ana | Asgard all-powers threesomeverse (connor, sophie, pyro)

Entry tags:

Asgard all-powers threesomeverse (connor, sophie, pyro)

The war was over but Asgard was incredibly loud all of a sudden. Connor cracked a bleary eye to check the clock… it was still dark as if it was the middle of the night, and sure enough, 2:41 in the morning. What the hell. He didn’t think much of it at that moment, just rolled over to crush the pillow over his ears or burrow into Sophie’s neck or something that would allow him to get back to sleep.

But Sophie wasn’t there.

That itself would not have been cause for alarm; maybe she went to the bathroom, she was allowed to urinate. What was alarming, and thus caused Connor to bolt upright and stumble out of bed in terror, was the fact that Sophie was a black amorphous lump that was flopping off the other side of the bed. He’d seen it before, in the other world and in nightmares since, but this wasn’t a nightmare. He knew because falling off the bed hurt, and the thump of his side on the floor was so incredibly loud he felt like it would blow out his eardrums. He cried out in shock and pain, and that only made both worse.

Pressing both hands over his ears Connor struggled to his feet, speaking as loud as he could manage. “Sophie? Sophie?!” Fuck, it was so loud. So loud he could hear his heartbeat through his hands and see every thread of their sheets even in the near pitch black of their room and was what he thought was happening actually happening? Desperate now he lowered a hand to the blob, grimacing as it squished down under his hand, and shook. “Sophie! John! John!!!”

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Connor is gawking at her and completely failing to process this information when John finishes his very quick shower and pads down the hallway to his room.

"Our turn? Or should I.. no, our turn." He's not ready for that conversation, or whatever it might wind up being.

Edited 2015-04-29 01:42 (UTC)

"Our turn." Sophie takes him firmly by the arm and leads him to the bathroom, closes the door behind them, and begins to undress him. "Did you think I would?" Her hair moves in a wave as she shakes her head. "You silly, silly boy. I wouldn't deny you something so important. Set the tap how you'd like it, you're still overwarm."

While he does she turns momentarily to the mirror, peering intently at her own naked reflection. As she does, her face begins to resolve itself into the one Connor has always known, down to the last detail. Her freckles return, her skin darkens just a touch with her Asgard-earned tan, the weight she's put on in the past years returns to her frame. "There," she says. "Much better."

Having set the tap a little cooler than usual because Sophie's right (again) and he's still overheated, Connor strips out of his sooty clothes. He watches Sophie adjusting her form, stepping in beside her to drop a kiss on her forehead. "Mostly just more familiar. Come on."

He doesn't address the former question until they're under the water and he's lathering shampoo into her hair. "Of course you wouldn't... he will though."

"More familiar is better. For everyone else, at least." She steps into the shower, turning her back so he can wash her hair.

"Let him make that decision for himself, love. I don't think John knows what he really wants." The sound she makes isn't quite a laugh. "Didn't it take him longer to come to trust you than it took me? Whatever his life has been..." her voice trails off. "The only thing more fragile and precious than love is that ego. I don't understand it."

She's silent until he rinses her hair, then turns around, pressing her face into the slickness of his chest. "I'm sorry. For before. I don't think...I don't think I will ever learn to be good, Connor, and he had to make a choice, and I did't know any other way to make him see..."

He's a thoughtful kind of quiet until her hair is done and she speaks again, the Connor tilts her face up and kisses her. "Shh. You're both going to scare me every now and then, this time it was for something important. I just couldn't hear you... what I should have done was trust you." He shrugs, reaching to warm the water up a little bit for them to rinse off. "Good's relative, you just be you."

"When I'd nearly lost myself to the Red again? You can hardly be blamed." The smile she attempts is faltering. "I'm trying." It's all she can do, is try to be Sophie, despite everything. Her hands reach up and run through his hair, blunt nails massaging his scalp.

"I think, perhaps...we should all stick together for now. Sleep in the living room or somesuch. This is bound to be an...adjustment. For all of us. And hearing him breathing down the hall still isn't the same as seeing him there. Just until this settles." A pause. "I'll talk to John, if you'd prefer."

"We all lost it a little, huh?" He nods, leaning into her hands agreeably. They still don't know what's caused this -- there might be something wrong, or some danger that hasn't been announced -- and he'd be the first to admit that he's still freaked out and confused by the change and the fight and. Now this. Another kiss and he's turning the water off and reaching to get them both towels. "We can drag the mattresses out into the living room."

Sophie would like to be confused. That would be easier. Instead, she's a terrible mix of utterly joyful at feeling whole again and utterly terrified that between the scars Thiazi has left on her mind and the Devil's magic that she's going to lose herself. There's no comforting that fear, though. She will bear it or she won't.

"That sounds like an excellent idea." She looks up at him, finding every ounce of uncertainty in his eyes. It boggles her mind a little, how much Connor doubts his worth, this person who has never once turned her away, who has dragged her back from every precipice of her mind. "I'll talk to John."

Once he's dressed, he knows he should probably leave his room and rendezvous with the other two, but he... doesn't. He's faced down death before, many times since coming to Asgard, and even fallen to it once (in this exact sort of situation, but he won't think of that.) But having someone threaten him to save him was different, and doing it in someone else's name is different again. Sophie is still an unknown variable in a lot of ways and this hasn't settled his mind at all; he isn't suspicious of her, not as a threat, but he doesn't know where that mutual understanding they so often share might lead.

Even after all this time forming them, and deciding to stay here so that he can keep them, making new bonds is hard. Part of him still thinks it will prove to be a mortal weakness.

When the knock comes on his door, though, he's sure it must be Connor. Or both of them. After a second, he lets out a sigh and gets up to open the door instead of just shouting for them to come in. The shock of who he finds shows pretty clearly on his face, but it's quickly swapped out for wariness.

"Oh. Hey." He takes an uncertain step backward - is she coming in? Inviting him out?

Sophie takes the step backward as an invitation to enter, slipping through the door like a wraith. The slight uncanny-valley nature of her face is gone now, and she looks like she had yesterday, before everything in their worlds had changed. Once inside, she doesn't take the liberty of sitting anywhere without being invited, just stands there, fingers twisted together in a way that looks like she must be stretching them to the breaking point.

"There's a favor I want to ask you," she says, "but before that, I would think you are due your own answers, all things considered." Neither of them have exactly been on best behavior, but Sophie has some doubts that John has ever been up against something quite like her before.

He doesn't appear to know where to look, but he's taken in the appearance of her face, and has to admit his mind will likely wander to Mystique for awhile after what he saw. Her base form was still largely humanoid, but Sophie's - was that blob hers? Does she have one? They've talked about it before, but his thoughts are a bit of a mess right now. He can't remember.

At the request and then the statement, he finally looks her in the eye more firmly. "I don't need 'em," he says, and he sounds quite clear about that. "You did what you had to do. I get that. But if you wanna say anything else, that's fine."

He moves to sit on the edge of his bed, indicating with a little wave of his hand that she can do the same.

That blob was in fact not Sophie's natural form; the glimpses of pale skin, prominent ribs, dark veins and scars was much closer. Really, she had just been lucky. Showing her true form isn't something she does readily. She sits on the bed, less distant than she would usually sit from him but not touching.

"I didn't mean that I feel the need to justify myself. We both know why I did what I did, because in some ways we are not so different, you and I. Connor is so much better at being good." She looks a little wistful, and there's a weight to that word, good, like she doesn't simply mean the idea of not making trouble.

"I'm glad you came home." It seems an incongruous thing to say, but it makes perfect sense to Sophie.

Not so different. It's true, and it's what makes him nervous even as he feels drawn closer. He and Connor met because Connor took him on as a total stranger and calmed him from either committing murder or being killed himself - no idea who he was, but he offered John an outlet for his blind and impotent rage at this place. Not to fix him, but to ease and release some of the pressure so that he could function.

"Good?" He's leaned forward, elbows on his knees, twirling his lighter between his hands instead of flicking it this time. "Good people never did much for me back home. They didn't have a lotta time for anyone who wouldn't bend over backwards to be like them. Anyone like us. I think Connor's a hell of a lot better than good."

He snaps out of his brood quite quickly when Sophie speaks again, and he feels like a smile is due here, but can't manage it. "Yeah," he murmurs instead, quietly. "Me too."

There's a soft scoff from Sophie. "There is a vast chasm of difference between saying one is a thing and being it." Little snakes of shadow move between her fingers. It's a nervous habit. The complex intertwining pattern of it helps calm her, stops some of the conflict in her mind.

"Good." That's all she says for a moment, because it is good, that John wanted to come home, that John chose Connor over his orgy of rage. It has not yet really occurred to Sophie that he might also have chosen her.

"Connor is terrified, right now." Her mouth goes wry. "We've both given him reason to be, and he has plenty to adapt to himself. I thought he might feel better if we all stayed close for a little while. He suggested moving our mattresses to the living room." She meets his eyes then, and it's hard to tell from her face what she's really thinking. "That was the favor I came to ask of you."

Now he's grinning to himself, and even nodding a little. He knows the black and white rules of his world didn't work perfectly well, but hearing that word - good - just brought him back there so quickly that he had to confirm what Sophie meant. "Good" was behaving, hiding, bowing to the pressure on them until it let up of its own accord; and even before that, "good" was destroyed by the simple fact of what he was, so completely that his parents broke family ties and left him to his own devices. Her definition, if it lines up with what Connor shows to them, is a much better one.

Her favour causes a momentary defensive flash across his features - do they still not trust him, even after he agreed to come back? - but the fact that she divided the responsibility so evenly between them helps to calm and smooth that away into thoughtfulness. They're not keeping a hawk eye on him to make sure he doesn't run away again, or light up the house. It's just closeness, as she said: the thing he's worked on here, but is still so unused to when the entirety of his life is taken into account.

"I can do that. Shit, I can sleep anywhere." He used to sleep with Euri directly on top of him, of all things, a thought that makes his mouth twist downward with a lingering flicker of pain. This is just another time when he wishes he had her here, to give the kind of comfort he only really found with her. Connor and Sophie help, endlessly, but there's still something missing. "Right now?"

He stands up again, all ready to drag his mattress out if she says so.

"I don't think he'd mind."

There's a definite smile in her voice, more distinct than the one on her face. Her expressions seem just a touch muted now that she has perfect control over her face once more. It's no less genuine for that, though. Connor may doubt what Sophie sees plainly, but she does not.

"It's been quite the day already, we may as well spend the rest of it lounging about. Are you hungry?"

"Yeah, and it started at three in the fucking morning," he adds in a grumbly undertone. Now that the excitement is over, he's definitely feeling a good deal of exhaustion, so lying around in the living room has a lot of appeal. And there is an odd sort of comfort in the fact that they'll all be together with so much going on.

He circles around his bed a couple of times, trying to come up with the best way to do this. Bedding on, or first? Then Sophie's question distracts him and he glances up curiously.

"More tired than hungry. Won't say no to anything you're offering after some sleep, though." She is an amazing cook, and he's shown just how much he appreciates it many times over.

"Did it? I don't think I was in a state to notice." The actual truth is that Sophie is still bad with timepieces, just like she is bad with dates. Everything is still judged by seasons and the sun or moon in the sky.

"Would you like me to take the blankets?" The mattress is nothing to her anymore, but it's hardly the time to remind him so. "Then you only have to mind one thing."

That gets a little laugh out of him. "Just caught the time before I went to see what Connor was screaming about. I sure as hell couldn't tell you what time it is now."

After one more quick glance at his bed, he nods. An offer to take the mattress definitely would've stung his pride, but this isn't so bad. He balls up his bedding and tosses it her way, then gets the mattress worked off of the boxspring and onto its side before starting the arduous process of dragging it through the doorway and down the hall.

Where they will likely meet up with Connor again?

The answer to what time it is: not bedtime yet, but dark enough that they can settle down for now and not feel like old people. They'll meet up with Connor in the living room, but they'll get there first... in fact, they'll be able to get John's bed re-made in the interim, because Connor dressed after his shower and went to pull the comforter off his and Sophie's bed and froze, trapped back in the conversation that had only just ended. He winds up sitting on the bed, staring at his hands. They look the same, just like the rest of him -- some things change, some stayed, and he has no reason to believe that anything has changed between him and John. Which could be good or bad. Sophie's rarely wrong about these things, broken rib incidents notwithstanding.

He can't go back out there.

He has to go back out there. Or it'll be weird.

But it'll be really weird if he does go back out there now that he realizes.

"Shit." Connor runs his hands through his damp hair and sighs, shoulders heaving. "Come on, out." He grabs the comforter and pillows and heads into the living room, pointedly not dragging the mattress behind him with shadows. Both rooms in the apartment came with king sizes; one is enough. Because. Yeah.

Sophie is just standing up after tucking the sheets beneath the mattress when Connor emerges, and she turns to him, reaching out silent hands to take the pillows and pile them at the 'head' of the mattress as though this is nothing unusual. A pale slip of shadow squeezes his hand, attempting to be reassuring.

"Jo-- Py--" Sophie tries to start twice, realizes she has no idea what to call John, and then gives a little shrug. "He thought it was a good idea to stick together too. I think we're all due a nap."

"John."

He says it quietly, and without explanation. He'll correct anyone else in Asgard who sticks to the name he used to prefer as well. It's not conferring a privilege anymore; he's just digested what Sophie said about who he wanted to be and who others wanted him to be, and decided that his decision to stay here means that he isn't the mutant terrorist warrior who demanded the use of that name. Magneto said it was his real name, yes, but Magneto has come and gone many times over and John didn't choose to follow him. He makes his own choices now.

With a brisk flick of his arms, he spreads out his own comforter, then simply sprawls on top of it instead of climbing beneath. "No shit. I've never been this tired in my life." Not too tired to read the weird energy in the room, though, and his eyes are flicking back and forth between Connor and Sophie as he rolls onto his back. What's up?

A good deal of Connor's awkwardness disappears behind a broad smile when John quietly affirms his name... only to return when his friend flops onto the mattress and looks up at them. He knows... well of course he knows something, you're acting like a total freak.

"Yeah, that was a rough transition and you used a lot of energy," he chooses to address the tired factor and not the unspoken question. But then he folds and tosses their comforter down beside John, making it fairly clear that they intend to use his bed as well. And he sits in the 'middle' spot. "Nap?"

"John," Sophie agrees quietly, before Connor starts his spree of awkward. John may catch half an eyeroll before she settles down on Connor's other side, draping herself against his side and pulling the comforter up around herself. One of her arms slides around his middle, but it only rests there, palm stretched but not holding.

I'm right here, is what she means, but you two are going to have to figure this out.

"A nap would be nice."

"And you woke me up at 3 in the damn -"

He stops speaking rather abruptly, watches Connor climb onto his mattress and then Sophie follow. Okay, so they're sharing the bed, apparently? Not like it isn't big, but Connor's pretty close. And if John doesn't get off his own comforter and climb under it, they'll all be sharing one of those as well.

Never mind. Never mind the whole thing. Apparently it really is bonding time, and it's not like they're going to do anything but sleep. As long as Connor's not a sleep-cuddler.

"- morning. Yeah, a nap's fine, but don't wake me up if I sleep right through." He watches them for a moment longer, a wistful sort of look on his face as he thinks about how long it's been since someone held him like that, then settles more comfortably onto his back.

His eyes aren't closing yet.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject