Title: Bruised

Author: Uriel

Fandom: Mutant X

Pairing: Brennan/Jesse

Rating: strong PG-13 or mild R for language

Disclaimer: I don't own them. yeah, that's pretty much it.

Series: Aftershocks, part 2 (Brennan perspective)


AFTERSHOCKS 2: BRUISED
by Uriel
******

You kissed him. Shithead shithead shithead. What the fuck is wrong with you? You kissed him, you fucking dumbass! How could you be such an idiot?

"Brennan." Her voice stabs you and you realize that you're pacing, and the lights are on the fritz because you were frantic and practically bleeding sparks.

"Hi." Shit, don't sound like that. Sound normal, you shithead! "What's up, Shalimar?" Normal, sound fucking normal.

"Adam's called a meeting." She looks worried and looks at the remains of your room. You have to get her out of here. You have to start acting fucking normal, not like such a fucking freak. You kissed him. Shithead.

"Let's go." You walk out through the open door before she can say anything. You don't want to talk to her about this. She's the last person you want to talk to about this. She'd gut you where you stand if she knew what you did to her Jesse. You walk faster than normal, and the walls echo forever as you make your way down the hall.

He's there, sitting at the table, with his soft blue eyes and his quivering lower lip. The bruises glare accusingly at me from across his skin, and he looks away from you when you come in. Emma half-smiles as you enter, but her face slumps when you sit down next to her. She can hear you in her head. You're projecting, you know it. She can hear you and him, and she just sits and tries to not think at you or him.

Adam looks at you briefly, but doesn't question the group dynamic. He's in business mode. This is important. His voice is flat and dead and distant.

"We've located the epicenter of the earthquake. There are no fault lines or possible seismic sources in the area." He looks around the table briefly.

"So, we're thinking a new mutant?" Jesse's voice is soft and wispy, and I just want to reach out and hold his hand.

"Yes. Shalimar and Emma, you'll be coming with me. Jesse and Brennan can stay here in case we need assistance from home." Assistance from home? He's doing this on purpose. He knows. Oh fuck, he knows.

"Okay." My voice sounds big and stupid in the small room. Adam stands and hurriedy leaves, quickly followed by Emma and a glaring Shalimar. Shalimar pauses in the doorway to shoot one last fiery glance towards me before allowing herself to be dragged out by Emma. You look back at Jesse, where he sits across from you at the table. His purpled face stays downturned. His sapphire eyes hide themselves beneath long pale eyelashes, and his blonde hair falls forlornly across his bruised forehead.

"So... I..." You sound like an idiot. A fucking moron.

"Yeah?" His voice is soft, and his eyes move up for a furtive moment to catch you, before swinging heavily back down.

"I kissed you." He knows that, you shithead.

"Yes. I remember." He looks up again, and his eyes are with yours. He holds your gaze. This is important. You better make this right. You better make this sound good.

"I... I'm sorry?" Wrong answer wrong answer wrong answer. Try, you fuck. Just try. You have to make this work. You have to make this right. "Not really. If you want to forget about it, that's ok. But I'm not sorry I did it." Better. That's better. You're offering him a way out if he wants it. An easy way to get around it for him. But he kissed back. But you kissed him, you shithead.

"I don't want to forget. And I don't think I can." His eyes seem cold and far away from the huge dark bruises glaring out from his soft skin.

"Does that mean I can do it again?" Did you just say that? Did you just ask him that? Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. He stares at you and blinks several times.

"Does that mean you want to?" His eyes open wider, and his breath catches in his throat. He wants an answer. What's the right answer? If you get this right, he's yours.

You lean over the table and cup his bruised face between your hands. Your lips touch his, and you can feel his eyelashes whisper across your skin as his eyes close. He leans forward, and his body goes limp. And then he winces as you move your hand too quickly across bruised flesh. Now is the time to stop.

"Is that your answer?" His voice is breathy and warm on your cheek. You smile and look at the angry bruises on his skin glaring up at you. He's beautiful even when he's broken. "Well?"

"Yes. That's my answer. Don't be dense." He grins, and you realize that was a stupid pun that you didn't intend to make. Now is the time for you to distract him before he decides you're stupid. You slide around the table and wrap your arms around his warm body, carefully trying not to touch the angriest of the angry purple bruises. Your lips press against his, and you wait for him to tense and wince, but he doesn't. His lips part ever so slightly, and your tongue presses against them on its own. His lips part further, invitingly, and your tongue can't help but slip between those soft pink lips. Your head is swimming in sensation, and all you can think is that you're kissing him and he's kissing you and this is perfect.



END