Title: To the Ends of the Earth
Fandom: X-Men (X-Factor)
Characters, pairings:Rictor/Shatterstar
Rating: R
Summary: Some of the things that happened in Mexico.


In retrospect, the days they spent in Mexico were probably the best days of his life.

Fucked up, he knew, since he was up against his own family, for fuck’s sake, but.

Cruising down dusty old roads, just him and Shatterstar and the CD Tabby made him especially for the trip, stuck on repeat ‘cause it was better than anything on the radio, sleeping in cheap-ass hostels whenever they got the chance. Some nights they had to stop in the middle of nowhere, trying to get comfy in the backseat—wasn’t easy. Barely room for one person, let alone two, let alone someone as big as Star. Star, well, Star could sleep standing up, but Ric wasn’t so lucky as all that. He’d been sharing a bed with Star since they were practically kids, Cable and Dom belonging to the whatever-helps-you-sleep-at-night school of fake parenting. Couldn’t really sleep without him—not well, anyway. One night they had to share a crappy hostel room with a group of turista high school kids and their Spanish teacher. They’d started out in separate beds that night, until Ric’s tossing and turning prompted Star to sneak under his covers, petting his hair until he fell asleep. Those were the good days, though, the ones with the real beds and a little café right down the street where they could get something to eat. Most days they woke up cramped and ate handfuls of whatever until they could get to a restaurant. Star wrinkled his nose when they got down to the snack cakes and sodas that Ric kept in the trunk, you know, just in case. Ric would tease him, call him picky, and Shatterstar would invariably take the bait.

“In the swamps of Mojoworld we did not have potato chips,” he would announce. “Or frosted toast.”

“You don’t like the frosted toast?” Ric pouted. “I picked it out special.”

What Shatterstar wanted was real food, fresh fruit especially. One day he came back to the car with a whole bag full of mangos, which he ate in one sitting.

“You’re gonna be sick later, ‘mano,” Ric had said, and he’d been right. Next time they’d got mangos, he’d stopped at two.

The best (worst?) was when they got to Guadalajara. He’d had a sick feeling in his stomach and a tightness in his chest, so Star had found a halfway decent club and took him dancing. They had a couple of beers (he’d had a couple of beers, Star tried a mojito and didn’t like it) and went back to the actual hotel. For once they’d gotten a decently sized bed and they took full advantage, writhing and moaning and biting and loving as much as they could before exhaustion set in. They showered, too, took longer than they probably had a right to, but it felt too damn good to waste.

The rest he doesn’t really like to think about. Deep breaths, Star at his back, wrapped around him when it was all done and he didn’t want to deal with it anymore. Doesn’t want to deal with it anymore. Except.

Except for one night, at the very worst of it, when Star drove him out to the middle of fucking nowhere and parked the car, got out a blanket, and explained to him that, seismologically speaking, it was okay for him to let go.

“We are very far from any faultlines, active and inactive,” said Star proudly. “And there is no human development for miles around.”

And Rictor felt a warm feeling starting in his toes, the same warm feeling he got when Star learned Spanish for him—I don’t deserve this Dios mio I love him so much. He watched Star carefully spread the blanket on the ground, smooth it out, dust off any cookie crumbs or pieces of dirt like they hadn’t been living out of their goddamn car for almost a month. Then Star stood up and wrapped him in his arms and kissed him as gently as he could, more gently than he’d been kissed in a long time, since before this whole thing started. And then, just as gently, Star laid him down on the blanket and pressed his mouth to Ric’s collarbone.

“Calmate,” he murmured, and Rictor melted. He was boneless, he was falling, he could feel Star undressing him and kissing him and kissing him but already part of him was sinking. Down, into the earth, he felt it in the pit of his soul and he was falling through the layers of rock and dirt while Star moved up and around and in him. He could hear himself screaming, barely, through the rush and din of tectonic plates slowly grinding together thousands of miles away. He sank further, further than he ever thought he could go, the edge of his consciousness scraping the roiling magma beneath the Earth’s crust. The ground was shaking, and he was shaking, because he was the ground and the ground was him.

Star held him the entire time.

The tremors didn’t stop for a good thirty minutes as he shivered in Star’s arms. Slowly he reigned in his power while Star soothed him and pressed little kisses all over his chest and face, like he couldn’t stop. When he came back to himself and his breathing had slowed to normal, Star dragged himself off to get more blankets and some bug spray and a couple of towels. Ric tried to wrap himself in the blanket he did have, but it was gross and the lube had spilled all over. Star came back and pulled him to his feet, wiped him down and got them both settled into the double sleeping bag that, disturbingly, Dom and Cable had lent them. They slept there, covered in bug spray, with Star’s swords close by in case someone came by and got an idea or two.

The next day they drove back to the States and it was over. Shit happened and Star had to go but he said he’d be back (he promised he’d be back) and then M-Day happened and.

Fucked up, he knew, but sometimes he thought he wore out his powers that night, because nothing good in his life ever came without a price. Sometimes, when he really felt like shit, he thought he used up all his good days on that trip to Mexico.

He, fuck, when he first went down to Mexico he thought it’d be good for them to get some time apart and maybe it would’ve been if he hadn’t lost everything else he loved because this, it wasn’t working.

But Star said he’d be back.