Humans: Book IV

XII

•

There's a break of daylight that seeps through the teal paisley of the motel curtains. It lands on his cheek in a perfect rectangle, lighting it up as he snores softly, eyes shut and fluttering at dreams playing in his head. My thumb traces his bottom lip, smooth and plump, and I bask in our collective body heat. I earn a low hum and one open eye, brown and warm.

Peter's voice is groggy, "Where are we?"

I trace circles into his bare shoulder, "66 Motel. Needles, California."

He captures my hand and wraps it with his, chuckling, "Maybe one state a day was a bad idea. I can't keep up with where we are."

"Are we going too fast for you, Quicksilver?" I tease.

There's a barely a flash before he's on top of me, pinning my wrists above my head. He gives me a dark smirk before answering, "Never," and trailing kisses up my neck. His lips press against my collarbone and I let out a sweet sound. "I like the sound you make when I do that," he tells me, doing it once more.

"You'll make me glow," I warn.

His warm hands move to my bare chest and our feet brush, "What, like last night?"

My fingers find his silver locks and tug, "Yes." His lips find my ear, tugging and nipping as his nose nuzzles against my face.

"Like the second time or the fourth time?"

I flip him over and straddle my knees, "Like the fifth time."

"Oh." He laughs and it vibrates against my skin, his hands wandering down to my abdomen and hip bones. "I liked the fifth time." I kiss a path down straight down his bare chest and his lids flutter, "Mmm, I really really really liked the fifth time." He groans as I kiss lower and lower and...

"Wait," he whispers. I stop, moving my face back up to meet his.

"What's wrong?" I ask, touching the corner of his mouth where I know his dimple hides.

"I just want to look at you for a second," he murmurs, tracing the slope of my nose and the hill of my cheek as he stares at me and smiles widely, his dimples coming out to play now.

My face heats up. I know my cheeks are pink and glowing, "Why?"

The glow of my face reflects into Peter's eyes, so it looks like there's a star caught in the deep black of his pupils as he tells me, "Because I want to slow this moment down..."

•

"Firefly."

My head flinches up from the pillow, a cold seeping into my skin, past the thin blanket spread across the floor beneath me. I'm on the steel floor of the mansion's infirmary, right beside Peter's bed. Peter. A full of tubes and barely alive Peter. His heartbeats have been getting stronger though, ever since the energy transfer. Hank says his vitals are almost at a normal state.

I look at my hands. My skin is still gray, power-empty. But my stomach is faintly glowing in comfort from the memory of Peter replayed in my dream.

I just want to look at you for a second.

Hank is standing above me. He holds out two hands to help my shaking body up. "Someone's here for you."

He helps me into the hallway, down the old Persian carpets and creaking floorboards, over to Charles's office, the dark wood glossy in early daylight. Someone is sitting in the orange armchair, hair raven black and purple and the edges. Hank shuts the door behind me.

"Destiny?" I say, taking a seat across from her.

"Wow. Shaw really did a number on you, huh?"

"No thanks to you, I'm sure," I bite.

Destiny stands, her purple eyes staring down at me. She bites her bottom lip in anxiety and folds her arms across her chest, looking off at the garden beyond the window. "Look, there's something I need to tell you. I...The only reason I worked for Shaw is so I could get a better chance to kill that bastard."

I eye her suspiciously and she adds, "He's my dad too. He killed my mom when I was young. In front of me."

I don't have enough energy to feel her pain but I can see it ridden in her face, a sorrowful glance down at the floor and a quick look up to the ceiling so tears don't fall. "I'm sorry," I say.

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, "Yeah, yeah. It's just all one big sob story, isn't it?" She drags her shoe across the floor, "My mom was a mutant too. She saw people's pasts, not their futures. Sometimes I think about how if she had my ability...then she could've avoided that asshole and saved her life."

I don't say anything. I just stand and wrap my arms around her. Her shoulders are rigid at first but then melt as she returns the embrace. I had more family and I didn't even know. "I'm sorry too," she whispers, "for everything."

There's only silence and the sound of birds beyond the glass until the door slams open, Erik practically shouting with his helmet beneath his arm, "Are we killing this bastard or what?"