His ma used to scold him to remove his shoes when entering his home; he makes visitors to his room/art studio do the same
He can tie a cherry stem with his tongue
He knows what DND is. He has played it before. People assume he is clueless about it, so he never gets invited to play.
If he knows you, he has given you a nickname
His first and favorite stuffed animal was a whale named Vspleska
He gets upset playing "evil" playthroughs of games
He very seldomly can sleep in a bed meant for a man his size: he makes up for this with an overabundance of pillows and blankets
He sucks at The Floor is Lava. Others think it's on purpose, to make kids laugh, but no. He just really sucks. (He's scared of breaking furniture)
It's obvious when he doesn't like food that he's eating because he gets a deep grimace on one side of his face. He'll still finish it, because manners dictate that he clean his plate
His sense of humor is incredibly niche and weird, and he was raised with farmer stoicism. It is nigh-impossible to get him to belly laugh-- consider yourself lucky if you've heard that sound.
He doesn't kill bugs, he puts them outside.
He loves fruity and colorful drinks, Starbucks beverages that are ghost-pale with sweetener. Yes, he does place orders under his hero codename. No, he isn't bothered if he's teased about it.
Yo, I'd love some SFW headcanons for Colossus. You're the Queen of the Spank Bank, no doubt, but I really want to know your non-thirsty thoughts about our metal husband! :D
I accept my designation as Queen of the Spank Bank with true pride. I can defs handle non-thirsty thoughts! ❤
— — —
1. He really, really loves when you workout with him, and not just because it’s fun watching you workout in tight pants. He loves the bonding experience, loves spotting you and cheering you on. It’s pretty cathartic to get sweaty and gross together.
2. He’s a freakin’ awesome cook. Running low on food? That’s cool - he’ll grab whatever’s left in the pantry and make you the best meal you’ve ever had, even if it looks like none of the ingredients work together.. He’s excellent at making something from nothing.
3. He lives for breakfast with you. He’ll make you coffee in the morning (he drinks tea instead) and set it out for you. He’ll even make you pancakes if you ask really nicely (otherwise breakfast is probs bacon and eggs).
4. He gets up super early, so he doesn’t always stay the night with you. Waking you makes him feel bad, but he’ll stay if you ask.
5. Even when he stays the night with you, you end up having to sleep on the edge of the bed. He runs hot - it’s like he’s just radiating heat. And he’s snugly, so it’s hard to get away from him. You sleep naked so you don’t overheat.
6. Yeah, he’s a worrywart. You tease him about it. He takes it in stride, but he’s not going to stop. You’re his heart, so he’s always going to worry.
Obligatory Thirsty HC:
7. He may not always be able to stay the night, but he’s definitely taking a shower with you in the morning, especially if you do your morning without with him. It’s a great way to get the day started. It can be nice and relaxing - a good, easy way to wake-up. It can be a little more fun than that - a slow, easy fuck up against the wall. All good ways to set you on the right path for the day.
Do you have hadcanon/ theories about Colossus when he first arrived at the mansion? Like: Do you think he was (extremely) homesick? Was he ostracised because he was from the soviet union in america?
Ooh, I do have some headcanons, though I must say, the answer to the two questions posed are actually more canon than headcanon.
Piotr was homesick often, he was always talking fondly of home and wanting to return and show it to his friends.
Which is important granted this second fact: Colossus was created as a character during a time when America had excessively negative and tumultuous relations with the countries in the Soviet Union. The creation of the All New, All Different team was what heralded the X-Men series' arrival in a new age, one that was more accepting, casting doubt on old comic tropes.
Colossus DID face some amount of prejudice for being from Russia. The fact that he loved his homeland but also wasn't a villain was pretty revolutionary at its time.
All that to say, if I ever seem over-protective of the properties created in the All New age, this is part of the reason. I hate it when people roll their eyes at these characters and undersell their importance.
Haaaah, moving on... for more personal headcanons...
When Piotr first came to America, he instantly fell in love with the music. Though he isn't the most up to date, he also got into pop culture, especially with help from his friends (especially Kurt! Who got him into Tolkien and Star Wars).
He wasn't used to overly sweet foods. It was pretty bad those first few days and took some getting used to. Lots of stomach aches and discomfort.
Another thing that took getting used to was just being in a city. It's claustrophobic! It's too fast-paced! The buildings are all dizzying heights! The air? Smells. Makes it hard to breathe. It's loud! Some of those things would end up feeling like home to him, though.
He missed farming. Like, A LOT. In those early days, there wasn't a farm around. He tried to scratch the itch with yardwork and housework. He'd usually be the first to hop up and do chores, because he got restless.
When he was really down and out, like being homesick, acclimating to America, not fitting in, or reeling with the X-drama of the day, he wouldn't do anything. He would just go quiet and stare off. This was usually fixed by shoving a tool in his hand and telling him to get to work.
He, of course, called all of his friends 'friend' 'brother', 'sister', what have you. Lots of nicknames, lots of affection. He was instantly attached to each and every single one of them.
Here's a fun game to play, hunt down panels where the X-Men call each other family, then look at the ones where they hurt each other or watch each other get tortured. It's painful!
Summary: Wade decides that sixteen years of mutual pining is long enough. He's appointed himself your new wingman, and he's the best in town (or so he likes to think). Or, how the compound effort of Wade Wilson and total romantic frustration gave way to getting exactly what you've been waiting for.
Chapter 1: Suzanne
Part 2
Author’s Note: This is part one of a 5-part series. I’d like to tell you that this is something other than the introduction to a ton of smut, but that’s exactly what this is. Chapter title is Suzanne by Leonard Cohen.
You stepped off of the X-Jet onto the manicured green lawn of the X-Mansion and breathed deeply, struck by sweet relief and a feeling of inner peace that only comes from stretching your legs after being squeezed into a cubicle for eighteen hours. The mansion was just far enough away from the city that the fumes and funk from the crowded streets didn’t quite reach the immaculate stonework. Even better, there was no smoke, no fumes, no filtered air from the X-Jet vents - just clean, cold October air that smelled faintly of cut grass and sunshine. For that, you were exceptionally grateful.
Mostly because you were tired of smelling everyone else’s stank on the cramped X-Jet, but, you know, small favors.
As you stepped off of the ramp and onto the impeccable grass, it finally hit you that today was your Retirement Day, all caps, fanfare trumpeting in the background. Sixteen years of jetting around the globe and cleaning up everyone else's shit had led to this final, glorious day. In your line of work, sixteen years without a full-on mental breakdown was a major win.
As reigning HBIC of Professor Xavier's cleanup crew, you’d seen a lot of messes over the years that would have left anyone feeling hollow inside - kind of like your guts had been scooped out and dumped on the ground. The scenes were always ugly. You were the one running off to go coordinate transports of rogue mutants to holding facilities or clean up the bodies left behind from a particularly ugly villainous rampage. Those were your everyday, small-scale chores. The large-scale mass tragedies were the catalyst that really forced your retirement.
Your duties weren’t limited to your obligations to the X-Men - you cleaned up behind everyone. You’d dealt with the fallout from everything the Avengers had ever touched: you'd disposed of the alien corpses after the battle in New York, scoured Sokovia for salvageable lives, cleaned up after Thanos. You'd cleaned up behind all of Dr. Doom’s rampages and Magneto’s tantrums. Everywhere you'd been sent was overrun by the kind of wreckage that left an everlasting mark on your brain. And these mass impacts had only been occurring more and more often lately.
The aftermath of your Last Hurrah as a trademarked Active Duty Hero was bittersweet. There would be a fun party that night with everyone who wasn’t on some covert mission in attendance. Your team had come home with you, and your friends were waiting. They'd make you a cake and pour you a beer and maybe, just maybe, coerce you out into the city for a night of fun. There would be streamers with “Happy Retirement!” written on them, obviously meant for someone much older than yourself. Everyone would congratulate you for sixteen years of impeccable conduct and efficacy.
And tomorrow you would wave your team off on their next task - a task they would complete without you. You’d already chosen your replacement, a new graduate with the power to microwave the air around whatever she targeted. The girl had only been part of your team for a year, but she had great leadership skills and showed real promise. You had confidence in her for sure, but confidence in her abilities wasn't enough to help you sleep at night.
You'd come to find out that passing the torch was much harder than you’d been led to believe. While you had no reason to be unsure of your choice, you had a major problem with relinquishing control. Seriously, it had taken sixteen years for you to decide that enough was enough and you were tired of cleaning up every nasty scene imaginable. You weren't the kind of person who just let shit go.
Nevertheless, you'd finished your last active mission and made it home safely, no worse for wear and no more traumatized than before you left. You'd have to figure out how to handle it on your own time.
The welcoming committee stood off to the side of the small airfield. There were friends and mentors crowding the field, Professor X and the like. Some people you were only acquainted with, like Wade and his buddies. And while you enjoyed seeing each and every one of them, you were only looking for one person in particular - and he wasn’t difficult to find.
Colossus stood head and shoulders above the crowd, the tallest of the tall. He'd taken time away from his duties that day to welcome you home. Not that you expected any less - you’d been friends since you arrived at the mansion twenty years ago. He’d already “retired” from active duty himself, nearly six years earlier than you, if you remembered correctly. Said he liked teaching more than beating the shit out of people. Since he was going to be the one teaching you how to be a teacher, you were going to see firsthand if that was actually true.
Your team disembarked from the jet in a steady wave of mutants. They were the weirdest of the weird - graduates whose powers weren't optimal choices for task teams or active combat but were still “active” abilities. At its heart, your team was a squadron of people who could decimate wreckage or do something weird enough to make disposing of ickiness a little easier. You, as the leader of this squadron of weirdos, must have had the weirdest skill-set of all.
Your former team (that would take some getting used to) mingled in with the group on the airfield, hugging and high-fiving, yelling greetings and (playfully) rude comments. You stopped to greet Professor X, but that was where the fanfare for you ended. You systematically squeezed past everyone separating you from Colossus and, upon reaching him, grabbed him in a tight hug, much to his embarrassment. (He wasn’t great with public displays of affection - never had been.)
Behind them, Wade howled like a hyena.
You stepped away from Colossus, staring sheepishly at the ground, at the same time he stepped away from you. He stared at his feet, which meant that he was still pretty much staring down at you since he was a good foot and a half taller than you. You’d meant to embarrass him on purpose, not really taking into account that your face would probably turn red, too.
Colossus gave you a short once-over, almost too quickly to notice. You smoothed out the creases in your suit, feeling quite self-conscious. You hadn't thought about how you must look returning from a mission before you'd stepped off the jet - probably disheveled, a little ruffled, like you needed a good week of sleep and a hot shower. He, on the other hand, was impeccably clean in his uniform, gleaming chrome in the late morning sun and rippling with muscle. You could have drooled just looking at the line of his forearms, but he was simply too shiny to get a good look at.
He straightened up and stood up a little taller, trying to maintain a look of composure. “Welcome home!”
You tried to mirror his composure and found it to be too troublesome. You were tired and there were too many people crowding around. Wouldn't this be so much better if it were just Colossus welcoming you home instead of this unending crowd of people?
You knew it sounded forced, but you said it anyway. “I’m glad to be home for good this time!”
Colossus raised a glinting silver eyebrow. “Are you really?”
Sometimes he knew you a little too well. You couldn't truthfully tell him that you were ready to come home - just that it was time to come home. Really home - not living in a constant state of perpetually ready to leave at a moment’s notice, not waking up with the sounds of explosions or falling wreckage, not squished into a tiny box on the X-Jet or sleeping on a cot in a safehouse somewhere. You knew where your three square meals were coming from, where you would be sleeping at night when you had to wake up in the morning. You had weekends off now. Getting used to it was just going to take time.
Colossus sensed your apprehension but didn’t comment, though you could practically hear him thinking we'll talk about this later. You forced a grin. “It’s time to come home.”
“If you’re sure…” he replied, still incredulous. Yeah, he was going to make you talk about your feelings.
“I’m sure.”
He was obviously unsatisfied with your answer. “In any case, I’m glad you’re home."
Desperate to talk about anything else other than being home, you changed the subject. "Are we still meeting later?"
He'd mentioned in a mission brief that he wanted to meet to talk about your first day of teacher training. You suspected that it was more so a cover-up for his responsible adult questions about your mental health so that he could assess you before your retirement party. You appreciated that Colossus cared and made you talk about things, of course, but it didn’t change the fact that feelings were hard to talk about. Especially with him - it always seemed to be harder to show vulnerability with someone who truly cared.
He brightened. "Yes! After you settle in, of course."
"How about you come to get me after I take a nap?" you laughed. "You haven't given my room away, have you?"
"Your room is exactly as you left it," Colossus replied, just a little quieter than usual. He shifted and seemed just on the verge of saying something else, but instead, he said, "I'm sure you would rather get to bed than stay out here. Come!"
Colossus ushered you towards the mansion where everyone seemed to finally be meandering. You knew you couldn’t leave to go to your room just yet - still too many people to greet. You'd do absolutely anything to get in the shower and take a nap. Your shower sang a promise of warmth, and your bed called to you louder than any siren song, the promise of rest and safety like a hymn drifting down from your third-floor room. Maybe you could just fuck off and no one would notice...
As you stepped past the threshold of the mansion, you felt Colossus' hand on your shoulder. He leaned down close to your ear, and you fought back a shiver.
"Go. I will make an excuse for you," he said, nudging you gently towards the stairs.
You clapped your hands over your heart. "My hero."
You would swear on your life that he smiled his soft smile at that, but you'd already leapt onto the first stair and run out of sight.
Colossus was right - your room was exactly as you left it. Pillows arranged in a simple pattern at the head of the bed, navy blue comforter clean and unwrinkled. A desk was shoved into one corner, old and creaky but well-loved. An equally ancient dresser situated up against the wall, the dark wood cracking and hardware knobs oxidizing. You'd left a spare uniform on a chair next to the dresser and a stack of blankets neatly folded at the foot of your bed. Your bathroom door was wide-open, calling to you like a prayer.
You stripped down and turned on the water to let it heat up. You showered longer than you ever had, letting the scalding water beat down on your head and rinse shampoo suds out of your hair. When you were acceptably clean and shriveled up like a prune, you finally got out. The water had started to run cold anyway. You wrapped up in a towel, laid down on your bed, and before you knew it, you were out cold.
----- ----- -----
You awoke an hour later to a knock at your door. Your hair was still wrapped up in a towel as you searched for a bathrobe (you could have sworn you left that on the chair instead of your uniform). You could pretty much guess who was at the door, so the desire to stay mostly undressed was pretty intense. Nevertheless, you covered up so that you could at least appear to be a presentable excuse for a human being.
You opened the door to find - who else - Colossus. He made a pointed effort not to stare down at you in your robe and wet hair. Not that you minded if he did. You'd have answered the door naked if you weren't afraid he'd run away.
"Sorry - just woke up."
He shifted, looking a mite uncomfortable. “I will be down in the kitchen whenever you are ready.”
You nodded, inching the door closed. “I’ll get dressed and be right down.”
Colossus started making his way down the hall. He called back over his shoulder, “I will make tea.”
“Coffee for me, please!” you called after his retreating back. You peeked out after him and watched him walk away. Man, his ass looked great in those pants.
“It will be decaf!”
“I want real coffee, Piotr!”
He might have replied to you, but you'd closed the door already. You grabbed the closest clean pair of pants and shirt that you could find. The clothes you grabbed may have been workout clothes, but after weeks and weeks of wearing your uniform, anything else was better than your uniform. And you’d make an attempt to look nice for the party tonight since everyone would be there - one person in particular, of course.
Speaking of that particular person, you scurried out of your room to join him down in the kitchen, locking your door behind you.
As you walked through the halls, you passed by the residents of the mansion milling around the dorm halls. Some you knew, but most were foreign to you. Your friends were either off on missions or had left the mansion a long time ago. Some were dead, memorialized on the walls. The few who had chosen to stay at the mansion were teachers now or stationed at a base far, far away.
The kitchen was on the first floor, just off to the side of the main hall. It had been remodeled, you remarked offhandedly as you sat down at the table. Colossus hunched over the new stove, fussing over the teakettle and a pair of mugs. The coffee pot next to him hummed and dripped black gold into the pot. Next to the coffee pot, the bag of coffee (not decaf!) was still open.
Colossus grabbed the mugs and sat down in front of you; his chair squeaked in despair but held steady. He passed your mug off to you. “I found some regular coffee you left last time you were home.”
“And here I remember you scolding me for drinking coffee so late in the afternoon,” you teased. You took a healthy sip from the scalding mug - thankfully, hot temperatures didn’t bother you (thanks, mutation). "Why the sudden change of heart?"
“I suspect that the party tonight will last much longer than anticipated,” Colossus replied, smirking. He blew on his mug of tea and took a ginger sip, grimacing. Unlike you, scalding temperatures sucked for him. “Your team makes a habit of partying until dawn.”
“Hey, we clean up dead bodies,” you said. You’d downed almost half the mug already and decided it was probably better to sip for the rest of the meeting. “Work hard, play hard.”
"They learned it from you," Colossus hummed. He sat his mug down. As suspected, he had an ~adult conversation~ planned. “You do not seem excited to be home.”
“Oh, no, I’m happy to be home,” you insisted. Your fingernails were suddenly more interesting than anything else in the room, particularly the man looking at you like a stray puppy. “It’s just hard to let go.”
“Adjusting to a less stressful situation is not easy, but you will have teaching to occupy your time and that’s certainly stressful,” Colossus agreed. His hand twitched as if he meant to stop you from peeling off your cuticles until your fingers bled, but he kept his hands on his tea mug. “And you have me - I have been through this already. Everyone in the mansion is your family, and we are all here for you.”
“I’ll adjust,” you replied shortly.
“And you know if you need to talk about it…”
“You know you’re the first person I’ll run to,” you said softly, cutting him off. You sat up straighter in your chair and took another sip of coffee. “Enough with the counseling session, today is supposed to be a happy day! Let’s talk about teaching!”
Colossus eyed you thoughtfully but conceded. “We will go over the lesson plans in detail later. You will start by teaching the middle-grades age group beginning next week. I want you to teach the little ones, but they are a bit rowdy and I don’t want to scare you away from teaching on your first day.”
“I can handle whatever you throw at me.”
“You will also be assigned a trainee,” Colossus continued. “I have not finalized who will be assigned to you, but I have a solid idea.”
“Anyone I know?”
"I do not think so," he hummed. “She arrived while you were gone last time. She has similar abilities and a similar temperament. It is likely she will be assigned to cleanup upon graduation.”
“So, I’ll be training my replacement?” you asked, eyebrows raised.
Colossus looked away, sheepish. “It was not intentional, but yes.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
You pushed your mug away after draining the last bit of coffee. Colossus always kept a bag for you in the pantry, but you were pretty sure he didn’t know you knew. You knew you hadn’t left a bag of your regular brew behind - a bag of coffee grounds was one of the first things that went into your luggage. Hell, you’d started bringing your own coffee pot onto the X-Jet because your team would throw hands over the coffee pot.
“I will come and check on you periodically,” Colossus said. “But I expect that you will be fine. Do you have any questions?”
You’d have questions when you actually started teaching, but you didn’t at that moment. Really, you just wanted to sit at the table and talk to him. Not about your feelings or teaching - just talking.
“No questions,” you replied. “Not about teaching, at least. You are coming to the party tonight, right?”
“I would not miss it!” Colossus said. He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, grinning proudly. “I made the cake. And helped decorate.”
You laughed. “Of course, you did.”
“I am glad that you are home,” Colossus said simply, “and I wanted to be the one to welcome you back. Also, the cake is chocolate.”
“It’s not that protein cake stuff you made last time I was home, is it?”
“No," he smirked. "We will have plenty of time for protein cake after training tomorrow.”
You paled. “You’re not leading the workout, are you?”
Colossus could never be described as sinister. Intimidating, maybe. Scary, sometimes. But never sinister. Yet, his answering grin toed that line. “What better way to welcome you back than by leading your first workout?”
You could think of several ways to welcome you back that were better than suffering through one of Colossus’ workouts, naming locking him in your bedroom with you. You guessed that he was probably on the same page, but he wasn’t going to say it.
As long as you’d been friends, you’d been back and forth with the unspoken thing - that stupid mutual attraction that neither of you addressed because your respective lifestyles were explosive and hectic. Once Colossus had retired from missions, the unspoken thing had gotten more intense - a pining for you that you could sense without him saying it. It had gotten worse for you, too. It’s just that you weren’t ready to come home - until the day that you decided it was finally time.
Basically, last week. Damn your stubbornness.
“You’re going to run me into the ground before my first day,” you whined, though it was half-hearted.
“Tough workout is good for you!”
“Right, okay,” you replied. You stood up, grabbed both empty mugs, and marched to the sink. “I’m gonna go get ready for this wild party.”
"Leave the dishes. I'll get them."
"Too late - I beat you to it."
----- ----- -----
You'd never seen your name written this many times. Everything had your name scrawled on it. The streamers hanging from the ceiling, resplendent black and gold, all spelled out your name and “Happy Retirement!” Your cake spelled out your name in Colossus’ careful block lettering. Even the wrapping paper on the handful of gifts in the center of the table spelled out your name (how the hell did they find that?). You really weren’t thrilled about the “retirement” part, but you could deal with it for the rest of the night.
You were greeted by a round of screaming and applause as soon as you walked down the stairs, started by none other than your own rowdy team. They'd already been drinking and had probably started as soon as the jet landed. The younger X-Men joined in, mostly just looking for a reason to cut loose and cheer. Your older friends joined in, much more subdued than the rest, but much more sincere with their claps on the back and gently pointed age jokes. Colossus’ team, headed up by the Man of Steel himself, presented you with a giant slice of cake and an even larger can of beer.
You knew your face must have been red from all the attention, but as soon as you dug into the cake and chugged half your beer, the embarrassment started to fade. The attention was awkward, but this was your party for your retirement, and damn it if you weren’t about to have a good time. You’d always enjoyed a good party, and that night was as good as any to get splendidly plastered with your team after a job well done.
You were two sheets to the wind in when Wade Wilson handed you your third can of beer. He, like most of the people in attendance, had elected to wear his uniform (you had chosen not to - you had to retire your current suit anyhow). He was wet from where he’d spilled beer all over the fake leather.
“I say we do shots after Shiny Jesus goes to bed for the night,” Wade cheered, offering his drink in a toast.
“Sounds like a plan to me!” You tapped his can in toast and took a long drink. “You’d never believe it, but he can out-drink everyone here. Shots go down for him like water.”
“You’re shitting me!”
You shook your head. Bad idea. The world spun topsy-turvy and took its sweet time before it righted itself. “Nope. I convinced Logan to smuggle me a bottle of straight vodka for my eighteenth birthday. Couple hours in, Kitty and I were puking in the corner - man, I got sick that night - and Piotr was still taking shots with frickin’ Wolverine like it was nothing.”
“That Colossus? Giant metal boy scout?” Wade stared, slack-jawed, over at Colossus, who was picking at the greens on his plate (not a single dessert in sight). “What happened? And what do I have to do to get him to cut loose like that?”
You shrugged. “If you figure it out, lemme know. I think that was the last time I’ve ever seen him do that - not that either of us has really been home long enough at the same time to party like that. He’s always been so responsible. I mean, I’m responsible too, but he’s just cut from a different cloth.”
Which was true. You had your irresponsible moments, but for the most part, you had your shit together. You couldn’t remember a time when Colossus had been anything less than poised and organized.
Wade leaned against the wall next to you. He had to be at least a full case in already. “So, uh, does he know?”
“I assume you’re talking about my feelings," you snorted. "Can’t imagine why people keep talking to me about that - it’s not like I’m an emotional disaster right now or anything. Yeah, he knows. He’s always known. It’s mutual.”
Wade paused. “And why are you not,” he gesticulated wildly, like he was working through some weird, cosmic math problem, “a thing? Like, why are you down here at this party instead of getting the Metal D?”
“Kind of hard to be a thing when you’re never home at the same time,” you replied, glancing over to where Colossus had set up camp. He was currently entertaining Professor X and a younger X-Man that you didn’t know, still stabbing at the salad on his plate. “Or only home for a couple of days at a time.”
“You know what you should do?” Wade asked, a sparkle in his eye. He chugged the last of his beer, crushed the can against his head, and tossed the garbage off into the corner.
“I have a feeling I know where this is going…”
“Sneak away, take the Tin Man upstairs, and get a real homecoming,” Wade said like it was some fantastic revelation or a particularly scandalous secret. “And if you get loud, we’ll all pretend tomorrow that it was the guy with the pigeon wings.”
You laughed. “I’m not opposed to the idea, but I’m pretty sure he’s not gonna go for that.”
“You won’t know unless you try!”
“Except I do know,” you replied, idly watching the way Colossus' muscles bulged every time he flexed his arms. “I think he thinks I’m going to run off on a mission and be gone by morning. It’s going to require finesse to show him that I’m home for good.”
“In that case,” Wade pushed off from the wall and draped his arm around your shoulders. He reeked of cheap cologne and trashy beer. “I hereby offer my services as your wingman, and hearing no objections, appoint myself to the position.”
Wade stuck out his hand for you to shake.
You peered down at his leather-bound hand. Wade was still something of an anomaly to you, but he seemed invested. Goofy and mildly annoying as he was, he obviously meant well. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to have a little help…
Summary: Wade decides that sixteen years of mutual pining is long enough. He’s appointed himself your new wingman, and he’s the best in town (or so he likes to think). Or, how the compound effort of Wade Wilson and total romantic frustration gave way to getting exactly what you’ve been waiting for.
Chapter 3: I’m on Fire
Author’s Note: From here on out, it’s smut and good feelings and a little bit of angst. But really, if you’re reading this, you already know.
Sixteen years, you'd imagined this moment. No, really, perhaps it was closer to twenty years. Honestly, you couldn't remember a time when you'd been anything but head over heels for fucking Piotr Rasputin.
Fourteen years old - sent to the mansion for causing an electrical shortage that put out power to half your tiny town. No one to talk to, no one to go with you to the mansion. And he shows up to guide you through the school, show you around. He said he got stuck as the welcoming committee, but he was glad that he did.
Sixteen years old - a silly thing, jaded without reason, surly and altogether adolescent. You'd convinced Colossus to follow you and Kitty out to the forest behind the mansion after curfew and gotten the three of you in such deep shit. He took the blame, but everyone knew it was your idea. You'd been so reckless, had such a disobedient streak - sometimes you couldn't believe anyone had ever let you be in charge of anything.
Eighteen - sodden, drunk, laughing at Kitty for drunkenly falling in the lake while Colossus took shot after shot with frickin' Wolverine, who you'd somehow convinced to smuggle you a bottle of vodka. You'd gotten sick near the end of the night, vaguely remembered falling in the lake and being plucked out of the icy-cold water by large, silver hands. You'd never seen him touch another drop of alcohol.
And about five minutes after you'd turned eighteen, you'd been assigned to your duties and effectively ripped away from a future that could have already started. Maybe you were partly to blame for that - you could have asked to be transferred to a different task team after five years of your cleanup assignment. But you were stubborn and relentless, and your powers were good for fuck-all else than mopping up wreckage and your personality only good for wiping up everyone else's mess.
But here you were, sixteen years to the day you'd left home, ripping off Piotr frickin' Rasputin's pants like it was a goddamn race to see who could get naked faster.
You don't know how many times you'd imagined this over the years: Colossus, in your bedroom, hands sprawled out across your back, touching and tugging and tearing at you, ready to do nothing short of wear your ass out. How many times had you woken up from a dream only to realize it was a dream - that you would have to take care of it yourself. How long had you been pining daydreaming fantasizing? In every different scenario, every dark corner and bright place in your little reptilian brain - you'd agonized and brutalized trying to decide on what this would be like.
You'd always suspected tenderness - gentle hands, rocking hips, flushed skin and awkward giggles. You'd finish and wake up next to him, damp and doe-eyed and drowsy with unbidden lust - all that romantic crap.
This… was not that. This was better.
Tenderness was laughable, gentleness altogether forgotten. There would be time enough for tenderness later, maybe in the morning after you'd gotten all you could take and were just jonesing for the cherry on top. A long, drawn-out affair, capped off by sweet words and chills down your spine.
But this was so much better.
This was heat. This was desperation. This was his teeth on your neck and your tongue in his mouth and your nails down his back, nerve endings scorched and flayed open by sheer need. This was the accumulation of two decades of absolute want, wanton desire, and pained frustration. This was long nights wondering if you'd come home a broken mess, if he'd make it home from his mission, if his last soft message would be his last to you. This was anger - that you'd kept running off on mission after mission. This was sheer elation that he'd made it to your bed - and that your bed would be the only one he'd sleep in again.
Stitches popped as he pulled your shirt over your head and threw it into the corner as if it personally offended him. You refused to detach yourself from him long enough to let him get your pants off - you dropped them yourself.
"Off - this needs to come off," you commanded, tugging at his shirt. He fumbled, jerking his shirt up over his head. You run your hands along the hard planes and lines of his chest, the softness of his stomach, and wrap your arms around his neck. "Bed, please."
He scooped you up into his arms and you swooned. Thank fuck for superstrength.
Colossus dropped you on the bed (gently) and stepped between your legs. You clutched at his belt, unlooped it from his waste, and dropped it to the floor with every other scrap of clothing. His pants and underwear were next, leaving him totally bare. He was all thick, bulging muscles; softness around the waist; strong chest and arms; and clear, unfiltered desire. His cock hung heavy between his thighs, and you would have drooled if it wouldn't have been totally gross.
You silently thanked whoever was listening in the Great Upstairs for this gift of a man.
You pulled him down to your level, arms around his neck, and all but hauled him onto the bed on top of you. He hovered carefully, taking absolute care not to squish you. Nevertheless, that's where the gentleness ended. You'd coaxed out all the desperation and raw hunger he held in his body, and you were very much pleased with the result.
You had never been one to let someone toss you around. You preferred to give the orders and be the one in charge. That hadn't changed and wouldn't, not even for this man. But this was no time to dwell on the intricacies of the ebb and flow of power; you needed him like you'd never needed another human before. Tenderness and an equal exchange could come later - now, you just needed him.
Colossus kissed you, cupping your chin in his hand. With one arm, he held himself steady so as to keep his weight off of you. With the other arm, and without breaking the kiss, he slid his hand down to your waist to pull you in closer. You needed to readjust, but he obliged for you and shifted you up closer to the head of the bed.
"Is this okay?" he asked. Good lord, if his dick alone wasn't enough to get you going, his voice surely was. It rumbled deep in his chest, low and thick with want. It didn't matter what he was saying - his tone was enough. "It's not - I'm not too rough?"
You took his face in your hands and pulled him back down so that his forehead was pressed against yours. "Believe me, I'll tell you if you are. No, this is perfect."
"As long as it pleases you." He pressed a kiss to your cheek. "What would you have me do next?"
"Well," you began, very much aware of what you wanted him to do next, "you are not a small man in any context. You've got some work to do before you're going to get that in."
He pressed another kiss to the line of your throat. "Then I shall get to work..."
Colossus shifted further down towards the end of the bed. His hand ghosted over your side, making you shiver, and came to grasp at the breast closest to him. His fingers trailed over your skin in slow, circular patterns, tickling you until your nipples peaked. He took the one closest to him in his mouth, sucking and flicking at it with his tongue. You grabbed at his shoulders, squirming underneath him. He pinned your hips down to keep you still - to keep you from gleaning any satisfaction before he could give it to you - and looked up at you, still rolling your nipple around his tongue.
"Who's wicked now?" you huffed. He moved to your other breast, taking your nipple between his teeth and nipping gently, gently. He worked his unoccupied hand down between you, cupping your hip. "Seems like it's you. Never imagined you'd be a tease."
Colossus moved lower so that his shoulders were positioned squarely between your thighs. He trailed his tongue down the line of your stomach, dipped into your navel, and looked up at you. "Normally, I am not. But I've..."
"Been waiting a while?"
"Yes," he hummed, working lower. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, lifting your legs over his shoulders. "I have thought about this for a long time."
You raised an eyebrow. "Is that right? And what did you think about?"
He sucked a slow bruise onto your inner thigh, then licked it to soothe the ache he left. "Taking it slow, mostly. I had hoped you would want it like that."
"I do."
He trailed his mouth a little higher, right to the juncture of your thighs, and looked up from his position. You could have died happy right there, with him looking up at you like he had torture on his mind. "I can go slow, if you would prefer?"
"Nope, nuh-uh, I will not last long enough for you to do that."
"Next time, then."
"Next time, any time, every time. Just not this time."
You sat up on your elbows so you could watch him tongue the line of your slit. It was a simple movement, but from it bloomed the worst itch, like an unending, twisting fire brand to every single nerve. Your muscles tensed, hips flexing, but he held you steady.
"Wicked, wicked man."
"Not for long, I promise."
Colossus trailed his fingers down your slit just behind his tongue. He dipped a single digit in and found you absolutely leaking for him already. He pushed a finger in, then two, chasing it with his tongue, licking and sucking until you could only groan his name.
You tapped his shoulder like you were tapping out of a fight, warning him to stop. He thankfully, yet still somehow unfortunately, obliged. His mouth was wet from you, his fingers soaked, but he really, really didn't care. He crawled back up your body and claimed your mouth, easing you on to your back.
You felt a bit guilty that you'd hardly done anything for him. "Get on your back and I'll-"
"You are already so close, and I cannot deny you relief after I took my time," Colossus said, hitching your legs up around his waist. You were struck by the heat of his voice, the barely-contained power behind his words. "Next time."
"Lot of next times on your mind?"
He pressed his forehead to yours and took your hands in his, lifting them above your head. "I have dreamed of you my entire adult life. I will take as many next times as you are willing to give me."
"I have a list."
"I will be overjoyed to hear every single item on it."
Keeping your hands trapped underneath one of his, he worked his other hand down to find the base of his cock. He dragged the tip along your slit until he found your opening, teasing you with the head of his cock. You bit your lip as he pushed in, every single inch of him filling you up. The groan of relief he made was unbelievable, low and deep in your ear and positively filthy.
He stilled just long enough for you to stretch comfortably around him, then pulled back and thrust back in. His pace was slow for fear of hurting you, but his control wavered as you lifted your hips to meet his. His thumb pressed against your clit, teasing the nub until you were all but biting into his shoulder to keep from crying out.
You were at the point where you could feel your hips giving out, but Colossus was clearly there, too. His quick, controlled pace started and stuttered, his grip a little too tight. Your name rolled off his tongue, broken and pleading, asking if this was okay, if you were ready. You clenched around him, falling off of that edge just before he did. He pulled out and came on your thigh, rutting against you as he rode out his own orgasm.
It was a solid minute before either one of you could move. Colossus maneuvered you onto his chest and kissed the top of your head. You splayed out on top of him, unwilling to move more than absolutely necessary.
Five minutes of silence, five minutes of Colossus rubbing your back and pressing his nose into your hair, and you finally moved so you could look up at him. His eyes were soft, and he watched you as if he couldn't dream of looking anywhere else.
"We should probably shower."
"Yes."
"You may have to carry me."
"I will."
"You may have to hold me up in the shower."
"Assuming I can also stand."
"You can fuck me against the shower wall, if you want."
Colossus chuckled softly in your ear. "Language, love."
You kissed along his collarbone, right up to his ear. "You weren't complaining about my language when I was begging you to-"
He kissed you to cut you off. "Shower first, then tease."
Summary: Wade decides that sixteen years of mutual pining is long enough. He’s appointed himself your new wingman, and he’s the best in town (or so he likes to think). Or, how the compound effort of Wade Wilson and total romantic frustration gave way to getting exactly what you’ve been waiting for.
Chapter 2: To Be Alone
Part 1
Author’s Note: From here on out, it’s smut and good feelings and a little bit of angst from here on out. But really, if you’re reading this, you already know.
The world turned upside down as you stumbled up to your room. You’d talked to Wade for far too long, letting him slip you drink after drink as the party dragged on around you. You suspected he’d done it to see if he could talk you into drunkenly propositioning Colossus.
While you had a tendency to get rowdy after a few drinks, you weren’t a flirty drunk. At least, you didn’t think you were. You’d never been a flirty drunk before, but then, you’d always known Colossus would turn you down. Now, weren’t you quite so sure he would.
The entire night was already fading into a rosy blur. You’d spoken to Colossus at the party, that much you remembered. You might have hugged him, lingering just a little too long with your arms around his neck, but you had no clear idea what had transpired. If you’d said anything risque or out of the way, Wade would almost certainly tell you.
You staggered into your room and slammed the door before falling face-first onto your bed. Fuck, it was so soft - had it always been this comfortable? Probably not - your mattress was older than you. Still, it was wonderful to be laying down with the world not spinning. You gathered up the comforter and bundled up in it, not bothering to strip down. Your shoes hung haphazardly off your feet, loosely dangling off the edge of the bed.
You sighed and rubbed your eyes when your head hit the pillow, brain fuzzy. Wade would meet his untimely end, you decided, for talking you into this.
What had you said to Colossus? You dug your knuckles into your eye sockets, racking your brain. He'd been alone when you spoke to him, you were pretty certain. Had you cornered him? (Very likely yes.) But what had you said? And what did he say back? Wade had pulled you away to take another shot with him as soon as the words left your mouth.
Whatever, it probably didn’t matter anyway. You were sure it was something embarrassing. Come to think of it, maybe you had propositioned him. You’d never done that before - you could usually keep yourself in check, even drunk. But then, no one had ever been whispering in your ear that it would be a good idea to ask.
You resolved to worry about it tomorrow. Now, you were wrapped up in your blankets, cozy and pleasantly warm, dizzy and drunk, and for the first time that day, pleased to be home. Home was good, your drunk brain decided. (Whether your sober brain would agree was a different matter, but drunk brain held the reigns right now.) Home was a warm bed in a clean room, with a bathroom and a hot shower. Home was a fully-stocked kitchen and friends you weren’t in charge of just down the hall. Home was workouts with Colossus, and breakfast with Colossus, and walks around the gardens at night with Colossus. Your drunk brain was positively giddy.
If you trusted your feet, you could walk over and see if he’d gone to bed yet. His room was just down the hall - it wouldn’t be much of a walk… It had been a long time since you’d been in his room, but it probably hadn’t changed. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d run to his door drunk, either. He usually just let you take the bed and he slept on the couch, or he would gently transport you back to your own room.
You sighed again, wishing the party hadn’t ended with you lolling drunkenly in your bed. If you’d stayed sober and just taken a chance, maybe he would have agreed to come upstairs with you. But no, once again, your poor choices left you huffing and sighing and wishing and wanting.
Maybe if you’d made good choices for once, you’d be getting dicked down by Piotr Rasputin right now. You’d certainly thought about it before on nights like this one. That particular fantasy had been a weekly occurrence, at the very least, for the past sixteen years.
You squirmed at the thought of Colossus between your thighs, filling you up and expertly tearing you apart. His hands cradling your head, his mouth biting and pulling at your nipples, your legs around his waist, his cock splitting you open - this was your idealistic, frustrated fantasy.
No point fretting now. You pressed the heel of your hand between your thighs and tried to ignore the sludgy, heated pool in your stomach. Finally, you drifted off into an off-kilter, restless after-party sleep.
But, unfortunately for you, you were abruptly woken far, far too early by a fist slamming against your door. For a hot second, you tensed up, ready to roll out of bed and hit the ground running. But you were in your bed, not on a cot in the X-Jet, and you were spectacularly hungover.
Crust cracked in the corner of your eyes as you rubbed the sleep away. Your head pounded with a dense, dull ache, the world still spinning. It was likely that you were still a little drunk, and that this bullet in your brain was the precursor to the real hangover yet to come. You called out to whoever was at the door to go away, come back later, please-stop-yelling.
Instead of heeding your request, Wade - of course - threw the door open, flooding the room with manufactured fluorescent yellow light. He held two mugs of coffee, bless him, and wore a shit-eating grin so wide, you could see the flash of teeth even through the blur of the universe around you. He slammed the door behind him, set the mugs on your bedside table, and tossed you a bottle of aspirin.
“You can thank me later,” Wade said, hopping onto your bed. He sat crossed-legged next to your side, bright-eyed, as if he hadn’t had a single thing to drink the night before.
“I kind of hate you right now,” you replied, reaching out weakly to grab at the mug of blessed coffee. You sat up, hunched over your mug like a ghoul.
“Oh, you won’t hate me for long,” he sing-songed. He cracked open the bottle of aspirin and shook two of them out, which he handed to you.
“Why?”
“It’s my first day as your wingman, and I have a plan!” Wade replied sweetly. You could smell a plot simmering in the air. “I tried last night, but you were balls to the wall fucked up.”
“Which was entirely your fault.”
“Hey, I just put the drinks in your hand. You didn’t have to throw ‘em back.”
“With you shouting ‘Shots, shots, shots!’ after every sentence? Right...”
Wade stretched out across the foot of your bed, mug teetering precariously on his chest. Because that was obviously the best place to put it. “Well, I think it’s going to help you in the long run.”
“Yeah? Why’s that?”
“Oh, you’ll find out!”
You had a mild suspicion that he was talking about whatever you said last night, but he obviously wasn’t going to be forthcoming. Maybe he wasn’t talking about it because it wasn’t actually too embarrassing?
Wade rolled off the bed and went to leave, but you called out to him.
“Wade? What did I say to Colossus last night?”
“You’ll find out later!”
And he slammed the door behind him.
----- ----- -----
Wade took it upon himself to systematically hunt Colossus down and herd him into the nearest abandoned classroom out of sheer desire to just make them do the thing as soon as possible. Jeeze, two grown-ass adults - one would think they’d be able to communicate effectively about their feelings, yet it appeared that they were both too emotionally constipated to do so. Shocker.
He located his target and grabbed Colossus by the arm. He definitely tried to pull the big man into the classroom, but found that was literally not possible to do. Probably because Colossus is twice Wade’s size.
“Alright, I witnessed the most fucking awkward exchange I think I’ve ever seen,” Wade snapped as he shut the classroom door behind him. “Have you even been friends for twenty years?”
Colossus looked like a deer in headlights. “What are you talking about?”
Wade could have kicked him, but he would have broken his foot. Again. “Uh, the retirement party last night, Shiny Jesus.”
“What about it?”
“Why were you there,” Wade began, ignoring Colossus’s attempts to interrupt, “when you could have been getting cozy with your friend, who you are definitely in love with?”
“I - uh - do not know what you mean,” Colossus spluttered. As Wade raised an eyebrow, he finally conceded. “I did not realize it was that obvious.”
“Wow, I didn’t think you’d cave so fast,” Wade said. “Yeah, after about thirty minutes, most of the room was waiting for you to grab her and make a timely exit.”
“I suppose I… could have done that,” Colossus replied. “Before you had her taking shots.”
“You could have taken shots with us.”
“No.”
Wade clapped his hands together. “Well, what are you gonna do about it? Because she’s waiting and it looks like you are, too.”
Colossus sighed and relegated himself to the desk chair. “I don’t know.”
Wade parked himself on top of the desk, right in front of Colossus. No chance of escape now. “Maybe the better question is, what are you waiting for?”
“We have been at this point many times before,” Colossus replied. “She always... leaves on another mission.”
“And you don’t want to make your move when you think she’s going to run off again, right?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I think you’re in luck this time. Looks like she plans to stick around.”
“The willingness to teach is a good sign. I just…”
“Need a kick in the ass?”
“Language, Wade.”
“Oh, whatever!” Wade paused. “Alright, here’s the deal. I’m gonna do the right thing and be your wingman. How’s that?”
“Do you have to?”
“Yep!”
----- ----- -----
Monday came and went, and before you knew it, you’d been been home for more than two weeks.
You liked the middle-grades kids so far - they were still young enough to enjoy learning and old enough to understand what you expected from them. They were rowdy, yeah, and dealing with puberty-fueled mutants wasn’t a walk in the park, but you found that you enjoyed the challenge.
Colossus had done most of the work for you in developing lesson plans. In actuality, you’d taken his spot as the middle-grades teacher and just adapted his lesson plans to your teaching style. He’d placed you with the middle-grades so he could take an active role teaching the trainees who were about to graduate. He’d been pulling double-duty teaching both, and he seemed to be much more cheerful now that you’d taken part of his workload.
At the end of the semester, you’d be swapped out with the professor teaching the younger kids, which was where Colossus wanted to place you from the beginning.
Colossus still came to check in during the day periodically, but you suspected he just wanted to stop by to talk rather than assess your teaching methods. Obviously, you were a-okay with that - any time you got to spend with him was time well spent. You’d taken to wandering into his classroom on your breaks to observe, and usually released your students for lunch at the same time he did.
Wade, it seemed, had been quietly doing his job as wingman. And by that, you suspected that he sometimes actively shoved Colossus into your classroom during the day. Whatever his methods were, they worked pretty well.
When Colossus came by that day, he came without Wade shoving him into the room. Instead, he had one of the younger trainees with him, a tiny little thing with white-blonde hair and freckles. She had deep-set eyes raccoon-ringed by dark circles and the usual look of an angry teenager.
“This is your trainee,” Colossus said, obviously proud of his choice. The girl gave you a hard glance and looked down at her feet. Colossus did not notice. Instead, he introduced you. “Christina.”
You walked out from behind your desk and introduced yourself. “Colossus tells me we have similar abilities. What can you do?”
Christina looked up at Colossus, who nodded encouragingly. Clearly, she wasn’t good with people. You could sympathize - you’d had to learn that skill, too. “I can speed up decay. And set stuff on fire.”
“That’s cool,” you said. “I’ve got radioactive touch, too. I can’t set anything on fire, but I can electrocute it.”
“That’s cool,” she replied, finally looking up. The girl had dark green eyes that were nearly luminous, like a cat’s eyes after being shined with a flashlight in the dark. Must have been a side-effect.
“We will have a meeting later and you can get acquainted. I just thought I would bring her by for a moment.” Colossus, in his infinite teaching wisdom, finally sensed that things were a bit awkward. “Christina, you can go. I need to talk to your mentor.”
The girl skulked out of the room, obviously relieved to have an escape. You assumed she’d probably been with Colossus for most of the day. Despite your personal bias, you could see how it would be taxing for a teenager to be stuck trailing behind her teacher for hours. Once she’d scampered out of the room, Colossus turned his full attention on you.
“You needed to talk?” you asked, butt resting against the lip of the desk. You’d made this into a habit, despite your best attempts. Still, it was hard to be formal in front of a class full of awkward almost-teenagers.
The look on his face said technically no, but the words coming out of his mouth were a stuttering, awkward attempt at Official Business. “Yes. How did testing go? Any issues?”
You could have snorted, but you kept it in. What would they do with you in the room, watching them like a hawk? You’d noticed some wandering eyes, but nothing egregious.
You told him as much. “Went off without a hitch.”
“Good, good…”
You raised an eyebrow. “Something on your mind?”
“I- uh, no,” Colossus said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll see you at dinner?”
“Save me a seat.”
“Always.”
Colossus closed the door, and you huffed when you were sure he was out of earshot. Really, this was just ridiculous. You had no idea what Wade had been saying to him and still no idea what you’d said to him at the party. He’d been so twitchy when he was alone with you, you couldn’t keep him in the same room for long.
You could say something to him, sure. You could sit him down and talk about it and try to convince him that you weren’t running off to play hero anymore. But you’d shown him already that you were home with him - as a teacher, as a mentor, as a friend. But at this point, frustration was worming its way through your veins like fire. Finesse was wasn’t working - you might have to knock him over the head with a hammer.
Said hammer came in the form of Wade, who moseyed his way into your classroom like he had a grand secret. He sat on one of the student desks, swinging his legs like a kid.
“What’s this about you being the best wingman around? Because it’s starting to sound like false advertising.”
Wade held up his hands. “Patience, patience! Let me work!”
“Your work ethic sucks.”
“Ah-ah, just give me time! You may not be saying that later tonight.”
“Oh, why is that?”
Wade waggles his non-existent eyebrows like a college frat boy. “Let’s just say, you may want to take a nap before dinner because you’re gonna be up all night.”
You snorted. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“No, seriously, I’ve got this handled. You’ll see!”
----- ----- -----
What a goober.
Wade had been standing outside of your classroom door with Colossus for fifteen minutes, whisper-coaching him to go into your classroom and do what he came here to do.
What an absolute goofy fuck.
Colossus was currently in panic mode, which Wade had never had the privilege of seeing. The Man of Steel was panicking in the middle of the empty hallway because he didn’t know how to tell someone who liked him, who knew he liked him, that he liked them back. Wade was about thirty seconds from opening the door and announcing it to you himself. Or kicking him in his steel balls, although he refrained from doing so more for your benefit than anything else.
“Just go in there and tell her how you feel,” Wade snapped, voice hushed.
“What if she doesn’t actually feel the same way?” Colossus replied, voice equally hushed. Neither of them were quiet, per se, but they were trying to keep it down.
“Are you high? Are you out of your fucking mind?” Wade smacked his palm against his face. “Do you think you’ve been misreading the signals for sixteen years?”
“It’s possible!”
Holy Christ on a Cracker.
“No, it’s not!” Wade could shake him. He was just tall enough to wrap his hands around Colossus' throat and choke him out, although the success of said venture would be questionable. “You have actual balls of steel. Use them! Walk in there and say it or I’ll do it myself!”
“Fine, fine!” Colossus straightened up considerably and peered down at his stressed wingman. “I will tell her.”
“Just go.”
Throughout the spectacle outside, you sat on the edge of your desk, staring at the door. You’d been able to hear Wade and Colossus whisper-yelling at each other in the hallway for the past fifteen minutes. As entertaining as it was to hear Colossus agonizing, it took all of your self-control not to just go out into the hall yourself. The impatient streak in you screamed that all this would be much simpler if you did, but your sadistic streak told you to stay put. The sadistic streak won out, in the end.
Finally, finally, Colossus knocked on your classroom door. You called for him to enter and nearly laughed when he walked in. He skulked in, unsure of himself and downright bashful, like a puppy begging for a treat. If he’d been in human form, he’d have been bright red.
“What can I do for you, Piotr?” you asked, smirk clear on your face.
Either he didn’t pick up on the fact that you’d heard him whisper-yelling at Wade outside, or he was too nervous to say anything other than his self-produced script. He scratched the back of his head. “I just - wanted to stop in and ask you about your day.”
“Ah, well, it was good,” you replied. It was fun watching him sweat. “No problems today.”
"That's - that's good," Colossus says, looking as though he'd rather melt into the floor than say another word. "And training is going well?"
"It's great," you said, swinging your legs. You've decided to sit on the desk and your feet don't quite touch the floor. "Definitely getting some muscle definition back."
“I- I can see that.”
You kept swinging your legs. “Oh, is that right? What do you see?”
“Your legs look nice.” This must have been his best attempt at being brazen. Colossus took a deep breath and made his best effort to appear confident. “You seem… happier than when you arrived.”
“That’s because I get to see you every day now,” you replied, staring him dead in the eye and smiling sweetly.
He didn’t break eye contact for once. “Oh...”
“You know what the best part about being home is?”
You’d realized that he’d slowly been inching towards you. He’d been going so slowly, you hadn’t really noticed, but the sudden heat and mass of him standing directly before you caught you off guard. He’d changed out of his uniform - the civilian clothes worked well for him.
“What’s that?”
He was closer, nearly touching your knees. You still hadn’t figured out when exactly he’d edged forward, when he’d took the steps to close the gap. You needed him closer.
“You.”
He sighed, leaning in. “This is not how I planned-”
“Are you gonna keep standing there, or are you gonna kiss me?”
Colossus didn’t respond - instead, he did the sensible thing. He leaned in, took your face in his hands, and kissed you. He was clearly intending for this to be a sweet, tender first kiss - soft and lovely and all things good. That was nice, but sweet and tender could come later. You had other plans - thankfully, he went along with them.
The universe quantified down to your mouth on his, and you had the vague, idle thought that hopefully Wade would do his job and guard the door. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to your level (he’s so fucking tall), tongue swiping against his bottom lip. He tipped your chin back with his thumb, one hand on your cheek, the other sliding down to your thigh.
You’d always been a bit, well, forward - and you were never one to just let your partner take the lead. You were painfully aware that his knees were between your legs, that you were squeezing his thighs, that your skirts were rucked up a little too high for decency. You hooked your ankle around the back of his thigh and drew him closer, closer, until he was pressed up against you, bearing down on you, pushing your back against the desktop. You ached deep in your gut, and the noise he makes at the back of his throat as you slipped your tongue between his teeth only made the building pressure in your abdomen worse.
So you made the next sensible move: you took his hand and slid it up, up, up your thigh, up under your skirts, and left it resting at the top of your thigh. The groan he made, deep and vibrating in his chest, ripped straight through you. He slid his thumb under the band of your underwear, drawing circles in the soft skin.
He paused, hesitant, as if he had something to say. You grasped his shoulders, stroking down his chest, and palmed the front of his pants with a grin. His hips twitched, pressing into you, and you felt just how big he is.
“Wicked woman,” he grunted, pressing a kiss to your cheek, your neck, all the way down to your collarbone. He slid his thumb along the line of your underwear, slipping underneath the fabric to flick your clit. He dipped a finger in, spreading your wetness as he pressed a single digit in down to the knuckle. “There are better places to do this…”
You pressed your face into his neck to stifle the whimper spilling out of your mouth. “Such as?”
