's mutation was driving the instinct to do just that. "More?"

"Yeah," Midnighter confirmed, after a few seconds to make sure that he could handle more. But yeah, he was confident that he could. And to be honest with himself (he tended to be), he would be just fine never finding the point where he would have to answer no to that question.

Midnighter's limits and Midnighter's expectation, so Paul was going to keep asking, shifting around to stand in front of Midnighter and reaching out with his other hand, aiming for Midnighter's upper arm again. Didn't want to restrict, but holding both arms could feel like that, even without pressure. Especially with him standing where he was, blocking Midnighter's forward motion, but at least he was in full sight so Midnighter could anticipate him.

Right, fuck. Midnighter forced himself to breathe through it, unnecessary though it was. It was something else to focus on than what his brain insisted he should do, and what he wanted to do with Paul standing there so close to him. The line of his jaw hardened as he clenched it tighter, breathe in, breathe out, don't fucking move. "Okay," he said eventually, to let Paul know that he was - once he was sure that he wasn't about to lose control. At least there was fucking progress; a month ago, he would already have lashed out.

A month ago, Paul's heart would have been racing and his hands much lighter. Okay, so his heart was still racing, but it was different racing. Sensible adrenaline racing, not quite what-the-fuck-am-I-doing-this-is-a-stupid-and-terrifying-idea racing. His hands were steadier too, and his eyes as he watched Midnighter's face. "One of these days we're gonna work up to a full hug," he warned, lips twitching towards a smile.

"This is gonna come as a surprise," Midnighter replied, raising his eyebrows slightly, feeling that same burst of probably-warmth in his chest at the sight of that almost-smile on Paul's lips, "but I'm not much of a hugger." Never mind that part of him wanted to stand even closer to Paul, in his embrace, to see if he could find more of that otherwise elusive warmth only he seemed to trigger in Midnighter.

"You're kidding me," Paul deadpanned, and grinned, entirely undiscouraged by that lift of eyebrows. "I guess that's why we need to work up to it, then."

Fuck that smile. That incredibly, impossibly beautiful smile. "Gotta be," Midnighter wryly agreed. Nothing to do with his mutation, everything to do with his sunny disposition.

"Just tell me when you want to try it." Easing his hold, Paul took a half step back, breaking contact and taking a slow breath, steadying. "Want to try this where you can't see me?"

Midnighter took a full step back of his own when Paul let go, thankful for the reprieve. At least, until the offer sent a shiver of vulnerability down his spine, making him tense up all over again. Instinctive reaction, but then he took the time to think it through. It was a good idea, and his other senses would more than make up for the lack of visual contact. "Yeah," he simply agreed - simply, but not lightly.

It was another level of potential threat, which Paul was well aware of. There were a few ways he could think of to go, giving Midnighter various levels of control, but... baby steps. Incremental had been working so far. "Close your eyes, then."

Midnighter glared for a second; that was a difficult thing to do, willingly foregoing one of his senses. But he closed his eyes anyway, more tense for it. And... well, trusting Paul, to some extent, by doing this, for all that the rest of his senses were trained on him.

"It's either that or I go behind you," he said reasonably, not moving. "Want me to tell you before I touch, or just go for it?"

"Go for it," Midnighter replied through gritted teeth. It wasn't like he couldn't tell, even without seeing, anyway. It was impossible for him not to be aware of exactly where Paul was and what he was doing.

"If it's too much..." Because that looked like a lot of tension and Paul wasn't a fan of pushing at limits that were already frayed.

Midnighter breathed in, and opened his eyes. Not because he needed to, but to hold Paul's gaze as he repeated, "Go for it." He wouldn't tell him to if he couldn't handle it, wouldn't fuck with Paul like that - or anyone. He let a beat go, and then he closed his eyes again.

Paul nodded, bit his lip, eyes steady on Midnighter's. If Midnighter was ready, if he was sure, then Paul would trust that, at least. Trusted Midnighter to know his own instincts and mutation better than Paul did, anyway. He reached out, not quite as slow as he'd been when Midnighter could see him, and rested his hand firmly against Midnighter's upper arm again, just below where the sleeve of his t-shirt gave way to skin.

Locking down all scenarios so he wouldn't react to any of them, Midnighter let the touch happen and focused on that warmth spreading in his lungs again. It was fucking crazy, the way he reacted to the other kid, but like hell if he was going to turn his back on this. All of this. The training and the warmth, since he had decided that that was what that sensation was.

"More," he said, after a short while, because he could, and he wanted to.

"Same as before." Not quite a question, more for information, absolutely clear so Midnighter knew what to expect before the contact happened, before he lifted his other hand to touch Midnighter's other arm, still in front of him, curling his fingers to hold loosely.

The more contact there was, and the more Midnighter's lungs grew tight. Just a feeling, not an actual physiological reaction. He knew that, but it didn't stop the feeling. It wasn't anxiety, either, but that heat pressing in, or so it felt. Voluntarily keeping his eyes closed made it worse, as it was another layer of trust. The scenarios were still there, and part of him still wanted to open his eyes, still insisted he opened his eyes, but ignoring it all made him feel empowered as much as it made him feel vulnerable.

"I'm OK," he let Paul know, for the sake of it, because he was. He sounded like his usual self, dryly matter-of-fact.

"Yeah, you are," Paul agreed, quiet and steady, and didn't move. Knew there was a threat, knew Midnighter was entirely capable of badly hurting him, but also believed, absolutely and completely, that Midnighter was capable of controlling that and going against instinct.

Midnighter didn't open his eyes because he needed to, or because he necessarily wanted them to stop here. No, he just opened his eyes because of the way Paul spoke. There was something about his voice that just made Midnighter have to sense as much of him as he could, and that included eyesight. He'd done it before he really realized that he wasn't supposed to, and that left him feeling uncharacteristically sheepish. He cleared his throat, muttered a "Sorry," and forced himself to close his eyes again.

Paul shook his head, heedless of the fact that Midnighter couldn't see him. "That's the point, right? That's why you've got your eyes closed instead of me being behind you. So you can open your eyes and look if you need to. So it's your choice."

Yeah, but that hadn't been... Midnighter sighed, annoyed with himself. "I didn't mean to." But he was, still, amazingly OK having this conversation with his eyes closed, all things considered.

"So we try again," he said simply. "Until you're only doing it when you do mean to."

"Different issue," Midnighter answered, still keeping his eyes closed. He didn't want to get into what issue it actually was, but like hell he was gonna let Paul think that there was something there that needed worked out, when... yeah, doing this again and again would probably only compound the problem. So he elaborated with a simple, "Not gonna help."

"Any idea what will?" Because if that wasn't, Paul was open to suggestions. If there weren't any suggestions, he was prepared to be stubborn enough to push to try the same thing again.

Fucking fine, he'd explain more. "I didn't need to open my eyes," Midnighter elaborated. "I just wanted to." Maybe Paul would need more elaborating, but if Midnighter could get away with saying so little, then he would. The last thing he wanted was to spook Paul - but then again, neither did he want to lie to him. It wasn't in his nature.

"Wanted to, but you didn't mean to," Paul repeated slowly. Definitely needed more than that, because the combination didn't make any sense, and he wanted it to make sense. Couldn't help if it didn't make sense. "Because I'm a threat?"

"Because you're you," Midnighter answered, staying true to his principles. Truth, no matter what. He wasn't happy about it, but he had brought it upon himself, opening his eyes, and he wasn't sure if it was fitting or highly fucking ironic that they were having this conversation still so close to each other, with Paul's hands on his arms. But he did open his eyes again, to hold Paul's gaze as he added, as evenly as he could pull off, "I often can't help but look."

"Well, yeah, I'm me," Paul repeated, mystified. "Be pretty weird if I suddenly turned into someone else."

Didn't get it. At all.

Midnighter pulled away suddenly, without making any gesture that might be construed as a threat towards Paul. Still, his temper flared when he put himself out there, and was clearly not understood. This was not easy for him. So he stepped away, because he needed to put some distance between Paul and himself. "Don't tell me you haven't noticed anything." If only because their spars sometimes drew a certain physiological response from him. He couldn't help it, when it came to Paul, no matter what his brain had to say about it.

Paul let his hands fall, fingers curling to loose fists at his side, head tilted, brows drawn together. "I haven't got your thing, Midnighter. I don't notice everything you do."

Fuck it, he was going to make him say it. Midnighter glared over at Paul, because it wouldn't feel right to say it without holding his gaze, and because he couldn't do anything but glare, right then. "I fucking like you, okay?" Which was a very fucking ridiculous way of putting it, but what else was he supposed to say? I've been beating off to the thought of you since we met? He'd be pleasantly surprised if Paul didn't take off as things were.

"You like me?" Paul echoed, startled enough to drift up from the floor. Startled enough that it felt like a physical touch, warmth unfurling unexpected at hearing that. Not words he'd ever thought he'd hear but words that he'd apparently wanted more than he'd known, from the giddy heat that rose through him, pulling his lips into a foolish, charmed grin.

The glare didn't matter. Midnighter liked him.

"Just - fucking get back down here," Midnighter snapped. He could tell any number of thing about a person, with his senses - their heart rate, their body temp, the state their lungs were in or if he'd misplaced any vertebra with a strike, but he couldn't interpret somebody's smile, let alone Paul's. Was he fucking mocking him? That would make the most sense, of course. And Midnighter shouldn't have just said that; of course Paul would want to put distance between them.

"Get... shit." Startled again, Paul glanced down, barking laughter as he pushed back down to the floor, knees bending slightly to put extra pressure on his feet and be sure to keep that contact with the ground, if it mattered that much. "Didn't realize."

Midnighter wasn't sure if he meant the floating, or the liking, or fucking both, but it didn't change his reponse, a very dry, "I bet."

"Hey, I'm getting better at knowing," he protested, grin not going anywhere. "You get that this helps me as much as it helps you, right?"

Right, so - they were clearly not talking about it, which was fine by Midnighter. Whatever meant that Paul was good keeping this going, he was fine with. "I was kinda hoping, yeah," he wryly answered. One-way arrangements weren't his deal - no matter which way that 'one way' went. He even got something out of teaching fucking Caius - help controlling his temper, if nothing else.

"Well, now you know." Paul paused, drawing his lower lip through his teeth, cheeks aching from the curve of his smile. "For the record, I like you too."

It seemed so fucking easy for him - all of it - while Midnighter was stuck replaying Paul's last few words in his mind, as if he could have misheard. He didn't mishear stuff. He never misheard stuff. But he still needed a couple of seconds to decide that his words were what he had heard (which, with a brain like his, was a long time), and only then did he try and figure out a way to respond. His brain was of no use at all in that area.

So he settled on what he knew, "Let's try again."

It was anything but easy, but Paul didn't know what else to do. Couldn't hide that it made him happy, though, even if he didn't understand why. "You think I'm pretty."

"Fuck you," Midnighter answered immediately, shooting him a glare. "I think you're beautiful." Yeah, there was a fucking difference. A lot of people were pretty; Paul was a lot more than that. It didn't mean that he wanted to keep talking about it. "Let's try again," he stated again, with damn intent.

"Beautiful?" Paul repeated, bracing harder to make sure he was still on the floor this time. Midnighter was full of surprises, and seemed to be ready to offer them over. And that? That was a lot more than liking. "You don't look very happy about it."

"Because we're still talking about it," Midnighter confirmed. He didn't even consider pointing out that he next to never looked very happy about anything; he just wanted to get back to training.

"We haven't talked much," Paul pointed out. Getting back to training with that out and unresolved didn't seem like a great plan.

"I'm still fucking hating it," Midnighter offered, because that was who he was. He hated a lot of things that were necessary for most people - and, if he was being honest (which he wanted to be), himself. He shifted his weight onto his back foot and sighed out before looking back at Paul. "What do you want to talk about?" He honestly had no idea what the next step was. He could hear Shaw laughing already.

"So you like me, but you don't want to talk to me?" Paul shook his head slowly, warmth fading just a bit. "How do you know you like me without talking to me?"

Midnighter did his best to rein in his temper, but he was, as usual, only partly successful. "I like being around you, I love training with you, I like talking with you," he replied, his tone still full of anger at being made to spell this out. "I just don't like talking about this. What do you even fucking like about me?" Because yeah, he still couldn't process that.

"Your focus," Paul said instantly. "Your intensity. How hard you work to learn your reactions and how to control them. That you think about what effect it could have on the others if you lost control somewhere public. How much you trust me. Doesn't hurt that I can go at you without holding back and not do serious damage."

Well. Midnighter had even less of an idea how to answer that. He should've just shut his fucking mouth. But since he hadn't, he went with what he knew: answering hit for hit. "Your warmth." He meant that on so many levels, not just the obvious one, or at least it wasn't obvious to him. He didn't normally feel warmth. "Your focus and intensity. Your calm. Your sense of humor." He so rarely liked that about anyone, as it turned out. "Your willingness to do this. The way you view things, your responsibility and your ease." Compared to Midnighter, anyway. "Your trust in me." That one tended to stuck in his throat and made him want to do stupid things. Like try and find out if he could kiss the guy without his brain getting in the way.

"Pretty sure you trust me just as much." Otherwise neither of them would be there, in the middle of the night, with the gym to themselves, sparring. Training.

Liking.

Fuck, Midnighter really liked him. Paul wasn't sure he could remember last time, any time anyone had ever listed things they liked about him. Drill sergeant, once. That had been an entirely different experience. He lifted a hand to push through his hair, frowning slightly when it was long enough to catch at his fingers, clinging to that mundane annoyance, reality, familiarity. Something solid and definite when he was mentally freewheeling, off balance and in completely unknown territory.

"I'm not," Midnighter replied, with a half shrug. His mutation was what it was; no matter how much he might want to trust someone, he was always running scenarios on them. He couldn't help it, nor would he want to. Even if, yeah, he let Paul in closer than anybody else, it didn't mean half as much as the way Paul let him in close, the way he pushed at his boundaries.

"Then let's test it," Paul suggested, because apparently it was a night for being reckless, and he needed to be out, needed to feel the sky, breathe the freedom of it. "Come flying with me."

"Are you fucking insane?" came Midnighter's instant response. A split second later, he wanted to take it back. The last thing he wanted was to disappoint Paul - not at the expense of his safety, of course, but his willpower had to be enough to get him through it, like it had before. And the thought of relying on Paul so much - of trusting him so much - it was oddly appealing, at the same time as it was revolting to his instincts. "Okay," he agreed before Paul could respond to his earlier, rhetorical question. "Yeah. We can do that." We. He hadn't decided to phrase it that way, but it had slipped out of him all the same.

Paul shrugged. "Yeah, maybe I'm insane. Maybe. But it's a nice night out there and I'm pretty sure neither of us are in a good place for sparring right now, you want to work on your reactions to getting touched, and if we're up high, I figure your self preservation's gonna kick in and help stop you wanting to hurt me or anything in case I drop you. So let's go flying."

"Let's go," Midnighter agreed shortly, because if he kept thinking it over he might change his mind, and he really didn't want to. There was no direct way out of the gym and into the open sky, so he broke into a jog, heading for a way out. He felt so off-balance, he couldn't figure out what was going on exactly, and it wasn't something he was used to. But he at least knew that he wanted it to keep going on, whatever it was.

Grinning, Paul dropped into an easy lope, matching pace with Midnighter as they headed for the closest door, taking a deep breath when they made it outside just to feel the cool freshness of the night air filling his lungs. "Nice night for it."

"If you say so," Midnighter replied dryly. It... wasn't raining? Whatever. He turned around to face Paul as they came to a stop. "How do you wanna do it?" He was not letting his brain decide that one; whatever Paul felt more comfortable with, as long as it was a hold he could keep going for a while.

Fuck, was he really about to do this? His heartbeat had sped up, but it came with an odd, contrary mix of restlessness, and calm.

It wasn't raining, there was very little cloud cover, no lingering dampness, just the fresh clean smell of a clear night and the moon bright and close to full above them. Distant sounds of night animals from the trees, quiet from the school, and the spill of moonlight over grass, stars sharp enough to be visible. Great night for flying.

Paul considered for a moment, head tilted to one side, weight resting on one hip. "Would you be okay with your back to me? I can hold around your chest under your arms, and that way you'll be able to see." Which had to be an improvement over not being able to.

Paul behind him, and Midnighter unable to see him - not that he needed to have him in his field of vision, but he did feel better when he did - and he liked it. "You realize I'm really not doing this for the view." But still, he turned his back to Paul, and gestured with his head. "Let's go." Because any second now, he was going to change his mind, decide that it was a shitty, dangerous idea for them both, and chicken out. No fucking way.

"I realize there's no point doing it without the view," Paul countered, moved in, and wrapped his arms around Midnighter, not quite managing to ignore how much he liked that feeling, the hard solid strength of Midnighter's body up against his. "Told you we'd work up to a hug."

There was a huge fucking point, if you asked Midnighter, who really could care less about the view. The point was Paul, and trusting him, and not backing down from... whatever this was. He ignored the scenarios that filed through his brain when Paul moved closer, wrapped his arms around him - easier then, because it was almost easy to focus on the warmth Midnighter felt unfurling through him at the - fine, he'd call it what it was - embrace. Embrace worked better than hug. "Shut up and get on with it," Midnighter retorted, his tone not actually angry, for all that it remained gruff. There was absolutely zero actual hostility to his words.

He never did anything on a whim, since his 'whims' were mostly combat scenarios, but he tried not to reflect on why he moved his hand to cover Paul's, where they clasped each other on his chest. It was just assurance, he tried to rationalize, that Paul wouldn't drop him. Nothing to do with wanting the extra connection. Oddly, it settled something inside him, something that had still been rebelling against the vulnerability of his situation.

"Do I have to do both?" Because he could get on with it without shutting up, arms tightening around Midnighter at the same time as rising off the ground, head tilted back to check for any potential obstacles above them. Not so tight to threaten Midnighter's ribs or breathing, but secure enough that he was certain that he wasn't going to drop Midnighter. Lifting him was easier than Paul had expected, the extra strength still a surprise, but he kept vertical, didn't want to risk anything that might mean Midnighter having to work to keep his legs back and up.

Fuck. They really were doing this, which - shouldn't have come as a surprise, Midnighter had been tense for every anticipatory second of it, and yet the fact that it was happening was still a harsh realization. His hand had tightened over Paul's as they rose from the ground, his brain calculating distance, and speed, and what might happen in case of a drop, how hard he would hit the ground and the expected damage, depending how he fell. But Paul was holding him, and he was - would be - fine. Had to be, no matter how hard his brain hated it. "Smartass," he managed to get out between clenched jaws. He finally realized how hard he was holding on to Paul's hand, and loosened his grip some.

"Pretty sure you can't see my ass from there." Could probably see the ground, if Midnighter looked down, but... "Don't look down. Easier that way, if heights are gonna bother you."

It was... amazing. Not the first time Paul had taken someone up, but the first time he'd done it purely for the sake of it, the first time he'd been able to focus on how another body - Midnighter's body - felt against his own, the power and trust in it, the warmth of someone else against him as the cool night air streamed over his face, through his hair. And Midnighter, gripping his hand, faint ache easing too quickly.

Of course Midnighter wasn't bothered by heights - not in any way that looking down might make worse. He was all too aware of how high they currently were without looking down, anyway, but he was distracted from answering that by the lingering image of - what else - Paul's ass. It wasn't as if he hadn't been paying attention in the last few weeks. "Bastard," he simply accused the kid taking him up into the sky, and loosened his grip further, until his hand mostly happened to be resting over Paul's. He might call it a bastard move, but the truth was, it was helping. Focusing on Paul meant not focusing on the scenarios his brain insisted he followed through on - and not just the image of his ass, but the reality of his strong hold on Midnighter, the solidity of his body behind him, against him, the proximity he was letting happen, welcoming, wanted more of no matter what his brain had to say about it, and the warmth in his lungs from it all. From Paul.

It still wasn't exactly a hug. Wasn't quite mutual, but it was a lot more body contact than they'd managed before, and that contact was... it was indescribable. Not that Paul had that much experience with body contact at all, but he was pretty sure it wasn't meant to feel that good, wasn't meant to wake his body up quite so much, every nerve alive and singing and sharper where Midnighter was pressed against him. It was Midnighter trusting him to take him up so far, allowing the contact but more than that, a level of dependence he'd never expected, kindling the (firmly suppressed) urge to drop his head back and yell exhilaration to the sky. "Won't keep you up here long."

Not this time. No point pushing too hard.

Midnighter knew exactly when they passed the height at which being dropped, given the lack of anything below to break his fall, would actually do damage. His brain was feeding him very precise data on which damage exactly, depending on how he hit the ground. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it settled his brain some. There were still scenarios in which being dropped was preferable to the alternative, and scenarios designed to force Paul down some, but his brain had to see the benefit of remaining in Paul's arms, now. As long as Paul had the strength to carry him, and Midnighter knew for a fact that the sun would rise before that might be a problem, replenishing Paul's energy.

"That's alright," he stated gruffly, but he meant it.

Landing was likely to be as hard as taking off, for both of them, once Midnighter's brain decided he was back in safe dropping distance, and Paul didn't want to spend too long anticipating that. "Just don't wriggle too much, yeah?"

He'd catch. Or at least, he'd do his best to catch. He didn't have much practice in catching people in mid-air, but speed and strength both had to help with that.

"I won't fucking wriggle," Midnighter muttered, trying to focus on the warmth rather than any anxiety he might be feeling. Yeah, anxiety was the right word. But there was no tactical advantage to wriggling, so at least that wasn't an option. Go back to holding on to Paul's hand way too fucking tightly, however, was probably going to happen as their height decreased. But he had managed on the way up, he would fucking manage on the way down.

No wriggling, noted. Paul grinned, and pulled higher, glancing down over Midnighter's shoulder at the school grounds below. Focus focus focus, holding on tightly so he wouldn't drop Midnighter. Because that was a concern. Really.

"Scared the crap out of me first time I got this high," he said conversationally. "Didn't know what I was doing or how it happened or how I was going to get down. Or not get down, because I didn't want to go, you know, splat. Anything you want to take a look at from up here?"

The only thing Midnighter actually wanted to look at was Paul himself, but like fuck if he was going to say so. He still couldn't really believe that admitting to liking him had led to this, rather than to Paul walking away, and saying anything more on the subject while Paul was the only thing keeping him from 'going splat' sounded like a very moronic thing to do. Trust. It was all about trust. "Not really," he answered, being no better than usual at conversation. But being actually, genuinely curious about everything to do with Paul helped. "When was that? Your first time flying this high."

"First time I went up," he said ruefully. "Went up a scramble net, threw myself over the top, kind of kept going. Didn't have any idea what was going on."

"Witnesses?" Of course Midnighter had to ask, because that obviously sounded like a training exercise, and he had to wonder how that had played out with Paul's instructors.

Paul grimaced, hold tightening more. "Yeah. Haven't been back to see how they took it."

Figured. Midnighter hadn't seen the grimace, but the tension would have been obvious even to someone without enhanced senses. Fuck him for not having a clue how to be comforting. "Miss it?" he asked instead, also having no clue whether talking about it would help or not.

"Not much to miss." Which was one mercy. Some of the kids, sometimes, but he'd known most of the nice ones wouldn't be staying around for long anyway.

That wasn't a no, but it was better than it might have been, Midnighter figured. He still had no idea whether his amnesia was a blessing or a curse. "When I go looking for the asshole that was experimenting on me," he asked, trying to keep his voice even but not managing to keep his anger out completely, "will you come with me?"

"Experimenting on you?" he repeated. Hadn't expected that, wasn't sure how to react to it, pretty damn sure that the slow hot curl of anger inside wasn't completely reasonable. Midnighter was capable of looking after himself, there was no reason for Paul to start getting protective over a kid who could punch harder and faster than he could.

"I got his file on me, before I took off," Midnighter confirmed. "I don't remember it." The experiments, he meant, although some of them explained the scars on his body, since he was pretty sure that he couldn't get any more scars now. "I'm pretty sure I didn't kill him." But waking up had all been a blur, and his memories of these first few days, before Xavier and Lehnsherr showed up, were blurry, to say the least.

"Hard to find him if you did." Paul kept his voice carefully even, though he was certain that Midnighter couldn't miss the way his heartbeat picked up, fury curdling inside him at the idea of Midnighter being experimented on. Being held for experiments. Experiments never meant anything good.

Midnighter wasn't sure that he knew what to do with the way Paul was tensing, never mind the rise in his heartbeat. He had no idea how to feel about it, other than, clearly, 'at a loss'. People didn't get - upset - over this. Okay, so most people didn't know about it, but still. It made him want to reach out in a way he never did, but he had even less of an idea how exactly given their current location, and position. So he just kept his hand over Paul's, and pushed through it. "Pretty sure," he repeated, after a few seconds. "I don't have very clear memories of the first few days after my brain changed."

"So nothing before and nothing right after?" He hesitated, then shook his head. Didn't feel like a great idea to stay up in the air with that kind of conversation going on, wouldn't risk dropping Midnighter with a lapse in focus. "I'm taking us down, you need anything?"

"Just get it over with," Midnighter replied, torn between relieved at the thought of no longer being so dependent on Paul and sad at the upcoming loss of proximity. Fucking stupid.

"So how low do you want me to get before dropping you?" he asked, deadpan.

Midnighter had almost answered Paul's question with that option, but he'd held himself off - on account of the part of him that liked the proximity. Again, fucking stupid, because it made more sense that way. "I'll let you know."

"As long as you can give me some notice." Not that Paul couldn't drop in a hurry, but he'd prefer some kind of preparation. Just to be ready to... ready to compensate for carrying less weight, that was it.

He started moving down, circling back towards where they'd come out of the school.

"Will do," Midnighter confirmed, although his notice probably wasn't the same as Paul's, but he wasn't exactly aware of that. Instead, he focused on, well, doing his best to ignore his brain and enjoy Paul's proximity (touch, embrace) for as long as he could. There came a time when he could take minor enough damage from a drop that he would be up in a heartbeat, but he let that time go, because he could justify waiting until he would take no damage at all, although he was tensing as they went. "Now," he warned Paul once they had reached the no-damage height, which was 'some notice' as far as he was concerned. He could hold out a couple more seconds if needed; he'd held through Paul taking him up, so there was that.

Midnighter had held through Paul taking him up, but that didn't mean that Paul was about to push at his control by making him do the same coming down. "Letting go, then," he warned cheerfully, even though he was certain that Midnighter could already feel that coming from the shift in his muscles, the changing tension as Paul slackened his hold enough to let Midnighter drop.

And then promptly rose higher again, back out of reach, in case they'd pushed too hard, too far, too fast.

Midnighter appreciated that thoughtfulness (one of many, many fucking reasons why he appreciated Paul), but remained focused on how best to land. He did so in an easy roll that absorbed most of the impact, and his skeleton could easily take the rest. He was up in the next second, and looking up at Paul, still up there in the air.

Hovering, more or less, but without the implication of movement that word implied. More purposeful than floating, though, suspended in mid air, cautious, watching Midnighter, making sure he'd landed safely, relieved when he saw Midnighter back on his feet. "Safe?"

"Safe," Midnighter confirmed evenly. Part of him was still reeling from the experience, from having just trusted so much, now that he was seeing Paul from a distance and appreciating him in a wholly different way than while actually, physically trusting him. It was so fucked up, but it was all Midnighter knew.

Paul nodded, and sank slowly down to the ground, knees bending to adjust to the level more than to absorb any force of landing, pacing closer to Midnighter without hesitation. If Midnighter said it was safe, they were safe, from each other and anything else. "So. You want to find this guy."

Guy was the word he used, but not the one he thought, and the shape he gave the word betrayed that.

Fuck if Midnighter didn't love that, the way he went straight back to the matter at hand. He'd been too focused on self-control to do that himself, or he would have, but the fact that he didn't have to because Paul was on it - that was fucking sweet. In a murderous kind of way, obviously, given what they were talking about.

"Yeah," he confirmed. "As soon as I make sure that I can handle being in a crowd."

"You know where he is?" Exact location didn't matter, but they'd need to know where they were headed. Especially if Paul was going to fly them there which, he was suspecting, might be the quickest and most unanticipated way to get in. And out. He was definitely thinking about out.

"Somewhere in Kentucky or southern Indiana, most likely," Midnighter replied, hating that he didn't have a closer location than that. "I'm hoping Sage will be willing to help me narrow it down. My first memories are in Louisville."

Paul nodded again, more slowly, then held his hand out, offering it. "When you find out, let me know. I'll be ready."

"It might be a while," Midnighter warned him. He needed to make sure that he was good in a crowd, first, because he couldn't go out on that kind of mission without being certain. He still took the one step closer he needed to, and put his hand in Paul's, for a shake rather than a hold. "I'll let you know."

A shake was what Paul was aiming for, a promise in action more than words, meant more that way anyway. "I'm not in a hurry. It's your history, man, it's on your schedule."

Like it was Midnighter's choice to come closer, Midnighter's choice to take his hand, Midnighter's choice to trust him. All Paul had to do was keep trying to be worthy of it.