Archive of Our Own ^beta

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The next day would mark two years since he had first set foot in the mansion.

It was funny how he hadn’t thought about it before, but after waking up in the middle of the night, the thought came to him, and he couldn’t fall back asleep. Still, he wasn’t distressed; on the contrary, his mind wandered to comforting places.

In the past, sleepless nights—heavy, filled with nightmares, tossing and sweating—hadn’t been uncommon. He smiled despite himself, realizing that he now thought of those nights in the past tense. It wasn’t a distant past, but it felt like it.

Shirtless and in pajama shorts, he got up slowly, walked to the open window, and leaned over it. It was early summer, and the nights were pleasant—not excessively hot, but warm enough to sleep with the window open. He liked the heat, even if it didn’t touch his skin the same way it did back in his hometown.

A wave of nostalgia hit him. He missed New Orleans. He often thought about its sounds, tastes, and smells, but it was the first time he missed it with enough intensity to make his heart ache.

He figured maybe it was time to go back and pay his father a visit. He sighed, almost disappointed with himself. Reuniting with his adoptive father was always painful. Not at first—at the start it was familiar and comforting—but warmth always turned into something oppressive, something that made it hard to breathe and pushed him to flee again.

The difference now was that he had somewhere to return to—and not just a place, but people to return for. He realized this with a faint, almost shy smile—one just for himself, like an unspoken secret. He had learned to value himself. Not the arrogant, fake kind of confidence, but real confidence. That feeling of belonging made him think that maybe seeing his father again wouldn’t hurt so much. Soon, he wanted to test that theory.

Still, the warmth of that thought came with inevitable questions. It brought back things he didn’t know and probably never would—like where he truly came from.

One of his constant inner habits over the last two years was to weigh his current life against the one he had before. He didn’t really know why he did that; it was unconscious. Maybe he needed the reassurance, or maybe it was just his way of confirming that he was truly satisfied with where he was now.

He didn’t miss his old life. For a long time, he thought there was no other path, that he was born to be a thief and not shaped into it, that there were no other options. These days, he no longer blamed his father for the life the man had given to him. Maybe distance had softened his heart—or maybe time had taught him that easy choices didn’t exist.

In any case, his life hadn’t necessarily been hard; he’d never lacked anything since being adopted—except perhaps a bit more affection. Most of his pain had come from his own choices. His adoptive father had used him for his powers—maybe that had even been the sole reason for adopting him in the first place—but he had loved him too, in a twisted way, without knowing how to show it. After all, he too had been shaped to be a thief and a leader. But there had been some kind of love beneath all those layers.

Two warm hands slid along his back to his chest, and slender arms wrapped around him, cutting off his train of thought.

“You're getting good, chère,” he said with a playful grin—the opposite of his previous smile. He hadn’t noticed her presence until it was too late.

She giggled softly. The sound of her laughter rippled through him. He sighed with pleasure, though slightly disappointed to feel buttons against his back instead of her breasts.

“I learned from the best,” she said gently, then her voice turned teasing. “Ah’ve learned so much.”

He laughed at her attempt to sound naughty.

“You’re adorable,” he mocked, turning to face her. She still had a lot to learn.

Her arms rested on his shoulders. He wrapped his own around her slim waist and pulled her close. She was wearing his shirt, which fell to mid-thigh—and that alone aroused him. In the complete darkness of the room, her very pale skin almost glowed. Only the faint light from outside outlined their faces.

“Ah didn’t sneak into your room just to watch you stare out the window, sugah,” she complained, as if they hadn’t just spent the last few hours tangled together as one.

Still, she used the right word. Despite the time they’d been together, she still had to sneak in and out of his room. She knew Wolverine turned a blind eye, since they had to follow the rules as an example to the younger ones. Even so, she wished they could be together every night without hiding.

“I think we could get our own place,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “I been t’inking ‘bout going to New Orleans when I get the chance. Wanna come with me?”

“You asking is a big improvement,” she teased. “But no boxcars this time, okay?”

“We going first class dis time,” he replied, laughing.

On her tiptoes, she stretched to reach his lips. It started light and sweet—until it wasn’t. His hands slid down to her thighs and gripped them. She wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her to the bed and pulled off the shirt.

Two years, and it felt like a lifetime. Now it was hard to even remember the uncertainty of how people would react to a former Acolyte joining the team of heroes. He had never shown insecurity—always confident on the outside—but deep down, he had thought each day might be his last there.

He had gotten closer to that girl—the one who had caught his attention long before—but hadn’t even understood why he was risking anything. The same girl who now lay in his arms.

It had been over a year and a half since they started. Despite the looming worry that his powers might spiral out of control again, the two had shared weeks of secret pleasure while their relationship and feelings blossomed. The hours spent together, whispered secrets, laughter and sighs. The knowledge that he had come close to losing her.

The man who had been his salvation. Even after all this time, it was still strange to think of him as himself — his story unbelievable, yet true in every word. He felt genuine compassion for him, hoping he'd found peace in his own way; still, he thought of the man as someone else entirely. For months, he kept fearing that his powers would spiral out of control again. He figured that sliver of fear would stay with him forever. It pushed him to live every moment with even more intensity.

He had hurt her by trying to fix the problem alone. And as if that wasn’t enough, when his powers went back to normal level, their relationship took a huge step backward. At first, they tried to pretend nothing had changed—but it was all for show. Without the physical, without touch and caress, their bond wasn’t complete, especially after having had that connection torn away from them. Those were hard months—an overall hard year.

They found ways to be together, but always with the barrier between them. He could see the pain in her eyes. She always felt it. Desperate and powerless, he saw her drift away from him. They avoided each other, dodged glances. He felt helpless, unable to help her. In the beginning, they had promised not to let what they had fade—but it had been a hard promise to keep.

On a cold night, she said they needed to talk. In that moment, he knew she had given up on them.

He nearly laughed, almost hysterically, when she shared her idea. He lifted her in his arms until she laughed too.

Her powers were the issue, and she was the one who had to bring them under control. The solution had to come from her. She asked Hank to adapt the device that had been used to absorb the excess energy. The doctor agreed, excited by the idea.

From then on, she used the device not as a crutch, but as training wheels—just until she didn’t need them anymore. She also needed the Professor’s help.

It was a long and difficult process. She thought of giving up, but he was always there. Despite the uncertainty, the weeks they spent testing boundaries were wonderful in their own way. The times she absorbed him unintentionally hurt—but he was always willing to be her guinea pig.

Each time it happened, she could feel not just his desire, but something deeper. That was her greatest motivation to keep going until she gained control. Her life had changed completely—but he was her final reward.

“So I’m your trophy boyfriend,” he once joked when she told him that.

“Sounds like a sweet dream to me,” she replied, kissing his lips.

Soon it would be a year since then. Their relationship had become something comfortable. They stayed close as much as they could—but there was more to it now. Something that came with time: mutual understanding, the comfort of silence.

They still argued from time to time, usually when they disagreed for each other’s sake—but they always made up before the day was over. The life they lived didn’t leave room for petty fights.

“When are we going?” she asked sleepily, her head resting on his chest, feeling his fingers slide gently up and down her arm.

“Soon. We’ve got time.”

And once again, he thought of that man.

Truth was, time was something that had been given to them.

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