A Bottle Can't Hold You
folder
X-Men - Animated Series (all) › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
9
Views:
2,687
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
X-Men - Animated Series (all) › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
9
Views:
2,687
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
Disclaimer Haiku: Kurt and the X-Men/ I own nothing related/ I make no money.
Control
Chapter 3: Control
In a puff of smoke Kurt reappeared next to his bed, blood still pouring from his nose despite the ice-filled cloth that he was holding there. The acrid brimstone did nothing to help his pain, though that was far from a major concern. His current mental state was a far more pressing matter.
He dropped to his knees on the ground, struggling to corral his memories once more, outwardly showing his distress now that he did not have to maintain his façade.
His tail thrashed about in agitation, and he grabbed hold of it to stroke along its length. It was not broken, not anymore. There were no hands on it but his own, no rough, uncaring hands lifting it up to expose…
Stop it stop it STOP IT!
Kurt pressed the makeshift ice pack harder against his nose, grateful at the fresh pain. Pain helped him focus on the present; pain reminded him that he was here, now, safe.
After his panic had subsided and the blood flow was staunched, he reached a hand to the drawer and found the remains of his first bottle of vodka. He finished it off with a vengeance, pulling in gulp after gulp of liquid fire. Back to hollow he went, back to hide himself behind a wall of ethanol. No one and nothing could break through this.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Afternoon saw a thoroughly fortified Nightcrawler suited up and standing outside the Danger Room. His nose was obviously swollen, but it had been set correctly, and the bruises were hidden beneath his fur for the most part. He cast a glance at Scott, the only other person who had arrived so far. Kurt was five minutes early; Scott had been there even before him.
Scott shifted from foot to foot, obviously uncomfortable being alone with the mutant whose nose he had broken earlier that day.
“Kurt, about your… I mean… this morning…”
Nightcrawler fixed him with a somewhat bewildered gaze. Was Scott actually trying to apologize? He considered this for a moment, until his cynical side presented the more likely motivation: Kurt’s injured nose required an explanation, and it wouldn’t do for the other X-Men to find out that their purportedly infallible team leader had lost control and attacked one of his own teammates.
“Keine Bange, Scott. I wouldn’t dream of inconveniencing you,” he muttered, turning away from his supposed superior.
“Now wait a second, Kurt! It’s not fair at all to say that!”
Scott’s hand landed on Kurt’s shoulder. Nightcrawler whirled around and stared up at the taller mutant, cold yellow gaze seeming to bore through the red visor. His tail swished behind him, moving in time with his words.
“Listen, Scott. You’re an Arschloch. Always have been. I put up with you because for some reason I can’t understand, Herr Professor decided that you were the best choice to lead this team. You deserve a swift kick in the ass and some time on the sidelines, but I’m not going to be the one to put you in your place. It’d be a lot of trouble, and I really don’t feel like dealing with it right now. So don’t push your luck with me, and you get to keep your little fearless leader charade going. Deal?”
Scott puffed out his chest in indignation, and his mouth opened to respond, but no sound escaped. After a few moments of impersonating an angry goldfish, he finally deflated. He said nothing; merely turned away.
Kurt briefly wondered about how much the alcohol in his system was currently affecting him. Would he really have snapped at Cyclops if he had been entirely sober? Granted, Kurt was a very high-functioning drunk, and his motor skills were not at all impaired, but he would have to watch his behavior carefully.
A pair of shapely legs sent the less gentlemanly parts of Kurt’s mind wandering to happier places as Shadowcat dropped through the ceiling with impeccable timing. As she approached the ground, she began kicking her legs in the oddly graceful “airwalking” technique she had just recently developed, slowing her descent to land lightly on the floor.
“Like, hey there, guys!” Kitty Pryde exclaimed, perpetually bubbly and full of energy.
Scott nodded to the newcomer and raised a hand in greeting. Kurt murmured some sort of hello and tried to turn away in time to avoid her noticing his injury, but it was too late.
“Oh my God, Fuzzy! Like, what happened there?” she asked, voice filled with concern but keeping her distance physically. She never touched him unless she absolutely had to do so… or unless she was using him as a plush toy to vent her tears over life’s unfairness.
Scott opened his mouth to spout some poorly fabricated lie, but Kurt beat him to it with a better one.
“Nothing, Kätzchen. You would think that I know not to teleport right in front of doors as they are opened, but I learn slow, ja?”
Kurt cursed inwardly at the thick accent that fumbled its way out of his mouth. For some reason, it always became heavier around Kätzchen. It was perfect, in an ironic sort of way; how better to make himself even less human to her than to have trouble speaking English?
“All right, Fuzzy,” she said. “It looks pretty bad, though. Maybe you should, like, have Dr. McCoy look at it or something?”
“It’s fine, Kitty. Really. Nothing to worry about.”
Kurt was glad at that moment that she never looked straight into his eyes; he had never been very good at hiding lies with anything but his voice.
As if to reinforce this fact, his tail had decided to twist itself into a corkscrew shape, perhaps the best sign of his prevarications. No one currently in the mansion knew him well enough to read his tail, thankfully. Among all the Institute’s inhabitants, only Logan and the Professor could interpret the cues it sent out, and neither one of them particularly needed the extra hints.
Of course, Amanda had taken notice of his tail’s displays, and had taken advantage of them to read him with uncanny accuracy. She had always known when he was feeling “extra blue,” as she always put it…
Not now!
“So,” Kurt began, then winced as he realized he had spoken a bit too loudly. “So,” he said more softly, “What’s today’s sim?”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A little more than an hour later, Kurt was basking in the ultimate irony: Cyclops, a mutant whose destructive optic blasts were restrained entirely by artificial means, was lecturing him on the necessity of developing control of his powers. Nightcrawler, after a grueling session in which he had saved several of his team members from “death,” had made a blind teleport under Cyclops’ direct orders, and had ended up in the line of fire of three Sentinels. This had led to his “death” and ended the simulation; Scott was unwilling to complete any session in which even a single casualty was sustained, and was itching to launch into another long-winded sermon.
“…All here to learn about what makes us unique and special, and the Professor wants us to develop and control our powers more and more each day. In his absence, it’s my duty as team leader, and as a responsible adult, to make sure that you’re all following his wishes. If Professor Xavier were here right now, I’m certain he’d be just as disappointed in you as I—”
Kurt could take no more. Seizing Scott’s shoulders in his three-fingered hands, he pulled the other downwards until they were eye to eye.
“As team leader, it is your responsibility to know your team’s abilities and limitations,” Kurt said in a dangerously calm voice. “You ordered me to teleport blindly, with full knowledge of just how unsafe that is. You killed me in a simulation today, Scott. You, personally. No one else.” He smirked derisively. “Quite the team leader and responsible adult you are, single-handedly killing one of your own teammates. But that’s not the worst-case scenario.”
Tightening his grip, the younger mutant lowered his voice.
“By following your order, I could have ended up inside someone else from the team, and the two of us would now be dead. Not in a simulation. In real life. A couple of feet to the left, and Evan and I wouldn’t be here. A few to the right, and you’d have murdered me and Jean. Chew on that one for a bit.”
Nightcrawler’s smile curved cruelly, fully showcasing the demonic appearance he had always tried so hard to downplay, as he continued at a volume audible only to him and Scott.
“As for that last part… If Professor Xavier were here right now, you wouldn’t be in charge of so much as your own bowel movements. And if this conversation were to continue, and Professor Xavier were to arrive a few minutes from now, he would be wondering how every tooth in your mouth had been teleported to a different spot in the Danger Room. I’m certainly glad this conversation is over now, aren’t you?”
To illustrate his final point, Kurt took hold of Scott’s right hand and, focusing his power down to minute details, disappeared with the glove. He reappeared a moment later next to Jean, an utterly chilling smile on his face and Scott’s glove in his hand.
“I’ve really got to work on my control,” Nightcrawler said, voice dripping with sarcasm, then teleported again, leaving Scott’s glove to drop to the ground.
A puff of smoke above their heads caused all the mutants to look up and see Kurt hanging from the ceiling by his feet.
“I think I’m going to go practice very hard so that I don’t fail our great leader again. Ciao, ragazzi!”
With another bamf, he was gone once more.
Glossary
Keine Bange: No worries (German)
Arschloch: Asshole (German)
Ciao, ragazzi: Bye, folks (Italian, lit. Bye, kids)
In a puff of smoke Kurt reappeared next to his bed, blood still pouring from his nose despite the ice-filled cloth that he was holding there. The acrid brimstone did nothing to help his pain, though that was far from a major concern. His current mental state was a far more pressing matter.
He dropped to his knees on the ground, struggling to corral his memories once more, outwardly showing his distress now that he did not have to maintain his façade.
His tail thrashed about in agitation, and he grabbed hold of it to stroke along its length. It was not broken, not anymore. There were no hands on it but his own, no rough, uncaring hands lifting it up to expose…
Stop it stop it STOP IT!
Kurt pressed the makeshift ice pack harder against his nose, grateful at the fresh pain. Pain helped him focus on the present; pain reminded him that he was here, now, safe.
After his panic had subsided and the blood flow was staunched, he reached a hand to the drawer and found the remains of his first bottle of vodka. He finished it off with a vengeance, pulling in gulp after gulp of liquid fire. Back to hollow he went, back to hide himself behind a wall of ethanol. No one and nothing could break through this.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Afternoon saw a thoroughly fortified Nightcrawler suited up and standing outside the Danger Room. His nose was obviously swollen, but it had been set correctly, and the bruises were hidden beneath his fur for the most part. He cast a glance at Scott, the only other person who had arrived so far. Kurt was five minutes early; Scott had been there even before him.
Scott shifted from foot to foot, obviously uncomfortable being alone with the mutant whose nose he had broken earlier that day.
“Kurt, about your… I mean… this morning…”
Nightcrawler fixed him with a somewhat bewildered gaze. Was Scott actually trying to apologize? He considered this for a moment, until his cynical side presented the more likely motivation: Kurt’s injured nose required an explanation, and it wouldn’t do for the other X-Men to find out that their purportedly infallible team leader had lost control and attacked one of his own teammates.
“Keine Bange, Scott. I wouldn’t dream of inconveniencing you,” he muttered, turning away from his supposed superior.
“Now wait a second, Kurt! It’s not fair at all to say that!”
Scott’s hand landed on Kurt’s shoulder. Nightcrawler whirled around and stared up at the taller mutant, cold yellow gaze seeming to bore through the red visor. His tail swished behind him, moving in time with his words.
“Listen, Scott. You’re an Arschloch. Always have been. I put up with you because for some reason I can’t understand, Herr Professor decided that you were the best choice to lead this team. You deserve a swift kick in the ass and some time on the sidelines, but I’m not going to be the one to put you in your place. It’d be a lot of trouble, and I really don’t feel like dealing with it right now. So don’t push your luck with me, and you get to keep your little fearless leader charade going. Deal?”
Scott puffed out his chest in indignation, and his mouth opened to respond, but no sound escaped. After a few moments of impersonating an angry goldfish, he finally deflated. He said nothing; merely turned away.
Kurt briefly wondered about how much the alcohol in his system was currently affecting him. Would he really have snapped at Cyclops if he had been entirely sober? Granted, Kurt was a very high-functioning drunk, and his motor skills were not at all impaired, but he would have to watch his behavior carefully.
A pair of shapely legs sent the less gentlemanly parts of Kurt’s mind wandering to happier places as Shadowcat dropped through the ceiling with impeccable timing. As she approached the ground, she began kicking her legs in the oddly graceful “airwalking” technique she had just recently developed, slowing her descent to land lightly on the floor.
“Like, hey there, guys!” Kitty Pryde exclaimed, perpetually bubbly and full of energy.
Scott nodded to the newcomer and raised a hand in greeting. Kurt murmured some sort of hello and tried to turn away in time to avoid her noticing his injury, but it was too late.
“Oh my God, Fuzzy! Like, what happened there?” she asked, voice filled with concern but keeping her distance physically. She never touched him unless she absolutely had to do so… or unless she was using him as a plush toy to vent her tears over life’s unfairness.
Scott opened his mouth to spout some poorly fabricated lie, but Kurt beat him to it with a better one.
“Nothing, Kätzchen. You would think that I know not to teleport right in front of doors as they are opened, but I learn slow, ja?”
Kurt cursed inwardly at the thick accent that fumbled its way out of his mouth. For some reason, it always became heavier around Kätzchen. It was perfect, in an ironic sort of way; how better to make himself even less human to her than to have trouble speaking English?
“All right, Fuzzy,” she said. “It looks pretty bad, though. Maybe you should, like, have Dr. McCoy look at it or something?”
“It’s fine, Kitty. Really. Nothing to worry about.”
Kurt was glad at that moment that she never looked straight into his eyes; he had never been very good at hiding lies with anything but his voice.
As if to reinforce this fact, his tail had decided to twist itself into a corkscrew shape, perhaps the best sign of his prevarications. No one currently in the mansion knew him well enough to read his tail, thankfully. Among all the Institute’s inhabitants, only Logan and the Professor could interpret the cues it sent out, and neither one of them particularly needed the extra hints.
Of course, Amanda had taken notice of his tail’s displays, and had taken advantage of them to read him with uncanny accuracy. She had always known when he was feeling “extra blue,” as she always put it…
Not now!
“So,” Kurt began, then winced as he realized he had spoken a bit too loudly. “So,” he said more softly, “What’s today’s sim?”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A little more than an hour later, Kurt was basking in the ultimate irony: Cyclops, a mutant whose destructive optic blasts were restrained entirely by artificial means, was lecturing him on the necessity of developing control of his powers. Nightcrawler, after a grueling session in which he had saved several of his team members from “death,” had made a blind teleport under Cyclops’ direct orders, and had ended up in the line of fire of three Sentinels. This had led to his “death” and ended the simulation; Scott was unwilling to complete any session in which even a single casualty was sustained, and was itching to launch into another long-winded sermon.
“…All here to learn about what makes us unique and special, and the Professor wants us to develop and control our powers more and more each day. In his absence, it’s my duty as team leader, and as a responsible adult, to make sure that you’re all following his wishes. If Professor Xavier were here right now, I’m certain he’d be just as disappointed in you as I—”
Kurt could take no more. Seizing Scott’s shoulders in his three-fingered hands, he pulled the other downwards until they were eye to eye.
“As team leader, it is your responsibility to know your team’s abilities and limitations,” Kurt said in a dangerously calm voice. “You ordered me to teleport blindly, with full knowledge of just how unsafe that is. You killed me in a simulation today, Scott. You, personally. No one else.” He smirked derisively. “Quite the team leader and responsible adult you are, single-handedly killing one of your own teammates. But that’s not the worst-case scenario.”
Tightening his grip, the younger mutant lowered his voice.
“By following your order, I could have ended up inside someone else from the team, and the two of us would now be dead. Not in a simulation. In real life. A couple of feet to the left, and Evan and I wouldn’t be here. A few to the right, and you’d have murdered me and Jean. Chew on that one for a bit.”
Nightcrawler’s smile curved cruelly, fully showcasing the demonic appearance he had always tried so hard to downplay, as he continued at a volume audible only to him and Scott.
“As for that last part… If Professor Xavier were here right now, you wouldn’t be in charge of so much as your own bowel movements. And if this conversation were to continue, and Professor Xavier were to arrive a few minutes from now, he would be wondering how every tooth in your mouth had been teleported to a different spot in the Danger Room. I’m certainly glad this conversation is over now, aren’t you?”
To illustrate his final point, Kurt took hold of Scott’s right hand and, focusing his power down to minute details, disappeared with the glove. He reappeared a moment later next to Jean, an utterly chilling smile on his face and Scott’s glove in his hand.
“I’ve really got to work on my control,” Nightcrawler said, voice dripping with sarcasm, then teleported again, leaving Scott’s glove to drop to the ground.
A puff of smoke above their heads caused all the mutants to look up and see Kurt hanging from the ceiling by his feet.
“I think I’m going to go practice very hard so that I don’t fail our great leader again. Ciao, ragazzi!”
With another bamf, he was gone once more.
Glossary
Keine Bange: No worries (German)
Arschloch: Asshole (German)
Ciao, ragazzi: Bye, folks (Italian, lit. Bye, kids)