Hiding

All characters except for Roisin and any mutants or humans you don’t know belong to Marvel comics. Not only am I not making money from this, I am putting off job interviews to work on it. : )


Kurt adjusted his clothing and took a deep breath. He could hear pond pnd pans rattling around downstairs and he listened for the loud crash of something breaking- only a few hours with Roisin had told him that this was likely but it grew oddly quiet and he didn’t hear anything break. He headed down the stairs, trying to remain calm and think of a way to smooth this situation over. He really liked Roisin, she was the first girl in a long time to look at him as something other than a demon. She was willing to help him hide from a bunch of depraved murderers because an old friend had asked her to do so. The fact that he’d gone and fucked it up in record time was something that he’d have to deal with. Walking slowly down the dark hallway, looking at his feet, Kurt made his way into the kitchen. He was only a little bit surprised to see that she wasn’t waiting for him at the table. Instead, she had placed his dinner on a plate with a glass of wine and a note.


Kurt- I have to finish unpacking tonight’s deliveries and do some work in the shop. I threw together some pil pillows and blankets for you for the couch- sorry if it isn’t that comfortable- I’ll make some better ones when I’m finished working. Have something to eat and then get some sleep. You look exhausted. I made you some pajamas- hope they fit ok.

-Roisin


Sighing, Kurt sat down at the table at began to eat. I guess I won’t be trying to fix anything right now…or later tonight… he thought, looking back at the note she’d left him. Kurt ate quickly, thinking how much he enjoyed the chicken and potatoes and how the salad he’d made with her earlier when the evening had seemed so bright now looked distinctly unappealing. He wished he could compliment her on the food but figured she probably didn’t want to hear much from him right now. Why had he done that? Almost choking on a piece of chicken, Kurt realized that what he really regretted was not that he’d kissed and stroked her, but that he’d leapt off her like she was contaminated. No wonder she wasn’t hanging around for explanations. After all the times he’d been treated as some kind of freak, he’d inadvertently done the exact same thing to her. Verdammt! He wondered how he could be so foolish and inconsiderate. Was this what Father Whitney had taught him? he thought to himself before remembering it had all been a lie and that Father Whitney, misguided as he was, still wouldn't have encouraged Kurt to engage his lustful desires. For a moment he wished he could be more like Logan- since the heartbreak of Mariko those years ago, and his still unrequited love for their Fearless Leader's wife, Logan had a series of mutually beneficial and superficial sexual flings. Sometimes it seemed he could just snap his fingers and some beautiful young thing would come sauntering over, sitting in his lap and whispering in his ear. Kurt had lost count of the number of times Logan had mumbled something about meeting up with him later while some girl hung all over him.

Shaking his head, Kurt picked up his empty plate and walked over to the sink, rinsed the dish off and dried it with a paper towel hanging from a dispenser that looked like it was made out of stone with little gargoyles on it. Kurt looked closely at it and decided the one on the left side looked more like him. He smiled a little bit at the gargoyle and reached one long finger out to touch it. It was cold and rough. Kind of like how he felt, he thought, knowing he was indulging in a bout of self-pity. He placed the dried dish in the drying rack to the left of the sink and walked out of the kitchen, carrying his wine glass and the bottle he’d grabbed off the counter on the way out.

He made his way to the living room and saw that the boxes full of those bizarre things she sold in her store were gone and that the couch had been pulled out to make a bed. There were giant square pillows all over it, covered in some kind of soft plushy fabric. At least four blankets made out of a similar material in varying shades of green were folded over the side of the couch. He held them up to his face, feeling their softness and wondered exactly how it was that Roisin “made” things. Perhaps the threads came out of her fingers? He looked down and saw a pair of pajamas folded on the windowsill. They were cottony and striped, and he saw that they were placed near the poster for the Clark Gable movie they’d discussed earlier. Picking them up, he realized that they were the same ones Gable wore in the movie. He smiled and changed quickly, laying down on the couch pillows and covering himself with the blanket. He could hear Roisin in the shop out front, listening to music while she finished work. Sipping his wine, he mentally replayed what had happened earlier that evening and came to the same conclusion. He’d reacted horribly-it was no wonder she was hurt and trying to keep her distance. Growing sleepier, Kurt placed the wine glass and bottle on the little table to the side of the sofa and closed his eyes. He’d fix it tomorrow.


Roisin stretched out, taking a deep breath and exhaling. God she hated unpacking the boxes. It’d been easier when she’d worked with Iain, but he’d gone off and gotten married to that girl he’d met in rehab. She hadn’t found anyone to replace him yet, and she knew the main reason for that was that she hadn’t really looked very hard. A lot of the time she felt that she could get things done better if she just did them herself. She collapsed the now empty boxes and placed them behind the counter and looked at her binder with the inventory list.

Absentmindedly, she ran her fingers around her collarbone and down over her breasts. Reaching around her back she traced back and forth in the shape of lacing, before moving her hands up and down to create boning. Backtracking up to her arms, she traced an invisible line where sleeves would lay. In a few moments, gauzy thin threads came out from her fingertips and wove themselves into the shape of the garment she’d just mentally imagined. A princess collared corset top with long gauzy sleeves in the same silvery off white color everything she made was at first. She looked at it, scrunched up her face and imagined it in black PVC instead. Shaking her head, she imagined it back in the silvery color with tighter sleeves. Hmph. Pretty cute. She put her hands on the top as it lay on the counter and whispered under her breath. Handmade by Roisin embroidered itself on a little satin tag tucked in the back of the neckline. Sweeping her hands over it, she mentally imagined it smaller, then smaller again. In a few moments two more tops lay in front of her on the counter. The buzzing in her fingers was something she’d once hated but now enjoyed, almost a physical manifestation of her talent, she’d convinced herself. Once the two small sizes were complete and tagged, she repeated the process, making larger tops. Humming quietly to herself she walked over to where she kept the hangers- all covered in satiny material- No Wire Hangers!- she thought to herself, remembering the movie about Joan Crawford, and brought them back to the tops she’d just made. She placed each one on a hanger and affixed a price tag of $55 to each. Reaching back for the binder, she heard Kurt moaning in his sleep.

She froze for a moment- startled, and then she blushed- a reaction she’d hoped her mutation would somehow erase as it was about the most immature thing she could think of, plus it screwed her everytime she tried to play poker with Ron and Sandy and their friends. Talk about your easy to read 'tells'. She’d tried to forget about what had happened with Kurt earlier- painful awkward things like that were always best put away for awhile, and hearing him in the other room brought it all rushing back. She remembered how he’d felt on top of her, his weight pressing her into the bed, the warmth of his body, the softness of his fur, all sproingy and vellux like, the way those unusual hands had run over her breasts, tracing the nipples through her shirt before reaching down to rub between her legs. Within moments she’d been wildly aroused, more so than she could remember for a very long time. Her panties had been soaked- and she could hear herself mewling, feel herself bucking up against him, trying to grind her center against his hardness. Then like a blinding flash, she’d felt his emotions come blasting over her. Guilt, shame, remorse, self-loathing, and overwhelming fear. She’d known he’d panic and leave before he did but still heard her own voice apologizing and asking what she’d done wrong.

Nothing. She knew it wasn’t her fault. Still, that insecure part of her that she’d worked so hard for all these years to squash down had come rising up and completely shattered her carefully constructed visage of strength. Fuck. She decided she wanted more wine and headed out of the shop.

Passing the living room on her way to the kitchen, Roisin couldn’t help but peek in and see if Kurt was sleeping more soundly now. She saw him, scrunched up into an impossibly small ball, his arm across his face. The strange thought that despite his rather demonic appearance, he looked for all the world a sleeping angel, crept into her mind. Then she remembered again what had happened, and the hurt that she’d felt. Intellectually she knew it wasn’t his fault, he hadn’t meant to hurt her, and considering she was a fucking empath and was able to actually read his feelings should have made it all the more obvious that he’d not meant to hurt her. She sighed and tiptoed over to where he slept. She adjusted the blankets, pulling them up over his foot which was sticking out from under them. Gazing down at his sleeping form, she felt an awkward warmth come over her. She wanted him- that much was certain from earlier tonight, but it was more than that. She wanted to free him of his feelings of self-loathing and guilt. She wanted him to be able to experience joy and pleasure and rapture again. Smiling to herself as she leaned over and kissed his furred cheek, she realized she knew exactly how to do that. She sighed quietly at his soft murmur at her kiss and then walked back to the kitchen to get more wine. Then it was time to go back to the shop. She had another outfit to make. Grinning wildly now, she felt her pulse start to race as she looked forward to Kurt's training session tomorrow and the rush of pleasure and power she'd not felt since her working days warmed her as much as the wine.