There was only one word to describe the weather you were experiencing at this moment.

Awful.

The sky was of a dark grey colour, a storm thundered in the horizon and rain poured from the sky like an unstoppable and angry waterfall.

The only thought of stepping into this living hell was enough to make you want to crawl back into your bed and wait for the storm to pass.

But then, there was another thought. One more convincing. One that told you that you only had to run for a few seconds under the rain to be able to meet Warren. And that it would be worth it.

That's all it took to convinced you. Taking a deep breath, you put on the hood of your sweatshirt and stepped out of the door that led from the attic of the school to the roof.

Just as you had thought, it took you less than twenty seconds to reach the small alcove where Warren was waiting for you, seating his back against the wall. Still, it was more than enough time for the rain to make your sweatshirt stick to your skin.

Shivering slightly from the drops of water that were running down your skin, you crashed on the floor in front of Warren and lowered your now wet hood.

"Too cool for an umbrella?" he teased you as you were taking off your sweatshirt to make it dry on the floor.

"I could ask you the same question," you retorted as you noticed the water in his blond hair and the dampness of his trademark leather jacket, drying on the floor next to him.

Warren held back a smile as he nodded a silent Touché.

And just like that, you couldn't help but smile wildly at him, like you often did in the past few days. Ever since the game of Never Have I Ever, a week ago.

And even though, at the time, you had hated confessing the accident with the janitor, now you were almost grateful for it. Because it had brought Warren and you closer than ever. On this day, you had both found a trusting confident in each other and you strengthened this bond every single day since.

This time, Warren couldn't hold back his smile. His lips curled up and his eyes shone with amusement and what you read like tenderness. Or at least, affection. It made your heart beat a bit faster because you recognized this expression. It was the one he wore with Peter, and sometimes with Ororo; the face he shared only with his closest friends.

Just like that, your mind went reeling back to the last few days: to all the hours spent on this roof with him, between classes and his training with Mystique; to the long discussions you had about your families, your past and present friends, your powers. You had been learning to know each other. You had been learning to be comfortable with one another.

And now, you were.

Without another word or the slightest of hesitation, you opened the satchel you had been carrying around and started rummaging through its content. You stopped only when your hands found a slim wrapped rectangular package. You took it out and handed it to Warren, your fingers slightly trembling as you were starting to wonder if it wasn't too soon for that. But it was too late for second-thoughts: Warren was already holding the package in his hands.

"What is it?" He asked, his brows creased with confusion.

"It's a gift. For you."

Your answer took him by surprise as he looked at you in bewilderment. His eyes lingered on your face, taking in your expression, before focusing back on the wrapped gift. You felt like taking him into your arms right here and then. But you didn't. Instead, you waited for him to say something. Which he did, with a teasing smile on his face.

"Christmas is not coming before several months, you know that right?"

You let out an exasperated growl, but it was barely hiding the amusement you felt.

"Just ignore the reindeer on the gift wrap and open you present!"

"So bossy..."

"Shut up!"

You both laughed and, finally, Warren started to rip open the gift wrap. It quickly fell on the floor and your gift was now ready to be seen and liked. Or disliked.

Without realizing it, you held back your breath and studied Warren's face as his eyes skimmed the framed picture. It was a simple group picture of you, Warren, Ororo, Scott, Kurt, Jean and Peter that had been taken on the night of the bowling game. There wasn't anything fancy about the gift, but then it wasn't really about the picture, but more about the meaning behind it. What you were trying to tell him with this gift was that you were here for him. You and the others. That even though Warren led a lonely life for a few years, he wasn't alone any more and he needed to know that. He needed to be reminded of that. Thus, the picture.

It felt like such a good idea when Jean had developed the picture, but now, you only felt nervousness pulsing through your veins. Warren's expression was impossible to decipher and it was pure agony to wait for him to talk so you blurted out the first thing that went through your mind:

"It's for your bedroom. During the game, I couldn't help but noticed you had nothing on your nightstand, so I was thinking that, maybe, it would look nice there. You know, to remind you of us, your awesome friends... Even though you see us every day..." You exhaled raggedly and sent him a hesitant look. "So, do you like it?"

Warren's eyes lingered on the picture some more before locking with yours.

"Of course I do."

Those four words had a cathartic effect on you. Your body relaxed immediately and you took a deep, relieved, breath. His tone was clear: he was moved by your gesture and he understood the meaning behind it.

"Thank you," he whispered as he took one last lingering look at the picture before putting it down next to his leather jacket.

"You're welcome, Warren," you said, following his movements with a big grin plastered on your face.

You kept this expression as you gathered the remnants of the gift wrap and put it back into your satchel.

"I'm really glad you like it, you know," you couldn't help but confess.

"I don't think I could dislike a gift coming from you," he answered slowly; his seriousness startling you. But then, with a smirk appearing on his lips, he added: "But it doesn't mean I don't want something more valuable next time."

"Oh okay, so you have expensive taste. And what gift would please Mr. Worthington next time?"

"Nothing too fancy for starter. I'll be okay with a new jacket."

Even though you knew he was joking, you glanced at his studded leather jacket. It was the one piece of clothing Warren was always wearing and it clearly looked worn. Still, you wouldn't have seen him with another jacket.

"Your jacket's perfectly fine. You don't need a new one."

"How can you tell? You're not the one wearing it."

"Okay then, I'll wear it."

Warren' smile wavered as you grabbed his jacket, but he quickly recovered.

"Be careful, I don't have another one... Yet."

You rolled your eyes at him which only made his smile widen.

"Oh, don't worry, I'll be careful."

You put the studded leather jacket on with an exaggerated carefulness which made the both of you laugh. The coldness of the leather made the skin of your bare arms shiver and you felt like the jacket was weighing 20 pounds, but still you loved wearing it as soon as you put it on entirely. It smelled like Warren. It felt safe like him. You almost wanted to snuggle yourself in it and you would have if Warren hadn't been watching you so closely.

"What's with the face? Do I look ridiculous?"

It wouldn't surprise you. Not everyone could wear a jacket with studs that went from the collar to the elbow. And you were pretty sure it didn't suit you at all. This jacket had Warren written all over it.

"Just be honest," you added at the same moment you noticed some dark stains on the sleeves.

You grazed the darker dry spots with your thumb and wondered if those were blood stains. And if it were, if it came from Warren's time with Apocalypse or from his time in Germany. You had so many questions about those periods of his life, but you kept those for yourself. You knew he'll tell you everything when he'll be ready.

So, you looked back at Warren and caught him sizing you up.

"What's your verdict?"

Warren raised an eyebrow, tilted his head and said:

"You look fine."

You snorted.

"Well, thanks. I think it's the nicest thing you ever told me, Warren. I didn't know you were so good at making compliment."

"I learned from the best."

"From what I hear, it doesn't seem so..."

Warren smiled. "Are you implying my compliment wasn't good enough?"

"It sure wasn't."

"You said to be honest."

"Ouch," you sighed with a false hurt expression.

You wiped an invisible tear from your eyes while Warren held back his laughter, but when you proceeded to remove his jacket, he stopped you.

"Keep it on."

"Why?" you asked genuinely surprised.

Without a second of hesitation, Warren answered:

"Because I like what I see."

For a second, you were speechless. Then, you asked:

"Do you really? I thought I looked fine."

"I do, really."

"So you lied to me. After I specifically asked you to be honest? How hurtful, Warren."

Even though you were teasing him, Warren's answer was deadly serious.

"I didn't think you could handle the truth."

"Which is?"

Before Warren even opened his mouth, you knew his answer. You could sense it just by the way his blue eyes met yours: with an intensity so unexpected that it quickened your pulse.

"That you look hot."

And there it was. You had expected it, but still his words brought red to your cheeks. You lowered your gaze on the floor almost immediately, like every time he was saying something like that recently. Which, as the days were passing by and the both of you grew closer, happened more and more often. The fact was that this flirting was making you feel happy and stressed at the same time, which was pretty exhausting. Of course, you loved hearing him say things like that to you, but, at the same time, you never knew what to answer him. Were you supposed to say he looked hot too? It would be the truth, sure, but you would never have the confidence to say it out loud, that was clear too. And even if you could say it back, you wondered if hearing those words would have the same effect on him that it had on you: which was the need to desperately reach for him and kiss him.

You plucked up courage and met his eyes again. He was serious, focused. He seemed to be waiting for an answer.

"I wasn't expecting you to say that..." you finally muttered, knowing fully well it wasn't the answer he was looking for.

For a quick second, his face betrayed the disappointment he felt. It felt like someone had punched you in the stomach. You were already starting to search your mind for something to say that would make things better when he answered you:

"If you could see what I see, you would have expected it."

He didn't hesitate one second, he said this sentence like it was the most obvious thing he could have said.

You felt your cheeks burn as you said the only thing that crossed your mind:

"Well, that's smooth."

Warren's seriousness crumbled as he smiled incredulously at you.

"You always say or do something I don't expect."

"I could say the same thing..."

"Fair enough."

After that, you both fell silent. It was an agreeable silence that stretched between you for a long moment. You started to play subconsciously with the hem of the leather jacket, wondering at the same time what Warren could like that much about you wearing his jacket, when the winged mutant's attention turned from the rain falling hard on the roof to you. From the corner of your eyes, you saw his eyes beginning their slow descent on your body, from your shoulders to your waist. This action seemed to happen very slowly and very quickly at the same time. And then, Warren shifted uneasily on the floor and focused back on the rain.

You let out the breath you had been holding. This tension was beginning to become too much for you. You remained silent for a few seconds, not knowing to whom you were giving the time to regain their composure, before you asked Warren:

"Who's your favourite?"

As you had expected, Warren turned to you with a frown on his face.

"What do you mean?"

"Who's your favourite? Your jacket or me?"

Almost immediately, a smirk appeared on Warren's face. It was what you had expected of him too. Just like you couldn't resist teasing him, he couldn't resist teasing you.

"I don't think you would like my answer."

"That's what I thought... I'm offended..."

"How awful." Warren retorted with no remorse whatsoever.

"You know what, I don't think you deserve to have your jacket back just yet," you said with a smile as you got up. "I'll keep it."

"I really don't mind at all right now," he answered as he eyed you.

"And what if I use it as an umbrella to go back inside the school? Would you mind then?"

He sent a false menacing look your way.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Watch me!"

You turned around to face the blur of rain and the grey sky over it. On the other side of this wall of water was the door to the attic; you could barely see it. Still, you were not going to drop it, even if it was stupid. You lifted the collar of the jacket with both hands, just to tease Warren, took a deep breath, got ready to sprint like hell toward the door, and then... got stopped in your tracks by two strong arms locking around your waist and pulling you backward. As your back collided with Warren's chest, he whispered into your ear:

"Where do you think you're going, angel?"

For a short instant, your mind went totally blank. Your breath stuck inside your throat, you could only feel the warmth of Warren's body against yours and his muscular arms holding you firmly. Light-headed, you managed to get a hold of yourself thanks to the few drops of cold water that were splashing on your face.

"Angel?" You whispered back, surprised by this strange nickname. "I'm not the one with wings."

As he thought about his answer, Warren let out a deep warm breath that tickled the sensitive skin of your neck and increased the thundering beating of your heart. You were just thinking you were about to explode when his answer crossed his lips, tinted with small hints of pain and sadness:

"It suits you better."

With a frown, you turned your head abruptly toward his.

"What does it mea-"

Your sentence was cut short by the sudden push that projected you forward. Warren's warmth disappeared to be replaced by the coldness of the rain. The water seemed to pass right through your clothes as you almost immediately felt droplets dribbling down your back.

Shocked, you turned around to stare at Warren.

"WARREN! Did you just push me?!"

Still protected by the alcove, Warren shoved his hands into the pockets of his black jeans and let a smirk appear on his lips.

"It seems like it."

"You're an asshole!"

"Like I didn't know that already."

"You better apologize," you warned him as you crossed your arms across your chest stubbornly.

"And why would I do that?"

"Because I won't move until you apologize. I'll probably catch a cold."

Warren didn't budge; his amused smile still plastered on his lips. As you looked deep into his eyes, you could see the stubbornness in it and understood he could play at this little game as long as you. Probably even longer considering he wasn't the one getting hit by streams of water. Already, your tee-shirt and jeans were starting to clung to your skin.

"And your jacket is going to be ruined," you added as the strong wind made you shiver.

"You should have started by that."

Warren immediately stepped out from under the alcove and joined you. Droplets of water were already streaming down the tattooed skin of his face and piling up on his long eyelashes. Still, his smile didn't waver.

"I'm sorry I pushed you. It was inconsiderate."

"Who are you apologizing to? Your jacket or me?"

"Does it matter?"

An eyebrow raised, you didn't answer. It only made him smile more.

"If I say you, will you get out from this awful rain?"

"I might."

"Then I'm apologizing to you. I'm sorry I pushed you." He finished his sentence by pushing off blond curls that were sticking to his forehead. "Even though it was funny."

You nudged him in the ribs, a smile hovering at the corners of your mouth, before going back under the alcove to gather your sweatshirt and satchel. Warren followed you with a mocking smile. Taking the framed picture into your hands, you said:

"I'm not sure you deserve it any more..."

"A gift's a gift," Warren answered as he took back the picture and leaned against the wall of the alcove, his black tee shirt clinging to his chest and outlining the muscles underneath it. "But what about I get you warmed up? Will you forgive me then?"

Chilled to the marrow, but deeply amused, you answered:

"Make it extra warm and I'll consider it."

–

It took Warren less than ten minutes to make you go downstairs, scare a bunch of 10-years old mutants out of the living room, force another one with a fire mutation to light up a fire in the fireplace and make you sat on the now free couch with a warm blanket around you.

Warren himself was sat on a chair not far from you. His metallic wings, just like his leather jacket that was drying on the back of the chair, were dripping water onto the carpet. For a small second, you wondered if the teachers could ground you for ruining old expensive carpets.

"So, do you forgive me?" Warren asked you, disturbing your thoughts.

Your eyes locked and, even though you were still wet from head to toe, you only felt a calming sense of happiness.

"You're all forgiven, Warren."

You kept for yourself the fact that you weren't even mad with him in the first place and turned your head back toward the fire.