Forever

CHAPTER TEN—FOREVER (NC-17)

 

 

A/N Again, nothing
you recognize belongs to me, not one jot of it. Tons of thanks to Foxfeather and Internutter for all their help
and putting up with this story that is now spawning out of control! J

 

 

 

 

“What’s in
here?” Amara shook the medium-sized
white box, listening to the muffled “thump” coming from inside.

“Don’t
shake it, idiot!” Lance snatched the
box back and cradled it to his chest as if it were his own child. “Just put it on Kitty’s bed with this card
and keep quiet about where it came from.”
Narrowing his eyes at her, Lance handed the box back. “And don’t read the card.” The flat pink envelope was taped to the top
of the box and bore Kitty’s name in black, capital letters.

“Fine,
fine. Is this it?” Amara fought the urge to shake the box
again, remembering that Lance lived with a girl who could produce timed
explosions. “What’s in here, though? I won’t give it to Kitty unless I know that
I won’t get in trouble or hurt. I don’t
like her enough to put myself in harm’s way.”


Lance
glared at Amara through the murky darkness, rubbing the bridge of his nose in
consternation. “It’s a present, to
remind Kitty of what she means to me.
All you need to do is put it on her bed and make sure that she doesn’t
see you or know who it’s from. Is that
too difficult, Princess?”

“Listen to
me, boy, it is a rare thing to gain a favor from me. If you don’t appreciate the depths to which
I am lowering myself, we can call this deal off right now.” Amara allowed her left hand, the hand not
holding the box, to flame and moved as if to touch it to the gift in her right
hand.

“NO!” The panicked look on Lance’s face was
priceless to Amara, causing her to burst out laughing. “Stupid bitch! I should tell Summers right now that you’re lusting after him and
asked me to help get Jean out of the way!”

Sobering,
Amara stepped up to Lance, pressing her body against his in an effort to get in
his face, “You do that and you’ll have to explain whatever is in this box and why
you were lurking around the mansion after dark.” Devious. I admire that
in a man.

The feel of
Amara’s breasts pressed against his chest distracted Lance momentarily so he
just stood there and gulped. The sight
of the white box in her hand, though, brought him back to the moment and he
shoved the girl away with a growl.
“Keep your tits to yourself, Princess.
Just take it to her and don’t ask questions.” Turning on his heel, Lance strode into the swallowing darkness
outside the mansion’s gates to wherever he had hidden the car. Amara watched him for as long as she could,
appreciating the view before shaking herself mentally and slipping back inside
the gate. She skirted the fringes of
the security lights, following her previous route that took her by the
boathouse again, past the yellow blob hiding in the reeds, watching her
progress.

 

Amara could
hear voices coming from the library as she passed and hastily ducked into an
alcove as the door swung open behind her.
A tall man with graying dark hair walked past with a falsely blonde
woman in tow. The woman jerked her arm
from his grasp and stood her ground, forcing the man to stop and turn to
her. They were directly across from
Amara’s hiding place, the alcove where she had folded herself into the corner
of the bench seat. Great. I’m trapped here. If I get caught, I’m going to kill Lance. The couple was
arguing now, in low voices and sometimes in other languages. Amara caught Kitty’s name, and then
Kurt’s. Ah. I think these are Kitty’s parents. Interesting—I always knew she came from base
stock. The woman, not so quiet now,
bit out a harsh invective against her husband.
“Kitty never had a chance here.
If you hadn’t sent her here, she may have been normal again. Now look at her! She proud of being a freak! Did you see that…thing…she was with? He was got up like demon[1]! You can’t mean to tell me that anywhere that
allows kids to run around in costumes like that all the time is a good
influence on her!”

“She’s not
our problem anymore! Kitty is dead to
us.” The man turned his face away from
his wife, sadness mingling with hatred decorating his features.

“You’re
right, she isn’t. But what are we going
to tell everyone back home? We can’t
just say “Kitty who?” and pretend like she never existed. And we can’t tell them that she is dead or
what she really is—a mutant-fucking freak of nature!”

“I’ll thank
you to remember that she is of our blood.
We’ll have to think of a plausible story on the way to New Orleans. Now come on. If I’m late I won’t be in a forgiving mood.”

“Of course,
dear.” The smile that glittered on Mrs.
Pryde’s face made even Amara’s blood run cold.
The couple moved off down the hall, followed shortly by Storm and the
Professor. Amara huddled in her corner
of the alcove for a good five minutes, making sure that no one else was coming
down the hall, before darting towards the stairs, the box cradled against her
chest. I don’t know what the Hell went on here tonight, but Kitty is getting
far too much attention for my liking. She slowed her steps as she mounted the
stairs, careful of the sound of her footfall.
Breathing tgh hgh her mouth so as to mask her rapid breathing, Amara
sidled up to Kitty’s door and pressed her ear against it. From within were the
faint murmurs of voices. Damn. Going to have to wait now… Tip-toeing to her own door, Amara narrowly
missed Jubilee hiding in the shadows of the bathroom doorway, peering
suspiciously through the dim light of the hallway.

 

The box
taunted Amara. It had been sitting on
her dresser for two hours and every time the girl would roll over on her bed,
it seemed to call her name, beg her to peek inside. Throwing back her sheets, Amara forced herself to walk slowly to
the dresser and take the box carefully in her hands rather than leap at it and
tear it open, as had been her initial impulse.
Must be careful. Lance would
kill me if he knew I peeked. I have to
see what sort of gift he’s giving Kitty—she’s not deserving of something grand. A girl like her, jewels would be
wasted. As would fine metals like
platinum. Would Lance even give a gift
like that? It’s probably a lock of his
hair or something stupid. Amara
considered the box carefully, deciding to use her ornate dagger, a ceremonial
piece from home, to slit the tape securing the paper. Carefully, so as not to wrinkle the white paper, she laid it to
one side and carefully removed the tape from the brown cardboard box it
concealed. The box itself bore no
markings, making Amara even more curious.
She did, however, notice a faint metallic smcomicoming from within. Metallic and fleshy. Slowly, she removed the lid and found a
large Zip Loc bag inside, containing a wad of white plastic and newspaper. The smell was stronger now, and for the
first time a fea felt a little worm of fear gnawing in her stomach. What have I gotten into? Opening the plastic baggy, she gagged at the
smell. Amara could now see streaks of
brown decorating the plastic within the bag and hesitated to explore further. This isn’t jewelry. Closing her eyes against whatever might
be within the bag, she dumped it upside down into the box in her lap, cringing
at the meaty thud. What fresh Hell
is this?[2] She opened one eye and stifled a scream when
she saw what lay in her lap—a heart, hopefully animal but Amara would not have
been too surprised of Todd Tolensky turned up missing, the way he irritated
Lance, hastily cleaned and with veins still hanging off it’s exterior. This is not good. Never taking her eyes off the heart, Amara
felt to her side for the card, her fingers fumbling to open the envelope. No way in Hell am I giving this to
Kitty. I won’t run the risk of getting
caught pulling a stunt like this.
The card itself was sappy, pale pink hearts on a pastel background,
something Lance obviously had someone pick out for him rather than doing it
himself. The card was void of words on
the front, but the inside had Lance’s scrawl, boldly position in the middle of
the blank whits. s. “Kitty, you tore
out my heart,” Amara read aloud. Romantic
in a Hannibal Lecter sort of way.
Hannibal without the intelligence. The gesture strangely touched Amara but at the same time made her
skin crawl. He has a passionate soul
but a psychopathic shell. Kitty would
never be able to handle him. A milquetoast
like Kurt is perfect for her. Scott
was forgotten for several blissful seconds as she pictured bringing Lance to
heel, making him bow to her will in every way.
Now here’s someone who understands the darker appetites of the world… New plans began to form in Amara’s mind as
she gathered the remains of Lance’s love-gift and hid it in her trashcan. I’ll have to burn this, hide the
evidence. Slipping on her tennis
shoes and donning her robe, Amara slipped out of door into the now-dark
hallway, edging carefully down the stairs, not turning on the lights to avoid
drawing attention to herself. She had
an unseen stalker, though.

Jubilee followed Amara on cat-feet,
using every skill she had ever learned as a thief to remain unnoticed. A safe distance from Amara, Jubilee trailed
her out of the door leading to the back gardens from the kitchen. Show me what you got, chica. Amara was holding something in her
hands, far away from her body. Trash? A pile of papers and crap? What the Hell is she up to? Amara had walked briskly a discreet distance
from the mansion, swallowed by the darkness of the herb garden Storm had
planted near the greenhouse. She went
very still and Jubilee saw her burst into flame, always a disturbing sight no
matter how many times she had witnessed it.
As soon as the objects in her hands were ash, Amara resumed her normal
appearance and dusted her hands against her robe, hurrying back towards the
mansion. Jubilee hastily ducked behind
a large rhododendron, holding her breath until she heard the other girl
pass.

Amara paused at the door, looking
back over her shoulder, her gaze skimming over Jubilee’s hiding spot. Strange—it
feels like someone is watching me.
The rhododendron rustled and Amara stared hard at the plant, waiting for
something or someone to materialize. Hmmm. I must speak to Storm about the raccoons out
here.

Jubilee heard the back door lock
with a dull thud in the still night air.
Shit. Shit damn mother fuck. This is fanfuckingtastic. Running her hands through her
newly-short hair, Jubilee took several large steps backwards to asses the
possibility of using the overhanging eave as a method to gain entry to her
room. Only Kurt could jump that
high. I’m too short to make it. Unless… Casting a wary glance around the garden as if expecting someone
to popwithwith a camera and yell “gotcha!” Jubilee rolled the hem of her pajama
pants up to her knees and dried her palms against her thighs. “It’s this or knocking.” With great, quick strides, Jubilee ran towards
the porch, raising her hands in preparation for the handspring to end all
handsprings, intended to vault her high enough to grasp the overhang; a warm,
slow voice from the vicinity of the oak tree caused her to flail wildly in the
air and land flat on her back.

“Going somewhere, p’tite?” Remy’s face loomed large over her, his red
on black eyes glowing in the night.
Jubilee could only suck in a great lung full of air and cough madly. “I’m t’inkin’ dat be a ‘non.’ “ Remy extended a hand to help her up only to
be wavway.way. “D’accord.” He squatted down and took a drag off his
cigarette, waiting for her to catch her breath.

“Fuck you, Cajun. You know you don’t talk to someone when
they’re in the middle of sneaking into somewhere!” Jubilee rolled onto her side, away from Remy. “Sheesh, LeBeau! I think I cracked a rib.”
Her side hurt and it was hard to breathe. How am I going to explain this to the Professor? To Logan?

“Non, p’tite. You weren’t high ‘nough to crack a rib. It’s prolly jus a bruise.” Fingers, bare
from the fingerless gloves, probed her pajama-clad side.

“Get your damned hands off me! I can’t do that again—how the Hell am I
supposed to get in?” Jubilee mentally
cursed herself for leaving her lockpick inside.

“I got ways, p’tite. Why don’ you tell me why you’re out
here?” Remy produced a thin piece of
metal from an interior pocket of his ever-present trench coat and waved it
enticingly in Jubilee’s face. “I know
you recognize what dis is. Now
you be a good fille and tell ol’ Remy why you be sneakin’ roun’ here after dark
and I let you in.” Remy smiled at the
look on the girl’s face—it was obvious she was caving to his will.

“Fine.” Jubilee forced herself to her feet, her ribs screaming in
pain. “I really think something is
broken.” With an ill-disguised wince,
she twisted her back in an effort at self-alignment before facing a
now-towering Remy. “I was following Amara.
She’s up to something and I wanted to find out what.” She held out a somewhat shaky hand, “Give it
here.”

“Ooooh.
Forceful. Remy like that.” With a smirk he dropped the lock picking
tool into her hand and bowed low, gesturing for her to go ahead of him. Jubilee closed her fist around it and
snarled at him, stomping towards the door.
“You keep makin’ dat face p’tite, it’ll stick.”

“Shuddup, Gumbo.” With the ease of much practice, Jubilee had
the door open in a jiffy with barely noticeable marks on the frame to show for
it. Remy followed her closely, shutting
the door behind them with a muffled click and was on her heels before Jubilee
cleared the kitchen door. “What do you want,
Remy?” She could feel his breath on her
neck and her skin raised in tiny bumps of delight. God, he’s so close.


“Remy wants to know why you be fightin’
Rogue over him.” His voice was low and
melodious, lulling Jubilee into a feeling of security. “Remy not worth it, p’tite.” This shook her out of her trance.

“I wasn’t fighting with her over you,
Cajun. I was fighting with her over
broken promises. Something you should
know a lot about, being a thief and all.”
Jubilee whipped around to face him only to find herself staring at his
chest. Gulp.

“Why do you t’ink I break my
promises?” A large hand reached up and
captured a lock of her hair between long, agile fingers. “You cut it all off, p’tite.” His voice bore a trace of sadness.

“Yeah. It was weighing me down.”
With that, she jerked out of his grasp and disappeared through the door
and, within moments, Remy could make out her small steps on falling on the
stairs. Remy sighed and shook his head,
following her path only after he heard her door shut upstairs.

 

Kitty could not get out of
bed. She felt like the thin sheet was
weighing her down, holding her to the bed.
Outside her door she could hear the other residents coming and going,
getting ready for the last day of the week at school but she literally could
not get moving. Around a quarter past
seven, Jean knocked on her door and called quietly to her but Kitty did not
respond. She was still naked from the
night before and felt sticky, not having bathed before she fell asleep. Today is the worst day of the rest of my
life. The reality of the previous
evening was sinking in. She officially
had no parents. Her own flesh and blood
had denied her, shunted her off to the X Men and the Xavier Institute. I am property of Logan. Cocooning herself into the sheet, Kitty
pulled a pillow over her head and ignored the knocks on her door until she was
sure everyone had left her for school.
Checking the clock, she saw that it was half past eight and she was now
playing hooky. She gathered her sheet
around her like a toga and shuffled to the half bath. Turning the water as hot as she could stand, Kitty slumped into
the cubicle and found herself sinking to the floor, tears streaming down her
face. Why? How could this happen to me?
I would have gone on forever playing Kitty Pryde, Perfect Little Girl
for parties and family events. We could
have been the American family, hating each other behind closed doors. Kitty tucked her knees up under her chin and
rested her face in the cradle they formed, letting the sobs wrack her
body. Memories of growing up in a
loveless household flooded over her until she hit on Yaya. Yaya loved me. Always did. She never
made me feel less than perfect in her eyes.
She was actually proud that I am a mutant. She said it was God’s gift to make me so special in a family of
non-mutants. Thoughts of her
grandmother’s love and compassion caused a fresh spate of sobs. This is not supposed to be my life! The wawas was starting to run cold and Kitty
realized that she had been in the shower for a very long time. Hurriedly washing herself, she stepped out
and wrapped the sheet around herself again, having forgotten towels and
clothes. Wandering back into her room,
she was shocked to see Kurt sitting on her bed, studying his fingers. “What are you still doing here?”

“I couldn’t leave without making
sure you were okay. Last night…” He was stopped by her upraised hand.

“I don’t want to talk about
it.” Her puffy eyes betrayed her cool
demeanor. “Besides, I know my parents
and I don’t think this is entirely over.”
Keeping her sheet wrapped around her, Kitty sank next to Kurt on the
bed. “Does anyone know that you’re here?”

“Only Scott, for now. He saw me ‘port in here. Rogue thinks I rode to school with him and
he told Jean I was riding to school with Rogue.”

“Did anyone notice I was missing?”

“Ja, but Herr Logan said you were
sick and staying home.” Only the people
in the room the night before knew the real reason for her absence, as far as
Kurt knew. He tentatively reached out
and pushed a clump of wet hair out of Kitty’s eyes. “Want me to stay home today and be with you?” I don’t mean for sex, KatzchPleaPlease
know that. His plea remained
unspoken but he was sure she could see it in his eyes.

“That would…that would be
nice.” She collapsed against him in a
fresh round of sobs. “Oh, Kurt! It hurts so much more than I thought it
would!” She gulped mouthfuls of air and
sobbed some more, Kurt letting her cry herself out into his shoulder. His holo was still on, giving him the
appearance of a regular teenaged boy, something Kitty found mildly
disconcerting. After several minutes of dry heaves into his neck, she leaned
back and looked at him through narrowed eyes.
“I feel like I’m cheating on you when you look like this.” She ran her hands across his cheeks and
frowned. “You’re not real like
this. I can feel you under the
holo but I can’t see you.”

Kurt touched his watch and the
image disappeared. “Better?” Kitty nodded and touched her forehead to
his. “I’m glad you like me this way,
Katzchen.” Her words touched him to his
very core. In his most secret thoughts,
Kurt had worried that his appearance would finally be too much for Kitty to
deal with on a regular basis, that she would just walk up to him one day and
tell him that she could not be with someone who causes public panic. “Come, Katzchen, you need to get dressed. You’re wet all over—you’ll catch your death
of cold this way.” He stood, turning
his back to offer her privacy.

“You know, that’s a myth. You can’t catch cold from being cold. It’s the microbes that do it.” Kitty was rummaging in a drawer from the
sounds of it and Kurt fought the images of naked Kitty that sprang into his
mind.

“What’re you singing?” Kitty was close behind him now and he prayed
to God that she was fully clothed.

“Er, ‘I’ve Got You Under My
Skin’.” Kurt felt a blush rising at
Kitty’s quirked brow. “I think it’s
safe to go downstairs if you want to get some breakfast…”

“No, I’m not really hungry. I just want to sit here for a while. Process
all this crap.” Kitty flopped back onto
the bed and flung her arms wide. “I
thought something like this would happen when I was much older, like
thirty. My mom would tell me to stop
coming over or my dad would tell me that I wasn’t welcome at holidays
anymore.”

“I wish I could have helped last
night, said something or done something…”
Kurt lay next to her, not touching her but sharing an aura of hurt and
confusion.

“There’s nothing that would have
changed the outcome. I’m just surprised
my father didn’t take a swing at you.”

“Maybe they thought I was a
hallucination, ja?” Kurt sniggered
mirthlessly at this idea. “Who was that
man with them? You called him by name.”

“He’s an old friend of the
family. Ira Trotter handles all my
father’s business deals and I’ve known him since I was a baby. Bastard.”
Kitty covered her mouth in mild shock at the invective that escaped. “Oh!
That was rude of me!”

“ I think,” Kurt removed the hand
covering her mouth, “you are entitled to that one, Mein Leibes.” Kitty stared at him with wide eyes before
bursting out in uncontrolled laughter.
“Vas ist so funny?” Kitty rolled
onto her stomach and shrieked with laughter into her bed.

“This is like some bad French
movie! My life is now a bad French
movie!” Kitty was shaking with the
giggles now, the events of the past twenty four hours making her feel insanely
silly.

“Does that make me Cyrano and you
Roxanne?”

“No! I said bad movie.
Besides, Cyrano and Roxanne weren’t happy. We are. Right?” Kitty lifted her eyes to his and smiled
encouragingly.

“Very. I’m just worried about you, Kitty. I had no idea your life at home was like that.”

“I didn’t know it was bad until I
came here, you know.” All traces of
laughter were gone from her face now as she remembered her childhood in the
Pryde household. “My Yaya was the only
one who really loved me. I stayed with
her as much as I could, until she died when I was thirteen.” Tears stood in her eyes and she turned her
head from Kurt, not ashamed just not desirous of his pity. “She would tell me all sorts of stories from
the old country and make me feel special because I knew secrets no one else in
the family knew.”

“You are special,
Kitty. You came out of all that hate
without being hateful.” Kurt stroked
her back in a comforting gesture and was rewarded by her arching into his
touch.

“Just to you, Kurt… You know I used to have a stutter? For years I could barely make a complete
sentence without sounding like that guy from A Fish Called Wanda. Mother took me to a speech therapist who
told me that I should insert words like “like” or “um” into my speech and slow
myself down so I wouldn’t trip over words.”

“Vas?” And a habit is born..

“When I finally stopped stuttering,
I was so used to talking like that, I just kept doing it. Ya know, like totally or whatever!” Kitty mocked herself in her speech, rolling her
eyes at her own antics.

“Kitty, that’s not very nice!” Kurt was concerned at her self
deprecation. Kitty was usually self
confident and assured; this new bent was a little disturbing.

“Sorry, sorry. But sometimes I feel like I wasted a chunk
of my life, trying to be soe the that I was never meant to be.” She grew quiet for several moments and just
when Kurt was going to say something, she rolled to face him, the look in her
eyes arresting him. “You know why I
love you?” He shook his head, mute
beyond help. “Because you didn’t expect
me to.” She leaned forward and kissed
him lightly on the lips, snuggling against his chest. “Tell me about your childhood, Kurt.”

“It’s boring!”

“How boring could being a blue elf
performing in a circus be?” She wrapped
her arms around him, pin him him to his place.

“Okay, Kitty…I was born at a very
young age[3].” She giggled softly and Kurt told her tales
of Germany and the circus until she began softly snoring into his throat.

 

Amara sought out Lance at
lunch. After a morning of making
excuses for Kitty and Kurt to the teachers, she was highly irritable. Lance was up out of his seat like a shot
when he saw her approaching and met her halfway, gripping her painfully above
the elbow and dragging her to the Dumpster on the edge of the outdoor lunch
area. “Where the Hell is she?”

“Sick.” Amara raised one eyebrow, looking from his hand on her elbow to
his face then back again. Getting the
hint, he released her arm and stepped back a pace. “She wasn’t feeling well last night, either.”

“Did you give her the gift?” Lance’s eyes were ablaze with
eagerness.

After surreptitiously checking to
see that Todd was still among the living, Amara answered, “I gave the gift to
it’s deserving recipient.” Neither
here nor there. He won’t notice the
loophole.

“Why
is Freak Show absent, too?” Lance had taken a step closer to Amara and she
could smell aftershave mixed with sweat and the smell of warm flesh, not an
altogether unpleasant smell, until she reminded herself that this was Lance, a
guy who sent his ex-girlfriend animal parts.

“Why should
I know?” She shrugged indifferently.

“Because
it’s your new job to know, Princess!”
Lance was getting angry and Amara’s last nerve was stretching very thin.

“If he’s at
the Institute, there are adults everywhere.
I highly doubt that even Kurt would be that crude, to have sex
with an audience.”

“Don’t get
snappy with me, Amara. Here, come
on.” He took her by the wrist and led
her around the Dumpster. “People were
starting to notice us talking.”

“Is that
such a bad thing?” Amara drew herself
up as straight as she could, throwing her shoulders back and chin up.

“No, I mean
yes. I mean…damn it!” He ran his hands through his shoulder-length
hair, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration.


Good. I have him on the ropes. At least he notices
I’m female. Taking a step closer,
bringing herself into Lance’s personal space, Amara licked her lips and tilted
her chin up to meet his startled gaze.
“I think that you and I understand each other quite well, Lance. And I think that we can do each other a
great favor and relieve some…tension…if you are willing?” The statement came out as a question, sudden
nervousness robbing her of confidence. Damn
it. Now I sound lie one of those airheaded
romance novel girls, throwing themselves at the hero. And Lance can never be the hero.

“What do
you mean, ‘understand each other’?”

He’s not
really that thick, is he? “I think you understand the darker motivations of
things. You can appreciate more interesting
situations…” She trailed a nail down
his cheek and chin, ending on his Adam’s Apple, applying pressure just this
side of pain.

“What about
Scott?” Lance was definitely interested
now. Kitty’s great but I have needs
until she sees the light…

“Scott is
the future. I’m talking about here and
now.”

“Here?
Now?” Reluctance spread across his
features.

“Metaphorically
speaking, Lance!” She did apply
that extra pressure now, satisfied with his wince of pain.

“Ah. Of course. Um, I think I could see my way
clear to a little extra work on our plan…” He smiled his best “come hither”
smile at her.

“You think
so, huh? It’s Friday—I’ll meet you
after school in front of the gym. We’ll
go from there.” Amara reached down and
gave his rear a hard squeeze. “Who
knows—if this works out well for us, we may be able to use it to get their
attention…” She raised an eyebrow and
tossed her hair over her shoulders.
“Later, Lance.” She could feel
his eyes on her as she walked away. Oh,
yeah. This is going to go really well.

 

“You know a
lot of your stuff was sent here yesterday?” Kitty had woken from her nap and
was more willing to talk to Kurt about the night before. After some creative sneaking, Kurt had
procured lunch for the two of them and they were now seated on Kitty’s bed,
knees touching and food spread out before them like a picnic.

“I was
wondering if they did that. Where is
it?”

“Sublevel
one…do you think you might want to move it up here?” Kurt secretly dreaded another moving job but knew that he would
do it a million times over to make Kitty happy.

“You know,
I think this is a chance for me to shed my old skin, like a snake. I think I want to go through all my stuff
and get rid of a lot of it. Especially
the clothes she bought me. I
want to get all my picture albums out, though.
I’d feel better if I could see that they were safe and not rotting in
the basement.” Polishing off an apple,
Kitty pitched the core into the trashcan near the bed and turned sad eyes to
Kurt. “You realize that, with Logan as
my legal guardian now, we’re never going to get to be alone?”

“Ja, I
thought of that last night. We can be
sneaky, though. Like now. Go on chaperoned dates and then just be
creative afterwards…”

“Huh. Do you realize that we haven’t even been on
a proper date yet?” Kitty looked
thoughtful.

Kurt leapt
to his feet and took her hand in his, bowing low over it. “Kitty, will you do me the honor of
attending a special dinner being put on in your honor this evening?” I can cook…can’t I? At least I can use the phone to order
something.

“I’d love
to, but it’s thbbatbbath…” Kitty chewed
her lip worriedly as Kurt’s face fell.
“Hey, why don’t you come to temple with me? It’s a pretty progressive one and Rabbi Green loves
visitors. I’ll make enough for two
before we go so we can share dinner when we come back.”

“I don’t
know…” Kurt was a little nervous to
attend religious services with Kitty, partially out of a natural reluctance to
experience the unknown and partially because he did not want to embarrass Kitty
in such a setting.

“I
understand not wanting to go, it’s just that since Yaya died and, well,
especially recently, I find it kinda comforting to go to services, to hold on
to something of my heritage.” Kitty
looked glumly at the quilt covering her bed, waiting for Kurt’s final answer.

“I’ll go
with you. Just coach me beforehand,
okay?” Kurt shook inside, sending up a
silent prayer that he was doing the right thing. He wanted to be there for Kitty, to share her pain and to learn
all about the things that made her her, but he had not expected the
religious experience to occur until much later.

“It’s no
pressure, you know. I’m not trying to
convert you…” Her eyes were wide and
pleading, finally relaxing when Kurt nodded in understanding.

“Katzchen,
I—“ A loud knock on the door cut off
whatever he was about to say.

“Half
Pint? Who’re you talking to?”

Shit! Logan! Both pairs of eyes widened in
sudden terror and mutual thought. The
knocking came again, this time more insistent.
“Just a sec—I’m, like, naked in here!”
Kurt buried his face in his hands as Kitty slid off the bed, looking up
at her in surprise when she began tugging on his shirt. He mouthed ‘port?’ and she shook her head,
pulling harder on his shirt. “One more
sec, Logan! I can’t find my
underthings…”

“Kitty,
what the Hell is going on in there?”
The doorknob rattled against the lock and Kitty jerked even harder
against Kurt’s top. Kurt finally
stopped struggling and Kitty pulled his shirt off and motioned for him to get
under the bed. She threw his top on
over hers and grabbed a box of tampons
from a drawer in her vanity on the way to the door.

“Like,
sorry, Logan. Chick stuff!” She waved the box in the air and was the
recipient of a rare Logan-blush.

“The school
called and said Kurt was absent, too.
You seen him?” Logan took a deep
whiff of Kitty. “You smell like him.”

“I’m
wearing his shirt. Like, duh!” Tone it down, Valley Girl. “I told him I missed him now that we have to
stay apart so much and well, like, he lets me wear it because it smells like
him…” Kitty toed the carpet and gave
Logan a semi-guilty look. Hey—I
believed that myself…

“Hmmmm. Maybe his holo fritzed out again and he’s
ducking his way home.” Logan took
another deep whiff and cast his eyes about the room in a manner casual to a
stranger but to Kitty, it was obvious that his super sensitive eyes were trying
to peel away any layers of subterfuge.
“I also wanted to check if you needed some lunch.” His eyes fell back on Kitty’s face, not
satisfied that she was not hiding something but unable to prove it without
violating her privacy.

“Nah, I’m
not hungry, really.” She was thanking
Heaven that she and Kurt had pushed most of the picnic remains into the trash
earlier when a loud knock downstairs distracted Logan.

“Storm and
Chuck are in town and Hank is in the lab, so I’d better get that…” He gave Kitty one last probing look and wandered
downstairs to answer the now-banging knock at the front door.

Closing the
door behind her with a sigh, Kitty whispered loudly, “Kurt, what time is it?”

“Um, about
2:30.” Yellow eyes peered from under
the bed, Kurt being slightly afraid that Logan would make another appearance
after whoever was at the door went away.


“I think
it’d be safe to ‘port to your room before Logan gets back. Make it look like you’ve been here for a
while, just in case…” Kitty bent down
so their faces were level. “You’d
better leave your shirt here. If he
sees you in it later, we’re screwed.”

“You just
want to see me shirtless, Katzchen.”
His smile carried through his voice.

“Don’t you
know it, sexy!” Kitty stuck her tongue
out at him and was gone.

 

 

“Keep your
pants on!” Logan was just crossing the
foyer when whoever was at the front door began ringing the doorbell. “What the Hell…oh. What do you want?”
It took all his self control to not plant twelve inches of Adamantium in
Mr. Trotter’s stomach.

“Are you
authorized to accept deliveries on behalf of The Xavier Institute and Charles
Xavier?” Trotter’s voice was cold but
tinged with fear.

‘Yeeeees…..” Something smells rotten here.

“This
is for you, then.” He thrust a thick
brown envelope at Logan, forcing the man to take it or drop it. “Consider
yourself served.[4]” Trotter lived up to his name and was off at
a brisk pace, leaving a stunned Wolverine on the doorstep.

 



[1] Yes, folks,
that’s right. Mrs. Pryde thinks Kurt wears a costume. Guess that peroxide went to her brain…

[2] Amara knows
Shakespeare. Who knew?

[3] I think
that’s from MASH, the tv series. That
or Bill Cosby.

 

[4] I’m not sure
on the legal procedures for serving papers in New York State but let’s pretend
this was the way to do it…