"So, Scotty-boy the leader-man's a fag." The mocking statement made him stiffen, for the tone more than the words. The challenge was clear. Scott Summers turned slowly to face a grinning Wolverine. The dark-haired ex-assassin stood blocking the end of the inner courtyard of the mansion, arms crossed, gaze narrowed.

"And a mutant. So?" Scott shrugged. Not to be baited by this man, not over this.

"So," Wolverine spat, leaning forward, triumphant smirk plastered firmly on his face. "How long are these bozos gonna follow a fag like you when I'm around?"

"I don't know, Wolverine," Warren said as he came around the courtyard corner, a thin, deadly smile on his face. "You might want to ask them. But I don't see any problem with it." Wolverine straightened up, the smirk widening as he glanced contemptuously between the two of them.

"Lover-boy comes to your rescue now, does he Scotty-baby?"

"Actually, I was coming to your rescue, Wolverine," Warren said, a sharp gleam in his eyes, his tone lightly ironic.

"Think again, bird-boy," Wolverine sneered.

Warren raised a golden brow at the older man in a way that Scott had come to recognize as dangerous. Rolling his eyes behind his visor, he crossed his arms and just settled back to watch as Wolverine was about to be given a lesson in manners. Not that he couldn't take care of this himself, but Jean would get mad at him if he hurt Wolverine too badly. Warren, however, could charm his way out of any amount of trouble. And usually did.

"You have a healing ability, don't you Wolverine?" Warren asked in a polite, conversational tone.

"Don't break anything important," Scott warned dryly. Warren looked at him and just shook his head slowly and sadly, as if wounded that he could even think him capable of causing a teammate injury. Then he whirled and in a blindingly fast motion and a booming rush of air - and well before Wolverine could react - he had caught the other man by the back of his vest, huge wings carrying them both off with shocking speed high into the summer sky. Scott let the faintest hint of a pleased smile touch the corner of his mouth. Warren had been working out diligently with Peter, he saw. He lifted Wolverine easily, despite his metal-laced skeleton.

Wolverine hung gracelessly from the armholes of his heavy leather vest, awkward and vulnerable. Scott winced when he saw the gleam of claws appear over his hands. But Warren held on with both hands latched onto his vest collar, well away from the Wolverine's deadly reach.

Dimly he could hear the Wolverine's irate shouts filtering back through the air. Warren circled slowly higher and higher, until the two of them were little more than a dark speck in the sky. Then the speck was diving down, fast, faster. Growing in size with alarming rapidity until he could make them out clearly again. Wolverine flailing, his mouth working angrily; Warren's wings swept back for speed, an unholy smile on his face. He had experienced that breathless rush before as the air swept past so fast you could barely suck it in. But he'd had the advantage of implicit trust in the man with the wings. Wolverine didn't.

Scott heard his enraged shouts as Warren pulled up at seemingly the last possible instant, jerking him hard with the change of direction and dragging the Wolverine's boots through the top of a bush. Scott could see the ex-assassin's face turn green from where he was standing. Then - nearly all of their velocity killed by the tremendous back draft of those huge wings and barely six feet off the ground - Warren let him go.

Wolverine howled in outrage.

The unfortunate man flew through the air, twisting frantically. He managed to turn enough so it was his leather-covered back that struck the ornamental rose bushes first, but barely. He crashed messily through the thorny plants, snarling and cursing, before finally rolling to a stop near the mansion's foundation. He lay there for an instant, obviously stunned, then crawled up on his hands and knees and puked all over the rose bush.

Meanwhile, Warren had settled gracefully to the ground, not even winded. Scott walked up beside him, and, in a rare public display of affection, ran his hand briefly down the other man's arm. Warren favored him with a sidelong look and the hint of a smile before he heaved an exaggerated sigh and folded his arms over his chest, white wings settling neatly against his back.

"I suppose Cyclops will have to give me a lecture now."

Scott smiled at his lover and shook his head. "Not on your life, Angel."