Hank blinked and peered over Jamie's shoulder, at the notes he was making on a scrap of paper. They were supposed to be data notes, but mostly it consisted of eyes and smiles and cartoon Icemen. And the name "Bobby" written in different ways all over the paper.

Hank smothered his laugh and tapped Jamie on his shoulder.

"Hmmm?" the young man said, not really paying attention.

"Why don't you go get ready? I know you and Bobby have a date tonight, and I wouldn't want to make you late."

Jamie blinked. "If you're sure you don't need me," he said, looking around as if seeing the lab for the first time.

"I'm sure," Hank said, knowing that even if he did need Jamie, the young man was going to be pretty worthless. "Go."

Jamie nodded and stood up, leaving. He reappeared a moment later, took the lab coat off, hung it up with a sheepish grin and a dull blush, and left again.

Hank chuckled and turned back to his work.

Jamie perched on the pier rail and ate his ice cream, watching Bobby watch him.

The night had been wonderful. They'd gone to a hole-in-the-wall, completely casual little Italian restaurant. They'd talked about everything and nothing, all at once. Jamie hadn't been happier in days. Just being in Bobby's presence was like a balm, and he was able to forget the constant nagging and uncertainties in the back of his mind. He remembered why he had come with Bobby to the X-Men.

"Jamie," Bobby said, staring out over the water, "does it bother you that I'm six years older? I mean, that's not really a lot--but sometimes it seems like a lot." He looked up, his blue eyes questing.

Jamie froze, the question taking him by surprise. He licked his ice cream cone slowly, stalling for time. "What brought that subject about?" he asked after a moment, careful to sound casual.

Bobby frowned and lifted one shoulder in a shrug, looking back out over the ocean. "Your dupe. That whole thing this morning." He looked up again, blue eyes searching Jamie's face. "Does it bother you?"

Jamie hesitated. "No," he said finally, honestly. "It only bothers me if I think I'm bugging you or you think I'm too young or something."

Bobby grinned and turned around, leaning back against the rail. "It never bothers me. I never think you're too young," he said happily, sounding very relieved. "But after what happened ealier--"

Jamie frowned. He didn't like to think about that. He still didn't know why his dupes were acting so strangely. "Some part of me feels a little bit that way," he finally said, half frightened that Bobby would take his words the wrong way, "but it's a very little part. And I don't like that part."

Bobby stopped talking, and nodded slowly. "It's okay to be unsure, you know," he said. "I think everyone is about something."

Jamie smiled and looked at Bobby. The starlight dusted his hair, turning it the color of bleached seashells. "What are you uncertain about?"

Bobby laughed. "Oh, God," he sighed, smiling. "What *aren't* I uncertain about?" He stopped, and glanced up. "Well, that's easy. You. But as for things I'm uncertain about... every time we go into battle, I'm afraid that I'll do something wrong. I don't know what to do about my dad. I haven't spoken with him since the plane accident. I'm uncertain whenever I try and cook."

Jamie laughed.

"Is it half a tablespoon, or one to two tablespoons?"

Jamie rolled his eyes and shook his head, though his cheeks were still creased with dimples. Bobby was smiling when Jamie looked back down at him, and his heart stuttered into his throat, picking up the beat and leaping around maniacally. There was so much *love* in those bottomless blue eyes.

"We're gonna be late for our movie," Jamie murmured after a moment.

"Yeah," Bobby said, and blinked, looking away.

Jamie tore his own gaze away, looking out at the storefronts across the street.

"How long have we been going out, Jamie?" Bobby asked as Jamie jumped off the rail and started walking down the sidewalk.

Jamie had to stop and think about it. "We met over a month ago," he said at last, nodding and starting forward again. "Like, a month and a half." He stopped and laughed, looking at Bobby with a grin. "Almost two months ago!"

Bobby grabbed Jamie around his waist, swinging him in a full circle before kissing him soundly and releasing him.

Jamie laughed. "What was that for?"

"I'm glad you live close to me," Bobby answered simply. "Think maybe we could start seeing each other more?"

Jamie smiled a little, aware of how busy they'd both been lately. Gathering his courage and then summoning it all up, he reached out and took Bobby's hand in his. "I'd like that," he said softly, and was brave enough to lace his fingers through the other man's.

Bobby smiled in the starlight and tightened his grip. Jamie moved closer, and they walked down the street toward the theater hand-in-hand.

The mansion was dark when they got back. Jamie flicked on the lights, while Bobby checked his pager. It hadn't gone off, but maybe it'd been turned on sleep or something...

No, there was no emergency page.

"Here's a note," Jamie called from the kitchen.

Bobby walked through the door, pausing for just a moment to see Jamie standing, his green trenchcoat swirling about his black slacks.

"It says that Warren, Jean, Scott and Betsy went out to dinner. Hank's in the lab. Logan took his Harley and went 'riding.' Remy had a family emergency, and grabbed a flight down to Louisiana, and Rogue, Sam and Storm went flying together. Be back later."

Bobby blinked. Then he smiled. Jean had cleared the house for him, that little sneak. "Want popcorn?" he chirped. "Watch a movie?"

"We just saw a movie," Jamie laughed.

Bobby shrugged. "We could play cards. I'm not tired."

Jamie paused, cocking his head to one side as he considered, then nodded.

Bobby made popcorn. When he was done he headed out to the den, where Jamie was already sitting barefoot on the couch, legs folded Indian style. "Poker?" Jamie asked, smiling.

Bobby grinned. "Mm," he murmured approvingly.

The light from the only lamp that was turned on was shining on Jamie's black silk shirt, sending sparkles dancing and sliding across his chest. Deft hands dealt cards swiftly, then Jamie scooped up his own and leaned back against the couch.

Bobby folded himself into a cross-legged position, facing Jamie on the sofa, the cards on the cushion between them. "Same rules as before?"

Jamie laughed. "Yeah. Loser wins."

The first round went to Jamie, and Bobby pouted. "I think I should get a consolation prize," he said on a sigh.

Jamie laughed and leaned forward to kiss him.

Bobby had a hunch that that kiss was a lot more than Jamie had meant to give, and when the younger man pulled back he was slightly breathless. He cleared his throat three times before he was finally able to speak. "No more prizes for the losers," Jamie said, and sat back.

Bobby blinked. Damn. What a kiss. He cleared his own throat and tried to concentrate on his cards.

The next round went to him. He almost offered to give Jamie a kiss, and then decided it was probably a bad idea, the way he was feeling.

They played three more rounds before Bobby realized Jamie had been squirming. He watched closer, noted the other man kept rubbing at his neck and upper shoulders. "You okay?" Bobby asked finally.

Jamie flashed a brief smile. "Just a little sore."

"From what?" Bobby asked, knowing full well Jamie hadn't been in the Danger Room.

Jamie cringed. "Looking down at a microscope. Kills my neck. Hank keeps saying he's going to make better ones and get rich off it, but he says a lot of things." Jamie grinned, rolling his eyes upward.

Bobby smiled and stood, unfolding his long legs and watching Jamie's brown eyes snap down to look at him.

"What are you doing?" Jamie asked, craning his neck curiously to look at Bobby over his shoulder when Bobby crouched on the sofa behind him.

"Fixing those muscles," Bobby answered. He reached up and put his hands on either side of Jamie's neck, then half-frowned and made Jamie look straight ahead. Once the younger man was staying put, Bobby let his hands travel back to the shoulders and neck before him, feeling the tenseness there even beneath the green trenchcoat. "Gimme this," Bobby muttered, pulling the coat away and tossing it on the floor. "Now relax."

He thought he heard Jamie muttter, "That's gonna happen," but he wasn't sure. Bobby ignored it and applied himself to making those muscles release, smiling ten minutes later when Jamie finally relaxed completely and sighed.

"That's so much better," the younger man said, letting his head roll with the motion of Bobby's hands.

Bobby rubbed at a spot that was still tight, then ran his hands up Jamie's neck and into his scalp, checking for tense muscles. None there, so he brushed his hands down over that silk, over shoulders and then arms, and down Jamie's back. Unfortunately, Jamie was relaxed and no other knots needed to be worked out.

Bobby sighed, then couldn't help himself and sat forward to kiss Jamie's neck. Goosebumps rose on the younger man's tan skin, and Bobby grinned and kissed him again.

Jamie wasn't protesting. In fact, he was still leaning back into Bobby's hands. So Bobby kissed him again, on his jaw, and then bit his ear.

He turned around, smiled swiftly, and kissed Bobby back.

Bobby let his hands slide up Jamie's chest, over that black silk, and felt the other man do the same over his back. And then--wonder of holy wonders--there were hands *inside* his shirt, running over bare skin, and his heart picked up triple time while other places on him got even more excited.

Breathless, Bobby pulled away slightly to better get at Jamie's throat, which the other man encouraged by tipping his head back, and to better get at Jamie's ears, and his jaw, and his collarbones just beneath that teasing black silk, leaving teeth and tongue marks on it all. And then Jamie groaned. Bobby felt those hands stutter and tighten against his shoulders, and he found he couldn't reach nearly enough of the younger man.

Bobby's muscles were nearly shivering, and his breath--much like Jamie's from what he could hear--was coming hard in his chest. He pushed Jamie back--

And yelped as they both fell right off the edge of the couch in a tangle of limbs.

Bobby, sprawled on top of Jamie, whose legs were still on the couch, groaned and rested his forehead against Jamie's chest. He could hear the younger man's heartbeat, staccato, against his ribs. Then Jamie inhaled deepy and squirmed, trying to untangle his legs. Bobby muttered beneath his breath, lifting himself up until Jamie could free himself, then propping his upper body on his elbows, one on either side of Jamie's flushed face, and looking down.

"Is your head okay?" Bobby asked after clearing his throat, and realized his voice was still a lot hoarser than usual.

Jamie nodded wordlessly, looking slightly frustrated.

Bobby nodded. He licked his lips--watched, fascinated, as Jamie did the same. Such nice lips, those... and such a wonderful tongue, that... "Maybe I should check it," he said, all consideration for his possibly-hurt boyfriend.

Jamie nodded again.

Bobby cleared his throat, reminding himself that Jamie might be having second thoughts (oh God please no) and he should probably give the man a chance to back out... "So we could either have Hank check it in the medlab, or you could come with me back to my room, and we could check it there."

Jamie licked his lips again--oh Lord what an unconscious tease!--and said solemnly, "I think you should check it. In your room."

"You're sure?" Bobby asked softly.

Jamie nodded.

Bobby nodded in return and rolled off Jamie, then turned to help him to his feet. He kissed him again, and meant it to be fast, but somehow it didn't end up that way.

"Oh, Jesus," Bobby groaned into Jamie's mouth. "Upstairs. Up. Upupupupup."

Jamie nodded against him, chuckling, and the two men stumbled up the stairs--somehow managing to never quite break contact.

When Logan came home the mansion was still dark. There were lights on in the boathouse, and he could smell Warren, Scott, Jean and Betsy all within. Rogue, Sam and Ororo were still out, from the sound and smell of things.

Then Logan's eyebrows rose. Still from the smell of things, the boys had definitely come home.

He walked cautiously into the living room, able to smell the arousal in the air (and, dammit, what *that* did to his poor abused body!), then smiled grudgingly when he saw the trenchcoat on the floor, sitting guard with the popcorn, shoes, socks and scattered cards.

Logan sniffed the popcorn, found it unharmed, and ate a handful before glancing up the stairs.

There was a black silk shirt on the rail of the first landing. Up higher was a blue cotton shirt, piled on the floor. Logan didn't want to know what he'd find past that.

He picked up the popcorn, shoved the shoes, socks and trenchcoat to one side, swept the cards back into a neat pile, and flopped down on the sofa. With one hand he snatched up the remote from the floor, and with the other he cradled his appropriated snack. He flipped on the television, paused as his keen hearing caught a thump from upstairs, then sighed and turned the channel to something noisy. The boys weren't what his poor abused body needed to be listening to.

He woke up with the feeling of warmth, and love, and comfort. And slightly sore.

Jamie stretched, feeling soft flannel sheets slide over his body, and a soft feather pillow holding his head, and there was an arm slung over his ribs.

An arm slung over his ribs?

"Shhh."

Oh. Yeah. Jamie smiled and curled back into the warmth against him, feeling legs tangle with his own sleepily. "You're awake?" he murmured, eyes still closed.

"Mmm."

Jamie smiled. That was just how he felt, too. So he turned over, shoved his head up near Bobby's shoulder, wrapped his arms securely around that other form, and went back to sleep.

They slept most of the morning. It was eleven before Jamie felt Bobby get up. A moment later the bed sank, as if someone had just sat down on it.

"Jamie," Bobby whispered into his ear, warm breath stirring his hair. "Wanna shower?"

Jamie had to admit that it sounded tempting. But then, so did sleep. He decided the shower could wait, and kept his eyes closed.

"Wanna shower with me?" Bobby asked softly, and bit his ear.

Jamie shivered, and cracked one eye open. "Is there enough room?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"Yeah," Bobby chuckled.

Jamie shivered again when those teeth kept nipping at his ear, and then there was a tongue, and hot breath, and--

Jamie turned over and wrapped his arms around Bobby, pulling him over.

Bobby laughed as they landed in a heap on the bed together. "Is that a yes?" he asked, hands wandering.

"Mmm," Jamie answered, grinning.

*Well,* his mind chattered as Bobby got back up and pulled Jamie to his feet, *now you can honestly say you're lovers.*

And whatta way to lose your virginity. Jamie blushed just remembering it, but followed Bobby happily into the shower.

The showering took a lot longer than it normally did for either one of them.

"I was beginning to think you'd died in your sleep," Scott noted dryly as Jamie walked--shuffled, really--into the kitchen.

Jamie smiled and blushed. Scott glanced at Jean, who was trying to keep from laughing. She covered her mouth and left the room, leaving only Scott, Jamie, and Sam.

Scott blinked behind his wraparound glasses. "Is there something I should know?"

Jamie blushed even brighter. "No," he said, his voice rough. Scott wondered, briefly, what might have caused it. There wasn't any reason for Jamie to lose his voice that Scott knew of. Bobby and Jamie had gone to a movie, not a concert.

Jamie walked, head ducked, to the cupboard with the cereal. He got out Cocoa Puffs and two bowls, then poured one bowl with cereal and milk, leaving the other bowl filled with just cereal. He carried his breakfast--though really, it was lunch--to the kitchen table and sat, eating.

Scott eyed him. There was something here he should be catching... "What do you have on your neck?"

Jamie glanced down, pulled the collar of his black button-down shirt away, and tried to glare at his neck.

"It's like a rash," Scott said, walking over and looking himself.

Jean, composed now, walked back into the room. She almost started laughing again when she saw what they were looking at, and Scott glared at her. He really didn't see what was so funny about a rash.

"Maybe you should get Hank to look at that," he was saying. "Maybe you're allergic to something around here?"

"I don't think that's it, sweetheart," Jean said, her voice trembling on a chuckle.

Scott glared up at her. She wasn't helping. And she wasn't sharing through their link, either. "Then what do you think it is?" he growled.

Jean, still trying not to smile, came over to inspect Jamie's shoulder and neck. She swallowed hard. Opened her mouth. Was obviously about to start laughing, and so closed it again. She swallowed. Took a deep breath, and finally said, "Scott, dear, doesn't that look like *my* neck when you haven't shaved recently?"

Scott blinked at her. He didn't see what that had to do with--oh. He blushed brightly. "Uh, sorry Jamie."

Jamie had nearly buried his head in his food, and was red from clear down his chest--what they could see of it--up into his hairline.

Sam's mouth twitched, but he continued resolutely reading the paper.

"Tell Bobby to shave," Jean advised Jamie, eyes twinkling.

Head still ducked as far as it would go, Jamie nodded.

*Why didn't you tell me it was beard-rash, before I embarrassed the both of us?!* Scott hissed mentally.

~I'm sorry, sweetheart! I didn't know for sure, though! And, well, I didn't want Sam embarrassing himself then, by asking.~

Scott grumbled mentally, but didn't say anything else.

Ororo walked in, as regal as always. She went to the refrigerator and pulled out orange juice, pouring it into a tall glass. "Hello, Jamie," she said warmly. "How was your date last night?"

Jamie blushed bright red. "It was... um... good," he muttered into his cereal.

From behind the paper, there was a tiny muffled noise.

"Hey, guys!" Bobby chirped, walking into the room and looking considerably more awake than Jamie. "What's up?"

Sam dropped the paper and started laughing. His forehead thumped to the table, his shoulders shaking, his breath coming in gasps as he fought to control himself at least a little--and failed miserably. "What--what's up!" he laughed, tears running down his face.

Jamie slid lower in his chair. He was almost purple, he was so red.

Ororo lifted an eyebrow at Sam, whose face was buried in his arms.

"Ya'll didn't *see* the boys' wing last night!" Sam laughed into the table. He turned his head until his pale blue eyes met Bobby's deep ones. "You guys left ya clothes all ovah the floor!"

Scott's lips twitched.

Jamie was sliding down in his chair, and Scott was certain that at any moment he'd slide right off and fall on the floor. Bobby stepped forward, grinning impishly, and put his hands on Jamie's shoulders. Scott nodded mentally. Good boy. Jamie needed some support.

"We were having too much fun to pay attention to clothes," Bobby grinned. "Figured whatever guy was home first would pick them up for us. Are they in your room, Sam?"

"The--the laundry," Sam said through hiccuping laughter.

Scott moved forward just as Jean telepathically asked him to do something before Jamie fainted from embarrassment.

"Hey, Sam, I need to ask you a question or two about that last training session," Scott said, walking quickly and grabbing Sam's arm. With a heave he hauled the younger man to his feet, pulling him out of the room tripping and stumbling. Behind them, Sam's chair clattered to the ground.

"What's up!" Sam cackled, nearly in hysterics as Scott dragged him from the room.

Scott eyed him, trying not to laugh as they rounded the corner and continued, away from the kitchen and Jamie's embarrassment.

Sam was still laughing when Scott left him in the den to compose himself.