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The roof was Bobby's idea, of course. He's arguably the most reckless of the six of them, and Matt's been up here with him before. They came up here once with his CD player and Bobby blasted Evanescence as loud as he could and Matt, fresh out of an orphanage run by nuns, was nothing short of obsessed. And he knows sometimes Scott and Jean come up here for not-dates, their hearts pounding equally hard when they come back. (He'd be lying if he said it didn't make him a little jealous. It's a scary thing that he's not even sure which one he's jealous of).
The roof. They're all up here now, Bobby carefully rolling a joint, the rustling of the paper catching Matt's ears. Jean is leaning on his shoulder, warm and sweet, her breath brushing his neck with every exhale and her laughter ringing in his ears as Warren recounts their latest "rich people are fucking insane" story. Warren themself is on Matt's other side, soft wings occasionally fluttering against Matt's back. Scott's across from them, his presence palpable despite Matt not being able to see him. He carries himself in such a way that he commands the room no matter what. Matt is envious of it.
A lighter flicks on. Matt listens as Bobby inhales and exhales, inexplicably fixated on the sound. The joint changes hands; he knows because Hank breathes differently, inhales just a second bit longer than Bobby, his superhuman body able to handle more of the smoke. Matt loves to listen to Hank; his voice is soothing when he drones on about science, but the rapid, inhuman beat of his heart or the way he breathes is something he can always find comfort in, too.
Jean wraps her arms around Matt's waist, leaning into him more. Her cheek brushes his, and he gives into the urge to lean into it. She squeals a little and starts combing her hand through his hair. Matt tries not to feel Scott and Warren staring at him, even though he usually loves feeling their gazes on him (another thing he doesn't really want to deal with).
"You're pretty, Matt," Jean whispers, taking the joint and hitting it, aiming away from his face. "I wish you could see it. Your hair's not as bright as mine, but I like it." She passes to him, their fingers brushing, and he sighs as the inhale warms him, puffing smoke into the evening sky as he passes the joint over to Warren.
"Pretty," he echoes, mouth dry. Somehow it's a million times better than when he gets called handsome instead. He gets flustered over the most ridiculous compliments; he spent a whole day fixating on Hank saying he had a nice bone structure once. "You are too, Jeannie."
"How would you know?" Bobby asks, too blunt as usual. Matt can laugh it off, because that's just how he is.
"Maybe I can't see it, but I could listen to her talk all day. I can value the hell out of a pretty voice," he admits, and revels a little in how Jean's heart starts beating just a hair faster. "Makes it kind of a shame that Scotty's the one who does all that talking at us."
Scott huffs, a little derisive laugh. It's nice that he's getting better at taking jokes about himself these days. "You're not the most quiet out of all of us either, Matty."
"You're both such hypocrites," Warren says, the slightest little laugh in their voice. "Besides-Jeannie may be beautiful, but we all know who the prettiest one of all of us is."
"Hank," Bobby says without missing a beat. Matt hears his heart flutter as soon as he gets the words out. "Duh."
Warren's feathers ruffle indignantly. Matt can tell they're trying to stay cool, even though they all know Bobby's kidding (not that Hank's unattractive, Matt actually thinks the opposite), and it always makes Matt smile at how easily Warren gets riled up.
"I'm sure some people find me desirable," Hank says, not really as defensive as he wants people to believe. "Even if they don't, dating isn't my biggest concern right now. Nor do I believe it ever will be."
"Aw, c'mon, Hanky panky." Bobby laughs before inhaling way too long on the shrinking joint and coughing for approximately ten seconds straight. "Shit. But my point is, you'll find a girl some day, man." There's a few seconds of contemplative silence. "Or, y'know, a guy. Or whatever."
Matt swallows and subconsciously moves a little closer to Jean. Jean is safe. Jean's a girl, and she has a pretty voice, and everyone else has a crush on her, so why shouldn't he? God can't be upset if he has a thing for Jean, and maybe if he ignores how he feels about Scott and Hank and even Warren, who isn't a boy anymore but Matt doesn't want to think about that too long, then it'll be okay.
"Or whatever," Jean laughs, her hair brushing Matt's cheek. "You've got a real way with words, Bobby."
"C'mon," their youngest protests, embarrassment coloring his voice. "We can't all be Hank. Or even Matt. He's good at talking."
"Maybe too good," Scott adds good-naturedly. "But nobody wants to hear that argument again. I don't even want to hear that argument again."
"But I love arguing with you," Matt whines jokingly, leaning over to pat Scott on the thigh. "It’s how we bond. Cause we're basically the same person." Scott only stiffens a little at the contact–an improvement over last time Matt touched him. Damn. We really are too similar.
Jean lays her chin back on Matt's shoulder, sighing contently. "I love you guys," she says quietly.
"Aw, Jeannie, we love you too." Bobby plants himself on Matt's lap so he can plant an exaggerated kiss on Jean's cheek. Matt considers protesting for a few moments before giving up–he's been running hot and Bobby is...Bobby, so this is practical. "And we can't leave Matty out." And Matt gets his own obnoxious cheek kiss. Trying not to think much of it, he lightly shoves Bobby's face away.
"I'd rather you leave me out, actually," he snarks, but now Warren's wing is stretched across his and Jean's shoulders and Bobby's leaning out to drag Scott and Hank into their weird, stoned puppy pile, and everything is beautiful. Blissful.
"If we get called on a mission right now, I'll kill whoever's fault it is," Warren says hazily. "Is that bad?"
"Don't say that," Scott reprimands, but his heart isn't in it. "But I kinda hope we don't, either. This is nice."
"It is nice," Hank echoes, for once keeping it simple. "As men–sorry, Jean and Warren–I appreciate that we've not fallen into toxic masculinity and the social stigma against male affection." There it is.
"You ruined it, Hank," Bobby grumbles, cold head resting on Matt's shoulder.
"I'm just saying it's good that we can be like this," he retorts, a little softer. "And I love you all as well."
"Yeah, me too," Scott says, stiff as usual. Matt feels Warren's hand reach over to ruffle his hair, earning an annoyed squawk and scattered giggles from everyone aside from Scott.
The moments bleed together after that, lazy conversations about nothing floating between them as the air gets colder and night creeps in. Bobby falls asleep sprawled out in Matt's lap, and by now he'd feel bad about shoving him off. Warren's feathers still brush against his back, and he can hear Hank breathing deeply from where his head rests on their thighs. Jean's petting Scott's hair now, their hearts beating in such perfect, beautiful sync that Matt almost feels voyeuristic. But he's not, not really, because the two of them never leave the other four out. It's all six of them or none at all, inseparable despite their differences.
I love you all too, Matt whispers into the evening, delayed but true, and finally lets himself drift into the warmth of his teammates.
His family.