A/N: This is an OLD story of mine, originally written & posted in 2012. I decided to re-post the story since it's almost my favorite holiday: Halloween! Long-time readers, you've probably already read this one, but of course, feel free to enjoy again. I'm particularly proud of this little short, so I wanted to re-share for new readers to enjoy. Happy Halloween!
Trick-Or-Treat: Part 1/3
"Mama, let's go!" Kurt's plea was halfway between a demand and a whine as he tugged impatiently on his mother's hand. Despite being an athletic, energetic child, his lithe four-year-old body was not going to be effective in moving his mother one inch from where she had collapsed on the beaten-up old couch in the Brotherhood headquarters front room. Mystique was exhausted, and lay with her arm draped over her eyes, trying to summon whatever energy remained from the mission she completed an hour prior. With a loud sigh, she removed her arm and met her son's gaze. He was standing before her wearing a wide-brimmed cowboy hat, boots, a blue buckskin vest and pants, a scarlet scarf tied around his neck, and a black belt that holstered a toy cap gun. If he had a black mask on, he'd be a miniature (except, blue) Lone Ranger. His catlike eyes were as wide as saucers and his tail wagged behind him excitedly as he tugged on her limp arm.
Motherhood was a mission that never ended.
"We're gonna miss it!" Kurt's hat slipped back from his head as he renewed his futile efforts to pull his mother off the couch. Mystique had no idea where he got his cowboy outfit; she suspected that Angel or Emma was behind it. They were always spoiling the boy, despite her (and to a lesser degree, his father's) protests. In many ways, Kurt was the only child in a family full of doting parents. Even Erik, as fearsome and stoic a leader as he was, was known to push aside schematics and diabolical plans and pull the boy into his lap if Kurt wandered into his study with a picture book. She often worried that with so many people devoted to him, Kurt would grow-up with a skewed view of fairness and reality.
"Sweetie, we'll go just as soon as your father gets here, I promise." Kurt continued to look wistfully at his mother, his golden eyes mirroring her own. Being a child, his vocabulary did not seem to contain the words 'soon' and 'wait.' She slid her hand out of his and tousled his shaggy, ink-colored hair, a trait among many that he received from his father. Kurt began to pout and stamped his foot angrily, his tiny tail now lashing sharply back and forth in frustration. Clearly another trait he took from his father, whether he realized it or not.
"Here baby," Mystique cooed and leaned over the couch's arm, groping for a bucket, "play with your Legos for a bit. Can you build me a house?" Kurt's energy was instantly transferred to the toys, and he upended the bucket and began to smash pieces together with the reckless enthusiasm that only a child could possess. As she watched him construct a deformed building, she smiled and knew he would never grow-up to become an architect. Not, of course, that his physical mutation would allow him to live a normal life; Mystique didn't kid herself for one second that Kurt would ever be accepted by humanity due his appearance. After all, her own mutation was the reason she joined the Brotherhood to begin with. She was fighting not only for the safety of her child, but for mutant children everywhere doomed to grow-up as outcasts simply because of human intolerance and ignorance. As Kurt moved onto his next unsound edifice, she glanced over at the wall clock and frowned. Where the hell was he?
As if an answer to her unspoken question, a sharp crack and a cloud of red and black smoke appeared in doorway to the room.
"Papa!" The blue boy jumped-up, carelessly sweeping his tail and destroying his monstrous Lego buildings. In a shadowy cloud, Kurt disappeared and instantly reappeared directly in front of his father, landing feet-first on his chest and knocking the adult man backwards. In play, Azazel staggered and dramatically fell to the ground with Kurt on top of him, pretending that the boy's bounce had succeeded in knocking him over. He was careful, however, to brace Kurt's body so the boy would not accidentally fall during their play. This gesture was not noticed by Kurt, whose gleeful smile clearly indicated his belief that his teleportation abilities had finally begun to match his father's. After all, he was now able to teleport across an entire room, something he could not do just a few months ago.
"I beat you!" Kurt's laughed as he sat on his hands and feet on his father's chest, the king of the hill he conquered. Azazel smiled at him with pride and put his hands over his son's.
"You are getting strong, moĭ malʹchik. You will soon be stronger than me, I think."
"I won't hurt you for real Papa." Kurt's voice was serious as he looked down at his father with wide, slightly worried eyes. "We're just playing pretend." Mystique felt a pang in her heart that she tried to ignore as she watched her son's reaction to the idea of hurting his father. More and more often she caught herself thinking that Kurt was far too sensitive for his age. She feared the life he was born into would not be one he was well suited for, and countless times she had to hide injuries and failed missions from his knowledge. Once, when he managed to escape her arms and accidently saw Janos with broken nose and blood-soaked shirt, Kurt had frightful nightmares for weeks afterwards. Her heart hardened as she turned her gaze from her son to her mate.
"Azazel, you're over an hour late." Azazel did not look at Mystique, but his tail smacked loudly against the floor at her complaint. Azazel's focus was on Kurt as he sat up, carefully transferring the weight of the boy from his arms to his lap. In the years she had lived with him, Mystique had learned that Azazel was very good at ignoring people and pretending he didn't hear things if what he heard didn't suit his interest. She crossed her arms angrily as he picked up the cowboy hat and placed it back on his son's head, smiling as it was clearly too big for the young boy. Kurt's eyes glowed in the shadow of the brim.
"I thought you were going to be a knight?"
"I'm a cowboy! Look at my gun!" Kurt snapped his cap gun again in illustration, and sliding off his father's knee, he took aim at Azazel. The red mutant wore a look of mock fear on his face, putting his hands in the air in surrender.
"Sheriff, do not shoot! I will nyet steal a horse again!"
"Azazel, did you hear me?" Azazel gave Mystique a sharp look over Kurt's head. The child continued to shoot his cap gun, oblivious to his parent's tense stare down. After a few seconds, Kurt lowered his gun and titled his head at his father, this tail wagging expectantly.
"Papa, you're dead. I just shot you six times." Azazel's attention snapped back to Kurt.
"What? Oh, right. Da, you got me." He pulled Kurt's hat down over his face as the boy giggled and tried to push it back up with both hands while still clutching his toy gun. Dropping his voice, Azazel spoke softly to his son in Russian for a few seconds, and the boy answered, nodding enthusiastically, and then disappeared, reappearing far down the hallway. Mystique narrowed her eyes.
"Use feet, do not teleport to room!" At Azazel's warning, Kurt bound around the corner instead of using his mutation. At Kurt's departure, Azazel stood and briskly brushed his suit clean with his hands. When he finally turned towards Mystique, she crossed her arms again and looked away. She positively hated when he did that, and Azazel knew it. Kurt had the benefit of growing up bilingual, but Mystique still struggled with Azazel's native language, and she felt shutout when he and Kurt spoke in Russian in front of her. Azazel stared calmly at her, his pale blue eyes striking against his rough, vermillion skin. The dramatic contrast was one of his best features, and certainly one of the many that caught her attention in the first place.
"Not in front of our child, Mystique." His tone was an icy as his eyes.
"You promised you would be here and look what time it is!" Mystique pointed to the clock, which Azazel deftly ignored.
"Am here now, is all that matters."
"Yeah, you tell that to Kurt. It's one thing if you break promises to me, but it means everything to him."
"I did not break promise. I am here; we go when Kurt comes back, da?" Mystique opened her mouth to continue the fight, but she was interrupted by burst of blue smoke in the middle of the room. She jumped off the couch, startled by Kurt's sudden appearance. He was getting better at teleporting, but she worried when he tried to do longer and longer distances, or teleport in a house with so many things that could hurt him.
"Ta-da!" Kurt smiled triumphantly and announced his appearance to his surprised parents. He stood in the middle of the room clutching an empty pillow sack. "Now can we go? Please?" His body was trembling in anticipation. Azazel frowned and titled his head.
"Malʹchik, what did I say about teleporting from room?" Kurt face fell slightly and he looked guiltily at the floor. Azazel crossed his arms and looked sternly down at Kurt, who was pushing the toes of his left foot into the ground and trying to avoid answering.
"Malʹchik?"
"That I will get stuck in a wall." Kurt sighed exaggeratedly and looked up with big eyes. "But Papa, that only happened one time. I'm good now!"
"Not in the house until you are older, baby." Mystique walked over to Kurt and knelt so she was on his level. She put her hand on his face and turned it up so he was looked at her. He looked so small and venerable, and she was afraid to see him get injured. "Remember? We practice first in open areas, then try where there are things like walls and furniture." Kurt nodded and Mystique hugged him tightly. Her son was the best part of her, and she knew it. She was so afraid he was weak, that he would get hurt. Azazel scoffed at this, knowing that he had to experiment with his own mutation to learn control, but he agreed that Kurt needed practice before he could freely move around obstacles.
"You listen to your mother and I." Azazel took a few steps closer to the pair. He slid his hand on Mystique's shoulder and gave an affectionate squeeze. Nothing stopped a fight between them faster than the thought of their child in any kind of danger. "So, are we ready, then?" Kurt started jumping up and down at his father's question. He quickly abandoned that in favor of pulling Azazel's tail towards the door. Azazel remained rooted to his spot, watching at his son's efforts with amusement.
"Let me just get my things." Mystique walked back to the couch and picked up a cheap pair of feathered white wings and a headband with a halo attachment. She was already wearing a white dress that she fashioned out of her own scales to cover her body, even if the dress left little to the imagination. Since Kurt was born, she had taken to "wearing" clothing again, at least until he was older. Kurt had enough difficulties in life to face, and seeing mother essentially naked all the time was not one she thought he needed to deal with at this age. She was happy to find that, in her mind at least, wearing a dress made from her own skin and leaving her arms, legs and face in their natural state did not feel like hiding as it did when she was Raven. She still felt true to herself, which was what really mattered. The halo and wings, however, were simply too much trouble to fashion out of skin for an evening. She slipped into her angelic costume and turned to face Azazel and Kurt.
"I'm a Blue Angel. Get it?" Azazel had a wolfish grin on his face as he took in the irony of his mate's costume. "At least this year I'll match one of you two."
"Do not hate me because my costume is easy." For the four year in a row, Azazel was of course, going as a devil. He held out his hand and Mystique took it gracefully, although she was a bit surprised when he pulled her close to his side and slipped his arm around her waist. The look in his eyes as he took in her costume told her their fight was over. She shot him an I'm-still-mad-at-you look, but allowed it to be marred with a slight smile. Kurt dropped his father's tail and grabbed his other hand with both of his, still clutching his pillowcase and cap gun. Azazel held his little family close and smiled.
"I have found for us a very special place this year. You will love it." In heartbeat, they disappeared.
To be continued….