Notes: Martinique Wyngarde (Mastermind II) and Joanna Cargill (Frenzy) are based loosely off their original Marvel counterparts. If you are interested in knowing more about the Marvel characters, I suggest looking up their wikipedia pages. Which I unfortunately cannot link to on . *grumble* Please enjoy the fic!
Kurt let the bags be taken from his hands without protest, watching as Todd stuffed the luggage in the back of the pick up truck. He folded his arms, hearing the scream of a jet plane low overhead and feeling remarkably out of place.
"Damn, you packed a lot of crap, boy. Must be serious this time," Todd said lightly, hopping down off the bumper. He wiped his hands off, having somehow managed to get streaks of black grime all over his arms.
Todd was still wearing his blue mechanic's jumpsuit, with a side of extra oil and grease stains. It was the perfect job for him - nobody could tell he was dirty all the time. That and he truly had a knack for machines. The vehicle Kurt was buckling himself could attest to that; it had been rebuilt from the frame up just after Lance's old jeep had finally been carted off to the proverbial junkyard in the sky. The structure was sound, thoughtfully reinforced to hold Freddy plus other passengers.
Idly Kurt watched the scenery pass by as Todd drove away from the Chatham Airport, taking the freeway exit back toward Bayville. He said nothing, perhaps respecting Kurt's need for silence. Maybe reflecting on memories of his own.
"It's not that I don't love her," Kurt said abruptly, surprising himself as they drove alongside the stretches of dully reflecting bay water. He must've startled Todd as well, for the car weaved just a little before righting itself.
"Sorry, dawg. What you say?"
"I said . . . I do still love her," he said, defeated. "We're still going to get married. We just need time apart."
Todd was quiet for another few minutes, looking almost guilty. Kurt knew why. It was because of her. The girl wearing Todd's ring on her finger, who made the other man's voice take on that rich warm texture whenever he said her name over the telephone. Todd had surprised him, being the one to get back on his feet first.
It was good; one of the reasons Kurt had done what he did. He told himself that constantly, though he'd been just as destroyed about his decision as Todd had that night. For once, Todd had been the one to wear his broken heart on his sleeve. How Kurt had managed to hide his own so damnably well was still a mystery.
"She shouldn't have said what she said, dawg. If you don't wanna try to have kids yet, it's your right. Sure, maybe she carries all the seeds in her bucket, but you're the one with the damned garden hose, y'know what I'm sayin'?"
Todd's ability to say that with such a completely straight face caused a bark of laughter to escape Kurt's mouth. He covered it and looked back out the window, smirking. The icy gray harbor water didn't look nearly as oppressive as it had just minutes ago.
"Hey, it's all true, ain't it?" Todd defended, though his amber eyes held a glint of satisfaction. He'd always loved to make Kurt laugh.
Kurt shook his head, still smiling. "Ja, I know. The thing is - I do want kids. It's just . . . she wants to try for them now, then get married, so she can have a baby directly afterwards. And that bothers me. Because I don't think she's ready for a baby who possibly looks like his father does."
"Oh. So you think she wants kids for the wrong reasons?"
"If by wrong reasons, you mean pets? Then yes. That's what I'm afraid of," Kurt admitted it, after a long stretch of painful silence. "She's not going to treat them like children if they come out like me. She's going to treat them like kittens. Not in any way that's cruel or neglecting, and probably not even consciously. Amanda just . . . I know her, but she can't understand why I said no. It's not something I can just ignore.
"Even though I still want to marry her," Kurt added quickly, because he couldn't help himself not to.
"Well . . ." Todd rubbed the back of his neck, keeping his doubtful glance aimed out the windshield. "You can stay with us as long as you like. You know where everything is anyway. Place hasn't changed much."
He took the exit, casually flipping off a guy who'd sped up to cut him off. Some people never really changed either, Kurt thought, grinning nervously.
Going through downtown Bayville was like a blender full of memories, both good and bad. The changes to the buildings he did see were not very surprising. What shocked him were the little things that still remained. The same round table with the black burn mark on the seat was sitting in front of the Gut Bomb.
That had been their table, his and Todd's. It went by quickly as Todd turned the corner, flashing out of sight. Kurt felt a pang in his chest, almost wanting to get out of the truck - just to go back and touch it.
But that was over now. Somehow, out of the ashes, they'd become close friends. It had taken a year and a half for them to speak to each other again without awkwardness, but Kurt could say far more to Todd than he felt comfortable saying to anyone at the Institute. To Amanda.
Todd pulled up to the Boarding House and put the truck into park. He'd been mysteriously grinning since taking the last exit and trying to smooth it off his face. Kurt didn't really ask, knowing it was probably memories that were floating through his brain. At least his were good ones.
He was happy Todd had invited him here. The Boarding House was all fixed up now; a very nice place to live. Todd had told him about the reconstruction that Pietro's dad had finally paid up for once it became evident that more than four boys and one girl were going to be living there.
Martinique Wyngarde, the younger of Mastermind's daughters, had come to America from Italy when he could no longer afford the boarding school for both of them. Likewise, Joanna Cargill had been granted sanctuary with the Brotherhood, after an incident involving Senator Kelly's recklessly speeding Prius and a line of ducklings that had been attempting to cross the street at the same time.
Picking up Kelly's car and shaking it like a saltcellar, while for an arguably noble cause to animal lovers everywhere, wasn't exactly the sort of thing the X-men approved of. Which was a shame, because Joanna was a nice girl really - even if her handshake had nearly broken every bone in Kurt's fingers when he'd first met her. Freddy had fallen for her very hard. Happily for him, it hadn't taken very much to win her heart in return.
He didn't know when Todd had started to court Martinique. By the time she was settling in, Kurt and Amanda had already become engaged and moved to upstate New York. When they were speaking again, he'd told Kurt about her over the phone, hesitantly. Only when Kurt expressed convincing enough happiness for him did Todd divulge more. The following autumn - while he and Amanda had been living engaged, with a set date looming safely on a distant July - Todd had hesitantly invited Kurt to the wedding.
Something had come up of course. Kurt's father had to go in for gall bladder surgery. He'd gone to Germany to keep his mother company, to pray with her. Todd of course had understood and told him to come visit whenever he felt like catching up on things and to meet his girl. They'd both done a very good job at masking the relief in their voices.
Missing a wedding was one thing; Kurt really should have visited before needing a place to stay. He'd felt ridiculously lame asking Todd, but going to the Institute this time would have been too much. Todd knew when to stop asking questions. In any case, it was high time he met Martinique properly.
"Sugarlumps, I'm home!" Todd bellowed, walking up toward the back porch. He was grinning far too happily and Kurt's thar-be-trouble senses began to tingle.
The resulting call was harsh and not at all the call of a happy wife to her husband. Kurt blinked as a dark-haired girl stormed out and glowered at Todd, mouth set in a tight line. Was that . . . permanent marker on her face? No, it couldn't be.
Kurt glanced at Todd suspiciously, to see the man trying very hard to retain a casual expression. "Yo Marti, this is Kurt. Pretty sure you remember him. So . . . what's for dinner?"
"What's for dinner?" Martinique asked, deadly calm. She stalked down the porch steps toward Todd with a raised fist. "I will tell you what is for dinner: your bruised and broken ass on a platter, that's what's for dinner, sciocco!"
"Now, sweetums - !" Todd laughed and ducked around Kurt as she chased him, eventually tackling him flat in the long grass. Todd was laughing and shrieking hysterically as she slapped and pinched him mercilessly, sitting on his thin chest to deliver punishment.
From what Kurt could see, Todd had at least been marginally sane in his 'decorations'. Martinique sported the outline of a star over one eye and a couple harmless looking half-circles on her opposite cheek.
Wait . . . Kurt looked again and discovered those half-circles were crudely drawn tits. Dear Lord. He was a dead man.
"Enough, enough!" Todd implored, squirming frantically and nearly drowned out by Martinique's furious swearing in Italian. She demanded something in her native language, pulling hard on his ear. "Owowowowow! Okay, okay! Rubbing alcohol and shaving cream gets it off! Can you stop killing me now!? This is totally payback anyway! You had it coming!"
"You don't even want to know what you have coming if this doesn't come off!" Martinique snapped, but she got off him and calmly brushed the straw off her skirt. As though nothing unusual had happened, she drew herself up and stuck her hand out at Kurt. "Hey, Kurt. Nice to see you again."
Kurt shook her hand, trying very hard not to stare at her 'tits'. "Ah, yeah, you too. I take it this, ah, is normal for you two?" He gestured vaguely, somehow encompassing Todd (who was still lying flat on the overgrown lawn and panting) and his charming artistic endeavors on her face.
"Eh, don't worry. I'll get him back. Now that it's my turn," Martinique looked at Todd darkly. "I'm suspecting maybe he just loves hearing me swear at him in Italian."
"What can I say? Foreign languages are sexy," Todd put in, sitting up with straw in his hair. He looked ridiculously happy. Kurt looked away as he got up to pull the luggage out of the truck. Todd came over to help.
"So from what I understand, there is this new and strange American custom in which married couples take turns tormenting each other?" Kurt casually prompted Marti, as he followed them inside.
"More like a tradition. See, the last time she got me, so this was my turn to get her," supplied Todd, plopping down on the couch. He glanced at his wife. "You gonna tell him what you did or do I gotta?"
"It's extra humiliating if you do it."
Todd made a face at her, but went on. "Fred and Joanna were payin' us a visit and they arrived while I was takin' a shower. Yes, a real shower. Shut up. So she took everything out of the bathroom - towels, washcloths, my clothing, even the friggin' bath mat. Then she locked the linen closet plus every door in the fucking hallway. I had nothing except this slinky red one-piece nightshift with satin ladybugs on it that she left hangin' on a hook." He glowered accusingly at Martinique.
"I don't see why you couldn't have just gone into the living room stark naked. Since I didn't technically force you to put that on," she smirked back at him.
"Oh, you knew exactly what you were doin'. You knew Freddy wouldn't have minded, but Joanna probably would've punted my bare ass through a window!" Todd shot back. "Anyway, Fred's still not letting me live it down."
"Bet he gets you ladybug slippers for Christmas," teased Marti. "Which is just what you deserve, anyway, for sticking that plastic cockroach in the quiche I was making for work." She glanced at Kurt. "Then came around my turn to deliver payback. Don't let him fool you into thinking he's the victim here."
"Hey, who said that cockroach was fake? Maybe it just crawled right in. Mm, protein."
"It was fake. You swore it was fake," Martinique warned him, eyebrows knitting together. "Otherwise you are not going to enjoy one moment of what I do to you later."
"Oh, ho ho!" Todd waggled his own eyebrows in response. "You promise?"
Kurt, who'd been unable to stop laughing, put up his hands weakly. "Please, stop for a moment. My face is starting to hurt."
"Didn't know you could turn red under blue fur," Martinique teased lightly, grinning at him.
Todd opened his mouth, then closed it. Kurt knew what he'd been about to say, that he knew. Instead, Todd faintly smirked and put his hand over Martinique's knee, drawing an absentminded swirl with his finger. "I smell burnin' potatoes," he sang.
"Liar, you smell nothing but delicious food." She ruffled his hair affectionately and got off the couch. "I have salmon steak and wedges for dinner tonight. They'll be ready as soon as I get this crap off my face."
"Translation: if dinner's burnt, it's my fault. Clever." Todd smirked. She whacked him on the side of the head and went upstairs.
"So . . . I guess it's good when you can tease each other like that," Kurt offered.
"Like we did?" Todd asked evenly.
Kurt's eyes flickered and he controlled the urge to suddenly look down or away.
"Speakin' of which, she knows, okay?" Todd told him quietly. "About us . . . what we had. I told her everything and she's cool about it. So don't worry about slipping up."
"She . . ." Kurt was dumbfounded. "You told her?"
"Yeah." Todd looked anywhere but Kurt. "Okay, she and I had just gotten together. And there was this protest goin' on in the news one morning - buncha gays and lesbians stating that if mutants could get married, why were they still second-class citizens in America? Martinique came out and watched it with me and started sayin' that they were right - there shouldn't be any second-class citizens. That everyone should be able to get married or accepted, no matter who they loved.
"So I told her. About everything. It was scary as fuck, but . . . I had the courage and took the chance. She told me that she knew what it was like to have to hide your feelings for somebody. And that sometimes the hiding it was too much for a person. So . . . that helped me understand why you said what you said. Got me to start talkin' wit you again. It all kinda surprised the hell out of me. She grew up in a Catholic boarding school, ya know that?"
Kurt stared at him. "I didn't know it was Catholic."
"Convent, practically. I may not have mentioned that. Yeah, not that you can tell now, but when she came over she was just a shy little thing. Barely talked, kept close to the wall and out of people's way. So I tried to make her laugh because I felt like crap and it felt like everyone else in the world hated me too. She got over the shyness and . . . hot damn. Once she did, she was like most crazy-fun chick I ever met. It was like nothin' could throw her off about me. Well, not like I sit around pickin' my nose all day, but I can tell her things that . . ." Todd trailed off immediately, seeing the look on Kurt's face.
"Shit, dawg. I got a big mouth. Just ignore me."
"N-No, you're happy. It's good that you're happy - I just wish . . ."
"That you were?" Todd finished softly. Kurt looked at him and bit his lip. "Ya, an' I wish that too. I can tell you ain't sometimes . . . on the phone."
He stared at Kurt until the other boy had to turn his face down, the warm gold hurting his chest to look at.
"I know it's crossin' a couple lines to say this, but I just don't understand why you don't ditch her and find somebody you're happy with. Believe me, you won't be doin' anybody any favors by lying vows through your teeth."
"Ach . . . it's too late to back out now, Todd. I'm too far into it. My mother is so looking forward to this wedding. She talks about it, she even dreams about it - she can't wait to come over and help decorate and - and everything! I can't let her down. Everyone's got plans and promises to help and attend - and Amanda's picked out her dress already and it is so beautiful -"
"Hang on, what? Oh for fuckin' - dawg, listen to me. A wedding is basically just a big party. Okay? A big party celebrating yo happiness with somebody!" Todd got up, agitated, and went to the window. "And if you ain't actually happy, it don't count for fuck! Don't go through with somethin' you don't wanna do because your momma's got decoration plans, okay? You know this is possibly the gayest thing you ever worried about?"
Kurt stared at him, abashed, then looked down at his hands. He'd talked with most of the people at the Institute about this. Every one of them (that is, the ones who hadn't been cryptic and told him to figure it out for himself) had attributed his concerns to cold feet. They'd promised him that all grooms got nervous, even months before the wedding sometimes. That Amanda was such a lovely girl, that he'd be so happy. That they were all so happy for him.
Now he wondered if maybe they'd been scared to push him further in the direction he seemed to be going. They were scared to see him alone, because they'd feel it was their fault. Kurt had to admit the thought of calling everything off was more than a little intimidating. Who else did he have except for Amanda?
They'd had their fights even before their engagement - little fights; lovers spats that never addressed the deep underlying problem that nearly all of them sprang up from. The promise of a wedding hadn't fixed things. It had been used as a sort of adhesive - one that both he and Amanda had privately hoped would do the job. All it had really achieved was to make the mess stickier.
But he still loved her. He did. Didn't he?
"Don't matter how pretty the dress is or how much money you throw into a wedding. In the end, all anybody's gonna care about is whether or not you're there with the wrong person. If I notice it, your momma's gonna notice it. Not to mention, you have some damn nosy telepaths for friends, boy - they're sure as hell gonna notice it and then probably tell everybody who doesn't!"
Todd seemed the only one who had a truthful opinion about the whole thing anymore and apparently he wasn't going to sugar-coat it this time either. He was fuming, Kurt could tell. Though he had sat back down, Todd always fidgeted or pulled at loose threads when he was inwardly fuming - whether at himself or at someone else.
"I'm sorry," Kurt said, surprised to hear his words echoed softly by Todd's voice. Todd looked over at him and sighed, reaching out to gently touch Kurt's wrist.
"You remember, dawg . . . when you finally convinced me that Wanda was the wrong choice?" Todd asked, after a few moments of a more comfortable silence.
Kurt did remember it. It had been a cold September morning, years ago. Todd had sought him out, to rant at him. About life, Wanda, and the unfairness of the universe in general. Kurt had actually listened, not entirely sure why he had yet to alert the Professor to the fact that some crazy frog-boy had (once again) slipped through the Institute's security barrier.
He'd literally been in the middle of dressing, shirt half on, when Todd landed on the balcony and walked right inside - fuming, cursing, and barely able to form a coherent sentence he was so angry. And hurt. Kurt hadn't seen the tears, but he'd seen the angry motions of Todd wiping them away with the palm of his hand. That had been the day that Todd had poured out his entire soul, and Kurt had not been able to turn away.
By the time the intruder alarm finally went off and he had Logan pounding on his door, Kurt was concerned enough (with the way Todd was hitching now, his tirade beginning to wind down into soul-crushing sobs) to encircle his arms around the boy's ribs and port them both to a quieter place.
At length, Todd had fallen asleep next to him in the branches of the tree they were in, curled and broken and strangely beautiful. All Kurt could do was stay and watch him, reasoning that it was to make sure Todd didn't fall out.
Ironically, he'd been worried about the wrong person falling.
"You remember what you said to me. And then . . . maybe we kinda rushed into things. But it was good. Because you showed me that I had more than one chance, with more than just one somebody." Todd wasn't quite looking at him, but he squeezed Kurt's wrist gently. "You got me to believe it. Which is why it kills me to see you all ready to jump into marriage just to make everybody happy. Everybody except yourself."
Kurt swallowed. "But I love her," he said thickly. "She's got her faults. I still love her."
"I ain't sayin' to stop loving her," Todd said quietly. "I'm tryin' tell you not to rush into things. Again," he added wryly, and Kurt winced. Todd carefully did not see it. "'Cause once you say those vows and once you hold that baby in your arms, if you ain't happy . . . then it really is too late. You're stuck. She's stuck. That baby is more stuck than either one of you."
"But . . . everyone keeps telling me it's just nerves. That we'll be happy."
"That's because people hear the word 'wedding' and lose their goddamned minds," Todd snorted. "Like I said, a wedding is a party. Ain't a guarantee of life-long happiness like people think it is."
"Maybe it could be for us," Kurt countered, frantic not to give this up just yet. "I don't know for sure that it will fail. I'm just having misgivings. Maybe we should just give it a try."
Todd looked at him flatly. "Y'know, the place to be having misgivings is at the podium on your weddin' day. Not with two month's worth of luggage sittin' at the bottom of the freaking staircase in your friend's house."
Kurt fell silent, out of excuses and still reaching out blindly for them. He glanced up to see Todd's yellow-gold eyes smoldering. "Dawg, really. If I gotta swing by at this wedding and start playing Vanilla Ice at the most painful decibel level there is, until the guests start shittin' themselves all over the lawn, I will do it. If that's what it takes to stop this damn train wreck, so help me, I will. And then I'm gonna hit you. Very hard. Not just because you are stupid, but because I care. Got that?"
For a long moment, Kurt didn't know whether he was trying to laugh or cry and decided it was somewhere in between. He covered his mouth with his free hand to muffle an ugly noise and gratefully leaned in to Todd's too-tight embrace. "S'alright. It's gonna be alright. You got the both of us here, and you got time to think. Just chill, work it out, and don't try to talk yourself back into things you don't wanna do. I promise . . . you're gonna be fine," he said lowly, fiercely, in Kurt's ear.
Kurt hugged him back just as tightly, and reluctantly pulled away, wiping at his eyes. His brain was hurtling down a path with a crooked signpost marked What If? and he tried desperately to stop it in its tracks. He forced himself to imagine the way Martinique must have looked, standing by the peeling wallpaper and laughing at something Todd had said just to cheer her up - the outcast girl and the broken (healing) boy. It helped. God it hurt, but it helped.
"I'm gonna go get us a couple beers, kay? Wonder if Martinique's done drowning herself yet. Damn sure I can smell potatoes burning now."
"No sense in pulling them out yourself, I see?" Kurt teased, wetly. Todd stuck his tongue out and went to the fridge.
When he was feeling more composed, Kurt started to get up and nearly ran into Martinique, coming down the stairs. "Hey," she said, amiably. "Can you still see my tits?"
He didn't allow himself to be taken aback, simply smirked and played along. He needed to right now. "Nein. Todd's advice did the trick. Not even a trace."
"Gee, thanks a lot," she drawled and winked playfully, before roaring, "Todd! Your gentleman friend here just called me flat!"
"Fat? Well, duh. You are!"
"No, flat! Like your mother's face!"
Kurt laughed uproariously, following her into the kitchen.
He still had a mess to clean up at home. A big one, admittedly, but not an impossible one. Because now he was standing outside of the cage looking in and though he had no idea where to begin, he no longer felt trapped by it. Amanda wouldn't speak to him for a few days, then she'd call the number he provided. Or maybe she wouldn't.
A big mess.
But right now, Todd was singing the German version of a Celine Dion song - badly enough to make Kurt go in and try to correct it, despite not knowing all the words or how to carry the tune. After which Martinique attempted to beat the virtue of silence into two men with one spatula and only partially succeeded, since it inevitably led to a three-way duel involving a wooden spoon and a ladle.
And all this before dessert.
END