Work Text:
Short. Sharp. He’s been called impetuous too many times to count, by words and deeds, but everyone is so quick to call him out that they don’t know of the times where he can calm his mind, slow everything down to draw out an experience, to soften the edges of wit and mind, and just let himself feel.
Like this, not daring to rest his hand fully on Bobby’s neck, barely daring to press his full fingertips against the strain of muscles under skin. But Bobby isn’t flinching, isn’t taking the step back as he steps in, leans just so to press his lips against his.
It’s everything to him, the chance he never took, already accepting nothing more, as Bobby lets him. A parting that he didn’t have the first time but is allowed now.
So when he feels the weight of his hand on his waist, he expects many things. To be pushed away is the foremost of them. To be held in place when Bobby finally steps back, or to be chided, but most likely both. Perhaps even frozen. All the possibilities cause a swell of amusement in his chest even knowing the rejection.
There is no warning chill as those fingers splay over his ribs, only a warmth as the distance between their bodies diminishes when Bobby returns the kiss, parting his lips to draw him further into his hold.
His mind slows even as time blurs and hyper-focuses and sharpens. A drag of fingers to around the nape of Bobby’s neck, reeling him in as his hand skims higher along his side. The faintest puff of breath before a soft kiss is stolen, before the next one sinks in, claiming what was lost and still needed. Reciprocated. His fingers threading up into his hair, and his hand on his shoulder blade, keeping him close. It incites as much as it tempers that he can only focus on the feel of Bobby, skin that seems to grow warmer under his touch, certainty making way to bolder passes, fingers and teeth and seconds into minutes. Days? Had it always been there, waiting to be taken? To hear him say the only words that he could never say out loud, the only need that turned him shy.
It’s in his grasp now, and on the cusp of his lips, could he break free, if he has the need, but what he needs, what he wants, in the warmth of touch and kisses, there is no good reason to.
He hastily retreated before he even had a proper grip on John, clumsily trying to hold his slumping body by the shoulder before he got one arm, then both, around him to keep him on his feet. Bobby breathed into John’s ear, an urgent “Hey,” as he jostled him in an attempt to wake him. Shook him a little bit more when he didn’t stir. Tried to not yell his name when he didn’t respond, blond hair falling over his face.
It was when he did yell that Rogue startled, her hands still raised from when she had grasped John by either side of his head. Stared at her hands, fingers quivering as she lowered them slowly.
When she looked up it was to the sight of Bobby taking all of John’s weight into a hug, meeting her gaze from over John’s head. The glaze of panic over his eyes couldn’t hide the glare of accusation, silent judgement on her as he cupped the back of John’s head as other people started rushing into the room.
She backed up as soon as she felt the way was clear, something thick and bitter dripping down her throat as she watched how gently Bobby handled John, slowly crouching and getting into an easier position to help while another student took charge.
Ran down the hallway as John’s love continued to haunt her.