Wirklich ein Engel(truly an Angel)

~*~*~*~*~*~*Author’s note~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I love my reviewers! -^_^- On a side note, I’ve taken care of those typos, in the last chapter and all the others as well. *celebratory jig* Thing is, the ‘s’ key on my dear old computer has been sticking, and me being the bubblehead I am, keep going with my fic without noticing. The historic reference I made shows up in the form of Martha Wilhelm. I got the idea from my good friend, Loial Arent. Wilhelm is the last name of one of Adolf Hitler’s girlfriends. I wanted to use the recurring Nazi reference that shows up in the comics from time to time. Oh! And if anyone has any questions or anything you’d like to discuss without having to post a review and wait for the next author’s note, go ahead and E-Mail me at ladynocturne03@yahoo.com. I’d love to hear from ya!

p.s Ten chapters! w00t! and this is my longest yet!

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Once inside again, Ivy flicked on the television just in time for the Dread Pirate Roberts to begin his pursuit of Viccini, Inigo, and Fezzik up the cliffs of insanity. She didn’t, however, pause to watch, instead moving back to the kitchen where she was preparing dinner for herself, Kurt, Rachel, Anakalia and possibly Dimitri, Aislyn, their friend Artis, and Anakalia’s boyfriend; Talvou. She didn’t mind. She loved those big dinners with all her friends gathered around, laughing and joking and talking about life like family. Because, Dimitri had pointed out a number of times, that’s what they were. They were family. A clan. For all the years they had known each other, they had been together, taken care of one another, through the best of times and the worst of times. She smiled despite herself as she set plates and silverware on the big round table in the dining room. Ever since high school, all through college, they had remained close. They still got together on a regular basis for Dungeons and Dragons, Magic the Gathering, and to play with the ‘bonk-sticks’; practice swords they would use in mock battles as they honed their swordplay abilities. All in all, life was good.

Rachel had finally gotten that job a high school drama teacher, Anakalia worked in graphic design and Ivy had carved herself a niche in life as a veterinary technician. Any time now Aislyn and Dimitri would be parents like they so badly wanted. In light of all of that, maybe she shouldn’t be making such a big deal out of what had been happening with Kurt here. And she still needed to check that wound on his chest. Once the table was set she returned to the living room and plunked down on the couch, the smell of cooking food permeating the air. Nightcrawler was perched on the arm of the couch, forearms resting on his knees, tail flicking rhythmically as Inigo and Roberts began their epic duel.

“This has to be one of my favorite scenes.” Ivy ventured, attempting a smile.

“You enjoy swordplay?” Kurt asked in astonishment. He regarded her with interest rekindling in his incandescent eyes. She grinned in earnest this time.

“Absolutely.” She said, “I mean, okay, Elwes and Patinkin aren’t in the same league as Errol Flynn or anything, but they still were amazing here. Aside from the iocane sequence, it’s the best in the film.”

“It is a wonderful film, but nothing compares to ‘Captain Blood’.” He said with a chuckle.

“I’m not sure.” Ivy said thoughtfully. “Orlando Bloom and Johnny Depp were really pushing the envelope in Pirates of the Caribbean.”

“Are you saying you think Johnny Depp is a better swordsman than Errol Flynn?” Kurt demanded in disbelief, clutching his chest in the general vicinity of his heart.

“I never said that.” Ivy corrected him with a smirk. “I said ‘Pirates’ could be considered as good a movie as ‘Captain Blood’.”

“Ach, sly little thing, aren’t you, Liebchen?” He teased with a chuckle.

“No, just opinionated.” she retorted with a shrug as she turned her attention back to the screen where Fezzik and Roberts were wrestling. Kurt’s smile widened, his unease finally dispersing, bit by bit, and he moved from the arm of the couch to the cushion next to Ivy, bracing himself inwardly in case he had read the situation wrong.

She felt the cushion next to her shift and glanced over at the blue mutant. She hadn’t expected him to come so...so close, nor had she anticipated her own reaction towards it. A part of her, the rational part she supposed, was screaming at her to put some distance between them and keep things platonic. He’d be gone by tomorrow. The other part of her, however, was more than happy with his proximity. Why not enjoy his company? He was handsome and sweet and right there. He’d be gone by tomorrow, after all. So, when he reached forward to caress her cheek, she did not draw away. Simply waited, enthralled by the thoughtful expression he wore. She saw a number of indiscernible emotions flit across his angular face before he seemed to come to some decision.

“You enjoy Swordplay.” He said again, though this time it was a statement, not a question, and his smile was suddenly filled with mischief.

“Yes.” She replied, arching an eyebrow at him inquisitively.

“Well, then that explains quite a bit.” He said matter of factly, flashing that fanged smile again.

“And how do you figure that?”

“I’m a swordsman.”

“A swordsman?”

“Ja. I happen to be quite the swashbuckler.” He assured her with a wink. She chuckled despite herself and averted her gaze. Still he didn’t relent, trailing his fingers across her cheek and up into her hair. Perhaps he had come to the same conclusions as she, decided that it was alright to have a little fun, carpe dium and all that, right? The attraction was there, they were both willing, what harm would come of it?

“And of course,” She murmured in reply. “The swashbuckling hero always gets the girl.”

“Always.” He agreed sagely, leaning closer, his breath warm on her neck. She allowed herself a smile, entangling her fingers in his hair as he pressed his lips to her throat, nuzzling against her skin. Why the hell not? He smiled in return, thoughts seeming to mirror hers as he tugged her playfully into his lap. A surprised giggle bubbled forth as his arms encircled her easily, pulling her flush against his chest. He took a moment to position her so they were both comfortable, her legs sideways across his so her back was supported by the arm of the couch, her head resting on his shoulder. They sat like that for several moments, Kurt resting his chin atop her head as Wesley and Buttercup made their way through the fire swamp.

This time it was Ivy who took the initiative, reaching up to frame his face with her slender, pale hands, drawing him closer to her and pressing her lips to his. He seemed startled at first, but not displeased, and soon responded in kind, his yellow eyes drifting shut as he placed one hand at the back of her neck. His tongue brushed against her lips, seeking entry, which she gladly granted. Her tongue met his, massaging gently as he tasted her, probed the entirety of her mouth.

But then the timer on the Crock Pot went off. With a sigh she slid from his lap and padded to the kitchen, though not without a backwards glance. He merely flashed that fanged grin and winked, studying her departing form with obvious appreciation. She blushed slightly and grinned to herself as she opened the top of the crock pot and prodded the beef inside. Satisfied, she plunked it into the stew pot with the rest of the ingredients and turned the heat on to let it cook while she began the baked potatoes and dessert.


“You’re going to miss the rest of the movie if you take much longer.” Kurt called teasingly from the living room.

“I’ll survive.” She retorted. “We have it on DVD. I’m cooking for at least eight people here!”

“But…you only have two roommates..” He said in puzzlement, rising from the couch and moving to the kitchen. He leaned against the doorframe, head tilted sideways as Ivy produced flour, eggs and the like.

“True, but it’s a Sunday night, so there’s a good chance the rest of the clan’ll show up.” She replied. “Damn...I’ll be back in a sec. I forgot to pick cherries earlier.” She added, heading towards the back door, snatching up a bowl as she went. Nightcrawler watched her through the window over the sink for a moment as she trotted towards the cherry tree near the back corner of the yard. Absently he sniffed at the stew that was simmering on the stove and peered in at the baked potatoes. Sourdough bread was already resting on the table and a bottle of red wine sat beside it. Her ‘clan’ as she called it ate very well indeed it seemed.

He grinned again and vanished with a soft *bamf*, careful to make his appearance high enough in the trees to not draw her attention, but accurate enough to not become impaled upon a branch. With the easy grace of a practiced aerialist he swung from branch to branch, using hands, feet and tail until he was directly above the young woman. She seemed to be in much higher spirits, humming something jaunty, though unfamiliar to the blue mutant, as she plucked ripe cherries. Wrapping his tail securely around a sturdy looking branch, he grabbed a handful of the fruit and lowered himself so that when Ivy turned to pick some more low hanging cherries, Kurt was already handing them to her. She started slightly and let out a peal of laughter, accepting the fruit and dropping it in the bowl. His grin was infectious, even upside down.

“You know, I really should stop being startled when you do that.” She mused, resting the bowl against her hip.

“You’re right. And you really shouldn’t be surprised when I do this.” He agreed, pressing his lips to hers. It was odd, but he managed to be a great kisser even suspended upside down, his tongue tracing the roof of her mouth while he brushed one hand across her cheek.


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Martha Wilhelm scowled, tearing ruthlessly at the weeds in her garden. The police wouldn’t come and do something about the creature across the street, but at least she could take some satisfaction in knowing her front yard looked far superior to the little Buckland tart’s. She leaned back on her heels and brushed some dirt from her grey sweatpants. She’d turn up raped and dead come the morning, and she’d have no one to blame but herself. She deserved whatever she got for allowing that thing into her home. And no one, no one could say otherwise. At least, Martha thought to herself, she had done the right thing and warned the police.

She was shaken from her thoughts by the anxious voices of some football players from the local High School, clean cut, upstanding young men. They didn’t bother with that outlandish nonsense like the girls across the street. And the girls were at least twenty five! They should know better! She was just starting to get angry again when she heard quite clearly a snatch of the young men’s conversation.

“-Know that mutie’s here anyway?!” One of them was demanding harshly. He gestured in the vague direction of a pair of apartment buildings and the ally between them. “For all we know he coulda been hauled out with the rest of the trash!”

“Would you shut up? People are starin’ at us!” The apparent leader snapped irritably. By this time they were almost directly in front of Martha’s garden and the aged woman smiled to herself. She still had a chance to be a good Samaritan.

“Are you boys lost?” She asked, always a great way to start a conversation in San Francisco.

“Uh, no, actually..” The leader, a tall, good looking blond boy replied carefully. “We’re...looking for something…”

“Are you now?” She prodded sweetly, smiling like a favorite grandmother as she dusted off her tee shirt. “Maybe I can help. I know everything that goes on in this neighborhood.” She added with a meaningful look, one that told them in no uncertain terms she meant what she was telling them.

Jake smiled and produced a weathered and faded photograph of the mutant they were looking for. It had him placed in a cage, huddled in a dark corner, but his features were unmistakable. Beneath the photo was the caption “Nightcrawler, man or beast?”

“We’re looking for this.”