El Scorcho (twbasketcase) wrote,
El Scorcho

Prompt #08 - Notice

Title: Standby
Category: X-Force (V1.0 aka REAL X-Force)
Characters: Rictor, Shatterstar, Warpath, and Domino
Genre: Flufferiffic! I mean like SICKENINGLY fluffy.
Rated: R
Disclaimer: I own no characters portrayed in this story. But, don’t get me wrong, they really are gay and in love with each other. I promise they are.
Summary: Shatterstar’s on standby and gets to watch Rictor fight for a change. Takes place sometime after X-Force #61. This is rather pointless and has no plot. I just wanted to do a Julio-is-pretty fic since someone wrote a Star-is-pretty fic for me :D

A/N: This is dedicated to [info]betterthanlegos =P   

“Shatterstar, Domino, Warpath! You’re all on standby!”

“Great,” Domino mutters and re-holsters her weapons. The merc plops to the ground and rests her chin in her hand. “Figures he sends the newbs in to fight.”

Jimmy laughs. “It’s not so bad. At least we won’t be getting beat up today.”

“I do not get beat up,” I exclaim. And I do not like standby either whatever the circumstances may be. We may only be involved in a Danger Room exercise today, but that does not mean I enjoy sitting out on our training. I should be honing my skills and using them for improvement purposes, but Cable believes he should give the others a try.

He says that Domino, James, and I do not leave them much of a chance. However, I believe that they do not enjoy the fight as much as we do. It is a minor flaw they share, but I do not hold it against them; it leaves more room for me to show them what I can do. Besides, I have been told they enjoy the show.

“Sorry,” Jimmy grins at me and raises his hands in defeat. “Some of us do bruise, you know.”

I only snort at that; I do not have to worry about such markings on my body. For me, battle marks are gone within minutes. The only souvenir I receive from hard fought combat is that of pride and a boost in my confidence knowing that I am that much better. Still, a true warrior would take great satisfaction in donning such marks; they are like trophies of victory.

Yet my human friends do not see it in such a way. They see such marks as ugly, disgusting things that decrease the value of their appearances. I have gone as far as hearing them say that it means their fighting techniques are worthless.

Turning away from my squad, I approach the window pane of the observation deck and look down on my other teammates. Today they are to rely only on their hand to hand combat skills rather then their mutant abilities. Some of them like Siryn and DaCosta are actually quite gifted in the area, and do not even realize it.

However, some of them would be much better at such things if they did not let their silly emotions get in the way of their focus and concentration. My gaze settles on Julio as his fists continuously connect with a pair of hologram opponents. Sweat has hardly been broken yet, and already I can see him growing cocky. Often he starts out his programs very well, only to get frustrated when things take a different direction then he expects them to.

Julio really is a magnificent athlete and is in excellent shape. His physique is strong for his small frame, and he is not one of the mutants on our team who fails due to fatigue or exhaustion. Always he has a blaze in his eyes that burns. He wants to fight and release his anger and energy to take out on only deserving scum who threaten our existence. He is very noble in that sense that he only wants to fight for betterment and not for war and gratitude.

And yet I do not believe he really sees that honorable quality in himself. Many times he has spoken out about being an expendable member of our team; the one who can leave and not be missed. To him he is the ugly bruise that signifies the decreased value of our appearance.

He could not be more wrong.

To me this team is nothing without him. We may have fighters and powerful mutants. We may have honorable warriors with respectable skills, but they do not have the heart that he brings. He is the embers of burning flames -- passionate and wild for his beliefs and what he deems important. He is loyalty and brutal honesty, whether rude or not, and never at all cold. Many of my peers have lost the warmth of their hearts over the years, but the same could never be said of him.

Watching him move that way -- muscles working, body bending, sweat lining his skin -- he looks beautiful. Such a fighting spirit brings him an aura that draws me and I can never turn away. Not from the way his hair slaps across his forehead when he spins, not from the way his lips quirk when he gains the upper hand, and not at all from the silly banter and humorous threats he uses.

He is absolutely stunning this way, and it pains me that he does not realize it.

So much potential he has to be so many things, and yet still he is stuck in the role of the awkward teenager who cannot decide what he wants from one moment to the next. It is interesting, really, because he is so sure of me and everything that I can be on this planet. Such confidence is sincere when his eyes are on me, and the moment conversation is directed to him it is gone -- vanished without a trace.

And down in the danger room he begins to grow sloppy. The hologram gets a hold of his foot in the middle of a kick, and he is knocked to the ground. Normally in such instances he would use his phenomenal mutant abilities, but today he cannot. Like I predicted, the sudden turn of events has him grow angry, and through the glass of the pane I watch him curse and yell before throwing fists blindly.

I sigh and frown as he misses a hit; his fist was thrown too high. The hologram hits him in the chest. Julio stumbles but jumps back at it with his arms to his sides. The hologram senses the opening and aims for his face. He is struck in the chin first, then the nose, before finally it takes him out by the knees. This time he is finished and asked to leave the training area by Cable.

“Where are you going?” Jimmy asks as I turn toward the exit.

“I’ll return later,” I tell him and leave the observation deck to enter the hallway. As soon as I am out the door I hear the cursing, and I frown.

“That fucking asshole! Fuck!”

“Julio,” I sigh, and he spins around to face me. The fire is blazing in his eyes and his fists are clenched angrily at his sides. It takes everything inside of me not to smile at the sight; he would be rather annoyed if I did that.

“Fuck! Did you see that? It cheated!” he huffs and shakes his hair from his eyes. “No surprise I’m the first one booted though, eh? I just keep getting shittier and shittier, which is fucked! I can’t even--”

I slide my fingers across the sleek sweat on his forearm. His muscles are still tight and contracted and his body immediately responds to my touch. “Will you stop berating yourself? It is unnecessary.”

“So is that stupid fucking exercise!” he informs me. He is trying to look enraged, but the tone of his voice tells me he is feeling more disappointed than anything. “You know, if I was ever attacked on the street by some fat ass fucker I would just drop him in a crater so fast. Fuck that punching and kicking stuff.”

I nod. “Of course you would. Why risk the danger if you are able to end the battle immediately?”

“Yeah!” he shouts but then his face softens. “Wait! You agree?”

And that time I cannot stop the smile; it is a rare thing for me, but he manages to be responsible for it every time that it happens. “Yes, Julio. You’re smart enough to determine the most effective battle strategy in the heat of the moment; I don’t doubt that.”

His hand rises to catch mine from the curve of his elbow, and that tiny quirk of a smile appears on his lips. “Stop it; I’m trying to be angry.”

Just like that his mood flips; another quality about him I find so frustratingly intriguing. “But you are not anymore.”

He fights against the smile, but eventually leans in and presses his face against my neck. “I hate you.”

I roll my eyes and stroke the damp locks of his hair. “You lie about that too.”

“Smart ass.”

I smile, loving the sound of his voice. “I could say the same about you.”

He pulls away and gives me one of his smirks. “Yeah maybe, but I think you love it.” He pauses and twirls his finger through a strand of my hair. “Secretly,” he adds.

“What’s not to love? I love everything about you, Julio.”

He frowns. “Lot’s of stuff.”

And once again, just like that, his mood flips. And once again that insecurity shines through, and it makes me want to shake some sense into him. Why can he not see what I see? I would give the world for him to be able to, and maybe just once it would make him open up and be himself -- and be okay with who he is.

I don’t say a word in reply; it’s not a conversation we need to have again because we have had it many times. Instead, I lean toward him again and press my lips against his, reassuring him with my touch. Nothing he can say will make me change my mind. Every time I look at him I see everything I love and that is all I need.

“I think I need a shower,” he laughs as he pulls away. “I probably smell like ass.”

I simply roll my eyes and walk with him down the hall. “That is an unpleasant smell,” I watch him sideways for his reaction. “You smell bad, but not that bad.”

He shoves my arm and laughs. “I guess I better do something about that then if even you say its bad.”

“You say that as though it is awful coming from me compared to the others.”

“Only because your opinion is more important,” he mutters.

That brings a swell of happiness and gratification to me. When he says such things it makes me feel emotions I had once never thought I would be able to feel. I am thankful everyday that he allowed himself to open up to me, and when he makes such declarations I become only prouder to be his. It amazes me that one person can hold me in such high regard.

Especially when I view that person well and above everyone and everything else.

“To be honest Julio you could smell any way at all and I would not complain.”

He snorts. “You lie.”

“If only it makes you happy,” I tell him seriously.

And that perfect smile crosses his full lips again as he blushes behind a curtain of dark hair. “You sap.”

“Shut up, Julio.”

“Never, compadre!” he bellows, before playfully smacking me and taking off down in hall with a laugh. I shake my head and stand back to watch him. He continues to holler his humorous babble, and I know he would not shut up no matter how many times I asked him to.

And never would I truly want him to; I would not change a thing about him.

Tags: fanfic, prompt; ricstar100, ste
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