So much can happen in a year

Authors notes: -

For some obscure reason I've written this as if someone has died. It's slow and completely, utterly out of character for both of them but...I'm not sure if it works or not. I don't even know if I like it all that much so my apologies to anyone who despises it. I swear it'll be back to normal next time.



Warning: - SERIOUS OOC'NESS AHEAD!!!



Chapter 8

May



"Put your finger - yes! Thats it Bobby!"



"Hank...are you sure about this? Oh for..."



"Harder Bobby...yes, I've never been so sure of anything in my life, just-"



"Should I pull that now? Yeah?"



"Just...a...minute...now! Do it now, Bobby!" The Iceman pulled down on the lever to his right, took his finger off the computer keyboard and ducked, looking up at the monstorous invention through the sheild of his fingers, "then there was life!" Hank laughed triumphantly as the machine roared and thrummed into life. Bobby slowly stood up,



"I can't believe it didn't blow up...it should have blown up" He frowned in disbelief, running a shaking hand back through his hair. Hank grinned at him,



"Oh ye of little fai - " They both turned sharply when the machine gave a loud clunk, followed by a metallic groan,



"Hank..."



"Down!" The Doctor shoved Bobby down before throwing himself to the floor, covering his head with his hands as the machine exploded around them. He remained on the floor even when all the noise had died down and Bobby had stood to ice down the flames. He stared at unseeingly at the floor until a hand pressed gently against his shoulder before helping him up,



"I'm sorry, Hank" Bobby said softly, his face actually showing it. The Doctor shook his head a little, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly,



"Don't worry about it, Bobby" He sighed, toeing a piece of debris, "it was only four months work" He leant heavily on the desk, covering his face with both hands as he growled in frustration, "what did I do *wrong*?" He mumbled. Bobby frowned, noticing the sagging of his friends shoulders,



"When was the last time you slept, blue?" He asked quietly,



"Nine days ago, why?" Hank mumbled without moving his hands. Bobbys eyebrows shot up in shock,



"Because you're slowly sinking to the floor and I haven't seen your hands shake that much since your crush on Ororo" He said firmly, earning himself a near glare from his friend, "go get some rest and I'll get Rogue and Kurt to help clean this"



"But I need-"



"Sleep...and probably something to eat too" The Iceman playfully shoved him towards the door, "go" Hank couldn't keep away a small smile,



"Yes, Mother" He ducked beneath the blackened cog that was thrown at his head before exiting the lab.



***



His quaters were warm and dark...and smelled of coffee and books. There was a sofa in front of the fire and Hank sat, placing his head in his hands. The idea of making it all the way to his bed in the next room seemed like far too much effort. What did he have to do to get things right? All he wanted was to make the X-mens lives a little easier and he kept screwing it up and - Hank jumped as a tear splashed onto his knee, suprised at it. It wasn't often that he succumbed to melencholy but -



"Hello Lover" The familiar voice rolled over from the doorway. Hank didn't even want to know how *he* had got in,



"Creed, I cannot stress to you enough how bad a time this is" He said softly, voice thick as he tried to hold back the illogical and embarresing tears. He didn't hear Creed cross the room and didn't look up when Sabretooth knelt in front of him. His scent washed over Hank, all rich loam and pine trees - he must have been fighting with Logan in the forest again, Hank mused distractedly. A rough knuckle lifted his chin until he was forced to look into rich gold eyes, the cat like slits narrowing and contracting as Creed frowned at him. Hank was studied for a moment, the knuckle under his chin slipping up to brush against his cheekbone, a fingertip lightly touching the glistening track of a tear as if...as if Creed didn't understand what it was.



Hank watched, numb and tired and wondering if it was a dream, as Creeds fingertips delicatly traced the lines of his face. Eventually their eyes met again and Sabretooth nodded, just once as if to say I understand, as if to say it's ok. The tentative walls that Hank had built inside to keep back the tears crumbled with a soft sob. Creed reached forward, one hand on the back of Hanks skull, and held him close. Hank didn't understand this tenderness, this warmth and comfort and...he didn't care, just clung to Creed as if he was a lifeline, his face buried in the warm, hairy crook of his shoulder as the tears came. Creed didn't say a word, didn't even move save to hold him a little tighter, a little closer. Eventually Hank wore himself out, too tired to move, even his eyelids throbbed,



"Come on" Sabretooth murmured, standing up and lifting Hank with him, guiding him, half carrying him to the bathroom. How does he know where the bathroom is? Hank thought through the grey fuzz in his mind as he was, stood in the centre of the room. The shower was turned on before Creed appeared in his line of sight again, reaching out for the buttons on Hanks shirt. The Doctor caught his wrist,



"With me?" Hank asked as a sudden desperation not to be alone took hold of him. Creed nodded and carefully undressed him. Hank nearly laughed as Creed stripped off carelessly, buttons flying everywhere and bits of cloth tearing in his haste. A warm hand on the small of Hanks back guided him into the shower. The Doctor sighed at the luxurious feeling of the warm spray falling over him, lifting his face to the feeling of being truely *clean*.



He opened his eyes when Creed gently ran a soapy sponge over the planes of his chest, washing him with as much care and reverance as he had undressed him. A strong hand held him in place - held him upright really - turning him so Creed had better access to his back. Hank sighed heavily, head bowed and hands pressed flat against the shower wall as the sponge was abandoned and Creeds rough/gentle hands slid over his skin...it was strange, this almost gentle curiosity and Hank was unduly reminded of lions examining a new born cub. All the clumsy gentility and the knowledge of being inches from razor sharp claws and teeth was doing strange things to him. His skin tingled, not only on the electric path of Creeds hands but all over. Sending a velvet warmth into his muscles all the way down to his bones. He was turned again, slipping a little on the suds, and fell back against the wall, Creeds hands instantly tense on his arms. Hank looked up into a thoughtful frown, golden brown eyes completly unreadable,



"Is this a dream?" Hank asked, his own brow knitting in return,



"Yeah" Creed lied for him, soapy hands sliding from his arm to his chest. Hank sighed, not daring to close his eyes in case he fell asleep then and there...but if this was a dream...



"Please" He whispered, guiding Creeds hand down by the wrist, "don't tease me" And then Creed kissed him. It wasn't the usual demanding, dominant kiss but more of a...comfort, slow and lingering. Warm lips massaging his own as a tongue encouraged him to explore in return. Hank broke away with a soft gasp as their hips, their cocks ground together in delicious, unhurried friction, "Victor..." Hank breathed softly, his head falling forward into the crook of Creeds neck with a low moan. Almost unconsiously the Doctor gently licked and bit and suckled at the strong colomn of Creeds neck, lapping his flavour - salt and strong liquor - as well as the warm water that coursed over their bodies.



Creed reached down, grasping *both* of them in a slow, unhurried pace, frissions, soft waves of exquisite pleasure breaking and bursting over the both of them in sighs and gasps. Creed turned his face mouth open a little, so he could breathe deep of Hanks scent,



"Mine" He growled out loud, unaware that he'd done so until Hank looked up at him with eyes that were half asleep. Hank nodded a little, his own hand hesitantly joining Creeds, squeezing and stroking in sync. Sabretooth came with a low growl, hips bucking forward and a sharp thumbnail trailing over Hanks nipple. It was the stark contrast of split second pain - the reminder that this was *not* a dream - and soft velvet pleasure that tipped the Doctor up and over the edge. Hanks knees gave out, shaking and too tired to hold him up anymore and he slid a little way down the wall before he was caught.



A strong arm beneath his own held him under the tingling spray for a moment before he was all but dragged out and towel dried roughly, briskly. He grinned tiredly as his hair was towel dried, closing his eyes as the damp ends of the towel flicked at his face, Creeds fingers vigorous through the thin fabric. He opened his eyes once the towel was taken away in time to see Creed dry off his own face,



"What are ya grinnin at, smart ass?" Sabretooth growled roughtly though there was no venom in his voice or eyes,



"I never took you for the -" Hank was cut off as Creed swept him up into his arms, carrying him out of the room. The Doctor sighed, his cheek pressed against a muscular chest, " - caring type" He yawned hugely,



"Yeah, well. This is a dream, isn't it?" Creed murmured. Hank mm'd a reply as he was set down amidst clean white bedcovers, a duvet pulled over him and up to his chin,



"Why me Victor?" Hank asked, already half asleep and only vaugely aware of the roughly skinned hand smoothing damp tendril of hair away from his forehead,



"Because ya need lookin after cos ya can't do it y'self" Sleep, warm and dreamless crept up on Hank, tenderly embracing him, pulling him towards a welcoming oblivion,



"Thank you"



In the morning Hank McCoy woke up alone.