sabinelagrande (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sabinelagrande) wrote2012-01-12 03:49 am
sabinelagrande) wrote2012-01-12 03:49 am
Fic: Change
Title: Change
Series: Abide
Summary: All he wants is to be normal.
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Word Count: 2056
Rating/Contents: PG, D/s AU, gender/sexuality (and the mutability thereof) issues
Pairing: Angel/Hank
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: These mutants, I swear to fucking god. So I have Thoughts about this story? But they are really Thoughts about D/s AU and wish fulfillment in general, and I feel like, honestly, I might be tap-dancing on people's toes, and it is SERIOUSLY too early in the year to be doing that. So here is a lot of Hank and Angel having ~feelings~.
From the first time he meets her, Hank is pretty sure he's got Angel pegged. Angel is the kind of sub that Hank was warned about for- for his entire childhood, it seems like. His father must have told him a thousand times; but the time that sticks out, he was staring at the ceiling, holding still so his father could put lipstick on him before they went to church.
"Henry," he said. "You can't be like that terrible Madeline-" and Hank doesn't even remember what her last name was, just that she was older than him, a very pretty and popular sub who lived down the street who regularly mocked him; she probably would have mocked his friends, too, if he'd had any. "Always making a fuss about everything. You can't expect to find a top if you're such a handful. No one wants a sub who's so selfish and vain."
Hank hadn't said anything when Madeline was collared off to the mayor's daughter; "I told you so" just seemed depressing.
When they all move in to the mansion, Hank figures her behavior is just an outgrowth of that; she's standoffish and demanding, and more than once she takes off without telling anyone where she's going. Without anyone saying anything, Hank is starting to realize that Charles and Erik are fighting about it, if the looks they keep giving each other are any indication, but Hank can't decide who wants what.
It's around the same time that Hank finally gets it: she's not trying to get attention, she just doesn't trust any of them. She's not acting out; she's holding back.
He wonders how long everyone else has known. It's probably been a very long time; he doesn't catch up quickly. Once he gets that straight in his head, it's much easier to see when things start to change. It's "us" and not "you," a sneakier smile, a lighter laugh. The tension unwinds a little, and things seem so much smoother.
It's right about that time that she cuts all her hair off.
The idea that subs have to keep their hair long is growing more and more outdated- even Charles's hair isn't very long, and Charles is trained. But the effect is pronounced on Angel; her hair was sub long, now it's top short, maybe even a little shorter than that.
Hank certainly doesn't say anything to her about it; the general sense of the house is one of quiet confusion. As usual, Alex is the exception, because Alex can't keep himself from saying something horrible for longer than ten seconds at a time. Though Hank doesn't actually see it, Hank knows Alex must have done it again; the rest of them are fairly reluctant to use their powers in the house, but Alex spends the next week with an acid burn on his arm.
Charles is extremely vexed and Erik thinks it's hilarious; this is becoming a common state in the house.
Things are changing, and it's happening pretty rapidly. She doesn't walk the same, she doesn't talk the same; maybe it's because Hank is, once again, very rarely on the ball when it comes to interpersonal relationships, but it feels to him like she had this whole plan of action worked out and just put it into motion one day, like there was another Angel- and this is a bad pun, even for him- waiting in the wings.
And then she walks in during dinner one night and just plunks a basket of clothes on the table. "Anybody who wants these can have them," she tells them; everything Hank can see looks subby, and most of it looks very expensive.
"This is very generous," Charles says carefully, while Erik looks at Sean like he's going to bite him if he goes for the blue skirt on top first. "Are you sure?"
"I want all of them gone," she says firmly.
"Alright, then," Charles says. "First come first served, then, I suppose." He takes the basket away before anyone can start rooting through it. "After we eat."
Erik glares at Sean again, and that's the last that gets said about it. It's pretty strange, and Hank can't be the only one who feels sort of uncomfortable and unsure about the whole thing.
On the other hand: house full of mutants. Woman who flies. Strange is very much relative.
Hank feels very bad about calling her into the lab; true, there are some more tests he can run on her, but none of them are actually interesting- and this is Hank, so the threshold for interesting is very low. Still, here they are, and Hank is trying to figure out exactly what items in the lab won't be melted by her fiery- well, it's hard to call them anything but spitballs, really.
Finally, he settles on a big earthenware jar that he thinks might have been meant to hold tongue depressors. "If you'll just-" he says, sliding it across the table to her.
"Sure," she says, and it's amazing how delicately she can spit acid into a container. She slides it back to him, and he starts his stopwatch; honestly, at this point, he's just trying to keep her here, so he's just going to time how long it takes for it to eat through to the lab table.
It's going pretty slowly, which is good; it doesn't really matter, though, because his mouth works far, far faster than it should, much faster than his brain does. "What are you?" he asks, and he immediately wishes he could put the words back.
She gives him a searching look. "If it was anybody but you, I'd slap them. But you really do want to learn, don't you?"
"It's sort of what I do," he replies, feeling uncomfortable.
"I'm not a top and I don't sub," she tells him, which is a very simple and enormously complex answer. "What are you, Hank?" she challenges.
"I'm a sub," he says, and it bothers him that it's getting hard to say that lately.
She raises an eyebrow at him. "You don't sound excited about it."
He sighs heavily. "I'm a really bad sub." He puts his head in his hands, resting his elbows on the table. He's only sort of ready to admit this is the real reason he wanted to talk to her; out of everyone, she's the only one who he thinks might come closest to understanding. "I've done everything I know to do. I've read, I've taken classes, I've tried so many times, but it doesn't-"
He looks up at her. "Take Charles, okay? He will do anything Raven says, and everyone knows it. By the time she says 'jump', Charles has already done it, and it was just as high as she wanted. And I can do that- I've done that. Or look at Erik." He pauses, then he waves his hand. "Never mind, we can skip Erik, because I think it's obvious that I could never do anything Erik does. But they're so happy."
"What does that have to do with you?" she asks.
"Because no matter how hard or how well I do it," he says miserably, "no matter how good or bad I am, I'm not happy."
"Then why do you do it?" she says quietly.
He gives her a confused look. "I'm supposed to."
She shakes her head. "That's not a good enough reason to do something you hate."
"I don't know what else to do," he says. "I just want to be normal."
"Hank, take a look around," she says, exasperated. "Raven has two subs, and one of them is her brother. Alex is gay, Darwin is a switch, and if they fuck any harder, they're going to bring the house down. The only person who even has a claim on being normal is Sean, and all he does is read comic books all day. If that wasn't enough, we're all mutants. Being normal is no way to fit in around here."
Hank looks at her for a long time. "He's not really her brother," he says finally.
Angel sighs. "Okay," she says. "Assume for a second that this is a perfect world, and you can have exactly what you want. What do you want?"
He thinks about it. "I like pain," he says.
"That's something to work with," she tells him. "What else do you like?"
"I like to cuddle," he says, shrugging. "Kissing, too."
"Do you like anything else?" she presses. "Do you want to take anybody's orders? Do you want to fuck anybody?"
He sighs. "Not really," he says, and something about getting those words out makes it feel like a weight has been lifted off his chest.
"There you go," she says. "If you don't want anything else, then don't do anything else. Don't let anybody make you do anything else."
He frowns at her unhappily. "You make it sound really easy."
"Hank," she says seriously, "I am terrified every day. I am so scared that something will happen and I will give up." She opens her hands. "But this is me. I don't want to go back to pretending to be anybody else."
"No matter who you are," he says, looking down, "I still think you're really beautiful."
She walks over to him, taking his face in her hand, tilting it up. "Hank, do you want me to beat you and make out with you?"
His eyes widen. "I didn't- that's not why I said that- I'm not trying to-"
She smiles, shaking her head. "That's not an answer."
"Yes," he says, smiling weakly. "I'd like that a lot. I mean- I meant what I said, and-" He exhales. "I really don't want to have to explain all this to anyone else."
"You never have to explain, Hank," she tells him fiercely. "You never have to apologize, and you never have to explain." He looks lost, enough so that she wraps her arms around him. "You've just had your mind blown into a bunch of pieces, okay? But if you want, I'll help you put it back together."
He rests his face against her stomach. "That seems like a lot of work for you."
She snorts. "Honey, I never do anything that's not selfish. If I can help you out, well." She sighs. "Maybe that means you'll be there to help me."
Hank puts his arms around her, holding her tight.
"Charles is going to be really angry at you, though," she says, and he looks up at her in confusion. "You just burned a huge hole through his lab table."
Hank makes a frustrated sound. "Hit the stopwatch, then."
--
Erik is reading in the lounge with Charles walks in; Charles looks around the room suspiciously, searching the corners carefully.
"Do you want to look behind the curtains for spies?" Erik asks, amused.
Charles walks towards him, looking back over his shoulder at the door. "I am extremely hesitant to ask this question," he says, in a lowered voice, "but have you seen this month's Submissives Home Journal?"
Erik frowns. "We- Sean," he corrects, "Sean got a letter about it. The subscription lapsed."
Charles frowns. "That's unfortunate. For Sean, I mean."
"You know what I think he would appreciate," Erik says. "He would appreciate it if we renewed it for him."
"That's a wonderful idea," he replies. "That would be very nice of us. We wouldn't want him to miss any more issues than he has to."
"I'll call them," Erik offers.
Charles nods. "Do that."
Raven pops her head into the doorway, and both of them look up. "Nothing," Charles says defensively.
"Charles," she says, "I didn't ask you anything."
"Oh, well, I thought I heard something," he tells her, looking to Erik for support.
"I didn't hear anything," Erik says, and Charles gives him an annoyed frown.
"Right," she says slowly. "I'm going to go now."
Erik blows her a kiss, and she walks away, shaking her head.
"That was too close," Charles says.
"Telepathy, next time?" Erik suggests.
"Yes," he agrees. "All communications about guilty pleasures that no one else can know about will be conducted telepathically."
"Why have we never had this rule before?" Erik asks.
"Search me," Charles says. "If telepathy's not for that, then what is it for?"
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/373615.html.
comments over there.
Series: Abide
Summary: All he wants is to be normal.
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Word Count: 2056
Rating/Contents: PG, D/s AU, gender/sexuality (and the mutability thereof) issues
Pairing: Angel/Hank
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: These mutants, I swear to fucking god. So I have Thoughts about this story? But they are really Thoughts about D/s AU and wish fulfillment in general, and I feel like, honestly, I might be tap-dancing on people's toes, and it is SERIOUSLY too early in the year to be doing that. So here is a lot of Hank and Angel having ~feelings~.
From the first time he meets her, Hank is pretty sure he's got Angel pegged. Angel is the kind of sub that Hank was warned about for- for his entire childhood, it seems like. His father must have told him a thousand times; but the time that sticks out, he was staring at the ceiling, holding still so his father could put lipstick on him before they went to church.
"Henry," he said. "You can't be like that terrible Madeline-" and Hank doesn't even remember what her last name was, just that she was older than him, a very pretty and popular sub who lived down the street who regularly mocked him; she probably would have mocked his friends, too, if he'd had any. "Always making a fuss about everything. You can't expect to find a top if you're such a handful. No one wants a sub who's so selfish and vain."
Hank hadn't said anything when Madeline was collared off to the mayor's daughter; "I told you so" just seemed depressing.
When they all move in to the mansion, Hank figures her behavior is just an outgrowth of that; she's standoffish and demanding, and more than once she takes off without telling anyone where she's going. Without anyone saying anything, Hank is starting to realize that Charles and Erik are fighting about it, if the looks they keep giving each other are any indication, but Hank can't decide who wants what.
It's around the same time that Hank finally gets it: she's not trying to get attention, she just doesn't trust any of them. She's not acting out; she's holding back.
He wonders how long everyone else has known. It's probably been a very long time; he doesn't catch up quickly. Once he gets that straight in his head, it's much easier to see when things start to change. It's "us" and not "you," a sneakier smile, a lighter laugh. The tension unwinds a little, and things seem so much smoother.
It's right about that time that she cuts all her hair off.
The idea that subs have to keep their hair long is growing more and more outdated- even Charles's hair isn't very long, and Charles is trained. But the effect is pronounced on Angel; her hair was sub long, now it's top short, maybe even a little shorter than that.
Hank certainly doesn't say anything to her about it; the general sense of the house is one of quiet confusion. As usual, Alex is the exception, because Alex can't keep himself from saying something horrible for longer than ten seconds at a time. Though Hank doesn't actually see it, Hank knows Alex must have done it again; the rest of them are fairly reluctant to use their powers in the house, but Alex spends the next week with an acid burn on his arm.
Charles is extremely vexed and Erik thinks it's hilarious; this is becoming a common state in the house.
Things are changing, and it's happening pretty rapidly. She doesn't walk the same, she doesn't talk the same; maybe it's because Hank is, once again, very rarely on the ball when it comes to interpersonal relationships, but it feels to him like she had this whole plan of action worked out and just put it into motion one day, like there was another Angel- and this is a bad pun, even for him- waiting in the wings.
And then she walks in during dinner one night and just plunks a basket of clothes on the table. "Anybody who wants these can have them," she tells them; everything Hank can see looks subby, and most of it looks very expensive.
"This is very generous," Charles says carefully, while Erik looks at Sean like he's going to bite him if he goes for the blue skirt on top first. "Are you sure?"
"I want all of them gone," she says firmly.
"Alright, then," Charles says. "First come first served, then, I suppose." He takes the basket away before anyone can start rooting through it. "After we eat."
Erik glares at Sean again, and that's the last that gets said about it. It's pretty strange, and Hank can't be the only one who feels sort of uncomfortable and unsure about the whole thing.
On the other hand: house full of mutants. Woman who flies. Strange is very much relative.
Hank feels very bad about calling her into the lab; true, there are some more tests he can run on her, but none of them are actually interesting- and this is Hank, so the threshold for interesting is very low. Still, here they are, and Hank is trying to figure out exactly what items in the lab won't be melted by her fiery- well, it's hard to call them anything but spitballs, really.
Finally, he settles on a big earthenware jar that he thinks might have been meant to hold tongue depressors. "If you'll just-" he says, sliding it across the table to her.
"Sure," she says, and it's amazing how delicately she can spit acid into a container. She slides it back to him, and he starts his stopwatch; honestly, at this point, he's just trying to keep her here, so he's just going to time how long it takes for it to eat through to the lab table.
It's going pretty slowly, which is good; it doesn't really matter, though, because his mouth works far, far faster than it should, much faster than his brain does. "What are you?" he asks, and he immediately wishes he could put the words back.
She gives him a searching look. "If it was anybody but you, I'd slap them. But you really do want to learn, don't you?"
"It's sort of what I do," he replies, feeling uncomfortable.
"I'm not a top and I don't sub," she tells him, which is a very simple and enormously complex answer. "What are you, Hank?" she challenges.
"I'm a sub," he says, and it bothers him that it's getting hard to say that lately.
She raises an eyebrow at him. "You don't sound excited about it."
He sighs heavily. "I'm a really bad sub." He puts his head in his hands, resting his elbows on the table. He's only sort of ready to admit this is the real reason he wanted to talk to her; out of everyone, she's the only one who he thinks might come closest to understanding. "I've done everything I know to do. I've read, I've taken classes, I've tried so many times, but it doesn't-"
He looks up at her. "Take Charles, okay? He will do anything Raven says, and everyone knows it. By the time she says 'jump', Charles has already done it, and it was just as high as she wanted. And I can do that- I've done that. Or look at Erik." He pauses, then he waves his hand. "Never mind, we can skip Erik, because I think it's obvious that I could never do anything Erik does. But they're so happy."
"What does that have to do with you?" she asks.
"Because no matter how hard or how well I do it," he says miserably, "no matter how good or bad I am, I'm not happy."
"Then why do you do it?" she says quietly.
He gives her a confused look. "I'm supposed to."
She shakes her head. "That's not a good enough reason to do something you hate."
"I don't know what else to do," he says. "I just want to be normal."
"Hank, take a look around," she says, exasperated. "Raven has two subs, and one of them is her brother. Alex is gay, Darwin is a switch, and if they fuck any harder, they're going to bring the house down. The only person who even has a claim on being normal is Sean, and all he does is read comic books all day. If that wasn't enough, we're all mutants. Being normal is no way to fit in around here."
Hank looks at her for a long time. "He's not really her brother," he says finally.
Angel sighs. "Okay," she says. "Assume for a second that this is a perfect world, and you can have exactly what you want. What do you want?"
He thinks about it. "I like pain," he says.
"That's something to work with," she tells him. "What else do you like?"
"I like to cuddle," he says, shrugging. "Kissing, too."
"Do you like anything else?" she presses. "Do you want to take anybody's orders? Do you want to fuck anybody?"
He sighs. "Not really," he says, and something about getting those words out makes it feel like a weight has been lifted off his chest.
"There you go," she says. "If you don't want anything else, then don't do anything else. Don't let anybody make you do anything else."
He frowns at her unhappily. "You make it sound really easy."
"Hank," she says seriously, "I am terrified every day. I am so scared that something will happen and I will give up." She opens her hands. "But this is me. I don't want to go back to pretending to be anybody else."
"No matter who you are," he says, looking down, "I still think you're really beautiful."
She walks over to him, taking his face in her hand, tilting it up. "Hank, do you want me to beat you and make out with you?"
His eyes widen. "I didn't- that's not why I said that- I'm not trying to-"
She smiles, shaking her head. "That's not an answer."
"Yes," he says, smiling weakly. "I'd like that a lot. I mean- I meant what I said, and-" He exhales. "I really don't want to have to explain all this to anyone else."
"You never have to explain, Hank," she tells him fiercely. "You never have to apologize, and you never have to explain." He looks lost, enough so that she wraps her arms around him. "You've just had your mind blown into a bunch of pieces, okay? But if you want, I'll help you put it back together."
He rests his face against her stomach. "That seems like a lot of work for you."
She snorts. "Honey, I never do anything that's not selfish. If I can help you out, well." She sighs. "Maybe that means you'll be there to help me."
Hank puts his arms around her, holding her tight.
"Charles is going to be really angry at you, though," she says, and he looks up at her in confusion. "You just burned a huge hole through his lab table."
Hank makes a frustrated sound. "Hit the stopwatch, then."
--
Erik is reading in the lounge with Charles walks in; Charles looks around the room suspiciously, searching the corners carefully.
"Do you want to look behind the curtains for spies?" Erik asks, amused.
Charles walks towards him, looking back over his shoulder at the door. "I am extremely hesitant to ask this question," he says, in a lowered voice, "but have you seen this month's Submissives Home Journal?"
Erik frowns. "We- Sean," he corrects, "Sean got a letter about it. The subscription lapsed."
Charles frowns. "That's unfortunate. For Sean, I mean."
"You know what I think he would appreciate," Erik says. "He would appreciate it if we renewed it for him."
"That's a wonderful idea," he replies. "That would be very nice of us. We wouldn't want him to miss any more issues than he has to."
"I'll call them," Erik offers.
Charles nods. "Do that."
Raven pops her head into the doorway, and both of them look up. "Nothing," Charles says defensively.
"Charles," she says, "I didn't ask you anything."
"Oh, well, I thought I heard something," he tells her, looking to Erik for support.
"I didn't hear anything," Erik says, and Charles gives him an annoyed frown.
"Right," she says slowly. "I'm going to go now."
Erik blows her a kiss, and she walks away, shaking her head.
"That was too close," Charles says.
"Telepathy, next time?" Erik suggests.
"Yes," he agrees. "All communications about guilty pleasures that no one else can know about will be conducted telepathically."
"Why have we never had this rule before?" Erik asks.
"Search me," Charles says. "If telepathy's not for that, then what is it for?"
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/373615.html.